#but no one ever talks about this song. AND ITS ONE OF HER BEST ALBUM CLOSERS | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsinthesky5 · 1 year ago

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you are in love | joe burrow x reader

description: how did you end up falling head over heels for the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals? but most importantly, how did the quarterback end up falling harder for you?

a/n: this is my first fic ever so bare with me! i’m still getting the hang of writing about joe. i have tried a few times but ended up deleting them because I didn’t like how they turned out LOL. buttt I got bored and got a little confidence and decided to try again. i hope you all like it (if anyone even reads this). this is based off of one of my favorite songs ever and I thought it would make a nice fic. i hope its not too cringe, enjoy :)

warnings: slight smut and allusions to sex, language

word count: 5.5 k

part 2

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

present day:

One look, Dark Room

Meant just, For you

Time moved too fast, You play it back

“And that should do it,” Joe says as he places the final pillow onto the fort.

“Didn’t know you had “architect” in your job portfolio. This is impressive,” you giggled as you got into the fort.

“No need for the flattery babe, gotta make sure your first night here is comfy so you come back,” Joe replied while draping a blanket over your legs.

“Oh I’ll be back, someone has to use the massive pool, and knowing you, you won’t go in there without me,” you said while thinking about all the exciting things you’ll get to do with him at his new house.

“You got that right, but you’re the one who needs to hang on to me and use me as her personal flotation device,” he says as he settles on the pillows across from you.

“Well then, maybe you shouldn’t be so huggable Mr. Burrow,” you say before throwing a pillow at him.

Today was you and Joe’s 6 month anniversary. You two had spent the entire day moving Joe into his new house that he bought when he signed his extension. There were boxes everywhere and hardly any furniture set up, so Joe ended up building a blanket fort for the night. He spent every free moment apologizing for not being able to do something romantic for your anniversary, but you didn’t mind. Any moment with him was special.

“Thank you for helping me out today, I know you probably didn’t think we’d be spending most of the weekend doing this when I asked you to come to Cincinnati,” He said as he was fidgeting with his wristbands.

You lived all the way in Los Angeles and were currently in the middle of working on your 3rd studio album. You were in desperate need of a break and inspiration, so you jumped on the first flight to Cincinnati to see your favorite person.

“Joe, you've apologized enough. Seriously, it’s perfectly fine. You know that I don’t care about the fancy dates and over-the-top gestures. Any time we get to spend together means the world to me, even if it involves carefully moving your extensive Lego collection to the new house,” you chuckle while rubbing his foot.

Joe’s heart was exploding while you were talking. He seriously doesn’t understand how he got so lucky. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he wanted to do everything possible to show you. But the one thing he adored most about you was that you didn’t care for all the glitz and glamor of dating an NFL quarterback. And you loved that he didn’t care about your Hollywood status or all the attention you’d get from the public.

Joe got up on his knees and crawled over to the spot next to you. Once he sat down, you immediately latched onto him and buried yourself into his neck, missing the warmth of his body.

“See, you’re so huggable,” you murmured against his neck.

You heard him softly laugh and felt his hand move up your side, squeezing your arm. “How did I get so lucky” you wondered to yourself.

——————————————————

first meeting:

Buttons on a coat, Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

Flashback to July 4th: The Hamptons, New York

You dreaded going to the big 4th of July bash hosted by Micheal Rubin every year, but as an up-and-coming musician, saying “No” to this kind of party would be stupid given the number of connections you could make. The party would always have the most elite Celebrities, Models, Musicians, and Athletes; meaning a lot of small talk and fake laughing. This would be your third time going, and every time you end up sitting in the corner, alone with your way too strong Vodka Martini, counting down the minutes until you could leave. But this year, something was different.

You did end up sitting in the corner with your way too-strong Martini, but you weren't alone. And you certainly weren't counting down the minutes until you could leave. Hell, you were even wishing this night would never end.

“What happens to Football Players when they become blind?” he asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you replied.

“They become referees,” he said while smirking.

“Joe! You can’t say that!” you wheezed out. You couldn't contain your laughter any longer. You weren’t sure if it was because of the Martini, or the fact that Joe Burrow was sitting next to you, also drinking a Vodka Martini.

“Hey, it’s the truth, but you didn’t hear that from me,” Joe said while throwing his hands up.

“You got it Mr. QB1, but I do agree; it’s such BS when they miss the most clear calls,” you giggled.

You weren’t really sure how you and Joe ended up basically spending the entire party by each other's side. One minute you're about to sit and scroll on your phone as usual, and the next thing you know you’re telling your life story to a guy you just met. Were you a little buzzed, absolutely. But something about him made you feel comfortable and safe, even though you just met.

“You’re really cool by the way,” Joe whispered.

“Gee, aren’t you Shakespeare,” you smiled and took another sip of your drink.

“Seriously though. The entire time we've been sitting here, not once did you purposefully bring up the fact that I’m an NFL quarterback. Not many girls can talk to me without bringing up football or trying to flirt with me. It’s exhausting,” he confessed but quickly realized how cocky he sounds. “Not that every girl tries to flirt with me,” he added.

You laughed and said, “Well, lucky for you I find more value in real conversations than all that superficial stuff. I totally understand the feeling, I love talking to people about my music but after a certain point I just want to talk about normal things and have real conversation,”

I do think it’s cool that you’re a football player since I grew up watching it, but I want to know more about you, not the quarterback,” you continue.

“Well then Miss Y/N, I’m in New York for a few more days, let me take you out to dinner so you can get to know the real Joe a little more,” he boldly asked.

You stared into his deep blue eyes, eyes you wouldn’t mind getting lost in. Something about those eyes was promising. You’ve only just met him and for all you know, he could be a typical “Fuck Boy athlete” looking for a quick hookup. There was nothing to attest to what he was saying, but part of you was willing to take the risk. Something about him felt different.

“Earth to Y/N-”

“Okay,” was all you said.

Little did you know that saying yes to Joe was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made.

——————————————————

early dating:

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight

The light reflects, The chain on your neck

He says, “Look up”, And your shoulders brush

No proof, one touch, But you felt enough

Flashback to your first time visiting Joe in Cincinnati

It had been a few weeks since you and Joe had dinner together and he had been nothing but a gentleman. The two of you talked about everything from your childhoods to your current aspirations, to your favorite music, and even geeking out about Marvel Movies plus everything nerdy. Joe made you feel good about yourself. He would always tell you how pretty you looked and paid the most attention whenever you would talk. He made you feel butterflies, something which you hadn’t felt in a long time.

After you left New York, the two of you couldn’t stop talking to each other. The silly conversations eventually turned into deep ones; you telling him things you’ve only shared with a select number of people. You felt comfortable when you were talking to him, so this wasn’t difficult for you. He shared things with you about himself that he would only share with those close to him, which was very few since he kept a tight circle. You both shared a mutual feeling of trust, willing to lay yourself bare just to get to know one another. You’d always text him after a vigorous studio sesh to vent and he would update you on his off-season progress. Those texts eventually turned into late-night facetimes, which ended up in Joe asking you to fly out and see him. You hesitated a bit before saying yes. In the back of your mind, you were scared. You knew that the more you two talked and saw one another, the more attached you’d get. He could break your heart into a thousand pieces if you weren’t careful. But you owed it to yourself and to Joe to try.

You hummed along to whatever song was playing on the radio as you looked out the window and watched the bright city skyline fade. It was currently midnight in Cincinnati and Joe insisted that he take you to his favorite secret spot on your first trip here.

“You tired?” Joe asked as he glanced over to you, taking in every one of your features.

God you looked so pretty, he thought. You were wearing one of his old Athens Football hoodies and had your hair in a messy bun. You weren’t wearing any makeup and even had on a pair of his slides, which were a few sizes too big. Even in your most natural state, he looked at you like you were a diamond.

“A little. Didn’t get a lot of sleep on the plane,” you yawned out.

“I promise this will be worth it,” Joe said as he placed his hand on your bare thigh.

You immediately tensed up at the foreign contact. Joe felt you tense up and went to remove his hand but you put it right back on your thigh and felt your face turning red. Your stomach was doing somersaults right now.

“Those damn butterflies,” you thought to yourself.

“So, how’s the album coming along?” Joe casually questioned as if he didn’t just make you want to scream out of excitement.

“It’s good, slow, but making progress. I feel like I’ve hit a dead end and am having major writer's block so I think stepping away from it for a little bit will be good for me. Things were getting a bit stuffy and loud. I feel like I was getting somewhere but it always ends up being nothing,” you say as you place your hand on top of his, playing with his fingers.

“That’s good, I hope this weekend will be a breath of fresh air for you. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Always remember that you’re doing your best,”

You looked over at Joe and felt your heart swell up. He knew exactly what to say and how to make a girl feel special.

~10 minutes later~

“We’re here,” Joe says as he turns off the car.

You looked out the window and saw nothing but trees and grass. You were confused as to where he brought you but before you could ask him, he got out of the car and jogged to your door to open it for you.

“Thank you, Joey,” you blushed as he closed the door behind you.

Joe stepped behind you and whispered into your ear “Close your eyes, I promise it’ll make it even better”.

You closed your eyes and felt his hand on the small of your back. He led you through what felt like a clearing in the trees to a flat grassy patch. You could feel the cold wind against your bare legs meaning that you were out of the woods.

“Open,” he told you.

When you opened your eyes you were met with the most beautiful sight. The same skyline you saw up close, now you were looking at from a distance. It was breathtaking. In Front of you was a picnic blanket and a beautiful set up of candles.

“Holy shit Joe, this is beautiful,” you say in awe.

“Welcome to the lookout point. My favorite place to go when I need a minute alone. I also remember you mentioning how you loved looking at skylines during the sunset and even though we couldn’t make it for the sunset part, I thought this would be the next best thing,” He says as he leads you both to the blanket.

You both sat down on the blanket and he immediately pulled you into his chest. You both faced the bright skyline and all Joe could think about was how much peace he felt at that moment. It was just the two of you sitting in your own little world. The darkness and quietness around you both felt comforting because it was a sign that this moment was just for you both; no outside noise or distractions.

“This is insane, I mean you can see the whole city and river from up here!” You say as you settle into his arms, your back to his chest.

“That’s not even the best part Y/N, look up,” He points.

You turn your head up to look at him and then you look up. You’re met with what is probably the clearest view of the stars you’ve ever gotten.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, not removing your eyes from the sky.

“You’re beautiful,” Joe says while looking down at you.

You got that feeling again. Your stomach was doing somersaults and the butterflies were back. Could this be that feeling? A feeling you hadn’t felt in a while? That feeling you get when the right person enters your life at the right time? Was Joe that person? So many questions filled your head that you didn’t realize Joe had been softly caressing your thigh the entire time which pulled you out of your trance.

“That right there is the Big Dipper which points straight to-”

“Polaris,” you interrupt.

“Space nerd,” Joe shakes his head and laughs out.

“Don’t think I don’t know about your space nerdy ways Burrow, I know this is your domain,” you huff out. Joe had told you back in New York that he loved anything and everything space and physics-related. You admired how someone like him was a complete nerd under the tough shell he had. You naturally went back to your apartment and spent an hour or two updating yourself on space quick facts, which certainly paid off.

You slowly got out of his embrace and sat up across from him.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a hint of confusion in his voice.

“No, nothing’s wrong Joe,” you chuckle.

“It’s perfect actually. It’s all perfect. You’re perfect,” you say as you move closer to him, still sitting up. “You know how to make a girl feel special, this was really sweet of you Joe,” you say as you play with the strings of his your hoodie.

“I just wanna make my girl feel special,” he confesses while moving your hair out of your face.

His girl.

Those were the only words you needed to hear before you jumped onto him and pressed your lips against his. His lips fit perfectly against yours like you were made for each other, so soft and sweet. He slipped his tongue in between the valley of your lips and entered your mouth which caused you to let out a soft whimper. You both spent a few moments exploring each other’s mouths before he broke apart the heated moment.

“I take that as a “yes I’ll be your girlfriend”,” he questioned while searching your face for an answer.

“I didn’t know you were asking,” you teased.

Joe’s face dropped, did he push you too fast? You noticed his facial expression change and immediately pressed a soft kiss onto the tip of his nose and laughed, “Yes silly, I’ll be your girl,”.

——————————————————

it's getting serious:

Morning, his place, Burnt toast, Sunday

You keep his shirt, He keeps his word

And for once, you let go, Of your fears & your ghosts

One step, not much, But it said enough

Flashback to Joe’s house (4 months into dating)

The warm sunlight flooded the room as you slowly woke up, your body sore and wrapped up in Joe’s sheets, and Joe himself. Joe was sound asleep, fully koala bear hugging you with his head on your chest. God, how does he look so perfect this early in the morning? His dirty blonde curls were sprawled out against your chest and his lips were curled up, almost smiling. Your eyes moved to his back, a few red scratches still visible. You made a mental note that you should probably trim down on the length of your acrylics if this was going to become a common thing for you two, smiling at the thought of what unfolded the night before. You freed your hand from under the sheets and moved it around his back, hoping to soothe any pain you caused.

The two of you had stumbled into his house late last night after a delicious dinner and wine tasting at a local winery. You two had a few too many glasses of wine and were lucky you made it home in one piece.

Flashback to last night

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that many glasses of wine in one sitting before,” you slurred as Joe led you inside the kitchen.

“Me either, next time make sure I stop after the 3rd glass. And it’s a good thing we got someone to take us back and forth,” he said as he took off his jacket and went to get you both some water.

“Literally. If you were to drive I think we’d end up in the Ohio River,” you deadpanned.

“Haha, really funny,” Joe said as he handed you a glass of water.

“God my feet feel like they’re on fire,”. You wailed out while taking a sip of the icy cold beverage.

Joe looked over at you and saw you eyeing your feet. You were wearing a short skin-tight black dress; one of his favorites. The low cut of the dress highlighted your neck which had his favorite part of your outfit. The necklace he gave you for your 1 month anniversary. A simple pendant with the letter “J”. After he gave you that necklace, you never took it off. It became a part of you, and he noticed that.

Joe crouched down and began untying your heels.

“Joe you don’t have to do that,” you cooed while twirling your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he said while flashing you a smile.

He helped you step out of your heels and back onto the ground. Once he got back up he wrapped his big hands around your waist and your hands immediately found their home around his neck and into his hair again.

You inched your face a little closer to his and pressed a delicate kiss onto his soft pink lips.

“Hi,” you whisper against his lips. This time, he pressed a soft kiss on your nose.

“Hi,” he whispered back, staring into your eyes.

“Tonight was really fun. Thank you for always knowing how to get my mind off of things,” you say while staring into his baby blues.

“No need to thank me Y/N. I know how hard you work and how things can become overwhelming. I’m glad that I can get your mind off of things, even if it’s for a little bit,”

He wasn’t wrong. Things often become too much for you back in LA and coming to Joe was your escape. Being with him blocked out the outside noise, you would completely forget about whatever was bothering you. You guys would often end up doing the most random things together, without any plan, but that was okay. Those nights where you’d end up eating Chinese takeout on the floor while building a new Lego set were your favorites. The hot summer days where you both would spend the entire afternoon attached to each other in the pool was one of your favorite ways to destress, it was just the two of you. He is your shelter in the hurricane that is your life.

For Joe, it was very similar. Anytime football would get too real, he’d come straight to you. You were always there whenever he needed to vent or talk something out, knowing you’d always listen. You had been to every single one of his games so far and were always waiting for him in the suite after. Whether he was upset after a shitty game or on Cloud 9, you were always there waiting with open arms. And he loved it. He loved being able to share his high moments with you, even if you had to see some of his lows. Your relationship hadn’t become public yet, which you two were incredibly grateful for. You both were incredibly private people and wanted to take in as much as you could before the whole world had an opinion of your romance. Getting to know each other in private, away from prying eyes, was a blessing.

The two of you continued to stare into each other's eyes, you found yourself once again getting lost in his.

You felt Joe’s hand migrate to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze.“Getting handsy now aren’t we, Burrow,” you softly giggled.

“Can’t help it if my girl looks so goddamn beautiful in this dress,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I appreciate the flattery Mr. Burrow, but do you need something from me or are you just being a flirt” you teased.

“I need you,” he blurted out.

Your heart almost beat out of your chest when you heard him say that. You and Joe haven’t taken that step in your relationship. You’ve had your fair share of heated make-outs that occasionally involve wandering hands, but nothing like that has happened, yet. It’s not that you didn’t want to, god you wanted to. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to climb him like a tree. His perfectly sculpted chest, his muscular arms, those thighs, and that face. He made you weak in the knees, and he was well aware. He never pressured you to go there, letting you know that it’s okay to take things slow. But tonight you didn’t feel like taking it slow.

“Then show me, Joe,” you said as you felt your arousal shoot up.

Joe immediately picked you up, bridal style, causing you to let out a shriek. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he launched you both up the stairs, taking the steps 2 at a time, eventually rushing into the bedroom.

“Joe, slow down!” You squeak out while laughing.

He carefully laid you on his bed admiring you for a second; you looked perfect, even with messy hair and smudged makeup. Joe moved onto the bed and started placing soft butterfly kisses up your arm, right up to that spot on your neck that he knows you love.

“Joe, please,” You whimpered, fully implying you wanted more with the tone of your voice.

Joe removed himself from your neck, looked into your eyes, and said “Are you sure?”.

You smiled and said “Absolutely,”.

He then captured your lips in a passionate and deep kiss. You felt like kissing him till your lips fell off, it was like heaven when you two would connect. Slowly, both of your clothes ended up on the floor and those passion-filled kisses turned messy and sloppy. You felt those butterflies in your stomach again as he was kissing his way down your body. You did not doubt that Joe would be careful with you, and you knew he wanted this just as much as you did.

End of Flashback

You decided to go back to sleep since it was still pretty early and you know Joe was tired from last night. You woke up a few hours later to the smell of cinnamon and coffee.

“Mmmm,” You say as you stretch out. You didn’t feel any weight on you anymore so Joe must have woken up. You looked around the room and didn’t see him anywhere so you decided to freshen up in his bathroom and head downstairs. When you entered the bathroom you saw one of his shirts (a purple long sleeve LSU shirt aka one of your favs) on the counter with a sticky note saying “For you :)”. You put on the soft shirt (which was way too big) and start fixing your messy hair before heading downstairs.

You walk into the kitchen and see the dining table decked out with a vase of pink carnations (which happens to be your favorite flower), 2 plates of French toast, and a smoothie for Joe. You also noticed a mug of coffee which made you smile. Joe knew that you would be a zombie the whole day if you didn’t have your daily morning coffee. Joe was too busy cooking the bacon to notice you coming downstairs, so you walked up behind him and wrapped your hands around him from behind.

“Good morning sexy chef,” you murmured against his back.

“Tryna get me going again?” He teased.

“You wish, last night was a damn workout. I need at least 3 hours to recover before we go at it again,” you giggled.

You heard his soft laugh before he spun around and wrapped his hands around your waist. “Well, we will def be repeating that. “Sooner the better,” he added.

“Horndog,” you said as you pressed a kiss on his cheek.

“Only for you babe,” he says before going back to the bacon. “I’m almost done with this, you can sit at the table.”

“Damn, quarterback, perfect boyfriend, and chef? Impressive job portfolio,” you say while walking to the table and sitting down.

Joe finished cooking the bacon and sat down across from you. “The French toast is a little burnt, I got distracted by the TV,” he admitted. “They were showing this month’s Top 10 funniest cat videos.”

You burst out laughing and say “Guess I should add Cat Lady to your job portfolio too,”

You two spent the morning digging into the delicious breakfast Joe had prepared, even though the French toast was slightly burnt. He talked about the upcoming football season and how excited he was for the new offensive schemes they had come up with. After breakfast, you both ended up on the couch and decided to play a round of go fish. You gave him some album updates, which he’d constantly ask for, and even played one of your demos for him.

“Y/N this is amazing,” he said softly. The song he had just heard was called “Sweet Nothing”, and you weren't planning on ever letting anyone hear it because of how intimate and special it was. A big part of what you did involved you being in the public eye a lot, which allowed everyone to nitpick and talk about your life. It was exhausting how often people would comment on your relationships, friendships, career, body, and everything in between. They always expected you to be perfect in every aspect and when you weren’t, they would make it known. You had written about how Joe never expected anything from you like everyone else did. Being with him was easy and you knew you could always go to him whenever the background noise would get too loud. And now here he was, listening to those feelings you had a hard time saying out loud.

“Thank you. To be honest I wasn’t planning on letting anyone hear that,” you say while looking down and fidgeting with your rings.

“Really?” he asked. “It’s really good, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your boyfriend.”

