#everything works out well for everyone by the way. the drama is high but in the next scene his friends are like hey we're cool | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

banzonism · 2 months ago

Text

YOU BELONG WITH ME

one-shot

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance, drama, comedy, angst, fluff, slow burn, love pining

tags: football player! jk, photographer! jk, student leader! reader, high school au, chilhood friend, boy next door jk, bff drama, friends to lovers, yeontan cameo

synopsis: Beneath the light banter and playful teasing of childhood friends lies a deep well of unspoken feelings, simmering just out of reach. Quick glances shared during laughter hold more meaning than anyone dares to acknowledge. But everything shifts dramatically when a heartfelt letter reveals unexpected truths, shattering the carefully constructed lives they have built. Will they find their way back to each other and uncover the truth of their feelings? In the end, they must find out if they really belong with each other.

words count: 10k

notes: hello everyone! here's another one-shot from me, and let me tell you i've been thinking about this fic a lot lot lot bc i'm a sucker of this kind of romance, sorry.... inspired by TS "you belong with me” mv but with a twist! if you’re a swiftie, you’ll probably notice quite a few nods to the iconic mv—incorporated some of its most memorable scenes into the story. hope you enjoy this fun, nostalgic ride <3

p.s. dont come for my girl Sana—she might be a little extra in the beginning scenes, but trust me she’s worth it! & threw a Yeontan moment to honor him... fly high, little one 🕊

The gym buzzed with energy as students rushed around, their laughter and conversations creating a lively atmosphere for the school’s event preparations. Colorful decorations filled the room, and tables were piled high with craft supplies. As the student council leader, you moved through the crowd with a clipboard, checking off tasks and motivating your excited team.

“Hey, Miss Y/N!” called out a freshman, her face showing worry. “Can you help us with this banner? It’s too high!”

“Got it!” you answered with determination, quickly heading to where a sturdy ladder was leaning against the wall. You set it up under the spot where the banner needed to go and felt a surge of confidence as you grabbed the banner in one hand and some tape in the other.

Climbing the ladder, each step brought you closer to the colorful paper reaching up to the ceiling. But as you neared the top, your foot slipped a little on the rung. In that quick moment, everything seemed to slow down. “Oh no—” you gasped, trying hard to steady yourself. Before you knew it, you slipped down the ladder and landed with a thud on the polished gym floor. The loud noise echoed in the sudden silence that followed.

Laughter erupted around you, filling the air with amusement. At the center of it all was Sana , the cheerleading captain and your former bestfriend. Her laughter rang out, almost mocking, as she stood with her friends, arms crossed and a smug smirk on her face, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Be careful, Y/N," she mocked, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Being busy might make you grow old faster." Her laughter felt sharp, and it stung even more when you noticed she didn’t offer to help you up.

Heat flooded your cheeks, mixing embarrassment with frustration, but you fought to keep it under control. Taking a deep breath, you stood up and brushed off your shirt, straightening your back. “Alright, everyone, let’s get back to work! We have an event to make special!” you said, putting on a genuine smile that energized the team.

The room buzzed with renewed focus as your enthusiasm spread, pulling everyone back into the excitement of preparing for the event. Sana rolled her eyes and turned away with her group, their giggles trailing behind, but you didn’t let their laughter get you down.

“Y/N, are you okay?” a familiar voice called through the noise. You turned to see Kim Namjoon, the student council secretary and the head editor of the school paper, approaching with a concerned look on his face, a notebook tucked under one arm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a grin. “Just stumbled a bit, nothing to worry about.”

“Impressive,” he said, chuckling. “Not many can fall like that and still walk away with confidence.”

"You think?" you grin. "Add it to the school paper column. Speaking of which, I need your help editing later." Namjoon smiles, his warmth reassuring.

While being the heaď of the student council was a big responsibility, you believed that your writing skills were really what helped you lead. Every meeting, every plan for events, and every motivational speech was shaped by your years of writing experience. It wasn’t just a hobby; it was a vital tool that helped define your leadership style.

As the day went on, you guided the team with determination, turning your fall into a funny story rather than a moment of embarrassment. With the gym transforming into a lively celebration of school spirit, you felt a swell of pride in both the team and yourself for staying true to what really mattered.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

The following day was the big foundation day event, and it turned out to be a tremendous success. As the sun set, you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling proud of how everything had gone. You had led your team to pull off one of the year's most important events, and now you could finally focus on your studies again, catch up on assignments, and enjoy some much-needed relaxation.

But then, things took an unexpected turn.

That evening, the school's football team had a crucial game against a rival school, which brought a huge crowd to the stadium. At first, you had no plans to go; you were determined to finish your essays and study for your upcoming exams. Just as you were about to dive into your books, you received a call from Namjoon.

“Hey Y/N, I know this is really last minute, but can you come by the office?” he asked, sounding urgent.

Curious and a bit worried, you made your way to the editorial office. Being part of the school publication was something you loved, but tonight, you hoped it wouldn’t mean too much extra work.

When you arrived, Namjoon greeted you with a stressed look. “Y/N, I really need your help. You're one of our best writers, and we’re in a tight spot.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s happened?”

“Yunjin, who was supposed to write about tonight’s football game, is sick and can’t make it,” Namjoon explained, urgency in his voice. “We need someone to fill in and write the article for tomorrow’s paper. I know it’s short notice, but you’re our best option. Can you take it on?”

You paused, thinking about all the homework and studying waiting for you at home. “Namjoon, I’m not sure I can do this. Writing sports articles isn’t really my thing.”

Namjoon shot you a reassuring smile. “You just have to write down what happens during the game and maybe ask a few of our players about it afterward. You’re a fantastic writer, Y/N. I know you can handle this.”

Feeling torn, you considered the school, the players who had worked so hard for this moment, and how important it was to share their story with everyone.

“Okay, Joon,” you said with newfound determination. “I’ll do it.”

Namjoon visibly relaxed and handed you a notebook and a press pass. “You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. I know you’ve already put in a lot of effort for the school. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You smirked and raised an eyebrow. “You better. I’m counting on you for lunch for a week.”

Namjoon laughed. “Deal. Now go make it a great article. Good luck!”

With that, you headed towards the stadium, notebook in hand, ready to take on another challenge.

Later, under the bright lights of the stadium, you were caught up in the exciting atmosphere of the game. The crowd's cheers surrounded you as you walked along the sidelines, your press pass hanging around your neck. The lights created dramatic shadows over the players as they warmed up, and you could feel their energy in the air. You stopped for a moment, heart racing, to write down your initial thoughts about the buzz surrounding the upcoming match and the rival team's arrival.

Then, you saw him.

The golden boy everyone had been talking about. He was someone you had known since you were kids—the one who always made it difficult for you to hold his gaze for long. Memories flooded back of sunny afternoons spent playing in your backyards, the shy smiles exchanged during those brief encounters, and that unmistakable flutter in your stomach whenever he was near.

He stood in the middle of the field, naturally drawing everyone's attention, with his dark hair damp from practicing, strands sticking to his forehead. His jersey fit him perfectly, showcasing his athletic build. You could see the fire in his eyes from where you stood—a mix of determination and passion that made him even more captivating.

When the game ended with an exciting win for your school, the stadium roared with cheers. A wave of pride swelled inside you—not just for the team's victory but for the chance to capture this moment through your writing.

As you lingered on the sidelines, you felt torn about whether to approach him. You had enough material for your article, but a small voice inside you urged that this opportunity was too special to miss. Just as you were about to decide, a familiar voice broke into your thoughts.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turned sharply, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. There he was, striding towards you with that effortless confidence you both admired and envied. His jersey clung to him, damp with sweat, his hair tousled, and that bunny-like smile brighter than the stadium lights surrounding you.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you replied, trying to sound calm even though you felt anything but. “Congratulations on your win!”

“Thanks,” he said, tilting his head with a curious look, making you feel both exposed and energized. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you enjoy the game?”

“Of course! For the article tomorrow,” you replied, clutching your notebook like a lifeline. “You know, school paper stuff.”

“How did you find the game?” he asked, his tone light yet genuinely curious as if he wanted your opinion.

“That’s cool. I mean, you’re cool. I mean—you’re great,” you blurted, the words tumbling before you could stop them. Your thoughts were a tangled mess, and the soft chuckle that escaped his lips didn’t make it any easier to compose yourself.

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied you.

Trying to regain your composure, you cleared your throat. “Could I ask you a few questions about the game?”

“Sure,” he replied effortlessly.

You began asking him the standard post-game questions, scribbling down his answers. But as he spoke, your focus wavered. His voice was smooth and warm, carrying an understated excitement that made you lose track of your notes. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes sparkled when he talked about the team’s victory, how the corner of his lips curled into a smile that made your heart skip a beat. Your attention drifted, and your writing soon became a mess of half-written sentences.

“Hey, babe,” a voice interrupted, snapping you out of your daze.

You looked up to see Sana, the head cheerleader—of course she would be here—striding over with her usual charm. Her cheer uniform fit her perfectly, highlighting her athletic build. In that moment, the butterflies in your stomach shifted to a sinking feeling.

“Oh, hey, Sana,” Jungkook greeted her, and you noticed a change in his tone.

“Great game! You were amazing out there,” Sana said before throwing her arms around him in a sudden hug. Jungkook’s body stiffened briefly, and his expression showed mild discomfort as he pulled away.

When she finally let go, Sana’s gaze shifted to you, her smile on a sharper edge. “What’s this?” she asked, nodding toward your notebook.

“It’s for the school paper,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral.

“Last time I checked, you weren’t into sports writing, Y/N.”

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you debated whether it was worth responding. You were exhausted from the long day, and the last thing you wanted was to engage in her petty comments. But something about her smug tone lit a fire in you.

“And the last time I checked,” you shot back, your eyes lockig onto hers with a glare, “was a year ago. So, you don’t know much about what I’m doing now, Sana.”

The tension in the air thickened, but before you could say more, Jungkook stepped in, his voice calm yet firm. “Hey, what’s going on?”

You forced a polite smile, snapping your notebook shut. “Thanks, Jungkook,” you said abruptly, needing an escape. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go now.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he replied softly, his eyes lingering on you. “See you around.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a sting. Jungkook and Sana had been linked ever since she became the cheerleading captain, though rumors swirled that they weren’t officially a couple. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, but deep down, it did—just a little. This wasn’t just anyone; it was your former best friend and the boy who had unknowingly captured your heart for years.

Later that night, you sat at your desk, struggling to finish an article you had started. The soft light from Jungkook’s room peeked through your curtains, reminding you of how near yet far he felt. His smile and the sound of his voice echoed in your mind. As you lay there, sleep refused to come, and you found yourself thinking about what could have happened if you had ever had the courage to tell him your true feelings.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After weeks passed and final exams wrapped up, you threw yourself into your studies. It wasn’t just about making your parents proud or keeping your position as a student leader; it was about getting a scholarship to the university of your dreams, something you had worked toward for years. After weeks of sleepless nights and exhausting tests, your final stretch as a high school senior came to a close.

That afternoon, completely worn out, you headed straight to your room and collapsed onto your bed. When you woke up three hours later, it was dark outside, and your mom called you for dinner. Rubbing your eyes, you stretched and turned toward your window. That’s when you saw that your curtain was slightly open, revealing Jungkook’s room across the way.

He was there, his face faintly lit by a desk lamp, talking animatedly on the phone. Even from a distance, you could see the tension in his posture—his brows were knitted together, his jaw tense, and his hand was tugging at his hair in frustration. Concern rose in your chest. Without thinking, you grabbed a notepad and marker from your desk and quickly jotted down a message.

"Are you okay?"

You held it up to the window, feeling anxious as you waited. It took him a moment to notice you, but when he did, his expression softened a bit. He sighed and wrote back:

"Tired of drama."

Unsure of how to reply, you eventually wrote:

"Sorry."

He looked at your note, and a faint, tired smile flickered across his face. He shook his head gently, as if to say it wasn’t your fault. The simple exchange left a strange heaviness in your chest despite the silence between you. You wondered what troubles he was facing, and for a brief moment, you wished you could reach out and help him.

Jungkook then waved at you, a small gesture that felt like a goodnight. You waved back, signaling for him to get some rest. He smiled again, this time it felt more genuine, before closing his curtain. The room immediately fell silent, but thoughts of him lingered long after he disappeared from view.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

On a laid-back Sunday afternoon, you decided to take a break from your busy life by diving into a book that had caught your interest. You found a quiet spot on a bench in the park, where the calm surroundings helped soothe your busy mind.

Out of the blue, you were startled by a loud bark. Looking up, you saw a tiny, fluffy Pomeranian running towards you. Its shiny black and brown fur sparkled in the sunlight, and its bright eyes shone with playful energy. A smile spread across your face as the little dog, looking like a cuddly stuffed animal, stopped barking and approached you cautiously.

“Hey there, little buddy,” you said softly, reaching out your hand. The dog sniffed your fingers for a moment and then nuzzled against you, clearly enjoying the attention. Feeling a rush of affection for dogs, you scratched behind its ears and laughed as it playfully licked your hand.

Just then, a voice called out from a distance, “Yeontan!” You looked up to see Jungkook jogging toward you, looking a bit rushed.

“There you are,” he said, picking up the dog and holding it in his arms. “I’m sorry if he bothered you.”

“Oh, not at all,” you replied with a smile, still petting Yeontan. “He’s so cute!”

Jungkook chuckled and scratched Yeontan behind the ear. “He’s not actually mine, though. Taehyung asked me to look after him for a while. He can be quite a handful sometimes.”

“I don’t mind at all,” you said, charmed by the little fluffball. “I love dogs. He’s just too adorable!”

“Right?” Jungkook grinned. “He can be a bit of a troublemaker, though. So, what are you doing here? Just reading?”

“Something like that,” you shrugged. “I needed a break to clear my mind. It helps.”

“That's good to hear. You deserve some time off,” Jungkook replied, his tone growing softer. “So, what’s your plan after graduation? Are you staying here for college?”

You paused, closing your book as you considered your response. “Honestly, I’m not sure. My mom and I haven’t talked much about it, but I’m applying to a few schools that are far away. What about you?”

Jungkook sighed, absentmindedly petting Yeontan. “My dad wants me to stay here and take business classes while focusing on football. He has this whole plan for me to take over his business.”

“Is that what you want?” you asked, tilting your head to study his expression.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to let him down, but…”

“But what?” you prompted.

“I really loved photography and film,” he said quietly. “I told my dad I wanted to study film, but he wasn’t too excited. He thinks football is my best chance at making it to the national team, and that everything else is just a hobby.”

You frowned, feeling a twinge of sympathy for him. “That sounds rough, Jungkook. It’s great that your dad believes in you, but it’s your life. You should do what makes you happy.”

“That’s what your dad always said, right?” Jungkook remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I miss Uncle Seojun. He always encouraged me and was so excited about my photography projects.”

“He really was,” you replied, smiling at the memory of your father. “I remember how thrilled you were when you got that camera for your birthday. You couldn’t stop talking about it!”

He laughed softly, nostalgic. “Yeah, those were good times.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, momentarily distracted by a stray hair that had fallen over your face. Without thinking, he reached out and gently tucked it behind your ear. The unexpected touch made your heart skip a beat.

“There,” he said softly, almost whispering as if the moment needed a certain quiet. “Now I can see you properly.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you scrambled to find words, but your mind went blank. His hand lingered for a brief moment before he pulled away, and the faint smile he gave you sent your heart racing.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the sounds of the park and even Yeontan’s soft breathing seemed to disappear. You wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating.

You both sat there quietly for a while, with Yeontan curled up between you. It felt like a snapshot of the past, a brief reminder of simpler times before life got more complicated.

But before long, the moment was disrupted. A red car pulled up nearby, and you recognized the girl stepping out—Sana. Of course, it had to be her. With her stylish cap and polished look, she approached like she owned the place.

“Hey, Jungkook! What’s taking you so long to grab Yeontan?” she called out, shattering the peaceful moment you had shared with Jungkook.

Jungkook stood up, brushing off his jeans as if to shake off the experience you’d just had. “I’ve got to go now,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. “It was really nice talking to you again.”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the whirlwind of feelings inside you. “Time to go now, buddy,” you said softly to Yeontan, giving the little dog one last affectionate pat.

Jungkook sank back onto the bench, his smile brightening the moment as he gently took Yeontan’s paw and waved it toward you. “Bye, Yeontan,” you said, unable to suppress the flicker of a smile that danced on your lips despite the weight in your chest.

When Jungkook got on the passenger seat, Sana suddenly whispered to Jungkook, making them like they are kissing on your view, which made Jungkook laugh. You quickly dropped your gaze back to your book, pretending not to notice, acting as if it didn’t bother you. But it did. It always did.

The car pulled away, taking them with it, leaving you alone once again with only your book and the lingering ache in your chest.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

The office was filled with a low hum of activity, with the sounds of papers being shuffled and keyboards tapping away. You were sitting at your usual desk, surrounded by notes, layout plans, and playlists for the upcoming graduation celebration. It was your last year of school, and as the leader of the organizing committee, you were determined to make the event truly special.

“Hey, Y/N, have you had lunch yet?” a familiar voice cut through your concentration.

Looking up, you saw Namjoon standing there with a warm smile, holding a neatly packed lunchbox.

“I’ll eat later. I was thinking of heading to the cafeteria,” you replied, forcing a tired smile.

“No need for that,” he said, placing the box down in front of you. “I brought you lunch. You’ve been working yourself to the bone lately.”

“Thanks, that really means a lot,” you said, genuinely appreciative.

“Not a problem. You deserve it,” he replied, pulling up a chair to sit next to you. “By the way, have you heard anything about your application to your dream school?”

You leaned back in your chair with a sigh. “No news yet. I’m just waiting and hoping for that scholarship. It all depends on this.”

Namjoon nodded, his expression confident. “You’ll get it. I believe in you.”

“I hope you’re right,” you said quietly, feeling the pressure weighing on you.

“It’s you, Y/N. You’ve been juggling so much—school, committee duties, everything. If anyone can handle it, it’s you,” he said earnestly, and his encouragement brought a small smile to your face.

You talked about school and Namjoon’s plans for college, enjoying the easy flow of conversation. For a moment, the stress you were feeling seemed to lift.

“So… about prom?” he asked casually, tilting his head. “Are you going? Has anyone asked you to go with them?”

You hesitated, playing with your pen. “Not yet. I’m not sure I’ll even go.”

“Why not?” he inquired.

“I’ve been so busy, and I really need to focus on studying for the scholarship. That’s what’s most important for me right now,” you explained, looking away.

Namjoon frowned a little but nodded in understanding. “I get it. But you know… you’ve worked really hard. Maybe you deserve one night to just have fun. Prom is an important event, especially for someone like you who’s given so much to this school. Just think about it, okay?”

You smiled softly, touched by his concern. “Thanks, Namjoon. I’ll think about it.”

He stood up and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Good. Now eat your lunch. You need the energy for everything you’re handling.”

As he walked away, you looked down at the lunchbox and smiled to yourself. Namjoon always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t realize it yourself.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Weeks passed, and the gentle light of your desk lamp lit up the messy spread of notes and open textbooks in front of you. You had been studying for hours, going over every possible topic for the entrance exam—a big test that could determine whether you got into your dream school. The clock struck midnight, but you were so focused that you barely noticed the time.

Even so, thoughts of prom kept sneaking into your mind. It wasn’t just that your friend Namjoon had encouraged you to go; it was the fact that prom, the highlight of your senior year, was happening on the same day as your exam. The test was in the morning, and there would be time to get ready afterward, but you wondered if it was worth the rush. Should you focus on your future or let yourself enjoy one night of celebration after all your hard work?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a door open from the other side. You saw Jungkook walked into his room, his hair slightly damp, probably from football practice, and his gym bag hanging over his shoulder. He looked a mix of tired and effortlessly cool.

You quickly turned your attention back to your notes, trying not to seem obvious, but you could sense that he was watching you. When you glanced up again, you noticed him grab a notepad and a marker from his desk. He wrote something down and held it up to his window.

“Are you going to prom tomorrow?”

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by his direct question. Slowly, you grabbed your notepad and wrote back:

“No, studying.”

He read your response and his expression changed—was that disappointment? He sighed and quickly wrote another note, a small smile appearing on his face as he held it up:

“Wish you were"

Your heart skipped a beat. The simplicity of his words affected you more than you anticipated. You smiled back, feeling a mix of flattery and frustration. Prom had only been a distant thought until now, but Jungkook’s quiet hope made you reconsider.

You stood up and waved goodbye, signaling that you were heading downstairs for dinner. Your mom greeted you warmly and asked how your studying was going. You nodded, trying to focus on the meal in front of you, but your mind was elsewhere. Between the entrance exam, the upcoming prom, and Jungkook’s note, you felt like you were at a crossroads, unsure of which path to take.

That morning, your mom took you to the university for an important exam. The car ride felt both long and too short at the same time, with the scenery rushing by as your nerves tightened. This was the moment you had been working towards after many sleepless nights and self-imposed pressure. There was no turning back now.

“I know you’re feeling anxious, sweetheart,” your mom said gently. “But no matter what happens, I’m proud of you. And your dad? He would be so happy.”

You nodded, trying to push down the lump in your throat. Her comforting words eased your anxiety, even as your mind raced with worries about what could go wrong.

When you entered the exam hall, the quietness was almost overwhelming. Other students, just as nervous as you, bent over their papers. Once the exam started, it was just you, the questions in front of you, and your pen. You poured all your effort into each answer, determined to do your best.

As you walked out of the hall afterwards, doubt began to creep in. Did I do enough? you wondered. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself, “I’ve done my best. Now it’s in the hands of fate.”

Back home after lunch, you tried to distract yourself from the exam, but the thoughts kept returning. It wasn’t until exactly 1:00 PM, hours later, that your phone buzzed with a notification. An email awaited you.

Your heart raced as you opened it, and the words “Admission Results” jumped out at you. As you read through the letter, one word stood out: Congratulations.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, and then exclaimed more loudly, “I passed!”

Your mom rushed in, startled by your shout. When she saw the email on your screen, her face lit up with joy. You both started jumping around the room, laughing and crying together.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, wrapping you in a warm hug. “Your dad would be so proud too. I just know it.”

Later, in your room, you began to imagine the life ahead of you at your dream school. New friends, exciting opportunities, and a fresh place to learn and grow. The possibilities felt endless, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly excited about the future.

Your daydream was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. Startled, you turned to see someone you didn’t expect: Sana.

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

She stood in the doorway, exuding her usual confidence, but her face was hard to read. "We need to talk," she said, crossing her arms.

The happiness from your recent achievement quickly faded as you wondered what she wanted. You stood frozen at your door, staring at Sana, completely shocked by her unexpected visit. It felt like ages since she’d last been in your house, let alone your room.

“What are you doing here?” you finally managed to ask, still trying to process her sudden appearance.

Instead of giving a straight answer, she crossed her arms and shot you an intense glare, her voice trembling with emotion. “How could you just leave me in this town? I thought we were going to college together!”

Her outburst hit you hard. “People change, Sana. Plans change. Everything changes,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart raced.

“You didn’t even tell me?” she said, her eyes shimmering with tears that threatened to overflow.

You let out a heavy breath, feeling the weight of this tense moment. “How was I supposed to? We weren't really on good terms.”

Without another word, she walked past you, frustration clear in her body language, and sat down on the edge of your bed. “So what? Just because we weren’t talking doesn’t mean you could just vanish on me. Even if we were both acting foolish, you could’ve at least figured out a way to let me know.”

You followed her, feeling unsure whether to comfort her or give her some space. “How did you even find out I was going to another school? I’m not even sure I could pass the entrance exam.”

Sana wiped her eyes, and her frustration melted into vulnerability. “I overheard your mom mentioning it…and Jungkook told me too. And you think so little of yourself. Do you hate me that much?”

Her words cut deep. “I don’t hate you, Sana,” you replied softly, feeling your heart ache with her pain. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Y/N,” she responded, her voice shaking. “I know I haven't treated you well this year. I—” Her voice broke as she buried her face in her hands, regret washing over her like a tidal wave.

You paused for a moment but then sat down next to her. “I was going to send you a letter,” you admitted. “To explain everything before graduation.”

“A letter?” she repeated, her eyes widening with curiosity. “Let me see it!”

With a heavy heart, you opened your cabinet and took out a box filled with letters you had written to people who had meant a lot to you. With shaky hands, you handed one to her.

As she started to read the letter, you noticed her expression change. Tears filled her eyes as she processed the words you had written from deep within your heart. “Y/N, I had no idea you felt this way. I’m so sorry for making you feel alone. If I could go back in time... I would give up cheerleading if it meant keeping you in my life.”

“Please don’t say that,” you replied quickly, your voice filled with urgency. “Cheerleading was your dream. I regret not being more supportive. I should have been there for you.”

Sana shook her head, a realization dawning upon her. “And I should have been there for you, too. I had no idea what you were going through with your dad’s illness. I thought you were pushing me away, but really, I just wasn’t paying attention.”

The two of you sat together, unpacking the hurt and misunderstandings that had built up over the past year. You shared how your father's health struggles had taken over your life, creating a distance you didn’t know how to overcome. Sana opened up about feeling lost when you stopped responding to her messages, believing you no longer cared about her.

“Remember that time we were supposed to hang out? I saw you hugging Jungkook, and I… I thought maybe you didn’t need me anymore,” you reminded her, the memory still vivid.

Sana’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jungkook? Oh my God, Y/N, he was just comforting me! I was upset about my parents fighting, that’s all!”

As the ridiculousness of it all hit both of you, laughter erupted, slowly easing the tension that had lingered for so long.

“And then,” you added, “I got a call from the hospital. My dad was in surgery, and I couldn’t stay.”

Sana’s expression softened, guilt showing on her face. “I thought you ditched me. I waited for you until I couldn’t anymore.”

When you finally returned home after your dad’s funeral, you had wanted to explain everything, but seeing Sana laughing with her new cheerleading friends had hurt you deeply. “I thought you’d moved on,” you admitted, trying to hold back the pain you still felt.

Sana groaned and covered her face, genuine sorrow washing over her. “We were so foolish.”

You nodded, a smile starting to emerge despite everything. “Yeah, we were.”

As the laughter faded, the weight of the past year began to lift, replaced by a sense of ease that had been absent for so long. Hours passed as you both reminisced, catching up on everything you had missed in each other’s lives. When you looked at the clock, you were surprised to see it was already 4 PM.

“Wow,” Sana said, leaning back with a playful sigh. “We just spent hours untangling a whole year’s worth of misunderstandings. Classic us.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling lighter than you had in a long time. “Classic us! So, what’s next? How are things going with you and Jungkook?”

Sana's face shifted to one of mock shock. “Me and Jungkook? Oh, no! I think you mean me and his best friend.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Wait, Kim Taehyung? Jungkook’s best friend?”

A sheepish smile appeared on Sana’s face. “Yep! Don't act so surprised. I was always around Jungkook because Taehyung and I... well, there’s definitely more happening there than with Jungkook.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Really? This whole time I thought—”

“Thought what? That Jungkook and I were secretly in love?” Sana laughed dramatically. “Ew, no! He’s like a brother to me. Gross.”

You felt a wave of relief, though a hint of irritation bubbled up too. “Well, how was I supposed to know? You two always hung out, and there was that time you called him ‘babe’ during the football game!”

Sana grinned mischievously. “Oh, that? Totally just messing with you. I wanted to see if you get jealous.”

“Jealous?” you repeated, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s obvious. I have known you since we were little, and you have liked Jungkook since middle school, right?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “You’re the worst.”

“And you’re just in denial about it. It’s painful to watch,” she teased.

Before you could respond, Sana leaned in closer and said, “But honestly, your face every time I was with him? Not subtle at all.”

“Well, excuse me for being human,” you muttered, glaring at her.

Sana just smirked. “Anyway, there’s nothing between me and Jungkook, but there’s definitely something between him and you.”

Your heart raced at her words, but you quickly shook your head. “You’re imagining things.”

Sana rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m the one imagining this. Not the girl who’s been crushing on Jungkook for years.”

“Can we talk about something else, please?” you begged.

“Nope! You can’t get out of this. People always thought we were a couple, but it’s silly because there’s nothing there. The only person I’m into is Taehyung.”

You blinked, trying to grasp all the new information. “So... you and Taehyung?”

“Yep!” she said, grinning. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure Jungkook knows you’re interested. Not that he doesn’t already.”

“Sana!” you shouted, throwing a pillow at her.

You both burst into laughter, the earlier tension completely gone. For the first time in ages, things felt normal between you and Sana, just like they used to be.

Suddenly, Sana spoke up enthusiastically, crossing her arms like it was settled. “You need to go to this prom!”

You sighed, leaning back against your bed. “No way. I’m not ready for this. I don’t have a dress, I didn’t make plans, and prom starts at 6 PM. Do you even know what time it is?”

Sana rolled her eyes dramatically. “Seriously, Y/N? You know they never start right at 6.”

That made you laugh. “Okay, true.”

“But I still don’t have a dress!” you protested, looking down at your jeans and oversized hoodie. “Even if I did, it's too late to get ready now.”

Sana grinned mischievously and dashed out the door. “Don’t worry! We’re the same size, remember? I’ll grab a dress from my place and be back in no time. Bye!”

Before you could argue, she was gone, leaving you surprised and somewhat amused.

As you leaned back, you reflected on how just hours ago, you wouldn’t have imagined reconnecting with Sana and laughing like old times. Life can be full of surprises.

Moments later, Sana burst through your door, a garment bag draped over her arm, grinning widely. You perked up, but then noticed what she held—a white sparkly long gown.

“Wait a second,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Where’s the other dress? I thought we were going together!”

Sana winced, her smile faltering. “About that... I actually have plans tonight. With Taehyung.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re skipping prom for a guy?”

She raised her hands in mock defense, laughing. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it; I’m just a flawed human!”

You couldn’t help but laugh along, shaking your head at her antics. “Fine, but you owe me—big time.”

Sana smirked and shoved the garment bag into your arms. “Deal! Now go take a shower. We have a lot to do to make you look stunning.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom. “You better not do anything weird while I’m gone.”

“Me? Weird? Never!” Sana feigned innocence.

But as soon as you closed the bathroom door, you could hear her giggling outside.

Curiosity got the better of her. Her eyes landed on a small stack of letters sitting on your desk, and one in particular caught her attention. It had Jungkook’s name written on the envelope.

She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed it. “Curiosity kills the cat, but satisfaction brings it back,” she muttered as she opened the letter.

As she read, a sly smile spread across her face. “Oh, this is perfect.” With a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, she tucked the letter into her bag, already planning how to make her night—and yours—unforgettable.

When you returned from your shower, wrapped in a towel and ready to get started, Sana was all business. “Alright, sit down. Let’s work some magic.”

The next hour was a flurry of hairspray, brushes, and accessories as Sana worked diligently, turning you into someone who looked ready for a fairytale. By the time she was done, you hardly recognized yourself in the mirror.

“Oh my god,” Sana exclaimed, stepping back to admire her work. “You’re gorgeous! I’m so proud to call you my friend.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm. “Stop it, Sana. You’re just flattering me.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. You look amazing.”

Before you could respond, there was a knock at the door. Your mom peeked in, her eyes going wide in surprise.

“Wow,” she said, placing a hand on her chest. “You’re... stunning, my darling.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you replied, trying to hide your blush.

“I thought you weren’t going,” she added, tilting her head in confusion.

“Change of plans,” you said casually.

