#and if i already feel this way about someone whos one year younger than me... how do those people not feel creepy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

usagii-bun · 1 month ago

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PART 3|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+ [MDNI]

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 4 parts)

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

word count: 10.2k

As you enter the college hall, a familiar blend of nerves and anticipation washes over you, a feeling that has lingered since last night. The memory of your earlier slip sends a wave of heat to your cheeks, and you struggle to reconcile the embarrassment with the thrill of the moment.

'Professor' you had moaned during your cam session, the words escaping your lips before you even realised what you had said. Lost in a whirlwind of illicit fantasies about Alhaitham, you hadn’t registered the slip until it was too late.

Great. They probably think I have a professor kink. A thought that, while tempting to entertain, is one you refuse to acknowledge fully. The mere idea of facing Professor Alhaitham after your indiscretion makes you want to combust or just fucking disappear.

Last night, you had surrendered to the allure of your fantasies about him—four times—each time caught in a delusion about a man who, in reality, would never see you as a viable partner.

One you are his student.

Two, he seems to possess an almost otherworldly quality, as if he has emerged from the ether without parents to guide him.

Three, he exudes an aura that suggests he wouldn’t be interested in dating someone younger than himself.

And four, he is your professor.

He embodies everything you desire in a man: handsome, intelligent, and caring. You shake your head, inhaling deeply to clear the clutter of thoughts centered solely on him. If you’re going to survive this day without embarrassing yourself in his presence, you need to rein in your thoughts and emotions. With a confident smile, you push the doors open, your gaze sweeping across the room until it settles on him at the front.

“Fuck.”

Your resolve crumbles as your eyes lock onto Professor Alhaitham, who appears even more captivating today. The sight of him—tall and composed, absorbed in his notes—takes your breath away. He is already there, exuding an air of calm as he flips through his documents, completely unfazed. Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, the top button undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone, and fitted black slacks, he looks effortlessly sophisticated.

His tousled hair frames his face perfectly, and his glasses perch on the bridge of his nose as he reads. 'Please bend me over your desk and take me like the—' Your thoughts freeze as his gaze suddenly meets yours. In that moment, something shifts. His expression remains largely unchanged, yet the flicker of recognition in his eyes sends a jolt through you, leaving your heart racing and your mind reeling.

“Well, well,” he remarked, a dry amusement threading through his voice as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “It’s so nice to see you on time for once.” The memory of your first encounter flooded back, a moment etched in your mind when he had delivered a sharp insult that stung more than you’d like to admit.

Your cheeks burned with lingering embarrassment, but you couldn’t resist the urge to scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you made your way across the room to your usual seat.

“What can I say?” you retorted, a thick layer of sarcasm coating your words. “I wouldn’t want to deprive myself of another opportunity to bask in the brilliance of your lectures.”

A faint smirk danced at the corners of his mouth, his eyes glinting with an intelligence that was both sharp and playful. “Careful,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, each word deliberately measured. “Too much sarcasm, and the first-years might start thinking you’re only here for my company.”

Maybe I am here only for your company, you thought, directing him a subtle glare that barely masked the tumult of thoughts swirling in your mind. Memories of last night crept in, and you fought to anchor yourself back in the present, pushing aside the alluring distractions that threatened to pull you under.

His casual yet cutting remark sent a wave of heat to your cheeks despite your best efforts to remain unfazed. You opened your mouth to shoot back a snarky response, but the way his gaze lingered on you—intense and probing—made you falter, if only for a fleeting moment.

There was an unmistakable energy in his eyes—a blend of challenge and teasing—that left you feeling slightly unsettled.

“You seem a bit on edge today,” Alhaitham observed, his tone casual, yet there was a note of curiosity beneath it. “Oh, I just didn’t sleep well last night,” you deflected, the lie slipping easily from your lips as you tried to mask the real reason behind your unease. “Too much caffeine before bed.”

Alhaitham hums thoughtfully, a knowing glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “Caffeine, huh?” he muses, tilting his head slightly as if weighing your words. “I suppose it’s easy to blame caffeine for sleepless nights. But you know, it’s often the mind that keeps us awake,” he replies, his voice smooth.

“Maybe you should try clearing your thoughts before bed instead.” He leans in slightly, “Or do you have other distractions keeping you up?” His tone is casual, but the underlying implication sends your heart racing.

You couldn't show that his words affected you, your mind racing about last night. You felt paranoid like as if he knew but you knew that was impossible as you meet his gaze, a mixture of surprise and intrigue washing over you. “I guess you could say that,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your stomach. “But it’s not always easy to silence a restless mind, especially with everything going on.” You lean back slightly, trying to play it cool.

You wanted to high five yourself for the sleek answer as you watched his expression change, your eyes focused everywhere but on his. “What about you? You seem like someone who has it all figured out.” Alhaitham chuckles softly, the sound low and almost intimate. “Is that what you think?” he asks, his eyes never leaving you even as you pointedly avoid his gaze. “I might be good at keeping things in order, but even I can’t escape a wandering mind sometimes.” He pauses, watching you fidget slightly. “Though I find that facing what’s on your mind is often more effective than avoiding it,” he adds, his voice dipping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze, heart racing, before deciding to escape the tension. You force a nervous smile as you slowly inch your way towards your desk. "Haha, wise words from a wise man,” you say with a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension, but the moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe internally.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a bit of a shallow observation, don’t you think?” His tone is calm, but there’s an edge of intellectual superiority that stings. “I expected something more insightful.” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you finally reach your seat, sinking into it quickly.

You drop your bag onto the desk, hoping the conversation is over, feeling the weight of his comment linger as you try to brush it off. you dropped your bag onto the desk and slid into your seat, opening your laptop to prepare the slides for today’s lesson. The early morning email from Alhaitham had come as a surprise, his note brief and to the point, requesting you to compile his last-minute thoughts into a presentation. He didn’t have time to do it himself.

“You could have sent me this last night, I spent my whole morning putting this together for you.” you whined, the words had slipped out before you could catch them, an echo of your frustration. “Oh, I didn’t want to worry you,” he had replied, his tone deceptively nonchalant. “I kept you late last night with our little dinner.” There had been a pause, a shift in his words.

“You probably had other, more important things to do after that.” Again, your paranoia ate at you. The implications hung in the air like a heavy fog, and heat rushed to your cheeks as your mind drifted back to your cam session, remembering the way you’d moaned his title for your audience. You turned back to the slides, flustered, trying to focus on the task at hand but you couldn't help but reply back. “Well, I would have still had it done,” you said defiantly, straightening in your seat and meeting his gaze.

“Then you would have probably slept throughout the whole morning and ended up coming late for my first-year lecture,” he countered, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Better than listening to you drone on like a monotone robot,” you replied, a smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back in your chair.

“Touché,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He straightened up, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "But if I’m a robot, then that makes you my delightful assistant—crafted to enhance my teaching.” He says, his large body shadowing over yours as he stood infront of the desk you sat at, he tilts his head as if sizing you up.

“Crafted, huh?” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly. “Maybe you should send me to a repair shop then; I’m definitely malfunctioning.” You raised an eyebrow, maintaining your playful stance, but the heat of his gaze made your heart race.

For a brief moment, the atmosphere shifted, the playful banter charged with an energy that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you draw your focus back on your laptop. You didn’t notice the subtle knowing smile that crept onto Alhaitham’s face as he walked around your desk, the air around him radiating warmth.

Then he stood behind you, leaning forward with one hand bracing the desk just beside your arm, the other slipping into his pocket. The proximity was almost suffocating, and before you could stop it, your mind drifted—back to last night, when you’d been in front of your camera, your body on display for your audience. Your face flushed at the memory, heart thudding wildly in your chest.

How could you think of it now? You’d been lost in your own little world last night, playing to the camera, murmuring 'Professor' in a breathy tone that was meant for faceless strangers.

But now, with him standing right here, close enough that you could smell his clean, woodsy scent, the recollection of your voice—his title—was all you could hear. Your breath hitched. The warmth of him, the way he leaned in just slightly, his scent swirling around you—it was almost too much.

Your heart raced, and for a second, the boundary between reality and fantasy blurred. You swallowed hard, biting your lip as your mind drifted to the idea of his body pressed behind you, his hands gripping your waist tightly— surely to leave his hand prints behind as he takes you from behind, the strong harsh thrusts of his hips slamming into your ass, his teeth biting into the exposed skin of your shoulder as he — A soft pat on your head jolted you back to reality, and you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks.

The touch was so unexpected, so casual, that it shocked you back to the present. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “The slides look great. You’ve done well.” The praise hit you like a jolt of electricity, making your pulse stutter. There was something about the way he said it—calm, composed, yet laced with a teasing edge that made heat creep up your neck.

You could feel your entire body react, the tension coiling in your stomach as his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. You turned to look at him, to say thank you but instead your words were stuck in your throat. His face was inches away from yours, your eyes widen slightly.

“And also stop letting your mind wander while I talk to you; I’d prefer to think you’re hanging onto my every word,” Alhaitham said, his intense gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You could hardly focus on the lecture as your mind spiraled into uncharted territory. 'Yeah, I’m actually thinking of hanging onto you as you push me against the wall and take control. ' The thought sent a rush of heat through your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to suppress the flustered smile threatening to break free.

“Right, because your words are the only thing worth hanging onto,” you shot back, attempting to sound more confident than you felt. “Next, you’ll be telling me you could give a TED talk on the art of monotony.” He chuckled softly, the sound low and amused.

“Monotony is a skill, you know. But perhaps I should consider changing my approach, just to keep your attention.” His smirk widened, and you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes as he added, “Or perhaps you need a more stimulating environment to stay engaged.” As he stepped back, the distance between you returned to its normal state, but the warmth lingered in your cheeks, along with the remnants of the heat his proximity had ignited.

For a second, you were grateful he couldn’t see your face when he turned his back towards you—flushed as it was with the sudden flood of thoughts—thoughts you shouldn’t be having in a classroom.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand, even as your heart raced, and your mind replayed his words. Good girl. You wanted to melt into the floor. The lecture began soon after, and despite your best efforts, your thoughts kept drifting.

Alhaitham’s voice was steady, commanding the room with his usual composed authority, but you found it hard to concentrate. Instead of taking notes, you doodled absently in the margins of your notebook, your mind wandering between the slides and the lingering warmth of his touch, the teasing praise he’d given you.

You had barely noticed the end of the lesson when the shuffle of students leaving the room pulled you back to reality. As you began to gather your things, Alhaitham, ever perceptive, leaned over and plucked the sheet of paper you’d been doodling on from the desk.

“Doodling, I see?” His voice carried that same air of dry amusement, his brow arching slightly as he looked at the aimless swirls of ink. “Not exactly an artistic masterpiece, I suppose you’d rather doodle than listen to me" he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “I could always give you a bunch of thesis papers to mark instead.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist. “Wouldn't want to ruin your flawless teaching reputation, Professor.” You gestured dramatically toward the stacks of papers on his desk. He tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye.

“At least I’m not the one doodling during a lecture, potentially ruining my students’ futures.” He crossed his arms, feigning a look of mock disappointment. You let out a soft laugh, reaching to take the paper back, but he held it just out of reach, his expression maddeningly calm.

“I’m not here to make your lectures look good,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “I’m here because I have to be.” He gave a quiet chuckle, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket like it was something valuable.

“Well,” he said, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ve been doing quite well, as my assistant. Though I have to admit, your work ethic sometimes leaves room for improvement.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the subtle possessiveness in his tone slipping past you entirely.

“My work ethic?” you echoed, giving him an exaggerated look of mock offense. “I’d say you’re lucky to have me.” His smirk widened, the faintest hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“I never said otherwise.” There was a brief pause, and then, casually—almost too casually—he added, “I enjoyed your company last night.” Your heart skipped a beat.

He’d said it so smoothly, without a second thought, but it lingered in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your mind raced back to last night, the way he’d looked at you when you’d shared that quiet moment, the conversation last night felt just a little too intimate.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. And then, with a small, teasing smile, you asked, “And... what would that make this, then? Another ‘company outing’?”

Does that mean he sees you more that his student ? Maybe he now saw you as a friend, that was a good step to getting closer to him ? Correct ?

He paused, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something darker. “Another… occasion for your assistance,” he replied smoothly, though the weight of his words seemed to carry a deeper meaning. “In a slightly different context.” Your breath caught at the subtle, suggestive undertone in his voice.

The way he said it—so calm, so controlled—made your heart race faster. “But not today. I have other plans for us,” Alhaitham said, his voice low and deliberate. Your brows furrowed as you processed his words, the weight of it hanging in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh really? Should I be concerned or flattered?” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your tone, though the flutter in your chest betrayed your casual front.

Alhaitham’s lips curved slightly. “Depends on how much you enjoy surprises,” he replied, his gaze still holding yours, the tension between you unmistakable.

“But what kind of surprise?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, raising an eyebrow at him. Alhaitham’s gaze remained steady, lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Marking,” he replied simply, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it you couldn’t quite place. You blinked, unimpressed.

“Marking? That’s the big surprise?” He shrugged, leaning back slightly. “What? It’s important work,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, but the way he said it made you feel like there was something more lurking beneath the surface.

The walk back to his office was thick with tension, the quiet hallway amplifying every footstep. The college was nearly deserted, only the hum of distant lighting and the faint echo of their steps filling the space. The cool evening air filtered through the open windows, contrasting with the warmth that radiated between them.

Alhaitham towered over you, the height difference making you feel small but far from insignificant in his presence. When he unlocked the door to his office and gestured for you to enter, you weren’t prepared for what you saw—a pool table, sleek and out of place, dominating the room.

His office was a mix of academic and personal space, bookshelves lining the walls, his desk neatly stacked with papers, but the pool table stole your attention. You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him.

"Oh well this is new...I didn’t exactly peg you for someone who plays pool." Alhaitham grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Professor...Kaveh’s doing. The idiot’s redoing his office and shoved it in here until he’s done." His tone was laced with annoyance as he shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

He moved with calculated ease, and when he turned to lock the door behind him, his gaze lingered on you, darker than usual. You stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, feeling the weight of his attention.

You chuckled softly, taking a moment to admire the table’s polished surface. “I’ve never played before,” you confessed, glancing up at him. His usual detached demeanor softened slightly, something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "Well, why don’t I show you how it’s done? It’s Friday, after all. We can relax today instead of working." he said quietly, walking toward the table.

His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that made your pulse quicken.

"But what about the papers you wanted to mark ? 'The suprise' Don't you need to submit them soon?" you question, Alhaitham gazed back up at you and than at the clock on the wall.

"It's past my work hours. Once it hits five and I have no other obligations, I clock out." He says nonchalantly, your brows furrowed as you remember all those days he kept you way after 5 doing tedious and even sometimes silly tasks that kept you with him in his office till 7 or even later.

You didn't say anything as the thought of spending more time with him, just the two of you in this quiet office, sent a thrill through you. You glanced around, noticing how the dim lighting created a cozy atmosphere “You know what? Why not?” you replied, a grin spreading across your face as you finally relaxed to the idea or playing a simple game of pool with your professor.

Alhaitham smiled back, and you could feel the warmth of his gaze as he moved to set up the game. As he lined up the balls, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

This was an opportunity to see a different side of him, to explore the uncharted territory that lay between you. “Let’s see if you have any hidden talents,” he teased, a playful spark in his eyes a contrast to his usual dull and bored gaze.

You watched him as he lined up the balls, his movements so fluid and confident. There was no turning back now. The tension in the room seemed to thicken with every second as he handed you the cue stick, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment, sending a spark of electricity through your skin.

“Stand here,” he instructed, guiding you to the side of the table. “Grip the cue like this.” You tried to follow his directions, but your hands were unsteady, and your mind was racing too fast to fully focus on what he was saying. The room felt smaller, the air heavy and warm.

You could feel his presence behind you, the soft hum of his voice brushing against your ears as he explained the game. You attempted to hit the ball, but it only wobbled awkwardly across the table. Heat rose to your cheeks as you let out a nervous laugh, glancing at him sheepishly.

“I told you I wasn’t any good at this.” Alhaitham didn’t laugh. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

He walks towards you but pauses. "Can I show you how to postion yourself?” His words were simple but they made your heartbeat faster. With just a simple nod of your head, Alhaitham slid behind you, you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours— his chest pressed against your back as his hand reaches for yours that held the cue.

Your heart pounding in your chest as your hands turned clammy, trembling slightly under the weight of his. His large hand enveloped yours on the cue, steadying it. Your legs felt weak beneath you, and the strong scent of him washed over you like a wave, almost intoxicating. His chest pressed against your back—much closer than necessary—much closer than needed and the warmth of his breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, sending a cascade of goosebumps down your spine.

His grip tightened around your hand, guiding the cue, while his other hand held yours at the end of it. He bent forward, pressing his body against yours even more as he aligned you with the ball, leaving no space between the two of you. Your eyes widened, the sudden realization hitting you that you were completely caged beneath him, his strength and presence overwhelming.

Your mind raced, thoughts spinning out of control, each one more dangerous than the last. You were dangerously close to your professor, in a position you shouldn't even be in, it felt very intimate.

You had to leave before you overthought things, before you said or did something you'd regret.

“P-Pr-professor, it’s getting late,” you stammered nervously, trying to find your voice, but it came out as little more than a squeak. Instead of releasing you, his grip on your hands tightened, keeping you firmly in place as he aimed the cue at the ball.

“Oh?” he murmured, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “Late, you say?”

Before you could respond, he cut you off with a chilling whisper.

“Are you getting late to go record yourself?”

Your heart stuttered, skipping a beat as your body went numb. A cold shiver ran down your spine. “W-what?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as panic surged through you. He smirked, the curve of his lips brushing your ear as he readied your hands and his to hit the ball.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “Maybe I should be clearer. Are you getting late to go record yourself... and play with your cunt while thinking about your professor?” Your breath caught in your throat, a gasp stuck in your chest at the revelation of his words and the use of such a profanity coming out of his mouth.

As if on cue, he suddenly hit the ball, the clinking sound of the collision echoing in the tense silence. You stood there, frozen, pale as a ghost, your mind struggling to process what he had just said.

“H-how?” you whispered, your voice weak, barely holding on. “I’ve known you as Ms. Bunny for a while now. Three months, to be exact.” His voice was low, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something mundane. “I was never into things like cam girls, but you... you caught my eye. And as if fate threw the ball into my court, you walked right into my hands. My perfect little bunny.” Your breath hitched, your grip loosening on the cue as it clattered softly against the table.

His hands slid slowly, deliberately down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips, sending another wave of shivers through you. His lips hovered near the nape of your neck, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, as if he were on the verge of kissing you. And in that moment, everything in you screamed to run, but you couldn’t move—trapped beneath him, caged by his words and touch. You were like a bunny caught in a wolf’s den—small, trembling, and helpless, every instinct telling you to flee, but your body refused to respond.

Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else as your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His presence towered over you, predatory, his touch both dangerous and deliberate, pinning you in place as if he could snap you up in an instant.

The air around you thickened, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. His breath on your neck, hot and teasing, sent another shiver coursing through you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as though you were laid bare in front of him, no escape in sight.

His every movement was controlled, his hands firm and sure, while you were frozen, like prey paralyzed under the hunter's gaze, knowing you were outmatched yet powerless to resist. You felt his hands tighten around your waist as he suddenly turned you to face him, the movement both swift and controlled.

Your heart pounded violently, and before you could catch your breath, his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, pressing gently. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, as if he could see through every defense you tried to put up.

"You're going to report me to the college ?" your voice trembling as tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your whole life flashed before your eyes—ruined.

“Report you?” he murmured, voice smooth like velvet, but the underlying tone was sharp, dangerously confident. “Why would I do that to my favorite student… and cam girl?” His thumb pressed a little harder against your lip, teasing, his eyes dragging slowly over your face as if savoring your reaction.

You were trembling, every inch of you on high alert, but then his next words slipped past his lips, low and intimate, sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

“You’re too valuable to me in both of your roles,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath grazing your skin. “But I wonder…” He paused, his thumb pulling at your lip ever so slightly.

“Do you tremble like this when you’re thinking of me late at night?” Your thighs squeezed together involuntarily, the tension overwhelming, a response you couldn’t hide from him.

He smirked, clearly aware of the effect he had on you, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. Your stomach dropped, your entire body flushing with heat as you remembered last night—your body tangled in sheets, your lips parting with a moan as you fantasized about him.

You had no idea he was watching, no idea that he was aware of how deeply you wanted him. His eyes darkened with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.Your mind raced, a whirlwind of shock and confusion.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, as heat rushed to your cheeks. His gaze burned into yours, every word he said weaving a thread of tension that seemed to wrap tighter and tighter around the two of you.

“Every moan, every sigh,” he whispered, his voice dark and dangerously soft, “it intrigued me. You’ve always had a way of captivating an audience, captivating me.” The air between you crackled, the heat of his body so close to yours igniting every nerve.

His pale turquoise eyes, ringed with that striking shade of orange, roamed your face, lingering on your parted lips, on the flush of your cheeks, and the way your breath hitched in anticipation. His thumb traced your jawline slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—only feel the magnetic pull of his presence, the intensity of his gaze. “I know you desire me as much as I desire you,” he stated, voice deep and sure, his eyes drinking in your reaction, locking onto the tears that glossed your wide eyes.

His words sent a surge of heat rushing through you, and before you could deny or confirm, his hand was already moving, trailing down your neck, fingers grazing the edge of your shirt. The tension built with each passing second, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he leaned in.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm and teasing against your mouth. You felt every inch of him so close, his chest brushing against yours, the heat of his body seeping into yours. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, closing the gap as if drawn by an invisible force. And then his lips captured yours. The kiss was slow at first, his mouth moving gently against yours, testing, teasing. But the moment you responded, his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer, the kiss deepening with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

His other hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers pressing against the fabric of your shirt, urging you closer to him. As Alhaitham’s lips moved against yours, the kiss deepened. His tongue slid between your parted lips, meeting yours in a slow, sensual dance. The heat of the moment overwhelmed you, and you responded instinctively, your tongue tangling with his in a battle for dominance that made your head spin.

Every touch of his tongue against yours sent shockwaves through your body, a fire igniting in your core as you pressed closer to him, seeking more. His large hands roamed over your back, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeper, almost possessively. His other hand trailed down your side, fingers grazing the edge of your exposed skin, sending goosebumps across your body.

The kiss was intoxicating, and every movement of his tongue against yours sent a surge of electricity through your veins. His lips parted slightly, and his tongue dipped back into your mouth, exploring you with an almost deliberate slowness that made you weak in the knees. The warmth of his breath mixed with yours, the taste of him lingering on your lips as he pressed his body closer, trapping you against him.

You moaned softly into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him in a way that made your heart race even faster. His grip tightened as his tongue teased yours, the sensation of it sliding against yours both tender and demanding, filling you with a longing you hadn’t felt before.

You felt utterly consumed by him, the tension between you unbearable as his mouth worked expertly against yours, stealing every thought from your mind. Just as he reached to unhook your bra, his lips still pressed against yours, there was a knock at the door. Alhaitham paused for a moment, but instead of pulling away, he groaned lowly against your lips, his tongue still teasing yours as he kept you trapped in the kiss.

His hand, which had been ready to undo the clasp of your bra, stayed firmly in place as he pulled you even closer, as if refusing to be interrupted. He clearly wasn’t finished yet. You whimpered softly, the knock on the door barely registering as your senses were overwhelmed by his touch and the intoxicating way his tongue moved against yours.

Another knock echoed through the room, louder this time. Alhaitham swore under his breath, finally pulling away from the kiss but not letting go of you. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, his warm breath mingling with yours. "I locked the door," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, as if to reassure you that no one could just walk in.

But the knock persisted. With a frustrated sigh, Alhaitham glanced toward the door, clearly annoyed at the interruption. His eyes, now darker with unspoken desire, flickered back to you. "Get under the desk," he ordered softly, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for argument.

"You’re not exactly in a presentable state." You scrambled to obey, quickly adjusting your half-open shirt and ducking under his desk. The tension in the room was palpable, your heart still pounding from the kiss as you crouched down, hidden from view.

Alhaitham straightened himself up, his movements smooth and composed, though you could tell he was still agitated. His fingers combed through his hair, and with a deep breath, he crossed the room, unlocking the door and opening it to reveal Kaveh on the other side.

Kaveh strolled in uninvited, his presence filling the room like an obnoxious breeze. His platinum blonde hair caught the dim light of the office, gleaming as he leaned against the doorframe. He wore sleek trousers, the fabric light and fine, like silk. They crinkled softly as he shifted his weight, standing with one hip cocked. His shirt, loosely untucked, made him look both casual and out of place at this hour. The texture of his trousers was smooth, almost shimmering with the light sheen that played across the fabric, emphasizing the ease with which Kaveh carried himself.

Alhaitham’s jaw tightened in irritation. Without missing a beat, he subtly moved back toward his desk, his eyes glancing down at you hidden beneath it. Your heart raced, pulse quickening as you pressed yourself further into the shadows.

"Really, Kaveh," Alhaitham said, his voice carefully composed though laced with clear annoyance, "was there something urgent you needed?" He casually lowered himself into the desk chair, positioning himself in front of you.

As he did, his thighs brushed against either side of your face, enclosing your head between them. Your breath hitched, eyes widening in shock at how intimately close you suddenly were. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and the scent of him was stronger here, enveloping you entirely.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your pulse racing at this unexpected situation, and you had to fight to stay still, afraid even the slightest movement would give you away. From above, Alhaitham sat calmly, looking at Kaveh with practiced nonchalance, though the tension in the room was palpable.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly in his chair, though the motion pressed the hard surface of his leg brushing against your chest as you tucked yourself away.

The space was small, the cool wood above your head a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Alhaitham’s body. Your breath was shallow, heart pounding as you tried to settle into the cramped space. You could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse under your palm where it rested on his thigh, the taut muscle flexing as he moved to close the gap between his chair and the desk.

His thigh muscles were hard under your hand, and the scent of his clean, crisp cologne was intoxicating in such proximity. The subtle shift of fabric against your cheek made you hyperaware of how close you were to his crotch. “Alhaitham,” Kaveh huffed our, annoyed, “What’re you still doing here? I figured you’d have packed up like everyone else. Or are you hoping to sulk in solitude all night?” Alhaitham’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I prefer quiet. Unlike some people.”

Kaveh’s gaze darted to the pool table shoved against the far wall. “Speaking of quiet, how’s your student? I haven’t seen her around. Skipping out on you already?” He smirked, and Alhaitham’s jaw tightened. “She’s too busy working on her ‘mediocre distractions’ to bother showing up,” Alhaitham quipped dryly, a hint of annoyance bleeding into his voice.

He clearly didn’t like being put on the spot, and the casual insult about you grated on your nerves. Without thinking, you bit down on his thigh—just enough for him to feel it, just enough to remind him you were still there, listening.

He jolted, his leg twitching under your bite, a low gasp escaping his lips. The sudden rush of sensation caused his composure to falter, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk briefly. His sharp intake of breath made his pulse quicken, and you felt it through the taut muscles under your fingers.

Kaveh’s eyes narrowed, catching the subtle shift in Alhaitham’s expression. “Did you just hurt yourself sitting down? You’re not that old, are you?” Kaveh teased, eyes flicking from Alhaitham’s tightly clenched hands back to his face. “I... hit my knee,” Alhaitham muttered, the words forced, as if he were struggling to keep his voice steady.

“Waiting for you to leave is apparently hazardous to my health.” Kaveh scoffed, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s amazing you even have any patience left. Though, you really shouldn’t insult your assistant. From what I’ve seen, she does all the heavy lifting around here.” A wave of irritation surged through you, but your biting had only seemed to amuse Alhaitham more.

His thigh tensed beneath you as his fingers briefly brushed against the underside of the desk, almost as if warning you to stop. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, torn between the embarrassment of the situation and the thrill of knowing that Kaveh was completely oblivious to your presence, hidden between Alhaitham’s legs.

“You’ve got no room to talk, Kaveh,” Alhaitham retorted coolly, trying to regain his composure despite the lingering sensation of your teeth on his skin.

“How are your selfcations going? Found anyone to tolerate you for longer than five minutes yet?” Kaveh’s face twisted into a mock pout. “I won’t grace you with my presence for a week, so enjoy the silence. And don’t forget to water my plants while I’m away.”

As Kaveh turned to leave, his eyes lingering on the desk for a moment longer than comfortable, Alhaitham shifted in his seat, pulling his chair closer to ensure you stayed completely hidden. You were tucked tightly between his thighs, your lips so close to the heat of his growing arousal that you could almost feel it through his trousers. The tension was unbearable, your heart thundering in your chest as you struggled to stay still, your mind racing with the illicit nature of it all.

Kaveh finally let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I’ll leave you to your brooding. But don’t think you can insult your student without consequences. She’s probably the best thing you’ve got going for you.”

With a wave, Kaveh sauntered out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alhaitham exhaled heavily, his body relaxing only slightly. His hand fell to your head, fingers threading into your hair, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him from your position between his thighs, your face flushed, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

When he glanced down at you, there was no mischievous glint in his eyes—only something darker, more consuming. His gaze roamed over your swollen lips, the rise and fall of your chest, and the way you still knelt between his legs, completely at his mercy.

“And you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shudder through you, “biting my thigh like that—what were you thinking?”

The look in his eyes was intense, magnetic, pulling you in. His fingers tightened their hold on your hair, tugging lightly as he leaned forward just enough that your breaths mingled, warm and shallow.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “Maybe I wanted to see how you’d react.”

His lips quirked up, not in amusement, but in acknowledgment of the challenge. “Dangerous game, little one,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lip, smearing the remnants of your earlier kiss.

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the creak of the leather barely audible over the heavy, charged silence in the room. The air felt thick with tension, your face now so close to his growing arousal that your breaths mingled with the scent of him. The heat radiating from him made your pulse quicken, and when his hand moved to his belt, your heart stuttered in your chest.

His hand was steady, the fingers long, elegant but strong, with a certain grace as they worked the leather through the buckle. The light from the overhead lamp cast shadows across the veins on the back of his hand, tracing the subtle ridges of muscle. The buckle clicked open, and his fingers deftly undid the button of his trousers, the fabric parting to reveal the dark material of his boxers beneath.

He was thick and large underneath the thin material, your eyes trailing from the tip and towards the end— where his heavy balls with with cum laid beneath the thin material that covered it.

He paused, his eyes dropping to meet yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, but his gaze—intense and searching—lingered on you, as though he were gauging your reaction, watching for the smallest flicker of apprehension. But your eyes, heavy with arousal, met his in silent understanding, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

His voice was deep, low as he commanded, “Just your mouth.”

A spark of nervousness shot through you at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “What if someone walks in?”

A quiet, almost condescending chuckle slipped from his lips as his fingers slid into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You seem to thrive on the thrill of it,” he murmured, his tone as sharp as ever but layered with something darker, something that made the ache between your thighs all the more unbearable. “Now use that smart mouth of yours efficiently.”

His words settled over you like a challenge, and despite the flush of nerves still heating your skin, you leaned forward. Your lips ghosted over the soft fabric of his boxers, a tentative kiss pressed to the tip of the hard cock beneath. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, but his grip on your hair remained steady, guiding, controlling. His breath hitched as your lips moved lower, your mouth parting to mouth along the outline of him, and you could feel the power shift in the way his fingers flexed in your hair.

This was different from anything you'd ever experienced before. The intimacy of it, the raw tension—it was overwhelming, and yet, you found yourself craving more, your pulse pounding in your ears as the space between you dissolved into something electric.

The fabric of his boxers was soft against your lips, but beneath it, the hardness of his cock was undeniable, pulsing with heat. You could feel his body tensing with every kiss and suckle you placed along his length, teasing, testing. The scent of him filled your senses, heady and intoxicating, and the weight of his hand in your hair kept you grounded, pulling you deeper into the moment.

Alhaitham’s breath came out in a slow, controlled exhale, but there was a tension to it, a subtle hitch that betrayed his usually calm exterior. He leaned back further in his chair, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you. His grip tightened, fingers threading deeper into your hair, guiding you, though not forcefully. It was a subtle command, the unspoken desire behind it clear as his thumb grazed along your scalp, sending shivers down your spine.

You pressed another kiss to his boxers, this time bolder, your lips lingering a little longer. The heat radiating from his skin was almost overwhelming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken in response. Your heart raced, your body humming with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you leaned closer, letting your breath warm the space just above the waistband.

"Good," he murmured, voice low, vibrating with something restrained. His other hand had moved to his side, resting casually on the arm of his chair, but his fingers twitched, betraying the tension running through him. "But don’t be afraid to commit. I didn’t peg you for someone who holds back."

Your breath hitched at the sharp edge to his words, his usual intelligence now infused with a sensuality that made your knees feel weak. You pressed your lips more firmly against him, the friction of the fabric between you and his skin making your core throb with desire.

Without a word, you let your hands move to his thighs, your fingers sinking into the fabric of his trousers. The texture was smooth, fine, yet beneath it, the hard muscle of his legs tensed under your touch. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the sensation of his powerful body so close making your pulse race, your thoughts scatter.

Your lips brushed lower, tracing the waistband with delicate, feather-light kisses. You could feel him shift, his grip in your hair tightening slightly, his breath coming faster, though he tried to keep it controlled. The anticipation in the air between you both was almost suffocating.

You let your teeth sink into the waistband tugging at it lightly as Alhaitham lifts his hips to help you remove the material. His hard cock gently tapped agaisnt your cheek when you had pulled the boxers down, precum streaked your rose tinted cheek.

Your eyes widen at the site of his cock that was mere inches away from your drooling mouth. The vein around his shaft throbbed in arousal, the pearly white liquid of his precum threatened to spill as his heavy balls pulsed with the need for your attention.

"Just like that," he whispered, the approval in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His thumb grazed the nape of your neck, gentle but insistent, a subtle reminder of who held control, even as he unraveled beneath your touch.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that the man you had admired from a distance, the professor who had always seemed so untouchable, was now leaning back in his chair with his belt undone, his hand in your hair, letting you unravel him piece by piece. His dark eyes bore into yours, full of something that made your stomach flutter and your breath catch in your throat.

"Now," he said softly, his voice a low growl that sent shivers through your entire body, "let's see if you can use that mouth for more than just smart remarks." His fingers flexed in your hair, his gaze never leaving yours as he waited, tension coiling in the air between you both, thick and electric.

Your lips part, breath catching in your throat as you first press a gentle kiss on the rosy tip of his cock, your tongue peeked out from between your lips as you gave his slit a gentle kick, Alhaitham hissed at this fingers tighten around your hair, your eyes stare up at him with innocent as he groans.

You now decide to let your mouth to wrap around the mushroom tip, your tongue swirled around it, tasting the precum.

“fuck, your mouth’s so warm, bunny.” groaning so lowly, Alhaitham leaned his head back on the leather chair. caressing the top of your hair, strands in between his long digits, heavy breathing — and quiet whimpering.

You decide to be bolder as you let the whole length slide into your mouth and down your throat, your eyes briming with tears as his cock twitched in your mouth as you tightened your lips around his length and pulled back up, licking the beautiful rosy tip, kitty-like, right on the line of it while you looked at his teal-eyes from under his desk.

You carefully moved to not let any of your saliva nor his pre-and-soon-cum spill on his pants as you take him once again, the weight of him pressing heavily against your cheek. He’s thicker, heavier than you imagined—far more than any of the toys you’ve ever used—and the heat radiating off him is intoxicating. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickers through you, but when his fingers tighten in your hair, drawing your attention back to him, that hesitation melts away.

The warmth of his skin seeps into your mouth as you stretch your lips around him, taking in as much as you can. The reality of him, so solid and present, fills your senses, overwhelming in the best way. He twitches against your tongue as you move, and the way he lets out a low, satisfied sigh makes something stir deep inside you. “That’s it… just like that,” he murmurs, voice thick and breathless, his fingers flexing in your hair as he gently guides your movements.

You can feel the tension in his thighs as you press your nails into them, steadying yourself, but also earning a sharp intake of breath from him. The sensation of your teeth lightly grazing him causes him to tense, his hips jerking slightly in response. You try to take him deeper, but there’s no way to fit all of him—he’s too much and he didn't want you to use your hands on his cock— just your mouth, you work him slowly, savoring every reaction he gives you, every rough inhale as his hips move in rhythm with your mouth.

His voice is a low rumble above you, his words like velvet. “You’re even better than I imagined…” he mutters, his gaze fixed on you, dark and intense. His eyes drink in every detail—your lips stretched around his cock, the soft flush spreading across your cheeks. “All those nights watching… and now I have you here, real, and mine.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, heat pooling in your stomach as you moan softly against him, the vibration pulling another low groan from his chest. His reaction is instant—his hips pressing forward as he sinks deeper into your mouth, his fingers tightening their hold. You can feel him twitching against your tongue, responding to every little movement, every swirl of your lips.

Then, without warning, you feel something press firmly against the apex of your thighs—on your clothed cunt. The tip of his shoe, pressing into you through your clothes, the pressure sudden and overwhelming. Your eyes widen, a gasp caught in your throat as pleasure jolts through you. The heat between your legs intensifies, and you instinctively grind against the pressure, trying to relieve the ache building inside you. It’s too much, too soon, and your mind spins from the intensity of it all.

His voice drips with control, low and commanding as his hips begin to move faster. “You like that, don’t you? The thrill of being caught… the thrill of being under me.” He’s watching you closely, every flicker of your eyes, every twitch of your body, his own arousal spiking at the sight of you on your knees, lips wrapped around him.

Suddenly, his cock is deeply down your throat as you gag repeatedly. his fingers wrapped around your hair, holding it still while thrusting his hips up and beneath him, the ultimate choking mess, gasping for air, mumbling all sorts of pleading languidly — on the verge of tears and apparent faintness from the feeling of Alhaitham in your throat and the stimulation on your cunt.

"keep still and let me cum in your mouth pretty mouth, my sweet bunny." Alhaitham grunted, his eyes taking in the site of you.

Sweat beading up up along your forehead, your mouth shoved with his cock, your eyes blurring with tears, shirt hanging on your body exposing your bra, your fingers digging into his thighs and the site of you rutting your cunt against the sole of his shoe is what tips Alhaitham to the edge.

His release is sudden, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. You struggle to swallow it all, the salty taste flooding your senses, but you do your best, even as it becomes difficult to breathe. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, your lips still wrapped around him as his hips stutter to a stop, his chest heaving above you. His cock still in your mouth as it slowly softens but not completely. Your tongue desperately lapping up at his tip and he hisses from the overstimulation.

Alhaitham looked down to stare at your disheveled self, reddish swollen lips, doe eyes, watery eyelashes and finally letting you breath, patting your head. a string of saliva — and semen — connecting your lips to his tip, as you still rutted agaisnt his shoe, your arousal evident as it slowly leaked from beneath your skirt and glistened alongside your thigh.

When he finally pulls away, your mouth feels empty, your lips swollen and wet. You’re dazed, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tracing the wetness there, his gaze dark and heavy as he takes in the sight of you—your face flushed, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

“You did well,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of satisfaction. The praise going straight to your cunt.

A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Better than I could have imagined. I’ve waited for this… and it was worth every second.”

As you catch your breath, his thumb lingers against your lip, pressing down gently as if to remind you of what just happened. You’re still trembling slightly, your legs weak beneath you, your body still buzzing with a mix of lingering pleasure and adrenaline. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, and when his hand falls from your lips, it moves to your hair, fingers threading through it, pulling you just a bit closer.

His leg, still pressed firmly against your sensitive core, shifts, sending another wave of heat rushing through you. But before you can fully register it, his hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you up from your knees. Your body moves as if on instinct, and suddenly, you're on his lap, straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips as he settles you against him as you felt his cock agaisnt your clothed pussy.

The world around you feels like it’s spinning—his hands are warm and strong as they hold you, his touch both commanding and careful, guiding your every movement. Your breath hitches as you feel the firmness of his chest against yours, his shirt slightly rumpled from how hurried everything had been. His belt is still undone, pants half-open, and the closeness of your bodies ignites something deeper within you. The friction of his cock brushing against your clothed mound as he adjusts you sends sparks up your spine, causing you to let out a soft, involuntary gasp.

His hands splay across your lower back, holding you flush against him, and the warmth of his body sears through the thin layers of fabric between you. His gaze never leaves yours—those sharp, intelligent eyes darkened by desire, searching your face, watching your every reaction. His lips quirk slightly, the hint of a smirk on his face, but there’s something else in his expression now—something raw, almost hungry.

You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and teasing, as he leans in closer, his fingers trailing up your spine, settling just between your shoulder blades. His mouth hovers near yours, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. He’s waiting, drawing out the moment, letting the tension coil tighter between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, every beat echoing in your ears as the heat between your legs grows, your body responding to his closeness, his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick down to your slightly parted lips, swollen from the earlier kiss, then back up to meet yours. “I knew you’d feel like this… but having you here, in my lap, like this… it’s better than anything I could have imagined.”

His words send a rush of warmth through your body, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You’re acutely aware of the way his leg presses against you, the friction building with every slight shift of your hips. His hands, firm and confident, guide your movements as he leans back in his chair, settling you more comfortably against him. The pressure between your legs is almost unbearable now, and the way his body responds to yours—his growing arousal pressed against you—only heightens the sensation.

As your hips move slightly, the friction intensifies, and a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. His gaze sharpens, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist as his cock presses up against you, sending another pulse of heat through your core. His smirk grows, eyes gleaming with that knowing look as his fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along your back.

“You like that?” His voice is a soft tease, laced with amusement, but also something deeper, more commanding. “The way I touch you… the way your body reacts.” His lips brush against your ear, the heat of his breath sending chills across your skin. “You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? To be here, with me.”

His words stir something within you, a mix of excitement and vulnerability. Your body answers before your mind does—your hips rolling instinctively against him, chasing that friction, that warmth. His hands guide you, controlling the pace, slow but deliberate, teasing you, making you want more.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips once more before he closes the distance, finally pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep. The kiss feels different this time—more deliberate, more consuming. His lips move against yours with a steady, confident rhythm, and you melt into him, letting the kiss drown out everything else.

The room around you seems to fade away—there’s only him, the heat of his body, the way his lips claim yours, and the delicious pressure of his cock gainst your most sensitive spot. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of his breath mingling with yours.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes gently across your bottom lip, swollen and slick from the kiss.

The silence in the room was thick, a comfortable intimacy hanging in the air between you, making every heartbeat feel amplified.

As you looked into his captivating light turquoise eyes, you didn't think before you let the words slip past your lips.

“Would you like to watch me stream in person?”

#professor alhaitham x cam girl student reader #professor alhaitham #haitham #alhaitham genshin #alhaitham smut #genshin impact alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x female reader #al haitam x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x reader smut #genshin smut

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earlysunshines · 5 months ago

Text

once in a moon

pham hanni x fem!reader ; angst, fluff

synopsis: hanni meets the new girl and she's oddly familiar -- familiar in a way that makes her heart ache.

warnings: childhood friends to something less, more, and in between, to lovers ; basketball player reader ooo and hanni is in student gov ; angst AND pining omg ; minji a victim (bystander of idiots) always ; hyein fr plotting ; THERE'S ONLY ONE BED??? ahahaa ; making out YAY ; anything else I didn't mention ; guess what... KINDA proofread muahahaha

a/n: mmm quite long like... looong and idk how I feel ab the pacing mmm but I like this one I think yes mm hmm ≧◡≦

hanni lets hyein drag her to the girls' basketball practice, the underclassman chattering excitedly about new girl who had made the team the same day she transferred. despite acting annoyed, hanni is intrigued. according to hyein, the new girl not only makes 9 out of 10 three-pointers, but is also stunning.

“even haerin thinks she’s really pretty, and she never admits things like that, hanni.”

“wow, she must be a hot shot then,” the older girl responds sarcastically, making hyein roll her eyes.

“shut up, don’t come drooling to me when you finally meet her and she becomes the girl you’re fixated on for at least the next month.”

“okay, okay, i get it. this new girl is something special or whatever.” hanni continues to be dragged towards the basketball courts, hyein steering her away from where the guys practice and toward the bleachers in front of where the girls are. “is their practice even over?”

“haerin said they end at five, that’s in five minutes. we’re right on time!”

“i can’t believe i let a child drag me back to school after hours.”

“you were already staying after! you literally have to plan half the events, fundraisers, and whatever else you do… you were literally in mr. ahn’s class with minji and dani.”

hyein got hanni there, making hanni scoff jokingly. the younger girl sits down in the bleachers' second row, watching all the girls finish running up and down the court. once they finish, a few sit down tiredly, sweat making their faces glow in the light that seeps through the windows.

hanni already knows half the basketball team thanks to haerin, so it shouldn’t be too hard to spot this wonder of a girl. she scans the team, her eyes skimming over the players she’s familiar with until they land on a sweaty, uncovered torso and defined abs. her eyes widen – partly from shock at how someone can be built that well, but also because the girl looks oddly familiar.

as she continues to stare, trying to place where she’s seen her before, hyein nudges her. "see what i mean? she’s something else, right? she’s in your grade, you should make a move or become friends with her."

hanni nods absently, still figuring out why the girl seems so familiar. the new girl’s face comes into view as she turns to grab a water bottle, and hanni’s jaw drops.

"it can’t be," hanni whispers, more to herself than to hyein.

hyein looks at her curiously. "you know her?"

hanni swallows hard, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up. "yeah, i think i do."

the younger girl grabs hanni’s wrist and starts to drag her away again, this time towards haerin, who’s talking to the familiar girl.

when hanni meets your eyes right after you glance down, both of your eyes widen at the same time, the revelation hitting the two of you just as hard. recognition floods in, bringing back memories of how you know each other.

hanni can’t believe her eyes, it’s you – l/n y/n.

–

you and hanni knew each other alright, she was the main part – one of the few people that you remembered in detail – of your childhood. if anything, she was your childhood.

both of you had known each other since second grade, which led to a strong friendship. you spent your days growing up together, laughing and playing, inseparable through the years. from recess adventures to sleepovers filled with whispered secrets and shared dreams, your whole worlds revolved around each other. you had countless inside jokes, understood each other’s moods without a word, and could communicate with just a glance. your families even joked that you were joined at the hip, and as you grew, so did the bond that seemed unbreakable.

when middle school rolled around, things got rocky – just as things always do at this age.

you and hanni still spent most of your time together, but she was a social butterfly, making so many new friends and putting herself out there to the point that it was hard to keep up.

of course, you wanted to be there for her, but your timid nature never really changed. you trailed along whenever she went out, feeling like her shadow as she laughed and joked with everyone else. hanni always made sure to check on you, reminding you that your presence mattered to her, that she appreciated you. yet, despite her kindness, it was draining. the constant effort to blend into the background while staying close to her took a toll on you, leaving you both comforted and exhausted.

you stopped tagging along because the only reason you ever did was to spend more time with her. it was strange, the feeling you had when you were with hanni or even thinking about her. you had never felt anything like it.

she would smile while with her friends, and you fought back the urge to smile back. sometimes she’d rest her hand on your arm, sending a shiver through you. when she looked you dead in the eye, you would always retreat. she did things to you that weren’t explainable. they were foreign, making you uneasy and weak in the knees to the point that it all just frustrated and confused you.

your heart yearned for her, and you knew that was dangerous. she had so many other friends and people there for her; it was almost like she was growing out of you. you felt like a thorn in her side, something she needed to pick out in order to really break out of her shell. it hurt to see her laughing, smiling, and being so touchy with her new friends when it used to be just with you. you wanted it to stay as just you being the light in her life.

the person you had known most of your life was growing into someone lovable, someone you loved more than words could explain. and what did you do? you were thirteen; what else could you do other than distance yourself and sulk? the depth of your feelings overwhelmed you, and the only way you knew how to cope was to retreat, watching from the sidelines as she blossomed without you.

you stopped tagging along, visited her house less often, and dismissed more than half her efforts to see you because every time you spent time with her, your heart ached. you saw the stars in her eyes, and it felt like you were some meteor drifting away from her, destined to lose her light.

and besides, you would soon be distant from her physically as well. it was inevitable with your dad’s new job, which promised to support you and your mom much better. the move would take you a continent away, so what was the point of getting closer? it seemed wiser to start distancing yourself now, to make ripping the bandaid off less painful.

of course, this didn’t go unnoticed. hanni grew increasingly confused as to why you were being so distant. was it something she did? were you having trouble? what was going on with you? she wanted to talk to you about it, but you always pushed her away, no matter how hard she tried. even when she managed to get you to open up just a little, it never provided a clear answer. frustrated and hurt, she began to distance herself as well, finding it hard to connect with someone who now seemed so different. she began to spend more time with her other friends, always feeling like something had been missing with each outing.

she just wanted her y/n back, but it felt like the y/n she had known had transformed into someone so foreign that she couldn’t even tell if it was really you anymore.

before she could do anything about the rift, just wanting you back again as her friend and the person who made her heart do jumps in her chest, you had to break the news to her.

hanni remembers it all so clearly, seeing you at her doorstep for the first time in at least a month without any warning before. even with everything that had happened between the two of you, she was happy that you were there in front of her.

“y/n, hi.” a small smile immediately graces her lips, she’s relieved. she looks up at you a bit, you’ve always been taller, but with all the distance and lack of time to be around you, it seemed that you had grown a bit more than she had thought. “what are you doing here?”

your expression is stone cold, with a little hint of hurt and regret. “i’m leaving tomorrow.”

“what do you mean? on vacation or something?”

“korea, hanni. my dad got a good job there, we’re moving.”

“y/n, what are you saying? it’s only for a little while, right?” her brows crinkle, she tries to read your face, praying that this is a joke. “right?”

you don’t answer.

“y/n, how long have you– when did you find this out?”

“six months ago.” you mutter bluntly. “i just, didn’t want you to be so surprised when i wouldn’t be in school.”

her voice cracks and you almost crack too. “y/n, you’re fucking lying to me right now. are you serious? and you spent those eight months talking to me three times a month max?”

for the first time, you look her in the eye, then mumble, “i’m sorry.”

“y/n, how could you just drop this on me? we have to– when will i see you again?”

“i don’t know hanni, but you’ll get over it.” hanni is shocked by the slight tone of anger in your voice. “you have all these friends and people who admire you, why do you care so much about me? just get over it.”

“you’re fucking kidding. get over you? y/n, you think i can just do that like this?” she snaps her finger to emphasize her words. you flinch. “is this why you’ve been avoiding me? because you’re jealous that i have more friends than you? you pushed me away because i had friends?”

“you’re calling me a loser?” her wording makes you scoff. “i didn’t know you could be so fucking rude.”

“that’s not what i meant y/n,” she pauses, her expression softening. “you know what i meant, i just–”

“i do know what you mean. fuck this hanni, you’ll be rid of me anyway.” you spit, then turn around. hanni walks after you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. “what the hell do you want?”

her eyes shine from tears starting to line her eyes, she looks at you desperately. “y/n, please don’t leave.” her grip tightens. “please, i can’t lose you.”

hanni remembers watching you gulp, seeing a split second of regret, sorrow, anger, and everything in between flash across your face. “i’m sorry.”

she recalls crying for hours on end, trying to text you apologies and heartfelt messages, begging you to see her just once more. you tried desperately to ease the amount of hurt hanni would feel throughout those eight months, but it only made it worse. the more you distanced yourself, the more she felt the sting of your absence, and your efforts to protect her heart only seemed to break it further.

–

she stares at you, frozen in place. your features are the same, just matured and even more appealing. her eyes trace the curve of your nose, the shape of your eyes, and down to your lips—the lips she used to stare at for a bit too long back when you would fall asleep in her bed years ago. it's you, there’s no doubt about it. she knows you like the back of her palm even if years have passed.

you’re taller now, much taller, by at least eight or ten centimeters. you almost tower over her, your height a testament to the years you've spent playing basketball. the way your eyes narrow gives her that same feeling you had given her years prior. you still have that same intensity she always found endearing, and it washes over her in a wave of emotions.