“Yep. I love it, I really do. I think it’s one of the best songs I’ve written so far, but I feel like it’s too bare and the fans won’t understand the real meaning behind the song. And I feel like they won’t like it.”

“And that’s exactly why you should release it. I know the real you, and that is the real you,” he says while pointing at your phone. Screw the fans, you should do what makes you happy.” he says before reaching for your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “You make music because that makes you happy and you shouldn’t have to worry about what people will say. If they have an issue with you doing what you want, then they are sure as hell not fans.”

You got up on your knees and jumped onto Joe’s body, making you both lay flat against each other on the couch.

“How do you always know what to say,” you beam while prepping soft kisses all over his face.

Your heart felt like it was about to explode. It only took a few months for someone you just met to understand you more than people following your journey over the past few years. Joe’s words felt like a warm comforting hug, and they always made you feel like everything was going to be okay. You valued his words so much, you trusted him so much, and he loved that you were so open and vulnerable with him. He knew that opening up was difficult for you, and he felt at peace knowing you felt comfortable confiding in him. You weren't holding back anymore. You were 100% open and honest with him and he never took advantage of it. Your fears of getting hurt were fading away.

——————————————————

present day:

You kiss on sidewalks, You fight and you talk

One night he wakes, Strange look on his face,

Pauses, then says, “You’re my Best Friend”

And you knew what it was, He is in Love

“Y/N?” was all you heard as you felt your shoulder shake. “Did I lose you there?” Joe asked.

“What?” you questioned as you looked up at him. You were back in the fort Joe built for you two.

“I was asking what you thought of the house,” he says as he plays with your hair. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

“Oh. Sorry, I must have dozed off for a second,” you lied, not admitting you were caught in a series of flashbacks. “I think it’s amazing. It’s sooo big and has so much potential.” you continue.

“Yeah, it is pretty big,” he says with a sigh. You look up at him and immediately sense the change in his tone plus the dejected look on his face, “Is that not what you wanted?” you say with concern. “I thought you wanted a big house.”

“I did, I do. I just don’t want to be alone in this big of a house when you aren’t here,” he confessed, feeling slightly embarrassed as if he didn’t have other things to occupy his free time. “Unless,” he added.

“Unless what?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying, “Move in with me”.

It took a few moments for your brain to register what he said to you. You immediately sat up, as did he. You were about to say something but he cut you off before you could.

“Y/N. These past 6 months have been nothing short of peaceful and amazing. Being with you brings me the balance I need in my life. I know that if I ever fly too high or get lost, I have someone who can find me and bring me back down. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in life, and now you’re everything I need.” he says.

“You’re my biggest cheerleader, my support system, my safety net, but most importantly.” He pauses and says, "You're my best friend.” “And I love you.” he finishes.

Those 3 words. The 3 words that you’ve wanted to say to him for months but didn’t because you weren’t entirely sure if he felt the same way. Those 3 words just came out of his mouth, and he meant it. He loved you more than anything and he needed to make it known. He needed to wake up to your smile every morning. He needed to hear your voice echo through the halls of the house. You made him feel loved, and he needed you to know that.

You didn’t realize the hot tears streaming down your cheeks until Joe lifted his hand and started wiping them.

“Y/N, are you okay?” he asks, feeling nervous since you didn’t respond to anything he just said.

You started crying even harder. He loved you. He really loved you.

“Y/N you’re scaring me”.

“Shut up,” you said before you put your hands on his face and brought him in for a passionate kiss.

You kissed him for a few heartbeats and finally whispered against his lips “I love you,” loud enough for just him to hear before you captured his lips in another kiss.

He stops kissing you and stares into your eyes for a moment, getting lost in them like you do with his eyes. “So about my first question,” he beams.

“Yes silly, I’ll move in with you,” you giggle. “Someone has to make sure that you don’t burn this place down while making french toast. You got lucky last time,” you laugh out while remembering that morning.

“Haha, really funny babe,” he says before pulling you into a hug. The warmth of your bodies pressed together was the most comforting feeling in the world. Joe spent the rest of the night telling you how much he loved you, and you reciprocated the feeling by showing him how much you loved him.

We’re in love.

—The End—

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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starrywilliams · 11 months ago

Text

guilty as sin? | abby anderson

“these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head”

warnings: masturbation, slight masochism, ruined orgasm, angst, perv!abby (a little), internalized homophobia (discussed in more detail below)

notes: no surprise my favourite ttpd song is the gayest one on the album, but guilty as sin? screams lesbian guilt i fear!!!! i’ve been writing this for over a month so i hope u guys like it 😭

cw: discussion of lesbian guilt & comphet - these are somewhat based on my own experiences with my sexuality and i absolutely!!! do not think a man can ‘cure’ a lesbian or anything similar to that. nor do i believe anyone should ever feel guilty for being gay. realising i’m a lesbian has been extremely freeing & dykes r the best x

wc: 1.8k

likes, comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

the door slammed harshly behind abby as she stormed into her room. she pulled her jacket off desperately; her skin hot under its tight vice. she’d been in the gym, trying to work out her endless frustration of late, when you’d walked in.

you’d only said “hi" and smiled politely at her before setting your things down. but she felt her stomach churn, a black hole opening inside her. abby stood up, pulling the weights off the barbell and onto their rack. she grunted softly, glancing at you from the corner of her eye.

you’d started stretching, currently bent over as you touched your toes. her eyes drifted for an infinitesimal moment, locking onto the swell of your-. she looked away - wrongwrongwrong.

but then she looked back, her stare feasting on your body. she wondered whether you were doing this on purpose, trying to tempt her from across the room. she wondered if you knew her dirty little secret, abby picturing a smirk on your face as you mocked her for such indecent thoughts.

she didn’t want to feel this way. she didn’t want to feel the poison ivy swarming around her chest, getting tighter, tighter. the rash spread inside her; this invisible whip of lust lashing against her skin whenever your face appeared in her mind. well, had it been just your face maybe she wouldn’t feel like some depraved sinner.

now it wasn’t like abby believed in god, in a world where death and destruction infect every crevice you’d have to be mad to believe that any ‘god’ wanted its followers to suffer so greatly. but something inside her screamed every time she had these thoughts. these impure, twisted thoughts about you.

she didn’t know what made her feel like this. what made her resent you for simply existing; and what made her resent herself.

she recalled her teenage years, when manny had subtly suggested that owen liked her - so she was supposed to like him back, right? and she tried! she loved him even - but there was always that something, that feeling in her gut that told her that something was wrong, something about him that just would never sit right with her.

but all the other girls wanted a boyfriend too, and the jealousy was nice at first - she’d thought. after all, mel was the star student, a doctor in the making, her dad’s favourite; and nora was this freshly trained medical officer, and abby was- abby was just abby.

her dad began noticing her more too - previously too preoccupied with his firefly duties and his favourite student. now his little girl was slipping away from him, he finally began paying her the amount of attention she’d craved for so long.

before, their conversations had often drifted into talk of mel and her new achievements, or his hopes of a vaccine, or some animal he was tracking. never anything about his daughter’s life.

having a boyfriend made her interesting, it gave the other girls something to envy. which was a nice reversal, for a while. then her dad died, and she had become this object of pity. owen helped a bit, she supposed. he tried to distract her and keep her focused on their new role as soldiers, but she barely cared about him anymore. all she wanted was revenge, and with revenge, came you.

you were one of the gyms trainers, passionate about helping the members of the wlf stay fit and healthy! you’d helped her start lifting weights, squealed as she reached every milestone, and had remarked jokingly about just how much you loved her new physique.

it was innocent at first, the most being her brain going a little fuzzy when you’d bit your lip while spotting her; a slight blush when you’d hugged her a little too tight. then, once she and owen were finally broken up, these new pictures began hanging themselves on the walls of her mind. still, innocent, just slightly tainted with desire - the true nature of them still an avoidable matter for her back then.

when she could ignore the truth in her recent behaviour, abby loved spending time with you. after all, you were just really good friends! anyway, she’d had a boyfriend before so everyone knew she was normal, and absolutely not different, and she would never ever have to feel like an outsider.

yet it took a mere three months before she gave up on this foolish lie. she liked you, and as long as nobody ever found out, it wouldn’t matter.

but as her mind grew dark and twisted - joel a constant topic in her head as she obsessed over finally getting to enact revenge - her thoughts got worse in turn. she wanted you - filthily and desperately.

every gym session ended with another cold shower, a desperate plea for her body to stop and let her focus on the task at hand; a hopeless attempt to bury this ache into the ground; an endless endeavour to escape these urges for just one second.

but then she came back changed, every hair on her body endlessly erected with guilt. the way she’d killed him so mercilessly, the way it had done nothing to ease the pain, and the way you had tormented her mind ceaselessly throughout the entire trip.

maybe, had she never met you, she could’ve just killed him and been satisfied. maybe had you never offered to train her personally, she could’ve just stayed comfortable in that stuffy closet. maybe if she found the right man she’d stop feeling this way.

abby deemed such ideas unfathomable now.

owen made her feel nothing. being with him was like an eternal thursday, an endless wait for the week’s end and its pleasure to turn up at her door. every day she’d wait for some spark to arrive, the routine only becoming more and more tedious by the minute. but he helped her get people’s attention, which was enough when she was just abby.

but then she was abby anderson, top scar killer and isaac’s favourite. she got attention on her own, she was praised for her own accomplishments: people worshipped the fucking ground she walked on. but they didn’t know who she really was.

they didn’t know she liked girls the way she was supposed to like boys. she’d seen it in enough of those wlf movie nights - cruel jokes about anyone who even thought about being different. she’d heard the way people gossiped, “did you hear that they’re moving lesbians into the family unit? what a joke.”

they said it like it was something dirty, something egregious, something that she had to hate about herself. so she did.

but as long as she kept it secret, kept it locked away in her mind, maybe she’d be okay. after all, only your actions talk: it was the age old question really, if a tree falls in a forest and no one else hears it, does it make a sound?

abby fell back against her bed sheets, calloused hands pushing her cargos down to her ankles as she replayed the sight of you in her mind. bent over - she felt like you were trying to tempt her on purpose.

she felt like a heathen; staring, fantasizing, worshipping. her mind was bursting with the idea of every possible position she could put you in; head a chorus of every little noise she wanted to hear you make; eyes screwed shut as depravity filled her every sense.

she shoved her bralette up her chest roughly, fingertips dragging over her nipples with little mercy. she pinched them, the peach skin stinging underneath her touch.

she wanted it to hurt; wanted it to feel like some sort of punishment for her thoughts. but as her hips bucked into the air, a long whine dragging from her clenched jaw, she realised it needed to hurt more.

she imagined you, finding her like this. disgust burnt into your features - what the fuck was she doing? repeating your name like some subverted prayer, fingers harshly scratching along her stomach as she tried to make the pleasure feel more like pain, trying to induce some connection between the two.

if it hurt enough, would she stop? force herself to forget? could she torture this part of herself until it surrendered?

her hand slipped over the top of her boxers, a finger running tentatively over her clit through the now darkened fabric. she bit down on her lip, groaning against it as she pushed down harder and harder, attempting to break through the skin.

another finger pressed down, beginning to draw circles down on the throbbing bud. she jolted against her own touch, your head between her legs burning into her mind. your hands, trailing along her flesh - groping at her with little tenderness; tongue, swiping at her pussy with no intent of fulfillment: she wanted you to make her weep, smoke out her lungs with shame, deny her from gratification until all she could feel was regret.

she pulled away, only to cover her fingertips with her spit - diving under her boxers to continue with her corruption. abby let out a strangled sigh, hips grinding against her fingers as they toyed with her clit.

she moved a hand to her hair, knuckles stretching against her scalp as she began to pull her braid. she grunted, yanking even harder. she whispered your name: pained, hopeless.

she sped up her assault against her pussy, feeling that pit in the bottom of her stomach begin to grow. “pleasepleaseplease” her voice cracked as she begged, unsure what she was pleading for.

she wanted to stop, but she needed to try and make this feeling go away. she knew it would come back, it always did - but even five minutes free from your torment on her mind might save her.

her fingers kept going, drawing desperate circles against her weeping pussy relentlessly. the void was growing, almost consuming her entirely at this point. she thought of you laughing at her current state: a crying mess, pussy wet with perversion.

it was sick, really - how the idea of you hating her for this made her need even worse. you’d probably think it appalling: someone who was supposed to be your friend, now sat here burning at the thought of you.

a part of her wished that you shared this sickness. that you too let yourself be overwhelmed by the thought of sin. maybe you didn’t let the guilt swallow you whole - she hoped so.

but there was no point lingering in the what-ifs, they were far too fleeting.

her deft fingers quickened their pace, the ache all consuming. the climb began - a desperate jump towards oblivion. closer, closer. the flames scorched her bedsheets as her breathing hastened.

fuck, she hissed before reaching the apex with a scream of your name. a scream? a whisper? a thought? it didn’t make her actions any less deplorable.

her conscience grabbed pleasure by the throat as she ripped her fingers away, putting out the blaze on her hips like a cigarette crushed on the ground.

the desire imploded within the walls of her torso; scratching against her insides in the vengeance of her denial.

it was wrong; she had to stop it. yet still, the guilt poured into her lungs with no chance of resolve. she was a fool for thinking it would fix her. maybe next time it would work. maybe next time the exorcism would finally purify her.

until next time.

#abby anderson #tlou #the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us 2 #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #abby anderson angst #abby anderson is a lesbian #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson fics #abby anderson fic

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katiascraft · 6 months ago

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BLOG MASTERLIST

﹙♡﹚ ── my name is catalina and i write about formula one drivers to ease my mind and survive life. if you like what i do, don't forget to show support so i won't cry before my sleep :)

first semester 2025: I will be more inactive than usual. It’s my last semester at university to become bachelor! So bear with me. Thank you all so much for the support in advance <3

Charles Leclerc

“You knew all too well I was right where you left me” [on the making] -> It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

“Am i too much for you? Maybe I’m too much for everyone” -> Reader feels insecure but Charles makes sure she knows how important she is to the world (specially his world).

“Tender is the night for a broken heart” -> You been feeling very sad lately. Your emotional stress is taking you places you didn’t want to back in ever again. And Charles knows it - just wanna make sure you know you are loved despite it all.

“You think you won ‘cause you got the man. But honey, you’ll always be a fan” -> Charles has a new girl and she’s obsessed with you.

“If I define her I limit her” -> You go together to the Gladiator || premier because your best friend Paul Mescal invited you. You didn’t expect Charles being so sweet talking about you on interviews.

“26” -> the world didn’t know you and Charles broke up a few months ago. it was until you haven’t been to any gp people started speculating. he finds some one new. Makes his dream com true. And you write an album about him reveling how you broke up and why.

“Let’s fall in love for the night” -> charles finally drops his frist ever sang song and unsurprisingly for the fans it's about you <3

Lando Norris

part 1: “opposite”, part 2: “sue me” -> Reader and Lando broke up a few months ago. You both assist a mutual friend’s birthday party and Lando has a new girl. Then reader has a girlfriend and thinks she’s all right. But did she really move on?

part 1: “so long, London”, part 2: “L’AMOUR DE MA VIE” -> You and Lando have been engaged for a while. You thought you were end game but he didn’t love you anymore. Then, you moved on. But Lando didn’t.

“If you were my boyfriend. And I was your girlfriend. Probably wouldn’t see nobody else” -> you are just ‘friends’.

“If nothing else get you through. Then darling, I’ll cry with you” -> Lando was fighting the championship until the Brazil GP happens. Max wins and Lando pretends it’s not a big deal. But you know, it is.

“Him” -> oblivious idiots to lovers. That’s what Max said.

“I would set the world on fire for you” -> after the Brazil GP, lando comes home to the worst week of his year. Also, it was his birthday. So even though the world hates him, you wanna make sure he is loved and he did nothing wrong. And that if you could you would set the world on fire for him.

"And the oscar goes to..." -> you’re a star rising in the Hollywood scene. Tonight you could be making history. The youngest actress in history to be nominated for best actress in a leading role. And of course, your boyfriend (of 5 years now) had to be there.

“Almost, always” -> this chapter of y/n’s life is about how lando said there was nobody else for him but then she appeared.

Oscar Piastri

“I’ll pay the price I guess” -> the world hates you’re dating Oscar.

“This is how you fall in love” -> Oscar is truly, madly, deeply in love with you.

"Maybe i should've told you i miss you. But i don't know if you feel the same" -> your insecurities lead to lose the love of your life, but destiny always play its worst (or best) cards for you. in the aftermath of it all, two souls become one (again). or that's what you'd like.

Franco Colapinto

“But we were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you” -> You and franco broke out a year ago. You are now Williams Racing social media manager and he’s an F1 driver. Your job just got a bit harder because of him. Is possible a second chance?

"Modales" -> You had a brief yet beautifully intense romance with F1 driver Franco Colapinto a few years ago when he was driving for F3. When he decided to end your relationship, you didn’t expect he would move on that quickly.

“Pueden más que el amor y son más fuertes que el Olimpo” -> how is like to date Franco since your teenage years. And how is for you as a student to balance your world and his world to make the relationship work.

"Un san valentin distinto (no quiero ser una carga)" -> has estado ansiosa en uno de los dias menos conveniente del año, pero fran te hace saber que todo está bien.

Lewis Hamilton

“Can’t believe you’ve noticed me” -> Reader and Leiws are on vacation. One day under the golden hour he decides to sing you a song he wrote for you.

“but then you happened” -> how you went from a friend of a friend to date the love of your life <3

Max Verstappen

"am i enough?" -> max feels insecure of his body :( (so you comfort him)

Made in Argentina : The series

Reader is argentine and Franco Colapinto's bestie.

Lando’s Version -> part 1

Oscar’s version -> part 1

𝜗𝜚 wags x reader edition

Alexandra Saint MLeux

“I can do the shit that he never did” -> after the past events on the formula one lore around Charles Leclerc, we can confirm he has a type. Artists, aesthetics and Instagram influencers. What the world didn’t expect was that his two exes would end up together. Insane, right? But in the world of millionaires life it’s pretty unexpected and not as it seems to be. Bonded by art, this is a love story for the books of formula 1 history.

Like , reblog & comment if you like!

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brat-pack-it-up-boys · 6 months ago

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Ponyboy that was then this is now headcanons

• I’m a big believer in ponyboy continuing to dye his hair blonde after windrixville for sentimentality (also I fuck with the character design aspect)

• so his hairs died blond but it’s also grown out, its the late 1960s and greased hair is becoming even less of a thing than it was before, so his hair is choppily cut above his shoulders and it has the worst grown at roots

• he is the KING of hand me downs, more so than in the outsiders because he fits into more of the clothes that darry and soda actually saved, soda’s flannels, pants, shirts, Darry’s old jackets, he owns his shoes and that it

• okay this one goes more into the au where sodapop is drafted and killed in the Vietnam war because it technically lines up with the twttin timeline. But ponyboy would wear soda’s dog tags literally every day

• more reckless than he was in the outsiders, partially because he’s grown up and partially because of his friends and the people he surrounds himself with

• his friendgroup basically consist of the remainder of the gang, curly and Angela, mark, scout, and two bits sister Brenda I guess

• on the topic of Brenda, ponyboy basically reacreats his and Johnnys relationship with dally with her, they’re so siblings you don’t understand, the brother and sister ever

• very unpopular in school, not in a way of getting bullied but in the way of a lot of kids in his grade being scared of him

“that Curtis kid who helped kill someone”

• the beef Bryon has him is entirely one sided to the point that Ponyboy doesn’t even realize it exists

• despite not having the best reputation he’s finally grown into his looks and if it weren’t for the events of the first book he would be pulling

• Him and Cathy start dating a little bit after twttin, Cathy had been at boarding school during the entirety of the first book so she didn’t have the same stigma against him that the other kids at school

• he actually gets pretty into the Beatles after he starts dating Cathy because they’re her favorite band, he likes the please please me album

• he also adopts M&M into his little gang with Brenda (pushing my M&M and Brenda as best friends agenda)

• in the end all that really means is that he helps M&M with kids picking on him (his reputation from the whole bob incident makes him pretty intimidating), M&M and Brenda also get to tag along on some of Pony and Cathy’s dates to the movies

• honestly I could talk about him and Cathy for hours but as the youngest him dating her and realizing how much she has to do as the oldest makes him gain more of understanding for darry

• also him and Cathy’s song is definitely Do you want to know a secret

@izaacs-notdeadyet because you mentioned you wanted to hear them, sorry it took me thousand years to actually get around to posting this

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strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

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The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

#steddie #my fic #based on xoxoladyaz's ficlet #it'll be three parts i think #the interview #Steve's response and the immediate aftermath of that #and eddie meeting up with steve to talk

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kpopbestie96 · 1 month ago

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Prince and Princess of Versace 💖🔥

Summary: You are attending the Versace after party with your new boyfriend, hoping to not run into your ex but it's hard when you and him are labeled the Prince and Princess of Versace. See how it all turns out when you and your ex are in the same building. I really hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hyunjin x you, Hyunjin x reader

Genre: Fanfiction

Warnings: couples fighting, cussing. When you see words italicized it means they're speaking in Korean.

