#eye focusing issues? right side

[semiotomatics]

researching the anatomy of the lower back/pelvis/legs/feet to try to figure out what the FUCK is causing my sciatica bc dear GOD am i in agony rn

[lucinfernos]

CONTENT CREATOR ARCANE AU INTRODUCTIONS ⭐

finally put together this handy dandy info sheet for your ease of access!

Jayce a.k.a. ManOfProgress (benevolently referred to as MOP by his fans) — 31 years old, he/him, bisexual trans man, Mexican-Brazilian — Started content creation in 2020 as a hobby to battle the pandemic boredom but blew up and decided to make it his full-time gig — Streams games and goofballery on Twitch [623k followers] and posts & streams more personal and unrelated content on YouTube [102k subscribers] — Found Viktor’s channel ~6 months before they started talking and feels very comforted by his voice; sleeps to his videos every night and puts one on whenever he’s anxious or angry — Got into a bad car accident as a child that was fatal to his father and left him with chronic pain on his left leg; now wears a knee brace and a calf compress periodically

Viktor a.k.a. TheMachineHerald — 32 years old, he/him, gay trans man, Czech-Polish — Was unable to leave the house during the peak of the pandemic and found joy and inspiration from Jayce’s content, and chose to start dabbling in content creation in 2022 — Creates very technically advanced and meticulously crafted ASMR videos; usually fully focuses on the mechanical sounds and tech aesthetic but lately has been brancing out more [12,3k subscribers before he gets in kahoots with Jayce] — Started showing his face only around the time when Jayce started watching him and is a bit irritated over the boost in popularity it granted him — Has many health problems, including scoliosis and rheumatoid arthritis (which has caused lung scarring and severe cartilage damage to his right leg and spine from when he was younger and could not access the necessary care to get the inflammation in control)

Mel a.k.a. Melicious (to this day her fans argue whether this is a reference to delicious or malicious) — 33 years old, she/her, bisexual; Jayce’s ex-girlfriend, African-American w/ Algerian roots — Was with Jayce during her time in Piltover but they made the mutual decision to part ways when she was accepted into an art school in London; are still close friends — Made very high-quality weekly diary-style vlogs, often related to art [837k subscribers]. Went on a semi-hiatus after moving but is active on other social medias like Instagram [1,4 million followers]

Jinx a.k.a. GETJINXED — 19 years old, she/they, agender aroace; in a queerplatonic relationship with Ekko, American — Gained popularity on TikTok and later on Twitch when people realized she’s the sister Vi is always complaining about; has no niche and does literally anything she wants to do that day, which usually has to do with either art or engineering [166k followers on Twitch, 850k on TikTok] — Working on an independent music career on the side with their debut single Get Jinxed going viral on TikTok — Lost her finger ON STREAM when working on an art installation, the clip has millions of views

Ekko a.k.a. The_Boy_Savior — 20 years old, he/any, probably nonbinary but he has a job so he doesn’t care abt that rn, bi & asexual; in a queerplatonic relationship with Jinx, African-American — Creates well-researched and thought-provoking video essays about worldwide issues, especially dedicated to the health of the planet and its people [317k subscribers] — Surprised everyone by appearing in one of Jinx’s tiktoks because nobody knew they knew each other let alone that they were in a QPR — Frequently holds fundraisers and has done a lot of good for his community

Caitlyn a.k.a. KillshotKiramman — 23 years old, she/her, lesbian; Vi’s girlfriend and Jayce’s best friend, Chinese-British — Makes videos about weapons (mostly guns and shooting) [176k subscribers] and plays games on her Twitch [29k followers] — Moderates Jayce and Vi’s streams, and completely destroys both of them at FPS games — Had a gun misfiring accident which left her blind in her left eye

Violet a.k.a. vistandsforvideogames — 24 years old, any pronouns, gender-apathetic (call her whatever you like) lesbian; Caitlyn’s partner, American — Gamer on Twitch, but also shares about her side job as a boxer [212k followers] — Sometimes mods for Jayce but mainly just shows up to kick his ass in Mortal Kombat and exude chaotic energy

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Part 1

cw: death of family members

It had been five years since Simon’s last tapping-out ceremony. Back then, he had hoped he’d never again have to stand on this field, but now he was glad he was there. Clad in his ceremonial uniform, he once again watched as families tapped out their loved ones. He watched until only one was left. You. The young woman who had tapped him out five years before.

With a heavy heart, he walked up to you, coming to a stop right in front of you. He watched as silent tears streamed down your face, your eyes focusing on him. And he continued to stand there, his mind taking him back to the worst day of your life.

You had joined the military shortly after you had met Simon, cruising through basic training without issue. When Simon found out about it, he had put in a request that you get transferred to the 141 as a rookie, as soon as your training was over. You were ecstatic to be training under him and you quickly grew close with the rest of the task force. But then everything came crashing down.

Your brother died during an op. Just months after you started training with the 141, you had to bury him. Simon stood by your side as you grieved him. You grew close to each other, closer than you probably should, since he was still your superior, but it did both of you well, so Price turned a blind eye.

But when the Captain received a call just a year ago, he had Simon break it to you. Your entire family had died in a car crash. Your mother, siblings, nephews - everyone was dead. You were alone. All alone. A feeling Simon knew all too well.

When you met Simon, you never thought you’d find yourself in the same situation he was. But…you weren’t alone. You had him, and Price and Johnny and Kyle. You had your own little family, and slowly, you healed. But days like these brought all the hurt back.

Simon reached up, his hand gently cupping your face as the sob that had been building inside you for an hour finally escaped your lips. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him as he pulled you closer against himself. “I got ya love. I got ya.” Your tears stained his uniform as he just held you while you cried.

It took you a few minutes to calm down, but when you did, Simon gently pulled away, cupping your face and making you look up at him. “I’m so proud of you, baby. And they are, too.” You nodded, managing to smile a little at the thought of them cheering on from heaven. “Come, the boys are waiting back on base.”

Just like you had with him five years ago, he slipped his hand into yours and led you to the car park.

A/N: Part two! Hope you liked it, sorry for all the angst. Also, I almost cried writing this.

[pathologicalreid]

blowing smoke | s.r.

in which Spencer asks you out on a date, but you know better

[next]

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: maeve and that fucking book. mutual pining but with avoidant reader. this fic lowkey could've been titled waiting room because reader knows it's for the better. word count: 1.96k a/n: hey does this thing still work? hello?

The hand hovering over the small of your back didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, you were hyperaware of every movement that Spencer made. Every hitched breath, each time he shifted his weight, the way he guided you through the halls put you on edge. He herded you through your apartment complex as if it were a maze he’d scrawled on the back of his hand.

His apartment was in the opposite direction of yours, but he still offered to take the red line with you, citing a need to make sure you got home safely. “Did you have a good time tonight?” He asked, his voice breaching the painful silence that had coagulated between you, his hand remained above your back, skimming the fabric of your jean jacket as you stepped onto the elevator together, trapping you in a metal box together.

You nodded once, keeping your eyes focused on the muddled reflection of the two of you in the elevator door instead of looking back at him. “I can’t complain about good company,” you answered, curling your toes in your shoes, using the texture of your socks to stop yourself from abandoning your resolve.

Spencer hummed in response, “We should do it again sometime,” he told you, letting you get off of the elevator first before he trailed you to your front door.

“As long as Penelope’s around, I don’t think we’ll be in danger of losing team bonding nights.” Tonight had been dinner at a new restaurant in the district, a place that you’d never heard of but Garcia had found on social media. Of course, the restaurant served exclusively Italian cuisine, and Rossi—who you’d been sat next to—went around the table and explained what he’d change about everyone’s meals to make them more authentic.

He was quiet as you rummaged through your purse for your apartment key, zeroed in on the way you rifled through pens and chapsticks to find the right carabiner. “Oh,” he responded, following you into the apartment. “I meant maybe you and I could do something. Get dinner together sometime.”

You faltered, your hand resting on a hanger in your coat closet, “I think Penelope would take it personally if we started hanging out without her.”

“Bringing Penelope with us on a date might send people the wrong message,” Spencer countered, a soft chuckle carrying through his tone.

Closing the closet door, you waited until the latch clicked to turn around and face him, “Spencer,” you started, tilting your head to the side but refraining from moving any closer to him. “We can’t,” you stated plainly, shaking your head in disbelief—both at the fact that he was asking you out and at the fact that you were turning him down.

His golden-brown irises studied your face in abject disappointment; he searched your expression for the smallest sign that you were joking. Turning him down to mess with him only to quickly turn around and tell him you’d love to get dinner together. “Sure, we can, there’s no regulation that says two members of the BAU can’t be together. There won’t be as long as Rossi’s around.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up, “That’s not why.” You wracked your brain for a simple explanation. A little white lie would be easier than the messy truth, but every lie eventually circled back to the same thing—to the same person. You’d been so patient in waiting for this moment, living your life on the sidelines while you watched Spencer crush on coworkers and bartenders and waiting for the universe to put you on the same playing field.

Here he was, offering to pull you from the bench, but you weren’t interested. He shifted his weight from left to right, “Then why?”

Naming your issue would require bringing up a subject that had become taboo in the BAU. You found yourself wishing you still had your jean jacket on, the cold in your apartment brought on by freezing Spencer out, “Maeve.” Your one-word answer floated off of your tongue easily, a topic you had wanted to bring up since she died but had avoided for nearly a year now.

You found a spot on the floor and focused on it, desperately needing something to look at other than Spencer’s face as each stage of grief flashed across it. “I want to move on,” he assured you, “It’s time, don’t you think?”

A scoff escaped your throat before you had the chance to reel it in, “I don’t want to be a task to you. There’s no point in me being a checkbox on your therapist’s list.” It broke your heart to turn him down. It killed you to hurt him. It killed you to hurt the bright-eyed girl who fell in love with him on her first day on the job.

“You aren’t,” he insisted. “You wouldn’t be. I’m not doing this for anyone except for myself,” he took a determined step forward and you stumbled backward, and just like that, he had a final answer.

All of the words in the English language, and you couldn’t form a sentence that would concisely explain why you couldn’t go on a date with the love of your life. You shrugged helplessly, allowing yourself to look up at him, trying to unsee the haunted look in his eye that you’d grown accustomed to. It’d been there since the day she died, and you weren’t entirely sure he’d ever be rid of it. “You called her the most beautiful girl in the world,” you reminded him, unsure of why you chose this reason.

He frowned, the crease between his brows so endearing that you nearly forgot about the cracks forming around your heart. “What?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you considered your next words carefully, “That’s what you said to Blake, I heard you.”

Spencer looked pained, “She… I didn’t—”

“And you’d never seen her before,” you cut off his explanation. “You called her the most beautiful girl in the world without having any idea what she looked like,” you reminded him of the odd circumstances encircling his relationship with Maeve. Phone booth girl.

“She was my girlfriend,” he offered as if that was explanation enough. It wasn’t lost on you. People had a tendency to speak in hyperbole when they were in love, and despite his excessive rationality, Spencer was no exception.

Running your tongue over your molars, you hummed, “Look, all I know is that if you felt that way about someone you’d never laid eyes on, there’s no room for you to feel that way about me.” You weren’t trying to be brave or considerate, you were frantically trying to build a brick wall between you and Spencer that should’ve been erected years ago.

He shook his head, taking another step toward you, leaving you to back into the kitchen counter, “You don’t mean that.”

Tears started to line your eyes, silver wisps blurring the visage of everything you’ve ever wanted, “You have to understand, Spencer.” The determination in your voice slowly morphed into a plea. You found yourself begging him for mercy, “In my head, we’ve already dated, fallen in love, and broken up. I don’t need to relive that sequence of events.”

“You don’t think we even deserve a chance? Because of Maeve?” He continued to push, poking and prodding at you until you felt like you were going to break apart.

You couldn’t do it. You could no longer allow yourself the luxury of fantasizing about being with him while the skeleton in his closet was pushed up against the door, threatening to break it from its hinges. Your tears slipped down your cheeks, moving in a steady stream as your lips parted to respond, “Because you called her the most beautiful girl in the world, and I’ve been in front of you for eight years waiting for you to notice me.”

It wasn’t that you considered yourself a jealous person. At least, not in the sense that you were jealous of Maeve. You couldn’t be in a relationship where you were always cognizant of the fact that someone else always came first. In the past year, you’d seen the way her death followed Spencer’s every action firsthand, and you couldn’t let her haunt you too.

“Let’s say you mean this and want to be with me; I’ll never live up to her,” you explained yourself to him, hoping to fill the gaping wound in your chest with words that would never be able to repair the damage that was being done to you. “I will never be able to reach the standard that she set,” you told him.

Spencer held a hand up, trying to get you to stop speaking, “That’s not true.”

You waved it off, “Of course it is. Spencer, if not her, then someone else will always come first to you. I’d spend half of our relationship wondering if you’re being forthcoming in your feelings about me, and I refuse to use what’s left of my dignity to stand in front of you and beg for your love.”

“You won’t have to,” he insisted. “I have absolutely no intention of using you as some sort of placeholder.”

Spencer was always good with words. You’ve watched him bend truths and manipulate UnSubs into giving him exactly what he wants. That was what he was doing right now, as surely as you were holding a knife to your own throat, he was asking you to lay down your arms. He didn’t want to hear you out, everything you said to him went unprocessed by that beautiful brain of his, and a feeling of helplessness filled the void. “Do you still carry the book around with you?”

It was like you’d pressed a reset button, his demeanor completely changed when you brought up the book, “What?” He straightened up, pulling his shoulders back as he eyed you nervously.

“The Narrative of John Smith, is it in your bag right now?” You asked him. Spencer’s kinship with books was a trait that had previously fed your fantasy, but for the last year it had only ever been one book. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him off for having the audacity to ask you out while he had that book in his bag. As if the inscription didn’t imply that Spencer and Maeve were destined to be together.

Slowly, Spencer opened his bag, reaching in and pulling out the eerily familiar book. One-hundred and twenty pages of your precarious and unending heartbreak. There was a bookmark placed about halfway through, indicating he was in the middle of his umpteenth reread.

Something about it made you feel so pathetic that you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry. There was no escaping her, even now. You’d never be able to fully leave her in the past, there would always be the question of whether or not they’d be together had she not died.

Maybe he’d shelve the book someday. Maybe he’d read a book by your favorite author instead of clinging to Arthur Conan Doyle. Maybe he’d stop quoting E.E. Cummings on a daily basis. He just hadn’t reached that stage of grief yet, and part of you thought he’d remain in a permanent state of bargaining. You weren’t willing to be part of the bargain. You weren’t willing to be the one he defaults to just because you have a pulse.

Shaking your head, you walked around him and opened the front door, leaning against it and fidgeting with the deadbolt while you waited for him to get the message, “I can’t take being the last choice.”

"Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another." - Thomas Merton

[acid-ixx]

if you guys are interested, send in an ask or comment!

will anybody be willing to hear out neglected child reader who was another one of zeus's bastard children. you're out there chasing for your stepmother (hera's attention), whilst zeus just lets you run around without his care, clearly too wrapped up in his affairs. your other siblings aren't as good to you, too, thinking another half-deity isn't worth their time—

so you'd give up, pretty much choosing to bestow the mortal world with your presence instead; because if you can't be loved by your own family, then let yourself be worshipped by passionate mortals instead.

how about romancing telemachus? what if you both learn what it's like navigating through his godly favor with athena, and you with your own powers? what if you have odysseus and penelope be the actual parent-figures you always wanted? their overprotectiveness skyrockets every time you propose to being elsewhere in ithaca, to the point you forget that it's you who has the godly powers to oppose, but how could you when a darker side of them appears every time you allow yourself to be disrespected within their palace?

how about in another place? what are you to many of the great warriors, if not for a forgotten, yet mysterious and whimsical deity? why is your name muttered in all the regions? surely, with just how much you deny your god-like origins, but still manage to capture the hearts of hundreds of suitors, you'd gain quite the infamous name despite your closed-off attitude.

imagine enough attention was garnered on your presence, that that's what was needed for them to finally notice you? but you're not quite the same child who used to pull on their robes, or look at them as brightly as the sun— no, now you deny them of any of your love. your mother, hera, finally sees you and urges you to return to olympus away from the prying eyes of many suitors and back into the domain of safety. she calls you her baby, fuzzing over you even when you openly and spitefully try to rip her hands away from fixing your 'messy' robes. zeus isn't any better, now he calls you sweet names and pretend like he hadn't actively bashed on you for your weakness back when you were begging on his throne for just a sliver of attention? he wants you to sit in between his throne and hera's? you're significantly smaller than him, he's gigantic in nature, and it doesn't help that he treats you like you could be easily squashed by him (which is every damn right possible, and it's intimidating and makes you want to cry).

and there's the issue with the others, too. so many of them used to deny you in favor of focusing on their own domains. now apollo wants to carry you off in one of his chariots to ride off the skies with him while he plays his lyre to you? artemis wants to teach you the way of the hunt under the dark, gloomy skies you used to wish under for a moment of their time? aphrodite used to spitefully shut you out of her own doors, but now she invites you in her room to gossip and play pretend while she coos and braids your hair?

and all the other gods, now wanting to take you away from the underserving - as they say it - mortal realm? that the people who built sculptures of you, who held you more lovingly more than those you grew up with, aren't worthy of your divine presence?

what a joy to be a being looming between the lines of mortal and divine, right?

a/n: this concept is better off and more coherent in my head i swear. now i don't often diverge from my main fandom, but the similarities between this and the yan! batfam is quite hilarious to me that ngl i want to make a crossover of it. and yes, this is me coping with the stress of having to deal with the sudden influx of hate in the yan! dc community, so i'm taking a short break from it to focus on this.