“y/n,” she practically breathes out. “you’re– you’re here.”

your jaw tightens as you stare down at her, ignoring the sweat drop that falls off the end of your chin.

there are goosebumps forming as you stare back, realizing that after years of trying to forget the face you admired the most for so much of your life—years of convincing yourself you could live normally even when thoughts of her crossed your mind—you thought you'd be fine if you ever ran into her again. you believed you had moved on, even after the big argument and the years of forcing resentment, but that's not the case.

far from it, because hanni looks even prettier than she did back then, her features more mature yet still warm and achingly familiar. her eyes are as bright as ever, still holding that wonder and curiosity despite how poorly you treated her with your sudden news and departure.

as you meet her gaze again after all these years, you feel the world stop spinning beneath your feet. she's stunning, more beautiful than ever, and it takes your breath away.

you force yourself to stop gazing and look over to haerin, rubbing the sweat off your face and mumbling, “i have to go, my aunt expects me back.” before you pat her on the shoulder and hurry off, leaving hanni’s whole world shaken up.

haerin just nods, then looks back at the shorter girl. “what’s up with you, do you know y/n?”

“um, yeah.” hanni says simply, still watching you while you walk towards the girls locker room. you turn back to glance at her and hanni feels her heart sink. “we knew each other in middle school.”

“oh really? she used to live around here?”

hanni hums.

and she’s back now, leaving and returning with no fucking warning.

–

you spent the rest of the evening and night (really until you fell asleep) thinking of hanni. of course she still lived in town, she was never far from your aunt anyway.

moving back to where you grew up allowed thoughts of hanni and your past to resurface. the chance of running into her wasn’t too high, or low for that matter. you lived with your aunt, just a twenty-minute bus ride from your old house—the house filled with memories you had pushed down and shoved away for the sake of your sanity.

the whole reason you moved back was because the schools here were better, and you genuinely preferred your hometown to the overwhelming city. the academic life here was better, less overwhelming, and all your favorite spots—restaurants, cafes, parks, and other places you’d wander off to back then—were conveniently located here. what made it even better was that your favorite basketball court was just a short five-minute walk from your new home, perfect for cooling down and improving your skills during practice.

you had thought moving here would be great, even if you ran into hanni, because you believed you had moved on from her. it stung a bit more now that you actually had ran into her, but at least you didn’t share any classes or lunches with her, and you hadn’t seen her in the hallways after a week at the new school. so what if you both attended the same place? things were still going your way.

the counselor sits you down and slides you a paper. you quirk a brow looking at it.

“what’s this?”

“miss l/n, i’m afraid they’ve messed up transferring the credits you had in korea, so we had to rearrange your classes and drop your courses for others. i apologize for the trouble, but it’s for the sole purpose of graduating.” she explains, then points to your paper. “if it makes you feel better, these classes are much easier than the ones you had previously. it’s all going to work out in the end.”

you huff as you review each change. now, you have two free periods, which is a definite plus compared to your packed schedule before. the order of your classes has completely shuffled, except for two classes—thankfully, at least those will be easy to find. on top of that, your homeroom has changed, which you don't mind at all, especially since the previous teacher had greeted you with the nastiest glare upon your arrival.

there’s nothing you can do to change it anyway, you’re just trying to graduate and get direct admission into the university downtown at the end of it all. if your schedule is changed in order for that to happen, then so be it.

“thank you.”

“the classes that changed are all upstairs, so the constants are still down on the first floor. your lunches have changed too, but you can sort that out easily with the teachers. i hope it’s not too much for you.”

you wave your hands in the air. “it’s fine, really. i’ll just get going then, thank you.”

–

it is everything but fine.

the bell had already rung, the halls were empty for the most part, and had just made your way upstairs. you find room 242 after searching for at least two minutes, your base physics class got dropped so now you’re taking advanced honors environmental sciences, unfortunately.

after knocking twice on the door, it’s opened by a middle-aged man around two centimeters taller than you. he greets you warmly, “ah, you must be the transfer? miss l/n, is that right?”

“yes, that’s me. y/n l/n.”

“great, come on in. we’ve just started, but i can help fill you in.”

“thanks.”

you walk in and clutch the strap of your bag with one hand. every head turns to face you, each classmate clearly intrigued by the newcomer—by you.

“ah, right. i’m mr. wei, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”

“oh, um.” you clear your throat, looking down at some random desk as you begin, “my name is y/n l/n, it’s nice to meet you all.”

looking up, you meet someones eyes in the second row, and of course it’s no one other than hanni pham, her eyes widened slightly. her brows furrow just barely at the sight of you and it makes you bite down on your teeth.

“alright, you take that empty seat by the window next to minji. could you raise your hand minji?”

a girl with dark hair raises her hand, seated directly behind hanni. your shoulders sink slightly, but you push down any feelings and walk over to take the seat. thankfully, there isn’t much commotion. sure, you’re new and everyone’s curious about you, but it’s just a tuesday morning and everyone has other concerns. and you? you have to focus on sitting behind her.

you set your bag down and sit next to minji, offering her a small smile before turning your attention to the board.

hanni fights the urge to glance back at you. she considers asking minji for a pen as an excuse, but hanni always has her own writing supplies and minji would likely brush off her request, making her feel foolish in front of you. she sighs softly, forcing her gaze to stay fixed on the front of the room, struggling to pay attention despite you sitting right behind her.

“did they mess up your schedule?” minji asks you quietly as mr. wei starts his lesson. “they do that with a lot of new kids.”

“oh, yeah. i wanted direct admission to the uni, ador has a lot of good programs for what i want to pursue so…”

“ohhhh,” minji nods, then picks up her pen. “yeah, a lot of the advanced honors kids are doing that, everyone here is actually.”

that means hanni falls into that. “oh, really?”

“well, most.” minji shrugs. “anyway, before he starts actually teaching; i’m minji, nice to meet you.”

“nice to meet you too.”

she smiles and slides her notebook. “we’ve had a few lessons prior, so if you need notes or anything just snap a picture.”

“thanks, i appreciate it.”

“it’s nothing, you’ll get the hang of it.”

hanni hears the whole exchange happening behind her, and she desperately wants to join in. there's nothing she wants more than to talk to you again, maybe even steal a glance at you for a little longer. it's been so long, and there are so many unanswered questions. hanni can't even tell if you're real or just a figment of her imagination. the longing to reconnect is almost overwhelming, but she hesitates, unsure of how you would react after all this time – unsure of how she’ll be talking to you again.

–

it turns out that hanni is in every single class that has changed, so ⅔’s of your classes. it was surely something to see her face everytime you had to introduce yourself to everyone in every class. however, minji and a few girls from your team had also been in each class, so it was good to know that you weren’t fully singled out.

minji makes an attempt to invite you over to sit with her at lunch, but once you see hanni at her table, you quickly make up an excuse.

“oh sorry, the girls on the basketball team wanted to talk to me more about um, our plays…” you poke your tongue at your cheek. “but maybe another time?”

“oh that’s chill, don’t worry about it! another time is great, i’ll see you back at class then!”

you force a smile, aware of hanni's gaze following you as you walk over to where haerin, yunjin, and rei sit.

minji settles down in front of hanni, waiting for hyein and danielle to join as she pulls out her lunchbox. taking a bite of her chicken and rice, minji glances over at you before turning back to hanni. "the new girl seems pretty nice, huh?"

"i guess," hanni mumbles, chin resting on her palm with her lower lip slightly protruding.

of course, you end up in every class with hanni, and naturally, you sit next to her best friend in each one. despite the circumstances, you find yourself avoiding her just like before. it’s frustrating.

“you got something against her?” minji jokes, not expecting hanni to let out a big sigh.

“i don’t know.” she starts, watching you smile at haerin. “we knew each other in middle school, but she can barely look at me.”

minji stops chewing. “really?”

"yeah, you can still talk and be friends with her!" she catches herself and raises her hands in defense. "i think she's great, i mean, we just... drifted apart."

"aw, it happens though. you sure i can talk to her though? like, certain?"

"yeah, it's no big deal, really." hanni resents you for making her cry for four hours straight that day, but deep down, she knows you're a sweetheart. she could never hate you, and she wouldn’t do anything to prevent you from simply having a social life. "it's nothing."

"alright, whatever you say," minji says, then pulls out another bag from her backpack. "yo, i brought some bread from the bakery."

hanni's pondering is interrupted, and her eyes light up when minji holds out the small paper bag with her favorite milk bun inside. she eagerly grabs it and smiles with her teeth, causing minji to snicker and roll her eyes.

you catch the whole thing in the corner of your eye, absentmindedly smiling.

–

“niiice one y/n!” your coach claps his hands after you land a half-court shot with ease. “alright, that’s it for the day! back and forth across the court ten times and you’re free to go. good job everyone, make sure to rest up for the game tomorrow! be here by 4:30, got it girls?”

“yes coach!” the team says in unison.

you run a hand through your slightly damp hair before deeply inhaling. yunjin finds you and you smile tiredly at her, the two of you meet at one end of the court and start to run. by the time you’re done, you’re chuckling at how tired yunjin is as you recover.

“the hell are you laughing at?” she says in between breaths, “you’re no better than i am right now.”

she’s right, you’re both drained and beat from practice, but it really makes everything funnier than it is in the moment.

you’ve settled in well after nearly a month, getting closer with the basketball team and even branching out to meet their friends (all thanks to yunjin, who had a bit of a reputation and popularity, and an additional soft spot for you). you weren’t popular like yunjin or anything of that sort, but you were content with where you were.

minji had also started talking to you more, and the two of you had gotten pretty close, even hanging out after school before your practices. she occasionally caught you at her parents' bakery too, often mingling with you while you had a pastry in your mouth. though minji was still a bit confused about the tension between you and her best friend hanni, it didn’t trouble her too much. you kept to yourself, and really, you were a very calm, sweet person.

the next day, minji catches you in between classes. you’re grabbing something from your locker when you feel a tap on your shoulder, turning around to see her.

“game day?”

“oh, yeah.” you answer as you shuffle through your bag. “you coming?”

“i was going to go with my group.” minji’s group consisting of hanni, you take note of that. “haerin never really says anything about the games, but we love to support her. hyein also wants to watch you play.”

you giggle and close the locker door. “the underclassman?”

“yeah. don’t tell her i told you but she’s kind of a fangirl.”

“of me?”

“yeah, she thinks you’re sick.”

another laugh leaves your lips, now you’re walking over to class with minji. “well, i’m not against making another friend.”

“pftt, she’s something though.” minji jokes. “how about two friends?”

“two?”

“i think you and hanni would be good friends, you know?” you almost freeze on the spot. “she told me you guys drifted in middle school, maybe you guys can mingle again, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?”

your whole body tenses as you walk through the classroom door. you spot hanni sitting next to yunjin, her eyes meeting yours the moment you enter. you quickly look back at minji, shrugging and trying your best to play off your hesitation.

"doesn't sound bad at all, why not?" you say, forcing a casual tone into your voice.

little did you know, minji had something up her sleeve. while you set your bag down and pull out your history notes, she walks over to hanni. minji looks at hanni intensely, then glances at you. ever since she heard about the vague fallout between you and hanni, she had been itching to know more—and possibly rekindle the old spark. it wasn't like anything bad had happened between you two (she assumes); people grow apart, but they can also find their way back to each other.

you glance at hanni before class starts, not expecting her to already be looking at you. as soon as you two make eye contact, hanni turns away, picking up her pencil.

–

minji manages to convince—more like drag—hanni out of her house and into her car. haerin has a basketball game against the rival school, so hanni is basically obligated to go. to be fair, why would she complain about seeing haerin run up and down the court and smugly smile when their team scored a point? it was fun to see haerin in her zone, and hanni always enjoyed the excitement of the games.

but this time it was different, with you in the starting lineup and being the new star on the court.

she sat on the uppermost level of the bleachers with hyein and minji beside her. hyein had linked her arm with hers, cheering on for haerin.

hanni’s eyes are glued to you most of the time. it’s not her fault you had control of the ball so often, scoring here and there. she couldn’t keep her eyes off you even when you weren’t actively playing; you could be watching the ball or assessing the situation while your teammates defended, and hanni would still be looking at you. while you had been on the sidelines temporarily, she noticed how the sweat made your skin glisten, and hanni wondered what had happened over the four years for you to develop such toned arms and athletic shoulders. you looked strong and confident, a far cry from who she remembered.

“hanni, you know the ball is on the other side of the court, right?” hyein nudges the older girl, then looks in the direction that hanni is looking. “seems like someone caught your eye.”

hanni shoves hyein over. “stop that.” she scoffs. you take your eyes away from yunjin after she scores, then your eyes meet hanni’s, and hanni pauses in place momentarily before looking over to yunjin.

you narrow your eyes at her, biting the inside of your lip.

–

the phone in your pocket rings, you fish it out to see minji’s contact name on your screen.

“hey?”

“where are you?”

“oh, locker room.”

“meet me at the front of the school after! i have a cookie and friends.”

you laugh before answering, “right, thanks minji. give me five.”

after rinsing your face with some cold water and dabbing off the sweat on your neck, you strip out of your jersey and throw a hoodie over. yunjin slaps you on the back on the way out and you wince, shooting her a glare – which only makes her laugh more.

you walk out the entrance and look around for your friend, eyes lighting up when you see her with her own respective group. haerin is already tehre, when she spots you she waves. when hanni sees you though, she looks hesitant.

“hi.” you greet. “did you guys enjoy the game?”

“you won! how could we not?” an unfamiliar girl says. the girl looks younger, but she’s taller than the rest of the bunch. “i’m hyein by the way!”

“ohh hyein, minji mentioned you.” you giggle before adding, “didn’t know you’d be towering her.”

the bunch laughs – hanni smiles at the remark – and so do you.

“anyway, i’d love to stay and talk but i need to be home soon.”

danielle tilts her head and asks, “where are your keys?”

“oh, i’m walking.”

“dude,” minji says in disbelief. “after running up and down the court that much? no way man. i can give you a ride.”

waving your hands in the air frantically, you assure, “no, no. it’s fine, i mean, more cardio for me.”

“you’re getting in my car bro.”

and now you find yourself in minji’s car after she convinced hyein—the only person close to her height—to drag you along. you couldn’t argue with hyein; she’s young, and the little pout she gave you was enough to make you relent.

that’s how you end up in the backseat with hanni.

hyein called shotgun, and you weren’t going to argue, especially since minji dropping you off was a last-minute decision. but if you had known you’d be bundled up with hanni alone in the backseat (danielle decided to tag along with haerin, avoiding the tension), you would’ve found a way to avoid this whole situation. to make matters worse, some random, very heavy box was taking up a seat, leaving you and hanni with no space in between. just your luck.

the youngest grabs minji’s phone and plays some random pop song, eagerly humming along.

“yo, type in your address.” minji tilts down the mirror above and looks at you through it, raising a brow. hyein hands you the phone and you manage to brush arms with hanni as you reach over.

hyein turns up the volume after you hand her the phone back. your place is less than ten minutes away, but it feels ten minutes too long.

you try your best to cope with the tension in the air, and hanni does too. she’s angled toward the window—away from you—and you’re sitting in the middle seat, trying to focus on the road. minji turns a little too aggressively at one point, causing you to lean against hanni, making you both blush equally.

“sorry,” you mumble.

“it’s fine,” hanni replies, her voice still as sweet as you remember. it's still as soft and reassuring when she quietly adds, “minji’s not the best at driving sometimes.”

as soon as she says that, minji’s back to driving straight ahead. you can’t help but laugh softly, unable to fight it. “it’s not too bad,” you say, feeling a little of the tension ease with the shared moment of humor.

neither of you share anything else after that, the silence squeezing you two.

when minji reaches your place and parks in front of it, hanni has to get out so you can. as you step out, you make eye contact with her, and something electric runs up your spine. you watch her climb back into the car, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before she settles back into her seat.

minji rolls down the drivers side window. “oh yeah, here’s your cookie.” she says, “see you next week! enjoy your weekend!”

“you too!” you respond, then peek at hyein. “nice meeting you hyeinie, can’t wait to see you around.”

her mouth opens before she smiles at you, teeth and all. “yeah, me too!”

even hanni rolls down her window, catching you by surprise. your eyes widen just a little when you see her looking at you, smiling.

“good game y/n, you’re really good.”

you inhale, then breathe out your response, “thanks.” and purse your lips into a smile.

minji waves once more before driving away, and you head inside. no one is home yet, so you quickly drop your bag off in your room, head to the bathroom to clean yourself up after being sweaty for over two hours, and finally flop onto your bed once everything is done. the encounter with hanni replays in your mind, the tension and awkwardness still lingering as you try to relax and unwind.

hanni lingers in your mind, she’s always been in the back of it anyway.

you don't know if it's even possible to become friends with her again. it's what you really want, but can you even achieve that? you're avoiding her left and right, failing to hold eye contact or maintain a conversation with her for more than three seconds. yet, the fact that she had initiated the interaction this time, even adding something lighthearted in the car, sparks something within you. every small moment between you two, however insignificant it seems, ignites a huge feeling inside of you. it’s a confusing mix of hope and fear, leaving you wondering if there's a chance to mend what was broken. it’s all your fault anyway -- basically.

–

“alright everyone, please settle down.” mr. wei says. he claps his hands and looks as happy as ever. “i have an important announcement! so as you know, we a big project this year. i’m going to introduce it today and give you a small rundown. oh! and by the way, this project is worth half your grade.”

as you sigh, you catch hanni in the corner of your eye, putting her head down in defeat and muttering a small “fuck.” in response to the news.

“i’m going to give you all the rubric and your assigned partners.”

“what?” jake groans, “c’mon, why can’t we choose? what if my partner doesn’t do shit?”

“that’s something coming from you mr. sim.” sim jaehyun has a known record for paying people to do his work, plus, he’s not the brightest. the only thing he’s known for is being nice on the eyes and a great point guard. “i’m assigning the partners because you all are graduating this year. in the future, most of the time you won’t have a choice. got it?”

the class falls silent, you close your eyes and sigh again.

just get it over with.

“now, you’ll be given time to discuss various topics regarding environmental science. our main concern is human impacts on our environment, got it? please discuss positive and negative impacts that you can analyze and present to the class, alright! there’s a special part of this project that i know you will all look forward to, so please keep this in the back of your mind for the next month.”

minji nudges you and you hum. she leans closer to you, eyes still on the board, then mumbles, “i really hope i don’t get jake.”

“same. with districts coming up i’d rather die than have him as my partner. his brain isn’t working unless it’s basketball that’s mentioned, he’ll yap my ear off.”

your seatmate chuckles and looks at jake, then back at you. “and you’re not any better?”

“basketball is just a hobby, this chemistry grade is worth more my time and effort, don’t be ridiculous.”

she rolls her eyes and refocuses her attention on mr. wei, who has finally found the paper listing each pair. anxiety churns in your stomach as you wait for him to read the names. you really hope you're not paired with jake—or any of his friends. the thought of working with them sounds worse than nails scratching a chalkboard.

“right, jaehyun, since you’re so eager to know who you’re with, let’s start with you.” mr. wei looks up from the paper, narrowing his eyes at the cocky guy. “you’ll be paired with soobin.”

you catch danielle and hanni in front of you locking eyes, fighting back snickers. the two cover their mouths with their hands and exchange a knowing conversation through countless gestures, shoves, and widening of eyes. their silent communication is filled with amusement, and you don’t know enough about soobin to understand what they’re so entertained by.

“right, minji and danielle.” he adds, you hear a relieved sigh from minji as soon as he says it. danielle turns around and smiles brightly, grabbing minji’s hands and shaking them excitedly.

“yunjin and kazuha… minjeong and jimin… anton and sungchan…”

he goes down the list, pausing to put on his reading glasses to read the last few pairs, until he gets to the final one.

“and finally, hanni and y/n.”

you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as mr. wei sets the paper down. of course this would happen; you managed to transfer to the same school as hanni and now you're partnered with her on the biggest project of the year.

hanni turns her head to look at you, her expression unreadable. you lock eyes for a moment, the awkwardness hanging thick in the air, before you shift your gaze out the window, your palm pressing against your cheek as you rest your head on it.

mr. wei claps his hands and smiles brightly. “right! so,” he begins, looking around the room. most of the class seems content with their pairings, some look like the world has just ended, and others are simply dealing with it —you fall into this last group. “as you can tell, you’ve all been partnered with someone of the same gender. this isn’t an accident, you’ll find out eventually. our school has partnered with a research facility and set up a little trip in the spring—in a few months—in order to contribute to these studies and potentially find solutions to current environmental problems. i’d like you all to keep in contact with your partners and brainstorm until next tuesday. please come back to me with a valid research topic. now, let’s start our lesson, shall we?”

hanni can’t lie; she’s thrilled to be put in this nerve-racking situation. sure, she’s a little very terrified of you, considering your whole demeanor and the past you share, but she’s been wanting to at least have something normal again, maybe make the tension lighter. there’s still a part of her that resents you, but you were both fourteen then—things have changed.

(for the better, hanni hopes.)

–

you feel a tap on your shoulder as you walk down the hallway. your mind is blank until you take your earbuds out, and then you turn around, tilt your head down, and meet hanni.

“hi.”

“hey.”

the two of you stand there awkwardly, she scratches her pointer finger with her thumb (just like how she did when you two were younger, it seems her habits weren’t grown out of), then hands you her phone.

(“youll scratch your skin off,” you quickly pull her hand towards you, slapping it lightly. “stop that”

“hey! i’m nervous…”

“you’ll be fine hanni.” you assure her, putting your hands on her shoulders. “i know you’ll be, trust me.” she feels your hands cup both cheeks, squishing them subtly.

you’re both twelve, hanni has a microphone in one hand, and her other is restrained by yours. the two of you had practiced for two weeks to prepare for this moment. almost every day, you spent an hour or two in hanni’s room, which was littered with posters of her favorite bands and paintings you had made for her. you would strum your guitar while hanni sang with that pretty voice of hers, the two of you lost in the melody of 'baby I'm yours' by the artic monkeys without a worry about the talent show coming up

but hanni is worrying now, more than you somehow and she’s always been so out there.

your thumbs graze her skin and you look at her with a strange softness in her eyes. hanni still doesn’t know if it was because she was nervous, but in that moment, she felt her cheeks burning.

“your voice is so pretty and you’re pretty and amazing and i know everyone in the crowd would love it and love you! i could listen to you all day hanni, when they hear you they’ll be so amazed.”

“what if i mess up? what if i ruin it for the both of us and-”

you pinch her cheeks and shake your head. “stop. hanni pham i know you, you’ll do great. if you mess up, i’ll mess up with you, alright?”

she purses her lips together, nervousness evident in her eyes. you smile reassuringly at her, and her tension eases as she sees your grin turn toothy. the warmth in your expression gives her the confidence she needs.

“ugh, fine! let’s get it over with… my mom said she’ll drive us to get ice cream after anyway…”

“okay! c’mon, everyone is waiting for hanni pham and her guitarist.”

“you mean my lovely y/n?” twelve year old you didn’t know why that made you so giddy. you rolled your eyes at her and held her hand on the way to the stage.

the memory replays vividly in your mind. everyone's expressions were etched with amazement after hearing hanni sing the first line of the song you two practiced, their smiles widening as hanni dragged you up to sing along with her. this simple act unlocks a core memory: the two of you going home with a special trophy and celebrating with ice cream.

for some reason, you also remember the innocent little kiss on the cheek she gave you before you were dropped off too.)

you’re shaken out of thought after hanni begins again, “i just thought that, um, since we’re partners… you know– we should keep contact.” she swallows lightly before asking, “could i get your number?”

“oh, yeah.” hanni watches you silently type your number in, then send a text to yourself. the buzz (heard only because of how dead silent it is in the hall) is faint, but indicates that you haven’t faked her out. “i’ll text you later, i have practice soon.”

“oh yeah, practice, yeah. basketball.” you force yourself not to smile as she responds. “yes, you have fun with that, sorry, yeah. i’ll text you? i can look over some stuff and you can branch off.”

“that sounds good, my practice ends at four today, in case you needed to know.”

“yeah, okay, yup.” she says, “i’ll get going, sorry.”

“don’t be,” you assure. she watches you open your mouth, hesitate, then add quietly, “ever.”

—

[xxx xxx xx09] 4:30pm hi! this is hanni are you free tomorrow? i searched up some topics but wanted to go over it with you if you don’t mind of course!

[y/n] 5:02pm sorry, i stayed after to help clean and practice i can meet you after practice? i should be completely done no later than four

[hanni] 5:03pm that’s fine!

hanni cringes as she hits send. she thinks to herself: too much energy?

[hanni] 5:03pm minji’s bakery isn’t too far, it has good ambience and wifi is that okay?

[y/n] 5:28pm that’s fine

[hanni] 5:28pm great! see you then

embarrassingly enough, hanni continues to check her phone for a response, but each time she gets the same thing: nothing. it isn’t until three hours pass that she finally sees you’ve left her on read.

she huffs.

she feels stupid, considering you left her in the dust, then came back with no warning, and yet, all of that doesn’t sting as much as getting left on read. it’s silly, hanni thinks, but you couldn’t have sent something back? or at least reacted to her message? she groans in frustration and tries to focus on reviewing her chemistry notes, but thoughts of you keep interrupting her concentration.

–

you find hanni seated near the window, her back facing you, and you spot a latte beside her laptop. the kim's bakery isn’t too busy right now, thankfully, so it’s not a hassle or long wait to buy a small americano before you meet up with her.

hanni’s head perks up cutely when you sit down in front of her.

“oh, you’re here. you should’ve texted me.”

“sorry.” you begin to unpack your bags. “i got lost in thought on the way.” you don’t mention what you had been thinking of exactly, because that will only strengthen the elephant in the room.

“right, yeah, okay.” another moment of silence passes before hanni lights up. “ah! the ideas, yeah, hold on. i shared a doc with you, i hope you got it.”

“i was looking at it on the way here.”

“mhm, so what do you think?”

“i think a lot of them are pretty popular, i feel like jake and his little group will end up doing something about trash in the environment since it’s simple. i think the water quality one is good though, what about you?”

hanni nods. “i mean yeah, i was pushing the trash ones to the side. i wanted to do endangered species and really just anything regarding animals, but danielle and minji were already looking at it as soon as they had the chance. my second option was the water quality.”

“we’re on the same track, that’s good.” you sip on your coffee. “let’s research water quality then? maybe in the area for now.”

“yeah, that’s good.”

nothing else is said, nothing else needs to be said before you two get to work. there’s the occasional glance when one doesn’t think the other is looking, the small sips of coffee, and all of it is so distracting – each breath, unspoken words, really just whatever hangs in between the two of you. she lets you press a key one more time before breathing in.

“how have you been?”

you almost choke. “what?”

“how have… you been…?” her brows turn up as she clarifies.

“good.”

“that’s good.”

“yeah.”

hanni wants to pack up her bag, throw it at the window so the glass shatters, and escape the feeling that overwhelms her. “how was korea?”

you poke the inside of your bottom lip. “exhausting… i missed it here.”

“yeah, it’s great here.”

“yeah.”

“what about you?” you ask, and for some reason, you don’t really want to know the answer. you’re unsure if your heart can take it.

“me?” she tilts her head, then coughs. “oh, yeah, me. um, i’ve been you know… alright.”

i’m so sorry. you want to say it, but can’t bring yourself to. there’s a grudge you’re holding, you can’t seem to loosen up and let go. plus, you don’t trust yourself not to break down.

“is student government any fun?”

“sometimes, that’s until we have to do real stuff.”

“didn’t you… sign yourself up?”

“it’s to make my record look good, i was never good at sports like you.” she sighs as she leans against her chair. “i don’t even have the height for it.”

you fail to hold back a snicker, hanni pushes out her bottom lip in response.

(“y/n it’s too high.”

“that doesn’t matter, i’m like, three centimeters taller! just steady the ball and push out your hand.”

hanni sighs, staring at you like you’re an idiot. in this memory, you're both twelve, all battered up from running around all day. somehow, you’ve convinced her to spend time with you at the school’s courts.

the hoops are short enough for primary school kids, but still too tall for hanni. you’d tease her for not catching up to the others as you grew, and she’d respond with a punch to your shoulder each time. despite your relentless teasing, she’d always spend time with you on the court because she loved you more than her other friends. honestly, there was no other friend that compared to you at the time.

you step behind her and fix her form, adjusting her hands with yours. she gets all nervous and almost elbows you, trying to cover it by yelling at you, “that tickles!” but what really tickled – or at least made her feel all weird and tingly in a similar way – was the turn in her stomach.)

“i mean, you’ve grown.”

“you’ve grown. how tall are you even?”

“i don’t know… like, more than 170? something tall.”

“don’t boast.” hanni groans.

you chuckle. “don’t be jealous?”

the bickering is the same, but bittersweet. you two laugh until it’s a little too strange to laugh, the feeling in the air shifts again, you wish it’d stay at a constant of something nearing neutral or comfortable for more than a minute.

looking out the window, you spot an elderly couple strolling past. you begin again, “it’s good to see you again.”

“is it?” hanni questions, tone laced with genuine surprise and a small hint of disbelief, some bitterness too. “it’s a surprise to see you here.”

“school life there wasn’t too nice to me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.” you take another sip of your coffee. “at least they had good coffee near the campus.”

hanni just giggles, what else can she do? her smile dies down as she continues to get to work, and you look at her through your lashes before doing the same.

little do you know, minji observes the conversation from afar. she stands behind the espresso machine, watching you and hanni smile at each other and laugh occasionally. unaware of the tension, your past, or any details, she notices a strange chemistry between you two. the more minji watches, even as you both study, the more she considers that you might look better as something more than just friends.

maybe that’s why you two had been so timid and distant, minji predicts that it’s a mutual attraction that has you two nervous to talk to each other.

minji conjures up little scenarios and possibilities in her head. maybe you had seen hanni for the first time and been so starstruck by her; after all, many people have fallen for her sweet and outgoing nature, not to mention she’s prettier than most. or perhaps hanni had been in awe after seeing you on the court, and minji couldn’t deny that you were easy on the eyes (even minji caught herself looking at you sometimes, but out of admiration). plus, you had a mysterious quality at times—a trait that a lot of people find alluring. both you and hanni have people turning heads, so it wouldn’t be impossible.

hyein would love the sound of this. one corner of her lips turn up as she thinks about the underclassman.

maybe it was love at first (after a long time) sight, or maybe you had a meet-ugly? the possibilities swirl in minji’s mind as she observes the interactions between you and hanni, wondering about the nature of your relationship and what could potentially blossom between you two.

she shakes her head, hiding behind the espresso machine again when she notices you packing up. you send hanni a sweet smile and start to walk in minji’s direction. the older girl pretends to be busy cleaning something up, and thankfully, you don’t notice her presence as you leave.

[senior citizens and the caretaker]

[minji] hanni

[hanni] ??? i can see you from where i’m at

[minji] you were with y/n? surprising

[hanni] we started researching topics we literally?? are in the same class?? w the same project?? and r partners??

[minji] right… and giggling and laughing and… yk

[hanni] are you crazy u r so delusional

[hyein] hanni and y/n??? proof or it didn’t happen

[minji] attachment: 1 image

hanni’s eyes widen when she sees a picture of her and you (zoomed in and botched quaility) smiling at each other. the shorter girl walks over to where minji is immediately, pointing to her screen and confusingly (angrily) asking,

“the hell is this?”

“that’s what im trying to figure out.”

“bro, you’re so weird.” hanni sighs, then looks at the picture again. you have a cute smile – she tries not to think of that too much. “what the hell would y/n think if she sees this?”

“we’re friends too, you know?”

“yeah but–” her phone buzzes in her hand, cutting her off.

[haerin] study date?

[hanni] ABSOLUTELYnot. stop DONT ENCOURAGE HER?? kim minji lock your doors.

[danielle] oh wow, she has a pretty smile!

i know. hanni wants to agree, but minji wouldn’t let it go.

[hanni] you guys r so weird omfg anyway, how is your project going?

[hyein] dont change the topic hanni… wuuaahh im so jealous…

[hanni] girl shut up you're like twelve and don’t be

[hyein] you said you already knew her before? what happened

[hanni] it’s not important gtg

minji looks up from her phone. “and where are you going?”

“home,” hanni mutters, making the older smirk. “away from you at least, and i have to redo my notes for mr. ahn."

“right.”

“i hope your bread molds.” hanni says on the way out, closing the door. seconds later she opens it again, peeking her head through. “i was kidding, by the way. bring me the sweet milk bread tomorrow? thanks love you!”

the older girl rolls her eyes and laughs, going back to her phone to stare at the picture.

minji has nothing better to do, so maybe pushing you two closer wouldn’t be too bad.

–

you’re so close to dozing off in history, head almost falling off your palm. the class being a requirement is so pointless in your opinion, considering you go over slideshows, take a test, and write a few short responses. rinse and repeat for the whole year – is it really that significant?

with your upcoming game clouding your mind, plus the draining practices, it only makes you drowsier. your eyes feel heavy, your blinking gets slower, and you’re just so done with the class in general.

minji leans her shoulder against you, nudging you awake.

“h-huh…” you mumble sleepily, making the older laugh. “what?” she nudges you again, making you groan. “man what the fuck do you want?”

“you and hanni.” she raises her brows, unfazed by the anger in your tone. “how’s the project coming along?”

“oh,” you rub your eyes. “we’ve got some good ideas. i think we’re meeting again later.”

“do you like being around her?” you face minji and now she’s looking at you weirdly. “i saw you guys getting along.”

“did you? were you spying on us?” you ask teasingly, nudging her back. “weirdo… but i mean yeah shes… chill.”

“you guys look good together.”

the way it sounds coming from minji makes you freeze. “what?” you croaked, the response coming out dry and scratchy. you dismiss her with your hand and try to conceal the weird warmth in your cheeks. “what even… where did that even come from.”

“i was taking some orders and saw you two, looks like you both enjoyed each others company.”

“fucking spy…”

yeah, enjoyed running around the big problem you two had in between, that’s for sure. minji’s just oblivious, she hadn’t even heard the conversation or anything, so it shouldn’t get to you. but still, it does. hanni’s pretty, like out-of-this-world-flowers-and-sunlight pretty, and you’ve never really looked at yourself so highly. hanni’s always been out of your league since you first felt tingly around her at the ripe age of ten, it’s really a miracle that she even considered befriending you prior to that.

you set your head on your folded arms and close your eyes. “she’s nice, maybe we’ll be good friends or something. don’t get it mixed up.”

–

hanni watches intently, her eyes glued to how you handle the ball. you dribble past two of your teammates with ease, your movements fluid and precise. for a fleeting moment, your features light up with hope as you take the shot, but they quickly shift into frustration when the ball misses the hoop. she notices you bite the inside of your cheek, a sign of your evident irritation, as you curse softly at yourself.

“take your time y/n, don’t rush.” the coach suggests, you look at him for a split second, your features don’t shift a bit. he claps his hands, then nods. “right, practice over, you know the drill.”

hanni senses disappointment from your expression. she notices the way your jaw tightens, how your fingers ball into a tight fist before you crack them one by one – like how you did years ago. you stare at the ground for at least five seconds, lost in thought, before heading over to yunjin to run with her. as you start moving, the tension in your posture seems to wash away.

she waits until you finish, stealing glances at you from the bleachers. her eyes frequently drift away from her laptop to admire you. hanni has no clue what happened while you were away, but it’s frustrating that you manage to catch her eye so easily. your mannerisms are effortlessly attractive, your poise commanding, and everything about you seems to draw her in.

when you’re finished and headed back to change, she waits outside the gym for you. in a few minutes, you’re met with her, but with stress apparent in your expression.

“y/n, hey.”

“what do you want?” hanni is taken aback by the slight aggression. you cough, biting down on your teeth and retrying. “i– i mean, hi, hey. what’s up?”

“oh, i just worked on the project a bit more, you know, since mr. wei gave us more information i got us a head start. everything is on the doc, yeah.”

“did you stay after to tell me this? you could’ve gone home.”

“i had to do things for student gov, i only waited a few minutes for you, it’s nothing. i watched the end of your practice.”

“you what?” you look offended, almost. turning to the side, you poke the inside of your cheek, then look back at her. “why the hell did you waste your time doing that?”

“hey i– i just, i don’t know? why are you so angry?”

you have no clue why. maybe it’s the lack of sleep and sore feeling in every muscle in your body. you’ve been so tense the past week because of districts, and plus, your performance has been worse. the fact that hanni had seen you perform so poorly makes your blood boil a bit, but you shouldn't be mad. still, you are. shaking your head, you grip your bag tighter, knuckles whitening with the tension. the frustration of your last missed shot and fumbled passes throughout the last few practices sits heavy on your shoulders, mingling with your high standards and (self-imposed) pressure to excel.

hanni’s presence, witnessing your every mistake, feels like salt in a wound, intensifying your disappointment and how pissed you are in the moment.

she looks at you, narrowing her eyes. “are you okay?”

“it’s nothing.”

“don’t lie in my face,” her tone almost makes you flinch. she steps closer. “what’s going on?”

“hanni, it’s nothing. don’t worry, it’s not your problem so don’t try to make it yours.” you say through gritted teeth.

(you open the door to see hanni, tilting your head when you do. she’s standing there with a frown, looking at you with worry.

“what’s going on?”

“why are you here?”

“you haven’t texted in the past week, and you’ve been avoiding me.”

“it’s nothing.”

“don’t lie to me, we’ve known each other since first grade.”

“why do you even care? just let me be.”

hanni’s noticed your distance, and she’s tried so hard to pry, but you’ve always been able to dodge her like a bullet. you barely have a smile on your face these days. after school, instead of hanging out with her friend group or even with her alone, you’re always at the court or cooped up studying at home. it frustrates her because she knows you don’t even need to study; eighth grade material is a breeze for you.

the distance is palpable, a barrier she can’t seem to break through no matter how hard she tries. she misses the easy laughter, the way you used to light up around her, your stupid jokes; she misses you. now, it’s like you’ve built an invisible wall, and she can’t find a way to scale it.

“y/n, i miss you. please talk to me, we’ve always talked about things.”

you can’t possibly talk to her, not when you know what you feel is stupid, almost humiliating. how could you spill the fact that you’re jealous she’s spending less time with you, that she’s getting too pretty and lovely? you can't just admit that maybe being friends with her is becoming too hard. there are so many things you want to do with her, so many things you want to tell her that can’t be put into words. you can’t share that your heart beats faster whenever she’s near, or that she’s been on your mind so often lately. you just can’t.

“i can’t. look, i’m busy. i’ll see you tomorrow.”)

she scoffs, looking at you almost angrily. “we’re not fourteen anymore. stop carrying so much – you’ll explode.”

“you don’t know shit.” the words slip out, taking both you and hanni by surprise. you can’t stand to see her after saying it, so you give her a brief glance, letting her catch the regret in your features before exhaling sharply. “i– i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“y/n–” she breathes out, her voice softer now, almost pleading.

you look down as you walk away, too repentant to look back. each step feels heavier, burdened by the weight of the words you wish you could take back. you wish you could take back a lot, rewind time and restart. you’re vulnerable, some things fail to change.

–

“so, what happened? your text made me shiver.” danielle says, sitting down on the floor next to minji.

their whole friend group has grouped up at hanni’s place, specifically her bedroom because of a sudden “my house. please. quick.” text. they all gather around her, worried and curious.

hanni leans her head against her bed frame, sighing. “y/n and i kind of had an argument. well, she scolded me, that’s more like how it went down.”

“so she got mad at you? what happened? you guys aren’t even that close, so what’s this all about.”

taking a deep breathe in, hanni lets many suppressed memories fade into vision. “i told you guys i knew her before this, like years ago.” she watches her friends nod. “well, we kind of… i mean, we fell off. i don’t know the full reason why, but we had this huge thing.” she pauses her story, reaching under her bed and pulling out an old shoebox.

opening it, hanni shows the group tucked away memories. there are polaroids and childhood pictures, letters, photobooth strips, and knick knacks the two of you had crafted.

haerin gazes at the contents, then pulls out a polaroid and looks at it intensely.

“anyways,” hanni continues, “i mean, i tried to push it aside because i guess it was a while ago and it’s just an elephant in the room between just the two of us. plus, i figured we had changed and grown, but–” hanni groans defeatedly. “i don’t know! i feel like i shouldn’t let it get to me but–”

“okay but what exactly happened?” minji butts in, lost in hanni’s ramble. “details. she scolded you, you two know each other, what else?”

“where do i even start…”

hanni takes a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with the intensity of the memories she is about to share. she begins, her voice steady but laced with nostalgia. "you know, we met when we were just kids. i was new and had zero friends. she was alone too, and i asked her to join me on the monkey bars. i remember being in awe when she made it all the way across and back at the age of six. and since then we were basically inseparable."

her friends listen closely, captivated by the story. hanni’s tone becomes softer as she continues. "y/n was the sweetest person i knew. she was a special friend, you know? i mean we were only kids but i still thought of her a lot even after the whole… thing. i mean, we spent so much time together, just the two of us. i remember those niche, core memories, like when the sun would set and we’d find ourselves tanned and still at the playground. everyday i woke up excited to spend time with her, i can basically remember her being there most of my childhood."

she pauses, her eyes glazing over as she recalls the fondness of those days. "there are so many moments filled with her that defined myself growing up. i feel stupid, really, looking back on childhood memories. like, i should let go right? but every memory made me really happy, and i wonder what it would’ve been like if we had stayed strong until now. i think about it so much now that she’s back, and i thought i had gotten over it. i’m so mature now but it’s like… like a thorn i can’t take out my skin. maybe a scar that can’t heal, that’s a better metaphor.”

her expression shifts, the weight of the past evident on her face. "but then things changed. as we grew older, especially in middle school, y/n started to become distant. i branched out, made new friends, and she... she grew bitter about i i guess? what we had was so different. we were literally attached by the hip and then barely spoke.”

the emotion in hanni’s voice is palpable, her gestures and facial expressions reflecting the heaviness of her heart. she looks at her friends, all listening closely and looking hurt themselves. "we just fell apart. she changed in a way that didn’t benefit either of us. it was like she built a wall around herself, and i couldn’t knock it down.”

her friends sit in silence, absorbing the depth of the story. hanni’s explanation is more than just words; it’s a raw, emotional journey through the ups and downs of a friendship that had meant everything to her, even if it had ended at fourteen.

“and before i knew it she just left.” she adds, thumb scratching her skin. danielle puts a hand over her mouth, looking the most hurt out of the group. “she came to my house one day and said she’d fucking? leave? the day after? a continent away? it’s like she didn’t care about what we had between us.”

“oh hanni, that’s terrible.”

“i know.” hanni picks up a photobooth slip, her shoulders drooping. “i know.”

“how did you put up with her coming back?” hyein questions. hanni sets the picture down, looking down at it from where she sits, still. “as soon as i saw her it’s like everything that had happened to me washed away. i was so fucking out of it – seeing her. she’s so different, like, it caught me off guard and i just pushed aside everything.” hanni starts to blush suddenly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “this is so stupid but, i had a little stupid crush on her growing up too, and then seeing her after so long it just… it’s so stupid. she’s striking now, i can’t believe it. but she was so eager to avoid me when she first saw me so i just… let it be.”

minji hums to herself, thinking deeply on the topic. she scratches her chin as she stares at the photos on the ground. “you guys can’t avoid it forever.”

“i know.” hanni repeats. “i kind of… ugh. we got in this argument because she was being so aggressive and mean all of a sudden, i mentioned that she shouldn’t bottle up things like when she was thirteen. i guess the guilt crashed down on her, she just left. she looked really regretful, i don’t know. i just, i don’t want the tension to be worse than it already is.”

minji raises her brows at hanni. “i think you deserve an apology and explanation.”

“i agree.” danielle chimes in, crossing her arms and pouting. “she’s really nice and sweet, but hanni, hearing what she did? my gosh… that’s just…”

“she probably had her reasons though, it had to be really important for our friendship to literally fall apart. i’m considering that our past kind of has something to do with how she just went all out on me earlier.”

haerin sits quietly, deep in thought about hanni, you, and the situation. she’s always been the quiet one, so she’s really observant and caring nature. plus, she’s usually right. she’s seen hanni’s growing attention and concern for you, but she realizes the timing is off. you’re so caught up in your own head, weighed down by the pressure of districts, and it’s affecting your performance. the stress is becoming a vicious cycle, making you play worse, which only adds to your anxiety. haerin clicks her tongue softly as she pieces it all together, understanding the root of the issue.

“i don’t know why she did that to you when you guys were younger.” haerin begins. the rest of the group looks at her in surprise, but starts to listen immediately. “but i think she was so heated earlier because of districts. coach has been pushing her, she’s been more tired. i don’t think she meant it, she’s a good person.”

“oh.” hanni responds blankly, starting to piece it together.

haerin nods. “she hasn’t really been talking to anyone, and she seems tired these days.”

minji nods along too. “she almost fell asleep in history in her hand, she could just be cranky.”

“i mean maybe–” hanni pauses when her phone on the floor lights up. she glances at the contact and gasps, picking it up. “it’s her.”

“what?”

“what does it say?” hyein asks, quickling leaning against the older girl in order to see the messages.

[y/n] sorry can we meet in ten? at kims i want to clear things, if that’s okay i don’t want my project partner upset i’ll be waiting. if you don’t come i understand

hanni sighs, staring at the words on her screen like they’re going to pop out the phone and slap her in the face (or something like that). she shows the rest of the group the texts and haerin is the first to respond.

“go see her.”

“you sure? i don’t know she just–”

“hanni,” haerin looks at her seriously. “don’t make the space in between you two larger.”

the group looks at haerin, considering she’s the second youngest, it’s really impressive that her words hold so much power and weight. hanni hesitates before nodding, starting to type.

–

[hanni] where are you?

your phone buzzes in your hand immediately and you rush to check it, feeling relief wash over when you notice that it’s hanni, and especially when you realize she’s here.

[y/n] i’m not inside side of the building near the lamppost

[hanni] k

you wince at the singular letter, she’s going to rip your head off.

hanni emerges from the side, spotting you tapping your foot up and down and fidgeting with your fingers. she feels like a wet rag being slowly wrung out, her anger dissipating as she takes in your appearance. you’re wrapped in a hoodie and sweatpants, both sitting loosely on you, and your nose is tinted red from the chill of the night. she feels a pang of empathy, her frustration melting away in the face of your vulnerability.

she steps towards you, you perk your head up and sigh out in relief.

“you’re here.”

“i am.”

the two of you stare at each other for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you use the time to compose yourself, clearing your deafening thoughts. hanni, meanwhile, takes in your features, admiring silently with an unreadable expression on her face.

“i wanted to clear some things and apologize. not just for earlier but, just– you know.”

“is that so?”

“let’s take a walk, please?”

the two of you would always take walks to clear the air back then, strolling to the outskirts of the neighborhood and back so you could drop one of the other off. those late-night walks used to be calm and relieving, filled with laughter and conversations under the streetlights. now, as you stand before each other, the thought of it feels nerve-racking and unpredictable, weighed down by the tension and the distance that has grown between you.

you sigh, handing her a small bag and the drink in your hand. “i also bought you some things, it’s the least i could do.”

she takes the bag from your hand and looks inside, fighting back a smile when she notices her favorite milk bread inside. plus, the latte you had given her looks like her favorite.

“okay, where are we headed?”

“you’ll see.”

the two of you walk in silence, your rehearsed words stuck in your throat, twisting on your tongue whenever they try to escape. you don't look at her, focusing instead on the ground beneath your feet. hanni doesn't push you, occupied with taking bites and sips from what you bought her.

every now and then, she turns her head toward you. sometimes, she catches you already glancing at her, quickly looking away when your eyes meet. other times, she sees you staring intently at the ground, lost in your thoughts.

putting your hands in your pockets, you start to speak, “i’m the reason there’s a rift between us.”

“yeah, i know.”

“and there’s a reason, but it’s really… personal, kind of. i want to tell you but i really can’t.”

“is that so?”

“yeah.” you breathe out, kicking a rock as you do. “but the most i can do is apologize – for everything I can apologize about. i was so petty back then, i was jealous of your friends sometimes and there were a few times you had already made plans with them and i asked you to hang and you couldn’t and it’s so stupid and i was immature and mad at you for that and i just–”

“y/n, take it slow.”

you gulp. “okay.” she watches you stare ahead and sigh. “i was so insecure and stupid, it resulted in me losing the person i loved most. the worst part of all is that you fought to keep me in your life, and i just ripped myself off you like a leech stuck to your skin. i always cared about you, i still do, there’s nothing that could change that. i knew my actions were hurting you and instead of fixing myself, i thought i knew what was best for you at fourteen and it just… i just hurt you even more.”

“you did.”

“i know.” you look at her for the first time, meeting her eyes dead on. she notices the upturn in your brows, the sincerity in your gaze and tone. “and i’m sorry. i’m sorry for everything. i just want us to be friends again. i can’t lose you now that you’re back in my life. i just want what we had again.”

the words hang in the air, heavy with emotion. your heart races as you wait for her response, hoping she feels the same.

both of your legs continue to carry you down the sidewalk until hanni stops. you halt a step after her, noticing the contemplation on her face. she glances down at her empty bag, then back up at you. her eyes scan your face with an intensity that makes your heart race. you look like a lost puppy, and though it tugs at her heart, she tries to push those feelings aside for now.

your words had pierced her heart, the pain sharp and immediate, but there was also a sense of relief. knowing you don’t hate her makes a difference. she feels the same way; despite the hurt you’ve caused, the effort you’re making to repair your bond warms her heart.

“i do too. i wanted to talk to you again, normally, for a while now.”

“me too, but i hurt you and i felt so guilty.”

“well,” hanni reaches for your hand, holding it in hers. “let’s try our best to start over then, as friends.”

“thank you. i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, the bread and latte made up for like, thirty percent of it.”

she’s always been good at lifting the mood. you laugh and she giggles too. “if i buy you a few more, would that raise it?”

“how many more and how often are we talking?”

–

the next two weeks go well, thankfully.

you and hanni spend a significant amount of time together working on the project, each of you discovering different methods to measure water quality with limited equipment and determining the most efficient techniques. as you collaborate, you catch up on lost time, though you remain cautious about revealing too much about yourself. your time abroad had been… rough, and you prefer to keep those memories to yourself. however, it's comforting to hear about hanni's accomplishments, knowing she's built a strong reputation and has many friends that are just as wonderful as her.

often, you find yourself smiling at hanni like you used to. it's a familiar yet unsettling feeling, but you refuse to let it consume you. despite how her smile, voice, and energy make you blush and feel a pleasant dizziness, you resist falling into the same spiral from years ago. you push those feelings down, determined to stay focused on the present. you can’t let it ruin the two of you again.

besides, you've just had your first district game and it went well. the scores were tight, but you and your team pulled through, boosting your confidence. you can’t let hanni pham's charm shake you up; there's too much on your shoulders—the project, your teammates, and your relationship with her. balancing all of this feels like walking a tightrope, but you’re determined not to fall (again).

hanni, on the other hand, feels like she’s on cloud nine.

you’re still as adorable as ever, still considerate. after your study sessions and project work days, you always offer to spend time with hanni at different bakeries so she can try various breads. you jokingly mention that you’re in debt to her for a lifetime, and in a way, you are – at least until you find the right time to explain why you drifted apart in detail. for now, bread seems to suffice in keeping her from prying too deeply into your past, which feels too serious to delve into casually.

it doesn’t help that hanni has been attending your practices and games, where she takes the time to admire your athletic abilities—and, if she’s honest with herself, you as a whole. she wonders what you went through that made you come back looking even more striking than before (and hotter too, though she tries to keep herself sane).

unfortunately for hanni, her feelings aren’t as discreet as she would like. hyein and minji are quick to notice her lingering glances and teasingly nudge her about her apparent crush on you. they often bring up her past confessions about having a small crush on you back then, though she always brushes it off with a laugh.

