#do these two songs feel like a conversation between past lovers or is it just me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

discodinosaur · 1 month ago

Text

➳ homegrown

Summary: It takes three games of darts for you to win your bet against Joel. After much grumbling and cursing you out he agrees to play at the open-mic night. Perhaps this might be the right time to act on your feelings.

Note: I've had this idea for months and finally had some time to get it written. I've checked this over so many times but I'm bound to have missed something. - Divider by @saradika-graphics ♡ - link to the song Joel sings. I love this song and just thought it kinda fit.

You didn’t expect the bar to be this packed.

But in hindsight – yeah, you should have. Not only is it open mic night at the bar but it’s also a Friday, meaning traffic had be awful. So yeah, you should’ve been more prepared.

You had promised Joel ages ago that you would be here for this. ‘I always thought about singin’’, he’d told you one night. An idea, a bet and three darts games later you turn to him with a glint in your eye, asking for your win to be see him play at the open mic night. He’d griped about it, cursed you out multiple times under his breath while Tommy had laughed, and then, with some reluctance, agreed. But only if you were there to watch.

Like you’d say not to that. You two of you had been dancing on the ‘will they, won’t they’ iceberg for months. You weren’t even sure if Joel felt that way about you. Even with the lingering touches, the flirtations between the two of you, you didn’t know if it was all just in your own head.

So here you are. If only you could see or find your friends. Being a head shorter than most people in front of you isn’t helping, you can barely see the stage let alone the table where your friends are. The woman behind the bar you can barely hear over the group of raucous men next to you, repeating yourself four times before she hears you, giving the men a sidelong look as she gets you a lemonade.

Just as you grab your glass there’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn, ready to tell the next guy to at least wait a second. But the words die on your tongue and you let out a relieved sigh at Tommy’s familiar face. You squeeze through the gap, the loud group of men guffawing again and you wince as the sound goes right through you.

“There y’are!” he exclaims, his hand grabbing yours to guide you through the crowd. You sidle past more groups of people, the crowd thinning the further away from the bar you get. Lemonade spills over the top of your glass, pooling in the gaps of your fingers as you get led over to a small corner booth.

You greet Maria who gives you a half hug and you raise your glass over to Tess and Frank, the two deep in conversation. You slide into the seat that’s been saved for you between Joel and Tommy, your eyes falling on Bill, who even with his eyes closed looks like he’s ready to leave this place already.

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you and you turn, your eyes raking over him. Well-worn jeans and a green shirt. Classic Joel. His hair sticking up in different directions from where he’s ran his hand through it one too many times and his eyes burn into yours as you meet his gaze.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his lips and then back to his face. His hand wrapped around his beer, bringing it to his lips, seemingly having missed your fleeting look.

You okay? He mouths around the bottle and you nod quickly, the knuckle of your thumb coming to your mouth to lick off the remaining lemonade. You turn your head to Tommy, missing the way Joel’s throat bobs as he watches your lips.

“I can’t believe you got him to do this,” Tommy says to you, knocking his knee with yours, a glance in his brother’s direction.

You smile, watching for a moment as he takes a sip of his scotch, ice-clinking gently together.

“Beginner’s luck. I’m terrible at darts but somehow beat him three times,” you shrug, hiding your grin with your hand.

Tommy laughs, his head tilting back as his shoulders shake. It’s infectious and you find yourself smiling, leaning into him for a moment, a quiet laugh escaping you. As you look up, you catch Joel’s expression – a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head. This time you ignore it as Tommy erupts into another round of laughter at an offhand comment from Maria you don’t quite hear.

Instead, you watch Joel even after he’s turned away, arm slung over the back of his chair, body twisting in his seat as one of the employees approaches him, gesturing to the stage. Joel points down to the floor and your eyes follow, your heart fluttering when you see his guitar case.

You chance another look at him, the overhead lighting catching on the silver in his hair, shadowing his face. He’s not looking towards you, engrossed in something with Tess and Bill so you take the opportunity to just look.

You start to think. Think about how close you two have been to a ‘moment’ only for it to be shattered seconds later. How Joel knows you inside out, back to front, better than you know yourself, like a missing limb.

You’ve never confessed out loud to anyone, not even Tommy. God, even just thinking about his teasing is enough to put you off. He would never let you live it down. It’s enough that he has this weird look on his face whenever you and Joel get a little too close like he knows he’s interrupted something.

You take a sip of your lemonade, blinking away from Joel only to catch Frank’s eye. You might not have told Tommy but Frank doesn’t miss a thing. He definitely knows, even if he’s never explicitly told you, you just know that he knows. He looks between you and Joel and raises an eyebrow at you as if asking ‘will you finally tell him?’

You shake your head the tiniest amount and glance at Joel again, finding him already watching you. His eyes flash with something. Nerves, probably, you think. It’s almost showtime.

The lights dim, dousing the room in an intimate shadowy light again and Frank stands moving around the table, a warm hand on your shoulder, a murmur of ‘what drink?’ but you lift your still-full glass and he nods, squeezing your shoulder before leaning down in your peripheral to ask Maria the same question.

Joel also gets to feet with a loud, exaggerated sigh in your direction and you don’t even hide the smile that creeps onto your face. He picks up his guitar case and spares you one last glance. “Guess that’s m’cue,” he mutters.

Tommy raises his glass, toasting his retreating back you huff with a laugh, raising yours as the rest of the table follows suit. You clink your glass with Tommy’s and take a long drink, doing anything but looking at Joel preparing himself.

The same guy from earlier steps onto the little makeshift stage, tapping the microphone already to get everyone’s attention and introduces Joel. You don’t hide the soft smile on your face as Joel dithers in the background, guitar strap over his shoulder as he leans in to hear whatever he’s strumming.

The guy gestures to the seat for Joel, adjusting the microphone for him. Joel looks over at your table, meeting your eyes for the briefest of seconds and then he’s clasping the fretboard, closing his eyes.

“Would you calm ya leg? Tommy whispers in your ear, hand on knee where you’ve been subconsciously jiggling your leg in anticipation.

“No,” you reply, batting his hand away and clutching your glass tight in your hands, the condensation cooling your clammy palms.

Joel gives a quick hello, tells everyone else why he’s up there, nods over to your table and then his fingers find their chord and he starts with a slow gentle melody.

“I got a piece of land out in the countryside

Lay back and smell the sun, warm up the Georgia pine

Been so good to me, takin' it easy…”

From the first lyrics, you shake your head in disbelief. Fucker. Of course he plays this one. Whenever Joel plays for you, you always request it but this time it’s slower, like every word is being carved just for you. This time, his voice goes right through you, a juxtaposition of mellow and rough around the edges.

His eyes find you as he sings the chorus and your breathing hitches. You find that you can’t look away from him – illuminated by the orangey light they have on the stage like a halo.

“I got some good friends that live down the street

Got a good lookin’ woman with her arms ‘round me

Live in a small town where it feels like home

I got everything I need, and nothin’ that I don’t….”

Fuck.

His voice has always made you weak, but now, amplified by the mic and the intensity of his stare, you are just about putty. Strands of his wavy hair fall into his face when he finally looks away from you down at the guitar and you shift in your seat.

You really need to do something about this crush of yours.

He sings the last part of the chorus for the final time and your eyes drop to his hands – those fucking hands on his guitar, fingering the fretboard and you look up. You can’t look away until the lights go down around him.

Everyone around you erupts into applause and you blink away, coming back to your surroundings, joining in and clearing your throat, lost in the noise of appreciation for Joel.

“Felt like I was intrudin’ on somethin’ towards the end there,” Tommy murmurs in your ear and nudges your knee with his again. You tense your shoulders, heart lurching in your chest, a twist in your stomach.

“Not that I know what you’re talking about but it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

He scoffs quietly and shakes his head, “C’mon, the way you were lookin’ at each other,” he mutters, catching your questioning expression and smirks, “Christ, you didn’t even know I caught you lookin’.”

A reply is on your tongue but luckily for Tommy, Maria pulls him along with her towards the bar and you watch them leave, stewing on your thoughts because he was right. You had been completely unaware of anything going on around you while Joel had sung.

You glance around your table. Bill’s eyes are closed, leaning back against the seat, head lolling onto Frank’s shoulder while his other half is in a heated debate with Tess. You could get involved but you take the moment to try and gather your racing thoughts.

Until –

“Jesus, I ain’t ever doin’ that again,” Joel sighs as he slides into the chair beside you, guitar propped against the table next to him. Even with your stomach in knots and a hummingbird in your chest, Joel’s presence is something you need to calm you.

“Best you don’t lose a bet to me again,” you tease, plastering a smile on your face and he groans, pulling his chair in. You reach out to his arm, your smile becoming genuine, “You were good, Joel. Really good.”

“Yeah, well. You’re welcome,” he murmurs, leaning in close to you. His hand reaches out for your glass, fingers smearing the condensation. You meet his eyes as he brings the glass to his lips, taking a long sip of your lemonade, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shiver, a wave of desire coursing through you. And for the second time tonight, you’re transfixed by his eyes. But this is just another dance you two do around each other. He then tilts his head back, downing the rest of your drink, his throat bobbing obscenely and you stand, suddenly too hot.

“I need another drink,” you say quickly, swallowing hard and brushing past Joel as quickly as you can. The crowd has thinned out a little by now but the bar is still crowded with the regulars and you squeeze into a gap, nodding to a couple of the older guys you recognise.

The barman holds his fingers up, silently asking you to give him a minute and you nod, grateful for the reprieve. You let out a much-needed sigh, closing your eyes for a moment and composing yourself – Or at least trying to. The barman comes up and you lean on the sticky counter, asking for another lemonade with extra ice. You fumble your phone out of your pocket, getting ready to pay when you freeze in place at the sound of a very familiar voice.

“Have you actually told her yet?” Frank’s soft voice says to your left, the other side of the older guys and you swallow hard. “Or are you still beating around the bush about it?”

“It’s hard, Frank,” you hear the sigh in Joel’s voice. “Her and Tommy are fuckin’ inseparable, you know how they are.”

You strain to try and hear the rest of it – your heart fluttering in your chest, a knot forming in your stomach.

“Thick as thieves, yeah. But you could argue you and her are close, just in a different way. You know her, Joel. But you’ve gotta tell her soon. You know what Tommy’s like, loves to play matchmaker.”

You’ve heard enough and quickly pay, thanking the barman before scurrying back to your table. You squeeze between Bill and Tess, the former grunting at you before closing his eyes again.

It takes you a moment in your seat before you’re internally freaking out because Joel seemingly has a thing for you too – what the fuck?

You pull into Joel’s driveway, Tommy’s glaring headlights flashing at you twice before he turns off down the road. You shut the radio off and cut the engine, turning in your seat to look at Joel.

“Want to come in for some cards? Maybe a coffee? Night’s still young after all.”

It manages to pull a laugh from you and you duck your head with a fond smile. It’s an easy question, even if the overheard conversation between him and Frank has been on your mind since you heard them.

“Sure.”

Even in the shadowy light of your car, you can still make out that grin of his and he nods once, getting out of the car without another word. You mirror him and smile to yourself before giving yourself a little shake and following him inside.

Joel’s home always feels warm.

Helped by the yellow glow of the lamps and the olive green walls reflecting on the warm wood flooring. You kick off your shoes, following Joel through to the kitchen where he’s already got the coffee going. You lean against the counter, watching the muscles in his shoulders ripple under his shirt as he leans up for some mugs.

“What?” he asks, catching your look with a grin.

You shake your head, “Nothing, just thinking about my next winning bet.”

Joel’s chuckle goes right through you, his expression soft as he looks over at you, “Nuh-uh, darlin’. You ain’t doin’ that to me again.”

He continues to look at you for a moment and squints at you, “And why you standing so far away from me, c’mere.”

You feel the blush rise on your cheeks and you scoot closer to him. Close enough that you can smell his aftershave. Close enough that you could easily lean your head on his shoulder like he could put an arm around your waist, kiss the side of your head –

“Better?” You ask dryly, pulling yourself out of your own wishful thoughts.

“Much.”

The hummingbird rears its head in full force once again.

“And that’s that,” Joel murmurs, slapping his hand of cards on the table. You kiss your teeth and sigh, showing him your cards left – two threes, a four and a seven. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Which leaves me to believe that you owe me a bet.”

You take a sip of your now lukewarm coffee, suddenly feeling a wave of trepidation and nerves come over you. “Oh really? And what do you want to win?”

Joel runs his tongue over his top lip, leaning in on his elbows with the ghost of a smirk. “Y’know, I think I want a kiss.”

You baulk, gripping your coffee mug tight between your clammy palms. Surely you had misheard, right? Joel didn’t say kiss. You clear your throat, opening and closing your mouth before you answer. “You… what? You want a kiss from me?”

“No, a kiss from fuckin’ Santa.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and instead mirror his movements, leaning on the table, keeping your voice steady. As much as you’re in shock, you can’t not tease him a little bit.

“And what if I don’t want to?”

It’s Joel’s turn to clear his throat, meeting your eyes, “Then we pretend this didn’t happen and I ask you instead to buy dinner next time we’re out.”

You laugh, a breathy sound coming out of your mouth and blink slowly, “Right, right. Which means I’ll also have to pay for Tommy too.”

Joel groans, leaning back in his hair, and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, you’re so invested in fuckin’ Tommy that you can’t see that there’s plenty of other people that wanna spend time with ya.”

You frown, also leaning back in your chair. “Hey, I spend plenty with you,” you say with a small shrug of your shoulders.

Joel sighs again and rolls his eyes, “You know that ain’t what I meant.”

You grin, folding your arms across your chest as you lean back further on the chair, pushing it up onto two legs. “Yeah? I think I know what you meant. I heard Frank at the bat.”

Joel narrows his eyes and you applaud yourself for the bravery, unsure of where it’s coming from so quickly. You can see the wheels turn in his mind.

“Frank? What the fuck has Frank got–” his eyes widen as it clicks. “Oh. You heard that, huh?”

You wet your lips and nod slowly, putting on your best Frank voice, “Have you actually told her yet?” Tommy loves to play matchmaker.”

Joel just stares at you, one eyebrow slightly raised and you carry on back in your normal voice, fit to burst:

“Well, Tommy has tried to set me up on dates and guess what? Every time I told him no. Call it stupid but all I wanted to do is go on a proper date. With you.”

You admit the last part quietly and the confession hangs heavy and thick in the air.

Joel is quiet for a moment, his expression the same as it was. But then he exhales slowly. Panic fills you, wondering if you’ve overstepped, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter –

“Say it again,” he says quietly, he breathes, fingers on the back of your hand. “That last part.”

Your chair falls forward onto all four legs, the sound too loud in the silent kitchen and you take a breath, “All I’ve wanted is to go on a proper date with you.”

Joel’s on you in a flash, lips meeting yours, one hand cradling your cheek. But one kiss isn’t enough for either of you, as soon as he parts from you to breathe, he steals another and another and another from you.

“Joel,” you murmur and he grunts, moving your lips to trail a hot line of fire down over your jaw and down your neck.

“Yeah, baby? Do you want this?”

You nod against his shoulder, breathily heavily against his neck, your fingers finding purchase in his belt loops. “You know I do.”

“Need t’hear you say it proper,” he croaks, pulling back to look at your face, drawing a quiet whine from you.

“I want you, Joel.”

“Let’s go upstairs, baby. I ain’t having my first time with you on the fucking dining table.”

Joel stands, his knees clicking as he does and you fight back the jab on your tongue but of course, he notices it anyway and kisses you to silence it.

“Up,” he breathes against your lips and you stand, following him up to his room.

His room is the same as it always is, cluttered and just that little bit messy. He keeps the door open and follows you back towards the bed, your hand reaching out for him and then he’s kneeling over you, lips finding yours again.

“Fuckin’ months I’ve been wanting this,” he rasps, “Daren’t do a fuckin’ thing about it.”

“Why? You should’ve.”

He huffs a laugh and noses at your cheek, “Yeah. I know that now. But because of my fuckin’ brother. Wasn’t sure how you felt but knew that he would find the whole thing hilarious. Couldn’t humiliate myself in front o’him again.”

You rear back, carding your fingers in his messy hair, twisting it between your fingers. “Funny thing is, I couldn’t talk to Tommy about anything either. I think he knew I was crushin’ on you but I could never outright tell him. Frank knew though. But it looks like we were just oblivious to each other.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

You smile softly at him, your hands moving from his hair down his back, feeling the muscle there, to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. He reads you like a book and pulls it off, leaning over you to click the bedside lamp and you rake your eyes over him.

Even in the lamplight, he’s so fucking hot.

He cradles your cheek in his large hand and leans closer, pressing his soft lips to yours. You respond instantly and his hand moves lower, thick fingers flexing on your neck and you gasp, lifting your hips at the touch. He’s not even choking you properly and you’re reactive to every single touch.

“Fuck,” he swears gruffly, “You like that, don’t you?”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice soft and breathy. You lift your hips towards him against his already hard cock trapped in his jeans, desperate for some kind of friction against you. You want to feel him in your hands, want to watch how he reacts to your touch.

“I know, baby, I know. Let me take care of you.”

You swallow thickly and you sit up properly, pulling your shirt off your head and throwing it to the side. You can feel Joel’s eyes raking over you and you don’t hide yourself away. Your hands cover his as he places his palms on your stomach dragging them up over to cup your breasts through your bra, eliciting a shiver from you.

He leans in, his beard scratching over your delicate skin as he peppers more kisses over your shoulder while his hands reach around you, fiddling with the clasp of your bra. It takes him a moment – his lips pausing on your collarbone in concentration.

“Hate these things, how can you even take ‘em off smoothly,” he mutters as you feel it come undone. You hear it hit the floor and then feel his fingers tracing idle patterns over the swell of your breast.

“Try wearing it every day, you’ll get there then,” you reply in a hushed tone, nudging his cheek with your nose, finding his lips and sliding your tongue along his lips.

He moans into the kiss, hands palming properly over your breasts, thumbs circling your erect nipples, stealing another breathy whine from you, your back arching into his hands and you’re gone, completely putty in his hands.

“Fuck,” you grunt as he tugs on a nipple. Joel smirks, wetting his lips and taking the hard bud into his mouth. You squeeze your thighs together and close your eyes, fingers tangling in the back of his hair, twisting the strands at the nape of his neck.“Joel.”

He nips his teeth on your nipple and you gasp, eyes closing as his tongue swirls a hot, wet circle and pulls away, moving to your other nipple while the cool air on your sensitive bud sends a ripple of desire through you.

But Joel doesn’t stop.

Once he’s finished giving the other nipple some attention, he presses you down onto the mattress and continues to kiss open-mouthed over your ribcage, over your stomach down to between your thighs.

His hands grasp the backs of your legs, dragging you down the bed so he can kneel on the floor. One hand moves to undo the button of your jeans, the drag of the zip and you lift your hips as he pulls them off you one leg at a time.

“Will you let me taste you, baby? It’s all I can think about,” he says, hands coming to hold your ankles and you find yourself digging your fingers into the mattress, needing something to ground you.

“Please. I’m yours, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ right you are,” he growls, a burning hot kiss just above the waistband of your panties. He takes his time, kissing up each of your legs and your heart leaps in your chest. God, this man will ruin you.

He keeps your legs apart as he drags his lips up your inner thighs, nosing against your damp panties and your fingers tighten on the sheet, a gasp leaving you at the tiniest amount of friction.

“Christ, you’re soaked. This is what you’ve been keeping from me?”

“Joel,” you splutter, craving the sweet friction against your clit.

“How long you been this wet for?” he asks, slowly peeling your panties from you, tossing them to join your other clothes. “Since the bar?”

“Since… since –fuck – since you were singing.”

Joel smiles against you, the tips of his fingers trailing feather light over your seam, gathering the wetness there.

“Like the song, did ya?”

Another whine leaves you as the heat from his hand is back on your thigh and finally, finally, he gives you something. His nose parts your folds, tongue flattening as he gets his first taste of you and a low moan rumbles through him.

Your head falls back against the pillow, one hand finding his hair, fingers curling into his soft strands. Struggling to keep your eyes open as the pleasure melts through you because holy fuck this man is good at eating you out.

Joel isn’t exactly quiet – he doesn’t hide the sound of his grunts or the sloppy licks and sucks as he eats you out. You tilt your head down, watching him as he presses himself closer, opening your thighs wider, burying his face there.

He picks up on what makes you moan or whimper. He likes to alternate, going back to the broad long licks over your clit that have you writhing beneath him.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, an obscene wet sound as he laps over your clit, “Can’t believe I’ve let it go on this long without tasting ya.”

You chance down another look at him, the glow from the lamp catching on his grey strands that are scrunched in your fist and you give an experimental tug, making him moan louder – the vibrations going through you.

There’s a warm pooling in your stomach as your orgasm fast approaches. Between the obscene sound of Joel devouring you and the way his tongue flicks over you just right you know it won’t be long. You slowly start to rock your hips in time with his tongue, grinding against him.

Your back arches as you try and hold onto that feeling, not wanting this to be over but you know you won’t win, not this time.

“Joel,” you gasp, tightening your hold in his hair as you feel the white-hot pleasure flooding through you.

“That’s it, I’ve got you, atta girl,” he grunts against you, holding your thighs tightly as you wriggle in his grasp.

“Fuck–Joel.”

You writhe under him, your thighs clenching around his head as you come. Your head hits the pillow with soft cries, your hand tugging at the threads of his hair as you ride out the high of your climax. Joel works you through it, groaning into your cunt as he laps at the mess you make.

He rests his head on your thigh and once you’ve caught your breath you lean up on your elbow to get a look at him, shiny lips and chin, dark eyes blown wide with lust and you flop down onto the bed again.

Then you feel his fingers caressing over you, thumb on your clit massaging small circles and you moan breathlessly as he opens you up. One thick finger sliding in your wetness and stretching you open.

“Joel,” you breathe, letting out a sigh. “Jesus Christ.”

“Too much?” he murmurs against your skin, resting his head on your thigh.

“No, no, not enough–”

Your eyes roll back as his finger curls and you jolt, gasping for breath. “Fuck!”

You’ve just come and this man is unrelenting, taking his time to tear you apart piece by piece.

“Loved seeing you come for me,” he murmurs, pressing small kisses to wherever his lips reach. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.”

He adds a second, stretching you open and you whimper as he deliciously rubs against your soft walls. You rut against his hand, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper –

“Right there.”

“Yeah, sweetheart? Is that it?”

You nod desperately and he encourages you to keep rutting against him, working up your second orgasm. You feel it, wanting more and more of him. Whatever he’ll give you, you’ll eagerly take.

“Fuckin’ love lookin’ at ya,” he mutters, his eyes droopy and half-lidded. Your lips are slick with saliva and parted, chest heaving and another warm heat coiling in the pit of your stomach again.

“You gonna come again for me?”

His thumb flicks over your clit, smearing the slick of your arousal and paying attention to the bundle of nerves. You nod, another whimper catching in your throat as you feel it crescendo over you.

“Oh fuck!”

Your second orgasm of the night rips through you. This time, Joel kisses you through it and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s overwhelming and as his hand slows, pulling out of you carefully.

“Christ,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss to look you over. “Think you have one more in you for me?”

You nod, raking a hand through your hair. “I just need a second,” you laugh breathlessly.

Joel hovers over you, hands running up and down your sides as you catch your breath and then you slowly lean up on an elbow, your other hand cupping his cheek.

“C’mere, Texas. You have too many clothes on.”

You kneel next to him. Now it’s your turn to take your time with him, take him apart piece by piece. Joel’s throat bobs and he lays down beside you and you sit over his thigh. You push your hair that’s falling into your face behind your ear and press a kiss to his pulse point on his neck, testing the waters.

He sighs, turning his head to the side and you take the invitation to suckle a sweet pink mark onto the hollow of his throat. Your tongue darts out to soothe the mark as you work down. You reach his collarbones, your fingertips dancing over the smattering of dark hair on his chest.

Joel’s breathing is shaky and you trace over his body until you get to the waistband of his boxers and look up at him.

He’s already watching you, eyes fixed on yours and he nods once. You shift between his thighs to pull them off and he kicks them off impatiently. For a moment you just gaze at him, taking in the size of his hard, leaking cock already beading with pre-cum.

The sound Joel makes when you wrap your hand around him will stick with you on your lonely nights at home. His eyelids flutter, slick lips parting in a wanton sound between a moan and a sigh as you slowly stroke him.

You take your time, feeling the heavy weight of him in your hand as he gather the pre-come, using your thumb to coat the tip. You want him in your mouth, your mouth already watering just at the thought.

Joel’s sounds are enticing, pulling you in. You shift again, tilting your head to take just the tip into your mouth, unable to resist.

You can’t help but moan around him, your lips stretching around the swollen head of his cock. You hand stroking over the rest of his length –

“Baby,” he murmurs, tugging at your hair.. “Don’t. I’ll come before we even start.”

Your eyes flick over his face bathed in the lamplight and he looks wrecked. Kiss-bitten lips parted, his chest heaving and strands of curling hair falling into his face. You pull off him, moving to lay beside him, waiting for his next move.

He reaches over you, going towards the nightstand and you can’t help yourself. You cup his cheek, titling his head towards you, kissing him again.

When you part from your kiss, he has one knee on either side of your thighs to find a condom in the drawer. He flips the box over and his head falls back with a sigh.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mutters, closing the drawer with some force, “fucking expired. The fuck does that tell you?”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head at his apparent distress and reach for his wrist, gently tugging him towards you. “Joel. Come here.”

“I can run to the gas station,” he tries, evidently not listening to you and you tug his wrist again, kissing along the thin skin over his veins and over your pulse point.

“Joel,” you say again, sharper than before and he finally looks over at you, his eyes soft and sorrowful but you lean close, kissing his cheek. “Joel,” you whisper in his ear, “I’m on birth control.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since I last tested. Obviously,” he says, gesturing wildly towards the drawer and you laugh again, louder and kiss him, pulling him close.

“I haven’t been with anyone either. Kinda had my eyes on you for a while.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna tell me more about that, sweetheart?” he asks quietly in your ear, making you shiver. “Because I could tell you some things if we’re sharin’.

“Hmm. I used to think about you,” you tell him as you take hold of his wrist again, guiding him to your leaking slit, moaning quietly as he doesn’t hesitate to find your clit again. “Used to fuck myself, used to wish it was you. I had it bad.”

“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck, you can’t say things like that.”`

“Sure I can if it gets you over here,” you say, a content smile on your face as he starts to kiss up your neck. You just know you’re going to have a mark tomorrow – people will see that Joel Miller has marked you.

He smiles down at you, lifting your leg as he settles between your thigh, one hand wrapped around his cock as he lines himself up with you. He leans in to murmur in your ear.

“If it hurts, you tell me and we slow down, yeah?”

You swallow hard and nod, “I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

Joel hooks two fingers under your chin, looking at you as he pushes into you, just the tip and your eyes widen, mouth parting and one hand clutching his shoulder.

The times you had thought about this, imagined it in your head all those times you needed to make yourself come, it doesn’t hold a candle to how he really feels in the flesh. And as he slowly bottoms out inside you, there’s only one word to describe how you feel is full. You feel so full and –

“Stop that,” he croaks desperately, forehead falling onto yours. “Jesus.”

“What?”

“You—you keep clenchin’, gonna fucking make me come before I even get started.”

Oh.

He presses you down onto the bed, his body covering yours as his hips roll at a tortuously slow pace. Joel’s thick and each thrust is dizzying, soft grunts leaving you as he kisses over the marks on your neck.

“Fuck, baby, you feel better than I imagined,” he says against your neck, tilting his head to capture your lips again.

Together your movements become rougher, the way you wrap your legs around his waist, crossed at the ankles as he thrusts deeper into you. The sounds of the headboard thumping against the wall, the mattress creaking and both your heavy breaths and soft sounds fill the room.

You want more of him, want to feel him come apart so you slowly start to meet his thrusts, raising your hips and he notices, of course he notices.

“Up,” he grunts and you obediently lift your hips again. Joel balances on one hand, grabbing a pillow with the other and moving it under your hips. “How’s that?”

He times a perfectly deep thrust with his question and the answer is ripped from you. You moan, low and raspy at the added sensation and your thighs tighten around his waist.

“Please,” you whine quietly, teeth finding his shoulder as he fucks you hard and slow into the mattress.

He noses at your neck, your walls fluttering around him on every thrust. After two orgasms already, you won’t last much longer – as much as you don’t want this to end.

“You're close, ain’t ya?”

With your nod, he slides a hand down between your bodies and finds your clit with his thumb, massaging fast and hard circles over it, bringing you closer and closer. Satisfied with your reaction, he fucks you faster, his hips slamming against yours, puffs of breath against your neck.

“Joel, Joel,” you gasp. It’s all too much as you writhe below him and he presses gentle kisses to your neck. “I’m gonna come.”

“I gotcha, come on, baby. Let go.”

Your orgasm wracks through you. It tears through you with some force, his name uttered in breathless gasps, your whole body spent. Your tingly with overstimulation, muscles in your legs twitching. Joel’s thrusts are erratic now, his cock pounding into you and then he swiftly pulls out with a grunt, fisting his cock twice, the hot spill of his come splattering your stomach, a moan right into your ear.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he moans, panting hard in your ear and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, his damp forehead against yours. “You’re a marvel, you know that?”

Even though this man has given you three of your best orgasms, you feel your cheeks heat up at his words and hide your face in his shoulder. He laughs, pressing small, innocent kisses to your temple.

“What? I’m just telling ya the truth.”

His weight moves off you, falling beside you onto the pillow and he grunts, finding his breath again. You turn your head onto the pillow, your eyes are heavy as you hear Joel move around in his room, the sound of a tap running and then the mattress dips beside you again. .

“Stay?” Joel asks you quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed to wipe your thighs and stomach with a warm cloth and you trail your fingers over his arm, nodding gently.

“Like I’d rather be anywhere else,” you murmur, a small smile pulling at your lips. Your three orgasms start to catch with you and you let him clean you up.

He gives you an almost shy smile and you look at him in the lamplight. He moves, tossing the cloth into the laundry basket and digs around in his drawer, pressing a soft shirt into your hands and blinking at him tiredly, a frown forming on your face in confusion.

“To sleep in,” he says, kissing the crease in your forehead.

You nod, pulling it on and it pools around your waist from where you’re sat. It smells like Joel, the cotton soft and well-worn. He slides into bed next to you, clicks off the light and you shuffle back against his chest - something that he easily adapts to by rubbing his hand over your thigh in a gentle caress.

When you wake, the first thing you feel is warmth. Joel’s face tucked into your neck, his beard bristling against you, almost tickling you and his snores are oddly comforting. You managed to move your arm without waking him, curling around his neck to play with the strands of hair as the sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains.

You know the moment Joel wakes up: his hands gently squeeze you, his breathing heavier, and he mumbles against your shoulder, slowly joining the waking world.

“Did I wake you?” you ask him softly. Your fingers curl in his hair at the nape of his neck.

“No,” he mumbles, “C’mere.”

He gently tugs you closer, a warm hand sliding up your side as you settle against him, a small sigh leaving your lips.

His lips find your shoulder, a small kiss planted and another as he trails them up your collarbones, over your throat and finally settles against your lips.

“What a way to wake up. You’re fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, voice sleep thick and rough. His lips find yours again and again. “Let me make you breakfast.”

“I’d rather you stay right here,” you mumble, basking in his embrace. “At least for another five minutes.”

“You drive a hard bargain, honey,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear and your eyes close, a soft smile on your lips.

Warmth blooms in your chest at the term of endearment and you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips. Joel tilts his head down and captures yours in a tender, soft kiss. When you part, he’s got a look in his eye that has you tilting your head and you brush your fingertips through his messy, bed-ridden hair.

“I like this,” you comment, smiling as his hair flops back onto his forehead.

“My hair or this?” he asks sleepily, closing his eyes and you can’t help but kiss him again.

“Both.”

Joel’s laugh vibrates against you from where his head is tucked into your shoulder – a low, rough rumble that’s thick with the dregs of sleep. His thumb stroking slow, deliberate circles on your waist and his breathing soon evens out as he falls back asleep.

When you do eventually make it downstairs, Joel goes straight for his coffee machine, leaning up to grab two mugs from the cupboard and you don’t stop yourself from staring at the rippling muscles in his back. You lean against the counter, arms folded across your chest as you just take him in.

He’s gone shirtless, his hair mussed from sleep and from your hands. He doesn’t catch you staring just yet, muttering to himself as the machine beeps at him for water. You could picture this happening more often, and while that thought should terrify you, it’s Joel.

It’s always been Joel.

You wouldn’t dance around anyone like this.

“Here,” he says, eyes glittering with a soft smile and you match his smile, brought out of your thoughts by the smell of fresh coffee.

Joel’s fingers linger on your as he passes you the mug of coffee and you can’t help but notice it’s in his owl mug, the one you’ve seen him use so many times before. You don’t know why but it warms your heart that he’s sharing this with you. You smile at him, the morning breeze floating in through the open window.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

#my fics #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #fic: homegrown

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shenachigans · 9 months ago

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LITTLE ONES | Ningguang

PAIRING: Transfem!Ningguang x Fem/Afab!Reader

CW: smut, angst, fluff, unintentional baby-making (or breeding) at first, unprotected sex, readers is ill but illness is unspecified only that pregnancy is a risk, a lot of pet names ig

SUMMARY: Ningguang has been wanting children of her own, but she must hold her desires back during a night of pleasure, or does she?

A/N: I cringed and almost got sappy writing the fluff part but whatever, I barely do fluff for a reason. Also, this is my first post of the year :> I wrote and posted this past my bedtime, excuse my mistakes…

WORDS: 1,928

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

There are rumors that Lady Ningguang had a soft spot for children. You can confirm that. The children of Liyue Harbor adore her just as she adores them. She had a motherly side, giving the kids irresistible sweets to see them smile. Of course, Ningguang gains something in return, but being around the little ones relieves her from her duties and the harsh business world.

Ningguang isn’t the Tianquan of Liyue nor a ruthless businesswoman. She was merely a friendly elder sister who mingled with the common folk, and the children were the only ones who could give her that satisfaction without calculating moves — unless creating schemes to get the most sweets from her counted.

You can see joy in your lover’s eyes when she sees the children light up whenever they see her and receive delicacies. You remember the kids almost fighting each other for Ningguang’s head pats and praises for doing well in their missions (informing her about the latest news in the Harbor).

There was a time when one of the children accidentally called her ‘mom’ instead of ‘big sister.’ Ningguang wasn’t fazed and instead responded as if she were their mother. It was such a wholesome sight that it brought you to your countless dreams of having her own flesh and blood where you lived as a happy family.

The conversation of having children has yet to be brought up, but Ningguang’s eyes say more than her lips can. Even if she mastered the art of putting on a perfect facade, you can see through her. There is a visible glimmer of longing whenever she’s with the kids; it makes your chest ache.

Ningguang wants to have children with you. She does. She wants little versions of yourselves running around the floating palace and experiencing what it’s like to become a mother. But she holds back. She stops herself from painting your womb white, risking getting you pregnant. She doesn’t want you to carry her child, even if a baby bump on your tummy would make her heart swell from joy.