Your mom turned to Sana. “What about you? Aren’t you going out?”

Sana grinned, ready with her excuse. “I have something important to do tonight.”

You smirked, catching onto the little fib. “Yeah, important,” you teased quietly, getting a playful shove from Sana in return.

As your mom stepped out, Sana handed you your sandals, the final touch, and gave you an encouraging smile. “Alright, Cinderella, it’s time for the ball. It’s almost 7 PM!”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

Jungkook tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at a red light. The lights from the cars in front of him blurred as his thoughts drifted back to a note he had received from you the night before. It simply said, “No, studying.” It was straightforward and so very “you.” You were focused on your future and not swayed by a high school dance. That dedication was just one of the many things he admired about you—your ability to stay on track and ignore distractions.

But part of him selfishly wished you would go to the dance. It wasn’t about the glitz and glamour; he just wanted to see you there, enjoying yourself for once. You had worked so hard all year, and no one deserved a moment of fun more than you. And if he was honest, he simply wanted to see you smile.

He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head at his own thoughts. What was he imagining? He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything like that. He was just your neighbor, your friend—the guy who chatted with you casually and often caught glimpses of you through your room window when your light turned on.

A car behind him honked, snapping him back to reality. The light had changed to green. He pressed the gas and moved forward, only to hear his phone buzz in the passenger seat. He took a quick look at the screen during the next stop—texts from Sana.

Sana: Sorry, I’m gonna ditch you tonight. Sorry not sorry.

Sana: But I’ve got something to give you right now. Please meet me. Thanks.

Jungkook sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. He wasn’t surprised that Sana had backed out. It was typical of her behavior, probably running off for some adventure with Taehyung. He didn’t really care; he didn’t have high hopes for the night anyway. The excitement of prom had faded the moment you decided not to attend.

Still, the weight of his disappointment settled deeper in his heart. For a brief moment, he had imagined that tonight could be special—his chance to finally tell you how he felt. It was his last year of high school, and if he didn’t speak up now, he might never get the chance.

With a sigh, Jungkook turned his car toward Sana’s house. His thoughts raced, torn between the reality of you not being there and the small, foolish hope that maybe—just maybe—you might change your mind and show up. Although, he thought bitterly, what were the chances you felt the same way about him?

Yet, there was a little voice in the back of his mind encouraging him to take the risk. To go for it, even if it meant putting everything on the line. Because if not tonight, then when would he ever find the courage to say anything?

It all started when you moved into the neighborhood. Jungkook had heard some talk at school about a new student joining their class, but honestly, he didn’t care much about gossip. That changed one afternoon when Jungkook found himself in a bad mood after spilling his favorite treat—banana milk. As he grumbled about how his day couldn’t get any worse, you appeared, handing him a fresh carton with a simple, “Here.”

At that moment, Jungkook thought you might be an angel. He didn’t know you well yet, but your quiet kindness left a mark on him. It wasn’t something big or flashy, just a small gesture of support that meant a lot. From then on, you became friends—not best friends like you were with Sana, but close enough for him to pick up on little things about you, like how much you loved reading, how your face lit up when you talked about your favorite subjects, and how determined you were in everything you did.

You were one of the few who encouraged him to take photos, aside from his dad. When Jungkook got a camera for his birthday, he was excited that you agreed to model for him. Over time, you became one of his favorite people to photograph. There was something special about the way you carried yourself—elegant yet strong—that made every picture meaningful.

As time went on, Jungkook noticed a change in you. He would see you walking home from school, looking down and seeming to shut the world out. It wasn’t until later that he found out the truth: your father had passed away after being ill for a long time. Jungkook wanted to reach out, but you had withdrawn from school and social life. He understood that you needed time alone to grieve. Still, he couldn’t shake the concern he felt. Things had changed between you and Sana too; you weren’t talking as much anymore, and Jungkook wondered what had shifted.

He thought about asking Sana about it, but hesitated. It didn’t feel right since she had her own things going on. For a while, Jungkook even thought Sana was interested in him because she was always around, laughing and chatting. But soon he realized her attention was focused on his best friend, Taehyung. Ever since he introduced them, Sana had been trying to get Taehyung’s attention, and Jungkook ended up as her unintentional sidekick.

That sometimes frustrated him, especially when Sana interrupted moments he wanted to share with you. Like that one day you were sitting together on a bench while he was walking Taehyung’s dog, Yeontan, who had a lot of energy. Suddenly, Yeontan broke free and darted away, and Jungkook had rushed to catch him, unexpectedly running right into you. At that moment, it felt like fate.

When senior year began, you returned as a new person—stronger and more confident, with a spark in your eyes that caught everyone’s attention. As the newly elected student leader, you tackled every challenge with determination. Jungkook watched in awe. How could someone who had faced so much come back even brighter? When he found out you were watching the school’s big football game, he played like it was the most important game of his life. Every move was made with the thought of impressing you. When the team won, he secretly hoped that you had noticed him.

But it wasn’t just your accomplishments that captivated him. It was the way you hummed while studying, the light in your eyes when discussing your future, and your unwavering determination. The more time Jungkook spent with you, the deeper his feelings grew.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore. It felt complicated and overwhelming, and he couldn’t ignore it. But along with those feelings came frustration. Jungkook often felt unworthy of you. You were amazing in every way, while he thought of himself as just Jungkook. Even when he tried to pull away from his feelings, they would rush back, like waves that wouldn’t stop.

Jungkook arrived at Sana’s house, where she greeted him with a big smile. She held up an envelope, waving it around excitedly.

“Here,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Make sure you read this at the prom. Or else.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Or else what?”

Sana leaned in, lowering her voice for dramatic effect. “Or else I’ll share that karaoke video of you singing ‘Baby Shark’ at the top of your lungs last summer.”

Jungkook groaned, grabbing the envelope from her. “Seriously? That was for my little cousin’s party!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that,” she teased, barely holding back her laughter. “Now go! And don’t mess this up.”

— ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ — — ♡ —

After your mom insisted on giving you a ride and your friend Sana decided not to come with you for some unclear reason, you figured a late arrival would be alright. As you walked into the venue, the lively music greeted you, and then you spotted Namjoon, who had a huge, welcoming smile on his face.

“Oh, wow, you actually made it!” he exclaimed, practically lifting you off the ground with his excitement.

“Someone talked me into it,” you replied, thinking about Sana’s enthusiastic pep talk earlier.

“Whoever that is, I owe them one! By the way, how did your entrance exam go?”

You smiled. “I passed!”

His face lit up even more. “Oh my god, I knew you would! I’m so proud of you!”

“Should we celebrate?”

And celebrate you did. The night turned into a blur of music, dancing, and laughter. Namjoon had a knack for making everything feel light and fun. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt like yourself again—free from stress and the heaviness of the past year.

But even while dancing and singing along to the songs, you couldn’t help but wonder about Jungkook. You remembered Sana saying he was supposed to be here—and even more confusing, that he was going to be her partner. The thought of him with her nagged at you, even though she had assured you there was nothing romantic going on.

Why are you even thinking about him? you thought, scolding yourself. Just because Sana said everything is fine doesn’t mean he feels the same way about you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Namjoon handed you a drink and pulled you back into the moment. “Come on, no sad thoughts tonight!” he said, grinning widely.

You laughed and accepted the drink, allowing yourself to be swept up in the music and the joy of the evening. Whatever happened later, you decided, could wait until tomorrow. For now, you were going to dance the night away.

Meanwhile, Jungkook was sitting away from the dance floor with his football teammates, lazily holding a drink. He wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying until Jimin leaned over with a cheeky grin.

“Hey, I just saw Y/N on the dance floor,” Jimin said casually, almost like he didn’t just drop a huge surprise.

Jungkook sat up straight, surprised. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope,” Jimin replied, dragging out the word for more suspense. “But... she’s with Namjoon.”

The smile that had started to form on Jungkook’s face vanished. Of course you were with Namjoon. He felt a familiar wave of jealousy wash over him, even though he knew it was silly—there was nothing romantic between you two, right? Still, he couldn’t help his mind from racing.

As he glanced down at the dance floor, he spotted you right away. You were laughing, your face bright in the colorful lights as you danced with carefree joy. Despite the sting in his chest, Jungkook couldn’t help but smile. You looked so happy, and that mattered to him.

“She looks amazing,” he thought, feeling a bit of a ache in his heart.

Jimin leaned closer, grinning playfully. “You’re so down bad, man. When are you going to tell her? Keeping it inside for years is painful to watch.”

“Shut up, Jimin,” Jungkook muttered, grabbing the drink from Jimin’s hand and standing up quickly.

As he walked away, something slipped from his pocket and fell to the floor.

“Uh, Jungkook? You dropped something,” Jimin called out, picking it up.

Jungkook turned around, snatching the envelope before Jimin could look closer and shoved it back into his pocket.

He made his way to the restroom, his thoughts racing. After closing the door behind him, he leaned against the sink and pulled out the envelope again.

He had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of the night. Slowly, he opened it, curiosity bubbling inside him. As he read the first few lines, his breath caught in his throat.

You excused yourself, telling Namjoon that you needed a break and wanted to find the comfort room. He nodded and kindly pointed you in the right direction. As you walked away from the crowd, the noise of the venue faded slightly, and you welcomed the moment of solitude.

But before you could push the door open, you stopped in your tracks. Jungkook was standing there, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. His eyes widened as they met yours. You gave him a small wave, unsure of what to make of his expression, but before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you outside.

“Jungkook, wait! What’s going on?” you protested, but he didn’t stop until you were far away from the venue, out of sight and earshot of the crowd.

Finally, you tugged your arm free, your breath slightly uneven. “What’s going on? Why did you bring me here?”

He looked at you, his jaw tightening like he was wrestling with something he couldn’t hold back any longer. Then he blurted out, “Do you still like me?”

You froze. “Pardon?”

“Do you have feelings for me?” His voice was more urgent this time, his eyes searching yours.

“What—Jungkook, I’m confused! What’s happening?” you stammered, until your gaze dropped to his hand. He was holding something—a letter. A very familiar letter. Your heart sank. No, this can’t be happening, you thought.

“Where did you get that?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. It was the letter. The one you wrote when you thought you had no chance with him. The one you hesitated to give because it felt too vulnerable, too raw. And now, he was holding it.

Dear Jungkook,

There’s so much I’ve been meaning to say, but I never quite found the right moment—or maybe I just didn’t have the courage. You’ve been such an important part of my life, and honestly, I can’t imagine it without you.

We’ve known each other for so long, and I still remember the little things—like the time when we were kids, and you cried because your favorite drink spilled. I gave you mine, and you smiled like the world was okay again. It might sound silly, but that moment has stayed with me.

As time has passed, I’ve come to realize that my feelings for you have deepened in ways I didn’t expect. Maybe it was during those awkward moments in middle school when you were there to help me out without making things weird. Your kindness in those moments really meant the world to me and made me like you even more.

I want to assure you that I’m not writing this to complicate our friendship because that means the world to me. I just felt it was time to be honest, especially with all the buzz around you and Sana. Regardless of what’s happening between you two, your happiness is what truly matters to me. She’s great, and you deserve nothing but the best.

Most of all, I want to thank you. Thank you for being my friend, for capturing memories through your photos when I didn’t know how to see myself, and for being there when I needed someone, even if I didn’t realize it at the time. Thank you for being a part of my dad’s life as well—I know he would be proud of the person you’re becoming.

I’m sorry for the times when I pushed you away or made it hard to talk. I know you wanted to connect, and I regret not opening up sooner. You know I’ve had my struggles, but I hope we can still be just like before.

No matter what happens, I hope you always choose what makes you happiest. You deserve that, Jungkook. I hope I’ll get to see you thriving, chasing your dreams, and smiling that smile that makes everything feel okay.

See you around.

Love,

Y/N

You should’ve known better. She always had a knack for getting involved in things she shouldn't, and this time was no different.

“Answer me,” Jungkook urged again, his voice softer now but still serious.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. “Yes, Jungkook. I did have feelings for you,” you confessed, your voice shaking. “And... I still do.”

Before you could say anything else, Jungkook stepped closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was gentle yet charged, filled with all the feelings he hadn’t found the words for. It felt like time stopped, the noise of everyone else fading away until there was just the two of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled—a real, open smile that lit up his face. “I like you too, Y/N. I’ve liked you for so long. I just… didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your breath caught, not in surprise this time, but in the overwhelming realization that maybe, just maybe, this was the moment you had been waiting for.

He kissed you again, and it felt deeper and more passionate, your mouths moving together as if they’d always belonged that way. Jungkook pulled back slightly, both of you catching your breath while still holding onto each other, his eyes shining with joy. "I can't believe this is actually happening," he murmured.

You raised an eyebrow, still reeling from everything. "Neither can I. You dragged me out here, kissed me, and now what? Do we just head back to prom like nothing happened?"

As you stood there with Jungkook, still processing everything, a voice crackled over the speakers from inside the venue.

“Attention, everyone! The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the announcement of our prom king and queen!”

You turned to Jungkook, your hand still in his. “We should probably head back.”

Jungkook shook his head, grinning. “As if I’d win prom king. And there’s no way you'd win, unless you consideration of just how breathtaking you are tonight."

You tilted your head, smirking. “What if I do win prom queen? Don’t you want to be there for my big moment?”

You both laughed at the thought. But before you could say anything else, the emcee’s voice rang out.

“And this year’s prom king is… Mr. Jeon Jungkook!”

You both froze. You stared at him in disbelief. “No way.”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “Did they—? Are we hearing the same thing?”

The crowd inside erupted with cheers, and before Jungkook could react, the emcee continued, “And this year’s prom queen is none other than Ms. Y/N L/N!”

Your jaw dropped as you looked at Jungkook, astonished. “Okay, now I know this is a joke. Sana definitely set this up.”

Jungkook grabbed your hand and began leading you back toward the venue. “Well, come on, Your Majesty. Let’s go claim our crowns!”

As you entered the hall, all eyes turned to you, clapping and cheering. Jungkook’s friends were the loudest, practically bouncing with excitement.

You and Jungkook were brought up onto the stage, where the emcee placed crowns on your heads. Jungkook leaned down and whispered, “I guess we’re more popular than we thought.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh in front of everyone.

As the first notes of a slow song filled the air, the emcee gestured to the dance floor. “And now, the prom king and queen’s dance!”

Jungkook extended his hand to you, his grin widening. “Shall we, Your Highness?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but took his hand. “Let’s not trip over our crowns, Your Majesty.”

As you both danced under the sparkling lights, the crowd faded into the background, leaving just the two of you. This wasn’t just any dance—it was a moment that felt timeless, a memory forming in your heart.

You hadn’t even wanted to come tonight, yet here you were, wrapped in Jungkook’s warm embrace, feeling as if everything had led to this unexpected moment. Looking into his eyes, you understood—this wasn’t just the end of the night; it was the start of something even greater.

For the first time, it all made sense. Like two pieces of a puzzle that had been searching for each other, you fit together effortlessly, naturally, as if this was where you always belong to each other.

end.

#jungkook #jungkook and reader #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook romance #you belong with me #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jungkook fic recs #jungkook highschool au #taylor swift

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thedensworld · 3 months ago

Text

Stay Supple | Y. Jh

Genre: fluff, humour, smut

Summary: two ordinary worker have to deal with a baby. What should they do? Stay supple!

Missing Yoon Jeonghan hour:( but having so much fun writing this?

The weather was perfect, the sun shining just enough to complement the mood. Both you and Jeonghan waved as you split from the elevator—like clockwork. You headed left towards the design team, while he turned right to finance. Just another day as two regular employees at a food label under a large South Korean company.

"What's your relationship with Ji Y/N?" Jeonghan was first asked this after the two of you were seen leaving work together.

"She's my friend," he'd answer, as simply as possible, before walking off, leaving behind a trail of curious colleagues.

But when your coworkers found out you actually knew "the pretty guy from finance," their questions were relentless: “Is he single?” “Are you two dating?”

"He's my roommate," you revealed one day, much to their shock. "And, believe me, he looks way better than he actually is."

Exposing Jeonghan's less-than-angelic personality to his adoring fans became your daily amusement. It was a shock to everyone when they realized the two of you shared a flat. You’d known each other since junior high, moving to Seoul together in pursuit of better education, career prospects, and, maybe, love. But living in the capital wasn’t some dreamy K-drama. Everything was overpriced, especially rent. So, with some initial hesitation, you two decided to share an apartment.

"You failed your test?" Jeonghan mocked you years ago, when you returned from your architecture exam. He wasn’t surprised—you were hopeless at STEM subjects, and he loved to rub it in.

"I told you she was a snake," you reminded him when he came home heartbroken after his three-month relationship in university went up in flames. She'd used him to get through finals. Classic.

There was an ongoing joke between you two: "There are two types of people in this world—smart but evil, and kind but dumb." It didn’t take much guessing which label each of you wore.

“How was work?” Jeonghan asked as you both trudged home from the bus stop, a routine you had grown used to. The walk was long, so you filled the time with idle chat, unless you'd had an argument the night before, then it was all awkward silence.

You beamed at him, barely containing your excitement. "Amazing! The project I pitched was a hit! I can practically smell a promotion coming."

Jeonghan chuckled, amused by your enthusiasm. "Good for you. Finance was a bit of chaotic today. Did you know the production costs are getting cut by 2% next month?"

Your excitement dimmed. "Wait, what?"

Jeonghan laughed at your panicked expression. "Don’t worry. We're trying to keep it from affecting your department—maybe even that project of yours."

You sighed dramatically. "You finance people really hold the whole company together, huh?"

As you reached your floor and walked down the hallway, the sound of a baby crying echoed. You grimaced and commented on how loud it was, while Jeonghan mindlessly scrolled through his phone.

“Jeonghan,” you stopped just a few feet from your door, a strange feeling twisting in your gut.

Jeonghan turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "What?" he asked, eyes still on his phone.

You pointed toward your apartment door. He finally looked up and saw what had rendered you speechless.

A baby box was sitting right there, in front of your door.

“Well, that's... unexpected,” Jeonghan quipped, scratching his head.

You stepped out of the police station, practically fuming, your brows knit together in frustration. Whatever happened inside had clearly pushed you to the edge.

"Do I look like a mother? Do I look old?" you snapped at Jeonghan, still seething over the way the officers had assumed things about you and the baby. You were taking it personally—way too personally.

"We need to investigate this situation further. There’s no CCTV on your apartment floor, so it’s hard for us to confirm whether the baby was really left there or if it’s, well... yours,” one of the officers had said, completely indifferent to your rising anger.

Jeonghan sighed, still holding the baby box as if it weighed a ton. His day had been chaotic enough at work, and now this? He just wanted to take a nap, but instead, he found himself standing in front of the police station, accused of something as wild as fathering a baby outside of marriage.

Yet, somehow, he wasn’t as furious as you.

"So, what do we do with this creature?" Jeonghan gestured at the baby, still sounding far too calm for your liking.

"It's a baby," you muttered.

"I know it’s a baby. But what are we supposed to do? The police won’t take it without more evidence, and we can’t exactly keep it," he said, his voice getting louder, almost desperate. His raised tone startled the baby, who began to cry—loudly.

Jeonghan sighed deeply, the sound of the wailing infant pushing him to his limit. He shot you a pleading look, as if expecting you to pull some miracle solution out of thin air. "You’ve never thought about being in a situation like this before?" he asked, clinging to the hope that you might have a plan.

You shook your head, helpless. "I don’t know... I want to cry too," you mumbled, your frustration bubbling over.

Jeonghan groaned. "Great. That’s exactly what we need—two people crying."

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Alright," he said, resigning himself to the situation. "Let’s just... take it home first. Then we can figure out what to do."

The two of you exchanged a look—one that spoke volumes about how absurd your day had become—before heading back to your shared apartment, a tiny, crying bundle now in tow.

You and Jeonghan sat on the floor of your living room, the baby box placed carefully between the two of you. The baby was still crying, its tiny wails echoing off the walls, and neither of you had the faintest clue how to make it stop.

"Do you think it's hungry? Or maybe... the diaper’s full?" you asked, throwing out the first guesses that came to mind.

Jeonghan instantly grabbed his phone and started Googling. "Yeah, uh, let me just... get some baby stuff," he mumbled, still scrolling as he stood up. He made it a few steps toward the door before turning back to point at you, with a smirk. "And don't do anything dumb while I’m gone. It may be a baby, but trust me—it’s judging you."

You glared at him. "Shut up!" you snapped, though there was a hint of panic creeping into your voice. You had never felt so out of your depth in your own apartment before.

Jeonghan laughed softly under his breath and hurried out the door, leaving you alone with the crying bundle. You sighed, looking down at the baby, and for a second, you swore it was staring back at you, its cries growing more impatient as if it really was judging your lack of maternal instincts.

“Okay, okay, I get it... I’m not cut out for this,” you muttered, feeling a tiny bit of guilt, though mostly stress, wash over you.

When Jeonghan returned home, the sight that greeted him was the last thing he expected. You were sitting on the couch, cradling the baby in your arms, swaying gently as if you'd been doing it for years. The baby was finally quiet, its tiny face peaceful for the first time since you’d found it.

“What did you get?” you asked in a whisper, your voice barely above a breath, as if any louder might undo your newfound peace.

Jeonghan held up a bag and gestured to its contents. "Baby milk, diapers, and... these," he said, showing you a bottle and a baby-sized nipple.

You raised an eyebrow, a little amused. "You got the essentials. How’d that go?"

Jeonghan sighed, a bit sheepish. "The staff asked me how old the baby was. I panicked and just said, 'Uh, it’s a baby... like, you know, baby.’ She gave me the weirdest look because I kept calling it it.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, careful not to disturb the baby. “Good job,” you said, offering him a sarcastic thumbs-up before handing the baby over.

Jeonghan, now holding the baby with a mix of terror and curiosity, watched as you headed to the kitchen to prepare the formula. He could hear you from the other room, opening a tutorial video on YouTube, the sounds of "how to make baby formula" echoing faintly through the apartment.

“Will it be too hot?” you called out once you’d finished preparing the milk, holding up the bottle and inspecting it like you were conducting a science experiment.

Jeonghan smirked, bouncing the baby a little in his arms. "If it can handle my hotness, I think it'll be fine."

You shot him a withering look and promptly kicked his leg, just enough to make him grunt in pain.

“Ow,” he grumbled, trying to keep his voice low, but the baby squirmed in his arms, clearly disturbed by the commotion.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed quickly, gently rocking the baby back and forth. You couldn’t help but smile at the scene—a rare sight, Jeonghan being careful and gentle, though his usual antics weren’t too far behind.

"Careful, 'hot stuff,'" you teased, handing him the bottle. "You wouldn’t want to disturb your new fan."

Jeonghan gave you a mock glare before turning his attention back to the baby, slowly offering the bottle. "Let’s see if this works."

Neither of you had gotten a wink of sleep. And for once, the reason wasn't work—it was a baby. A very fresh, very loud baby. After fumbling through the process of changing a diaper and discovering the baby was a boy, you immediately passed him over to Jeonghan, wincing.

“I feel like I violated his privacy,” you mumbled, shoving the squirming infant into Jeonghan’s arms. “I didn’t have his consent.”

Jeonghan just rolled his eyes at your dramatic excuse to get out of diaper duty. “Right. Smart-dumb way to avoid the work.”

The next morning, utterly exhausted and desperate for some relief, you two were saved by an unexpected visitor. Your neighbor, a sweet woman in her 50s, knocked on the door, her face full of concern. She’d heard the crying all night and was curious about the sudden arrival of a baby in your apartment.

You and Jeonghan immediately launched into a frantic explanation, stumbling over your words as you described how you’d found the baby on your doorstep. To your immense relief, she offered to help babysit while the two of you went to work.

Now, finally, there was a moment of peace as you both leaned back in the bus seat, your heads resting against the windows. You shared a glance, silently hoping the short 10-minute bus ride would somehow erase the exhaustion weighing you down.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“She raised four kids. She’s more qualified than we are,” Jeonghan muttered, closing his eyes, the weariness catching up with him.

You sighed in agreement, sinking deeper into your seat. For now, all you could do was hope for the best and enjoy the few minutes of quiet before diving back into the chaos of your day.

"You should boil the bottle before using it, to kill the bacteria. Otherwise, the baby could get a stomachache and won't stop crying," your neighbor advised, her tone gentle but firm, as though the two of you were first-time parents instead of accidental babysitters.

Jeonghan and you stood there, nodding along, taking in her wisdom with wide eyes. "And don’t forget, after feeding, make sure he burps by patting his back gently. It’ll help him feel comfortable and sleep better."

With the baby in Jeonghan's arms, you both returned to the apartment, the weight of her advice hanging over you. You dropped everything you were carrying onto the floor, grateful when you noticed she’d even given you a small container of side dishes. You quickly stored them in the fridge while Jeonghan sat down, still rocking the baby gently in his arms.

"You should sleep," Jeonghan said after a few minutes. "I’ll watch the baby for now."

Without a second thought, you hummed in agreement, too tired to argue. You leaned over and gave Jeonghan a quick, tired kiss on the cheek as thanks before dashing off to your bedroom, ready to collapse. Jeonghan rolled his eyes with a smirk, though the small gesture made him chuckle.

As the door to your bedroom clicked shut, Jeonghan looked down at the baby, who had finally stopped fussing. “Well, it’s just you and me now, little guy,” he muttered, gently swaying from side to side. Exhaustion pulled at him, too, but the baby’s small face, now peaceful, kept him focused.

He yawned. "I need sleep as much as you do, buddy," he said softly, but continued rocking the baby, hoping the rhythmic motion would send him—and maybe himself—into a peaceful sleep.

Days of raising a baby you didn’t make—a running joke between you and Jeonghan to keep your sanity—were slowly becoming more manageable. The sleeping schedule was still a mess, but somehow, the two of you had adapted. You had even begun to master it. The real hero in your eyes, though, was Mrs. Moon, your neighbor, who had not only been babysitting but also offering wisdom, keeping both of you sane as you navigated this new, unexpected life.

One night, after a week of taking care of “Baby”—what you’d both started calling the little one—you and Jeonghan collapsed onto the couch. Baby lay peacefully in the rocking bed Mrs. Moon had lent you, her granddaughter's old one.

As you both sat there, half-delirious from exhaustion, the conversation inevitably shifted to the cost of suddenly having a baby around—mentally, physically, and especially financially.

“No wonder people in Korea aren’t having kids anymore,” you mused aloud, running a hand through your hair. “It’s a lot.”

Jeonghan, sprawled on the couch beside you, hummed in agreement. “I mean, it’s not news. Everyone knows how hard it is.”

“I’m so tired,” he said, his voice dripping with fatigue. “Like, mentally drained. All I want is to down five bottles of soju and just... disappear for a bit.”

You nodded, feeling the same way. “Right? I should be at a club right now, dancing, living my best life—maybe even finding someone to date,” you mumbled half-jokingly, staring at the ceiling.

Jeonghan turned his head to you, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to find the love of your life at a club?”

You shrugged, barely amused. “It doesn’t have to be love, you know... could just be, you know—distraction,” you said, hinting at something more casual.

Jeonghan gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Cheap,” he teased, his eyes wide in mock judgment.

You swatted his arm, your voice dropping to a whisper, trying not to wake Baby. “I lost my virginity at 22! I wasn’t that cheap,” you hissed, more amused than angry.

Jeonghan burst into soft laughter, knowing full well you were just messing around. He’d known you for too long to take any of this seriously. “I’m just saying... you don’t exactly scream ‘wild-child looking for a one-night stand.’”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling under your breath. “Yeah, well, I could surprise you.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeonghan replied, still smiling. He glanced over at Baby, who remained peacefully asleep, and then back at you.

“When was the last time you had it? With Joshua?” Jeonghan asked, breaking into personal territory the two of you rarely ventured. He was referring to your ex, the American-Korean guy who had ended things when he had to leave the country.

You hummed thoughtfully, rubbing your face. “Honestly? I think I’ve forgotten how it even felt,” you admitted, casting a sideways glance at him. “What about you?”

Jeonghan leaned back, scoffing slightly. “With my last ex, obviously. I’m not some playboy, Y/N, no matter what you think,” he replied, sounding a bit annoyed by the label you often teased him with.

You smirked, resting your chin on your hand. “Was it hard? You know, to only do it with a few people?”

He nodded, glancing at you seriously. “Yeah. I only ever do it when I’m emotionally attached to someone.”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “Like when you did it with me?” you asked, playfully hinting at that one time between you two.

Jeonghan’s gaze shifted toward you, a small, knowing smile forming as he nodded slowly. “Yup. Including you.”

For a brief moment, the air felt heavier between you, the shared history lingering in the silence. But then, as always, the familiarity between you and Jeonghan smoothed over any tension, settling the moment into a comfortable memory rather than an awkward one.

“You want me to what?” Jeonghan asked, his tone laced with disbelief as he stood frozen by the door, still in his campus jacket.

He had just returned from a long day filled with senior-year responsibilities, juggling group projects and graduation prep. Lately, the two of you had barely exchanged more than a few words, with both your schedules completely packed. You were interning at an American-Korean company, and by the time you got home, you’d make a beeline straight to your room, too exhausted for much interaction.

“Please, Jeonghan,” you pleaded, sitting on the couch with clasped hands. “I don’t know who else to ask. I only trust you.”

Jeonghan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He always knew you could be impulsive, but this? This was next-level.

“It’s not something casual, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to comprehend what he was hearing. “It’s... complicated. You seriously want me to take your virginity?”

You pouted, your eyes wide with a mixture of desperation and resolve. “It’ll be a one-time thing,” you assured him. “I promise it won’t change anything between us. I won’t treat you differently.”

Jeonghan groaned, running a hand through his hair, clearly torn. “We’ve been friends for eight years,” he reminded you, his voice soft but serious. “What if it doesn’t go well? What happens then? Where am I supposed to live? Are we just going to keep splitting rent and pretend nothing happened?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, amused that he was worried about the rent in such a moment. “It won’t change anything. I swear.”

He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. He wanted to make sure you understood what you were asking for, that you were truly serious about this.

“I’m serious, Jeonghan,” you added softly, your voice more determined now.

He sighed again, his internal conflict clear. “You know this could get messy, right?”

You nodded, eyes unwavering. “I trust you.”

Jeonghan sat down beside you, still visibly unsure but also knowing that in all the years you had been friends, you had always been honest with each other.

After a long, tense pause, he finally spoke. “Alright. If you’re absolutely sure about this...”

The two of you took half a day off work, though the morning had started as any other. While you were still in your tank top, getting ready for the day, a knock on the door interrupted your routine. Thinking it was Mrs. Moon, you casually opened the door, only to be met by a police officer.

"Mr. Yoon? Are you Ms. Yoon?" the officer asked.

Caught off guard, you quickly excused yourself to change, leaving Jeonghan to greet the officer. When you rejoined them in the living room, the officer handed both of you a document.

"It's about the report you filed last week regarding the abandoned baby," the officer explained. "We apologize for the delay, but we've since received information about a missing person—a woman in her twenties who disappeared along with her infant."

You and Jeonghan exchanged looks, tension building in the room.

"So, we'd like you to bring the baby to the station. We'll meet with the family to confirm if the baby is theirs."

Later, at the police station, the baby was confirmed to be the missing woman's son, just two months old. The officer showed you and Jeonghan footage of a woman carrying the same baby box, wandering near your apartment complex before leaving it behind. While you weren’t given the full details about the mother, the footage left no doubt.