"Ready?" You were looking out the window when you heard your boyfriend, feeling his strong hand place on yours to make you break out of your thoughts.

You were trying your best all day to stay strong, to build up the confidence for tonight. You tried all day to avoid your ex but it's hard not to hear cheers for the "Prince of Versace." But you were happy to never saw him at the fashion show.

"Yeah, I'm ready." You really didn't want to walk into the after party, you wanted to skip it but you had to attend since it's part of your contract.

You gave your boyfriend a small smile as the door opened and lights immediately went off, fans calling your name while screaming on the top of their lungs. "ITS THE PRINCESS OF VERSACE!!!"

You hated the nickname since you were given it when you were dating Hyunjin but you knew there was no way to ever get rid of it. You had it now, forever.

You smiled as normal as you could while waving to all of your fans who have been waiting there all day. You grabbed your boyfriend's hand and walked inside to the party while waving to everyone.

"That was a lot," Your boyfriend made a snarky comment, another one that has added up on your annoyance bar but you decided to brush it off for now. 'I have more important things to worry about,' you thought.

Your mind was already made up that you were gonna break up with him a few days after the event, you've reached your level with him.

"Y/n!!" You heard your best friend's voice, calling for you the second you walked in. Turning around, you see her running up in her Versace designer dress that was custom made for her. She threw herself on you, hugging you tightly since you've both been busy and haven't seen each other in person in a while.

"It's so good to see you!!" You heard her by your ear. "It's been far too long! Where's your manager at??" She wondered when pulling away.

"I know, I know!! And, she said she's too old for this stuff now and wanted to take in the city by herself tonight. But, Angie, I don't know if you remember my boyfriend, Sergio," you said turning to her, even though you know she's never met him but tried to be polite with it.

Angie has only seen him on your social media or because of the media since he's a professional footballer. But she could sense something was off with you and him, kind of wishing you and Hyunjin got back together. She actually wanted to make sure you were okay since he was here tonight.

"Oh, yes. We met vaguely at a party once, it's so nice to see you," she lied to be nice but hoping this was just a phase you were going through, not thinking he will last much longer.

He put up a charming smile as he shook her hand. "Very nice to see you. Baby doll, Angie, would you both like some champagne?"

"Yes, I'd love one," you smiled, turning towards him.

"Me too," Angie politely smiled, knowing it was going to be her only chance to talk to you alone.

"I'll be back," he kissed you on the lips before taking off.

"Sooo...thanks for lying." You and Angie laughed when he walked away.

"I see that you're doing okay, dating a footballer and putting out a new album...so amazing!"

"Oh, I'm glad you liked it! But what about you? You've been busy traveling the world, winning races! Kicking guys' ass!" You slightly nudged her on the arm, gushing over how well she's been racing in Formula One.

"Ahh, just a bunch of trophies," you both laughed as Angie was a bit nervous to bring up Hyunjin. "But of course I loved your album, especially one song in particular...one that's about...you know who. You doing okay?"

Your eyes lit up since you've been telling everyone that the song it isn't about your ex; although...you've been lying to everyone.

Fixing your posture, you relaxed your shoulders and tried your best to stay clam, having a poker face. "Yeah, I'm fine," 'but am I? I low key miss Hyunjin and I'm going to break up with my current boyfriend. Yeah, doing fine,' you sarcastically thought in your mind, wanting to say it but held your tongue.

"C'mon...its me..." she look fondly at you, softly gabbing your right hand with her, "how are you doing...Princess of Versace," she smirked, knowing what she is eluding to. She is one of your dearest friends, the very few people you can trust.

"If I have to hear that name, one more time today!" You jokingly laughed, hoping that brushed it away.

"And that tells me everything I need to know."

You couldn't help but chuckle, "That obvious?"

"A little but have you seen him today at all?"

"No, I took a picture with Donatella and I was a little shocked she didn't bring us together to all take one. I was waiting for it."

"Well she's here tonight and I think Hyunjin is already here."

"Great, just gotta keep ignoring him."

"And if you run into him?"

"Smile and wave."

"Do you still think about him?"

You stared at her with your mouth open when Sergio walked back with drinks for you and Angie, wrapping his arm around your waist as you all took a sip of the drink while you felt his hand grip your waist a bit tighter. You wondered why but let it go since you were with your friend.

But what you didn't know is when he was grabbing drinks, he saw your ex. He obviously knows who he is, one of the reasons he wasn't looking forward to coming to this event with you. But he had a secret motive, hoping you introduced him to Donatella, she would sign him on.

Some other people you and Angie know joined the group, all began talking as Sergio's head was on a swivel, making sure Hyunjin didn't see you.

And Hyunjin was trying his best to make sure he didn't run into you but hearing Princess of Versace throughout the day made his heart sink to his stomach, making it form a painful knot.

He grabbed a drink to help with the worry of bumping into you. He subconsciously scanned the area; thankfully not seeing you until he was about to look back at the person talking when someone that was blocking you and Sergio moved away.

'No....' his jaw locked and his eye brows pinched together, standing taller while looking at you and your new boyfriend he's heard so much about. He still looks at your public account every so often. When you post your new boyfriend, he always tries to look away as if he doesn't see him.

You were laughing along with friends when you could feel eyes on you, like you were being watched. You moved your head to the left but didn't see anyone, going to drop it when in the corner of your right eye, you saw him.

The man you were desperately trying to avoid all night is eyeing you and your boyfriend, seeming pissed off. 'But why do I find him so hot though...no no no. Shake your mind out of it.' Your eyes locked with his for a brief second before turning away. Angie wondering what was going on until she followed your once gaze you had towards Hyunjin.

She turned back around and gave you a look, making you shrug your shoulders while Hyunjin's eyes relaxed, he's missed you so much. Everything he's tried so hard to suppress was coming up. He couldn't take his eyes off you; 'looking so beautiful, so radiant in that outfit,' he wanted to go over just to say hi.

Although it the back of his mind he wanted to rip the outfit off and be with you once again.

Hyunjin's manager/friend that he's known for so many years, saw him staring at you with your boyfriend, making his way quickly over to make sure Hyunjin was okay.

"Yeah...I'm fine..." He couldn't help but stare over, he tried focusing on the people talking in the group he was in but it was doing no good.

Sergio saw Hyunjin looking over, making him grab your waist a bit tighter, bringing you closer to him. "How much longer do we need to stay?" he whispered in your ear, eyeing Hyunjin whom he gave a nasty look towards.

'Fuck this guy,' Hyunjin thought.

"Why?" You asked annoyed, 'This is one of the reasons I'm going to break up with you,' you couldn't help but roll your eyes, slowly moving out of his grip, wondering why he's being so clingy.

"Just want alone time with you," he lied while kissing your cheek, pissing of Hyunjin even more. He turned away and began to fake laugh with the people he was with.

The whole night you and Hyunjin tried to act like you both weren't there, occasionally stealing looks with each other but eventually you and him both moved around so you couldn't see each other anymore.

"Hey, will you go with me to the restroom?" Angie whispered to you, wanting to talk to you since she's been watching you and Hyunjin the whole night.

"Yeah, let's go!" You turned to your boyfriend, explaining how you and Angie were going to go use the restroom really quick.

"Okay, I'll be here," you both shared a kiss before turning away with your friend, heading to the restroom where you both talked about Hyunjin when washing your hands, realizing how he still sits in your heart when you don't want him to.

"Do you think we should get back together?" you softly asked well resting your body against the counter.

"I can't make that decision for you, no one can but you. You have to listen to what's in here," she said pointing to your heart. "I like Hyunjin with you, going to be honest, not getting great vibes from Sergio."

You're glad that she spoke up, telling you the truth, something you don't hear often. 'This is why I'm friends with her.'

"If Hyunjin wants to get back together, would you?"

"I....I don't know..."

"You don't know or you don't want to say it out loud?"

You nibbled on your bottom lip as you looked towards the ground before looking back up at her with an uneasy face. "The second one..." you said in a low tone but she was able to pick up on it.

"C'mon, let's get back to the party," you followed behind her, exiting through the door when you both noticed a huge crowd in front of you guys.

Angie grabbed your hand and began to lead you back, bumping into everyone, saying sorry as you go along. You were almost out of the crowd when you and someone bumped into each other, "sor-" was all you could say when you noticed who it was.

You let go of your friend's hand, who turned around to see you stand in front of Hyunjin, who was staring at you in complete shock. It's as if time stood still for both of you. All the music, the voices were completely gone as if you two were the only ones in the room.

He wanted to reach out and bring you into your arms but instead he could only say hello, words that were a bit shaky coming out.

"Hi," you nervously smiled, your body trembling, yelling at yourself to be cool, 'just say hi and be on my way.' "It's good to see you," you waved politely, pointing your left foot towards Angie, ready to take off when he gently grabbed your hand. He did it out of muscle memory, a whole shock entered your body from his touch.

You could feel your heart pounding inside your chest while your brain was telling you to run. "You look absolutely stunning tonight." He wanted to keep you there a little bit longer, he wasn't ready for you to leave.

Your cheeks heated up, trying to hide the huge smile that wanted to come out but kept it as normal as you could. But, he could see how the small comment made you flustered, something he always loved to do.

"Um...thanks, you look good too," you said in almost a whisper, plus it didn't help with how loud it was from people talking and the music.

"What??" He asked, bending his head down to hear you. You couldn't believe his new blonde hair, eyeing how short it is.

"You look good too, I like your new hair cut! Love how you incorporated Versace on it." You yelled by his ear, making him smile; not only from the compliment but from how close you were to him.

"Thank you, I wanted to do something different," he said before rubbing his hand on his very short hair, still bent down a little towards you, subconsciously moving closer.

His face was inches from yours, a short breath escaped your lips as you both held eye contact while your friend was keeping an eye on your boyfriend to make sure he doesn't see the interaction with your ex.

Your eyes accidently dropped to his lips that you wanted to smash yours against. 'Damn alcohol,' you cursed at the few drinks you had, playing with your mind. 'But his lips look so inviting', you couldn't help but look back at them, seeing how soft and plump they are.

'Nope, don't do it!!' "I should get going, it was really good to see you," you tried your best to break out of his spell.

'Just ask her to talk some more, tell her you miss her,' "I-" was all he got out because he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"My Prince and Princess!" Donatella called out in happiness, bringing both of you in for a hug. "I've been looking everywhere for the two of you! Come, let's take some photos together over in the VIP area."

Hyunjin and you both looked at each other with an unknowing look, him hoping you say yes so he can spend some time with you.

"Of course!" He said with a huge smile.

"Sure, let's go," you didn't want to say yes but knew Donatella's feelings would be hurt and she could terminate you contract for say no. Besides that, there was something deep down wanting to keep hanging out with Hyunjin some more.

"Fabulous!" She took your hand and his, taking you away before you could tell Angie. But she knew she had to cover for you when seeing you whisked away with Hyunjin.

She nervously walked back over to Sergio like a child who left in trouble, seeing him talking to a group of people who were asking him questions about his sport. She let out a big sigh before stepping in the circle of people who couldn't believe it was a Formula One driver entering the group. Sergio's eyes rolled when everyone began to pay attention to her.

He was listening to her talk but when he looked to his sides, looked towards Angie realizing you were missing. 'Where the fuck is she?? Oh no...'

He was afraid his fear from tonight was coming true, he briskly made his way over towards Angie wanting to know where you went. He inserted himself between her and someone else, earning a nasty glare of the person he nudged out.

"Where's Y/n?" He quickly asked, his jaw locking in anger.

She didn't appreciate his tone and the fact he came rushing over to ask where you're at, 'she's a grown adult, she can do whatever the fuck she wants,' is what she wanted to say but decided to keep that a thought instead. "She's taking photos with Donatella."

"Donatella and who??" He knew he had to be with you and Donatella, he could feel it. But before Angie could explain, he looked right past her, seeing you, Hyunjin and Donatella through a window up above in the VIP section.

Angie's eyes quickly diverted to Sergio, "they're Donatella's favorites, ya know?" She immediately tried to defend the situation, trying to let him know it was all Donatella's idea. "They're the Prince and Princess of Versace," She tried to laugh it off but it came up sounding uneasy.

Sergio didn't like seeing you up there with him, afraid he would steal you back but he thought how it's good your with Donatella so he could finally be introduced to her.

"Where are you going?" He walked right past Angie, bumping into her to make his way towards where you were at.

"Fuck you!" She angrily stared at the back of his head while he marched his way upstairs, wondering how he was going to even get into the VIP section.

"I'm so glad to see you both here together again," Donatella smiled with delight, "us three must have lunch tomorrow!"

"Yeah, wonderful idea," Hyunjin said, loving the idea to see you again, especially where it's quiet.

Donatella turned towards you, seeing if you were up to it. 'Say no!' "Yeah, of course," 'what the fuck?!? that wasn't a no!' You yelled at yourself when smiling but quickly was thinking of a lie to get out of it.

"Perfect! I'll see you both tomorrow, I'll send everything to your managers tonight." She said goodbye, giving you both hugs before leaving you both in the VIP section.

"I guess we'll see each other again tomorrow," Hyunjin said a bit loud by your ear so you could hear him over the loud music. He felt giddy thinking of the idea.

"Yeah, I might have something else planned...." You cowardly looked away, trying to get out of the area before you keep falling for him again. "I have to go."

You were about to walk away when he yelled out, "Is it because of something planned or because of me?" He said it so loud people in the small area heard, including you. You froze in your spot before slowing turning back around.

"W-what?"

Hyunjin slowly walked up, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood tall in front of you, looking down. Everyone looked away and going back to their conversations or dancing to the music. "You don't want to go because of me."

"No," you waved your hands side to side in front of you, trying to make sure that wasn't the case, 'even though it's because of that.' "I'm just busy, I don't remember what I have scheduled tomorrow."

He could see you nibble on the inside of your right cheek, an indicator of you lying; something he's seen so many times before. "Why are you lying Y/n?"

You didn't understand why he was getting upset, making you angry. "Look Hyunjin, I don't want start anything, okay? I might not make it because of how busy I am."

"I want to see you again," he quickly through out, shocking himself.

You flinched your upper body a bit back, 'does he miss me too? No, fuck that! He broke up with me!' "Why? You ended this, you broke us up."

"I'm sorry! It was stupid of me! But, I should be the one mad at you for flaunting your new boyfriend in front of me!"

"I'm not flaunting anything!"

"Really? You could have shown up alone or with your manager like I did, instead you showed up with him because you knew I was going to be here!"

Your mouth dropped open, you didn't know what to say. You thought it was little hot to see Hyunjin so jealous but frustrated since he shouldn't be. "You wanted this, you wanted us not together anymore. What was I suppose to do??"

He froze this time, he remembers some of those words, they were from your new album, off one of the songs...'so that song was about me...she really did write it about me.' He knows how talented of a writer you are, so it didn't shock him too much.

His and your eyes were glued to each other, before you gave him a side eye, leaving him standing there because there was nothing left for you to say that wouldn't cause a huge scene. 'I don't need to cause any bad publicity, especially not here.'

When you walked out of the VIP area, you saw your boyfriend waiting there for you. "Hey, there you are." You tried to smile to the best of your ability but it was difficult to come off as genuine.

"You were taking pictures with your ex?" Sergio wasted no time in asking what he's been fuming over.

You rolled your eyes because you didn't want to deal with this, particularly after dealing with Hyunjin. "No, Donatella wanted a photo with the both of us. Do we really have a problem here?" You through back at him because your blood was already boiling, ready to break up with him right there.

He could sense the anger and hearing it in your tone, thinking back to what Angie said how you and your ex are Donatella's favorite, 'they're the Prince and Princess of Versace,' he thought back to Angie's words. But he really didn't want to miss out on his chance to sign with Versace so he decided to lower his tone and look past the photo problem.

"Okay, I believe you...but where's Donatella?"

"I don't know," you gave him a nasty look, 'why the fuck does he want to know, holy fuck does he think I'm still lying??' "She took off after taking photos."

Hyunjin swiftly made his way through the crowd, hoping he could reach you before you left but he saw you with you boyfriend. You gave him one quick look before grabbing your boyfriend's hand.

"Let's get going," you were exhausted from the long day and the last ten minutes drained you.

You made your way through the crowd, finding Angie to tell her you were leaving.

"Okay, bye it was so good seeing you!!" She said really loud when bringing you in for a hug. "Text me when you make it to the hotel," she whispered.

"I will," you softly said as you let go, sharing a caring look with her as she blew you kisses, waving goodbye.

You made your way outside, back to the flashing lights, where you and your boyfriend waved to all your fans.

The driver opened your door, getting in and resting your head against the headrest, wanting to forget about today. You closed your eyes, hearing doors closed and feeling the car taking off.

"You'll have to introduce me to Donatella next time."

Your hands, that were resting in your lap, clenched tightly together when he spoke. "Yeah...sure." You adjusted in your seat, knees pointing towards the door when you brought your phone out of your purse. You immediately went on to social media to see photos of you, looking at what your fan sites were saying; all gushing over you.

You were about to close out of Twitter, when you saw photos of you with Hyunjin and Donatella. You saw tweets saying:

"Are they back together??"

"OMG THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS ARE BACK TOGETHER!! I NEEDED THIS." 😭😭😭

"Told you her recent song off her album was about him!! She clearly still loves him."

"THEY ARE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER. LOOK HOW GOOD THEY BOTH LOOK!! 🥰🥰"

"This is a cute photo but people have to remember her and Sergio are dating. There were photos taken of them together all day."

"Love this but love her and Sergio together!"

You knew people would speculate you and Hyunjin but enjoyed the sane Tweets, pointing out you and Sergio were together all day. 'Thank you so much to the good fans,' you thought while Sergio saw you looking at the photos on your phone, hating that you were.

It was quiet on the way back to the hotel, no one said anything to each other until you and him walked into the hotel room. You were messaging your manager and Angie that you made it back.

You felt a sigh of relief when taking your heels off by the door, ready to take the dress, make up off so you could go take a hot shower. 'I'll text my manager and Angie for a few more minutes then I'll take my shower, take off my make up, and...'

"Do you still love him??" Your thoughts were broken up by your boyfriend's odd question.

"What??" You were taking off your earnings when he brought up this accusation.

"You still love him...I saw you looking at the photos on the car ride back."

'He's messing with me right now...right? That's the only explanation.' "Are you fucking kidding me??" You didn't hold back, you couldn't take it anymore. "I was looking at the photos of me and seeing what people are saying!"

"And what are they saying? Assuming you two are together again?"

"Who fucking cares if they are...the normal ones are saying how cute YOU and I look together! What is your problem, why are you so jealous over him??" You set your earrings down on the night stand, turning towards him.

"I'm not jealous of him! Why would I be jealous of some silly singer??"

That struck a nerve in you, your lips pressing tightly together before speaking, "You know I'm some silly singer, right??"

"You know what I mean," he tried to wave it off while you looked at him as if he had three heads before staring down at the bed. 'I don't belong with this man...I have to end this, I can't wait much longer.'

"I can't do this anymore..." your eyes were staring at the blanket, coming to the realization.

"What?" He was unbuttoning his dress shirt, stopping from your words.

"You can have the room," you slowly moved your eyes up towards him who looked angry but also seemed like he was ready to cry. "I'll stay somewhere, we're done."

"What??" 'Is that the only thing he can fucking say??'

"You heard me! We're done! When we get back home I'll give you your stuff back." You grabbed your earrings and quickly gathered your stuff, running around the room with him yelling at you.

"You can't fucking break up with me! Who do you think you are??"

You ignored him while you gathered everything as quickly as you could, to get out before it got ugly. But you felt as if it was already there with the way he was yelling at you.

"Where are you going?? Staying with Hyunjin?!" You didn't answer him as you made your way out the door, shutting in his face before he got to you.

Hyunjin was on his way back to his hotel, resting his head against the seat with his eyes closed, earning a concerned look from his manager.

"Are you okay?" He asked, even though he knows it was probably about seeing you again.

"I can't believe I made things worse between us," his eye lids tightly pinched together, seeing the scene replay in his mind.

"It will be okay."

He opened his eyes to stare up at the car's roof, "Will it? I can't believe I acted so jealous and she was right I'm the one who broke us up...I shouldn't be acting like this."