You always blame yourself for preventing your lover from getting what she desires, for your weak disposition makes it a risk of surviving childbirth. You were already struggling with your illness. It was a gamble she didn’t want to take. But she doesn’t know you would gladly give your life to your little one because you have been wanting children with her as well.

It was a night of pleasure. Ningguang’s hips thrust into yours, her girthy cock stimulating your slick walls. Manicured nails created light crescents on your thighs as she gripped them for leverage, slowly losing herself in the song of your moans and whimpers harmonizing with the squelching created where you two are connected.

You were ravishing in her hooded eyes, clawing onto the sheets below you, and tears rolling down your cheeks as pleasure coursed through your veins. Only Ningguang can see you like this. But her eyes subconsciously dart to your belly, imagining something she mustn’t. She longs to touch your empty womb — feel your skin on the pads of her fingers — but it will only indicate her want, and she doesn’t wish to make you solemn in the midst of pleasure. Unfortunately for her, you knew everything a long, long time ago.

“I want to embrace you,” you say, albeit interrupted by grunts from the ecstasy between your legs and your lover’s pleasured disposition. Ningguang slowed her ruts, complying with your request and letting go of your plush thighs, opting to grip the soiled bed sheets as you wrapped your arms around her neck, her free hand holding your waist.

Your lover was a sight to see. Tinted cheeks and hooded eyes — a woman lost in pleasure — which juxtaposed her usual professional disposition. Ragged breaths and relentless pounding made her seem desperate to bring you to your peak as if she were a servant pleasuring her master — and she was because everything she did was for you, all for you, even if it meant denying herself something she wanted all her life.

Ningguang could feel herself at the edge of the newfound angle as she resumed her previous pace, ensuring you were comfortable. Her body tensed and shivered at how you moaned in her ear, bringing her senses into overdrive. But she must contain herself. There have been many times when her reasonings almost slipped between her fingers, but she always triumphed in gaining control.

Your bodies hugged every part of each other’s skin, her chest against yours, erect nipples rubbing against each other. She held you close, kissing your forehead, down along your jaw, until they settled on leaving bruises on the crook of your neck as a form of gratitude for taking her so well.

Nails clawed against Ningguang’s back as you bucked your hips to meet her thrusts, back arching, and your throat now sore from your sinful noises. You were beginning to writhe under her, subconsciously wrapping your legs around her waist, your walls fluttering against her cock.

“I’m close,” you moan, your body trembling as if preparing for your upcoming orgasm. Fingers clutched into Ningguang’s hair, pulling her into a passionate kiss where your tongues languidly danced against each other. Her lips swallowed your sinful noises until a string of saliva stretched between you two as your lips reluctantly parted to heave for fresh air.

“Me too, my love,” she huffs, hips stuttering, her tip on the verge of spilling her load. Her open-mouthed kisses littered your neck and shoulders once more. A sultry, airy chuckle left her lips as she maintained her pace, guiding you to your climax. She dared not change her pace and edge you, not tonight.

The deep, moderate thrusts of her girth drove you insane as the veins of her cock pulsated against your walls. You felt so full. Ningguang's praises and constant rutting brought you to your peak with a high-pitched moan of her name. Her back would be displayed like a canvas the next morning from her dress, showing your love hold with scratches and brushed crescents.

Her free hand slithered from the soiled sheets to your sore clit, rubbing it with her thumb to elongate your orgasm. A flash of white clouded your vision as a white ring coated the base of her cock as you came, further lubricating your walls. You became a huffing mess as you recovered from your high, but Ningguang has yet to cum, and you’re overstimulated.

Ningguang became rather impatient now, she could feel her release edge on the tip of her cock. But she has to cum on your stomach. She tapped your thigh once — an indication for you to let go so she could pull out — but you refused. Another gentle tap soon turned into a slightly painful grip as she tried to unwrap your legs forcefully.

“Release your legs, now, dear…” she whines, grunting and fingers twitching from being denied of her high as she slows her thrusts. “I can’t cum like this,” she says, but her heart says otherwise. The tone of her voice shows how much she’s holding back.

“Yes, you can.” You counter with a smile, arms unwrapping around her neck to cup her face, and soothingly rub her cheeks with your thumbs, feeling her porcelain skin under the pads of your fingers. A hearty, tired chuckle left your lips when she leaned into your touch. “Why don’t you indulge yourself just once, hm? Doing it once doesn’t guarantee anything, Ningguang. Please?”

Ningguang’s thrusts slowly halted as she felt a change in the lustful atmosphere. She presses your foreheads together and closes her eyes. “I can’t take that risk, we both know that…” she sighed and suddenly you see a pair of scarlet eyes pleading at you.

“But you want to — to take that risk — and there’s nothing wrong with that, my love.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes as Ningguang avoided your gaze, eyes now looking elsewhere. “Hey, look at me,” you urge and gently tilt her face toward you. “It pains me to see you like this, dearest. I…I shouldn’t have brought it up, especially right now. I’m sorry.”

Guilt washed her features as you spoke. Was her longing so obvious? It didn’t mean you needed to give her a child. But your face expressed genuine want, no fear or hesitation in your eyes. However, you were frail, and she didn’t want to risk losing you and the baby. Ningguang can live without children of her own but she can’t live without you.

If only she had an option to have both.

“No, don’t I apologize, my love. If anything, I should apologize for making you feel like you needed to give me children to make me happy,” Ningguang starts, giving you a sad smile, eyes downcast as she still ignores yours. “You make me the happiest person in the world, and having a family is only a bonus. I can’t force you to make any sacrifices. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You weren’t forcing me to do anything, love, and I appreciate that. I want to start a family with you, dearest. I’ve always had. You would make the best mother in the world,” you hum, pecking her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “Whatever happens, happens in the future and we will tackle them together, alright?”

“How did I deserve you?” Ningguang says with a smile, her heart leaping from your words, still, her stomach churned from the unknown future. It was a bittersweet feeling. Scarlet eyes observed your tired face. You see hesitance in them, but they expressed want.

“You deserve everything in the world, my love.”

Her smile widens and gently kisses you before holding your hips for leverage as she starts to pump her hips in and out slowly. “Push me away if you change your mind,” Ningguang starts, pushing the damp, stray hair from your face. “I don't wish to force you.”

“I won’t. I want all of you.”

“Mama! Mommy is being mean to me!” a child whined, pouting as tears of frustration were apparent in their scarlet eyes as they ran toward the bedroom. “She doesn’t wanna share Mama with me!”

Ningguang follows them, hiding an amused smirk with her hand. It was fun to tease them, even more now that they’re in the ‘possessive of mama’ stage.

“Now, now, little one, your Mama might be asleep,” Ningguang said, but it was too late. The door slid open with so much force that you woke up. She grimaced, giving you an apologetic glance.

“Teasing them again?” You say groggily but flash a small smile as you lie on the bed’s headrest. The little one immediately clinging to your side with a smirk. “This teasing is all too frequent…” You pretend to ponder before your eyes light up. “Are you perhaps envious, dear?”

“I am not envious,” Ningguang said almost too quickly, but she narrowed her eyes at the cheeky child before her, clearly showing off by scrunching their nose and sticking their tongue out.

The audacity for them to mock her.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you chuckle before patting the spot beside you on the bed and cradling your belly. “Why don’t you two come here? I could use some cuddles.”

The child beams at your words. Nothing can be greater than cuddles. “Mommy, can I be in the middle?” They say, looking at Ningguang for permission.

Ningguang’s heart swells and she smiles.

“Of course, my little dove.”

#ningguang x you #ningguang x reader #ningguang smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact x reader #fem reader #afab reader #genshin impact smut #ningguang x y/n #genshin impact fanfics #ningguang angst #genshin angst #genshin fluff #ningguang fluff

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thedensworld · 1 month ago

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Fortune Teller Confession | C.HS

Pairing: College Student! Hansol x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, friend to lover au!

Summary: No confession—no gig success. His logic-driven mind convinces him that it’s a harmless choice to make a confession over a fortune teller words, not realizing the emotional weight it carries.

Hansol watched as you walked out of the classroom, a little too quickly for his liking. You didn’t glance back, didn’t slow down, and didn’t even pause when Soonyoung called your name with a hopeful grin. Next to him, Soonyoung's face twisted into a pout.

“Again?” Soonyoung muttered, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket. “She didn’t even look at me.” He sighed like it was a personal betrayal.

Hansol frowned, his gaze lingering on the door you’d just left through. It wasn’t like you to avoid them — at least, not for this long. He tried to think back to the last time he’d had a proper conversation with you.

Five days ago?

A week?

It felt longer. Your schedule had been packed lately, full of classes, projects, and other commitments. But even when you were busy, you'd at least send a nod or a small wave. Lately, though, it felt like you were actively avoiding them.

Soonyoung tilted his head toward Hansol as they started walking down the corridor toward the campus cafeteria. “Tell me honestly,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “did you do something to her?”

Hansol shot him a confused look. “Why do you think it was me?” he asked, his tone defensive.

Soonyoung shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Because it’s definitely not me. I would never make her mad.”

“Oh, right, because you’re a saint,” Hansol muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Not a saint, but I know how to keep my friends happy,” Soonyoung quipped, tapping his temple like he had it all figured out. “You, on the other hand, are... well…” He paused for dramatic effect, giving Hansol a once-over. “...an obnoxious person. So you wouldn’t even realize if you hurt somebody’s feelings.”

Hansol stopped walking. “That’s way too much to say to a friend,” he said, his brows pulling together in disbelief.

“Okay, okay, I take it back.” Soonyoung raised his hands in surrender, clearly not looking for a fight. He patted Hansol on the back. “But, you know, I’m just saying — think about it.”

Hansol didn’t respond, but the words lingered like an itch in the back of his mind. Had he done something? If he had, wouldn’t you have told him?

They reached the cafeteria and got in line to order food. As they waited, the familiar noise of clattering trays, snippets of conversations, and the faint hum of a pop song filled the air.

Soonyoung glanced at Hansol while tapping his fingers against the counter. “How’s the gig prep going?” he asked. “You nervous?”

Hansol glanced up at him. “of course,” he admitted. “I feel like if I’m nervous, it means I’m doing something right.”

“Hmm, I guess that’s true,” Soonyoung said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Sometimes, being a little nervous is good. Like when I apologized to my sister.”

Hansol raised a brow, his curiosity piqued. “You actually apologized to her? You?” he asked, letting out a short, incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Soonyoung said, waving him off as if it wasn’t a big deal. He grabbed his food tray from the counter. “It was tough, but I’m glad I did it.”

Hansol tilted his head, still grinning. “Did something change between you two?”

Soonyoung nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of rice before answering. “Yeah, things are better now. I stopped getting ‘the glare’ every time I walked past her room.” He swallowed, then leaned in slightly, as if letting Hansol in on a secret. “I’m telling you, it’s because I listened to the fortune teller.”

Two weeks ago, Soonyoung had dragged Hansol to the hottest fortune teller near the campus gate. It wasn’t entirely random — their friend Jun had given the place a glowing five-star review, swearing that he got a girlfriend after following every bit of advice the fortune teller had given him.

“Bro, five stars,” Jun had said, eyes wide with conviction. “I did exactly what she said, and boom — I’m dating Yejin now.”

That was all the motivation Soonyoung needed. As the self-proclaimed “saddest single person in the world,” he decided it was finally time to seek help from the mystical forces of fate. Whether it was for entertainment or genuine desperation, Hansol wasn’t sure. But somehow, Soonyoung managed to drag him along.

The fortune teller’s place was a cozy, dimly lit room that smelled faintly of incense. Strings of beads framed the doorway, and the glow of warm, golden light made everything feel surreal. The fortune teller, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a silk scarf tied around her head, welcomed them like she had been expecting them all day.

Soonyoung, full of energy, sat forward like a student ready to ace an exam. Hansol, on the other hand, leaned back, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with mild amusement.

After a short reading, the fortune teller told Soonyoung, “Your relationship with your sister is the mirror of your relationship with women.”

That got Soonyoung’s attention. He sat up straighter, blinking in surprise. "Huh?"

“You must mend that relationship,” she continued, eyes never leaving his. “If you do, the reflection will change, and so will your luck.”

She handed him three steps to repair the bond with his sister, each one oddly specific. Hansol didn’t remember all of them, but one was definitely “buy her something without expecting anything in return.”

Now, two weeks later, Soonyoung was beaming like he’d won the lottery.

“As you know,” Soonyoung said, eyes glinting with excitement as he jabbed his chopsticks toward Hansol, “Mina from the Broadcasting major actually replied to my DM. No one ever does that.”

Hansol glanced up from his tray, raising a brow in surprise. “No way.”

“Yes way!” Soonyoung grinned, pointing at himself. “I’m telling you, man, the fortune teller knows her stuff.”

Hansol couldn’t hold back his laughter, shaking his head as a small chuckle slipped out. “That’s actually amazing, bro. I’m happy for you.”

“Right? Right?” Soonyoung beamed, clearly riding the high of his "success." But then his eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on Hansol. “Wait. What about you?”

Hansol blinked, confused. “What about me?”

“You,” Soonyoung said, eyes sharp with suspicion. “Have you done that yet?”

Right after Soonyoung’s session ended, the fortune teller had stopped them just as they were about to leave. Her gaze had locked on Hansol like she could see straight through him.

“Wait,” she had said, tilting her head as if something invisible had just come into focus. “You have something unresolved too.”

Hansol had paused mid-step, frowning as he glanced at her. “Me?”

Her eyes didn’t waver. “There’s a blockage in your energy,” she said, her voice calm but certain. “It’s tied to your music career.”

That had caught his attention.

“Soon, you will stand in front of a large crowd of people,” she continued, her hands hovering over her cards. “But something will go wrong — a technical malfunction, perhaps.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “If you want to avoid it, you must remove the blockage.”

Hansol raised an eyebrow. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

The fortune teller’s lips curled into a small smile. “Confess,” she said simply. “You must confess your feelings to the person you like.”

Soonyoung’s gasp was so loud it could have shattered glass. His head whipped toward Hansol, eyes wide with unfiltered shock and excitement. “YOU LIKE SOMEONE?!” he whisper-shouted, like it was the biggest secret in the world.

Hansol shot him a glare, his face twisting in disbelief. “I don’t.”

“Then why is she telling you to confess?” Soonyoung said, practically bouncing in place. He squinted at Hansol, leaning in with all the intensity of a detective interrogating a suspect. “Who is it? Who do you like?”

Hansol waved him off, already walking toward the door. “I don’t like anyone,” he muttered, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. “She’s just making stuff up.”

“Pffft,” Soonyoung scoffed, trotting after him. “Fortune tellers don’t just ‘make stuff up.'" He jabbed at Hansol’s side with his elbow. “Come on, just admit it. You’ve been holding out on me this whole time, huh? I told you everything, Hansol. My crushes, my heartbreaks, the time I accidentally liked my crush’s old selfie from 2018 at 3 a.m. — I shared it all.”

“Yeah, and I’m still trying to forget that story,” Hansol shot back, his lips twitching with a grin.

“Don’t deflect,” Soonyoung said, eyes narrowing in fake seriousness. “If you like someone, you have to tell me. That’s the bro code.”

“I. Don’t. Like. Anyone,” Hansol said, emphasizing every word with a jab of his finger. “The fortune teller’s wrong.”

“Mm-hmm,” Soonyoung hummed, still unconvinced. He tilted his head, giving Hansol a knowing look. “You’re being awfully defensive for someone with nothing to hide.”

Hansol clicked his tongue, exasperated. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re in denial.” Soonyoung smirked, stuffing a spoonful of rice into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Hansol.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being the clatter of trays and the murmur of students around them. Hansol chewed slowly, gaze fixed on the table. His mind wandered back to the fortune teller’s words.

"Confess if you want to open the blockage."

It was silly. Ridiculous, even. He didn’t like anyone. There was no one in his life that made his heart race or made him feel unsteady. No one.

“But she did say your performance would be affected,” Soonyoung pointed out, his voice serious for once.

Hansol let out a long, heavy sigh, his fingers drumming against the table. His logical mind told him the fortune teller’s words were nonsense — just vague predictions designed to mess with people’s heads. But somewhere, tucked in a quiet corner of his mind, a small voice whispered that maybe he shouldn’t ignore it. Not when the band had poured weeks of effort into preparing for the gig.

“Do you really think my energy is that important to the band?” Hansol muttered, tilting his head back against the chair. “There’s five of us. It’s not like I’m carrying the whole thing on my back.”

Soonyoung squinted, deep in thought. “That’s an interesting point,” he admitted. “But you’re the leader.” He stabbed his spoon into his rice like it emphasized his point. “That’s probably why.”

Hansol groaned, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. “I don’t want the performance to be disappointing,” he muttered, his fingers gripping at the strands like he could pull the stress right out of his head.

“Then just do what she said,” Soonyoung said with a shrug, like it was the simplest solution in the world.

“I told you, I don’t like anyone,” Hansol shot back, voice firm but tinged with doubt.

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a slow, knowing pout. He leaned forward, squinting at Hansol like he was inspecting him under a microscope. “You’re getting way too worked up for someone who doesn’t like anyone,” he said, pointing at Hansol with his chopsticks.

“I don’t,” Hansol repeated, but the way his eyes darted away made Soonyoung's grin grow wider.

“Uh-huh.” Soonyoung dragged out the sound, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hansol rubbed his temples, clearly done with the conversation. He’d argue, but he knew Soonyoung had a way of turning everything into a game he couldn’t win.

“Then just confess to anyone,” Soonyoung suggested, half-joking. “Boom, problem solved. No blockage, no bad energy, just vibes.” He snorted at his own ridiculous idea. “Actually, wait, that’s a terrible idea. Don’t do that.”

But Hansol froze. His eyes widened, and his hands slowly lowered from his hair. He stared at Soonyoung like he’d just unlocked the secrets of the universe.

“That’s…” Hansol said, eyes narrowing as his face shifted from confusion to excitement. He pointed both hands at Soonyoung, grinning like a kid who just figured out how to cheat a board game. “That’s actually a fantastic idea!”

Soonyoung’s whole face scrunched in horror. “No, it’s not, bro!” He shoved his tray to the side, waving his hands like he could physically erase the idea from existence. “Take it back! Forget I said it!”

But it was too late. Hansol's mind was already racing, the gears turning at lightning speed. “All I have to do is confess to someone,” he said, tapping his fingers against the table with renewed energy. “It doesn’t matter who, right? I just have to confess and the performance will go smoothly.” His eyes gleamed with confidence. “That’s it. Easy.”

Soonyoung's eyes darted around like he was looking for an escape route. “No, no, no! I shouldn’t have said that.” He shook his head, panic growing in his voice. “You’re taking it too literally, man.”

But Hansol wasn’t listening anymore. He was already planning. His foot tapped against the floor, and he rubbed his hands together like he’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket. “Okay, okay. Casual confession,” he muttered to himself, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “No pressure, no drama, just simple and clean. I can do that.”

Soonyoung watched in pure disbelief, his jaw hanging open. “This… this is not how logic works, Hansol.” He pointed both hands at him, eyes wide with warning. “This is going to backfire so badly, I can feel it.”

“Doubt me all you want,” Hansol said, grinning like a man on a mission. “But when that gig goes off without a hitch, you’ll be thanking me.”

Soonyoung dropped his head into his hands with a groan, his voice muffled by his palms. “I can already hear the disaster coming.”

“Hey, can we talk tomorrow?”

Hansol sat on one of the benches, his gaze fixed on his phone, scrolling mindlessly as he waited. The faint rustle of leaves above him was the only sound until he heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.

Lifting his head, he spotted you walking toward him, a smile already tugging at your lips despite the obvious weight of the stack of books in your arms. His eyes softened at the sight of you.

He stood up quickly, shoving his phone into his pocket, and walked over to meet you halfway. Without a word, he reached for the books, carefully taking the stack from your arms. His fingers brushed against yours for a second, a brief, unspoken connection neither of you acknowledged aloud.

"Where are you heading with all these books?” he asked, glancing down at the pile in his hands. “Planning to build a personal library or something?”

You sighed, stretching your now-free arms. “Just finished a group project, and somehow I got stuck being the one to return all the books. Alone.”

Hansol snorted, a low, amused sound as he glanced at you. “Classic group project logic,” he said, shifting the books in his grip to hold them more comfortably. “Here, I’ll help you return these, and then we can talk.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “You sure? I can handle it.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, already walking ahead. He glanced over his shoulder, flashing you a casual grin. “I’m not about to let you haul a whole library on your own.”

You followed him, your pace matching his, and together you made your way toward the campus library. The sun filtered through the trees, casting patches of golden light onto the path. The air was warm but breezy, carrying with it the distant hum of student chatter.

At the entrance of the library, Hansol paused, holding the door open for you with his shoulder as he balanced the books. You slipped past him with a quiet "thanks" before he followed you inside. The familiar scent of old paper and clean air-conditioning greeted you both.

Hansol stayed by your side as you approached the return desk, placing the stack of books on the counter with a relieved sigh, as if he’d carried them across continents. He leaned on the edge of the counter, eyes following you as you handled the administration process.

“So,” you said, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, “what did you want to talk about?”

His posture straightened, his fingers tapping idly against the countertop. “I’ll tell you once we’re done here,” he said, offering you a small, unreadable smile.

But his gaze lingered on you a second too long.

He knew he had to do it soon.

The fortune teller’s words echoed in his mind, as stupid as they were. “There’s a blockage in your energy. To clear it, you must confess to the one you like.” He could still hear Soonyoung’s gasp of betrayal beside him. “You like someone?” he'd whispered like it was the juiciest secret of the year.

Hansol shook his head, shoving the memory aside. He didn’t like anyone, but he did care about his band. If there was even a 1% chance that this superstition had some truth to it, he couldn’t risk it. They’d been working too hard for this gig to flop.

You returned from the counter, brushing off your hands. “All done.”

Hansol nodded, stepping aside to hold the door open for you. The two of you walked out of the library, sunlight filtering in through the tall glass windows of the campus hallway. Students passed by, some in pairs, others in groups, all caught up in their own conversations.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

It’s just Y/n.

No big deal.

He knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t make this complicated. You wouldn’t take it seriously. You were too practical for that.

“Hey,” he started, voice steady but a little quieter.

You glanced up at him. “Hm?”

He stopped walking. You took two steps ahead before noticing, turning to face him with a curious look.

He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, fingers fidgeting with loose threads. His heart wasn’t racing, but his mind was unusually loud. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.

But still, he felt his throat go dry.

“I like you,” he said.

It came out fast. Too fast. Not smooth at all. His eyes flicked up to you, watching for your reaction.

Your face froze. Wide eyes. Lips parted slightly, like you’d misheard him.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hansol cleared his throat, shifting his weight to one leg. “I like you,” he said again, slower, more controlled this time.

Your brows furrowed as confusion settled in. You didn’t speak, and that silence was heavier than anything he’d prepared for. Why aren’t you saying anything?

“Okay,” he said quickly, snapping his fingers like he’d just remembered something. “So, before you freak out, it’s not, like… real.” He scratched the back of his head, glancing to the side. “It’s for the performance.”

Your eyes stayed on him, unblinking.

He sucked in a breath, forcing himself to explain. “Soonyoung and I went to see this fortune teller a couple weeks ago. She told me there’s this… ‘blockage’ or something that’ll mess up our gig unless I confess to the person I like.” He raised his eyebrows like it should be obvious. “But I don’t like anyone. So, I figured—” He tilted his head toward you, lips curling into a grin. “—I’ll just confess to you.”

You didn’t move.

“You’re my friend,” he added with a casual shrug, trying to sound as natural as possible. “I knew you’d get it. It’s not a big deal. Just, like, a technicality.”

More silence.

Hansol felt something twist in his chest, like the air pressure had shifted around him. He didn’t know why it felt weird, but it did. He’d expected a laugh from you, maybe a playful shove or a snarky comment. Something normal.

“Okay,” you said, your voice quieter than he’d ever heard it.

He blinked. “Okay?”

You nodded once, eyes flicking to the side like you didn’t want to look at him. “Yeah. Sure.”

Relief washed over him so fast it almost felt dizzying. His grin returned, this time more genuine. “See? I knew you’d get it.”

He glanced at his phone, eyes widening slightly. “Oh, shoot. I’ve got practice soon.” He took a step back, his mind already shifting to his next priority. “Thanks for this, Y/n. You’re a real one.”

He raised a hand in a wave as he turned to leave. “See you later!”

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t think to.

Why would he?

It had gone exactly as he’d expected — smooth, simple, and free of any awkwardness. You’d understood. You always understood him. It’s why he’d picked you in the first place.

As he walked, he felt lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His band would be fine. The gig would be a success. The "blockage" was gone, whatever that meant.

The sound of students chatting around him faded into background noise. His mind buzzed with thoughts of the upcoming setlist, the soundchecks, and which songs they should open with.

Should they start with something upbeat or something more atmospheric?

He scratched the side of his head, lips curling into a grin at the thought. They’d kill it. He knew they would.

But as he reached the next hallway, something tugged at him. Not physically, but like a small, sharp pull on his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see nothing at all.

But his eyes lingered on the empty hallway behind him.

You weren’t there.

You’d probably gone in the opposite direction, maybe heading to class or meeting up with friends. That was normal. Totally normal.

He turned forward again, walking faster this time.

So why did it feel like he’d forgotten something?

Why did it feel like he’d missed something important?

Hansol shook his head, hands stuffed back into his hoodie pocket. You’re overthinking it.

But his fingers fidgeted with the loose thread again, and his mind couldn’t seem to settle.

"Hey, you’re daydreaming."

Joshua’s voice snapped you back to reality, a light jab landing on your side. Your eyes flickered to him, your closest friend in the photography club, and then to the rest of the room. Everyone was staring at you.

Oh no.

The club leader tilted her head, clearly waiting for a response. "I asked if you’d be willing to report on The Gigs next week."

Heat rushed to your face. You nodded quickly, forcing a polite smile. "Ah, yeah, sure. I can do it."

Her eyes lingered on you for a second longer before she moved on, resuming the discussion. You sank lower in your chair, feeling Joshua stifle a laugh beside you. He didn’t say anything, but the amused glint in his eyes said it all.

When the meeting finally wrapped up, you were already halfway out the door when Joshua caught up to you. He grinned, pulling a small candy from his pocket. “Here,” he said, handing you his favorite coffee-flavored treat.

“Thanks,” you muttered, unwrapping it immediately and popping it into your mouth.

“You good?” he asked as you both stepped outside, the cool breeze hitting your face. "You were totally out of it back there."

You glanced at him, shrugging. "Just… had a lot on my mind."

Joshua nodded knowingly. "Don’t tell me it’s about that draft. Mine’s still stuck, too."

The two of you wandered down the pathway toward the nearby campus cafe. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets, his breath forming little clouds of fog in the air.

The draft. Right.

The club had tasked every member with coming up with a new program idea to boost engagement and attract more students to join. Your idea was Cupid Pic — a playful service where students could request anonymous photos of their crushes, which would then be posted on the Student Daily Web. The twist? If two people happened to request photos of each other without knowing, they'd be notified of the "cupid match." It was fun, cheeky, and surprisingly wholesome.

You'd been so excited about it at first. So much so that you'd shared the idea with Soonyoung and Hansol one evening at Soonyoung’s apartment studio. The three of you had spent hours brainstorming catchy slogans and working out the logistics of how to involve the Broadcasting students for video teasers. You remembered how Hansol had thrown out ridiculous ideas like, “Make them wear angel wings while taking the photos,” which Soonyoung fully supported for the chaos alone.

Soonyoung had tapped out early, collapsing on the couch after too many shots of soju, muttering something about "the stars aligning." But you and Hansol had stayed up. Just the two of you. The warmth of the room, the faint hum of music, and the quiet conversation felt… different. Intimate, even.

Maybe that’s why it all spilled out of you.

You didn’t mean to dump your worries on him. But with Soonyoung snoring in the background and the soft glow of the desk lamp hitting Hansol’s face just right, you felt something unspoken loosen in your chest.

“I feel like I’m barely holding everything together,” you’d admitted, your voice quieter than usual. “Class, part-time shifts, the club, this stupid project… and now one of my friends reported me to the professor for missing too many classes. I mean, yeah, I missed a few, but I had valid reasons. She didn’t even ask me. She just… reported me.”

Your throat had felt tight saying it all out loud. You didn’t expect Hansol to say anything — maybe a simple, “That sucks, Y/n.” But he didn’t do that.

Instead, he leaned forward, his eyes soft with a kind of patience you’d never really seen from him before. Hansol, the logical one. Hansol, the sharp-tongued realist. But that night, he was… gentle.

“Sounds like you’ve been carrying too much,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t rushed. It was slow, steady, like every word was placed carefully so it wouldn’t crack you open any further.

Your eyes stung a little, and you hated it. You hated how one kind sentence had more impact than all the self-reassurances you’d told yourself in the mirror.

“You’re doing fine,” he added. “Actually, you’re doing more than fine. You're managing all this at once — that's impressive. People don't get how hard that is.”

It wasn’t much. Just a few words. But in that moment, it felt like he’d seen you — really seen you — in a way no one else had.

He didn’t tell you to “just work harder” or “push through.” He didn’t tell you that you were overreacting. He just listened.

Somewhere between his words and the soft glow of that lamp, you felt something shift.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered on you for a second too long.

Maybe it was the warmth in his voice that you hadn’t heard before.

Or maybe it was just you, feeling too vulnerable, too raw, too desperate for someone to tell you it was okay to slow down.

But you knew it, clear as day.

That was the moment you realized — I think I like him.

It wasn’t immediate, like some storybook cliché where your heart suddenly skips and angels start singing. No, it was quiet, slow, like the weight of realization settling over your shoulders. Your chest felt heavier, and your head felt lighter, like you’d been dropped into unfamiliar territory.

You'd stayed up with him a little longer, letting the conversation drift to other things, but that moment stayed with you. Even when you went home that night, it replayed in your head over and over. His voice. His gaze. His words.

By the next day, you realized it was easier to avoid him than to face what you’d discovered.

If you didn’t see him, you wouldn’t have to deal with the way your heart sped up around him.

If you didn’t talk to him, you wouldn’t have to remember how it felt to be seen so clearly.

If you didn’t stand too close, you wouldn’t have to hear the echo of his voice telling you that you were doing fine.

So, you avoided him. Not in any obvious way. Just small things. Picking a seat on the opposite side of the room. Leaving class a little earlier. Responding later to group chats. It was stupid. Childish, even. But it was safer.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like he likes me anyway.

But then, yesterday happened.

“I like you,” he’d said, just like that.

His words echoed in your mind like an annoying replay button that wouldn't turn off.

“I like you.”

At first, you’d frozen, your brain struggling to process it. And then, like a fool, you’d let yourself hope. Your heart had done that stupid leap it always did when you thought maybe, just maybe…

But it only lasted a second.

“But it’s not real. It’s for the band.”

He’d smiled, so casual, so unbothered, as if it was all part of some inside joke.

“You’re my friend. I knew you’d get it.”

You had nodded. Of course you nodded. What else were you supposed to do?

He’d walked away smiling. Light. Unburdened.

You stood there, your chest still heavy, like you'd swallowed all the words you wanted to say.

Stupid.

Idiot.

Asshole.

“Y/n?”

Joshua's voice cut through the spiral, and you blinked, realizing you’d been chewing on the coffee candy too hard. The bitterness had turned sharp in your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked, his brow raised in concern.

You uncurled your fingers from the crumpled candy wrapper in your pocket, feeling the imprint of it against your palm. Calm down, Y/N.

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “Just thinking too much.”

Joshua gave you a long look, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe you. But in the end, he shrugged it off. "Alright. Just don't overdo it. We still have drafts to finish, yeah?"

“Yeah,” you said, stuffing the wrapper into your pocket. "I’ll finish it.”

But as you walked with him toward the cafe, the taste of coffee lingered on your tongue, sharp and bitter.

Just like the feeling you’d been trying to forget.

The smell of grilled meat wafted through the apartment as Soonyoung shouted from the kitchen, "Open the door for me!" His voice was strained, probably from the concentration it took to flip the meat perfectly.

You had just finished changing into the borrowed sweater and sweatpants Soonyoung had tossed your way. It was one of his newer pieces — oversized, soft, and surprisingly comfortable. After folding your work clothes neatly on the chair, you headed to the front door, tugging the sleeves over your fingers.

When you pulled the door open, your heart did a sudden flip. Hansol stood there, framed by the dim hallway light. Black T-shirt snug on his frame, denim jacket casually draped over his shoulders, and those stupid cargo pants with "chill guy" printed boldly on the thigh. You'd teased him about them before.

His eyes scanned you briefly before his lips curled into a familiar, lopsided grin. "That sweater looks better on you than it does on him." His gaze lingered for a beat longer, and you recognized it — the sweater he'd given Soonyoung for his birthday this year.

"Everything looks good on me lately," you shot back, flipping your hair with mock confidence as you stepped aside to let him in.

Hansol let out a quiet snort, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "Alright, superstar," he muttered, carrying in the bags of groceries Soonyoung had texted him to bring.

You followed him to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Soonyoung waved his tongs in your direction. "Look who decided to show up after three weeks of radio silence!" He held up three fingers in front of your face like it was a major scandal.

You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm to move him aside. "I've been working, Soonyoung. Not everyone can live a life of leisure like you."

"Leisure?" He scoffed, flipping the meat with unnecessary force. "You act like I’m not hosting this Michelin-star-level barbecue for you guys. You should be grateful, Y/n."

You snorted but didn’t respond, letting the familiar warmth of their banter settle over you. For a moment, it almost felt normal. Hansol was sorting through the bags, pulling out soda cans and snacks like it was just another casual night. Soonyoung was fussing over his grill with too much enthusiasm, and the smell of searing meat filled the air.

But that “three weeks” comment echoed louder than you wanted it to. Three weeks since you’d hung out properly. Three weeks since Soonyoung had badgered you into late-night ramen runs. Three weeks since you’d willingly stayed in a room with Hansol for longer than ten minutes.

The realization must have hit him too because Hansol glanced at you from over his shoulder, eyes flickering with something like curiosity. His hands slowed as he set down a bottle of soda. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter this time. “We haven’t hung out in a while, huh?”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Guess not.”

Soonyoung glanced between the two of you like he was watching the first act of a drama. He wiggled his eyebrows, lips pursed in exaggerated interest. "Oooh, tension."

"Shut up," you and Hansol said at the same time.

"Okay, okay, geez." Soonyoung threw his hands up, grinning like a troublemaker who just set off a firecracker. "I’m just saying, tonight is reunion night for our little trio. So no work talk, no avoidance, no mysterious disappearances. We’re all staying until dawn."

"Bold of you to assume I’m not sneaking out at 2 a.m.," you muttered, grabbing a soda from the pile Hansol had unpacked.

Soonyoung narrowed his eyes at you. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”

Soonyoung wasn't exactly the sharpest in the group, but he had an annoying knack for reading the room. That was why you’d been trying so hard to act normal around Hansol tonight. Every glance Soonyoung threw your way felt like a spotlight, and you hated it. You shouldn’t have come. Stupid decision.