It was an unexpected turn of events, but also a relief.

“No more baby to babysit,” Jeonghan remarked on your way to work, a mix of exhaustion and amusement in his tone.

You nodded in agreement, feeling the weight of the last few days finally lifting. “We should get Mrs. Moon that apple mango she’s been wanting,” you said, your voice light. Jeonghan made a mental note, closing his eyes as he leaned back in the car seat.

Finally, peace was coming—real peace, and not just the brief moments of quiet between diaper changes and late-night feedings.

"I'm sorry to ask, but I just want to make sure—are you two married?" The officer's tone was polite but curious.

Both you and Jeonghan shook your heads simultaneously. "No, we're not. We're just roommates," Jeonghan replied, a hint of amusement in his voice as he glanced at you.

The officer nodded thoughtfully, taking in your response before offering a friendly smile. "Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any further questions or information, don’t hesitate to reach out."

As the officer turned to leave, you and Jeonghan stood in front of the company building, the bustling city life continuing around you. The weight of the past week was beginning to fade, replaced by a sense of relief.

Jeonghan let out a small chuckle, breaking the momentary silence. "Can you imagine what it would have been like if we had been married? The rumors would have been wild!"

You laughed, shaking your head at the thought. "Thank goodness for our status as roommates, then. At least it keeps things simple."

With a shared smile, you both stepped into the building, ready to face the day ahead—less burdened by the unexpected chaos and more in tune with each other than ever.

You arrived home a little later than usual, the warmth of the evening lingering around you. After a lively team dinner filled with laughter and a few glasses of soju, you decided to take a cab home, the comforting thought of Jeonghan waiting, to take care of the drunk you, made the ride feel shorter.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. Jeonghan was slouched on the couch, drinking alone and engrossed in a variety show. The table in front of him was a chaotic scene of five bottles of soju and a box of fried chicken.

"You really have five bottles of soju?" you muttered, you sobered up from your own six glasses as the reality of the situation sank in.

"Hey, want to join?" Jeonghan offered, a lazy grin spreading across his face when he finally noticed your presence.

"You weren't joking when you said you would drink five bottles of soju," you replied, taking a seat beside him and pouring a shot of the clear liquid into a glass that had been left untouched, took in in one shot.

"Chill, girl. Did anyone bother you there?" Jeonghan asked, his words slightly slurred, yet still managing to express genuine concern.

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "Not really. But some higher-ups still made me pour drinks for them."

Jeonghan furrowed his brow, his expression shifting from playful to serious. Though he was clearly drunk, he was fighting to stay focused. "Which man should oppa kick his ass today?" he asked, referring to himself with a playful tone.

You chuckled, knowing how much he enjoyed the title. "Jeong Kiha," you mentioned, naming the vice president, which caught him by surprise.

"He came to your team dinner? That's rare," Jeonghan said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can’t help you there; he’s my boss as well."

You leaned in, amused by the whole situation. "What would you even do if you could? Challenge him to a drinking contest?"

"Absolutely! I’d take him down for you," he declared with exaggerated bravado, raising his glass in a mock toast. “But let’s be honest, I might need more practice after five bottles.”

"But if he bothered you, I might just have to make it personal." He continued.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Personal, huh? What do you have in mind?"

With a playful glint in his eye, Jeonghan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I could always take you out. Just the two of us. A more... intimate setting.”

Your heart raced at the suggestion, the alcohol fueling your boldness. "Intimate, you say? What would that look like, Jeonghan?"

"Maybe a cozy little restaurant where we can share more than just food and drinks," he teased, inching even closer. "I could help you unwind after your stuffy dinners with the higher-ups. Just you and me, no distractions."

A flutter of excitement surged through you. “And what else would we do, hmm?” you played along, your voice low and inviting.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning back slightly, eyes dancing with mischief. "I can think of a few ways to help you relieve some stress. You know, like teaching you how to really enjoy your drinks."

You laughed, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Is that your idea of a fun night? Getting me drunk so you can have your way with me?”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone turning serious for a moment. “But only if you want it, too. I wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

His sincerity was disarming, and the tension hung in the air, electric. “You know, it’s tempting,” you admitted, meeting his gaze. “Very tempting.”

Jeonghan grinned, raising his glass again. “Then let’s toast to temptation and see where the night takes us.”

You clinked your glasses together, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, both of you fully aware that this night could lead to something unexpected—and perhaps a little dangerous.

Jeonghan knew he was screwed the moment you asked him to take your virginity. The eight-year crush he had nurtured for you transformed into something much more profound once he kissed you for the first time. It felt right—like the universe had aligned in that single, electric moment. Your lips tasted sweet, like vanilla; maybe it was the chapstick you always used, or perhaps it was simply how you tasted. Either way, it was everything he had fantasized about.

He touched you with a gentleness that belied the whirlwind of emotions inside him, laying you down on his bed, because you didn't want to mess up your own. Watching your face shift through various expressions as he explored you sent shivers down his spine. He couldn’t believe you were under him, something that the adolescent version of himself would have dreamt about while fantasizing in the dark, his hand working over his shaft as he thought of you.

The day after he took your virginity, you kept your promise, treating him as a friend and nothing more. And that, honestly, was the most disappointing part for him. While you moved on as if nothing had changed, his feelings remained steadfast, unwavering in their intensity. Eight years had passed since that night, yet his heart still raced at the thought of you.

Now, sitting beside you, he was acutely aware of the space that had grown between you, filled with unspoken words and lingering touches. Jeonghan leaned in, cupping your cheeks in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin against his palms. His heart pounded as he captured your lips with his once more. After all these years, you were still as sweet as he remembered, and the taste sent him spiraling back to that first kiss, igniting the flame that had never truly faded.

In that moment, all the years of friendship, all the laughter and shared memories, faded into the background. The only thing that mattered was the soft connection between your lips and the lingering sensation of what could be. He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of what you were feeling.

“Do you ever think about that night?” he whispered, vulnerability creeping into his voice.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “I try not to,” you admitted, your tone light but edged with honesty. “I didn’t want things to change between us.”

“And yet, here we are,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and you could feel the tension between you shifting. Jeonghan’s heart raced, hopeful yet anxious, waiting for your response. Would you finally see him for more than just a friend?

You met his gaze, a mix of emotions dancing in your eyes. “What do we do now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s figure it out together,” he replied, closing the distance again, this time with a sense of urgency and purpose.

Jeonghan pulled you onto his lap, his hands roaming over every contour of your body, exploring the soft curves he had admired for so long. You kissed him with a passion that felt life-altering, pouring every ounce of desire and longing into that moment. The heat radiating between you ignited something primal in him—the idea that you wanted him just as fiercely as he wanted you was intoxicating.

He carefully unbuttoned your blouse, mindful that you would scold him if he broke even one button. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his fingers gliding over your bare skin, teasing your breast while his lips trailed kisses along your neck, igniting every nerve ending.

“J—Jeonghan…” A moan escaped your lips, and the sound sent shivers down his spine as he marked your neck with his lips, claiming you in ways that made his heart race. “I got you, baby. I got you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

Your top lay discarded, and in a frenzy of desire, Jeonghan couldn’t even remember when he had removed it. He lifted your skirt, grabbing your ass as he kissed you deeply, pouring all his pent-up longing into that one kiss. He guided your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, encouraging you to strip him of his clothes. Your fingers traveled across his bare chest, and he let out a soft whimper at your touch, the sensation igniting a fire within him. This was the moment he had been waiting for—finally feeling your skin against his, a craving he had long held.

“Can you feel that?” he asked, thrusting his hips upward to let you feel how hard you made him. He noticed your cheeks tinting with a lovely blush at the revelation. “That’s how you make me, baby.”

He laid you back onto the couch, lifting your skirt higher until your thighs and underwear were fully exposed to him. One of his hands found its way to your breast, overwhelming you with sensations, while the other traveled lower, exploring your core beneath the thin, damp fabric that clung to you.

“You’re so wet, baby. And it’s all for me,” Jeonghan whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he nibbled on it playfully, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. His tongue painted a path along your neck, igniting every nerve ending with desire.

“I need you, Jeonghan,” you whimpered under his skilled touch, desperation lacing your voice. But he hushed you with a passionate kiss, drowning your pleas in the heat of the moment.

“Be patient, baby… Just a little longer,” he replied, his voice a tantalizing promise as he continued to explore every inch of you, savoring the sweetness of your body and the thrill of this intimate connection.

He watched you gasp as he slid one of his fingers inside you, pulling it out slowly while your walls clenched around him. A smirk crept onto his face when you pleaded for more, and he was more than happy to oblige, moving his finger skillfully.

“Is it like the first time? When I fingered you, is it like what I did to you eight years ago?” Jeonghan teased, his voice low and sultry. You whimpered under him, craving everything he had to give.

“It feels amazing. Always.” You struggled to mutter the words, the pleasure overwhelming you as Jeonghan added another finger.

“You’re so tight, baby. I’m not sure you can take me well,” he breathed out, his fingers moving faster, each thrust eliciting a wince as you felt a pooling sensation deep in your tummy.

“I—I can, please… J—Jeonghan…” Your arms pulled him closer, your lips pouting for a kiss, and he obliged immediately, his lips capturing yours while his fingers continued their delicious torment.

“I want to cum,” you mumbled between kisses, and Jeonghan smirked against your lips. “Give it to me, baby.”

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, your body responding to him in a way that made his heart race. He pistoned his fingers with a brutal pace, feeling the pulsating tension building in your core. A loud moan escaped your lips, followed by your first orgasm with him after eight long years, and it was all for his fingers. The thought sent a surge of excitement through him; he couldn’t wait to make you cum with everything he had.

Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean, his gaze locked onto your blissed-out expression, riding high from the waves of pleasure he had just given you.

Without a word, he scooped you up from the couch and carried you to his bedroom. In one swift motion, he threw you onto the bed, his desire palpable as he pulled down his pants and joined you.

With an impatient urgency, he hovered over you, lips meeting in a heated kiss that spoke volumes of the longing built up over the years. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as your bodies melted into one another, igniting the passion that had simmered beneath the surface for so long.

"You want me raw or…?" Jeonghan asked, his voice low and filled with anticipation. His question sent a jolt through you, darkening your gaze as you whispered, "Raw." It was a bold confession, one that set the stage for everything that followed. "Just so you know, I’m on the pill."

He swore he could have died right in your arms at your admission, the thrill of it igniting something primal within him. As your hand traveled down to his abs, you let your fingers tease his skin for a moment before they finally grasped his hardened cock.

“Oh my god—” Jeonghan choked at your touch, his breath hitching. The smirk on your lips told him you were acutely aware of the effect you had on him, and it only intensified his desire.

“Put it in, please,” you begged, your voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. Jeonghan nodded, leaning in for one last, lingering kiss before he positioned himself, rubbing the tip against your slick entrance, feeling the heat radiating from you.

“Don’t tease,” you urged, your hand playfully pinching his arm, and he chuckled softly, the sound filled with desire.

With a teasing smile, Jeonghan finally pushed his member into your tight heat. He gasped at the overwhelming sensation, feeling you envelop him completely. Every inch of you was warm and inviting, sending waves of pleasure coursing through him, and he knew this was only the beginning.

He stilled inside of you, wanting you to adjust him for moment. You motioned him to move, a whimpered escaped his mouth as he pushed deeper to you slowly. Your walls clenching him tightly, pulling him deeper and making his head spinning. He pulled slowly before his hips thrusting, hitting you right, gaining a sensual moan from you.

"Keep it down, baby. Don’t want Mrs. Moon to hear us," Jeonghan murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pushed deeper inside you.

"Faster, Jeonghan…" you breathed out the words, your voice a desperate plea laced with urgency. The thrill of being so close, yet so vulnerable, sent your pulse racing.

He obeyed, quickening his pace as he filled you completely, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You clung to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to ground yourself amidst the intoxicating sensations.

The bed creaked beneath you. Jeonghan’s lips found yours again, silencing any sounds that threatened to escape, kissing you fiercely as if to drown out everything but the two of you.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he watched your expression morph from pleasure to pure ecstasy. "I’ve wanted this for so long."

You responded with a whimper, the sound echoing in the small space, and you felt the heat pooling in your core grow stronger with each thrust. "I want you to finish inside me, Jeonghan. Please," you begged, your words spilling out in a breathless rush.

His breath hitched at your request, and he felt himself teetering on the edge of control. "You’re going to make me lose it," he warned, voice thick with need. But the fire in your eyes only urged him on, driving him to give you everything he had.

"Then let go, baby. I’m ready," you encouraged, your body arching against him, meeting his thrusts with fervor. The world outside faded away as you lost yourselves in each other, the only sound filling the room being the rush of your breaths and the soft, wet sounds of your bodies moving together.

With one final, deep thrust, Jeonghan buried himself inside you, his body tensing as he let go, the pleasure washing over him like a tidal wave. You followed right behind him, your body tightening around him as your climax hit, drawing out every last bit of ecstasy from both of you.

As you both came down from the high, he collapsed beside you, breathless and spent, while you curled into his side, feeling a mix of satisfaction and disbelief at how far you had come.

“That was... Amazing?” you said, your voice breathless but filled with satisfaction. The choice of word earned a tired laugh from Jeonghan, who could sense your smile before you leaned against his chest, the warmth between you still lingering in the air.

Jeonghan, his heart still racing from the intensity of what had just happened, felt a wave of heat creep up his cheeks. He couldn’t hide the flush staining his skin, and in an attempt to conceal it, he covered his face with his arm, laughing softly. You shifted, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes, clearly enjoying his sudden bashfulness.

“Where’s the confident, cocky Jeonghan I know?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his uncharacteristic shyness.

Without missing a beat, Jeonghan pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on the top of your head, refusing to let you see just how red he had become. It was rare for him to feel this flustered, but there was something about being with you that turned his usual bravado into something far more vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, the words muffled against your hair.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. “Sorry? For what?”

“I just... I can’t help it,” Jeonghan confessed softly, his voice almost shy. “I—I really like you. It’s been driving me crazy for years, and now that it’s all out in the open... I’m still not sure how to act.”

His confession felt light, as if every action, every kiss, every touch was its own declaration of the feelings he had been holding onto for so long. Saying it aloud didn’t feel like it added anything new, but he needed you to hear it anyway.

You felt his heart beating faster under your palm, and instinctively, you tightened your hold on him. “I... I really like you too. Honestly, I don’t even know when it started, but after all these years, I finally have the courage to admit it. I don’t just like you, Jeonghan. I love you.”

Your words hung in the air between you, sweet and sincere, filling the room with a warmth that rivaled any physical closeness. Jeonghan’s heart soared at your confession, a feeling of complete contentment washing over him. He had dreamed of this moment for years, but nothing could have prepared him for how real and incredible it felt to finally hear you say it.

You chuckled softly, resting your head back against his chest. “You really should’ve told me earlier, you know,” you teased, playfully poking at his side. “Like... earlier earlier.”

You watched the football game on the field, your eyes catching a lanky boy with long hair, dribbling the ball as if his life depended on it. His movements were fluid, almost effortless, and it was hard not to be impressed.

"Who's that?" you asked one of your friends, pointing toward the boy, curiosity getting the better of you.

"That? Yoon Jeonghan," they replied casually, as though everyone already knew his name.

Days later, you found yourself standing in front of Jeonghan's desk, clutching your math homework nervously. He was deep in conversation with his friends, his usual calm demeanor unshaken by the chatter around him. Mustering up your courage, you pulled the book from your bag and held it out to him.

"Teach me math! I heard you're the best," you declared boldly, your heart racing, half-expecting him to brush you off.

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bengals-barnesbabe · 4 months ago

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“Thank You TikTok” Masterlist

~ a series of text imagines between you and Joe all inspired by random TikTok videos ~

Started: 12 September 2024

Last Updated: 17 January 2025

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

fluff - 🌞 smut - 🌚 mix - 🌗 angst - ☄️

most popular - 🌙 newest - ⚡️ request - 💫

i. booktok ~ ever since he downloaded TikTok, Joe’s learnt a lot more about his beautiful bookworm 🌗

ii. say high ~ Joe takes part in some recreational activities and tries (and fails) to hide it from those who know him the best 🌗💫

iii. the real afterparty ~ y/n comes across a TikTok of a bride and groom doing a wardrobe change together, so naturally, she asks her fiance his opinion 🌚

iv. happy weight ~ nothing says a great relationship like two people falling in love while getting fat together, well that’s what TikTok says 🌖

v. pay attention ~ cons to working with your man... he's you're a distraction 🌞

vi. come home ~ it’s been a while since you’ve seen your man, so you left him a present🌒

vii. how that shit tastes ~ they say it's a man's drink so you've never tried it, so you ask your man about his drink of choice 🌗

viii. you like that ~ inspired by another TikTok, Joe compiles a list of things he likes about you🌖

ix. babies ~ you tell your husband about your daughter's supermarket antics, and he gets baby fever? 🌖

x. heroes & princes ~ everyone makes mistakes, even great boyfriends but especially if he has Tee and Ja’Marr as friends 🌞

xi. roses ~ you have a new favorite song and a certain TikTok gives you an idea on how to introduce it to your man 🌚

xii. you're enough ~ you and Joe feel losses hard, so you try your best to make him feel better after this one 🌖

xiii. i can fix her ~ you end up on Joe's fyp for the worst reason possible ☄️

xiv. im a fan ~ Joe finds your secret TikTok account in the best way possible 🌖

xv. it's just a trend ~ you participate in a certain dance trend with a song Joe does not like ☄️ 🌖

xvi. hey shawty ~ you watched a TikTok on how to domesticate your boyfriend, let's see how he does ☄️🌞

xvii. treat me ~ despite always receiving royalty treatment from your boyfriend, you decide to tease him with one of your favorite songs🌚

xviii. ruined me ~ Joe ruined you for all men, this is how he reacts when you tell him 🌗

xix. hey daddy ~ in order to keep your relationship fresh, you do what all couples do... send each other ridiculous pick up lines 🌘

xx. boyfriend blindness ~ your boyfriend becomes a comedian, so you have to show him who he's playing with 🌖

xxi. mini gossip girl ~ your daughter comes home and spills everything about her dad's life 🌞

xxii. daddy duties ~ Joe's left alone for more than a few hours with his boys and chaos ensues 🌞

xxiii. mini gossip girl 2 ~ your daughter is at it again, but this time it works out in Joe's favor🌖

xxiv. talkin nonsense ~ relationships should be fun, especially when you both are on the same level 🌘

xxv. speechless ~ you sent your friend Joe some messages that were not for him to see 🌖

xxvi. mini gossip girl 3 ~ now older, your daughter's mouth reveals some truths she was not ready for 🌖

xxvii. bye week ~ Joe gets caught lying to his pregnant wife 🌖

xxviii. wait, pause ~ you and joe are in the middle of a fight, but he has some tea to spill 🌗☄️💫

xxix. we listen and we don't judge ~ Joe has an idea, Joe regrets his idea 🌖☄️💫

xxx. tatted truths ~ your true feelings for Joe are exposed by decisions you made on one drunken night 🌘

xxxi. hearts on deck ~ Joe needs to apologize for his acts… in his fiancée’s dream 🌗☄️💫

xxxii. hold on, rewind ~ part two of 'wait, pause' includes more drama 🌖☄️💫

xxxiii. just friends ~ 🌗💫

updates about twice a week🪷

requests to join this series are open! just send me a quote or link to a video and your fav pic of Joe (along with anything else you desire) to be included!

#black reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #nfl imagine #text imagines #tiktok #thank you TikTok series #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow smut #requests are open #joe burrow angst #joe burrow x y/n #bengals barnesbabe #booktok

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atomicami · 1 year ago

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charity work

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: it’s the day of the holiday bake sale, and abby’s craving something sweeter than the desserts you’re selling. (part 3)

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel and jerry are both alive, jerry is not a doctor, reader has a business degree, family & work drama, semi-public sex, pet names instead of y/n, kinda roughdom!abby??, oral & fingering (r!receiving), cockblocking, strap usage (r!receiving), abby hits it from the back 🕺, edging, some mirror play, some degrading, abby referring to the strap as her cock, and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything else

- author’s note: merry christmas everyone! what better way to celebrate it than with a contractor abby fic am i right? i hope y’all enjoy this one 🤍

previous parts: quick fix, surprise visit

Seven in the morning, it's only the crack of dawn, and you’re spending the early hours of the day at the farmers market, setting up for the annual holiday bake sale.

Your hands were full of all the pastries and desserts you’d spent baking yesterday while Joel was carrying the chairs and tables to set up with. You tried to walk as carefully as you could to keep yourself from tripping on your knee-high boots or spilling anything on the red sweater dress you had on. When you arrived at your spot, your dad already had everything set up for you.

“Jeez kiddo, thought you’d never make it here in time with them boot heels ya got on,” your dad joked, opening the second folding chair he had in his hand and placing it behind the table.

“Well Dad, I figured I’d make myself presentable for the bake sale, don’t you think?” you replied, carefully setting down the load of sweets on the table.

Well, if we’re being honest here, there’s only one person in particular you’re planning to make an impression on today, and she still hasn’t arrived.

For a moment, you look over to the empty spot where Abby & Jerry are settled before you begin to unpack and arrange your pastries. It’s no surprise to you that Abby still hasn’t arrived yet. After that last-minute encounter you had with her at her place, you figured that she’d be knocked out for at least another hour.

And you were definitely right. About an hour later, Abby and Jerry finally arrived, right before the bake sale officially began.

Joel leans close to you as the two of you watch them quickly rush to set their stand up. “Look at ‘em, I wonder what made Jerry n’ his kid so late to the sale…”

You honestly couldn’t help but laugh to yourself about it too. The fact that Abby and Jerry were now just setting their things up while everyone else was ready was just too funny to you. It seemed like karma got back to her after her need to call you at 1 in the morning that night.

Once the two had their table set up, the bake sale finally started.

You looked over at the table that stood in front of you. A variety of desserts that you’ve made was all spread out on top of it. You’ve spent the past day making every single dessert you could think of: brownies, cinnamon rolls, muffins, even a whole plate of peach pie, because it truly can’t be a Southern bake sale if someone’s table doesn’t have a peach pie.

And lastly, there was the round tray of flan that you made. Out of all the desserts you’ve made, the flan made you the most nervous to sell. Given that this dessert came from your mother’s side of the family, you’ve decided to make it exclusively for family events or traditions out of the fear that others wouldn’t like it.

Nonetheless, your dad practically begged you to make it for the bake sale, and you couldn’t help but oblige.

A couple hours of the bake sale pass by and it feels like years to you. Almost half of your sweets have been sold, which was good, but you can’t help but wish that this community event could be a little more…interesting to you.

And luckily, Abby was about to make her appearance to change that.

While you were distracted with the customers, Abby was watching you from across the room, patiently waiting for Joel to leave the stand to get you by yourself. She had her own plan to be able to get even with you after the stunt you pulled onto her in her office.

Because if there’s anything sweeter than a Texas holiday bake sale, it’s a fresh slice of payback.

Once she noticed that you were by yourself at the table, she excused herself to her now distracted father to walk over to your stand.

You felt a tap on your shoulder from your side and turned around to see Abby standing next to you. “Got some pretty sweet looking pastries here princess, mind if I have a taste?”

“Abby…” you tell her sternly. “You know you’re not supposed to be this close to me right now, especially with both of our dads around.”

Abby simply ignores your warning as she walks around your table, admiring all of the pastries you had set up for sale. “I know that, but I’m just kinda craving something sweet,” she says as she slightly dips the tip of her finger into the white frosting of the cinnamon roll pan before lifting it up to her mouth and sucking it clean.

You roll your eyes at her, grabbing the tray and pulling it away from her. “Well, unless you’re going to buy something, then you shouldn’t be here,” you warn her again.

“Actually…I was craving something a little sweeter than these…” she replies with a smirk, slowing down her pace as she walks around your table.

It took you a while to get her intentions, but the way her eyes were flickering between you and the table, you instantly got the message.

Your eyes widened in shock and you began to shake your head. “No, Abby, don’t you fucking dare—“

But it was too late. Within a matter of seconds, Abby dropped down to her knees and lifted the red tablecloth before crawling under the table.

You tried to kick her away so she could get out, but there wasn’t enough time to do so, because Joel was already coming your way with one of his friends next to him.

“Hey, sweetheart, you remember Martin, right? Used to work f’me when I was startin’ up the company,” he tells you as he points at him.

“Yes, hi Martin, it’s good to see you again.” you tell him with a smile.

You’re trying your best to keep your cool right now, but it’s practically impossible for you to do so now that Abby’s lifting up your sweater dress and spreading your legs open underneath the tablecloth.

Your dad looks over to Martin while gesturing him to all of your pastries arranged on the table. “My kid right here baked up all these sweets for the sale today. But this…” he pauses for a moment, pointing at the pan of flan that stood neatly at the front. “This custard thing right here’s the best thing she could ever make, I’ll tell ya that.”

“That so?” his friend asked, serving himself up a slice. “Whatcha got here, kid?”

“It’s flan, sir. I-It’s my mother’s recipe.” you reply to him, trying not to strain your voice as Abby shifts your underwear to the side from underneath.

You watch the man in front of you take a bite of the dessert, smiling after he’s fully eaten it. “Well I must say, this is one of the best desserts I’ve had in this here bake sale so far.” he said before pulling out a five-dollar bill from his wallet and handing it to you.

At that moment, when you were about to lean forward to grab the money, was when Abby’s hands grabbed ahold of your hips and pushed you back down onto the chair, causing the rest of the table to shake.

You gasp at the sudden impact, and your jaw practically fucking drops once she inserts two fingers into your pussy.

It could have been any other time when she could’ve done that move, but no. She just had to fucking do it right in front of your father, out of all people.

Regardless, you try your best to compose yourself and attempt to cover it up. “S-Sorry about that, I was trying to get up but, my leg kind of fell asleep…must be from sitting down all day.” you said to the other man, extending out your hand to take the bill from him before inserting it in the black cash box that was in front of you.

“S’ no worries ma’am,” the man simply says before waving you goodbye, and looking over to your dad to shake his hand. “Good seeing you as always Joel.” he says to him before walking off.

Your dad shakes his hand back before turning to face you. “You alright sweetheart? Seemed like you were actin’ a bit off just now.” he asked you with a concerned expression on his face.

You simply nod at him, genuinely trying to appear normal, and ignore the fact that Abby’s thick fingers were slowly pumping in and out of your cunt right now. If it weren’t for the loud atmosphere of the event, you’re almost certain that anyone could easily hear the squelching noises it made every time her fingers moved.

“Y-yeah, Dad, sorry…s’just a lot of people here this time.” you tell him nervously.

“Well, if ya need a break, I can try to cover for a bit if—“

“No!” you exclaimed, placing your hands in front of him to keep him from getting closer to you. “N-no, it’s okay, Dad,” you said to him in a quieter tone. “I’ll be alright, promise.”

Your dad opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a barking sound, which progressively gets louder by the second. The two of you looked around to see what it was, and you seriously couldn’t believe it.

It was Alice, Abby’s dog, and by the looks of it, she was approaching your table.

You slightly flinch a bit once Alice jumps up at your table, barking up at the two of you before quickly getting down and sniffing under the tablecloth.

Joel walks over to the front of the table where the dog is in an attempt to shoo her away. “What the hell are ya doing here?! Get on out of here! Go on, get!”

You’d expect Abby to at least try to help you get her dog out, given the vulnerable position you were in right now, but she doesn’t budge about it. Instead, she only quickens the pace of her fingers inside you and moves closer to you to latch her mouth onto your throbbing clit. You want to help your dad out, you really do, but all you could focus on was trying to be quiet and not let a single moan or whimper leave your lips.

As much as Joel was trying to get the dog away from the table, she still wouldn’t move, she knew that Abby was under there, as if she could have smelled her from miles away.

“Why the hell aren’t ya leavin’?” he says to himself as he continues to move her away. “What are you tryin’ to find there?”

Your dad starts to get closer to the table now, and you can just feel your heart racing. The closer he got to it the faster your heart kept beating. This could be it. Once your dad was about to see what was under the table, it was over for the both of you.

But to your luck, as Joel was about to lift up the tablecloth, Jerry was already making his way there to get ahold of his dog. Talk about perfect timing, right?

“There you are, Alice, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” he says, leaning forward to pick up her leash from the ground.

Your dad scoffs at him and crosses his arms in disbelief. “Try to get a hold of your mutt, Jerry. Damn dog near knocked down my daughter’s table.”

“Tough talk for someone who just lost two of his clients last week to my company,” Jerry replies, clutching Alice’s leash in his hand. “I’d spend less time worrying about me and more time trying to keep your clientele if I were you, Joel.”

As blissed out as you were feeling from Abby’s mouth and fingers right now, you could still visibly see the anger rushing through your father’s veins right now.

“Don’t act so innocent, Jerry, you know damn well that you offered my clients a better deal for them.” your dad replied before pausing for a moment. “You know, you shouldn’t have gone after them, because I just got a deal to work with the Mitchell family next week. Haven’t you been eyeing them for months now?”

The two of them bicker for what feels like ages. At this point, your brain is just tuning them out, still completely blissed on the movements of Abby’s tongue rolling up and down on your clit, her fingers sliding in and out of your cunt so smoothly while her other hand grips your inner thigh to keep them open. The pleasure she was giving you under that table right now is so intense that you could seriously care less about your surroundings right now. All you wanted at that moment more than anything was to cum undone into her mouth.

“You know what, Joel? I don’t have time for this right now,” he tells him before pausing to hesitate for a moment. “I’m trying to find my daughter, have either of you seen her around?”

Oh, you knew damn well where she was.

Your dad laughs and shakes his head. “Jesus, Jerry. Can’t find your kid either? Seems like you’ve got to put her on a leash too, don’t you think?”

However, the pleasure that Abby was giving you was so intense that you didn’t realize that her name had now slipped out of your mouth.

“Oh, my god, Abby…” you say to yourself before quickly gasping and covering your mouth. You’re finally snapped back into reality as you look up to see Joel and Jerry staring back at you.

“Do you know where she is?” Jerry asked, raising an eyebrow with concern.

“O-Oh um, yeah, I-I think I saw her a few rows down, I-If you can find her there…” you tell him, trying to compose yourself once again.

Jerry simply thanks you in response before walking off with Alice alongside him.

“About damn time he left,” your dad says, watching him walk off. “Can’t stand that man for the life of me.”

Joel’s phone starts to ring moments later, leading him to pull it out of his pocket to check who it is. “Shit, s’ one of my clients…” he says with a sigh before looking up at you. “You sure you’ll be alright by yourself, sweetheart?”

You open your mouth to say yes at first, but then take a moment to reconsider. “A-Actually, do you think you could watch the stand for a bit? I could use a break.”

Abby immediately pauses her movements upon hearing that, removing her mouth and fingers out of you. You try not to whine at the loss.

Your dad nods in response. “ ‘Course I can, just let me take this call real quick, yeah? I’ll be there in just a second.” he says before briefly walking off to take the phone call.

You wait until your dad is out of sight to lift up the tablecloth, seeing the blonde below you with a confused expression on her face. “Why the hell did you tell him that you were leaving?” she whispers to you.

“Because I’m not gonna be fucking sitting here being teased by your mouth all day.” you whisper back to her, trying to keep your voice down. “If you’re going to fuck me here, then you’re gonna do it right.” you pause for a moment to check if the coast was clear. “My dad’s still gone, hurry up and go to the bathroom before he sees you. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You watch the blonde roll her eyes before pulling the tablecloth down, quickly crawling out of the table and getting back up on her feet. She also checks to see if Joel is still gone before leaving your side and rushing off to the bathroom.