“stop, it’s not like that. besides, she’s too busy, it wouldn’t work out.”

hyein whines, grabbing onto hanni’s shoulder. “come oooonnnnn, you want her.”

“yeah when i was like 12-13, and plus, it was so small. i was literally a child.” hanni is lying, she’d look at you like you were the northern lights (something like that), you and her were like two leads in a disney movie. “we’re friends.”

“a friend that you’ve had a crush on?” minji smirks and hanni punches her shoulder. “okay…”

“can you guys shut up! she doesn’t want me.”

“she buys you bread and drinks.”

“she just feels bad!”

“well i guess we’ll see how bad she feels when we go on that trip.”

fuck. hanni thinks. fuck.

another part of your stupid (yet interesting) project was the fact that you would be thrown into a nature reservation for three days. it was another unexpected twist in your project—being thrown into a nature reserve for three days. mr. wei had dropped the bombshell less than a week before the trip, leaving everyone bewildered. he mentioned it casually, emphasizing its importance for the project, and clarified that each pair would share a room during the stay. the suddenness of it all added an air of anticipation and nervous excitement among the students, but it left you and hanni stiff in your seats.

hanni. sharing a room. with you. (y/n). (y/n). in the same. space. as. hanni. hanni.

hanni sits with minji and hyein, trying to ignore their knowing looks as she watches you from across the lunchroom. you're smiling amidst the laughter at your table, looking at the team like they’re idiots. suddenly, you turn your head and lock eyes with hanni. there's a pause as you both acknowledge each other, and then hanni awkwardly smiles, which earns a giggle from you.

caught in that moment, hanni wonders if she can handle being trapped in a room with you if you ever end up giggling like that up close and personal. she doesn’t know if she can handle you up close and personal.

–

you, are up close and personal and hanni somehow manages.

hanni is taken aback when your head leans onto her shoulder during the train ride to the nature reserve. your breathing deepens, and you seem completely at ease, while she tries to maintain composure despite the unexpected closeness. she finds herself conflicted; on one hand, you look delicate and serene with strands of hair falling over your face, making her contemplate whether to brush them away or let them be.

the realization hits her anew that you're definitely the prettiest girl she knows, a title she's only recently come to acknowledge. unsure of how to handle the situation, hanni slips in her earbud, turning up the volume of the song playing to drown out her racing thoughts.

–

if things haven’t already made hanni at risk of having some type of heart attack, then finding the hotel room and unlocking the door to see one bed definitely makes her prone to some sort of cardiovascular catastrophe.

you feel yourself go tense, freezing in place as you realize the same thing.

“there’s one bed.”

hanni looks at you like you’re an idiot. “no shit.”

“is there a mistake?” you check the hotel room number and look at the key in your hand. “it has to be…”

“let me ask the others, you stay here.” hanni says before leaving the room. you look at her with a tilted head, but shake it off, instead opting to look out the window in awe at the view. hanni fishes out her phone and dials minji. the phone rings for a moment before minji picks up, she hums and hanni speaks again, “hey, what room are you in?”

“722, you?”

“610, stay, i’m coming over.”

“what?”

“be there soon.”

minji attempts to respond, but hanni hangs up. she makes a weird sound that has danielle looking at her confused, minji just shrugs.

a few minutes later, the pair hears a knock at the door. minji walks over, expecting hanni, and standing out her door is – hanni.

“how many beds do you have?” she asks quickly, stepping inside.

“what happened to hey? hello? how are you?”

hanni ignores her remarks, too distracted by the fact that there’s two beds in minji’s room.

“fuck me.” hanni whispers, then puts a hand in her hair, gripping it. “oh my fucking god.”

“hanni what–”

danielle steps out the bathroom after hearing the commotion. she looks at minji, who looks back at her with the same confusion in her features. “what’s the problem hanni?”

“our room only has one bed.”

minji widens her eyes. “you’re telling me you and y/n are–”

“there has to be a mistake.” hanni groans, “it can’t be.”

the shortest in the room flops onto one bed, sighing as she stares up at the ceiling. both of her friends walk over and sit beside her, amused and worried at how she’s acting.

“hey! it’s not too bad. maybe you can talk to them and ask for a room with two beds! don’t worry, it’s not the end of the world.”

minji puts a hand up, waving it to dismiss danielle. she looks back down at hanni and shakes her head. “hanni doesn’t want to.”

“why wouldn’t she?”

“hanni, you wanna tell danielle?”

the youngest raises a brow. “tell me what?”

“enough minji, it’s– it’s not– well…” hanni groans, turning over on her side. “what if things get awkward between the two of us?”

“well, that’s only if something… you know, happens. you’re thinking so far ahead.”

“what if she’s uncomfy?”

minji sighs again. “she’s not, don’t be stupid.”

“i’m still confused.” danielle says in between. “what is going on?”

minji looks down at the defeated hanni, then to danielle. “hanni is in denial about being in love with y/n.”

“i thought that was in the past.”

“well it’s back.” hanni mumbles. “what if i shrivel up and die.”

“don’t be stupid.”

“hey, haerin did mention that y/n talks about you often. from what she’s told me y/n is comfortable with you, very comfy. there’s nothing to worry about.” hanni’s phone buzzes and danielle helps her out, grabbing it out the pocket of her sweatpants for the older girl. she holds the phone up to hanni’s face smushed against the mattress, successfully unlocking it, then checks the message. “it’s from y/n.”

“it is?”

“i knew it was from her as soon as it buzzed.” danielle rolls her eyes, reading the text. “it says ‘where are you?’ ‘are you okay with one bed?’ ‘do dani and minji have one bed?’ ‘i’m fine with just one if you are’”

hanni shoots up. “what.” she leans next to dani to see the screen:

[y/n] where are you? are you okay with one bed? do dani and minji have one bed? i’m fine with just one if you are it’s not that big of a deal unless you’re uncomfy i can ask the hotel managers hello?

hanni grabs the phone and types immediately.

[hanni] hi so sorry i was with dani and minji they have two beds im fine with one if you are! only if you are of course! it’s totally fine if you aren’t though i hope that doesn’t sound weird you get what i mean? sorry

[y/n] i get it one bed then it’ll be fine, i think it’s a queen when will you be back?

minji and danielle watch hanni get off their bed and sprint out the room, then look at each other and giggle. hanni speedwalks down the hall, relying on her senses to not fuck up and make her trip or take a wrong step.

[hanni] i was omw alr soon have you unpacked?

[y/n] no i was waiting for u c u don’t trip and fall

–

“you’re so clingy.” you groan, but still, you willingly let hanni cling onto you like a koala.

the two of you are thirteen and the next day is confirmed to be a snow day, so hanni had sprinted over to your house (begged her parents to drive her over) and basically forced you into having a last minute sleepover. it’s not like you were against it though.

you and hanni had been on the couch watching a disney movie, though you had dozed off halfway through. to be fair, you had already seen rapunzel more times than you could count on one hand, and hanni always made you feel relaxed.

now, she’s in your bed, your legs tangled under the covers, and she’s half on top of you with her arms wrapped around. she hugs tighter after hearing you, giggling into your ear.

“you’re sooo warm though, i don’t want to move.” the moment she says that, something shifts. you suddenly burn, it feels like something is swallowing you whole and your stomach is doing flips and your heart is running a marathon and– “i could stay like this forever.”

“oh,” you mumble. your hand finds its way to her shoulder, deciding to settle there and occasionally your thumb traces circles on her. “okay.”

you've never been this close to hanni before, not like this. thirteen and oblivious, you're caught in a whirlwind of changing emotions. her presence next to you makes your head spin, even though you're just lying there together. it's a sensation you're not sure you like—maybe because you're afraid hanni might feel something different, steadier, while you feel like you could easily topple over. the embarrassment of that thought flushes through you, adding to the confusion of the moment.

–

both of you are stiff lying next to each other, unable to move. the only light in the room is the lamp in the corner and neither of you dare to look at the other.

hanni is on her phone, trying to do anything to ease the tension when there’s a small space in between the two of you. sure, the bed is quite spacious, but in this situation it doesn’t seem like it.

“hey, hanni?” she shivers, your voice is low and hushed. “i’m going to sleep.”

“oh, okay.”

“yeah, night.”

there’s subtle shifts of the blanket and the muffled movements, catching your back turned away from her in her peripheral vision. there's a shared intimacy in the limited space, she’s aware of your efforts not to brush against her. the pillow meant for your head is firmly cradled in your arms, a subconscious barrier. hanni notices this and half-wishes for the same kind of closeness, if she were that pillow.

fuck, she thinks. she wonders whether or not you’re still as warm as before.

–

the next day you and hanni wake up a few centimeters closer, but not enough to be touching. neither of you bask in that mutual realization, instead, focused on getting water samples for the project.

there’s not much directing or instructing. sure, there’s ground rules and whatnot since it’s a literally nature reserve, but there’s a lot of academic freedom regarding research. you and hanni have the green light to collect water samples, but that means trekking through various areas that are… questionable.

both of you start with the easier places to grab samples, such as the small pond near the hotel, the little stream further down the road, and really any place that isn’t shrouded by organisms left and right. both of you take turns getting samples, laughing at the others expression when getting into contact with the water.

“ugh.”

“it’s just water y/n.”

“you made the stupidest face when we were near the hotel and it was literally a cute little pond, do not test me.”

“whatever.”

“besides, you’re next after we go into the little woods.”

hanni curses mentally.

–

being alone together with hanni seems to be less and less suffocating with time.

however, you feel like someone is punching you in the gut each time your knuckles and arms brush against each other walking along the forest trail. hanni doesn’t seem to think much on it, but you? you’re too hyperaware it seems embarrassing.

she runs off farther from you, finding another stream and taking out a small glass bottle to grab another sample. she crouches and reaches down, you can’t help but smile. she looks stupid, she always does, but it only makes her more attractive unfortunately.

“cute.”

“what did you say?” she looks up at you, you’re standing and watching from above. all she can see is you looking away and the tint of pink in your cheeks.

“you look dumb.” you play it off, then grab your phone to snag a picture of her. “yeah, super dumb.”

–

the next sample is a breeze, seeing as it’s some pool of water stuck in a big dent in the rocks along the path.

it’s a breeze just walking and conversing time to time, almost forgetting that this is all for a project.

hanni spots a waterfall in the distance, eyes lighting up at the sight of it. she starts to run off and you yell out a measly “wait!” as she continues on. you groan and run after her, laughing along the way.

you lose her for a moment, a little scared because she’s nowhere in your line of sight. “hanni?” you call out, but she doesn’t respond.

it isn’t until you hear a loud gasp, followed by a painful yelp, that hints at where hanni is at. you follow wherever the sound came from, then climb a few plateaued rocks to find hanni on the ground clutching her ankle.

“hanni! fuck, what happened?”

she looks up at you with a pained expression, then back to her foot. “i tripped on a branch and my ankle twisted weirdly, can you help me up?”

“yeah, sure, of course.” you respond quickly, rushing over to help her up. she’s struggling to apply pressure on her left foot, basically carrying herself with the right one. “can you walk?”

she shrugs, loosening her grip on you as she tries to take a few steps. the wince she lets out after the second step lets you know that she’s in no condition to carry herself like that. “um, kind of.”

“you liar.” you sigh, “how bad does it hurt? do you think it’s sprained?”

“no, i’ve sprained my ankle. it’s not that bad.” you remember when she sprained it too, but push down the memory.

again, you sigh (really because you’re worried). you squat down and suggest, “get on my back.”

“are you crazy?”

“you just twisted your ankle and can’t even walk, are you?”

“i can find a big stick.”

“and i’ll whack you with it if you don’t get on.” hanni scoffs at your response. you look down bashfully, adding quietly, “it’s not like you haven’t piggybacked me before.”

(“we’re almost home.” you assure. hanni tightens her grip around you as you push her up, trying to stabilize yourself.

two eleven year olds and an empty playground meant chasing and chasing until one was out of breathe – or in this case, one had sprained her ankle.

you carried her over to the nearest bench when it happened, examining the growing puffiness on her foot and making a grossed out expression. hanni hit you playfully when you made the face, slightly offended but really just trying to lighten the mood.

“it doesn’t hurt that much, let’s just walk home and my parents can deal with it.”

“um… i’m no doctor but that doesn’t look right.”

“hey!”

“i didn’t mean it like that hanni! it just looks like… i don’t know, like a doctor should see it.”

“well, it’s fine to me.” hanni lets out a heavy sigh, then gets up only to topple over. she almost falls to the ground again, but you manage to catch her and stable her. she tears up when her weight shifts over to the injured ankle, and then frowns when you look at her disapprovingly.

“sit back down hanni, you hurt yourself.” you order her, then help her back to the bench. you crouch down in front of her and squat, turning so hanni can see the side of your face as you tell her, “get on my back.”

“what?”

“i’ll carry you home. you’re not heavy, and plus, you’re short.”

“you’re a bully.”

“get on!” you groan. hanni complies shortly after, wrapping her arms around your neck and feeling your hands stable her. “see? not bad at all. we’ll get home fine.”

hanni is amazed at your strength, but even more at the depth of your care for her. she feels the sweat building up on your skin, but you don’t mention it, not showing a hint of struggle. your unwavering effort almost convinces hanni that everything is alright.)

“y/n, we’re not eleven anymore. i’m not as small and light.”

you click your tongue teasingly, turning so you can see her from your peripheral. “you’re still small, and probably light too. just get on or you’ll fuck up your foot even more.”

she hesitates, but gets on anyway. you stand up easily, just like you did as kids. your hands are under her thighs in order to keep her in place, her arms warp around your neck and her head is on your shoulder. she feels you gulp agaisnt her skin.

“are you okay?” she asks, you just nod. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t, you’re never a problem.”

your response is oddly endearing, shutting hanni up the whole way back.

it’s mainly silent, except for the faint sound of hanni’s breathing reaching your ears. you can’t trust yourself to say anything coherent; your thoughts are a jumbled mess with her this close.

occasionally, she stops trying and lets her chin rest on your shoulder. each time she does, you feel like you might explode, but you never do. hanni has that effect on you; she always has. it makes sense why you strayed away years back. but despite the turmoil, the feeling is so lovely, and the butterflies in your stomach make you yearn for something more.

“we’re almost there.” your endurance is starting to die down and hanni starts to feel heavier. it’s been nearly twenty minutes (give or take), but you’ve been pushing aside the burn in your legs. “you alright?”

“yes.”

“good.”

the first mistake you make is turning to meet her eye to eye, almost slipping in the middle of the trail. she looks at you deeply, making you shrink and shrink until it’s just your beating heart.

“are you alright? you’re not tired?”

“i’m fine. we’re almost there anyway.”

“i owe you so much, sorry for being stupid.”

pursing your lips and turning away, you shake your head slightly. “you don’t owe me anything.”

–

hanni gets treated by the nurse on the reserve while you test the levels of ph in each sample. some of the water from your samples are also observed by the laboratory on the reserve, and you’re attentive to everything the scientists observe and explain.

you return to the nurse right after hanni is done with her examination, her foot is wrapped and there’s a pair of crutches next to her.

“what did the nurse say?”

“she said i’m lucky it’s a minor injury.” hanni begins, looking down at her foot. “and that i should ice it and try to move it around little by little.”

“how long will it take to heal fully?”

“something like a week or so, again, not the worst injury.”

still, you frown. “lucky we got every sample today. the rest of the project doesn’t require much walking.”

“i guess.” she mumbles. “did you get everything through? how are the samples?”

“we can worry about that tomorrow, don’t worry.” she watches you squat down in front of her, turning your head the same way you did before and smiling subtly. “crutches will slow you down, and you’re easy to carry.”

“well thanks ms. mvp.”

“blah blah you like being on my back, admit it.” you push her buttons a little, hearing a “hmph” before she gets on and wraps her arms around your neck. you hold hanni with one hand as you grab her crutches, then manage to stable her with both again.

the whole way back you’re trying not to smile too hard. your cheeks already burn and hanni stays silent as you bring yourselves up to your floor, step inside the room, and set her down on your temporary shared bed.

she watches you set the crutches down against the counter and you watch her flop on her back.

“how is your foot?”

“hurts, but less than before.”

“mhm, you should go shower. do you need help?” you pause, blushing like crazy when you realize the implications. “like, you know, to get there–”

she lets you live and says, “it’s alright, i can hop a few times and get there.”

“if i hear you fall in the shower i’m not going to get you.”

she snickers, getting back up. then looks at you fondly.

“i wont, silly.”

hanni thankfully lives up to her response, and you don't hear any commotion from inside the bathroom. when she emerges, she's in one piece and dressed in her pajamas. limping slightly, she makes her way back to the bed, sitting on the edge and moving her foot around slowly. her brows furrow a bit, but she seems relatively fine. relieved, you head into the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed, trying to shake off the lingering worry.

–

there’s a weird tingly feeling that spreads over hanni when you walk out of the bathroom with wet hair and flushed cheeks from the hot shower. you looked like this last night, and seeing you again makes her wonder how it’d be to see you like that more often.

you walk over with the towel on your shoulders to prevent water dampening your back, and also the brace that she had left in the bathroo. hanni watches you pull a chair over and sit in front of her.

“you forgot something.”

“it feels fine right now,” you watch her shrug, looking at her foot. with an amusing expression, something mixed with “you’re an idiot” and slight worry, you poke the swollen area. “hey!” hanni winces.

“it looks like ten mosquitoes bit your foot, stupid. here, give me your foot.”

“what?”

"oh my god, just–" you mutter, grabbing her foot gently above the ankle and placing it on your knee. hanni watches as you carefully position the ankle brace, threading the end underneath before wrapping it tightly around until it reaches the velcro. your concentration is evident in your scrunched brows and pursed lips, handling her with a tenderness that makes her heart flutter.

when you're done, you poke at the brace and move hanni’s foot around, careful and slow, to check the fit. "there. how does it feel? too tight?" you ask, looking up at her with a mixture of concern and hope.

“no, not at all.” she says, shaking her head.

“try to move it.” hanni does so, feeling minimal pain. “all good?”

“yeah, better than the nurse.”

“right.”

just to make sure, you squeeze around areas of her foot to check the tightness. you look up to see her staring at you intensely, none of you break eye contact until – even as you stand, watching her head tilt up to continue looking at you.

her hair is already dry, it frames her face loosely, you can’t help but brush it out the way. hanni’s lips part subconsciously when your finger accidentally grazes her jawline, trying not to think on it much as you move away to get into bed.

both of you lie there, silent.

hanni is the first to turn towards the middle, and you follow shortly after.

the soft, plump lips catch your attention first. then, you scan all the way up to her nose until it’s just her eyes – her pupils hold you stuck in place.

“you’re so different.” hanni blurts, it’s almost a whisper. “hyein told me about a new girl and i didn’t think it’d be you. i still can’t believe you’re here.”

your body freezes as she pushes hair behind your ear, then relaxes upon hearing her voice again.

“thanks for everything.”

“it’s nothing if its you.”

“really?”

you hum almost immediately.

–

your hand is resting on hers when you wake up. you blink once, twice, and once again before hanni’s smushed cheek comes into full view. you stay still, looking at her as you yawn, trying not to disturb the peaceful moment.

she’s relaxed, her face free of worry as she slumbers. something about her makes you want to trace each and every feature until your finger is mush, until you can make out her face with your eyes covered in a sea of people. you could sit and stare for the rest of the trip.

it’s apparent that your feelings for her would always linger, no matter how close or far you are. no one could forget a face as breathtaking as hers.

–

the next day and the last are spent compiling research together. you and hanni settle into the small, homey café inside the hotel, typing away and considering each other’s suggestions, thoughts, and edits.

you manage to organize all of the data into a visually pleasing graphic by the time everything is done, while hanni handles most of the analysis and explanations on each slide. it takes a long while, but working side by side, with your arms often brushing, makes it less of a hassle.

on the final night, you're helping hanni with her ankle brace again. she enjoys this time because it allows her to stare at you without worrying about you catching her in the act. you’re too concentrated to notice her (or at least that’s what she believes), handling her with care and precision. in truth, you simply enjoy taking care of her, making sure she’s okay.

both of you end up asleep again, side by side, then facing each other.

in the middle of the night, hanni turns away from you, facing the edge of the bed. unbeknownst to you, in your sleep, you reach out, craving her presence even while unconscious. your arm drapes over her, pulling her closer. hanni stirs slightly, just barely awake, and realizes it’s you. sleepily, she turns back to face you, finding warmth and comfort in your embrace.

if there’s any questioning in the morning, hanni has a backup plan. she'll claim she didn’t realize she had been clinging onto you until she woke up and that she’s used to hugging a pillow.

(these days, she wishes that pillow were you.)

(you don’t mind being the pillow.)

–

“okay. you have everything, right?”

it’s eight in the morning and the bus leaves at nine. your bag is packed already, and so is hanni’s.

“mhm.”

“great.” you say before tucking your charger away in the front pocket of your backpack.

turning your head over, you notice hanni sitting on the edge of the bed and staring out the window. the view is perfect, you spent a lot of time looking outside when the sky was pretty, but not enough you realize – now that you’re about to go back near the city.

you walk over to sit next to her, leaving little space in between the two of you.

hanni moves her foot in a small circle, probably without knowing since she looks so focused on the view in front of her.

“does your ankle feel better?”

“yeah, because of you.” she turns her head to face you, the distance between both of you grows smaller. hanni slides herself closer. “i really liked spending time with you here.”

“me too.”

her breath hitches. “i wish we could’ve had more time outside.”

“its fine.” you hesitate before reaching out to move her outgrown bangs away from her eye. “you should trim your bangs.”

“mhm.” hanni isn’t really listening, not when your hand is under her jaw.

you lean closer, noses nearly touching. hanni's eyes flutter shut, and you hesitate, your lips just a breath away from hers. her fingers nervously play with the neckline of your t-shirt, a silent invitation. with that small gesture, you tilt your head a little more and close the distance, your lips finally meeting hers.

it’s delicate at first, short and swift. the two of you part a few millimeters away before you kiss her again, each kiss growing longer and more comfortable. it feels right, perfect – all of it. her hand slides up to your collarbone and rests at the base of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. hanni hums softly into the kiss, her nails pressing subtly into your skin.

it feels like you’re on cloud nine.

the two of you part after a few more slow kisses, for real this time, now able to see the effect you have on each other.

your cheeks are bloodshot, and hanni’s cheeks mirror yours.

“can i do that again?”

hanni nods, biting her lip slightly.

you lean forward again and kiss her as if its the only thing you’ve ever dreamed of.

what catches you off guard is her putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it as she pushes you back slightly. your lips are still close, and you can feel her hot breath brushing your skin.

“w-wait, y/n.”

“hm? did you not like it? sorry oh my god–” she cuts your worries off with a kiss.

“no, i just–” hanni parts further, you feel your heart sink. she looks down at your lips for a moment. “--i want to keep going but before i can… i’ve been thinking,”

“about?”

“us.”

“how?”

“y/n, you wanted to be friends at first, and so did i. trust me, i really really liked that, like, so much.”

you look at her, confused.

“but this isn’t what friends do, and i want to be more than friends but… i just, i just really need to know why we ever stopped being how we used to. the full reason.”

“what?”

“there was something left out, i guess it felt vague – your apology.”

you can’t believe her, and the fact that the moment was halted because of it makes you a little irritated. “you’re still stuck on that?” the defensive, aggressive tone throws hanni off. “you’re– you’re joking, right?”

hanni pulls away fully now, taking her hands off of you. “why are you getting angry again, you can’t tell me the real reason, is that it?”

“hanni, i just–”

“you gave me an apology, but it wasn’t the full thing. that’s enough to be friends again, but to kiss you and have something beyond being friends… i’d like a full explanation, you know?”

you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re still stuck on it.” you say unbelievably.

“of course i am! i want to know the full reason before we… before this.” she points between the two of you

“i– i can’t hanni.”

“is it that bad?”

“i just, not now, please.” it’s too selfish and humiliating, besides, you’ve already kissed her. an explanation isn’t even necessary.

“you can’t even tell me.” hanni looks at you, a feeling of betrayal seeps into her. “and you expect me to keep kissing you.”

“it’s not relevant! it’s not serious.”

“then tell me! what’s so hard y/n, what is so fucking difficult to confess.”

“i’m not arguing with you hanni, not now.” you sigh, standing up. “we should meet the others downstairs.”

“go on and avoid this like you did years ago, are you going to pop up next week and tell me you’re going abroad again or…?”

you don’t respond, mainly because you don’t trust yourself to say something that’ll keep the fire from bursting and growing. shaking your head, you grab your bag and put it on, looking at her again with a tongue poking the inside of your lip.

“let’s go.”

“go by yourself.”

“hanni, you’re on crutches.”

“go.” she spits, sounding sad, angry, and deceived.

–

you’ve fucked up.

so badly.

hanni steps out of the elevator on her crutches, giving you a brief glance before heading over to minji and danielle. you frown, memories flooding back and making it feel like all the effort to reconnect was for nothing. you still managed to screw everything up.

you know you’re in trouble when she doesn’t let you help her onto the bus, when she stares out the window the whole ride back, and when she starts giving you the same cold treatment you gave her years ago.

after kissing hanni and then feeling rejected by her within the same hour, a heavy weight settles on your chest. you try to talk to her, you really do, but she doesn’t budge or respond, letting you sit with the consequences of your actions alone. the ride back feels like needles slowly, slowly poking into your skin, and you can’t do anything about it.

–

hanni doesn’t leave your mind, even after two weeks of getting back to school, settling into your practices and winning districts – nothing helps the fact that your brain screams hanni hanni hanni.

everytime you see her, you try to talk to her or interact, but she just won’t let it happen.

even minji's exchanges with you are shorter now, more reserved, focusing mainly on school. you feel like you've dug a hole in the ground only to get stuck there, with all your progress leading to a pothole you can’t escape. it doesn’t help that every time you see hanni, you just want to hold her again, take care of her, and offer that same softness and genuine care. but you can't, and she won’t let you.

even after you two present your project together, with hanni complying just enough to give you a temporary moment of interaction, she quickly returns to her reserved self. it’s terrible because she’s still that same hanni you love when she’s not around you. you catch her laughing with her friends at lunch, smiling, looking pretty, and seeming unbothered by everything.

you might die if you don't get to interact with her normally again. every second, the thought of hanni smiling at you instead, maybe even kissing you and holding onto you like before, crosses your mind. you try to push it down, burying it deep into the back of your mind, locking it away; because the only way to try and live with it for the time being is to ignore it.

(it’s almost impossible.

screw that, it’s impossible.)

–

hanni catches sight of you from a few tables away in the lunchroom. you’re surrounded by cheerful, excited teammates, all celebrating the recent district win. even haerin, usually quiet and reserved, is more talkative and lively.

but you’re not.

her eyes meet yours for a fleeting second. she sees a flicker of hope in your gaze, and her heart clenches. she tries hard to look away, forcing herself to ignore you as she always does. despite the happiness and laughter around you, there’s a melancholy in your eyes that she can’t shake off, and it makes her heart ache. even with that, she can’t give in, she’s too afraid of false truths and feeling worse along the line.

“you haven’t touched your lunch.” minji points out. “hanni, you can’t keep doing this.”

“i have to.”

“i know she fucked up, but she’s come to me begging to talk to you. she’s hurt and regrets a lot. if you could let her explain, then maybe things will work out.”

“and what if it’s just a sugarcoated explanation? minji, i can’t feel like that again.”

“you’re already skipping meals, and i know it’s screwing you up too. could letting her back in really be any worse?”

hanni hates that minji is really smart. she’s right—she’s usually right, anyway. hanni knows she’s partly to blame for letting the crack in your relationship start to form again. if the distance keeps growing, she’s not sure if it can be patched up the way it was before. the thought of losing what you two had, after all the effort to rebuild it, terrifies her.

“i don’t know minji.” she puts her head down, her voice being muffled in her arms as she says, “i really don’t know.”

“you have to let her in.”

“will she let me in?”

“y/n is not a bad person, from my judgement at least.” minji states. she puts a hand on hanni’s back, offering a comforting squeeze. “plus, my best friend can’t eat because of it.”

–

hanni watches you from afar, still on the school courts shooting hoops long after practice has ended. she knows you use practice to distract yourself and escape, and seeing you shoot like a relentless machine makes her feel worse than she already does. you miss one shot, then another, and finally, in frustration, throw the ball across the court, not far from where hanni stands.

from across the gym, you spot her standing in the doorway, frozen in place. your chest heaves with exertion, sweat dripping, and exhaustion settling in. just seeing hanni makes your body feel heavier, shoulders slumping and arms going limp.

she watches you with a frown but can’t hold your gaze any longer. you observe her biting her lip before she turns and leaves, and you're left alone with the weight of your emotions and the distance between you growing even larger.

it’s all my fault. it’s the truth, you can’t let it go on any longer. your legs hurt, you don’t know if shooting is worth it after seeing her because she’ll flash in your mind and you’ll miss each time.

hanni’s not going to give in for another while, and you’re growing impatient. you’re not fourteen anymore, you can’t be stubborn and stupid for the rest of your life.

you can’t be the reason for your own regrets anymore, losing everything you’ve built with hanni – losing hanni – would be the last straw.

–

the sound of something hitting the window halts hanni’s efforts of falling asleep. she hasn’t been able to without melatonin, not when she’s been distancing herself from you.

she rubs her eyes and groans, then glances through the window, her breath fogging the cold glass as she scoffs at the sight of you standing outside. it's freezing, she knows, and even the a/c can't fend off the chill. she squints, trying to make out your figure in the dim light. you're in pajamas, a light long-sleeve shirt flapping loosely in the wind, and plaid pants that are clearly shit against the biting cold. the front lights aren't on, casting you in shadows, but she can still see enough to worry about you.

she can’t, she’s done everything she can not to talk to you, but she can’t just ignore the fact that you’re out in the cold and if she does brush you off you’ll end up sick the next day. hanni can give you the cold shoulder, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about you, she can’t have you catching a cold.

you wait there, feeling your fingers start to numb as the wind blows again. your teeth clammer against each other when you shiver, waiting there helplessly; the only way to get hanni back is to be vulnerable, if that means waking up stuffy and congested, then so be it.

"what the hell is wrong with you, y/n?" hanni says, her tone more worried than angry. she rushes over to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you inside. "it's past midnight, are you insane?"

“hanni let me apologize, please. no bullshit this time, full truth.”

“y/n,” hanni sighs, looking at you closely. the lamp in her living room hits one side of your face, showing the slight tint of red on your cheeks and nose. “come upstairs. fuck you’re so lucky my parents aren’t home.”

“thank you.”

“yeah, whatever.” she says, but so quietly that you can’t even hear it.

you follow her like a lost dog up the stairs and into her room, she closes the door, then turns on her desk lamp.

hanni hears your breath shake. “there’s a reason behind everything i do.”

“don’t sugarcoat anything y/n. i’ve given you a second chance, you’re lucky i’m giving you a third.”

“i know, i’m the luckiest person already after being able to be your friend. and i want that again, no, let me be clear.” you step closer to her, head tilted down to meet her features. shes unable to tear away from your gaze, stuck in place. somehow, you look even cuter with your rosy cheeks and ruined hair from the wind, and those pajamas make you look like an adorable idiot. “it’s not an excuse, but people are so stupid when they’ve just become teenagers.”

“clearly.”

“i know.” you sigh out again. she’s looking up still, dead into your eyes that soften upon just seeing her and it’s like there’s a whole world in your pupils as they dilate. “look, i don’t want to regret more than i already do. i was stupid, i never liked anyone, – romantically – until you.”

“what?”

“hanni, i found you so pretty and amazing and we were fucking young and you were my only friend. i couldn’t even make friends when i went to korea, you know? no one was as striking as you. i’ve made friends here but they’re nothing like you. it’s just so embarrassing and terrible to admit, i’ve been running around it, in circles really. that’s why i’ve never told you, that’s why i get so mad at the mere mention of it because it’s just so… it frustrated me.”

“what are you saying y/n?”

“hanni.” your voice lowers and your lips twitch. “ all those years, they were frustrating and confusing and screwed up my brain that wasn’t even fully developed. i’ve loved you for more years than i can count on one hand. i never knew that, really, until we got to middle school. i was so scared my feelings would get in the way and you had all these other friends that made you laugh more than me. i was scared you would grow out of me, i hated the idea of you with anyone else but me.”

silence follows, hanni’s brows upturn and her jaw drops slightly. the red glazing your cheeks is much more apparent, so deep that she might even be able to see it without the soft light in her room.

“i shouldn’t have been so insecure and stupid and selfish and–” you pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “i’m sorry. and i’m still in love with you more than you’ll ever know, and after kissing you i know that’s not going away. i know that to fix everything i need to be honest and i couldn’t even do that and i–”

“you like me?” hanni says, surprised isn’t enough to explain how she feels.

“what?”

“it’s all because you liked me? you did this because you were in love with me? y/n, oh my god.”

“i understand if you’re mad hanni i really do–”

“no– yes. i’m pissed.” she looks at you defeatedly, but somehow relieved at the same time. “you’re the stupidest person i know.” her voice is faint as she pieces everything together.

“i know and i shouldn’t have–”

“no, shut up.” she watches your expression shift into confusion. her hands find their way to your face, cupping it like it’s the only thing they were meant to do. she whispers as she leans closer, “you dumbass just shut up.”

her lips are on yours again since the hotel, rushed and desperate and everything in between.

naturally, your hands find their way to her waist, holding her close. you melt into each other, kissing and kissing because it's the only thing you can and want to do. warmth floods through you, getting rid of the cold of the night. hanni reverses the numbing sensation that you had felt, making you feel. what you’re feeling? there’s not much that can describe that, you just know that everything in this moment is perfect. she's perfect—her against you, with you, close to you. her lips, her presence, just her—hanni.

both of you pull away at the same time after running short on breath. she stares at you, plays with your hair, and kisses you again.

hanni does anything she can to keep close to you, right there in the middle of her room on the carpet that you helped her pick out.

you don't think there's a single thought in your mind that isn't of hanni, not just because you’re kissing her, but really, in general. her fingers grip the back of your neck, her are lips soft and warm against yours, and she groans lightly into you. the heat radiates off her skin, wrapping you in a comforting warmth that seeps into your bones.

and it feels right to move over, hanni figures. she guides you over to her bed, praying that you two don’t trip when she redirects you over to her matress, climbing into your lap. she pulls away again, slowly.

your lips have a mind of their own, following hers even if they’re starting to get puffy. you’re unsure whether or not you can even breathe.

she slides her hands to the sides of your neck, then up just below your jawline. her skin brushes against you and goosebumps roam up your spine.

“you’re so stupid.”

“uh huh.” you mumble, staring at her like a loser. “yeah.”

she giggles, then her lips form a loving smile. “you’re in love with me.” she says, almost like she’s convincing herself. “you love me.”

bashfully, you respond, “yeah.”

“and because of that you avoided me.”

your hands loosen around her waist. “sorry.”

“no, you’re an idiot.”

“i know hanni, i know.”

“no you don’t.” she slides one hand back into your hair and it feels like time has slowed down. “i’ve been in love with you, dumbass.”

“you– you have?”

“we just madeout for almost an hour – probably – yes, i’m in love with you. i had a crush on you when we were twelve– i’ve had a crush on you since.” she leans closer, her lips ghosting over yours. “you’re so, so, dumb y/n. kiss me again and i’ll forgive you, i guess.”

“uh huh.” you practically respond into the kiss, meeting her eagerly.

it feels right just kissing her like that, slow and steady, then quick and longing until your lips are swollen and numb. she falls down onto the bed tiredly, coaxing you to follow. even after taking each other’s breath away, you’re cautious of the boundaries and what you can do. you’re still an asshole for being stupid and in love, you think you’ll always be an asshole because of that.

but hanni manages to wash away any worry, scooting closer into you and clinging onto you again. you feel her press a haste kiss on your neck and sigh sleepily, then mutter, “i’m just glad things turned out like this.”

“me too.”

“you still owe me a lot y/n.”

nodding slowly, you respond quietly, “okay, i’ll buy us bread tomorrow.”

“mhm,” she closes her eyes, and sighs happily when your fingers start to soothe her scalp. “and kiss me again.”

“that’s nothing.”

“good.” she murmurs. “you’re so warm. stay.”

hanni’s spent every moon thinking of you, being mad at you, missing you, and loving you regardless. you’ve spent every second doing this. it’s the feeling of being curled up together comfortably that makes up for everything – nothing can beat it, nothing’s better than hanni in your arms, right there, right now.

you, hanni, together – that’s all that matters.

“i’m not going anywhere.” you promise, voice so thin it might break if the wind manages to seep through the closed windows. “never again.”

#kpop x reader #hanni x reader #pham hanni x reader #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans hanni #pham hanni #miinatozakiii

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lee-laurent · 2 months ago

Text

True Love's Kiss - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn's in love... with his brother's ex-girlfriend

content: fluff, angst, kissing, making out, mentions of sex but no explicit smut, ex relationships, arguments

wc: 13.9k

notes: i'm so so so excited for this one!!!!! i was between this plot idea and quinn dating trevor's ex or trevor dating quinn's ex. so if you guys wanna see either of us just let me know.

It was a crisp, early fall day in Ann Arbor. The atmosphere at the Michigan football stadium was electric, thousands of people wearing maize and blue, feeling the "Big House" for the season opener. Quinn was standing next to Luke and some of his teammates, taking in the scene. Quinn felt a weird sense of nostalgia being there, reminding him of his own time at Umich, and he had no doubt that Luke was feeling the same way.

Quinn wasn't one for big crowds, unless he was playing hockey in front of it, but Luke had insisted he come to his alma mater with him. The energy around them was intense--people cheering and music blasting, but Quinn wasn't fully focused on the game. His mind wandered, as it often did, to the upcoming hockey season and his responsibilties as captain. After a few minutes of talking with Luke and his friends, Quinn felt the need to escape from the crowd for a bit.

"I'm gonna find a bathroom," he muttered to Luke, who was too busy joking with his old teammates to notice.

He slipped away, weaving through packs of students and families. Eventually he found a quieter section of the stadium, far from the chaos near his brother. He glanced around, squinting in search of a bathroom sign when something--or rather, someone--caught his eye.

There she was.

Standing by one of the snack vendors, talking to a group of people Quinn vaguely recognized from his own time at Umich, was Harriet--Harrie. Jack's ex. He had only really met her once or twice, usually just hearing about her from his younger brothers, but he could still recognize her.

At first, he didn't full register what he was seeing. He hadn't expected to run into her here. Sure she still went to Umich, but there were thousands of students there. He hadn't seen her in years, but she looked pretty much the same... yet different. Older, more confident in the way she carried herself. She was laughing with her friends, her curls bouncing as she threw her hair back.

Quinn shifted on his feet, trying to decide if he should go say 'hi.' He could walk past--pretend he never saw her and go on with his day--but his feet seemed to have a different idea. He was already walking toward her, pulled by something he couldn't explain.

The closer he got, the more he started to question his decision. What would he even say? Ask her how she's been? Surely he shouldn't bring up Jack. He hadn't been close to her when she dated his brother. But he knew that their breakup had been mutual. Still, the fact that she was Jack's ex made approaching her slightly more scary than normal.

"Quinn?"

Her voice was laced with surprise, snapping him from his worried thoughts. Harried had noticed him approaching, her friends now shifting their attention to him as well.

"Harrie," he replied, trying his best to sound casual.

Harrie's lips curved in a genuine smile as she stepped from her group, getting closer to Quinn. "I didn't expect to see you here," she said, her voice light, but Quinn could sense the surprise in her tone. "Is this your scene?"

He huffed, shoving his hands into the pocket of his Michigan jacket. "Not usually, no. But Luke's got a way of dragging me to things."

"Supportive big brother," she teased, her eyes studying his face. Quinn wasn't sure if it was the stadium lights or just his nerves, but he felt like he was under a microscope.

"What about you?" he asked, trying to push through the awkwardness he was feeling. "You still at Umich?"

Harrie nodded. "Yeah, for a bit longer. I'm graduating early, but I'm stuck here for a little more."

"Graduating early?" Quinn couldn't help but be impressed. It hadn't been that long since Jack and Harrie had broken up, and to hear that she was already almost done with her degree caught him off guard. "That was... fast."

She shrugged, her confidence apparent. "Yeah, I guess I'm just that good." There was a teasing look in her eyes, but Quinn could tell she wasn't bragging--just being herself.

For a moment, they just stood there. Quinn couldn't look away, he wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't supposed to think of Harrie as anything more than Jack's ex. But she seemed like she was more than that now. Like she'd written a new chapter in her life since going to Umich.

"Well, it was nice running into you," Harrie finally said. "I've gotta get back to my friends." She adjusted her tube top, flashing a quick smile before stepping back toward her friends.

"Yeah, of course. Good seeing you."

Quinn found himself staring as she walked away. He couldn't help but feel like he should've asked more questions, but what good would that have done? He was probably never going to see her again.

Or at least, that's what he told himself.

He just took a breath and shook his head, finally actually heading into the bathroom. He couldn't shake Harrie from his mind. It was so weird seeing her there. What were the chances? What a small world.

Quinn worked his way back to Luke and his friends, weaving through the packed stands, flashing his badge to the security. His mind was still on Harrie. The brief encounter had thrown him off-guard, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her out of his mind.

"Dude, where the hell were you?" Dylan laughed, barely glancing away from the field. "Took you long enough to find a bathroom."

Quinn shrugged, "Ran into someone." He didn't want to make a big deal out of it, though it felt like a bigger deal than he cared to admit.

"Who?" Luke asked, turning to face his brother.

"Harrie," Quinn replied, trying to keep it nonchalant. "You know, Jack's ex."

The group's reaction was immediate. Mark let out a low whistle, and Dylan raised an eyebrow, both now suddenly much more interested in Quinn's bathroom break.

"Harrie?" Luke's eyebrows shot up. "What, you ran into her here?"

"Yeah, by the vendors. We talked for a bit."

"Man, Harrie's still around? Haven't seen her in a hot minute," Ethan asked. "Saw her at a few parties last year... total knockout."

Quinn shifted in his seat, trying to ignore how they were talking about Harrie like she was a social spectacle. Did most guys talk about Harrie like that?

"She's still finishing up school, though, right?" Dylan chimed in. "Isn't she graduating early or something?"

Luke nodded. "Yeah, she's almost done. Doesn't party much anymore. She's all business now." He glanced at Quinn. "Did you hear about what happened last year?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Luke debated whether he should bring it up or not, but the grin pulling at the side his lips made it clear he couldn't resist. "When Jack came to visit me for that weekend, and we all went to that party. Harrie was there, and... well, one thing led to another, and they hooked up."

"Wait, what?" Quinn blinked, surprised. Jack and Harrie hooking up? His mind reeled for a second, feeling a strange mix of shock and something else--something he couldn’t quite name. "Seriously?"

"Seriously? Jack got back with her for the night?"

"Yeah, but it was a one-time thing," Luke shrugged. "At least, that's what Jack said. But I don't know, man... I don't think he's totally over her. Even if he won't admit it." He chuckled like it wasn't a big deal, but the words felt heavy to Quinn.

Ethan shook his head, nudging Quinn. "Your brother's a lucky bastard, huh? Hooking up with his ex like that? Must've been some party."

Jack and Harrie hooking up again? That was news to Quinn. Why hadn't Jack told him? He usually told him shit like that. He had just assumed Jack was over her, that their breakup was clean and mutual. Now... he wasn't so sure.

Was Jack still into Harrie? Luke had mentioned it so casually, like it wasn't filled with drama. Why was Quinn so caught up on this? He shook his head, turning his attention back to the game. He didn't need to focus on stupid shit like that, he had a season coming up.

It was rare in February for Quinn to have a day off, but he did. He finally had a chance to breathe. He felt slightly more at ease than normal, but his mind still raced with thoughts of his captaincy, team responsibilities, and all that pressure that came with it. He decided to make his way to his regular coffee spot--hoping it would help him decompress a bit.

The bell above the door jingled as he pushed it open, the smell of freshly roasted coffee filled his nose. It was pretty quiet for a mid-morning, just a few tables with students studying. Quinn glanced around to find that his favourite corner table was still open.

Score.

"What can I get you?"

Quinn blinked, snapping his head up. And there she was.

Harrie.

For a second, he thought he was imagining things, but there was mistaking the girl behind the counter. Her usual brunette curls pulled back in a ponytail, the freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose, her green eyes locking with his. She looked exactly how she did in the fall at Michigan.

Harrie blinked, clearly as caught-off as he was. "Quinn?"

"Harrie?"

She smiled, her surprise fading away. "Well... this is unexpected." She let out a small, awkward laugh, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn cleared his throat, still processing that she was standing in front of him. "Just grabbing a coffee. What about you? You're... working here?" His voice definitely gave away his surprise, but he couldn't help it.

She nodded, shrugging. "Yeah, just for now. I graduated early, like I said. Moved to Vancouver right after. I'm still looking for an editing job, but in the meantime..." She gestured around the café. "Barista life it is."

"Vancouver? You moved here?"

Harrie chuckled, looking amused by his reaction. "Yeah. Decided it was time for a change after Michigan. I always liked Vancouver... and, you know, figured I'd try something new." There was a beat of silence before she added, "It's kind of weird that we ran into each other again, huh?"

Quinn nodded slowly. Weird didn't even begin to cover it. He hadn't seen her since the football game, and now here she was--living in Vancouver, the one place he never expected to see her. "Yeah, it's... definitely unexpected.

Harrie tilted her head slightly, the teasing confidence that he remembered from the game started to seep back into her voice. "What, you didn't think I'd end up in Vancouver?"

He shook his head. "I didn't think I'd run into you at a coffee shop." He paused, glancing up at the menu board to try and mask the awkward tension he felt. "I'll just get my usual... black coffee, medium. Please."

She punched the order into the register, the smile never leaving her face. When she handed him the receipt, their hands brushed briefly, and Quinn swore he felt a flicker of something. It was fleeting, but it was enough to make him pull his hand back just a little too quickly.

Harrie noticed, her smile faltering for a few seconds. "I'll get that started. Should only take a minute."

Quinn watched as she made his coffee. She seemed more relaxed than she did at the football game, but maybe that was just because of the lack of crowd at the coffee shop. Whatever it was, he couldn't help but shake that she felt like more than just Jack's ex. She was... Harrie. She was her own person, not tied down to the label of Jack's ex in Vancouver. Before he could think of it too much more, she slid his coffee across the counter.

"Here you go. One black coffee, medium."

"Thanks."

Harrie leaned slightly on the counter, studying him a moment before asking, "How's everything going with the season?"

"It's... good. Busy, but good." He wasn't used to talking about hockey with someone outside of his usual circle. Most people either asked for too many details or not at all. But Harrie seemed genuinely curious, without pushing.

"That's good. Sounds like you've got a lot on your plate."

Quinn shrugged, unsure of what to say next. "Yeah, you know... captain stuff." He had questions he wanted to ask her, but they felt too nosey. How was she settling into Vancouver, had she seen Jack since that party, were things really over between them?

But instead he just took his coffee and didn't add anymore to his reply.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around. It seems like we have a habit of running into each other," Harrie offered.

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah, maybe." Maybe he should keep the conversation going. What could he ask that wasn't too weird and creepy. "I--" The bell above the door jingled, and a couple of customers walked in, pulling Harrie's attention away from him.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?"

He didn't want to seem like a creep, standing there and watching her do her job. So, he made his way over to his table in the corner and busied himself with his phone, trying not to think about how much he wanted to keep talking to her. Why did her being here matter to him so much?

It had become somewhat of a habit on days that Quinn had downtime, he'd find himself back in the coffee shop. He wasn't really expecting to run into her, but maybe he was hoping.

And he finally had his lucky day.

The familiar bell jingled as he walked in. The café was busier this time, almost all of the tables full of people doing work or conversing. Quinn scanned the room as he walked up to the counter, eyes flickering to the cash register.

There she was.

Harrie was working the counter again, moving with her usual confidence and smile on her face. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a second, Quinn debated just walking out the door.

But before he could make that decision, she glanced up and their eyes locked.

"Hey! Back again, huh?" She teased, and Quinn felt his chest flutter with nerves.

"Yeah, I guess I'm becoming a regular," he replied. "Just the usual, please."

Harrie gave him a small nod as she rang him up, but just as Quinn was reaching for his card, she paused, sliding a pastry across the counter.

Quinn blinked, glancing at the pastry, confused. "I didn't order this."

"It's on the house. Just maybe don't tell your trainers." She winked, and Quinn found himself chuckling at her easy sense of humor.

"I'll try not to," he agreed, although he could already hear the hypothetical conversation about avoiding carbs in his head.

When she handed Quinn his coffee, he tried to think if he should continue the conversation again. He was about to step away when Harrie looked toward the clock and then back at him.

"I'm about to go on break," she said, much more casually than he expected. "If you don't mind the company, I'll join you for a bit."

Quinn felt something stir in his chest. Was it nerves? Anticipation? Whatever it was, he nodded quickly, trying to not seem too eager. "Yeah, sure. That'd be great."

He made his way to his usual corner table, settling into the chair, the pastry sitting in front of him as if it was daring him to eat it. It made him smile, Harrie was making him feel more relaxed than he had in weeks.

A few minutes later, she came over, sliding into the seat across from him, her own cup of coffee in her hand. "It's busy today," she glanced around the room. "Surprised you're not sick of this place already."

"It's become a good spot for some downtime. No rink, no meetings--just coffee."

Harrie nodded. "I get that. When I first moved here, I thought I'd be exploring the city every day, but honestly... this place has become like my comfort zone. Small, cozy... familiar."

He had so many questions he wanted to ask, and now that they were sitting there, it felt the perfect chance to really get to know her.

"So... why Vancouver? What made you decide to come here after Michigan."

She tilted her head, like she hadn't expected him to ask that, but like she appreciated it. "I've always loved Vancouver. My parents took me here when I was little and it kinda just like stuck with me. After I graduated, I just felt like I needed a change, ya know? Something different. Plus, I didn't really want to stay in Michigan. Too many memories."

He knew what she meant, even though she hadn't said it outright. Jack. There was no way that wasn't a part of why she left, but Quinn didn't press. He didn't want to make this about Jack.

"How's the job search going?"

Harrie sighed, "It's been slow. I'm looking for something in editing--publishing, mostly--but there aren't a lot of opportunities here." She glanced down at her cup, swirling the coffee around before looking up at him. "But I'm trying to stay optimistic. It'll happen eventually."

Quinn admired that about her. How she seemed so grounded, even when things weren't going according to plan. It made her even more intruiging.

"You're a lot more patient than I'd be," Quinn admitted, smiling. "I'm pretty sure I'd have given up and moved on by now."

"I don't know if it's patience or stubbornness at this point." She paused, studying him for a moment before adding, "What about you? How's the season treating you?"

"It's... a lot," he said honestly. "Being captain is great, but it's not exactly a walk in the park." He didn't want to seem like he was complaining, but Harrie didn't seem to be judging him regardless.

"I bet. That's a lot of responsibility. But from what I've heard, you're doing great."

"You've... heard about me?"

"I still follow hockey, you know. Plus, you're like kind of a big deal here."

"Not that big of a deal."

Things went quiet as they finished their drinks, the air between them more comfortable, more familiar. Quinn really felt like he was seeing Harrie in a different light. She wasn't just Jack's ex. She was funny, determined, and easy to talk to in a way that he didn't expect.