But after an hour, the unease started to wear off. The alcohol certainly helped with that. You’d had more drinks than usual — more than even Soonyoung, the self-proclaimed "party endurance king." At one point, he actually tried to stop you, waving his hands in front of your face like you were about to push a red button.

“Hey, hey, easy there, Y/n. That’s your third drink in, like, ten minutes,” he said, eyes squinting in concern. "Bad day or something?"

You only hummed in response, lifting the cup to your lips again.

“Desperation. I get it,” Soonyoung sighed, plopping down on the couch beside you. He tilted his head back dramatically. “We’ve all been there. Even Hansol and I went to a fortune teller.”

Hansol, who’d been scrolling on his phone, looked up, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “Don’t lump me in with you like I went there on purpose.”

“Okay, but you got a reading too, didn’t you?” Soonyoung shot back, jabbing his thumb in Hansol's direction. His grin was all teeth, clearly proud of his "gotcha" moment.

Hansol rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he shoved his phone into his pocket.

Soonyoung wasn’t done, though. He turned his attention to you, gesturing wildly like he was narrating a grand tale. “Yes, so we went to a fortune teller,” he repeated, leaning toward you like he was about to reveal a state secret.

“I know,” you muttered, taking another sip.

Soonyoung blinked, his head tilting to the side. “Huh? I never told you that. How do you know?”

Your eyes flickered toward Hansol, who had suddenly gone very still. You pointed at him, arm a little wobbly from the drinks. “He told me.”

The room went quiet for half a beat.

Soonyoung’s eyes darted between the two of you like he was watching a live plot twist unfold. His mouth parted in shock. “You guys… talked? Without me?”

He sounded more offended than curious, like you’d committed some great betrayal.

Hansol groaned, his head falling into his hands. "Oh my God, Soonyoung, it’s not that deep."

“It is that deep!” Soonyoung gasped, clutching his chest like you’d personally wounded him. “How could you, Y/n? I thought I was the main character of your friendship arc!”

"You're the comic relief, Soonyoung," you deadpanned, reaching for the half-empty drink in front of you.

"Comic relief?!" He clutched his heart again, this time with more flair, like he'd been hit with a spear. "I am the glue that holds this trio together."

You snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, and for a moment, it actually felt normal again. Except for the weight pressing down on your chest every time Hansol glanced your way.

"Want to hear something funny?" Soonyoung grinned mischievously. "This guy has to make a confession if he wants his gig to succeed, and he says he doesn’t like anyone!"

He burst into laughter, clearly enjoying Hansol’s discomfort. Hansol groaned, slouching in his chair. "Go ahead, laugh. My life is a comedy," he retorted sarcastically.

"So, Romeo," Soonyoung teased, raising his eyebrows, "your gig is in three days. Have you done it yet?"

Hansol stayed silent, his eyes wandering to you. You were busy pouring yourself another shot of soju, trying to drown out the chaos around you. The weight in your chest was growing heavier with every passing minute, but you tried to focus on anything other than the situation at hand.

"So, Y/n," Soonyoung continued, turning his attention to you, "what do you think? Should he just confess to anyone to make his performance successful, or should he ignore the fortune teller's advice?"

The question hit you like a brick, and a lump immediately formed in your throat. You didn’t know how to answer.

"But I think he won’t do it," Soonyoung added with a sly smile. "Why? Because this guy is all logic. He’s a T," Soonyoung said, referencing Hansol’s MBTI type — Thinking, not Feeling.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the mounting frustration in your chest, but you found yourself muttering under your breath, "Confession is not a game. You shouldn’t play with it."

Soonyoung, to his credit, nodded in agreement. "Yes, exactly. Here here!"

You continued, your voice quieter now, a little heavier. "You think it’s easy to just confess to someone for the sake of success? That’s selfish." You could feel the anger simmering beneath your words. "But I guess, people can be like that. They don’t think about others' feelings."

The moment your words left your mouth, you glanced up at Hansol, only to find his gaze fixed on you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain tension in the air now, thick and uncomfortable. For the first time, you realized he was actually paying attention to what you were saying.

In that moment, everything felt overwhelming. You had spent the evening carefully balancing your emotions, trying not to let the bitterness and disappointment leak out, but it was becoming impossible. Soonyoung's teasing and Hansol's casual confession — the one that had hurt more than you wanted to admit — were circling in your mind, making it harder to breathe.

Soonyoung froze mid-action, his hand suspended in the air with the shot glass still waiting to meet his lips. The atmosphere shifted, and he squinted at you, his tone playful but with a hint of confusion. "What's up with you tonight? You're a bit... deep?"

You sighed, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. You quickly gathered your things, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I think I should go. I’ll pick up my clothes tomorrow morning, is that okay?" you asked Soonyoung, your voice quieter than usual as you stood up from your seat.

Soonyoung blinked, looking at you with a mix of surprise and concern. "What? What's wrong with you?"

But you didn’t answer. You had already made up your mind to leave. The weight of the evening, mixed with the alcohol, had created a fog in your thoughts, and you just wanted to escape. You needed space to sort through your feelings, to put some distance between you and Hansol, who had somehow managed to worm his way into your heart even though you tried so hard to keep it at bay. The fact that he still had this effect on you, that you were still torn between anger and something softer, was suffocating.

You could feel your emotions stirring as you moved toward the door, the anger bubbling under the surface. How could he say all those things and then act like it didn’t matter? How could he confess without meaning it and expect everything to be fine? You had convinced yourself that leaving was the only way to avoid losing control of your feelings, to protect yourself from further hurt.

You closed the door. But then Hansol's hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks. His grip was gentle, but firm. His touch, so simple and yet so familiar, sent a jolt of something through you. You weren’t sure if it was anger or longing, or a dangerous mix of both. You wanted to pull away, to push him out of your thoughts for good, but somehow, standing there with him felt like an emotional standoff. You could feel your heart racing, unsure of whether you should let the tears you were holding back spill or just walk away from it all.

"What do you mean?" Hansol asked, confusion and frustration lacing his voice.

"Let me go, I'm tired," you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to pull away.

But Hansol wasn't having it. He turned your body to face him, his grip firm yet gentle. "Not until you explain. Were you referring to me?"

You stared at him, exasperated, as the words tumbled out, "What do you want to hear? That I wasn't?"

Hansol's gaze softened, but his frustration was palpable. "Yes, I was referring to you because I think Soonyoung's right. If you're as logical as you say you are, you shouldn't be doing whatever the fortune teller told you."

You scoffed, your voice bitter, "And you really think that confessing to your friend is going to fix everything?"

Hansol ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight. "Y/n, I was desperate. You heard him — the fortune teller said my performance would flop if I didn't confess. I had no choice!"

"By confessing to your friend?" You spat, the hurt in your voice evident.

Hansol's eyes widened, his voice rising as the emotion spilled over. "Because you're my friend! I thought you'd understand! You always have!"

There was a tense silence between you both, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping under the burden of it all.

"So, it was easier for you to confess to your friend? To use them for your own benefit?" you asked, your tone sharp and cutting.

Hansol closed his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to turn out like this. I thought you'd understand, Y/n. You're my friend."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "Because I'm your friend, you thought it would be easier to confess to me? Don't you think about the consequences, Hansol? Or is it all about your performance?"

His face twisted with frustration as he stepped closer. "It’s important to me, Y/n!"

You took a step back, feeling the sting of his words. "I never said your performance wasn’t important, but have you ever thought about the consequences? When you decided to confess to me, did you even consider my feelings?"

Before Hansol could respond, Soonyoung’s voice interrupted the charged silence. "You confessed to Y/n?" He stood in the doorway, his face a mix of shock and disbelief at the revelation.

The tension in the room hung thick, and you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten. This was not how you imagined things would play out.

When Soonyoung heard you sob, his heart sank. He knew it then—he knew both he and Hansol had messed up. Without a word, he let you go, his hand stopping Hansol from following.

"Let her go," Soonyoung said, his voice unusually calm, but there was an underlying firmness. "She needs time."

"But—" Hansol protested, his voice full of urgency.

"No buts, man. You hurt her. Don’t you get it?" Soonyoung’s voice, surprisingly soft for someone who had just witnessed a betrayal, cut through the air. It was like the weight of everything had finally hit him—Hansol had confessed to you because of some ridiculous fortune teller's prediction, without considering the consequences.

Both of them sat in silence, the remnants of the food and drinks ignored, their minds consumed by your face—the betrayal in your eyes, the way your mouth gaped for breath, and the tears that welled up in your eyes.

Soonyoung broke the silence first. "You did it, huh?" His tone was more of a statement than a question. Hansol shook his head, clearly not ready to confront the reality of what he had done.

"You're the most oblivious guy I've ever known," Soonyoung continued, his frustration bubbling up. "How could you not see it? She likes you, Hansol."

Hansol turned his head toward Soonyoung, still confused. "What are you talking about?"

Soonyoung sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hand. "See? You don't even understand." He stood up, his movements mechanical as he began cleaning his apartment, as if the action would help him clear his mind.

"I'm going to sleep. Feel free to stay," he said quietly, before turning off the light and retreating to his room.

Hansol remained on the couch, the weight of Soonyoung's words sinking in, but his mind still swirling with disbelief. He had made a mistake—one that could cost him everything.

Hansol sat motionless on the couch, his eyes staring blankly at the empty room around him. Soonyoung's words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain—She likes you. The weight of it crushed him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a sharp, raw vulnerability that he wasn’t used to.

He had always seen you as someone amazing—smart, driven, with a kindness that radiated in everything you did. You were the kind of person who had everything going for her, someone who seemed untouchable, like she existed in a world beyond his reach. He had always admired you from afar, but he never allowed himself to consider that you could have feelings for him.

You were... too good for him.

He had been convinced that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. He was logical, maybe a little too blunt, a little too wrapped up in his own world. He couldn’t imagine you, with your warmth and grace, ever wanting to be with someone like him. So, he built up this wall in his mind, telling himself that he was better off staying in his lane, quietly admiring you from the sidelines. He didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by thinking he could ever be more than a friend to you.

But now, in the aftermath of his reckless confession, Hansol couldn't help but wonder—did you actually like him?

His chest tightened at the thought. The way you had reacted earlier—the way you had looked at him—did it mean something? Had you been feeling something for him this whole time? Or had he just completely misread everything, making a mess of it all with his desperate attempt to follow the fortune teller's advice?

He felt like an idiot. An utter fool. He had used you. He had confessed to you without considering your feelings, without thinking about the consequences. All because he was scared of failing in front of his band, of letting everyone down. But now, all he could think about was how much he had hurt you. How much he had probably ruined any chance of you ever seeing him as more than just a friend.

It was painful, this realization. He had always thought you were out of his league, that you would never be interested in someone like him, but now that the possibility had opened up, it felt like he had taken it and crushed it under his own foolishness.

He wanted to fix it, to undo everything he had done. But he wasn’t sure where to start. The damage felt irreparable. He had hurt you, and no matter how much he regretted it now, it didn’t change the fact that he had crossed a line.

"We can take a rest," Seungkwan, the vocalist, suggested, noticing Hansol had been staring at the wall for a little too long.

Hansol nodded absently, "Yeah. Sure..." He realized he hadn’t been in the right frame of mind since last night. His thoughts kept circling back to you, replaying the conversation, the hurt in your eyes, the words that had escaped his lips in a moment of desperation. How could he have been so careless? He had to stop thinking about it, but it was impossible.

"The broadcasting students called—they wanted an interview tomorrow. Is that okay?" Mingyu, the bassist, asked as he walked over after picking up a phone call.

Hansol blinked, momentarily distracted. "Why didn’t they call me?" he muttered, then it hit him. He had been offline all day, lost in his thoughts.

"I couldn't reach you since this morning," Jihoon, the drummer, added. "You're usually glued to your phone."

Not since last night.

"Are you saying he’s addicted?" Jeonghan, the keyboardist, teased, throwing a playful jab at Jihoon. The drummer shot back with a grin, threatening to throw his stick at him, but Hansol wasn’t paying attention.

All he could hear was the ringing silence in his head, and all he could see was your face—hurt, confused, disappointed.

Everything felt distant, like he was trapped inside his own mind, while the world continued on around him. They were talking, joking, but Hansol couldn’t focus on anything except the ache in his chest, the question that loomed over him—How had things gotten so messed up?

"Hi, I'm Joshua," a photographer introduced himself before the interview began. He snapped photos of the group throughout the session, the pictures set to be featured on the university’s social media and in the monthly magazine.

Once the interview wrapped up, Joshua approached Hansol with a small smile.

"Hansol, right? Y/n's friend," he said, casually mentioning you.

Hansol raised an eyebrow. "Y/n’s friend?"

Joshua nodded. "Yeah, we’re in the same club. She was supposed to be the one in charge today, but she’s sick."

Hansol's concern deepened. "She’s sick?"

Joshua gave a shrug. "She mentioned something about going out in the rain, but honestly, I’m not sure. I’m just filling in for her."

Hansol’s mind raced as he processed the information. He headed straight to your apartment. When he arrived, your older brother, Seungcheol, answered the door.

"Seungcheol hyung, I heard Y/n is sick, so I brought porridge," Hansol said, holding up the warm container. Seungcheol stepped aside to let him in.

"She’s sick? She hasn’t come out of her room all day," Seungcheol said with a frown. "I need to head out for work. Can you make sure she’s alright while I’m gone?"

"Of course," Hansol replied, his tone filled with concern.

Seungcheol gave a small nod and left, trusting Hansol with the responsibility. Hansol walked down the hallway toward your room and gently knocked on the door. "Y/n?" he called softly, his heart beating faster than usual.

He turned the doorknob gently as he heard you humming softly from inside. It wasn’t the first time he’d stepped into your room, but something about being here now, knowing you might have feelings for him, made his heart race and his stomach flutter with nervous excitement.

"It’s me... I heard you’re sick," he said quietly, stepping inside. He watched as you tossed and turned on your bed, your face scrunched in discomfort.

"My head hurts," you muttered, sounding exhausted.

"You drank too much last night," Hansol remarked softly, his voice full of concern.

You let out a soft sigh before slowly sitting up on your bed. You blinked up at him, clearly still groggy. "What are you doing here?"

Hansol hesitated for a moment, taken aback by the coolness in your voice. Wasn’t this the same person he had been trying to make things right with?

"Did I do something stupid last night?" you continued, your voice tinged with confusion. "I don’t remember anything. I was too drunk."

What? Hansol’s heart sank. You didn’t remember? He could feel his stomach twist in unease. The whole night had been real for him. But you didn’t even recall it?

His words caught in his throat, his mind racing. He had to find a way to explain everything, but for now, all he could do was stand there, speechless.

You pushed him toward the door, your hands firm against his chest. It was too much — too much to be in the same room with him after everything that happened last night. Your heart pounded in your chest, every beat a painful reminder of the weight of it all.

"Y/n, wait—" Hansol tried, his voice laced with confusion, but you shook your head firmly.

"Just go, Hansol," you muttered, your gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to meet his eyes.

Damn your lying. There was no way you could forget what had happened last night. The alcohol might have given you the courage to say everything that had been festering in your heart, but it didn’t steal your memory. No, you remembered every single detail — from the heat of your words to the stunned look on his face.

You remembered it all. The sharp ache in your chest. The way your voice trembled as you laid it all bare. The way he stood there, silent, unable to say a word in return.

And now, you cursed yourself for being so stupid. Stupid for drinking too much. Stupid for letting it all out. Stupid for hoping, even for a second, that he’d understand.

The moment the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You leaned your forehead against the door, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Stupid,” you muttered under your breath, wiping at your face harshly. “So, so stupid.”

But no matter how many times you cursed yourself, it didn’t stop the hurt from settling deeper into your chest.

A sharp knock echoed through the quiet of your room just a few minutes later. You clenched your jaw, already feeling the annoyance bubble up in your chest.

Hansol, seriously?

You stomped toward the door, ready to tell him off. Your hand gripped the knob with more force than necessary, and you yanked it open with a glare.

"I told you to le—"

But it wasn’t Hansol.

It was Soonyoung. His eyes widened for a second, clearly taken aback by your sharp tone. He tilted his head, a lopsided grin slowly forming on his face.

"Wow, rough welcome," he teased, holding up a plastic bag in one hand. "This how you treat visitors now?"

Your lips parted, words caught in your throat. Guilt prickled at the back of your mind as you stepped aside to let him in. "Sorry... I thought you were someone else."

"Clearly," he muttered, walking in like he owned the place. His eyes scanned the room before settling on you. "Your brother told me you were sick when I called to check in. Figured I’d drop by and see if you’re still alive."

You sighed, running a hand down your face. "I'm fine. Just a little headache."

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow as he set the bag on your desk, pulling out a small container of soup and a bottle of sports drink. "Doesn't sound 'fine' to me. And you look worse than you sound."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," you grumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed.

"Hey, honesty is love," he said with a wink, cracking open the soup container. "Eat this before you start spiraling about whatever it is you're thinking too hard about."

Your eyes flicked to him, your walls momentarily crumbling under his casual warmth. He knows. Soonyoung wasn’t the most perceptive person, but when it came to his friends, he could read you like an open book.

"Not thinking about anything," you muttered, picking at the hem of your sweater.

He shot you a look as he handed you the soup. "You don't fool me, Y/n. You forget, I know you too well."

You hesitated for a second, your fingers curling around the warm container. The scent of the soup was comforting, but the knot in your chest was too tight to untangle just yet.

"You wanna tell me what happened, or should I guess?" he asked, leaning against your desk, arms crossed and eyes watching you with quiet patience.

Your fingers tightened around the container, the warmth seeping into your skin. Tell him? You could. You should. But the words felt heavy, and your throat burned from all the words you’d swallowed the night before.

Soonyoung’s eyes softened when you didn’t respond. "I heard about Hansol."

Your eyes snapped up to him. He didn’t look smug or teasing. He just... knew.

"Seungcheol hyung told me he was here earlier," he continued, eyes steady on you. "I figured something went down."

"Something always goes down," you muttered, trying to brush it off, but your voice cracked at the end. You sucked in a sharp breath, looking away. Not now. Don't fall apart now.

Soonyoung let out a quiet sigh and crouched in front of you, resting his hands on his knees. "Y/n."

The weight of his gaze pulled you in.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know."

And just like that, the dam broke. Your face crumpled, a shaky breath escaping your lips. Tears you thought you’d buried came spilling out, and you hated it — hated how easy it was for Soonyoung to crack you open.

"I hate him," you choked out, shoulders trembling. "I hate how he made me feel. I hate that he doesn't even know."

Soonyoung sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms draped lazily over his knees as he watched you wipe at your face with the sleeve of your sweater. He didn’t say anything right away, just let the silence stretch long enough for your breathing to even out. You hated how vulnerable you felt, but with Soonyoung, it somehow felt okay.

"You know," he started, his voice light but steady, "Hansol’s always been like that. Head up in the clouds, heart locked up in a safe somewhere only he can find."

You sniffled, eyes still downcast, but you listened.

"He’s not a bad guy," Soonyoung continued, resting his chin on his hand, "but he’s stupid sometimes. No, scratch that. He’s logical to a fault — one of those people who overthinks everything and somehow ends up making the dumbest decision possible."

You glanced up at him, eyes red-rimmed but curious. "Sounds like you’re defending him."

"I’m not," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I’m just telling it how it is." He sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Hansol's the type to approach life like a math problem — one solution, one outcome, no room for feelings. He’s good with logic, terrible with emotions. If it doesn’t fit his formula, he just ignores it."

"Sounds pretty annoying," you muttered, folding your arms over your knees.

Soonyoung let out a short laugh. "Oh, you have no idea. Do you know how many times I’ve seen him 'debate' with Mingyu about how ‘romantic gestures are pointless unless they serve a purpose’?" He shook his head like it physically pained him to remember it. "Like, bro, sometimes you just give people flowers because it’s nice! Not everything needs a reason."

Despite yourself, you cracked a small smile. You could picture it perfectly — Hansol arguing with that deadpan logic of his, Mingyu gesturing wildly, both of them convinced they were right.

"But," Soonyoung leaned forward, his tone softening, "he’s not heartless, Y/n. He’s just... slow. The type of guy who doesn’t notice his own feelings until they’re too loud to ignore. He doesn’t realize he’s hurt someone until it’s staring him in the face. And honestly, I think last night was the first time he really saw it."

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes flickering toward the window. "It’s not like I needed him to see it. I just... I just wanted him to think of me. Not as some safe option, not as a convenience, but as someone who—"

You stopped yourself, lips pressing into a thin line. Your eyes burned again, and you hated it. Soonyoung watched you for a moment before he spoke.

"He does think of you, Y/n," he said firmly. "But like I said, he’s stupid. He’s probably been thinking of you this whole time and didn’t even realize it. You know how he is."

"Yeah, well, I’m tired of waiting for him to figure it out," you muttered, fingers tugging at a loose thread on your sleeve. "I'm not a puzzle to be solved."

Soonyoung smiled, leaning his head back against the wall. "Good. You shouldn't be." He sighed, glancing at the ceiling like he was remembering something. "But if I know Hansol, he’s probably kicking himself right now. You know how he gets when he messes up — goes all quiet, stops talking to anyone, starts staring at walls like the answers will magically appear."

You blinked, remembering how distant he seemed when he visited earlier. His awkwardness hadn’t been new, but it felt... different. Guilt, maybe?

"Do you think he regrets it?" you asked quietly.

Soonyoung tilted his head, his eyes kind but sharp. "I think he’s finally realizing that you’re not as 'out of reach' as he made himself believe."

Your head snapped toward him, heart stuttering. "Out of reach? What does that mean?"

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow. "You really don't see it, huh? This whole time, he’s been looking at you like you’re untouchable. Like you’re this smart, ambitious, 'got-everything-together' kind of person that’s too good for some guy like him."

You frowned, disbelief creeping into your voice. "That's ridiculous. Hansol's not like that."

"Yeah, well, people get real stupid when they like someone." Soonyoung stood up, stretching his arms over his head with a loud groan. "You think you’re the only one overthinking? Hansol’s been overthinking since the day he met you." He glanced down at you, eyes twinkling with something playful but sincere. "But like I said, he’s slow. And if you’re tired of waiting, I get it. Just don’t pretend you don’t care when we both know you do."

Your throat felt tight, and you stayed quiet as Soonyoung headed for the door.

"Rest up, alright? I’ll check in on you later," he said, tossing you a grin before stepping out. "And if Hansol shows up again, try not to kick him out too fast. He might actually say something smart for once."

The door clicked shut, and silence filled the room.

You stared at your hands, the weight of Soonyoung's words settling deep in your chest.

Out of reach.

You never thought of yourself that way. But... was that really how Hansol saw you? All this time, did he think he never had a chance?

Your heart ached, and for the first time, it wasn’t from anger.

The door suddenly opened again, and Soonyoung peeked his head back in. His face was serious this time, his brows drawn together like he was thinking carefully about what to say.

"Hey, Y/n," he called softly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't get too caught up in him, alright? I mean it." His eyes were steady as he spoke. "Focus on yourself for a while. You’re allowed to do that, you know. Let him figure himself out while you do the same."

You blinked at him, feeling the weight of his words sink in. Focus on yourself. When was the last time you did that? When was the last time you prioritized your own peace instead of waiting for Hansol to notice something?

"Yeah," you murmured, your gaze turning thoughtful. "Yeah, I’ll do that."

Soonyoung grinned. "Good. You deserve it."

This time, when the door clicked shut, it didn’t feel so heavy. It felt like a quiet kind of relief.

The band had just wrapped up their third song, the crowd’s energy growing wilder with every beat. Anticipation hung in the air as Seungkwan stepped up to the mic, his grin sharp and infectious.

"And now, for our last song — an original!" he announced, voice booming over the crowd's cheers. "This one’s for everyone who denies something because they’ve never felt complete."

A ripple of excitement passed through the audience, a sea of nodding heads and raised phones ready to capture every second. Hansol’s fingers hovered over the strings of his guitar, heart pounding in time with the thumping bass.

This was it. Their first original song. The song they’d poured their hearts into.

Hansol could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, but it wasn’t suffocating — it was exhilarating. The fortune teller's words from before felt laughable now. What a load of crap. He’d been so caught up in her prediction, but here he was, on stage, living proof that none of it mattered.

His eyes scanned the crowd, and then he spotted you. Right in front, camera in hand, snapping pictures with that same focus you always had. You weren’t just an onlooker — you were part of it. You bopped to the beat, your grin wide as you caught every moment on film.

He couldn’t look away. Not when you gave him that playful high-five before he went on stage. Not when you danced along like you’d been cheering him on from the start. And definitely not when you smiled like that — so bright, so natural, as if none of the things between you two had ever happened.

How are you acting so normal?

He strummed the opening chord, pulling himself back into focus. Jihoon’s sharp drumming set the pace, and the song began. Everything fell into place, the rhythm steady, the notes clean.

Then, during the second verse, something went wrong.

The speakers cracked. The bass fizzled. The sudden static made a few people in the crowd wince, and then — silence.

Everything stopped.

The instruments, the vocals, the energy. All of it.

Mingyu shot a glance at Hansol, his eyes sharp with confusion. What’s going on? his look asked. Hansol didn’t know. He glanced back at Woozi, who had put down his sticks, his face a rare mask of concern. Seungkwan was already at the side of the stage, talking to a frantic staff member waving their hands in panic.

The whole venue was too quiet, the only sound the low murmur of confused voices from the crowd.

Hansol felt his chest tighten. His pulse quickened, not with the thrill of the stage, but with panic. His fingers hovered uselessly over the guitar strings.

Not like this. Not now.

He scanned the crowd again, and then he saw you. You were mouthing something at him, your eyebrows raised in concern.

"What's wrong?"

Hansol swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced back at his bandmates, at the staff, at the broken audio equipment. Everything around him felt like a blur.

But you weren’t a blur.

You were right there, your eyes on him, steady and sure.

He crouched at the edge of the stage, motioning for you to come closer. Without hesitation, you moved through the crowd to stand right in front of him.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely audible over the low hum of the venue.

Hansol didn’t answer.

Instead, he looked at you like he’d been holding something in for too long. His eyes darted to the crowd behind you, the sea of strangers with phones pointed at him, waiting for something to happen. The weight of all of it pressed on him again, but this time it didn’t feel like too much.

It felt like a push.

He sucked in a sharp breath and shouted,

“I like you!”

Your eyes went wide. The whole crowd gasped in unison, but Hansol didn’t care.

“What?” You blinked up at him, too stunned to move.

“I like you!” he shouted again, louder this time. “I really like you! Since… I don’t even know when!”

His voice rang out, clear and sharp, like it had been waiting to be said for too long.

“What are you talking about?” you said, taking a small step back, but your eyes never left his.

“I like you, Y/n!” he yelled, his voice cracking, but it didn’t matter. “Let’s go on a date after this!”

A split second later, the audio kicked back on.

The speakers popped, and suddenly, the music came blaring back with Woozi’s drumbeat leading the charge. The bass reverberated through the venue, and Seungkwan’s voice returned right on cue.

The crowd exploded.

Cheers, whistles, and shouts of surprise roared through the space. Phones pointed at Hansol, recording every second of his impromptu confession.

Mingyu’s jaw hung open, his eyes darting between Hansol and you like he’d just witnessed something unbelievable. Woozi’s drumming faltered for just a second before he locked back into rhythm. Seungkwan stumbled on his words, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes before grinning like a man who knew he’d be talking about this for weeks.

But Hansol didn’t care about any of that.

His eyes stayed on you.

You looked at him like you couldn’t believe it. Your fingers hovered over your camera, your body tense as if you were about to bolt. But then, slowly, you lowered your camera to your side.

Your lips parted, and he thought you were about to say something, but you didn’t.

Instead, you smiled.

Not a small smile. Not a confused, nervous smile.

A real smile.

Hansol let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all night. His heart was still pounding, but this time, it wasn’t from panic.

He pushed himself up to his feet, letting the weight fall off his back. He threw his guitar strap back over his shoulder, fingers gripping the neck of his guitar as he glanced at you one last time.

See you after the show, he mouthed with a grin.

Your face flushed, and you covered your mouth with your hand, eyes squinting with a mix of disbelief and something else. Something soft.

With that, Hansol turned around and rejoined the band.

His heart was still racing, and his hands were still shaking, but none of that mattered anymore.

He’d been so sure he’d ruined things with you two days ago. He thought he’d wrecked something that couldn’t be fixed. But now, under the blinding lights of the stage, with the crowd still screaming, he finally felt something shift.

For the first time in a long time, Hansol felt complete.

The cozy hum of the café blended with the quiet chatter of other patrons. The smell of fresh coffee beans and sweet pastries filled the air, but none of that could drown out the sound of Soonyoung’s obnoxious laughter. He sat across from you, phone in hand, replaying that moment for the fifth time.

"Here it comes, here it comes," he said with the excitement of someone watching a blockbuster plot twist. His grin stretched wide as Hansol's voice blared from the tiny phone speaker.

"I like you, Y/n! Let's go on a date after this!"

The crowd's eruption played out again, and Soonyoung slapped the table, laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. His shoulders shook with every cackle.

“Can you stop already?” you muttered, fingers tapping away at your laptop as you edited the batch of photos from last night’s gig. Your latte sat next to you, half-finished, its warmth barely noticeable anymore. "I heard it live, Soonyoung. I don’t need a replay."

"But I do," Soonyoung grinned, wiping at the corner of his eye. "This is gold, Y/n. Absolute, once-in-a-lifetime gold. Do you realize how many people would pay for a confession like that? In front of a whole crowd? On stage? With working audio as the grand finale?" He pressed play again.

"I like you, Y/n! Let's go on a date after this!"

Your face burned as you ducked behind your laptop, ears heating with the memory of the moment. “I swear, if you don’t stop—”

“I like you, Y/n!” Soonyoung mimicked, his voice high-pitched and theatrical, throwing his head back as if he were the one on stage. “Let's go on a date after this!”

You shot him a glare. “Keep it up, Soonyoung. See what happens.”

“Oooh, scary,” he teased, grinning even wider. "Don't be shy, Y/n. You looked like you were about to cry." He sniffled, pretending to wipe away a tear. "Oh, Hansol, I’ve been waiting for you to say it all my life—"

“Do you have a death wish, Kwon Soonyoung?” you deadpanned, voice dangerously calm.

Hansol, sitting right next to you, snickered behind his hand. He leaned back in his chair, hands in his hoodie pocket, glancing at you with the laziest grin imaginable. He hadn't said much since you sat down, but the look on his face said he was thoroughly entertained.

"You're both impossible," you muttered, eyes flicking back to your laptop. You clicked through your photos, adjusting brightness and contrast, but the warmth in your chest refused to fade. Your lips twitched despite yourself. "This was supposed to be our first date, you know," you muttered into your latte, barely loud enough for them to hear.

But of course, they heard.

“Ohhh?” Soonyoung's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hands. "Is that regret I hear, Y/n? Did you want something more romantic?”

“Romantic?” you scoffed, glancing at him briefly. “Yeah, I definitely dreamed of being confessed to in front of 200 strangers while the sound system crashed.” You rolled your eyes, but there was no bite in your voice.

Hansol leaned in, his elbow resting on the table, his gaze steady on you. His grin softened into something quieter, something almost fond.

"Would you have preferred something more low-key?" he asked, voice low but curious. He tilted his head slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. "I can do it again if you want."

Your heart skipped once, just once, and you had to look back at your screen before your face gave you away. "Don't be ridiculous, Hansol."

"Noted," he said simply, still grinning.

“Don’t let her fool you, man,” Soonyoung butted in, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was watching his favorite TV drama. “She loved every second of it. I saw that little smile. Oh, wait, should I replay it for reference?” His finger hovered over the screen.

You snatched a napkin off the table and threw it at him, hitting him square in the face.

“Shut up, Kwon Soonyoung.”

He howled with laughter, catching the napkin and tossing it back at you. “You’ll thank me later! I’m basically the biggest investor in your relationship!” he declared, puffing out his chest like he deserved a trophy. “Without me, none of this would have happened.”

“Investor?” you shot back, eyebrows raised. “Investor in what? Chaos?”

“Love,” he corrected, tapping his chest with mock sincerity. “I invest in love.”

Hansol laughed quietly at that, his shoulders shaking just a little. His eyes stayed on you, warm and steady, like he'd finally stopped second-guessing everything.

And for a moment, you forgot about Soonyoung's antics, the video, the embarrassment of it all. You only noticed Hansol, his gaze on you like it had been for weeks — no, maybe longer.

I like you, Y/n. Let's go on a date after this.

You didn’t need a replay for that.

It was already stuck in your head.

Late at night, the faint hum of streetlights buzzed in the background as Soonyoung paced back and forth outside his apartment building, phone pressed to his ear. His tone was casual, but his words carried a hint of mischief.

“Hey… yeah, it’s me — The Reckyz’s manager,” he said with a grin, glancing around as if someone might overhear him. “Mm-hm, that’s right. I wanted to talk about our performance tomorrow. Got a minute?”

He stopped pacing, eyes narrowing with focus as he listened to the response on the other end. His grin widened. “Perfect. Here’s the thing — I was wondering if you could help us out a bit during the gig tomorrow.” He leaned his back against the wall, his fingers drumming against his thigh like he was cooking up a master plan.

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing too crazy,” he reassured. “I was thinking… maybe some technical issues on stage during the last song. Not a full shutdown, just enough to get people on edge for a second. It’s for promotional purposes, you know?” He laughed lightly, the kind that only comes from someone far too pleased with their own scheme.

“Don’t worry, the members will be aware of it,” he added, his voice smooth as if he’d done this a hundred times. “They’ll play along. Trust me, it'll be unforgettable.”

His eyes flickered with satisfaction as the person on the other end agreed.

"Perfect. I'll owe you one," he said, his grin sharp now, like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. "Just make sure it happens right before the second verse. Timing is everything."

He hung up, slipping his phone into his pocket, eyes glinting with quiet triumph.

"Operation Unforgettable Moment is a go," he muttered to himself, pushing off the wall and strolling down the street, hands in his pockets, a spring in his step. “Biggest investor in love, huh? Yeah, that’s me.”

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flemingology · 2 months ago

Note

christmas request! a day out with alessia at winter wonderland. super fluffy. you go ice skating, go on the ferris wheel, get hot chocolates, even win her a bear at a fairground booth!

winter wonderland ─ alessia russo x reader

in which: you and alessia have a christmas-themed date night

warnings: none

wc: 1.6k

a/n: changed the request up a little bit (basically just who receives the bear lol.), hope you still like it!

You'd been looking forward to this night for the whole week. Your hectic schedule had meant you and Alessia hadn't gone out for a proper date in weeks, but the second you realized that you'd have the 22nd of December off, you circled it with red on the calendar in your home office. Date night. And nothing would come between it.

As a heart surgeon, your working hours were very irregular. Your girlfriend and you had managed to work around your respectively busy schedules, always making sure that you made time for one another wherever you could, but some periods were worse than others. You'd been working non-stop for the past three weeks, up before dawn and not home before sunset. It was starting to take its toll on you, and Alessia didn't fail to notice either.

She was usually quite busy herself, but with the winter break in full flow, she had more time to think about things. More time to notice things. She saw how your shoulders slagged when you came home from work past 9pm again, how getting out of bed became more and more of a struggle with each passing day, how you started needing two coffees instead of one to wake yourself up. She noticed how tired you were.