You take a quick moment to adjust your underwear and your dress underneath the table before slowly getting back up to your feet as well. Within minutes, Joel returns to your table and takes a seat down in the chair next to yours.

“Alright so, everything is set up and served for the customers, all you have to do is take the money they give you and put it in the cash box.” you tell him before turning around to leave, only to pause for a moment and looking back at him. “And don’t eat any of the pastries, alright?”

Your dad puts your hands up in defense. “Can’t make a promise ‘bout that, kiddo.”

You simply roll your eyes and playfully punch at his arm before pushing your chair in and leaving the table. Once your dad was out of sight, you began to walk a little faster, now rushing to get to the bathroom with Abby.

After roaming around the market for a bit, you successfully find the bathroom. You lean into the door for a moment and knock twice, hoping that you found the right one.

“It’s open,” Abby calls out from inside.

You twist the knob and open the door, just enough for you to squeeze yourself inside before closing it and turning the lock. You turn around to see Abby leaning against the vanity near the sink, arms crossed with that same stupid smirk on her face. “How’d you know it was me?” you ask her.

“Are you kidding me?” she says, taking her weight off of the vanity. “I can hear those boots of yours from miles away.”

You roll your eyes at her in response “You’re so unbelievable, you know that?” you tell her. “If my dad had lifted up that tablecloth, we would’ve been done for.”

The smirk on her face grows a little wider, and you can just visibly see it happening. “I was just trying to get a taste of something sweet, princess. That’s all I wanted.”

Her cockiness was seriously driving you over the edge right now. However, you still can’t help but get turned on by her when she acts like this.

Feeling that same sense of boldness come through you again, you take a step forward and grab her by the collar of her jacket, pulling her close to you. “Then how about you finish what you started?” you whisper out to her.

She leans in closer to you, both of your lips being just mere inches away from touching.

“Don’t mind if I do.” she whispers back to you.

You lean in to seal the gap, connecting your lips with hers in an intense kiss. Your hands remain tightly gripped on her jacket, while Abby’s hands run down your body, stopping at your hips. She then turns you around to where your back is now pressed against the marble counter.

Her lips pull away from yours for a moment to flip you around, now with your back facing her chest.

“What—What are you doing?” you ask her, trying to turn around to get a look at her.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you right, didn’t you?” she says, taking off her jacket and rolling up the long sleeves of the dark green shirt she had on. “Well, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

Abby grabs your hips and bends you over on the counter before lifting your dress up and pushing your panties to the side again, revealing your wet pussy to her. “Jesus, she looks even wetter than before.” she mutters to herself as she gently rubs her thumb on your slit, eliciting a whine from you in response.

Abby moves her hand to herself to unbuckle her tool belt, letting it fall to the ground. She then unzips her cargo pants, pulling out the thick strap she had tucked underneath her boxers before teasing the tip of it in between your puffy folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp out, your pussy already starting to clench around nothing. “You brought it, didn’t you?”

Abby lets out a scoff, looking back at you through the mirror. “Of course I did. Been dying to fill this sweet pussy up ever since I first came over to your place.”

You then feel her grab ahold of the strap with one hand and position it against your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in, quietly moaning to herself as she watches your pussy engulf the tip.

A whimper escapes from your mouth as she pushes a few more inches of her cock in you, now reaching halfway. “Oh god, Abby…I-I think it's too big—“

Her other hand grabs a hold of your neck, pulling you up towards her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” she says into your ear. “Is my cock too big for you? Can you not take it like a big girl?”

“N-No— I mean yes, fuck! I-I can take it, Abs…”

“That’s what I thought.” she mutters back to you, setting you back down on the marble counter as she pushes the rest of her cock inside you without warning.

She keeps her strap nestled inside you for what feels like ages, waiting for your pussy to accommodate itself to the girth of her cock. She tries to move back a bit, but your cunt keeps resisting the toy, sucking it back in.

Abby grunts in frustration and slaps your ass, the sudden sting causing you to flinch a bit. “Quit doing that. I’m not gonna be able to fuck you right if you don’t relax that cunt already.”

“F-Fuck, Abby, m’trying to, please—“

“Jesus, must I do everything myself?” she replies, reaching around your waist to rub your throbbing clit, causing you to moan in pleasure at the stimulation. Abby leans back a bit as she continues rubbing your clit, watching as your pussy visibly relaxes around her cock, now giving her the freedom to move it in and out slowly.

“There we go, just like that now, atta girl…”

Abby begins to fuck you at a painfully slow pace at first, slow to the point where you were now pushing your hips back against her as an indication for her to go faster.

“Whoa there…desperate for more now, aren’t we princess?” she says, instantly speeding up her pace. “If you wanted me to go faster, you could have just asked.”

“I-I know b-but…f-feels too good…” you slur out to her, face pressed against the cold marble as the rest of your body moves up and down with her thrusts.

“Oh, who am I kidding? You’re so drunk on my cock that you can’t even form a coherent sentence right now. Fucking slut…”

Moments later, Abby was now fucking you relentlessly fast to the point where you had to grip the counter to steady yourself. You seriously felt like you could fall off, but honestly, you could also care less about it. You were so close to reaching your peak now, and as long as Abby didn’t stop, you’d be perfectly fine.

That is until…a knock on the door interrupts the both of you.

“Occupied!” Abby calls out from inside, not stopping her pace.

“Abby? Are you in there?”

“Dad?!”

You gasp at the sound of Jerry’s voice, and Abby shushes you and quickly covers your mouth, now slowing down her pace. You whine at the sudden lack of movement, now feeling your orgasm fade away.

“Abby, what’s going on? Someone told me they saw you walk in here. Are you okay?” her dad asks with some concern.

“Y-Yeah Dad, I’m fine, I just—“ Abby stammers out for a moment as she then turns on the sink with her other hand, trying to come up with an excuse on the spot. “S-Someone dropped a cupcake on me. I-I'm trying to wash it out.”

You giggle quietly behind Abby’s hand, only for her to shush you and grab your ass harshly with the other, causing you to wince at the slight pain.

“Alright honey, just come back when you’re done, okay?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’ll be out in a bit!”

Once the sound of Jerry’s footsteps is gone, Abby lets out a sigh of relief, turning off the sink before removing her hand from your mouth.

“Almost got me caught there, princess.” she says to you, now speeding up her thrusts again. “If you pull that again, I might not let you cum at all.”

“No, fuck—please Abby, I-I’m getting close…I need you to let me cum.” you whine out to her, tightening your grip on the marble counter.

“Oh yeah? Are you getting close there, baby?” she asks, to which you nod in response.

Without stopping her thrusts, Abby grabs you by the neck with one hand, lifting your upper body up in front of the mirror so you can see her as well as yourself. “Then I want you to watch yourself cum. Watch yourself cum on my cock like the needy slut you are.”

You try your best to move or look away, but Abby simply moves your face back to the mirror with her hand. “Don’t fucking do that again. Look away one more time and I’ll pull out.”

All you could do was whine and nod in response, keeping your gaze on the mirror. Your eyes then trail down to the bottom where Abby was fucking you. You could just see her cock sliding in and out of your pussy so easily, and just the sight of it alone is making you want to cum even more.

“Oh fuck, Abby—m-gonna…m’gonna cum!” you exclaim out to her, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the tip of her strap keeps touching your g spot.

“G-go ahead, princess, cum on my cock like a good girl.” she grunts out, moving her hand to now cover your mouth.

Within seconds you cum undone onto the strap with a muffled moan, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as your cunt clenches and creams all over it. Your body quickly goes limp and static fills your brain as you try to catch your breath.

Abby then gently sets you back down on the counter before moving both of her hands down to your hips. She then slowly pulls her cock out of your pussy, causing you to whine at the loss of it.

Despite that your legs are trembling, you try to get up, but Abby keeps you down. “Wait, just give me a second…I still have one more thing left to do.” she tells you, and all you do is just nod in response, still feeling insanely drunk from your orgasm.

Abby quickly drops down to her knees and spreads your ass open, groaning at the sight of your fucked out pussy. Without hesitation, she dives into your pussy to lick you clean, taking in every single bit of your thick release into her mouth. Once she was finished, she got back up on her feet. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” she murmurs to herself, wiping her mouth with her thumb before sucking it clean, making sure she’s got every bit of you on her tongue.

Once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, Abby helps you off of the counter, fixing up your underwear and dress before turning you back around to face her. “Do you think you could uh, clean me up there?” she says before looking down and back up at you, indicating for you to clean up her strap.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you tell her with a smirk, getting down on your knees to suck onto her strap, tasting yourself in the process.

Abby lets out a groan as she watches you suck her strap clean. “Fuck, you look so good like this…” she mutters out to you, running a hand through your hair. “I should make you do that more often.”

You remove your mouth from her strap with a ‘pop’ sound and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before standing up to face her. “I wouldn’t mind doing that for you.” you reply to her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss as she tucks her strap back into her pants.

“So um, should you leave first or—“

“You should go first,” you tell her, cutting off her sentence. “You’ve been gone longer. Don’t wanna keep your dad waiting anymore now.”

Abby nods in agreement, reaching down to grab her tool belt and jacket before getting back up to kiss you goodbye. “I’ll see you around, sweet girl.” she tells you before unlocking the knob and opening the door to let herself out of the bathroom, now leaving you on your own.

You wait inside for a few minutes before shutting off the lights and leaving, quickly making your way back to your table. To your surprise, you return to see your dad standing with a slice of flan in his hands. “Dad…I told you not to eat any of the pastries!”

Your dad sets the plate down and holds up his in defense. “Alright, sweetheart, you got me there.” he says in defeat before reaching out his front pocket and pulling out a five-dollar bill. “Here’s my contribution then.” he says as he hands you the five-dollar bill.

“Okay okay,” you tell him as you grab the bill from his hands. “I’ve got it from here now, Dad, thanks.”

Once you settle back into your seat, you notice your phone buzzing on the table with a text. You pick up your phone and see that the message is from Abby.

“Abby: Wild Randy’s next Saturday?”

You smile to yourself upon reading the text before looking up at her from across the room, seeing her with that same smirk on her face once again. You look back down at your phone and type out your response.

“You: I’ll be there.”

Looks like you’ve got some plans next weekend after all.

- a/n: oh lord this one killed me to write omg. i hope y’all liked it though! let me know if i should do a part 4 (i might tbh)

merry christmas again everyone! wishing you all the best 🤍🎄

requested tags 🏷️: @whore4abby @ourautumn86 @abbyscherry @nyctophiliq @aouiaa @abbysfavewh0rx @lia-winther @grooviestcowboy @pretty-prrincess-13 @iwillkilyou @erinsdeluluworld @elliens4 @totallyghostdgirl @sirenbxby @bellaramslover @echostinn @uraesthete @cherrycolouredflunk @whorn3y @thatonementallyillsimp @elliewilliamsmunch @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @mochiivqi @floptron @swtsuna @naomis-daydream @hunnybunnyhazel @paprikahoernchen @bbglmfao @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @littlegingerperson @ur-fav-pixi @abbysgirlll

(striked means i couldn’t tag 😔)

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enha-doodles · 8 months ago

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Heyya I love your works 💗💗 and I was wondering if u u could do Slytherin boys reacting to the reader being a muggleborn 🥹

Classic yk🕺🏻🕺🏻

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING A MUGGLEBORN | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore , Lorenzo , Draco) x muggleborn!reader

Note : tysm bestie 🤪🤪✨ also that is such a classic request !!!

Warnings : mentions of fighting , toxicness in Tom's (I mean?)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Yes , he's got this thing against Muggle-borns, but if it's you, he's willing to put on his big boy pants and overlook it. But don't you dare insult his girl's blood status, or else you'll witness a show even Voldemort himself would be proud of! Picture it: a bunch of Slytherin wannabes start spouting nonsense about you not being worthy of Mattheo because he's the Dark Lord's spawn, and well you're just a stupid mudblood.

That sets Mattheo off like a firecracker! He goes all Hulk mode, smashing and bashing until they're all groveling at his feet. "Stay in your fucking place, you piece of shit, or else you won't live to tell the tale of Voldemort's son representing the Dark Lord himself!" He's a total hotie in fight mode btw

TOM RIDDLE

Now, Tom's got issues. He's got this whole orphanage baggage weighing him down, but deep down, he's just a lovesick puppy because he never received any. Sure, he hates the whole blood status talk, but he loves you more than he hates it. And merlin, does he have a way of showing it! He'll dominate and control like it's his daily job, but common, it's all out of love, right? And if anyone dares to even look at you funny, bam! It's going to be a hex city, and guess whose the population ? them.

But if you try to disobey or disrespect him he won't hesitate to return to his true self , he'd grab your chin harshly and menacingly whisper, "You're just a filthy mudblood, know your place. Here, God isn't your lord. I am."

THEODORE NOTT

hmm, Theodore, the rebel with a cause. He's not like his father , nothing like him at all and he constantly wants to prove it , this is just one of those things that help him show you and others that he's different.He couldn't care less about blood status drama. Nope, if he loves you, he loves ALL of you, flaws and all.

He'd threaten everyone around that you're his girl and if anyone says anything to you or if they try to hurt you then they'd be found dead before they can say sorry . "Get this in your stupid ass head, you dick - you mess with her, you mess with me and remember I don't pull bunnies out of a hat ."

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo's like that curious cat who just can't resist poking his nose into everything. Muggle stuff? Fascinating! Like Theodore he wouldn't mind . He'd actually ask more about how it's there and all the technology intrigues him but he'd still be on about how magic is better . He would support you all the time and try to indulge in stuff to make you feel better .

Would threaten his friends to be mindful of their words around you because you're very dear to him and he wouldn't mind a punch to two if it means you're protected "Hey hey hey , watch it or I won't!"

DRACO MALFOY

Draco, return of the drama queen of Slytherin lmao . He'll start off all high and mighty, spouting hurtful things left, right, and center. But when reality hits and you stop talking to him , he realizes he's messed up, cue the banging at your door , sputtering out apologies and the gifts galore - rich boy lowkey buying his way out but you can't complain because he's got all your favourite stuff .

Draco would kinda joke to lighten the mood "God, I love you, but my father cannot hear about this." Classic Draco, am I right?

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

TAGLIST : @sugarcandydoll @helendeath

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often-daydreaming · 1 month ago

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Wishes

"I just wish I could help him."

Tim sighed, tired eyes staring at the rows of monitors searching for any kind of change as he recalls the last thing he can remember Bart saying to him before everything went to hell when a barrier appeared around Central City cutting it off from the rest of the world. It had taken three days before anyone even realized what had happened and that was only after Barry returned from a mission in space and ran face first into the glowing green monstrosity trapping his friends inside some sort of otherworldly magical nonsense.

And it was kind of depressing that, that was all they knew after two months.

It was pure magic, old, ancient magic that had his friends living out the kind of picture perfect high school drama you'd find on tv and they only figured out that much after Cyborg accidentally picked up a weak signal being broadcast to anyone who got close enough.

That was the only real way anyone had to check up on everyone trapped inside and in a way Tim was kind of glad it was mainly focused on his friends and the meta kid Bart had been trying to introduce to everyone cause he had constant proof they were alive. Everyone else wasn't as lucky.

He was also mostly annoyed though cause the League couldn't even damage the stupid barrier anymore. They'd cracked it once, but that just seemed to annoy whatever was powering the thing because it spread out for miles in every direction in response to the Justice League's attempts at forcing open a door and ended up swallowing dozens of government agents and heroes who couldn't escape the danger zone in time.

"Any changes?"

"None." Like always.

He knew Dick was just as worried as he was about everyone trapped inside but the glowing green eyesore wasn't reacting to anything anymore.

Science didn't work.

Magic annoyed it.

They'd finally started looking into some of the more off world solutions that were available to them but so far nothing anyone tried seemed to affect it and he should know since he hasn't stopped monitoring the situation.

He's offered up rewards, called in every single favor he's ever been owed as Tim Drake and Red Robin and read up on everything magical he could get his hands on.

He's even hacked every government agency on the planet on the off chance there might have been a possible answer hidden away somewhere and was nowhere near as professional or gentle as he usually was while doing it. He was tired, worried and more than a little angry and didn’t care about how much damage he did to anyone's computer systems as he ripped even the slightest bit of information out of any server he came across taking anything and everything from Waller's own notes on the matter to research material from a rogue sect of the government calling themselves the GIW.

That had led him down a rabbit hole of government conspiracies and cover ups that would have normally kept him busy for weeks but he had passed on the worst of it to the rest of the League and focused on the handful of files they had on an off the books company called Fenton Works.

They apparently had a functional portal with more than enough power to punch a hole between dimensions so hopefully an investigation into them would keep him busy while they waited for a response from the Green Lanterns.

-_- -_- -_-

"You need to stop this Desiree."

"Why, Phantom and his paramour are happy aren't they?"

She already knew the answer since it was her magic wrapping such a large area and her grin only grew as she watched Undergrowth's little champion twitch at her words.

Because Phantom was happy.

He was the happiest he's ever been in a very long time and well out of the way on a long overdue 'vacation'. So what if everyone was taking his absence as an excuse to run a little wild. The avatar of the Speed Force didn't mind and Clockwork wasn't interfering either so she wasn't overstepping anywhere that really mattered since the Ancient of Time usually erased anyone who went too far with his favorite student.

He hadn't even popped in to deliver any of his usual threats when she overheard the little speedster's heartbroken wish so she banished the girl back to Amity Park without a second thought.

They couldn't force her to grant wishes anymore, not after Phantom went out of his way to help alter her curse and their constant whining was starting to get annoying.

If it wasn't Undergrowth's champion then it was the Pharaoh or Phantom's sister.

None of them could take the hint and leave well enough alone.

Cause, the thing is, she left more than enough wiggle room in the wish for Phantom to get free if he ever really wanted to get free and she wasn't sure he did.

Oh, on some level he was probably well aware of something being off about the world but he was purposely ignoring that feeling.

He was happy in the world she shaped around him and his little speedster and Desiree wasn't about to ruin that for either of them.

She'd just head back to her lair if anyone tried.

No one could get to her there, not without wasting a lot of power so maybe she'd finally have a little piece and quit to enjoy her favorite show in peace.

It's not much but I wanted to try and think up a way for Danny to experience his very own version of WandaVision.

Essentially a sad Danny from any kind of reason really but for now I'm just blaming his entire life for this one and a desperately trying to be helpful Bart who has vague memories of a future with Danny get a starring role in a new life that was perfectly prepared just for them at the cost of pretty much everyone else.

I don't remember what it's called but there was a Disney movie about a superhero school so I'm kind of imagining that and a lot of really cheesy musical moments thrown in somewhere while everyone outside of the barrier is left worrying about their friends and family.

I know it's weird, but my mind just comes up with really weird ideas when I'm tired.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover

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adventures-in-mangaland · 5 months ago

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Another Dead Boy Detectives Fic Rec List

Netflix sucks and I'm sad, but the Dead Boy Detectives fandom continues to be awesome, so here are some more very quick fic recs!*

Tonight's the Night You Fight Your Best Mate's Dad by Opossum_Subatomic

Everyone's Alive College/University 5+1 things fic featuring Charles bringing Edwin coffee and slowburn payneland. Also Family/Wedding Drama involving Everyone Thinks They're Dating so acute is verges on Fake Dating. This author is seriously fantastic, everything they write is gold.

You should also check out Kissing Lessons, which is a high school AU that does what it says on the tin while also giving non-binary Monty and polyamory.

Ornithology by Rosie447

Monty gets a job working at Tragic Mick's. This one's not actually payneland, being gen and Monty-centric. I know, gasp. It's a fantastic and very sweet exploration of Monty discovering his sense of self post canon and works as a great metaphor for recovery from toxic family/relationships. Also, the ex-animal solidarity and bonding with Mick is lovely.

what some circumstance stole by Chrome

The Sandman crossover featuring Edwin and Hob being kidnapped and tortured together. Their friendship is really wholesome with eventual Father Figure and Found Family Feels for the whole agency and background Dreamling.

dandelion wine (life and death in summertime) by world_wanderer

Payneland Right Person Wrong Time AU in which neither of them die but they still meet and become friends. The May/December friendship is sweet but tragic, with a bittersweet ending. Superb.

Mirror Image by Anonymous

Charles' afterlife gets taken over my an evil shape-shifting doppelganger, leaving him with plenty of time to regret never talking to Edwin about his feelings. Angsty but with Feelings Realisation and the Power of Love and Friendship vibes.

my healing needed more than time by babyseraphim

Case fic with de-aged Charles! Baby Charles is precious but be prepared for discussions of childhood trauma/abuse.

The same author has also written I'm So Aces at Babysitting, which is a really cute two-chaptered AU featuring Charles and Edwin babysitting the kid versions of each other, with bonus Crystal and Niko doing the same. It's very wholesome and the author writes little kids really well.

Pouring into me by tragedy_machine

Love me some "Charles wants to date Edwin to figure out his feelings but gets turned down" fic. Feelings are hard, OK?

thank u, next by KiaraSayre

Edwin fucks and Charles seethes. It's very funny and also features some interesting worldbuilding with the Fae.

Like We've Never Known Hurt by dearheartdont

Just cute established relationship PWP and praise kink. So good.

all of these hollows by handwrittenhello

The boys are alive again but sans memories. Can they still find each other and prove their devotion to the Night Nurse?? While also evading heavenly and hellish forces trying to keep them apart??? Very interesting concept executed well.

Suo Gân by emryses

The agency takes on the case of a traumatised Edwardian ghost searching for her missing baby... Read it for Edwin family feels.

Where Primroses Bloom by PantryJesus

Reading aloud as a love language and Watership Down feels. Idk, I'm now convinced that Edwin is kind of rabbit-coded with the whole "if they catch you they'll kill you. But first they must catch you" thing. A lovely well written fic.

I'm so sick of online love by Hse11z5

College/University AU where the boys meet through a dating app. It's cute.

you can have the best of me, baby (and I will give you anything) by aletterinthenameofsanity

Again, it's the Friends with Benefits but with real feelings and mutual pining for me. Now has a Charles PoV companion fic.

True Love's Kiss by Asidian

In which Charles curses himself with a Sleeping Beauty enchantment in order to confirm his feelings for Edwin and Crystal is the real MVP. I love this one because the boys are both SO stupid but in very different in-character ways.

I also recommend Promised, in which they kind of play the Green card angle to keep Edwin out of Hell? Which honestly needs to be more of a trope. And Tight Quarters, starring the boys trapped in a magic circle, leading to Forced Proximity induced Feelings Realization (in more ways than one! 😉).

Something I Can Turn To by DontOffendTheBees

I love some domestic fluff, in this case as an Everyone's Alive/Childhood Friends AU in which the boys are poor but happy living together. I liked how they both survive their respective traumas, but Reality Ensues.

I also recommend Lived My Whole Life Before the First Light for a lovely but melancholy Soulmate AU that goes for the "seeing colours" trope for extra wistful angst.

Dining at the Ritz by TerresDeBrume

Meeting the Parents fic in which Edwin's parents are awful and Charles is Not Having It. This has Everyone Thinks They're Dating and autistic Edwin stimming representation, plus discussions of racism, classism and ableism. The fic is also part of a great Modern AU series in which the boys attended St Hilarion's at the same time and Charles saved Edwin from a non-supernatural but still almost deadly prank. Highly recommended!

The Case of the Couples Retreat by juliasfanart

Listen, I can't get enough of undercover fake dating/relationships at a couples retreat, OK? Some minor angst but overall very cute and fluffy.

acu (aysar cinematic universe) by ObsessedWithFandom

The agency is hired to solve the mystery of Charles' death and bring his killers to justice. I'm genuinely obsessed with this series; I love its OCs and Charles having an exboyfriend gives Edwin a fun crisis. Plus haunting Charles' killers is very satisfying and cathartic. Just imagine they're Netflix execs, y'all.

*Not actually quick, as it turns out. 😅

I love doing these lists because I always think I've only got a few recs and then I look back over my recent bookmarks and I've got a metric ton of great fics to rec. You guys are so talented. ❤️

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mothandpidgeon · 3 months ago

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Nine Lives (witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader) - Part 2

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: witch's familiar!Ezra x witch!f!reader

rating: T (evenual E) MDNI

summary: As you came into your powers and your curves filled in, Ezra realized he feelings for you were more than just affection. The only problem? He's a 300 year old cursed witch. Oh, and he's a cat.

contents: age gap (like 300 years), alcohol, jealousy, angst, slow burn, yearning, probably anachronistic witchy stuff, love triangle (quadrangle?), Ezra is a cat, he won't be forever, this isnt a beastiality thing, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 3.4k

a/n: Thank you to everyone that read part 1!! I'm so pleased that you're enjoying it so far! I really would've liked to let this part simmer a little longer but I'm holding myself to this publishing schedule. It's time to yeet this into the world. I'd love to know what you think. Your comments and reblogs give me so much joy!

Thank you @lowlights for the beta and help with witchy stuff. Thank you @moonlitbirdie @schnarfer and @whocaresstillthelouvre for listening to me bitch about this and supporting me always.

“Don’t you look nice,” Aunt Margot says.

You’re putting the finishing touches on your make up in the Page’s office. Usually you’d go back upstairs but you don’t feel like hearing it from Ezra.

“Thanks. I have a date,” you say, packing your mascara in your purse.

“Oh,” she replies, not hiding her disappointment in the slightest.

You hadn’t intended to see Connor again but when he texted you, you couldn’t think of a good reason not to. He invited you to his place to check out his vinyl collection which sounds like an insufferable version of Netflix and Chill but you have no plans to listen to a single record. You just want to fuck in his bed and avoid any drama with Ezra.

“Well I hope you’ll put as much effort in for the equinox,” she says. She flips the sign in the door from open to closed then snaps her fingers to turn off the overhead lights.

You and Margot host the coven for the equinox each year which already means extra preparations in addition to work at the bookshop.

“Why would I do that?” you ask. You don’t wear make up for moon rituals, don’t wear much of anything at all.

“Esme is bringing River,” she says with a casual shrug.

“No” you groan.

“He’s visiting from Ireland,” she tells you.

The last time you saw Esme’s grandson you were both in high school. River was built like a string bean, his upper lip dusted with the saddest mustache— if you could even call it that. He reeked of some badly brewed potion that was supposed to attract lovers. You still gagged when you smelled licorice root.

“Good for him,” you say. “Please do not set me up with River.”

“I’m not a matchmaker, dear. I’m just trying to expand your sexual horizons,” Margot replies.

Suddenly, Connor’s vinyls don’t sound so bad after all.

—

Ezra pads through crystals and altar bells. Everything’s been laid out on Aunt Margot’s paisley scarves— scrying bowls and athame blades and jars of rain water all waiting to be charged by the moon of the autumn equinox.

It’s just after midnight and the witches of your coven are gathered in a small clearing far enough into the woods that stray mortals won’t stumble upon them. The air smells fresh and cold like mountain spring water. A bonfire crackles, layered with herbs and pine needles.

The waning moon feels heavy and close like it might just fall out of the sky and nick Ezra’s ear. It makes him feel uneasy. Then again, it’s hard to enjoy these rituals when he can’t participate the way he once did.

Ezra watches you offer mulled wine to Esme and River, steaming cups scented with cinnamon balanced on an antique silver tray. You look beautiful in your simple white dress. It glows in the moonlight and he can see your body silhouetted beneath the fabric of its long skirt by the fire.

He’s never cared much for Esme but, then again, he doesn’t have many kind words for any of the Elders even if the ones that cursed him are long dead. Even if he deserved that curse. She wears her long hair coiled on top of her head, a jade hair pin perched in its nest the same way her familiar, a tired old owl, watches from the branch of one of the trees.

Ezra’s attention isn’t with Esme tonight. He’s keeping a close eye on her grandson.

“He totally sucks. Please don’t leave me alone with him,” you’d implored.

Ezra would be wary of him whether or not you’d asked. River is nothing like how you’ve remembered him to Ezra. He must’ve done a lot of growing up since your last encounter. Tall and lean with thick waves of auburn hair. He’s the kind of witch that even Ezra would have taken to bed when he was human.

He sees the way River looks at you, watches him turn the charm on as he smiles. River’s eyes travel down your body and Ezra knows exactly what he sees. Waves of hot jealousy consume Ezra from nose to tail. For a moment, he worries he’ll get another thousand years added on to his sentence.

After some small talk, Esme wanders away and that's Ezra’s cue. He slinks up between you and River, rubbing up against your legs to let you know he’s ready to bail you out.

River swallows his drink with a chuckle.

“That tastes just how I remember it. Me and Moss used to sneak glasses of Ariadne’s mulled wine when we were thirteen,” he explains.

“Me too. Although I’m pretty sure Margot knew,” you say with a laugh.

“Little mage, you asked me to fetch you when the oils were ready,” Ezra says.

“Oh,” you say, throwing a self conscious smile at River. “I’ll go in a minute, Ez.”

“Margot could use your assistance,” Ezra adds.

“Why don’t you go help her and I’ll be there soon,” you suggest.

Ezra can’t help but glare up at River.

“Would that I had opposable thumbs,” he responds.

You laugh. River doesn’t. You crouch down and glide your hand down Ezra’s spine.

“It’s okay, Ez. I’m good,” you tell him and you wink at him.

His blood turns molten as you turn back to River and continue your conversation. He wants to hiss and claw at him, draw blood. It feels like you’re slipping through his fingers not that he ever held a claim. Not that he even has fingers anymore. He’s completely powerless, standing at your feet like the dumb animal he is.

Rather than watch you moony over River, Ezra turns away and slinks off to the edge of the gathering to sulk. The fire’s warmth doesn’t quite reach and he presses back his ears to stave off autumn’s chill. He can’t run off into the woods the way he’d like to, not without raising questions from the other witches, make you look like you can’t control your familiar.

He can’t stop his eyes from wandering back to you. Your head thrown back in laughter, your hand on River’s forearm. Each moment of your joy is like a knife in his heart.

Ezra’s eventually relegated to the circle where the familiars commiserate. River’s is a jet black bird named Rhea who turns her beak up at him. He’s not one of them, not really. He was human himself with a familiar of his own but that’s not the only reason why they scorn him. They all know that he’s the worst kind of witch.

There are many reasons why a witch might be turned into a cat but there’s only one crime that was punished with 1000 years— murder. And not just any murder. Ezra desecrated the life of another witch and, no matter how loyally he serves you, he’ll always have that stain.

The rituals are done, the chanting. The embers from the fire float up through the trees towards the fat moon. Then the dancing begins. It’s erratic and joyful, Ezra can remember the ecstasy of it in his bones. Esme lets down her white hair and one by one the witches disrobe.

He hears your laughter as you spin, shoulders shrugging with the pulse of the magic that swirls around the bonfire.

He knows he shouldn’t look at you like that. Not you. Not here. You’re not putting on a show, you’re doing your magic. But the way your body moves against the glow of the fire is its own enchantment. He could worship you like the moon.

The spell is broken just as quickly. River’s right beside you, bare skin radiant, muscles rippling with his own rhythm. His fingers tangle with yours and Ezra feels acid in his throat.

The whole night becomes an assault on his senses. The sound of chanting rises, the old words frantic and savage. Amber and patchouli mix with the woodsmoke to choke him. Grotesque shadows fall over the faces of the witches like a carnival of horrors. And then there’s you— incandescent and naked and whispering something in River’s ear that has him grinning. Ezra’s hair stands on end.