"Maybe you should text her to apologize?"

He let out a sharp chuckle, "that's if she hasn't blocked me."

"You'll never know if you don't try."

His managers words sat with him even when he made it to is hotel room, throwing himself on his bed, face down, letting out a angry scream. 'You'll never know if you don't try,' played in his mind again, knowing his manager is right.

He sat up, bringing his phone out before he began to text.

Hyunjin: Hey, I'm really sorry for the way I acted. I miss you.

'No...hate that.'

Hyunjin: I should have never said what I did, I still love you...

'No....UGH, why is this so hard!'

He turned on his back to look up at the celling, wondering what he could say. He couldn't sit still, getting up and pacing the room in hoping the correct words come to him.

'I have to man up and just do it,' he sat down on the edge of the bed and began to text, typing away at a fast pace.

He read it back, happy with what it said and sent it before it was too late. Like a scaredy cat, he threw his phone away from him on the bed and went to go take a nice hot warm shower.

Hyunjin: Hey, I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now or see my message but I'm really sorry for the way I acted. I guess I was jealous, which I shouldn't be. I'm happy to see you happy, you deserve that and the whole world. I'm sorry I broke up with you, I should have never done that, I regret it every day I miss you and hope that you do come tomorrow, I would love to see you again.

(Message not sent)

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*

Thank you so much for reading this short story! I'm debating to do a part two, so if you want/need a part two please let me know and I might write it. But thank you again for reading! 💗🤗

If you wanna check out my longer stories and other Stray Kids stuff click here, if not, it's fine 🤗

Part two >

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids #skz #stay #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fanfic #stray kids fan fic #skz fanfic #you and hyunjin

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pedrithink · 2 years ago

Text

delicate ✩ jude bellingham

about: the massive hate you are getting on internet and the way jude stood by you, supporting you.

couple: jude bellingham x reader! singer

request: hey babyyyy! what do u think about a jude x reader (maybe olivia rodrigo fc) ?? xxx love u

face claim: olivia rodrigo

NOW: Jude’s Bellingham talks ‘Real Madrid’, His first World Cup’s impressions & His favorite Y/N’s songs.

comments ⬇️

user1 he’s so perfect 🥹 yn and him seemed like soulmates

user2 I REMEMBERED WHEN YN POINTED AT JUDE DURING GORGEOUS AND HE TOOK A PHOTO AND SHE WAS ALL GIGGLY

user3 yn once said “you’re so gorgeous, it actually hurts” and “they say home is where the heart is, but that's not where mine lives. you know I love a london boy.”

user4 @user3 im yn

user5 imagine being jude bellingham and having yn write her best love songs and best title tracks about you a DREAM

judebellingham has added to their story

ynusername

Liked by judebellingham, selenagomez, and 5.682.972 others

ynusername vampire song and video out now 🧛🏼. writing this song helped me sort through lots of feelings of regret, anger, and heartache. it's one of my favorite songs on the album and it felt very cathartic to finish. im so happy it's in your hands now and I hope it helps u deal with any bloodsuckers in your lite. all my thanks 4ever 🫶🏻

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judebellingham proud of you, vampie 🧛🏼🩸🥹🫶🏻

ynusername @judebellingham love u babs

user1 vampire is one of the best songs ever

user2 another song about another ex 🥱🙄

user3 @user2 literally let people write out their feelings or WHATEVER they want. obviously yall can only attack women for this tho...

user4 people calling yn boring or overrated for writing songs about her ex does not sit right w me …. like let her write about whatever she wants?? she’s 20??? all singers have songs about their ex’s???? stfu

user5 @user4 SPEAK. ON. IT

user6 "yn makes too much songs ab her ex" "all she write is break up songs, she’s so obsessed"

ok then stop listening to her songs 🤷🏻‍♀️

user7 whaaaaat 😭 why are there so many people mad that yn wrote some songs about her ex. meanwhile, there are men who only write songs about fucking hoes and using drugs and yet they still get praised for it 🥱

judebellingham

Liked by ynusername, masonmount, and 7.899.082 others

judebellingham date night with vampie to celebrate all of her achievements, proud of u ❤️‍🩹

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ynusername 🧛🏻‍♀️🩸❤️‍🩹🧛🏼

user8 JUDE CALLING YN VAMPIE >>>>

user9 i hope i find someone who supports me the way jude supports yn

user10 ill always be soft for these two. its amazing how jude supports yn in any way he can and yn never forgets to save jude a seat. fucking POWER COUPLE!!!

user11 @user10 i just love them

user12 lets talk about the fact that at the 2020 grammys she didn’t feel like there was someone to celebrate with and now she has one and he helps her and supports her and take her on dates when she achieves more and more in her singing career 🥹

user13 yn and jude be like: happiest relationship of my life, so let’s go cheer for my breakup songs together 💕💞💓💗💖💘

ynusername

Liked by judebellingham, arianagrande, and 10.927.526 others

ynusername delicate is out now 🫧 surprise song for y’all, hope u like it 🫶🏻

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user14 delicate video really speaks to me. yn let go of the world's expectations of how she should act, smile and behave. once she did that, she was able to find who she was looking for. i’m shaking and crying, so so proud of our baby!!!!

user15 @user14 it’s already my favorite music video of her!!!! i love the lyrics 2

user16 these pics were taking by jude i’m CRYING and the lyrics… I JUST LOVE HIM EVEN MORE

user17 @user16 yeah 🥹 i’m so happy that she found someone that makes her feel like that

user18 delicate is one of the most beautiful songs yn has ever written, it’s so GENUINE.

#jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football imagine #football fanfic #football one shot #football x reader #football instagram au

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spideysbruh · 8 months ago

Text

short n sweet

a/n- just pretend okay

liked by tchalamet, melissabarrera and 4,615,777 others

y/n please please please tonight!!

view all 87,716 comments

tryinyn DONT TELL ME HES IN THE MUSIC VIDEO OMFGGGGGG

florencepugh spicy!!

tchalamet best set ever all because of you

snoozeyn when timothee is nominated for an oscar for this >>>

timsgf it's a music video he can't get nominated. and it's a shitty one at that, he was the best part

snoozeyn aren't you like 60?

wallowsyn WAIT WAIT WAIT

@chalametupdates just tweeted- Timothée and Y/n behind the scenes of Y/ns new music video!

@ynscurtains replied- BEST MV EVERRR

@timmysgf replied- I wonder how he feels about his girlfriend sexualizing herself for streams

@horroryn replied- HE'S NOT GONNA DATE YOU STFU

liked by tchalamet, sabrinacarpenter and 6,177,388 others

y/n please please please!!! enjoy the video, bitches. the actor in this one is super sexy

view all 98,717 others

rachelzegler that actor is really good!

y/n ik I'm so glad he auditioned

tchalamet superrrrrr sexy

y/n wow full of yourself much?

tchalamet I was talking about you 😔

pleaseyn timmy as a crazy ass criminal is just too awesome

goodgracesyn "men suck" and whole time she's dating timmy LMAOO she's so real

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 3,387,827 others

y/n short 'n' sweet is all yours tonight

view all 91,277 comments

tchalamet and you're all mine every night

mystyn I CLAIM COINCIDENCE ALREADY

ynsheadphones im so curious ab what the love songs ab timmy sound like

rachelzegler my favorite album ever

liked by y/n

timyn his comment 💀💀 so down bad

y/n just posted a story!

caption- damn maybe he should've released an album

liked by y/n, kidcudi and 6,716,773 others

tchalamet this beautiful girls album released today. bed chem is objectively my favorite, also juno.

view all 101,177 comments

supergraphicyn juno omg he's a freak

shortyn LISTEN TO GOOD GRACES AND LEARNNNNNN

y/n who's the cute guy in the white jacket- oh wait he's sitting next to me rn nvm LOL

tchalamet liked

daylightyn bed chem.. lucky girl

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- date night 😍😍

liked by haileybieber, tchalamet, madisonbeer and 5,717,888 others

y/n so.. what's everyone's favorite ?

view all 103,287 comments

exesyn WHO MADE YOU WRITE DUMB AND POETIC

ynsdune BRO ITS SHAWN I SWEAR

tchalamet how does it feel to be this generations Shakespeare?

y/n liked

sabrinacarpenter I wish I made this wtf

y/n you've got it in you!!!

@companyyn just tweeted- WHOS THE CUTE BOY IN THE WHITE JACKET BITCH WHICH ONE

@beetleyn replied- also what fucking accent is she talking ab

@yn replied- idfk I needed a rhyme 🤷🏽‍♀️

@byeyn replied- HELLO!?!??! HEY GIRL

@infiniteyn replied- she's so fucking funny help

@laurieslaurence replied- he speaks french too so maybe that's what !!

@celebnews just tweeted- weeks after her new album released, Y/n L/n is seen happily with her boyfriend Timothée Chalamet. He was taking several pictures of her on a disposable camera. They stopped to say hi to fans and were apparently very kind and interactive.

@beliebyn replied- the way you started that scared the SHIT out of me omg never do that again celebnews

@comearoundyn replied- likely thing for them to do

@lovelyyn replied to @comearoundyn- what does your @ mean 😭😭😭😭

@modernyn replied- and we'll probably never see those pictures he took 💔💔

@mariasyn replied- ON TOP OF THE CHARTS AND LIVING HER BEST LIFE

liked by tchalamet, haileesteinfeld and 7,726,277 others

y/n to celebrate one month and all the love yall have given me, i wanted to release two other songs that i wrote after i finished the album. hope you enjoy!

view all 121,188 comments

povyn BUSY WOMAN IS POP PERFECTION

paulsoneandonly oh goddd here we go, more shitty music 🙄

sweetyn I'm still not over coincidence girl WHO would do that to you

timsgf slim pickings is a crazy song to write when your bf is timothée

shortnyn can you shut the fuck up and get out of her comments for ONCE

liked by tchalamet

ynslipgloss I DIDNT WANT YOUR BITCH ASS ANYWAY🗣🗣 🎶

liked by y/n, florencepugh and 5,727,827 others

tchalamet my girl is on top of the world

comments on this post have been limited

y/n not us being goofy 🤣🤣

florencepugh my bestest friends !!

liked by rachelzegler, tchalamet and 4,817,132 others

y/n i am so grateful i could cry 💕💕✨️

view all 87,727 comments

rachelzegler you deserve it all and more my lovely

tchalamet forever proud of you pretty girl

bearyn remember when she was excited over her getting 100k views on her video 🥺😭😭 and now she's getting MILLIONS

ynsucks all thanks to her boyfriend

fuxkyn is she serious w this shit, she uses timmy for likes???

amyyn he posts her all the time too, so now what?

liked by tchalamet and 7,276,277 others

y/n vmas 😳😳😳

comments on this post have been limited

tchalamet i love you w so much of my heart that none is left to protest

y/n are you shakespeare

tchalamet nah i just made it up right now

liked by tchalamet, yourfriend and 7,727,266 others

y/n if you think they're looking at you... they're looking at me. happy anniversary my love 🥰💕💕

view all 120,187 comments

rachelzegler IM DEADDDDD

tchalamet happy anniversary my angel girl

timmysgf rude asl

laurieslaurence istg its the same person behind these accounts

timsgf what no

ynswaterbottle LMAOOOOOOOOO

lightupyn her old lyrics 🥺🥺😭😭

liked by y/n, zendaya and 8,277,265 others

tchalamet i ❤️ my talented girlfriend

view all 142,177 comments

horroryn HE SAID FUCK ALL YOU HATERSSSS AHHH YALL MAD

y/n why not uponeth me?

tchalamet liked

bedchemyn BYEEEE

tomholland2013 we need a double date soon!

modernyn MY PARENTSS

y/n I love you my darling boy

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet au #timothee chalamet x you #timothee fanfic #timothée chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée imagine #timothee chalamet social media au #sabrina carpenter #short n sweet

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prisonhannibal · 2 months ago

Note

do you have any recommendations of your favorite sami art (music, novels, film, etc)?? sorry if you have been asked this before, and thank you for taking the time to answer!!

I love this question thank you for asking! Warning I'm gonna talk a lot now.

Music

Mari Boine. LEGEND. She has been making music since the 80s before the Sámi parliament was even established and I think she paved the way for sámi artists in a time where it was much less accepted. Her work is very influential on modern sámi music, and her style is very sámi with a lot of joik and traditional drums, but mixed with modern music in a very unique way. If you're only gonna check out one sámi musician I'd go for Boine. My favorite songs are Idjagiedas (Listen all the way through the build up is sooo good), Máze (More traditional joik, for the sámi village Máze which was planned to be flooded and destroyed to build the Alta hydroelectric power plant, which led to the Alta conflict in the 70s and 80s. It's often used as sort of a protest anthem even now. GOOSEBUMPS), Gula Gula, and Vuoi Vuoi Me. Check out the albums Gula Gula (english title: Listen, listen, hear the voices of the foremothers) and An introduction to...

Hildá Länsman. Joik artist and singer. I love her she makes some stuff thats like electronic joik? very unique. And some more traditional stuff. Listen to Jođi, Gii dan livčče and ESPECIALLY Oaidnemeahttun which is a seven minute long MASTERPIECE. Starts slow but that build up is INSANEEE

Lávre. Definitely more traditional. Vuložat is a beautiful album. Favorites: Viellja and Joavdan.

Emil Kárlsen. Really really cool mix of traditional and modern. The album Nagirvárrái slays and features a lot of other cool sámi artists. I love Áhkku its so beautiful

Ella Marie Hætta Isaksen and ISÁK. Ella Marie is an activist, actress and musician who was the singer of ISÁK until they broke up. They had some really fun catchy stuff kinda sámi dance pop? Love it

Movies:

Ellogierdu - The Tundra Within Me (2023) A sámi single mother and feminist artist moves back home from the city to work on an art project about gender in Sápmi. She meets a reindeer herder and drama happens ahhhh I love this one it made me so happy. So many movies by or about us are all about historical trauma and it was really refreshing to see a movie about two sámi people falling in love and also its funny

Ellos Eatnu - Let The River Flow (2023) It's about the Alta conflict and the large civil disobedience actions in the 70s. The main character is Ester (Ella Marie Hætta Isaksen), who ends up in the middle of it and has to face her complicated relationship with her sámi identity and her place in society as a sámi woman. This one made me sob in the movie theatre

Ofelaš - Pathfinder (1987) HISTORIC for being the first ever sámi language film, and was actually nominated for an oscar for best foreign language film! It's based on an old sámi story, and is about a young sámi man who returns home to find his family massacred by an enemy tribe. He flees, but is pursued by the attackers, and him and other sámi people have to find a way to survive and outsmart the attackers

Sami Blood (2016) A young girl and her sister are removed from their family and placed in a state boarding school in the 1930s, where they are abused, beaten for speaking sámi, and used in dehumanizing research by scientists from the swedish institute of racial biology. She decides that to protect herself from oppression, she will escape her life, reject her sámi identity and force herself to assimilate into swedish society. This one also made me ugly cry its so heartbreaking

Artists:

Nils-Aslak Valkeapää AKA Áillohaš. The Legend himself! He was a musician, joiker, poet, writer and artist. He did it all!!!

Britta Marakatt-Labba. Textile artist and painter who is most well known for her textile embroidered art work Garjjat where a murder of crows gradually turn into humans and then police officers who destroy a sámi village. Her work is often very political, and its very powerful. She has a 24 meter long embroidered work about sámi life, history and mythology. A lot of cool stuff!

Synnøve Persen. Activist, writer and painter who was very involved in the early ČSV movement and is an important figure in sámi resistance history. In addition to being a successful artist, she also made the first unofficial sámi flag, and is known for participating in the 1979 hunger strike in front of the norwegian parliament during the alta conflict. Very inspirational for me as a female sámi artist

John Savio. He was a woodcutting artist and the first sámi artist to get a formal art education and the first sámi person to get his own exhibition at the national gallery. He sadly never became successful, and died early, but after his death he is recognized as one of the most important and famous sámi artists

and......me! jk

#txt

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puppym3 · 9 months ago

Note

heyaaa!!! if u still do requests, i have a request for minho! if u also havent done this one, but what if u do their song "i like it" about minho ??

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

── .✦ 'i love that i like you, but i don't wanna love'

minho x reader

wc: 4.1k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, situationship, fwb, angsty, one-sided pining, minho is an asshole, "i can fix him" reader, awkward, reader is so delusional at the start it's funny, hurt comfort, late confessions, fluffy at end, i heal ur wounds dw, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: omg anon ur trying to break my heart, as a hopeless romantic this might be my first ever sort of angsty piece. but either way i love "i like it" its literally been on repeat its probs one of my favorites from the album. i loved writing this so much you have no idea, THANK YOU for suggesting!

reminder to not be too delulu, these are just fictional stories that i write to show off my creative writing!! also i have a taglist if you're interested!!!!!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The city lights glimmered through the window, casting a soft glow across Minho's apartment. The hum of the city outside was a constant reminder of the world continuing on, regardless of the turmoil within. You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, Minho's arm draped lazily over your waist. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a mix of comfort and longing that you had come to know too well.

"Hey," Minho's voice broke through your thoughts. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through you. "You okay?"

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah, just thinking."

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

That was the problem. Talking meant opening up, and opening up meant risking the fragile balance you had. Friends with benefits, a situationship, whatever it was, it worked because there were no labels, no expectations. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

"Minho," you started, hesitating. The words felt heavy on your tongue, a mix of hope and fear. "What are we doing?"

His expression softened, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe?—in his eyes. "We're having fun, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but..." You sat up, pulling the sheets around you like a shield. "Is that all this is? Just fun?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you had come to recognize as his way of stalling for time. "I like what we have, you know that. I just... I,"

You swallowed hard, the words stinging more than you wanted to admit. "And what if I want more?"

Minho's gaze dropped, his silence louder than any answer he could give. 'I like you'—if only it were that easy.

"I can't do this forever, Minho," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need to know if there's a future here, or if I'm just fooling myself."

He looked back at you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and confusion. "I'm not ready for anything more right now."

The words hung in the air, a painful confirmation of your deepest fears. You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest spreading. "I understand."

As you got dressed and prepared to leave, Minho reached out, his hand catching yours. "Wait, don't go like this."

You paused, looking at him one last time. "I need to go think."

With that, you slipped out of his grasp, each step away from him feeling heavier than the last. The door closed behind you, the finality of it echoing in the empty hallway.

That night, you cried until your eyes were raw and your head ached until there were no tears left and all that was left was an empty feeling in your chest.

"What are you doing here?"

You saw your best friend standing in your doorway, her brow furrowed with worry. "I needed to see you, you didn't pick up any calls."

You felt the tears starting to form again as she pulled you into her arms. "I'm an idiot," you managed to say in between sobs.

She gently patted your back. "You're not an idiot, he's the idiot."

"He's not an idiot," you said softly.

She held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "Then tell me what happened. What has your eyes all puffy at 9 in the morning?"

"He wants to be just friends, that's all." you sighed.

"What?" her brows furrowed. "I thought you liked each other? What's stopping him?"

"I asked what he wants to be, and he said 'he's not ready for anything'."

She groaned, "he doesn't deserve you"

You let out a deep breath. "He doesn't, does he? But, I like him."

"Why are you putting yourself through this?" She said with worry in her eyes as she traced circles on your back.

"I wanted to fight for him, but every time I end up in his bed, I hurt myself more."

"Fight for him?"

You nodded slowly, your resolve hardening as you said the words aloud. "I'm going to fight for him."

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "And how are you going to do that?"

You hesitated, realizing that you hadn't thought that far ahead. "I guess I'll... call him? No, no that would be awkward... maybe I'll just stop by his apartment and—"

She raised an eyebrow, looking at you pointedly. "And what, you're gonna sleep with him again? What would that do?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Okay, no. Maybe I'll take him out to coffee? No, that's too casual. Maybe dinner?"

"Dinner would be good."

"Dinner would be good," you agreed, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice.

Your best friend put her arm around your shoulder and gave you a reassuring squeeze. "You shouldn't be doing this, but I support you."

"Thank you."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "If it doesn't work, we're gonna eat so much comfort food tonight."

That afternoon, you paced around your apartment, phone in hand as you tried to muster up the courage to call Minho. Your best friend's words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the risk you were taking. With a deep breath, you hit the call button.

As the phone rang, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, your palms growing clammy. After what felt like an eternity, the familiar sound of Minho's voice filled your ear.

"Hey, it's me." You paused, gathering your thoughts. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was upset and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

You could hear the hesitance in his voice as he replied, "No, it's alright. I'm sorry, too."

"Can I take you out for dinner? I think we need to talk about things." You held your breath, waiting for his response.