"It's been nice talking, but I should probably get back to work."

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, of course. Thanks for the company."

She gave me a warm smile as she made her way back to the counter. A smile that would be burned into Quinn's mind until he saw her again.

It was becoming routine. Quinn didn't have to hope he'd run into Harrie anymore--he knew when she'd be there.

They'd started meeting regularly at the coffee shop, sometimes on weekends, sometimes during the week when Quinn had downtime. It had only been a few weeks, but things felt natural. The initial awkwardness had faded away into casual conversation.

Quinn found himself scanning the room as soon as he walked in the door. Finding her sitting in their usual corner, already halfway through a cup of coffee and a book in hand.

"Hey!" Harrie smiled when she saw him, placing a bookmark on the last page she'd read. "I got your coffee. Figured you'd be here soon."

"You know me too well."

"It's easy when you're a creature of habit," Harrie winked, taking a sip of her own coffee.

They fell into their usual rhythm, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Harrie had a special talent for making conversation feel effortless, and Quinn found himself looking forward to their meetings more and more.

"So I think it went well," she said, pushing a curl behind her ear. "I mean, I'm still waiting to hear back, but the editor seemed really interested in my experience."

"That's awesome," Quinn said, genuinely happy for her. "Sounds like things are looking up."

"Yeah, I hope so. I've kinda been in limbo for a while now. It'd be nice to get some like real direction, ya know?"

"I get it. It's like that sometimes. You think you have a plan, but things don't always go the way you expect."

"Exactly," Harrie agreed. "It's just about staying patient, I guess. Even when it's like really fucking hard."

"You've got patience for days," Quinn teased, leaning back in his seat. "You'll get there."

They shared a smile, and Quinn felt a comfortable warmth settle between them. It wasn't forced, and it didn't feel like work. It just... was.

"Speaking of plans," he leaned forward slightly, "we've got a home game coming up this weekend. You should come."

Harrie raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Are you inviting me to one of your games?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean, no pressure, but it could be fun. If you're free, you should come watch."

"You make it sound so casual, like it's just a pick-up game at the local rink."

"Well, it's not exactly that. But yeah, come if you want. I'll leave tickets for you at will-call."

"You're on," she raised her mug in a mock toast. "I wouldn't miss it."

They clinked their cups together. It wasn't a big deal--at least not yet--but Quinn liked the idea of her being there. Of her watching him do what she loved.

The arena was still buzzing after the game, the energy of the win carrying through the halls as fans filed out. Quinn could hear the usual mix of shouts, laughter, and the occasional interview as he stepped out of the locker room, his bag flung over his shoulder.

He hadn't expected to feel nervous about Harrie being at the game. But his heart skipped a beat when he saw her standing at the end of the hall.

"There he is! The man of the hour!" she called out, a wide grin on her face as he walked over to her.

"Hey, you stayed."

"Of course I did," she pulled him into a hug. It was friendly, casual--but there was something about the way she squeezed his shoulder that made him feel lighter than he had in days. "You were amazing out there, Quinn. I'm seriously so proud of you."

He wasn't used to hearing that outside of the hockey world--his teammates, coaches, family, and even fans would offer praise, but hearing it from her? It felt different. Genuine.

"Thanks. I'm glad you came."

"Told you I wouldn't miss it. It was like super cool to see you in your element."

"Hey," Quinn said after a beat of silence, glancing toward the exit that the players took. "I was thinking... if you're not busy, we could grab some takeout and just hang out at my place? Nothing fancy, just chill."

"Takeout and chill?" she teased, making him roll his eyes. "Sounds like the perfect post-game celebration."

"Yeah, something like that. You in?"

"Duh," she gave me a nudge. "Let's go."

They ended up back at Quinn's place, bags of takeout in hand. It wasn't his usual post-game routine--usually it as grabbing food with a couple of the guys and then heading home to crash. But this? It just felt right.

Quinn tossed his keys on the counter and gestured to the living room. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll grab plates."

Harrie flopped down on the couch, kicking off her shoes as she surveyed the space. "Nice place, Hughesy. Minimalist but cozy."

"Minimalist? That's a fancy way of saying I don't have much shit."

"Hey, it works. I hate clutter anyway."

Quinn returned with plates and chopsticks, setting the takeout containers on the coffee table. The settled in, spreading out the food and digging in.

"So," Harrie started between bites of stir-fry, "you never told me how it feels being captain. I know we've talked about hockey in general, but like... how's it been? The pressure, the responsiblity, all of it?"

Most people didn't ask him about the emotional side of being captain--they were more interested in the wins, stats, or the highlights. But Harrie wasn't most people. She always asked about the things that actually mattered.

"That's a deep question to start with."

"You're stalling."

"It's a lot," Quinn admitted. "Good, but a lot. There's like always pressure on you, ya know? Not just as a player, but as a leader too. I have to make sure everyone is dialed in, not just myself. It's more than just playing hockey now."

Harried nodded. "That sounds like a huge responsibility. But from what I've seen, you're handling it really well."

"I'm trying. Some days are better than others." He glanced over at her, admiring how comfortable she looked, sitting there with takeout in her lap, genuinely interested in everything he had to say. "But I love it. Wouldn't change it for the world, even when it gets stressful."

"I can tell. You belong out there."

They fell into silence again, the sounds of the city buzzing outside as they ate. It again wasn't forced, just easy, like they'd done it a hundred times before. And as the night wore on, Quinn realized just how much he valued their friendship. Their connection.

"You ever miss Michigan?" she asked after a while.

"Sometimes. I mean, I miss being close to my family, but I love it here. Vancouver feels like home now."

Harried nodded, staring down at her empty container. "I get that. I miss certain things about Michigan, too. But Vancouver's starting to feel like home now... I think."

"Good. We'll make a Vancouverite out of you soon."

"Guess we'll see," she giggled.

The conversation continued to drift from one topic to another, neither of them wanting to cave and end the night. It was real and it was comfortable, and Quinn wanted nothing to change.

Quinn was scrolling aimlessly through Instagram when a text from Harrie popped up.

Guess who just landed a job at the publishing house?!

He blinked at the screen, a grin immediately spreading across his face as he sat up straighter. His heart lifted at the thought of her excitement.

No way! That's awesome! When do you start?

Two weeks! I'm still freaking tf out! We need to celebrate!!

Quinn felt so proud of her. After months of searching, she'd finally found something that fit her. He knew how much she'd been waiting for that moment.

Name the time and place. We can do dinner or a movie night if you're in the mood to keep it lowkey

Harrie's response came quickly and with clear excitement.

Move night!! How about my place? 7?

That evening Quinn found himself standing outside Harrie's apartment, takeout in hand. It wasn't the first time he'd been over. The coffee shop hangouts had been replaced by more relaxed meetups, and tonight was just like that.

He knocked lightly and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Harrie's beaming face.

"Hey! You brought food? You're officially my favourite person."

"Figured we'd need something to go with the celebration."

They moved to the living room, setting up like they had many times before. Harrie was practically glowing, the excitement radiating off her in waves.

"I can't believe it. I thought the interview went well, but I didn't expect them to call so soon. It feels... surreal."

"You deserve it," Quinn said sincerely. "You've been working your ass off to get here. It was just a matter of time, Harrie."

"Thanks, Q. It means a lot."

They laughed and celebrated her new job and by the time they finally settled into picking a movie, any nerves that Harrie felt were gone.

"Okay, you pick," she tossed him the remote.

Quinn caught it with ease, pretending to think deeply about his choice. "Hm... I'm thinking something classic. You can't go wrong with 'The Princess Bride.'"

Harrie's eyes lit up. "Oh my God, yes! I haven't watched that in forever!"

This was nice. It was really nice.

Weeks had passed since their first movie night, and it had officially become part of their routines. Whenever Quinn wasn't travelling for games, they'd meet at one of their apartments--sometimes his, sometimes hers--and spend the evening watching movies, eating, and talking about anything that came to mind. They'd become friends in the truest sense of the word.

Whenever Quinn was exhausted on roadies, he'd think of their next movie night. Harrie had become such a constant in his life, a part of his routine that he hated giving up for road trips.

They were just friends. That's all it was. And he missed hanging out with someone who took his mind off hockey.

But as he stared at the ceiling of his hotel room, replaying every hang out from the last few weeks, Quinn couldn't deny that he felt... something. Something more.

He tried to shake it off, telling himself that it was just because they were close now and spent lots of their time together. But even as he drifted off to sleep, his thoughts lingered on Harrie.

It was just another movie night. At least that's what Quinn was telling himself.

They'd done it so many times--takeout, a random movie, laughs, and then spending the rest of the night in easy conversation. It became something they both looked forward to after a long week of work. But that night, things felt different. Quinn couldn't place it, they just did.

They were at his place, sitting on the couch, plates long forgotten on the coffee table. The lights were dimmed, the movie they'd chosen playing in the background, but neither of them were paying much attention. The conversation had turned more personal, as it often did, but things felt charged that night.

Harrie was sitting closer than usual.

Quinn noticed it the second he sat down, and now he could feel her leg brushing against his. It wasn't like that hadn't happened before, but it felt more pursposeful this time.

"So," Harrie said, her fingers playing with the cuff of her shirt. "What's been on your mind lately? You've seemed... distracted."

Quinn blinked. He hadn't realized he'd been that transparent. "I guess I've been thinking about a lot of... things. Hockey, mostly. You know how it is."

Harrie nodded, but she searched his face for something more. "Yeah, but it feels like it's more than just hockey."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The conversation was getting deeper, pulling in a direction he hadn't expected. But there was no going back.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I think I've just been trying to figure out where my head's at lately."

She tilted her head. "And have you figured it out?"

His heart was racing now, and he wasn't sure why. He looked up at her, his gaze locking with hers, and everything else seemed to fade away. The movie, the half-finished drinks on the table, the noise of the city outside--it all blurred into the background.

"I think I'm starting to."

Harrie didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes made his chest tight. They had been close for weeks-- closer than friends, even if neither of them had said it out loud. It felt like everything was finally coming to a head.

She shifted slightly, her knee pressing against his leg, and Quinn felt his breath hitch. It was subtle, but he still noticed. How could he not?

Harrie's gaze flickered down to his lips, and for the first time, Quinn let himself ask-- what if?

He wasn't entirely sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was her, or maybe it was just the inevitable pull they'd both been feeling for weeks. But before he knew it, he was leaning in, and so was she. The space between them disappeared, and just like that, her lips met his.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, as if they were both testing the waters. But within seconds, it got deeper. Quinn melted into it, it felt so right.

Her hand made it's way to his shoulder, her fingers gripping lightly as she leaned in even closer. Everything Quinn had been overthinking--the boundaries of their friendship, the lines he was afraid to cross--all disappeared.

"Quinn..." Harrie whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah?" his voice was breathy.

She smiled, her hand still resting on his shoulder. "I think I've wanted to do that for a while."

"Yeah? I think I have, too."

There was no rush to define what had just happened, no need for overthinking. It felt natural.

"So... now what?" Harrie giggled. "Do we just pretend it didn't happen, or...?"

"I don't think we can pretend that didn't happen." He paused for a second, looking at her seriously. "Do you want to?"

"No. No, I don't."

"Good. Because I don't either."

One thing was clear--this was more than just a friendship now. And there was no going back.

It had only been a couple of weeks since their first kiss, but things between Quinn and Harrie had shifted completely. What had once been a comfortable friend had transformed into something that neither of them wanted to slow down.

That kiss had opened the door to a new level of closeness, and the lines between friendship and romance had quickly blurred. They hadn't talked much about what they were specifically--labels didn't seem necessary.

They were at Quinn's again, sitting on the couch like they had countless times before. But instead sitting with space between them, Harrie was talked under his arm, her head resting on his chest. Quinn was absentmindedly tracing circles on her shoulder as Netflix booted up on the TV.

"So, we're going with 'The Breakfast Club,' huh?" Harrie teased, looking up at him with a smirk.

"You know it's a classic," Quinn chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. "I can't believe you've never seen it."

She rolled her eyes, snuggling closer to his side. "I know, I know. I've been told it's a crime. Guess you're here to fix that."

Quinn smiled. He liked that they'd been spending more time like that--cuddling, sharing more intimate moments. It wasn't just about that though. They were talking more, opening up in ways that hadn't been part of their friendship before.

They stayed cuddled for the rest of the movie, laughing at the cheesy parts, trading comments on the characters. But as the movie rolled on, Harrie's hand slipped onto Quinn's chest, and he couldn't help but notice how his heartbeat picked up whenever she touched him.

"You're kind of a softie, you know that?" she teased, trailing her fingers along the fabric of his shirt.

"Maybe. But you like it."

She bit her lip, "Yeah, I guess I do."

He leaned down slowly, his hand sliding up to cradle her cheek, and before either of them could overthink it, he kissed her. Soft at first, but quickly deepening, neither of them feeling the need to hold back like the first time.

Harrie shifted, turning slightly so she could face him more fully, her fingers curling into his shirt as she kissed him back. Quinn's other hand found her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

"Okay, you've convinced me," she heaved.

"About what?"

"That you're a softie," her eyes twinkled as she leaned in and kissed him again, this time softer, slower.

Kissing had become second nature, and every time Quinn pulled her closer, it felt like they were falling into something deeper.

It was late afternoon and they were lounging on the couch, as usual. The TV was on in the background, but Quinn had something else on his mind. Something he'd been thinking about for days, debating on whether or not to bring it up.

The playoffs were coming, and things between them had been going really well. Better than he could've imagined. Harrie was part of his life every day, and even though they still hadn't labelled what they were, Quinn felt it heading in that direction.

That's why he wanted her there--for the biggest game of his career so far. He wanted her to see him on the ice, to experience the excitement of playoffs with him.

He cleared his throat, looking down at her. "Hey, so I've been thinking... about the playoff games coming up."

Harrie looked up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? What about them?"

"I want you to come."

"You... want me to come to a playoff game?"

"Yeah," he sat up a little straighter. "I want you there. It's a big deal, and I just... want you to be a part of it."

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, processing his words. "Are you sure? I mean, it's the playoffs, Quinn. That's, like, huge. Don't you have enough pressure without worrying about having me there?"

"It wouldn't be like that," Quinn assured. "Having you there would make it better. It wouldn't add pressure. I promise, Harrie."

She smiled, but there was doubt in her eyes. "I don't know... wouldn't it be weird? Like, I'm not officially your girlfriend or anything, so..."

Quinn cut her off, grabbing her hand. "Who cares about labels? You mean so much to me, Harriet. And the guys' girlfriends and wives... they'll love you. I already know it."

"I don't know, Quinn. I mean, it's not that I don't want to go, but..."

"There's something else," he studied her expression carefully. "What's really holding you back?"

Harrie sighed, how was she supposed to word this. She hadn't even voiced it aloud to herself, so she sure as hell wasn't ready to admit it to Quinn. She'd have to come up with an excuse. She couldn't tell him that she was afraid of being recognized by the other girls as Jack's ex. She'd look like a fool. "I guess I'm just worried about the other girlfriends. I don't want to... get in their way. It's stupid, I know. But I know myself and I'd rather be there and be... comfortable than a nervous wreck."

"I get it, Harrie. That's totally fine. If you'd rather sit elsewhere, you can sit elsewhere. I just want you to be there. Period."

"Thanks, Q."

"Of course. And besides..." He leaned forward, pulling something out from the side of the couch that he'd been hiding until the perfect moment.

He held up a Canucks jacket, one that she'd seen the other WAGs posting about. He'd gotten her one made? "I got this for you."

She stared at the jacket is disbelief, "Quinn... what? No! I can't wear that. I'm not even--"

"Yes, you can," he interrupted, his smile wide. "It's not a big deal. Just think of it as... supporting me. Sit wherever you want. No pressure to hang with the other WAGs. And you'll still have my name on your back." He flipped up the collar, showing his signature printed on the underside.

Harrie let out a nervous laugh, eyeing the jacket like it was some sort of magical item. "You really want me to wear this? And I don't have to sit with them?"

"Not if you don't want to. But I'm telling you, they'll love you. And I'd really, really love to have you there. Please? Just say yes."

"Okay, okay, fine. I'll come. But I'm holding you to that promise--I don't have to sit with the other girlfriends."

"Deal."

"And the jacket..." Harrie said, her voice trailing off as she reached for it. "It's cute, but I still feel weird wearing it."

"You'll look great," he gently pressed a kiss to her cheek. "And you'll be supporting me, which is what matters."

Harrie laughed, shaking her head as she pulled the jacket into her lap. "Okay, you win. But I'm still nervous."

Quinn smiled, resting his forehead against hers. "It's just me and you, Harrie. You've got nothing to be nervous about."

Harrie waited for Quinn in the players' lounge, her excitement bubbling over. She hadn't sat with the WAGs, instead glued to the game, cheering on from her own seat.

When Quinn finally emerged from the locker room, his hair damp from the shower, a tired grin on his face. She practically bounced over to him, throwing her arms around him.

"You killed it out there!"

"Thanks," he murmured against her hair. "I was hoping you'd think so."

She leaned back, looking up at him. "I more than think so. I know so."

"You want to head back to mine?" Quinn asked softly, his voice low in her ear.

Harrie nodded, her pulse quickening. She knew what he was asking--this wasn't just a casual invite. This was more.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Harrie followed him into the living room, watching as he set down his keys on the table. They were both buzzing with post-game adrenaline, their cheeks flushed.

"Want a drink?"

"I'm good," she said softly, stepping closer to him, the tension building.

Quinn closed the space between them, his hands resting on her hips as he leaned down to kiss her. No holding back this time. Her hands slid up his shoulders, pulling him closer. And before they knew it, they were stumbling towards his bedroom, their laughter trailing behind them.

Hours later, they lay tangled together, moonlight filtering through the blinds. Quinn's arm was draped over her waist, his fingers tracing patterns on his skin as they lay there, both still a little breathless.

"You okay?" He asked, pressing a kiss to the back of her shoulder.

Harrie nodded, "More than okay."

"Good."

They didn't talk after that. The silence between them comfortable as they drifted off to sleep. Harrie felt the most at ease she had in Vancouver. Everything felt right.

Harrie was always an early bird. It didn't matter how late she stayed up or how tired she was, her body just knew when it was time to get up. So, when the first light of morning crept through the blinds, she was stirring, blinking awake as she slid out of bed.

Quinn was still fast asleep, his arm draped lazily over where she'd been lying moments before. She smiled softly as she watched him for a second, his face completely at peace. Last night had been perfect, and waking up next to him was even better.

But her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since before the game. She pulled on her thong and Quinn's dress shirt from the night before, the fabric brushing against her bare legs, and she padded her way to the kitchen.

Harrie set to work, rummaging through the fridge and cupboards to see what she could make for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast--nothing fancy, but it would do the trick. She hummed softly to herself as she cracked the eggs into a pan, feeling surprisingly at home.

She didn't hear Quinn wake up, didn't notice him until she felt the warmth of his hands slide around her waist, pulling her back gently against him. His breath was warm against her neck, and he pressed soft kisses to her neck, making her laugh as she turned to face him.

"Morning," Harrie said softly, smiling as he nuzzled into her neck.

"Mmm," Quinn murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. "Now this is a view I could get used to. Waking up to you cooking in my shirt. And... the breakfast doesn't hurt either."

She laughed, flipping the bacon in the pan. "I didn't know you were a vampire, Hughes. You left quite the marks on me last night."

Quinn grinned, his hands tightening around her waist as he glanced at her neck, seeing the bright purple and red marks from the night before. "Guess I got carried away," he teased, pressing a kiss to a spot he'd marked.

"Yeah, just a little," she teased, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

They stood like that, wrapped in each other, the sizzling of the grease in the pan the only noise in the apartment. Everything felt easy.

"I could really get used to this," Quinn said softly, still peppering kiss and adding more marks to Harrie's neck.

"Yeah? You like waking up to breakfast?"

He shook his head, "No, I mean... waking up with you. Having you here. I want this to be a regular thing."

She turned in his arms to face him, her hands on his chest. "What're you saying?"

Quinn's hands slid up to her cheeks, cupping them. "I'm saying I want you to be my girlfriend, Harrie. Officially. I don't want to dance around it anymore."

She hadn't expected him to say it right then, but the truth was, she'd been feeling the same way. She wanted this, wanted him.

"Are you sure?"

"More than sure. I'm crazy about you, Harriet. I don't want anyone else."

Harrie smiled, leaning up to kiss him. That was her answer--a kiss filled with feelings that she couldn't put into words. They both smiled into it, their teeth clashing.

"Okay, Quintin. I'll be your girlfriend."

Quinn's smile was immediate, peppering her entire face in kisses as he picked her up and spun them in a circle. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

"I think I do," she teased, leaning her forehead against his.

Breakfast was momentarily forgotten as they let the weight of the moment settle in. They were officially together. Finally.

It had been a fun night--one of those nights where things just went perfectly. They had gone out with some of Quinn's teammates, hit a few bars, and ended up back at Harrie's apartment, stumbling through the front door, laughing as they tried to stay upright.

Quinn wasn't used to being this drunk, especially during the season, but they had the next couple days off, and it had just... happened. Harrie had let loose too, and now they were both tipsy, giddy, and without filters.

They collapsed onto her bed, still laughing. Quinn's arm slung over her shoulders, her head resting on his chest. They'd been officially together for a few weeks and things were so easy. He liked that. He liked her.

"That was fun," Harrie giggled, fidgetting with the bottom of Quinn's shirt. "Your friends are hilarious."

"I told you they were cool," he replied. He was definitely more buzzed than usual, but he felt good. Especially with Harrie by his side.

"You know, it's crazy how different everything feels now," Harrie said, her words slower, more thoughtful. "Like, moving here, starting over, meeting you..."

Quinn looked down at her, sensing a deeper meaning behind her words. "What do you mean?"

"I guess I've just been thinking about... the past. About how much things have changed."

Quinn's stomach tensed slightly and it wasn't from the alcohol. He tried not to let it show, but he had a feeling he knew where this was going. Jack.

"Like what?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he didn't want to know the answer.

"Like Jack. I haven't really talked about him have I?"

"No, not really."

Harrie let out a small laugh, but there was sadness behind it. "We were together for so long, you know? It's weird to think about how different things are now. He was my first real relationship. From high school to his rookie season... that's a lot of history."

Quinn nodded slowly. He knew they had a past--everyone did--but it wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. "Yeah, I remember."

"When we broke up," she continued, her voice quieter. "It wasn't even a bad breakup. It as mutual. The distance was just... too much. We were growing apart, and I think we both knew it deep down." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "But it's still weird, ya know? I don't think you ever really forget someone like that."

Quinn's mind was racing as he tried to stay calm. He didn't know how to respond. He had always pushed Jack out of his mind when it came to Harrie. She wasn't Jack's ex to him. She was just Harrie. But now, hearing her talk about Jack, it made things feel complicated.

"You ever talk to him now?"

Harrie shook her head. "No. Not really. We haven't talked much since the breakup."

There was a pause, and Quinn felt like he should be relieved--but something still gnawed at him.

"I saw him last year, though," Harrie added softly, her words slurring more as the alcohol kicked in. "When he came to visit Luke at Michigan. We ran into each other at a party."

His mind immediately jumping to the story Luke had mentioned about Harrie and Jack hooking up again that weekend. Was she going to tell him?

But she didn't.

"We talked for a while, caught up," she continued. "It wasn't weird or anything. I think we both realized we'd moved on, ya know? I was focused on graduating, and he was doing his thing in Jersey. We were just... different people by then."

He tried to make sense of what she was saying. She hadn't mentioned the hookup. Why hadn't she mentioned it? Did she not think it mattered? Or... did she still have feelings for Jack that she wasn't admitting to herself?

Harrie's eyes fluttered closed, the alcohol making her sleepy. "I'm glad I'm not stuck in the past," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I'm happy with you, Quinn. Really happy."

Did she still think about Jack?

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his mind in overdrive, though he tried to stay grounded. "I'm happy with you too, Harrie."

She'd fallen asleep, her breathing slow and steady. But Quinn couldn't sleep.

He just lay there staring at the ceiling. He knew he shouldn't have read into it too much--Harrie had been drunk, she'd opened up about her past, and she hadn't said anything that should make him worry.

But the missing piece of the story--the part about her hooking up with Jack last year--it sat in the back of his mind. Why hadn't she mentioned it? Had she forgotten it? Or was it something more?

Was he just overthinking this? Was Jack still in her head, even after all this time? And if he was, where did that leave Quinn?

She was happy with him. She'd said so.

But Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that something had been left unsaid, and as the hours ticked by, he found himself still wide awake, overthinking every word, every single detail of what she had told him.

Quinn's head was pounding. They'd gone too hard, but he didn't regret it--just hadn't anticipated having to be alone with his thoughts. For once, Harrie wasn't awake before him. Still curled up into his side, her breathing steady. The conversation they'd had about Jack had stuck with him, replaying in his mind all night.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he carefully sat up as to not disturb Harrie. But as if sensing him being awake, Harrie stirred, blinking groggily as she adjusted to the light. "Ugh, why is it so bright?"

"That's what happens after a night like we had. Too much fun, not enough water."

Harrie winced, "Yeah, I definitely didn't pace myself. But... there's something I wanted to talk to you about. Even if my head feels like it's about to explode."

"Sure, what's up?"

Harrie took a deep breath, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "I just... I think it was stupid of me to bring up Jack last night. I mean, we were hammered, and that conversation just kinda came out of nowhere."

Quinn stayed quiet, letting her speak. She was bringing it up first... that was a good sign.

"I don't want you to think I'm still hung up on him. Beause I'm not. I swear. I shouldn't have mentioned him, but I guess drunk-me was like nostalgic or some shit. It's just that... there's nothing to worry about, Quinn. You and Jack? Two completely different people.

"You don't have to explain it, Harrie. I get it."

But she just shook her head, as if she wasn't convinced he really did understand. "No, I do. I need to explain. Because I don't want you to think I like compare you to him or anything like that. I can't even compare you two. You're... not comparable? Jack is my past, but you're my present, Quinn."

He felt relieved, but there was still a small nagging thought--a reminder that she hadn't mentioned the part about hooking up with him. A small piece of the puzzle still missing, but he shoved it aside, not allowing himself to dwell on it.

"That means a lot to hear, Harriet. I won't lie... hearing about Jack last night caught me off guard. But I get it. It's your past and I'm not going to hold that against you."

"Exactly, that's all it is. The past. I want to be with you, Quinn. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

He believed her.

"I want to be with you too. And I trust you, Harrie. I do."

Harrie's expression softened and she leaned in to give him a quick peck. "Good. Because you're the only person I'm thinking about these days."

Quinn kissed her again, pulling her closer, and everything felt right.

Harrie and Quinn were in the kitchen, moving in tandem as they prepared dinner. It had become another part of their routine--cooking together. They were a team and it had grown to be one of Quinn's favourite parts of their relatiobship.

Harrie was standing at the stove, stirring a pan of pasta sauce; while Quinn stood beside her, chopping vegetables. It was simple, but they were still doing it together.

"You're getting good at this," Harrie teased as Quinn finished chopping a bell pepper. "I remember when you didn't even know how to properly dice an onion."

Quinn grinned, "Well, I had a good teacher."

"It's about time you gave me some credit."

They continued to cook side by side, dancing to the music playing from Quinn's phone. But as they neared the end of dinner prep, the inevitable topic of the summer came up.

"So, what's the plan for the summer?" Harrie asked, pouring the sauce over the pasta as Quinn started setting the table. "You and Jack have anything big planned."

Quinn paused. Summer. He hadn't wanted to think about it too much, but now that it was only a couple weeks away, he couldn't avoid it. The lake house, being with Jack...

"Yeah, we'll probably spend a lot of time at the lake house. You know, with the guys--Luke, Trevor, Cole."

Harrie nodded, "That sounds fun. I'm sure you'll have a blast."

"What about you? What's your plan?"

Harrie shrugged, serving them both a plate of pasta before sitting across from him. "I'll probably stick around Vancouver for the most part. Work's getting busy, and I've got some projects lined up. But we'll see each other before the end of summer, right? I could always come visit."

"Yeah, I'd love that."

He hadn't brought it up yet, his worry about being around Jack for that long, about the guilt of keeping his relationship with Harrie a secret.

He couldn't hold it in any longer. "Are you... worried? About me being with Jack all summer?"

Harrie blinked, surprised, then shook her head. "Worried? No, not really. Should I be?"

Quinn shifted in his chair, "I just... I don't know. It's weird, right? Keeping this from him. It feels like... like I'm hiding something."

Harrie smiled, reaching across the table to take his hand. "Quinn, you don't have to worry. Jack's not going to find out. And even if he did... we're happy. That's all that matters."

"I know, I just... I don't like keeping this from him. I feel like I'm lying."

"You're not lying. You're just waiting for the right time to tell him. And like I've said before, it's not some huge betrayal. Jack's moved on. You and I are... us. Separate from all of that."

"You're way too calm about this," he teased.

Harrie rolled her eyes. "Because it's not a big deal! Quinn, you're overthinking this. Jack's not like going to magically figure it out."

"You don't know him like I do."

"True," she admitted, standing up, and leaning across the table to kiss him softly. "But I do know that everything is fine. We're fine. And you're going to have a great summer without stressing about this."

"Come here," Quinn murmured, pulling her onto his lap. "I don't know how you do it," he kissed the side of her neck. "You're way too good at calming me down."

"It's a talent," she teased, kissing him again. "Now stop worrying. You're going to spend the summer with your brothers and friends. Have fun, relax, and maybe let me visit."

"Deal."

It had been days since Quinn had arrived at the lake house, and he was surprised by how quickly his worries had disappeared. The moment he stepped on the dock and the sun hit his skin, it felt like all his tension melted away. Being with his brothers, Cole, Trevor, and their other friends had a way of making shit feel normal again.

There had been boat trips, barbecues, and long nights sitting around the fire laughing about stupid shit. Quinn had been so worried about keeping the secret from Jack, but he felt at east when he was actually there. Jack was his usual self and Quinn believed things wouldn't be as bad as he thought. Maybe they could get through the whole summer without any drama.

The boys were all sat around the table, playing cards. The atmosphere are light, everyone was teasing each other, throwing out sarcastic comments about bad hands and questionable moves.

"Dude, there's no way in hell you're beating that," Trevor said with a grin, throwing his cards down as he leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'm calling it. Game over."

"Please," Jack shot back, laying out his hand. "That's rookie stuff. I've got this."

Quinn chuckled leaning over to check Jack's hand. "Bullshit. He's got nothing."

The whole group laughed. This was exactly that Quinn had needed--a break. And for the first time in a while, he wasn't worried about what he was keeping from Jack.

That was, until his phone buzzed from the centre of the table. The guys had all decided no phones while they played, so they'd all been placed on the table.

He didn't think much of it, just another text. But then, Trevor, who was sitting closest to Quinn's phone, glanced at the screen that lit up again.

"Hey, Quinn, you've got a text from 'H <3.' Who's the luck lady?"

Quinn froze, his stomach dropping to his feet. He had forgotten when he'd left his phone on the table that Harrie's contact had a heart next to it. He tried his best to act nonchalant, but he definitely wasn't feeling it.

Before he could grab his phone, Jack snatched it from the pile on the table.

"Let's see what 'H <3' has to say," Jack teased, laughing as he unlocked his brother's phone. "Bet she's a total smokeshow."

Quinn's heart caught in his throat as he watched Jack read the message. His playful smile slowly falling, going from amused to confused to... Quinn wasn't really sure what.

"Quinn," Jack said slowly, his voice was controlled but there was a certain sharpness to it. "Who's 'H?' And why is she texting you that she can't wait to see you again and misses you already? And that she wishes she was back home in Michigan? You're dating a girl from Michigan?"

The room went silent. Everyone's eyes were on Quinn now, waiting for an answer. He swallowed hard, he felt like he couldn't keep lying. He couldn't dodge, he couldn't deflect. It felt too wrong. There was nothing he could do to make the guys drop this. He knew them better than that.

"It's... Harrie."

Jack blinked, "Harrie? Like... my ex-girlfriend, Harrie? Harriet?"

Quinn nodded slowly, unable to look Jack in the eye. "Yeah. That Harrie."

The guys shifted uncomfortably, exchanging glances, but nobody said a word. Jack was just staring, trying to process what he'd just been told.

"How long?" his voice was tight.

"A few months. But it's not what you think, Jack. It just... happened. I didn't plan it. Neither of us did."

Jack's jaw tightened, and for a moment Quinn thought he might get up and storm out of the room. But he didn't. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a long, deep breath.

"You're telling me you've been with my ex for months? And you didn't think to mention it?" His tone was dangerously calm.

Quinn shook his head. "I wanted to, I swear. I just... didn't know how. I didn't want to hurt you."

Jack laughed, but there was no humour to it. "Well, mission accomplished, bro. You sure as hell kept it well hidden from me."

Trevor cleared his throat, "Maybe we should take a break from the game..."

"No. It's fine. I'm fine," Jack looked back at Quinn. "But I need to know one thing, Quinn--do you actually care about her? Or is this just some hookup?"

He cared about her more than anything, but saying that to Jack, in that moment, felt like betrayal. "I care about her, Jack. A lot."

"Then I guess you've made your choice."

Without another word, Jack stood up, walking out of the room and leaving Quinn sitting there, the guilt crushing him while the other guys just sat there in stunned silence.

After the initial reveal, things seemed surprisingly normal. Jack had acted pissed for a moment, but the next morning he brushed it all off, saying everything was fine. He didn't bring up Harrie again, didn't make any snide comments about Jack's relationship. If anything, he just acted like he didn't care.

Quinn wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe Jack was okay with it, that things were back to normal. But something in the back of his mind told him that he wasn't really over it at all.

They had been at the lake for a week, and like many other nights, they were drinking. The stars overhead, the lake shimmering under the moonlight, they all sat around the fire getting drunk.

Trevor and Cole were in the middle of some ridiculous debate about the best post-game meal, Luke was cracking up, and Jack... well Jack had been downing beers faster than anyone else.

"Alright, alright, let's settle this," Trevor slurred, holding up his beer. "Which is worse? Post-game hunger or post-game soreness?"

Cole laughed, almost spilling his drink. "Dude, hunger, for sure. You can't do shit when you're starving."

"Nah, soreness," Luke chimed in. "Can't even more when you're that sore."

The conversation continued, but Quinn noticed the shift in Jack. Usually he was jumping into conversations like that, giving his own stupid answer. But instead, he was just staring at the fire. Watching it flicker. And Quinn could tell that the alcohol had really hit him. Hard.

Finally, Jack broke the silence, cutting off the laughter around him. "You know what's worse? Being lied to."

The group went quiet, the obvious change in tone catching them all off guard. Trevor glanced at Jack, confused. "What are you talking about, dude?"

Jack laughed, sharp and bitter. "I'm talking about finding out your brother's been fucking your ex behind your back for months and didn't even bother to tell you."

It was clear that Jack had been holding onto it the entire time.

"Jack, come on," Quinn tried to defuse the situation. "We talked about this. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... happened."

Jack snorted, locking eyes with his older brother. "Yeah? Just happened, huh? Like how it just happened that you didn't tell me for months? Like how it just happened that you thought you could keep this from me forever?"

"I didn't want to hurt you, Jack," Quinn repeated, trying to stay calm. "I just didn't know how to bring it up? I'm sorry, okay?"

Jack leaned forward, a dangerous smile spread across his face. "Oh, you're sorry? That's nice, Quinn. Really. But let me ask you this--did she ever tell you about the last time we saw each other?"

Quinn knew exactly where this was going. Although he pretended he didn't. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, she didn't tell you?" Jack said, his tone mocking, his words slurring together. "Of course she didn't. Well, let me fill you in, bro. Last time we saw each other? We fucked. And let me tell you," he laughed. "She fucking loved it."

The words hit Quinn like a punch to the face, but Jack wasn't done.

"You think you're the only one she cares about, huh?" His voice was growing louder, angrier. "You really think she's over me? Please. She'll never get over me. You're gonna have to accept the fact that every time she's with, every time she's in your bed, she's thinking of me."

Luke looked like he wanted to say something, but he held back. Just staring wide-eyed like Trevor and Cole.

Quinn's hands gripped the arms of his chair. He knew about the hookup--or at least, he knew it supposedly happened. But hearing Jack say it out loud, hearing the venom in his voice, made it feel a thousand times worse.

"Jack, you're drunk," Quinn shook his head. "You don't know what you're saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying! I'm saying that no matter how much you think you care about her, she's never gonna get over me. And if you think she's not comparing you to me every time you're with her, you're a fucking idiot."

For a moment, Quinn thought about getting up, grabbing Jack by the collar and forcing him to stop talking. But instead he sat there, staring at his brother, feeling the weight of every word sink deeper into his skin.

"Jack, that's enough," Luke finally spoke up. "You're drunk, let's go to bed."

Jack swayed slightly on his feet. "Whatever. You all have fun playing hosue with Quinn and his new 'girlriend.' Just don't be surprised when she comes running back to me."

Quinn practically stumbled up the stairs, rushing to his room. Each one of Jack's words hit him like a sledgehammer.

"She'll never get over me."

He sank onto the edge of his bed, closing his door. His phone was clutched tightly in his hand, his head spinning. He needed to talk to her. He needed answers.

His fingers moved on autopiloet, dialing Harrie's number before he could stop himself. The phone only rang twice before she picked up.

"Hey, you!" Her voice was light and teasing. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you tonight. How's lake life treating you?"

"Harrie..."

"What's up? Did you miss me already? Because I'm warning you, it's gonna be hard to beat this pasta I made for dinner. You'll be jealous."

But Quinn wasn't laughing.

"Jack knows," his voice low, words coming out jumbled. "About us. He found out. The other night."

There was a pause on the other end of the line and he could hear Harrie shift. "Oh... okay. What happened? Did he freak out?"

"No," Quinn muttered, feeling the tension in his shoulders tighten. "Not at first. He acted like it was no big deal. But then we got drunk tonight, and he just... he lost it, Harrie."

"Quinn..." her tone was calming. "What exactly did he say?"

"He told me you two hooked up. Last time he saw you. He said you 'fucking loved it.'" The bitterness in his tone was palpable, and the words felt like poison on his tongue. "He said you'd never get over him, Harrie. That I'd have to accept that every time you're with me, you're imagining him."

Silence. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, almost disbelieving. "He said that to you?"

He nodded even thought she couldn't see him. "Yeah. He said that. And now I just..." he trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. "I thought you were over him. You told me you were over him."

"I am over him," Harrie said firmly. She sounded more frustrated, more concerned. "Quinn, that hookup that he's talking about? Happened almost two years ago. It'll be two years in August. Long before I knew you the way I do now. Meant nothing. It was closure. Jack's just... being an ass. He's drunk and trying to get under your skin."

"But why didn't you tell me about it, Harrie? You never mentioned it. And now, after hearing Jack say that, I--" He paused, swallowing harshly. "I don't know what to think. I don't know what's real anymore."

There was a sigh from Harrie, the kind she let out when she was trying to remain calm, trying to find the right words. "Quinn, I didn't tell you because it didn't matter. I didn't want to bring it up because I'm not that person anymore. And I don't think Jack is either. I didn't want you to think I still had feelings for him. Because I don't. I didn't then, and I don't now."

Quinn ran a hand down his face. "But Jack... he made it sound like you're not over him. Like you'll never be over him. How am I supposed to just ignore that?"

"You know that's not true, right? Quinn, I am over him. I'm with you because you're the one that I want. Jack is a part of my past, but you... you're my now, Quinn."

She hestiated when he didn't respond, but decided to keep talking. "Quinn, I love you. I didn't know when or how to tell you, but I do. I love you. And I don't want you to doubt that because of something Jack said just to hurt you."

Quinn froze. She loved him? She'd never said that before. He wanted to let those words wash away everything Jack had said.

But he couldn't.

"Harrie..." he started, his voice strained. "I--"

He couldn't say it back. He couldn't find the words. "I need some time to think."

"Okay... I understand. We can talk more later, Quinn. Just... please know that I'm here. I love you."

"I'll talk to you later," he avoided the words she needed to hear. Now all he could do was sit with his doubts, torn between his love for Harrie and the guilt he felt towards his brother.

Harrie hadn't slept. She felt guilty for not telling Quinn about her hookup with Jack. And she couldn't get over the hurt she felt when Quinn hadn't said that he loved her back. But more than that she was angry. Angry at herself, at the situation, but mostly angry at Jack.

Jack needed to hear the truth, not just from Quinn... from her. If he thought he could stir up trouble just because of a hook-up nearly two years ago, he was sorely mistaken.

Without hesitation, she called Jack. For the first time in years.

"Harrie?" Jack was groggy with sleep and surprise. "What's up?"

Harrie didn't waste time on plesantries. "We need to talk. Now."

"Okay... what's this about?"

Harrie clenched her jaw, feeling the anger bubble inside her. "It's about you acting like a complete asshole to your brother last night. Quinn told me what you said, Jack."

Jack sighed, clearly trying to brush it off. "Look, I was drunk, alright? I didn't mean half the shit I said."

"But you did say it," Harrie snapped. "You're using that fucking hookup between us like it still means something. It doesn't, Jack. It hasn't for a long time."

Jack was quiet for a second, his tone was more defensive after. "It meant something to me, Harrie. We were together for years. You don't just forget that."

"I'm not saying you have to forget it, Jack. I'm saying you need to stop letting it affect you like this. I didn't want Quinn to find out that way. Hell, I didn't want him to find out at all because it didn't matter. That night was about closure for both of us. You know that."

"You don't get it. It's not just about that fucking night. It's about you and Quinn. It's weird, Harrie. You're my ex. He's my brother."

"Of course, it's weird!" Harrie shot back. "I get that, Jack. But you need to grow up. I didn't fall for Quinn to spite you! It just happened. We're happy, and I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Happy?" Jack scoffed. "He didn't look too happy last night when I told him what happened. You can't just erase the past, Harriet. You're always gonna be my ex, and he's always gonna know that."

Harrie wasn't backing down. "Yes, I'm your ex, Jack. But I'm Quinn's girlfriend now. I love him. And if you can't accept that--if you can't get over this--then it's going to tear your family apart. Is that what you want? For me to come between you and your brother?"

Silence.

"Because it that's really what it's going to do, I'll end things with Quinn. I don't want to hurt him, Jack. I am not about to be the reason you guys can't be civil. I'll walk away before it gets any worse. I care about him too much to tear you two apart."

"You'd end things with him? Just like that?"

"If I had to," she admitted, though her heart ached at the thought. "But I don't want to. I love him. I'm not going to apologize for that, and I'm not going to pretend like you're some ghost hanging over our relationship. You need to move on. I have."

Jack's voice softened. "I don't want you to end things with Quinn, Harriet. I don't. I guess... I just, I didn't realize how much it would mess with my head, picturing you with him."

"It's not about us anymore, Jack. You and I? We're in the past. Not coming back."

"Yeah, you're right. I just... I was pissed. I don't want you to tear my family apart either."

"Good. Then let this go. You have to, for Quinn's sake. He deserves better than this."

"I'll try, Harrie. I will. I didn't mean to blow up on him like that. I was... being really fucking stupid. I'll talk to him, okay?"

Harrie sighed in relief. "Good. Thank you, Jack."

Jack chuckled softly despite the awkwardness. "Guess I owe you one, huh?"

"You owe Quinn one," she corrected. "Just... be his brother. That's all he needs."

"Yeah, I'll work on that."

Quinn was sitting on the dock. He'd been there for a while, just trying to process all the thoughts going through his head. Things were messy, and though he hadn't slept well, he hoped the new day would bring some clarity.

He knew Jack. He knew his brother wasn't really angry about Harrie... at least not deep down. Jack was just being Jack. Too prideful to admit when something hurt him.

He glanced back when he heard footsteps. Jack was walking toward him, hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt, looking more sober and less angry than the night before.

"Hey."

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I talked to Harrie this morning. She kinda gave me a reality check."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack said, kicking at the end of the dock with his shoe. "She told me I need to grow up. And... she's right. I was an asshole last night. I shouldn't have said what I said." He paused, glancing at Quinn. "I'm sorry, man. I was pissed and drunk, but that doesn't make it okay. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that."

Quinn took a deep breath. He knew this apology was coming, but hearing it felt nice.

"I get it, Jack. It's weird. You're my brother, and she's your ex. I didn't want it to happen like this, but... I care about her. I really do."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, I know. I get it. I just... I didn't expect it, ya know? You and her. It threw me off." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "But it's not like I'm still hung up on her or anything. I guess I just didn't handle the news well."

"You? Not handling something well? Shocker."

"Shut up," Jack laughed.

"I don't want this to come between us," Quinn said. "We're brothers. I don't care how complicated this is, I'm not losing you over it."

Jack shook his head. "You won't, man. I'm not that petty. And... I'm sorry again. I don't want you to feel like I'm some weird shadow hanging over your relationship. You deserve to be happy, and if Harriet makes you happy, then... I'm cool with it."

"Thanks, Jack. Means a lot."

Jack grinned, holding out his arms. "Come on, bring it in. Let's get this awkward shit outta the way."

Quinn laughed, getting up to pull Jack into a quick bro-hug. When they pulled back Jack gave Quinn a playful shove. "You know, you're lucky I didn't kick your ass last night. You had it coming."

Quinn snorted. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself."

Trevor, Jack, Cole, Luke, and Quinn were sprawled out on the couches, watching some dumb movie, half paying attention. The atmposphere was easy again, like then tension of the previous night had never happened.

"So," Trevor smirked. "Now that we're all sobber, I gotta ask--Qball, how the hell did you pull Harrie?"

Quinn blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Dude, she's like the hottest girl ever. You're a lucky man, Quinn. Seriously. I thought she was wayyyyyy out of your league."

The group erupted into laughter.

"Thanks, man. Real confidence boost," Quinn muttered, shaking his head.

"No, seriously," Trevor continued. "I've met a lot of girls, but Harrie? Total rocket. If you ever mess it up, I'm just saying..." He winked.

"Don't even think about it," Jack cut in with a mock glare. "Harrie's off-limits. For all of you. Except Q... I guess."

Trevor raised his beer, grinning. "Alright, here's to Quinn! The lucky bastard."

Harrie was at her desk, scrolling through her work emails, trying to focus on her job. But her mind kept drifting back to Quinn and Jack. It was a relief to clear the air with Jack, but she was still worried about Quinn's reaction to everything.

Her phone buzzed, pulling all her attention away from her work.

Huggy <3: Check your email.

What was he up to? She opened her personal email, her heart skipping a beat when she saw an email for a flight confirmation. She clicked on it, scanning the details.

Quinn had bought her a ticket to Michigan.

She immediately called him. "Quinn! You got me a plane ticket?"

Quinn chuckled on the other end. "Yeah. I figured you should be here for the last few days of the trip. Besides, I miss you."

"But... what about Jack? I don't want to make things weird. Er, weirder. What if he's not okay with me being there?"

"Don't worry about Jack. I already talked to him. It's all good. He's cool with it. Actually, I think he wants you to come."

Harrie blinked, surprised. "Wh- really?"

"Really. So pack your bags, baby. You've got a flight to catch tomorrow."

"Okay. I'll see you soon," she squealed.

"I can't wait."

Harrie rushed toward Quinn, but before she could say anything, he pulled her into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around her waist as he picked her up and spun her around, like he often did at home.

"You made it," he kissed her temple.

"Of course I did! You're not getting rid of me that easily."

A few hours later, they arrived at the dock where the rest of the guys were hanging out. Jack spotted them first, his eyes flickering to Harrie, and for a second his expression was unreadable. The he smiled, a genuine smile, and nodded toward them.

"Hey Harrie," he waved them over. "Glad you could make it."

She smiled back. "Thanks. Good to see you too, Jack."

They exchanged a quick hug, and when Harrie glanced up at Quinn, he was smiling brightly. No tension, no awkwardness. Jack had come to terms with it, and they could all move forward.

Jack watched Harrie and Quinn move around the house, spending time together, and laughing like they were in their own little world. It wasn't forced, but it also wasn't anything like the dynamic she and Jack had had once upon a time. They were different people now. They way Quinn looked at her--like she was the only person in the room--was something that Jack had never really felt when he and Harrie had been together.

It him then that he had just been a kid when he and Harrie dated. Sure, they'd had something good, but it was nothing like that. Harrie and Quinn were in love, and it was clear as day. And he wasn't going to stand in the way of that.

"You really are a lucky bastard," Jack clapped Quinn on the back. "But you already knew that, huh?"

Quinn laughed, his arm still slung over Harrie's shoulders. "Yeah, I know."

"For real though. I'm happy for you guys. Really, I mean it."

Harrie smiled softly, nodding in appreciation. "Thanks, Jack. Means a lot."

Later that night, Harrie and Quinn were curled up in bed together, the cool breeze from the lake drifting through the cracked window. They'd been talking for hours, just enjoying each other's company.

Harrie was lying with her head on Quinn's chest, listening to his heartbeat while he absentmindedly ran his hand through her hair.

"You know," she whispered, "this trip was... perfect. I didn't think it would be. But it was. You, me, Jack--everything is like falling into place."

"I'm glad you're here."

They fell silent again. Quinn had been thinking about it ever since she'd said it on the phone... that she loved him. He hadn't been able to say it back then, but, lying there with her, knowing what they'd had to deal with, there was no doubt left in his mind.

"Harrie."

She lifted her head, resting her chin on his chest, her eyes half-lidded with sleep.

"Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "I love you."

Her lips parted slightly in surprise, but slowly a smile broke across her face. "You do?"

Quinn nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I do. I love you."

Harrie leaned in, kissing him softly, her lips warm against his. "I love you too," she whispered.

They stayed like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other's arms, the weight of the world finally being lifted from their shoulders, knowing that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine

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ateliersss · 3 months ago

Text

Oh, take me back to The Night we met

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: 1936, eighty-eight years ago, you met him, the creature that changed your life in a way that goes beyond human imagination. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Attempted Rape, SA, Murder, English isn't my first language Word Count: 10.162 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ Surprise! I hope you are surprised because I was starting to doubt myself. I actually believed I wouldn't even finish it this year. Anyways, I wrote the finishing 6.800 words in the last seven hours and my brain is mush. I hope it didn't affect the pace or logic of the plot. If so, I will edit it in a few days. Comments are always appreciated.

⇨ Also, if you tell me I wrote an unrealistic reaction to seeing a Yautja's face for the first time, let me tell you, you and I wouldn't be here if I hadn't reacted the same.

1936, Earth

“Thank you, ma’am.” The soldier in front of you returned your identity card, the national animal printed on it facing you.

You returned his bright smile with a tight one. You were already used to identifying yourself to patrolling soldiers after work. It was for “safety measures”, according to the government.

While you were busy putting away your identity card, the boy looked nervously over his shoulder to his comrade who nodded back to him, encouraging him to finally man up and just tell you what he had rehearsed a dozen times already to eventually make a move on you and ask you out.

“A-And thank you for your service, ma’am!” He blurted out, louder than he intended to, with a soft blush covering his cheeks.

You closed your purse and looked up at him in confusion.

The boy, you now noticed, had to be at least five years younger, probably around the same age as your younger brother, Emil. And you recognized him now, too. He was patrolling around this area two to three times a week.

At your confused face, he gestured a little awkwardly to your uniform, the white dress and blue-grey blouse underneath it. “D-Doctors and nurses are in desperate need in times like these a-and saving lives is a remarkable job!”

“Oh.” You looked down at yourself before you pulled your coat tighter around your body and smiled softly at him. “If that‘s all I‘ll take my leave now. Have a good night, gentlemen.”