[murderofravens]

THIEF

pairing: the salesman x fem!reader

summary: he looked harmless enough. you should've known you were stealing from the wrong man.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON CON ELEMENTS but no actual smut, father issues, talks of abusive past (reader ran away from home) physical and verbal abuse, slapping, hitting and all that. age gap because of course, its my fic afterall. he's fucked up. that's it. read at your own risk.

A/N: shoutout to @muntitled for her incredible salesman fics and for inspiring me to start writing again. you're awesome.

prequel to VIOLATE

MASTERLIST

the station seems colder today. your eyes twitch as you look around, analysing the people waiting for their next train. a woman sitting on a bench, reading. a few college students who probably are in more debt than you. a homeless man mumbling incoherently to himself while trying to light a match. a group of teenage boys laughing at something on their phone— you make a mental note to stay away from that side, for the sake of your own safety. the lightbulb flickers as you take a seat on the dirty floor, contemplating your options. that woman looks a good enough target— but with the layers of clothes she's got on, you don't believe you'll have any luck with her.

you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. you don't look up, merely focusing your gaze on the floor and pretending to be lost in thought. you've learned it's much easier to get away with pickpocketing if you don't immediately look at the person you're stealing from. something about not looking suspicious. a pair of shiny dress shoes stand by the train tracks— and you allow your gaze to trail up, up, up. this man has some long legs, you think to yourself. a crisp, stoney gray suit, and broad shoulders. a briefcase in hand and a seemingly innocent gaze looking around.

someone financially stable, judging by the expensive watch on his wrist. on first glance, you decide he looks like the kind of man who would be too tired or bored to run after you if he caught you in the act.

he'll be paying for your dinners for atleast a week.

as you stand up casually, you spot your target put on a charming smile and walk over to where the homeless man is warming his hands. you can't hear the conversation because the man's back is turned to you, but you can tell he is trying to advertise something to him. he opens his briefcase, and you catch sight of bundles of cash in it. you feel your heartbeat immediately picking up. your body feels warmer now; imagining a bright future for yourself if you managed to get a hand on the briefcase.

you don't bother eavesdropping in the conversation, you have other priorities. luckily, the woman on the bench was reading with her legs spread forward. you take the opportunity and stumble over her feet, losing your footing and falling forward with a loud cry— crashing right into your target who stumbles forward onto the homeless guy who lets out a string of curses.

"watch where you're fucking going!" he yells, and you're sure the woman behind you called you a fucking nutjob as well.

apologizing profusely, you put on your best sheepish expression and pat your target's back, helping him up. he looks at you strangely, giving you a tight lipped smile, and when you slip out his wallet from his back pocket, he doesn't seem to notice. before you can get a hand on the briefcase, he tugs it back and guides it towards the homeless man, engaging in another conversation with him. you're quick to walk away without another glance, swearing to yourself on your missed opportunity. but you suppose a wallet is better than nothing.

the first thing you do is run out and aim towards a crowded area you can disappear into. you open the wallet and pull out some cash— no identification, no credit cards. just a simple paper card with some symbols on it. it makes you wince. you thought with atleast an address or a name, you could've robbed him, but the universe seems to fucking hate you.

you eat some noodles from a street vendor. it's one of your favourites. in moments like these, you miss home. but you figure that having to steal and feed yourself is better than always having to walk on eggshells around your father— wondering when the next hit might come. or what other aspect of you would he decide to fixate on till you start hating yourself. you were tired of that life. this is okay, you'll deal with it.

it's when you're walking back to that rusty apartment you've started calling home that you feel a strange, prickling sensation on your back. so far, you always wondered if what people said was true— that you can tell when you're being watched. right now, you can feel it— this strange, unsettling fear that something is following you. you abruptly look behind, but there's no one there. you consider taking a short cut— but decide it's the stupidest thing you could do, so you just run home as fast as you can and hope whoever it is, doesn't catch you.

you feel victorious as you open the door to your place. as you step inside, something kicks you in the back of your knees and you yelp before falling forward, right on your face.

"what the fuck!?" you shriek breathlessly, scared out of your mind as you lean on your elbows and try to sit up. there's a haunting shadow blocking your doorway, and you can feel your heart begin to pound nervously as you spot the man from the station.

"you look at home down there," he says calmly, accent heavy in his voice. "rightful place for a thief like you."

your voice is stuck in your throat— eyes wide as you let out sharp, heavy breaths. does he know? how long has he been following you? did he involve the police? what is he going to do?

"listen, man." you start shakily, sitting up, "i don't know what you're talking about—"

as you try to stand again, his foot comes up and collides with your shoulder, sending you to the floor again, "fuck!—"

he doesn't let you up as you lay against the floor, his shoe painfully digging into your collarbone, "not only did you sabotage my job tonight, but you also stole from me. i don't like thieves—"

"i hadn't eaten in days!" you cry out, a hand coming up to grab onto his leg, eyes pleading with him to have some sympathy. you really try. "i'll— i can pay you back—"

"by stealing from someone else?" he asks, amused.

"no! god—" you let out a choked breath. you're scared out of your damn mind, it's obvious, but more so because the violence and humiliation you're facing now is what you ran away from home to avoid. you don't want this man to violate you. you're tired of being scared. "i can— i can do a job! anything! ill work for you or- or— i'm sorry, please—"

the man takes joy in your cries, it's obvious in the amusement in his eyes. he's enjoying the way you stumble over your words and make a fool of yourself. but after a moment of begging, he pulls his leg back and gives you a moment to breathe. you sit up, choking on heavy breaths, holding onto your shoulder.

"let's play a game."

you look up at him with bloodshot eyes— barely holding back tears. his hand twitches.

you're shaking. this man just had his foot on your shoulder, and he wants to play a game?

when he doesn't get a response from you, he continues, "it's called ddakji. if you win, i'll give you cash." he opens the briefcase, smiles sinisterly as your eyes land on the object of your desires. "i saw you watching it, back at the station. such a shame your little plan didn't work, no?"

you grit your teeth, looking away from his taunting eyes. "and if i lose?"

"then i get to slap you."

your head snaps up— breathing getting heavy again. is this really what your life has come to? is it really worth it? you're back to square one— perhaps, you could leave your home, but the violence will always follow. the realization of your fate has a tear rolling down your cheek. you really try to sound tough when you gather the courage to speak again. "and why would i do that?"

"because you're desperate," he says calmly, leaning forward to brush the tear away with his thumb. the action has your heart fluttering for just a moment— many men have made you cry, but not one of them have ever wiped the tears. it's stupid. he quirks an eyebrow, settling you with a blank stare that shakes you to your core. "what have you got to lose, anyway?"

he's right, you think. would you rather take a few slaps and then live your life independently? or would you choose to live in fear about when you'd be on the receiving end of your father's wrath again?

you choose the former.

he explains the concept of the game and you get to choose the color of your tile— you pick the red one because it's your favourite color. with as much strength as you can, you try to flip his tile, but it merely jumps and then lands back like it was. it sends your heart plummeting down your stomach.

you know well what's coming next— it's all you've ever known your whole life. you flinch as his hand raises, but he stops midway. you tremble violently, eyeing his palm nervously. he eyes you curiously for a while, before another twisted smile appears on his face.

"you ever get hit before?" he asks, voice taunting. you swallow hard. "boyfriend?" he pushes his hand closer, making you flinch again. "ah, i know— father."

before you can snap at him, his hand collides with your cheek, making you let out a sharp cry. your face twists to the side and you take a deep breath— try to console yourself. it's just a game. he's not doing it out of malice. false promises.

you bite down on your lower lip to avoid calling him a fucking dickhead and telling him to rot.

he just smiles as he goes next. you pray to the gods he doesn't flip your tile— and thankfully, he doesn't. it makes you sigh in relief as he tosses a bundle of cash at your feet. you bend down to pick it up, "oh my god, thank you, thank you—"

he tsks, shaking his head, "game isn't over."

you go another round, and you win. you cheer heartily as you get another bundle of the cash tossed at your feet— and he sighs to himself. suddenly this game seems better.

you try to use your previous technique to flip his tile, and it doesn't work. it earns you another slap. it doesn't get better— you get as many slaps as you do cash. tears roll down your sore cheeks— they're heated and they hurt. you feel faint. only you know how much strength it takes to keep standing. you're sure your face will bruise tomorrow. he doesn't stop until you have half the cash from his briefcase. you can't hold back your sobs— you don't know what you're crying for. the cash, or the slaps? both, perhaps.

"you did good," he says, stepping forward and invading your personal space. his hands are warm as he cups your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears. you try to pull your face away, but one warning glare from him has you frozen in place. "look on the bright side, you decided to steal from me today and you earned some money. even if it came with a little beating. but you took it like a good girl, didn't you?"

his words should have you convulsing. you should be kicking him in the balls and hitting him with the nearest object you can find— but you're hypnotized— caught in a trance by his words of praise. against your better judgement, you nod, before shamefully averting your gaze.

he smiles tightly and steps away. adjusts the buttons of his suit jacket and looks around before going to the couch and sitting down. "why don't you go fetch me a glass of water?" he stretches his arms, shoots a provocative smile your way. "all this exercise has me feeling thirsty."

you want to tell him to shove his exercise up your ass and leave, but you decide to do as he said. you're in no position to threaten him. he's much stronger than you, and judging by everything else, much older as well. men like him are not easy to fool. and you really don't want to get hit again.

as you pour him a glass of water, you eye his briefcase again. if you could somehow manage to perhaps weaken him for just a moment— you could get all the cash and maybe run away. you would spike his water but you don't have any drugs. you have to do this the hard way. you pocket a fork and then head back to deliver him his water.

as he drinks, you kneel by his feet, gathering your cash. carefully, you pull out the fork, and with as much strength as you can, slam it down onto the side of his foot.

"you little bitch—" he groans loudly, wincing and throwing his head back and clenching his jaw before splashing the water from the glass on your face. it makes you squeal. before you can attack again, he pulls the fork out and tosses it to the side. your eyes widen and you rush to get it, but he sticks his leg out and you trip and fall on your face again.

a crunchy sound emerges as he steps on your wrist, his shoe digging into the delicate appendage. you let out a shrill cry.

"the one thing i hate more than thieves—" he snickers, looking down at you like you're an insect. he scoffs, twisting his shoe harder, making you choke on a sob, "is a little girl who thinks she's smarter than me."

"fuck you!" you sob, squirming on the ground, "let me go!"

"watch your language with me." he hisses back, narrowing his eyes. he glares before releasing a breathy chuckle, "you are the stupidest girl i have ever met. you were doing so well too. did you really think you could overpower me?"

"you hit me—" you sniffle, groaning in pain as you attempts to yank your hand back, "you hit me and you—"

he interrupts with a taunt, "maybe if you tried acting so smartly with your father, you wouldn't have had to run away from home."

you gasp before letting out another pained whimper, "how did you—"

"it's written on your face." he sighs, exasperated. like he's dealing with a toddler, not a girl who stabbed his leg. "if i let go of your hand, do you promise not to get hostile again?"

you glare at him silently through teary eyes.

"do i have your word?" he says louder, twisting his foot again.

"yes, yes—" you yelp, and with careful thought, he steps back. before you can make a move, he leans down to grab your hair and yanks you up. it makes you hiss in pain. he shoves you towards the couch.

"all this fighting has made me excited," he remarks with a chuckle, crowding you in. your eyes widen and you crawl away from him to the farthest end of the couch. he follows you like a predator, palming the front of his pants, and the realization of whats to follow makes you shake your head, "no- no, please, god—"

"shut the fuck up," he snaps strictly, voice eerily composed. he grabs your head, looks down at you with those black, empty eyes, his free hand carelessly unbuckling his belt. "you didn't think i'd let your little stunt go unpunished, did you?"

"you can do anything else—" you choke out, shaking her head. he yanks your face forward, makes your cheek press against the tent in his pants. you can smell him. you desperately try to latch onto any semblance of comfort you can find. "anything— anything but this, you can even slap me again—"

"hitting you is no fun if you're asking for it," he replies boredly, tugging your head back just enough so your teary eyes blink up at him pathetically. "i want to really rub it in this time. what happens when you mess with men like me."

you want to fight more— you wish you could. you desperately want to, but you feel frozen with shock. this day has turned into a nightmare you couldn't imagine even in the worst possible time. it's like everything you have done till now to avoid horrible, violent men, is laughing at your failure. you blink a few times, as if trying to wake yourself up.

"i've never done this before," your voice cracks as you voice your last attempt at begging for mercy— does he not have a heart?

he pauses and eyes you for a moment, and for a millisecond you think he'll reconsider. but then his mouth twitches, and your heart breaks as soon he pulls his pants down.

"even better."

A/N: this was more psychological and self indulgent that i expected, lol. i'm still not very well versed with smut, so i thought i might put this out before i try. feedback is always appreciated. i love him so much even though he's horrible. i guess that's what them father issues do.

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

—“your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better cw: a little angst, fluffy ending

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[shy9-29]

Where The Waves Rest 🌊 l.hs

"Love isnt about the rush-it's about the quiet moments that make you stay"

日 - 이희승 x y/n

♫ synopsis: Heeseung, a reckless city boy, moves to quiet Busan and meets you-kind and selfless. What begins as annoyance turns into something deeper, and he realizes Busan isn't just a place but where he finds something real with you ~ wc. 29.9k ✉️ warning: fingering, swearing, bullying, mentions of drinking, partying, hooking up, cumming inside, oral f recieve, kiss, name calling, begging, Seoul and Busan are not actually like what is described in the story.

mdni · smut · proofread · masterlist

Heeseung was never one to stick to plans—especially when they didn’t suit him. At 23, spoiled and used to getting his way, he had fully intended to meet his family that evening. But as the night went on, the thought slipped further from his mind, drowned out by the buzz of alcohol and the thrill of the moment.

One drink turned into two, then three, and before he knew it, he was inviting friends over. What was supposed to be a quiet night quickly spiraled into a full-blown party. Music blasted through the apartment, laughter echoed off the walls, and people—some familiar, some not—kept piling in. A few girls arrived too, making the atmosphere even wilder.

His family? They’d get over it. They always did. Right now, all Heeseung cared about was keeping the night going.

“Fuck, feels so good,” Heeseung groaned softly, sprawled out on the couch as one of his hook ups grinds slowly on his hardening member. The sounds of partying and laugher fill the room. The girl throws her head back as she grips onto Heeseung’s shoulders tightly, quickening the pace.

He was so drunk right now as he leaned his head back, placing it on the couch as he looked at everyone dancing or making out in his apartment. He was sitting on the couch, eyes lazily looking at everyone and everything. His eyes were half-lidded, his cheeks was flushed, his lips was dry and chapped from drinking. He was sitting there, a girl on his lap, and his eyes caught a girl sitting somewhere far away.

The girl on his lap leaned in, pressing her lips against his. Heeseung didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, his eyes slipping shut as his movements grew rougher. His grip tightened around her waist, adjusting her position on his lap as he deepened the kiss.

“So, what’s your name?” she asked with a smirk, tilting her head to press soft kisses against Heeseung’s neck. He shivered slightly, feeling her warm breath ghost over his skin. His hands was on her thighs, his head was tilted to the side as he waited for her response. His eyes were dark as he looked at her, studying her from head to toe, focusing on her face.

But before she could answer, the door suddenly swung open, and Heeseung’s parents walked in. He froze. Shoot, he completely forgot.

His parents had known about his issues before, but they thought he had gotten over it. At least, that’s what he’d told them. The tension in the room thickened as they stood there, eyes widening in disbelief.

Heeseung’s heart sank as his parents stepped into the room, their faces a mix of shock and disbelief. His mother’s eyes widened, her disappointment cutting deeper than anything he’d ever felt. His father’s jaw clenched, his usually calm demeanor completely shattered as he took in the scene before him. They had been waiting for this moment—hoping for a sign of change, a chance to reconnect. But this? This wasn’t what they expected.

“You…” His mother’s voice trembled, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her eyes flickered between Heeseung’s face, the girl beside him, and then back to him, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

His father, usually the one to stay composed, stood at the door, glaring at Heeseung with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You told us you were done with all this,” he said, his voice tight with frustration. “You promised, Heeseung. You promised.”

Heeseung remained silent, the weight of their words pressing down on him. His mind raced. He’d been hiding this for months—the late-night parties, the drinks, the temporary escapes, everything. They never knew. They didn’t see the darker side of him anymore—he’d kept it hidden, convincing them he’d changed. But now? There was no pretending.

His mother wiped away a tear, trying to hold herself together. “We thought you were trying to make something of yourself. But now… this?”

Heeseung’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. Anger surged through him, but beneath it, there was a deep, gnawing feeling of shame. They didn’t understand; they never did. They only saw the mask he wore.

“This has gone on long enough, Heeseung,” his father continued, his voice no longer calm. “We’ve decided. You’re going to Busan for the summer. To your grandmas.”

The words hit him like a slap to the face. Busan. The last place he wanted to go. It was everything Seoul wasn’t—quiet, peaceful, and far too simple. There was nothing to do but breathe clean air, to feel trapped in a place that lacked the chaos and freedom of the city. It was nothing like the fast-paced life he thrived in. No parties. No wild nights. Just silence and space. He couldn’t even imagine it.

“No,” Heeseung growled, his voice low with defiance. “I’m not going. I don’t need to—”

His father cut him off with a sharp look, his eyes cold and unwavering. “If you don’t go, you’ll lose everything, Heeseung. Everything. No more money, no more access. No more parties, no more friends. You want to keep living like this? Fine. But we won’t be a part of it. You’ll go to Busan, and you’ll stay there until this attitude of yours changes.”

The threat was clear, hanging in the air like a weight. Heeseung knew what it meant. Without their support, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the reckless lifestyle he’d come to rely on. The parties, the clubs, the escape—it would all be gone.

His mind raced. He hated the thought of going to Busan, the last place he wanted to be. But what other choice did he have? His pride burned, but the reality of it all was undeniable. If he didn’t go, he’d lose everything.