"Yeah... I think that'd be okay," he said after a moment, "When?"

"I'm free tonight," you offered, trying to hide the hopeful note in your voice.

There was a long silence before Minho spoke again, "Okay, I'll see you at 6."

You hung up, the finality of the words hitting you. Was this your last chance?

The minutes passed by slowly, your anticipation building with each passing minute. Finally, 6 o'clock came around, and you made your way to the restaurant. You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves as you pushed open the doors.

You spotted Minho seated at a table, and made your way over to him. He stood as you approached, smiling.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Hey." You swallowed, trying to find your words. "I, I've missed you."

Minho looked away, a mix of emotions on his face. "It's been a day."

You laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Oh, right."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Minho finally spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.

"I think I missed you too."

You looked at him, the realization dawning on you. He had missed you too. It was something, he at least thought about you during day. "Minho—"

He looked up, meeting your gaze. "What is it?"

"I just..." You took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose what we have. But if that means being friends, then that's what we'll do. Because I can't stand losing you completely."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes filled with surprise. Then he nodded slowly. "I don't want to lose what we have as well."

Your chest ached, but you smiled anyway, grateful for the small victory. You would be fine with it. You could be fine with it if that's all you could ever get.

"But," you started, an idea coming to your mind, "if I get a boyfriend, we'll stop whatever this is."

Minho blinked, the words sinking in. He took a moment, contemplating. Then he nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

His expression was unreadable, was he upset? Or was he fine with the idea of never speaking to you again?

Your heart sank at the thought, did he really feel nothing at all for you?

You forced yourself to smile, trying to hide the ache in your chest. "Thank you," you said softly.

Minho smiled, but you could tell it was forced. You excused yourself and went to the washroom to splash cold water on your face, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill.

You had to leave, you had to get out of here. You made your way outside, the cool night air helping to calm you.

You leaned against the wall, taking a shaky breath as you tried to hold back the tears. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeat.

You forced yourself to come to reality with all of this, you ran home without thinking twice. You had to end all of this now and leave before you ended up in his bed again.

You slammed your front door shut, locking the deadbolt and falling on the ground crying. The tears wouldn't stop flowing, it felt like a river of emotion that was overwhelming you. You were so scared of losing him, of not having him in your life. You sat on the ground for what felt like an eternity, trying to make sense of your emotions.

Getting rid of him now was the only way, the only way you'd survive without being broken-hearted. You dragged yourself to bed and cried yourself to sleep, clutching the pillow and blankets like they were your lifeline.

A week had already passed. You did your best to stay busy, trying to distract yourself from thinking about Minho. You had blocked his number, so you had no idea if he had tried to reach out to you at all.

Your best friend had been beside you to keep you from losing your mind completely or unblocking his number.

The two of you decided to watch movies all weekend long to take your minds off the situation, which helped for a while, but now that it was Monday and you were back at work, you felt like a walking zombie.

Your thoughts drifted to Minho throughout the day, wondering what he was doing, if he had moved on yet, or if he still thought of you at all.

You pushed the thoughts out of your head, trying to focus on your work. But it was no use. He was constantly in your mind, even though you knew there was no point in thinking of him.

You closed your eyes, letting your mind wander back to when things were still good between the two of you, the feeling of his tender hands on your body and his soft lips against yours. You remembered his words, 'I like what we have.' Did he mean it? Did he still think that after everything that happened? Or were they just words?

You opened your eyes, tears forming again as you stared out the window, lost in thought.

The clock seemed to move agonizingly slowly, but eventually, your workday came to an end, and you gathered your things to head home. You took a deep breath before heading out the door, bracing yourself for another long, lonely night.

You walked slowly through the dark streets, lost in your thoughts. You came across a familiar intersection, and you hesitated, memories of Minho flooding your mind.

The two of you used to take this route back to your apartment when he would walk you home from work. You stood in the middle of the empty intersection, staring at the stoplight, debating on whether to continue home or take the long way to your apartment, the way the two of you used to take.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. It was silly, getting hung up on someone that didn't even care.

You crossed the street, heading in the direction of your apartment. You glanced down the familiar route, memories of the two of you talking about the stupidest things.

You closed your eyes and sighed, a pang of longing hitting you. You missed him so much, more than you had ever expected.

You kept your eyes closed, your mind replaying memories of Minho as you walked home. It hurt to think about, but it also hurt not to think about him.

The two of you were inseparable, even when you fell in love with him, he enabled your feelings, kissing you, touching you, and sharing nights with you.

He was so easy to love. And he was so easy to lose.

You opened your eyes as you reached your apartment, the familiar surroundings providing you with a sense of comfort.

You trudged up the stairs, feeling more drained than you had all week. You reached your apartment, the familiar walls surrounding you like a warm embrace.

You threw your keys onto the table, slumping down in a chair and closing your eyes.

You breathed in the comforting scent of home, the ache in your chest still lingering, but you felt a sense of calm wash over you. You were home.

You sat for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being at home after a long day at work. The quiet was comforting, a contrast to the busy, loud environment you'd spent your day in. You sat with your eyes closed for a few minutes, allowing your thoughts to settle.

You heard a faint knock on your front door. Your heart stopped, and you shot up out of your chair, hesitantly walking to the door.

You paused, taking a deep breath before opening it, knowing you couldn't keep it locked forever.

"Minho." The word slipped out before you could stop it, your voice a mix of surprise and pain.

Minho's face was somber, his expression unreadable as he spoke.

"I think I love you."

His voice was soft, the words tinged with sadness. You looked into his eyes, seeing the pain there.

You took a deep breath, your heart aching. You opened your mouth to reply, but he continued, the words pouring out of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would feel so painful to not see you, or hear your voice, or touch you. I just couldn't stop thinking about you, about how you made me feel."

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer as his words filled your ears, your chest aching more than it had in a long time.

You bit your lip, trying to stay calm. Is this real, or are you dreaming? Did he come back to fuck with your feelings?

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of pain and happiness flooding you as you looked into his eyes, trying to see if he was sincere.

His face was pained, his expression vulnerable as he stood in your doorway. You hesitated, trying to find the words to say.

He stepped closer to you, closing the space between you, the proximity causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I liked what we had, that part is true. But I never realized how I felt until you disappeared from my life."

You tried to breathe evenly as he reached out to take your hands, his touch gentle as he spoke again.

"I know I've been selfish this entire time, but I miss you. I miss everything about you."

His words pierced through your heart, leaving you speechless. You were frozen in place, trying to comprehend his words.

Minho closed his eyes, a small smile forming on his face. "I missed you."

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds, his hands holding yours tightly as he stared into your eyes, his gaze softening as you finally managed to reply.

"I missed you, too."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his face and pulled him in, crashing your lips together as his hands pulled you close to him, holding you as if you would disappear any second.

Your hands moved from his face to the nape of his neck as the kiss grew deeper, his lips parting as the two of you explored each other's mouths.

Minho's hands roamed your body as yours did his, a familiar warmth spreading through your body as you gave yourself to him once again.

You broke apart for air, panting as you tried to catch your breath. The two of you stood there in your doorway for a moment, catching your breaths and staring at each other, neither one wanting to let go.

You were still unsure of where your relationship stood, but as Minho's hand reached for your waist once more and pulled you close, his lips capturing yours again, all your worries seemed to disappear.

He guided you into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and backing you against the wall. Your hands found the back of his head once again as you melted into his touch, his kisses filled with longing.

His hand wandered up your back and into your hair as his other hand rested on your hip, a soft groan escaping his lips as the kiss grew deeper. You wrapped your leg around his, your body pressing against him as you held him close, trying to convey the emotions you couldn't put into words.

After a few minutes, you finally broke the kiss, looking into his eyes as you both panted softly. Your chest was pounding as you looked up at him, trying to read his expression.

He smiled softly at you, his face flushed from the intensity of the kiss. His eyes met yours and held your gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair.

He reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.

You felt a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at his touch, a small smile forming on your lips as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck. You leaned into him, your chest pressing against his as you hugged him tightly, your cheek resting against his.

He hugged you back, his arms wrapping around you as you nuzzled your nose against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness, the silence broken only by the soft sound of his heart beating.

The two of you stood in each other's arms for what felt like an eternity, but could have been minutes or hours. Time didn't exist anymore as the two of you held onto each other, neither one wanting to let go.

Finally, you reluctantly pulled away, looking into his eyes as you spoke. "We should probably talk properly."

His eyes searched yours, his expression serious as he nodded, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "Okay," he said softly.

You nodded, stepping away from him and moving to the living room, the distance between the two of you growing again. You sat down on the couch, your hands resting in your lap as you stared down at them.

Minho sat down next to you, his body tense as he watched you.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as you gathered your thoughts. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get caught in your throat, your voice coming out barely louder than a whisper. "I've loved you ever since we started sleeping together."

Minho's eyes widened slightly as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape as your words registered with him. You felt a familiar pang of sadness in your chest as you remembered that time.

He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You bit your lip, struggling to find the right words. "I thought you knew. I would always bring up going further with you, but you dismissed me."

You looked down, fidgeting with your hands as you tried to hold back tears. "I just thought things would change if we put labels on things."

The silence in the air grew deafening as you looked up, your heart pounding as you saw tears forming in Minho's eyes. He reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch light and reassuring.

"But I want those labels now, all of them," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way."

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally began to trickle down your cheeks as you looked up at him. "Minho, I thought you felt nothing for me."

He reached out and gently brushed the tears away from your face, his eyes filled with concern as he stared into your eyes.

Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "I know I've hurt you, but I never want to see you cry again."

Your chest ached as you tried to process his words. It was as if everything you had gone through since the 'break-up' was suddenly erased, as if none of it had mattered. You stared into his eyes, trying to figure out what to say.

Minho's lips curved up into a small smile as he cupped your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumb as he gazed into your eyes.

You reached up and wrapped your hands around his, holding onto them tightly as you felt a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at his touch.

"I want to try and start again, as your boyfriend," he said softly, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You felt your heart racing as the words left his mouth, your chest tightening as he looked into your eyes, searching for your reaction.

You took a deep breath, your eyes closing for a second as you tried to steady yourself, the words that left his mouth feeling almost unreal. "Minho," you breathed. "Is this real? Are you serious?"

A smile broke out onto his face as he nodded. "If you'll let me, yes."

Without saying a word, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him into a kiss as your heart raced, the tears on your face now dried.

Minho kissed you back with equal intensity, his hands cupping your face as your hands tangled themselves into his hair. The kiss was soft and filled with longing as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment.

As your lips parted, you felt Minho's forehead pressed against yours as his hands traced down to the small of your back, holding you close. You closed your eyes and smiled, relishing the feeling of being in his arms once again.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you, the two of you taking in the feeling of each other. It had only been a week, but it felt like a lifetime had passed.

"I'm your girlfriend now?" you asked hesitantly, still not sure if this was all real.

Minho laughed softly as he nodded. "You're my girlfriend," he confirmed, his voice filled with affection.

You laughed and leaned back, taking in his expression and memorizing the look in his eyes, feeling a warmth in your heart you hadn't felt for a while.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up with ease as you shrieked in surprise. He carried you to the bed and gently placed you down on the mattress as if you were made of glass, the mattress shifting from the weight of his body as he moved to lie beside you.

"What do we do now?" you asked softly as his hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your lips as he leaned in for a tender kiss.

When he broke away, you found yourself expecting more, but he simply smiled at you as he laid back down and pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you.

"This is all I want to do," he whispered, nuzzling your neck and kissing it lightly. "I want to fall asleep holding you and wake up beside you in the morning."

His words were tender as they reached your ears, making your heart melt.

"Okay," you breathed, pressing a kiss on his cheek and turning around so your back was facing his chest. You snuggled closer to him as he pulled you close, his hands resting on your abdomen and holding you tightly as he buried his face into your neck, kissing it.

You breathed in deeply, his scent surrounding you as your heart swelled with affection.

"Good night, I love you."

His voice was soft, but you could feel the emotion behind the words. You let out a soft sigh as your eyelids fluttered shut, the feeling of Minho holding you lulling you to sleep.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

taglist for my beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @jiyeonslays, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88

#skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz angst #skz lee minho #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #lee know #lee minho #skz minho #minho

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tsumuus · 10 months ago

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birds of a feather | kotaro bokuto

'might not be forever but if it's forever, it's even better'

a/n loosely based off of the song "BIRDS OF A FEATHER" by Billie Eilish from her new album. reader is a second year and childhood besties w bokuto. not proof read.

warnings none, enjoy !

w/c >800

masterlist

You stood at the edge of the gym, the sound of volleyballs hitting the floor echoing all around you. Your eyes followed to Kotaro Bokuto, the ase of Fukurodani's volleyball team and your childhood best friends, as he spiked the ball with his usual power and enthusiasm. You couldn't help but smile, memories of your younger selves flooding your mind.

You were a second-year student, just barely a year younger than Bokuto, but that fact never seemed to matter. From the moment you met as children, the two of you were inseparable. His loud, energetic personality perfectly complimented you quieter, more observant nature.

Today was no different than any other. As the volleyball club's practice came to an end, you spotted your sweaty best friend jogging over to where you were standing, his trademark toothy grin lighting up his face. "Hey, yn! Did you see my spikes today? I was on fire!"

You chuckled sweetly, nodding. "Yeah, you looked great out there Bo. You never fail to amaze me," you replied with a smile, masking the nervousness that recently started bubbling within you whenever he was close.

Bokuto's eyes sparkled with excitement, but there was something else there too-something deeper. He had always been expressive, but lately, his glances lingerd a bit longer, his touches a but more tender. And you'd known him long enough to recognize when something was on his mind.

The two of you walked home together, reminiscing about old times. After a short dull in the conversation, you are able to hear Bokuto clearing his throat, right before asking you a question, "Hey yn, remember when we first met?" The two of you make eye contact before you nod, a signal for him to keep going. "You were the only one of my friends who never got tired of playing volleyball with me," Bokuto said, his voice softening.

"Yeah I remember. I also remeber that you were so determined to teach me how to spike, even though I could barely learn how to receive the ball," you laughed, the memory warming your heart.

Bokuto's expression grew thoughtful. "You were always there for me, yn. No matter what. Like two birds of a feather. I don't think I've ever thanked you properly for that."

"You don't need to thank me, Bo. That's what friends are for," you said, though a part of you ached, just wishing the two of you could be more than just that. More than just friends.

As you arrived at school the next day, the reality of Bokuto's impending graduation hit hard. You found yourself lingering in the school courtyard, waiting for him as you always did. When he finally arrived, he looked more serious than usual.

"Hey, can we talk yn?" he asked, his golden eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and vulnerability.

"Of course Bo, what's on your mind?" you replied, following him to a quieter spot beneath a large oak tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze.

Bokuto took a deep breath, his usual confidence wavering. "I've been thinking a lot lately. About us."

Your heart raced, confused. "What about us?"

He looked at you, his gaze intense. "I really don't want to leave things unsaid. We've been friends for so long, and, with me graduating in a couple days, I... I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "Bo, you don't have to say anything. We'll always be friends, no matter what."

"But that's the thing," he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. "I don't want to be friends with you yn." He pauses.

His confession left you worried, thinking a million different things a second, wondering what you could have done to make Bokuto want to end your more than a decade long friendship. "Wait Bo, I'm confused. What do you mean you don't want to be friends." Tears welling in your eyes.

"No, yn, what I'm trying to say is that I love you. More than you know. More than someone should love their friend. I think I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And I don't think I could ever stop either loving you either, whether I want to or not."

The world seemed to stop as his words sank in. You had dreamed of this moment, but hearing it out loud was almost surreal. "Bokuto, I... I feel the same way. I love you Bo, I always-"

Your response was cut short as your long term childhood bestfriend chrashes his whole body into you, embracing you in the thightest and most loving hug you've ever experienced. You can hear Bokuto's muffled sniffles as he hides his face in your neck.

"I love you so much yn."

"I love you Bo"

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a sense of peace and completeness. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: you and Bokuto were one, destined to stay together, no matter where life took you.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #bokuto koutarou #koutarou bokuto #bokuto x reader #haikyuu bokuto #x reader #Spotify

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hobi-side · 6 days ago

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Stars We Never Caught 2.0 | jhs

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

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

— word count: 13.6k for this part—this is a long one shot like around 60k for the full thing and the tumblr editor hates me so we'll have like 4 parts of this

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

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

part one | part three | part four

You sat across from him at Yoongi’s small kitchen table, a takeout box of cooling rice and stir-fried vegetables between you, the scent of cheap coffee still lingering faintly in the air.

Yeji had muttered something about a headache and dragged herself back to the living room, leaving you and Hoseok alone — an awkward, stretching silence growing roots in her absence.

Of course she did.

The early afternoon sun slanted through the windows, cutting sharp gold lines across the floor. It was almost two. Almost the time Yoongi said he’d be home. Almost the time you could stop pretending this wasn’t tearing you up inside.

You pushed your rice around with your chopsticks, not really eating. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, one arm slung carelessly over the backrest, fingers tapping out a slow, thoughtless rhythm against the wood.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

It wasn't angry silence. It wasn't even cold. Just... worn out. Thin around the edges, like a conversation that had been stretched too far and might tear if either of you tugged too hard.

"You cut your hair," he said finally, voice low and almost startled, like he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

You glanced up, fingers twitching toward the blunt, choppy ends you'd gotten months ago — a choice you barely remembered making in the rush of goodbyes and endings.

"Yeah," you said. "Needed a change."

Hoseok nodded slightly, tapping his fingers twice more before going still.

"You look different," he added after a second. "Good different."

You smiled tightly, throat closing around the words you wanted to say.

He still didn’t know, did he? Still didn’t see the way your heart had once spun on its axis for him.

Still didn’t realize that you weren't just different — you were someone else entirely now.

You swallowed, looking down at your food again.

"You’ve been busy," you said, meaning it as an offering, a bridge.

He gave a small, tired laugh.

"Yeah. Work. Travel. Life." A shrug. Like it didn’t matter.

But it did. You could see it in the shadows under his eyes. In the way his shoulders tensed slightly when he thought you weren’t looking.

You wanted to ask him — How are you? Happy?

But you didn't.

Because you weren’t sure you wanted him to ask you the same.

You picked at a piece of beef in your rice box, heart hammering stupidly hard.

"It’s weird," you said instead, voice quieter now. "Being back."

Hoseok looked at you then — really looked — and for a moment, you saw something flicker there.

Something old. Something broken. Something that recognized the same aching places inside you.

"Yeah," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "It is."

The words sat heavy between you, like the third person in the room no one wanted to acknowledge.

You forced yourself to look up again, cheeks burning. You found him already watching you —gaze steady, unreadable.

You wondered if he was remembering, too. All those summers. All those almosts.

But he didn’t say anything else.

Neither did you.

You just sat there —two people who used to fit so easily into each other's spaces— now separated by polite conversation and the brutal, inevitable passage of time.

Outside, a horn honked distantly. The city moved on without you.

Inside, you stayed very still.

And for the first time in a long time, you wondered if maybe some things —some people— were never meant to find their way back to each other.

Not the way they were before.

Maybe not at all.

The front door clicked open around 2:15 PM, the familiar thud of Yoongi’s boots against the threshold cutting through the thick silence.

You flinched without meaning to.

Across the table, Hoseok straightened instinctively, shoulders pulling tight, his hand abandoning the lazy rhythm it had been tapping against the chair.

Yoongi’s voice carried through the apartment —tired but warm, familiar in the way home was supposed to be:

"I’m back."

You sat up a little too quickly, your chopsticks clattering awkwardly against your plate. Hoseok cleared his throat, scrubbing a hand through his hair like he was trying to shake something off.

By the time Yoongi wandered into the kitchen, shrugging off his coat, you and Hoseok were perfect strangers again — two polite friends sharing a casual lunch.

Yoongi paused in the doorway, sharp eyes flickering between you for half a second too long.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed. He always did.

But he said nothing, just tossed his keys into the little ceramic bowl by the counter and reached for the takeout bag.

"You brought lunch?" he asked Hoseok, voice light.

Hoseok smiled, quick and easy — the same smile he used when he was fourteen and trying to cover up bruises nobody was supposed to ask about.

"Yeah," he said. "Figured you’d be starving."

Yoongi grunted in appreciation, pulling out a container and shaking it absently like he was testing its weight.

You forced yourself to move, to breathe, to offer Yoongi a plate you weren’t sure you could hold steady.

They fell into conversation easily —hospital stories, mutual friends, a basketball game you hadn’t watched.

You sat there, smiling when you were supposed to, nodding when required, feeling like you were floating somewhere just outside your own body.