He visibly deflated at your words and mumbled a quick “Have a nice evening, ma‘am.” but you barely got half of it when you turned around to continue your way back home. The second your back was facing them your smile dropped.

You hated it, hated this, this so-called life you and everyone around you had to live. Horrible and disgusting things were happening, but no one dared to speak up. You were all trapped, too scared to act, too afraid to do something.

And the people could feel it, the tension that was stretched so tautly that was just waiting to snap. The whole world was holding its breath, deferring that one moment when the match would ignite and reduce everything and everyone to rubble and ash.

Meanwhile, your brother was beaming with pride as he was now considered old enough to join the army and could finally fight for his country. On the other hand, your father, the only other family you still had in this world, was far more reluctant when it came to the plans of the government and his son’s naive blindness of patriotism.

No one was talking about the horrifying wrongs your home country was doing for years now, but everybody knew, everybody saw. And if someone even dared to utter a word about it, they disappeared.

That didn’t stop your father from ranting about it behind the closed doors of your home. He did so, of course, in Emil’s absence. He was family, yes, but nowadays blind obedience could manipulate even a brother and son to go against his own kin.

You loved your brother dearly. He was a good guy and he only held a very strong pride for his home, his people, and his culture. But sadly that was the only thing he acknowledged around others. He denied the “rumors” of a genocide going on and overlooked unintentionally the more sinister motives of others in the world of politics and the military. He was truly and utterly blind, but you couldn’t condemn him for that. Not really.

The Great War ended when Emil was three years old and you remembered him crying when your father told him he couldn’t participate in it anymore. Ignorant of the horrors that happened at the Front, he and a few boys from around the neighborhood would play war and were disappointed when they were told it was over. The worst part was the elder men sitting on benches near their battlefield, telling them their people were the superior power since they had been able to hold their own against three opposing countries in the end.

You sighed and started to fumble around in your purse for your keys as you reached your destination. After a quick look into the mailbox — the usual evening newspaper and another flyer that encouraged men between the ages of twenty and forty-five to sign up for the military — you made your way up to the first floor and poked around in the lock with the key, a little distracted by the newspaper as you were searching the headlines for anything concerning. There was another report about a skinned man found hanging upside down from a church tower. Unbelievable. At times like this and there was a maniac running around, killing people in the most grotesque way for fun.

“I’m home!” You called into the dimly lit hallway, knowing your father was sitting in his usual spot in the living room.

After dropping your purse next to the wardrobe, toeing out of the white pumps, shrugging off the coat, and hanging it on the coat rack, you walked through the corridor and past five doors. The ones leading to the bathroom and the kitchen were open as always, just like the door of Emil’s bedroom. Although it hadn’t been inhabited for a few months now, you would always leave it open after cleaning. It was false reassurance, but that way it seemed as if he was still home.

“How was your day?” Your father asked gruffly from his spot on the wing chair, the morning newspaper still in his hand before it got replaced by the evening issue you handed to him with a kiss to his temple.

“It was…”

Screams.

Blood.

Wails of a newborn.

A cold body.

“…long.”

“Mhm.” Your father hummed, his eyes scanning the front page before turning it. “Hah! Sightings of another black cloud of smoke and the authorities tell the public another farmhouse burned down. Do they think we are stupid? Unbelievable these people! Think they will get away with it, hiding it from the public eye, and no one would notice!”

You weren’t entirely sure if he had even listened to you, but you didn’t care. You weren’t very eager to start a conversation with him anyway.

“I’m in my room. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Though you didn’t expect a response, you waited a few seconds — maybe today he would ask if his son had finally sent a letter — before you turned around to retreat to your room.

Since your father had lost his legs in a bomb attack at a munitions factory where he had worked during the Great War, he had changed. A lot. Before he was quite a gentle and jovial man who worked hard and never shied away to show how much he loved his family. Nowadays he was resentful and bitter towards everything happening around him.

It was exhausting, not only listening to his complaints day in and day out but also being nothing more than a maid and caregiver to him. You were the sole breadwinner in this house. You worked yourself to the bone in a business that was equally about life and death but gave you more grief than joy. At least it made the medical care of your father a little easier. The surgery, the medicine, and the wheelchair would have cost you a fortune.

When you would get off work, more would await you at home. Taking care of the household was your responsibility for nine years now since your father wasn’t capable of doing it anymore. After the first week of dusting and sweeping, washing the dirty laundry and ironing the clean ones, going grocery shopping and cooking as well as taking care of your father like washing him, helping him get to the toilet and such, you cried yourself to sleep with the thought of quitting and running away.

But you didn’t.

You were miserable, yes, but you stayed. You stayed with the hope of a better life in the future. Maybe you will be married to a nice man in a few years like your girlfriends already were. You had experience with men, sure, but none of them you would consider fit to be your husband.

In your bedroom, you quickly got rid of your uniform until you were only in your undergarments, a baby-blue silk panty that flowed around your mid-thighs and an uplift brassiere of the same fabric and color, both with a lacy hemstitched design. You were about to throw the white and grey-blue dress to your other dirty clothes when you noticed red speckles on the left sleeve.

Yes, the day had been long, too long for your taste, and when your shift did end, you felt hollow once more. You could still see her in that bed, screaming and crying.

Watching her, you had wondered if you would ever end up like her.

You shifted in your place, second-guessing, before you finally turned and looked at your reflection in the mirror that occupied one corner of your bedroom. You hesitantly lifted your hands and placed them on your belly.

No. Your job showed you women struggle and in pain every day. You would never do that to yourself. Being a mother was not worth the probability of taking your last breath during labor, giving your own life while granting another to your child.

Today was another reminder of that.

The girl in the delivery room, Johanna, was sweet and lively. You met her occasionally on a monthly check-up when you assisted the doctor who took her into his care. She would tell you about her and her husband trying for this baby for years and how excited she was.

You bit the inside of your cheek when tears once again started to well up in your eyes when you thought of how helpless you had felt when you stood in that room. Your colleague, an older and more experienced woman, was holding the crying newborn in her arms. The doctor was doing his all to save the unsavable while Johanna’s body got colder as the dark red spot grew bigger on the white linen of the bed.

Today had shown you once again that you would never let something like that happen to you.

“You have to incise into her abdomen.”

Not ever.

“No!”

Not in a million years.

“No, Mi’ytiar�� you have to, you have to.”

You would never put someone else’s life before yours, not even the one of your never-going-to-happen baby.

“Save our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please.”

Sighing, you got ready for bed. You were far too tired this evening to get anything done. The laundry had to wait until tomorrow and your father probably already had eaten, so there was no need to get to the store. For now, you needed to stop thinking.

A whole week passed and you had followed your everyday routine like every other day. Occasionally, when you walked past the room where Johanna had delivered her baby and made her husband a widower, you paused and stared. Instead of the freshly made bed and the stark white linen, you saw her, dying as she bled out. You saw the doctor, yourself by his side and the nurse holding the baby at the foot of the bed.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see said nurse smiling pitiful at you.

“You are still there, right?” She asked softly, her eyes scanning your face.

You swallowed and nodded. “It’s like that every time I come here. I don’t know why. She’s not the first I watched dying during childbirth.”

The elderly woman patted your cheek and guided you away from the delivery room by the crook of your arm, pulling you away from the sorrowful abyss before you could drown any deeper in it.

“You liked her, that’s why.” She started, “I had a Johanna, too. A long, long time ago. Although she was a lot younger, she was just as excited to be a mother. Poor thing died just like her baby.”

You gasped and now it was you who looked with pity at her. “Why?”

“The baby was stuck.” The older nurse sighed, “She pushed and pushed and tore. By the time the doctor started to cut her open, she died of internal bleeding.” She had to clear her throat before she continued, “The baby died with her. A little boy. He got himself tangled up in the umbilical cord.”

You turned your gaze from her face down to the ground and watched your feet walk an unknown route. Swallowing down your tears, you forced yourself to concentrate on not stumbling over your own feet.

You did like Johanna. You had empathized with her, even though children would never be part of your life. She had just wanted a baby, a part of her and the man she loved united in one body, and all that she got was death. She hadn’t deserved it. At least the thought that she might be together with her baby in heaven now thanks to her belief in God soothed your heart a little.

“Go home, (Y/N).” The elderly nurse interrupted your train of thought.

Looking up, you saw her holding up your purse and coat. Apparently, she had led you to the lounge where the doctors and nurses spent their lunchtime.

“But I still have six hours to go.” You tried to argue, but bit down your lower lip when she shook her head.

“If someone should ask for you, I will tell them you didn’t feel well and that I sent you home. There are certain benefits as head nurse.” She winked at you, pushed your belongings into your hands, and shooed you in the direction of the exit.

“I promise I will feel better tomorrow.” You called over your shoulder and waved at her, giving her one last smile before you shrugged on your coat and left.

Thirty-two minutes later, you got off the bus and turned around the corner into your street, your purse dangling back and forth on your wrist. With your extra five hours, maybe you could finally start that book on your bedside table if your dad wouldn’t find any reason to turn your attention to him.

Feeling slightly more cheerful, you walked a little faster, already searching for the key. Like always, you checked the mailbox — nothing again — before you hopped up the one flight of stairs to your apartment, the sound of your heels on the wood filling the otherwise silent staircase.

The noise seemed to attract the woman living across from you because you barely reached the top of the stairs when she ripped her door open and stared at you with wide eyes.

You paused and looked at her in concern. “Mrs. Walter? Is everything okay?” You asked and carefully inched closer to her.

For several moments, you didn’t get an answer. Only when you opened your mouth to ask her again, she slowly lifted her trembling arm and pointed past you at something you could not see.

Strange. The only thing back there was your apartment door, so…

The slamming of Mrs. Walter's door barely reached your ears when you turned around. All you could hear was eerie silence, not Mrs. Walter quickly putting her distance between her and the door, not the dog barking from above you that got awakened by the slamming door, not the traffic noises outside.

The door that you diligently locked every morning before you got to work and unlocked every evening when you returned home hung on its hinges. In quick strides, you reached it and ripped off the note that was nailed into the wood under the peephole. Your eyes scanned over the words as you pushed the door open and entered the apartment.

A search was carried out here due to a tip-off of a conspiracy against the country and its people. All residents are requested to report immediately...

Tears clouded your view and made it impossible to make out the rest of the words. But there was no need to. You already knew what you needed to know. Your father was dead, no questions asked, no evidence to prove that he was innocent or guilty, no interference by the judiciary. He had dug his own grave since he started to badmouth and criticize the current sins committed by the government.

You slowly navigated your way through your destroyed home, your hands supporting yourself against the wall, careful to not get caught in something with your pumps. You had to duck under the big shelf close to the entrance of the living room. It was tilted to the side so that the upper part was now leaning against the other side of the wall. Everything that had ever been placed onto it — pictures, plants, certificates, and other little knick-knacks — was now scattered on the floor.

It got even worse in the living room. Everything had been turned upside down. Your father’s chair was thrown to the side just like the couch and the coffee table. The books from the huge bookshelf that covered the length of the smallest wall in here were pulled out and tossed on the floor, pages ripped out and strewn on the floor. Pictures were taken from the walls and the glass crunched as you stepped over them. Dirt was covering the floor as if someone had been digging in the soil of the potted plants. The carpet was overturned, partly thrown onto the couch, and revealed the wooden floor it usually covered.

Your living room had been thoroughly searched and you doubted the rest of your home looked any different.

In a daze, you carelessly let your purse drop to the floor and shuffled to your bedroom. Opening the door, you were greeted with a view you had expected — your bed was tilted to the side, clothes from your closet were now scattered on the floor, and your mirror was lying face down on the floor.

When you saw the pictures of you and your family carelessly thrown into the corner, you couldn’t hold the sob in any longer. You sank to your knees, curled into a ball, and cried to your heart’s content with your eyes squeezed shut.

You lost your mother at a young age, lost your father for the first time after his accident, lost your brother to the country, and now lost your father for the second and final time. Now you were wholly and utterly alone. Not for long, though. If you didn’t come forward and turned yourself in to a possible fair trial in the next sixteen hours, you would be taken just like your father and die the same way he did.

Your breakdown had been apparently so nerve-wracking and tiring that when you opened your eyes, it was dark inside your room and outside your window. Groggily, you propped yourself up and looked around, disappointedly ascertain that you hadn’t been dreaming at all. Your eyes scanned your room, still a little out of it, until you spotted your clock on the wall, surprisingly intact. 9:24 PM. Now you had less than ten hours left.

How would you spend your last ten hours in freedom? You didn’t know, but you for sure wouldn’t do it in here. You needed to leave.

As quick as you could you switched your nurse uniform to a skirt and your favorite blouse, fixed your make-up and your hair to look less like a mess and more like the respectable woman you usually were, and left the apartment after putting on your shoes, coat and grabbed your purse. At first, you strolled around with no real destination in mind, but the darker it got the higher the risk of being stopped by a patrolling soldier.

You had enough money with you to occupy yourself with a few drinks, so why not enjoy yourself, let a little loose. You never really got the chance to try it out. Your job unironically prevented you from unnecessarily damaging your liver and you had the responsibility to take care of your family. Your girlfriends always invited you on girl’s night, but sadly you had to decline almost every time, be it your father or another night shift forced upon you. They had another planned on the weekend in a few days, the first one in a very long time you would have had time for. Not anymore. When they would sit around a table and share the newest gossip, you had already started to rot away in a mass grave.

You entered the first, non-shady-looking bar and plopped down on one of the bar stools on the right. When the bartender finally took notice of you, all he needed to do was to take in your gloomy figure pitifully slumped in your seat to grab a glass and fill it with a brown liquid. No words were spoken — you didn’t feel like it and he noticed that — as you grabbed the glass, tossed the liquor back, and placed the now empty glass back down. The alcohol, whatever it was, burned like hell and you couldn’t help but cough, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. The bartender meanwhile had wordlessly filled your glass again and without any hesitation, you emptied that one too.

You spend almost four hours like that. Losing count after your sixth shot, your head started to feel funny, like the world around you was spinning too fast. You mused what your life would have been like if your mother hadn’t died when you were just nine years old, if your father hadn’t lost his legs when you were seventeen, if your brother had chosen a normal job at your current age. You could have grown up like any normal girl, could have joined your friends more often to hang out, could have started going on dates again after your last boyfriend dumped you for neglecting him.

And what about your future? What about the man you wanted to marry in a few years? Every day you daydreamed of someone who would just sweep you away in his arms and take you far, far away from here. There had to be a place somewhere where you could live your life in peace without a brewing war and the constant fear of death. You waited for someone who would make your life easier than it currently was, who would take the weight from your shoulders and not add some more on them every single day. Someone who loved you passionately and would spoil you after nine years of labor where you worked yourself to the bone. Someone who would take charge and let you rest when you needed it. Someone who was the other half of your soul that hopelessly awaited to be rejoined with its counterpart.

When you reached out to your glass for the nth time, a hand softly clasped your wrist. Looking up, you saw the bartender giving you the same pitiful look you had received for God knows how often today, from your colleague at the hospital to some of the other patrons who entered and left the bar during the last few hours.

“I think you should get home.” He said firmly and pulled his hand away.

No longer being hindered, you lifted the glass up to your lips and emptied it in one go. “I no longer have a home.” You dully answered, your speech a little slurred.

“We close in a few minutes.” He tried another route, anything to get you to stop drinking.

He may not be interested in what personal business you have to drink yourself under the table, but even he wouldn’t let a young woman like you do that to herself.

“Fine.” You mumbled, grabbed your purse, and searched for the money that was stored somewhere in there. You hummed when you finally found it and without looking at it, you dropped it down on the counter. “Here.”

You held onto the sleek surface of the bar to lift yourself up and from your seat, supporting your whole weight with one hand while you needed several attempts to grab your coat. Not bothering to put it on, you turned to leave and even you were surprised that you could still walk in a (more or less) straight line.

“Hey, you paid too much!” The bartender called from behind you.

Not bothering to stop or turn around, you simply proclaimed, “Keep it. Where I go I won't need it.” and pushed the entrance door open.

Outside, you tilted your head up, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath of the cool night air. It instantly freshened you up and cleared your mind a little. Looking left and right along the sidewalk, you decided to take the left and began strolling wherever it was taking you, once again with no actual destination in mind. You had no idea what time it was, but you guessed you had around five or six hours left. If you’re lucky and didn’t get held up by some patrols, you could visit the park one last time where your parents, Emil and you would hold a picnic every summer when you were younger. It would only take you ten minutes on foot. It wouldn’t hurt to visit the place that held so many good childhood memories and bask in them in your final hours.

You were walking for mere two minutes when you heard a whistle from your right. Halting your steps, you turned your head to the side and looked over to the source. There, on the other side of the street, were two men sitting on a bench and two standing around them. One was holding a beer bottle while the others were smoking their cigarettes.

“Hey, pretty lady.” The one with the beer bottle called over to you and lifted it to toast to you.

You quickly snapped your head back forward and continued on your way, your strides bigger and faster to create as much distance between you and them as possible.

When you thought you were safe, you felt a hand clasping your wrist whose owner pulled you back and against his strong chest.

“Hey, hey, hey.” The voice of the man with the beer bottle breathed against your ear, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. “Don’t be shy. We were just celebrating my friend’s promotion.” To your horror, he put his hands on your hips and turned you both to his three companions who had seemingly followed him, all of them wearing leering grins. “Why don’t you join us, hm? We could need a little entertainment.” He murmured against your neck, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Before he could place his lips anywhere close to your skin, you struggled out of his grip and stumbled a few steps away from him. “I-I’m sorry, but I need to go home. I’m already late.”

The man who seemed to be the leader of the bunch stepped closer to you, smirking when you accidentally walked right into one of his friends. The guy immediately held you against him, keeping you in place.

“I think you could spare a couple of minutes.” The leader said firmly and reached for your blouse.

Fear seemed to be a great way to quickly sober one up because the next thing you did was stomp down on the foot of the man that was holding you, your heel hitting his toe perfectly, causing him to let you go with a cry in pain and a curse. Next, you rammed your knee into the crotch of the man in front of you and when his body doubled over, you pushed him to the side and bolted down the sidewalk.

Not daring to look back, you sprinted as fast as you could, but the alcohol made it hard to keep balance, not to mention the nausea that bubbled up in your stomach. But you ignored it and tried to keep it down when you heard their calls from behind you, coming closer and closer.

This was not how you wanted to spend your last night, this was not how you imagined it. Tears clouded your view and you narrowly escaped the grabby hand of whatever guy that was closest to you when you ducked down and sharply took a left turn into an alley.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched.

The next thing you felt was hard concrete as you fell forward when a heavy weight collided with your back. You cried out in pain when you hit your head, then hysterically screamed in panic when you felt hands on your skirt and you started kicking around, not caring if you hit something or not. You heard a grunt when your heel finally made contact with the shoulder of one of them, but you had barely time to bask in your little victory when a punch to your face almost knocked you out cold. Your body went instantly slack, a long-winded groan leaving your mouth.

“Move your ass and hold her down.” The voice of the leader sounded from somewhere above you. “And turn her around. I like to watch their face when they give up.”

Hands turned you on your back as your screams and cries accompanied your attempts to fight their hands off.

“No… please no.” You begged as your wrists were pinned above your head by a pair of rough hands. “No!” You screamed louder, in a high-pitched, panicking voice when your blouse was ripped open, your brassiere following suit, and your chest got groped by a calloused hand.

You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt an eager mouth around your nipple, harshly sucking on it, while your breasts were still in a painfully hard grasp. You tried to gather your last strength, the drinks earlier and then the hit to your head from the fall tempted you to just fall unconscious, but you bucked your body up in hopes you could throw whoever was above you off of you.

Only you couldn’t move. Someone was straddling your thighs, hindering you from moving.

You finally forced yourself to open your eyes and the blurry image of the leader pushing up your skirt presented itself in front of you.

“Stop, please! Help!” You started screaming again, causing the leader to sigh in annoyance.

“Could you please shut her up, for fuck’s sake? I’m trying to enjoy myself here.” He growled at the guy who was holding your hands down, his patience growing thinner with every passing moment he wasn’t able to force himself inside you. “When I’m done with her, you get what’s left of her.”

“No, no, no, no...” You wailed when you heard the clinking of his belt and a zipper being opened, but you soon got silenced when a palm pressed down on your mouth.

Rather than keep watching him, you closed your eyes in defeat, now only feeling how he moved closer to your crotch, his fingers pushing your underwear aside, and positioned himself against your entrance.

A dull thud behind your attackers stilled them for a moment, but a raging roar got them to whip around. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see whatever feral animal was going to maul you and those men.

A scream, something wet splashing on you and something, someone, heavy landing on top of you got you to finally open your eyes again. You stared right into a gaping hole where the head of a person normally should be. Maybe it was the shock of almost ending up left on the ground in this alley, covered in bruises, blood and bodily fluids after they were done with you, that kept you from screaming.

In a daze, you pushed the corpse off of you, and looked down at your body. It was covered in blood, parts of a splattered brain, and white fragments that had been the skull of the leader of the group. His head had bursted into pieces. No animal could have done that and no human either. There was no weapon on earth with that much destructive power, so what…

With slow eyes, you looked up from your soiled legs. The guy now lying dead next to you had been obscuring the view of a large creature standing no more than three meters across from you.

Whatever it was, it seemed livid. Its body was heaving with wrathful breaths and its long fingers were twitching, clenching into fists before relaxing them again. The massive form of it was hidden by darkness and you could barely make out its silhouette.

It felt like an eternity with you just staring at the creature and it (probably) staring right back. The other assaulters, two of whom had fallen to the ground in shock with the sudden attack on their leader, hadn’t dared to move a muscle. Maybe they were in a trance just as you were, not for the same reason of course.

“H-Hey!” The fourth guy squeaked, breaking the tension that seemed to suffocate the whole alley. “Wha-“

In a practiced, seemingly effortless movement, the creature whipped out its arm, and something silvery shot out of the darkness. It wrapped around the throat of the man, choking him and sending him to his knees. He was clawing his neck and tried to remove what seemed to be a whip made out of sleek silver and grey material.

You watched him as he desperately tried to free himself and blood started to flow from where the whip was wrapped around his neck down to his shirt, turning the light blue fabric deep red. Your eyes then traveled along the bladed chain, you now noticed, to the other end of it, and found the large creature moving towards you.

If you would have been able to make a sound, you would have, but you were still too out of it that no noise escaped your bloody lips when you were finally able to distinguish your savior.

It was indeed huge, a massive body that was dwarfing any human being you could think of. Its appearance was bizarre. Its feet and calves up to its knees were in unusual boots, made out of metal instead of leather and an interesting design. You wondered if it was the skin of the creature, or if it was wearing a net-like cloth that was visible on every body part that wasn’t hidden beneath armor like the chest plate that bleed over into a full sleeve of its arm. It was covering the left side of its chest, but not enough to conceal a rather fit upper body. You found yourself staring a lot longer at the well-defined, almost sculpted abs of it. It was no doubt a male.

As you were eyeing the creature up, he yanked on the whip. You were only aware of a dull thud when the bladed chain cut off the head of the man who had been in its hold.

You didn’t register when more blood sprinkled on you as you were too busy trying to imagine a face underneath that strange mask. With his green, brownish, and beige reptilian skin, the long black tendrils sprouting from the head, the long claws, and the animalistic posture, he was without a doubt not human.

An arm wrapping around your throat from behind, preventing you from breathing evenly, brought you back to reality. You immediately put up a fight, scratching it and pulling on the arm in hopes he would let go.

It was one of the attackers that had fallen to the ground when the creature had appeared. He must have scrambled over to you when his last companion was foolishly enough to run up to the murderous beast, trying to do something quite laughable, only to be impaled by a spear and was now hanging on the wall to the right like he was a portrait above a chimney, the spear rammed through the brick of the apartment building.

The idiot behind you thought the creature would let him go if he was holding you hostage as if he wasn’t going to kill the both of you just like his buddies. So foolish, you internally sighed.

“S-S-Stop! I‘m warning you!” He screamed at the towering figure which was closing in on you. “I will… I will kill her!”

The creature stopped a few steps away from you and reached behind his back. Quicker than your eyes could keep up, his hand shot forward and he threw something of the size of an orange at the man.

Yelling, the man loosened his grip, his instincts kicking in to fight against whatever was sticking to his forehead. In his struggle, he fell on his back and started rolling around on the floor when the little device made a strange wiring noise. His body went stock still when he was engulfed in a net, restraining him. Then the man screamed bloody murder when the wiring noise grew louder and the device pulled the net tighter around him.

You turned to him, only to see the strings cutting into his skin, drawing blood, until only pieces of his body were left of him, leaving him unidentifiable to whoever would find him and his friends.

Now it was only you in that alley. You, the beast that saved you and the bloody massacre turning the place into an image of horror.

You were going to get sick if you stared at what had been a living and breathing human once any longer. Rather than wanting to face the creature when it was going to kill you, you turned back around and then startled back. Said beast was crouching in front of you, the head cocked to the side.

He reached out a clawed hand and you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for whatever gruesome death he had planned for you. You thought back to everything you had achieved in your life, every person that was still dear to you, said goodbye to every place you loved to visit, to the movie you had wanted to watch in a week with a friend, to the unread book on your bedside table and every dream you had wanted fulfill — you had actually planned to do that in a few hours. At least he was going to give you a quick death and not whatever the authorities had done to your father.

Something poked your cheek.

Your eyes snapped open and you were met with a closer view of the strange mask covering the creature‘s face. His hand was outstretched and a finger was prodding your skin. A strange noise was coming from behind the mask, something you could only describe as a rumbling purr.

You stayed still, afraid if you would only move a muscle it would set the creature off, and let him drag his clawed finger up to your temple where a trail of blood had started to run from the wound you got from the fall. You hissed in pain when the pad of his thumb stroked — probably unintentionally hard — over your lower lip, the rough skin touching where it was busted. He pulled its thumb away only to replace it with the back of his pointer and middle finger to caress your jaw and down to your throat. The touch caused you to swallow which he most likely could feel. Only when you felt the scaly sensation on your skin dip too deep, too far beneath the ripped remains of your blouse, you gripped his wrist.

The creature’s head snapped up where it had followed his exploration. You flinched back at the sudden movement and quickly loosened your hold on his wrist, pulling it away like you had burnt yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your voice hoarse.

What if you had just signed your death? What if you touching him like that had triggered him? What if he thought you were a threat now? What if he thought of it as highly offensive? What if he was going to kill you now? What if-

A low thump caused you to flinch when he hit the left side of his chest with his right fist. With parted lips, you looked from his fist up to his masked face and then back again, confused, both at the gesture and the lack of aggression towards you. Almost as if he could understand the look on your face, he repeated the action with a little more determination after he inched closer to you. You were more focused on his sudden closeness, daring not to move back, but you hastily turned your gaze down to his fist. It was a little hard to concentrate on what he was trying to tell you after the vast change of demeanor — from murdering in cold blood to trying to… communicate with you?

“You?” You tried hesitantly.

It really was your best guess on what he could mean.

A soft growl reached your ears from underneath his mask, making you tense up but relaxed in relief the second his attention turned to his forearm. You watched in curiosity as his clawed pointer finger ghosted over the armor-like wristband that started flashing in a bright red and made strange beeping noises like when a caller on the other line hung up before you could. Your mouth opened without you even noticing. You had never seen something like it, probably no one ever had. How was it functioning without cables like your telephone and radio did?

“Are you telling me you are married?”

You jumped back a little when a male voice chimed from his wristband.

“To a cup of tea, I will never say no.”

“I can’t believe you put the jar in the oven!”

You looked at him in astonishment as more voices sounded from his forearm. Human voices.

He kept repeating the same three sentences, but they seemed to get shorter with every replay.

“-telling me you are… telling me… me.”

“-a cup of tea… tea.”

“-you put the jar in the… you put the jar… the jar… jar.”

He seemed to be satisfied as he let out a deep, low-pitched chirp before he played the cut and put together word snippets to you, his head facing you now.

“Me-tea-jar.” He hit his chest once again before playing the word again. “Me-tea-jar.”

“Meetja?” You tried the word, tried how it felt on your tongue.

He let out a deep grumble before he played the same word again and leaned even closer to you.

“Me-tea-jar.”

“M-Meetiar. Mi’ytiar.”

With his head slightly cocked to the side, he tilted it forward in a one-movement nod as if to say, “Now you got it.” and his fist hit his chest one last time.

“You. Mi’ytiar. T-That’s your name?” You asked and hoped you put the puzzle pieces together correctly.

Another nod before he pointed at you.

“Oh.” You softly said, shifted slightly your hips, and nervously placed a hand on your own chest. “(Y/N). I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N).” Your voice sounded from his forearm when he touched his wristband. “(Y/N).”

You couldn’t help the small smile and you nodded. “Yes. (Y/N).”

The creature — Mi’ytiar — lowly grumbled in appreciation and you breathed out the air you had been holding in your lungs in a laugh. You couldn’t believe you talked, more or less, to something that undoubtedly didn’t belong on earth while you were surrounded by death after being spared from something that would have scarred you for life just because you had been out drinking to have one last night in freedom until you would follow your father in an early grave. Your life really had taken a strange turn in just a few hours.

“What are you?” You asked him and tilted your head to the side.

“Hunter.” He communicated with the help of his wristband.

“Where do you come from?”

“Sky.”

“Sky.” You repeated the child’s voice and looked up.

So he came from the sky. You wondered if he meant the clouds, or maybe the moon. It could be the stars for all you knew. Was he the only one living there, or were there more? Maybe one like him lived on each star the night sky had to offer.

As you were looking up in thought, Mi’ytiar took his time to admire you. You were, what you humans would use, adorable. He didn’t hunt humans very often as they weren’t much of a challenge, but sometimes he would visit earth out of curiosity. Your kind was interesting and his ancestors had been quite fond of them when they used them to breed their prey centuries ago. Humans have made a continuous development from then to now, so it was fascinating to watch.

Like he watched you now. He admired your wide eyes, the curve of your nose, and your rosy cheeks that displayed the dried tear streaks of panic and fear. He admired the shape of your lips and the cut that had caused you pain when he touched it. He admired your shiny hair that had once been pulled up in a neat bun but was now hanging loosely and messily around your face, framing it like it was a piece of art. He admired your small, shaking hands that were desperately holding the ripped-open blouse together, protecting your modesty, and the naked skin of your trembling shoulders when the fabric had slipped down to your biceps. You had been so incredibly warm and soft when he had touched what you were hiding now.

A quiet hiss got you to look back at him and you watched with uncertainty as his fingers first pulled on the one tube that was connected to his mask and then the other before he removed it anxiously slow. You mentally prepared yourself for the most horrific sight of your life, but when the top half of his face was laid bare, you sucked in a breath. It wasn’t the foreign shape of his head, the texture of his skin, or the spiky triangle-shaped bumps that circled the sides and the back of his head like a crown, clearly dividing where the roots of his hair ended and his face started. It was his eyes, though an abnormal orange, that were salient and captivating you. They didn’t look like what your wildest fantasies had to offer, but somewhat seemed almost human — a black pupil surrounded by an orange iris. And not just any orange. It was the kind of orange that stretched across the sky at every sunrise and sunset. The only difference you spotted from your own eyes was that he had a black sclera instead of a white one.

You would have gotten lost in them if he hadn’t removed the mask fully so his lower face was showing too. You wouldn’t exactly describe it as terrifying, but the sight of his mouth was, to say it simply, unnerving. It was hidden behind four tusks that represented his mandibles. You were fascinated when he suddenly made a clicking noise but were taken aback when he extended the fleshy texture to reveal two rows of teeth. It was like he had two jaws, one when the mandibles were retracted to his face and one when they were extended and showed his actual mouth. His upper jaw held three teeth with two larger fangs on each side, his lower jaw held the same amount only were they a little thinner, so his fangs wouldn’t hinder his mouth from closing.

Even after the initial shock subsided, you wouldn’t exactly use the word pretty, but there was something about him. Thrilling and particular, astounding and intriguing, but also alluring.

The longer you looked at him, at Mi’ytiar, the more accustomed you got to his appearance.

Another clicking sound reached your ears and you stopped mapping his features with your eyes, only now realizing how he looked down at you with his head tilted to the side. When you mumbled his name, almost as if it took all your courage, he straightened up and his eyes snapped to your hand that had loosened its grip on your blouse. He followed the movement of it getting closer to his face and when you turned your hand so your palm was facing him, his own hand reacted fast and grabbed your delicate wrist.

Bad idea, real bad idea, you thought. He wasn’t exactly hurting you, but his grip wasn’t exactly soft.

Instead of tugging against his hold in an attempt to free yourself that would obliviously fail, you let your arm go slack. Instead of panicking, you remained calm. Instead of screaming at him to let you go, you kept your mouth shut and waited for his next move. If you triggered him in any way, he would surely kill you.

Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, was amazed with you, in awe. He wouldn’t be the first Yautja to be enthralled with a human in this kind of way, sure, but he hadn’t expected to be one of them one day. You were extraordinary in the way you looked at him, didn’t mind the proximity he had put you in, and apparently seemed to seek for it.

Contrary to what you believed, he pulled your hand closer to his face by the wrist, causing you to move from your side-sit on the floor to get on your knees. Your lips parted in surprise when he pulled his mandibles in and he himself brought your hand up to his cheek.

The sensation underneath your touch was unusual and new. His cheek wasn’t like that of a human when you would press the fat until you could feel the jaw bone. It was springy, considering it was only a fleshy layer that covered his mouth. You moved your hand down to his outer jaw which consisted of his mandible and followed the length of it with your palm. You could feel the firm muscle and bone and gave it a gentle, experimental squeeze. Almost automatically he made a soft purring noise like that one of a cat and you blushed at the possibility that he was enjoying the caress.

You, of course, had no idea that you were touching a highly sensitive part of his anatomy and would be alive to tell the tale afterward.

Just as you were curious about him, he was eager to explore you as well. Carefully, he reached out and through the ripped-open front of your blouse. Seconds later his palm made contact with your stomach and he could feel how you tensed up. He looked up into your eyes, but when he found nothing that indicated that you despised his touch, his hand ran along to your waist and down to your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your belly. It was strange how you could feel his thumb near your navel and at the same time his other fingers on your lower back, taking the width of your hip like it was nothing.

The both of you were too busy in your explorations that you had grown ignorant to your surroundings, so when a scream filled the previously quiet alley, you grabbed his extended arm, not to push it away but to hold onto it in panic, while Mi’ytiar whirled his head around to the two outlines standing near the street at the end of the alley. Your body was hidden by his massive one, so it looked like a monster was kneeling among his freshly killed victims, basking in the glory of his crime.

Mi’ytiar’s mandibles flared and the guttural roar that left his lungs made you cling to him in fear. Not of him, but the consequences that you would have to face if those who had stumbled upon this scene without context would call for the patrolling soldiers. You heard more screams and hastily retreating footsteps as the couple ran as if their lives depended on it.

Large hands grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up on his shoulder, causing you to squeal in surprise, and you had barely time to hold onto him before he started climbing up the metal scaffolding of the balconies of the apartment building, jumping up and landing on the roof. With an arm secure around your waist, he jumped and ran further and further away.

And you let him.

2024, Yautja Prime

“What you smiling for?”

And all of a sudden, those purred words were taking you from your past life to your current one. You hadn’t even noticed you had stopped drawing random figures and forms on Mi’tyiar’s naked chest. At some point, you had started daydreaming with that far-away look in your eyes and a smile slowly making its way on your lips as you were lying on him, between his legs.

“Just thought of the night we met.” You drawled lazily and rubbed your cheek against his reptilian-like skin. “My hero in shining alien amour.”

“My amour does not shine.”

Now you had to laugh. Sometimes you couldn’t help yourself when he was so bluntly clueless. Humans and their analogies were oh so confusing.

“It’s a human saying, my love.” You explained as you crossed your arms on his wide chest and rested your chin on them. “A male who saves a female from danger. A male who would sacrifice himself so the female can get away without harm.”

Mi’ytiar reached towards your face and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek before he dragged it over your lower lip. You were dreamingly looking up at him, basking in his loving touch. You were placing your hand on his and turned your head to the side so you could pepper his palm with light kisses.

He couldn’t help his body’s reaction, he just couldn’t. He was starved of your touch.

You suddenly stopped your sweet kisses when you felt something big poking your stomach. You looked down, although you could only see how your breasts were pressed against him before you looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You are insatiable.” You smirked and hoisted yourself up after placing one last kiss between his pecs.

You straddled his midriff but left enough space between you and him so you could reach underneath your body and grab his semi-hard cock. Even at this size, you had a little trouble to fully embrace it and getting your fingertips to touch.

You hissed when you felt the familiar sting of his sharp mandibles and teeth digging into your skin. You tilted your head to the side and offered him more access. Mi’ytiar let out a feral growl when your blood finally hit his tongue. He relished in it, tasting so sweet, just like the rest of you.

Grasping your hips with both of his hands, his claws scratching your delicate skin, he pushed them down to his crotch.

He needed you again, needed to be so deep inside you, so he could see the bulge of his cock forming in your tummy. Just the thought of it made his hips snap up, barely missing your entrance, and dragging his cock through your sopping wet folds that were covered with your combined releases from your last mating moments ago. It elicited a whiny moan and a wiggle of your hips.

“Stop teasing, tanhì. Put it in.” You groaned and started rubbing yourself up and down his rock-hard cock, coating it with your mixed cum that was still leaking from your hole.

Mi’ytiar wrapped a large arm around you and started to get up, his other arm supporting himself, to manhandle you on your back to be on top. The second your hazy mind registered what he was doing, you placed both of your hands on his chest and pushed him back down. You preened when his body immediately went slack, allowing you to do as you pleased with him.

He was staring up at you with flashing eyes. You didn’t take the lead very often, preferring it to be dominated by your mate, but when you did, he was gladly giving you the power you wanted.

The first time you had tried to be on top, it had gone from steamy to ugly pretty quickly. You had been on your back when you tried to push him and switch your position, but since he had been unmovable like a rock, you had untangled yourself from him and told him to lie back. You were straddling his hips, humping his hardening cock for exactly thirty seconds before he flipped you over and on your back again. You had then mewled and tried to push him back once more, causing him to growl. For your attitude he bit roughly into your throat, hoping it would keep you submissive. You let out a cry and hit his chest with both of your fists. This time Mi’ytiar had shown you his displeasure more vocal when he slammed his flat hands next to both sides of your head and roared right into your face. Safe to say, it scared the living daylights out of you and caused you to escape his caging arms. He, of course, followed you quickly and tried to amend his outburst rather with purrs and snuggles than words.

The next time you were on top, he vehemently focused on staying seated on the edge of your nest with you on his lap as you rode him with his helping hands on your hips. His eyes strayed from the spot where his cock was disappearing inside of you, to the bulge in your stomach that grew and shrunk with every movement, to your bouncing breasts, to your pleasure-contorted face.

After that, he couldn’t get enough of you being on top.

The same was the case now as you slowly inserted his throbbing cock into your-

A wail broke the sensual atmosphere, causing the both of you to jerk your heads to the doorway connecting the room to the rest of your home. With your maternal instincts kicking in, you practically jumped up from your mate, his half-inside cock slipping from your tight heat, and run to the room where the sound was coming from.

Mi’ytiar slumped back with a displeased grunt. He loved his pup dearly, truly he did, but he hadn’t been able to mate with you for an eternity — five months, double the time the healer had advised you to keep from being intimate with each other after the pregnancy because a certain someone had been overly cautious with you — and his cock throbbed painfully at that sorrowful thought.

He got up from the nest and followed the direction you had run off to. Your five-month-old pup was sleeping alone in his room for only a short part of his life. Before that, his crib had been standing next to the nest in your room, quickly accessible and in reach should he need any sort of attention. Now he was sleeping in his big brother’s former nursery you had lovingly prepared when you had been pregnant with Akail, your first pup.

Mi’ytiar watched you standing in front of the crib in the middle of the room, your back to him, as you rocked the whiny pup in your arms. The wholesome thoughts of his beautiful mate taking such good care of his youngling quickly turned into an animalistic need to breed you once more when his eyes trailed over your curves that had gotten bigger after bearing his second son. They fixed on your legs where trails of semen were running down your skin from between your inner thighs.

He was faster by your side than you would expect from a being of his size. He pressed his bare body against your own, hands on your hips pulling you closer, his cock digging into your back. Mi’ytiar bent down to snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, purring lowly.

“He was just hungry.” You whispered as you watched your pup falling back to sleep.

Bending over, you placed your little one back into his crib, careful not to disturb him. You had to bite your lip when you felt Mi’ytiar pull you back against his crotch to rub himself against your ass. All you needed to do was push your ass back into him for him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and turn to leave your son’s nursery.

Giggling, you looked back to the pup’s crib and whispered, “Dream of the stars, my little Toyah.” before you got carried back to your nest.

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peonysgreenhouse · 7 months ago

Text

-`♡´- return.

summary: the obey me datables & luke react to mc coming back to life!

tags: obey me datables (simeon, solomon, diavolo, barbatos) x gn!reader, luke & gn!reader, hurt/comfort, implied character death, mentions of violence in solomon's parts, solomon goes a little crazy teehee

i. simeon

he sees you there, in the celestial realm. he had known your soul was pure from the very beginning, but seeing you among the angels was like a knife to his gut, a reminder of his failures to protect you.

you weren’t supposed to be here, not now, at least. it was far too early for you to die. simeon can’t help but feel bitterness well up within him as you turn from michael to look for someone in the crowd (he knew it was him. he hoped it was him).

your features light up – simeon feels his heart skip a beat. even now you were just as he last remembered you, he had always taken the time to visit you in the devildom, even after his internship was over. you more beautiful than any angel he had ever seen.

you embrace him tight, and the tighter you squeeze the more he feels like he can’t breathe, the combating feelings waging a war in his mind. he should’ve been watching over you; what kind of guardian angel was he to let his human die like this?

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t know why his voice cracks when he says it. simeon? losing his composure? he had garnered many millennia of years of experience working to keep it up. “i’m sorry i didn’t protect you.”

“it’s okay simeon,” he feels your hands squeeze the back of his cloak. a wicked thought crosses his mind; maybe if you dug your nails in harder he would have some penance for his failures. if you cut through the bone and marrow and reached his heart then maybe his father would forgive him – maybe you would forgive him for his short-comings. “i’m here now.”

“right,” he breathes you in as if to convince himself. simeon feels the strength of his bond with you overwhelm him, he can feel how much you care for him and he feels his chest fill with warmth, chasing away his guilt, if for the moment. “you’re here forever. with me. nothing can hurt you here, i promise.”

ii. luke

luke had always told you to be mindful of demons, that they were evil creatures who would take any opportunity to kill you. it had seemed that his warning had proved true in the worst way. if only he hadn’t been a cherub; if uriel had promoted him to be your guardian angel like he had asked, maybe this could’ve been avoided.

but he was overwhelmed with how happy he was at the fact that you would be spending time with him forever in the celestial realm. he had wanted nothing more ever since you had become friends in the devildom. you were the one light for him in the exchange program.

“you’re here!” luke chirps, sprinting down the golden bricks of the road to the archangels’ house. “you’re really–!” you’re suddenly enveloped in a hug as luke wraps himself around your waist.

“hello luke!” you smile from ear to ear, ruffling up his neat hair. usually, he’d make a comment about you not treating him like a child, but for now it seems he’s too busy nuzzling into you. “it’s good to see you again.”

“yes! i’m happy to see you,” he pulls away, cheeks visibly flushed. “i’m sorry that i wasn’t there to protect you from those mean old demons but… everything will be fine now that you’re here!”

“would you like to give them a tour of the celestial realm?” michael chimes in with a smile, the younger angel’s eyes lighting up like a christmas tree.

luke nods excitedly, taking your hand in his, already tugging you out of the estate: “we have so much to do! we can’t waste any time!”

iii. solomon

solomon spirals hard.

there was a reason solomon pushed everyone away, why most people in his life were kept an arms length apart. he got too attached to things; to power, to magic, to anything that gave him that needed adrenaline rush… why would you be any different? you, the only person he has ever loved had been snatched out of his hands.

and worst of all, he had been powerless to save you.

all the magic and demon pacts and connections in the world couldn’t stop you from bleeding out in his arms. humans like you were much too fragile for his liking; he had worked tirelessly his whole life to be anything but.

if he couldn’t get what he wanted from the damned, he would have to turn his eyes to the celestial realm. if he had to tear down the heavens and bring you crashing back down to earth, he’s sure he would.

making bonds with angels was much more difficult than that of demons, but he found after nights of endless research that plucking a few of their feathers would get them to sing.

he’s covered in golden ichor when he manages to bring you back – a life for a life. he finally was able to do it, not only to bring a human back to life, but to bring you back. solomon rises, shakily, as you feel your body materialize out of the magic sigil etched into the floor. he smiles gently, looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

so why do you look back at him with such horror?

iv. diavolo

he had bargained with the archangels before, but never for a life.

in all accounts, a human choosing to leave the celestial realm and go to the devildom was unheard of. being cast out of heaven was notoriously the worst punishment anyone could receive.

but you do, you would always choose him over all the luxuries and beauty of the heavens every single time. it was true that love made people do stupid things.

michael sends you back to the devildom months after diavolo’s terms were set, a gift with the price of owing the ruler of the celestial realm a favor. michael was known for his kindness, but diavolo knew that there was more to him than that. he was smart enough to know that michael would never jeopardize the devildom, but angels never forgot debts owed. it was a risk, but one diavolo had no choice but to take.

above all the benevolence and good-will he draped himself in, at his core, he was a selfish demon; perhaps moreso than anyone else in the devildom.

he holds you against his chest the whole night. in the morning, he’d have duties and meetings to go to. but for now, you were his.

“little one,” he mumbles into your hair, hands tight around your waist, “make a pact with me. that you may be at my side forevermore.”

v. barbatos

in so many other timelines he sees you, shining, alive. he starts to resent the other versions of himself for being happy with you (or even worse, happy with any of the others). barbatos could pull you out as easily as he could breathe; he had a mastery over his powers that other lower demons could only imagine.

but it wouldn’t be the same, he reminds himself, it wouldn’t be his version of you.

he knew the way to get you back, it’d be to break his own rule: do not interact with the past. diavolo had given him permission to bring you back, it would be a stain on the exchange student program if one of the humans came back dead after the second semester. but he wasn’t so sure, what if the you he brought back wasn’t the you he remembered?

barbatos does it anyways, knowing he can’t refuse an order from his lord. the you in the celestial realm will be erased from existence replaced with the you of the past, the one who doesn’t know what it’s like to die. the two can only hope it doesn’t cause drama in the celestial realm.

“barbatos?” you question as you walk in the gardens with him, completely oblivious to it all. if he hadn’t been so happy that you had returned, he would feel guilty for not telling you of your death. sometimes, ignorance was bliss. “are you okay? you seem more quiet than usual.”

“do i?” he muses, forcing a soft smile for you. “i’m afraid i’m simply just a bit tired. sleep evaded me last night.” the last part wasn’t a lie.

“sorry to hear that,” you pout, “if you want to go nap, you should!

“do you not wish to spend time with me?”

“it’s not that…” you kick at the ground, arms crossed behind your back. “it’s just we have all the time in the world though, right? i want you to be rested when we’re together.”

he feels as if you’ve struck him with an arrow to his chest. barbatos sees your lifeless body in his mind, did you know and were trying to taunt him? or were you simply just this sweet?

“i suppose you’re right.” he nods his head, “but you’re coming with me.”

#simeon #solomon #diavolo #barbatos #luke #simeon x reader #barbatos x reader #solomon x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me nightbringer #imagines #hurt/comfort #angst #ficlet #x reader #repost !#q

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toruro · 1 year ago

Text

— ✧ the letter

i hope one word, one letter, will laugh and cry with you (the letter / ateez)

pairing. xu minghao x reader

description. in which you’re jun's little sister and have been pining for a man so close yet so out of reach for ages. now, years later, when you see minghao all grown up, famous, and still making your heart flutter, you're not so sure what to do about your not-so-little crush.

genres. slowburn, fluff, angst, childhood f2l

tags. idol!au, alcohol consumption & underage drinking, lots of arguments, Lots of pent up emotions oops, miscommunication, sorta hot headed reader, minghao is minghao and that is a warning enough

fic playlist.

w/c. 26k

a/n. the smut has been moved to a separate post which can be found here! i had so so so much fun writing this! huge thanks to @gyuswhore bc em literally helped me through every step of the way & sat through me planning & switching around the events of the story a bajillion times, and thank u to @honeyhypen who read over this for me ^-^

ENVELOPE

To: Xu Minghao

“Why are you in my room?” Jun huffs, turning around to look up at you as you stand by his door. In front of him is a massive, yet unfinished LEGO replica of Hogwarts. You frown, glancing at his friend who lays on his bed with a phone up to his face.

He’s Jun’s new friend, and you’ve heard your brother talk about him but this is your first time really seeing Minghao in the flesh. Shaggy hair hangs loose over his dark eyes as he peeks over his phone and glances at Jun, as if to silently ask who you are.

“Dad says dinner is ready,” you tell him, feeling a little timid under the gaze of the new boy. He’s only two years older than you, but the only interaction you get with high schoolers is your brother, so you’re feeling shy. He’s a very nice looking boy, you think to yourself, but try hard not to stare as Minghao uncrosses his legs and sits up on your brother's bed.

Jun’s eyes soften when he notices you standing awkwardly, standing up and pointing at you as he says your name. “My sister—two years younger,” he explains.

“One point five, actually,” you correct him with a roll of your eyes, feeling more comfortable now that Jun is initiating something. Your brother laughs at you and ruffles your hair while Minghao stands up behind him.

“Ya-da, ya-da. You’re still two grades below, so it doesn’t really make a difference. Anyways, this is Minghao,” he says, pointing at his friend behind him who throws you a small smile and wave.

“I know,” you blurt out before you even have a chance to think, heat flushing to your face after you realize what you said and see Minghao give you a funny look. “I-I mean because Jun talks about you a lot,” you clarify, clearing your throat. “Y’know, he doesn’t have a lot of friends so when—”

Jun clamps a hand over your mouth and gently drags you out of the room as Minghao follows behind closely with silent laughter. “That’s enough from you. Watch it, or I’m never letting you talk to my friends again.”

“Friends? I think you mean friend,” you retort, looking back at Minghao who watches the two of you amusedly. “Are you sure you want to be friends with someone so mean to his sist—”

Jun flicks your forehead and you push his chest. “Shut up already! If you scare away all my friends, all I’ll have left is you, and you’ll just have to put up with me all day!”

“You’re right about that,” you say with a heavy sigh as you all make your way to the dinner table where your father has set out a meal for the three of you. Putting your hands up in defeat as you sit down at your spot at the middle end of the table, you glance at Minghao who takes a seat with Jun sitting between the two of you. “I guess I’ll back off for now.”

Jun scoffs. “You better.” The three of you laugh together.

Yiren rummages through your closet, and you frown deeply. “Hey! You better clean that up,” you warn, rolling off of your bed and onto the floor, lazily standing up.

“I’m helping you pick out a nice outfit! You said Minghao is coming ri—” You scramble to your feet to slap a hand over Yiren’s mouth, eyes wide.

“Shut up! My brother’s room is right there—he might hear you!”

Yiren rolls her eyes, nudging your hand off her mouth with a huff. “Oh my god, don’t tell me you haven’t told him yet.”

“What?” you narrow your eyes at her, grabbing one of your bras that she threw onto the ground and stuffing it back into your closet. “You thought I was going to tell Jun that I have a crush on his best friend?” you half whisper, half yell.

“Uh, why wouldn’t you? You’re seriously missing out on your chance to have him help you get with Minghao.”

You scoff, looking down at all the clothes strewn across the floor. “Have you met my brother? He would flip if I even mentioned being with a guy, let alone that guy being two years older and his friend.”