The two of you sat down on the couch one night, and she brought it up. She tentatively brushed the topic, unsure whether this was something you wanted to talk about, but soon enough you let your emotions flow and Alessia held you until you had calmed down enough to have a conversation about. You felt drained, really, and you wanted nothing more than to recharge in the arms of your lover. That night, Alessia promised you that she'd set up a date night for the two of you in the near future. And when the opportunity came around to do it on Sunday the 22nd, neither of you were even thinking about anything else but a night out.

You got ready in the bedroom, humming along to a song Alessia was playing on her speaker in the bathroom. Your girlfriend emerged a couple minutes later, and crossed the bedroom in a quick few strides. "You ready?" Alessia's eyes lit up and you felt a warm feeling of gratitude well up for the woman in front of you. No matter how busy it got, how rocky life would be, she was always there. Like a rock. Alessia always knew exactly what you needed, and you were so excited for your night out together. "Yeah, let's go." You grabbed her hand in yours and you made your way downstairs, locking up your apartment behind you and getting in the car.

Alessia expertly navigated the streets of London towards the Christmas fair. You parked the car up a couple blocks away, not wanting to deal with the struggle of trying to find parking closer by. You hooked your arm through your girlfriends, talking about everything and nothing as you strolled through the streets of London, making your way over to the fair.

The streets were busy, bustling with people wanting to soak up the Christmas atmosphere in the British capitol. It made you feel warm inside, a stark contrast to the icy temperatures outside. "God, it's cold." Alessia seemed to read your mind. "Yeah, I'm grateful for my hat and gloves." You chuckled, before an idea came to mind as you saw a hot drinks stall. "You wanna get a hot chocolate?" Alessia's eyes lit up as she met yours. "You know just how to make a girl happy."

Alessia and you walked around the fair for what felt like ages. You could feel the stress of the past couple weeks falling from your shoulders with each passing minute. This had been exactly what you needed, and you were so grateful to your girlfriend for organizing this for the both of you.

"Oh my God, babe," Alessia's voice pulled you out of your thoughts, her finger pointing to a small rifle range. "Look at their prizes." You looked up and saw a couple big teddy bears hanging from the roof of the stall. "You wanna go play?" You asked your girlfriend, giving her hand a little squeeze as she nodded eagerly.

Of course she won you the bear. In typical Alessia fashion, stealing the show as she hit every single one of the 40 bullets she had bought. "Here, for you." Alessia beamed as she took the bear from the man behind the counter and stretched it out towards you. "Thank you, my love." You took the bear from her and pressed a sweet kiss against her lips, placing your unoccupied hand on the back of her neck as she tried to pull away. You pulled her back into you and kissed her again, trying to pour all the love you had for her into the kiss. "Thank you for this. For tonight. I needed this," you whispered as you pressed your forehead against hers. "Anything for you." The teddy was almost as tall as you, and you were slightly struggling to carry it with you. Alessia picked up on it and took it from you, putting it on her shoulders, holding the bear up with one hand and holding yours with the other.

The next thing you found yourself wanting to try was the ferris wheel, although you had a slight feeling that your girlfriend would be wary of getting on. "Less," you started, drawing out her name a little as she cocked an eyebrow at you. "You wanna go on the ferris wheel?" You tried, a slight smile tugging at your lips, one you knew she'd find hard to resist. You didn't miss the groan that escaped her lips upon your question. She cocked an eyebrow at you. "Do we have to?" You chuckled and squeezed her hand that was holding yours.

"Please? For me?" "Ugh. Fine." "You're too easy, Russo." "Shut it or I'm throwing you off when we reach the top." "Empty threats, love. We all know that."

Alessia clung to your side the entire ride, clutching your hand in hers as your carriage started to reach the top. "I genuinely don't understand why people willingly go on things like this. What if something goes wrong and you just... fall?" You didn't want to ridicule your girlfriend, but you couldn't hold back the scoff that escaped your lips, to which you received a glare in response. "The odds for that happening are ridiculously low, love. It's not an irrational fear, but it's not gonna happen. Look, we're almost back down." Alessia felt a little guilty that her apprehension stopped you from enjoying the ride, but a quick few pecks and reassuring whispers meant for her and her only got her back feeling okay.

You strolled a little further, and as much as you were bundled up, the cold icy night was finding its way through your layers of clothes and started crawling across your body. Alessia noticed you were shivering and pulled you closer into her, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and clutching you tight against her body. You wrapped your arm around her midsection and were grateful for the warmth that still seemed to come from her body, the striker never having a cold bone in her body meaning you could always warm yourself up on her.

"You wanna get a hot chocolate? Maybe it'll help with the cold." You and Alessia had arrived at a hot drinks stall and she couldn't resist the smell of the fresh hot chocolate. You agreed, and soon you were both walking hand in hand, the two of you holding a hot chocolate in your unoccupied hand. It was glorious, really, a nice big steaming cup of hot chocolate with little marhsmallows on top. It warmed you up a little, easing the nagging feeling of the cold wind that still nipped at every sliver of skin it came across.

Your fingers and nose were red from the cold and your teeth were slightly chattering, but you wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else right now. Your girlfriend's hand clutched tight in yours, talking about everything and nothing as you strolled to London's Christmas fair. The Christmas joy cheered you up and helped ease away the last of your worries of how busy work had been the past couple weeks. You needed this, and just as always, Alessia knew.

You didn't stay much longer after having drank your hot chocolates, the cold starting to get a little too much for the two of you. So you drove home and settled on the couch together, a fuzzy blanket draped over your entangled bodies and a show on the tv that was more background noise than anything else. Alessia ran a comforting hand through your hair and rested her other one comfortably on the small of your back, pressing soft kisses against your crown as you slowly but surely eased off into a peaceful slumber on your girlfriend's chest.

Just before you fell asleep, though, you could hear a faint whisper coming from the woman underneath you. "I love you, darling." Alessia thought you were asleep, so was surprised to hear you reply. "Right back at you, love. Thank you for tonight." You accentuated your words with a firm kiss against her chest, right where your head was resting.

No matter how busy work would get, as long as you had your blonde lover to come home to and wrap your arms around, you felt like you could take on the whole world.

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #arsenal wfc #england wnt #lionesses

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miley1442111 · 6 months ago

Note

Heyyyy are you still requests?? If yes..................

Last night i relived a painful memory when a loved person told me to shut up in front of our friend group and it was so humiliating and overwhelming, i went dead silent for the rest of the month but still played cool with everyone and everyone knew i was destroyed, wasnt leaving home that much yet and the person who told me to shut up was going trough some shit (ON THAT DAY) and actually never apologized...

SO SORRY FOR THE VENT BUT IT WAS NECESSARY FOR THE PLOT I SWEAR.

What if the reader is the one being told to shut up by none other than RAFE CAMERON who is a very close friend and he told the reader to shut up out loud in the middle of a party in front of your friend group (Kelce and Topper) and the reader also play it cool but it collapse at themself like a dying star and all their light is sucked by the black hole it became. But unlike real life, Rafe doesnt need people telling him he fucked up and he felt terrible and a few weeks later he sees reader on a party, unusually quiet, being dragged by their friends around trying to cheer reader up and the reader still trying to play it cool but the damage was showing and maybe Rafe take the chance to approach you but he doesnt know what to say or what to do so he acts like nothing happened?? IM SORRY THIS IS SO CONFUNSING I JUST WOKE UP AND I HAD TO WRITE THAT BEFORE THE MEMORY FADED. Sorry if i made you feel uncomfortable, just ignore it if you didn like ittt!! I love your writting btw i'll never forget that one ask i did and you answered about Rafe choosing between reader and a lover!!!!

and ask 2:

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talking too much- r.cameron

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a/n: HELLO to the both of you! thank you two so much for requesting, and very sorry that this happened to you :( I'd let you talk my ear off about anything any time :) (ps, great song choice)

pairing: rafe cameron x fem! reader

summary: i suggest you look at the requests

warnings: reader kind of loses her spark, rafe is a confused and stressed asshole, reader becomes very insecure, feelings of not being good enough, rafe gets very stressed at the end (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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It was finally nearing the end of June and you were planning your 4th of July party with your friends. Topper, Kelce, Rafe, you, Sarah, and a few of your other friends sat around the table, thinking up ideas for what parties to drop into, and what you were going to wear, etc. You were excited, that was no crime. You’d always been the most excitable in the group, it was just part of your bubbly personality, there was no issue with it. No one had ever been more than a little irritated with it before, no big deal. You’d just apologise and remember to tone it down for those people, but your closest friends weren’t those people. Your closest friends liked your personality, your closest friends liked you. It didn’t matter how loud you were.

“And then I guess we’ll-”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe cursed.

The room went silent. You stood still, frozen as people’s eyes turned to you. Sarah offered a look of sympathy, she knew how much you valued Rafe’s opinion, especially since you had a slight crush on him. You felt yourself recoil. How could he be so rude? All you were doing was giving ideas to the group, it’s not like anyone else was trying to speak much, and Rafe definitely wasn’t adding to the conversation. At least, he hadn’t been for the past hour, just sitting in the corner with his leg bouncing and that stupid vein protruding from his stupid neck. You slumped back in your chair, embarrassment filling your mind as you thought over every other interaction with him and the group. Were you annoying? Did they all actually hate you?

“I don’t hear you talking much Rafe,” Sarah shot back. “Something to say?”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “Fuck off Sarah,” he scoffed and waited for you to bounce back and start speaking again. You didn’t. He looked up as the group started speaking again, going off of all the plans you’d started. You were just sitting there, on your phone.

You just waited until someone actually asked you a question to give your input, and even then all you said was; “Sounds good.”

He’d fucked up. Big time.

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

It had been a week since ‘the incident’, and Rafe hadn’t seen you. He felt awful, absolutely disgraced after what he’d said. He was stressed, it was a bad moment, and he took it out on you. He was sorry. But how was he supposed to tell you that? How was he supposed to explain how sorry he was, explain that he was just stressed? How would you believe him? You two had never been the closest in the friend group, not to say you two didn’t speak, but you two weren’t exactly attached at the hip like you were with Sarah, or Kelce. All you’d ever been to him was nice, not something he was sure he deserved, but he appreciated it all the same.

How could he get back to that?

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

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Sarah begged over the phone.

“I’m tired, I was working all day-”

“Come on, you’ve been dodging all week! 4th of July is coming up, I don’t want to hang out with Kelce and Top without you,” she whined,

“I’ll be there for the 4th, I’m just busy right now,” you sighed. “I promise I’m ok,” you lied.

“If you’re staying home because of what Rafe said, I’ll kill him,” she swore.

“I don’t give a shit about what Rafe said,” lie. “I’m just busy, promise.”

Sarah sighed. “Alright, see you on the 4th!”

And with that, you hung up. The last week had been one long pity-party that made you feel even worse about yourself, deciding that your friends were better off without you, especially when you can’t even bounce back from one tiny insignificant comment from one random guy. That’s what you thought anyway. But now, you had 3 days before the 4th, and you weren’t sure how you were going to get the courage to face any of them.

Not that they hadn’t reached out. Everyone who was there (aside from Rafe) had called or texted to ask if you were ok, and apologised for not saying anything. Kelce had felt the worst, since he was supposed to be your best friend, and he hadn’t said anything. You brushed them off, promising them it was fine, promising them you were fine. They barely believed you, but you somehow convinced them that you were busy. You told half of them that you were packing for your move, and the other half that you had gotten a job at your mom’s company. I mean, technically you were a few weeks out from moving away and you should be packing, and technically you did just get a job at your moms’ company (managing the online presence and doing admin work), but really both those jobs were easy. You could’ve done them for a few hours, then seen your friends. But you didn't want to. You didn’t want to feel like a burden.

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

The day of the 4th rolled around and Sarah picked you up with all the girls in the group in her car. You looked gorgeous in your short red dress, at least that’s what Sarah told you. You kept your mouth shut as the girls gossiped and sang along to songs, only interjecting when truly necessary. When you got to the beach, you managed to break away from the girls and get a drink, standing alone as you watched the night go by. You liked people watching, you found it interesting to see the small micro-expressions on peoples faces, the snippets of their conversations, and everything in between.

“Hi,” Rafe smiled softly. He was in front of you, blocking your view of the people you were looking at.

“Hi,” you answered meekly.

He stood there for a moment as you tried to look over his shoulder, but the group were gone. You sighed in defeat and turned around to pour yourself another drink.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Fine thanks,” you answered. “You?”

“Good, fine… yeah,” the awkwardness in his voice almost made you physically cringe. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“It’s been like a week?” you questioned. In the past week, Rafe had realised how much he missed you, and how much you added to the group. He missed how you brightened up everyone, how you kept the peace by being close with almost everyone, how you made him laugh.

“What have you been up to?” He scratched the back of his neck, his nerves almost getting the better of him, almost making him turn around and not do this. Almost.

“Not much. Working, packing, usual stuff,” you shrugged.

Rafe’s expression faltered. “Packing?”

“I’m moving in a few weeks,” you explained. “So you won't see me for a while.”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Absolutely not.

Rafe felt his stomach sink. “Why?”

“‘Why’ what Rafe?” you asked, genuinely confused. Why, out of all people, would he care?

“Where?”

“Just main-land, but a bit further into the city so I’m moving schools,” you shrugged.

“But it’s our senior year?”

“Yeah? And?”

“We all said we’d do it together, remember?”

“It wasn’t my choice to move,” you scoffed. “And also, why are you acting like this is new information? Tonight is my ‘last hurrah’ get-together. We’re doing the stupid sleepover.”

“W-what?”

“We didn’t invite you,” Sarah butted in. “You were a dick, now you reap the consequences.”

You rolled your eyes at the shocked look on Rafe’s face. “Night Rafe, see you around.”

Rafe stood frozen as you walked away, shocked. Had he really not been listening for so long? Had he really missed that? You were moving, you were gone. And there was nothing he could do about it.

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obx masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

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chaotic-mystery · 2 months ago

Text

Code Red | Chapter Eleven: I Only See Daylight

Pairing: No outbreak AU dbf!Joel Miller x f!OC (told in 2nd POV)

Summary: You're back in Texas after going on vacation with Joel and needless to say, shit hits the fan.

Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his forties), slow burn, written in 2nd POV, no use of y/n, broken father/daughter relationship, daddy issues, dd/lg relationship dynamic, serious conversations about kid(s), allusions to sex & taking photos during sex, swearing, mentions of drinking, reader smokes & sometimes Joel, A new song introduced to the universe!, hidden relationship, Joel wanting to fight your dad, the start of everything falling apart. Texts shared between reader & Joel.

Authors Note: Here we are. I know I haven't touched this story since May 14th and I'm not done with them quite yet. I plan to write ahead moving forward so I don't leave anyone on a cliffhanger. This is 100000% not beta'd (I didn't want to burden anybody) so the mistakes are all moi. There's little eggs hidden of when this was written and I hope you giggle when you catch them. Thank you if you're still reading their story, I don't plan on leaving again <3

|| wc: 4.8K || divider by @/anitalenia || previous chapter || series masterlist || main masterlist ||

It had been a few days since that night Sharon came by and woke you up at two in the morning, sticking her nose in your business about Joel.

She was only worried about your dad finding out and how he would react, she said she didn’t tell your mom and nothing seemed different when you went over to her house to drive into town to shop, but it was eating away at you if she was actually putting on a show just like you had been.

Sharon warned you to be safe and reminded you she was there if you needed anything but the way she was going about this worried you. She failed to mention how you should break it to Sarah and you hadn’t even begun to think about how to have that conversation with her. Do you just…show up on the porch one day and tell her you’ve been seeing her dad for almost the past year?

Scratch that, that’s a terrible idea. It was a conversation to be had with Joel and the last thing you wanted was to feel like you were replacing her as the number one woman in his life. All you ever dealt with as a kid was your dads girlfriends making it feel like a competition for who he loved the most and unfortunately you were never a first place winner.

“Honey? Do you like this?” Your mom’s voice becomes clearer as you’re once again yanked from the seat inside your thoughts to the present time.

The bright green hoodie she was holding up was so bright you damn near needed sunglasses just to lay eyes on it. Every muscle in your face fights to make a disgusted look but knowing your mom would be upset, you keep a straight face and quickly scan the metal racks surrounding you for a different option to counter it. Like a magnet, the pink hoodie with chunky writing on the back nearly jumps off the hanger and into your arms.

“I think this one is a little more me, you think?”

She nods her head and takes it from you, throwing it over her bent arm in front of her body. She told you to pick out something from the souvenir shop and she’d pay for it, also meaning to find something for Joel. What could he possibly want from here? He wasn’t really a hoodie kind of guy, especially not down in Texas when he was outside practically all the time. He had more than enough trucker hats to last him the rest of his life.

“So tell me more about Joel, sweetheart, what’s his normal life like?”

“Well, he’s my boss but that happened after we started dating. Umm, I mean he’s my neighbor which was also before we started dating, promise I didn’t move closer to him just because we’re together.”

Your mom nods with a small smile, her face relaxing as you soothe her mind in knowing she taught you well not to move so fast with someone you hardly know.

“He um, he’s got a kid..” you scratch your head and spin around to look at the clothes behind you, her eyes burning into the back of your skull. “..it’s really not that big of a deal, I don’t think. I haven’t really met her yet. I don’t want her to feel like I’m trying to replace her mom or take her dad from her.” The quiver in your voice surprises you both and your mom spins you back around, rubbing your arm caringly.

You were terrified, truthfully. Telling Sarah about your relationship scared the shit out of you. Even thinking about Joel asking you to be responsible with Sarah scared the life from you.

“Mommy, I’m so scared. What if she doesn’t like me and he breaks up with me? I mean, I wouldn’t want him to stay with me if she’s unhappy about it. I just…I love him.” Your voice was just above a whisper and the words felt as if they were slicing your throat on the way out.

She says nothing as her lips pursed together into a frown and pulls you into her arms, hugging you tightly. Once more you felt like a little girl needing the comfort of your mother when things got tough.

“You’ll be okay, I know it. Listen to me-” her hands grip your face to keep eye contact with you before she continues. “-you know better than anyone what that feels like and you’d do anything to protect that little girl, even if that means not seeing him anymore. You don’t have it in you to be that cruel. Just be yourself and she’ll see how happy you make him.”

Hearing testaments about your character always made you feel weird inside. It was never easy hearing how other people see you, especially when it’s positive. You look at her and she smiles assuringly before kissing the top of your forehead.

“Come on, let’s find something for Sarah.”

Holding onto the little beaded keychain in your hand, your mom pulls up to the quaint cabin you unfortunately had to say goodbye to tomorrow and she rubs your arm softly.

“You’ll be okay, sweetheart. Just be honest with him about your feelings with this. It’s all valid.”

You breathe in deeply and release the air out of your mouth, nodding at her.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to go see him. I love you, I’ll stop by on the way to the airport.”

You hated goodbyes. So it wasn’t saying goodbye to her, it was just telling her you’d see her later. You kiss her cheek and grab your bag of goodies from between your legs on the floor before getting out, standing out of the way so she could pull off. Jiggling the plastic bag in your hand nervously, you dig around in your purse until you feel the smooth carton of cigarettes and lighter clanking around inside.

The gray flint rubs against the pad of your thumb as you ignite the cigarette held between your lips, walking up to the small wooden porch to sit in the white rocking chair under the window. Too many thoughts about Sarah and all the ways she could react flood your thoughts again as you take a big drag to erase it all. Joel pushes the screen door open just enough to slip through and he nudges your knee gently.

“Hungry? Made BLT sandwiches if you want one.” Joel presses a kiss to your cheek before taking the cigarette from between your fingers and taking a drag.

“Tempting, maybe. I got you something from town, though!” You try to make it seem like you weren’t bothered by anything but he could read you like a goddamn book.

You were his favorite one.

His eyes fell to the bright blue shirt you were pulling out of the plastic bag, chuckling to himself before he even got to see the design. You finally get it out and flip it towards him so Joel could see what you picked out for him.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. This is awesome.”

Joel’s fingers trace over the goofy design of the state drawn as an old fashioned cartoon with feet holding it up and bright yellow letters across the top. He stares at the piece of clothing for longer than normal, continuously rubbing over the painted letters. The thought of you buying it for him, spending the time to find something he would wear, it meant a lot to him and it was written all over his face.

“Thank you, baby. I love it.”

Joel sets it in the chair next to you and places both hands on either side of your chair, leaning down until he’s eye level with you.

“My pretty girl, what’re you thinkin’ about in here?” As he finishes saying his sentence he bumps his forehead into yours, resting them together comfortably.

Joel turns his face to the side for a moment to take another drag of the shared cigarette and he blows the smoke quickly to return back in position. Your eyes close as you relax against his touch, the slight breeze rustling against the trees and drowning out the sound of your mind screaming at you. The dooming thoughts of Sarah knowing about this could wait, you were here with the man of your dreams, having the time of your life and it was the last night before you had to unfortunately return to Texas and go back to hiding something you were so proud of.

“I just wish we could run away somewhere where we don't have to hide our relationship. Where I can walk into the grocery store with you and not worry about still holding your hand, wondering if someone who knows my dad is gonna turn the corner and see it. I just- I want to love you loudly like you deserve. You aren’t meant to be a secret.”

Joel’s right hand rests on your crossed leg, rubbing your calf to ease you.

“I’ll give you everything you could ever want and more, I swear it. How much time do I have to give it to you, though?”

“I’ve got enough time for you, Miller. Not too long though, I’m not a patient person, ya know.”

The thought of waiting an eternity for Joel Miller didn’t sound so bad, at least not to you.

Every now and then you would get this feeling in your stomach thinking about Joel and how much you really did care for him and love him. It wasn’t a feeling you could quite pinpoint. The depth of sadness would overcome you just at the idea of losing him, knowing one day his footsteps wouldn’t grace this earth anymore. It was always sitting in the back of your mind, poking at you to love whatever time you got with him, because one day there wasn’t going to be this.

“I love you, you know that?” Joel asks and kisses your lips before you can answer.

The kiss quickly turns passionate and he backs up with your lips still glued to his, your body carrying you with every step he takes into the house. Joel leads you to the bedroom and tosses you on the bed lovingly, admiring the way your beautiful eyes glowed in the golden ray of sunlight seeping through the flowy curtains.

“Let’s enjoy our last night here, yeah?”

You grab your camera from the pocket of your sundress and grin at Joel, the gears turning inside his mind as he catches on.

“To our last night.”

Running on a few hours of sleep and the coffee not doing its job in your body, you yawn again as your Uber pulls up to your moms house. This was the part you were dreading the most, seeing your mom torn up that you’re leaving again.

“Cmon, Mom, I gotta get going!” The fake happy tone was so apparent but it was easier to keep her up in good spirits if you pretended to be okay.

Your mom comes around the corner from the kitchen, her hand towel tossed over her shoulder as she always did when she was doing dishes. She wipes her hands dry and hugs you so tight it feels like your eyes are going to pop out.

“I love you so much, mommy. I’ll call you when I get back to Texas and I’m home safe, I swear it.” Fuck, and just like that, the quiver in your voice makes you start to break and before you can collect yourself, tears slipping from your eyes.

“I love you more, my baby. Have a safe flight, okay? Who knows, maybe I’ll come see you for the holidays in a few months.” She laughs to keep herself from crying but it only goes so far before you can feel her body jolt with every sob.

The tight grip of her arms around your neck makes you giggle between your tears and she squeezes you once more before letting you go, standing up straight to get a good look at you before letting you leave her again and go spread your wings back to your home.

“Come on, you’ve got a plane to catch!”

You take her hand in yours and walk to your Uber, Joel getting out immediately to give her a hug goodbye. As you circle around the back of the car to get inside, you can’t help but notice Joel and your mom having some sort of quiet conversation you weren’t privy to. Swallowing dryly and wanting so bad to know what they were talking about, you climbed into the backseat of the car to give them privacy. Though it bothered you enough to dig your fingernail into the side of your thumb, you knew deep down it wasn’t anything bad they were sharing back and forth.

Joel opens the door before finishing his goodbye to your mom.

“Bye, we’ll see you soon!” He grins and gets inside the car, buckling up before waving to her as your driver starts to pull off. There was no shot in hell you could look at her as you drove away, not if you wanted to get to the airport with minimal tears.

Joel intertwined his fingers in yours and kisses the top of your hand to console you, take your mind off the fact you just left your mom again.

It felt different this time, leaving her house. When you first left almost a year ago, you were beside yourself and so confused about what to do with your life, thinking you’d be making the right choice to chase your dad for one last shot at something with him, anything.

But, here you were now, hand in hand with the asshole you didn’t mean to fall for, crying over the two weeks you spent with him and your mom, watching him get to know her and love her the way you do.

“Here, take this.” Joel holds out his wired headphone and you place it in your right ear, waiting to hear the music start.

All of the anxiety, love, fearfulness, joy, everything starts to mix together as the lyrics come over the stringed instrument.

Woah, my love, my darling

I've hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time

And time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Your tears well in your eyes until you can feel them about to fall, causing you to turn your head to look out the window, not wanting Joel to know you were crying.

You had to give it to him though, playing the Righteous Brothers was such a Joel move and yet, you never saw it coming.

Your heartbeat speeds up and it’s like you could feel the blood coursing your veins, the impending doom of not knowing how anything was going to be once you returned to Texas was going to send your body into overdrive.

It was close to seven by the time you and Joel got back home, the streetlights glowing that familiar orange light at the beginning of your block as the sun started to go down behind the trees ahead of you. His hand rests comfortably on your thigh, rubbing slow circles into the fabric of your sweatpants as you two softly sing along to the radio playing a song from Queen, another fitting song for the moment.

Under Pressure.

As Joel’s pulling in front of your houses, the sheer panic of seeing your dads vehicle in Joel’s driveway sends your anxiety through the roof, your legs instantly unfolding from the passenger seat to sit straight up, trying to make it not look like what it was.

“Did you know he was going to be here? What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Uhhh, I don’t know why he’s here, baby. Just stay calm, okay? I got this.” Joel winks at you and turns the truck off, getting out to see what your dad wants. You sit there for a moment and contemplate sitting still until he leaves but who knows how long that would be. Swallowing harshly, you get out and stretch before you make your way to where your dad and Joel were standing at the end of the driveway.

“Hi, sweetheart. Where’ve you been?”

“Michigan, I went to go see mom” you say bluntly as you take your suitcases out of Joel’s truck in a bit of a rush, trying not to let Joel’s bags be seen. Your dad takes a puff of his cigarette and you can hear the snicker from him as a response to your business in Michigan.

“And Joel came to get you? What did you bribe him with?” The dig at the both of you causes your brows to knit together in confusion at what he was trying to get at.

“She didn’t bribe me with anything, asshat. She’s a good girl, she just couldn’t get a reliable friend to come get her, that’s all.”

What your dad couldn’t see was Joel’s fist behind his back, opening and closing slowly to to calm himself down and not stick your dad right in his mouth for speaking about you that way. One day he would make him see you as a person and not some doormat he can walk all over, but it wasn’t going to happen today. Joel was too exhausted and worn out to be arrested.

Your dad’s face changes when Joel sticks up for you and he clears his throat before flicking his cigarette butt into the street and tucking his beefy hands in his front pockets.

“I know, I’m just messin’.”

“Well, um…thanks for coming to get me Joel. I appreciate it.” You hold out your hand for a handshake just to see if he takes the bait. The corner of his mouth turns up just enough for you to notice and falls back into place as he holds out his hand, shaking yours firmly.

He takes one last glance at you before you take your bags and walk to your house, your face warm to the touch with the mixture of embarrassment and the need to walk right back up to him and kiss him the exact way you had been in public for the last two weeks.

But you couldn’t.

He wasn’t yours until he wanted to go public.

Once you get inside and drop the bags off your shoulders to the floor, you tug your phone out of the pocket on your purse.

8:11 PM [you]: I Miss you :( Come over when he’s gone?

8:24 PM [Joel]: I miss you too sweetheart. He just needs some tools, guess he’s setting up for a pool party tomorrow? Leave your bedroom lamp on if you want me to come by when he’s done.

8:30 PM [you]: Oh? Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get an invite from him ;)

8:31 PM [you]: Aye aye, sir.

You set your phone down on the counter before you drag the luggage bags upstairs to the dimly lit bedroom you’ve missed so dearly. The piles of clothes you left on the floor pad your footsteps as you try to find the lightswitch on the wall, lighting up the room to see just how disastrous you left it.

It needed a good clean and it was on your agenda for tomorrow, for now you’re too tired to do anything besides rot on your couch and get caught up on Love Island, seeing how you missed the first couple of episodes while you were away.

Rubbing the back of your neck while you scan the room, the sadness starts to settle in that you miss Joel.

You were independent, sure, but being so close the past two weeks without having to hide with stolen glances and tender brushes of your hands behind the backs of everyone was really starting to get to you.

Why did he have to be your dad’s best friend?

The TV drowned out your thoughts long enough to cause you to fall asleep on the living room sofa, attempting to wait for Joel to return. You reach down and grab your phone off the floor that had fallen a little while ago, opening it up to the text thread between you and Joel.

8:30 PM [you]: Oh? Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get an invite ;)

9:02 PM [you]: Are you almost done? I wanna cuddle.

9:44 PM [you]: You’re missing a really good episode of Love Island. Remind me to get you a pair of overalls.

The last message you sent was a half hour ago and still response. You get up and walk into your kitchen, peeking out the window that faced Joel’s house. The lights downstairs were on, that was the most you could see. No shadows, nothing. Wondering where they were, you put on your shoes and walk out to your car, clutching the throw blanket draped over your shoulders as if it were a cape.

You just came outside to grab something from your car, at least that was the story you were sticking with if you got busted by anyone. Opening the driver's side door and looking around, you see Joel’s garage door open and the two of them sitting in lawn chairs in the middle of the room, a few beer cans at Joel’s feet. So this is where he’s been the last two hours?

You grab a tube of lip balm from the cup holder and close the door firmly, going back inside the house before you were spotted. With your back against the front door, you slide off your shoes and contemplate leaving the door unlocked for him. He didn’t have a key and you wanted him to spend the night, but he’d be more upset if you left it unlocked and fell asleep.

Grabbing the deadbolt latch and locking the door, you sigh and walk back to the living room to pick up the mess you made. You fold the blanket back up and lay it across the back of the couch, grab your phone, and start making your way upstairs again.

Sleep. You wanted to sleep.

The glow from your lamp in the corner by the window illuminated just enough to let you see a clear path to your bed. Stopping to dig out your camera from your bag, you grab it and walk over to your bed. The wind blows in your window and causes the lace curtain to touch your leg, making you turn around to look outside once more before turning off the lamp and crawling into your bed.

You turn on your camera and look through the last two weeks of your life and the creeping melancholia comes over you. Photos of Joel in the ice cream parlor, the two of you playing cards with your mom, little moments you’ll have forever. He hated being in photos when you first met him, now he couldn’t resist smiling as big as he could when your camera was out.

It was a little past ten when you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand behind you. Too tired to answer it or to even move, you settle down into your bed further until you fall asleep.

10:21 PM [Joel]: I’m sorry sweetheart. Didn’t know he’d be over that long. Sweet dreams. Proud you locked the front door. Love you.

The message was the second thing you woke up to this morning. The first thing was Joel on your front porch with a bag from the grocery store with breakfast ingredients inside. He kissed your cheek after making his way to the kitchen. Hours after he made you two breakfast, you got dressed for the day.

“Forgot to tell you, I did get invited to your dads pool party. He said he’d text you about it.”

Joel wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you against him gently while you adjust your necklace. His chin rests in the crook of your neck and looks at you through the mirror in front of you.

“He won’t. I could just show up and crash the party though.”

“It would make it so much better, I’ll tell you that right now, baby. We should probably go separately though. Best we lay low for a while.”

Lay low for a while. Right.

Joel turns you around and cups your face. “Don’t give me that look, that’s not fair.”

You stop pouting and groan loudly before putting your forehead on his chest. Joel kisses your head and stands you straight up, kissing your cheeks until you smile. You kiss his lips passionately and stand still as he starts to make his exit.

“No pouting today. It’s a pout free day. Let’s get rollin’ baby. I love you, I’ll see you there okay?”

Joel taps the door frame as you nod and he grins, walking downstairs and you don’t move until you hear the front door close.

The music booms out of the speakers in your dads backyard and it overpowers your car radio as you pull into the driveway, parked right next to Joel’s truck.

You walk in the front door and head to the kitchen where you hear voices echoing off the walls. A few of your dad’s colleagues stand there chatting away with small plates of finger food in their hands, colorful solo cups scattered along the countertop with various types of drinks.

The kitchen looked amazing. You hadn’t seen it completed since Joel finished working on it. He was damn good at his job and you felt so proud of him, even if I was unfortunately at your dads house.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” The hair on your arms raises at the annoying tone of Janet.

“Kitchen looks nice, sure hope you paid him well” you snark back, a little cattier than you anticipated.

She smiles sarcastically and walks towards the room behind you. Joel strolls in with your dad in tow, tugging on Joel’s white t-shirt as they laugh and you can barely make out what they’re talking about.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Joel asks as he leans his hip against the counter and pours a drink for himself.

You try to avoid looking him in the eyes as best as you can but you only last a few seconds. Right on cue Joel has that grin on his face, the one you only see when he’s with you. The one that holds back so many things he wishes to say.

Janet walks back to the side of your dad like the good pet she prides herself to be, Joel standing next to you, not nearly as close as you’d like.

“So, your dad tells me you went to Michigan? How’d you get so much time off already when you just started working?” Janet smirks and hides it with her cup, narrowing her eyes onto you.

You ready up a loaded answer when Joel starts speaking before you.

“I gave her the time off, no questions asked. I knew she missed her mom and felt she’d be more energized at work if she got some time from here. She does good work for me.” Dad and Janet couldn’t register his tone like you could. They were far too out of touch to see he was talking to them as if they were children. A subtle tone change was enough for you to notice his feelings on the question Janet had no business asking.

“I stopped by your office the other day to give you the final check and Tommy said you were out of town?”

Joel doesn’t shift his body once.

“Yeah, went to go get some wood out northeast.” His fake smile was enough to shut her up for now. It’s dancing too close for comfort and only she seems to notice the damning timelines. Your dad wasn’t putting the pieces fast enough like Janet was.

“Can someone show me where the coolers are? I need a drink” you ask awkwardly, trying to remove yourself from this clusterfuck.

Joel steps backwards and motions for you to go ahead in front of him. You set your bag down in the barstool right by the counter and walk outside trying to shake every bit of that conversation off of you.

The lights were getting brighter as the sun continued to set, people mingling with you and Joel, talking about whatever. It was nice to hear other people’s life stories and how shitty their day-to-day life was.

Janet comes out and makes a b-line towards you, your pink camera in her grubby hand.

“You wanna explain this?” She asks in that smartass tone she always uses when she knows something you don’t. As she tosses the device to you, it lands screen faced up and on a photo of you and Joel on the beach your mom took.

So much for laying low.