Hoseok laughed at something Yoongi said, head thrown back slightly, and for a second —just a second— he looked like the boy you used to know.

The boy who called you Star. The boy you loved without ever telling him.

But when he caught your gaze, something shuttered in his eyes.

You dropped your head quickly, staring hard at your rice.

Yoongi didn’t miss it.

He didn’t say anything, but you caught the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his hand stilled briefly on his fork.

It didn’t matter.

The world moved on. The conversation spun without you.

You let it.

Because some distances weren’t meant to be closed with words. Some things you just carried.

Lunch ended the way quiet storms did —with the heavy, lingering stillness of something that never fully broke but left the air changed anyway.

Yoongi stood at the sink, rinsing dishes absently, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Hoseok helped without being asked, wiping down the table with slow, methodical movements that made your chest ache.

You hovered uselessly near the counter, pretending to scroll through your phone, pretending you weren’t counting down the seconds until Hoseok left.

The conversation had dried up —small talk thinning out, words running out.

It was time. You could feel it.

Hoseok dried his hands on a paper towel and gave Yoongi a lazy little shoulder bump on his way toward the door.

"Tell me when you’re free," he said, tossing the towel into the trash. "We’ll grab a drink or something."

Yoongi nodded, smiling —real and tired— the way he only did for the few people he actually let in.

"Yeah," he said. "Soon."

Hoseok bent down, grabbing his bag off the floor. The movement pulled his hoodie up slightly at the back, revealing the lean stretch of muscle under his shirt —and you hated yourself for noticing.

He straightened, slinging the strap over his shoulder, and turned toward you.

For a second, he just stood there. Silent. Like he was trying to find something to say and realizing, too late, that the words didn’t exist.

You smiled.

Small. Careful. The kind of smile you used when you were too close to crying and couldn’t afford to fall apart.

"Thanks for the food," you said, voice soft.

He smiled back —that stupid, beautiful smile that once could've unraveled you in a heartbeat.

"No problem, Star," he said, voice low, almost a whisper.

And it broke something in you, the way he said it like a memory, like a ghost, like something already lost.

You shifted your weight, arms crossing tightly over your chest.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you dared.

Yoongi, still rinsing a plate at the sink, glanced over —brows furrowing slightly, like he could feel the weight in the room, the things humming painfully under the surface.

"You good?" he asked Hoseok casually, but there was something sharper under the words.

Hoseok blinked, like waking from a dream, and laughed —short, hollow.

"Yeah," he said. "All good."

He wasn’t.

You weren’t.

Everyone knew it.

No one said it.

Hoseok gave a small, half-wave —then turned, pulling open the front door, the afternoon light spilling harshly into the room.

He didn’t look back.

You stood there, hand tightening painfully around your phone, breathing through the hole he left behind.

The door clicked shut.

The silence swallowed you whole.

Yoongi finished rinsing the plate, set it carefully in the rack, wiped his hands on a dish towel.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment —just watched you from across the kitchen.

"You okay?" he asked eventually, voice rough with exhaustion but gentler now.

You smiled again —the same fake smile you had given Hoseok.

"Yeah," you lied. "All good."

Yoongi didn’t press.

He just nodded, once, slow —and turned back to the sink.

You stood there, still wrapped up in the heavy quiet Hoseok left behind, wondering how it was possible for a goodbye that simple to hurt so much.

The door clicked shut behind him with a soft, final sound.

Hoseok shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie and started walking, head bowed slightly against the afternoon sun.

The streets buzzed around him —traffic, conversation, life moving in every direction, but he barely registered any of it.

There was a weird hollowness in his chest. Not exactly sadness. Not exactly regret. Just... off.

He kept walking, sneakers scuffing the pavement, moving just to move.

He couldn't shake it — the tight feeling sitting behind his ribs, the restless hum under his skin.

Seeing you again had been... strange.

Good, in a way. Relieving, maybe. You were still you. Still sharp-eyed and stubborn, still hiding a whole world behind your quiet smiles.

But it wasn’t the same.

Not really.

There was distance now, not just the kind measured in years, but the kind that filled a room even when you were only a few feet apart.

You’d smiled at him today —but it hadn’t reached your eyes.

You’d laughed, a little. But it sounded like it was for survival, not for him.

And he hated it. More than he wanted to admit.

Hoseok crossed the street without really thinking about it, shoving past a group of teenagers in matching uniforms, ignoring the way they laughed and bumped into each other with easy, reckless joy.

It used to be like that with you.

Back when everything was simpler —before life started building walls between you two without either of you noticing.

Back when your smiles came easily, and he didn’t feel like he needed a fucking map just to find his way back to you.

He kicked a pebble down the sidewalk, watching it skip ahead and roll into the gutter.

Maybe this was normal. Maybe this was just what happened when people grew up — when lives moved in different directions too many times to line up again cleanly.

But still.

Still.

There was something gnawing at him. A weight that hadn’t been there before.

He didn’t know what it was —couldn’t name it, couldn’t drag it out into the light, but it sat heavy in his stomach all the same.

A memory floated up uninvited —you at eleven, cross-legged on your living room floor, nose buried in some book, stubbornly ignoring him while he tried and failed to distract you.

Your voice bubbling up, excited, trying to explain the story to him, stumbling over words in your hurry to share something you loved.

That stupid, beautiful smile.

Star.

He jammed his hands deeper into his pockets, scowling at the sidewalk.

It didn’t mean anything. It was just nostalgia. It was just... memories.

People changed. People drifted.

It was normal.

He told himself that, over and over, until the words started to sound thin in his head.

But even as he turned down a familiar street, even as he slipped into the shadows between buildings, he couldn’t shake it —

the feeling that somewhere along the way, he had lost something important, and hadn’t even realized it was missing until now.

Hoseok was oblivious.

But not that oblivious.

There were things he hadn't let himself see before — things tucked in the small spaces between your smiles, your glances, your stubborn, too-big-for-your-body heart.

He remembered.

He remembered the way your face used to light up when you spotted him coming down the street with Yoongi, the way your whole body would lean in without you even realizing it.

He remembered how you used to listen to him— really listen like the stupid things he said mattered more than they ever should have.

He remembered.

He just hadn't known what to do with it.

He didn’t feel the same. Not then.

Not in the way that counted. Not in the way that could have saved you from the quiet ache that lived in your eyes sometimes when you looked at him.

He noticed. He just... didn’t touch it.

He was sixteen. He was busy chasing everything and nothing, filling every silence with noise so he didn’t have to think too hard about why he felt so restless all the time.

You were his comfort. His constant.

And he, selfishly, hadn't realized how much more you were willing to give him if he'd only asked.

He hadn't asked.

And now —standing here years later, older, heavier with life; he didn’t know how to ask anymore.

You weren’t the same girl he remembered. And he wasn’t the same boy you used to look at like he hung the stars himself.

There was a gap now. A hollow stretch of time and growing pains between you.

And it scared him —how unfamiliar you felt. How familiar the ache still was.

He didn't know you anymore. Not really.

Not this version of you —with your tired smiles and careful glances, your sadness tucked away like folded paper cranes he wasn’t allowed to touch.

And you didn’t know him either. Not this version of him —the one who had learned how to move through life by letting go of things before they could hurt him.

There was too much space between who you were and who you had become. Between who he was and who he was afraid to admit he had turned into.

He felt it, humming under his skin —this restless, aching, nameless thing.

But he didn’t know what it meant yet. Didn’t know if it was nostalgia. Didn’t know if it was guilt. Didn’t know if it was the beginning of something he wasn't ready to name.

Maybe it was all of it.

Maybe it was nothing at all.

All he knew was this:

You weren’t the girl he left behind. And he wasn’t the boy you remembered.

When Hoseok finally got home, he barely remembered how he made it there.

The key turned in the lock, the door swung open, and he dragged his suitcase behind him —a battered thing, wheels squeaking against the hardwood; the weight of it unfamiliar in his hand, forgotten somewhere in the space between the airport and the hollow ache in his chest.

He dropped it by the door with a dull thud. Kicked off his shoes without caring where they landed.

Everything felt... heavy.

Too heavy for how small today had been.

The weeks he'd spent in Singapore floated behind him like smoke; good weeks, objectively. Meetings, projects, new faces, neon-lit nights where he could pretend he wasn’t stuck, wasn’t lost.

He had relaxed there, somehow —even while working. Found little moments of peace tucked between tight schedules and hotel rooms that smelled like nothing.

But now, standing here in the familiar quiet of his apartment, Hoseok realized something he didn’t want to name:

He hadn’t brought peace back with him. Only the weight.

It sat in his chest, heavy and stupid and aching, and he didn't have the energy to fight it.

He moved on autopilot —unzipping the suitcase, pulling out clothes he barely remembered packing. Folding them. Stacking them.

Small, mindless tasks to fill the silence.

He tried to blame it on the long flight. Tried to blame it on jet lag. Tried to blame it on anything but the truth:

His heart hurt.

And he didn’t know why.

It was a small hurt. A quiet one. The kind that didn’t bleed, didn’t scream —just sat there, stubborn and dull, right beneath his ribs.

He changed into loose pajamas, soft and worn with age. Turned on the TV just for the noise. Let some random music station fill the space around him.

He stood in the middle of the living room for a second —barefoot, empty-handed, empty-hearted.

The music thrummed low from the speakers, a beat curling through the air.

Without thinking, without planning it, Hoseok let his body move.

A step. A sway. A slow, easy turn on bare feet.

The world tilted. Blurred.

He danced.

Not big movements. Not the sharp, practiced choreography.

Just small, broken things —the kind of dancing that lived in the marrow of him, the kind that had nothing to prove and nowhere to be.

He moved because it was the only thing that ever made sense. Moved because when he did, the noise in his head, the endless pressure to do more, be more, fix more quieted for a little while.

He moved until the heaviness in his chest felt manageable. Until the ache blurred at the edges.

He moved until it didn’t matter that he didn't understand why seeing you had unsettled him so badly. Until it didn’t matter that you had looked like a stranger wearing a memory.

Until it didn’t matter that part of him —the small, stupid part he usually ignored, wanted to go back.

Back to something he wasn’t even sure he ever really had.

The music shifted to another song; something slower, heavier and Hoseok let it pull him under, let it drown out the aching silence inside him.

For now.

You were doing better. Finally.

After weeks of sending resumes into what felt like a black hole, after countless polite rejections and agonizing waits, the email arrived.

You got an interview.

Not just any interview — a big one. A company that made your heart skip just reading the name. A company you used to dream about while scribbling half-distracted notes during late college nights.

It felt like breathing again. Like remembering who you were.

Yoongi had been thrilled when you told him, maybe even more than you were, and had tossed his car keys at you without hesitation.

"Take it," he said gruffly. "I'm not arguing about it. Drive."

But you, stubborn and stupidly optimistic —decided you didn’t need it. Google Maps said it was only a forty-minute walk from his apartment. You woke up early, dressed carefully —smart slacks, a soft blouse, a simple blazer, low heels. Professional. Sharp. Capable.

You looked good. You felt good.

Until, of course, the universe decided to laugh in your face.

Halfway into your walk, the sky cracked open —a sharp, violent spring rain —and you, without an umbrella, without even a jacket, stood there blinking in the downpour like a complete idiot.

The water soaked you almost immediately —your blouse clinging to your skin, your hair flattening messily against your scalp.

You called Yoongi first, heart pounding.

Straight to voicemail.

You cursed, spun in a frantic circle —realizing you were already too far from the apartment to turn back, and way too late to go hunting for his car keys now.

You tried Yeji next —hands trembling a little from cold.

No answer.

Conference. You remembered too late. She had an important one this morning. No chance.

You stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, rain plastering your clothes to your body, heart hammering against your ribs.

Who else?

Jungkook was still abroad — wouldn’t be back for weeks. Your other friends had left the country.

There was no one else.

Except—

You hesitated.

You didn’t even know if Hoseok still had the same number. You hadn’t texted him. You hadn’t needed to.

But now, standing here soaked to the bone, mascara stinging your eyes, pride crumbling with every freezing drop sliding down your spine.

You swallowed hard and dialed.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

Maybe he wouldn’t answer.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then —

"Hello?" His voice, low and rough with sleep, cut through the static and rain in your ears.

You almost cried in relief.

"Uh—Hoseok," you stammered, breathless. "I— I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call, but I— I need help."

A pause.

Then, sharper: "Where are you?"

You rattled off the cross streets, clenching your teeth to keep them from chattering.

"Stay there," he said immediately. "I'm coming."

The line went dead before you could even say thank you.

You stood there shivering, hugging yourself uselessly, watching the street blur under the rain.

Fifteen minutes later, a black car pulled up to the curb, headlights slicing through the downpour.

The passenger door flew open and there he was, Hoseok —looking wide awake now, hair still messy but face tight with worry.

You scrambled inside without thinking, slamming the door behind you, water dripping into the car with you.

He gawked at you for a second — taking in the drowned-cat state of you — and for a heartbeat, neither of you said anything.

Then he burst out laughing.

Real, sharp, helpless laughter —and you did too, choking out an embarrassed, half-sobbing noise as you wiped rain from your face.

"God, star," he said, shaking his head, still grinning. "You’re a disaster."

You laughed harder, feeling your face burn.

"I know," you gasped. "Please don’t remind me."

The tension that had built between you two since you first saw each other again — that heavy, sticky awkwardness — cracked wide open in that stupid moment.

For a second — just a second — it felt like it used to. Easy. Careless. Home.

But then — as you both settled into the car, as the laughter faded into a quieter, softer silence — you became painfully, sharply aware:

You weren’t kids anymore.

You were soaked, dripping onto his passenger seat, shivering and messy — but Hoseok was still looking at you, and you were still looking at him.

And both of you, for the first time in years— noticed.

The way his jaw tightened as he flicked his eyes over you, lingering just a second too long at the curve of your waist, the line of your throat exposed by the ruined blouse. The way your pulse jumped at how good he looked — clean lines, warm skin, strong hands wrapped around the steering wheel like he could anchor the whole damn world.

The air crackled, electric and fragile.

Hoseok cleared his throat, turning the heat on higher.

"Let’s get you home," he said, voice quieter, rougher.

You nodded, swallowing the ache rising in your throat.

The second the door shut behind you, you bolted into the living room.

Your shoes squelched miserably against the floor, your clothes clinging cold and heavy to your skin, your hair dripping rainwater onto Yoongi’s couch.

You had no time.

You were going to be late. You had to change, had to dry off, had to move.

Panic made your hands clumsy as you tugged at the buttons of your blouse — wet fabric sticking to your skin, refusing to cooperate.

You cursed under your breath, teeth chattering, shoving at the fabric, and then, without thinking, without hesitating:

You yanked the blouse off over your head. Right there. In the middle of the living room.

It wasn't graceful. It wasn't pretty.

It was desperate, frantic, just trying to get out of the wetness, trying to breathe again.

You stood there for a second, chest heaving, arms tangled awkwardly with the ruined blouse —bare skin gleaming under the thin straps of your soaked bra— heart hammering against your ribs.

And then —you realized.

You weren’t alone.

Hoseok froze by the door —completely, utterly still— his keys dangling forgotten from his hand.

His mouth parted slightly —his eyes darkening, burning a path across your bare skin faster than either of you could stop.

It wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t careful.

It was a gut-punch.

The heat between you snapped tight; so sudden, so heavy it made the air shudder.

You stared at him, your body still trembling, soaked to the bone, half-stripped, and Hoseok:

God, Hoseok looked like he wanted to look away. But couldn't

A beat. A breath.

The world tilted dangerously sideways.

And then —Reality crashed back in.

The clock on the wall ticked louder than it should have. The urgency slammed back into your brain.

Interview.

You yanked your blouse back down in a blind panic, face burning, hands fumbling to cover yourself again.

"I— I'm sorry," you gasped, nearly tripping over yourself as you backed toward the hallway. "I— I wasn't thinking— shit—"

Hoseok finally jerked back into motion, clearing his throat sharply, shoving his hands deep into his pockets like he didn’t trust himself not to reach for you.

"No," he said, voice rough and too fast. "It’s fine. It’s— You’re fine. We just—" He cut himself off, shaking his head like he could clear it.

"You need to go," he said, steadier now, like he was anchoring both of you by sheer force of will. "I’ll drive. Grab what you need."

You nodded; too fast, too hard— and bolted down the hall toward your room, your heart pounding in your ears, your skin still tingling where his gaze had touched you.

Behind you, Hoseok stood in the living room, fists clenched at his sides, staring at the place where you had stood. Where you had practically burned him alive without even trying.

The drive was quiet.

You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, newly changed, hair still damp at the ends, fingers fiddling nervously with the strap of your bag. Hoseok gripped the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him steady, jaw clenched, gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Neither of you spoke.

You swallowed, throat tight, focusing on your breathing.

Interview. Focus. Interview.

Not on the way his forearms flexed when he turned the wheel. Not on the way his profile looked devastatingly good in the soft light bleeding through the windshield.

You risked a glance at him from the corner of your eye — just a quick one — and found him already doing the same.

Your eyes met. A jolt, a spark.

You both looked away instantly, cheeks burning.

The tension buzzed harder, crackling in the quiet.

But then, just when you thought you couldn’t take another second of it:

Hoseok broke it.

He exhaled, low and slow, and a small, wry smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

"You’re gonna kill it, you know," he said, voice rough but warmer now— steady in a way that made your chest ache.

You blinked, thrown off.

He flicked his eyes toward you again, softer this time. No teasing. No smirking. Just real.

"You’re gonna go in there," he said, a little more sure now, "and they won’t even know what hit ‘em."

You laughed — surprised and shaky and real — feeling the nerves in your chest loosen, just a little.

Hoseok smiled wider at the sound; the real kind, the kind that made the tightness between your ribs ease.

"Get 'em, Star," he added, quieter, almost like a secret.

Something stupid and warm cracked open inside you.

You hadn’t realized how much you missed this. Being seen like that. Believed in like that.

Not because you asked for it. Not because you earned it.

Just because.

You swallowed hard, biting back the sudden sting behind your eyes.

"Thanks, Hobi," you said, voice small but sure.

He chuckled softly —that soft, low laugh you remembered from a lifetime ago.

"No need to thank me," he said. "You’ve always had it in you."

The light turned green.

The car rolled forward.

The interview went better than you could have dreamed.

You answered every question without stumbling, your voice steady even when your palms were sweating. The panel smiled — real, impressed smiles — and when they shook your hand at the end, you caught a glimpse of something in their eyes that looked suspiciously like approval.

You weren’t arrogant enough to say you had it in the bag. But for the first time in a long time, you believed in yourself enough to say:

You did good. Really good.

You walked out of the building feeling lighter than you had in months—the sun warm against your skin, the world spinning just a little slower, a little kinder.

And your first thought —stupidly, instinctively— was that you needed to tell someone.

Not just anyone.

Hoseok.

You pulled out your phone before you could overthink it —thumb hovering for a second over his name in your contacts. It felt weird. Familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

It had been so long since you last texted him like this —casual, natural, like no time had passed at all.

Your heart thudded unsteadily as you typed:

Hey, it finished. I think I did well...

You stared at it for a second, chewing your lip.

Too formal? Too awkward?

You added quickly:

Huh, wanna grab dinner later maybe? it's on me... I owe you. Big time.

You hit send before you could chicken out.

The second the message left, your stomach twisted —a familiar, stupid nervousness you hadn’t felt in years.

The little typing dots appeared almost immediately.

Your breath caught.

And for a second —standing there with your phone warm in your hand, the city bustling around you— it felt like maybe, just maybe, you weren’t standing so far apart anymore.

You shoved your phone deep into your bag after sending the text. Out of sight, out of mind.

You had enough adrenaline still buzzing through you from the interview to keep you moving —enough hope cautiously flickering in your chest to make the wait bearable.

At least for the first five minutes.

But then five minutes turned into six. Into eight.

You found yourself checking your phone more than you wanted to admit —biting the inside of your cheek, pretending you weren’t holding your breath.

Maybe he was busy. Maybe he forgot.

Maybe you were reading too much into everything.

Again.

But just as the doubts started coiling sharp and anxious under your skin—your screen lit up.

Hoseok.

Your heart jumped.

You unlocked your phone so fast you almost dropped it.

His text was simple. Easy.

Sounds good, Star. Tell me where. ;)

You stared at it for a second, at the little winking emoji he threw in without thinking.

He said yes.

Not out of obligation. Not out of guilt.

Because he wanted to.

You smiled —small, real— and quickly typed back:

7PM? I’ll pick somewhere close.

The dots popped up again almost immediately.

Sure, star.

Short. Simple. But it hit harder than it should have.

You locked your phone again, tucking it into your pocket like it was something precious.