“You can’t fucking do this to me,” Heeseung spat, but his voice lacked the force it needed. His eyes flicked to the girl sitting beside him, her presence a brief distraction from the storm of thoughts raging in his mind.

“You will go, Heeseung,” his mother said quietly, almost pleading. “We’re doing this because we love you. But if you keep going down this path, you’ll destroy yourself.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, the sting of their words hitting him in the chest. He didn’t know how to fight back. They had already made up their minds. Busan it was.

He felt trapped, his world closing in around him. He had no choice. The anger still bubbled inside him, but it was mixed with something darker—fear. Fear of losing everything. Fear of being stuck in a life he didn’t want.

He gritted his teeth. “Fine. I’ll go. But don’t expect me to change in that shit hole.”

As Heeseung’s words hung in the air, the entire room seemed to still, as if time itself had frozen. The girl sitting beside him, who had been so bold and confident moments before, suddenly seemed distant, her eyes flicking nervously toward the door where Heeseung’s parents stood. The music from the party had faded into the background, and the murmur of conversation turned to silence as everyone in the room, sensing the tension, fell still.

The laughter that had filled the room moments before seemed to vanish, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable quiet in its place. The glow of neon lights from the party didn’t seem so bright now. The laughter and the upbeat energy felt hollow, as if the very vibe of the room had shifted, the weight of Heeseung’s situation pressing down on everyone.

Some of the people near the back of the room exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether they should even breathe, while others stood frozen, unsure of what to do in the presence of such an awkward confrontation.

Heeseung could feel the eyes of everyone on him—eyes that had once looked up to him as the life of the party, the one who had everything under control. Now, those same eyes only saw a boy being torn apart by the reality he had tried to avoid for so long. The walls seemed to close in around him as the quiet stretched on, and even the pulsing beat of the music couldn’t seem to fill the silence that hung thick in the air.

His parents stood in the doorway, their disappointment palpable, as though they had pulled back the curtain to reveal the truth he had been hiding for so long. And now, it was too late. There was no escaping it.

The girl beside him had been a part of his world, the world he was about to lose, and she could sense it. Heeseung’s heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation—not just with his parents, but with everyone else in that room.

The weight of their collective gaze pressed into him, and for a brief moment, Heeseung wondered if he was ready to face what was about to come.

Heeseung’s fist clenched involuntarily, his chest tightening with frustration as the room stayed locked in silence. The realization that everyone was watching him—their eyes filled with judgment, curiosity, or just plain discomfort—made him want to scream. Instead, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sound snapped the spell of silence, but it didn’t seem to break the tension.

“Get out,” Heeseung’s voice was cold, his words cutting through the stillness like a knife. His gaze swept over the partygoers, most of whom looked caught off guard but didn’t dare to challenge him. He wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone’s doubts or protests, and his patience was wearing thin. “I said, get out. Now.”

A few people hesitated, exchanging glances, but the commanding tone in Heeseung’s voice brooked no argument. Slowly, the guests started to shuffle toward the door, murmuring to one another as they gathered their coats, their drinks, and their things. The hum of the room was replaced by the soft shuffle of feet on the hardwood floor, the clinking of glass, and the quiet rustling of bags. Heeseung’s eyes remained fixed on the floor, not bothering to look up until the last person made their exit.

As the door clicked shut behind the final guest, the room felt eerily quiet. Heeseung ran a hand through his messy hair, a frustrated sigh slipping from his lips. His mind was buzzing—flooded with anger, guilt, and the overwhelming sense of dread.

He looked around the room, his eyes taking in the mess that had been left behind. Empty cups, spilled drinks, scattered confetti, half-eaten snacks, and crushed cigarette butts were strewn everywhere. The room had now had a grim sort of emptiness. His gaze lingered on the overturned bottle of liquor by the couch and the wine glass that had rolled to the far corner of the room. The remnants of the night felt like a mockery now—a reminder of everything he was about to lose.

With another heavy sigh, Heeseung stepped over the mess, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he made his way to the couch, sinking into the cushions. The weight of the situation pressed on him, heavier than the mess in the room. He ran his hand over his face, trying to force the thoughts away, but they only kept coming—his parents, the move to Busan, the future he didn’t want, the life he was being dragged away from.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was slipping through his fingers, one decision at a time. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. But instead, he just sat there, surrounded by the remnants of his party, the remnants of a life he would never get back.

The sharp knock on Heeseung’s door tore through the hazy fog of sleep, his head throbbing in protest. His eyes fluttered open, the sunlight already streaming through the cracks in the curtains, searing into his skull like a punishment. He groaned, pressing his hands into his temples, trying to stave off the relentless throb. He wasn’t used to waking up this early—hell, he rarely woke up before noon—and certainly not with the pounding headache he had from last night’s excesses.

Another knock, louder this time.

“Heeseung, sir,” came the muffled voice of his butler, Mr. Song, from the other side of the door. “It’s seven o’clock. Your parents are waiting for you to pack. There’s an Uber waiting downstairs to take you to the airport.”

Heeseung groaned, his voice muffled as he rolled over in bed, throwing his pillow over his head in a vain attempt to block out the noise. The weight of last night’s events still hung heavy on him, his thoughts tangled in a chaotic mess. The last thing he wanted to do right now was get up, pack, and face the reality of his parents’ decision. He had expected some kind of pushback, maybe even a day or two of recovery time before the move—but no, they were already moving him out, right now.

“I told you, Mr. Song, it’s too early,” Heeseung muttered, his words slurred from the hangover. He rubbed his face, trying to fight off the dizziness that still clung to him. “Just… give me a few more hours.”

But there was no room for negotiation. The butler’s voice was firm, but still polite. “I’m afraid your parents insist, sir. The Uber is waiting.”

Heeseung swore under his breath. He felt the sharp sting of anger rise in his chest. His parents didn’t even care how he was feeling, how much of a mess he was right now. He wasn’t even sure how he’d function in an hour, let alone pack up his life and head to some backwater town in the middle of nowhere.

With a reluctant groan, Heeseung threw the covers off and staggered out of bed. His body felt stiff, sluggish, like it didn’t want to cooperate with him. The room was spinning as he tried to get dressed in a daze, throwing clothes into his bag without a second thought. Nothing mattered right now except getting out of here, away from this suffocating, overwhelming situation.

Twenty minutes later, Heeseung trudged down the stairs, bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes bloodshot, his hair sticking out in every direction, but still managing to look good. He made his way to the front door, where Mr. Song was waiting, looking as composed and unbothered as always. He didn’t say anything as Heeseung stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The Uber was parked at the curb, a sleek black car that seemed out of place for the mood Heeseung was in. The driver, a middle-aged man with a stoic expression, opened the door for him without a word, his butler following from behind with two of his suitcases.

Heeseung climbed in, slamming the door behind him with more force than necessary. The car pulled away from the curb, and the city—his city—began to fade into the distance. The towering buildings, the crowded streets, the hustle and bustle of Seoul—everything he knew and loved, all of it was being left behind. The thought made his stomach twist, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Not right now. Not when everything was already falling apart.

The drive to the airport felt like a blur, the streets empty and quiet at this hour. Heeseung stared out the window, watching the city he once called home disappear behind him, replaced by the distant skyline of skyscrapers, fading away into the horizon. He felt a gnawing emptiness, like something inside of him was already gone, a part of him left back in Seoul, in the chaos and the noise that now felt like a distant memory.

When the Uber finally pulled up at the airport, Heeseung felt like he was in a dream. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, or how much longer it would take before he had to face his new reality. The airport terminal was a blur of people, all rushing to their own destinations, while Heeseung just shuffled through the crowd like a ghost, disconnected from it all.

He was supposed to get on a plane to Busan, where his life was going to change completely. Where the quiet, peaceful life his parents envisioned for him awaited. The idea of it felt suffocating. He couldn’t even picture it. The thought of spending the whole summer there—maybe even longer—made him feel claustrophobic. What could he do in that boring, lifeless town? He couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was supposed to fill the endless quiet of Busan, how he would survive without the chaos of Seoul, without the distractions that had become his life.

As he settled into his seat on the plane, staring out the window as the plane began to taxi down the runway, Heeseung closed his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts swirling in his head. He was leaving everything behind. And for what? To be trapped in a quiet, peaceful town with nothing to do but reflect on everything he was about to lose.

The plane began to ascend into the sky, and Heeseung took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he gazed out at the receding city below. It was gone now, a tiny speck in the distance, and there was no turning back.

As the plane took off, Heeseung leaned back in his seat, feeling the uncomfortable, rigid fabric press against his back. The smell of recycled air mixed with the faint scent of his seat mate’s cologne—sickly sweet and too strong. His eyes flicked to the front of the cabin, where the luxurious first-class seats lay. He’d been accustomed to those kinds of perks, to having everything top-tier, handpicked, and ready to make his life as effortless and glamorous as possible. But today, he was stuffed into a cramped economy seat, barely any space to stretch his legs, wedged between an old man with a coughing fit and a younger guy who seemed to be enjoying the pleasure of his loud, sniffling nose.

It was a far cry from the private jets, the VIP sections, the smooth, uninterrupted flights he was used to. His parents, the ones who used to indulge him with every possible luxury, didn’t even bother to upgrade his seat. He was, to them, just another problem to deal with, a burden they were rushing to get rid of. In the past, they would’ve thrown money at him to make him happy, to give him everything he wanted, but now? Now they were treating him like a peasant, as if he was just some ordinary kid from a small town. He gritted his teeth, fuming silently.

The guy sitting next to him had already started hacking up a storm. Heeseung felt his eyes narrow in disgust as the man coughed loudly, barely covering his mouth. Every breath he took seemed to make Heeseung’s skin crawl, and he could feel his irritation growing with every second. The sickly-sweet cologne made it even worse, mixing with the heavy stench of the man’s apparent cold. Great. Just great. He was stuck with this guy for the next two and a half hours.

The flight felt endless, every minute dragging on as Heeseung fidgeted in his seat. The man next to him coughed again, and Heeseung subtly scooted away, as if trying to create some kind of imaginary barrier between them. His phone buzzed once, but he ignored it, not wanting to engage with anyone. His mind kept drifting back to the fact that he was heading to Busan. The more he thought about it, the more suffocating it felt. Everything he was leaving behind—the clubs, the late nights, the endless possibilities—was being replaced by what? Peace? Quiet? The thought made his stomach churn.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the plane began its descent. Heeseung glanced out the window, his eyes catching the sprawling landscape below. It looked nothing like Seoul—no towering buildings, no lights flashing in every direction. Just rolling hills and small, neat houses scattered across the land. He could already feel the weight of what was coming.

When the plane touched down, Heeseung could barely contain his frustration. He grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment and made his way off the plane with slow, deliberate steps. He had to act like he cared about this trip, like he was excited to be here. But deep down, the last thing he wanted was to spend any more time in this place.

As he entered the terminal, his eyes scanned the crowd, and then—there she was. His grandmother, standing with a bright smile and open arms. She looked so out of place here, in her modest clothes and welcoming demeanor. Heeseung’s stomach twisted slightly as she hurried toward him, arms outstretched, ready to envelop him in a hug. The kind of hug that always made him uncomfortable—too warm, too familiar.

“Heeseung!” she exclaimed, her voice full of joy. “It’s so good to see you, my dear!”

Heeseung couldn’t help but put on a forced smile as she wrapped him in a tight embrace, her arms squeezing him warmly. The smell of her lavender perfume mixed with the fresh air of the airport. It was so… homey, so real—everything that felt so distant and foreign to him now. He stiffened in her arms, allowing the hug to last just a moment longer than necessary before gently pulling away.

“Yeah, it’s great to be here, Grandma,” he said with a strained smile, trying to sound polite despite the frustration brewing underneath. He wasn’t going to let her see how annoyed he was. She was his grandmother, after all, and she was just doing what she thought was best for him. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

He saw the glimmer of joy in her eyes as she looked up at him, so full of hope, as if she hadn’t seen him in years, even though it had only been a few months. “I’ve already prepared your room and your favorite snacks.”

Heeseung gave a small nod, his mind already drifting to the dull, quiet life he was about to begin here. His thoughts raced as his grandmother continued talking, her voice filled with excitement about all the things she’d planned for him in the coming days. He nodded along, pretending to be interested as they made their way to the car. But every part of him just wanted to get this over with.

Busan wasn’t his world. It never had been. But for now, it was the one he was stuck in.

When they arrived at his grandmother’s house, Heeseung couldn’t help but notice how small and cozy everything was. The house, while neat and well-kept, had an old-fashioned charm—wooden floors, soft light filtering through the windows, and the faint scent of lavender that seemed to linger in every corner. It was everything Seoul wasn’t. Peaceful. Quiet. Incredibly… boring.

His grandmother smiled at him as she ushered him inside, immediately making him feel like a guest in a place he didn’t want to be. She moved around the small kitchen with ease, the sound of her soft footsteps on the wooden floor the only noise in the otherwise still house.

“Come, come, sit down. I made your favorite,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she placed a steaming bowl of ramen in front of him. Heeseung’s stomach growled at the sight, but his heart wasn’t in it. He knew his grandmother had made the effort, but he wasn’t ready to feel the warmth of her affection—not now, not in this place.

It was ramen, yes—his favorite—but it wasn’t the instant kind he usually devoured with a hangover back in Seoul. This was homemade, the broth rich and full of flavor, the noodles tender. Despite himself, Heeseung took a bite, the taste instantly familiar, but it did little to comfort him. Everything here felt too… simple. Too real.

“Thanks,” he muttered, not looking up from his bowl. He tried to force a smile, but it came out strained, as if he were pretending for the sake of politeness. He didn’t want to be here, but he couldn’t outright tell her that. She was doing her best, after all.

His grandmother sat down beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap, watching him with gentle eyes. “You’ve been through so much, my dear. It must be hard, coming all the way here,” she said softly. Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, focusing on his ramen as if it would somehow distract him from the discomfort growing in his chest.

After a few moments of silence, she stood up. “I’m going to prepare dinner for later, but I seem to have run out of a few things. The fridge is a bit empty. Would you mind going to the market to pick up some fruits and vegetables for me?” she asked, her voice gentle, almost apologetic.

Heeseung froze. A few seconds passed before he even looked up at her, blinking as though he’d misheard. “What?” he asked, his tone a bit sharper than he intended.

His grandmother looked at him, slightly confused but still polite. “I just need some basics, fruits and vegetables, you know. It’s just a few minutes’ walk. Would you mind?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched. A few minutes’ walk? He wasn’t used to walking anywhere, let alone doing errands. Back in Seoul, he had people to do this for him. His assistant, his driver, even his personal shopper—someone always took care of these small tasks. The idea of having to walk down the street to a market, something so… normal, felt beneath him. His fingers tightened around the bowl, his thoughts running wild.

“You want me to go… get groceries?” His voice had a bite to it now, but his grandmother didn’t seem to notice the irritation creeping in. She simply smiled warmly and nodded.

“Yes, just a few things. I’m sorry, I didn’t plan ahead,” she apologized, genuinely unaware of how much he despised the request. “It won’t take long.”

Heeseung’s mind reeled. This is ridiculous. His gaze flicked to the window, staring out at the serene street beyond, where everything seemed to move at a pace he wasn’t used to. It was like everyone here had all the time in the world—time to do things slowly, with no urgency. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t used to doing things for himself. It made him feel… small.

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up abruptly. His movements were stiff, his mood darkening by the second. He wasn’t used to this—this lack of service, lack of luxury. And here he was, forced to walk down the street for some damn fruit. It was like a slap to the face.

His grandmother beamed at him, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Thank you, dear. You’re a good boy.”

Heeseung didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he grabbed his jacket from the chair, pulling it on with as much effort as he could muster, before storming out the door without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, and as he stepped out into the quiet streets of Busan, the reality of his situation began to sink in. The silence of the town was almost suffocating. It wasn’t the vibrant, fast-paced life of Seoul, where everything was taken care of for him, where he was the one with the power, the one with the privilege.

Here? Here, he was just another person—doing his own errands, walking around like everyone else. The thought made his stomach turn, and for a brief moment, he hated everything about this place, about his grandmother’s simple, quiet life.

As he walked to the market, Heeseung couldn’t stop the growing resentment from bubbling up inside him. Every step, every moment spent outside of his comfort zone felt like an insult. He wasn’t sure how long he could last in this town, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t wait to get back to Seoul.

The streets of Busan stretched before Heeseung, calm and predictable, a stark contrast to the chaos of Seoul. The ocean breeze carried the scent of salt and freshly baked bread from a nearby shop, and the occasional chatter of pedestrians filled the air. To anyone else, it might have felt peaceful. To Heeseung, it felt painfully dull.

He walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders hunched forward. His grandmother had sent him out for groceries, claiming the fresh produce here was better than anything he could find in Seoul. He didn’t care—he just wanted to get this over with. Every step felt heavier than the last, the slow pace of Busan gnawing at him, suffocating him with its quiet simplicity.

Just as he turned the corner, something—or rather, someone—slammed straight into him. A force knocked against his chest, sending him stumbling back, and before he could react, he heard it.

A sickening crack against the pavement.

His heart sank. His phone. His only lifeline to Seoul, his only source of entertainment in this slow, uneventful city—gone. His jaw clenched as frustration surged through him. Of course this would happen here.

“Are you kidding me?” he snapped, his voice sharp.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” a flustered voice rushed out.

Heeseung barely registered the words as his eyes dropped to the ground. The dread in his stomach deepened. His phone lay face-up on the pavement, its screen shattered beyond recognition. His fists curled at his sides, and he exhaled harshly. Unbelievable.

You crouched down quickly, picking up the broken device and turning it over in your hands. “I-I didn’t see you there,” you stammered, eyes wide with guilt. “I was in a hurry, I wasn’t looking—”

Heeseung snatched the phone from your grasp, inspecting the damage.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he muttered, his irritation rising.