135 notes · View notes

loveanton · 6 months ago

Text

honestly | song eunseok

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: you always thought that jung sungchan would forever be a part of your life, never once imagining a world where the two of you didn't speak let alone get along. now, three months have come to pass since you last spoke to the man you once thought you’d marry and you're starting to become content with the idea that maybe your world doesn't have to revolve around jung sungchan after all.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: eunseok x f!reader ft sungchan

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: friends to almost lovers!au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 8.7k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: lots of kissing, drinking, eunseok and sungchan almost fight, they shower together, nipple sucking, slight choking, arguing between the reader and eunseok, this is more suggestive than pt 1.

⏤ 𝑎/n: this is a pt 2 to everything i didn’t say which you can find here!

You giggle as you sneak another spoonful of Eunseok's ice cream, your eyes twinkling with mischief. He tries to push you away gently, laughing.

"Hey, get your own!" He giggles. Despite his playful resistance, he relents, offering you another bite. You grin, accepting the spoonful with a delighted hum.

Beomgyu watches the two of you, shaking his head with a grin. "Eunseok, you my friend, are so whipped."

Karina nudges him with her elbow. "Shut up, Beomgyu. They're cute together."

It's a warm evening, and the group of you—Jake, Anton, Beomgyu, Yujin, and Karina—are seated at a booth inside the ice cream parlor, enjoying the summer night. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and the occasional jibe.

As you savor the stolen bite of Eunseok’s soft serve, your thoughts drift back over the past few months. It's hard to believe it's been three months since you last spoke to Sungchan, the man you imagined marrying. You never thought a world where the two of you didn't speak, let alone didn't get along, could ever exist. But here you are, beginning to accept that maybe your world doesn't have to revolve around Sungchan after all.

These three months have been a period of self-discovery and healing. You’ve spent time figuring out who you are apart from Sungchan. The first few weeks were the hardest. The memories of him were everywhere, and it felt like a part of you was missing. But slowly, you began to find solace in new routines and new friendships. Eunseok and his friends became your anchor. They took you in, and their warmth and kindness made the pain of Sungchan’s absence bearable.

For too long all you ever knew was Sungchan, ending the toxicity that had become your friendship has been doing you good. Karina and Yujin took you under their wing and treated you as a sister, often coming over to your dorm for sleepovers and staying up late to listen to you vent about how hurt you were. Jake, Anton and Jake also became like brothers, for too long you only ever had Sungchan to depend on. It’s so refreshing having other guys in your life who add to it in such a positive way. They don’t leave you in a state of confusion or go out of their way to intentionally hurt you, they constantly love on you and do what they can to make sure you feel that love.

Eunseok, especially, had been your rock. He was always there when the memories got too overwhelming, offering a shoulder to cry on. He made you laugh when the stress of classes was too much and was there to celebrate your small victories. Most importantly, he loved you in a way you wished Sungchan had.

A week ago, Eunseok had asked you out, and without hesitation, you had accepted. Since then, things have been going great. You feel lighter, happier, and more yourself than you have in a long time.

Returning to the present, you smile as Eunseok offers you another bite of his ice cream, his eyes soft with affection. "You know, I think you like my ice cream more than your own," he says, his tone playful.

You shrug, leaning in to accept the spoonful. "Maybe I just like you more," you reply with a wink.

He chuckles and leans in to kiss your cheek, but just as his lips brush your skin, the door to the ice cream parlor opens. Your heart skips a beat as Sungchan walks in, accompanied by Shotaro and Wonbin.

Your eyes meet Sungchan’s, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. Sungchan’s expression is a mix of surprise and something else – a flicker of jealousy. He sees you with Eunseok, the way you’re so comfortable and happy together, and it’s clear that it affects him. His roommate is now the person holding you, the one who makes you smile.

You feel a pang of sadness at the sight of Sungchan. You were once so close, but now you’re strangers. The realization of how much has changed is bittersweet. Yet, beneath the sadness, there is a sense of satisfaction.

Sungchan and his friends approach the counter to order, and you can’t help but steal glances in his direction. It’s strange to see him like this, to be so close yet feel so distant. Part of you wants to go over and talk to him, to bridge the gap that’s grown between you. But another part of you feels smug, enjoying the way Eunseok holds you and the way Sungchan seems to react to it.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Eunseok asks quietly, noticing your distraction.

You shake your head. “No, I’m okay. Let’s stay.”

He nods and squeezes your hand, giving you a reassuring smile. Your group continues their light-hearted banter, trying to maintain the cheerful atmosphere despite the tension that has entered the room.

You can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Seeing Sungchan again stirs up old memories and feelings, but you also feel a sense of pride in your new relationship. Eunseok has been everything you needed and more, and you’re grateful for his unwavering support and love.

Sungchan and his friends walk over to your group, their expressions casual but their presence adding a palpable tension. Anton looks up, a forced smile on his face as he greets them. "Hey, Sungchan, Shotaro, Wonbin."

"Hey, Anton," Sungchan replies, his eyes flickering towards you and Eunseok before quickly looking away.

The rest of your friends exchange wary glances, not particularly pleased to see Sungchan and his entourage. However, they tolerate his presence due to Anton's connection with him through the swim team. Anton shifts uncomfortably before reluctantly asking, "Do you guys want to join us?"

Eunseok’s grip on you tightens slightly, his protective side showing. You can feel his unease, and you lean into him, offering silent support. Sungchan and his friends agree, pulling up chairs to join your booth. The atmosphere shifts, becoming awkward and tense.

Sungchan attempts to break the silence with small talk. "So, how’s everyone been?"

Karina doesn’t hide her disdain, her tone sharp. "Better, now that we don’t have any toxic people around."

Jake snickers at her comment, leaning back in his chair. "Play nice, Karina."

Sungchan brushes off the remark, forcing a smile. "It’s good to see you too, Karina."

The tension is almost tangible as you all sit together, the easy camaraderie from earlier now strained. Wonbin, trying to lighten the mood, chimes in, "Hey, we were thinking of going to a rave tonight. You guys interested?"

Your friends exchange uncertain looks. They seem reluctant, knowing that you and Eunseok might not be keen on the idea, especially with Sungchan present. Eunseok speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Actually, we have plans for tonight. We’re going on a date."

Sungchan’s eyes flicker with a mixture of emotions – jealousy, regret, and something else you can’t quite place. He stares at you and Eunseok, his discomfort evident. The group remains silent for a moment before Beomgyu breaks it, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Will Yuri be there?"

Sungchan’s expression hardens slightly. "No, we’ve broken up, so I doubt it."

You and Eunseok share a look but don’t comment. The dynamics of your friend group have shifted so much in the past months, and seeing Sungchan now feels like looking at a stranger. Despite the tension, there’s a sense of closure in knowing you’ve moved on to something healthier and more fulfilling.

Eunseok glances at his watch, then at you. "We should probably get going. We have to head to the trampoline park."

The mention of your date brings a soft smile to your lips. "Yeah, we don’t want to be late."

Sungchan’s gaze lingers on you both, his jealousy more palpable now. He opens his mouth as if to say something but then closes it, swallowing his words. Anton tries to lighten the mood one last time. "Have fun, you two."

You and Eunseok gather your things, saying your goodbyes to the group. As you stand up to leave, Eunseok’s hand finds yours, his touch reassuring. You cast one last glance at Sungchan, noting the mix of emotions on his face – a stark contrast to the happiness you feel with Eunseok.

Outside, the sun is still blazing, but the air feels lighter. Eunseok looks at you, his eyes full of warmth and affection. "Are you okay?"

You nod, squeezing his hand. "I’m more than okay. I’m with you."

As you walk towards the trampoline park, the memories of Sungchan fade into the background. What matters now is the present – the love and happiness you’ve found with Eunseok and the new friendships that have become a significant part of your life.

When you arrive at the trampoline park, it’s a kaleidoscope of colors and motion, filled with laughter and the sound of bouncing springs. As you and Eunseok enter, you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his smile infectious.

“You ready to jump?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.

You nod eagerly. “Absolutely.”

Eunseok pays for both your entrance fees and leads you towards the cubbies meant for your personal items. The two of you kick off your shoes and step onto the trampolines, the soft mats beneath your feet making you feel like you’re walking on clouds. With a playful grin, Eunseok starts bouncing, his movements light and effortless. You follow suit, giggling as you try to match his rhythm.

“Bet you can’t catch me!” you call out, jumping higher and moving to another trampoline.

“Oh, you’re on!” he replies, laughter bubbling up as he chases after you.

You both jump from one trampoline to the next, the exhilaration making your heart race. At one point, Eunseok reaches out and catches your hand, pulling you close as you both bounce together. The world around you blurs into a joyful whirlwind, and all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand in yours and the sound of his laughter.

After a while, you both decide to take a break. You find a spot to sit on the edge of the trampoline area, still holding hands. Your cheeks are flushed from the exercise and laughter, and you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

Eunseok looks at you, his expression softening. “This is fun. I’m glad we came here.”

“Me too,” you reply, leaning your head against his shoulder.

He hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath. “So, um… Sungchan.”

You tense slightly, but you knew this topic would come up sooner or later. You lift your head to meet his gaze, waiting for him to continue.

“His breakup with Yuri…” Eunseok says quietly. “I just… I want to make sure you’re okay. I know it’s a lot to process, and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

You smile gently, appreciating his concern. “Eunseok, this doesn’t change anything for me. Sungchan and I… we had our time, and it’s over. I’m with you now, and I’m really happy with you. I want to build something new with you, not dwell on the past.”

Relief washes over Eunseok’s face, and he pulls you into a hug. “I’m so glad to hear that,” he murmurs into your hair. “You mean a lot to me, and I just want you to be happy.”

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. “Thank you, Eunseok. For everything. I don’t think I’ve said it enough these past three months, but thank you for being there for me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

His smile is warm and tender. “You don’t have to thank me. I care about you a lot, and I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

You feel a swell of emotion, and you lean in to kiss him softly. It’s a sweet, lingering kiss, full of promise and affection. When you pull away, you see nothing but love and happiness in his eyes.

“Let’s keep jumping,” you say with a grin, wanting to prolong this perfect moment.

Eunseok laughs and helps you to your feet. “Let’s do it.”

Hand in hand, you return to the trampolines, ready to lose yourselves in the joy of the present. The memories of Sungchan continue to fade into the background, replaced by the bright, new memories you’re creating with Eunseok.

The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow over Anton’s sprawling backyard. His house, the largest in your friend group, is the perfect setting for a summer pool party. The smell of barbecue wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and splashing water.

You’re lying on a lounger, soaking up the sun with your eyes closed, enjoying the warmth on your skin. You can hear the cheerful chatter of your friends, the occasional burst of laughter, and the rhythmic splashes from the pool. Anton, ever the host, approaches, casting a shadow over you.

"Hey, are you just going to tan all day, or are you actually going to get in the pool?" Anton asks, grinning down at you.

You snort, opening one eye to look up at him. "No way. I just got my hair done."

Anton shakes his head, chuckling. "Loser," he teases before wandering off to join his swim team friends.

You laugh, watching him go. Anton’s always been the life of the party, effortlessly moving between groups and making everyone feel included. Your attention shifts as Eunseok emerges from the pool, water dripping from his hair and glistening on his toned body. He takes a seat beside you, leaning in to kiss you. You blush but indulge him, savoring the taste of his lips.

Ever since your first kiss at the trampoline park a week ago, the two of you haven’t been able to keep your hands off each other. It’s a constant source of amusement—and occasional irritation—for your friends.

"Seriously? Again?" Jake shouts in complaint from the pool, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "Get a room!"

Eunseok flips him off without breaking the kiss, making you giggle. He finally pulls back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on, let’s get something to eat."

He takes your hand, helping you up from the lounger. As you walk towards the house, Beomgyu and Jake make exaggerated gagging noises.

"Anton, you better clean the sheets before your parents come back!" Beomgyu calls out, laughing.

"Use protection!" Jake adds, his tone playful.

Eunseok laughs and flips off the pair, yelling over his shoulder, “fuck off!”

Yujin, ever the voice of reason, rolls her eyes at them. "Will you two grow up and find someone to lay you so you can stop riding, ____’s dick."

Inside the house, the air is cooler, a welcome relief from the heat outside. You make your way to the kitchen, where a large fruit platter awaits. Sohee, your new friend from organic chemistry, is there, arranging more food. You’d convinced Anton to invite him, thinking he’d fit in well with the group. He greets the two of you as Eunseok starts plating different food for you. Sohee lets you know he’s going out to join Anton by the pool before waving goodbye.

Eunseok picks up a piece of fruit and holds it out to you. "Here, try this."

You take a bite, savoring the sweetness. "Mmm, it’s good."

He grins and leans in, kissing you right after you swallow the pineapple. The kiss deepens quickly, and before you know it, Eunseok has you cornered against the counter, his hands roaming your body as your mouths move together in a passionate dance.

Just then, Sungchan walks in, looking for a beer. He scoffs at the sight of you and Eunseok, causing you to pull away abruptly. Eunseok places himself protectively in front of you, not wanting Sungchan to see you in your bathing suit.

"People eat in here, you know," Sungchan sneers. "You’re disgusting."

Embarrassed, you start to apologize, but Eunseok cuts you off. "Just get your beer and go, Sungchan. No need to be rude."

Sungchan doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing. He’s clearly a little tipsy and looking for a fight. You can sense the tension building and decide it’s best to defuse the situation. You tug on Eunseok’s arm. "Come on, let’s go. It’s not worth it."

Eunseok reluctantly allows you to pull him away, his eyes still locked on Sungchan. Once you’re back outside, the lively atmosphere of the pool party helps you forget the encounter. Your friends are laughing and playing games, completely oblivious to the brief confrontation inside.

Beomgyu spots you and waves you over. "Hey, come join us!"

You and Eunseok make your way to the poolside, rejoining the group. Anton is in the middle of a cannonball competition with Jake, their playful rivalry adding to the festive mood. You take a seat on the edge of the pool, dipping your feet into the cool water.

"So, what did you guys find to eat?" Karina asks, lounging on a float nearby.

"Just some fruit and maybe each other's faces," you reply, smiling smugly. "But we were rudely interrupted."

Eunseok chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Forget about him," Yujin says, rolling her eyes. "He’s just jealous."

"Yeah, probably," you agree, feeling the weight of Sungchan’s gaze still lingering in your mind. "But let’s not let him ruin our fun."

The group continues to enjoy the party, the earlier tension fading away. You watch as Eunseok dives back into the pool, joining Anton and Jake in their antics. His laughter is infectious, and you find yourself smiling, feeling grateful for the new friends and love in your life.

Eunseok soon comes out of the water and comes over to wrap a towel around your shoulders, the fabric warm and comforting against your skin. "You looked a little cold," he says softly, his hand lingering on your shoulder.

"Thanks," you reply, snuggling into the towel. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, watching the sky's colors shift from vibrant orange to a soft purple as the sun sets.

"I wanted to tell you something," Eunseok begins, his voice hesitant. "I'm moving in with Jake and Beomgyu next month for the new school year."

You blink, taken aback by the news. "What? Really?" You knew Sungchan and Eunseok's friendship had become strained the more Sungchan mistreated you, but you never thought Eunseok would leave their apartment.

Eunseok sighs, running a hand through his damp hair. "Yeah. There's no reason to stay. Sungchan's been a dick to me ever since you two stopped being friends, and I'm over it. I can't keep babying him to get him to say why he's so pissed at me."

You place a hand on his arm, offering a reassuring squeeze. "You never did anything to him, Eunseok. He's the one who's been unfair."

He smiles at you, his eyes softening. "Thanks for understanding. It means a lot."

"If you need help moving out, just shoot me a text," you offer, trying to lighten the mood.

Eunseok chuckles, his mood lifting a bit. "If you came to help, we probably wouldn't be moving things. We'd be making out."

You laugh, feeling the tension ease. "You're probably right." You stand up, brushing the sand off your legs. "I'm gonna use the bathroom, and then we can head out."

As you roam the halls of Anton's large home, you hear faint mumbling and the sound of stumbling footsteps. You turn a corner and see Sungchan, very drunk and barely able to stand. He mumbles to himself, his eyes unfocused.

You hesitate, debating whether to help him or not. Against your better judgment, you approach him. "Sungchan, are you okay?"

He looks at you, his eyes watery and confused. "I'm... I'm fine," he slurs, but then he nearly falls over.

You catch him just in time, steadying him. "Come on, let's get you to a bedroom." You guide him to the nearest room, setting him down on the bed. He clings to you, his tears flowing freely.

"I miss you," he cries, his voice broken. "I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have put Yuri first. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You try to calm him down, patting his back gently. "It's okay, Sungchan. I'm over it."

He shakes his head, his grip tightening. "No, you're not. I know you. You're still hurt, and I'm sorry."

You nod, feeling anxious with how unconsolable he is. "Okay, all is forgiven."

He pauses, his sobs quieting for a moment. "Will you be at my birthday? You've never missed one."

You feel as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you. You had completely forgotten about Sungchan's birthday. You glance at a calendar in the room and see that it's August 24th. His birthday is in a little over two weeks.

Lost in your thoughts, you struggle to understand how you forgot something that used to mean so much to you. You also take a moment to acknowledge that he's drunk and might not actually want you at the party. But at the same time, you realize that if you don't go, it might really signify the end of your friendship.

"I'll think about it," you finally say.

Sungchan looks at you, his eyes filled with regret. "I envy Eunseok."

You're confused. "Why?"

He sighs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because he had the balls to do what I was always too scared to do."

Your heart races, shock and anger flooding your system. Sungchan starts to lean in as if to kiss you, but then the door swings open, and Eunseok walks in.

"Eunseok!" you exclaim, scooting back quickly.

Eunseok's eyes darken as he takes in the scene. "What's going on?" he asks, his voice tense. He strides over, grabbing Sungchan by the collar of his shirt.

"Nothing happened," you say quickly, stepping between them. "He's drunk."

Eunseok looks at you, his jaw clenched, and then back at Sungchan. After a tense moment, he lets go, taking a step back. "Let's get out of here," he says, his voice tight.

You nod, taking Eunseok's hand and leading him out of the room, leaving Sungchan behind. As you walk down the hallway, you can feel the anger radiating off of Eunseok.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

"It's not your fault," he replies, his voice softening. "Let's just go."

As you step outside, the cool night air hits you, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart and mind. Eunseok pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you protectively.

"I don't feel comfortable with Sungchan around you," he admits, his voice low and tense.

You stop walking and turn to face him, holding his gaze. "Nothing happened, Eunseok. He’s drunk and upset. I just helped him because I felt bad seeing him like that."

Eunseok's eyes search yours, his frustration evident. "Then why was he leaning in to kiss you?"

You hesitate, the words you shared with Sungchan replaying in your mind. "I... I don’t know," you finally say, averting your eyes.

Eunseok's expression tightens, a mix of hurt and anger flashing across his face. "You don't know?"

Silence hangs heavy between you, the tension almost palpable. "Whatever," he mutters, turning away. "Let's just go."

The drive to your dorm is tense and awkward, the silence thick with unspoken words. You glance over at Eunseok, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel. Your mind drifts back to the conversation with Sungchan, replaying his drunken confession and how upset you were by it.

How dare he say he envies Eunseok? This is the same Sungchan who told you that your feelings for him disgusted him, who pushed you away and left you heartbroken. Now he’s jealous that Eunseok had the courage to be honest about his emotions? It's complete bull, and the more you think about it, the angrier you become.

You try to shake off the thoughts, but they cling to you like a shadow. The car ride stretches on, the silence deafening. You steal glances at Eunseok, wanting to say something, anything, to break the tension, but the words won’t come.

When you finally reach your dorm for the summer, the weight of the evening presses down on you. Eunseok parks the car and gets out, walking you to your door like he always does. The silence between you feels almost unbearable.

"Eunseok," you start, reaching for his hand, but he pulls away, his frustration evident.

"I just need some space right now," he says, his voice strained.

Fear grips your heart. "Are you... are you breaking up with me?”

His expression softens slightly, and he shakes his head. "No, I’m not breaking up with you. I'm still very much into you and our relationship. But it's clear you're hiding something, and until you’re ready to be honest with me, I need some space."

Tears well up in your eyes as he steps closer, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Make sure you eat something before going to bed," he murmurs, his voice softer now. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," you whisper back, watching as he turns and walks away.

You enter your dorm, the silence of the empty room echoing the silence that had filled the car. You collapse onto your bed, the events of the night swirling in your mind.

As you lie there, you realize that despite everything, you need to be honest with Eunseok. He deserves to know the truth, even if it’s painful. But for now, you need to process everything that happened and figure out how to tell him.

You curl up on your bed, feeling the emptiness of the room around you. The conversation with Sungchan plays over and over in your mind, his tearful apologies, his regrets, and his jealousy of Eunseok. It all feels so surreal, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from.

Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and you drift off to sleep, hoping that tomorrow will bring some clarity and a chance to make things right.

The following morning you wake up to a ding from your phone. You groggily reach for the device and see a string of text messages from Eunseok. Your heart skips a beat as you open the first one.

[seokie 🪨]: I'm sorry

[seokie🪨]: I fully trust you. If you say nothing happened, then nothing happened.

Relief washes over you as you read the third message.

[seokie🪨]: Are we okay?

You feel a mix of relief and guilt. He's not mad, but you still haven't been completely honest with him. You quickly type a response, your fingers trembling slightly.

[you]: we're good. can i come over?

His reply is almost immediate.

[seokie🪨]: Of course. Do you want me to pick you up?

You smile, shaking your head as you respond.

[you]: no need, i'll walk it's not far

You get ready, feeling a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. When you arrive at his place, Eunseok greets you with a kiss, his touch warm and reassuring.

"I have a surprise for you," he says, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Curiosity piqued, you follow him into the kitchen, where you're met with an array of baking items laid out on the counter. Your heart swells with emotion, remembering how you once told him about your love for baking to ease stress.

"You remembered," you say, touched. You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," you repeat, kissing him.

Eunseok smiles, his eyes twinkling. "I know you already forgave me, but I wanted to do something nice for you anyway."

The two of you start baking a cake, following a recipe Eunseok had found. You're impressed by his dedication to measuring out the exact portions, his concentration making you smile.

"Where did you find this recipe?" you ask, amused by his precision.

"Pinterest," he replies, grinning. "Seemed like a good one."

Once everything is mixed and the cake is in the oven, you sit on the counter and Eunseok steps between your legs, his hands resting on your hips.

"Where do you see our relationship going?" he asks, his voice soft but serious. "I know it's early, but I really like you."

You look into his eyes, feeling the sincerity in his words. "I like you too, Eunseok. I see us going far. I want to keep exploring this."

He smiles, relieved. "What about your living situation next semester? Are you still moving in with Yujin and Karina?"

You nod. "Yeah, I am. It'll be nice to have some independence and be with friends."

Eunseok leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm glad. I want you to be happy."

You smile, feeling a playful urge. "Speaking of happy," you say, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it at him.

Eunseok laughs, grabbing some flour and tossing it back at you. A full-blown flour fight ensues, both of you laughing and dodging each other's attacks. You relent when you see you're losing, flour and batter everywhere.

Eunseok takes your hand. "Let's get cleaned up."

He leads you to his bedroom, and you start to undress. He begins to leave to give you privacy, but you catch his arm.

"Join me?" you ask, your voice soft and inviting.

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, a smile playing on his lips. You take his hand and walk into the bathroom, you get into the shower first and look at him, completely vulnerable as he stares at your naked body.

He’s quick to strip and then steps into the shower with you, pressing you against the wall, his mouth already on yours. A wanton moan leaves your lips when he slides his hands down your sides as he tilts his head to the side and deepens the kiss. He places a hand on your right breast playing with it, he lightly pinches and rolls your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

You moan against his mouth which causes him to smirk before pulling away and angling his head down until his lips wrapped around your right nipple, which he had neglected before, sucking gently. His tongue swirls around the flesh and his teeth graze over your nipple.

“Please don’t stop.” You breathily whine, caught up in the feeling of your boyfriend sending you over the edge.

He slowly pulls away from your chest and places one last kiss on your lips. “We don’t want our cake to burn.”

He steps away from you completely and gets to work on lathering your body with his wash. You lift your eyes to look at him but he doesn’t return your gaze and continues to wash your body. You pout deeply and reach out to grab his hand to place back on your breast.

“Seok please!”

Eunseok remains expressionless for a few seconds until a small smile creeps up his face. His hand roughly squeezes the breast it’s resting on before he snakes his way up your body again and you think it’s to hold you steady by your shoulder, but you gasp when he seizes his large hand over your throat.

“Eun—”

He squeezes your neck and you moan, hands flying to grab his wrist. “Don’t be a brat.”

He gives you one more warning squeeze before pulling his hand away from your neck. Feeling dejected and slightly annoyed you stand still and let him finish bathing you.

Once he finishes rinsing the soap off your body and washing down his own body and hair, the two of you exit the bathroom. Eunseok dresses you in one of his shirts and a pair of sweats. "You look good in my clothes," he teases, kissing your forehead.

"Is Sungchan home?" you ask, suddenly remembering the previous night's tension.

"No," Eunseok replies, shaking his head. "He went out with friends."

You feel a bit more at ease as you head back to the kitchen to decorate the cake. Despite your best efforts, it turns out looking a bit discombobulated, but the laughter and fun make it worth it.

"At least it tastes good," you say, taking a bite and grinning.

Eunseok laughs, nodding. "We tried."

He grabs some boxed wine, and the two of you sit on the couch. You take a deep breath, deciding to finally be honest with him.

"About last night," you start, your voice trembling slightly. "Sungchan was really drunk. He... he told me he misses me and that he's sorry. He said he envies you because you had the courage to do what he couldn't."

Eunseok's expression darkens, but he nods for you to continue. "How do you feel about all this?"

"Angry," you admit, tears pricking at your eyes. "He told me my feelings for him disgusted him, and now he's jealous?"

Eunseok sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Are you going to his birthday party?"

You hesitate, unsure how to respond. "I feel like I should," you finally say. "For closure."

Eunseok's jaw tightens. "I would prefer if you didn't."

You frown, frustration bubbling up. "I have to go, Eunseok. We were friends for years. I need to hear him out."

He shakes his head, his frustration evident. "You don't have to do anything. You want to go, and I wish you could be honest about that."

Your eyes narrow, feeling a surge of anger. "We’ve been friends for years, I can’t just act like he means nothing just because a few months have passed!”

Eunseok's eyes flash with frustration. "A few months? He treated you like crap, and now you're willing to just forgive him because he’s drunk and feeling sorry for himself?"

You stand up, pacing the room. "It's not about forgiving him, Eunseok. It's about closure. I need to understand why he did what he did."

"Why do you need closure from someone who hurt you so badly?" Eunseok snaps, standing up as well. "He had his chance, and he blew it."

You turn to face him, your own anger rising. "You don't understand. He was my best friend. I need to at least try to get some answers."

Eunseok takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "And what if he tries to pull something again? What if he says more things to mess with your head?"

"I can handle it," you insist. "I need to do this for myself."

He shakes his head, his expression a mix of anger and hurt. "You’re not listening to me. I'm telling you this isn't a good idea."

"And I'm telling you that I have to go," you say, your voice firm.

Eunseok's face hardens. "Fine. Do what you want. But don't expect me to be okay with it."

"Why can't you support me on this?" you plead, feeling a knot of frustration and desperation tighten in your chest.

"Because I care about you!" he shouts, his voice echoing in the small space. "I don't want to see you get hurt again."

You feel tears welling up, but you blink them back. "I care about you too, but this is something I need to do."

Eunseok clenches his fists, his knuckles turning white. "Then go. But don't expect me to be waiting here with open arms."

You stand there for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. "I didn't think you'd be so controlling," you whisper, hurt evident in your voice.

His eyes widen with a mix of shock and anger. "Controlling? I'm trying to protect you!"

"I don't need protection from you," you snap back. "I need understanding."

Eunseok glares at you, his jaw tight. "Well, I guess we’re at an impasse."

"Yeah," you agree, your voice shaky. "I guess we are."

Without another word, you grab your things and head for the door. Eunseok doesn’t stop you, and the silence is deafening as you walk away. Just as you’re about to step out, you hear him mutter something under his breath, but you can’t make it out.

You leave, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. You wanted today to be a step towards healing, but now it feels like everything is falling apart.

Eunseok watches you go, his heart heavy with frustration and regret. He grabs the boxed wine, takes a long drink, and slams it down on the coffee table, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.

You storm into Sohee's dorm room, your anger radiating off you in waves. "Can you believe that? He thinks he owns me or something!"

Sohee looks up from his desk, concern etched across his face. "What happened?" he asks, motioning for you to sit down.

You start pacing instead, the words spilling out in a rush. "Eunseok and I had this huge argument. He doesn’t want me to go to Sungchan’s birthday party. I told him I need closure, but he’s acting like I’m betraying him or something."

Sohee listens intently, his brow furrowing as he takes in your words. When you finally stop to catch your breath, he leans back in his chair, considering his response carefully. "Okay, let's break this down. Eunseok is your boyfriend now, right? So, naturally, he's going to be protective."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "Protective? It feels more like he’s being controlling. He doesn’t get to tell me what to do."

Sohee shakes his head. "It's not that simple. Eunseok was just looking out for you. It’s not wrong for him to be upset about you wanting to go see Sungchan—the very guy who hurt you. Put yourself in his shoes. How would you feel if he wanted to hang out with an ex who hurt him?"

You pause, the anger starting to ebb as you think about it. "I... I guess I’d feel pretty insecure."

"Exactly," Sohee says, leaning forward. "You’re dating Eunseok now. Of course, it won’t make him happy to see his girlfriend run into the arms of the man she loved for years, especially now that Sungchan is saying those feelings are returned."

Your shoulders slump, and you let out a sigh. "I didn’t think about it like that. I just... I need closure. I need to understand why Sungchan did what he did."

Sohee gives you a sympathetic look. "I get that. But if you really feel like going to Sungchan’s party is the only way you can move on, then maybe you shouldn’t be dating Eunseok right now. It’s clear you have more things to work through."

"That’s not fair," you protest, tears pricking at your eyes. "I really love Eunseok, but I need to know why Sungchan chose to hurt me that way."

"So ask him," Sohee says gently. "There’s no need to feed into something Sungchan wants. Just ask him directly. That way, you get the answers you need without disrespecting your relationship with Eunseok."

You sit down, the weight of Sohee’s words settling over you. "You’re right. I should just ask him."

Sohee smiles, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You can do this. And remember, Eunseok loves you. He’s just trying to protect you."

Feeling more resolved, you pull out your phone and text Sungchan.

[you]: hey, are you free? i need to talk to you

You send the message and take a deep breath, hoping this will help you find the closure you need without jeopardizing your relationship with Eunseok. Sohee watches you, a supportive presence in the midst of your turmoil. "Good luck," he says softly. "I know it’s not easy, but you’ll get through this."

You nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Thanks, Sohee. I really needed to hear that."

"Anytime," he replies with a warm smile. "Just remember, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got people who care about you."

You nod, feeling a bit lighter. "I know. And I’m going to make things right with Eunseok."

"That’s the spirit," Sohee says, giving you an encouraging thumbs-up. "Go get 'em."

You and Sohee continue to chat, your conversation shifting to lighter topics as you unwind from the emotional turmoil of the past few days. As you talk about your plans for the upcoming semester and some of the fun things you’ve got planned with your friends, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s a message from Sungchan.

[sungchan]: i'm free tomorrow

[sungchan]: how about we meet at 3?

You glance at Sohee, who raises an eyebrow in question. "Sungchan says he’s free tomorrow at 3. I guess it’s happening."

Sohee nods. "Good. Get it out of the way so you can move forward."

You quickly type back a reply, agreeing to meet Sungchan at the boba shop near campus. "It’s set," you say, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness. "I’m meeting him tomorrow."

Sohee gives you a reassuring nod. "You'll do fine. Just stay honest and keep your cool."

You smile, grateful for his support. "Thanks, Sohee. By the way, do you think you could help me pick out a gift for him?"

Sohee looks surprised. "A gift? For Sungchan? Why?"

"It’s a parting gift," you explain, your voice soft. "Something to signify the end of our friendship, in a way. I just want to leave things on a good note."

Sohee sighs but eventually nods. "Alright. I get it. Let’s go to Target and see what we can find."

The two of you head to Target, wandering through the aisles as you think about what to get Sungchan. You want it to be something meaningful, something that represents your time together. As you pass the toy section, your eyes land on a LEGO set, and a memory from your childhood flashes before you.

"This is perfect," you say, picking up the box.

Sohee looks at it curiously. "A LEGO set? What’s the importance behind it?"

"It was the first one we built together," you explain, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "The first time I ever went to his house. It seems like a fitting end for us."

Sohee nods, understanding. "That’s a good idea. It’s personal and meaningful."

You also grab a card, planning to write Sungchan a note to go along with the gift. As you make your way to the checkout, Sohee gives you an encouraging smile. "You’re doing the right thing."

"I hope so," you reply, feeling a mix of emotions. "I just want closure."

After paying for the LEGO set and the card, you and Sohee leave Target and decide to get some food together. Sitting in a cozy corner of a small café, you talk about everything and nothing, trying to keep your mind off the upcoming meeting with Sungchan.

"So, are you nervous about tomorrow?" Sohee asks, sipping his coffee.

"A little," you admit, stirring your drink absentmindedly. "But I think it’ll be good for me. I need to understand why he hurt me the way he did."

Sohee nods thoughtfully. "Just remember to stay calm. Don’t let him get under your skin. You’re doing this for you, not for him."

"Yeah," you agree. "Thanks, Sohee. For everything."

"Anytime," he says with a grin. "That’s what friends are for."

You spend the rest of the afternoon chatting and laughing, the heavy weight of your worries lifting slightly with each passing moment. By the time you part ways, you feel a bit more prepared for the conversation with Sungchan.

___

The next day arrives, and you find yourself standing outside the boba shop, clutching the bag with Sungchan’s gift inside. Taking a deep breath, you push open the door and step inside.

Sungchan is already seated at a corner table, looking pensive. When he sees you, he gives a small, hesitant smile. You walk over and sit down across from him, setting the bag on the table.

"Hey," you say softly.

"Hey," he replies, his eyes darting to the bag. "What’s that?"

"It’s a gift," you say, pushing it towards him. "Happy early birthday."

He looks surprised but takes the bag, pulling out the LEGO set. His eyes widen in recognition, and a sad smile forms on his lips. "I remember this. The first one we built together."

"Yeah," you say, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I thought it was a good way to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Sungchan's eyes widen in surprise.

You nod, your expression serious. "What you did those three months ago wasn’t fair, and what you pulled at the party most definitely wasn’t okay. I’m only here to hear you explain yourself so I can move on. Eunseok has been good to me, and he doesn’t deserve me half-assing our relationship."

Sungchan nods, looking down at the table. "I meant what I said at Anton’s. I am sorry for pushing you away."

You shut it down, your voice firm. "I don’t want an apology or any excuses, Sungchan. I want an explanation."

He clears his throat, his voice shaky. "I started crushing on you when we were in high school, but I didn’t say anything because I was scared I would mess things up."

You cut in, your tone sharp. "Oh, so leading me on for years was the better option?"

"No," Sungchan says, shaking his head. "It was cruel, and I should have just been honest, but I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I thought if I told you how I felt and it didn’t work out, I would have lost you for no reason. But if I gave you the hope we could be something, at least you would stick around."