“Come dance with me!” you giggle as you leave the circle of merriment. Your teeth are stained purple, drunk on wine and magic.

“I’m quite content here,” Ezra lies.

“Are you having fun?” You ask but you don’t wait for his answer. “River is…wow. He did not look like that when we were kids.”

You pick Ezra up and whirl around in a circle. He smells the incense of your skin, the alcohol on your breath.

“You’re going to get your wish. I’m finally going to fuck a proper witch!” you say.

You toss Ezra in the air and catch him. The bile has come so far up his throat it’s an absolutely nauseating sensation.

“Enough!” Ezra hisses. He swats at you with his claws bared.

You yelp and drop him. Before he even hits the ground, he feels it— a searing hot pain that makes his back arch. You’re defending yourself with your powers like a reflex. He lets out a yowl and just as quickly it passes.

Ezra staggers and looks up to find you with tears in your eyes. He’s never seen you looking so hurt, betrayed. Your jaw quivers. Ezra landed on his feet but he feels upside down. He’s realizing what he’s just done, that he tried to hurt you because he’s pathetic. Jealous.

“Ez,” you say, your voice strangled.

Like a coward, he takes off, ignoring you as you call after him.

—

It’s the sound of the cat flap that wakes you sometime after sunrise. You’re sprawled out on your bed, head aching, eyes swollen. You’re still wearing your white dress, you threw it on before going after Ezra but it was no use. He was as black as the shadows in the forest and had slipped away under some bushes.

You abandoned the equinox celebration and went home in hopes he’d be there. You waited. Alone with your guilt and anxiety.

I’m sorry. Please come home. You were never very good at telepathy but you tried to reach out to him with your thoughts.

The sound that he made echoed through your mind as you paced the floor. Strangled, terrified. You tried to stop yourself from picturing him out there in the dark shaking with pain.

You hadn’t meant to hurt him. It was involuntary. As soon as his claw grazed your skin, your powers flared. Maybe if you hadn’t been drunk you could’ve controlled it. It happened so quickly you still can’t be sure of how strong it hit him.

Even if it was just a momentary shock, you saw just how much damage that moment did. His hair standing on end, his tail rod straight. But what really crushed you was the look in his eye.

Suddenly you were just as horrible as every other witch that he’d served. You’d used your powers to punish him, to harm him. Every promise you’d ever made to him had broken in that instant.

You see Ezra’s slim form dart to your doorway. In a flash, he slips under the bed and your heart sinks into your ankles.

“Ez,” you say, your voice ragged from the night’s festivities.

He doesn’t answer. You press your eyes shut and swallow hard then crawl to the edge of your mattress. Your stomach lurches as you look over the edge. On top of everything else there’s a hangover churning in your gut. You guess you deserve that, too.

“Ezra, are you ok?” you ask. Whatever words of atonement you pieced together before you cried yourself to sleep have dissolved.

He’s in the furthest corner beneath the bed, tucked against the wall with his tail wrapped tight around his body. You think you might burst into tears again seeing him cowering away from you.

“I hope I didn’t make you fret,” he says.

You want to scoop him into your arms and hold him as tight as you can but it feels like you’ve lost that privilege.

“I’m so sorry, Ez,” you say, climbing down to the floor. “I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sick over it.”

“You were well within your rights. You’re my master and I struck you,” he says. “I’m the one that should beg forgiveness.”

To hear him call you his master makes you feel even worse than before. There’s no amount of tuna belly that will make this right.

“No. It was my fault. And I promise I’ll never use my powers on you again. Ever,” you say.

His gold eyes shift away.

“Keep your apologies,” he says. “And I see I’ve kept you from your new paramour. Another act to add to my contrition.”

“I don’t care about that.” If you hadn’t been so caught up in the prospect of taking River to bed, none of this would’ve happened.

“Nonsense, little mage. You’re a witch. Be with other witches,” Ezra says.

–

River’s in the bookshop when you arrive, standing opposite Aunt Margot. When you couldn’t convince Ezra to come out from under the bed, you decided to give him space. Maybe you could distract yourself re-alphabetizing the cookbooks. You were hoping for some quiet but you’re confronted by the very attractive witch you’d been flirting shamelessly with the night before.

You know you look a mess, your face still feels puffy. River, on the other hand, looks like the definition of a sight for sore eyes. Freshly showered and dressed in a well pressed shirt that’s rolled up to the elbows, the sun is streaming in the front window outlining his still-damp hair like he’s Prince Charming himself.

“There you are!” Margot calls.

You smooth your hand across your top nervously as she appraises you. You threw on a more than slightly wrinkled shirt that was languishing on the floor of your bedroom, too preoccupied to put together a real outfit.

“Looks like we had too much of Ariadne’s little potion,” she says.

“I have a tonic that’s great for that,” River says with a smile. “But coffee’s faster.”

He hands you a steaming paper cup from the cafe down the street. He and Margot have their own perched on the counter. You take a sip and are surprised to find that it’s your regular order.

”Are you clairvoyant, too?” You ask.

River blushes. “Nah. Margot told me how you take your coffee,” he chuckles.

It's so thoughtful and you’re not feeling very deserving. You swallow down a lump in your throat.

“I wanted to go foraging around here but I really need a local,” he says.

“That sounds fun,” you say half heartedly in an attempt to demure. You’re not really up for a good time but it feels like a real asshole move to turn River down considering he brought you coffee after you ditched him at the bonfire. Margot is beaming at the register.

“Doesn’t it?” she asks. “Why don’t I get you a basket?”

—

River carries the basket now overflowing with mushrooms and wild herbs. You’re deep in the woods, branches crunching beneath your shoes. Nature’s sounds echo around you, starlings and chipmunks, the constant whoosh of the breeze through the turning leaves.

This path is overgrown but you know it well. You spent your childhood getting lost in these woods. They have their own magic.

Your guilt overshadows the date. If it is a date. River seems to think it is if the way the back of his hand keeps brushing against yours is any sign. It’s hard to enjoy it especially when your mind keeps drifting off. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re only half-listening as he tells you just how mystical the vibes are at Stonehenge.

You stop at a stream, sitting on a fallen tree that’s overgrown with moss. It’s one of your favorite spots. The water sparkles where the sunlight spills though the branches, peacefully trickling over rocks. You pick up one of the smooth stones and trace its wet surface with your thumb.

You’ve sat in this very spot before feeling just as shitty. Heartbroken then, too, trying to figure out if you could call it a break up when you hadn’t actually been anything official. She hadn’t wanted anything complicated and you swore your feelings wouldn’t get involved. Unfortunately they had their own plans.

Ezra found you there, sulking by the stream, wondering if anyone would think you were worth breaking their own rules for.

It struck you how quiet he was. There were no anecdotes about what the witch scene was like in 1924 or tips for mouse hunting, indoor versus outdoor. He just padded into the water and nudged a little stone towards your feet. It was just big enough to fit in your palm and it was cool against your skin as you held it there.

“A thing of beauty,” he said and he head butted your shins affectionately.

It was. Round from years, maybe decades under the water’s friction. A dull gray cut through the middle by a wedge of some crystalline mineral like shards of broken glass. You recall exactly what it looks like because it still sits on your night stand. Each time you see it you’re reminded of how Ezra slumped down beside you, his warm body weight like a cozy blanket, a faint purr reverberating through him.

“You’ve got a big heart, little mage,” he said.

You choke up at the memory, unsure if Ezra would ever think that again. You certainly wouldn’t say it about yourself today.

“Either you’re really hungover or something’s bothering you,” River says gently.

You laugh tearfully and he rubs a circle on your back. You try to shake your head but River doesn’t give it up, looking at you with a soft concern.

“I really fucked things up with Ezra last night,” you admit. Telling him what a cruel witch you are might be a huge turn off but the feeling of his palm through your shirt makes you feel at ease.

“Ezra?” he asks.

“My familiar,” you remind him.

“Oh.”

“He scratched me and —”

“He hurt you?” he asks, face painted with righteous indignation.

“No. He barely got me. I totally overreacted,” you say. “I used my powers on him. It was just a reflex, you know? But…I just feel awful.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he tells you with a relieved chuckle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

If that’s true then why do you hate yourself?

“If Rhea was out of line I’d do the same,” he goes on.

You wince at the thought.

“You’d hurt her?” you ask.

He shrugs. “I’ve never had to. She knows who’s boss.”

You’ve always considered Ezra a partner. Of course, there are plenty of witches that think of their familiars as nothing more than servants. It’s an old school way of seeing it. You hadn’t expected River to use words that remind you of the way your grandmother used to talk.

“Maybe it’s different,” you say, trying to give him the opportunity to walk it back. Ezra’s not like Rhea. Maybe you’d feel the same way River does if your familiar hadn’t once been as human as you are. Still, it doesn’t feel right.

“You’re a funny little witch,” he says with a grin.

“What does that mean?” you ask.

“Crying over your familiar. It’s sweet.” He says it as if it’s a compliment but the condescension makes you frown in disgust.

“If you want to make it up to him, why don’t you find him a lady cat that can make him feel good,” he adds with a laugh.

“Is that what you’re into?” you ask with venom.

“What? That was a joke,” River says.

“I don’t think it’s funny. You know, just because Ezra’s a familiar, it doesn’t mean he should be treated like shit. And he’s not a cat. He’s a human,” you tell him.

“He’s a witch killer,” River spits back. “So I’m sorry if I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him.”

Your stomach turns. It’s the truth. Ezra’s served as a familiar in your family for centuries, his history has never been hidden from you and he’s never shied away from it.

But his punishment has never made sense to you. A thousand years, so many lifetimes, watching his friends and family die as he toiled in servitude for witches as backwards as River. It’s cruel, that’s why the Elders changed the laws years ago. And yet Ezra’s remained a cat, a familiar, disdained.

Suddenly, the anger you’ve been tormenting yourself with turns outwards and you think your powers could set fire to the dry leaves at your feet. It’s all so unfair. The Elders turned him and witches like River scorn him and none of them feel a lick of shame. The back of your neck heats with a protective rage.

“He’s my friend,” you choke. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”

And you leave River speechless in the middle of the woods.

🐈‍⬛

Part 3

Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs appreciated! My inbox is always open.

#ezra prospect #ezra x f!reader #witchy #ezra prospect x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #ezra x witch!reader #halloween

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absolutebl · 1 year ago

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Best & Worst BLs of 2023

My Top 15 BLs of 2023 are (in order)

1 Our Dating Sim

Korea Viki

Nerds in love, deadlines, gaming, teasing, pining tiny idiots, casual affection, linguistic oops, ADORABLE. If you haven't watched this, it's a must. A perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy.

I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent.

Also recieves my 2023 award for best giggle.

2 I Cannot Reach You

AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai

Japan Netflix

This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen.

Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way.

This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.

Also wins the best thirst award.

These were the 2 BLs that got 10/10 from me in 2023. The rest of these got 9/10 from me.

3 My School President

Thailand YouTube

GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.

Received the Namgoong award for best wingman 2023.

4 I Feel You Linger in the Air

Thailand grey

IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework. Steeped in history and family drama this is an elegant and classy BL. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. It's a marker of how great it was that it's so high on my list despite the ending which was very much not what I wanted.

Additional accolade, sexiest moment of 2023 - (the oil scene).

You could try to fight me, but you'll have no grip.

5 Kiseki: Dear to Me

Taiwan Gaga & Viki

The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs (everyone is queer), and a KILLER side couple. It involves all the tropes under a very offhand framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan.

Best side couple 2023!

(thank goodness Taiwan made this list!)

6 Jun and Jun

Korea Viki

A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. With a snappy (sometimes even raunchy) script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and descent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching.

Best flirting 2023.

AKA "the tongue knows" award

7 The Eighth Sense

Korea Viki

This one is a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it has a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.

2023's most likely to appeal to non-BL watchers.

8 Unintentional Love Story

Korea iQIYI

The lead, Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT, who carried this show. He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, which he used to carry a killer plot and challenging role. Forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the eyes EMOTING at us in PAIN. Driven by external conflict, social tension and pressure this story seems simple but it's actually refined and quite complex. I loved this show.

Best story structure 2023.

9 My Personal Weatherman

AKA Taikan Yoho

Japan Gaga

This is classic yaoi of the kind that really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's high heat is well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" which is exacerbated by the fact that they're already fucking. Sure is sexy tho.

Best use of props 2023 for the shower of sheets.

10 Our Dining Table

AKA Bokura no Shokutaku

Japan Gaga

Lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. It's lovely & sweet with the romance beats used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy. Special.

First prize for domesticity.

11 Laws of Attraction

Thailand iQIYI

This is a great gay suspense thriller with several solid couples, fun plot, killer characters, queer rep, and a happy ending. It’s tons of fun and I had an absolute blast watching it.

Charn wins my favorite character of 2023.

12 La Pluie

Thailand Viki

This BL takes to task the fated mates trope and what it means to have love chained intimately to predestination. It’s about how faith in destiny before choice diminishes the authenticity of emotion, relationships, and connection. This is a high concept to examine through the lens of a BL. With good chemistry and decent acting all around, plus some excellent high heat and representation of consent and a few other rare tropes, this one has to (like it’s sibling show My Ride) earn high marks.

Most interesting concept 2023.

13 The New Employee

Korea Viki

So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever!

Best overall queer rep from Korea.

14 Step By Step

Thailand Gaga & YouTube & Viki

This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This was an office romance between stern boss and sweet subordinate that felt more authentic to an office environment than previous Thai BLs of this ilk which added tension to the narrative and character development.

Chot wins best queer character 2023.

15 Love Tractor

Korea iQIYI

Most of this country-set BL had me feral for the beautiful broken city boy and his hot young farmer. Hyung romance, puppy/cat pairing, open frankness meets jaded reserve, language play, water hose frolicking, only one bed = all my favorite silly tropes.

Biggest "he so pretty" gasp of the year award.

10 Worst BLs of 2023 (that I watched)

My Blessing

My Universe: Casanova Begins

Boyband the series

Cafe In Love

Chains of Heart

Hit Bite Love

Only Friends

Senior Love Me

The Luminous Solution

The Promise

Yes, you read that right. I know I'm against the flow but I really did not like Only Friends. Everyone's taste is different.

However I DNFed faster and more BL's this year than ever before, so that means my 10 worst probably aren't quite reflective...

10 Probably Actually Worst BLs (I dropped 'em)

My Story

The Day I Loved You

Beyond the Star

Crazy Handsome Rich

Dinosaur Love

House of Stars

Mr Cinderella 2

Love Bill

Stormy Honeymoon

The Star Always Follow You

Codicils in General

I only carefully track/watch Thailand, Taiwan, Korea, and Japan. Other countries are not fully represented.

My Numbers

So my spreadsheet chronicled 138 BLs that finish airing in 2023.

101 = watched & reviewed

2 = still in the docket (WDYEY2 & Love Syndrome III)

15 = CNF (could not find)

20 = DNF (which also accounts for how few very low scores I handed out in 2023 as opposed to previous years, I just stopped watching). Speaking of which...

Ratings spread

(# of stars. #of BLs given that rating)

0 (see the DNFs instead)

2 - IT'S DEPRESSING they killed the gay, save yourself

7 - I DON'T KNOW WHAT I AM WATCHING AND NEITHER DOES IT

7 - FATALLY FLAWED but still basically BL, however… do we want to support this kind of behavior?

9 - WATCH IF YOU HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO but don’t expect much, it’s a total hot mess

17 - WORTH WATCHING BUT FLAWED probably around the ending or in narrative structure/cohesion or censorship

14 - RECOMMENDED WITH RESERVATIONS i.e. isn’t quite BL, convoluted, not strictly HEA, too short/long, or chemistry issues

30 - RECOMMENDED some concerns around tropes (like dub con) or story structure but still satisfies as BL

13 - ABSOLUTELY RECOMMENDED probably a few pacing issues or one flaw

2 - HIGHLY RECOMMENDED faithful to tropes, happy ending, good chemistry, few flaws, high rewatch potential

(source)

#Best BLs of 2023 #Worst BLs of 2023 #Top 15 BLs #Our Dating Sim #Korean BL #I Cannot Reach You #Japanese BL #Kimi ni wa Todokanai #My School President #Thai BL #I Feel You Linger in the Air #Kiseki: Dear to Me #Taiwanese BL #Jun and Jun #The Eighth Sense #Unintentional Love Story #Our Dining Table #Bokura no Shokutaku

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maxtermind · 6 months ago

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SCENE 2 :: HOW MUCH TRAGEDY ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧

★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; fluff separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their way back to each other? ★ : a/n :: text posts are going to return from tom till then you can enjoy this<3 taglist form is in the series masterlist btw!! HATS OFF TO EVERY SINGLE SMAU WRITER BECAUSE THIS IS SO HARD LMAO

( series masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

f1 10 mins ago

f1 LET'S GET THE EUROPEAN LEG OF THE SEASON STARTED! 🇮🇹

username oh the admin knows what they did with carlos at the front lmao username can't wait for the races! let's goooo! 🇮🇹🏁 username so excited for this leg of the season! bring it on! 🤩 username hoping for some amazing races! good luck to all the drivers! 🙌 username here for the racing, not y/n’s drama ⤷ username ugh yes like can we focus on racing and not y/n’s drama? username italy, here we come! forza ferrari! ❤️ ⤷ username poor carlos, dealing with y/n’s drama and still racing username ready for some intense racing action! 🏎🔥 username who else is here for the drama? carlos and y/n's relationship update please! 😂 ⤷ username i hope carlos and y/n figure things out. it was so nice seeing her at the race again

yn.user 20 mins ago

yn.user behind every successful man is his loving fam❤️ congratulations papa sainz

username this is a joke, right? after all the drama? lilymhe wow such a hottie and a MOM? smash! ⤷ yn.user date and time🙏 ⤷ alexalbon uhm... im right here? username weren't you just out with another man? hypocrite ⤷ username loving fam? like she didn't just get caught with another guy? 😂 username wow, pretending everything is fine now? ⤷ username guess she's trying to clean up her image good luck with that username this is so fake everyone knows the truth username acting like a loving family after everything? sure, y/n ⤷ username like who the fuck are you fooling, y/n? we know the real story username you're so pretty, y/n! i bought the tickets just to see you irl username didn't take long for the fake posts to start

carlossainz 20 mins ago

carlossainz victory feels even sweeter with my kids by my side!🏆❤️

username congrats, carlos! the kids are your ONLY real supporters. username so glad you’re focusing on the kids and not the drama. ⤷ username victory without y/n? this is peak comedy😭 ⤷ username way to go, carlos! the kids are all you need! username finally, a win focused on the right people. congrats, carlos! username oh god we really lost the great war huh username great win, carlos! the kids must be so proud. ⤷ username this is the content we love. kids over drama! username well done! no need for distractions we're so proud❤️ ⤷ username the kids are his real mvps so lol username congrats, carlos! the kids are your biggest fans.

twitter

boo is typing... (y/n's pov)

lily is typing… (y/n's pov)

yn.user 20 mins ago

yn.user as my boys said: finally a worthy opponent✨

username this is why some people shouldn't have kids. username she's a mess. no wonder they broke up ⤷ username using her kids for attention. disgusting! carlossainz so you're also bad at scrabble? ⤷ username oh shit carlos didn't come to play ⤷ username you tell her carlos!! username no stability for those poor kids with her around. ⤷ username kids must be so confused with a new man every week username pathetic attempt to make carlos jealous. GROW UP, Y/N!!!

carlos is typing… (y/n's pov)

instagram stories

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

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strawberryhotlips · 6 days ago

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༆THE LAST WOMAN ON EARTH ☢︎︎- ➪enhypen ot7 x fem reader

SYNOPSIS: Moving to South Korea at just 20 years old to study medicine was something that made you extremely proud. You had so many plans for the future, but it seems that fate doesn't want the same for you. Overnight, a virus that affects only women spreads throughout the world, causing all the women in the world to die in a matter of weeks. You were the only one left standing, the problem? Nobody knew, only you. As time passed, you managed to survive this post-apocalyptic world, where you had to hide from men because if someone knew that a woman still existed, everything would go to hell for you. You didn't expect seven strangers to break into your house in the middle of the night and you didn't expect what was going to happen next either.

Word count: 2300

Pairing: enhypen! x fem!reader

Genre: Suspense, death, dystopian, post-apocalyptic world, angst, too much drama, slow burn, smut as the chapters go by (mdni), fluff, possessiveness, jealousy, fights, toxicity, lots of love (I know, it sounds contradictory) enhypen x femreader, polyamory, enhypen are complete losers for the reader in the best way, strangers to lovers and other things that may happen later

Warnings!⚠️: Death, loss of loved ones, use of weapons, depression and anxiety problems, mentions of suicide, survival, vulgar and sometimes offensive language, graphic descriptions of traumatic events. If you are sensitive, don't read it for your own good.

Status: ongoing (16-01-2025 -)

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction, everything came out of my head, the personality of the characters are not real and do not represent them in real life in any way, any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. Everyone is of legal age in this universe. English is not my first language so you will probably find spelling mistakes.

Hi everyone! This is the first chapter, hope you like it and enjoy reading it as much as i do! There's too much drama in this first chapter, but things will go slowly, i promise the boys will appear in the second chapter!

CHAPTER I: "Disaster"

more under the cut ☟︎︎

A life full of plans ahead; studies, work, travel...really! you had many projects that you loved to talk about with your friends, your family and even your coworkers and they all told you the same fucking thing “stop dreaming, put your feet on the ground and be real” Yeah, it was hard to receive those comments and that the only person who trusted you, was yourself. But everyone had to shut their mouths when you started to achieve your goals, little by little, but you did it, from finishing high school with the best GPA to getting into the prestigious university in Seoul, South Korea. It was literally on the other side of the world, but it was your dream since you were a child. The culture of the country fascinated you, as well as the language and the people; everything seemed wonderful to you.

You managed to get a job to be able to pay for everything you needed to travel and study there, you managed to learn some Korean until you had an intermediate level, enough to be able to communicate. You aspired to great things, your ambition was unstoppable. You wanted to be a surgeon, because honestly you loved the whole world of medicine. So after two long years of hard work, many arguments with your family and too many tears, there you were, on the other side of the world at the age of 20 in a new continent, in a totally different country and with a sense of pride in your chest that no one could take away from you because you had achieved all this on your own. Your excitement for starting a new stage in your life was indescribable, it had cost you a lot, but you had made it. “fuck 'em all” you thought with a proud smile as you looked around the campus of your new university. But unfortunately your excitement could not last more than a month until everything went to hell.

You hadn't even had time to react when overnight a virus that affected only women was declared a state of alert all over the world. The curfew was instant and desperate, you couldn't get back to your family and you were terrified. You tried to reach your parents, but there was no answer every time you picked up your phone and waited for your mother's familiar voice to ring on the other end of the line. It got worse when the news said that the main people affected were women between 40 and 60 years old, who were the first to disappear from the earth like dominoes, falling one by one without any hope, your mother among them, and that was only the first two weeks. The world's population rate had dropped by leaps and bounds and the news now showed only hopeless men totally broken by the losses of their wives, mothers and sisters. The next thing you knew, the virus began to attack the girls and your heart broke as you remembered your two younger sisters who had sadly also been taken by the virus. Fuck, it hurt so much it was unbearable, your heart was getting small in your chest trying to process the reality of the death of the people who were closest to you, the people you loved the most.

Fear and anxiety had begun to consume you in the worst way when you began to see with your own eyes how the women who were at the university with you began to die, fuck, you remembered your best friends who were left on the other side of the world and you had no fucking idea why, but nothing happened to you, nothing . Nerves swirled in your stomach and your head constantly told you that you were going to be the next woman to be affected by the virus, but as the days passed, you could only see women around you dying, but nothing happened to you and you could not understand why, clearly you came to the conclusion that you were immune to the virus, but ... why? that question haunted your head day and night as time continued to pass. You had hoped to find more women like you, you couldn't be the only one, right? but that thought went to shit when a man on the news finally confirmed what you feared the most; after two months there was no trace of women in the world, you were the last one and that was a real disaster. A terrifying and real disaster.

Even knowing that there were no more women left on earth, men from all over the world set out to search every corner of the planet to find at least a trace of a woman that kept them hopeful. When you learned of the arduous search (or rather hunt) they were going to undertake, fear consumed you and the stark reality that you were the only woman left and that no one but you knew it was settling in your mind with force. Naturally your survival instinct kicked in, you were not only the last woman but you were now wanted by every man in the world who still had hope. You were afraid, very fucking afraid and there was too much pressure on you. There were men who went looking for women with the intention of doing good and helping them, but you knew there were many other men with bad intentions who just wanted to fuck them or turn them over to science like lab rats and it fucking chilled your bones. Because there were no more women to look for, you were the last one. With your nerves and anxiety on edge, you decided to escape, to move, you couldn't just sit on the university campus waiting for them to find you; “Movement is life” you reminded yourself as you deftly escaped into a forest in Seoul that was only a few blocks away from the campus. You were sneaky and fast, you were able to do it easily. You carried a backpack light enough to escape under any threat but heavy enough to survive, because yes, now you weren't living, you were surviving.

You spent day and night hiding there, looking for someplace with a roof that would give you at least the feeling of being a little safer. The nights in the forest were cold and it was hard to sleep. You just knew you had to be prepared to face anything, but damn, you were far from it. There were many nights you cried inconsolably, desperate and terrified, asking yourself why you of all women. But finally, after wandering the woods for weeks, life was a little kinder to you and led you to stumble upon a huge house in the middle of the woods, you took your precautions, made sure it was uninhabited and when you were finally able to confirm your theory that it was abandoned, a spark of relief bubbled in your chest as you felt you could be safe in that place.

____

Four bloody years had passed since the virus had impacted the earth killing women of all ages, except you, who for some reason, were undeniably immune, you were already 24 years old. What was now your home kept you safe, you were surprised to find a basement with food reserves to survive for years, plus you had also made your own vegetable garden at the back of the house, to ensure you had even more reserves. They hadn't been able to find you and the relentless search to find some woman hadn't lasted long. Only a year after it had all started, the authorities declared that it was now a post-apocalyptic world, with no turning back. In a way you were relieved to know that the search had stopped, but on the other hand you were terrified at the thought of a man's world. Although the suicide rate had risen ridiculously in the last four years, many men who had suffered losses and many others who found no hope in a world without women, decided to give up. Crime had also increased, many men were still obsessed with the issue of finding a woman alive and that led them to kill each other. It was a much more dangerous and chaotic world than it used to be and it was not only you who was looking to survive, there were many men who also feared being killed.

You had tried to communicate with your father, but he never answered the phone, which led you to conclude that he was one of those men who had decided to give up, you don't blame him, he probably thought you had died too, but damn, it really hurt too much. You had also thought about giving up several times in these years that had passed, living in constant fear had affected your mental health a lot taking you to the precipice many times, the loneliness was clouding your mind and the idea of being like this for the rest of your life generated an emptiness in your chest that made you want to die, but other nights of more lucidity you couldn't help but sit and wonder if there was still hope for this world, if you decided yes, then the responsibility of repopulating the world fell on your shoulders knowing that you were the only person who could get pregnant and you had to be willing to face it. So you decided that maybe, and only maybe, it was worth taking the risk and finding a man who would be willing to fight by your side. And with that idea in mind was how you had managed to stay mostly sane all these years, you never lost your mobility, you took care to exercise daily in case you had to fight for your life so you could stay strong and healthy, right now that was your priority.

Surprisingly, despite living in a post-apocalyptic world, services were still functioning. There was electricity, water, gas and even the internet. You were sure that everything was run by men who still had a spark of hope in this world. And that brought you to where you were now: sitting comfortably on the couch in what you had made your living room. You were a little bored, watching the TV that still worked well after all these years. You actually often wondered who the hell in their right mind would leave a house with all the amenities no matter what. To be honest you were a little depressed, there was nothing to watch and you wouldn't risk turning up the volume either, you just flipped through the channels in silence.

Your gaze was lost for a moment, leaving your mind free to act, you remembered the date: December 1st, a tear of pure sadness slipped down your cheek, it was your mother's birthday and it was four years since the last time you saw her, smiling and cheerful, alive. The winter in Seoul was stormy, the cold was seeping into your bones as you tried with all your might not to make yourself a little bun and cry. You had forced yourself to harden your emotions over the years, there was no room for the weak in a world like this, but you missed her fucking too much, her advice, her hugs and you even missed arguing with her. You couldn't help it, every time her birthday came around, you found yourself crying miserably. By the time you realized it, you were sobbing lightly as your mind replayed memories of her like a movie. Your throat stung and your chest ached, a ragged sigh left your lips as you forced yourself to stop, wiping away the tears abruptly and instantly a yawn left your body in pure exhaustion, your eyes darted to the watch on your left wrist; 01:30a.m “fuck...” your voice was slightly cracked. The hours had flown by, that explained your tiredness. You turned off the TV and got up from the couch, while your head was only thinking about getting to your bed and being able to rest, the emotional exhaustion was making your body ache more than it should. You took the gun that you always carried with you in case of emergencies, ‘cause you never knew what could happen, and climbed the stairs slowly to reach the second floor with great regret in every movement. You entered what was your room after walking down the hallway and without turning around too much you curled up under the sheets wanting to forget for a moment everything horrible that had happened. The moment your head touched the pillow, you fell fast asleep hoping to wake up the next day and that it was all a bad dream.

But that wasn’t what woke you up. You opened your eyes a little disoriented, it was still night, your senses alert and your hand gripping the gun at your side tightly almost by reflex. You focused on the loud noise you heard outside and after a few seconds, a sigh of relief went through you when you realized it was rain, a big storm actually. You sighed again to calm your racing heartbeat and turned over in bed, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds as the heaviness in your eyes from sleep was causing them to close again as was the tightness of your hand around your gun. It wasn't that you reacted at all when a loud noise on the first floor made you startle and sit up suddenly in your bed, all trace of sleep had disappeared from your body giving way to extreme alertness....

fuck….that was definitely not the rain.

CHAPTER II: "Loneliness"

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tearueful · 1 year ago

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Play With Fire ( Homelander x Reader)

18+ for language, female (plus size♥) reader | You walk into an elevator with Homelander...💋 [AO3 Link] Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, AO3 Link

You can only stare at Ashley’s cold dismissal. Not Ashley Barrett, of course. You’re not high up enough to get personally fired by the CEO. Her assistant is the one doing it, also Ashley.

There were too many fucking Ashleys in this office.

Your head is buzzing and you can’t exactly focus on the words that spill out of her mouth. She has such a pleasant smile plastered on her lips. A fake, corporate smile as she tells you that as of today? You no longer work at Vought International. A job you had scraped and clawed for. Survived an unpaid internship in fucking New York City for, moonlighting as a waitress in a diner where patrons had sticky hands even for one such as you.

You stare at her, having no idea what words her placid smile makes. Something about turning your badge in at the front desk on your way out. That they’ve packed everything up at your desk already and it will show up to your house in two to four business days. An easier transition, she says. How kind.

Neatly packaging your existence away and shipping it off in the post as if it didn’t fucking matter. You blink and you’re already stalking out of the office. The dismissal had been clear. They had saved it for when you normally would be packing up for the day. Less drama. Always better to fire someone on a Friday afternoon. Not many witnesses. At least you can slink out with some scraps of your dignity. Before you realize it, you’re fast walking through the hallway to the elevator lobby. All your mind can focus on is getting in that elevator and escaping this fucked up place. That is your one goal as your insides churn with bitter anger and your brain buzzes.