You winced. “I’m really sorry. Let me take you to a repair shop—I’ll cover the cost.”

Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head. “As if there’s even a decent one around this shitty place.”

“There is,” you insisted, ignoring his attitude. “It’s not far from here. Please, let me fix this.”

Your voice was gentle, sincere. In Seoul, people either avoided responsibility or threw money at problems like this without a second thought. But you… you actually cared. And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, that irritated him even more.

He glanced at you more carefully now, noticing the bags of groceries you were holding in your arms. What the hell? he thought. What’s she doing with those?

“Wait,” Heeseung began, a new question forming in his mind as he looked down at the bags. “You delivering groceries or something?”

You nodded, your eyes shifting slightly. “Yeah, I deliver groceries to Miss Lee every week. I was a bit late today, that’s why I bumped into you. I’m sorry again.”

Heeseung blinked, the name clicking in his mind. Miss Lee? His grandmother. He paused, feeling something shift inside him. He thought about the grocery list his grandmother had given him that morning. Had she expected you to come? That would explain why she’d sent him out, probably thinking you wouldn’t make it today.

“You… you deliver to my grandmother?” Heeseung asked, the realization hitting him slowly.

You nodded again, but there was a flicker of surprise in your eyes. “Yeah, she’s… really sweet. I’ve been delivering to her for a while now. Actually, I’m kind of shocked she has a grandson. She’s never mentioned you.”

Heeseung’s brows furrowed. She never mentioned me? That hit him harder than it should have. He had assumed his grandmother had at least said something about him, but maybe she hadn’t. It wasn’t like they had a close relationship. She probably didn’t want to bring him up to you. Why would she?

“I guess she never talks about me,” Heeseung muttered, a little annoyed by the thought. “She never told you about me?”

You shook your head. “No, never. She’s always so kind to me—invites me over for dinner every so often, but I never got the sense she had anyone close in her life. Just… her life here in Busan.”

Heeseung felt a strange mix of irritation and guilt at that. She was right—his grandmother had never mentioned him in a way that implied they were anything more than distant. But he hadn’t made the effort either. The thought stung a bit more than he was willing to admit.

You noticed the silence hanging between you and smiled softly. “Look, I know this probably isn’t the best first impression, but if you want, I can take you to that repair shop. It’s really not far, and I’ll cover the cost of fixing your phone.”

Heeseung rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of his frustration finally start to settle. “Fine. Lead the way. And… I guess thanks.”

You smiled in relief, nodding. He followed you as you walked, the bags of groceries still in your arms. His mind kept racing. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe it was something more. Either way, this was the first time in a long time that he was actually starting to think twice about his grandmother’s life, and what he might have missed in the years he’d kept his distance. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to be stuck here in Busan, but if things like this kept happening, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. At least, not with you around.

Heeseung followed you into the small shop, still feeling the weight of the broken phone in his hand. He was trying to figure out if this whole thing was a joke. First, he had to leave Seoul, and now, in the middle of this quiet little town, his phone had broken, and this was the only place that could fix it.

The repair shop wasn’t much. The smell of old coffee lingered, and the shelves were lined with spare parts and old phones, like a tiny tech graveyard. Behind the counter stood Jin, a guy with a relaxed vibe, scruffy beard, and a look that said he wasn’t going to let the chaos of life bother him too much.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jin greeted you with a nod, glancing at Heeseung before turning back to the counter. “What’s up today?”

“Hi, Jin. Sorry about the phone,” you said, dropping a bag of groceries on the counter. “It’s his. He’s having a rough morning.”

Heeseung shot you a look, then glanced at the man behind the counter. He couldn’t tell if the guy was serious or just doing his job, but when Jin smiled, he knew something was off.

“No worries,” Jin said, his voice easy. “You know you don’t have to pay for repairs, right?”

“Excuse me?” Heeseung’s voice slipped out without thinking. “What do you mean, no charge? I’m not asking for a freebie here.”

Jin held up his hands. “Relax. Y/N helps me out around here. She’s good people. Honestly, I owe her more than I can give.”

Heeseung blinked, trying to wrap his head around this. Y/N was helping some random guy with his shop… for fun? That didn’t sound like anything he’d ever seen back in Seoul. People helped each other there too, but it was always for a reason, always with something to gain. This? It was just… weird.

Jin chuckled, clearly not fazed by Heeseung’s confusion. “I’m not gonna charge you for the repairs. But you? You’re getting a new phone.”

A new phone? Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “What? You’re just giving me a new one?”

Jin shrugged, a little amused. “Why not? You’re lucky. I can’t think of a better way to repay Y/N for everything she does.”

Heeseung stared at the phone Jin handed him, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. This wasn’t some charity. No one just gave stuff away like this. But here it was—a brand new phone, way nicer than the broken one in his hand. It was almost as if Jin didn’t even see a reason not to.

“Damn,” Heeseung muttered under his breath, still skeptical. “That’s… unexpected.”

“Yeah, well, Y/N’s a one-in-a-million kind of person,” Jin said with a grin. “Helps me with the shop, takes care of my kid… You won’t find anyone like her in Seoul. I promise you that.”

Heeseung just nodded slowly, the weight of the new phone sinking in. “Right. So… what now?”

Jin gestured toward the counter. “Take it. You’re good to go. Just don’t break this one.”

Heeseung didn’t really know how to respond to that. “I won’t.”

“Well, if you do, just come back. I’ll fix it for free—again,” Jin added, his tone light, like this was all part of some normal routine.

As you gathered your things, Heeseung hesitated for a moment, still not used to this whole vibe. People didn’t just give things away for no reason in Seoul. Here, everything felt different. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing yet.

You walked out ahead of him, the groceries still in your arms, and Heeseung followed with the brand-new phone, still staring at it like it was some kind of alien object. “Guess I’ll have to get used to this,” he muttered under his breath.

You turned to him with a half-smile. “You will. It’s not that bad, you know. Just… try to not drop that one on the pavement, okay?”

Heeseung gave a half-hearted chuckle, but it didn’t feel as forced as it would have back in Seoul. “Yeah, sure,” he said, his voice still a little dry. “But don’t expect me to become some… Busan saint overnight.”

You shot him a look, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not asking you to change. Just don’t break the phone again.”

Heeseung smirked, shoving the new device into his pocket, still not sure what he’d just gotten himself into. “Whatever,” he said. “I’ll try to keep it in one piece, I guess. But I’m still not a fan of this town.”

You just shrugged, looking ahead as you walked. “We’ll see. You’ll get used to it.”

Heeseung let out a breath. Maybe. Maybe not. But for now, it was one less thing he had to worry about.

As you both made your way back to his grandmother’s house, the weight of the grocery bags was starting to get to you. They weren’t heavy, but the repetitive strain of carrying them made your arms ache a little. Still, you didn’t mind; this was just another day in Busan. You glanced over at Heeseung, who was walking beside you with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His posture was stiff, and the way he scanned the surroundings made it clear: he wasn’t used to it here. He wasn’t used to any of it.

The small streets of Busan, with their peaceful rhythm, were a far cry from the chaos of Seoul. You couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it must be for someone like him. You could see the way he cringed at the silence, how his shoulders were hunched forward, as though he was actively trying to shrink away from the stillness of it all. It was almost funny, how someone so used to the loud, fast-paced life of Seoul could feel so out of place in this small, quaint town.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence as you walked, “tell me about Seoul. What’s it really like? I mean, it sounds like another world from here.”

Heeseung glanced at you, his lips curling into a brief, cynical smirk. “It is. It’s loud. It’s fast. The people don’t care. And it’s always… moving. It’s like you never stop, and it’s just… better, you know?” His words came out sharper than you expected, like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You nodded, noticing the bitterness in his tone. “Yeah, but why did you hate it so much?”

Heeseung let out a breath and shrugged, his gaze drifting to the ground. “It’s the same shit everyday. It was fun, for a while, but then it just… got boring. No one really gives a damn. It was all just distractions. And I didn’t want that anymore. But this,” he gestured vaguely at the small streets of Busan, “this is just… too quiet. Too nice. It’s like living in a bubble. I can’t stand it.”

You blinked, surprised at the rawness in his voice. “So, you miss it? The chaos, the noise?”

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. He seemed to be weighing something, before he muttered, “Yeah. I miss it. I miss the parties. I miss the drinking. I miss just… having people around. Even if they don’t care about you. At least it felt real. Here? It’s like everyone’s walking around on eggshells, pretending everything’s perfect.” His voice grew more frustrated as he continued, the usual coolness replaced by something deeper. “I get it. I know why my parents sent me here. They think I’ll change, but what’s the point of change if it means… this?” He gestured around at the peaceful, quiet streets, the ocean breeze that filled the air with calm. “I don’t want to be stuck in this goddamn town, living this boring life with nothing to do but watch the world move around me.”

You were quiet for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in. You’d never met someone who hated a place like this so much. You didn’t understand it completely—after all, Busan had always been home to you, with its slow pace and comforting familiarity. But you could see how someone like Heeseung, someone who thrived on excitement, would feel stifled here.

“So,” you began, trying to shift the mood, “you think you’re going to go back to Seoul anytime soon?”

Heeseung scoffed, running a hand through his hair as he stared ahead. “I wish. But my dad’s made it clear: if I don’t stay here, I’m cut off. No more money, no more fun. Just this life.” His voice was bitter, each word laced with frustration. “It’s either this, or nothing.”

You shrugged, deciding not to press him further. It was clear he didn’t want to be here, but you weren’t sure what kind of life he really wanted either. You couldn’t blame him for feeling out of place, but there had to be more to him than just the party-boy act.

“Well, you could always go back to the city when you’re ready,” you said casually, though you didn’t fully believe it. You’d never seen someone so desperate to run away from something so peaceful.

Heeseung didn’t respond right away. Instead, he glanced over at you as you carried the heavy bags. “You know,” he said with a hint of hesitation, “you don’t have to carry all that yourself. You could’ve asked for help.”

You laughed lightly, not even breaking stride. “Oh, I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you always this stubborn? Don’t you have a boyfriend who could help with stuff like this?”

You chuckled at his attempt to steer the conversation away from the heavy topic, and without missing a beat, you shot back, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Heeseung gave you a quick glance, confused. “No boyfriend? Why not?”

You shrugged, your expression neutral. “I’m just waiting for the right person. I haven’t been in love yet, so I’m not in any rush.”

Heeseung scoffed, as if the idea of waiting for “the one” was absurd. “That’s stupid. Love’s just… a distraction. You’re telling me you believe in soulmates?” He seemed genuinely baffled by the idea.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding slightly. “I believe that when the time’s right, someone’s going to show up. Why rush it?”

Heeseung snorted, shaking his head. “Soulmates. That’s a nice fairy tale.”

You shot him a look. “Well, you don’t have to believe in it. But it’s nice to think that someone out there is meant for me, y’know?”

He didn’t answer. His expression softened just a little, but only for a second before he shifted the conversation again. “What about you, though? Why do you do all this stuff for people? I mean, you work for free. You help out with Jin’s shop. You take care of his kid, and for what? What’s in it for you?”

You smiled, the weight of the groceries beginning to feel heavier again, but you didn’t care. “I do it because it makes me feel good. There’s no catch. I just like making people’s lives a little easier, especially when they’re struggling.” You paused, glancing over at him. “Not everyone has the luxury of things coming easily to them.”

Heeseung didn’t reply right away, and for a second, you thought he was going to brush you off. But instead, he turned to you, his expression thoughtful, almost pensive.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’re right,” he muttered. “But… I still think you’re wasting your time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Maybe. But it’s my time to waste, isn’t it?”

As you continued walking, you couldn’t help but notice that Heeseung was walking just a little bit slower now, his shoulders a little less tense. Maybe it was just the calm of Busan working its way under his skin, or maybe… just maybe, he was starting to understand what you meant. He had a long way to go before he’d admit it, but something in his expression made you think that, despite all his bravado, Heeseung wasn’t as sure of his life as he tried to seem.

When you finally arrived back at Mrs. Lee’s house, your arms were sore from carrying the heavy bags of groceries. You stepped through the door and were greeted by Mrs. Lee, who was in the kitchen preparing something.

“Oh, you’re back already?” she asked, surprised. “I didn’t expect you to bring the groceries. You didn’t come like usual, so I thought you must’ve gotten busy. So, I made him go out and get it for me.”

You glanced over at Heeseung, who was already walking inside with his usual disinterested expression. He seemed completely indifferent, clearly not in the mood for any kind of conversation.

“Well,” you started softly, your voice apologetic, “We kind of bumped into each other on the way here. I wasn’t paying attention, and… I accidentally broke his phone.” You paused, feeling a bit awkward. “I offered to take him to a repair shop to get it fixed, and that’s how this whole thing turned into an impromptu grocery run.”

Mrs. Lee chuckled lightly, giving you a warm smile. “You’re very kind, Y/N. Heeseung usually doesn’t let anyone help him.” She turned to glance at her grandson, who was already walking up the stairs, uninterested in the conversation.

“Well,” Mrs. Lee continued, “since you’re here, could you help Heeseung unpack his things? I’m sure he could use the help.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, I’ll help him.”

His room wasn’t what you expected. It was neat, organized, and… almost too perfect. The kind of room that looked like it had been arranged by someone who had little interest in making it homey. Everything had its place, and there was no sign of the kind of chaos that usually accompanies someone who had just moved in. Heeseung, on the other hand, stood off to the side, looking as uninterested as ever.

You started unpacking a bag of his things, trying to make the space feel a bit more lived in. As you did, you noticed something on the floor near his bag. You knelt down and picked up a box of condoms, surprised to find it among his clothes. What the hell is he planning on doing with those? you thought to yourself, feeling slightly uncomfortable, your cheeks heating up. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it was hard not to wonder about Heeseung’s lifestyle.

You placed the box back down in its spot, still trying to process the absurdity of it all. “This guy really brought everything with him,” you muttered to yourself.

Heeseung glanced over, his sharp eyes catching yours. “What? Judging the things I bring now?” His voice was cool, though there was a hint of irritation in it. “Something wrong with it?”

You quickly looked away, a little embarrassed. “No, it’s just… never mind.”

He smirked, a small, amused glint in his eyes. “Guess you’re not used to people like me, huh?” He leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Not everyone’s a small-town angel.”

You continued unpacking Heeseung’s things, your mind wandering as you tried to make sense of the absurdity of it all. His room, his stuff—everything seemed so out of place for someone who had just arrived in this quiet town. As you shifted through the bags, you couldn’t help but glance up at him for a second. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching you silently, looking completely at ease in his space, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Before you could stop yourself, your gaze lingered a little too long on him. Something about the way he looked—like he belonged in a magazine or a K-drama—made it hard not to stare.

You quickly snapped your eyes away, feeling a bit embarrassed, but before you could recover, Heeseung’s voice broke the silence. “You’re staring,” he said nonchalantly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if it was no big deal.

You blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t even look at you when he said it, his attention still on his phone. “I—uh, sorry,” you stammered, trying to act normal, but his smirk made you feel exposed, like he could tell you were thinking more than you let on.

Heeseung just shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “Whatever.” His voice was casual, but there was a certain sharpness to it that you couldn’t quite shake off. Maybe it was because people in Busan don’t look like him a typical boy born in Seoul.

You focused on putting his things away, doing your best to ignore how your heartbeat had picked up just a little from the way he’d called you out. You weren’t sure why his words got to you so much, but there was something about him—something hard to ignore.

But you pushed the thoughts aside. You had enough to think about. “Let’s just finish this up,” you muttered under your breath, your hands still working, trying to keep your mind from wandering too far.

As you packed the last of his bags into the small wardrobe, you looked over at him again. He wasn’t paying attention to you anymore, his eyes glued to his phone. The way he just detached himself from everything around him was frustrating, but you couldn’t deny how interesting it was, too. He was so different from anyone you had met in Busan. You didn’t even think someone like him could exist here.

“Alright, that’s everything,” you said, trying to break the silence as you stood up. “Is there anything else?”

He looked at you then, like he was actually considering whether or not he had more to say. But before he could answer, his grandmother’s voice floated in from the kitchen.

“Heeseung!” Mrs. Lee called, her tone light and welcoming. “Why don’t you and y/nnie friend come have some tea?”

Heeseung gave you an unreadable look before turning to follow his grandmother into the kitchen. You shrugged, gathering your things as you followed him. Mrs. Lee, ever the gracious host, had already set everything out. The table was small, but cozy, and the warm scent of tea filled the room.

You sat down across from Heeseung, trying to ignore the awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t your fault he’d been sent here. It wasn’t your fault he didn’t seem to want to be here, either. You weren’t even sure why you’d stuck around this long. But there was something about him—a puzzle you were determined to solve, even if he wasn’t making it easy.

Mrs. Lee beamed at the both of you, her hands clasped in front of her as she poured the tea. “You two must be tired after everything today,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m so glad you met my grandson. Heeseung doesn’t get out much in Seoul, so it’s good for him to have a new friend here.”

You smiled politely, but couldn’t help glancing at Heeseung. His eyes flickered over to you, but he said nothing. He was so quiet, so withdrawn, like he couldn’t care less. It made you want to say something, to ask him what he thought of all this, but you knew it wasn’t that simple.

“So, what do you plan on doing while you’re here in Busan?” you asked casually, trying to keep the conversation going.

He looked at you for a long moment before answering, his voice flat. “Suffer, suffer, and maybe some more suffering.”

“Really?” you said, almost wanting to let out a scoff. “Don’t you want to explore this city? It’s quite beautiful, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching slightly. “Guess you don’t know me very well, do you?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t think anyone does.”

Heeseung just smirked again, as if that was the answer he’d expected. The conversation shifted again as his grandmother asked about your family, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how guarded he was. You weren’t sure if he was scared of opening up or if he simply didn’t care. Either way, you were curious.