Your heart aches, feeling betrayed. "Was it worth it? Because you’ve lost me anyway."

He looks down, his face full of regret. "No, it wasn’t worth it. I’m sorry."

You shrug off his apology, determined to get to the bottom of things. "And what about Yuri? Why date Yuri if you apparently like me?"

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought it was time to move on. I didn’t have the guts to be honest after all these years, so why keep leading you on? When you and Eunseok started dating, it made me angry. It took Eunseok a week to do something I’d been dreaming of for years. It’s not right, and I’m not trying to excuse it, but that’s why I did it."

Your anger flares. "You think that justifies anything? You hurt me, Sungchan. You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. And then you have the nerve to act jealous when I finally find someone who cares about me?"

He looks up, his eyes filled with remorse. "I know I was wrong. I was selfish and scared, and I took it out on you. I’m truly sorry."

You shake your head, tears of frustration and betrayal welling up. "I trusted you. I thought you were my friend. But you were just playing me for years."

"No," he protests weakly. "I wasn’t playing you. I cared about you. I still do."

"It doesn’t matter," you say, your voice breaking. "You were never my friend. A real friend wouldn’t have done what you did. And I’m fine with us no longer being in each other’s lives."

Silence falls between you, heavy and suffocating. Sungchan looks like he wants to say something, but you’ve heard enough. You stand up, your heart aching but resolute.

"Goodbye, Sungchan," you say, your voice firm.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with regret. "Goodbye."

You turn and walk out of the boba shop, your heart pounding in your chest. The weight of the past few months feels heavy on your shoulders, but with each step, you feel a little bit lighter. You know it’ll take time to heal, but you’ve taken the first step towards moving on.

As you walk back to your place, you think about Eunseok and how much he means to you. You know you need to make things right with him, to show him that you’re committed to your relationship.

When you get home, you take a deep breath and pick up your phone, texting Eunseok.

[you]: can we talk? i need to explain everything

His reply is immediate.

[seokie 🪨]: Of course. Come over whenever you’re ready.

You gather your thoughts, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. You know it won’t be easy, but you’re ready to fight for your relationship with Eunseok. You grab your keys and head out the door.

The walk to Eunseok's place is brisk, each step echoing your anxious thoughts. When you arrive, you hesitate for a moment before knocking on his door. He opens it almost immediately, his expression a mix of concern and hope.

"Hey," he says softly, stepping aside to let you in.

"Hey," you reply, trying to muster a smile.

The tension is palpable as you both make your way to the living room, sitting down on opposite ends of the couch.

For a few moments, the silence hangs heavy between you. Finally, you take a deep breath and decide to break it.

“Eunseok, I’m really sorry for how I behaved last night. I was out of line, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like your feelings didn’t matter."

He looks at you, his expression softening slightly, but there’s still a hint of tension in his eyes. "I appreciate that.”

You nod before carefully adding, “…I also met with Sungchan today.”

Eunseok's jaw tightens, and his eyes flash with annoyance, but he stays silent, waiting for you to continue.

"I needed closure," you explain. "I needed to understand why he did what he did. And... I needed to make sure I was fully committed to us."

Eunseok nods slowly, his gaze fixed on you.

"And did you get the closure you needed?"

You nod, feeling the weight of the past few months lifting slightly. "| did. I realized that he was never really my friend. He was just... scared and selfish. And while that hurt, it also made me see things clearly. Eunseok, our relationship means so much to me. I want to make you my priority."

Eunseok's expression softens yet again and he reaches out, taking your hand in his. "I'm sorry too, for how l approached the conversation yesterday. I was just... scared of losing you. I know it's not an excuse, but I should have handled it better."

You squeeze his hand, feeling a surge of relief and affection. "I understand. And I'm sorry for making you feel that way. I promise, from now on, I'll be more open with you. No more secrets."

Eunseok pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "I'm just glad we're talking about this. I don't want to lose you either."

You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "You won't. I promise."

As you hold onto him, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. Eunseok is the one who’s always been there for you, and you’re grateful for that. A small part of you even feels thankful to Sungchan for breaking your heart because everything he didn’t say and do led you to Eunseok.

Pulling back slightly, you look into Eunseok’s eyes, feeling a surge of affection. "I’m really happy you’re my person, Eunseok."

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And I’m happy you’re mine."

In that moment, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you and Eunseok will face them together. Your past with Sungchan is behind you, and your future with Eunseok looks bright and full of promise.

#riize #riize imagines #song eunseok imagines #eunseok imagines #riize eunseok #eunseok x reader #eunseok #eunseok angst #eunseok fluff #eunseok suggestive #song eunseok #song eunseok fluff #song eunseok angst

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mydearesthrry · 7 months ago

Text

lover, you should’ve come over - h.s.

a/n: part 2 to casual. read here! also, this is lowkey not great cause casual wasnt supposed to be a 2 parter. but bc i love u i did it. be grateful. enjoy my babies!!!! song: lover, you should’ve come over by jeff buckley

warnings: angst, happy-ISH ending

pairing: loser doormat!y/n x harry styles

— MARCH

harry: hi princess, i really miss you.

harry: i haven’t seen you since two fridays ago, where’ve you gone?

harry: text me back, please baby.

y/n: safe and alive

y/n: and i already told you, u don’t need to worry abt me

y/n: im fine

harry: i’m coming over.

y/n: har, please don’t. it’s really okay.

harry: not to me.

setting her phone down with a sigh, y/n scrubbed her hands up and down her face as she felt the beginning of a headache begin to brew at the thought of having to see harry.

after the conversation they’d had two weeks ago, harry hadn’t come over, and she hadn’t made the effort to ask him to. she reckoned that if she pulled back slowly, he wouldn’t notice.

she curses herself now for thinking that. of course he’d notice. because he’s harry.

she didn't want to have to talk about how she felt, because it meant admitting that she loved him. and she knew that wouldn't exactly fare well for her.

trying her hardest to make time pass by as slow as possible, she stepped into her bathroom, starting a bubble bath. if this was what she was going to have to deal with tonight, she might as well be comfy. harry can deal with sitting on the floor.

“princess?” she heard him call. her eyes squeezed shut as she braced herself, knowing that even seeing his face was going to viscerally affect her.

“i’m in here,” she called back, quieter than he was initially. “hi.”

“you look pretty,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth. an eye roll from y/n had him squatting down in front of her, face inches from hers. “wanna give me a kiss?”

“no, not really.” she said plainly, sinking further deeper into the water, creating distance between them. harry couldn’t see her body as it was completely concealed by the mountains of foamy bubbles.

“ouch, princess, i don’t see you f’two weeks and this is what i get? even drove over here 5 over the limit jus’ t’see you.” harry didn’t want to admit that her rejection had felt like a gunshot wound to the heart, but he’d accepted it anyway so as to not make her uncomfortable. he knew she was upset and needed to fix it. he just didn’t know why.

“i’m sure you’ve gotten plenty kisses from claire the past two weeks, hm?” she mumbled pettily, shifting her glare to the faucet in front of her.

“so that’s what this is about.”

“what’s this?” she didn't think he actually noticed.

“you being all bratty, not talking t’me, s’hurting m’feelings, my love.”

harry was surprised to hear a laugh emit from her throat. “hurting your feelings… i’m hurting your feelings? that’s rich, really, harry. even for you.”

“what?”

“how do you not know that you’re making me miserable?” she whispered defeatedly and the dam broke. silent tears began to run down her cheeks, and she knew she couldn’t blame it on being sweat from the heated water. not when harry reached out to wipe them away with his calloused thumbs.

“baby- i- what?” he blubbered, shifting onto his knees to have an advantage of being closer to the tub. “what do you mean i’m making you miserable?”

“because you like playing this game with me, harry. its just so fucked up. you keep me around, kiss me, fuck me, and then treat me like i’m just one of your fucking lads, like you don’t really care. you get possessive when i talk to other guys at events, but if i get upset that you’re literally fucking another girl, i’m being sensitive, and ‘i should know by now that we aren’t exclusive.’ it feels like you don’t even want me. someone who claims to love me wouldn’t do this to me.”

a pause, a sniffle.

“you’re supposed to be my best friend, h.”

the room was eerily silent. harry’s face had gone stoic and pale. y/n sat there quietly, breath hitching with every sob she tried to stifle.

“‘m sorry,” he started.

“i’m sure you are.”

“how do i fix it?”

“i… i don’t know if you can.” she whispered honestly.

no words were shared between the two for minutes that felt stretched into hours. her fingers and toes had gotten pruny, the bubbles beginning to dissolve. she needed to get out— but she didn’t want harry to see her at her most vulnerable.

“can you please wait for me in my room?” she murmured, reaching over the lip of the tub for her towel that lay on the floor, sliding it closer to the tub.

“princess,” he said in near disbelief.

“please don’t call me that. can you please wait for me in my room?” she said ruefully, catching his eyes so he knew she was serious. she knows he would never purposely disrespect her boundaries.

harry shifted uncomfortably at y/n asking him to stop calling her ‘princess’, the name he’d crowned her with since the beginning. “erm, yeah. sorry.”

walking out of the bathroom, harry collapsed onto her bed, eyes brimming with tears as he tried to control his sporadic breathing. why did he do this to her?

“hi,” y/n said, shuffling out the bathroom a few minutes later with her hair in a small pink towel. she looked significantly calmer, more put together. “let’s talk.”

“i’m sorry-“

“no, me first, you listen,” she stated, watching as harry nodded, not caring that she’d cut him off.

“i love you. it’s not a secret that i love you, and i love you in more ways than one. i love everything about you, how kind you are, how gentle. but you aren’t really,” she paused, not knowing how to explain herself. “you aren’t really nice to me.”

"what do you mean?" he murmured, head cast downward. he reminded her of a wounded puppy. it was his fault, but she couldn't help but feel a little bad.

"i... i don't know how to put this without being the bad guy, but you're really manipulative to me. texting me when it's convenient for you, coming over when its convenient for you, all of it, harry. it's manipulative, and i don't know how to make you understand. i couldn't do it to you, even if i tried."

"why didn't you tell me?" he whispered.

"i tried. every time i tried talking about it with you, you'd shut me up with a kiss, feeding me a line, something. it was always something." she explained, a sympathetic, dulcet smile on her face.

"i didn't mean to hurt you, y/n."

she nods understandingly. she knows that he's a good person at his core. she knows his heart. "i know you didn't mean to, but you did."

"if- if it helps, and i don't know if it's gonna," harry begins, before pausing as his throat began to squeeze, his nose tingling with the onslaught of tears. "i always wanted it to be you."

are you kidding me? y/n thought, taking a deep breath to keep her composure. “if you wanted to be with me, why didn’t you just come over?”

“i don’t know what you wanted. if you still wanted me, or if you wanted to end things… i… i didn’t know. 'm sorry, baby, i'm really sorry, fuck, i really, really am. y've got t'believe me, i didn't mean to hurt yo-” he stumbles over his words, breath catching as he tries to explain himself. y/n can see the panic begin to coat his green eyes, and with throwing all logic out the window, she climbs onto his lap, holding his face in her hands.

"i know you didn't, harry, i know. that's why i'm telling you now, okay? i'm trying to help you. i want to fix this, but you need to understand how i feel too, okay?" she nods, running her thumbs up and down his cheekbones, the tips of his lashes kissing her fingertips.

“i- i can’t lose you, i can’t,” he gasped through tears, shaking his head side to side. “i’m sorry baby, i’m so, so sorry.”

“harry. look at me.” she demanded, holding his face tightly so he couldn’t move. his eyes slowly casted to her face, noting how her eyes had began to gloss over again, nose reddening with emotion. “i know you didn’t mean to hurt me. i’m not that upset anymore. you won’t lose me, but you need to see my point of view.”

“and i do— i really do, i swear. angel, i promise i see you and i hear you, i just- fuck- i don’t know how to make it better.”

“you acknowledging it makes it better. you apologizing makes it better.”

“it couldn’t possibly be enough. i- y/n, i hurt you. i made you cry, and i made you inferior. i promised myself that you would be the one person i wouldn’t ever hurt. you’re too good t’me, you’re so perfect.”

a soft smile played on y/n’s lips. “its okay, h. i forgive you.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i do. but, i don’t think i can do this with you anymore.”

“do what?”

“this, the friends with benefits agreement. it’s too hurtful for me, and if i can’t have you as a lover, i don’t think i can have you at all.”

“what? what do you mean by that?”

“i need time, h. i need space, and i need room to breathe and think. if i see you, i worry i’ll make rash decisions that’ll hurt me in the end.” she sighed, climbing off his lap as she made her decision. “if i can’t love you in the way i know you deserve, i don’t know if i can give you love at all.”

“why?”

“because i don’t know how to love you without it being all consuming.”

“why don’t you let it? i still want you, y/n. i just told you that.”

“but i can’t risk getting hurt again, harry. not by you.”

“so that’s it? i can’t be your friend, i can’t be your lover?”

she sighed, clenching her teeth before swallowing thickly. “i can’t be the reason you didn’t find the love of your life.”

a pause. bated breaths. “what if its you?”

a defeated chuckle. “it can’t be. no matter how much you want it to.”

“why won’t you give us a chance!”

“how can i believe that it won’t be different than last time?!” she screamed, finally at her wits end. standing from the bed, she stood at the foot with clenched fists. “i think you should leave.”

“what? no, baby, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you.”

“please leave, harry. i just need time to think, and i can’t do that if you’re here.” she pleaded. watching harry step up from her bed, she placed a hand over her mouth and followed him out the door.

“i love you, but it’s ruining my life.”

“promise me you’ll call when you’ve had time to think. promise me that you’ll call when you need me again. please, promise me you’ll call me if you want me here. i will come to you, no matter where i am.”

“i know you will, harry. i know. and i will. i promise to call you when i’m ready.”

“i love you, okay?”

“i know. goodbye, harry.”

— JUNE

“hello?” y/n said into the speaker of her phone.

“hi, princess. i’ll be there in 20, okay? i’ve missed you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles blurb #harry edward styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagines #harry styles writing #harry angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

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breakyourrxles · 1 month ago

Text

❥between two breaths (m) | 𝟟

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥

↳ Lulled into a false sense of security, disaster strikes MVNE in a way that feels far too close to home, and as a result, you lose just that much more willingness to make the decisions that you know you should.

kim sunwoo x fem!reader (side lee juyeon x reader) — idol!sunwoo, fan/trainee!reader. forced proximity, forbidden love, friends to lovers, angst, slow burn, idolverse-typical themes regarding; dating, image, public perception, etc. happy ending, plot-heavy!! reader thinks she's nonchalant about it but she rly isn't. smut. [6,2k wc ongoing] cws: heavy themes of wanting-but-can't-having, mild jealousy, explicit sexual content, a little alcohol consumption, dancing on the edge of career suicide, poor decision making because of The Wanting.

❥ masterlist | ao3

Woori huffs out a chuckle from under her breath and says, "Some of us are a little more bound to the rules of hierarchy than others. I've witnessed that with my very own eyes."

For reasons that you cannot quite come to understand, content filmed with Juyeon is incredibly well-received.

MVNE's comeback is slated for early March, and with only a few days remaining of February you have spent far more time with him than the man you are actually friends with.

However, training with Juyeon has been easy and incredibly lucrative. He is kind and talented and happy to lend what he can to you to the best of his ability. He is not pushy; does not think himself to be better than or above you in any conceivable way, and though the two of you had entered this circumstance with little intention of actualized growth, you realize that you have, in fact, benefited greatly from his services.

There are other more pressing matters to tend to, though.

You need to talk to Woori, and doing so in a private setting just for the two of you has proven to be incredibly difficult over the past few months. It has become increasingly unusual for any of you to be in situations where there are no prying ears that may be able to overhear a conversation, and any singular moments of such are quickly ended by a manager or another member quickly shuffling through and breaking any privacy that you may have found.

Thus, you will have to force the issue, because this cannot go on for any longer without knowledge of where everything currently stands.

Vocal training is less tiresome this comeback on account of being heavily dance-performance based. The debut was a song meant to showcase those skills, and now MVNE will round out to showcase a different set of them. It will highlight members like you, Woori and another girl—Hyemi—who is something of an all-arounder, though you've not had much chance to garner closeness with her compared to some of the other members in the group.

It's still early on and in all fairness to her, you consider this a fairly expected occurrence. With so many women in a group and little time spent during the actual trainee process, the majority of you are still effectively strangers to each other. You don't share a dorm with Hyemi, and unlike Woori, she has not had the misfortune of dealing with all of your unexpected and undesired situations, either.

You do still remember her, though. As one of the girls who sat giggling in the shadows when the details of your previous involvement with Sunwoo began to rear its ugly head.

Water under the bridge, or so you would like to believe.

The producer finally calls the day once Miyoung finishes a line after only a handful of takes. You and Woori sit on the leather couch together and alternate between cheering her on and scrolling through your phones as to not make her so nervous that she cannot focus, and while the producer gives Miyoung feedback, you take this as your only opportunity to finally put an end to the torment of the unknown that has festered in your mind ever since then.

You lean over slightly to her and say, "Can we talk privately after this?"

Woori stops scrolling, her eyes pop up from the screen and stare ahead as if she is somewhat confused by this offering. "Sure, I'll tell her to go ahead when we're all finished up."

Miyoung waves as she meanders down the hall, leaving only you and your leader remaining there. Neither of your managers are all that thrilled about being asked to leave the both of you to it, but with little risk assessed of the situation, they agree and head for the elevator themselves.

When the coast is clear, all of the performative confidence that Woori has drains from her figure. Her shoulders droop, an exhausted sigh leaves her, and she slumps herself lazily against the wall.

"What did you want to talk about?"

The question confuses you, because how could she not know the purpose of your gathering here today? It seems sincere, and her attention remains firmly focused on you as she awaits your response. Thus, you have no other option than to take it in good faith, inhale a sharp breath that you hope gives you the strength to once again revisit this, and you say, "That night. At the party."

"I thought we already talked about it, we talked about it then. What's left?"

"Have you… told anyone else about it?"

Woori's face immediately twists into a grimace and without a moment of silence following the question she quickly replies, "What? No! Of course not, why would I tell anyone?"

"I just didn't know if any of the other girls—"

"Look," Woori interjects quickly, "I'm none too thrilled about it, but going around and gossiping about it isn't going to make it better, and would likely only make things worse." She bobbles her head amusedly a bit, eyebrows perking up like she's sort of having fun with the whole idea now and then says, "I have concerns, sure, but that's for me to worry about, not anyone else. We will handle the situation, we are the only ones that need to know about the extent of it, especially in the event that this gets… Well, messier than what you think it will be. Which is likely."

"Likely?" you reiterate, mildly slighted by the assumption.

"Yes, likely. If it happens once, who's to say it won't happen again."

Oops.

"And then," Woori goes on to say, "Who's to say it won't continue, or become even more of a thing. I know you said it won't but it's a dangerous game to play. There's the logic of it versus everything else, and let's be honest; you're interested."

You swallow hard. "I wouldn't say I'm interested."

"If you weren't, it never would have happened to begin with. If you weren't, you probably never would have been his fan to begin with," Woori reasons. "I get it, and as much as it kind of terrifies me and the future of this group, I'm not going to sit here and play dumb about the whole thing; pretend that anyone saying it's a bad idea is going to magically talk some sense into you and nothing will ever happen again. Maybe you're that delusional, but it's at least good if one of us isn't."

"I'm not delusional!" you say, though there is hardly enough bite in your tone to make it sound even remotely believable. She is reading you to completion, and there's little you can do to dampen the blow.

She gives you a knowing look. "Just… Do me a favor and try to be smart about whatever it is that you're going to do, and if nothing else happens, then great! But if it does, just try to remember that your choices are going to impact a lot of people, not just yourself. About nineteen other people, in fact, but who's counting?"

When she finishes, silence finds the hallway between you. The two of you look at one another for a long moment, as if an unspoken agreement is being made at this very moment. Woori is logical and reasonable; isn't interested in trying to micromanage and determine your life. You appreciate this about her, though in an effort to understand the source of her acceptance, you cannot help but ask the most obvious and pressing question left behind.

"Why does it sound like you're giving me permission to do this?"

Woori pushes herself off the wall and once again finds the wherewithal to maintain her typically poised stature. She looks at you, smiles and simply says, "Because you're going to do whatever it is that you want to do anyway. They always do."

"The final TikTok," Juyeon announces through an alleviated huff, "Good riddance."

The dance studio is humid and the air is heavy with the remnants of many hours spent practicing for the final time together. Your shirt is soaked through with sweat, Juyeon's hair sticks in black pieces to his forehead, and empty bottles of water litter the sidelines after having long since served their purpose.

It's bittersweet in a lot of ways. Over the weeks, your relationship with Juyeon has easily transformed from that of strictly colleagues to something far more familiar to you as a friendship. Being around him feels so natural, and Juyeon is kind and gentle in ways that might come as a surprise to those less knowledgeable and only basing their assumption off of his appearance. In reality, Juyeon is funny and personable; you enjoy your time with him on the days that you are scheduled to have it, and now find yourself mourning the future loss of that as a part of work in your life.

He posts the last video and tiredly makes his way over towards you. With his back against the wall, he takes a sip from a crushed water bottle and then glances down to say, "Content aside, it's a little unfortunate that this is coming to an end. It's nice to spend some time with someone that isn't the same people I see every single day."

"It's been nice," you agree, perching up beside him similarly. "I don't know, maybe we can keep doing it. Talk to our managers, it's obviously been helping me, but it's probably a hard sell to make it worth your time to them if not for the content portion of it all."

With the bottle pressed to his lips, Juyeon smirks. "Well, they don't have to know everything we do every second of the day, either."

Curiously, your eyebrow perks up and you look towards him. "Are you suggesting we sneak off together and engage in scandalous activities such as… dance practice?"

"I might be."

And it is easy, you know this better than perhaps even he does. The amount of sneaking around that Sunwoo has done prior to your life now, and even just the amount of time you and him have managed to attain since then just goes to show the simplicity of carving out the precise right slot in the day to do whatever it is that you might set your sights on doing. However, the thought of Sunwoo lingers in your mind once it enters, as does his hopeful insistence of the two of you continuing to engage in activities that neither of you should be doing at all. What Juyeon is proposing is the kind of thing that would garner a displeased slap on the wrist from management but otherwise, would be forgotten just as quickly as it would be found out. What Sunwoo is proposing, however, could become an avalanche of misfortune with insurmountable collateral damage.

So why have you not told him no yet?

"Of course," Juyeon starts, cutting through your thoughts, "I understand the trainee life and that of women especially is much more precarious than where I stand now. You have a lot more to lose, so I don't really blame you if you don't want to push your luck."

"Oh, you know about women's lives in the industry, do you?" you reply, playfully doubtful in tone.

"Naturally," he says, a sharp glance once again finding you. "I have dated since becoming an idol, after all."

For reasons entirely unbeknownst to you, this information comes as a surprise. It shouldn't, not by any logical metric, but you cannot help the welling curiosity that begins to bubble up inside of you as you scan over his features for any hint of jest that he may be offering you. There is none.

"And how did that go?" you question plainly, hoping to play off your budding interest in the topic.

Juyeon shrugs and says, "The way it typically goes. It wasn't anything serious, which is also the way these things typically go."

You mouth an ah in response before verbally replying. "Right. A means to an end."

"Not necessarily. You make it sound so… mechanical. So robotic." He laughs, finishes the remaining water and then lazily tosses it towards the pile of the rest. "It's less like that—at least for me—and more like… I can genuinely care for someone and have interest in them but still understand that we're both involved in a lifestyle that doesn't really lend itself to any meaningful outcome, you know? Who knows, maybe if we weren't doing this then it could have been something long-term, but we are doing it, and it can't, so it just is what it is."

"Are you seeing anyone now?"

The question falls from your lips before you have a chance to think twice about it, before you have the opportunity to reconsider whether or not it is even appropriate for you to ask. Mortified by your shortsightedness, you rush to amend the misstep but before you are able to get the words out, Juyeon is already leaning towards you with squinting, menacing eyes and minutely upturned corners of his lips that appear so sly and calculated.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

The two of you have been in close proximity before, though not without the limiting veil of work hanging heavily between you. Now, Juyeon's face is close enough that you can easily see the detailed handiwork of the stylist that has applied dark, shimmery shadows to his eyes and a fine line to the corners to aid in elongating them. A sinister stage persona—devilish in appearance but so different from the person that you have since discovered him to be.

Your breath sits caught in your throat, and you are rescued by the sound of the door being abruptly shoved open and a familiar voice echoing through the otherwise quiet space.

"You have to come with me to a schedule tomorrow, Kevin doesn't want to go because he isn't feeling well and—Oh."

Snapping to attention, you look in the direction from which the voice has come, and though you're a little thankful for the interruption… It certainly could have been pretty much anyone else.

Sunwoo stands only a few footsteps inside, the door automatically closing behind him. He blinks a few times without saying a word, but that is short-lived, as you would expect it to be. "Uh, hello? Did I fuckin' interrupt something?"

His voice lends a comical aid, rather than something angry like the words might suggest. You do, however, know better than to hinge all of your trust in regards to Sunwoo's feelings on any particular thing on his immediate, in the moment delivery.

"No! We were just talking, don't be ridiculous," you say. "Why do you always have to jump to the weirdest case scenario?"

"Uh, looks pretty fuckin' weird to me," Sunwoo says, crinkling his nose in disgust. "He's all looming and limbs. Scary."

You look back at Juyeon, who rolls his eyes and shrugs before making his way towards Sunwoo. He makes an attempt to throw an arm around Sunwoo's shoulders, a gesture that is quickly rebuffed, and gives up fairly easily after that.

"You don't have anything to worry about," Juyeon says, face leaned down towards Sunwoo's face. They are making their way away from you and towards the door, and though you can't see the entirety of Juyeon's expression, you can make out enough of that lighthearted predisposition for trouble that lets you know he is about to set this whole thing up in flames. He makes another attempt to wrap an arm around Sunwoo, and though it is ardently fought off he says, "After all, we're just friends."

Sunwoo reels and jolts himself out of Juyeon's grasp in ways that you can only describe as cartoonish. He is babbling and cursing through Juyeon's exuberant giggles, and though the gall to make such a joke is not lost on you, Sunwoo's precious sensibilities in relation to it have long fallen to the wayside in favor of hearty laughter; watching on as Sunwoo chases the culprit around the room with viciously murderous intent.

Three days later, you wake up to the sound of loud, frantic pounding against your closed bedroom door.

You are tired and startled, shooting upright in your bed and to the point that you nearly bang your head against the wooden frame that holds the topmost bunk. This is all a little incomprehensible to you immediately; what day it is, what time it is, whether or not any of this is even happening at all, but even though the noise stops for a moment, it begins again with little more repreve.

So, you call out to grant yourself time and give acknowledgement of some sort of message being received. You shuffle your sweatpants on and wrangle a sweatshirt that may or may not be backwards but based on the urgency of the sound, that's of little consequence to you right now.

The door swings open, Miyoung and Nara are standing just in front with phones in hand and abject concern splashed across their faces. They look nothing short of absolutely horrified and for a split second, your stomach simply drops.

"Something happened," Miyoung says, and then presents to you the article brought up on the screen. "Woori is coming soon, we have to go in for a meeting right now."

Reading over the text, your stomach continues to fall but your anxiety dissipates ever so slightly. This is bad, very bad for the lot of you but… not for you in particular. There is always a chance, some inkling of a possibility that some misdoing of yours is somehow going to trickle out from its containment and find its way into the hands of people that it does not need to be. That is not the case today. At least, not for you.

This does, however, explain a lot of previous threads of confusion.

"Where is Hyemi?" you ask.

"At her dorm," Nara says. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she appears to be a little less concerned and far more amused by all of this. Suppose you land somewhere in between. "Which is probably for the best. I can't believe that after everything, we're still going through this."

Fair enough, because your name is mentioned in the article but only in a passing acknowledgment of the connection between the two. You blink slowly and then read through the article a quick second time, just to make sure you're understanding all of this correctly. Really, there's no mistaking it, though.

The post is from a gossip news site that, while not wholly reputable, is reputable enough that people follow it and most certainly use it to keep up with celebrity happenings. It alleges that MVNE member Hyemi has lived a previous secret life of being a dedicated fansite of a currently active male idol group—something she has decided to keep under wraps in hope of it never seeing the light of day—and is now being forced out into the spotlight in the most distasteful and unbecoming ways.

There are photos included. Screenshots of her fansite and pictures of her at events with her equipment and other friends presumably doing much of the same. Why she would attempt to hide this, you cannot begin to understand, but the group in question has done numerous appearances alongside The Boyz, and suddenly, everything during your trainee days begins to come together with the final recovered puzzle piece.

She has seen you before, and perhaps, had been hoping to use this knowledge against you in an effort to gain the upperhand.

Your mention in the article is incredibly brief, only a callback to the fact that you have similar fandom backgrounds but chose to be transparent about this fact from the very beginning. A little ironic, you think, the voice chosen throughout, because it was hardly a choice you had made of your own and rather a hand forced in an effort to minimize future scenarios just like this one.

Turns out that was the correct decision, after all.

A knock comes at the front door of your dorm and Nara rushes off to answer it. There are a couple of girls' voices heard—Woori's in particular—and so you and Miyoung make the decision to join them rather than lingering in the doorway.

Head bowed, Hyemi stands behind Woori with an obvious reluctance to enter.

"You could have just been honest," Nara says straight away, and the anger in her voice is evident though she is clearly making an attempt to reel it back. "You weren't even the only one, you saw that the company was going to be able to handle it. We could have mitigated all of this, and now we're just going through it regardless of any other effort made. Why weren't you just honest?"

Woori's eyes cast towards her, a stern look apt for a leadership role. She doesn't say anything, but the point is still made: Take it easy.

"I'm sorry," Hyemi says. Her tone is soft, voice broken and meek and no ability to meet the eyes of anyone else in attendance of her lashing. "I just… I didn't want anyone to know. I was scared."

"You were perfectly happy to let everyone know about my history," you say.

This must strike something particular inside of her. Hyemi's attention snaps to you, eyebrows furrowed in a sort of disdainful way and she abruptly answers, "We were trainees and it was cutthroat! I was going to do whatever it took to make sure I was able to debut."

"Wow," Nara says, head shaking slowly, "So, you really were trying to get her eliminated by spreading that rumor."

"Well, it wasn't much of a rumor, was it? It was true! I never lied, I didn't make anything up. I thought there was no chance that the company would allow a fan of one of their senior idols to debut in a group, so it wasn't meant to turn into such a big situation. If they had made the right choice—to eliminate her—then even if my history came to light then it wouldn't look so bad with nothing to compare it to. How was I supposed to know that these people were happy to leverage it for some fun, quirky little story?"

"I don't think talking about this right now is going to get us anywhere," Woori interjects. "We have to go in for a meeting to discuss what this is going to mean for all of us moving forward and how they're going to handle it from here on out. We have a festival appearance in five days that we have to focus on. We really don't have time to lend to this right now."

"So, what? I just have to pretend that she wasn't trying to ruin my career because it suited her own, personal narrative? I have to pretend that everything is fine?" you question.

Looking directly at you, there is something knowing and apprehensive in Woori's gaze. Deep down, you know precisely what it is meant to convey. A silent insistence to stand down, because you are standing far from a place of higher ground. The rest of the members may not know it, but the two of you most certainly do.

Hyemi made a poor choice when the two of you were strangers and being a trainee felt something akin to a life or death situation. You have made a choice now, and the feeling of Sunwoo's hair tangled between your fingers is not something you have easily forgotten.

"Yeah," Woori eventually says, her tone pointed and knowing. "That's exactly what you're going to do. Welcome to being an idol."

Tensions are high backstage, and with no particularly interested eyes glued to your every minute movement, you are allowed to express your feelings precisely as they come to you within these private, confined walls.

It is always best to put on a happy face with and in front of staff, and you are happy to do so. The people in charge of making sure that you present to the fans as the best possible version of yourself are everything you could have ever hoped for; lovely and kind, fun and thoughtful and you genuinely enjoy being around them. The rest of the girls are laughing and talking amongst themselves around you as they dress and primp themselves for the inevitable performance that awaits you soon, though Hyemi sits relatively quiet in comparison and evidently still tormented by whatever the future holds.

On the company side, they will handle it to the best of their ability but as a result of the way that the information has come out, there is little that they can do to circumvent it. The rest is up to the fans and the various people who happen to stumble across it. Admittedly, the general perception is not kind, and part of that is in contrast to you.

She should have just been honest about it, one comment had said. The other girl admitted her past and we all laughed and moved on, why couldn't she do the same?

It's not even an idol in the same company, another user posted. This is so embarrassing for her now. Being sneaky and trying to hide it but eventually, it all comes out, doesn't it?

It's weird to debut girls who have a history of being fangirls already, but at least the SW fan came out with it honestly and didn't try to hide. That can at least be respected.

You close the browser tab, set your phone down, and catch Woori's eyes from beside you in the reflection of the mirror.

She is watching you intently, but this is far from the kind of place to engage in any sort of discussion about the topic. From where you sit, you can see the way that she is nervously chewing at the inside of her cheek, eyes still fixed on you as if there is something that she desperately wishes to say, but can't.

So, you inhale sharply and simply say, "It's fine. We're all gonna move on from this."

"I know that, but I also know what contempt looks like when I see it."

You search for Hyemi in the reflection, seated off to the back corner and alone as she scrolls through her phone solemnly. No doubt reading much of the same comments that you were just now.

"Am I not allowed that?"

"You are, but divisiveness within the group isn't going to do any of us any favors. You're going to have to let it go."

"I know, and I will, but you'll have to forgive me for still feeling as though it's fairly fresh," you say. "It hasn't even been a week. I was forced into a situation where I had to put all of my business out for public scrutiny regardless of my feelings about it by someone who had been doing the same."

"And you came out on top as a result of it," Woori reasons, turning her attention to her own reflection now. "Hyemi is being eaten alive by public perception and you are being heralded as this strong bastion of honesty." Her eyes find you again, but this time there is a coyness to her expression. "Is that really fair?"

You know as well as she does that the answer is no, because there are many skeletons that linger in your closet. Sinister, and far more disastrous secrets that could easily spell the end for your career in its entirety. No more media play, no more discussions on how to move forward; it could very well be the nail in the coffin. The only thing standing between you and that fate is Woori, Sunwoo, and a dash of luck.

Though your stomach twists at the thought, Woori's ambient insistence of the fact carries truth. It isn't fair for you to hold this against Hyeri as much as you seem to be, and eventually, you are simply going to have to get over it. Sooner, rather than later.

Still, you want. You are angry, and the offering of something beyond what has been previously explored still sits somewhere in the back of your mind no matter how many times you have made the effort to completely dispel it. Bad choices have been made, but far better ones have won out and with much more frequency than even you would prefer. At some point, you wonder if the thread is going to snap, and then the pieces must simply fall where they may.

You can't avoid Sunwoo forever, and though you have the ultimate option of telling him that enough is enough and that this must not continue to move forward, you have not done so; nor can you seem to muster up the ability to.

And worst of all: A part of you believes that you can get away with it.