Your rage is impotent, with no outlet. What could you even do? Nothing against Vought. Not with their airtight security. You knew how Vought paid everyone and anyone off to make undesirables vanish. How they mopped up the ‘accidents’ of their precious supe products. How your firing was another one of those casualties, dismissed at a whim of the Seven. You knew specifically who. That star-spangled blonde bastard. One typo led to one tantrum from the supe and you had to suffer for it.

Rage pushes your feet to move a little quicker as you spot the open elevator doors. Someone must have just exited, you see the retreating forms of a handful of people down the opposite end of the hall. Perfect, except those doors are closing and you’re too impatient to wait in the lobby a moment longer.

At the sight of the closing elevator doors, your feet pick up their pace. You can’t stay in this building a moment long, not in this hallway with the chance of spotting anyone you know who may recognize the set of your face as something amiss.. Some of them know you well enough to know that would mean something’s wrong, or they knew the bad news before you. That gives you the motivation to snap a hand out to stop those closing doors, praying it’s empty so you can take a breath alone. You need it.You deserve it. It’s the least the universe can do for you at this moment. The universe is not kind today.

The doors stop at the presence of your hand while you slip through the opening. Your regret is almost instantaneous as you step into the re-opening doors because there stood Homelander.

Fucking Homelander in his stupid suit, looking all the world like Uncle Sam shat out the perfect Boyscout. Except, you know far better. There was a monster in that human suit.

He looks ever the caged predator within the confines of the enclosed metal space, wholly uninterested in you. There’s only the briefest of glances your way before his attention is back on the elevator’s LED number display. Oh, but you hate him. Stuffed up supe, high on his own importance.

You’d seen him about the office, from a distance. A wolf among doting sheep, bleating for his attention. How did anyone dare to get close when he flashed those canines? You should flee, but the elevator doors click behind you with a finality. No, fuck it. Fuck him. You don’t care. All you care about is getting out of this shit hole and this elevator ride will be your last here. One way or another. The white hot rage is back to roiling in your gut and you feel as if you’d choke on it.

Homelander’s cold blue gaze flickers over you once more as you stew, taking you all in within an instant. Your badge and your name. Another useless Vought employee, a wriggling worm at his feet. The Hero Management Department by the logo on your badge, but he’s never noticed you. No wonder. You’re too short. Someone who could get lost in a crowd. His lips turn up in a cruel sneer. Fat, too. A pudgy, little grub. At least you’re dressed well. You need to be if you work here. Almost demure in that dress that must have cost half your pathetic paycheck. He wants to be disgusted by you, but you meet his eyes. People rarely did that. There’s fire burning in those wide eyes. A defiance he’s not used to seeing often. Especially not from something as breakable as you. It gives Homelander pause. He’s puzzled. That sort of volatile hatred was usually reserved for dear William, but you? It was almost comical seeing such a delicate thing like you sparking with it. You looked like a little firecracker about to go off and Homelander wonders what sorts of sparks you’d show.

Your expression was utterly, almost eerily calm yet he could feel the rage rolling off of you, it was a palpable taste on his tongue. An almost bitter tang that made Homelander reflexively lick his lips. That gets your attention. Previously, you’d let your eyes dart around the elevator in your unrest. Now your eyes fixate on the flick of Homelander’s tongue while the wheels within your brain begin to whirl. What is the stupidest thing you could do on your last day at Vought? Something reckless and impulsive. Suicidal even.

He watches you with interest now that you’re daring to meet his gaze, scrutinizing this little mortal confined in the elevator with him with anger steaming off your body. Normally, Vought employees fawned over him while reeking of fear. They cowered and all but tried to tongue his taint in their need to appease him and soothe Homelander’s volatile moods. Yet here you were, looking as much like a caged animal within the confines of the elevator as he felt most of the time.

Homelander senses the shift in you, from anger to something else. He can’t pinpoint it, not yet. Not with how the adrenaline pumps through your veins as you fix your eyes on his face, a heady perfume if there ever was one. It’s a little like prey backed into a corner, finally deciding fight over flight. Homelander doesn’t fear you or any possible outburst you could throw his way. How could he? He’s a god and you’re an ant. Still, he’s curious as to what you’ll do. Homelander can see the tension in your body, how your muscles coil before a pounce.

You weren’t quick, by any means. Homelander could have deflected you with his pinky finger, but the determination in your eyes kept him still. What were you even planning to do to him, of all people? Seeing you unleashing your anger on him would amuse the supe. Give him a valid reason to crush your fragile skull in his fist with a satisfying wet crunch. Yet, you surprised him. All that anger and vitriol boiling over shifted into something else entirely, but it still burns. It burns so much that you need to let it out. Which you do, by pressing your lips against Homelander’s. It’s pure impulse and oh so reckless. He’s killed people for lesser slights but you don’t care. Not in that moment. You want this, maybe even need it. Need to vent out all your frustration on the man who caused all this in the first place.

So you dig your nails into the leather fabric of Homelander’s suit, having to get up on your toes to press your lips against his own.

They’re surprisingly soft, Homelander’s lips. You hadn’t expected it. A contrast to the lack of give against his body because leaning into Homelander is like leaning into a brick wall. Unmovable. The only give is from his lips and you suspect that’s because you took the supe by surprise.

The audacity of this little bug!

Homelander’s eyes are wide, shocked even at your brazen act. Staring down at this impertinent little human daring to touch him.There’s a desperation in your act, in how your face is still twisted up in rage and confusion but softening as you stubbornly keep your lips moving against his own.

Still so curious.

He lets you kiss him, even goes as far to settle into the kiss himself. He can’t help it. Softness was a rare thing for him to feel and you really are oh so soft against him. Pliable and willing now that you’ve settled into properly kissing him. You’re not bad at this either, knowing exactly what sort of coaxing pressure to give him while teasing Homelander into giving back more.

So he does.

Homelander hooks you in the steel grip of one hand, fingers digging into your waist and he finds you yielding. Soft and giving as your lips. He should have expected that given your size, but he finds that he likes it. He can dig his fingers in a little deeper with no fear of snapping ribs with the slightest of pressure.

Homelander is kissing you back. Fucking Homelander! You half expected to get thrown across the elevator shaft for your action, but he was almost holding you gently. Almost. This close you can feel the restrained power of him that all but hums through the supe’s body. It should frighten you, but it’s thrilling having a monster yield so readily to you of all people.

You need something to ground yourself because this can't be real! You grab for Homelander's hair, sliding your fingers through it. Idly, you muse at the softness. It wasn't gelled and hard to the touch as you expected. Leave-in conditioner, that must be it. The thought makes you smile into the kiss, tightening your hold on Homelander's hair with a playful tug to coax his mouth closer.

You don’t expect the needy moan Homelander releases against your lips at the gentle tug. Would have never expected such a sound from a man like him. You greedily swallow it up, using it to your advantage to slide your tongue over his lips. They part under the pressure and then you’re kissing Homelander deeper. This is far from an innocent, impulsive act now. He’s meeting your fire, consumed by the flames as much as you are. More so because now Homelander seems intent on devouring you as he fits his lips to yours, bruising them while his tongue slides slick over your own within your mouth. He growls. Homelander fucking growls into the kiss and you feel that tremor down to your toes, arousal a white hot flash through your system. Thus it really can’t be helped when you mold your curves into the hard lines of his body, fingernails scraping at Homelander’s scalp while you try to taste every corner of his mouth. His free hand even comes up to take an ample handful of your ass as he pulls you flush against him properly, and is that- Holy fuck.

The chime of the elevator hitting the ground floor snaps you both out of the moment. You jerk apart and even in his surprise, Homelander’s grip is loose enough for you to step away safely. You stare up at him a beat, taking in Homelander’s flushed features and how he pants.

You did that. You did that to the most powerful supe of the Seven, possibly the most powerful supe in the world. Smug satisfaction settles on your shoulders for a moment.

You can see the rage building in his eyes, disgust twisting up Homelander’s features and there’s even the glaring threat of red sparking in his gaze. Holy shit. Your heart squeezes as the smugness shifts to the instinct to survive. It’s time to flee or die.

Homelander sneers at you and you know he’s about to say something scathing to put you in your place before he obliterates you. Instead of cowering, you flash him a thousand watt smile. The sort you’ve employed on dates with hapless men to get them giving dopey grins right back to you. It works well enough.

He blinks, the red glare vanishing from his eyes. People in this tower never smile at Homelander like that. Another surprise. You exit stage left before he recovers, almost running into someone on your way out of the elevator. It’s Ashley. CEO Ashley this time, with tablet in hand.

Her gaze flicks up from the screen as she gives a little start before suspicion tinges her features. “Weren’t you fired?” She whispers the words under her breath, brushing past you before stiffening up at the sight of the supe still within the elevator. “Homelander! There you are!” She chirps out with faux cheerfulness and a dead smile. “I’ve got fantastic news on your latest numbers!” That gives you enough time to slip away, with Ashley crowding up to Homelander eagerly to stroke his ego so he’s kept calm for another day and no one dies. You certainly didn’t die. Personally, you think the supe’s mind will be occupied by other things today. You turn your badge in at security’s front desk with a self satisfied smirk.

For his part, Homelander silently steps out of the elevator with eyes fixed on your retreating frame. He doesn’t register Ashley’s yammering as she tries to tell him the good news about a ten point boost. No, Homelander’s mind is too busy contemplating what he will do to you. Little bugs like you can’t get away with taunting gods.

A wide, shark-like grin spreads Homelander's lips now that he has revenge on his mind. He snaps his attention to Ashley, voice sharp as Homelander lifts a finger in her face for silence “Ashley. That woman. Give me her name, now.”

#Homelander x Reader #The Boys #fanfic #Homelander #homelander fanfiction #the boys fanfic #drabble #gods help me I wrote a thing #Ash writes

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futuremrscameron · 1 month ago

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meet bunny!reader

bunny!reader moved to the outer banks six months before the events of season 1. she catches the eye of pogues and kooks alike with her doe eyes, sweet smile, and pink wardrobe. she’s the life of the party, the belle of the ball, the IT girl

loves using kaomojis in her texts, signs off her texts with her signature, aka some variation of a bunny

a total daddy’s girl, it’s been just the two of them since her mom died when she was four so he devoted all of his free time into giving her everything she wanted (it’s probably why she’s so spoiled) he also though her how to use a gun and put her in muay thai classes because no one was gonna fuck with his baby girl and love to tell the tale

everyone calls her bunny because of her bouncy walk, rapid blinking, nose twitches, and high energy. jj’s convinced she’s a literal bunny that turns into a human at will. her frequent trips to the mainland every full moon solidifies this theory in his mind

you can catch her shopping with her friends jade and stacy or golfing with figure eight’s infamous rafe cameron at kildare’s country club

unlike most kooks she has no problem with the pogues and if she’s not with her girlfriends or rafe she’s probably with the pogues. laughing at jj’s antics, giving sarah the latest tea, or asking pope about his thoughts on fast fashion

bunny!reader knows brains only gets a girl so far, especially in a small town like kildare so of course she plays up her ditziness sometimes. men already assume she’s stupid and has more tits than brain so if she lets them believe it to get something she wants and fuck them over in the process who cares?

no one suspects the pretty girl who isn’t the brightest of thievery and she definitely wouldn’t lie to cops about the last time she spoke to her boyfriend with a sketchy record

unintentionally became an influencer. she’s just so pretty and charming and people love hearing her talk about the drama in her small town while she plans outfits for the upcoming week

in an on and off relationship with rafe since s1. sometimes she dumps him, other times he dumps her but they’re friends always bet on when they’re gonna get back together/break up.

her dad thinks rafe’s a piece of shit that’s not good enough for his sweet babygirl (he’s right but the heart wants what it wants)

gets along well with everyone, even the pogues once they get to know her and realize she isn’t a spawn of satan like rafe. they sort of become protective of her once they find out that she doesn’t know about him making their life hell which becomes the source of many rafe crash outs

bunny!reader loves parties. she loves planning them, attending them, thinking of them, loves everything about them. she’s the life of the party even when she’s not the host, you can find her dancing on counters and tabletops as rafe yells for her to get down, sitting by his side while he “works the party” occasionally rubbing her thigh to satiate her whines for him to dance with her, or doing shots with her friends.

rafe loves doing coke with her cause it gives her more energy which no one that was possible and it makes her horny. if he’s got coke dick he doesn’t even have to do anything just let her tire herself out and he gets to watch so really it’s a win-win

easily frightened, it’s why she doesn’t watch scary movies. rafe loves scaring her in the stupidest ways, jumping out from behind the couch, tapping her shoulder in the dark, waking her up with the ghostface mask. he usually apologizes if she cries and she usually forgives him (unless she was really scared then he sleeps on the couch)

people underestimating her gives her an advantage over them. they think she’s just a pretty girl that’s more tits than brains and don’t realize how wrong they are til they’re getting robbed by rafe, watching her speed away after talking her way out of a ticket, or convinced shoupe that she hasn’t seen rafe in days

during their breakups she uses the burner phone rafe got her to calls girls he’s hooking up with and tells them he’s seeing other girls. rafe can’t stay pissed because it does that she misses him as much as he misses her

gets along well with wheezie but not sarah. wheezie thinks she’s like an actual doll that came to life and likes that she actually listens to her. sarah is worried for her safety and constantly trying to warn her about rafe. bunny is an only child and believes that siblings should always stick together so whenever they talks she’s trying to get her to reconcile with rafe. both girls are too stubborn to listen

actively planning their wedding in her head save imagining how their kids are gonna look (they’re currently broken up)

bunny!reader is rafe’s #1 ride or die. she’ll always bail him out of a tight spot, jail, pogues rocking his shit, ward on his back, owes barry money. her biggest flaw is that she loves that man

#bunny!reader #rafe x black reader #obx moodboard #rafe cameron x black!reader #outer banks moodboard #rafe x black!reader #obx oc #rafe cameron x black reader #outer banks oc #rafe cameron x black oc

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luvknow · 8 months ago

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sanguine satellite | lee minho

Summary: The last time you saw Minho was five years ago when you rejected him to live out the rest of your twenties in the city. The next time you see him is on your birthday with another woman in his arms, and it sparked everything that was good, bad, and ugly. Now, after years of not being in each other’s lives, Minho tries to repair the friendship he broke while you fight your changing feelings. As you struggle navigating your friendship with him, you struggle more to navigate being single in this next stage of your life. Characters: Lee Minho x fem!Reader, feat. other idols Genre: friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, romance, angst, emotional hurt with comfort, happy ending, slice of life Additional warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, food, aged up a bit and in turn age insecurity, a lot of mentions of a best friend with another idol WC: 18.1k

Today was a pivotal day in the office. Quarter two earnings were released to the public and other divisions of the company and, well, let’s just say with the increasing rise in inflation and the impending recession that everyone refuses to acknowledge, no one wants to buy anything. As a result, the earnings reported negative and stocks dipped, morale was low, and to top it off, it was only Monday.

In a way, this was a metaphor for your life; a tumbleweed of all things that could go wrong did go wrong and formed into an amalgamation of nothing to show for. Some people found value in the mundane, but this was supposed to be the peak of your career, your magnum opus, before progress plateaued and you couldn’t stand the idea of not feeling enriched. To wake up, leave, work, and go home was the reason you wanted to leave your home in the first place for something richer in the heart of the city. But you felt defeated after clocking out at 8:30 PM and slumped on the seat in an empty train cart.

The view of the lively apartment high rises and the warm light of slow brick-and-mortars made the late night train rides worth the twenty minutes. Work wasn’t always this draining, but after climbing the corporate ladder, more money meant more responsibilities and it quickly drained the light from your eyes as it did with many of your peers and friends. Youth was fleeting and today you felt like Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain to no avail, but at least the train would take you as close to it as it possibly could.

After packing up your life from home five years ago to move with your friends, the only plans twenty-something-year-olds ever had in place were reservations at 9:00 PM because you called the hottest spot the day-of and drinks at the bar next door after clocking out at 5:00 PM. You were young, excited, and hungry for life, barely sober most days and experiencing what it meant to be young; but what must be given, something must also be taken. Now, rent was rising, salary increases were few and far in between, and instead of deciding what martini you should be ordering, you were stuck wondering if being a worker bee individual contributor was worth the lull schedule or if taking the path to management and telling whiny subordinates what to do was worth the salary bump.

You and your friends once joked that stuff like this was what people in their thirties worry about. Today is your thirtieth birthday.

You didn’t have time for dinner and once again thanked the real estate Gods who put a restaurant so greasy at the corner of your block that you practically slid on a snail trail to the front door of your loft. So, here you were; eating under-salted french fries, chugging a crispy diet cola, with oil stains on your white button-up, ready to spend the rest of your birthday and probably the rest of your life alone on your overpriced and uncomfortable couch watching the latest drama you’d sob your eyes out to. All you needed now was a pet as your companion and you’d be the whole single-in-your-thirties package. Maybe you’d use that as leverage in your dating apps: looking for a partner, a pet, or both.

After fumbling with the keys, you sighed into your dark, cavernous home and dropped your bag at the door. When you turned on the lights, you saw the ghost of your soul leave your mouth in a loud gasp.

“Surprise!!”

You were greeted with streamers, glitter, balloons, and your closest friends wearing little party hats with their beautiful smiles. You never doubted they remembered, and most wished you happy birthday at midnight, but you should have sensed something was wrong when Chaeryoung asked for your door passcode because she ‘forgot her chapstick on your coffee table.’

She was the first to tackle you in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, mi amor!”

“Let the woman take her shoes off first, damn,” Jisung scolded.

“Wow, there’s certainly a lot of you,” you giggled after prying her off. “You guys shouldn’t have. Really! It’s Monday.”

“All the more to celebrate something worthwhile,” Chan grinned, handing you a glass of wine. “Welcome to the club.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Chaeryoung yanked away the oily bag of fries while you were distracted with the happy juice. “Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Don’t fret! We are having a dinner party because that’s what thirty-year-olds do.”

“Except we ate already because we thought you were coming home well before 9:00 PM,” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I love when my friends watch me stuff my face.”

The dining table was decorated with burgundy candle sticks, red roses, and black bows. It was definitely a step-up from your twenty-first bubblegum pink and pastel confetti birthday, but this almost seemed… meek? Romantic, sure, but a little dark for a birthday. As Chaeryoung scrambled to fill your plate with take-out and prepare the cake, everyone took their place back at the table. The lights dimmed and out came a jet black cake with a toy knife and red frosting that read, ‘Happy Deathday to Your 20s!’

“A bit dark, but accurate,” you mused.

“Make a wish-!” A knock came at the door. “Shit.”

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Chaeryoung, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were present and those were the only people you regularly hung out with. Who could be left?

“Are people still coming?” you asked.

The boys collectively shot a look at a wide-eyed and frozen Chaeryoung, none of them willing to break the news or catch a stray. “Um…”

“What did you do?” you accused. “You didn’t invite that one guy I told you about last month, did you?”

“No, but I wish I had.” Another knock. “Coming!”

“It’s not a coworker, is it?”

“Worse,” Jisung mumbled. “For you, at least.”

“Minho!” Chaeryoung exclaimed happily. “You’re just in time!”

“What -” you hissed at the boys, “- the hell?!”

They all held their hands up in defense. Minho passed the threshold and your twenties flashed before your eyes. The once blondish short and styled middle part now hung loose in soft chocolate strands; eyes that once held the universe were dark and doe-like; and arms that once moved freely in his sleeves now tightened around them. He was a completely different man who you hadn’t seen in five years and here he was at a pivotal moment of your life, about to celebrate you and the life you’ve lived without him for the better half of the last decade. It took all your might to lift your sore legs to walk over to greet your guest and restrain from strangling your best friend. He wore clothes appropriate for a casual dinner party that didn’t spill into the blues of corporate-wear, clearly aware of this occasion, and a small gift bag. His appearance was intentional, not upon happenstance, which made this whole ordeal a lot weirder.

Following him in, hand-in-hand, was a woman. A stranger. Two strangers in your home.

He pulled away from Chaeryoung’s death grip and you locked eyes. It’s awkward, to put it politely; to put it rudely, it was horrifying. Your nervous system certainly felt nervous, firing fight-or-flight responses the way he drank you in like the first sip of a bitter negroni. How someone could evolve and change to the point of being unrecognizable should be studied by Darwin.

He’s the first to break with a small smile to ease the tension. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Happy birthday, _____.”

The bag is small and neatly wrapped with care in your favorite colors. The woman behind him smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. And thank you…?”

“Oh, right. This is Karina, my girlfriend of two years.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And happy birthday!”

You brain buffered when she bowed. How awkward, because you haven’t heard anything about her other than her existence. You never thought he’d have someone so beautiful. Minho blocked you on social media a long time ago, so you wouldn’t have recognized her. Chaeryoung had to kick you back to life. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you, too! Welcome to my home.”

“There’s wax on the cake!” Jisung warned.

“Oh, hurry in! _____ was about to make a wish!” Chaeryoung pushed the three of you to the dining area.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue watching him dap up the boys and watching her hug them so warmly. You never faulted them for being neutral. They were just as much as his friends as they were yours but having him here created a thick glass wall on your side of the table, like he was icing you out in your own home; that you paid with your own hard-earned money, mind you! This was as close to a defense mechanism you could build.

Nine people were watching you, all of whom were paired with another in the room except Chaeryoung, in your home. There’s a heavy shroud of dread that’s draped over your makeshift invisible box you struggled to keep upright. This was supposed to feel like a celebration of you, but it quickly turned rotten when you realized you were the only single person on your own side of the table, being made a spectacle as the couples moved closer and watched more intently. It was like they were watching a ghost of singles-past, feeling more appreciative of the life they procured together as you watched their hold on each other tighten ever so slightly.

“Make a wish,” Jisung sang.

You stared blankly at the three sparkling candles. What was there to wish for? You had a good career, a warm home, food on the table, and loved ones who kept you up on your feet. You supposed a better work-life balance would be feasible, but that was something within reach and in your control. To wish is to pray and to pray is to beg, and you weren’t one to beg for anything except for the pickles Chaeryoung picked out of her sandwiches. What was something that even you couldn’t control, something you had to ask some spirit dwelling in the ether for?

A flash of Minho’s eyes boring into yours made your face hot. Maybe you’d just let this wish go to waste instead.

You blew out the candles and applause erupted with Chan eager to cut into the cake. It was your favorite flavor from your favorite local baker whom you trusted every birthday and holiday to deliver the finest treats. At least this part of your birthday was perfect.

“So, what does thirty feel like?” Hyunjin asked. “Do you want the number of the senior home down the street from me?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled. “Aren’t you next, Hwang?”

“Actually, Minho’s next – ow!”

Chaeryong didn’t hide how she elbowed his ribs. She then gave a wide smile and her fingers danced. “Do you feel more mature?”

“As mature as a dry-age steak.”

“Well, you pair well with red wine, at least.” Chan raised his glass. “Here’s to you and to all of us, our priceless friendship!”

Most of us, you wanted to correct, but decided against being uncouth. “Cheers!”

When you were all in the younger halves of the twenties, conversations were about memes, pop culture, and the new hottest bar that just opened. Now, as you were ranting about quarter one earnings and the Windows 11 update, the others doubled down on the corporate jargon. Even Karina, who revealed she was a consultant in tech, participated in the conversations. Minho was the only one who remained quiet, but he was simply enjoying the company, leaning back in the chair with his arm around his woman. For someone who had never visited or even wished well on past birthdays, he was making himself quite at home.

Your birthday dinner lasted long enough to finish off three bottles of wine between everyone and for all the food to disappear, making clean-up much easier. As everyone scrambled around your home clouded in buzzed-up nonsense, Jisung was the one to tour your apartment with Minho and Karina, telling the tale of every picture you hung on a wall or framed on a credenza.

“This was when we went to London one summer after my graduation,” he said. “I’m the youngest, so I was the last one and we decided to make it a big celebration. I think this was the day Minho and _____ got lost and almost hopped on a train to Edinburgh by accident. This one was from Chaeryoung’s twenty-fourth birthday. I think Minho took this picture, actually.”

“Where are you in these pictures, Minho?” Karina wondered innocently.

There’s a breath of silence in the loft aside from you who didn’t pay any mind to his girlfriend’s ignorance. Not like you expect your fallout to be a topic of conversation over a candle-lit dinner date, anyway. You also didn’t expect that look on Minho’s face when he realized that to be true.

“He’s usually the one behind the camera!” Jisung answered, not exactly lying. “You’ve seen his Instagram and how he composes his cat pictures.”

Minho didn’t try to correct him, and they quickly moved on.

As it was the first day of the working week, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were the first to leave. For whatever reason, Minho and Karina decided to stay back. Karina’s motive was unclear; either she was really bad at reading the room or the effort to be friends was genuine, but even when Minho asked if she wanted to leave with everyone, she decided against it.

“Let me help you take the garbage out,” she offered Chaeryoung.

“I can do it,” you and Minho said in unison.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday and this one had a little too much to drink before coming here and when we got here.”

Chaeryoung gave you a sympathetic look as they carried several bags out to the ground floor. What a convenient day for the chute to be broken! They’d take the five-to-ten minutes of traveling to the ground floor out to the back where the bins were.

And then there were two, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, unable to look each other in the eyes after five years of abandonment.

“Hi,” he greeted again, lips flat-lined and unsure of how to move this conversation forward.

You beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue poked his cheek. “I ran into Chaeryoung last weekend at the bar I work at and asked what she was doing for your birthday.”

“Why would you ask that?” you asked coldly.

“I… just knew she'd be doing something for you. Maybe she took it as me asking to get invited, but that wasn’t my intention. I think she panicked, invited me anyway, and here I am.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that asked, ‘but why would I?’

You looked away. “Isn’t this a far drive for you?”

“I live here now. Well, not here; on the other side, closer to downtown and near that bar.”

“Oh. How long have you been a city dweller?”

“About two years now.”

That lined up with his relationship status. It was a fact that it was easier to find partners in the metropolitan, yet somehow you were the only one to remain alone after being one of the first to move here. How was it that Minho managed that in under a month? And if he’s been here for two years, how have you not realized that?

You swallowed the rest of the wine in your glass. “How do you like it?”

“I love it.” He ran a hand through his tired head of hair, creating a split down the middle. The redness on his face had spread from his nose to his cheeks, as it always did when alcohol invaded his bloodstream. “I see why you wanted to move here.”

He, too, must have seen how time was of the essence, and with what little time you have in your young lives, the highest quality of life would be to live where your peers were thriving. If only he understood this years ago.

You nodded sourly, feeling the loneliness resurface after having to repress it for so long. “I’m happy for you.”

“Your mother once told us, ‘mean what you say and say what you mean.’ You don’t have to lie.”

“Don’t tell me what my mother says.”

Tension as thick as jell-o separated you from him. There’s a brief stare down after your threat, or what sounded like a threat, and you swear there’s hurt behind those big eyes of his, but he wouldn’t be the victim here; not when he was the one who left your life and blocked you out of his. He didn’t have the right to be offended by your unwelcoming attitude when he was never welcome to begin with. On your birthday, at that.

Chaeryoung saved the evening and rushed back inside, afraid of the damage you’d tell her later.

“Ready?” Karina asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, being the first to break contact. You didn’t help him see his way out, but he said over his shoulder once more, “Happy birthday, _____.”

“Thank you for coming,” you called out sharply.

“It was nice meeting you!” Karina said cheerfully.

“You, too.”

Chaeryoung, the kind woman and hostess as she is, hugged them both and hastened to lock the door. She rushed back, clinging to you and holding your arms inside, likely afraid that you’d break something or chug the rest of the fourth bottle.

“I’m so~o sorry!”

“He told me how it happened. Tell me why I’m not surprised?”

“It was at the bar near your work that I told you about. You didn’t come because you had some reports to submit before midnight. And who do I see behind the bar? Minho, of all people! He was running that shit like the navy! It was hard to talk long over the music, but we said our hellos and he quickly brought up the fact you were turning thirty and asked what I was doing because he knows how much I love you and I’m the bestest friend ever – Anyway, I told him about the surprise, and he looked so damn sad! Jesus Christ, so you know me, an empath, I had to at least offer him an invite. I didn’t think he’d take it, nor did I think he’d ask to bring a plus one, like, yesterday!”

In the midst of her ramblings, you squirmed free from her grip and pulled the poor pouty girl into a tight hug. “I will not let him ruin what you’ve done for me. I love you and appreciate you.”

“It was so hard!” she whined. “The boys are so unreliable! I ask them to buy something for decorations, they don’t answer, and when I ask a few days later they’re like, ‘I got it a while ago,’ and I’m like, ‘why didn’t you say something?!’ and they’re like, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to as long as I brought it the day-of.’ Can you believe that?!”

“After over ten years of friendship, yes, yes I can.”

After cleaning up the remaining crumbs and dishes, Chaeryoung found the gift that Minho and Karina left on one of the chairs. “Did you open it?”

“No. What if it’s a bomb? Can you do it?”

She tossed out the tissue paper and peered inside fearlessly. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“A gift card and a perfume bottle; a pricey one. Ooh, it smells good!”

The gift card was to a new bar that was opening on the same block as your office. Your boss was excited to finally have a happy hour location so close that you haven’t gone a day without hearing about it since its announcement. The name on the card said ‘DAHLIA’ and the amount it held was five hundred dollars.

“Huh,” Chaeryoung mused, “isn’t this address very close to where you work? And you like dahlias. Scary coincidence.”

“Do you think he’s stalking me?”

“Maybe it’s Karina.”

The perfume was in a sleek clear bottle with a white face and gold cap. It smelled of marshmallows, orange blossoms, and neroli. It would be the most expensive thing you’d own, cosmetics wise.

“They open on Friday,” she said giddily. “We should go!”

The projected menu on their social media did look really good… and they had variations of your favorite drink and ones you’ve never heard of.

“Think of it as a ‘celebration’ to the start of a new quarter! Since it’ll be slower now, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, accepting that poor-quality reasoning for a twenty dollar cocktail. “Ok, let’s go!”

Your best friend squealed happily and dug through your closet, plucking out the shortest skirt in your wardrobe.

On Thursday, Chaeryoung canceled on you to go on a third date with the guy she’s been seriously interested in. She was hoping to finally become an exclusive dating couple; not exactly boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but they’re not allowed to see other people since they’re exclusive, so it’s a label-without-the-label situation that you struggled too hard to grasp. If the majority of your peers thought that way about dating, maybe it was a good thing you remained single.

When you exited your office’s high-rise that day, on your way to the train, you passed by an alley in between the Italian place and the coffee shop you and your co-workers frequented. There was an inconspicuous red ‘OPEN’ light at the end above a black door that caught your attention. In a small serif font, the letters ‘DAHLIA’ was stamped on the door. Friday was supposed to be the official opening day according to their social media pages, but there was no mistake it was open as indicated by the bouncer standing guard.

You did have the gift card in your wallet, and you were craving that crispy green tea highball they had in one of their posts. It was only 6:00 PM, maybe they’d have some happy hour deals going on and you could report back to Chaeryoung with your findings.

You walked up to the doorman. “Hi, are you open –”

“I.D.”

Well, that answers that. He allowed you to pass into the low-lit glowing bar. It wasn’t busy like a Friday evening, but almost all of the tufted couches and chairs were filled, leaving a semi-vacant bar up for grabs. The aura of the bar is what one might describe as ‘vibey and chill��, as the low hum of the bass from the hip-hop song in the background vibrated your heart. This was as soft as a soft-opening could get.