Monday was supposed to be busy.

Originally, Hoseok had been scheduled for an early department meeting— one of those endless briefings that could have been an email, but everyone was required to sit through anyway.

But sometime late Sunday night, his boss had texted: Meeting postponed. Come in after lunch instead.

It wasn’t a big deal. It happened sometimes.

Still, it left him drifting —a whole extra morning dropped unexpectedly into his hands.

And that’s why, when you called —wet, breathless, panicked— he had been home. Available. Able to grab his keys and find you before the rain could wash you away completely.

At the time, it didn’t even feel like a choice. It was instinct.

You called. He came.

But now —sitting behind the wheel, heart hammering too hard, skin still hot under his clothes— he almost wished he hadn’t.

Because now he couldn’t get the image out of his head.

You —shivering, frantic, dragging soaked fabric off your skin without even thinking about it— standing there, bare and breathless in the soft light of Yoongi’s living room.

It wasn’t meant for him.

It wasn’t anything but practicality —a girl rushing against time, not a woman trying to drive him insane.

And yet.

His body reacted anyway.

He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, feeling the stiffness of his jeans biting into his thighs, the uncomfortable tightness coiling lower in his gut.

His whole body was lit up with it — the memory, the flash of skin, the sheer physicality of the moment.

He hated how sharp it made him feel. How helpless.

It wasn’t just the sight of you.

It was the feeling that hit after —the bone-deep awareness that you weren’t the same anymore. That you had become someone capable of wrecking him with a single, unintentional glance.

He gritted his teeth, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel until the leather creaked.

He was supposed to be your friend. A familiar face. Someone steady you could lean on.

Not this —this wreckage of a man, breathing too hard, blinking too much, feeling the echo of your body pressed behind his eyelids.

He slammed a lid down on it fast, dragging in a slow, punishing breath.

It didn’t matter.

It couldn’t matter.

You weren’t his. You... not like that You never had been.

Still, he couldn’t deny it now.

Something had shifted inside him. Tilted the floor under his feet.

And no matter how tightly he wrapped himself in professionalism, no matter how carefully he steeled himself for the rest of the day — it wasn’t going away.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

You sat near the window in a quiet booth, arms resting loosely on the edge of the table. The restaurant was calm in that late-evening way —low voices murmuring over half-finished plates, soft jazz slipping through the speakers like it belonged there.

You wore a soft blue skirt, the hem brushing gently against your ankles, paired with a fitted white knit top —simple and clean, the kind of thing you reached for when you wanted to feel quietly steady. Your cardigan hung loosely around your shoulders, sleeves pulled over your palms out of habit.

It wasn’t a statement. It was comfort. It was... you.

You checked your phone again, where Hoseok’s last message blinked softly on the screen.

Running a little late. Sorry! Be there soon.

You weren’t mad.

You just felt… aware.

That he was coming. That you would see him again —not in passing, not in a rush— but really see him. Sit across from him, talk like there was time, like it wasn’t too late to still matter to one another.

Part of you had missed him in a way you hadn’t let yourself say out loud. Not just the sound of his laugh or the way he used to tease you when he noticed your bad habits. Not just the past.

You missed the version of yourself that came out when he was around. The one who felt understood without having to explain. The one who didn’t have to pretend to have everything figured out.

Lately, that version felt far away.

You didn’t say it often —not to anyone— but turning twenty-five wasn’t as clean and triumphant as you’d expected. It felt… strange. Like you should’ve arrived somewhere by now, but instead, you were stuck in some in-between. Too grown to be lost, but too unsure to feel settled.

You wondered if Hoseok felt the same. If maybe —just maybe— that was what tonight could be about.

Not catching up on jobs and cities and years. But sitting down in the mess with someone who didn’t need the polished version of you to care.

The thought made your chest tighten a little.

Outside the window, you caught the shape of someone crossing the street —tall, broad-shouldered, familiar in a way that made your breath catch.

He was here.

You tugged your sleeves once, grounding yourself.

Whatever tonight ended up being —you knew one thing already:

You were glad it was with him.

He jogged across the street, tugging his coat tighter around himself as the wind picked up, the city air biting a little sharper than it had earlier.

He was late.

Not by much; ten minutes, maybe twelve —but still. It nagged at him.

His meeting at the office had run over, and then someone had stopped him in the hallway with a question he couldn’t dodge. Just one thing after another. And now here he was, rushing across the street, shoes damp from a shallow puddle he didn’t see coming.

His phone buzzed in his pocket —probably a “no worries” text from you—but he didn’t stop to check it.

He was already there. Already searching the restaurant window for your face.

And then — he saw you.

Tucked into the corner booth, cardigan draped over your shoulders, hair pulled back loosely, skirt gathered in gentle folds around your seat. You weren’t on your phone. You were just… waiting. Still. Present.

And it did something to him —knocked the breath out of his lungs without ceremony.

You looked... like yourself. Like someone he didn’t realize he’d missed until now. Like something familiar in a life that had started to feel increasingly distant from itself.

Not flashy. Just you.

The version that had always made sense to him.

He stood there a second longer than he should have. Caught in the stillness of it.

Then he shook it off, exhaled quietly, and pushed the door open.

The bell above the restaurant door chimed softly.

You looked up.

Your eyes met his.

And something unspoken passed between you, not dramatic, not overwhelming. Just solid. Steady.

Like you still mattered to each other.

He walked to the table and slid into the seat across from you, his body finally beginning to catch up with his heartbeat.

"Hey," he said, breath catching just slightly at the end. "Sorry. Work ran a little late. One of those days."

Your smile —soft, familiar, a little crooked— met him halfway.

"It's okay," you said. "I figured."

And just like that — the day eased.

The menus stayed on the table, but neither of you had touched them in a while. The food had come, and you both picked at it between sentences, but really— this wasn’t about eating.

You sat across from each other, bodies relaxed in a way that didn’t match the last few weeks. There was something about the stillness of the restaurant, the soft murmur of conversations around you, the flicker of warm light reflecting off the glass between you— that made the moment feel suspended. Like the world had pressed pause for a second.

"So," Hoseok said, picking up his glass and letting the condensation roll between his fingers, “how’s being a responsible adult treating you?”

You let out a quiet laugh. "It’s not."

His smile bloomed, eyes crinkling in a way that made your chest loosen. But he didn’t say anything. He waited.

You took a breath. "It’s just been weird. I thought I’d graduate and everything would… fall into place, I guess. That I'd suddenly feel like I’d arrived. But instead, I feel like I’m just floating. Like I missed a step somewhere."

Hoseok nodded, eyes on the table, thumb slowly circling the rim of his glass.

"Yeah," he said. "I get that."

There was something in his voice that made you pause. Not heavy, just real.

"I have this job, right? And I’m supposed to be grateful. Stable income, decent hours, coworkers who are fine. But it feels like I’m acting half the time." He looked up at you. “Like I’m playing the role of someone who’s got it together. I go home and I’m just… empty.”

Your chest tightened. Because yes. Yes.

"Same," you said softly. "Like I’m trying so hard to do the things I’m supposed to want. And most days, I don’t even know if I want them for me, or just because I don’t want to fall behind."

Hoseok huffed a quiet laugh. “Exactly.”

The silence that settled between you wasn’t awkward. It was safe. Like you were both letting the weight of your unspoken exhaustion rest on the table for a second.

You tilted your head slightly. “Do you still dance?”

His smile returned, faint but real. “Yeah,” he said immediately. “Always.”

And there was something comforting in that. That some things hadn't changed.

“But,” he added, running a hand through his hair, “I haven’t had much time for it lately. Work’s been nonstop. Meetings, people, pressure. I still go to the studio sometimes—late, when no one’s around. But it’s not the same.”

You nodded slowly. “It’s hard when the thing that makes you feel like you becomes the first thing you cut to survive the rest.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, soft and a little surprised. “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly.”

No one said anything for a few seconds.

You each took a bite. The food was decent, but neither of you were really paying attention to it.

“I keep thinking I should feel more proud,” you said. “Of finishing school. Of coming back. Of even landing that interview. But it’s like… I’m always two steps behind the version of myself I thought I’d be by now.”

Hoseok leaned back in his seat slightly, eyes still on you. “I feel that every day,” he said.

That was it. No lectures. No sugarcoating.

Just the truth.

And maybe that’s what made you exhale— the simple, steady reminder that you weren’t imagining it. That being young and tired and unsure wasn’t a failure. It was just where you were. Where he was, too.

When the conversation drifted into easier territory— old memories, Yoongi’s increasingly dramatic text messages, that time Jungkook tried to make instant noodles and almost started a fire— you both laughed in that full-body way that made your ribs ache a little.

It was like muscle memory.

Like your bodies remembered how to laugh together, even if your lives had taken the long way back to this table.

By the time the plates were cleared and the night began to stretch long and soft around you, you felt… better.

Not fixed. Not resolved. But steadier.

More like yourself.

And as Hoseok pulled his coat back on and walked beside you toward the door, something in the quiet felt like home.

The city air was cooler now. The sidewalk glistened faintly from earlier drizzle, reflecting streetlights in soft yellow streaks.

Hoseok walked beside you, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, not speaking much—but you didn’t need him to.

It was the kind of silence that didn’t feel like space between you. More like something shared.

He stayed close, your arms brushing once, then again. And neither of you pulled away.

You kept your gaze ahead, watching the lights flicker behind the café windows you passed, the shops closing for the night, the quiet lull of Seoul settling into itself.

"I forgot how good it feels to just talk," you said, voice low.

He glanced at you, and his smile was soft. "Yeah," he murmured. "Me too."

Yoongi's building wasn’t far now—just around the corner— and you found yourself wishing it were ten blocks further.

There was something about the rhythm of walking next to him that made you feel… settled. Safe.

But there was something else too.

Every now and then, you caught the edge of his cologne in the breeze—subtle, familiar, a little too comforting. Every now and then, you felt the shift of his gaze—quick and quiet—like he was checking on you. Or maybe… just looking.

You felt it. The awareness.

Not loud. Not disruptive.

Just real.

You weren’t pretending not to notice the way his voice dropped when he got serious. Or the way he held his shoulders straighter now, like he’d lived a thousand lives since you last stood this close to him. Or the way your own heartbeat stuttered slightly when his arm brushed yours again—and again, still, neither of you moved.

The tension wasn’t something either of you created. It just… existed.

Like the city lights. Like the chill in the air. Like the way time changed people when you weren’t looking.

When you reached your building, you stopped, turning slightly to face him.

"Thanks for tonight," you said, meaning more than just the dinner. "Really."

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you.

Like he was remembering something. Or maybe memorizing something new.

"Anytime, Star," he said. Quiet. Sure.

You smiled, but your chest pulled a little tight.

He didn’t lean in. Didn’t touch you. Didn’t cross any lines.

But the pause that stretched between goodbye and turning away… it said everything.

You opened the door, stepped inside.

And even as it closed behind you, you could feel it:

He was still standing there.

And neither of you were pretending not to feel it anymore.

He waited a few seconds after the door shut behind you. Longer than necessary.

Your building buzzed faintly in the quiet, humming against the night like it had something to say. He stood there, hands still in his coat pockets, blinking at the sidewalk like the answers might be spelled out in the cracks.

And then he let out a breath and turned, starting the walk back.

It wasn’t a long way—eighteen minutes at most—but his head wouldn’t shut up.

The dinner had gone well. Better than he expected. You laughed like you used to. You listened like you always did. And for a second in the middle of it all, he’d remembered what it felt like to be known.

And that was the problem.

He hadn’t expected to feel that again. Especially not with you. Not like this.

The easy familiarity of your voice. The way you looked at him when he talked about work, about dance, about nothing at all. The way your arm kept brushing his. The way neither of you moved.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it. The moment at your door—the pause that lasted just a beat too long.

There’d been something in it. Or maybe not. He didn’t know.

He felt... off. Like something inside him had shifted without asking permission.

He fished out his phone, fingers tapping before he could talk himself out of it.

hoseok

you up?

Three dots. Then a reply.

yoongi

why what happened

Hoseok snorted softly, thumbs already moving.

hoseok

calm down everything’s fine just got back from dinner with her

yoongi

her??

hoseok

you know who your sister, ______ she texted me earlier after her interview

A longer pause this time. Yoongi was typing. Then not. Then typing again.

yoongi

…okay and?

hoseok

and nothing it was just it was really good actually like we didn’t skip time kinda threw me off

yoongi

you’re being weirdly sentimental

hoseok

i know it’s annoying i’m annoying myself

Another pause. Then Yoongi sent two texts back to back.

yoongi

what happened like actually

Hoseok stared at the screen for a moment, jaw tightening. He wasn’t even sure what to say.

hoseok

nothing happened just it felt really easy like… safer than it should’ve? but also kind of fucked me up a little

Yoongi didn’t respond right away. When he finally did, it was classic Yoongi.

yoongi

you’ve always been soft about her don’t act like this is new. everyone knew.

Hoseok’s stomach dropped a little. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt or recognition.

hoseok

it’s not like that it’s not. what you mean by everyone knew?

He paused. Stared at the blinking cursor.

Then deleted the last message.

hoseok

nvm just needed to get out of my own head

yoongi

yeah well good luck with that

He pocketed the phone, heart still thudding low and quiet in his chest.

He wasn’t looking for answers yet. But the questions were already starting to form.

He pocketed the phone again, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.

But as he turned onto the quiet street leading to his place, his chest still felt too full. Like something had cracked open during dinner. Something that didn’t want to be ignored anymore.

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

Not yet.

It was strange how quickly everything began to make sense once the job came through.

You had barely caught your breath after the final interview when the offer hit your inbox, and suddenly—your degree felt real. Useful. Worth it.

You started working within two weeks. It wasn’t perfect, and you were definitely faking confidence half the time, but it was something solid. Something yours.

The rhythm of your days changed, but they didn’t overwhelm you.

You thought, briefly, about finding your own place—making some adult, definitive move—but Yoongi, ever practical and slightly gruff, shut it down fast.

“You just started working,” he said. “Stay. Contribute a little. Save your money. Don’t be stupid.”

So you stayed. Paid your part. Did your dishes. Kept the fridge full.

And somewhere in all that normalcy, life unfolded again.

Jungkook finally landed back in Seoul, full of chaotic energy and stories from abroad. You, he, and Yeji slipped into an old rhythm like no time had passed—laughing too loud in cafés, arguing over which tteokbokki stall was still the best, sharing fries like you were seventeen again.

You didn’t realize how much you missed them until you had them back.

Yeji couldn’t shut up about a guy she’d been seeing—Namjoon, apparently, and from the way she said his name with that smile, you knew it was real. She was glowing, and you were happy for her. Like really, truly happy. She deserved someone soft and grounded, someone who looked at her the way she deserved.

And then, Hoseok...

Hoseok… well, he was just there.

Not every day. But often enough that it started to feel like routine.

He’d come over on Fridays, sometimes with takeout, sometimes empty-handed, but always with that same tired grin and that quiet ease that slipped right into your living room like it belonged there.

And then he’d stay.

Sometimes until Saturday night. More often than not — until Sunday afternoon, hoodie sleeves rolled to his elbows, coffee in hand, half asleep at Yoongi’s kitchen counter.

He still had work, of course, but when he had time to breathe, he came here. To Yoongi’s apartment. To you.

Sometimes he called ahead. More often, he just showed up. Yoongi would open the door to find you and Hoseok already mid-laugh, curled on the couch watching some late-night broadcast that made absolutely no sense but kept you both entertained for hours.

You’d put on albums and rate every track. He’d light up over synth runs, lose his mind over chord progressions, defend trashy pop hooks like they were sacred texts. You'd argue about lyrics. About metaphors. About vibes.

And somewhere between the noise and the static — it all started to feel quietly domestic.

You hadn’t missed the looks Yoongi gave you. The way he watched Hoseok set his phone down face-up on the table without hesitation. The way he raised an eyebrow when your knees brushed under the blanket and neither of you moved.

You ignored it.

Because it was easier to lean into the comfort. Because nothing had happened. Not technically.

And because nights like last Saturday made it hard to believe you didn’t need him here.

It was after 1AM, the apartment silent except for the hum of the TV, both of you curled up on the couch like some long-running tradition you never meant to start.

You were arguing over childhood snacks.

"No, seriously," Hoseok was saying, his voice hoarse with sleep, "choco pies are good, but they’re not that good. They’re like... nostalgia sugar."

"They’re iconic," you shot back. "Your opinion is wrong."

"You’re wrong," he murmured, yawning. "But go off, queen."

You smacked his knee. He grinned.

Then it went quiet for a minute. Not awkward—just still.

You shifted slightly, head tilted against the back cushion, voice softer now. "Do you ever think you’ve already peaked?"

His response came slower this time. "Sometimes," he said. "Yeah. Like I’m chasing this version of myself I already was. And maybe that version was enough, and now I’m just... tired of trying to match it."

You blinked, surprised.

Then— "I feel that too."

He turned his head slightly toward you. "You don’t talk like you feel that."

You shrugged. "Neither do you."

Another silence. But now the air felt heavier, more real.

"I think I’m scared I missed it," you said quietly. "The moment when I could’ve been everything I wanted to be."

He didn’t say anything for a while. Then: "You didn’t."

Your heart tugged. "How would you know?"

"Because I’ve known you a long time," he said. And then, even softer— "And I don’t think your best has shown up yet. But when it does? It’ll be terrifying in the best way."

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

The silence that followed wasn’t something you wanted to break.

You weren’t sure how it happened exactly. It was like six months after you landed that job. One moment, you were texting Hoseok about the weather like idiots—“is it hot or is it just me roasting from capitalism??”—and the next, he was waiting outside your office building, iced coffee in hand and sunglasses perched cockily on his nose.

“Emergency grocery run?” he said like it was a mission. You blinked at him, tired and amused. “What, like you’re my chauffeur now?”

“I’m multi-talented,” he said, offering the coffee like a bribe.

You took it.

Now you were two aisles deep in the supermarket, arguing over rice brands like you were 45 years old and living together.

“You don’t even eat this kind of rice,” you pointed out.

“I might,” he said. “Maybe I’m evolving.”

“You’ve eaten ramyeon for dinner three nights this week.”

“That’s slander,” he said. “It was two nights. And lunch.”

You snorted, tossing a bag of rice into your basket and moving on. He followed, pushing the cart like he owned the place, offering loud, incorrect opinions about produce just to hear you groan.

By the time you made it to checkout, the two of you had made a pact to try cooking something this weekend (“from scratch—none of that packet seasoning crap”) and Hoseok had somehow added a completely unnecessary six-pack of soda to your cart.

“You’re going to explode your stomach,” you muttered, swiping your card.

“I like living dangerously,” he grinned.

Outside, the sun was starting to set. You both walked slow, groceries swinging between you, and for a second… it just felt easy. Familiar. Like the best parts of the past had quietly grown up with you.

He glanced sideways at you, eyes squinting against the light. “You seem good,” he said.

You looked over. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Like… lighter. I don’t know. You’re still annoying, but less tightly wound.”

You elbowed him. “Touching. Truly.”

But you were smiling.

Because it meant something—coming from him. Because he’d seen you when you weren’t. Because this was someone who knew you, and still came back.

“Hey,” he said suddenly. You looked up.

“I’m glad we’re doing this again,” he said. “Not just hanging out. But… like. This. Us.”

You blinked. Then nodded, voice a little soft. “Yeah. Me too.”

He nudged your shoulder with his.

Just once. Just enough.

And for the rest of the walk home, you didn’t say anything else. You didn’t need to.

You were friends again. You have been friends for all these months too.

And this time, it wasn’t just something from before. It was real now. It was yours.

You’d been thinking about it for a while—quietly, in your own head, like a grown-up secret.

Moving out.

Not because Yoongi was a bad roommate (he was mostly never home) or because you weren’t grateful (you were, deeply). But because you were starting to crave space that was only yours. A door that opened to silence, to mismatched dishes you picked out, to walls you could hang anything on without asking.

So when you brought it up, it was casual. Very chill. Totally adult.

“I’ve been thinking about moving,” you said, setting your tea down on the counter like it was no big deal.

Yoongi looked up from his phone, blinked once. “You have, huh.”

“I mean not right now, but maybe soon. Maybe in like... two or three months. Just a small place. Studio. Close to work.”

He nodded slowly. “You got enough saved?”

“Almost,” you said. “It’s close. I’ve been planning.”

Across the room, Hoseok, who was half-listening while peeling an orange like it owed him money, chimed in: “Woah. Big moves. Look at you, Miss Independent.”

You shot him a look. He grinned with juice on his fingers.

“Anyway,” you said, brushing past it, “I’ll show you the places I’ve bookmarked later.”