"All I'm saying," Woori begins again, "Is try to take it easy on her. You guys are stuck together, and who knows what might happen in the future."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shoots you a look, one that implies that the both of you know very well what it is that she is referring to.

"It means that I've got my work cut out for me, and I'd like for MVNE to have a little bit of a stronger foothold in the industry before something tries to bring it all crashing down."

The response dissatisfies you, though there is little that you can say given your current surroundings. Your attention leaves her and instead settles on the reflection ahead. Anger rears itself inside of you, skin prickling ever so slightly at the desire to express yourself in all of the ways that you absolutely cannot. Everything is appearances now. Outside of the company building or your home, you have no ability to conduct yourself as anything less than perfectly becoming.

Now, that fact is making your stomach turn.

"Would be nice if I wasn't the only one on the receiving end of such criticisms," you say, firm and resolute in your convictions. You don't need to name any names, because you know perfectly well that your leader is more than capable of threading the needle of suggestion. "But I guess hierarchy doesn't allow for such a thing, does it?"

And as if the words roll off her back without so much as a second thought, Woori huffs out a chuckle from under her breath and says, "Some of us are a little more bound to the rules of hierarchy than others. I've witnessed that with my very own eyes."

There is less than ten minutes until call, and in the narrow corridors backstage bodies are crammed between equipment in an attempt to keep everyone precisely where they need to be.

Over twenty idols stand there in the enclosed space—including MVNE—and your senior group are quickly being shuffled to join the fray. There are staff members everywhere; venue people, sound people, visual coordinators, managers and last minute stylists meant to make sure every hair and piece of fabric is exactly where it needs to be once the audience's eyes fall upon it. Your group is meant to go first, the minutes are ticking by faster than you can even fathom, and more than anything is that mixture of anger and adrenaline that relentlessly still courses through your veins.

Your attention is not on any one thing or person in particular, and your thoughts are lost on the conversation you had with Woori only a short time prior. Her words repeatedly cycle through your head, each time only adding more and more to the contempt that has already been festering inside of you.

The lights are low here, and visibility is so incredibly limited that you have noticed that the venue staff have little other option than to aid in getting the idols up the stairs and towards the stage. You can barely even make out the expression of the girls to either side of you, much less those of the people further up ahead. A sliver of light shines in from the opening leading up and out from this place, but does little to illuminate where you stand as of now.

Murmurs amongst groupmates fall away in favor of a loud, booming sound system that displays a VCR on the screen for the audience to enjoy. The crowd springs to attention, their cheers crashing in and serving as an aid to ready you for this upcoming performance. Soon, you will go on stage and pretend that absolutely nothing is wrong behind the scenes, that everything is perfect and the ten of you could not be any happier being together like this. Fanservice will be displayed between you and your leader, Hyemi will smile and do aegyo and thank everyone wholeheartedly for coming without ever alluding to the fact that a dark cloud of distruth hangs widely over her head. Tonight, you all will play pretend. Tonight, you will put on your very best performance thus far.

A staff member calls out eight minutes from somewhere, though it's impossible to place them. It's too dark, too loud; all of your senses are overstimulated.

Then, a hand wraps tightly around your wrist and you are firmly yanked away from your current standing position.

You think to scream, yet cannot even manage to, making your best attempt to not stumble to your knees as you desperately find your footing. Instead, a curse drops from your mouth before you have the opportunity to consider it unbecoming of an idol at an event, and what that grants you in response is a voice that is all too familiar.

"Relax," it says.

The word can barely be heard over all of the other noise, but you know it for what it is as soon as it leaves the lips that have uttered it. Your head is spinning with disorientation by the time you are capable of standing on your own without help, but just as quickly, your back is shoved up against a wall; hands are tightly gripped against either side of your waist as if you give you no hope of ever escaping them, and soft known lips once again find your own.

And worst of all, you give in. You give in to it all. Though your surroundings are pertinent to you, you allow yourself to have this and relish in everything being offered. Your own hands match Sunwoo's placement on you, pulling him closer and harsher against your body. He must not be expecting it, because you feel a gentle curve of his lips against yours as if surprisingly pleased by his findings. This is insane, this is dangerous, but most of all; it is intoxicating.

Sunwoo holds himself against you with a kind of confident insistence that you don't have the wherewithal to withstand. The fragrance clinging to his skin is potent and does little to assist you in gathering your strength to put any sort of end to this, and that is only compounded once his lips smooth down to your jaw, and continue a warm, premeditated path along the column of your neck.

"Makeup," you say, the best that you can do with the way your mind is racing.

He smiles against the skin, lips pressing and teeth lightly nipping just below your ear. "You think I don't know that?" he says.

With no more strength left in you to fight this, your head falls back against the wall and grants him full access to that which he desires. You've fought this—perhaps not to the best of your ability—but god does it feel so good to just give in and let go.

Sunwoo's hands smooth from your waist around to your back, pulling you impossibly tighter against his hips. There is next to no space left between your bodies to be spoken of. A silent hunger for something previously dismissed now the driving force within an engagement that should not be taking place at all.

This is not the time nor the place, and Sunwoo expresses the notion just as much as you know it to be true.

His lips find the shell of your ear, your skin tingles at the sensation of warm breath cascading across the flesh there. He says, "Please see me later, after this." Tonally however, his insistence is desperate. Begging not far off from being an operative word for it. His mouth presses into your neck again before you have the chance to reply, his hips offering a slightly more pertinent and expressive press against your own in such a way that any convictions you might have had about the plea immediately melt away in favor of something far more risky and duly desired. "No one will know," he says against the skin, "Our little secret."

Sunwoo comes up again, kisses you on the mouth with a sort of feral hunger you've not yet felt from him, and with barely even a second to catch a glimpse of the cunning grin plastered across his face once he pulls himself away from you he just as quickly shoves you back out into the sea of hustling, endlessly moving bodies of people; little more to take away from it all than the lingering feeling of his body against yours and a heavy question of where it will be that you find yourself in the late hours of the night.

#sunwoo smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #the boyz x reader #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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14thcommander · 5 months ago

Text

seashore | hange zöe x reader

summary: a rainy day at the beach with hange. the shitty weather somehow leads to confessions of love. (idiots in love, friends to lovers, not beta read, a shit ton of symbolism, tooth rotting fluff)

i suggest listening to the song do you think I’m pretty by kingfisher

wc: 1.5k

The wind is gentle when it blows against your face — light, careful like a mother’s touch.

It brings the smell of cigarettes, the one Hange is currently smoking. They attempt to point it in the opposite direction, in order to avoid its terrible scent reaching you. It fails, but it’s the intention that counts something.

The beach is empty — well, mostly. There is a group of teenagers that are close enough to be seen, but too far to be heard. The sound of waves is the only thing you hear.

The ocean is a green, grayish color — the line that separates it from the sky, in the horizon, is blurred.

It is a chill day, one you consider the perfect atmosphere to go to the beach. Hange knows you like gray, moody days — the ones in which the sky looks like a warm, soapy bath. You were never a fan of sunlight anyway. Perhaps that’s why you admire Hange so much.

“Too bad Levi and Erwin are missing this sunny, hot day at the beach. Bet they’re sad just thinking about it.” Hange’s words are filled with irony, waiting for a reaction. The sarcasm that drips from their tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

The two of you are friends — well, sort of. You are part of the same friend group, consistently hanging out. Over time, you grew closer: what was supposed to be a collective hangout, turned into just you. It feels complicated these days.

“Oh, fuck off. You’re the one who agreed to come with me.” You offer them a middle finger, to which they throw their hands up in surrender.

The both of you are sitting on an old beach towel you brought, the fabric is wrinkled from being shoved on the bottom of your bag. None of you are dressed appropriately for the beach: Hange is wearing a thick flannel, protecting them from the chill breeze. You are wearing a beat down pair of converse, the ones you have since high school. Somehow, you match with each other. You try not to think too much of it.

“Call me crazy if you want, I wouldn’t let my friend go to this mopey beach all alone. I’m loyal like that.”

And that’s why you are at the beach, with Hange and no one else. Levi and Erwin were supposed to come along, however you are glad something came up for them. Nothing would be more awkward than ending up on a double date with your sort-of-friend.

The word friend tastes bitter on your throat, poisoning your lungs like Hange’s cigarette.

“You’re the only person I know that thinks this is appropriate beach weather.” They say, breaking the lack of dialogue between you for the past minute or so. Not that you’re counting or anything like that, of course. “Are you a vampire or something?”

It earns them a chuckle from you, almost a laugh — it drips like honey from your mouth, and Hange desperately wants to know how it tastes like. They want to hear it again.

“I doubt you like having fun in the sun either.” You reply, watching as the wind blows their hair — brunette locks dancing in the air, enhancing the messiness of their ponytail.

“Touché.”

Hange says, while burrying the remains of a cigarette in the sand, and you don’t point out how wrong it is — not with words, at least. Your eyes seem to translate your feelings either way.

“You’re so expressive.” It’s Hange’s turn to chuckle. “It’s adorable.”

Their words almost make your face heat in embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh, shut up.” Your tone is playful, not pointed at all. Avoiding their eye contact, you turn your face in order to pretend the ocean before you is a better sight than Hange.

“I mean it. I like it.”

Hange might tell you a joke, but they would never tell you a lie. Something about the honor of a scientist, you guess. It’s a beat of silence until you speak again.

“Yeah, well, you’re the opposite. I can’t read you at all.” This comment, though, this one is pointed — not like a knife, but similar to thorns on a rose. It comes with something beautiful, too: honesty.

The truth is palpable, swimming in between you. It’s all a funny, weightless banter, until it isn’t.

“My resting bitch face doesn’t help. Guess I’m better with words or something.”

This time you laugh, genuinely. It isn’t mean, you don’t mean to mock Hange at all — it’s just that the irony of it all is funny to you. Almost unbelievable.

“Oh, what a poet you are.” Your eyes are glued to the sea before you, admiring its chaotic beauty. The waves crash against the shore, becoming a conjugation of white bubbles.

It’s silent again, wordless tension building around you like a sand castle — ready to crumble at any sudden move.

“You’re really pretty.” They admit, which sounds like something in between a secret and a confession. It seems out of nowhere, but it truly isn’t. Lately, this is all Hange can think about. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The waves crash again, destroying the metaphorical sand castle you built around yourself, trying to protect you from whatever it is you’re scared of.

“Hange.” The sound of their name leaving your mouth isn’t a threat, although it isn’t an invitation either.

“No, I mean it. Truly.” They reach for something inside their bag, something important in the mess of papers, headphones, and a cigarette pack.

They’ve found it: a small, worn out notebook.

“Here, take a look.” They offer it to you, opened on a certain page. “Then tell me you think I’m lying.”

There are doodles of you. Your face, distracted, frozen in the moment, probably when you were laughing at something crude Levi had said. There is your silhouette, too: you guess it’s the view of when you walk in front of them, hurriedly trying to arrive on time for a move you went to see.

Your smile, your eyes. Every detail of your face, something that cannot be translated by a photograph. The traces Hange has memorized over the years you have known each other. This is what they picture before going to bed, or early in the morning when they wake up.

“Hange.” This time, when you say their name, it is softer — it warms them up. “Hange…”

It’s like you’re hypnotized, unable to say anything but their name.

When you look up, they are closer, nose brushing against yours. Hange looks at you through thick glasses, with curiosity. This time, they can’t read your expression.

“Kiss me.”

And they do. It is gentle, soft — their lips move against yours like the waves move against the shore, as if it was nature’s reason for your own existence. Their warm palms find your face, holding you preciously. It is brief, however. The kiss ends as quickly as it came.

Neither of you speak, too afraid to break the moment. Hange brings their forehead against yours, and like that you stay. You taste like salt air, warm like whiskey. It is fiery, overtaking them as a whole. They wouldn’t mind being swallowed by it, drowning in the overwhelming hotness that is your touch.

This time, Hange says your name, warm brown eyes looking into yours and finding nothing but love. Admiration. Devotion.

It’s a humorless chuckle, what comes next. It leaves their lips nervously. For someone so careless like Hange, it sure is a new sight to see them like this — a pink tint covering their cheeks, a loopy smile on their lips. They have never looked so soft.

“I have wanted to do this for so long.”

“What, go to the beach on a rainy day?” You ask in attempted humor, beaming when it earns you a laugh from them.

“Kiss you. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

You smile, breaking eye contact and looking at the sand. It looks damp, cold. Unlike what you feel right now.

“Me too.”

Hange looks into your eyes again, scanning it from any signs of mischief. They find none.

“I get the appeal of this now. If anything, the shitty weather makes it feel more romantic.”

You give them an I know, right? look, and they fight the urge to kiss you again.

“Glad I could change your mind. We could do this again, if you want.”

The words that leave your lips are soft, but confident. Just like you.

“What, are you asking me on a date?”

“Depends on your answer.”

Hange offers you a toothy smile, feeling like a child. They feel on top of the world now. How could they not, after all?

“Yeah. Obviously, of course. I would love to go on a date with you. Multiple dates, even.”

You smile again, cheeks already hurting from so much happiness.

“Can’t wait to make you mine.” They say, bringing your palm to their lips, pressing a gentle kiss on your warm skin. “Cause I’m already yours.”

You believe them.

#hange zoe fluff #hange zoe x you #hange zoe x reader #hange zoe x y/n #hange Zoe

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ken-dom · 7 months ago

Text

Might Wanna Kiss Before The End of This Song

Driver x afab!reader

∘₊✧ 1.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: You like Driver riled up, so you see how far you can push him.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I’ve been quiet online recently but I have been writing a lot, and this one just came out of nowhere in the middle of writing the others. Well, not quite nowhere; the never-ending conversation about our beloved Driver with my darling K @heresthestorymorningglory combined with the song Lovers Rock by TV Girl spawned this! K — thank you for everything 💖

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: nsfw, blood, biting, kissing kink, dry humping, cumming in pants, dubcon themes, orgasm denial, masturbation

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

The heels of two elegant hands pressed into your shoulders, pinning you in place. Driver’s hands were much stronger than they looked. All of him was; dainty, but fierce, and worse, precise.

The record that had been playing while you’d teased him on the sofa was nearing its end, and from somewhere in your clouded mind came, I need to flip it over, the only clear thought fighting past the haze of arousal and grounding you enough to fight back.

As usual with Driver, it was fruitless. He’s only gentle until he doesn’t want to be anymore, and you’d teased him perhaps too much tonight with this new and unexpected “no kissing” game.

It had been designed to rile him up, of course. Gentle touches and lude whispered words to get him hard and leaking through his denim, just how you liked him. You wanted to see how far you could push him without a kiss – the one move that always, without fail, would tip him over the edge into white-hot bliss.

You’d been making out in his car when you first discovered it. You felt him tense against you, an incomprehensible sound spilling into your mouth as a flood of hot cum spilled into his jeans.

You relished in the way you could coax him to the point of unravelling, untouched and whiny, with only a rough slide of your tongue against his and your fingers threaded through his short, soft hair. But you also liked him mad. Like the way he could snap at a moment’s notice and it was anyone’s guess what he’d do next. It was dangerous. Thrilling.

And so, the no kissing game began.

You would have caved eventually, you knew you would, but up to now every time he dipped his head to capture your lips with his, you ducked out of the way, turned your head, pushed him back, all while trailing a careful and deliberate finger over the bulging shape of his erection through his jeans. No underwear, of course, just denim against skin.

Driver kept his TV low, his lights dim, his bed sheets soft and clean, and suffered absolutely no air conditioning; the cold air would irritate the surface of his skin, making him feel irrationally prickly.

But the one sensation he craved that didn’t seem to quite align with the others was that delicious friction of rough fabric against sensitive flesh, especially when he was with you. It was almost soothing.

Although it didn’t do much to soothe him this evening, evidently.

The record stopped and he pushed himself forward on top of you, the weight of his body keeping you unmoving. One of those graceful hands ghosted over your throat for a moment before changing tack and clasping your jaw between his thumb and fingers instead.

You tried to turn your head away inside his grip. An impossible task, but you wanted to give him a challenge, see what he was capable of with you, how far he would go. He made you feel so safe, so secure, and you craved the thrill of being scared, discovering what it must be like to be on the receiving end of Driver’s wrath.

He pressed down harder, thrusting a firm thigh between your legs. You tried to writhe up against it but he just smirked, watching you struggle to control your own pleasure. This was on his terms now.

His breath brushed, hot and sweet, against your lips as he hovered there, cinnamon and apple laced with a hint of him that you couldn’t put a name to. Just, Driver. Intoxicating.

‘No kissing?’ he taunted under his breath, the first words he’d uttered since you returned to your apartment with your hand in his.

You only smirked back.

His eyes narrowed. Fine, he thought. I’ll play.

He dragged his thigh roughly against your core as he leant in, his own arousal evident just below your hip.

You groaned, opening your mouth for him on instinct as he grazed his teeth along your bottom lip. The sensation was broken by a sharp, piercing pain shooting through it a split second later.

Hot, sticky liquid dripped into your mouth, staining Driver’s teeth red. You banged your fists on the floor, fighting through the pain. Your head was woozy at the feel of your own blood filling your mouth, until you felt his warm, wet tongue lapping at the wound.

‘Fuck!’ you breathed, and he dipped lower to bite into the crook of your neck next with those too-sharp teeth.

He rolled his hips, slow and measured, as he sank his teeth into your willing flesh, a low rumbled growl vibrating against your skin. He was an animal, you realised, catching his prey.

You pushed your hips up again, spurring him on, and he allowed it this time. Allowed you a small taste of pleasure as he rocked against you faster.

The blood and the control, your weak attempts to writhe beneath him and the drag of the harsh fabric against his throbbing cock weakened him considerably. He knew he shouldn’t be so turned on by this, that he was losing control of himself while gaining it of you, but god it felt good. You were letting him feel this good.

Panting, he dropped his head, mouth popping off your shivering skin. The mark his teeth had left in their wake stung where he’d pulled away, leaving the shallow wound, smeared with your blood and his saliva exposed and glistening in the cool air.

You smirked again; you’d finally got him where you wanted him, pushed him further than he’d ever dare let himself go with you. And you wanted more.

‘No kissing,’ you mumbled between his tightened fingers which pinched your swollen lips into a pout now as his resolve to hold you still by the jaw weakened.

He gasped. His hips snapped harder.

‘You can never kiss me,’ you murmured breathlessly beneath his crushing form.

Driver’s head snapped up to face you, eyes glittering darkly and hips unrelenting as he growled, ‘How about you shut that pretty little mouth of yours, or I shut it for you?’

‘Make me,’ you whined. His words had weakened you, now, too.

Driver’s heart thudded in his ears. His blood boiled. He pushed down to meet your mouth with his, crushing his needy lips against your wounded ones.

He softened the kiss just enough to gasp for breath as his cock twitched, and then his tongue pushed into your mouth, tangling with yours as he grunted with each and every thrust. Finally, he was getting what he needed and it was dizzying.

A tear dropped onto your cheek as he came undone above you, fingertips back at your shoulders, delving deep into your flesh to hold you still again as he got himself off against you.

His tongue left your mouth while his chest heaved, and he released the last of his thick, hot seed into his jeans.

His weight was heavier against you for a while as you stroked absent, gentle patterns into his scalp and he whimpered into your chest as his cock softened.

When he recovered enough to push himself up, he immediately shoved a hand down the front of your jeans, dipping his fingers into your slick folds.

You arched your back, so close to release already from what he’d done that his touch felt electric. You rocked against his fingers, eyes slipping shut in bliss, but as quickly as he’d started, and with one last deliberate drag over your throbbing bundle of nerves, he slid his hand back out and stood, on slightly wobbly legs.

‘No kissing?’ he sneered, eyes calculated.

You watched him closely, wiping the excess blood from your mouth on the back of your hand and propping yourself up onto your elbows.

Your core ached for him. In fact, if he said just one more word to you in that quietly disparaging tone, it would probably have you coming undone without his touch. You thought you understood then how he felt when it happened to him, and why he blushed or shed a solitary tear afterwards that he hoped you didn’t notice.

Driver smirked down at you, that devilish, cold smirk that made your knees weak, grabbed his jacket from the kitchen table, slid on his gloves while his eyes burned intensely into yours — a little show intended to rile you this time — and simply walked out.

Inside his own apartment, Driver was so caught up in what he’d just done, that familiar pull of arousal was tugging at his cock again the moment he closed his door.

Dropping back against it, he slid one hand inside the tight confines of his sticky jeans, to test his sensitivity he told himself, and brought the other up to his mouth.

Biting off the glove, he traced the outline of his lips with two tender fingertips before pushing inside, your taste still evident, mingling with the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. A heady cocktail of you.

He stroked his cock lazily with his other, still gloved, hand, wondering if you were getting yourself off next door at the same time as him, with your blood still fresh on your kiss-swollen lips and your thigh wet with the remnants of his seed. Would you moan his name? Imagine his lips against yours and his hand sliding inside your clothes to tease?

He would ask you in the morning. But for now, he could imagine.

#not s f w 💀#driver #driver x reader #driver smut #driver fic #drive 2011 #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes

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spade-riddles · 5 months ago

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Submission:

💛 I like the Gracie theories!

Part one :-)

Gracie said the song ‘Us’ is a conversation where they’re singing to each other. What if Gracie and Taylor met earlier? Did you know they allegedly met because Taylor invited Gracie to her birthday in 2021, seems a rather personal thing to invite someone you’ve never met to right? What if it was an olive branch?

Late 2020-Early 2021 First meeting:

Gracie starts the conversation:

I know you know

(I know you that i’m queer and that I know that you’re queer)

It felt just like a joke

(We’re dancing around the topic it feels so silly)

I show, you don’t

(I tell you i’m queer, tell you about my girlfriend perhaps)

And now we're talkin'

I know your ghost

(Karlie)

I see her throw the smoke

(Through the smoke and mirrors, the lavender haze, the bearding)

She’ll play her show

(The performance of her life, the husband and kids)

And you’ll be watchin’

(You have to watch her do this)

From here we presume Taylor doesn’t take it the best or rather just doesn’t open up to her, perhaps it’s around just after the masters heist which is how Gracie picked up on her flagging and had the courage to bring it up.

And if history’s clear someone always ends up in ruins

(We don’t talk about it because someone ends up upset now)

And what seemed like fate becomes "What the hell was I doin'?"

(Reflecting on the conversation, I’m such an idiot why was I asking her that, this line calls back to failed coming out in Taylor’s verse)

Babylon lovers hanging lifetimes on a vine

Do you miss mine?

(I showed, you never heard about her again)

Gracie:

I know you know

It felt like somethin' old

It felt like somethin' holy, like souls bleedin', so

(A way to describe recognising queerness in another person, it does feel holy in a sense)

Gracie:

It fеlt like what I've known

(I recognised this in you and when i’m near you I can recognise it more)

You’re twenty nine years old

So how can you be cold when I open up my home?

(Why didn’t you give me yours? Why didn’t you open up to me? You’re twenty nine, you’re older than me, I should be the one that’s scared about this)

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

💛 Part Two

Late 2021:

Taylor:

And if history’s clear the flames always end up in ashes

(Failed coming out, likely reason for not opening up)

And what seemed like fate give it ten months and you’ll be past it

(“Come to my Birthday party?”)

Babylon lovers hanging missed calls on the vine

I gave you mine

(I told you about my queerness and Karlie)

The chorus between verses floats through different targets. Gracie may have harboured some hurt feelings about the interaction, in turn probably hurt feelings about Taylor’s role in continuing the machine of closeting (especially in a time when she could be pivotal in breaking that machine for a young queer artist like herself; times are rapidly changing now but even five years ago there weren’t many out and proud big pop artists). Directing the “do you miss us?” at Taylor, do you miss the idea of what could have been? I felt it, I held it, I felt that you were coming out with Lover, I felt the ice castle cracking, do you regret not doing it?

By the second chorus they’ve teamed up, directing the questions at their audience, US. Do we mind? Do we mind that they’re glass closeted, that they know we know, do we miss what could have been? Do we regret listening to the queer signalling and being transfixed while also watching them being spineless in their tomb of silence?

The bridge is where they turn on the machine together, everyone that keeps them closeted, Record Labels, CEOs, Managers, Family etc etc

That night you were talking false prophets and profits

They make in the margins of poetry sonnets

(You made me into this idol for the world that I don’t want to be because it’s not who I am but I continue to do it and it is lining your pockets)

You never read up on it, shame could’ve learned something

(These people didn’t read the poetry sonnets, often that they’re the target of, could’ve learnt that they were destroying their lives)

Robert Bly on my nightstand, gifts from you, how ironic

(Robert Bly is famous for self help material, how ironic that you’re giving me this gift but also causing me to need it)

The curse or a miracle, hearse or an oracle

(Is being famous and closeted awful or once in twenty lifetimes? Will it kill us or save us?)

The last chorus is to this group of people, likely in the future.

All speculation :-)

#taylor swift #gracie abrams

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yeahspider · 1 year ago

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tooth brush 🫀

Ve’s note - this is fluff . i love a good friends to lovers trope and this is exactly what this is . han jisung x gn reader . this was inspired by that one dnce song . no actual smut but illusion to sex and alcohol mentions .abrupt ending as usual bc i suck at conclusions . i’m gonna get better at posting more frequently and proofreading i swear . (also i’ve gotten a lil critique on my writing style recently but i write how i talk . very casual and very realistic . this is 100% a personal choice and won’t be changing anytime soon sorry *kinda*) anyways i hope your enjoy and feel free to request in my inbox !! <3

you didn’t expect you’d end up here . never in a million years . staring at your reflection in the mirror it’s safe to say you look a mess . bare feet on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor . hair in every which direction . clothed in only a shirt which definitely didn’t belong to you . maybe you had one to many last night . and now you had to deal with consequences .

taking a deep breath you turn on the faucet sink to splash some water on your face . you needed to be 100% awake for the conversation that awaited you once you stepped out your safe haven . just a few steps outside the bathroom door was your childhood best friend han jisung . it’s been awhile since you’ve seen each other . life taking you on different paths . him to a studio and you to college . your bond never severed though .

you had came home from school and decided to have a sleep over with at his house . an event which has happened several times but not once has it ended the way it did last night . you could blame the liquor or you could blame the unresolved feelings that have sitting between you two since you were both 15 .

you knew hiding in the bathroom and waiting for him to leave the room so you could sneak out wasn’t a realistic option . but it was the one that brought you comfort . confronting the hours you spent embraced in each other last night was scarier in comparison . you could smell the breakfast his parents were cooking for you both downstairs . yeah sneaking out was seeming less likely by the second . picking up your sparkly blue toothbrush you left there after your last sleepover you decide to buck up . you were both adults . adults have sex . it’s normal ….maybe not with their childhood best friend but your sure it’s happened before . spitting out the paste you run yours hands through your hair and take a deep breath . you could do this .

“are you going to hide out in there forever or are you gonna come out eventually ?” you heard jisung say from the other side of the door . you could just picture the smile on his face . it leaked through his voice . there went your resolved , down the drain with your toothpaste . your hope of sneaking out officially ruined you grab the doorknob and step out .

“ah there you are i thought you had fallen down the drainpipe or something .” he said as he took in your disheveled appearance . you were rooted to the floor , scrunching your toes in the carpet and gripping the bottom of your - jisung’s - shirt out of nervousness . you couldn’t find it in you to respond to him . and that’s when he burst out laughing . shocking you out of your stance . how could he be laughing right now . this is a serious situation . but the longer you laughed the more weight you felt lifted of your shoulders . you realized that this was just jisung .

you quarter your shoulders . hand on a hip and sled him what exactly was so funny . your tone mocking an anger that you didn’t really feel .

“you’re just cute when your nervous.” jisung’s said as he gestured you to come lay back in the bed . making your way over to him you grumbled something out about not being cute . he pulled you into his lap as you crossed your hands over your chest . pouting at him for laughing at you .

“hey don’t pout it’s okay i have no regrets .” he said as he swirled soothing circles on your bare thighs . bringing a comfort over you as you smile at him . you asked him if he was just saying that to make you feel better .

“i’ve been in love with you since we were like 15 i’m just glad you feel the same way …unless you do regret it ?” he posed the question to you a hint of insecurity in his tone , to which you brushed away as you planted a kiss to the mole on his cheek . you would never regret him .

“cmon my parents made breakfast we can talk seriously after you eat.” jisung stated as he took your hand and lead you out the bed and towards the smell of breakfast .

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids headcanons #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #yeahspider #han jisung fanfic #han jisung fluff #han jisung x reader #hanjisungfanfic #han jisung smut #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x you #han jisung angst

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berrystiles · 2 years ago

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Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Content Warnings: Angst, Lovers to strangers kinda deal ya know, some cursing.

Summary: It's the summer before you head off to college, and there's a fear about that decision that keeps creeping in. You try not to let it drown you, spending time making summer plans for your friends and with your boyfriend Steve. It feels like you can do this, and you're happy to be staring into the summer ready to make memories that will carry you into college. However, unbeknownst to you something else is brewing and Steve has plans of his own. One unexpected breakup later and your summer now looks a lot more like trying to overcome heartbreak.

Author Note: I'm the only one to read over this, so me and Grammarly are all I have regarding editing. Also, I guess this is just what I write now! Inspired by my favorite sad girl songs, if you know them I'm sure you'll see them. I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone would be interested? All of this was supposed to be a one-shot type of thing, but it started getting long. Part two would be a resolution as we fade into a happy ending, and get some much needed answers.

Ao3 Link - In case you want to read it there

Steve Harrington is soft smiles passed your way over the tops of all the children he babysits heads. He is weekend movie nights spent curled up next to one another on his couch, so close that you sometimes think you could become one person if you tried hard enough. He’s not your first relationship, but sometimes when you can’t sleep at night there’s a reoccurring thought that he is going to be your last. Steve has been orbiting around your life since elementary school, close but never within reach. That was the way, only knowing him through rumors passed around the halls of Hawkins High, two passing ships in the hallway between classes. This last year though has brought him into your world, no longer is he a passing comet that you stop to stare at. Now he’s yours and your mom will chide and say it’s just high school love, but you can’t imagine a world where his hand doesn’t stay attached to yours. Call it whatever you want, but something about this just feels too real. The kind of love you hear about in novels, the kind people wax poetic structures about. You’re not sure what you did in a past life, or what karma you collected over time, but you’re thankful for the universe putting the two of you together.

The only bleak part of your future with Steve comes after summer ends. You’ve just graduated, and school is expected of you in a way that you know you can’t turn down. Steve has been more than understanding, it’s a pressure he recognizes from his parents. You have no clue what you want to do but your dad swears that you’ll figure it out when you get there. You manage to get into a good school but it’s 5 hours away from Hawkins. Your parents are ecstatic, they can’t stop talking about all the ways you’re going to grow in this next phase of your life. Your parents are the people who met in college, and even though they won’t say it there’s something about you needing to attend that feels a little like them trying to relive their glory days. You love them but you’re not sure if they know you or if they really listen when you talk.

You find that if you put on a smile and nod along to what they say though it gets you through conversations faster. It’s a small price to pay so you can escape the house and rush to Steve. Steve who you hate to leave behind, sweet Steve who has been there to hold your hand and be your rock through it all. You’re not sure if you’d be able to put up with your parents’ expectations if he wasn’t there with you holding you up. You worry you put too much on him like you weigh him down the same way your parents tend to do. Sometimes you tell him your concerns, and he’s always quick to quiet the fear.

The thing with Steve is he is so soft sometimes, and yet you can’t help but feel protected in his arms. Still though, even as he brushes your hair to the side, as his lips touch yours and he peppers you with affection and reassurance, you make a vow to yourself to try and reduce how much you complain. You can’t stop the anxiety that sometimes spikes up despite his kindness that maybe this all hurts a little too much for him. After all, his family held similar expectations for him. You know that his dad is a different kind of mean and demanding than yours. Your family feels like a small-time problem when put into the perspective of Steve’s parents.

You have a mantra you follow, reminding yourself that school, as daunting as it is, is still months away. You have a whole summer to forget about it all. A whole summer of nothing but your friends and Steve. You know you’ll be right next door at the arcade, your shifts and Steve’s always lining up because of a favor Keith owed you. There are plans in place that will carry you through. There’s the drive-in and their Friday night movie deals, sunny days that will be spent at Lover’s Lake, the regular Sunday brunch at your favorite diner, and so much more. You make sure to focus on those things, knowing that all of it will be enough to get you through that first semester of school once you finally go.

However, like with most things that seem to happen in Hawkins, your good luck runs out. You hate to say it, but you didn’t see it coming. Delusional bliss is apparently where you’ve been living and the rose-colored glasses you didn’t know you were wearing are snatched off your face without a moment of hesitation. Looking back the signs will be there in glaring neon colors, and you will hate yourself for missing them. For missing them to the point that you couldn’t even backtrack to fix where your so-called perfect relationship went off the tracks.

It's a week into summer and things are not at all going to plan. Your parents are pressuring you to cut your summer short and go to school three weeks early so you can settle in for classes. And honestly, it’s not the worst idea and if you were anyone else maybe it would be appealing. However, you’re on a fixed time frame and you don’t plan to give up one ounce of time with Steve and your friends before you absolutely must. Despite schedules syncing up, there’s a distance growing between you and Steve. At the time you understand, there are kids to be driven around and then his parents unexpectedly show up back home. You don’t blame him for the distance, you take it in stride and offer your support just like he’s been doing for you. The future version of yourself, will look back and call you an idiot for not digging deeper. But why would you? In all the time, though maybe it hasn’t been that long, Steve has never once been the cause of your anxiety. Never once has he ever done anything to make you question your relationship, or whether you can trust him or not.

After a week of only seeing Steve in passing and on lunch breaks, you finally get the chance to have uninterrupted time with Steve. He catches you on a break at work and asks if you want to get dinner once your shifts end. He doesn’t carry that same glowing smile he always does when he drops these moments on you, but you brush the thought aside assuming this is the residual damage from his parents. You’re just happy at the prospect of being with Steve so you’re quick to agree, and even quicker to pull him in for a kiss to seal the deal. In your excitement, you don’t notice how this kiss doesn’t feel like a welcomed hello, and later you’ll tell yourself that it was the first sign of goodbye. But in the moment Steve is pulling away, and he’s looking at you like he's tracing and memorizing everything about you. “I’ll see you after work,” is the parting sentence before he’s jogging back to Family Video.

Steve and you meet in the middle of your two jobs, and he holds out his hand just like he always does. He leads you to his car, asking you about your day. You tell him about the party coming in, and about all the different characters of teens who came in. You prattle on and on, all the way to your favorite diner. You ask him about his day and try to get him to talk more. A quiet Steve, with eyes not shining, is a version you hate to see. You want nothing more than to pick him up, hopefully, wash off all the grime that his parents so obviously threw on him in the short week they were home. It’s always hard doing this walk and dance, the scars his parents leave him with always cut deeper than you have an awareness of. But it’s never this impossible, by the time you’re leaving the diner you’re more worried about what happened during this visit home than you ever have been. You’ve learned with Steve that when it comes to his parents you can’t poke too much otherwise, he gets spooked. Normally, he finds a way to talk about it usually when you’re both back at his place and the light is off for the night. When it’s so dark in his room that you can’t see the way his face is lined with grief, and pain that he shouldn’t have to experience. You’re so used to the pattern that you don’t mind the car ride after dinner being just the sound of the radio. It’s not unwelcomed, it’s just a part of the pieces that happen, which is why you’re surprised when Steve parks in front of your house.