As the tea settled between them, you couldn’t help but feel like you were witnessing a slow-moving train wreck. It wasn’t your responsibility to fix Heeseung, but it didn’t stop you from wanting to know more. Whatever his story was, it wasn’t over yet.

The next morning, Heeseung was jolted awake by a knock on his door. Groggily, he glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 9 AM. To most people, that wasn’t so early. But for him? It was still the middle of the night. He let out a loud groan and buried his face in his pillow, the sheets tangled around his legs.

“Who the hell is knocking at this hour?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes barely open as he tried to fall back asleep. The sound of another knock echoed through the room.

“Come on, Heeseung, wake up!” a familiar voice called from outside.

He rolled over to face the door, his face still pressed into the pillow. He didn’t even want to know who it was, but the voice was unmistakable.

It was you.

With a resigned sigh, Heeseung threw off the covers and dragged himself out of bed. His eyes were half-lidded as he trudged over to the door and swung it open, trying to stifle a yawn.

You stood there, smiling brightly, almost too cheerfully for the time of day. You were holding a bag with what appeared to be snacks, and your eyes glimmered with excitement.

“Good morning, Heeseung!” you greeted, unfazed by his obvious lack of enthusiasm. “I hope I didn’t wake you up too early. But I thought today would be a good day to show you around Busan. You’re probably still not used to it here, right?”

Heeseung stared at you for a moment, still processing the fact that you were standing in front of him so early. He groaned again, rubbing his eyes. “Seriously? It’s barely 9 AM…”

“I know, I know,” you said, unfazed by his obvious irritation. “But trust me, it’ll be fun. You’ll get to see the popular beaches, the rivers, all the places people talk about.”

Heeseung had been dreading something like this. He wasn’t here to sightsee, and he definitely wasn’t interested in anything that resembled “fun” at this time of day. He was about to give a lazy refusal when he heard a familiar voice from behind him.

“Heeseung, dear, you should go. It’ll be good for you.” Mrs. Lee’s voice floated from the kitchen. “You don’t want to spend all your time cooped up inside. You might as well get to know Busan better.”

Heeseung sighed, the last thing he wanted to do today was get dragged around a bunch of beaches and tourist spots. But what could he do? His grandmother had that look on her face. The one that told him he’d have to do it, no matter how much he complained.

“Fine,” he muttered, trying to mask his annoyance. “But I swear, if I get dragged to any crowded tourist traps, I’m out.”

You just smiled and handed him a bottle of water. “It’s not like that, I promise. Let’s just go enjoy the day.”

As the day dragged on, Heeseung found himself following you around the streets of Busan, though his mind wasn’t really there. He was hoping for some kind of excuse to get out of this whole ordeal, but as the sun rose higher in the sky, he noticed something. The quiet, peaceful atmosphere of Busan was starting to grow on him, just a little bit. He hated to admit it, but there was something different here. Something that he couldn’t ignore.

You led him to one of the most popular beaches in the area, and for the first time, Heeseung felt a little more relaxed. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was oddly soothing. The salty breeze hit him with a refreshing chill, and the scent of freshly baked bread and seafood lingered in the air.

Still, he wasn’t used to the tranquility of it all. It felt strange. He had never seen a place so peaceful, so unhurried. Seoul was the complete opposite—noisy, busy, everyone always rushing to go somewhere. But here, people just… existed. And you fit into that world perfectly.

As you wandered through the beach, you waved to almost everyone you passed, exchanging greetings with ease. Heeseung watched with a mix of confusion and awe. How did you know so many people?

“Morning, Y/N!” A man called out from a bench, waving as you passed. You returned the gesture, chatting briefly with him before continuing along.

“Hey, Y/N!” A couple of girls greeted, and you stopped to talk to them, laughing at something one of them said before you carried on.

Heeseung had never seen anything like it. People in Seoul didn’t talk to each other like this. There was always a distance between everyone, a sense of hurriedness that kept people from acknowledging one another. But in Busan? It was different.

“How do you know so many people?” Heeseung finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

You smiled, unfazed by his question. “I’ve lived here my whole life. You get to know people when you help out around town. It’s a small place, so it’s easy to make connections.”

Heeseung couldn’t help but wonder how many people you helped on a regular basis. You seemed so comfortable in your own skin, so open to the world around you. It was something he wasn’t used to, and he felt a strange sense of admiration for you—though he quickly dismissed it. No, he didn’t need to start feeling anything for someone like you. You were different. Too different.

As the day continued, Heeseung couldn’t ignore the growing warmth in his chest every time someone smiled at you or waved. It wasn’t like anything he had experienced before. It wasn’t the kind of warmth he got from the noise and chaos of his parties back in Seoul, where everything felt empty and fleeting. This was something… real. But what was it?

By the time you had finished showing him the rivers, the markets, and some of the more popular landmarks, Heeseung found himself lost in thought. You were nothing like anyone he knew back home. You were kind, open, and honest in a way that almost made him uncomfortable. But it also made him feel something he wasn’t sure he wanted to feel.

As you stood on the beach, watching the sun slowly set over the horizon, Heeseung glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were looking out at the water, your face soft in the fading light. He couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward you, something unfamiliar that made him uneasy.

What was this? Why did you make him feel like this?

You turned to face him, catching his gaze, and for a brief moment, Heeseung was struck by how easy it was for you to make him feel so… unsettled. He was used to being the one who controlled the situation, who didn’t let anyone in. But here you were, a complete stranger, and somehow, you had gotten under his skin.

But he didn’t want to think about it. It was stupid. It was just the peaceful atmosphere of Busan making him think too much. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by something like this.

So, he shoved the thought aside, letting the warmth in his chest fade away.

“Alright, I’m done,” he said, turning on his heel and starting to walk back toward where you had parked the car.

You smiled to yourself, following after him, though you had no idea what was going on inside his head.

As you both made your way back toward the car, Heeseung stayed a few steps ahead, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He didn’t say much, and you figured he was still in his mood, probably counting down the minutes until he could return to his usual routine of partying and hooking up. He was still adjusting to this quiet, peaceful life, and you didn’t expect him to suddenly embrace it. Not yet, at least.

But you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in his demeanor. The way his eyes lingered on things a little longer than usual, the softening of his features when he wasn’t trying to hide it. Heeseung wasn’t someone who let his guard down easily, but there were moments when he looked almost… peaceful. It was a rare sight, and maybe that’s why you noticed it more than you should have.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked casually, watching as he glanced at the horizon, his expression unreadable.

Heeseung gave you a sideways glance but didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he shoved his hands further into his pockets and looked away.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice low. But there was something in the way he said it, a tinge of something that made you wonder if he was telling the truth.

“Well, thanks for coming today,” you said, your tone more sincere than you intended. “I know you probably didn’t want to, but I’m glad you did. It’s good to get out once in a while, right?”

Heeseung just grunted, not really acknowledging your words. But you noticed the way his posture softened a bit, like the weight of his frustration from earlier had lifted slightly. You didn’t know if it was from the fresh air, the quiet streets, or maybe just the fact that for once, he didn’t feel so suffocated by the city, but something about him seemed a little… different.

As you reached the car, Heeseung leaned against it, crossing his arms and staring at the ground. His usual cocky demeanor had faded, replaced by something that you couldn’t quite place. Was it discomfort? Was he actually considering what you said? The thought made you pause for a moment.

“So,” you said after a beat, breaking the silence, “you really don’t like it here, huh? Busan, I mean.”

Heeseung didn’t look up. “It’s… too quiet,” he replied simply. “I’m used to Seoul. The noise, the people, the clubs, everything. It’s not the same here.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You don’t think it’s a little… better here? Peaceful, maybe?”

Heeseung snorted. “It’s boring. I don’t need peace. I need life. I need… energy. Excitement.”

You let out a small laugh, though it wasn’t mocking, just amused by his stubbornness. “You know, I think you’re going to need a little more than ‘life’ and ‘energy’ if you really want to make it here.”

Heeseung finally looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I can handle myself.”

The way he said it made you wonder if he truly believed it. But you didn’t press him. You could see he was still struggling with the idea of being in Busan, and while you didn’t fully understand his attachment to the chaos of Seoul, you knew better than to push too hard.

“So, what now?” he asked, suddenly more curious than before. “We head back to your grandma’s place, or what?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we should probably get back. I promised her I’d help with some things.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Wait, what? You’re really that dedicated to helping an old lady?”

You chuckled at the way he phrased it. “Well, Mrs. Lee isn’t just an old lady, you know? She’s been a big part of my life for years. Plus, she’s always there for me when I need something. It’s the least I can do.”

Heeseung scoffed lightly, though there was no real malice behind it. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I guess you’re just one of those ‘do-gooders,’ huh?”

You looked at him with a slightly amused smile. “Is that a bad thing?”

Heeseung shrugged. “I don’t know. Just seems kind of… cheesy.”

You laughed lightly. “You’d be surprised how much people like a little kindness now and then.”

Heeseung didn’t reply, but you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch upwards ever so slightly, like he was fighting the urge to smile. He quickly looked away, as if to hide it.

The drive back was a quiet one, with the occasional comment from Heeseung about how quiet Busan was or how “boring” everything seemed. But you didn’t mind. There was something calming about the quiet between you two, and you could feel the subtle shift in the air. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to appreciate the small things in life here. Or maybe he was just starting to get used to you.

When you reached Mrs. Lee’s house, you both got out of the car and made your way inside, the peaceful atmosphere of Busan seeming to wrap around you again. But this time, Heeseung didn’t complain. Instead, he followed you inside, and for a brief moment, you saw something different in his eyes—a sense of curiosity that had been absent before.

Maybe he didn’t fully understand it yet, but you could tell that he was beginning to.

Weeks passed since that day at the beach, and Heeseung had reluctantly started to adjust to life in Busan. It wasn’t like he had a choice. His parents had made it clear that he was here to stay until they thought he was ready to go back to Seoul—if that ever happened. He still hated the quiet, the slow pace, and the constant reminder that he was stuck here. But, slowly, he began to get used to it.

There was something about you that he couldn’t quite shake, though. You were always so calm, always so genuinely kind, and for the first time in a long time, Heeseung found himself looking forward to the moments you came over. He didn’t admit it, of course. He was still the same Heeseung—the one who kept his distance, the one who didn’t let anyone in too easily. But he started to warm up to you. He accepted that you were probably the only real friend he had here, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

You both followed each other on Instagram, and he found himself checking your page more than he wanted to. At first, he convinced himself that it was just because you were the only one he knew in Busan. You had a lot of pictures of the places around the city—the markets, the beaches, and the food. Sometimes he’d scroll through your stories, watching you chat with your friends, laughing with them, and living your quiet little life. It made something twist in his stomach that he couldn’t quite identify.

He hated how much he found himself looking at your posts, but it was like a habit he couldn’t shake. There was something about your smile, something about the way you seemed so… content, that had a strange effect on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or hated it. Either way, it made him miss you in a way that didn’t make sense to him.

It was a restless night for Heeseung. His mind kept racing, thoughts of you lingering in his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling, the strange sense of longing that made him feel more out of place than ever. He had convinced himself over and over that it was just because you were the only person he knew in Busan, that it was just the loneliness of the city playing tricks on him. But the more he thought about it, the more he knew that wasn’t the case.

He turned over in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the thoughts of you. But there they were, your smile, your laugh, the way you made him feel like maybe he wasn’t so far gone after all. He hated that he was thinking about you like this, hated how you’d crept under his skin. It didn’t make sense. Why you? Why now?

He glanced at his phone. It was 3 a.m. His thumb hovered over your contact, hesitation flooding him. He had been lying there for what felt like hours, debating whether or not to reach out to you. It wasn’t like him—Heeseung didn’t just call anyone at this hour, especially not someone like you. But the thought of hearing your voice, of not feeling so damn alone for just a few minutes, was enough to make his decision.

He pressed your name and waited, his heart pounding in his chest.

The phone rang once. Then twice. Before the third ring, your voice cut through the darkness.

“Heeseung?” you answered, your voice quiet but clear, as if you had been waiting for the call. It caught him off guard.

Heeseung didn’t speak right away. There was something about the way you answered, without any hesitation, that made him feel… stupid. Like maybe this wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it in his head. But before he could gather his thoughts, the silence stretched between them.

Heeseung’s heart pounded in his chest, the silence between them thick and awkward. He stared at the dark room around him, feeling the weight of the night settle on his shoulders. He had no idea why he even called. What was he doing? It was 3 a.m., for God’s sake.

The quiet hum of your voice through the phone pulled him back to reality.

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, your tone light and filled with that quiet kindness he had come to recognize.

He froze for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to answer. His mind raced, and for once, he was at a loss for words. What could he say? That he couldn’t sleep? That his mind had been running in circles with thoughts of you? That would sound ridiculous. He wasn’t the kind of guy to admit things like that.

He let out a sharp breath, trying to sound casual, as if it wasn’t bothering him at all. “I… I couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, shifting in bed, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Just… thinking.”

You were quiet for a moment, probably waiting for more, but Heeseung wasn’t sure how to explain any of this. He didn’t even fully understand it himself.

Finally, he broke the silence again, forcing himself to sound a little less awkward. “Anyway, I just—well, I guess I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

The words hung in the air, and Heeseung instantly regretted saying them.

Heeseung sat up in bed, the glow of his phone lighting up his face in the darkness of his room. He wasn’t sure why he’d called, and the more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. He could feel the silence stretching between the two of you before you finally spoke.

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, your voice soft and warm through the phone.

Heeseung hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable, and right now, all he wanted was to avoid it. His gaze flicked toward the window, the quiet, still streets of Busan mocking him as if reminding him of just how different this place was from Seoul.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Just… thinking.”

He didn’t know why that seemed like the most acceptable answer, but it was the truth, in a way. His mind had been racing ever since he’d gotten off the phone with his parents earlier that day, the weight of his situation still pressing down on him.

He heard you pause, then you teased him. “I thought you said my voice was annoying? What did you say I sounded like? A-”

Heeseung quickly cut you off, his voice low and defensive, “I didn’t mean that. I was just messing around, alright?”

You were silent for a moment, and he could almost picture you smirking on the other end, and that somehow irritated him. Why was he so flustered? Why had he even called?

He shifted again, a small laugh escaping your lips through the phone. “You’re such a liar. I knew you didn’t mean it. No one can resist my voice for too long.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. He didn’t know how to respond to that, especially when the truth was that his thoughts had been consumed with you ever since you’d showed him around the town. He didn’t get it. Why was he thinking about you now? He didn’t even know you that well.

“I’m serious,” he muttered, feeling that strange mix of frustration and confusion bubbling inside him. “It’s just… different here, you know?”

You responded with understanding. “Busan’s a lot quieter than Seoul. You’ll get used to it. It just takes time.”

Heeseung wasn’t sure if he believed that, but hearing your voice and your gentle words made him feel a little lighter, even though he hated to admit it. You had that effect on him, and he hated it.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said, trying to brush it off. “I’m still not used to it.”

There was a long pause. He almost thought you’d hang up, but then you spoke again, quieter this time.

“You’ll be okay,” you said. “I know it’s not easy, but things will change, Heeseung. Just… take it one step at a time.”

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t know how to respond to something so simple, so calm. He wasn’t sure if it was because of your words or because he didn’t want to admit it, but something inside him shifted, just a little. Maybe he could make it through this place after all. And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad with you around.

Heeseung leaned back against the headboard, feeling a strange, uncomfortable tightness in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. The silence between you both felt different now—not awkward, but almost… too comfortable. It was something he didn’t know how to deal with, not when he was still trying to make sense of everything in his head.

“I guess I’ll… try to get some sleep,” he said, his voice trailing off.

He heard you sigh softly on the other end, and there was that warmth again, the kind that only you seemed to give him, even when he wasn’t asking for it.

“I’m sure you will,” you replied, your tone light but with a softness to it. “But if you can’t, you know where to find me.”

For some reason, those words hit him harder than they should have. He wasn’t used to this—this kindness, this genuine care. You weren’t just some stranger anymore. You were someone he relied on, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And it made him feel… weird. Confused. Like he was losing control of something he didn’t want to lose.

“I’ll be fine,” he said quickly, trying to shake the feeling. “You should get some sleep too.”

There was a pause, and when you spoke again, he could almost feel the smile on your face. “I’m already asleep, Heeseung. You’re just dreaming.”

He let out a soft, surprised laugh, despite himself. “Yeah, right. Maybe it’s a nightmare.”

“Is that so?” you teased lightly. “Well, if you ever need help with that, you know where I am.”

Heeseung let out a breath, trying to steady himself. Your voice was too calm, too soothing. And it made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Things he couldn’t explain.

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his tone a little quieter than usual. It felt like there was something more he should have said, something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to put it into words.

There was a soft pause before you replied, and when you did, it was simple: “Goodnight, Heeseung.”

Your voice was gentle, the way it always was, and for a moment, Heeseung just sat there in silence, phone pressed to his ear. He wanted to say something back, but the words didn’t come. He didn’t know what to say anymore, not when his mind felt like a mess.

The line went quiet, and Heeseung just stayed there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, his thoughts racing. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what else to say. Maybe it was better that way.

Eventually, the call ended, and all Heeseung was left with was the quiet of the room and the confusing feeling in his chest. It was so stupid. He was being stupid. He just needed to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t let him. Not when you were still there, lingering in his thoughts.

The room felt too quiet now. Too still.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut it all out, but the silence was deafening.

The morning light filtered through the window, and Heeseung woke up with a strange heaviness in his chest. His first thought, as ridiculous as it seemed, was of you. He couldn’t help it. Every time he tried to focus on something else, your voice, your smile, or even the way you always seemed to look at him like you actually cared—it was all there, stuck in his mind. It bothered him. And, somehow, it felt… nice?