On the menu, there was a special on the drink you were looking forward to and a snack pairing: rice paper and seaweed chips with a salt and togarashi seasoning. You knew all those words separately but couldn’t comprehend them together.

“I.D., please,” the bartender asked.

You fumbled for your wallet and mumbled, “Why bother carding at the door if you’re just –”

You dropped your wallet when you saw Minho at the other side of the bar in a white button-down that was buttoned barely half-way. His lips curled teasingly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you gasped, popping your head up after picking up your wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only way you’ll greet me from now on?”

You felt your face burn even before any alcohol entered your system. “Chaeryoung mentioned you worked at the other bar nearby.”

“I own that one, too. This one I just opened.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Wait, ‘own’?” He nodded sheepishly. “But that bar has been there forever. I thought that old guy owned it?”

“He was looking to retire, so I jumped the gun and bought it. Kept it mostly the same, added some things I thought would pick up a trend, and it did so well that I was able to open ‘DAHLIA’.”

“That’s incredible,” you congratulated. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad that the gift card is so expensive.”

He smiled, but it didn’t translate to his eyes. “Do you work nearby?”

“At the tall building down the street.”

He’s just as taken back as you are. Maybe he wasn’t stalking you. “Crazy coincidence. But it’s late already. Long day?”

You sighed. “Most days are this long.”

“Yikes. Can I get you a drink?”

“The green tea highball looks good.”

“Coming right up.”

Minho rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and did his witchcraft. In a highball glass, a ludicrously elongated ice cube was placed. Then, two shots of Japanese whiskey from the mid-shelf (never mind the overpour), an ounce of cold brew jasmine green tea, and what little space was left was topped with club soda. Using a long bar spoon, Minho mixed its contents and offered it to you with a stainless steel straw.

You hummed happily. “Whoa.”

“I agree.”

“Where was this on my twenty-first?”

“I dare you to Google the whiskey I used and see if you think we could have afforded that at twenty-one.”

“I see your point.”

There’s a long pause of waiting for the other to say what they mean and to mean what they say. You thought about how coldly you displayed yourself to Minho and it ate up your thoughts the whole week. Even when he was the one who wanted you out of his life, he was the one to find you and it seemed he was here to stay, to be next to where you worked, and to be a part of your everyday life as you’d think about him every time you passed this alley between the office and the train. Was this a gift or a curse?

The wound was still fresh, but he was not the only one to blame.

You cleared your throat. “Listen, I –”

“I think –”

You both paused again. After all these years, your wavelengths were still in sync.

“Go ahead,” you offered.

“I think…” …We shouldn’t talk when we see each other? I shouldn’t have given you a gift? We should unpack the trauma we gave each other over coffee some time? “You should try the snack pairing.”

Possibly the best words to leave his lips. “Please.”

“One sec,” he said before running to the kitchen.

Your palms were sweaty, but if anyone asked, you’d feign it was from the condensation on the glass. Your first real conversation with Minho in five years was more stressful than presenting to upper management. Any courage of apologizing had fizzled and the fear of being vulnerable was chilling. You hoped the rest of the drink would give you that push.

Minho came back slightly breathless with a bowl of curly seaweed and rice chips with red seasoning. He stared at the glass that was almost full just a second ago.

“Would you like another one?”

Your vision was already swirly. “No, thank you. But these look delicious.”

The crunch from the fried rice paper was loud enough to make some heads turn. It was salty and the seaweed flavor shined through. The punch from the togarashi made you wish you had taken up the offer on another drink.

You let out another happy hum, and your sinuses cleared. “Wasabi!”

“Really sobers you up, huh?”

“I can smell colors.”

He let out a genuine laugh and you got a glance of his little bunny teeth. You wondered if he’d still have them when he was sixty.

The shy bartender fiddled with the kitchen towel. “You were going to say something?”

“Right. I’m –”

“Excuse me!” a customer approached the bar. “Can I have an espresso martini?”

“Absolutely!” Minho said in his customer service voice.

Espresso martinis were all the craze these days, especially with the ladies. You understood why, they were delicious and reminded everyone of a sweet little treat before the work day. You watched as Minho threw in his Boston shaker ice, vodka, coffee liqueur, and cold brew, and shook with all his might. The muscles you noticed on your birthday shined through, as the veins on his forearms and biceps were put to work. Your eyes traveled shamefully to his open chest, focusing on the groove in between. He poured the creamy drink into a martini glass and added it to her tab.

You drank the complimentary ice-cold water before he returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, I’m the one interrupting your work.” Despite drinking a multitude of fluids, your throat was dry and sharp, like the words were scraping skin on their way out. Just say it, dammit! “I’m sorry how I treated you on Monday.”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that after so long.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for attending.”

“You should have chosen another time to meet.”

“Your thirtieth birthday is important. It’s a huge milestone. I couldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He hung his head in a way that a puppy would when being punished. “I know.”

“You –” you choked. “I don’t know. I don’t know what or how to feel.”

“Maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Hi,” he held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Minho, I’m a bartender and chef, and we met when we were nineteen.”

“Minho –”

“Would you like to get coffee next door some time?”

“You are ridiculous.”

The rush of after-work over timers hit the bar like a thirsty school of fish. Two other bartenders jumped in, but they needed Minho to keep up a good speed. From his navy pants pocket, he pulled out his business card and slid it over.

“My number’s on the card.”

It was different from the one you had saved on your phone and he knew that. “Wait, I need to close out my tab.”

“It’s on me. Let me make up for Monday.”

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before taking the next customer. His mannerisms made every customer smile or blush. ‘Come closer’ he’d gesture with his finger, leaning in to hear their order, and winking after handing off the final product; rinse and repeat.

You left a hefty tip under your glass and slipped away from the crowd. At home, you spent half an hour rubbing your cheeks, unaware of how sore they were after the train ride.

The business card hung on your fridge under a London magnet. Every day, you’d wake up, stare at it while filling your water bottle, leave for work, come home, and stare at it some more as you prepared dinner. In the same serif font in black ink, in the center of the card was his full name. Under it said ‘Restauranteur’, followed by ‘DAHLIA’, the Japanese flavors-inspired bar, and ‘RED LIGHT’, the one with American flavors. His phone number and email were in small print, all information embossed on an off-white business card. ‘Classy’ was the most appropriate description of such a card, while yours was so plain in comparison. Technology products didn’t need that kind of pizazz, to be fair.

The next time you saw Chaeryoung was for a girls’ night-in on a Wednesday to gush about her new exclusive not-boyfriend. She noticed the business card while putting the dishes in the sink and plucked it from the fridge, already aware of what transpired on Thursday before.

“‘Restauranteur’,” she scoffed. “Ok, Minho.”

“I know, right? Can you believe he bought out that sleazy old man?”

“I always wondered why the quality went up all of a sudden. I can’t believe he hid that from everyone else, too! We’ve all been meeting around that area for months! Why did he give you this, though?”

“I guess he changed his number.”

“What? He’s had this number for a while now.” You shot her a deadpanned look. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t have known whether he changed it or not. Did you hit him up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? It feels… too soon.”

“Five years feels too soon?”

“No,” you sighed, unable to form the words in the right sentence. “We’re already on awkward footing after my birthday. And seeing and talking to him made my blood pressure spike to an unhealthy degree.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Nervous wasn’t right. It felt much deeper than that. “Afraid.”

If anyone knew the degree of pain and confusion you held for Minho, it was Chaeryoung. She always did her best to understand, but there are some things one must experience to understand, and this was one of them. She held you firm by the shoulders and knitted her brows.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

The music streaming on your phone paused as your best friend moved swiftly to the couch, already propping her feet up on the chaise before you could register what happened. The clicking of your phone keyboard over the bluetooth speaker snapped you back and you ran to join her.

“Wait, don’t!” you warned.

“‘Hey, bro’,” she said as she typed, “Too casual?”

“I’m thirty. I don’t say ‘bro’.”

“All right, jeez. ‘Hello, Minho. I hope this text finds you well. Per our last meeting – ’”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“I’m kidding, relax! ‘Hi, it’s _____. It was nice seeing you on Thursday.’”

“I wouldn’t say it was a ‘nice’ meeting.”

“Oh, my God, shut up. ‘Good to see you on Thursday,’ happy? ‘Would you like to get coffee some time?’ And send. This is fun, it’s like when we used to project our dating app DMs on the TV! Oh, wow he’s typing already. Asshole, he never answers any of us in the group chats until the next day.”

Texting a boy and sweating, waiting for his response… Were you thirteen again? The notification ding made your heart jump.

Your brows furrowed, matching Chaeryoung’s. “‘Hey! Of course I would. Just tell me when.’ Um. Tell him sometime next week?”

“‘Tomorrow at 11:00AM?’”

“Chaer!”

“‘See you then.’ You’re welcome!” she cheered, tossing your phone on your lap.

“Now he’ll think I’m excited…”

“Whether you are nervous, excited, or afraid, shouldn’t that mean something? That maybe you still have him in your cold, dead heart somewhere?”

“It took years of therapy to heal what was wounded. I don’t know if this will feel like closure or if I’m opening up my stitches.”

“And I’ll be here to help suture if it comes to it; again and again!” she encouraged, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just want our friend group back together, you know? This is a start, sort of.”

“I know. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Too late.”

The day it happened, the clouds were grey, and they cried and cried, pouring down the heaviest rain of the year. It rattled Minho’s windows like bullets made from hail, drowning the silence and filling the room with nothing but sorrow.

Tonight, you were celebrating your new job and the big move. After the plates were emptied, the music that played over his speakers slowed, and filled with wine and tenderness, you two swayed to the rhythm in each other’s arms. First, he had your hand in his and lightly hovered over your waist, leading the waltz across the living room with ease. As the songs progressed, his hold on you tightened. He laced his fingers with yours, traveled his hand to your lower back, then placed the other there, too, after wrapping your arm around his neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and nuzzling so sweetly it made your heart soar.

He sighed happily, shoulders relaxing under your arms. “Should we be doing this?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you replied light heartedly, “you are just a friend, after all.”

“Do friends do this? Should we ask Chaeryoung and Jisung?”

“Not if you want to hear them gagging all night.”

His breathy laughs hit your lips and his eyes fluttered closed. “I want to kiss you.”

You’ve wanted to kiss him for five years. “Then kiss me.”

“And I want you to stay.”

“Stay?” You took a step back, hating the cold air that replaced his space. “What do you mean ‘stay’?”

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

“Minho –”

“Stay here with me.”

“No,” you said firmly. “This is the biggest thing to happen to my career, and I’m not throwing away this grand opportunity. Won’t you come with me instead?”

“You know I can’t leave my family right now.”

“Then,” you sighed, “do I wait for you?”

“Wait? We have options; what about long distance?”

“You know how vigorous my career is. I work long days and long nights. I can’t call you or text you the way that other people do.”

“So what?” he argued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

This was the first time you were having this talk. Never before had either of you revealed the feelings that mingled in the air whenever you were in the same room together. For years, you repressed them, too scared to cross the thin line that separated friendship from lovers and unwilling to feel vulnerable and reveal the true feelings of your heart. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t have time. You wouldn’t have time to drain and pour your heart into something – someone – that wasn’t the projects that laid out on your office desk, and how was that fair to someone you loved so dearly? As much as you wanted to love and to give, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you repeated. “That’s not fair to either of us. We deserve one hundred percent of each other, not fifty, or even ninety.”

“You’re not even willing to try?” he mumbled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “How could you spring this on me the weekend before I leave?”

“This was my only chance –”

“No, it wasn’t. You had five years. Five years! And you know how important my career is to me!”

“What about me? Aren’t I important to you, too?”

“Don’t,” you stuttered.

“No, it’s not that I’m not important, it’s that your career is more important. Is that it?” When you couldn’t answer, he nodded his head, accepting the poor answer. “All I wanted was for us to try.”

“I can’t give you one hundred percent of me.”

“Then I’ll give more! One hundred ten percent; one hundred fifty!”

“How long can you last like that when you don’t know when we’ll be together again?”

“I won’t know unless we try.”

“I don’t want to try. Trying means uncertainty. For five years, I have been certain about you. But I’m certain it won’t work when we are not present.”

“We’re going in circles.” Minho turned and ran a hand through his fluffy, light bronze hair. This color on him, you remembered, made him look so young.

“I can wait,” you whispered. “We can be friends still, and –”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You couldn’t decide if your mouth should hang open or sew it shut forever. Still, you managed to slip out, “What?”

“It’s all or nothing for me, _____.” His eyes mirrored your glossy ones and the tip of his nose that was just on yours a second ago was reddening. “I don’t want friendship with you. I want love and passion, and I want you to tell me you want it, too. We aren’t friends; we never were really just friends, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He closed the gap and his hands found yours, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “Then show me that you know! Tell me you want this! Tell me you don’t want to be just friends! Tell me you want me, desire me, that you can’t go a day without having me, the way I would for you!”

You shook your head. Long distance relationships never worked. You witnessed it through your coworkers, through friends, and bosses, and even old classmates who had deleted every existence of their past love and left no digital footprint on their timeline. Every relationship you ever knew to be long distance had never worked out, and you knew this one wouldn’t be any different.

He let go and stepped away. “I wish you a fulfilling life in the city –”

“Don’t do this.”

“– and I’m sorry, but I can’t be friends with you –”

“Minho, please…”

“– I can’t be just friends with someone who has my heart and doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Instead of rescinding, instead of apologizing and taking the leap of faith, taking the risk that came with being vulnerable and open and raw so you could see what it meant to be loved and cherished by someone who wanted to love and cherish, you decided to lock your heart away and to never reveal it to anyone ever again.

That was the last time you saw Minho. On your thirtieth birthday, he broke every layer you built to protect yourself in a matter of seconds.

“Earth to _____!”

In between ‘DAHLIA’ and your office, there was a coffee shop with outside seating. As you waited at one of the tables, the record player in your head had recalled that night, and once it started, it wouldn’t stop until it finished. Just as you finished, Minho arrived and waved a hand in front of your face and you wondered how long it took for you to notice.

“Sorry! Daydreaming.”

“About work?”

Did he truly think your mind was entirely consumed about work? “Yeah. Work.”

“Well, you keep daydreaming, and I’ll get us coffee. What would you like?”

“No, it’s my turn to get you something!”

“Nonsense! You also tipped me way too much. You still order the usual?”

If you were one thing, you were consistent. “The usual.”

Minho would do this finger-gun thing when he was feeling awkward, and he did so as he walked to the counter. His outfit wasn’t as formal as the night you saw him at the bar. His jeans were black and his sweater a bright cobalt; a color that allowed him to be the center of attention when he wasn’t asking for it.

You were the one to ask him to meet - or rather Chaeryoung was - but you didn’t consider what you’d talk about.

He came back with your usual and his usual, which was an iced americano. At least he, too, was consistent, and that hadn’t changed.

“Busy at work?” he asked, clearly not sure what to talk about, either.

“Yeah. Always busy, sadly.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said your hours would be long.”

“No,” you confirmed, “I wasn’t. What about you? What’s your work day like as the city’s coolest restaurateur?”

“You flatter me. I work at ‘RED LIGHT’ during the day, and head to ‘DAHLIA’ at night.”

You tried to estimate his work hours in your head. “Back-to-back?”

“Yup.”

“Everyday?”

“Kind of. If it’s slow on like, a Monday or Tuesday, I’ll head out early and let the closers handle it. Otherwise, my day off is whenever I feel like it, but it’s not a real day-off. I use those days to answer emails and organize the budget or the inventory. Takes every waking moment to run a restaurant or bar, you know?”

“I don’t know. How do you balance everything?”

“Well, I love my job. It’s hard, but I don’t find it draining. I guess that helps. I don’t mind waking up at five in the morning, working, and going to sleep, at least not yet. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall someday, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.”

You’re afraid to ask the next question. “How do you balance your relationship with Karina when you’re so busy?”

“Phone calls, Facetime, designated nights for dates, surprise visits, little gifts and flowers here and there,” he nodded, looking at the table. “It’s hard, but we’re trying. That’s what’s important.”

Your coffee’s bitter and you didn’t want to bother with it after a couple of sips, but you keep at it to keep your lips occupied and to hide the way your teeth grit at the underlying accusation. “That takes a lot of patience. Some people struggle with that.”

He caught your drift and it appeared he realized he deserved that. “And you? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even casually?”

“No. Some dates here and there, but they never stick.”

“Why is that?”

“Either they’re boring, too intimidated by a strong female corporate supplicant, or I’m the problem.”

“Isn’t it -” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Say what you mean,” you pushed light heartedly.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

It’s true that it seemed like Cupid made his way around your friend group and you were the last to get hit. When your friends came home at night, they’d be welcomed into open arms and warm bodies. You came home to snacks and warmth was in the form of a fuzzy blanket you kept on the couch. At the height of your career, you once believed that love could wait, that it would find you at the right time and you’d know right then you were ready. As Minho sat across from you picking your brain about the emptiness that came with climbing the corporate ladder, the fear of feeling incomplete was imminent.

You wouldn’t let him see that part of you.

“I like my alone time.”

“But you have so much love in your heart.” He cleared his throat, regretting the arrangement of those words when he saw how your face twisted. What would he know about what’s in your heart? “Who do you give your affections to?”

“Must it be romantic?” you retorted. “My love is given to those you saw on my birthday.”

“I guess not. You’ve always been a romantic, though.”

“Five years is more than enough time to change who I was the last time you saw me.”

“Is that change good?” he asked nervously.

‘Is the result of feeling loveless from rejection and isolation a good change? Are you an idiot?’ you wanted to ask. But that would put the blame on him and blaming him meant acknowledging how much he affected you after all these years.

“Is that change good,” you repeated thoughtfully. “Neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“I think the decision we made five years ago put us where we are today; we’re both successful young adults thriving in a beautiful city. But I lost you as a result. So, the good must come with some bad. That’s neutral, no?”

His lips formed a smile, but again, it did not travel to his eyes. “You know, I was scared to come here today.”

“I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

“At first I thought, ‘wow, Chaeryoung did not try hard to pretend to be you at all.’”

You giggled. “No; no, she didn’t.”

“And then I thought, ‘we’ll be in public. She won’t kill me in front of people, right?’”

“Kill you!”

“But I know that wouldn’t have stopped you either way,” he grinned. “You haven’t killed me yet. Is it crazy of me to think of this as a good sign?”

“A sign! Is there something you’re looking to gain out of this meeting?” you teased.

“Yes,” he admitted, “a friend.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say, but your face twisted in a way that mimicked your thoughts. “A friend?”

“I know you and I have said and done some unkind things back then that we may not be able to forgive each other for, but after seeing you on your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You may not believe me, but I miss you.”

Your head and your heart were in conflict. You had spent all this time trying not to miss him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unwilling to say the truth. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you all of a sudden. But… do you think it’s possible? That we could be friends again?”

How quickly would you lose him a second time? “I think we shouldn’t force it.”

“Friendships bloom naturally, of course.”

A flash of pink blurred your peripherals before it became the center of your attention. Karina held a finger to her lips as she approached Minho from behind, covering his eyes with her slender fingers. He took her hand and kissed it, leaning back to look at his glittering diamond with hearts in his eyes. They were a beautiful couple and it was as clear as day how much they adored each other. Witnessing love was supposed to be like looking at a garden of roses, but as you sat across in a front-row seat, you thought to yourself how much you disliked the smell of roses, anyway.

“Hi!” she greeted happily. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch plans.”

You shook your head, dismissing the tightness in your gut. “No, please interrupt. I’m sorry for keeping him.”

“Would you like to join?”

You would rather jump off the roof of your fifty-floor office building. “Thank you, but I made plans with my co-workers already.”

“Then, we’ll have to get dinner some time!”

It pained you how much you disliked her. She didn’t deserve it. “Dinner some time sounds great.”

As Minho got up to leave, he leaned over the table and in a hushed tone said, “I just want you to know that you still cannot hide your feelings on your face.”

“My boss thinks it’s my killing charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho’s wink was like a button that set off every alarm in your body. As he walked away, hand-in-hand with the love of his life, you tortured yourself watching them recede until they rounded the corner.

–

Unfortunately, it was common workplace etiquette to have drinks with your coworkers after hours now that your schedules had slowed down. How convenient it was that ‘DAHLIA’ was open and even more so that your coworkers were eager to go. Initially, you tried to wiggle out of going, but your close comrade Choi San wouldn’t allow it.

He slammed his veiny hand on your desk, and you jumped. “Jesus -”

“_____ _____,” he boomed, loudly announcing your government name.

“No.”

“Come on! You haven’t joined us in, like, forever!”

“Forever will continue.”

“And if I bribe you with free drinks?”

You paused typing. “I’m listening.”

“You, me, and the forty-fifth floor at ‘DAHLIA’ in ten minutes.”

“‘DAHLIA’?” you repeated. “Does it have to be that bar?”

“Mingi already called the place to reserve. Why, is it not good?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Then make haste, my lady!”

The whole way across the street, San had his arm around your shoulder in a tight grip, too afraid to let you slip at the slightest chance of hesitancy. The smooth skin of his forearms touched your neck and it was close enough to smell the cologne he dabbed just minutes before leaving the building, which you now realized to be on purpose.

Inside, a bunch of young corporate acolytes gathered all throughout the bar, all of whom you worked and were familiar with. Minho, though busy taking their orders, saw you and San come in. He did a double take, eyebrow twitching upwards at the arm suffocating your neck. Your lips formed the words, ‘kill me’, as San guided you forward to the line to order.

Small talk with San was never small when he easily filled you in on his latest interests and hobbies. The other women in the office who were nearby engaged with him enthusiastically. Admittedly, there were a multitude of reasons why San was popular around the office. He was intelligent, always willing to lend a helping hand, had a positive attitude even when days were long and tough, and most importantly, he was so hot that your boss had to jokingly warn him several times to tone it down. His argument was it wasn’t his fault that button-downs were tight on his back and arms.

Minho was the one to usher you forward with his index and middle fingers.

San wrapped his arm around your shoulder again for no apparent reason. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi. _____,” he addressed to you informally.

“‘Sup, Minho,” you sighed.

“You two know each other?” San inquired. “Is that why you didn’t want to come?”

San’s only flaw was that he talked too much. Your jaw ticked. “Old friends. And no, that’s not why.”

“Oh!”

“What can I get you two?” You thought you heard ice in Minho’s voice, but you must be mistaken.

You needed something strong. “A negroni, please.”

“Double that,” San said.

Minho neither confirmed nor denied hearing the order before starting on it. Finally, you’re able to breathe easier when the weight of San’s muscly arm lets you go, confident that you wouldn’t book it out the bar. He instead turned his body to you, creating a wall and making you feel like you were under a microscope.

“Your presentation to the team yesterday was, um, amazing,” he stuttered.

Calling a weekly work presentation amazing was odd; he’s heard you lead them probably a hundred times by now. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“And the way you were able to answer all of the questions Boss Man fired at you? It’s no wonder you’re his favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m his favorite.”

“Well, you’re my favorite.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pursed them together and shut his eyes. “I-I mean the team’s favorite.”

You nearly snorted, though your smile was hard to hide. “That’s… certainly an honor -”

“Two negronis,” Minho interrupted as he pushed the glasses forward.

“I got it,” San reiterated.

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. I’ll meet you over in a bit; gonna talk to my good ol’ friend here,” you forced a grin. Like an obedient dog, San joined the others at the reserved tables.

“Wow, he’s…” Minho trailed off. “A lot.”

“Mother always said not to say mean things.”

“That was me being nice. Don’t tell me that’s your type.”

“Minho! That would be highly inappropriate workplace behavior,” you teased, though he didn’t seem amused. “Besides, what do you know about my type?”

He smirked. “I think I would know better than anyone.”

The twinge in your chest was crushing. Had Cupid returned with sturdier arrows? “Remember, things can change.”

“Did they, though?”

Why did that matter? “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The whole night, San hovered over you like a shadow, more than he ever had before. Maybe he saw Minho as competition after your coworkers prodded for the story behind you and the hot bartender. He wouldn’t have to worry, though, as he was highly mistaken about both Minho and having interest in someone you worked with.

You would thank San in the morning for dragging you out that night because he reminded you the importance of camaraderie. It was nice to be surrounded by people who shared the same professional struggles as you and it was freeing for everyone to let their walls down. Many of your co-workers were also single and struggling, filling the bar with chatter about failed dates and competing to see who had the worst one as of late. This was the first night in a long while that you had fun, and even though the man that haunted your thoughts was less than twenty feet away, you wouldn’t let him ruin this one night out of many.

But you felt it; that burn in the back of your head like twin cigarettes had bore themselves into your skull; the piercing eyes of an onlooker who couldn’t look away from you and the buff man next to you all night. Each time you tried to catch him in the act, he had anticipated it, busying himself with a customer or peeling orange twists, and when you looked away, you’d feel it again.

Like a worm eating its way through an apple, the fire in Minho’s eyes consumed you.

–

‘Wya?’

On a random weeknight, Minho texted you this just as you were leaving the office. You looked around outside looking for a sniper or an inconspicuous spy but did not see anything suspicious or sensed any danger. To that, you replied with, ‘Leaving the office. Why?’

‘Don’t move.’

If you weren’t panicking before, you were now. Then, from around the alley where ‘DAHLIA’ was, Minho popped up with a tote bag on his arm and an apron slung over his shoulder. He waved and flashed his feline smile, unaware of how cryptic his texts were.

“You didn’t literally have to not move,” he teased.

“Maybe you should normalize giving context.”

“Context is: do you have dinner plans tonight?”

Your plan was to pick up grocery store sushi and binge watch TV, if you’d call that a plan. “Not really. Why?”

He gestured to his tote bag. “I was going to my test kitchen. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

You considered saying no, but free food was involved. Plus, this is what friends would do, right? “Where’s this test kitchen of yours?”

“In my townhome. ‘Test kitchen’ just sounds cooler.”

The train ride to Minho’s place was the same distance as yours, just in the opposite direction. There wasn’t a ‘nice’ or a ‘bad’ side of the city, but you definitely wouldn’t classify this as the ‘bad’ side. Rows and rows of townhomes occupied endless streets in this neighborhood and each one had its own charm. Minho’s was right in the middle and the reddest, brickiest one on the block while the others had conformed to a more modern grey stucco-style.

The inside was anything but traditional though, with touches of modern style and technology. The first floor was similar to your loft, with an open floor plan combining the kitchen and living room meant for a true host and entertainer. The kitchen, of course, was the most updated, with a fancy six-burner stove, a magnetic display of different knives, and a giant white-granite island.

Soonie, Doongie, and Dori greeted Minho first by rubbing up against his calves and then greeted you second, unaware of the time that passed and recognizing your scent like you were only gone on a short trip.

You gasped happily, scratching their little heads and ears. “My fat ‘n furry step-children!”

“Looks like they missed you,” Minho chuckled.

“Oh, I missed you, too!” you cooed. “Can I help with any prep?”

“Can you help wash the produce?”

“Yes, chef.”

You tried not to stare too long at Minho while he tied the apron around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. There were vegetables in his tote bag you’ve never seen before, like the bulbous onion-like thing that smelled of licorice and a variation of a mushroom that looked like it would turn you into a zombie.

“Everything’s a vegetable or a fruit,” you noted.

“I’m attempting some vegetarian and vegan options outside of a salad and some dessert. If it doesn’t work out, the Thai place down the street is really good.”

Minho instructed you to cut vegetables in ways that you didn’t even know had a name to the technique. You had to tell him to talk to you like a five-year-old because you were not someone who knew what it meant to julienne a carrot or prepare the mise en place.

The first dish was a seared cabbage wedge. Cut the head into wedges; sear on the pan; make a soy-sugar-rice-vinegar saucy thing; shave a potato and toast it like a breadcrumb; retrieve the soy-and-smoke-cured egg yolk and… shave it?

“What do you mean ‘shave it’?” you muttered, holding the hardened yellow orb of congealed something in one hand and a sharp sword-like thingamabob in the other. “Isn’t it going to burst?”

Minho, bless his heart, stood behind you and guided your hands together. His hands, despite going through hundreds of washes and touching all things hot and cold, were soft and warm on top of yours. He had you shave one quarter of the solid egg yolk over the dressed cabbage wedge.

“The yolk is cured, so it’s solid all the way through,” he said.

His breath tickled the shell of your ear and it turned hot. Was the oven set to a thousand degrees? “O-Oh! Wow, that’s cool. Is it done?”

It was only then that Minho released his hold. “Yup. Try it.”

Cooking was a hidden form of sorcery. It was one of the most complex and delicious dishes you’ve ever eaten. Salty from the potato breadcrumb, savory from the egg yolk, and sweet from the soy sauce, feeling different textures and flavors so good you had to stop yourself from moaning.

“Good?” he asked. All you could do was nod vigorously with eyes wide and glittering. He smiled genuinely and his eyes sparkled, too. He opened his mouth and said, “Ah~”

That was your cue to feed him a bite. You gathered the perfect amount of everything onto a fork for him. As he chewed, his brows knitted together thoughtfully and you’re unsure of what that expression meant. From his pocket, he took out a small field notes book and scribbled something quickly.

“You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it a lot.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look so angry.”

“That’s just how my face looks.”

Next was a vegetarian bone marrow. Nothing about bones or marrows sounded remotely vegetarian, but Minho handed you two fat king oyster mushrooms to halve and remove the centers while he sautéed a medley of other mushrooms in salted butter, garlic, and thyme. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as you both worked. Nothing felt awkward, or forced, or as bitter as your last meetings were.

As you waited for Minho’s further instructions, you toured the living space and observed all the pictures. You were in about half of them. Most were of your entire friend group, but many were significant moments in your lives, like graduation, birthdays, talent shows, or candid solo pictures. After all these years, when you kept any evidence of him hidden in a shoe box in your closet, he displayed you loud and proud. You glossed over the number of pictures of Karina for your own sake but seeing her face that many times made you stop looking.

When you turned back, Minho was staring at you so intently, he forgot to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “Um, the next step is ready.”

Under an immersive blender (“Immersion blender, silly.”) was the sautéed medley and the guts of the king oyster mushroom, softened cream cheese, and olive oil. The paste was bagged and piped back into the charred and seasoned center of the cut-out king oyster mushroom. With a flame torch, Minho darkened the paste, creating a bruleed outer layer, and topped it off with pink peppercorns, pecorino, and chives. Triangles of buttered toast were the vehicle.

Minho took a spoon and scooped out the center. “A little bit of ‘marrow’ and voila. And the ‘bone’ is edible, too, obviously.”

Your eyes teared up at the fireworks of umami. “Will you cater for my next birthday?”

“For you, I will.”

After course upon course of seared and leafy bites of savory and salty goodness, you greenlit practically all of them to Minho’s dismay (“Guinea pig means to critique, not suck up to.”). Dessert was the final leg of courses. From preserved lemon sorbets to chocolatey bites of flourless cake, you would fall into a deep sleep tonight on a cloud of spun sugar.

“I’m drunk on life,” you sighed happily.

“I like you best that way.”

“Seriously, Minho, you have something really good here. I’m no expert, but I think –”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Chocolate on your lip.”

“Huh? Here?” you licked once.

“Not even close.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where’s a napkin?”

“Hold still, will you?”

Minho held your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted up. Like a surgeon, he meticulously wiped away all evidence of your inner chocolate-devouring goblin with his other thumb. For a moment, he lowered his hand to wipe it on his apron, but he caught you looking at his lips.