And that should’ve been the end of it.

But then— ten minutes later, you went to take a quick shower.

And promptly destroyed the entire fixture.

You weren’t even doing anything weird. Just adjusting the pressure knob. Except apparently the pressure knob had decided to betray you, because it snapped off in your hand with a loud CLANG, followed by a dramatic burst of water that hit you square in the face.

“WHAT THE—”

“Everything okay in there?” Yoongi called from the kitchen.

“No!” you yelled back, soaked and blinking. “I’m in a goddamn k-drama flood scene!”

By the time you got the water turned off (with the help of a mop handle and divine intervention), the floor was half flooded, your hair was plastered to your face, and you were wrapped in a towel like a cursed hotel ghost.

You opened the bathroom door slowly— and found both Yoongi and Hoseok standing there like two judgmental uncles on laundry duty.

Hoseok’s eyes widened at the sight of your damp chaos.

“...Did the bathroom lose a fight?”

You pointed at the broken knob in your hand. “This. This traitor. I’m suing.”

Yoongi sighed deeply. “How bad is it?”

“Shower’s done for. Possibly haunted now. Also, maybe mold.”

Hoseok tried—tried—not to laugh. He failed.

“That’s it,” you muttered. “I’m never growing up again.”

Yoongi ran a hand over his face. “You better not move until you pay for this plumbing mess.”

You blinked.

Then groaned.

Because he was right. You had savings... but not enough to fix this and move.

You sighed, towel still dripping. “So what I’m hearing is: I live here forever.”

“Yep,” Yoongi said, already walking away. “You’re basically married to the pipes now.”

You turned to Hoseok, who was still trying not to choke on his orange.

“Stop laughing.”

“I’m not!” he wheezed. “I’m just emotionally overwhelmed by your journey.”

You flipped him off with the hand holding the broken knob. He took a photo.

Later, when the floor was dry and your pride was wrung out and folded in the laundry bin, you sat on the couch with them like nothing had happened.

You were still here. And somehow, it didn’t feel like a setback.

You were still mourning your shower when the second wave of karma hit.

It came in the form of a very damp, very grumpy Hoseok standing in the doorway holding a tote bag and looking like a man whose life had just been personally ruined by God.

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” he said.

You blinked. “Okay...?”

“There was a pipe burst,” he explained, dragging the words out like they physically hurt. “Second floor. Whole damn line’s shut off. I can’t use my shower.”

You stared at him. Then slowly—so slowly—started to grin.

“Oh,” you said, hand on your chest. “Oh no. That’s terrible.”

“I came here for comfort,” he said.

“You came here to suffer,” you corrected. “This is called consequences, Hoseok.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t act like I caused your plumbing tragedy.”

“You absolutely did. With your rice opinions and your six-pack of orange soda. The universe heard your disrespect.”

He looked skyward. “This is bullying.”

“Shower’s in Yoongi’s room,” you said sweetly. “Right through the door. Same place I’m using. Hope you like booking timeslots.”

You walked off with that smug little bounce in your step.

But of course—of course—fate wasn’t done.

It wasn’t until later that evening, when you wrapped your towel around yourself post-shower and stepped into the hallway—fresh out, hair dripping, skin warm and soft and maybe glowing a little from your expensive body wash—that you realized the door hadn’t clicked shut properly behind you.

And who else would be standing there? In Yoongi’s hallway? With his stupid hoodie pulled halfway off and a towel slung over his shoulder?

Hoseok blinked.

You blinked.

“…Your timing,” you said slowly, “is truly supernatural.”

He tried to look away. He really did. But his eyes snagged on your collarbone before they darted back up. “I swear I thought you were done.”

“I was done, but apparently so was the lock on that bathroom door.”

“Do we need to install a traffic light system for this shower?”

You held up your hand like a crossing guard. “Red. Immediate red.”

He grinned. You glared.

And then —because the universe lives for drama —the bathroom door creaked open further behind you, letting out a curl of steam that wrapped around you both like a goddamn romance movie.

Neither of you moved.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you muttered.

“You look fine,” he said before he could stop himself.

You turned slowly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly. “Just—uh, you’re glowing. From the steam. Like a… sauna angel. I’m gonna go die now.”

You snorted so hard you nearly dropped your towel. “You’re a mess.”

“You broke your entire shower,” he shot back. “Don’t talk to me about mess.”

And yet, there was something in the air now. Something warm and sharp and too much.

You were both standing too close. Both freshly showered. Both way too aware of how bare the moment felt.

But then Yoongi’s voice rang from the kitchen—

“If either of you steam up the hallway again I’m moving out.”

You jumped. Hoseok laughed. The spell broke.

He ducked into the bathroom with a low whistle, brushing past you with the faintest graze of shoulder.

“Enjoy the angel glow,” he called behind him.

You rolled your eyes.

The hallway incident hadn’t been mentioned again.

Not by you. Not by Hoseok. Not even when you accidentally brushed knees later that evening while reaching for the remote.

It was buried under layers of forced normalcy and casually exaggerated sighs like, “Ugh, what a long day,” when what you really meant was: I can still feel his breath on my collarbone.

So when Yoongi got home from his night shift, dumped his bag on the floor, and walked straight to the fridge for leftover kimbap, you thought maybe—just maybe—you were safe.

You were on the couch, pretending to be absorbed in some pointless variety show. Hoseok was next to you, pretending to scroll through his phone and not glance at you every other minute.

Everything was normal.

Except Yoongi stood there in the kitchen for way too long. Silent. Staring.

You felt it before he spoke. That ominous, all-knowing pause.

Then, with a bite of kimbap half hanging out of his mouth, he finally said—

"If either of you are gonna start hooking up, just say so. I’ll clear out for a night."

You choked on absolutely nothing.

Hoseok fumbled his phone and nearly dropped it in his lap.

“What the hell?” you sputtered.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow without even looking at you. “What? Just planning ahead.”

“There’s nothing to plan!” you snapped, voice climbing two octaves.

Hoseok cleared his throat, suddenly Very Interested in a dent on the coffee table.

Yoongi sighed like he was the only sane person in a house full of bad actors. “You guys walk around here like you’re starring in a slow-burn webdrama with a ten-episode contract. It’s exhausting.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“Nothing’s happening,” you managed.

Yoongi shrugged. “Didn’t say it was. Just said if it does, give me warning so I don’t walk in on some steamy-ass KBS hallway scene again.”

You made an unholy noise of embarrassment.

Hoseok was now doing that thing where he looked like he wanted to vanish into a pixel.

Yoongi, unfazed, walked into his room and closed the door behind him like a judge declaring the court adjourned.

And you?

You stared straight ahead.

Hoseok exhaled beside you.

"...I hate him," you whispered.

“Me too,” Hoseok muttered.

But neither of you moved. And neither of you laughed.

Because the silence left behind was warm. Buzzing. And way too loud.

The apartment was still, quiet in that slow post-morning haze. Hoseok leaned against the counter, coffee warm in his hands, but his thoughts louder than the silence around him.

Yoongi moved methodically, buttering toast with the same tired precision he applied to most things before 9 a.m.

Hoseok cleared his throat. “About what you said last night…”

Yoongi didn’t look up. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

“The part where you said if we were gonna hook up, to warn you first?”

Yoongi blinked once. “Yeah. What about it?”

“You were serious.”

“Mostly,” Yoongi said. “But not wrong.”

Hoseok gave him a sharp look. “It’s not like that.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Then what’s it like?”

“She’s…” Hoseok hesitated. “She’s just important to me.”

“She always has been.”

Hoseok looked down into his coffee. “I knew, back then. That she liked me. I didn’t feel the same, not at the time. But I didn’t exactly step back either. I was always around.”

Yoongi finally looked at him, something steadier behind his eyes now.

“She’s got the biggest heart I know,” he said softly. “Always has.”

Hoseok stilled.

“She was all feelings, even when she was little,” Yoongi went on. “She cared about everything. Everyone. Couldn’t shut it off. She was stubborn, and dramatic, and she cried over things I didn’t understand… but she never hid how much she felt. Never held back from loving people, even when they didn’t deserve it.”

There was a pause, like Yoongi was letting that truth sit between them.

“I’m not like that,” he added, voice quieter. “I’ve always kept things to myself. But she—she walks into rooms with her whole heart showing.”

Hoseok blinked hard. “She still does.”

“I know,” Yoongi said. “And that’s why I’ve always had a soft spot for her. Not just because she’s my sister. But because she’s her. She’s rare.”

Hoseok nodded, throat tightening.

Yoongi studied him. “You didn’t mean to hurt her. I know that. You were just a kid trying to be careful.”

“But I still stayed,” Hoseok said. “I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea, but I didn’t want to leave either.”

“Because part of you already knew,” Yoongi said. “Even if it wasn’t romantic. Even if it wasn’t love. She mattered. She always did.”

Hoseok’s grip tightened on the mug. “And now I think… I think I feel it. All of it. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Yoongi sighed and set his toast down.

“She’s not fifteen anymore,” he said. “She’s not sitting around hoping you’ll notice her. She’s figuring herself out, and she’s doing it without needing you.”

Hoseok looked up. That hit.

“But if you’re going to show up now,” Yoongi said, voice firm but not unkind, “then really show up. She deserves someone who won’t run when it’s inconvenient. Someone who sees her for who she is now—not just who she used to be.”

Hoseok swallowed. “You think it’s too late?”

Yoongi shook his head. “I think if you’re honest, she’ll hear you. But don’t half-ass this. Not with her. She’s been through too much for that.”

Then, softer:

“And I want her happy. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.”

Hoseok let out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi echoed. Then smirked faintly. “Now finish your coffee. You’re being weird, asshole.”

It started with dish soap.

Just a normal night — leftovers packed, Jungkook long gone, Yoongi face-down on the couch with one sock off and a blanket halfway over his head.

You were rinsing plates at the sink, humming softly, sleeves pushed up, when you heard Hoseok behind you.

Close.

Too close.

"You're really domestic these days," he said, leaning against the counter like he belonged there.

You didn’t look at him. "One of us has to be."

"Mm," he mused. "Something about you washing dishes is kinda dangerous, though."

You glanced back. "Dangerous?"

"Yeah." His voice dropped, just a little. "Distracting."

Your heart stuttered.

You turned fully, plate in hand, water still running. "Distracting?"

Hoseok leaned in, arms crossed, one brow raised. "Is there an echo in here?"

You rolled your eyes, but it didn’t land — not when he was looking at you like that. Like he was seeing you. Like he was enjoying what he saw.

You tried for steady. "You’re being weird."

"Am I?" he asked, tilting his head. "Or are you just not used to me paying attention?"

You froze.

Because the way he said it — calm, warm, like it was nothing — was exactly why it felt like everything.

"I'm used to you being annoying," you said, voice thinner than you meant.

His mouth quirked. "Then why do you always smile when I am?"

You didn’t answer.

Mostly because he was suddenly closer. Standing beside you now, hand brushing yours as he reached for the towel. His fingers lingered, just slightly. Just long enough to feel like an accident.

You inhaled. He noticed.

You could feel it — the pull.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked quietly.

"Like what?"

"Like you’re thinking something you shouldn’t say."

His smile curved, slow and dangerous. "I'm not saying it."

You raised an eyebrow. "But you’re thinking it?"

"Oh," he said, voice low. "Absolutely."

The air between you buzzed, tight and hot.

And then he stepped back, like he hadn’t just cracked the floor beneath you.

"Goodnight, star," he said, all sweet and smug, tossing the towel over his shoulder like a casual sin.

You stood there, heart pounding, hands wet, thoughts on fire.

Oh.

You’d had a terrible day.

Too many reports, too many meetings, too many goddamn requests from marketing — which, by the way, was supposed to be a creative field, not a place where people flung last-minute deck edits at you like dodgeballs.

You were frayed. Done. Running on coffee and fumes and a migraine blooming just behind your eyes.

And it was a Friday, which felt cruel. Like the universe had saved its worst for the final lap.

You didn’t want to go home. Didn’t want the quiet of Yoongi’s apartment, the mess of takeout containers you didn’t have the energy to clean, or the creeping dread of another night spent overthinking everything.

You thought about calling Yeji — but she’d texted earlier. Something about a family emergency, rushing back to Gwangju. You didn’t want to pile on.

Jungkook? No chance. The guy was finally on a date and, for once, not texting the group chat in real-time commentary. You’d let him have it.

Yoongi was probably elbow-deep in some trauma case at the hospital.

So that left… Hoseok. And that was the problem.

Because the second his name popped into your head, it stuck. Loud and neon. Comforting in a way that made your chest ache.

You didn’t think twice — you just went.

The doorman at his building recognized you and let you in with a smile. “Back again, huh?” he said. You managed a tight-lipped grin and kept walking, suddenly very aware of the fact that you didn’t have a key.

You stood in front of his door, heartbeat loud for reasons that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

You called him. Once.

No answer. You waited. Called again.

This time, the door opened mid-ring — Hoseok standing there in sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, barefoot, hair pushed back like he’d just run a hand through it.

Your breath caught.

He looked… soft. Warm. Familiar. And stupidly attractive.

“Hey,” he said, voice scratchy from what was probably a nap. “You good?”

You tried to play it off. “Yeah. I just… had a day.”

He stepped aside instantly, letting you in without asking.

“I was sleeping,” he added, closing the door behind you, “but it’s fine. You want tea? Something stronger?”

You dropped your bag on the floor with a tired grunt. “Both?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Coming up.”

You stood there for a second, awkward, unsure of what to say — unsure of why your throat suddenly felt tight.

He disappeared into the kitchen. You followed a moment later, watching him pull mugs from the shelf like it was the easiest thing in the world, like this was your Friday ritual.

“Long day?” he asked gently, back still to you.

You exhaled. “I wanted to cry in the bathroom at least three times.”

He poured something warm into your cup and passed it to you, fingers brushing. You held it like it could save you.

And then — his voice, lower now.

“I was gonna call you later.”

You glanced up, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. “Don’t know why. Just felt like I should.”

You took a sip of tea, tried to ignore how warm you suddenly felt — and it had nothing to do with the mug.

“I almost didn’t come,” you admitted.

“But you did.”

Your eyes met.

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

Something passed between you — the air sharpening, thickening, like the seconds had started stretching longer than they should.

And then he stepped a little closer. Just one step. Barefoot on tile.

“You can stay as long as you want,” he said quietly. “You know that, right?”

You nodded, slowly.

But you didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

And for one burning second, it felt like the only thing between you was breath.

You hadn’t planned on staying.

But you also hadn’t planned on the way the tea settled into your chest like a sigh. Or the way Hoseok handed you a hoodie from his closet — worn, soft, black with cracked lettering — and said, “This one’s good. It smells like me.” Then blinked and added, “In a clean way, I mean.”

You laughed, the first real one of the day. He smiled like that had been the goal.

You changed in the bathroom, peeled off your jeans with a groan, pulled the hoodie over your head, and let yourself fold into the fabric like it might keep the rest of the world out.

When you stepped out, he was already making up the couch.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, hugging your arms to your chest.

He looked over at you — ruffled hair, sleep-heavy eyes, t-shirt clinging to the curve of his shoulders — and smiled soft.

“I’m not letting you sleep on a couch after a day like that.”

“You’re gonna have back pain.”

“I already do,” he said with a wink. “Part of aging gracefully.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart squeezed.

He pointed toward the bedroom with a little nod. “Go. It’s clean. Sheets and everything. I even fluffed the pillow like a gentleman.”

You stared at him. “This feels illegal.”

“What does?”

“This. You. Being nice to me.”

He gave you a crooked grin. “Shh. Don’t ruin it.”

You padded into his bedroom without another word — heart racing a little faster than it should — and curled up in sheets that smelled faintly like him and something citrusy.

And when you closed your eyes, the tension didn’t go away. It just softened — low and steady in your chest.

You drifted off wondering what it would feel like if he hadn’t stayed on the couch.

You woke to sunlight creeping through unfamiliar blinds.

For a second, you forgot where you were. Then the hoodie. The sheets. The faint sound of music playing softly from somewhere down the hall.

You sat up slowly, blinking, hair a mess.

Outside the room, you found Hoseok standing at the stove in grey sweatpants and a loose tank top, flipping pancakes like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard you.

“Morning, star.”

God.

You made some kind of sound — halfway between a groan and a sigh — and dragged yourself to the counter.

“You cook now?”

“I do all sorts of impressive things,” he said. “Like letting sleep-deprived marketing girls take over my bed.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re too chipper for someone who slept on a couch.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had worse. College floors. Airport benches. Yoongi’s recliner.”

You blinked. “You slept in Yoongi’s recliner?”

“Regretfully, yes.”

You laughed. He beamed.

And then he placed a plate in front of you. Golden pancakes. Sliced fruit. A drizzle of honey.

You looked at it. Then at him.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, not teasing this time.

You hesitated.

Then nodded. “Better now.”

He held your gaze for a second longer than necessary.

And then — like nothing — he turned back to the stove.

“Good,” he said.

But your chest was buzzing.

The pancakes were gone. Your plate was pushed aside. The music had shifted into something softer, lazily looping through Hoseok’s Bluetooth speaker like it didn’t know what time it was.

You were still in his hoodie — sleeves pushed up, hem hitting just below mid-thigh — and the morning sun had started to press in through the windows, golden and warm.

You stretched your legs out from under the table, bare feet against the cool tile.

“Hey,” you said, blinking sleepily. “Do you have… like, shorts or something I can borrow?”

Hoseok, halfway through cleaning a pan, stilled.

You didn’t notice at first. You were stretching your arms now, spine cracking, the hoodie riding up just a little higher on your thighs.

He cleared his throat. “Shorts?”

“Yeah. It’s warm,” you said simply. “I’m kinda sweating in this thing.”

He turned —slowly— and took one look at you standing there in his hoodie, sunlight on your legs, your hair still messy from sleep, mouth soft from syrup, and felt his entire nervous system short out.

“Oh,” he said, voice a little tight. “Yeah. Uh. Gimme a sec.”

He disappeared down the hall.

You wandered over to the sink, rinsed your plate, humming softly, totally unaware that Hoseok was in his room gripping a dresser drawer like it personally offended him.

Because yes, he had shorts. And yes, he could technically hand them to you. But no, he was not prepared to watch you put them on. Not when you were already walking around like some slow-motion fever dream in his oldest hoodie — the one that clung in places it shouldn’t.

He returned a minute later, tossing a folded pair onto the couch.

You looked up, bright-eyed. “Lifesaver.”

And then — because you are the villain in this situation apparently — you peeled the hoodie off right there in the open space, still facing away from him.

He turned around so fast he almost pulled something.

You laughed. “Oh my god, are you serious?”

“I’m being respectful!” he shouted from the kitchen.

“You’ve seen me in a swimsuit!”

“Swimsuit is planned!” he yelled back. “This is—this is AMBUSH!”

You snorted, tugging the shorts on and adjusting the waistband.

He peeked over his shoulder cautiously, like he was checking for incoming artillery. And then he saw you — his hoodie bunched in your hands, tank top clinging to your waist, his shorts hanging a little too loose on your hips — and all of the air left his lungs.

You looked up. “Better?”

He swallowed. “Debatable.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly, spinning back toward the sink.

But his neck was red. His ears were worse.

The silence after was thick—not awkward, not heavy. Just…

Charged.

You sank into the couch, legs folding under you, acting casual.

He stayed by the counter like it was a shield.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren’t you?"

His voice came from behind you, flat but tight, the kind of quiet that gave away just how not-casual he actually felt.

You turned your head from the couch cushion, blinked slowly.

"Huh?"

He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“You’re doing it on purpose.”

You tilted your head. “Doing what?”

He stared at you like you were evil incarnate.

“You’re in my hoodie,” he said, voice strained, “and now my shorts — and you’re just walking around like it’s nothing.”

You blinked. Looked down at yourself. “Oh… I mean, I was hot.”

“You were hot,” he repeated.

You smiled, soft and harmless. “Mmhm.”

He exhaled sharply, like he needed to physically push the tension out of his chest. “And the tank top? Just a bonus, huh?”

You frowned, like you genuinely didn’t know what he meant. “It’s the one I was wearing when I came. You saw me in it last night?”

“You didn’t think maybe putting both on together would… drive me insane?”

You let your expression drop into something small, almost guilty.

“Wait… do you think I’m trying to tease you?”

He blinked. “Aren’t you?”

You shrugged, all wide eyes and deadly softness. “I was just trying to be comfortable, Hoseok.”

And God help him, he almost believed you.

Except he didn’t.

#hoseok x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #hoseok smut #bts #taehyung smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jin smut #yoongi smut

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