“You don’t know that,” Yiren retorts, throwing herself onto your bed leaving you to clean up the mess she made.

“Yes I do. This is how I can tell you don’t have any brothers …”

“Well if you never make a move on Minghao, how are you ever going to get him? You gotta start somewhere, and maybe your brother is the first nut you gotta crack to get there.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I haven’t exactly planned on making any moves,” you mumble, reaching down to pick up a cute pink jacket you haven’t seen in a while.

“Uh, why not?” Yiren piques, sitting upright on your mattress.

“Excuse me, have you looked at Minghao?” you groan, slumping against your wall with the jacket in your hands. “He’s so … cool, and popular, and handsome,” you gush, and Yiren makes a disgusted face.

“Uh, no, sorry I don’t fawn over your future husband, so I don’t really look at Minghao but—”

“And he’s going to be a senior! Why would a senior ever go for—” you look down and gesture at yourself, “—me.”

“You’re seriously downgrading yourself—you know you’re a catch.”

“Yeah, not for someone like him,” you snort, flopping down onto your bed next to her. “It’s whatever, it’s a stupid crush anyways.”

“Yeah,” Yiren says flatly. “You’ve only been crushing on him for like three years—hey! Don’t hit me!”

“Then stop saying this stuff,” you groan, throwing a pillow onto her head.

“Okay fine, I’ll stop. So are you going to wear that?” she asks, pointing at the jacket you left at the foot of your bed.

“Yeah, I think I will. It’s cute right?”

“Mhm … bet Minghao will totally like it and—”

“Yiren, shut up,” you giggle, pushing her again as you roll off the bed. “Okay, so the pink jacket and these jeans?” you ask, picking one pair off the ground and holding it up for her to see.

“Mm, no,” she says while shaking her head, standing up to join you as she looks at all of the clothes she threw across the floor. “Let’s see …” she hums to herself.

“Yiren,” you say with a laugh, “I think you’re putting more thought into this than me.”

“Well I can’t just let my best friend be single and lonely for the rest of her life! If all you do is sit around and listen to Radiohead, you’re going to end up being sixty-five and alone in some cottage in the woods.”

“Hey! That actually seems pretty peaceful,” you try to object, but Yiren narrows her eyes in your direction.

“Okay well,” she drawls out, putting her hands on your shoulders so you’re right in front of her, “Imagine being sixty-five and living in a cute cottage in the woods with Minghao. Sounds better, doesn’t it?” You can’t help the giddy grin that makes its way onto your face when Yiren says that, and she punches your shoulder lightly when she notices. “See, you do want that! So just listen to me, okay?”

“Okay, okay, fine! Just tell me which jeans to wear.”

She looks down, picking through the denim before pulling out a light blue one with little flowers embroidered on the pockets. “Look, this is cute. It’ll match with the jacket.”

You nod along, not questioning her because as far as you know, Yiren’s fashionable instinct stretches much further than yours and whatever she says about this must be true. As you change from your pajamas into your new, curated outfit, Yiren sits back on the bed and grins widely.

“Looks perfect on you. Minghao will love it.”

“You think?” you pique, looking at her with bright, beaming eyes.

She winks at you and you jump up and down on the balls of your feet at the excitement. “I want at least 25% of whatever you get from your wedding gifts. You both will owe me big time.”

“I’ll believe it when it happens … Anyways, you ready to go? Let’s wait downstairs and get some pop while we wait for Minghao to come,” you suggest, Yiren agreeing with a nod as she bounces behind you. Jun, it seems, is still in his room waiting for his friend, so you stick your head through his door. “We’re going down to snack a little. Wanna come?”

Your brother shrugs, pushing himself off his swiveling chair to join you. “You know if we still have those cupcakes? The ones you made last week?”

“I think we have a few left. Why? You liked them?” you exclaim happily, turning around to face Jun as the three of you settle in the kitchen. You reach for a box you kept on the island, popping off the lid to show him.

Jun grins and pulls one out and you offer one to Yiren who stands beside you. “‘course I like them,” he says with his mouth stuffed with cake and cream.

Yiren, shooting a look of disgust his way, says, “Ew! Please don’t chew and talk, that’s gross.” Jun rolls his eyes at her as Yiren stuffs her own face with the cupcake, sighing as she digs in.

“Whatever,” Jun grumbles after swallowing it down. “They taste really good, you should make them more.”

Yiren nods, tapping your shoulder, “Agreed. Send me the recipe too,” voice muffled as she continues to munch down on the cupcake.

“Didn’t you just tell me not to eat with my mouth full?” Jun mutters, crossing his hands over his chest. You laugh at the banter and suddenly you hear the doorbell ring, ears perking up. “That’s probably Minghao—I’ll get the door.”

As your brother makes his way down to the foyer, you turn to look at Yiren. “I would give you the recipe but I don’t want to be the reason your house burns down. Seriously, remember the last time you tried baking and—”

“Oh my god, is the recipe what you’re thinking about right now? Minghao is just about to come—offer him a cupcake! Show him your amazing baking skills and show him what a good housewife you can be!”

You give your best friend a look of bewilderment. “What the hell Yiren,” you groan, slapping your hand on your face, trying to hold back your chuckles. “Okay, I’ll give it to him but only because I want him to be impressed. Not because I want to submit myself to misogyny for the sake of a man.”

“Okay fine but—look!” she exclaims in a hushed whisper. “He’s here!” You immediately straighten your back and smile when Jun walks back into the kitchen with Minghao. He’s wearing some loose jeans and a black hoodie, his hair longer than before.

He says your name when he sees you, throwing up a wave and a smile. Minghao then glances at Yiren with a blank stare, pursing his lips together. Yiren chuckles nervously and clicks her tongue while pointing at herself. “Yiren.”

“Ah. Hi Yiren,” he says politely.

“You guys want some pop?” Jun offers when he opens up the fridge. Yiren, Minghao, and you nod happily and respectively call out your choices.

“Sprite!”

“Cola!”

Jun juts his lip out in a pout when he turns back to the three of you. “I wanted Cola too, but there’s only two left.” You’re about to furrow your brows and tell him that it’s okay, you don’t really want any, but Minghao speaks up before you.

“She can have the Cola, I don’t mind,” he says casually, grabbing one can from Jun and handing it to you with soft eyes. “Here.”

“Are you sure? I don’t really care for the difference between Sprite and Cola and—”

Minghao chuckles and shakes his head, and you think you might just pass out when your palm brushes against his knuckles when he eases the cold can into your hand. “Seriously, it’s fine,” he tells you. You glance at Jun and Yiren who are busy opening their own cans, turning your attention back to Minghao.

“Thank you … Uh, do you want a cupcake? I made some a while ago and we still have some left,” you offer, holding up the box to him.

“It’s the last one. Are you sure?”

“How the tables have turned,” you laugh, and Minghao cracks a bright smile at that and holy crap, if you weren’t so busy trying to keep your composure, you’d be freaking out over how handsome he looks when he smiles. “‘course you can have it. I’ve had plenty of them,” you admit sheepishly as he reaches for the cupcake and brings up to his mouth.

“Holy shit. I don’t blame you for eating a lot—if I had these in my house they’d be gone in like an hour.”

“Right!” Yiren agrees, and you can’t help but chew on your bottom lip when you smile from the praise.

“Guess this is just a sign for you to make more, huh,” Jun says, walking to stand next to you to lean on your shoulder.

“Uh-uh! You gotta reimburse me somehow,” you protest, looking up at your brother with a firm expression.

“Please make more, they’re really good. I’ll buy you boba if you make more,” Minghao chimes, and it’s safe to say you don’t expect it from the way you cough on your own saliva. Yiren laughs at your reaction, and Jun only looks at you weirdly when you nod in agreement.

“Oh, so you’ll make cupcakes when he asks but not for your dear older brother?”

You roll your eyes, saying, “He offered to buy me boba! You know I can’t turn that down.”

Jun huffs in faux irritation, digging his hand into his pocket to fish out his keys. “Ya-da, ya-da. Anyways, would anyone other than my super fake, mean, evil sister like to go to karaoke now?” he asks playfully. All it takes is one glare and pulling on his hair for a few seconds to have him shouting out apologies as the four of you make your way to the car garage.

The ride to the karaoke place is short with Jun in the front and Minghao sitting in the passenger seat next to him. You and Yiren pile into the back, and the three of you scroll through your phones to decide what songs to sing later while Jun drives.

“I get to sing Creep, right?” you ask excitedly, bouncing up and down in your seat.

“How’d I know you were going to bring up Radiohead,” Jun mutters, pressing his head back into the head rest when he stops at a red light, while Minghao turns in his seat to look back at you with wide eyes.

“You like Radiohead?” he asks with a small smile.

The corners of your lips are lifted and your face brightens when you nod vigorously. “Yeah I do!”

“I think ‘like’ would be an understatement. I’m like 99% sure Thom Yorke lives in her skin or something because what she has for Radiohead is a lot more than just ‘like,’” Yiren says.

“No way, I love Radiohead,” Minghao tells you. Holy shit. So Minghao is attractive and nice and smart and pretty much perfect at everything and he enjoys Radiohead? You might go insane.

“Really?” Your eyes are wide with your jaw hanging open, leaning forward in your seat.

You hear Jun groan from the driver’s seat, and both you and Minghao shoot him a dirty look. “I forgot both of you are obsessed with Radiohead. Seriously, could either of you get more emo?”

“If you weren’t driving right now, I’d strangle you,” Minghao says bluntly before looking back at you. “Anyways, what’s your favorite song?”

“Junnie, please, can you put on Creep now? You know I’ve been waiting forever,” you plead, holding your hand out to the microphone that’s in your brother’s hand. The room is dark and lit up with red and blue LEDs across the border, making the room glow purple.

“But I want to sing another round of Taylor Swift!” he protests, pointing at the big screen in front of you while clutching the microphone close to his chest. You scoff, poking his side. “You know I’m not ticklish, so that doesn’t work.”

“You’re not ticklish? How?” Yiren exclaims, looking at Jun with wide eyes.

You turn to squint at her. “He’s weird. I thought we already established this.”

“Hey!” Jun whines. “See this is why you won’t be getting to sing Creep tonight.”

“Jun!” you cry out, and you’re about to pull out a string of complaints and curses, but then Minghao is stepping in, pointing at you.

“Put on Creep. She’s been asking for a while and I want to sing it too,” he says. Jun is quiet for a moment before sighing and handing you the microphone which leads you to puffing up your chest and smiling proudly.

“Thanks,” you chirp gleefully, as Minghao holds his own microphone up to his lips.

When he smiles at you, it’s kind and sincere in such a way that it has your heart swelling under your pretty pink jacket. Minghao coolly points at Yiren who sits by the control tablet. “Creep. Hit it.”

The air inside your house is warm as you skip down the hall and down the stairs. When the bell rang the first time, you thought it was just some package but when you hear it ring twice, you think otherwise.

When you peek through the little peep-hole, you jump up and down on the balls of your feet, a mix of excitement and nerves pools at your stomach. You open the door and Minghao shuffles in front of you at the doorstep. You haven’t seen him in a few weeks, and his hair looks shorter. “Did you cut your hair?” you ask the seventeen year old as you move to the side so he can step in.

“Yeah, it was getting in my eyes too much,” he tells you with a nod, a small puff of vapor coming from his lips. It’s cold, and you hear him inhale a breath of relief when you close the door behind him. “Thought the door was never gonna open. I was freezing my ass off,” he says, unwinding the brown scarf from his neck.

“‘m sorry,” you reply sheepishly as he takes off his shoes, following you through the foyer. “Jun didn’t tell me you were coming so I was in my room. He’s still out with my dad, but he’ll be back soon.”

“That’s fine.” Minghao shrugs off his puffer jacket, placing it on the coat rack while you make your way to the kitchen.

“Do you want a drink? It’s cold outside, so I can make some hot chocolate. Jun got the nice kind from the cafe down the street.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” he says, sitting down at one of the stools in front of the kitchen island as you take out some milk and hot chocolate powder. It’s silent, and you chew your lip while thinking about how this is the first time in a really long time that you and Minghao have been alone together.

Nearing the end of his twelfth year in high school and just like the first time you met him, he’s as enticing as ever. Dancing competitions with Jun, left and right, smart and respectful with the teachers, popular among the students—you're lucky you get to talk to someone as cool as him, even if it is only on the account that you’re his best friend’s little sister.

“How’s high school?” he asks casually as you boil some milk over the stove.

“It’s alright … English is still hard as ever,” you admit, dropping the powder into the frothing milk.

Minghao chuckles softly when you turn around to face him, and a small smile makes its way onto your lips. “Yeah, it was never my strong suit either. You still friends with … what’s her name? Sorry, I’m not good with names—the girl who lost her voice at karaoke when she came with us?”

“Yiren?” you giggle softly, recalling the memory. “Yeah. Still friends, still as loud as ever,” you say with a sigh, mixing the milk as it turns light brown. “How are things with you? Jun’s been telling me the dance practices you guys have is pretty intense. He always looks like he could eat a horse when he comes home.”

“That’s good to hear, and yeah, it’s all going good. It is pretty tiring, but it’s a lot of fun,” Minghao replies, stretching his arms behind his back as you pour out the hot chocolate into two mugs, bringing it over. “Thanks,” he murmurs, grabbing from your hand sitting down at your regular spot, one extra chair seated between the two of you as always.

Arm’s length, you think for a moment, before shaking yourself of the thought. “I’m sure the practice is paying off though—seems like Jun is always talking about some new kinda competition or something.”

“Mhm,” Minghao hums, taking a sip of the hot cacao. “This is really good, thank you,” he says with a soft smile, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel some sort of giddiness erupt in your stomach. “I think … I think we can really take it somewhere—our dancing.”

It’s a sparing thought that Minghao and Jun’s dreams are far beyond yours, and you have a bit of a difficult time trying to understand what he means by somewhere and if that somewhere includes you or not.

“You’re going to Korea?” your eyebrows furrow as you glance between Jun and your parents.

“Nothing’s finalized yet—” your mother says, but when Jun’s eyes flicker between you and the ground, you already know that this is set in stone.

“Yes it is.” Your voice is small when the words come out. “You—” you take a deep breath, “—you’re going.”

“Not now, of course,” your dad says, patting your back as he stands up, your mother following suit. “Talk for a few minutes, yeah?” he says as both your parents walk out. When your whole family walked into your room ten minutes earlier to tell you they had big news, you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it certainly was not this.

And now you’re sitting with your brother on one end of your bed while you’re curled up against your pillows on the other, unable to meet his gaze.

“When are you going?” you ask quietly, finally breaking the silence.

“August.”

“That’s in a month and a half,” your shoulders deflate as you say it. “How long?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You bury your face in your hands in hopes that it’ll muffle your cries. It doesn’t.

Jun scoots over to you quickly when he sees your shoulders shake, one arm going around your back to pull you close to his body, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “How are you going to do it?” you blubber as your brother pats your back. “You can’t just go to a whole different country alone and—”

“I won’t be alone. Minghao is coming with me,” Jun tells you quickly. Now that brings your head up. You don’t care that your nose is snotty and that your hair is all over the place and that your face burns, you just need to see the look on Jun’s face to see that he isn’t messing with you.

The way his own eyes are glossy gives you your answer. “Y-you both got accepted into tha-that company?”

Jun nods. “We applied together.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were applying? I-I would’ve understood. You could have given me more time to process this and—” You look down at your hands, “Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, not finding the words in your throat.

“We didn’t even know if we would get accepted. Me and Minghao promised each other that we’d only follow through with it if both of us got in and we didn’t think that there’d be a high chance of that because it’s so competitive … I only told Mom and Dad because until we got the acceptances, I really didn’t think it was going to actually happen.” You gulp at his words, trying to let it all sink in.

“I think … I think I just need to go on a walk. Take a breather, y’know,” you mutter under your breath as you stand up. Just as you're about to walk away, you stop yourself, looking back at Jun who stares down at his hands. You don’t think twice before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him tightly. “I’m really proud of you,” you say quietly before rushing out of your room and down the stairs.

You shove your feet into some slippers in the foyer, rushing out onto the street soon after. You aren’t sure what you’re doing or where you’re headed, but you continue to trudge along the sidewalk until you’re walking down the main road.

The summer air is hot and stuffy, and you wonder if you feel so suffocated because of the sun’s onslaught or because of thoughts that run through your head. It’s surrounding you, breathing it in, it fills your lungs, courses through your veins, rushes to your brain—you don’t know what it is, but it’s uncomfortable and has you dizzy and your vision foggy.

You lean against a thick lamppost next to you, hands on your knees as you knit your eyebrows together as sweat beads down your forehead. What the fuck, you think as you breathe in through your nose.

You hear your own name bounce around in your head, and the sound only grows louder and louder until you’re muttering under your breath, telling yourself to shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up. And there are tears in your eyes but you furiously wipe them away because while you don’t mind crying, you do mind crying if you don’t know why.

And fuck, there’s that voice again, your name echoing over and over again until it’s growing lowder and ringing in your ears. You think you might start crying again until the voice sounds familiar and you’re whipping your head up and standing straight when you see a car pull up to the curb next to you.

“Fuck my life,” you mumble to yourself when you see Minghao in the driver’s seat of the car. He rolls down the window and god, he looks so pretty with his hair back and upper body fit into a loose yellow shirt.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asks you, brows pinched into a concerned expression as he looks at you, face flushed and sheen from sweat.

“I—” You’re about to smile at him and let the giddiness of having your crush talk to you take over, but then the words get caught in your throat when you remember the whole reason you’re out here. “—I’m just going on a walk.”

“In this heat?” He raises a brow at you. “Where to? Let me give you a ride. You don’t look too well.”

“Nowhere really,” you say with a shrug. “Actually, I might just head back home,” you rush out, turning on your heel to walk in the other direction so Minghao can’t pry any further, but he stops you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he calls out, and you don’t have the willpower to ignore him. “Let me drive you home then. Seriously, you don’t look well—like you look like you’re ‘bout to pass out and shit—so just get in the car, please?” He says the last part with some sort of beggary etched onto his face and you just can’t deny him. Not now, not ever.

Pulling the door open, your limbs feel heavy as you climb into the car, air much cooler and fresher than outside. Leaning your head against the headrest, you let your eyes flutter shut as Minghao starts the car.

“Are you seriously okay? You look—”

“Sick, I know. I look sick,” your grumble, eyes still shut. You wonder if you should tell him Jun just told you everything.

“I’m sorry,” and you can tell from the way his voice doesn’t waver that he means it.

“Jun told me about Korea.”

“Oh.” Yeah, very big oh. “Just now?” You nod. “Is that why you were out here?” You nod again, finally opening your eyes.

“Hey, this isn’t the way to my house.”

Minghao keeps his eyes on the road. “C’mon, let’s get some pop,” he says, ignoring your statement and driving into the parking lot of a convenience store. He unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out his end, not saying a word, and you figure that you have no other choice but to follow.

Any other situation and you’d be grinning about spending some time alone with Minghao, but after hearing Jun tell you that he’s going to be traveling hundreds of miles and flying over borders within the next two months has your stomach churning in a way you don’t like.

You don’t know if you want to spend all the hours of the day with Jun and Minghao, or if you want to crawl up in your bed and pretend they don’t exist so it’ll hurt less when they’re gone. You feel stupid for thinking like this—you know it’s going to hurt either way.

You’re lost in your own thoughts as you walk into the store after Minghao, only snapped back into the present when he says something to you. “Hey, those are your jeans that you wore when we first did karaoke right?’

You blink once and then twice before looking down at your pants. They were those same jeans. “Yeah, how’d you know?” you ask him incredulously, and Minghao chuckles as he reaches into the cooler and pulls out a pink popsicle.

“I remember the flowers and how they matched your pink jacket. It was cute,” he says casually, and you hope he doesn’t catch onto the way your fingers twiddle together nervously and you avert your gaze. “Anyways, you like Cola right?” he clarifies when reaching into the drink fridge near the cooler. You nod shyly, thanking him quietly when he hands you a can.

As you make your way to the cash register, you fish around in your pockets for a few moments hoping you’ll dig up a dollar bill or something but then Minghao’s hand is on your wrist and he shakes his head with a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll cover it.” He turns back so quickly you don’t have time to protest because he’s already sticking his card into the machine, throwing the cashier a thumbs up and walking out the store without a word.

“I could’ve paid for myself, y’know,” you grumble, following behind Minghao, watching to see where he’s headed. You think he’s going to get back into his car, but instead he plops down on the street curb, sitting on the ground. You just look at him for a few moments, contemplating what to do for a few moments before joining his side.

“Yeah, but I wanted to pay for it.”

The sun is bright and it beads down on you relentlessly, but you don’t complain. You both sit in silence as you both tend to your snacks—Minghao tries to lap up his popsicle quickly now that you’re out in the heat and you try to drink as much of your Cola as you can before it grows lukewarm. The air grows thick between you.

You can’t find the right words to say. You suppose there aren’t any right words or any wrong words, and that you can say just about anything right now and it wouldn’t matter.

Glancing at Minghao who takes a lick of his pink popsicle, you feel that uneasy feeling swarm inside of your chest.

You could kiss him right now. You could press your mouth against his sticky lips and lap at the sugar against his tongue. You could hold his face and run your fingers through his hair and cradle the nape of his neck. You could do anything right now and it wouldn’t matter.

Minghao, after all, was leaving.

But you’re scared and Minghao is mature and his dreams are big and he’s brave.

Your eyes linger on his plush lips for no longer than a second before you shamefully look down at the Cola in your hands, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach.

“You’ll remember this place, right? Like—if you get big and famous and stuff, you two won’t forget, right?” you resort to asking. You say ‘this place,’ but really, you mean ‘me.’ You don’t want to be forgotten.

Minghao watches you with his eyes clouded with something you can’t really make out. “Of course we won’t. We’ll remember forever.” Absentmindedly, you trace figure-eights into the top of your can of pop, and Minghao catches the motion.

Using his own finger, he traces the figure of the number eight over the cement of the curb. “See. Like infinity, y’know?”

You purse your lips together and nod, your mind going dizzy. “Can we … can we go?” you mumble softly, gripping the can in your hand. “I think the heat kinda got to me.” It’s not entirely a lie.

Minghao doesn’t question you, polishing off his popsicle and tossing it into the trash before unlocking the door so you can take the silent ride home.

Jun and Minghao flew out two months ago. You went with your family and Minghao’s family to bid goodbyes. It’s not like you wouldn’t see them again—give or take a few months and Jun would be back at home, but he’d have to leave again. And again. And again.

It’s sad, you think, as you slump against Yiren on some random person’s couch. You miss them so much, but when you think about Jun and Minghao, all you can see is the hard work they’ve put into going where they’re headed.

You feel selfish as you bring a cup up to your lips. You feel pathetic and lame and if you weren’t already drunk, you’d be wallowing in self pity as well. The alcohol tastes just as bitter as your feelings, and while you wince when you gulp it down, you don’t hesitate to let some more run down your throat.

Yiren watches you worriedly when you clutch her arm and shut your eyes tight. “I miss them,” you whisper, and she doesn’t know if you’re talking to her or to yourself. She strokes your hair and coos to you about taking you to lie down somewhere.

Your head spins as she helps you stand, letting the cup fall to the ground, not bothering to pick it up. Yiren pulls you into an empty bedroom and sits you on the bed. “Drink this,” she instructs, handing you a bottle of water.

“Yiren, I miss them,” you repeat yourself.

“I know, I know you do. Do you want to go home? I’ll drive you and—”

“No, you go have fun. I just need to sit down for a sec,” you tell her, letting your back fall onto the mattress. Yiren gives you a warning look, but you shoo her off. “Trust me, I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if I need anything.” She looks like she wants to protest, but you both know you’re on a one track mind right now.

“Please don’t do anything stupid,” Yiren begs as she walks away and closes the door behind her. You’re still dizzy, but not nearly as bad as before. Sitting up, you glance around the room. It’s simple—probably a guest room in whoever’s house this is. Also probably why the door was unlocked in the first place.

You feel you might pass out until your eyes land on an open notebook on a table in the corner of the room. You don’t think twice before standing up and ripping a sheet out, scrambling for a pen.

DEAR MINGHAO

I’m drunk right now. I miss you and I miss Jun. I hope when you guys come back again, we can go to that karaoke place again and sing to Radiohead. I’ve expanded my taste you know—my favorite song is Fake Plastic Trees now, and I even got a record player just so I could play the vinyl for it. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.

When you come back, we should really go there again. Yiren’s been getting really tired of me singing Creep every time, so I need a new duo partner. And she’s leaving too, so there’s that.

I really want to kiss you right now, but you’re in Korea.

I miss Jun a lot too. I think I hate you for it. He’s my brother but somehow you get to see him more and talk to him more and be with him more. Sometimes I call him and it’s for less than five minutes and I hear your voice in the background and I don’t know if I want to listen to you speak forever or strangle you so you can never talk again. I get that Jun is busy, and that you’re busy, but you guys get to be busy together.

Yiren told me she’s probably going to go to college out of the country next year. I’m going to miss her like hell. I think I already miss her, and so I drag her to karaoke with me so she won’t ever forget about me and Radiohead and how garbage I am at singing Creep.

Jun says he’s going to come visit home in two months, and that you might come along. I didn’t know home was a place you only visit, but I guess being an idol changes you. I probably sound super bitter right now. I’m not. Maybe I’m upset that you guys are gone, but I really am happy for you.Jun is happy, and you’re happy, and I’m so happy you have each other.

It’s hard to focus on your exam—halfway through your degree and you still get the jitters every time you step into the testing hall. It’s probably the nerves. And the caffeine. And the fact that you’ll be seeing your brother and Minghao in three hours.

It’s mainly the third that has your leg bouncing up and down on the balls of your feet as you jot down your answers. The exam takes longer than you’d like to finish, but as soon as you’ve finished the final question, you’re bolting out of the large room and toward the parking lot.

Connecting your phone to your car, you call Jun as you back out of the parking spot. “Hey, you guys at the airport?” you ask when you hear him pick up.

“Yeah, we’re just getting out right now but there’s kind of a crowd so it might take a while to just get to the car.”

“I forgot you guys are, like, famous,” you mutter jokingly. “Where’re you headed first? Minghao’s place first?”

“Yeah probably. He’s gonna see his parents and stuff first and then I’ll go to Mom and Dad’s house, so you can just come there.”

“Okay … we’re still good for our dinner plans, right?”

“Yeah, actually I was wondering if Minghao could tag along,” Jun says, and you can hear some muffled shouting from the other side.

“Oh okay, yeah su—”

“Hey, look, there’s a lot of people here and I can’t hear much so just text me your response and I’ll get to you in a second,” Jun tells you quickly as the shouting grows louder. He hangs up soon after and you sigh heavily as you start driving to your parents house.

The ride is quiet but you’re happy to be met with gleeful parents when you get to their place. You’re all a bit spirited at the prospect of Jun coming home, so when you hear the old ringing of the door bell, you’re bolting to the door and swinging it open, jumping into his arms.

“What happened to ‘hi,’ ‘hello,’ ‘how are you?’” Jun teases as he hugs you close, awkwardly trying to shuffle into the house. You poke your tongue out at him when you finally unwind your arms from around him.

“Hi. Hello. How are you? You seem obnoxious, as always,” you shoot back, and Jun only grins, pinching your cheek tightly.

“Oh how I missed my little insane sister,” he says before moving onto your parents, enveloping them in hugs as you all begin to settle down in the living room. The four of you spend a few hours catching up with Jun before he excuses himself to freshen up so he can get ready for your plans for the evening.

When he comes back all ready, you’re pulling out your keys from your purse and waving bye to your parents, promising them you’ll stop by the next morning as you and your brother make your way to the door.

“See you later!” Jun calls out before closing the front door behind him and following you to your car. Minghao’s house is close by, no more than a five minute drive, and it’s quiet as you take the familiar roads through the town to get there.

“Should we go in?” you ask when you park in Minghao’s driveway. “You haven’t seen his parents in a while, have you?”

“Oh yeah, you’re right. C’mon, let’s go.” You both slip out of the car and make your way to the front door. Minghao’s mother opens the door and you spend a few minutes exchanging greetings and catching up before Minghao is stepping out, clad in some black jeans and a grey hoodie.

He smiles when he sees you, pulling you into a hug, giving you a chance to feel the slightly damp hair against your cheek and the woody smell that always reminds you of him. “Hey, how’s it been?” he asks when he pulls away.

“I-I’m good,” you say shyly.

“Let’s talk more in the car, yeah?” Jun suggests, turning back to Minghao’s parents to give them a hug before you all wave your goodbyes and get into your car.

“Where’re we headed?” Jun asks, as you back out of the driveway. Jun sits in the passenger seat while Minghao slips into the back.

“It’s this new place—opened just a few months ago so I doubt you’d have gone there yet,” you tell him as you start driving.

“Is it the place next to the cafe?” Minghao asks you, and you nod excitedly.

“Yeah … how’d you know?”

“My mom told me about it, and said I should try it out. I guess now’s my chance, huh.”

“Yeah! It’s really good, I hope you both like it,” you say, reaching over to the AUX controls to flick on one of your playlists. “Okay guys … are you ready?” you warn, watching Minghao’s eyes brighten through the mirror.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me you guys are going to sign Creep again—” Jun starts to groan, but you reach over and press a finger over his lips to shut him up.

“Quiet,” Minghao hisses to his friend, scooting forward in his seat so you’re in his view, placing his hands under your headrest. His fingers brush against the back of your neck and you’re scared you might crash the car from the way his touch makes you shiver. Fuck, more than half a damn decade and you still can’t fight it off. “Turn it up,” he instructs from behind, and you can only grin as you reach over and pump up the volume.

The deep rumble of snare and guitar echoes through the car as the song starts and you already feel your heart begin to swell in your chest. So when the first lines of, ‘when you were here before,’ leave your lips, you aren’t sure if you feel your heart mending itself, or if it’s salt being poured on the wound.

Because from behind you is Minghao’s voice, so deep and velvety and angelic it has you almost in a trance. He’s been good at singing, always, but now his voice sounds … mature, and developed and … and you love it.

You think back to the first time you sang Creep with him, and the lyrics already have you reminiscing when you both sing, ‘couldn’t look you in the eye,’ because goddammit you still struggle to look at Minghao for too long because you’re scared you’ll get lost.

And when it gets to the part before the bass is blaring in your ears, Minghao and you are singing, ‘I wish I was special, you’re so fuckin’ special,’ at the top of your lungs and you can’t help but let the irony sink in.

Now you’re pretty sure when Thom wrote Creep, he didn’t mean it to be about your love life, especially not the non-existent one between you and your brother’s best friend, but Thom is speaking to you right now, and you wonder if Minghao can hear the way you’re singing from your heart. How you’re singing for him.

When the song comes to an end, Minghao’s fingers brush over the nape of your neck one last time before he retreats back into his seat. You try to not mull on the feeling any longer, shaking your head of all of those thoughts when you near the restaurant.

“Here it is!” you chirp, parking the car on the curb. The three of you shuffle out of the car casually, making your way to the entrance.

“Looks nice,” Minghao comments as he opens the door for you and Jun. Your brother hops in merrily and you and Minghao both share a soft smile as you go inside too, your body nearly jerking when you feel his hand on the small of your back as he follows behind you.

His touch is warm and gentle and—fuck, does he know what he’s doing to you right now?

You’re more relieved than anything when he finally lets his arm drop, the three of you making your way to the table you booked. You were scared that if Minghao stayed close any longer, he’d be able to feel your heart beating through your chest.

You guys sit down at the table, Jun next to you while Minghao settles across the two of you. “So how’s your classes going?” he asks you as you look through the menu. “Jun said you had an exam today, right?”

“Yeah, it was my final one,” you tell him with a sigh of relief. “It was stressful preparing for it but it went better than I thought.”

“Good to hear,” Minghao says as a waiter comes along to pick up on your orders. After he leaves, Jun turns to you.

“What’s Yiren up to?” Jun asks you curiously. “Haven’t seen that girl in ages.”

“She’s, uh, she’s good,” you reply. “I haven’t seen her in a while either … she went off to college in Korea, remember?”

Minghao chuckles, “Seems like everyone’s going there, huh? Maybe you should pull up too.”

You scrunch up your face and shake your head while you take a sip of water. “I think I like this place too much to leave. Plus, who’s going to take care of our old folks if I leave too?” you tease, nudging your brother in the side.

“Mom and Dad can take care of themselves just fine,” Jun shrugs, ruffling your hair as the waiter brings along some food.

“Looks good,” Minghao says, holding up some chopsticks as you all look down at the sizzling dishes in front of you.

“It is! See?” you say pointedly, looking up at Jun. “Imagine I moved to Korea—I wouldn’t be able to eat this.” Your brother only rolls his eyes and Minghao and you laugh together while you dig in.

As you work through your meal and catch each other up on your lives, Minghao eventually leans back in his seat and sighs heavily. “I’m really craving something sweet right now.”

“I’d say we should pick up some pastries from the cafe next door but they closed two hours ago,” you say sadly.

“Oh shit, I forgot about that place. They made the best chocolate buns ever,” Jun mutters to himself, polishing off his plate.

“Let’s go to the cafe tomorrow evening, yeah?” Minghao suggests as he takes a sip of water. At the suggestion, you chew at your lip.

“Uh, I don’t think I can go then,” you say, hoping they won’t pry any further.

Of course, your brother doesn’t allow you a second of peace. “Why not? Your last exam was today, right?”

“Yeah, but I have stuff to do,” you reply nonchalantly. Jun scoffs and tugs your ear, causing you to whine. “What was that for?!”

“You didn’t clear your schedule out for me? I thought you missed me! You know I have to leave in like a week,” he complains, and you and Minghao share an amused look as you nudge Jun on the side.

“Relax, you can have me in the morning and afternoon and everything … I just have to go somewhere for the evening.”

“You’re being really ominous about this, you know,” Jun retorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where’re you going?”

You chew on your tongue, contemplating if this is the right moment to bring it up, or if you should even tell Jun and Minghao this at all. “I just have to see someone.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Jun groans. “You’re literally asking me to pry. Tell me who—a boyfriend?” You chuckle nervously, eyes flickering between Minghao and your brother, shaking your head.

“No—not a boyfriend,” you say dryly, scoffing at the irony. “Remember Renjun? I told you about him when I was in freshman year.”

“Vaguely. Remind me who he is again?”

“He’s just a guy, and he has some of my stuff I need to pick up.” Both Minghao and Jun cock an eyebrow at you after that. “What?” you huff, leaning back in your seat.

“An ex?” Minghao asks and your face burns.

“I—yeah,” you say casually. “An ex.”

Jun frowns deeply. “I didn’t know you and Renjun ever dated. I didn’t even know you ever had a boyfriend,” he says, voice evidently upset that he was left out of this.

“It wasn’t that serious,” you pat his shoulder as to soften the blow. “Plus it happened when you were on tour—we hardly talked then.”

“Still! You could’ve told me!” You bite back a, ‘But could I really?’ because this isn’t the time or place for that.

“It’s whatever. I just need to pick up some stuff I left at his place and—”

“So it ended pretty recently then?” Minghao piques, and your eyebrows furrow, slightly annoyed by both of their belated interest in your love life.

“What, no! It’s been months and—wait, I don’t see how that’s any of your guys’ business,” you huff and Minghao backs off a little, but Jun still stays curiously leaning in.

“Whatever. You’ll be available to come with us to the lake on Friday though, right?” Jun asks, pulling out his phone and holding it up to your face to show you a picture of a lake house. “I booked a place to stay the night and all.”

“Of course I’m going to come—I’ve been looking forward to it!”

“Good,” Jun says gruffly, still somewhat glaring at you.

You give him a funny look. “What?”

“I’m still mad you never told me—you’re supposed to tell me this stuff! How else am I supposed to know that you’re doing fine on your own and actually growing up.”

“Oh my god, Jun, I’m an adult! Did you think I would never have boyfriends?”

“No! At least not without telling me!”

You chuckle and Minghao follows in suit, enjoying the little sibling bicker. “Okay fine. I’m sure I’ll be telling you every detail of my love life when it gets resurrected.”

Minghao snorts at your use of words, and you revel in the way the sound makes you feel. Fuck it, it’s been more than half a decade and you still get butterflies—you can’t fight away the feeling, so you might as well wallow in it.

You wonder what Jun would think about this—your love life being pulled and shaken by his own best friend. Oh well, some secrets are best kept hidden anyways.

“Here’s your stuff,” Renjun says softly, handing you a paper bag that’s stuffed with a wide array of your belongings.

“Thank you. Is my pink jacket in there? I’ve been looking for it for a while and I didn’t know if I left it at yours,” you ask timidly, holding the paper bag close to your chest.

He scratches the back of his head as he steps back, nodding. “Uh, yeah I think it’s at the bottom.” You peer down at the contents of your back, and give a half smile when you see the pink cloth peeking out from underneath.

“Thanks for taking care of my stuff. I know you’ve basically moved out and all.”

“No worries. Do you, uh, need a ride home or anything? It’s pretty cold.”

You purse your lips at the offer, but shake your head. “It’s fine …” There’s an awkward silence and you quickly wonder if you should say anything more. Renjun looks awfully … apologetic right now and you feel there’s some more you can say. “How’s your new place? Have you seen it?”

“Yeah, I flew up there a few weeks back to get some of my main stuff shipped. A nice apartment, way bigger than whatever I had here,” he says with an awkward chuckle. You appreciate the effort.

Nodding, you tighten your grip on the bag. “That’s good to hear. I hope it all goes well with you. I … I think I’ll be taking my leave now. My brother’s back in town so …”

“Oh yeah, I heard from Jianing. Hope you’re having a good time—I know you haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Thank you. Anyways, I’m gonna get going now. Thanks again,” you say as you step back, throwing out a small wave.

A half-hearted, “See you,” leaves Renjun’s lips as you turn on your heel and start walking back to the bus station. There’s no promise of seeing Renjun later, or ever again, and something cold sinks in your stomach at the thought.

The thought that this all could’ve been avoided if Renjun hadn’t gotten that stupid job offer hundreds of miles away. If he didn’t decide to pack his bags and fly away just like Jun, like Yiren, like Minghao. Renjun was leaving, just like everyone else.

You clutch the paper bag close to your chest as you make your way to the bus stop, one hand fumbling in the pocket of your jacket as you search for your wallet and within seconds you’re a frantic mess. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. “Shit, shit, shit!” you cry out when you drop your bag and pat frantically over your pockets to try and feel for your wallet.

Your digging into every crook of the coat and there’s a growing feeling of dread that washes over you once you realize that you lost your fucking wallet. Hands clenched at your side, you feel hot tears well up in your lash line as you stare down at the ground, letting in the shitty events of today sink in.

You don’t even know why you’re crying now. It’s hardly even cries, really, you’re downright sobbing as you plop down on the curb of the empty street, fumbling with your phone as you pull up Jun’s contact. Pressing the phone to your ear, you shut your eyes tight in an attempt to calm down your breath, but when you hear the line go dead you cry even harder, realizing that Jun is probably napping right now.

“Fuck my life,” you complain to yourself, letting your head hang low as you scroll through your phone. You aren’t even sure what compels you to click on him but before you know it you’re on speaker as you hear the buzzing of the phone as you wait for Minghao to pick up.

One ring. Maybe he’s busy.

Two rings. He might be looking for his phone.

Three rings. He probably won’t pick up.

Four rings, and you’re about to hang up but then it stops. “Minghao?”

Minghao’s voice is cool and calm when he says your name. “Do you—”

“I need your help,” you say so quietly you aren’t sure if he’ll be able to hear it. And then Minghao hears it: your soft pants and shaky breath and something about the sound has him squeezing his phone tightly.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m—” No, I feel like shit and I’m freezing my ass off and it’s so cold and I need you to help me. “Can you pick me up? I lost my wallet which has my bus card. I’m sorry, I know it’s a little late and you’re probably busy but—”

“Send me your location.”

Minghao is pulling up in his black car within twenty minutes and by then you’ve had enough time to wipe the tears from your face and piece together yourself to look presentable. Rolling down the windows as you wave over to his car, you hear the doors click and you’re roughly yanking on the door and throwing your stuff and yourself in.

Minghao raises a brow at your ruckus, asking once again, “Are you okay?” When you only sigh heavily, buckling yourself up, you hope Minghao will just leave it alone. You’d rather not talk about the stupid breakdown you just had in front of your childhood crush.

Minghao clearly doesn’t get the message, so when he starts the engine again, he murmurs, “Have you been crying?” You purse your lips together tightly as if the question itself as the tears bubbling up to the surface once again. “Did meeting with Renjun not go well?” You’re surprised he remembers his name—Minghao was never great with names. “Can you say something? I’m worried.”

“Sorry,” you say softly, letting your shoulder drop down, and from the corner of your vision you see Minghao watching you carefully. “I-I just got overwhelmed. And it was cold. Really cold. And then—” You take a shaky breath. “—and I lost my fucking wallet on top of it and it’s all so shitty and—”

His hand is on your shoulder and you hardly realize that Minghao has pulled over and parked so he can turn to face you. You’re crying again and you don’t even know how this fucking happened, all you know is that there’s so much going on in your head and Minghao is right there, he’s so close but then again, he’s so far.

“Hey, hey calm down for a sec’,” he says calmly, gripping your arm firmly. “Breathe slowly, and tell me what happened.”

You inhale sharply through your nose and scrunch your face up as you bury your head in your hands. In your right mind, you wouldn’t even think about telling Minghao about what’s on your mind but it’s been a really terrible past hour and you can’t control yourself.

“Renjun’s leaving. Didn’t want to do long distance and so he’s gone and—fuck, I don’t even blame him but why’d he have to leave,” you ramble, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as Minghao pats your back gently.

“Did he say something to you when you met with him?” he asked, tone laced with concern. “I’m sorry, I’m just—are you o—okay please don’t cry.”

You don’t know why, but Minghao telling you to cry only makes the tears fall faster. “And Yiren—” you hiccup, “Yiren left too, I haven’t seen her in months and Jun a-a-and you—you’ve all been gone.” You don’t realize when Minghao grabs both your shoulders and forces you to face him completely.

“Slow down, please. No one’s left you, we’re all going to be here for you, you know that. Did Renjun say something which made you think like this?” he asks, the grip on your shaking shoulders growing tighter as you desperately try to steady yourself.

“N-no, but you’re not here. I hardly ever get to see my own brother and Yiren and you and Renjun and everything is so shitty I just—” you cry out and suddenly you stumble forward in the seat and before you know it Minghao’s arms are around you.

It’s not like you haven’t hugged him before but this is the first time you’re blubbering into his shoulder about your feelings, and if you weren’t so sad, you’d be fucking appalled. His warm hand is on your back, rubbing up and down slowly until you’ve finally found the conscience to actually breathe and realize just what’s going on.

Slowly, you pull away from Minghao’s hold, furiously wiping away at your face to dry yourself, looking down at your lap bashfully. “I am so sorry, what the fuck, I-I don’t know what came over me,” you blurt out when Minghao drops his hands from your shoulder. You miss the warmth, but you’re quite very embarrassed with yourself and don’t have the will to chase after his touch.

“Please don’t apologize,” Minghao replies softly, watching you with wide eyes. “That … was a lot and—”

“I’m sorry, look, I was just having a shitty day and it all piled up and you just—I don’t know I guess, let’s just pretend this never happened,” you beg with him. Minghao’s face looks like he wants to say more, but you really can’t tell with the way his eyes are clouded.

“Are you sure? You know you can talk to me.”

You gulp at the irony. No, you really can’t. You can’t tell Minghao anything, really, because even after crying and sobbing and wailing in his car he still looks at you with so much care and it has these stupid fucking butterflies erupting in your stomach like you’re fifiteen with a massive crush on your brother’s best friend.

“Can you just please drive me to my place?” you ask, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I think I just really need to sleep.”

You can tell Minghao still has questions, but you don’t seem too willing to answer them so he doesn’t say anything when he nods and turns back to the road. The ride is silent, and when he finally parks he pats your shoulder.

You look out the window and furrow your eyebrows. “This isn’t my apartment complex …” you tell him, confused as you see a convenience store in front of you. The same one.

“C’mon, I know you love pop,” he says casually, unbuckling his seatbelt leaving you with no other choice to follow behind him. There’s an odd sense of deja vu that envelopes over you, shoving your pockets into your jacket shyly.

“Remember the last time we were here?” Minghao asks with a chuckle as you guys walk into the store.

“Don’t remind me,” you murmur. “That was a shitty day.”

Minghao gives you a nervous smile as he pulls out a can from the fridge and hands it to you, grabbing his own bottle as well. “Yeah, but Cola made it better, right?”

“I guess it did. Cola always makes things better,” you admit. “Hey, fuck you,” you say jokingly when Minghao pulls out his wallet. “You should’ve taken me here another time when I actually had my wallet—I need to pay you back for that day!” you whine with a pout. “Now I’m in debt to you twice! You’ve bought me two Colas!”

Minghao rolls his eyes playfully as he pays for the drinks. “Yeah well things are different now, and I’m pretty sure my wallet doesn’t care about the cost of two Colas.”

“Is Mr. Big and Famous too good for my money now?” you huff when you step back outside, opening your Cola. “I will pay you back, no matter how stupidly rich you get.”

“I’ll have to hold you to that,” Minghao laughs as you slip back into his car. The air is lighter as he drives you back to your place for real this time, and the lingering feeling of pop on your tongue is sweet and fun.

“Thank you for the ride. And the Cola,” you add when he’s in front of your building.

“You remember what I said?”

You nod as you step out of the car, picking up your brown bag. “Thank you so much for this. I’m sorry again.”

“Stop apologizing. Is there … is there anything else I can do? You want another Cola perhaps?”

“Very funny, but I don’t think I want to be jumping off the walls tonight …” you answer, closing the door but still peering through the open window. You think for a second as you chew your lip, nodding when you come up with something. “But do me a favor … don’t tell Jun.”

Jun takes you out to the lake house he booked three mornings after you met with Renjun and sobbed to Minghao in his car. It’s a refreshing turn of events, if you’re being honest, and you’re eager to sink into a relaxing weekend after a stressful exam season.

Your brother drives the three hours on the way with the promise of you driving on the way home hung over your head. When you reach the house—a medium sized cabin perched right by the lake and surrounded by trees and mountains—you’re greeted with the sight of Minghao sitting in his car and scrolling on his phone.

As you and Jun pile out of the car and grab your bags, Minghao comes out too, walking toward you with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Thought you guys would never come. If you were gonna be late you should’ve just given me the keys to this place,” he says with a huff.

“Don’t blame me,” Jun shrugs, locking the car after you’ve both taken out your stuff, walking up to the cabin’s entrance. “She’s the one who wanted to stop and buy some pop.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t want it either,” you retort, reaching into your tote bag to hand Minghao a can of Cola. “Here,” you offer with a smile which he returns gleefully.

“Okay actually, totally valid reason,” Minghao says, flicking open the can before taking a sip.

“Hey! Don’t be on her side,” Jun whines as he opens up the cabin. Minghao and you chuckle together, your heart warming at the sound as you three start to load your things into the house. Minghao doesn’t say anything about that night when he picked you up, and for that much you’re grateful. This much, you can manage.

By the time you all have settled your things into your respective rooms it’s noon and the sun pummels down with admirable strength. As you stick your head out of your room, you catch Jun making his way down the hallway toward the bathroom.

“You going for a swim?” you ask, gesturing down to your swimsuit that you’ve already eagerly put on.

“Nah, I’m gonna go later. I need to take a call right now,” he says with a sigh and you nod, about to retreat back to your room before Minghao walks out of his own room.

“I’ll go if you’re going,” Minghao tells you casually, and you don’t waste a second to nod. “Give me five so I can get changed and then we can go out.”

You jump down the hall excitedly after he closes the door behind him, making your way to the backyard porch which leads into a deck over the lake. As you place your towel on one of the chairs outside, you hear the sliding door open.

Minghao walks out shirtless, lower half only covered with his swim trunks as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair, shaking his head lightly as he makes his way towards you, placing his towel next to yours. “Thanks for waiting … shit, it’s hot as hell,” he murmurs, and you’re thankful that you’re facing away from him right now—you aren’t sure you’d be able to handle the proximity and the sight of his bare upper body.

“Yeah,” you agree, finally straightening your back and putting some distance between the two of you when you start walking towards the edge of the deck. “The water’s so clear,” you think out loud, looking down at the blue lake in front of you.

“It’s really pretty … you want a picture?” Minghao suggests, walking up behind you.

“I would, but I left my phone inside.”

“Let’s just take it on my phone,” he says casually, holding up his phone in front of you, waving at you to step back a little so he can take a picture. “A candid one would look pretty with this view—like you’re looking out at the lake and stuff,” he begins to say, placing a smooth hand on your shoulder so he can manually turn you around so that you’re facing away from him.

When he lets his hand drop, it brushes over the curve of your hip and you have to bite down on your lip to stop the pathetic whimper that threatens to escape your lips. Luckily, Minghao can’t see the pained expression that makes its way onto your face as he steps back holding up his phone.

“Okay ready …” he calls out from further behind. “Three … two … one!” You hear a faint tapping sound as you still, letting Minghao take the pictures as you wait patiently. It takes a few moments, and you’re about to ask him how much longer he’s going to go at it before you hear the sound of something being dropped, and then a few rattling thuds.

“Minghao, what—” you begin to question as you slowly turn on your heel but by then it’s too late. “WHAT THE F—”

Your scream is cut off short when Minghao runs forward and lunges at you, one arm wrapping itself around your waist as he jumps into the water, bringing you down with him. The cool water of the lake hits your body and the wind gets punched out of your lungs as you feel your limbs entangle with his. Instinctevely, your arms tighten around one of his as your eyes press closed tightly as you feel your warm body start to level with the temperature around you.

And so even as your legs kick around for a few panicked moments, you begin to feel oddly at peace when your head finally reaches the surface of the water, Minghao’s hand still steady over your hips as you gasp for air.

“You’re a bitch for that,” you say, a few choked giggles escaping your lips as you do. Minghao finally unwinds his arm from yours, and while you miss the contact, his body is still dangerously close to yours, and you figure that that is already more than you can manage.

Minghao smiles gleefully, pushing his face so close that it’s right up in front of you. “Mm maybe, but it was really funny. Got it on video too.”

“What?!” you screech, swimming backward so quickly that you hit your head on the wooden platform of the deck. “Crap!” you exclaim, hand immediately flying up to press against the throbbing crown of your head. Minghao’s eyes widen with concern as he wades his way towards you, tall enough to still have his feet touch the lake bottom unlike you.

“Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?” he asks worriedly, his own hand coming up to feel the back of your head. His eyes are big and brown as he looks down at you, and for this moment, you forget about the dull ache and bask in the way the sun hits his skin so perfectly he glows.

“I’m fine!” you squeak quickly, letting your hand drop so you can tread in the water lightly, slowly moving a safe distance away from the deck.

“A-are you sure?” he probes, making his way to you, and you have a moment to admire him from afar—the way his hair is matted against his forehead and water drops gather at his lashes, making his eyes look prettier than ever.

You chuckle at the way his lips are pursed together apologetically, and you splash some water at him to lighten the mood. “Yes, Minghao, I’m great. I hardly hit myself.” Minghao’s face looks uneasy, and you laugh again.

It takes a few more minutes of you trying to convince him that you’re totally fine before he finally lets it go. Eventually, you find yourself on a big inflated duck-shaped floaty, laying down with your face up and eyes closed. You lose track of time, enjoying the white noise of Minghao splashing around in the water around you, drifting off into a hazy state until you hear a loud yell and feel yourself being flipped over and off your floaty.