“Th-Thanks,” you whispered.

He took the chocolate-covered thumb and sucked it clean, maintaining his gaze before it lowered. “My pleasure.”

The kitchen felt hot and it was hard to breathe. The alarms in your head went off again; the longer you stayed, the faster you’d fall. “I-I should go.”

“Wait –”

“This was great by the way!” you called as you backed up towards the door. “S-So good! And thank you, I will pay you back for any groceries!”

“That’s not necessary, I invited you here.”

“Let me know what you decide to add to the menu, and I’ll-I’ll stop by some time, yeah?”

You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer before running out the door.

–

The following weeks after your inappropriately intimate tasting, you avoided Minho as long as you could. It hadn’t even been a month since you saw him for the first time and you already crossed the thin line that was never meant to be crossed. You couldn’t even be strong for that long before you fell back into the routine of desiring the one man you weren’t allowed to have.

This was the curse of Cupid. He had successfully shot and landed an arrow into every friend you loved, pairing them up with their person and the match-up was so right it was scary. Somehow, at the perfect time under the correct circumstances, your friends found the ones that completed their other half, or so they said, and you witnessed love in full bloom every time it happened and everyday since. When it was shoved in your face like that, how could you not think about what you were missing out on every single day of your life?

You used to think considering a couple as two halves was a disservice to humanity. Halves implied that part of you was missing; it suggested that one could never be whole alone, that they spend their whole lives finding someone who fit the two-piece puzzle. A two piece puzzle was supposed to be the easiest puzzle in the world, but in a box filled with over eight billion pieces, it would take forever for Cupid to pair the pieces. At twenty-five, after that stormy night, you once believed that you could survive as one single piece among the eight billion for the rest of your life at the bottom of the pieces pile, if it came to it; but now that you’re the last of the friend group to yet find your match - at thirty, at that - maybe Cupid had a point to the whole two halves make a whole argument.

Because admittedly, as much as you tried to convince yourself on your thirtieth birthday, you didn’t feel whole. Hell, you barely felt like half; and every time you saw Minho, bits of you were being chipped off to the point that you were scared of losing your half of the puzzle.

To distract yourself from thinking about Minho licking chocolate from your lips, you finally jumped the gun and downloaded dating apps for the first time. Well, Chaeryoung and Jisung did.

“Put on your bathing suit,” she ordered.

“Excuse you.”

“What? All your selfies are so normal!”

“Normal is a good thing, Chaer.”

“But it’s not,” Jisung piped in. “Dating is not what it used to be. Before, it was as simple as looking pretty, saying your favorite song or movie, and naming the restaurant you want your first date to be at. Now, you have to get personal. Name a niche hobby, what character from a TV show represents you the most, what childhood trauma affected your frontal lobe development -”

“Ok, I get it.”

Jisung and Chaeryoung sandwiched you tightly on the couch even though the view of the tablet was easily seen. Chaeryoung filled in all the prompts for you a little too enthusiastically while Jisung was there to judge through the lens of the male gaze and snacks.

The woman beside you cackled evilly. “This is so much fun! I can’t believe you’re finally doing this. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

“Seriously. What man made you do this?” Jisung teased.

You yanked the tablet back. “No one.”

“Liar.”

“Who do you think, Han?” Chaeryoung stated bluntly. “Who else could have brought this blessing upon us?”

“Oh,” he mused, “duh.”

“Shut up, both of you! No one made me do this. Am I not worthy of finding love?”

“Of course you are. Just not this way.”

“Why not this way?”

“Just watch.”

The second someone completes their profile, it’s like the app forces it at the top of everyone’s algorithm. You received a lot of interest and private messages in the first five minutes, many of which were… bold…

“Men are so uncouth,” you groaned. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged, pointing to his head and then his groin. “Two heads, two brains.”

“Ugh, gross.”

Chaeryoung swiped left at lightning speed. “Too young, too old, too short, too tall, too smart –”

“I like smart,” you pouted.

“The key to a healthy relationship is to be smarter than them.” Jisung didn’t argue, as he was happily committed to his intelligent partner (a mystery to all, as no one knew how he bagged a research fellow).

There’s a knock on your door. The three of you look at each other in confusion.

“You two need to stop secretly inviting strange men to my home,” you accused before getting up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Jisung defended, “did you?” Chaeryoung denied.

When you opened the door, a disheveled Minho stood there with an oily bag in his hands. He raised a brow. “Am I that strange?”

Just as you were trying to trust in the dating app algorithm, the Gods and Cupid said, ‘let there be chaos!’ “You, specifically? A little bit.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah!” Jisung called from the couch. “This is girl time, Min!”

“Shut up!” Chaeryoung pulled Jisung up from the couch and they both patted your head before rushing out the door. “We’ll see you later, _____!”

“Y-You don’t have to leave!” you practically begged.

“Honey, it’s past-nine on a weekday, yes we do!”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Minho frowned, looking at his watch. “I was nearby with Hyunjin and thought I’d stop by with some fries to make up for Chaeryoung tossing them out on your birthday.”

You don’t even remember that happening. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I can come back another time.”

“No!” you said an octave too high. “No, please come in!”

Minho’s outfit was more casual than ‘DAHLIA’s typical button down and tight slacks and you deduced he was working at ‘RED LIGHT’ today. There were multiple oil and/or beer stains on his shirt and his hair was parted and pointing in different directions, evidence of his hand having to go through it several dozen times out of stress.

“You look…”

“I know,” he sighed, plopping the bag on the table. “There was a work-lunch event today that turned into dinner for some corporate slugs. Then, Hyunjin was looking at a location for his coffee excursion and asked for my help. Four hours later, I’m starving and thought of you.”

He was thinking of you a lot lately, it seemed, and it was hard to deny that you reciprocated. “This is wonderful, thank you. I owe you two dinners now.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything. Friends don’t owe; they treat.”

“My treat next time, then.”

“And the next,” he reminded with a smirk. “What were you girlies doing just now?”

“Um,” you hesitated, cheeks stuffed with potato. “Making me a dating profile.”

He raised a brow in the same way when he saw you walking in with San: questioning and dissatisfied. “You never had one before?”

“I was on-and-off when I first moved here, but I couldn’t stand to open the apps after a couple days of usage.”

He does the thing with his fingers when he gestures to come close. You noticed his hands were veinier now than when you were younger.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see my dating profile?” He nodded. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’ll give you an opinion through the male gaze.”

“Why do you think Jisung was here?”

“Certainly not that.”

Defeated, you handed him your phone with the app open. There’s a twinkle of curiosity wondering how he’d react, but you wanted to tame that fire quickly. He scrolled and swiped, then scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled.

His face was stern when he said, “You already have a lot of admirers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He didn’t answer and continued to scroll. “What about that guy you work with?”

“San? What about him?”

“Nothing came of it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that would be inappropriate?”

“Is that the only reason stopping you?”

You squint your eyes at your all too curious friend who hadn’t looked up from your phone since taking it. He popped fries in his mouth rhythmically like a metronome until he caught the heat from your gaze. He looked up and did a double take.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Why are you so curious?”

“So, there’s another reason stopping you?”

“And if there is?”

“And if there is…” he repeated, fiddling with your phone charm. “Would you tell me?”

The inkling of assumption tickled annoyingly at the corners of your mind. Was he asking to let you know that he knew he was the reason for your desires? Or was he asking to tease you, to prove to you that if you had made the right decision all those years ago, you could have been in Karina’s position? That all this time you spent away from him, your journey for companionship started too late. And sure, your bank account was as filled as your stomach, but was it worth it when you had no one to share it with?

He waited patiently for your answer, but you heard his foot tapping rapidly on the wood. Your mouth opened, then closed, and you finally shook your head in shame, because your lips were cursed to speak the truth or nothing at all and you would rather deny than to admit.

He licked his lips, and that gesture alone sparked something in your core. Then he nodded in a way that expressed sourness, as if this confirmation was exactly what he expected but not what he was hoping in both the nonverbal response and the underlying tone that trailed behind it.

You broke the silence. “How’s Karina?”

“Good.” He was quick to shake his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since lunch a month ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve… been too busy.”

Shameful and embarrassed, was what you gathered from his response. As he should; to criticize your decision only to repeat the cycle when he found fulfillment in his career was so… Hypocritical was not a strong enough word. Betrayal, perhaps, was the most correct, but that didn’t satisfy you, either.

You wouldn’t get satisfaction from any angle, though. No matter how you viewed it, it was selfish to consider yourself relevant here. Minho was hurting; everything you feared about relationships had flowered before him and crushed the idea that perfection could be achieved as long as both people tried. But it seemed that although he tried, it wasn’t enough, and maybe his ideals were more out of the ordinary than he anticipated.

“It’s put a bit of a strain on our relationship. She wants to settle down and I… I thought I did, too, but… you know, my places have been growing so much, and…”

As he trailed off and off through a list of excuses, it took you all the way back to the night that it rained. You also spat excuses from your pockets and got nowhere. Now, Minho was on your side, but it didn’t feel great, either.

“What’s more important to you?” you asked.

That was the age-old dilemma, wasn’t it? What was most important to someone as an adult who spent most of their life getting educated and preparing for the professional world to milk money from consumers; the career they adored and earned or the love they found along the way? One could argue they could live without love, but could one live with themselves if they gave up their dream? How many rom-coms have you and Minho laughed at where the world that movie was set in was in a vacuum and the couple always chose each other? Though the plot was fake, the dilemma was real, and the choices they made in the movies were just not realistic.

“Important,” he chuckled, understanding what you were getting at. “Why can’t both be important to me?”

“They can, but it’s clear your efforts are imbalanced in one direction. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation.”

The fries were long gone. Minho stood up and tossed the bag in the trash before grabbing the unfinished bottle of wine leftover from your birthday and two glasses. You supposed tonight would be the most appropriate night to finish it off. Plus, Minho needed it, apparently.

“I tried, you know,” he sighed, “I really did. I text every night; I send her flowers to her office; I cook for her, shower her with gifts, and tell her regularly that I-I…”

Minho didn’t complete his thought, but you knew what he meant to say. Why would he not, for your sake? “That you love her?”

“Yeah. That I loved her.” Your glasses raised in sync. “I get it. I’m not as present, and I get her love language is quality time, but when did the thought stop counting?”

“Have you considered you two aren’t compatible?”

“Anyone can be compatible, no? Where’s the effort?”

Now you were feeling annoyed. Were these digs subconsciously at you? “Effort can only go so far. You said her love language is quality time. You could do everything in between, but you’re not there to hold her, to kiss her, to tangle under the bed sheets as much as she wants, then guess what? She’s never going to feel the love that she wants and deserves.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want. Does she? Do you?”

Minho chugged the rest of the cabernet in his glass, nose wrinkling, before pouring in more with a heavy hand. You ignored how cute his nose looked. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ok, so you can’t complain is what I’m hearing.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose, annoyed that someone who he confided in didn’t feed into his fantasy that his ideology was gospel.

“Ahh!” he groaned loudly to the ceiling. “Fucking hell. I thought this was supposed to get easier when we were older?”

“What? Love?” you scoffed. “Look at us; I’m stuck on the apps and you’re stuck in your ways. You think this gets easier just because we have more ‘life experience’?” Your air quotes were overly exaggerated. “No, dude. People are dumb at every age.”

“I’m not dumb,” he pouted.

“You’re a little dumb.”

He giggled a bit and it traveled down his belly to a full laugh. You couldn’t help but smile, too, which grew into your own fit of laughs, and the condo was filled with ugly laughs and tears of joy, pain, and all that was locked inside your’s and Minho’s souls since inception. These nights were the ones you once looked forward to.

When the giggles died down, he stared blankly at the swirling wine in the glass and asked, “Do you think we could have worked out?”

You felt your cheeks and nose flare brightly. “Worked out? Like if we tried?”

In some other tangential timeline, Minho moved to the city. Maybe he still bought out ‘RED LIGHT’, and you would visit him everyday after work and bring your coworkers in to show off your hot bartender boyfriend. Then, you’d take the train home together. You’d wind down on the couch watching a couple episodes of something light and crawl into bed in each other’s arms. Your lips would never leave his unless it was to come up for air, arms wrapped around his naked torso as he crawled on top, and mumbling praises and poems of how much you adored him.

Like an asteroid that orbits a planet, you revolve your life around him and his happiness. If you tried long distance or if you gave up your career, it would be a difficult feat, and happiness would not be found in that desert. Leaving for the city was for the best. He eventually found his oasis, and you were still on the long journey of finding yours in between the infinite dunes.

Before you realized, your nose burned some more and your vision blurred. “I think it still would have been really hard.”

“Would it have been worth it?”

“I think…” you hesitated, but the wine in your veins was overtaking, “it would only have been worth it if it was with you.”

“Then, why?” he begged. “What happened to ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’?”

“After all this time, you still can’t see what I see. I never want to risk something where I would lose you. So, I didn’t think I’d lose you if I said no.”

“This is… so stupid…”

“Don’t insult me in my home.”

“No, I… I…” he stuttered, and it’s just now you see his eyes were glossy, too. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so fucking stupid.”

It was stupid; you moved out to move on, and here he was at your door bringing you french fries and opening bars across from where you work, invading your life like a decade-old infectious disease with no ailment known to man-kind. It was stupid; he was taken, spitting out confessions of his failing love story to the one he ended, telling you he still thinks of you before he sleeps. It was very stupid, and it pained you not to fall for it.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“______ -”

“You can’t think of me.”

He reached out across the table to take your hands. You allowed it, because you were a weak, weak woman, starving for touch and hungry for him. His skin was rough and tired from the dehydrating soaps of the service industry, but they felt so right.

“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

“What does it mean for you to leave? You will leave my home, and then what? Will you try to be better for her? You’ll stay in my life and we can be friends? Or will you leave permanently and change the dynamic of our friend group forever for the second time?” By now, the tears were falling and words choked as they came out, but your grip on him betrayed you and you held on like he was hanging off a cliff.

“I… The… The former…”

“Then, no. No, I don’t think of you. I’m not tormented by you, I’m not in ruins when I see you, I don’t smell you on my clothes, I don’t see you when I close my eyes, or in stranger’s faces when they pass, I don’t dream of you, and I definitely don’t think of you every second of everyday!”

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore. Why won’t you be vulnerable with me?”

“Vulnerability is weakness, Minho! I have been strong for so long; without you, at that!” your voice was shrill and loud and you couldn't be bothered to sit. You were up from your chair, leaning over the table, and he winced as you kept going. “You come here, turn my life upside down, and ask me to be vulnerable? To lower my guard around you? After you abandoned me all because the circumstances weren’t right at that moment? Fuck you.”

He got up from the table to get to you and towered over you, torso much wider than you remembered. He was too close, and you could feel him feel you. Your body hadn’t turned to face him, too scared to face your biggest fear, so he forced it upon you by holding your shoulders. His eyes, so big and brown that it was easy to drown in them, dug deep into yours and pleaded with everything he had in his heart.

“Fine, don’t be vulnerable, but show yourself some mercy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mercy? I want someone I can’t have. How does that merit mercy?”

He faltered a bit and you regretted the moment you invited him in. His eyebrows furrowed in what you thought was pity. Your head dropped in shame; that was the last thing you needed. His hands moved to hold your face as if he never wanted you to drop something so precious to him ever again.

“Don’t,” you repeated.

His forehead connected with yours and suddenly, you felt young again. It’s what you needed, what you wanted, but…

“I want to kiss you.”

The rush from five years ago hit you like a truck. “I want to kiss you, too.”

Every emotion, every desire, collided into the kiss. His hands swiftly moved to your waist and pulled you in until every millimeter of you touched some part of him and soon your hands were lost in his hair. His lips were soft, and you always imagined them to feel like petals of a tulip, but he was earnest and there was some pain in the amount of pressure he pressed into you. The pain felt good, the feeling of being wanted made your heart soar, and you two exchanged gasps and moans as your lips moved fervently, hungry for indulgence after being teased with temptation. But his tongue tasted sour, and bitter, and nothing like the coffee and chocolate you once dreamed of, because this circumstance was yet again not right. He tasted like rotting fruit because stolen fruit was never sweet.

You broke away, gasping and sniffling and it was so hard to breathe. “You’re not mine,” you cried.

“But you have always been mine,” he whispered, with his breath ghosting your lips.

You shook your head, over and over until you freed yourself from his grip, wishing you’d be free of him forever. You turned your back to him, unable to show your face as you said, “I think you should leave.”

Back then, you wished he fought for you as much as he wished you to do the same. You wished he’d followed you, or waited for you until the time was right, but of course time didn’t wait for anyone. Deep down, as you broke into pieces in your dining room, you hoped he’d fight for you then, too, and proclaim that his heart belonged to only you. You were fooled twice, and as the saying goes, shame on you.

The failure of reciprocity would weigh you down just as much. You never fought for him the way you wished he would for you for the simple fact that you weren’t allowed to. He was a taken man, a man who said not too long ago how he told her he loved her every single night, and it would destroy you how he’d go home later and still say those words.

You believed everyone was worthy of love, including you. The love you wanted wasn’t supposed to feel tainted or spoiled. No matter how much you wanted him, how much he claimed he wanted you from the very start, you wouldn’t be that kind of woman who stole someone’s man, and therefore you would not confess to anything else that lay hidden away in your heart.

Minho left quietly. The battle was over, and you broke down on the floor.

Heavy and loud sobs escaped your quivering lips in a poor attempt to dissipate the pain that expanded in your chest. Your cries echoed into the open loft until you couldn’t stand the sound of your voice and wasting tissues, but your body wouldn’t let up. So, you transferred yourself to the bathroom, running a hot shower and curling up on the tile until the water ran cold. Here, your cries were muffled by the artificial rain, just as you had cried into the storm that ugly night long ago.

You called in sick the following day.

–

For the next quarter, you were happy you were swamped with work, for once. That meant waking up early, taking the train when the sun had barely risen, and leaving when it had long gone to sleep. It was the same for most people in the office and you were blessed with not having to conjure up a lie to get away from San’s advances to get you to happy hour.

In sum, you hoped it meant you’d be too busy to think of him, but when you had only a single moment, a single second of freedom, he invaded every bit of you. He was a virus, a parasite, sucking the life out of you like he was reminding you what you desired that once was within arms reach was now lost forever. Like Icarus, you fell from the ether into despair, surrounded by darkness from the absence of the sun in your only moments outside of the office. On days when you were off, you had begged your boss to let you come in, to distract you with some enrichment of any stupid task even if it meant gluing together inadvertently shredded proprietary documents for sixteen hours, but HR would catch on too quickly, was what he said.

You hoped to fall hopelessly in this troposphere of purgatory forever, operating through the days on autopilot, but your heart had sunk to your gut and it ached to land on the earth to end the pain. Just as you were getting the hang of flowing with the wind, Minho called once. Then, he called twice. On the third, you almost answered, but when your eyes welled and you struggled to breathe, you figured it was your body’s reaction to falling faster and further beneath the clouds. You spent those nights he called curled up in some corner of your home under a multitude of blankets waiting for the headache and heartache to subside, but by then the night turned to dawn and time was limited.

Chaeryoung would call, too; she’d text; she’d send you food, coffee, and chocolates, and much of it went cold because any sight of food made you nauseous. Lately, you moved so slow that sustenance wasn’t a necessity anymore, nor was it a pleasure. She was always quite the worrywart, so you tried to answer as much and as vaguely as you could, but at one point it was too exhausting to keep up the lie and you gave up, leaving her with one-worded answers that didn’t satisfy either party.

And so you continued to fall; continued to cry, rot, and falter when all you had done was taste forbidden fruit.

His birthday approached faster than you could get over him.

For a while, no one seemed to mind your absence besides Chaeryoung and Minho, who had called to see if you were attending any of the last-minute get-togethers or planned reservations in the recent month. The one big one you regretted missing was Chan’s birthday, who was rightfully miffed, but you hoped the gift you shipped would make up for it. You kept up with social media, though, and liked all the pictures that came from those nights.

Each post, you’d look for him. You’d admire what he was wearing; you’d wonder what cologne he was wearing; you’d imagine the way his eyes lit up when Karina walked in the room. But she wasn’t in any of the photos.

You didn’t tell anyone what transpired the second time with Minho. It was too embarrassing to have fallen for him twice, which sent feminism back at least a decade. You were going to conjure up some work-related lie to get out of his birthday celebration, but Chaeryoung wouldn’t allow it and even went as far as messaging San for confirmation about your work schedule.

In a huff, she busted through to your home before you could reject her kindness. Normally, your girl was all smiles and full of expressions, but tonight she was strict and stern, which meant she was mad. Very mad.

“I need you to not message my coworkers, please,” you said as she filtered through your closet. “I don’t want a meeting with HR on Monday.”

She didn’t turn to face you when she snapped, “It felt like you were lying, so I had to double check.”

“I wasn’t lying. It was busy, but we just lightened up after the deadline yesterday.”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“I needed an excuse to not go tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated with how insufferable you were being. She turned to you with glossy eyes and you regretted avoiding her lately. “Aren’t I your friend?”

Her having to ask really stung. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then can’t you tell me why you disappeared for three months?”

“I… it’s hard, Chaer…”

“For God’s sake, _____, you’re thirty. Act like it, and use your words!”

“I can’t,” your voice cracked, “I can’t see Minho.”

Her face softened, realizing maybe that night when she left you with someone you saw as a stranger was not what a best friend did. You watched her scan through your slumped posture and sunken eyes before she lunged and hugged you tightly. Tears burned, the feeling of gentle humanity fulfilling your highest hierarchy of needs overflowing all your emotions.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We kissed,” you whispered back.

“And?”

“I kissed back.”

“But?”

“He’s not mine.”

She pushed you to arms length, eyes knitting sternly. “I think you should go tonight.”

“Chaer -”

“Trust me. You might regret it. It’s his thirtieth, after all.” She pushed away the hairs that cling to your forehead before running to grab some make up. “Let me do your make-up! It’ll be like your twenty-first all over again.”

She sat you down on your bed and began to dab away at the color-correcting pallet. A box of tissues lay next to her so she could catch the tears before they fell. She created a large pile in the end.

“Do you want him to be yours?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

You wanted to smell him on your clothes, adore him in your dreams, and wake up next to him. You want him to be yours, only yours, and to not have to share him with someone who he also chose. Under this sanguine circumstance, still, you smiled at this very thought, because of course the answer was, “Yes.”

And she, too smiled, her own tears forming while she dabbed yours with another fist full of tissues. “Then, go to him.”

“But -”

“_____,” she breathed sternly, sniffling a bit. “You stupid, stupid people-pleaser. Fight for yourself, for once.”

When you thought the battle was long over, little did you know you were still fighting all this time.

Despite trying not to think of him, as his birthday approached, the calendar terrorized you to get him a gift. Just in case, you know? It was a fancy Nakiri knife whose steel was decorated in waves. The Internet told you that a chef’s knife was similar to that of a samurai’s sword, so only the highest quality of Damascus steel was preferred. As you held the box in your hand at his front steps, your mind and heart kept battling with each other and debated whether or not getting a personal gift was too intimate versus a gift card to some generic restaurant to establish a boundary.

But wasn’t the boundary already too blurry, anyways?

Chaeryoung pushed you inside the already-unlocked door. All the boys and their partners and Chaeryoung’s now-official real man were already there surrounding the island. Minho, who just had a grin on, dropped it quickly upon seeing you come in and straightened his back. It’s like deja vu from your birthday.

Karina wasn't present.

Your body’s instinct was to turn and run out the door, but Chaeryoung anticipated your every move and was quick to block you. She squeezed your hand and tugged you further inside. You greeted the boys and their partners first, who all said a variation of, ‘long time, no see,’ before reaching Minho. His expression was still starstruck and confused. He didn’t appear angry. Perhaps it was a feeling worse than that, which could not be translated through his face.

With sweaty hands, you handed him the small rectangular box. ��Happy birthday.”

He was hesitant to take it, as if to question the possibility of diffusion of poison through the skin. His hesitancy allowed you to get a whiff of his bourbon vanilla cologne. “Thank you.”

“Oh, so you’ll come for Minho’s birthday, but not mine?” Chan pouted.

“Some things are worth coming out for,” you retorted.

The night went on and you played your role as an onlooker in the background, hoping to blend in with the walls and remain unnoticed so as to not ruin the night. You watched him and the boys shove each other playfully and inhale any and all food Minho made. Who’s to say that thirty was old when the epitome of youth was in the souls of a group of hungry boys? Conversations and debates picked up from when they last saw each other. Some of them filled you in and others forced you to answer without knowing the majority opinion. Laughs and giggles filled the kitchen and even when it seemed that Minho didn’t want to whenever you answered, he couldn’t help himself from smiling at your ridiculous answers, though he stopped when he’d catch you watching him.

As the clock ticked forward, your anticipation for Karina to pop in at any moment dwindled. Maybe she was also having a rough quarter three and taking a late night at the office, but to miss her boyfriend’s thirtieth was… a choice, even if they were fighting or some other strange reason. But then four hours turned to six hours and then it was, ‘damn, it’s already 2:00 AM?’ and she never came.

“Are you ready to go?” Chaeryoung asked at the front door.

Minho was now alone in the kitchen and there were a lot of dishes left to wash. You should help him.

“No,” you said. “I’ll call you later.”

She had a hard time hiding her grin as she left.

You approached him slowly like how you’d approach an angry cat because he was scrubbing the dishes a little too furiously. He didn’t look up despite knowing what you were up to.

“Can I help?” you asked.

Still, he refused to look at you, but he handed you the sponge. Well, that was progress, right?

Dishes and clean up were completed in silence. No chit-chat, no music, just the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the cupboards. The task was finished in good time, and just before you decided that your stay was long overdue, he pulled another deja vu card.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled to the floor.

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. Chaeryoung told me to come.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve.”

A salty laugh - or perhaps a scoff - was uttered. He was tired, you were tired, and the air was cold and stale. The topics orbited like a satellite, coming ‘round for another turn for a different thirtieth celebration, if either of you would even call it that.

Minho let out a big sigh. “Only you can disappear for three months and come back into open arms.”

The words arranged sounded like a compliment, but it was clearly the opposite. “I don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I tried calling you.”

“I know.”

“Texting. E-mailing. Fuck, even snail mailing!”

“I know…”

He threw his hands in the air, as he did whenever he was frustrated, and turned to take a breather from your nonchalance. You were supposed to be fighting for him, not letting him slip away like this, but why was this so hard when loving him came easily?

“I shouldn’t have come over that night,” he said after returning. “I was trying too hard to be friends again and I crossed a point where I couldn’t return from.”

“Isn’t that the story of our friendship?”

“Is that how you feel?”

“We were never really just friends, were we?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted softly, “we never were.”

Your eyes met for the first time that night. His were red and puffy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three months.

You swallowed the rock in your throat. “Where’s Karina?”

“I don’t know. I broke up with her a while ago.”

Your chest felt tight and your voice bubbled out a garbled, “Why?”

And his mirrored, to the point where he had to clear his throat. “I don’t love her anymore.”

“So, is it true? Is it better to have loved and lost?”

“I wouldn’t exchange my days with her for anything.”

It didn’t make sense; it just didn’t. When someone loved that deeply, how could they throw that person away so easily?

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “I loved her and she loved me. It was fulfilling, and now it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“If it means I get to feel like I’m flying, I think I can handle it.”

The concept, the idea of that, was just too hard to grasp. It took your wax wings melting to realize that the journey upwards was worth the descent.

“Enough about my failures,” he said hoarsely, “What about you? How… how are you doing?”

How were you supposed to admit that tonight was the first night you had a proper meal? That sleep only came under the influence of some generic-brand silver liquor? That you plucked a fist full of grey hairs the day before? Would admitting to vulnerability prove that you were fighting for this? For him? Or would it make you look pathetic?

“I’ve been doing fine.”

The centers of his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. He inhaled heavily, his sniffles echoing through his quiet home.

“Are you?” he stuttered, voice distorted and desperate. “Really?”

No, of course not, and that much was clear when you started to cry.

“Because,” he continued, “if you can’t tell, I’m… dying on the inside.”

“Because of me?” you whispered, feeling the weight of your actions collapsing.

“Because of you. It’s always because of you. Everyday for the past ten years. It’s always been you.”

“Why couldn’t you forget me? Why? When you were the one to throw me away?”

“How!” he cried out. “How could I forget about you, when all I wanted was you?”

“You wanted to change me! You wanted me to abandon my career.” “I wanted you to try!”

“And you were right!” Sobs choked in your chest. “You were right. If I loved you, I should have fought for you. I should have tried harder. And I really shouldn’t have admitted those feelings to you when you were not mine. For everything that I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be. You are so mean,” he hissed, pointing harshly. “You torture me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Even when I close my eyes, I see you.”

“I’m sorry -”

“I named my fucking bar after your favorite flower! And now you stand here in my home asking me to forget about you? How am I supposed to even begin doing that, hm? How, when everything around me reminds me of you?”

Your sobs were visceral and messy, and you buried your face in your hands. Maybe tears held the youth Ponce de Leon searched his whole life for the way yours could fill the fountain in minutes and how wiping them took away two decades of your life.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” he whispered. “One last time, and I’ll leave it be forever because I’m fucking tired. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?”

You caved in when all else went wrong and there was nothing else to hide. “Everyday.”

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“No,” you replied, “Because I need you. Now, let me ask you: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

His lips quivered before he laughed and you do, too, because that was the cringiest thing you’ve ever said. He held your face, that precious face of yours that he adored so much, dabbing away your tears. His eyes fluttered to your lips, a habit he couldn’t shake off after all these years.

“I need you to kiss me,” he demanded.

He tasted like honey and his lips fit yours like the second half of a two-piece puzzle. This was slow and deliberate, no longer going at the crushing speed of fervent passion because you had all the time in the world together now, and Minho was always the type of man to take his time. You couldn’t stand to leave his lips even for air and they ghosted his only for a few seconds before you tip-toed and pressed yourself deeper against him. Your hands were occupied with gripping his shirt at his waist to keep him in place. When you felt his smile on your lips, you grinned back and held him by his beautiful face.

“I need you to stay,” he formed on your lips.

“All I need is you,” you answered.

Even while traveling to his bedroom, both of you refused to separate as you bumped into furniture.

“We should take this slow,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Get acquainted with each other, or whatever,” you concurred after removing his belt.

“Maybe get coffee some time?” he asked into the crook of your neck.

“Or a drink? I know this really cute bar called ‘DAHLIA’.”

He threw you onto his bed. After removing his shirt, he crawled on top. “I think I’ve heard it.”

“Oh yeah?” You undid his pants zipper. “I know the bartender. A little narcissistic, though; he thinks he’s so hot.”

He trailed kisses down your lips, to your neck, to your sternum, to your stomach, until the top of your panties where his fingers hooked. “I know he is.”

You called Chaeryoung the next afternoon. At first, she scolded you for not texting her when you got home, but when she checked your location during the call, she screamed so loud that Minho dropped the spatula while making your breakfast.

The sanguine satellite would continue to orbit her world and revolve her life around his happiness; and he would continue to do the same.

#lee minho #lee minho imagines #skz #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #lee know fic #lee know x reader #romance #friends-to-strangers-to-lovers #angst #emotional hurt with comfort #a doozy................. my longest one yet me thinks #nawt to bring in one piece but the way i screamed TAKT looking at that minho pic yeah

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