He tried shaking it off, getting up to do something—anything—to distract himself. He needed to forget about last night, about that stupid, confusing conversation, and the fact that he wanted to hear your voice again. But it lingered.

Around lunchtime, he thought about calling you. He almost grabbed his phone, thumb hovering over your contact, but then he stopped himself. He was being ridiculous. He couldn’t face whatever was happening inside his head. He didn’t want to think about it, especially not today.

So he sat there, doing his best to avoid thinking about the way his heart skipped whenever he thought about you.

But then the doorbell rang, snapping him out of his thoughts. His grandma was out, and he didn’t expect anyone else. He walked to the door, pulling it open, and there you stood—holding a bag of instant ramen. His favorite, of course.

“I brought you some ramen,” you said with a soft smile, almost like you’d read his mind. “I know you don’t have anything else, and it’s your favorite. I figured you’d be starving.”

He blinked, momentarily speechless. What was going on? He never expected you to show up with something like this. Maybe it was because his grandma had been gone, or maybe it was just because… well, you cared.

“Uh, thanks,” Heeseung mumbled, trying to sound unaffected, but something in his chest tightened again. “You really didn’t have to.”

You shrugged, not even fazed by his cool demeanor. “I don’t mind. Besides, I’m the one who taught you how to cook ramen anyway.”

He didn’t say anything to that, just followed you into the kitchen. You both started to prepare the noodles, the kitchen filled with the sound of boiling water and the small clinks of metal as you moved around. You even hummed a little, and Heeseung couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed you were compared to him. You just moved like everything was easy—like things weren’t as complicated as he made them.

You handed him the ramen packets, asking, “Hey, do you want to pour in the sauce packets, or should I?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sauce packets?” He hadn’t even noticed that you were about to clean up the mess. The weird thing was—he didn’t mind.

Usually, he’d make a face and just leave it, or walk away, letting someone else clean up after him. But now?

Without thinking, he reached for the packets, uncapping them and adding them to the noodles. He glanced up at you. “I’ll clean up,” he said, surprising even himself.

You froze for a second, then let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, wow. Heeseung actually cleaning up? Someone must’ve slipped something into your ramen.”

He shot you a playful glare, even though he couldn’t help but feel a little defensive. “I’m not that bad.”

“You sure about that?” you teased lightly, though there was no malice in your tone. “I mean, I’ve seen you leave a mess all over the place. I guess I just didn’t expect this.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes but found himself laughing despite the teasing. It felt different—normal. Comfortable. “Well, guess you’re in for a surprise then,” he said, a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I never thought I’d see the day when you offered to clean up after yourself.”

He just shrugged, his gaze shifting away from you. “Maybe I’m not as bad as you think.”

You gave him a small smile, and for a moment, Heeseung felt a weird warmth in his chest again. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to like it here. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

But he wasn’t about to admit that out loud.

“Thanks,” he said quietly as you set the ramen down on the counter. You didn’t respond immediately, just gave him a glance before turning back to the stove.

In the silence that followed, Heeseung couldn’t help but feel that annoying little feeling again, the one he couldn’t shake. The one that made his chest tighten whenever you smiled, or laughed, or even when you teased him. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t help it.

Maybe he was just getting used to you, or maybe it was something else. Something more than that. But Heeseung didn’t know how to deal with that. Not yet. He wasn’t ready for it.

As you stirred the ramen, the smell of the rich broth mixing with the scent of the seasoning packets filled the air. You could feel Heeseung’s gaze on you, even without looking at him. It was the way he lingered in the corner of your vision, the way his silence weighed in the room. The kitchen felt warm, but not just from the stove.

You ignored it, of course. What else could you do? You told yourself it was just his usual quiet presence, the way he existed in a space without ever really being present. But there was something different today. His gaze lingered longer than usual. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you couldn’t help but feel like he was watching you a little more closely.

“Something on my face?” you asked without looking up, trying to sound casual as you added a little more seasoning to the pot.

He didn’t answer immediately. You could feel him hesitate, as if unsure whether to respond or not. You turned, meeting his eyes briefly, and caught that familiar look. He was staring again. But he didn’t say anything this time, and you didn’t press him either.

Why would he be staring at you? He was so… different. The contrast between you two was glaring. Heeseung was everything that this town wasn’t. He was loud, a little reckless, and far too aware of his looks. His life in Seoul, all the people and parties and chaos, it was so far from the peaceful rhythm of Busan. And then there was you. You were nothing like that. Quiet, simple, and someone who knew how to exist without drawing attention. The thought that he might actually be… interested? That he might want to spend time with you? It didn’t make sense.

You shrugged it off, stirring the ramen again, pretending like it didn’t matter. But deep down, a small part of you wondered why he was still here, in this small, warm kitchen with you.

Your mind started to wander, your hands working mechanically while your thoughts drifted. Why would a guy like Heeseung, someone who could have anyone, even care about someone like me? You weren’t bad-looking, not by any means. But compared to him? He had that perfect, effortless charm. His looks were always on display. He walked with that confidence, like he owned every room he walked into. His smile had the ability to make girls swoon, and there was a certain edge to him that made people take notice. You, on the other hand, had always preferred to stay out of the spotlight. You liked being quiet, making others feel comfortable. You didn’t need to stand out. Yet, here he was, staring at you like you were worth his attention.

It doesn’t make sense.

You told yourself to focus on the ramen, but the weight of his gaze felt heavy, even when you weren’t looking. His presence, the slight tension in the air whenever he was near, was starting to become something you couldn’t ignore. It was unsettling, yet somehow comforting, a paradox that you didn’t want to unpack.

“Do you need anything else?” you asked, still trying to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your head. You were determined to act like everything was normal, to keep the conversation light. After all, you were doing a favor for his grandmother, not trying to figure out why Heeseung was suddenly acting different.

Heeseung didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still fixed on you. You could feel the weight of his attention, how his eyes lingered a little too long. Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached for a nearby towel, his voice low but steady.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

For a moment, the room was quiet again, only the sound of the ramen bubbling in the pot filling the space. You glanced at him briefly, only to catch him staring at you again, a faint smirk playing on his lips, almost like he was amused by something only he understood.

You forced yourself to look away, rolling your eyes internally. What is wrong with me?

It felt like something had shifted between you two in the past few days. At first, he’d been distant, almost standoffish. Now, it seemed like he was getting comfortable, letting his guard down little by little. It wasn’t much—just small moments here and there. A shared laugh, the way he’d offered to clean up without being asked, or how he didn’t argue when you came over to make him food. Even now, in this small kitchen, there was something different in the air.

But that didn’t change the fact that Heeseung was Heeseung, and you were just you. You were calm, introverted, and didn’t crave the drama or excitement he thrived on. His world was fast-paced, filled with people, parties, and noise. Your world was quieter, simpler, and more peaceful.

You tried to push away the irrational thought that he might actually be interested in you. What would someone like him even see in you? You weren’t glamorous or bold. You weren’t someone who had a reputation to uphold or a past that people whispered about. But Heeseung… He was different. Or maybe, you told yourself, you were seeing him differently than before. It was just a stupid feeling. Right?

Heeseung cleared his throat suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Did you just… laugh?”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“Back there,” Heeseung repeated. “When I said I’d clean up, you laughed.”

You were silent for a moment, realizing that yes, you had laughed. But it wasn’t a mean laugh, or a mocking one—it was lighthearted. “I wasn’t laughing at you,” you said, trying to make it sound casual. “It’s just… you usually don’t offer to clean up. You’re more of a ‘leave it for someone else’ type of guy.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow at you, then leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “So, what, you think I’m lazy or something?”

You shrugged, pretending to be unfazed. “I didn’t say that. I just think it’s funny how you suddenly care about cleaning up.”

He snorted, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess you just don’t know me as well as you think, huh?”

You wanted to roll your eyes again but bit your lip to keep yourself from doing it. Instead, you just smiled, this time a little less guarded. Maybe it was because the conversation wasn’t so awkward anymore. Maybe it was because he wasn’t so cold anymore.

“Maybe you’re right,” you said quietly, “Maybe I don’t know you at all.”

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You were starting to feel like you wanted to know him. The thought caught you off guard as you looked at him once again—like you really did want to understand why he acted the way he did. But how could you? Heeseung was nothing like you. He was loud, brash, and unpredictable.

But still… you couldn’t help the way your heart did this weird thing every time he looked at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was starting to notice you, too. And for reasons you still didn’t understand, that was starting to matter to you more than you cared to admit.

It was getting late, and the kitchen was starting to feel a little more cramped with the fading daylight. The last of the dishes had been cleared, the ramen long finished, and you were getting ready to head out. Heeseung was still there, leaning against the counter, looking a bit more relaxed than when you first arrived. You’d helped a family with their kid earlier—something you did every now and then, especially since Mrs. Lee had asked you to stop by and help with a few errands. It was one of those little things you did that made you feel like you belonged here, in Busan.

You stood by the door, gathering your things, feeling that slight pull in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to leave—it was just… something felt different now. The way Heeseung had looked at you earlier, like he was thinking about something, made you wonder. Maybe it was just because you spent time together today, or maybe because you were finally starting to see another side of him.

Heeseung glanced at you as you put your jacket on, his voice breaking the silence.

“You leaving?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was something more there that you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah, I promised I’d stop by and help with a few things for a family,” you replied with a soft smile. “I’ll be back later in the week though.”

He nodded, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment too long. You weren’t sure what to make of it, so you just gave him a nod in return, about to step out the door when—

“Hey, wait.”

You paused, turning back toward him.

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, his hand reaching out slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. “You… um, you’re alright? I mean, you’re okay with everything, right?”

You were a little surprised by his sudden change in tone. His usual cool demeanor had softened, just slightly. It was almost like he was… checking in.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling a bit more genuinely now. “Don’t worry about me. You take care, alright?”

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering down to the floor before meeting your eyes again. “I will,” he muttered, almost as if he wasn’t sure whether to say more.

You left his house, and as the night crept in, a strange feeling gnawed at you. You kept thinking back to how he’d looked at you, how he’d asked if you were okay. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself it was just the way he was—his complicated mix of coolness and uncertainty. But then, as you reached your place, something else crossed your mind.

Heeseung was still in Busan. He wasn’t going back to Seoul anytime soon. And you were starting to realize that, even though you tried not to admit it, you did care about how he felt.

Heeseung lay in bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, staring at the ceiling. The night was too quiet, too still. He couldn’t sleep. His mind was buzzing with thoughts, most of them about you. It had been a strange day. Well, not strange, but different. He didn’t usually feel like this—like there was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that kept him on edge.

He didn’t know why he called you earlier. Maybe it was the silence of the house or the way his thoughts kept drifting to you. Maybe it was the feeling that, despite all the people in Busan, you were the only one who had made an effort to get to know him. He wasn’t used to that.

The way he’d looked at you earlier today, how he’d felt something when you smiled or when you said something that made him laugh—it was all new. And for some reason, it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t explain.

He should’ve been thinking about how much he missed Seoul, the chaos, the late nights, the parties. That’s what he was used to, what he craved. Busan was too quiet, too peaceful. Too… different. But with you, things felt different too. In a way he wasn’t sure he liked.

He could feel your absence even now, like the air was too empty without your voice, without your presence.

The clock on his phone blinked 2:16 AM. He stared at it for a moment, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He didn’t know why, but his thumb hovered over your contact.

He tapped your name before he could think twice.

The call rang twice before he heard you pick up.

“Yeah?” Your voice came through the phone, soft and clear, like nothing had happened. Like everything was normal.

For a moment, Heeseung couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He felt stupid for even calling. What did he want from you? Was it just loneliness? Or was it something else?

“I… Yeah. I don’t know why I called,” he admitted, his voice trailing off. “It’s late. I just… thought about you, I guess.”

His words felt like a confession, and it made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to this. Not used to admitting he’d been thinking about someone else. His mind was trying to make sense of it all, but nothing was fitting into place.

He didn’t wait for you to answer immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch on for a few seconds, his heart racing in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.

On the other end, you hadn’t spoken either. He could hear you breathing, the small, steady rhythm that felt so calm, so different from his own thoughts.

And that’s when he realized something. He didn’t want this silence to end. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to figure out why he felt so unsettled when it came to you.

“Are you still there?” Heeseung asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

You responded, your voice warm but tinged with confusion. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, the words escaping before he could stop them. He sounded almost embarrassed. But the truth was, he didn’t. He didn’t know why he’d called, or why you were on his mind more than he cared to admit.

You didn’t say anything at first. Maybe you were still processing it, like he was. Or maybe you didn’t know how to respond. But after a few beats, you finally spoke again.

“I thought you said my voice was annoying,” you said lightly, teasing but not in a mean way. “What did you say I sounded like?”

Heeseung froze for a second, his mind flashing back to earlier when he had made that joke about your voice. Damn, he didn’t expect you to bring that up now.

He almost laughed, but it came out more like a groan. “I was just messing around,” he said, cutting you off. “It wasn’t like that. It’s just—”

Just what? He had no idea. He didn’t know why he was acting so awkward all of a sudden, or why he couldn’t just let himself relax when he was talking to you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head even though you couldn’t see him. “I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. That’s all.”

The words came out too easily, and for a moment, he regretted saying them. But something about it felt right too. It was true—he did want to hear your voice. He wanted to talk to you more. He just didn’t know what this was.

There was another long silence between you two, but it wasn’t awkward. Not really. Just… something else, something he couldn’t quite place.

After a while, Heeseung realized he couldn’t keep lying to himself about how he felt. There was something between you and him, something that was more than just friendship. More than just shared moments. And maybe that was what scared him the most.

But for now, he didn’t want to overthink it. He didn’t want to analyze the situation or try to make sense of something that didn’t need to be explained.

For once, he just wanted to hear your voice again.

The next day, Heeseung woke up to his phone buzzing, the bright morning light filtering through the blinds. The events of last night were still fresh in his mind—more than he cared to admit. He couldn’t stop thinking about that phone call. You were still on his mind, in that odd, unexpected way.

It wasn’t like him to care about someone like that. But here he was, wondering how your voice could be so easy to listen to, how something as small as a text or call from you could have him feeling all kinds of things he wasn’t prepared for.

He glanced at the clock—just after noon. Normally, he would still be in bed, lounging with no plans, letting the day slip by. But today, something was different. The thought of calling you felt like an impulse he couldn’t ignore anymore.

Before he could overthink it, he grabbed his phone and tapped on your contact.

It rang once. Twice.

“Hey,” he said when you picked up, his voice a little raspy. “It’s me.”

There was a brief pause before you answered. “Hey, you. What’s up? It’s still early for you.”

He rubbed his face, still half asleep. “Yeah, just woke up… couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Oh, really?” You sounded surprised, your voice light. “What kept you up?”

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the wall. “I don’t know… just stuff. Can’t really explain it.” He let out a soft sigh, realizing how little sense that made. “I’ve been thinking a lot.”

“About what?” you asked, and Heeseung could almost hear the curiosity in your voice.

He hesitated, unsure how to explain what was happening in his head. “I don’t really know. Just… things. It’s nothing. Whatever.” He waved his hand in the air as if you could see him through the phone.

“Okay…” you replied, then added, “So, what’s going on? You feeling alright?”

There was something about the way you said it, like you genuinely cared. And it made Heeseung uncomfortable, in the way that the truth always did. He scratched the back of his neck and exhaled, still unsure how to phrase it.

“I was wondering,” he started, voice trailing off. “If you, uh, wanted to hang out or something. I don’t know… like… do you want to get some coffee or whatever?”

There was a long pause on the other end, and Heeseung immediately regretted asking. He was being an idiot, right? Why would you want to spend time with him?

Then you spoke, your voice surprised, but also a little amused. “Wait, hold on. You… want to hang out with me? That’s a first.”

Heeseung’s face flushed slightly, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment creeping up on him. He rubbed his temple, trying to hide the fact that his heart had skipped a beat. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, it’s not a big deal. I just thought… I don’t know, it’d be cool.”

You chuckled softly, and Heeseung couldn’t tell if it was a good laugh or one of those teasing ones. But he didn’t mind, for some reason. “Alright, alright,” you said after a moment. “I’m down. I guess I’ll meet you in an hour at the park near the beach? We can grab some coffee afterward.”

Heeseung exhaled in relief, trying to hide the fact that he was more excited than he should’ve been. “Sounds good,” he said casually. “I’ll see you there.”

After ending the call, Heeseung leaned back against the wall, staring at his phone for a moment. That was easy, he thought. Why was he overthinking it so much? Hanging out with you didn’t feel as weird as he imagined.

As he moved to get ready, he realized that it didn’t matter what his reasons were. He just wanted to spend time with you.

So, maybe it was a first. But it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the beach. Heeseung and you had made your way down to the shore, where you laid out a picnic mat, the soft sound of waves crashing against the sand filling the air. The sky above was a clear canvas, fading into shades of pink and orange as the day began to wind down. It was peaceful, calming—everything that Seoul was not.

You sat cross-legged on the mat, your hair flowing in the breeze as you nibbled on some snacks you’d brought along. Heeseung had settled beside you, his eyes initially drawn to the vast horizon, but his gaze would inevitably return to you. You were so at ease, so calm. It felt different from anything he was used to back in Seoul. There, everything moved so fast—life was a blur of people, noise, and fleeting connections. But here, with you, there was something real. Something still and genuine.

Heeseung leaned back on his elbows, watching as you hummed lightly to yourself, your eyes lost in thought as you gazed at the ocean. The way you were so comfortable with everything around you, so familiar with the peace of this place, made him feel out of place. He shifted on the mat, moving a little closer to you, not really sure why. But something about you, about this town, felt like it was chipping away at his walls.

He cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence. “So, tell me, do you do this all the time? Come here and just… chill?”

You turned to him, a small smile on your lips. “Yeah, I guess so. Busan’s pretty laid-back. It’s kind of hard not to just enjoy the calm every now and then, right?”