“Jun!” you whine, rubbing your eyes as you furiously push hair off your face when you resurface, glaring at both Jun and Minghao laugh side by side. “You guys have to stop doing this to me,” you groan, eyes finally adjusting to its normal state.

“What are you talking about?” Jun asks innocently as you make your way over to the two of them, not bothering to turn your duck floatie back up right. “It was just an accident I fell on you—hey!” he yells out when you lunge at him. Minghao steps back quickly as you and Jun waddle and fight in the water, splashing water at each other while you try and get your revenge.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry,” Jun admits with a pout. “You didn’t do this to Minghao after he dunked you in the water,” he complains as you release him.

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“He sent me the video.”

“Minghao!” you exclaim, turning to the boy who is now treading around a meter in front of you. He only shrugs and grins cheekily.

“It was really funny,” Jun tells you with a laugh. “I might just post it on my story.”

“Oh my god, don’t you dare.”

Jun only shakes his head and starts slowly swimming further into the lake. “Don’t worry—I wouldn’t do that. Minghao can’t have any dating rumors, now can he?”

You chew on your lip, not responding. Minghao doesn’t say anything either, only chuckling along with your brother as he follows after him. You aren’t sure what to say to that, and the comment leaves some uneasy feeling hanging in your stomach.

Fuck, maybe you did hit your head hard.

You three spend a good few hours out in the lake until it’s evening. It’s a slow day and you start to realize just how much you missed spending time with your brother and Minghao like this—it isn’t often they get the opportunity to do things like this, so you’re grateful that they decided to share some of their few days of peace with you.

The second day is even hotter than the first, and you wake from your sleep early in the morning when the sky is still blooming with purple and orange hues. Crawling out from your bed, you make your way downstairs. If it was just you and your brother, you wouldn’t be so mindful about keeping your noise levels down because god knows that Jun can sleep through just about anything, but, Minghao is with you guys now, and you’d hate to sour his experience even just a little by accidentally waking him up for being too loud.

So you can imagine your surprise when you walk into the kitchen to see Minghao already leaning against the counter as he scrolls through his phone. He hasn’t noticed you and you contemplate leaving it like that for a few moments.

He’s wearing a tight fit, black, sleeveless top that shows off the curve of his shoulders and lets the sparkle of his silver chain glint under the morning light. Minghao is attractive—you and the millions of people in his comments know that—and you feel an odd sense of pride well up in your stomach that you’re one of the few people who get to see him like this.

With his hair messy and brushing over his eyes, legs crossed over each other as he presses his body weight against the kitchen island, bare skin glowing from the natural light, he’s beautiful.

Your face heats up when you realize you’ve just been staring at him, so you quickly clear your throat. “Good morning,” you chirp, walking into the kitchen so he can finally see you.

Minghao looks up from his phone, tucking it into the pocket of his sweatpants to greet you with a smile. “Hey, I didn’t know you were up. How’s your head doing?” he asks shyly, walking over to casually run his hand over that same spot on the crown of your head.

It’s an oddly intimate gesture, and if you didn’t know any better, your heart might have given out from the way he was touching you. Still, you know he’s just checking to see if it’s swollen, but your heart flutters anyways.

“I-it’s fine,” you reply, opening the fridge to pull out some orange juice as his hand drops. “I didn’t know you were an early riser. Jun always sleeps in whenever he gets the chance.”

“Yeah, well that’s why he’s paged as a literal cat by everyone,” Minghao says with a chuckle as you place a jug on the counter. “Do you want some tea? I’m just boiling the water now so I can add some more if you want.”

“Sure, that’ll be nice.” You pour yourself some orange juice. “Do you want to eat something? I brought some cupcakes to have for breakfast,” you offer, reaching into one of the bags you didn’t unpack to pull out a box.

“Are they those cupcakes?”

“Yup—the one and only!” you exclaim, opening the lid to show him. Minghao grins, pulling two out.

“God, I missed these. Y’know, Jun actually gave your recipe to Mingyu too, but he just doesn’t make them the same,” Minghao tells you, and your eyes light up.

“Really? Poor Mingyu,” you say with a sigh.

“If you ever end up visiting us in Korea, you should really make some,” Minghao suggests as he goes to take care of the boiling water, dropping some tea leaves into it before moving the water into a pot. Then, pulling out two small cups and plates, he says, “Me and Jun have told the others about how good you make them, but they really need to try them.”

“I’d love to,” you say with a grin, giddy with the way Minghao is boosting your ego. As he pours out the tea into two mugs, you put the cupcakes on the small plates, looking out to the glass sliding door which leads to the porch by the lake. “You want to eat outside? The sky looks really beautiful now, and the weather looks like it’s nice too.”

Minghao nods, holding up the two mugs while you grab the plates and follow him outside and onto the little shaded porch where you sit by two of the chairs and the small, knee level coffee table. The sky is still deep in its changing colors, and you pull out your phone to take some pictures.

“Can you take some pictures of me? For my WeVerse and Instagram and stuff?” he asks when you’re done, holding out his phone in your direction.

“Yeah, of course.” Leaning back after you grab his phone, you position yourself as Minghao poses. “Lean back a little more so the background can—yeah, perfect …” You take a few photos, and Minghao nods happily when you show him.

“Can you take some more candid ones?”

“Sure, let’s switch spots. I think it’ll look nicer if it looks like you’re looking out to the lake from here,” you suggest, getting up from your seat. Minghao complies without protest and you spend a few more minutes taking some pictures before finally handing him the phone. “You like them?”

“Hell yeah I do,” he says, looking through his phone. “You’re great at this,” he compliments sincerely.

“I’m used to taking the kinda pictures you guys like now … Jun has trained me well,” you joke, sitting back in the seat and reaching for your own cup of tea. It’s quiet for a few moments as you both relax and watch the sky grow brighter by the minute.

Jun wakes up an hour later, trudging out his room with groggy eyes as you poke fun of him. The morning is slow for a short while after that before Minghao is reminding you all that you need to start heading back home. The two of them are leaving for Korea in two days, after all, and that leaves them with only today and tomorrow to completely bask in themselves and the rest of their family, so you pack your things and end your stay at the cabin before the clock hits noon.

That night, after you drive yourself and Jun home and you retreat to the comfort of your apartment, you flop down onto your couch and pull out your phone. You’re met with a few notifications from WeVerse and Instagram, casually scrolling through the apps when your eyes catch a few familiar pictures.

It’s on Instagram and you recognize the bright orange of the rising sky that sits behind Minghao who is smiling into the camera. The next picture is a candid one of him looking at the lake while he drinks some tea, and the third is a picture of the cupcake you made.

You grin at the picture—the rest of the world won’t know it, but you definitely do—it’s a little piece of you that Minghao is sharing with the world. Though, you aren’t sure if he put as much thought into it as you are right now.

Brushing it off as Minghao just wanting to share a pretty picture of a nice looking cupcake, you purse your lips together only for them to be parted when you read his caption.

i’m a weirdo

Scrolling through the comments, you come across people saying, many among the following:

ur not a weirdo >:c fellow radiohead fanatic i see is the8 a certified creep? o: i didn’t know minghao liked radiohead … another reason to stan!

As you ignore the increased palpitating of your heart at the idea that Minghao quoted a line from, in your opinion, “your guys’ song.” you sit and think for a moment about what to do. You consider just liking the post and scrolling past it before a funny thought crosses your mind, and so you start typing into the comments.

i wonder who took these pics lol

No one’s going to see it. Minghao is definitely not going to see it, but you giggle to yourself anyways. You’re about to put your phone down when you get a notification of a reply to your comment. Curious, you open it up, and see that it’s just a random person.

imagine it’s his gf

You laugh to yourself. You wish.

The last day or two with Jun goes as they always do when he’s here—slow, but all that you need. He spends his time at your parents house and you stop by for lunch and dinner the day after you both return from the lake house.

The afternoon, you both went down to the cafe and stocked up on chocolate buns—Jun’s request—and spent the rest of your time until evening going over your plans for the rest of the summer. You enjoy this part, always. Not Jun leaving—of course not—but spending these tame moments with him.

It makes you wonder what things would have been like if he never left. Maybe he’d move out for university someplace else, but you’d get to see him more, probably. Get to hang out with him every weekend, instead of every two months.

You shake yourself off the thought as you drive to your parents house. Having Jun around more often would be nice, but there isn’t any point in dreaming about the impossible.

As you pull up to the driveway and park your car, you notice Minghao standing out by the front door with his suitcase and a bag. “Hey, looking for Jun?”

“Well, yeah. Of course I wanna say bye to you both before you go … is the van here yet?”

“Nah, it’s still taking some time but Jun is on the other side of the house to see if the car is gonna come from that side,” he explains.

“I’m gonna miss you guys … you know when you’re both going to come next?” you ask, voice softer than you anticipated.

“I really don’t know—I’m sorry. You know how things are.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, shoulders deflating as you look down at the ground..

“I know—it’s not … it's not easy for Jun, either, I can tell. It isn’t easy for any of us to leave.” When Minghao finishes speaking you only nod, and as your eyes meet,you feel like there’s something he wants to say. “Hey,” he murmurs quietly.

A heavy hand is placed on your shoulder, and you feel you might as well sink to the ground and let the earth swallow you up. “If you’re going to talk about—”

“Hear me out, yeah?” Minghao cuts you off, and when you open your mouth in protest, he continues. “Don’t …” he inhales deeply before saying, “Don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way, okay?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “That really depends on what you’re going to say.”

“Okay, just … just listen. Jun, and me, and Yiren, and Renjun—” God, why is he bringing this up? “—we aren’t trying to hurt you.”

“Of course I know that.” Your eyebrows knit together and Minghao sighs at your reaction, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. You miss the touch, but your mind is a little too preoccupied with trying to decipher Minghao’s words to dwell on it.

“I’m just saying … you shouldn’t try to depend on anyone.” You open your mouth and then close it, trying to figure out how the hell he expects you to respond to this.

“What d’you mean?”

“Well I mean,” he huffs before continuing, shoving his hands in his pockets, “you obviously have been … upset about people leaving you and you can’t expect everyone to stick around forever.”

“If you’re talking about Renjun, he was my boyfriend. I think it’s okay for me to expect someone who I’m dating to ‘stick around,’ even though it might not be forever.”

“I guess, but it’s not just Renjun, right? Jun … Yiren … me …” he voice trails off.

“I basically spent my whole middle and high school years around you and Yiren, and Jun is literally my brother. Do you think me wanting the people I quite literally grew up around to be here for me is being ‘dependant?’”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I mean we were all going to grow up eventually? Look, don’t take this the wrong way and—”

“Excuse me?” you blurt out harshly, taking a step back, scoffing before you continue. “I wouldn’t be taking this the wrong way if you obviously didn’t mean it the wrong way. You basically just said I’m not independent.”

Minghao frowns at your reaction before responding, “I didn’t say that. I just said you shouldn’t depend on anyone.”

“Which implies that I am depending on people unnecessarily!”

Minghao adjusts his backpack straps as he says, “I mean you did cry for quite a while about how people are leaving you. I just don’t want you to get more hurt by being dependent on others.”

“Thanks for the concern,” you shoot sarcastically, “but I’m not dependent on anyone. I was upset that night because all the people closest to me have moved away and if you ask any normal person, I’m pretty sure they’d agree that that’s a valid reason to cry a little. So sorry if that was too much for you.” You say the last part with disgust laced on your tongue, and you watch Minghao’s face grow increasingly sour as you go on.

“Okay, now you’re just twisting my words,” Minghao huffs, glancing around to make sure that no one is close by.

“What the hell Minghao,” you scoff, clenching your fists at your side. You don’t want to be the person to jump down his throat, but you can’t help but feel like you’re being talked down to. “Why—why are you acting like I’m still a little kid. I’m more than Jun’s little sister, you do know that right?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Minghao retorts, eyebrows rising in a mix of disbelief and irritation. “You think that’s what this is about? For fuck’s sake I’m just looking out for you.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim, pointing an accusing finger at him. “There’s no reason for that! Like I said, I’m not some little girl anymore and I’ve been looking out for myself for years. You just happened to catch me in a moment where I let myself be sad about it which, again, is a totally valid thing to be sad about.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Well congratulations! You were unsuccessful,” you mumble out, feeling an ugly knot build up in your throat. “I trusted you,” you say softly, and Minghao looks at you with eyes so apologetic you almost think about forgiving him. “That night after I saw Renjun—I-I trusted you,” you add more harshly this time. “And I cried to you even though we haven’t properly spoken in fuck knows how long and you take all that and make me out to seem like some sort of defenseless kid—”

“Can you stop—you’re putting words into my mouth. I never said you were defenseless or not independent or anything like that—I don’t even know why you think I would think of you like that because you know that’s not true.”

“Minghao, I don’t know if you’ve realized but it’s been years since we've talked properly. Just because—” You take a deep breath before continuing your bitter words. “—just because you get to live your stupidly amazing life with my brother by your side doesn’t mean that you know me and that I know you, because clearly we don’t know each other at all!”

“I’m sorry?” he says exasperatedly. “Sorry I care about you or whatever, even though things have changed.”

You scowl, and in your right mind you wouldn’t let your next words slip out of your mouth. “Well don’t. I’ve been fine without your sympathy so far, I’m pretty sure I can go on a bit longer.”

Minghao is about to respond, you can tell from the way his hands fiddle at his sides, but then there’s a buzzing and you reach into your pocket to pull out your phone. “Hey Jun,” you say, answering the call without meeting Minghao’s gaze. “… Yeah, he’s with me, we’re just waiting for the car … okay I’ll tell him.”

Tucking the device back into your pocket, you look at Minghao. “Jun is asking for you on the other side of the house. You should go,” you say flatly and you can tell from the look on his face that he wants to say more, but holds back.

Grabbing his suitcase, he tears his eyes from you and doesn’t look back after saying, “See you,” walking away and around the corner of the street. There’s that similar chill that takes over your body when Minghao says the same words Renjun said just a few nights before, and you silently wonder if this is history repeating itself.

“So,” Yiren says as she plops down onto your couch, kicking her feet up onto your coffee table. “How’d meeting with Renjun go? He give you your shit back?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” you grumble as you walk over and nudge her legs to get her to put them down. “And you can’t just flop down and sit! Put your suitcase away so it’s not in the middle of the room,” you order, trying to be stern as Yiren sticks her tongue out at you.

“So bossy—your best friend is visiting your cute little abode and you can’t help her out with her stuff?” Yiren juts out her bottom lip into a pout as you sit next to her and wrap your arms around her waist, sinking into the couch. “Okay what’s going on. You’re being extra snappish …” she asks a bit more seriously, pulling away from your hold to get a better look at you. “Was it Renjun? Did he say something before he left?”

“No!” you say quickly, looking away bashfully, leaning back against the arm rest. You fucking wish you were in this sour mood because of Renjun because you could manage that. Renjun is gone, and it would hurt but you’d get over it.

You aren’t sure how long it’ll take to get over Minghao, if you ever do at all.

“Are you lying to me? You know I can tell when you’re not telling the truth.”

“I am telling the truth.” Just not all of it, you think to yourself.

Yiren sighs loudly, sitting up straight and facing you completely. “You are so bad at this. C’mon tell me—what’d he say? Or was it not Renjun—Jun? Which Jun was it? Did you and Jun fight?”

“I—”

“Like that one time two years ago and you didn’t talk to each other until he came back a month later and—”

You cringe at the memory, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Yiren don’t bring that up. I hated that.”

“Okay sorry,” she says sheepishly. “But seriously—what was it? Renjun? Jun? Which one? Or wait—Min—oh my gosh, don’t tell me it was Minghao!” When you take more than a second to respond, Yiren gasps. “Oh god, it was Minghao.”

She stands up quickly, looking down at your figure on the couch. Before you can say anything, she turns on her heel and walks towards your kitchen. “Hey, where are you going!” you call out to her, sitting upright.

Yiren doesn’t respond, only reaching into the fridge and pulling out two cans of pop. Walking back, she sits down in front of you and hands you a Cola, opening her own Sprite herself. “C’mon, you need to tell me about this. The pop is just here for emotional support.”

You narrow your eyes at her. You thought you were dealing with the effects of your argument with Minghao perfectly fine, but as you look down at the cold can in front of you, an uneasy feeling bubbles up in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you set the can down on your coffee table, leaving it unopened.

Yiren gapes at you with wide eyes. “You’re not going to have it?” Neck hanging low, you shake your head, and you hear her gasp quietly. “Oh my gosh, you just turned down a Cola,” she mutters, grabbing a pillow and pushing it in your direction. “Okay now you need to tell me what’s going on.” She pauses, shuffling closer, adding softly, “It’s okay, you can cry.”

And just like that, the dam breaks and stray tears fall from your lashes as you clutch the pillow close to your chest, blubbering your mind away to your best friend.

“I don’t even get it—I thought I was over him?” you question aloud. “Like when I was with Renjun I was happy and I didn’t think about Minghao because Renjun was great and he was so nice but he just—” you choke back a sob and Yiren pats your back.

“But he left,” she murmurs softly and you want to cry harder because Yiren left too, but then you remind yourself of what Minghao said. Taking a deep breath, your wipe your face of your tears and although your lips still quiver, you start to speak.

“It’s okay,” you mutter, because it isn't like you haven’t cried over this before. “I just—I guess I haven’t really tried hard enough.”

“Tried to … what exactly?”

You huff, throwing your back onto the couch as you look up at the ceiling. “You know: get over him.”

Yiren chuckles a little, and even through your sniffles, you laugh with her. “What are you saying—you gonna fuck around now?”

“Maybe not fuck around,” you say, crossing your legs. “More like … have some fun.”

“So basically fuck around.”

“Yiren!”

“Oh c’mon—you need me to set you up with someone? My sister knows a lot of—”

You nudge her playfully. “What happened to ‘Ms. I Want Half of the Proceeds from your Wedding with Minghao?’”

“First of all,” Yiren waves a finger at you pointedly, “I only asked for 25%, but if you two can come back from this, I will be asking for at least 50% because I have been rooting for you two since day one.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s trying to set me up with other guys?”

“That’s only because you come first to me. Your relationship with Minghao—”

“The nonexistent one,” you correct and Yiren glares at you.

“Okay fine. Your nonexistent relationship with Minghao comes second. I want to see you happy. If you get to be happy with Minghao that’s just an added plus because, you know, 50% of all the gifts and—”

“You’re getting 25% max.”

“Don’t worry. There’s still time for plenty of negotiation and—”

“Yiren!”

You don’t live up to Yiren’s expectations—in her words, she wanted you to have a hot girl summer, but you couldn’t be bothered to go through with it. Well, sort of.

The next two months go along as your summers usually do. You take up a job near your apartment, working through the morning and afternoon, spending your evenings at home or occasionally out with Jianing.

Jianing doesn’t know much about anything when it comes to your (nonexistent) relationship with Minghao, and you figure she doesn’t need to. When you need a distraction, all it takes is a quick message asking her to accompany you for whatever endeavors you have going on for the night and she’s on board.

It’s a slow summer, but you don’t really mind. Not burdened with the stress of your classes and with Jun and Minghao gone for the next two months for their own performances and promotions, you have time to focus on yourself.

Occasional parties, indulging in hobbies, daily walks in the mornings, late nights of binge watching TV shows, outings with Jianing—it’s all a part of a simple routine that you’ve curated to do one thing, and one thing only: relax.

It’s only near the end of the summer, around three weeks before your classes are set to resume, that Jun calls you to let you know he’s coming home with Minghao. He seems pretty casual about it, and you’re reminded about how Minghao probably didn’t mention anything about your argument to your brother, which you’re thankful for.

It’s a passing thought that you’ll have to figure out how you want to act when you finally face him again. Whatever. That’s a problem for another time. Right now, you relax.

That problem for another time seems to have become a problem for now. Jun came home two days ago and things were alright—no run-ins to Minghao and you spend time with your brother like you usually do whenever he returns: with bickering and meals.

It’s only on the third day that things become a little … a little iffy. Your brother texts you in the evening to get ready quickly because he’s stopping by with Minghao for dinner at his place, and it’s all happening so quickly that you don’t have time to come up with an excuse.

So here you are, throwing on your sacred pink jacket because it’s the first thing in your vision, some old jeans, and waiting outside your apartment building much less enthusiastically than you’d like. It’s only a matter of minutes before your phone buzzes with a text from Jun letting you know he’s here and you see Minghao’s car pulling up in front of you.

Making your way to the back door where you usually sit with the two of them, you furrow your brows seeing Jun sitting in your usual spot.

“Sit in the front,” Jun orders when you go to open the back door, “I wanna lay down.” You shrug, making your way to the passenger seat as Jun settles into the back, resting his head on the window while kicking his legs up onto the other two seats.

“Hi,” you say quietly to Minghao who nods and speaks his own quick greeting, averting his attention to the wheel in front of him without much more than that.

“Please,” he huffs, watching Jun through the rear view mirror, “don’t put your shoes on the seats. I just had the car cleaned.” Jun clicks his tongue and kicks his shoes off, continuing to lay back in the seat as Minghao starts the car. The ride is silent as he drives toward the restaurant, both you and Jun on your phones while Minghao has his eyes trained on the road.

Once he parks in front of the place, you watch from the corner of your vision to see Minghao unbuckling his seatbelt before your brother speaks up.

“You guys can wait here, I’m gonna grab the food,” Jun says, slipping in his shoes and making his way to the restaurant, leaving you and Minghao in thickening silence. His hands are resting on his thighs and you press your head on the window, looking out as you try to focus on anything but this.

“Uh,” Minghao clears his throat, and you silently brace yourself for what he might say. “Nice jacket.”

Oh.

Glancing down at what you’re wearing, you twiddle with the hem of the familiar pink jacket. You wonder if this is Minghao’s way of holding out a figurative olive branch, and then you think harder about if you’re willing to accept it. “Thanks,” you reply, matting a hand over your hair before turning your attention to Jun who’s walking towards your car now.

Slipping into the back seat, he shakes the plastic bag in the air as he buckles himself in. “Takeout secured. Let’s go back to your place now,” Jun says, tapping on Minghao’s shoulder from behind. There’s an odd tension in the air, and you don’t doubt that Jun feels it, although he keeps his mouth shut about it.

No one says a word until Minghao is parking in his driveway and unlocking the front door. You follow behind the two of them, Jun grabbing the food as you enter Minghao’s house.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jun asks, putting the takeout bag on the coffee table of the living room as you all begin to settle down.

You shrug off your coat as you say, “Uh, I have to go back to my place and go out for the afternoon and evening with Jianing. Me and her have this little monthly date day thing, and we’re going to the city.”

“Wha-a-a-t,” Jun drawls out, a frown etched onto his face. You narrow your eyes at him, shrugging.

“What? It’s not like you’re leaving right after tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but I’m not here for long. I wanted to do something tomorrow, since I might be doing stuff after that!” Jun whines, pointing at Minghao. “We might be going to this cool store and take some pictures and stuff.”

You huff, slightly annoyed as you flop down on a couch. “Okay well can’t you do that tomorrow then? I already have plans.”

Jun pouts, and if he wasn’t so on your nerves right now, you would poke some fun at him. “Why-y-y? You knew I was coming this week!”

“Well it’s not like I can clear my schedule for you. If you wanted to do something you should’ve told me earlier!”

“I let you know last week I was coming down!”

“Jun,” you say with a half laugh, noticing the way Minghao’s eyes have been flickering back and forth between you two through the whole conversation, “one week is not enough time to change some plans. I’ve been meeting with Jianing consistently at this time of month for over a year!”

“But still—”

“It’s not like if I showed up to Korea whenever the time’s convenient for me, you’d drop everything you’re doing to spend time with me!” you exclaim.

Jun’s fists ball at his side before he says, “That’s because my job is important and—”

“The stuff I do in my life might not seem important to you but it is very much important to me. Sorry I’ve made commitments to other people before I even knew you were coming, but I don’t know why you’d expect me to drop all my plans just for you. It’s not even like we aren’t going to see each other afterwards too.”

“Well I’d only hope that’s the case—I only ever see you once every few months so sorry for wanting to take some of your time.”

“Guys—” Minghao starts to say, standing between the two of you but when both you and Jun glare at him, he steps back.

“Do you think your time is worth more than mine or something?” you scoff at Jun, ignoring Minghao.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sorry, what exactly did you mean it like then?” you hiss.

Jun sucks in a breath between clenched teeth and runs a hand through his hair. “You know what I meant. Things are just—they’re different. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right yeah. I won’t understand because I don’t have all these girls throwing themselves at me, making me think I’m entitled to everyone’s damn time.” Maybe you crossed a line with that one, but you’re too angry to care now. Hot tears well up in your lash line, threatening to fall any moment now.

“You were the one who was being a brat when you found out I was going to go to Korea in the first place!” Jun exclaims. “Fucking hell, why are you making such a big deal out of me wanting to spend some time with you now?”

Your face screws up into some kind of ugly frown at the words, and you clench your fists as your side. “A brat?” you repeat. “A brat? Is that seriously what you think of me?

“Well you did make a pretty damn big scene about me leaving, so yeah, maybe I do feel entitled to some of your time seeing that you were the one who was desperate for it in the first place.”

“Desperate? Are you kidding me—desperate? I was sixteen and you dumped the fact that you were moving away in like less than two months on me —of course I was upset but desperate? Well fuck you too I guess.” You punctuate the last word by turning on your heel, grabbing your coat off and marching past Minghao and over to the door.

You don’t hear Jun say anything after you do, and for that you are grateful because you don’t think you’ll be able to handle hearing his voice again. Walking out the foyer past the door, you stomp your way to your car, forcefully yanking the driver’s seat open and plopping yourself down with a heavy thud.

Without a word, you press your forehead against the steering and scream a loud and painful, “FUCK!” You can’t even remember a damn thing you or Jun said but all that throttles in your head is the word brat and you feel you might just pull the steering wheel off your stupid car and tear just about everything else apart too.

The prospect is pretty tempting, actually, and in your red, you continue to hit your head, albeit gently, against the wheel as you mutter incoherent curses to yourself. The thud of your skull against the smooth letter rings in your ears until it becomes all that you can hear, so loud that it almost drowns out the knocking sound that comes from outside.

“Holy shit!” you gasp, when you see Minghao from the corner of your vision, standing outside your car with his lips pressed into the thin line. Rolling down your windows, you grimace. “You fucking scared me so bad. Please never creep up on me like that again.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t fucking storm out like that again then,” Minghao says, and your eyes widen slightly when you hear his voice. It’s harder, firmer, more serious than you’ve ever heard before.

“What are you—”

“You can’t drive when it’s night and you’re sobbing—”

“I am not sobbing,” you fruitlessly choke out, wiping some tears off your cheek as you straighten your back and glare at him.

“Look I get you’re mad at Jun and all but can you please calm down and talk to me so—”

You let out a humorless laugh as you begin to roll your windows back up. “Don’t even get me started on you.”

Minghao clicks his tongue as he sticks a hand into your window to stop it from going up any further, looking sideways for a second before turning back to you. “Okay well I don’t want you to drive yourself home like this. It’s not safe.”

“I am not staying here tonight.”

“Then let me drive you home,” Minghao suggests and you open up to object but no words come out. “You agree? C’mon, step out.” You let out nothing more than a huff as you open the door, slipping out quickly and shuffling to the other side where you sit with your arms crossed over your chest, bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

Minghao has already taken your spot, hands on the same steering wheel that you were planning on smashing with your head just minutes ago. He’s quiet for a few moments as he backs out of the driveway and starts driving down the street, the car echoing nothing but your soft sniffles that haven’t seemed to stop.

When Minghao opens his mouth again, you’re bracing yourself for a round of chiding, but all that comes out is a one-word question. “Pop?” He takes your silence as a confirmation, and soon enough Minghao is pulling up to that same convenience store. “Do you want me to get it for you?” he asks after he’s parked in front of the convenience store.

You purse your lips together, finally letting yourself turn to look at him. You really want to be mad at him but when you catch the way his fingers are shoved into his pockets, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he awaits your answer, you start to realize that Minghao might be just as apprehensive about this as you are.

“It’s fine,” you mutter, unbuckling your seatbelt so you can get out, Minghao following you quickly.

You’re the first to walk in this time, grabbing a Cola for yourself before looking at Minghao with a raised brow. When he nods, you toss him another can and he makes his way to the cash register. He’s about to pull out his wallet when you’re brushing past him and getting there first, holding up your card to the machine proudly.

“Just because I don’t want to be in any more debt to you,” you murmur, handing Minghao a can after you’ve paid for them both. You lead the way, walking out of the door and slotting yourself into the passenger seat of your car and Minghao gets into the seat next to you, turning on the engine.

You’re still quiet when he starts driving towards your apartment building, and you think that this is the perfect chance for you to drown in the silence. Maybe if you pretend you’re alone, you’ll be able to forget about all the thoughts running through your mind.

Pressing your eyes shut, you slump down into your seat and just as you’re about to let your mind drift into the silence, you hear a familiar rattle of the snare and guitar bridge and your eyes snap open, staring at Minghao directly. He faces forward, eyes trained on the road as he pulls closer to the curb in front of your complex, sighing deeply when the car starts to slow down.

“What are you trying to do Minghao?” you finally say weakly, burying your face in your hands. “You—you’re playing Creep and you took me to get Cola and all you were supposed to do was take me home so—”

“Can I not try to make you feel better? I don’t want you to be upset, so I’m sorry if I’m trying to do the things I know you enjoy,” Minghao responds with a heavy breath, parking in front of your building just like that night he did when he picked you up from the bus stop after you met with Renjun.

The deep strumming of guitar and vibrations of the bass bounce off the walls of your car, and you slip into your seat as the words of the song sink in.‘What the hell am I doing here?’ Glancing up at Minghao, your vision grows blurry. “Minghao …” your voice is quiet and strained when you call for him, and in that moment, you know.

All those years ago when you wanted to kiss him and hold him and pull him close, but you didn’t because you were scared. When you wanted to let your tongues collide and tug at his hair, but you didn’t because you had so much to lose.

You still have so much to lose, but you’re not scared anymore.

And it seems Minghao isn’t either.

Tonight, you get to taste the lingering drops of Cola on his tongue. You get to feel his arms fumbling over the armrest, slipping around your waist and yanking you onto his lap. You get to hold his neck and let your fingers sit in his hair. You get to indulge.

Minghao’s mouth is hot against yours, tongue lapping at your bottom lip when you take a sacred moment to breathe on top of him before your eyes are fluttering back shut and your lips mold into one once again. He hugs you so close you don’t know how you can still breathe, don’t know how your bones don’t melt into each other in this burning moment.

Your lips work fervently to slide against each other in a wet, calculated mess that has you whimpering into Minghao’s mouth when one of his hands cups your jaw. His thumb is soft against your cheekbone when he tilts your head to the side so that your noses brush against either and his lips delve deeper into the caverns of your mouth.

You don’t know how long you two go at it, fingers grappling at whatever skin you can, Minghao’s hand brushing under your shirt and stroking the plush of your hips. And when you feel like you can’t breathe anymore because your heart is so full, you pull away, letting the thin string of saliva connect your shiny lips.

Your brain is foggy and you and Minghao simply sit in the comfortable silence. Well, almost comfortable silence.

You shouldn’t try to depend on anyone.

“W-wait,” you stutter when Minghao leans forward in hopes to catch your lips in another fleeting kiss. “Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, pushing his shoulders back against the seat as you try to shuffle off his lap.

Minghao holds your waist tightly, but you break free of the grasp. “What are you doi—hey, wait a sec!”

“You said you’re trying to make me feel better but you just did exactly the opposite,” you scoff, slipping on your coat as you push the car door open.

“What are you talking abo—” You cut him off by slamming the door, and Minghao quickly grabs your keys and follows after you. “Slow down.”

You whip around to face him, tears streaming down your face for what feels nth time tonight. “Look, you left like two months ago spewing all this stuff about how I should be independent but the second you come back you act like you’re trying so hard to make me feel better and stuff and then—” You take a deep breath, “—then we makeout and you—fuck I don’t know, I don’t know what you expect from me! Do you just expect me to forget about this and not get upset when you leave again?” you choke out. “Just keep my keys and drive yourself back to your place. I’ll pick up my car later,” you mutter.

“Can you stop doing this? It’s just like what happened last time, and I don’t want to have to leave if you’re—if we’re not okay.”

“What ‘we?’ Weren’t you the one who told me to not expect anyone to stay? I’m not going to do this ‘we’ and ‘us’ thing with someone who is just going to leave all over again. I’m not going to expect you to stay.”

“Look, I just don’t want this to be hanging over your head when I’m gone.”

Ironic, you think to yourself. You want to tell Minghao that he’s been hanging over your head ever since you met him all those years ago, but you bite back the words.

“Minghao,” you say, your voice strained and tired, “I’m already exhausted and my brain isn’t working so can you please just give me my space.”

And if Minghao is one thing, it’s not pushy, and you know that this is all it takes to get him to back off. Though, you don’t miss the way his face falls as he steps back quietly.

“See you,” he mutters through gritted teeth as he turns on his heel, and you can’t tell if you’re relieved or bothered by the way he leaves so silently.

You don’t see Minghao or Jun after that night. They’rewere supposed to leave for Korea in the next four days, and so you spend those four days lodged up in your apartment, not leaving unless absolutely necessary—you’re scared that you might run into one of them, as pathetic as that sounds.

Jun doesn’t text you and you don’t text him. It’s a bit abnormal, you two communicate at least once every two days, if not more. It’s a bit of an unspoken rule, but now that you’re both hot-headed and very much not in the right mind, you figure some rules are meant to be broken.

It’s two days after Jun and Minghao were scheduled to leave, the only confirmation that you got that they actually did leave being the group picture at the airport your father sent to the family group chat.

Jianing comes to your apartment when you finally call her over, quickly picking up on your sullen state.

“I don’t get it,” she says with a shrug after you explain to her everything that happened between you and Jun and Minghao.

“Well yeah, I guess you don’t, but this has been going on for a while,” you reply begrudgingly, sinking into your couch as she stares at you blankly from your armchair.

“Just—I dunno—talk to them?”

You give her a funny look. “How?” you groan, throwing your head back. “They won’t be back for like a month at least, and I don’t want to call them.”

“I forget they’re famous sometimes” Jianing mutters, rolling her eyes, and you laugh at the comment.

“You and me both,” you say, straightening your back.

“But still, I don’t get it. I mean just visit them?” she suggests casually.

“I can’t just fly up to Korea unannounced!” you exclaim, bewildered.

Jianing rolls her eyes at you and you frown. “Why not? I mean you just said this might go on for a while if you don’t talk to them so I don’t get it. Just go see them.”

YOURS TRULY

you: chan i need ur help [8:13 AM] chan: this is ur first time texting me in three months [8:15 AM] chan: so i am going to assume this is pretty important [8:15 AM] you: i’m at incheon airport [8:16 AM] chan: what [8:17 AM] you: what [8:17 AM] chan: jun didn’t say anything about u coming??! [8:19 AM] you: DON’T TELL HIM [8:19 AM] chan: what … [8:20 AM] you: i’m surprising him [8:20 AM] chan: ????? [8:21 AM] chan: who knows [8:21 AM] you: um you do [8:21 AM] chan: thank u [8:22 AM] chan: so what do u need [8:22 AM] you: can u pick me up [8:23 AM] chan: i don’t have a choice do i [8:24 AM] you: nope :3 [8:24 AM]

When black SUV stops in front of you by the curb at the airport, you smile brightly, waving at the driver as the windows begin to roll down. You’re about to chirp a quick, “Hi Chan!” but the words get caught in your throat when you see who’s driving.

“Jeonghan?” you ask confusedly. He waves at you from the front seat, and Chan sticks his head in from the back to look at you through the window.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaims, opening the door to help you pull in your suitcase and get situated into the back seat. “Look, I tried to leave without anyone noticing but they saw me so I told them I was going to the gym, but he said he wanted to come and —” Chan glares at the man in the passenger seat, “— I don’t even know why since he hasn’t gone to the gym in ages—”

“Watch it Chan!” Jeonghan calls out from the front as the cat starts to move, pulling an eye roll out of the boy sitting next to you.

“Whatever. Basically, I had no choice but to bring him along and tell them I was actually picking you up.”

“You guys didn’t tell Jun, did you?” you ask worriedly.

“I—no,” Jeonghan says. “And even if we tried, he won’t be awake for another hour or whatever. That’s besides the point anyways—Chan is terrible at lying.”

“You caught me off guard! I wasn’t expecting to see anyone this morning, so I didn’t have any excuses prepared …” Chan huffs, sinking into his seat as you glance back and forth between them nervously.

“Thank you for trying anyways,” you say sincerely, adjusting in your seat. “I know this was all really sudden but I didn’t plan anything out and I kinda ended up here before I could even process anything,” you add.

“Hey, Minghao was telling us about these really good cupcakes you make—if you have time, can you bake them for us?” Chan asks, out of the blue.

You give him a funny look and then smile. “Sure, if I have the time. I’d like to—they told me Mingyu tries to make them for you guys.”

“Yeah! That would—”

“Thank you, but I’m going to assume that you are here for a reason other than making us your infamous cupcakes,” Jeonghan says, merging onto the freeway.

“As much as I’d love for that to be why I’m here, you’re right,” you mutter, resting your head against the headrest.

“Is everything alright?” Jeonghan asks.

As you’re about to respond, Chan chimes in. “This is about Jun, isn’t it?”

“Ai—Channie, don’t jump to conclusions,” Jeonghan reprimands but Chan shakes his head, holding his hand up as he turns to you with wide eyes.

“No, no, I’m not assuming anything. I’m right, aren’t I?” Partly. Chan continues. “Well it’s just—I can kinda tell. He’s being a little snappier. Jeonghan wouldn’t know but—“

Jeonghan gives Chan a warning look through the rear view mirror. “What do you mean I wouldn’t know?”

“Hannie, just listen to me. So me and Soonyoung and Minghao and Jun have been practicing at night right—for that next performance—and you know that Jun has a bit of a temper, especially in the night, but I don’t know—it’s just been different recently.”

You stifle a scoff when Chan mentions Jun having a short temper, looking out the window hoping no one heard. Jun does have a bit of a fiery streak, but the truth is that you’re just as sporadic as him.

Fire meets fire. Huh, wonder what that makes. More fire, probably. That’s what got you here, isn’t it? Unfortunately.

“Has, uh,” you pause wondering if you should ask this, but curiosity does kill the cat, after all. “Has Minghao seemed … off?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at you. “What’s Minghao got to do with this? Did something happen with him too?” Curse that emotionally intelligent man.

Chan eyes flicker between the ground and you. “It’s hard to tell when Minghao is upset. He seems normal even when he’s upset so I can’t really tell … why though?”

“Just—just a lot of stuff. I think I need to see them both. Separately.”

Jeonghan nods, pursing his lips together before responding, “Do you need our help?”

Jeonghan takes you to his apartment first so you have a moment to drop your suitcase off somewhere, and you get to say hi to Seungkwan who you’re pretty sure didn’t even recognize you in his drowsy state.

“Where’re we going?” you ask when you get back outside of the building heading towards the car.

“C’mon, let’s walk,” Chan says, pulling you away from the car.

“Jun’s apartment building is just down the street here,” Jeonghan explains. “He should be sleeping right now, so just wake him up.”

“Are you kidding me? He might kill me!” you complain with a frown.

Chan huffs, “Well you did come here unannounced and without a plan, so you don’t have much of a choice anyways.”

You chew on your lip as you fruitlessly try to come up with an answer, sighing in defeat when you come up with nothing.

“Exactly,” Jeonghan concludes, stopping in front of a building that’s built similar to his. “Anyways, his suite number is 345 on the third floor. You should know the code to his apartment right?”

You nod, but then shake your head. “I know it, but I think I’ll just knock until he wakes up. He might actually kill me if someone shows up inside his home unannounced.”

Chan laughs at that when the two of you lead you to the elevator of this new building. “That, he might.”

“So encouraging,” you mutter, sticking your tongue out at them as the elevator door opens. “Anyways, thank you for helping me, really. I’ll make cupcakes if I make it out of this alive,” you promise while you step in.

“You better!” Jeonghan calls out as the doors slide shut and the elevator begins to take you up.

It’s now, when you’re alone, that it all begins to sink in. You’re in Korea. You’re about to see Jun. You might die—okay maybe you’re being a little dramatic, but you aren’t sure what to do with yourself so your mind is jumping towards the worst possible scenario as you reach the third floor and make your way to his apartment.

You stand in front of room 345 for a few moments once you arrive, not even sure if you’ll manage to go through with this. What the fuck are you even going to say?

(Un?)fortunately, you have a tendency to not think before you act, and before you have a second of thought your knuckles are rapping against the door. It’s silent for a moment and you wonder if you should go again.

Taking a deep breath, you continue knocking on the door at a steady rate before you hear soft footsteps growing louder in volume until they stop at the door. You hold your breath and let your hand fall, fisting it at your sides in anticipation.

When you see the door crack open, a wave of relief washes over you. But when you see Jun’s blank face as he looks down on you, a new sense of uneasiness takes over.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” Ah, how nostalgic.

“So cold. You aren’t going to let me in?”

Jun rolls his eyes, and you grow more anxious because you can’t tell if he’s being playful or not. He steps to the side though, and you quickly slip through the door so he can close and lock it behind you.

“What are you doing here?” he reiterates and you feel your tongue go dry.

“Uh, Chan told me that you’re being—well—how do I put this?” you mutter to yourself, rocking back and forth on your feet.

“Difficult?” Jun guesses, bitterness laced in the word and you cringe at the tone.

“I guess.”

“I don’t think you came all the way to Korea just because Chan told you I was being difficult.”

“I, uh, I talked to Jianing about it when she visited and … I guess I felt I should come see you.”

“So if Jianing didn’t talk to you about this, then you just wouldn’t have talked about it?” Jun asks harshly and you glare at him.

“Well it’s not like you would’ve come talk to me about it either,” you retort, and Jun goes quiet at them. “And Jianing didn’t make this decision for me, by the way, I made it all by myself.”

“Okay well you’re here now. What is it?” An uncomfortable silence sits between you two. “If you only came here to just stand there and stare off into space then—”

“Jun, please shut your mouth for like one minute,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I-I wanted to apologize. That night I … I was on edge.” Jun watches you intently as you finally meet his gaze. “There was a lot running through my mind and I was just—just fucking annoyed at everything and I took everything you said the worst way.”

A feeling of worry climbs up your throat—you and Jun don’t often apologize, at least not like this. Apologies usually come in the form of figurative olive trees—you buy him a LEGO set, he buys you a gift card to your favorite cafe, or something among that. Then again, this isn’t your usual argument with Jun, and maybe sometimes resorting to more traditional methods are most effective.

Jun sighs softly, not looking at you, and you grow worried that he’s even more angry than you anticipated. You brace yourself for his next possible words. “I … I did say some mean stuff too. I’m sorry—I just—I have a shitty temper. You know that. Chan probably told you that too.” Jun is silent for a second before continuing. “Is … is everything okay?”

The question isn’t quite what you’re expecting and you press your lips together tightly because you want to cry. You want to let the tears stream down your cheeks and tell Jun that you have no idea but also the perfect idea of what you’re doing and it’s all jumbled up mess in your head.

“I guess—I mean, I hate fighting with you,” you admit. “But, that’s why I came here and we didn’t say goodbye the last time and I know that was partly my fault but also I missed you.”

“But are you okay?”

“Jun—”

“Because I know you’re stubborn—it really is annoying sometimes but I’m not one to complain,” he adds with a huff, “and I know you’re a little weird—”

You both laugh and you point a finger at him, “Watch it—you and me both.”

“Whatever,” he says lightly before turning to a more serious tone. “But I never thought we’d fight again like that one time two years ago and—”

“Why does everyone keep bringing that up!? Yiren said that too,” you sigh.

“To make a point. Which, by the way, is me going back to asking you if everything’s okay. I just … I know that you’re a little crazy but I never thought that you’d fly over here for something that we could probably sort out over the phone. Not that I’m not glad to see you here, I mean, I am, I’m just … worried.”

“I kissed Minghao,” you blurt out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth after you do.

“What?!” Jun’s eyes go wide for a moment before he relaxes a little. “Is that what’s been up with you?”

“What do you mean ‘up with me?’”

“Moody. Cranky. Like you’re in high school again.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You chew on your lip as you try to read Jun’s expression. He doesn’t seem mad nor happy nor confused, and you’re running out of emotions to label him under.

“I knew you liked him in high school, you know. Thin walls, plus Yiren is loud as hell.”

“Ugh, I always told her to keep it down! She didn’t believe me!”

“Doesn’t matter now. What you or him do isn’t much of my business anyways,” Jun mutters, awkwardly stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodies. “I mean I guess it is, if it makes you all upset and not okay like this,” he continues.

You can tell he’s encouraging you to explain more, and you press your eyes together trying to figure what and what not you should say. “Has Minghao … has he seemed different?”

“I mean not really, but also it’s hard to tell with him because—” Your whole finger droops and Jun quickly places a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, what is this about? Did something happen? You know you can tell me.”

“It’s a lot,” you confess. “I don’t know, I-I came here to talk to the both of you but I haven’t even thought about what to say to him. I kind of booked my tickets last night.”

“Last night?!”Jun exclaims. “Are you stupid or what?”

“Maybe I am!” you murmur, slapping your palm against your forehead. Jun looks down at your pained expression and frowns.

“You’re not going to tell me what happened, are you?”

“What happened to, ‘I don’t care what you guys do it isn’t my business?’”

“Well it is my business if you’re upset! I’m the only person who’s allowed to be a bitch to you.”

“Well ditto to you too!” You follow with a sigh. “I think I just need to talk to him.”

“He’s at the gym right now. Do you want to get coffee instead?”

“Hogging me all to yourself? I know you missed me but don’t you think this is a little unfair—I’d like to at least say hi to the others first. Or maybe have some time to sleep. I kind of got here at like seven in the morning.”

“Be grateful! I’m actually looking out for you, because they’ll literally hound you, plus I want to make up for not spending time with you last time I visited.”

You grin at the words, rolling your eyes playfully. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

“When do I not pay for you?”

“Loads of times!”

“That’s because you insist on paying for yourself.”

“Irrelevant!” you exclaim triumphantly, waving a fist in the air before Jun locks his arm around your neck and traps you in a headlock. Good times.

“We have afternoon practice, then recording in the studio in the evening, but we should be done by like eight,” Jun explains, taking a picture of the coffee in front of him.

“Must you take a picture of everything?” you sigh, taking a sip of your own drink. Jun rolls his eyes, flicking your knee from under the table.

“I am a celebrity. I kinda need to keep records of everything I do.”

“Okay well I’m your sister and I kinda need you to help me talk to Minghao.”

“Just like—I dunno—find him and talk to him. Can’t be that hard.”

“You—ugh, you’re just like Jianing,” you groan. “No help!”

“Okay fine, fine. What do you want me to do? Corner him? Lock him into a closet and keep him there so you can talk to him? Force him to—”

“Junnie what the hell,” you mutter, slapping a hand to your forehead. “I think I’m just going to have to ask Jeonghan and Chan for help again because—”

“Okay no. I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”

“Have you been listening to me? Tell me when and where I can talk to him!”

“Well I already suggested the closet but you turned that down so—”

“Jun.”

“We can try the meeting room? He’s there a lot and it’s usually empty in the evenings. He responds to emails and shit there, I don’t know, so you won’t be interrupting much.”

“You sure it’ll work?”

Jun cocks an eyebrow up. “You don’t trust me?” You kick him under the table and he winces. “Okay yes, yes, it’ll work so would you stop kicking—hey! I said stop kicking!”

“We have afternoon practice, then recording in the studio in the evening, but we should be done by like eight,” Jun explains, taking a picture of the coffee in front of him.

“Must you take a picture of everything?” you sigh, taking a sip of your own drink. Jun rolls his eyes, flicking your knee from under the table.

“I am a celebrity. I kinda need to keep records of everything I do.”

“Okay well I’m your sister and I kinda need you to help me talk to Minghao.”

“Just like—I dunno—find him and talk to him. Can’t be that hard.”

“You—ugh, you’re just like Jianing,” you groan. “No help!”

“Okay fine, fine. What do you want me to do? Corner him? Lock him into a closet and keep him there so you can talk to him? Force him to—”

“Junnie what the hell,” you mutter, slapping a hand to your forehead. “I think I’m just going to have to ask Jeonghan and Chan for help again because—”

“Okay no. I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”

“Have you been listening to me? Tell me when and where I can talk to him!”

“Well I already suggested the closet but you turned that down so—”

“Jun.”

“We can try the meeting room? He’s there a lot and it’s usually empty in the evenings. He responds to emails and shit there, I don’t know, so you won’t be interrupting much.”

“You sure it’ll work?”

Jun cocks an eyebrow up. “You don’t trust me?” You kick him under the table and he winces. “Okay yes, yes, it’ll work so would you stop kicking—hey! I said stop kicking!”

You twiddle your thumbs nervously behind your back as you wait in the elevator with Jeonghan. Jun had to take care of something with one of the other members, so he sent you off with the older boy to take you to the meeting room.

“He’ll be there, don’t worry,” Jeonghan tells you as he pats your shoulder lightly. “I just checked his location and I’m positive he’s there right now.”

“Thanks,” you say with a sigh, shifting your weight from leg to leg, “but I’m more worried about what I’m going to say. I think you already know but I planned like zero percent of this.”

“It’s becoming increasingly evident, unfortunately,” Jeonghan admits when the elevator dings and the door opens onto a floor full of rooms. “You’ll figure it out, I’m sure, seeing as you’re just like Jun.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jeonghan chuckles and leads you to a door a few steps down the hallway, pointing to it. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be in there. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be down on floor three making some ramen,” he says cheerily, waving at you before retreating to elevatory before you have even a moment to protest.

So now you’re left with nothing but yourself and yet another door. This time, instead of knocking your life away, your hand is pressed against the knob as you debate whether or not you should turn it or not.

Once again, your body acts without your mind and you’re quietly opening the door and poking your head through the crack. Inside is Minghao with headphones over his ears, sitting at the end of a long table with his head crooked down as he scrolls through his lap top.

He doesn’t hear you, but you aren’t sure if it’s for the better or the worse. In some ways, you still have a chance to run, but in others, you’ll have to call out to him if you want him to notice you. Gulping, you realize that you’ve been too scared for too long and so you clear your throat.

“Minghao,” you call out.

It only takes a second for his eyes to shoot up, hands flying to his headphones to take them off as he takes in the sight of you in front of him. You’re at opposite ends of the room right now, and you nervously shut the door behind you as you finally meet his gaze.

“What are you doing here?”

“I—” You inhale sharply. “—I don’t know. I just think we both needed to talk.”

You can see him visibly gulp as he stands up, and looks away as if trying to figure out what he should do with himself.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, dread washing over you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, face burning. “I know I just showed up like this without warning and I know that’s not fair so if you don’t want to talk you know I totally get it and—” you start to blabber so fast you hardly notice him walking over and down the length of the table, “—I just really wanted to see you and talk to you but I couldn’t do it over the phone because—”

“Slow down,” Minghao says firmly, now standing in front of you as he gazes down with wide eyes. “Is everything okay? When did you come here—wait, did you come here just to talk to me?”

“Well yeah. And Jun.”

“Are you okay?” Minghao asks softly. “This doesn’t seem like you.”

You wince at the familiar words but shake it off. “I know, I just had so much to say and I’m sorry because you were right, and when you said you didn’t want this hanging over my head I was angry and I thought I could ignore this and ignore you but I was wrong and just really needed to sort things out. And the night you picked me up after Renjun and all—I know you told me to not depend anyone or anything—and I know I’m not listening to you right now and I don’t want you to be disappointed but—”

“Stop,” Minghao says, holding a hand up. “Disappointed? I—please don’t think that. The stuff I said that night was …” he sighs before continuing. “You were so upset that night because you didn’t have us around and I felt so bad but also, there wasn’t anything I could do about that.”