“Oh, are we not going to yours?” Your brow is furrowed as you turn in your seat to face Steve. Even when you don’t stay at his place, he still is always looking at you when you turn to leave. This time though Steve’s hands are still holding on to the steering wheel, and he can’t turn to face you when he finally gathers the ability to reply. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

The radio is still on, and your ears pick up Whitney Houston singing a new song that’s been playing everywhere. “What do you mean,” your stomach feels like it’s falling right out of you and your brain is giving radio silence as you try to gain some understanding of what the hell is going on. You watch as Steve takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself before turning to face you. Every time Steve has ever looked at you it’s been with nothing but softness, an unquestioning gaze that always tells you what he’s thinking. The Steve before you though, these are eyes that aren’t that sweet look he normally gives you. Instead, this one is cold, one that you can barely recall. You have to pull at memories from his reign as King Steve to find some type of look that’s like the one you receive now.

“I just don’t think this is working,” he shrugs like this isn’t the biggest thing to ever happen before. Like he’s telling you something that should be common knowledge.

“I don’t understand, Steve.” There’s a burning feeling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is a warning that if you don’t pull it together, you’re going to start crying. You don’t know how to pull it together because what little Steve is telling you sounds an awful like a breakup.

Steve sighs, something heavy like he’s just so tired of having to explain himself. It’s an odd sound and it rubs you raw because he hasn’t explained anything. How can he already be tired of a conversation that makes no sense?

“Look, I don’t want this to be harder than it is,” you cut him off before he can continue. “So don’t make it hard, just tell me what’s going on and why you’re saying all of this.” You don’t recognize your voice. The pleading tone sounds watery and not at all like what you know yourself to be. You don’t think you’ve ever begged someone in this way before.

“I just don’t feel the same way for you,” it’s so blunt and to the point that it leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t understand,” you’re repeating yourself and you hate that. You’re not stupid, you can usually piece things together faster than this. The phrase, ‘having the rug pulled out from under you’ rattles around in a way that suddenly makes total sense.

“I don’t know how to explain it any better. I don’t want to date you anymore. I don’t want to see you.” You didn’t realize before that the cold tone he was using still allowed for kindness. In this final statement, his words are ice, and you feel like you just took a plunge into Lover’s Lake in the middle of winter.

You have more you want to say, questions that you feel need to be asked. If you stay though you feel like you’re not going to get them, and honestly, it’s taking more energy to keep yourself together than it would be to stay. You’re not sure if you say anything else if there’s some kind of acknowledgement on your part. All you know is that your body is screaming at you to run. Staying in that car doesn’t feel like a place you belong, so you’re quick to get out. You don’t even make it to the door before Steve is peeling off and driving himself home. The action feels like the last break in any resolve you had. Your Steve would always wait until you were inside before leaving. Always telling you he'd rather know with certainty that you were safe before he ever left. It was one of those things that told you how caring he was, that showed how he loved you.

______________________________________________________________

In what will later be referred to as The Aftermath, you have the next day off. Your mom hovers at your door, knocking and knocking. The sound makes your head hurt and forces you to pull your covers over your head like it’ll drown out everything else. If you had anyone else as a mother, you might be able to convince yourself that she’s doing it from a place of concern. The truth is that this is the same woman who when you came in last night, uncontrollably sobbing and barely getting out the words ‘Steve’ and ‘broke up’, your mom was asking if this meant you’d go to school earlier like she and your father want.

The tears had stopped sometime around when you finally found yourself falling asleep. They haven’t picked back up and everything you ever learned in biology screams out you’re dehydrated. There are things you should be doing, things that you have done for yourself when other relationships ended that made it so the person you were dating was nothing more than a faded memory. Maybe if you go through the ritual of it all, the gathering of reminders, and the disposal of memories it’ll make you feel better. There should be phone calls to girlfriends, and movie nights set up to help push you through these feelings.

Instead, you continue to stay in bed. Your limbs feel like lead, weighed down and stuck, too heavy for you to move. Your curtains are drawn so tight that not even the hot Indiana sun comes through to ruffle you into motion. Your wall has your attention, and you find yourself using the texture of the paint to trace all the lines in your relationship with Steve. Maybe if you follow them to the end like a map, they’ll tell you where you are and where you go from here.

In the midst of The Aftermath, in the bed of your grief, you manage to make one phone call. Well… that’s a lie. You make two phone calls. In no surprise to the imaginary audience watching you grieve; the first call is to Steve. The phone rings and rings and rings. Steve never answers and it should be a sign. You get the standard Harrington voicemail. Steve’s mom’s voice becomes the soundtrack to your day. She tells you to leave a message, and that the family will get back to you when they can. You open your mouth, no plan on what to say but surely there’s something there in your head that will tumble out. The answering machine beep is met with your silence though, just your breath coming through, you wonder if Steve will know it’s you even if you don’t leave your name. Does he still have you memorized in all the ways that you still know him? Did he forget about you in just the span of a day? Worst thought of all, did he even really take the time to trace you down in his memory the same way you did him?

You hang up after that last thought, still no name and still carrying the hope that it could be enough. Your second call is made two hours later when there’s still no call back from Steve, even though he should be off today too. Even though, there’s a piece of your mind screaming over and over that he should have heard the silence in the message and been able to read through it. Maybe that’s unfair of you to place that on Steve, but it also feels unfair that he had the power and took action to bring you where you lay now. The second call is to Keith at the arcade, where you know he’s working since you’re off today. The favor you cashed in on is wasted because your request is for him to take back your schedule.

“I can’t work the day shift anymore,” your voice is hoarse and throat sore as the words stumble out.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you grimace as you hear Keith chewing what you know are those stupid cheese snacks he always carries around.

You hold back a groan and tell yourself your next move, while incredibly bratty, is the only way that you return to work. Your parents hate you working at the place anyway, but you like the independence, you like having your own money and you don’t want to give up another thing this summer.

“It’s going to be your problem because I’m not working any shift that overlaps with Harrington. I’ll quit.” You hate how Steve has transformed into Harrington. Hate how removed it sounds, not at all reflective of how close you had been. If you say his first name though, you know you’re going to cry.

Keith whistles, the tone way too low and drags out in a way that makes you feel a wave of creeping anger you’re not used to.

“So, you and Harrington are over then. Knew he was stupid but didn’t think he was that stupid.”

“He’s not stupid,” your defense is soft, it feels telling of where you are. It isn’t harsh in the way that it should be. It’s not your job to defend Steve anymore, he let you go from that position last night after all.

“I’ll change the schedules,” is the response you get back and it’s the nicest thing that you think Keith has ever said to you. However, you know Keith, and this feels a little too easy.

“Is there a catch?”

“Nah, just can’t afford to lose you so consider it your lucky day.” It doesn’t feel like your lucky day, but you don’t say that. Just mumble out a thank you after he tells you that your shift tomorrow will be the closing shift and Harrington will be gone by then.

True to his word, when you pull into the shared parking lot of Family Video there is no sign of Steve’s car. There’s an awareness that it won’t always be this easy, that Hawkins is too small to go all summer without seeing him. And despite Keith’s previous comments on how he couldn’t afford to lose you, there’s also a silent understanding that he’s still going to be an absolute shit about all of this for the rest of the summer. Keith doesn’t know any other way to be, and it’s a moderate price to pay for your ability to at least show up to work without breaking down.

Dustin is the first one you see in The Aftermath, and you can tell by the way he keeps glancing at you in the arcade that he already knows what’s transpired between you and Steve. You’re not sure if it’s the telltale sign of the obvious breakup look you’re sporting, or if it’s Steve’s own admittance to the teen. Could be a combination of the two though. You looked in the mirror before leaving today. You’re fully aware that you look and feel like shit, and there’s no way to sugarcoat that.

Normally, Dustin would come to chat with you. Whether he’s with the rest of the party or by himself, he always says hello. He would do it before Steve, and you hoped that he’d do it after too. Dustin doesn’t say hello though, he avoids your gaze when you catch him looking your way, and even though you know at one point, he should come to you to complain about a machine he just leaves instead. The act makes you sad, it’s the first divide between the friendships you created and thought you would get to hold on to. Dustin might be in high school now, but he’s still a kid. Rationally, a piece of you should be able to string together how his silence speaks more about how he doesn’t know what to say and less about a side he’s choosing. Reality rarely ever plays out as it rationally should, so instead Dustin just becomes the first domino that falls, and you feel like you should have known everyone else would go along with him.

______________________________________________________________

The next three weeks find you oscillating like a fan. Days spent hiding in your room, working up the courage to move and take care of yourself. Then nights of work or spent rummaging through polaroids that catalog your relationship. You always told yourself you put them in a scrapbook, something to hold the years together so in old age you’d have something to shuffle through. It sounds silly now, but the pictures sit in a shoebox of movie stubs from the Hawk, the receipt from your first date together, and the paper menu from the diner that you talked a waitress into giving you. There are notes scribbled on lined paper that were slipped into your jacket pockets when Steve would kiss you goodbye as he dropped you off at school, dried flowers from prom, and so much more. After a week of crying over the pieces, ink smudging thanks to fresh tears your body can create again now that you’re hydrated, you manage to shove the shoe box in the back corner under your bed. You had to slide it back there with the broom, but you know it’s not within reach now and that feels like progress.

You still dodge calls from your friends that you collected outside of your relationship. When they manage to catch you on the phone they whisper sweet condolences, but underneath it’s an unspoken blame of how you should have known. “He was the King of the school, he only knows how to break hearts,” your friend Val tells you over the phone one night. Val pops her gum on the other end of the line, and it sets off a chain reaction of emotions. You feel like you’re going through the five stages of grief in that moment. Val tries to invite you out and reminds you that Hawkins has more boys than just Steve Harrington. She promises you a good time, a night to help you forget all about Steve. You make an excuse and promise to go out next time, but both of you know it’s a promise you won’t keep.

Your parents seem to have set up some game plan amongst themselves. They’ve learned that they can’t tell you that your heartbreak is juvenile. Instead, they preach about how open you’ll be to new opportunities when you head to school. Your dad has the course list, where he got it from you don’t dare to ask. He tries to plan out your future over dinner, but you don’t even know what life you want for yourself. Before this you just saw Steve in the future, you had naïvely assumed you’d have time to sort out the rest. But Steve’s in the rearview now, and your parents want to know what life you plan to have in your passenger seat.

It's three weeks of juggling it all, but you still haven’t seen Steve. It should feel like the universe is still on your side, but really, it’s more of a cosmic joke. It should be finally time for some peace, instead, the world feels the need to implode again. Your parents are out of town, an annual get-together with their old college friends, and you’re home alone. It’s late, you’ve only been off work for 20 minutes when you get to the grocery store. The pantry at home is bare bones and you’ve been putting off the need to go shopping for the last three days. You’ve been supplementing meals through various fast-food restaurants on the outskirts of town. But you’re tired of driving so far away, plus the taste of grease has become less and less appealing as the days have dragged on.

The evening finds you shrugging off your name tag from the arcade and running into Bradley’s to do some shopping before they close for the night. The air conditioning hits you right as the doors open, it cools your skin in a way that summer nights never will. You close your eyes and pause for a moment, maybe you look crazy, but it’s late and you don’t anticipate anyone else is going to be poking around the store. You grab a cart and you’re on your way, trying to be mindful to be quick because you know how it feels to work a closing shift. You wander up and down the aisles of the store, with no real list in mind just grabbing what sounds good. Your diet is still in a post-break-up mode which means you’re either only consuming junk food or pushing food around on your plate still too sad to eat. Which means, it’s time to be gentle with yourself and just grab the food that calls to you. Now is not a time for healthy eating and hitting every food group on that pyramid they went over in health class.

Because of this though you aren’t paying attention to what’s in front of you. You move through the aisles of the store with your eyes on the shelves, still having confidence in the fact that it’s just you and the store clerk in here. But remember, Hawkins likes to implode both literally and emotionally. You swing your cart into the next aisle, already excited to be browsing the cereal options. You only make it a handful of steps forward, eyes already searching for the cinnamon toast crunch which you’re rarely allowed to bring into the house otherwise your mom will complain. Your cart jolts and pushes you back, and you look up to find that you’ve hit another person’s cart.

You feel silly, and your cheeks are warm in an embarrassed flush. “I’m so sorry,” the words tumble out as you drag your gaze up to see what suburban mom you’ve managed to piss off tonight. When you see who it is though you find yourself wishing it was a mom about to yell at you, instead it’s Steve, you find yourself in front of. He says your name, a hint of surprise, and what you might have previously labeled as nervous energy. You must look stupid, both of you really, just standing in silence as the hum of the grocery store lights buzz on and the radio station the store is set to plays out louder than it should. Steve’s cart is full of popcorn, and snacks that you can trace to each teen you know he babysits, there’s even Robin’s favorite chips and the beer that Eddie likes to drink. All of it slides together and reminds you that it’s Saturday, which means movie night at Steve’s.

You don’t know what to say, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen so that you can’t even run to escape the impending collision that is about to take place. It’s Robin rounding around the corner, her voice loud and unapologetic in a way you have always admired. “Hey, dingus, should we grab some ice cream for Erica, or do you think…” her voice trails off as she catches sight of you. “Oh,” and you look to Robin, she raises a hand to give a small wave at you and smile. It’s enough to also jump Steve into movement again, saying your name and you don’t wait to see if there’s more.

You don’t say anything as you turn to leave, though maybe you should have, at least to Robin. But she’s the headlights turning off and giving you the freedom to run. You can eat another fast-food burger tonight, and you hate that you’re just leaving your cart in the middle of the cereal aisle. But you can’t, you won’t just sit there and let yourself wonder that store when it’s obviously not a safe place.

The air conditioning hits you again as you run out the doors. No time to pause this time, and you actually seek comfort in the sticky heat that greets you outside of Bradley’s. The crickets sing to you as you rush to fumble with your keys and drive away before your past tries to catch you outside. You got three weeks of no Steve, and you had been lulled into this fantasy of maybe being okay someday soon. This though, this small interaction, where you didn’t even really talk to him, has shown that you’re not close to that. When you finally manage to pull into your driveway, your hand bangs down on the steering wheel. You mumble to yourself, “that was so stupid, you just ran?”

You’ll eventually make your way into the house about 15 minutes later, after you had completely gone over the entire interaction about three times. You know it will continue to replay all night long. It’ll be inside that you realize you never even stopped to get food, too focused on seeking the safety that you can apparently only find in your room these days. Time drags on and you keep opening and closing the fridge and the cabinets hoping that food will magically appear the next time you start looking. It’s late, Bradley’s will have to be a tomorrow you type of goal. You know Steve and the group will be up late tonight which means the morning will be safe.

You’ve resigned that tonight’s dinner will be a pack of saltines you find buried in the back of the pantry when there’s a knock on your door. Your friends know not to show up unannounced, and if your parents managed to come home early, they wouldn’t be knocking. It’s Hawkins, you remind yourself as you creep to the door, but then the additional it’s Hawkins kicks in and there could be anything waiting for you. You grab your mom’s tennis racket from the closet by the front door and peek out the peephole, but your porch light isn’t on, and you can’t see anything. When you open the door, tennis racket at the ready, there’s no one there. Instead, sitting on the mat right in front of your door is three bags of groceries from Bradley’s.

The bags contain all the items you remember dumping into your cart, including the added addition of one box of cinnamon toast crunch. You can’t prove it, there’s no note, but you don’t really need it do you? There are only two people who would have had access to the cart you left behind, and only one of those two would have added in your favorite cereal. An internal debate rages inside of you, one side of you wanting to leave the food on your porch. Hoping that maybe later Steve will drive by and see it still sitting there. Maybe it will be an ounce of the hurt he's inflicted on you. The other part of you though, the part whose stomach is literally just growling at the prospect of food, wins out. You drag the bags inside and spend the night cycling between the incident in the store and what the bags of food on your porch mean.

The next day feels like a relapse, and you find yourself pacing by your phone, the internal debate to call Steve rages on in your mind. The number of times you pick up that phone and start to punch in his number is too many to count. There’s only one time when you get through the whole number, you only let it ring once before you’re slamming the phone back down and rushing off to your room. You throw yourself onto your bed, face first into your pillow, and you scream. It feels like every emotion that’s been building up since that night in Steve’s car just forces its way out of you. You spend the rest of your day in bed, Don’t Dream It’s Over plays on repeat as you stare at your ceiling and only recognize time passing by the light that streams in from your window.

When your parents come back a week later you say that you want to leave Hawkins earlier after all. They don’t even ask why you changed your mind. They don’t press the issue, which you figured they wouldn’t, but it still stings. instead, they celebrate. Your mom pulls you into her arms and excitedly tells you that it’s the second-best decision you’ve ever made. Your dad chimes in about how the first was applying to college in the first place, his hand feels heavy on your shoulder. The smile you wear feels like it was pasted on, like some macaroni art piece a kindergartener does. Your parents don’t notice though, they never do, they move on already making plans about your departure. The choice doesn’t feel right, but then again, you’re not really sure what the right choice is any more or how it should feel.

______________________________________________________________

You spend the rest of your summer forcing yourself into spaces you don’t want to be in, but it feels like you have to. You got to parties with Val, you spend summer days at the pool with your friends as you planned. It may not be all the friends that you had anticipated being with but it’s something. You feel like with each activity you do you’re adding another band-aid to your heart hoping that this time maybe it’ll stay together. There are times, like at the community pool, when you sit with your friends, and you don’t really feel there. It feels like you’re playing a part and you’ve never been a good actress, so you’re still surprised when everyone just believes it.

Time and life keep moving forward and you wish it felt like you were too, but you still feel stuck. Your parents think that time won’t start moving until you’re away at college, and your friends believe that you need to start dating someone new to feel like you’ve moved on. You don’t think any of them are right but again you’re still stuck wondering what the right move is and how it’s supposed to feel.

What you do manage is to only catch glimpses of Steve for the rest of the summer. You see him at the movies dropping the party off, and you catch him one day leaving Family Video when he’s stayed too late. There’s another day at the grocery store, where you find yourself hiding behind a display stand to avoid the awkward run-in. You see him but you don’t think he ever sees you. You’re not sure if that’s exactly what you want, but if it is then why does it still also ache? A week before you leave you seek Steve out. You spend the morning giving yourself a pep talk, you take the time to perfect your outfit and ensure that you look better than you feel. This encounter is in your control, and you want to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.

You march into Family Video. You’ve been waiting for Robin to leave for her break and for a lull in customers to happen. When all the stars align you take a deep breath, shake out the nerves and move forward with purpose. You have a week left in Hawkins and all your teen magazines have told you that if you want to start college off right you need closure.

The bell above the door rings out in a way that feels louder than you remember. You don’t let it stop you though, you move forward and watch with some satisfaction as Steve’s head pops up and surprise washes over his face. Good, you think to yourself, finally, he knows what it’s like to be ambushed. You’ve planned out what you want to say so once you’re at the counter you speak before Steve can completely derail you.

“Harrington,” the last name comes out a lot calmer than you thought it would, you feel confident. “I leave for school next week…”

“Next week?” Steve interrupts, he looks like he has more to say but you send a glare his way which is enough to have him holding back words. If you paused long enough to just stare at him, you might wonder if he's disappointed, but you don't let the silence linger long enough to notice.

“As I was saying, I leave next week for school, and you owe me some type of closure or explanation for what happened. I’ll be at the diner tomorrow night, 7 pm and I expect you to show up.” You’re proud of yourself, your voice has an edge to it that leaves no room for disagreement.

Steve just says your name and he says it in the same soft way he did when you first started dating. You feel ruffled and some of that confidence feels like it’s being washed down a drain somewhere. “No,” you interrupt him. You can feel the tension in your forehead, you know your brows are furrowed and the frown on your face is reflecting your real emotions instead of some mask you’ve been wearing.

“You just dumped me, out of the blue and you gave me no explanation. I’m leaving next week, and you owe me this. You don’t get to dump me, say that you don’t care for me, and then leave groceries on my doorstep, Steve.” Something in your words must hit a soft spot that you know Steve still has inside of him. Even if his feelings for you are long gone, Steve has always been gooey and soft like caramel on the inside.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” You stare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out if you’re getting an honest response. Once you’re sure you are you nod and turn to leave. When you were dating you never liked saying goodbye to Steve, it was always a see you soon. Now when you leave there’s no goodbye, but it’s more because you don’t want to waste another word on him. Not when you need to prepare for tomorrow.

______________________________________________________________

The next night finds you showing up at the diner first. The waitress recognizes you and tells you it’s been a while since she’s seen you. You don’t have the heart to tell her the reason why, you just smile and walk to the booth that used to belong to Steve and you.

You don’t feel as prepared for your conversation tonight as you would like, but you do feel less fragile. Somewhere between yesterday and today, you’ve managed to slide into the anger stage of your grief. There are times when you’re not sure if you’re going to just hit Steve as soon as you hit him, or worse. Worse is that small intrusive thought that you have about kissing him one last time. It’s weird because you’re so angry, the angriest you think you’ve ever been before. You feel like a pot that was left on a burner too long, just boiling over the edge and sizzling when you hit the stove eye.

And yet, behind all that anger there’s still the part of you that loves Steve. That piece of you can’t even remember the last time you kissed. You have fuzzy memories of when it might have happened. Maybe a goodbye kiss as he dropped you off at home, something that happened underneath his comforter as you both tried to hide away from the world a little longer. Either of those or something more is possible. It’s just... how were you supposed to know you needed to remember it? You think that maybe this time if you knew it was the last, you’d feel more prepared this time. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.

You slide the salt shaker between your hands, watching as it glides over the table as smooth as butter. Another glance at the clock tells you that Steve is late, Steve who was never late to anything that had to do with you before. The heat starts to turn up, and you feel more and more like that roaring boil of the pot. Twenty minutes after the hour he was supposed to be there the bell chimes above the door.

You don’t give in to the urge to look, you watch the salt continue to glide over the table. You know already it’s Steve because that same waitress is telling him that his girlfriend is at the regular booth. Steve doesn’t even correct her, at least not that you can hear. Steve slides into his seat as easily as the salt continued to glide on the table. All the anger you felt feels like it whooshes out of you. You go from feeling like a boiling pot to a balloon that was blown up and then let go before the air could be sealed inside.

As you sit across from him, the silence stretching on like the miles on an interstate you find yourself spiraling. People, mostly your friends and parents, have implied that it was childish of you to assume that your relationship with Steve would be anything long-term. And maybe you were, maybe somewhere in it all you got swept up in teenage fantasies. Sitting across from him though reminds you how it happened. For all the pain he’s caused, Steve Harrington is still the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen.

The people of Hawkins can gather and label you as simple-minded for all you care. Slap a label on you and shelve you in the town library with all the other romance novels, you don’t care. Because for all that they say you saw yourself creating a future with this man in front of you. Sure, maybe you romanticized it all, but God… you would have married Steve if he had given you a chance.

It’s that thought that spurs you back into the anger portion of The Aftermath. Because you didn’t build your relationship up by yourself. Steve was there too, he’s the one that layered the cement for your foundation. Steve with his endless flirting, his soft compliments, his whispered promises of forever. And even at the end, Steve left you with no explanation for this exit he took. And you can’t start your journey until he finally tells you why.

“You never really gave me a why for what happened at the end. I hate that it’s been months and I can’t let go of you, and maybe I’m just oversharing here, maybe I cared more, but I have to know. Steve, what the hell happened to us?” You’re surprised how quickly the words come out, but you’re pleased that they sound so tough. If Steve is surprised that you had to break the silence, he doesn’t show it.

“We’re young, this wasn’t going to be forever.” Steve’s voice isn’t loud, but it feels like it echoes in the diner. You want to sink into the vinyl of the booth, but you know you can’t.

“See, you say that but,” you take a breath to collect yourself to figure out how you say this all. “We talked about plans, Steve.” You look up, it’s easier to stare into the fluorescents than into Steve’s eyes. Your nerves make themselves known as you feel your fingers picking at the dry skin around your nails.

“Maybe somewhere along the way, I was looking farther into the future than you were. And if I was then I guess that’s on me. But I didn’t even know forever was an option until you gave me the words to use.” You shake your head like it’ll knock away your disbelief. Your gaze drifts from the lights to your hands gathered on the top of the table now.

“There was that time,” You lay your hands flat on the table hoping the action will stop the nerves from expanding. “We had only been together for like 4 months, and it was that really rainy day?” It’s a question, a quick uptake that doesn’t need an answer. You finally look to Steve again, waiting for some recognition to spark in his mind before you bulldoze on.

“We stayed in your bed for hours, wrapped up in one another. It was the laziest and softest day we had since we started dating. And there was that moment, and you told me that you wanted pause time.” A grimace of a smile forms, and it’s a bitter laugh that accompanies it. “You wanted to stay in that moment forever, do you remember that?”

Steve, who has been so emotionless through your every moment since you broke up, seems to finally crack. You watch emotions slide out of him as you wait for a response.

“I remember.” It’s a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgment of your past. If words could hold weight though, if they could carry more than a sound, you think those two would weigh a ton. They sound heavy at least, and for once you’re happy you don’t have to offer to carry them for Steve.

“So, when did that change?” You press on, encouraged by his response.

“I wish I could tell you. I wish there was a day or a time if that would help you. It was slow, and then it was just there and so I ended it.” Steve’s response is a rush of words, and his gaze isn’t even on you. It all collides together like a car crash. And just like a car crash once the collision hits, you can’t look away from it. It feels like a tragedy, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but human nature is human nature, and you can’t change that. Maybe there’s more to say after his confession but instead, Steve leaves without saying goodbye. His departure is quick and you calling his name is the only thing that follows him.

You stay stuck in that booth for a while, Steve’s words rolling around in your head like a tumbleweed. This was supposed to be closure, but it doesn’t feel like anything has been closed. You feel like you’re trying to piece a puzzle together but some of the pieces are still missing. Steve is the only one that has them but he’s refusing to let you see them, so you don’t even know what you’re trying to put together.

A small nagging part of you feels like there’s still more to this. Like something bigger is at play. But if Steve isn’t willing to share with the class despite all your opportunities for him to do so you’re at a loss. You have to, at a certain point, accept the fact that this is an unknown portion that you’ll never get answered. You hate that, hate how bitter it tastes, but you have no other choice than to find a way to work towards it. Because if nothing else, this night has shown that you can’t keep this candle burning when someone is actively blowing it out. It’s time to snuff the flame out yourself. You want to hope that maybe it’ll be easier once there’s some distance between Steve and yourself. Maybe if you’re no longer hiding from him at the grocery store that door that feels like it’s still wide open will start to close and you can move on.

______________________________________________________________

The day before you leave feels like a round of goodbyes. You hadn’t told anyone besides Steve that you’d be leaving early. Your friends are surprised, and you smile and tell them you’re just excited. Steve had always been your secret keeper, the only one that knew the fear you had around going to college. So, you know your lie will go over smoothly with your friends, and just like you’ve been doing for the remainder of the summer your mask of ‘I’m fine’ will help sell the story more.

It's the kids and Robin that you feel the most torn on, the ones that you struggle with when it comes to a goodbye. The breakup fractured a lot of things in your life, and it feels like maybe you lost them all somewhere this summer. They were never really yours though, so how you could have lost them you’re not sure. In the end, you solidify your resolve and even if it means nothing to them it does mean something to you. You’ve already worked your last shift, and yet you sit in the shared parking lot of your former work and the only place you’re guaranteed to find everyone you need all at once. Since the mall is long gone, this is the best place to be on a hot summer day. Unless you want to share the pool water with the rest of the Hawkins. You wait, you let Steve leave for his lunch, and you take that as your moment.

There’s no speech planned, nothing too major in your goodbye. Robin’s surprised face is what greets you when she looks towards the bell ringing. A soft exclamation of surprise escapes her and she looks confused. “I don’t want to waste your time,” you find yourself telling her. This is the quietest you’ve ever seen Robin.

“I just wanted to say goodbye. I know you’re his friend, and we haven’t really talked since… Well, you know when, but sometimes you felt like my friend too and so I just wanted to say goodbye before I left and that I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you before this.”

All your words sound so unsure, and you feel like you should be phrasing questions instead of just statements.

Silence hangs over the store, and you feel like if you don’t leave it’s just going to grow more awkward. “Okay, well then.” You mumble to yourself, and you force a smile and a wave before you turn to go. You make it to the door, it’s open and you are half in the heat and half in the air conditioning when Robin finally speaks.

“I’m sorry,” it’s not what you expect, and you throw a glance over your shoulder. Her face reflects the apology she’s given you. “We were friends, it’s just-” You shake your head and interrupt.

“It’s okay, Robin. He was your friend first, I’m glad that he had you and the kids.” You smile, and it feels real this time. “Maybe when I get back for winter break, we could be friends again?”

“I’d like that.” Robin matches your smile, and her nod is enthusiastic. You wave one last time and head fully out into the heat, you’ve got one more stop right next door and then your goodbye tour of Hawkins will be over.

The kids are right where you expect them. Tangled together around one of the games, with Max behind the controls. You wait until the losing screen comes on before addressing them. Your goodbye with the kids is just as short as your one with Robin. “You know I’m kind of gonna miss watching you all hold these games hostage,” Your tone is cheerful, not at all scared like you feel inside. The kids are quick to turn around and it’s Will that matches your tone when he calls your name. Will has always been the kindest of the bunch, and he’s quick to hug your side while everyone else smiles and says hello.

Max is the one to break the greetings, always the most impulsive of the group. “What are you doing here, do you work today?”

“Uh no, actually I came here looking for you guys.” You feel like you stumble over your words, especially as Mike gives you the most suspicious look you’ve ever seen him throw your way. He’s always hard to please, but you feel like maybe you shouldn’t have added him to the goodbye tour after all.

“I just wanted to say goodbye, I know we haven’t talked this summer but still.” You find yourself shrugging as you finish talking.

“You’re leaving already?” It’s Dustin this time, and you find yourself surprised. He hasn’t talked to you since the breakup, and you assumed that would carry over to this conversation. His tone sounds disappointed, and you find yourself feeling guilty for a reason you can’t name.

“I leave tomorrow,” there’s a chorus of groans and refusals that leave the kids. Something like regret swells up because sure these were Steve’s kids first, but they were kinda yours too. You knew them before Steve and had a whole weird dynamic with them before you even knew Steve worked next door. A part of you feels like you messed up this summer by not making more of an effort with them.

“I’m sorry about this summer,” the expressions they turn your way feel like they know too much for kids who are too young to be wrapped up in your love life drama. “We’re sorry too,” Lucas tells you. “You have nothing to apologize for okay,” you look at each one of them, the look on your face leaves no room for argument. It’s always worked with the group.

“Maybe when I get home for winter break, we could all do something together?” You offer them the same olive branch that was extended to Robin. Everyone, Mike included you’re happy to note, nods their head. You find yourself ruffling Will’s hair, he’s still the closest to you. “It’s a plan,” you tell them. “I’ll let you get back to the game, make sure you keep that top spot!” Max tells you not to worry about it, a smirk already forming on her face. You give them all one last smile and make your way out of the building.

You think you’re done, and you feel as at peace as you think you can manage under the circumstances of it all. You unlock the door of your car, plans already in mind for what is left to pack up for the trip tomorrow when someone is calling out your name. You look up and find Dustin running towards you. You meet him part of the way, and he’s throwing his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. There’s a huff of surprise that forces its way out upon the impact, but you don’t hesitate as you return the hug.

His voice is muffled, and you rub soothing circles on his back. “Dustin, I can’t understand you.” You keep your voice soft like you’re talking to a startled animal. It’s just a moment before he pulls back, and you’re met with a teary face. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you this summer,” Dustin’s words are rushed and come out as almost one sound. You find yourself shushing him and pulling him in for another hug. “You’re all good, it’s okay.”

You give him a minute to just feel his big feelings before you push him back. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you find you don’t have to bend down too far to meet his gaze. You wonder when he started getting so tall and remind yourself it was probably sometime this summer.

“Dustin, I’m not mad or upset or anything okay?” You wait for him to nod along to what you’re saying. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this,” there’s enough stress on sorry that you think it could take off like a jet with the force you’re pushing it out. “Steve and I were the adults, you shouldn’t have been caught up in the middle, okay?”

Dustin looks like he’s going to argue, “No arguments! This was between us, and we should have made that clear.” Dustin stares at you for what feels like a minute before he nods.

“I’m gonna miss you,” is what Dustin tells you next. “Keith is never gonna be as cool as you. Whose going kick all the older kids off the games for me?” You laugh, happy to see him joking with you now.

“I’m going to miss you too, kid.” You give his shoulders a squeeze, “I’m going to give you a secret, use it responsibly, okay?” Dustin gives you an excited look and nods his head quickly, “I promise,” he says.

“If Keith gives you any trouble, just tell him that you know about Lucy.” Dustin has questions you can tell. “Keith won’t ask you to tell him, he’ll be too embarrassed. If he asks how you know, then you just tell him I told you. He’ll do whatever you want.”

There’s a part of you that feels like maybe you’ve given him too much power, but Dustin’s always been a smart kid and Keith has always been a dick to him, so you don’t feel too much remorse. Someone should be benefiting from the information anyway, and Dustin feels like the right one out of the party to hold on to the information.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” You quote to him, it’s a quip he used to tell Steve all the time before you started dating. Something from a comic book if you remember correctly.

Dustin’s smile is blinding, “You were always too cool for him you know, it’s his loss.” You smile and hope it doesn’t come off as sad as it feels. “Thanks, Dustin.”

You ruffle his hair, just like you had done to Will. Dustin bats at your hands and you push him toward the arcade, “Go spend time with your friends. I’ll see you in December.”

Dustin starts to go but turns back just as quickly. “You promise?” The happiness that had been there before has been replaced with worry again. “I pinky promise,” you hold out your pinky to show him you’re serious. Dustin comes back just to seal the promise and then waves goodbye again returning to the arcade.

The next morning, when every spare inch of space in your car is covered in your belongings, you finally feel like you could actually leave this place feeling okay. Things are not at all the way you thought they would be when the summer first started. You also still feel a weird sort of dread about attending college, but it feels like you could conquer it. If you could do this, this weird limbo break-up, then you think college can’t be that bad.

Your parents aren’t going with you. Despite their excitement and all the ways they’ve pushed you into this decision, they have both told you they feel you have to do this alone. Everything is set up for you, your dad has given you a paper with your new address on it and a credit card for emergencies. You know in both their eyes they’ve done their job as your parents. They’ve paved the way for success and now it’s your responsibility to make them proud.

It feels fitting that you leave Hawkins the same way you started the summer, all alone. You tell yourself that this is what you need. You tell yourself a lot of things as you make your way to the town line. You try not to look in the rearview mirror, too afraid that you’ll see everything you’re leaving behind and change your mind. You remind yourself it’s a few months, and that you can do this. You just hope that you aren’t lying to yourself. You may not feel happy, but you also don’t feel completely numb either. Maybe that’s the right type of progress though.

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #She's back at it again with another sad fic #but no one dies this time so progress #berrystiles writes #rwylm

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