Heeseung nodded, though his expression remained a little guarded. “I get it,” he muttered, his voice low. “It’s just… different, you know? I’m used to the noise, the chaos.”

You looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “And you don’t like it here?”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment before answering. “I don’t know. It’s just… too quiet sometimes.”

You chuckled, and for a moment, he felt like maybe he could let his guard down just a little. But then, without warning, his eyes caught yours, and there was something in the way you looked at him that made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly found himself leaning in, just a little closer, and before he knew what was happening, his lips brushed against yours in a soft, sudden kiss.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something he expected. It just… happened. And for that brief moment, everything around him—the ocean, the beach, the sun—faded away, and all he could focus on was you.

When he pulled away, he noticed the shock in your eyes. You were frozen for a moment, clearly caught off guard, and Heeseung’s heart dropped. What did that mean? Was it just an impulsive thing? Or something else? His mind raced, but he didn’t have time to process it before you stood up, your face flushed with surprise.

“I… I have to go,” you said quickly, your voice shaky as you took a few steps back. “I… I’ll see you later.”

Before Heeseung could say anything, you turned and started running down the beach, your footsteps quick and light on the sand. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you go, the confusion eating at him. What the hell just happened?

He sat there for a moment, staring after you. His heart was still pounding in his chest, and his mind was a blur of thoughts. What was that kiss? Why did it feel so… different from everything else in his life? And why did he feel like a total idiot?

He looked at the spot where you had been sitting, the picnic mat still partially sprawled out on the sand. The gentle breeze tugged at the corners, and Heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. He hadn’t expected to feel anything—especially not like this—but he did. And it left him feeling vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to.

After a few moments, he stood up, brushing the sand off his pants. His mind was still racing. Why did he kiss you? What was that about? And why did it feel like the world had suddenly gotten a little bit quieter, even after you’d left?

He stood still for a while longer, trying to make sense of everything, but there was no answer. Only the waves crashing in the distance, the soft sand under his feet, and the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.

As the sun began to set, Heeseung couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the last time things felt simple. Maybe that was the way it always went with him—he was used to chaos, to distractions, to the fast-paced life of Seoul. But now, in this peaceful town, with you, things felt different. Too different. And it scared him.

It was another restless night. Heeseung lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, the familiar weight of uncertainty pressing on him. The thoughts wouldn’t stop. His mind kept replaying the moment you ran off from the beach after that kiss. The look on your face—shocked, confused, maybe even a little hurt—lingered in his mind. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. He didn’t plan it. But he couldn’t ignore the way his heart had raced the second his lips met yours, and how everything felt so… right, despite the chaos in his head.

He turned over, grabbing his phone from the nightstand, his thumb hovering over your contact. He wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to know if you were okay, if everything was alright after that awkward moment. He needed to know.

But when he hit the call button and waited, the phone rang… and rang… and rang.

He furrowed his brow, his thumb tapping impatiently on the screen. The ringing continued, and he frowned deeper. Normally, you always picked up. Even if it was late, you would answer, offering him some kind of comfort, even if it was just through a simple greeting.

But not tonight.

Heeseung bit his lip, frustration building in his chest. What if something happened? What if you were mad? What if something was wrong? Why wasn’t you picking up? You always did.

The silence in his room felt suffocating. The weight of his thoughts, his confusion, his stupid mistake on the beach all added up in the heavy silence. He couldn’t lie to himself. He was worried. Not just because of the kiss, but because the thought of you being upset—or worse, hurt—bothered him more than it should have.

The ringing stopped, and the voicemail greeting came on, the sound of your voice filling his ears. “Hey, it’s me. Leave a message!”

He didn’t even bother leaving a message. What could he say? He wasn’t sure what he was feeling himself.

He hung up abruptly, frustration bubbling up inside him.

Without thinking, he shoved his phone back into his pocket, threw off the covers, and got out of bed. He had to do something. He couldn’t just lie there, wondering, waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

He quietly slipped out of the room, careful not to wake up his grandmother, who was probably already fast asleep. The house was eerily quiet. His footsteps were muffled on the hardwood floor as he crept toward the door, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on him.

He was being ridiculous.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest, that gnawing, aching feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t know why he felt it, but he did. And now, standing outside in the cool night air, he found himself walking down the street toward where you lived.

It was late, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t just sit around. He couldn’t let his stupid feelings take over his head, especially not after he’d already messed things up.

As he walked, his mind raced. What if you were still angry? What if you didn’t want to see him? He clenched his fists at his sides, pushing those thoughts away. This wasn’t about that. This was about making sure you were okay. Because, damn it, he cared.

The streets of Busan were quiet, the only sounds being his footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. His heart pounded in his chest, and with each step, the feeling of anxiety grew. What the hell was he even doing?

When he finally reached your place, he paused at the gate, looking up at the dark windows. He felt like an idiot. But there he was, standing in front of your house, unsure of what to do next. Should he knock? Should he just go home?

The thought of just turning around and leaving made his stomach churn. He couldn’t. Not when he was this unsure of what was going on between you two.

With a deep breath, Heeseung made up his mind. He wasn’t going to leave until he knew you were okay. And that meant doing something he wasn’t used to: admitting that he cared.

He stood there for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. Should he just text you? No, he had to hear your voice. He had to know you were safe, that you weren’t upset, that you hadn’t disappeared from his life for good.

With one last glance at the still-dark windows, Heeseung walked up to the front door and stood there, his hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering if he was making a huge mistake. But, in that moment, the only thing he could think of was you. And the only thing he wanted was for you to be okay.

The soft creak of the door echoed through the night as you opened it, and Heeseung froze, his heartbeat louder than ever. You stood there in your side braids, eyes tired but wide awake, a sight he never thought he’d find himself looking at in the middle of the night. He was at a loss for words, but there you were, standing in front of him.

His mouth opened, but no words came out. It wasn’t until you broke the silence that Heeseung realized how much he had been holding back.

“I—” You started, your voice quiet but steady. “I’m sorry for… running off earlier. I just… overreacted.”

Heeseung blinked, caught off guard by how calm you sounded. He wanted to say something, but he just stood there, unsure of how to express himself.

You looked down for a moment, gathering your thoughts, then met his eyes again. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you admitted. “And I guess I wasn’t ready for it. It… kind of threw me off, but I shouldn’t have run away like that. I’m really sorry.”

Heeseung’s heart pounded. He could feel a weight lifting off his chest, but at the same time, the confusion remained. You… hadn’t kissed anyone? That made everything even more complicated. And yet, the way you spoke—so sincere, so vulnerable—only made him want to reach out to you more.

You hesitated. “I do feel the same way. I just… didn’t know how to react.”

The words hung in the air between you both. The same way. Heeseung’s chest tightened at the thought. He had been so confused about his feelings toward you, but hearing that, hearing you say you felt the same—it was like a dam breaking.

He stepped closer, his voice shaky but genuine, “It’s okay. I didn’t know how to handle it either. I… I wasn’t expecting this. But, I really like you. I do. I’ve never met anyone like you before.” His breath hitched as he continued, “You’re… pure. And beautiful. In a way that’s different from anything I’ve ever known.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and Heeseung could feel the weight of his words settling in the air. He had never said anything like that to anyone, especially not like this. But for some reason, it felt right. He had never felt this drawn to someone before.

You took a slow breath, processing what he said. The silence stretched between you, neither of you knowing exactly what to say next. Heeseung looked at you—really looked at you—and everything that had been swirling in his mind began to make sense. He didn’t know how he felt about being in Busan. He didn’t know how he felt about his past. But he knew, without a doubt, that right now, in this moment, you were the one thing he didn’t want to lose.

Finally, you spoke again, your voice soft and a little hesitant, but still sincere. “I… I guess that’s why I ran off earlier. I’ve never been in this situation before. You’re so… different from everyone I know. And it’s just… it’s scary, Heeseung.”

Heeseung’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in your voice. He didn’t expect this from you, and it made him admire you even more. You weren’t playing games; you were being real. And that, for some reason, scared him, too.

“I understand,” Heeseung murmured. “I really do.”

He stepped even closer, his hand slowly reaching for yours. For a brief moment, he was scared to make a move, but then, he couldn’t stop himself. “But I want to figure this out. With you. If you’ll let me.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Heeseung was convinced you were going to back away. But then you nodded, your gaze softening as you looked at him.

“I’d like that,” you said quietly.

Heeseung smiled, his heart finally easing. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was something real. He didn’t know exactly where it would go, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could breathe.

“I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head slightly, your eyes still wide but soft. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice steadying. “Someone... Different. In a good way.”

You blinked, the tiniest smile creeping onto your face as you looked at him. Heeseung didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. All the things he had been feeling, all the questions he had about why you mattered so much, all of it felt like it was making sense. And he didn’t want to let that go.

“I’ve never met anyone like you either,” you said softly, your voice almost shy now.

Heeseung felt a warmth spread through him at your words. This… this was unexpected. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew he didn’t want to lose this. He didn’t want to lose you.

There was another pause, and you cleared your throat. “So… do you wanna come in?”

He blinked at you, still in a daze from everything that had just happened. “Yeah. I… I’d like that.”

Heeseung stepped inside, his heart still racing from the conversation. The cool night air felt a lot warmer now, and everything around him seemed to fade into the background. All that mattered was that you were standing in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty—just as confused as he was, but somehow more composed. It was comforting and disorienting all at once.

You closed the door behind him with a soft click, and there was a brief silence as the two of you stood in the hallway, unsure of what to do next.

“So, uh,” Heeseung finally broke the silence, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “What now?”

You let out a small laugh, still standing near the door. “I’m… I’m not sure either. I wasn’t exactly expecting you to come here in the middle of the night.”

Heeseung smirked, but it wasn’t teasing this time. It was more of a nervous, unsure kind of smile. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting myself to either.”

The both of you fell into another pause, neither of you quite knowing how to fill the space. But, for once, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… quiet. But a good kind of quiet.

You broke the silence once more, this time more seriously. “You know, I’ve never really been in a situation like this before. I mean, I don’t even know what this is exactly. But I can’t ignore how I feel either.”

Heeseung nodded slowly. “Same. I don’t know what to call this either. But I like it. I don’t know why, but I do.”

You looked at him, your eyes thoughtful. “I don’t think we need to figure it out right away. I’m still trying to figure out what I feel. But… I do like you, Heeseung.”

Heeseung felt something inside him soften at your words. He hadn’t been expecting to hear that. The uncertainty he had been carrying for so long seemed to melt away in that moment.

“I like you too,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “I didn’t think I’d ever… feel this way. Especially not after everything I’ve been through.”

You smiled slightly, sensing the vulnerability in his voice. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should share this side of himself. But something about you made him feel like he could. “Back home in Seoul, I never really connected with anyone like this. I’ve always been surrounded by people, but it was… shallow. I never really let anyone in. But with you… it’s different. You make me feel like I’m not just some… guy passing through.”

Your expression softened, and you stepped closer to him. “I think you’re more than that. You just have to let yourself see it.”

Heeseung couldn’t help but stare at you, his heart beating a little faster. “I never thought anyone would say that to me. Especially not you.”

“Well, now you know,” you said with a soft, teasing smile.

Heeseung felt a lump form in his throat. It was strange—he had never felt this way before, so exposed. But there was something about you that made him feel safe, even when everything else felt uncertain.

Without thinking, he took another step closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. “I want to be someone you can rely on. I don’t know what the future holds, but… I want to try.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Heeseung wasn’t thinking about what he had left behind in Seoul, or how much he missed his old life. He was thinking about you, about this moment, about how much he wanted to make it last.

You smiled softly, your eyes reflecting something he couldn’t quite place. “We’ll figure it out together, Heeseung.”

And in that moment, he knew that whatever happened, he wasn’t alone anymore.

It had been a few days since everything changed between Heeseung and you. The late-night calls, the stolen kisses, and the soft, lingering moments shared in the quiet of Busan. Things had settled into a routine, though it was a new kind of routine neither of you had expected. Heeseung had slowly started warming up to the idea of being with you, and you—well, you were finding yourself getting more comfortable with him every day, even if you still got flustered by the smallest things.

Heeseung had invited you over to his room, a casual invitation that made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t expected it, but you couldn’t turn it down. And here you were, standing in front of him, holding a bowl of instant ramen, the steam rising and filling the air with a comforting, familiar scent.

“Ramen again?” Heeseung asked with a small smile, clearly amused. “You’ve got a thing for this stuff, huh?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re the one who loves it. Don’t act like I’m the only one obsessed here.”

Heeseung chuckled and gestured for you to sit on his bed. You did so, placing the bowl of ramen in your hands, while Heeseung sat beside you. His eyes immediately found their way to you, and you could feel his gaze on you.

“What?” you asked, trying to brush it off, though you felt a flutter in your stomach from the way he was looking at you.

Heeseung didn’t immediately reply. He just stared at you, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re just so pretty right now.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you quickly covered your face with your hands, trying to hide the warmth spreading across your skin. “I—stop it,” you stammered, your voice soft.

Heeseung gently took your hands in his, pulling them away from your face. His touch was light, almost teasing as he said, “Move them. Let me see your face.”

You hesitated for a moment, but when he didn’t let go, you slowly lowered your hands. The way he was looking at you made your heart race. He was so close, and you could feel the heat between you both.

“So cute,” he added, his voice low and sincere. The word made your heart skip another beat, and you couldn’t help but look away, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

“Stop it,” you mumbled, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt.

Heeseung just smiled, his gaze still soft but undeniably affectionate. He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I mean it, though. You really are.”

Your heart fluttered, your hands still in his, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the way he made you feel—something that made you forget about all the awkwardness you usually felt around guys, something that made you feel special in a way you never had before.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you finally said, your voice quieter, more confident now that you weren’t so embarrassed by his words.

Heeseung smirked, leaning back against the bed with a playful gleam in his eyes. “Well, I’m glad you think so. But I think you might be biased.”

You shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m still right.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re really something else, Y/n.”

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, laughing quietly, the comfortable silence stretching between you. But in that silence, something was shifting again. Something you both had begun to recognize but hadn’t quite put into words yet.

“I still can’t believe you told your grandma about us,” you teased, trying to shift the focus to something else to avoid getting lost in the intensity of the moment.

Heeseung groaned, his face reddening slightly. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “Nope. But she was cute about it, though.”

“Cute? She was totally shocked! She started teasing me right away.”

“Well, I’m sure she’s happy for you,” you said, your smile softening as you spoke. “She seems like she knows what’s best for you.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung said, his tone quiet, more thoughtful now. “I think she does.”

As the night wore on, the two of you fell into a quiet rhythm, sharing food, talking about everything and nothing, and just enjoying each other’s company. Heeseung had started to open up in a way he hadn’t before, and even though he still had his moments of being cold and distant, you could see the change in him.

And maybe—just maybe—you were starting to realize that you didn’t need all the answers right away. You didn’t need to label this, to rush into figuring out what was between you. All you needed was to enjoy the moments you had with him.

And, for once, that felt enough.

You didn’t notice how close he was until you felt his hand on your thigh, gently moving it up and down. Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture, and you looked up at him. His gaze was intense, his eyes fixated on you.

He leaned in a little closer, his face just inches away from yours. “Y/n,” he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart racing. You couldn’t look away from him, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible.

Heeseung moved even closer, his hand still on your thigh, his touch causing goose bumps to form on your skin. His breath was warm against your cheek as he spoke. “Can I…?”

You didn’t need him to finish the question to know what he was asking, but you still nodded, your heart racing even faster. He leaned in even more, his hand still on your thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft, tentative at first—his lips lightly brushing against yours. And then, he deepened the kiss, his hand on your thigh moving to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you melted into the kiss, your own hands reaching up to touch him, your fingers running through his hair.

The world seemed to fall away as you two kissed, the intensity between you growing stronger with each passing second. Heeseung’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, craving the closeness.

The kiss slowed as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. His eyes were still fixed on you, and you could see the mix of tenderness and desire in his gaze.

“Y/n,” he whispered your name, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his gaze, your heart fluttering at his confession. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest.

He kissed you again, a little harder this time, his hands moving to your hips, lifting you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

As the kiss deepened, Heeseung’s hands began to roam, exploring your body, his touch leaving a trail of heat on your skin. His fingers found the hem of your shirt, creeping under it, his touch feather-light yet leaving you breathless.

You gasped at the feel of his hands on your bare skin, and the sound only made Heeseung deepen the kiss further. His hands continued their journey up your sides, tracing the curves of your body and leaving you wanting more.

Finally, Heeseung broke the kiss, taking a moment to catch his breath. He rested his forehead against yours once more, his hands still on your waist, his grip firm but gentle.

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if memorizing every detail. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice tinged with amazement and desire.

Heeseung's hand stayed on your thigh, his touch growing bolder as he raised an eyebrow, tugging on your shirt.

Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind swirling with anticipation and nervousness. You knew what he was asking, and the fact that he was asking instead of assuming made your heart flutter even more.

You nodded, giving him a small, shaky smile. "Yeah...go ahead."

His hand moved slowly, leaving your thigh and making its way to the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending tingles up your spine. He looked at you, his eyes seeking permission, and you nodded again, your breath catching in your throat.

Heiseung lifted the hem of your shirt, his hands exploring the newly exposed skin. His touch was light, his eyes tracing the curves and lines of your body.

You couldn't help yourself, your fingers tugging on the fabric of his shirt, a desperate, silent plea.

Heeseung chuckled lowly, that sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Eager, are we?" he teased.

His hands stilled as he looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of mockery and desire. But then he shrugged off his shirt, his muscles flexing as he discarded it on the floor.

You couldn't help but stare at his bare chest, the sight of him taking your breath away. His skin was golden in the low light, the planes of his chest and abdominal muscles well-defined and sculpted.

Heeseung caught you staring, a smirk on his face. "See something you like?" he teased, his voice low and rough.