“I …” your eyebrows knit together as you try to find the right words. “… I know that. I didn’t mean to make it feel like you had to change anything, or that it was your fault.”

“I know and—”

“Wait, please hear me out. I don’t want to ever make you think that I blame you or Jun for leaving—I-I’m so happy for you guys you don’t understand. I was just … I was bitter,” you admit. “And I was jealous of you because you get to be around my own brother more than me and … I guess I was also jealous of Jun because he gets to be around you so often too.”

You finish your confession by burying your face in your hands, face heating up as you can only imagine the look on his face. He says your name softly, and you peek up at him through the gap between your fingers.

“Hey, no, I get it. I mean, I guess I don’t exactly understand how you’re feeling but I don’t blame you either.”

“I wrote you a letter,” you blurt out, a hand digging into your pocket as it toys around with the folded paper inside. Minghao raises a brow, and you pull it out and hold it in front of him. “Right after you guys left,” you explain as he takes the paper from your hand, carefully unfolding it. “Don’t open it now! That’s … embarrassing. Just read it when I’m not here or something because I might just die out of humiliation.”

When Minghao chuckles, you feel some of the tension in your shoulders dissolve. “Noted,” he murmurs, tucking it into the pocket of his sweats before turning his attention back to you with a more serious expression which has your stomach tying up in knots.

“You know how my job is. I can’t promise how often I’ll be home and when I’ll be able to make time and I know that people leaving hurt you so much and … I guess I just didn’t want to give you hope that I would be able to give you a ‘normal’ relationship, because I can’t, even though I want to. I think when I told you all that, I just—fuck—I hoped that you’d be able to focus on someone better for you.”

You want to cry and tell him that you don’t want someone ‘better,’ but choose to save those words for a different time. “T-then why’d you kiss me that night?” you ask quietly.

“I—” Minghao pauses, looking down as he searches for what he’s about to say. “I only have so much self control.”

You chew on your lip, debating if you should frown or grin at his statement. “So you—you wanted to kiss me?” Minghao responds in a heartbeat.

“Of course I did,” and then he clears his throat, “I wanted to for a while. I still do.”

Chuckling nervously, you start to say, “I don’t kn—”

The air is successfully sucked from your lungs when Minghao slides his hand around your neck, angling your jaw up with his gentle thumb. You think you might just go dizzy from the way he’s touching you until his warm mouth presses against yours, and this is the moment you feel every last muscle in your body let go.

He kisses you softer than the first time, his tongue running against your bottom lip for only a moment before you let your hand grip at his torso instinctively. “Sorry,” Minghao murmurs sheepishly when he breaks away. “Told you. Only so much self control.”

“I-I won’t complain,” you admit quickly, and though you let your hand drop to your side, Minghao keeps his where it is: cradling your cheek. He’s quiet for a moment before whispering again, and the words make your face burn and your heart fly around in circles.

“Can I kiss you again?”

link to smut!

“You have everything? Your tickets?” you ask as you lean against the doorframe. You’re both standing outside your parents house right now, waiting for Jun to finish his last bit of packing (why he was so insistent on you two coming quickly when even he wasn’t ready is still a mystery to you) so you can call over the van to take them to the airport.

Minghao shrugs at you, pulling out his wallet to look through the pockets to double check. As he’s shuffling through them, a familiar piece of paper sticks out and grabs your attention. “You keep my letter in your wallet?”

Minghao nods, seemingly unbothered by your surprise. “Yeah. Where else would I keep it?”

“Well, I don’t know but—”

“It’s a cute letter!” Minghao reasons. “And I like having it with me. Like a little good luck charm.”

You press a kiss to his cheek when he says that, but continue to say, “I don’t get what’s so cute about me getting drunk and writing to you.”

“Okay that part, I don’t like. Seriously. Underage drinking is not cool,” Minghao mutters. “But the rest of the letter is pretty nice I guess,” he teases, tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

“Pretty nice?” you scoff, trying to snatch the wallet back from him to grab your letter. He swipes it away too quickly though, and you’re left pawing at his chest to try and get it back. “You don’t deserve that letter! I put my heart and soul into it!”

“Heart and soul? I think you mean you poured five shots of vodka into it.” You frown deeply, and Minghao relaxes his shoulders. “Okay I’m sorry—you know I love the letter.”

“Do I?” you huff stubbornly, looking at the ground.

Minghao traces a hand down your face and tilts your chin upwards. “C’mon look at me,” he murmurs, and you begrudgingly meet his gaze. “I love the letter.” He pecks you on the lips. “Do you believe me now?”

“You might have to kiss me one more time for that.”

Minghao grins and presses his lips on yours again, a little harder this time. “Good now?”

“Yes—you got lucky.”

“Okay good … but just for extra measures, I have something that might sweeten the deal,” Minghao tells you, pulling a folded paper out of his pocket and handing it to you. Carefully, you take it and unravel it, glancing over the words.

There’s a lot—like a lot—and Minghao’s face flushes as you skim over the paragraphs he wrote, slapping a hand over the paper. “Okay don’t read it in front of me!” he whines, and you beam because history has a tendency to repeat itself.

“Fine, fine,” you sigh, looking down at it one more time when your eyes catch a little note at the bottom.

Pursing your lips, you glance up and find Minghao watching you with wide eyes and a bright smile, and you can’t help but fling yourself into his arms. Your heart swells when you feel him wrap his hands around you rightly pulling him close as the words cast their imprint into your mind.

You’re happy. So, so, so happy.

Yours truly, Xu Minghao (weirdo)

P.S. I love you.

a/n. okay wow i can't believe this is done ... genuinely put so much into this fic i hope u all enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! i definitely might be writing more about these two bc i loved them so much😭 i had like 2 more ideas for a smut in mind but decided not to add them but if you'd be interested in reading them, i might post them as a oneshot/bonus, so lmk what you're interested in! please reblog if u did, and let me know ur thoughts—it would mean a lot to me :3

tags. @synthetickitsune @ixayjun @leejihoonownsmyheart @dahliatopia @gyuswhore @hoeforcheol @5xiang @hajimelvr @miriamxsworld @blinkjunhui @lixiel0ver @josefines-things @mimisxs @ming-h0e @kawennote09 @bbyjjunie @junhui-recs @ichorjeon (strikethrough could not be tagged)

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emmaofnormandy · 4 months ago

Text

Imagine Aegon is the father of your children… to whom you are the greatest defender. (Part II)

Warnings: this time we have drama, angst, but fluffy like usual. Maybe some smut. Long post.

@dracaryxzs tagging you once more, hope you like it!

***

• The Last Feast.

You are present at your father’s last dinner. Despite detesting the circumstances, you put an effort at your husband’s request, as much as either of you are uncomfortable with this growing awkwardness—thanks to your father’s preference over Rhaenyra and your mother’s likewise neglect.

Not to mention the Strong bastards who tease your lover endlessly—as well as your younger brother Aemond. You recollect how, when you were ten and two summers, you hit Jacaerys in his face and kicked Lucerys’ belly after their bullying over your family.

“You have no idea whom you are messing with, boys. I may be kind, I may be sweet, but I am as dragon as either of you are. If yet one may say so… considering there’s nothing Valyrian on you.”

Words—and deeds—that earned Aemond’s respect and Aegon’s admiration. Today you wish you had better control of your temper, perhaps being more diplomatic, but you’d still stand up for Aegon nonetheless.

“You look thoughtful today”, you hear Aegon telling you. “I think it’s too early for you to join this bloody dinner. You have been just churched, Y/N.”

You smile, letting memories of a distant past fade when Aegon comes at you, holding you from behind as your ladies have just finished dressing you and brushing your long silver locks.

Today you opt to wear your two-sided braided hair and a long, silk green gown which may reinforce your curves. His hands are precisely there as his eyes stare at your reflection in the mirror of your privy quarters.

About a month and half ago, you gave birth to your fifth child—and you’re already the mother of Aegon, Alysanne, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera—whom you named Baelor after your grandsire. To the surprise of many, you are not only as fertile as your sisters and mother, but just as strong.

Even though ladies are strongly recommended to avoid events after this period of churching—where they go through the process of getting cleansed carnally and spiritually under the Septs of the Seven—you care very little about such rules, specially when your sire father is about to depart this world—something that gives you mixed feelings.

“I am as good as before”, you turn at him with a smile on your lips. “I may look tired but that is because I had to wake early to feed Baelor.”

Aegon chuckles lightly.

“…all the whilst our dearest Jaehaera was found sneaking under our blanket.”

You laugh heartily.

“She seems to take after you, I’m afraid. Are you ready to put some reins in her, Aegon?”

To which your husband scoffs.

“Please. I’m here to protect and spoil my princesses. Yourself included, dear”, and saying so, he presses a kiss on your cheek. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

You spot a glint of mischief behind his eyes; it already makes your intimate parts ache for him. You gently put two fingers over his lips and bite yours when he takes to his mouth, sucking each without parting gazes.

“Mm. Someone’s not been churched enough, I see.”, Aegon teases you, now going to press you against the wall.

“My darling, you best not ruin me for the feast. We are awaited”, you try your best not to give him, but what power do you have when he, taller than you, towers over you and starts to lift the skirt of your gowns…

“Oh there you are!”, you and Aegon almost jump out the moment you hear Helaena’s voice. “Alysanne and I were looking for you!”

Suddenly the seven year old princess with short curly hair and eyes that resemble her parents shows up dressing a gown that is very similar to her aunt’s.

“Papa! Mama! Aunt Laena did my dress, look! I’ve been looking for you in order to show you it!”, she steps up proudly under Helaena’s fond gaze and clapping hands.

You are quickly straightening yourself when Aegon promptly goes to one knee to match his daughter’s height and speak as if nothing was going on before their… sudden arrival.

“You look gorgeous as ever, Alys! Beautiful like your mama!”, he beams at her, before lifting his daughter and holding her tight.

“Weeee!”, Alysanne giggles. “You can still carry me! Look, aunt Laena! Look how strong my papa is!”

Helaena is all smiles at the scene. You join her side, adding a teasing comment:

“It appears your father is still strong, uh? Here I was thinking otherwise.”

Aegon rolls eyes at you, but Alysanne points out her tongue in turn.

“There is none as strong as my papa!”

“That’s my girl!”, he kisses her cheek, spinning her around a little more before downing her at last. “Now, you best go to see your grandsire. Where is Egg? And your twins?”

“Egg has joined Maekar”, she tells him in reference to Helaena and Aemond’s oldest son. “They are insufferable.”

Helaena chuckles lightly.

“Best mates, as they should.”

“As for me… at least I have Rhae to be friends with”, and that being said the princess runs after her cousin, Maekar’s own twin, both born in the same year as Alysanne’s.

“You should be more careful, leaving the door unlocked”, says Helaena, amused.

And she turns before either of you could form a proper answer. You sigh and as you link your arm with Aegon’s, you say:

“She is not wrong, you know.”

“Where can I be faulted if these kids are growing too fast these days”, grumbles Aegon.

You poke his side playfully.

“The joke’s on you for being careless and leaving the door open.”

Aegon chuckles, pressing another kiss on your cheeks before going to the king’s privy quarters where a family reunion is expected.

You are sitting opposite Aemond and Helaena, next to your husband on the left side of the table. You are making sure your children are behaving well at the same time instructing your maids what to do in case they get…bored.

Whilst you do so, Aegon avoids Rhaenyra’s gaze, who sits on the opposite right of the table, with her own offspring. Trying to sweep away the taste of bad blood, he rather focuses in his own children.

The sight of his growing family brings a relief to his wounded pride. For years, longing for something his father and mother lacked in providing, seems to have been filled with your love and these of his children.

When seeing how Egg is looking for him and, once finding his gaze, smiles in search of approval, Aegon forgets his haunted memoirs and gives his boy and heir a positive sign with his thumb up.

It’s how happy Egg is that makes Aegon believe that he’s overcome his broken heart. By how proud his son looks just after being acknowledged by Aegon makes him think that… had only his father done that for years, one small gesture such as this, well… wouldn’t things be different?

Looking now at his daughter, Princess Alysanne. She’s every inch his own and Aegon takes pride in his eldest girl. She is sweet tempered and talkative—oh doesn’t she like to talk? Aegon observes how she and her cousin, Princess Rhaella, engage in some serious conversation which the prince supposes to be about dragons.

He does approve how they are bonding. And when his gaze meets Aemond’s, the eldest of the two realizes this is a better out coming than both of them expected—considering their upbringing. Aemond, of his part, gives a small smirk, considering he is proud too of his children.

And then… there are the twins, of course, and the newly born son who’s not present. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys are not gloomy nor moody, simply the mirror of Aegon’s domestic joy.

This picture of the family he never had that is now his new reality makes him at peace with his parents… even if at times, such as now, he is remembered of everything he didn’t have.

“I would like to make a toast”, says King Viserys, and his voice drags Aegon out of his particular bliss. “My family reunited here. Everyone together as it should, the perfect reflection of how peaceful our realm is.”

All eyes are set on the dying king. The evidence is clear and you cannot help yourself wondering… how all would’ve been different had he acknowledged Aegon’s inheritance. When casting a quick look at your sister Rhaenyra, you realize that she’s never wanted the high prize.

“Mama”, your daughter’s hand pushing your sleeve draws you out of your thoughts.

“What is it, sweetling?”

“Will the dragons die?”

You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring Helaena’s curious gaze at the sight of you two.

“Why would you ask this question?”

Alysanne hesitates, suddenly realizing this may not be the most proper place to speak. But since the music is now playing and the babbling is loud, you encourage her to speak her mind.

“I… I had a nightmare again.”

“With what, my dove? You will claim your dragon, eventually”, you assure her.

“I know I will, but this isn’t it. I am talking about a red dragon being smashed. It looked terrifying to watch.”

Back then, you do not comprehend what red dragon is your daughter speaking of: neither you nor Aegon’s dragons possess red scales. Before you could find a way to assure your daughter this is nothing but a bad dream, a sound takes you out of your thoughts.

“I’d like to make a toast for these… Strong boys.”

Your eyes go wide at Aemond’s bluntness. Helaena is too surprised, and you two share a meaningful, confident look. Both of you take your children out of the dining table, sensing trouble is coming out.

Later, you come back to rush Aegon out of this mess.

“I was handling just well”, he tells you prideful.

Indeed, to your relief he bears no black eye. But by how Rhaenyra looks angry, you know enmity is official.

You hold her stare as you stroke your husband’s face.

“I know. Who could beat you, anyway? You did nothing wrong.”

And by saying that, you kiss his lips, finding home in his embrace.

***

• A Storm Of Iron Blades.

Later that night, there is nothing to occupy your thoughts. With your children asleep and your churching period finally at end, you gladly resume your activities.

And your favorite one is riding your husband, of course.

“Aegon!”, you cry out his name, searching for support against the wall as his hands hold firmly your hips whilst his tongue does wonderfulness in you. “Oh Gods!”

And you move your hips gracefully, smirking at the sight of subduing such a prideful prince, yours to be king.

You arch your back, smirking wide as he slaps your hips, hair now a complete puddle of mess as you come undone.

Your husband drinks every juice you give him, such is his thirst. But domineering he still is as, restless like usual, he flips positions and is now thrusting right into you.

“We are conceiving again”, he whispers against your hot skin, turning you around so your face can be seen. Aegon wraps a hand around your neck all the whilst he pulls your hair the way you like him to.

“One more child?”, you moan loud, burying your nails against his skin as you two move as one.

“I told you we are making this a grand family”, he thrusts harder, pleased to earn a louder moan this time.

Matching his hips with yours, Aegon knows you delegate him control. Every time you come after churching, you settle under him, legs firmly tied around his waist… and when you try to swap, oh snap! He got you there.

“Kiss me!”, you demand him. “Now!”

Aegon gladly complies to your commands, pursuing your lips desperately so. In a crazy demonstration of how your connection works, both of you reach climax at the same time.

As he lies his head at your left breast, Aegon strokes your cheek and says:

“Thank you.”

“What for?”, you ask him surprised.

“For giving me what I was refused: a family.”

You peck his lips, cuddling onto him.

“I love you, Aegon. I hope you know I’d do anything for you. Anything at all.”

As he looks up at him, Aegon knows the veracity of these words. And when he kisses you, the prince fears for them at the same.

Little Egg comes early next morning to get his father’s attention. You realize they are very close, which makes your chest swell with pride. It’s you who welcome your eldest when door opens and you are still breastfeeding baby Baelor, despite Aegon’s protest that you should be doing so in your bed not on your feet.

“Darling! What is it?”, you smile brightly at him.

Despite the nickname, Little Egg is hardly little now. He’s grown quite fast for his age and will most likely to be very tall in his early adulthood. His hair is long now, emulating his father’s.

“I want to see my lord father.”

Thankfully, Aegon has just left his privy quarters when his son’s voice reach him.

“What’s lord for? Father is just fine”, Aegon pulls a grimace at the formality.

Little Egg chuckles.

“My lady grandmother told me I should be mindful of my manners.”

“Who cares about what that old woman says?”, and here he ignores your weak protest at how your mother is addressed. “Come here, won’t you hug me properly?”

As you sit to finish feeding your baby and hold him close, you delight at the scene of Little Egg running to the arms of Aegon, chuckling as he is spinning around before putting down.

“A egg has hatched”, says your brave little boy. “I reclaimed it as mine.”

“Well, of course it’s yours!”, says Aegon, admired. “We put that egg with you since you were born. You slept it tightly with it!”

Little Egg blushes at his remark.

“Well, either way, it’s born! And it’s mine!”

“Fantastic! What’s the name of it?”

“I thought about something to honor your dragon, papa, since it’s golden with details in silver. So I figured to call it Goldenfyre.”

You swear you thought Aegon’d burst into tears. You too think some tears come from your eyes, aware of how important this is to your husband. A moment once stolen in his childhood, but somehow regained to compose his son’s.

“Will you show me Goldenfyre?”, Aegon smiles proudly at his boy.

“Yes”, Little Egg smiles timidly, but you spot pride in his eyes. “And after that I want to show mummy too.”

“Of course my dearest”, you tell him just as delighted.

“I also saved an egg to Baelor”, he tells you proudly when coming at you to earn a motherly kiss you give him.

“That’s my boy. Remember, this is your brother whom you shall always protect.”

Very serious, says your small version of your husband:

“I will not fail in this duty, mother.”

“I know you won’t.”

As you look up, finding Aegon as tearful as you, contentment finds solace in this new home, built over a wrecked one. Perhaps the Gods could be good, after all.

Not everything is about family, however. You need a moment to fly with Dreamfyre again and are about to do so with your youngster one when the Queen comes after you with a grave expression.

“Where is Aegon?”

“Greetings to you too, mother”, you do not mind the disdain in your tongue. “He’s with his son. Something you could have done too if you had the time.”

Alicent looks at her daughter as if she somehow wished you were like Helaena: quieter and serene, even though you are more than aware how your younger sister is also estranged with the Queen. Not that you have been very wayward, you have rarely been at her presence… is all.

Old wounds takes time to heal.

“This is not the moment nor the time to point out my wrongs. I know you will not understand the sacrifices I’ve made for this family, but I need you to summon Aegon.”

“Can you not do this yourself since you have sacrificed so much for us?”

Alicent sighs. At times she finds hard to look at you, and you know that is because you resemble Aegon.

“Your father…”

Now she has your attention. You think wise to give your maid your Baelor.

“Yes?”

What you find in your mother’s eyes knocks your pride down.

“Your father has… departed this world.”

In other words, you know you should be prepared to war. And how strange it is when for the first time in a long while you and the queen find comfort in each other with a hesitant embrace.

Outside, you could hear the lightenings.

***

You are flying Dreamfyre when clouds start to rumble. Your dragon turns her head to give you a look as if she’s sensing your intimate thoughts. Amidst the announce of a storm sun is starting to rise in the horizon and you should go back… but you are reluctant. So she knows where to take you.

To your surprise, though, you find him there. In the very spot where everything began. Has it almost been ten years since you and him professed feelings for each other? It certainly doesn’t feel like it.

“Egg”, you call him affectionately. “I wasn’t expecting to seeing you here.”

Aegon looks distraught, a view that much plagues your heart. You take his side and hold his hand.

“War is coming. She’s not going to accept I am our father’s heir.”

“We can do this”, you tell him firmly. To his surprise, you are determined to go to the end of it. “I know my place, but you must know yours. Father has determined as tradition has that a male heir is to sit upon the iron throne. This happens to be you.”

“I wasn’t prepared for the role”, Aegon admits in one of his rare displays of weakness.

You cup his cheeks with both hands and make him look at you. Aegon finds comfort in you, solace for his insecurities, which you know so well. What’s more is that you never left him.

You stayed.

“Circumstances are better teachers than theories. I can help you with that, though. I am not made of silk or dragon blood”, you flash him a side smirk. “I have a brain sharp as sword.”

“Y/N… I never underestimated you. We…”, and here he whispers. “We both know you’d be a better queen.”

You chuckle quietly, rubbing your nose against his. Rain starts to fall but you both seem immune to it.

“Shush. I know my place, husband. You will be a great king.”

As if convinced by your arguments, Aegon rests his head against your shoulder, and you rock him gently, stroking his silver locks.

“We are doing this for our children.” He tells you firmly, regaining his composure.

Hands intertwined, eyes locked. Mutual communication.

“My Visenya”, Aegon smiles, besotted.

“My Conqueror”, you beam at him.

And all is sealed with a kiss.

The green council is gathering and in the meantime you spend your time with your sister and your children.

“We must be wary”, whispers Helaena to you.

You cast her a knowing look.

“Can we prevent it to happen?”

“I don’t think so. The crown has a price to pay.”

“I shall do it so”, you tell her firmly.

And then the conversation breaks suddenly.

“Mama”, says Alysanne, running to her side. “Will papa get burnt?”

Never before you detested these dreams your daughter and sister share.

“No”, you assure her firmly, giving a side glance at Helaena, who’s holding her own children protectively. “Nothing bad will happen to him. This I vow.”

To the rest of the day, despite not contenting yourself with embroidery, you settle with the role of mother just fine. But as rain gets heavier outside, you know another will come eventually: that of a wife ready to fight for her husband.

Later that evening, as you watch the children playing with their father and you rock young Baelor against your chest, Aegon tells you the plans of his coronation.

Alysanne and Little Egg are almost fighting over who climbs faster in his father’s shoulders and when he turns at them with that smile you love and says:

“Hey. What did I say?”

“One at time”, grumbles Little Egg. “But I am the heir, therefore…”

“Heir you are, but you must not forget your manners, my son. Ladies first, or has chivalry died?”, and here you try to hide away your amusement.

“Fine. You go, sister.”

Alysanne puts out a tongue, but she too earns a reprehension of her father.

“Now, now, this is not the way, Lys.”

“Sorry”, she puts out a face that makes her irresistibly cute. Aegon chuckles and kisses her temple before putting her over his shoulders. “Weee! I’m flying!”

Aegon makes a noise that you suppose to emulate a dragon’s. The whole scene is adorable and gets your children’s attention. Soon he does the same to everyone—but Baelor, who’s asleep.

“Very well. Your father is tired, he’s done for the night. It’s late and you should be put in bed.”

“Papa”, says Jaehaera, putting his sleeve.

“Yes, daughter?”

“Can you tell us a story before we go to bed?”

“Yes!”, Alysanne runs to her sister’s side and the boys too, despite them pretending to lack interest, which amuses you.

“It’s your day, honey”, you tell him in between giggles. “I’m already occupied here.”

Aegon rolls his eyes as if he doesn’t want this arduous task. However, he makes sure to get the four children to put in your bed before getting to such a mission.

First, he gets Alysanne and Little Egg under blankets before putting the twins on his knees. Second… he makes sure to get their attention.

“Now listen up. Do you want to hear a story about a dragon princess who saved her dragon prince?”

“Hear! Hear!”, Little Egg cries out. “Ladies and gentlemen, no bard nor storyteller can match our dad!”

Aegon blushes.

“Why thank you for the praise, son. So I guess this is a yes?”

“Of course! There is romance too so we are all very pleased”, says a very romantic Alysanne.

You watch as your husband is set loose to your children. He likes the attention, but more so… he likes being their father.

If we were peasants, we’d be a merrier family.

Sweeping away these melancholic thoughts that make reference to an inevitable upcoming war, you focus on how happy he looks when the burden of wearing a crown is not smashing over him.

How loved he is when surrounded by these innocent toddlers who want to please him—and Aegon is eager to please them too.

You are teary at the scene. Alysanne is watching attentively as her father tells in his own your love story behind a great deal of creativity and fantasy, which makes you chuckle quietly. Jaehaera and her twin brother are not too far behind. These youngsters who like to make your quarters a mess are unusually quiet, captivated by their father’s voice, eyeing him with the most genuine devotion of a children.

Eventually though as the story comes to an end, they are all snoring.

“Well, my king. Our bed is full”, you laugh quietly as you put asleep Baelor carefully in his cradle.

Aegon smiles, moving to where you are and putting you against his arms.

“Thank you for giving me these beautiful children. I cannot believe I am this blessed.”

“How could it be otherwise? Oh Aegon, I love you.”

You spot some tears forming behind his eyes. He clears his throat, still uncomfortable with his own sentiments. Nevertheless he says:

“And I love you, my preciosity. You are my moon and stars.”

“And you are my sun and universe.”

This evening ends well. And you kiss him in turn.

But even sun sets in paradise. You are outdoors with Helaena, two maids and your children when Aemond comes in.

By the looks on his face nothing good is coming. You prepare for the bad news.

“What is it?”

Aemond cannot look at you, but it’s Helaena, who runs to his encounter, who casts a look at you and says:

“War has found its home. We best be prepared to fight it.”

Like a premonition, heavy rain starts to fall. You touch your hip, feeling that dagger you keep hidden underneath your silk gown.

“Well… Let war come. It will end with fire and blood”, you whisper to yourself before going back inside with the toddlers.

***

• A Dragon for A Dragon: The Cause Must Be Avenged.

You are by your husband’s side when the crown is put atop his head and Aegon raises his sword, applauded under the cheerful voices of “Long May Live King Aegon!”

It’s at you he looks for when his smug smirk curls on his lips. You nod approvingly, pride sparkling in your eyes.

Later that day, when council is opened, you are with the children when your husband summoned you. To a general surprise, Aegon wants his wife to be present at his council.

“My lady Y/N is as competent as my brother, Aemond”, he nods at his one-eyed sibling, who gives you a quick, indecipherable gaze. “That is my decision.”

“It is as it is”, says Otto in a dismissive tone. “We need to ponder what to do to counter Rhaenyra’s actions. She’s not inclined to peace.”

“We ought to do what it takes to preserve my crown”, muses Aegon. “Who are our allies?”

Someone starts to list them. You watch Aegon’s reaction, furrowing his eyebrows as he ponders what to do with the information.

“If I may speak”, says Aemond after some babbling dies. “I suggest we take Harrenhal. It’s my understanding the Blacks are heading its way there.”

“We use our dragons before they do. But if they are armed…”, you muse in almost in an inaudible suggestion.

Aegon shoots you a glance.

“Don’t.”

You sigh heavily, but don’t argue.

“I can go.”

“But we need Vhagar”, says Aegon. “Perhaps we can do without a dragon.”

“That is impossible. We are talking about a war of dragons, Your Grace”, says Otto, somewhat impossible. “We must preserve the dragons until we cannot. There’s no need to be in such a hurry. We will come out with a defense tactic.”

“Who’s the one intending to claim Harrenhal?”, you ask suddenly.

Ser Otto gives you a quizzical look, but it’s Aemond who answers you.

“Our uncle, Daemon Targaryen.”

“He’s the right hand of Rhaenyra”, you think out loud, not minding to call her a sister when Helaena does this role a lot better. “What about the other’s?”

“You are not considering getting into this fight, are you?”, to your surprise its Queen Alicent who voices out a general preoccupation.

“Visenya did so, my mother. Whilst I perform my duties accordingly, I shall stand for my husband’s right to wear his crown”, you flash him a smile and are pleased to see him regaining confidence.

“Your loyalty is touching, dear”, says Otto genuinely caring, for you and Helaena are his favourite grandchildren. “However, what military expertise do you have?”

“I am a great dragon rider and I could use this well”, you don’t find prudent to share that you’ve been taking sword lessons for a while. And by the looks Aegon gives you, you know he knows. “I could beat Baela, though.”

“This isn’t about vengeance. It’s about war.”

“War is founded upon vengeance, grandsire”, you speak gently. “Let it be said. A dragon for a dragon, my Aegon shall be avenged.”

That said you recline back to your chair, pleased to leave everyone in the room astonished with this side of yours few—except Aegon, Aemond and Helaena— are familiar with.

“You must stay for the children”, says Aegon. He’s walking from one side to the other, in evident display of nervousness.

It’s just the two of you in the council room this afternoon.

“I cannot handle the possibility of…”

He leaves his fears unspoken and it’s when you walk to where he is and holds his face with your hands.

“We are in this together, whether you like it or not. Your birth right will not be stolen from you. As our children’s…”, you smile at him, fondly. “We will wage this war, but with no need to be cruel.”

Aegon rests his forehead against yours, nodding in an agreement. It’s when he pursuits your lips and you let him lead the way. Suddenly, the kiss evolves and you are gladly lying against the table as he moves over you.

Every issue is kept drowned when the needs of flesh overcomes each. Aegon needs you as much as he needs you. Here comes that boy, starving for affection, that you know.

You gasp as his callous hands run over your thighs, lifting the skirts of your gown as his lips brush against your neck, biting your neck, leaving traces of bruises.

“Aegon”, you moan out his name in response of his eager fingers digging to your core. “Oh Gods!”

His eyes look for yours and when finding yours, your hands hold his hair, pulling him over you.

“My husband”, you gasp, moving your hips against his skillful hands, and soon you take your seat at the edge of the table.

“No”, he groans against your ear when perceiving your intentions. “Just sing out to me…”

But you answer to none—despite gladly obeying him in all when it’s due—so you smirk rebelliously when your hand finds the path to his pants.

“Come here… Let’s do it together”, and you whisper in his ear. “Remember when you taught me?”

Aegon closes his eyes, already unbearably aroused by your words. You bite his earlobe, moaning softly as you speak unspeakable things, caressing his manhood until it pumps against your palm.

“Fuck”, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. “Fuck, Y/Nickname…”

“Yes, baby. Together. We are always together…”

And when he rises his eyes and bites your bottom lip… well, he replaces his hand with something else and it takes little time until you reach climax.

Together.

As it has always been.

“I love you”, you mumble in his ear.

“I love you”, he whispers back.

***

“A king cannot be so until he leads his soldiers”, says Aegon before the council.

To a general astonishment, this is Aegon announcing his preparations to war.

“A king delegates others of his trust for a good reason, Aegon”, your mother snaps at him. “Do not play the reckless…”

“I think it’s funny”, you muse out loud, attracting the council’s gaze—with particular notice to a smirking Aegon, aware of how subtle your temper works, and for which he’s grateful. “How so many of you planned to make the transition to this new reign in a peaceful form, and yet when it is more than clear that war is inevitable… you stop the king to do what’s must. War should have been prevented many moons ago, but this is not the time to live based on “what ifs”. If diplomacy is not the answer…”

You stand, and you swear you detect an approval smirk from Aemond himself.

“…then fire is.”

“May I suggest a fare point that could be turned to our advantage?”, and here Aemond speaks in turn.

“Well, it appears I speak to deaf ears”, grumbles Otto Hightower.

“Listen to Aemond, grandsire. We are not as impulsive as you judge”, you speak softly.

After a moment of silence, the Hand of the king reluctantly lets Aemond speak, of which your brother is thankful for. And you take your seat next to your mother.

What happens next, however, will test the stability of your husband’s cause.

“Baela has been spotted flying near Storm’s End”, you are glancing through the window when you hear Aemond’s whispering to his brother. “She’s sent there in order to bring Baratheons to Rhaenyra’s side.”

“And what do we know about their position?”, inquires Aegon.

As the two men speak, your eyes concentrate at what happens at the yard. Unaware of a grave event that is to mark their father’s reign, Little Egg and Alysanne are playing with Maekar and Rhaella in complete synchrony. You feel a fang of guilt for not spending time with them, but you convince yourself this will pass. After all, you cannot neglect the role of wife. When you told Aegon you’d do anything for him, you meant every word.

“Y/N”, Aegon comes at you, hands resting over your waist. He knows what afflicts you. “When I told you to stay, I’ve meant it.”

He turns you at him, sensing your tears as if he senses his own. You cannot repress all this stress that you’ve been going through. You simply… cannot. And he’s there to hold you, to pick your pieces up.

“You don’t have to be strong the entire time”, he whispers to you, cupping your cheeks and fighting away your fears. “Look at me. I demand it as your king.”

You chuckle lightly, but when you raise your gaze, you know you are the one exposed for the very first time. And Aegon appreciates it.

“This is often the reversed role, is it not? It’s usually me asking for comfort and not the other way around”, and here he wipes the tears off your eyes. “Your unending loyalty to me, regardless of my vices and countless flaws, is a very endearing gift. We have fragilities and they do not make us weak. It makes us… humans, I think. Not a word I think of often, but here’s a brilliant learning you’ve taught me.”

And he proceeds:

“I honestly did not wish our family ripped apart like that, more than aware knowing how a war between kin displeases the deities. But what else can I do? This is not about us, but about our children’s future. I want our five, and hopefully six, toddlers to grow strong and with a prospective future”, he smiles when he manages to get something out of your sadness. “I lament it mostly deep that I’ve brought such misfortune to our family. I wish it was otherwise, that you were proud of me…”

“I am proud of you”, you cut him. “Aegon, I could not look elsewhere and choose someone else to be espoused to. As much as I get along with Aemond, this isn’t the man I love. Who did I come up to this world with? You, Aegon Targaryen. I weep because I want to give you the peace you deserved. I witnessed all these wounds and…”

Aegon swallows his own tears, knowing today you are the one who needs comforts. He comes to realize that, being this stronghold for so long, you too had your own wounds, your own pieces to get.

Oh my darling, Y/N. We are their creatures, are we not?

“You are my sun and stars”, he mumbles. “You don’t have to go through this by yourself, Y/N. We are healing together, won’t we? This is us against the world, my lovely wife.”

Lifting your chin, he presses a soft kiss over your eyes and says:

“You gave me everything I was refused in these years. You gave me love when I had none, you restored me trust when I lacked in; you granted me happiness when I was unworthy it. You make my days a lot better.”

A pause comes where a comfortable silence hangs in between. You rest your forehead against his, breathing in his silence.

“If we came to this world together…”, you whisper secretively.

“…then it is only natural that we leave it together”, Aegon vows it with a smile on his lips.

The decision is done and the pact is made.

***

You see Aegon flying high with Sunfyre and a bad feeling consumes you. Aemond is there too, so he’s going to Vhagar when you stop him.

“Nay”, you tell him firmly. “Leave this to me.”

You are not wearing your court garments, but prepared to go to war. Underneath green and silk, with some adjustments, you are dressing hauberk with two sharp blades carefully guarded. Your long silver hair is tied in a perfectly braid.

“Today we don’t spot Alyssa”, says Otto, concerned about your bold attitude, narrowing his eyes as you mount Dreamfyre and fly high. “But Visenya Targaryen has come to us.”

A remark that would later echo through generations of poets.

What you and Aegon agreed was to inspire soldiers in order to go to local Y/C and there make it a stronghold to his cause. However, spies delivered news that Baela Targaryen is preparing to wage war… with her grandmother, Rhaenys.

Yet, who’s coming is Rhaenys’s red dragon, Meleys. Suddenly you are remembered of your daughter’s dreams and her fear in losing her father.

In order to try to prevent agony making a nest in your heart, in barely gritted teeth you command Dreamfyre to fly above skies—as high as possible without, however, missing Aegon’s position. After that, you promised yourself to fly to Baela’s encounter: there is an unknown bad blood that you find urgent to resolve at last.

In the meantime, though, this isn’t about you, but your king, your lover, your brother, father of your children. This isn’t about a crown, but the legacy of your family—misadjusted they may be, but it’s still the one you are part of.

Grey clouds begin to assemble, but Dreamfyre flies as if it’s in her natural environment. She knows your thoughts and sentiments, she’s prepared to fight even if for a while she hasn’t been part of any of the kind.

But she can fiery.

“Baby girl, be careful. Meleys can be…”

Your words die in your throat when you see fire coming from the old red dragon. Suddenly, Dreamfyre takes a deep dive and gives such a strong bite against Meleys, getting her off guard. Part of the flames may get to you, and you think you hear Aegon screaming your name—you’re fueled with adrenaline, and you cannot stop.

All you know is that, moved by your sentiments, Dreamfyre does drag Meleys down. And it only comes to an end when both rider and creature fall down.

An explosion is heard and felt. You are flying high, Dreamfyre’s sound coming as if echoing your silent mixed feelings. Now adrenaline comes to pass, you realize part of your arm is burnt—and it hurts like hell.

“Are you well, D?”, you ask your dragon, more concerned about her than to your own wounds, in spite of the unspeakable pain.

As if to nod that she is doing perfectly well, Dreamfyre turns her head. It’s when Aegon comes at you.

“My wife!”, and when you turn at him you spot concern in his eyes.

“I told you”, and suddenly weakness comes to shake your senses. “I’d do anything… anything… for…”

And why do words die in your mouth and everything is dark? You have no idea, but you swear that you hear Aegon yelling as your eyes close.

***

• The Aftermath.

In a twist of events, Aegon II refuses to leave your bed until you open your eyes. Nothing can take his mind off you, therefore all matters are placed for now in the hands of Otto Hightower.

Your children have momentarily been put under the care of their aunt Helaena, for so distressed is the king that he cannot fail his children now.

But gods be good and you recover your strength. To your surprise, Aegon is next to your side.

“How… What…”

“My beloved wife”, Aegon smiles warmly when seeing you well and safe, mostly important: alive. “My greatest defensor. Imprudent and reckless, but possessor of the sweetest heart I know.”

He kisses you carefully, as if he’s afraid of losing you.

“What happened? Did we win? How’s Dreamfyre?”

“Calm yourself, love. Rest”, says your husband in most affectionate tone, though firm. “Dreamfyre suffered little damaged in comparison to your broken and burnt right arm and neck. Good grief, woman. It was supposed to be me.”

“No”, you breathe out of relief. “Not you. Never.”

Carefully you lean to his side, not minding the slight pain given just by a slight move. You caress his face, seeing his concern, the fear of losing you… that you risked your life for him, something none has ever done for him…

“I love you”, he whispers like the needy boy he is. “Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

“I love you too, my king”, you brush your lips against his, fingers intertwining together. “We promised to leave this world the same we walked in here, didn’t we?”

Aegon half smiles at you.

Even though the battle is won, the war hasn’t ended yet.

With you regaining your strength, domestic life—where the king’s and yours are concerned—goes back to what it was before your accident.

“Papa, is mama well?”, Jaehaera asks him, eyes tearful.

She’s clinging onto him as he rocks her in his arm. This afternoon you are resting and he’s decided that he needs a break of governing for a moment as well.

Under his watchful gaze, Alysanne is working in her embroidery and Jaehaerys is playing toys with his eldest brother.

“She is resting, my love. But I assure you”, and here he pauses to kiss his daughter’s cheek, earning him a beam that breaks his inner walls, “that she is well. Your mama is as dragon as you.”

“I am a dragon because of her”, Jaehaera corrects him, which makes Aegon chuckle.

Oh aren’t you adorable? How could I father such a pure child? And how… how else does she love me so?

In order to avoid the depth of such thoughts, Aegon limits himself in kissing his daughter’s forehead. Then he drives his fatherly gaze to his offspring.

“What are you seeing there, Alys? Let me see.”

Alysanne is blushing before her father’s attention. Very pompously, she takes her embroidery work so he can take a look.

“Aunt Helaena has taught me how to use the needle properly. I was struggling with the smaller ones”, she admits somewhat shyly so. “So here’s a green dragon. I want to mark in my gown your coat of arms, papa.”

Aegon swallows before the sight of his daughter, whose eyes show an eagerness to please him—a feeling he knows so well, but unlike Alysanne’s case, he was never corresponded. Precisely why the king beams and says:

“I am very proud of your skills, Alys. I am unworthy of such an honor”, says he with a wide smile.

In this sacred moment with his daughters so close, Aegon doesn’t see you come by. You are leaning against the wall, pleased to find your family in complete harmony.

Your boys, getting along… Jaehaerys trying to impress a very serious Little Aegon in his building, earning an eventual smile of his older brother’s approval. All the whilst Jaehaera sleeps in her father’s lap and Jaehaera is blushing pleasantly at the praises she receives him.

It makes you think of your own scars. How many times you tried to please your father and all you got was dismissive waves, distant conversations and comparisons to Rhaenyra?

Containing a sigh, you know how all of this is nothing to what you have now, but it’s pointless to deny these scars. They make you who you are, as it’s Aegon’s case.

Both of you are everything your parents were not. When Aegon looks at you with a smile on his lips, you smile too because you know you succeeded at it.

Despite the gleeful scenarios, war is still going. You are barely recovered when there are news of Baela flying to take y/c, a very important spot for the cause she defends.

You are listening to the Green Council’s strategies when you find Aemond and Aegon’s gaze on you. You lower yourself, but you know why they are concerned about you.

When defending Aemond so many moons ago, it was Baela who hit you hard. Even though you managed to knock her down, your fury was such that left the boys open mouthed by then.

A grudge that you were never able to overcome. A wound that time didn’t heal.

But the opportunity comes just fine.

“I can patrol skies”, you announce casually.

“I forbid you, Y/N”, Aegon is the first to protest. “There is no need to…”

“Y/C stays close to King’s Landing”, you muse, trying to remain calm.

“She’s not daring to come nearby when Vhagar is here”, interferes Aemond.

Both of you exchange looks. You bite down your lips, saying no more. However… opportunity to fight for your husband is coming once more, and yet at what cost?

Days go by when it’s decided that Aemond shall take Harrenhal on behalf of the Crown. This comes after Rhaenyra suffers another blow: her son Jacaerys was defeated once for all in an encounter against Aegon himself.

“I’m proud of you”, you smile the brightest as you two parade at the capital. “A great victor, that you are!”

Aegon flushes at your compliments. This day you and him ride splendid horses before all, richly dressed in order to reinforce signs that the civil war is coming to an end.

“As I am”, he takes your hand to his lips, not minding the courtly rules where public display of affection is concerned. “My greatest defensor. I am nothing without you, Y/N.”

Despite taking pride in this acknowledgment, you play the humble.

“My king, this is untrue. I only do what I am asked of: to daily submit my will to yours, to provide you heirs, to pledge for the safety of our subjects during this rebellion”, you smile at him for, despite the embellishment of your words, you speak such with your heart.

“My queen, blessed by the divine with the utmost caring for this one who gives you word; your unending loyalty and wisdom beyond your years played a great part in the conduct of the affairs of this realm. Whether I wage wars, whether I bring peace to our subjects it is in you and in the beautiful children you provided me that I think of.”

In silence, when he squeezes your hand and nods at you, you know what he means. And as you smile timidly and play the humble queen, he knows what you speak too.

In your own ways, underneath this public exhibition, one tells the other:

I love you.

‘Tis enough to make the people rejoice and praise for the health of King Aegon the Wise and Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen.

***

• Epilogue.

War had its costs. But it eventually came to an end. Upon its twilight, revenge bled two broken houses of one dynasty for the last time. Aegon met his sister, Rhaenyra, just after you defeated Baela at the Battle of Stormlands, which would later be sang by bards how ‘two damsels, misled by the ambitions of men, took their dragons to a deadly feast and thus they danced’ until ‘the lady Baena was stabbed in the heart by a very bold move of Queen Y/N’.

Some of superstitious folks believed to have seen in you the ghost of Queen Visenya.

You brought a victory to your cause, but got yourself a broken arm. Dreamfyre was hurt too, but not injured enough to impede her to fly with you over the lands of the Baratheons, who welcomed you.

In the meantime this happened, Daemon Targaryen was defeated and Aemond conquered it all. Daemon’s lover, the witch queen of the place, Alys Rivers, attempted to transfer her affections to his nephew—unsuccessfully so. It was rumored that he said the following words:

“Mine heart knoweth no lady that is not mine damsel, Helaena.”

What was her destiny after these words were professed? The chroniclers could not tell. She vanished and many attributed to Lord Aemond her death.

Whatever the truth, Lady Helaena and her offspring moved with Silverwing to meet her husband, ignoring his orders that she should not do so until he sent for her. Apparently she knew what the outcome was going to be.

As for the battle between Rhaenyra and her brother for the throne, Rhaenyra was defeated. However, it was you who interfered on behalf of the kingdom to impede her death.

An agreement was arranged: Rhaenyra, albeit reluctantly, renounced her rights to the throne and agreed to wed her sons to you and Aegon’s daughters, as well as to wed her daughters to your sons. Peace was finally sealed and she was left to live in Dragonstone.

Once reunited, in the present day this feud is now a page in history. You are enjoying better days, ruling behind the scenes as Aegon conducts the realm with a wit that surprised most.

“He is a good king”, you tell your mother in a day where, to a general surprise, Aegon brokered a peace treaty with the Dornish. “Why it surprises you goes beyond my comprehension.”

Today you are dressing a long green, silk gown with reinforces your curves; your silver locks are carefully braided under a hair net that reminds Alicent of the days the dowager queen used to wear it herself. Besides the ravishing look, you wear the jewels Aegon recently gifted you: a pair of emerald earrings and a gold necklace.

“He was hardly the most devoted to studies, is all”, so your mother tells you.

It is a curious contrast how, after many years, you and her found a way to overcome parental issues. But even now, you find difficult to accept some of the critics she at times weaves to her eldest boy.

“Please, it was only lack of proper encouragement”, you roll your eyes as a response.

“I see I cannot make a comment about my son when I’m with you. Let us change topics”, and here she smiles. “I heard you are carrying another child.”

“Well, what can I say? Aegon makes it difficult not to engage in marital affairs”, you giggle maliciously.

Upon which Queen Alicent scoffs, feigning offense.

“To hear these words from the Good Queen Y/N?!”

“Why, I am not complaining. Pretty much otherwise.”

In between chuckles, you move to the gardens where the dowager queen finds all her grandchildren playing together.

Aemond, recently acknowledged as Hand of the King, is talking to Aegon, probably something about the affairs of the realm—judging by their serious countenance. But the one eyed prince is also attentive to his wife, Helaena, who’s teaching the now ten year old Alysanne to improve the girl’s skills, joined by their daughter Rhaella, same age as her cousin. As well as how Maekar and Little Egg—as Aegon’s heir will be always known—are talking nonsenses of their age.

The little ones are not too far behind. Aegon is holding three year old Baelor as he talks to his brother, but is in a position where he can watch over the young toddlers. It does not go unnoticed by all how Jaehaera tries to be friends with another Aegon, Rhaenyra’s son, who was sent with Viserys to be educated at court. Aegon doesn’t look very pleased, but young Viserys is too busy playing with cousins Jaehaerys and Aerys.

When seeing you with their mother coming at the happy meeting, Aegon soon excuses himself to greet you.

“My mother”, he pays the due respects to Queen Alicent, and then doing the same to you. “My lovely wife.”

“Aegon my darling”, and here you pick the chubby baby out of his arms. “Baelor, did you miss mama? Or were you too spoiled by daddy?”

Aegon gives you a smug grin.

“Well, isn’t this why I’m their father in the first place?”

“Not to overindulge, my love.” But not even you believe in what you are saying.

Soon, Helaena and Aemond join the three of you.

“Together at last”, and not to a general surprise Helaena greets you with a warm smile and her own way in showing her affection to you.

“Greetings to you too, my dearest. I was having a moment with our mother. She has some news to share”, you flash the dowager queen a mischievous smirk, pleased to find her blushing.

“Oh…”

“Shh, don’t ruin the surprise.”

To which Aemond confides a whisper to Aegon:

“As if it’s a surprise to know what she’s yet to tell.”

“It did take more years than we’ve judged”, the elder of the two agrees, struggling to muffle a chuckle.

“Well, I was worried… due to the recent events that concerned us all, that…” the Queen doesn’t really know how to put it.

But Helaena makes it easy for all of you.

“If you are happy, then we are happy for you.”

“You deserve it, mother”, you echo your sister’s support.

“But I…”

“Do not protest. We’ve always seen Ser Criston as the father we didn’t have”, says Aegon.

“He did indeed raise us, though”, so Aemond points the obvious.

“I appreciate your support. Then I think we should invite Ser Criston to join us.”

“Later, perhaps”, says Aegon, mirroring that old mischievous spirit that characterized his youth. “I need a moment with my wife and my children if you excuse me.”

“Oh yes, the family man”, teases Aemond discreetly before getting a punch in his arm.

This afternoon, all parts well and in restored peace as it should have been the way it started long time ago.

***

Aegon has just flew with Sunfyre and Little Egg with his own dragon. It’s a good time to do so and represents a unique moment between father and son.

When looking at this growing boy, who’s about to rise to Prince of Dragonstone in due time, Aegon struggles to see he’s no longer that toddler easily impressed with Sunfyre and his first time flying high.

“You are looking at me in a funny way”, says his son as they land and go back to their quarters. “Do you have news to share? Or is it the way I conduct…?”

“No, no. Not at all”, and here he pulls Egg under his arm, ruffling his hair and pleased to get him some chuckles. “I was just noticing that you are growing to a fine man and I am not ready to let that go yet.”

“You sound like mom”, and so typically he pulls a grimace.

“Your mother loves you as much as I do. One day you’ll have children of your own and you’ll see what I mean. As for news, did I tell you that your grandmother secretly remarried and believed no one would suspect she did so?”

The fourteen year old boy laughed loud. A sound that somehow is almost equal to his. Aemond smiles.

“No! I cannot believe my ears! Was she espoused by Ser Criston? But that man…”

“Shush. He’s your grandsire now.”

But the idea brings the two to joint laughters.

Aegon is all smiles when he’s with his girls too. After spending a while hearing Jaehaerys’s proudly progress in his studies, a deed that does impress him, he’s doting on his princesses too. You are already pompously dressed for the dinner when you find your husband hearing Jaehaera’s recent claimant in her dragon which she named Moonfyre because of the curious mix of silver and red scales.

A deed that did impress her elder sister and father.

“I know we have a great bond”, says the seven year old excitedly. “But…”

“But you are likely the youngest of our dynasty to have ridden a dragon! And all by yourself!”, and here Aegon cannot help himself and fuss over Jaehaera, who blushes pleasantly. “My little girl is getting me some headache in the future, I can already foresee it!”

“Well, she has so much of her father to be blamed on it”, you smile at him.

What a scene. Aegon joins you, not the king circumstances made him, but the grown man you loved since you could remember. When he tangles you in his arms and doesn’t mind being affective to you—“uuuuuugh” would tease the boys and even Jaehaera makes a grimace—, you know those wounds took time to heal.

Love prevailed over all.

As you’ve always believed it.

King Aegon II and his Good Queen Y/N of House Targaryen were found dead in an embrace that would be turned into marble. Theirs is one of the longest reign, despite the early years of civil war.

Aegon II is succeeded to his eldest son, Aegon III, married to Rhaena Targaryen, daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. Aegon’s Hand was his long time loyal cousin, Maekar, who wedded his sister Rhaella.

No more turmoils to be seen… for a long while. Dragons did die, as foreseen by Alysanne, who became Princess of Dorne in due time, but they also survived and prospered.

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