You blushed, trying to look away but finding yourself unable to. Your fingers itched to touch him, to explore the smooth skin of his chest. You could feel the heat radiating from him, drawing you closer.

"Shut up," you pout, your voice barely above a whisper. "You know I do."

Heeseung's smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his gaze fixed on you. "Is that so?" he said, the teasing edge in his voice causing your cheeks to heat up even more.

Before you could answer, he pulled you in closer, pressing soft trail of kisses onto your neck. “Oh god, Hee-“ you sighed as you tilted your head to give him better access.

Heeseung's mouth found a sensitive spot on your neck, and you couldn't help but sigh again. "Mmm," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot.

His hands were on your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck.

Feeling the tension between you growing, an uncontrollable need started building up inside you, like an itch begging to be scratched.

Heeseung's mouth was still on your neck, his kisses becoming more urgent, his hands still firmly holding your waist.

Unable to resist, you started moving, your hips grinding against him, trying to ease the tension. You could hear his breath catch as you moved, and he pulled away from your neck to look at you.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your ear as he leaned his head against the headboard. “Y/n I’m going to cum like this if you keep moving like this.”

You felt your cheeks getting hot, not realizing the effect you had on him. “I-I’m sorry,” you replied sheepishly, looking down. “It’s my first time and—“

“No, no,” he interrupted as he tilts your chin back up. “Hey, look at me. You’re doing great.”

Heeseung’s eyes were intense as he looked at you, the desire in them only growing stronger. "Don’t apologize," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "It’s perfect, you’re perfect. Just keep going. I want to feel you."

His words were like an electric shock through your body, your skin tingling all over. You couldn’t help but shiver at the intensity in his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest.

Heeseung leaned in again, his gaze still intense as he closed the distance between your lips. This time, the kiss was urgent and needy, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that mirrored your own.

Your bodies were pressed hard against against each other, the heat between you growing even hotter. Your hands were in his hair, fingers tugging at the soft strands, while his hands were on your hips, holding you tightly against him.

Heeseung’s hands moved to your back, his fingers trailing up your spine, leaving a trail of heat as they went. They found the clasp of your bra, his touch gentle but sure as he unclips it. He pulled back for just a moment, his eyes locking with yours, as if asking permission.

You felt exposed under his gaze but nodded, your breath hitching in your throat as he slid the straps of your bra down your arms, discarding it on the floor.

Heeseung's eyes darkened as he looked at you, his teeth biting down on his lower lip. You could feel his arousal growing stronger, his body tensing under your touch.

His hands started roaming, one hand moving up your back, the other tracing down your side to your hip. He pulled you closer, his breath hot against your skin as he moved his lips to your throat, leaving a trail of kisses down to your collarbone.

Heeseung's hand moved down to your chest, his touch light but possessive as he gently squeezed your tits, his palm cupping it. His fingers started to move in slow, circular motions, as he took in your reaction. His gaze darkened with desire as he watched the way you responded to his touch, his expression stoic but his eyes alive with heat.

You could feel the tension building like a coiled spring, the need for more growing with each passing moment. You looked up at him, your gaze heavy-lidded and filled with desire.

"Heeseung," you murmured, your voice a little breathless. "Please...I want-"

Heeseung silenced you with a kiss, his lips covering yours in an urgent, heated kiss. He understood what you wanted, and he was more than willing to give it to you.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue seeking yours, as his hand continued to move over your boobs, gently squeezing and teasing your sensitive skin.

Heeseung gently pushed you onto the bed, his body hovering over you, his eyes locked on yours. He was taking control, and you were more than willing to let him.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck again as his hands started to move, skimming down your sides, tracing the curves of your body. You felt him reach the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing at the edge.

He looked at you, his eyes smoldering, asking permission once again.

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, your breath coming in short gasps. Heeseung smirked, his fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up off your legs, the cool air hitting your skin making you shiver.

As the skirt came off, Heeseung’s hand lingered on your thigh, his touch light but possessive. He looked at you again, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Heeseung please,” you whined, and that was all he needed as he pushed your panties aside, shoving in two of his fingers inside your core, making you let out a loud moan.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. “Hee- feels so good,” you said shakily. He smirks at your reaction, but focused more on your pleasure. “Yeah? Do you want me to add another?” He replied, his voice lowered.

"Yes," you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Heeseung, I want more."

He didn't hesitate, inserting another finger with ease. The motion was so fluid, it sent a shiver down your spine. "You feel so wet for me," he murmured, his voice dark with desire. He pressed closer to you, his body hot against yours, as he continued to move his fingers inside you.

As he moved his fingers, he kept searching for that one spot inside of you - the one that would make your body quiver and shake with pleasure. He curled his fingers, sliding them in and out of you, searching for that one spot inside you that would make you cry out in pleasure.

With every movement, he was getting closer and closer to finding it. "Relax," he whispered, "let me make you feel good."

He slowly withdrew his fingers, his gaze fixed on you as he replaced them with his mouth. He started with gentle kisses, his lips moving over your skin, making you shiver in anticipation.

And then his tongue replaced his fingers, slipping inside of you, exploring you with practiced ease. He knew what he was doing, and it was driving you wild. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the muscles in his back tenses.

You covered your mouth with your hand as you looked at Heeseung in between your legs. Something you never thought was possible. “I’m so close,” you whimpered, bucking your hips up unintentionally.

He didn’t stop, if anything his pace quickened, his hands gripping your thighs. “Cum for me baby,” he said, his voice was low and rough. He locked eyes with you, his gaze filled with so much desire it was hard to look away.

You could feel your body coiling tighter and tighter. He knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, and it was too much. “Please Heeseung,” you pleaded, your head falling back onto the pillows. “Please I can’t-“

“Yes you can princess,” he murmured, giving you just enough friction to drive you wild without quite sending you over the edge. He continued working you with single-minded intensity, his mouth and hands working in the perfect sync to bring you to the very edge.

“H-hee, please no more, c-can’t take it anymore...” you stuttered, your body arching off the bed as your fingers tightened in heeseung’s hair. His mouth, a warm, wet heaven between your legs, his tongue moving in fast, deliberate circles that drive you closer to the edge. But your pleas fall on deaf ears, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls away just long enough to let your trembling thighs fall apart once more.

Your skin is flushed and sticky with sweat, your heart racing as he kissed the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of pecks that makes you shiver. “you can take it, baby, you know you can,” he praised, the sound of his voice sending another shockwave through your body. you want to argue, but all that comes out is a whine as his mouth finds your clit again, sucking gently.

His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, the pressure just shy of painful. Your muscles clench around his fingers, which are buried deep within you, moving in a rhythm that matches his mouth. It is overwhelming, the sensation of being so close to the peak again, especially when your body is so sensitive from your lack of experience. Your toes curl into the bedsheets, and you bite down on your lower lip, trying to stifle the moan that wants to escape.

He paused, looking up at you with those bambi eyes. “Moan for me, baby. I wanna hear how much you love this,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. your cheeks burn with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment, but you nod, feeling the heat of his gaze on you.

His mouth returned to your clit, his tongue flicking against it rapidly. your eyes roll back in your head and had you seeing stars. You can't help but let out a high pitched moan. he chuckles against your sensitive folds, the vibration sending sparks of sensation shooting through you. Your hips rock upward, seeking more, but he keeps his rhythm, not giving you the full force you crave just yet.

His fingers inside you started to move faster, curling and stroking, hitting that spot deep within you that makes your legs quiver. you moaned louder now, unable to hold it back. your hands tighten in his hair, urging him closer, but he's unfazed, maintaining his relentless pace. “Please, yes, right there,” you panted, your voice hoarse from all the moaning and begging.

His eyes locked onto yours, the smirk on his face growing wider. “you look so beautiful like this,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. Your heart swells with love for him, making the pleasure he’s giving you even more intense. He added a third finger, stretching you just enough to make you gasp. Your body starts to tremble uncontrollably, the tension coiling tighter with every passing moment.

You felt the orgasm building again. your nails dig into his scalp, the pain mixing with the pleasure. Heeseung’s eyes darken with desire as he watches your reaction, his own breathing heavy and ragged. he knows he's pushing you to the edge, and it only spurs him on. Your moans become more frequent, filling the room with the sweet sound of your release.

His tongue presses harder against your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a fervent pace. your body starts to convulse, muscles tightening around his fingers. The pressure builds, and just when you think you can't take anymore, it hits. with a cry, you squirt all over his face, the warm liquid spilling out of you. his eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t miss a beat, lapping it up eagerly. Embarrassment hit as you realize what you had just done, but fades with ease as he handled it nonchalantly. The feeling is so intense, you can't help but thrash on the bed, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

Your eyes popped open, watching him with a mix of shock and arousal. “Yes, baby, so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled by your folds. your chest heaves with every breath you take, your heart hammering in your ears. he licks you clean, his movements slowing as your orgasm subsides. then, he looks up, his nose and chin covered in your juices.

His eyes sparkle with mischief and satisfaction. “you taste so good,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. the sight of him like that, so raw and hungry for you, sends a fresh wave of desire through your body. you can’t help but feel a bit smug, knowing you’ve driven him to this point.

"You make me insane, you know that?" he murmured, his voice rough. "I can't get enough of you." He leaned down, his body heat melding with yours, his arms caging you in. his lips found yours again, and the kiss was hot and needy, a reflection of the hunger that was still coursing through him.

Heeseung smirked, his gaze fixed on you. "You're doing so good for your first, you know?" he said, his voice thick with desire. You look away from him, muttering “no I’m not,” but you know that hes right. In one fluid motion, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off, his boxers following suit.

He was now totally naked in front of you, and the sight was enough to take your breath away. His body was toned and muscular. Every contour and dip and ridge seemed perfectly defined. Every inch of him was beautiful. He then opened his side table drawer and pulled out the box of condoms. “I told you I’d have use of them somehow,” he smirked while you scoffed in disbelief.

He laughs at your reaction as he positions his cock in front of your leaking pussy. He could see your hands gripping on the sheets as his cock is already half way in. “Heeseung-“ you whimpered, your breath shaken.

"Just relax," he whispered, his voice soft now. "I'll go slow. I want you to feel good, okay?" He was being tender, his eyes fixed on your every expression.

He moved slowly, his hands on your hips to help guide him deeper into you. Inch by inch, he filled you, the stretch sending waves of pleasure through you. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust to the sensation. His eyes never strayed away from you.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, his voice strained. You could hear the need in his words, the sheer effort it took for him to hold back. You knew he was trying to be careful, trying to be gentle, but you could feel the hunger in him, the need to take you, to claim you.

“Relax for me, baby. I’ve got you.” He leaned down, his mouth finding your neck, his lips trailing kisses across your skin. He nipped and sucked just below your ear, knowing exactly the effect he had on you.

His hand slowly reached down, finding your clit, and he started rubbing small, soft circles that set your body on fire. His mouth moved lower, his lips tracing a trail across your collarbone, then your chest, finding your nipple and swirling his tongue around it. “I'm gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice muffled against your skin. His words sent a shiver down your spine, the promise in them making your heart race.

You looked up at him, your body trembling with pleasure, and managed to say through uneven breaths. "Please... I.. I can't take it anymore."

He felt your body relax under his touch, and he knew you were ready for more. His eyes darkened with lust as he looked down at you. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Want me to fuck you harder like the slut you are?”

You could only nod, your words failing you. He didn't wait for a verbal response, his body already in motion, his grip on your hips firm and possessive. He began a steady rhythm, his thrusts growing faster and rougher with each passing minute. “You like it like this, don't you?” he murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “You like letting me fill your virgin cunt up?” The ways he’s saying it makes you whimper. You’ve never seen him like this.

Loud and rhythmic, the wet slapping noises filled the room, punctuating every movement with a sharp slap. It was the only sound that broke the deep silence, except for the occasional gasp or whimper from inside the room.

You could feel the tension building, the coil in your belly wound so tight it was almost painful. Heeseung’s breaths were coming in short, quick gasps, his rhythm growing more and more irregular. “You close, princess?”

You could only nod again, your words failing you once more. He knew he was close too, the tension and need in him palpable. "Cum for me, baby," he murmured, his lips right against your ear. "I want to hear you."

That was all it took, the sound of his voice so close, the dirty words in your ear. You felt the coil snap inside you, pleasure exploding through you, so intense you couldn't help but cry out.

He followed you over the edge, his body rigid as he came, his grip on you tight. He panted in your ear, trying to catch his breath.

"You did so good y/n," he murmured, his voice rough.

"Yeah?" you replied, your voice soft and shaky. "You really think so?" You looked at him, your cheeks flushed, your eyes wide and vulnerable.

He leaned in, giving you a deep, deep kiss. It was tender and loving, his lips moving slowly against yours. He held you tight, cradling your face gently in his hands.

"Of course," he whispered when he finally pulled away, his eyes fixed on you. "you were perfect."

You woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun slipping through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. Your body felt heavy, warm from sleep, but something else made you freeze. A weight beside you. Slow, steady breathing.

Your heart pounded.

Heeseung.

The realization hit you all at once.

Carefully, you turned your head, barely daring to move. He was lying next to you, his bare shoulders peeking out from beneath the sheets, his messy hair falling into his face. His features were relaxed, peaceful—so different from the teasing smirks and sharp remarks you were used to.

Heat rushed to your face as last night replayed in your mind. The way his lips felt against yours, the way he touched you like you were the only thing that mattered. The way you had wanted him just as much.

Oh god.

What were you supposed to do now?

Your fingers clutched the blanket, pulling it up higher as if that could somehow shield you from reality. You had never been in this situation before—waking up beside someone like this. Did you get up and leave? Pretend to still be asleep? Say something?

Before you could decide, Heeseung shifted beside you, his breathing changing. A few seconds later, his eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep as they landed on you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, a lazy smirk tugged at his lips. “Morning.”

Your throat felt dry. “Morning.”

A beat of silence.

“You look like you’re about to freak out,” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

“I—I’m not,” you lied, though your stiff posture said otherwise.

Heeseung chuckled, rubbing his eyes before looking at you again, his gaze softer now. “Regretting it?”

You swallowed hard, lips parting, but no words came out. Did you regret it? No. But did you know what to do now? Also no.

Seeing your hesitation, Heeseung sighed, propping himself up on his elbow. “Relax. It’s just me.”

That was the problem. It was him. Heeseung, the guy you never thought you’d fall for, yet somehow had.

“I just…” you hesitated, finally meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what happens now.”

Heeseung studied you for a moment before reaching out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The casual intimacy of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“We do whatever we want,” he said simply. “No pressure.”

No pressure.

You exhaled slowly, nodding. Maybe this didn’t have to be so terrifying.

Heeseung grinned, dropping back onto the pillow. “Good. Now come back here, ‘cause I’m not ready to get up yet.”

You hesitated, but when he tugged you closer, you let yourself relax—just a little—letting the warmth between you melt away the uncertainty.

As Heeseung lay beside you, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the confusion settling in his chest.

He liked you. That much was obvious. The way he looked for you in every crowd, the way his mood instantly lifted whenever you were around, the way he always found himself wanting to call you late at night just to hear your voice.

But how did this happen? How did he, a guy who once lived for parties, hook-ups, and never staying in one place too long, end up here—in bed with someone like you?

You were his complete opposite.

Soft-spoken. Kind. Pure.

The kind of person who spent their time helping others, who believed in soulmates, who didn’t just give their heart away to anyone.

So how the hell did someone like you fall for someone like him?

Heeseung turned his head slightly, watching as you stared at the sheets, lost in your own thoughts. Your fingers fidgeted with the blanket, lips pressed together in that way you always did when you were nervous.

Were you regretting this?

The thought made something twist in his chest.

Because for the first time in his life, Heeseung didn’t want this to be just another night he could forget.

And that scared him.

His whole life, he had avoided anything that tied him down. Commitment, feelings, relationships—it all seemed pointless to him. But now, here you were, tangled up in his sheets, making him question everything.

His gaze drifted down to where your bare shoulder peeked from beneath the blanket. The marks he had left on your skin were still there, proof that last night had been real. Proof that you were his, even if just for a moment.

You shifted slightly, and he tore his eyes away before you could catch him staring.

“…What are you thinking about?” your voice was soft, hesitant.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, running a hand through his messy hair. “Honestly? Trying to figure out how the hell we ended up here.”

You let out a small laugh, but there was uncertainty in your eyes. “Yeah… me too.”

Silence settled between you.

And then, before he could stop himself, Heeseung muttered, “But I do know one thing.”

You looked at him, waiting.

He hesitated, feeling almost stupid for admitting it. But screw it.

“I like you,” he said, voice quieter now. “A lot.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a second, he thought maybe he had said the wrong thing. But then, slowly, your lips curled into the softest smile.

“I like you too, Heeseung.”

And just like that, some of the confusion faded.

Because maybe, even if it didn’t make sense, this—whatever it was between you—was real.

Heeseung never thought he’d say it, but as he lay there beside you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your wrist, the words slipped out before he could even think them through.

“Maybe I’ll stay in Busan.”

You blinked, turning your head to face him, eyes searching his as if you weren’t sure if he was joking.

“You?” you asked, almost in disbelief. “Stay here?”

Heeseung huffed a quiet laugh, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I know. Sounds crazy, right?”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him carefully, waiting for him to continue.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know… I used to hate it here. It was too quiet, too slow, too different from Seoul. I thought I’d lose my mind if I had to stay any longer.”

He turned his head, meeting your gaze.

“But then I met you.”

Your lips parted slightly, but you still didn’t say anything.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “And now… I don’t know. Maybe quiet isn’t so bad. Maybe different isn’t so bad. Maybe—” He hesitated. “Maybe I don’t want to leave anymore.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and for the first time in a long time, Heeseung wasn’t scared of what came next.

Days passed, and something between you and Heeseung settled into place. It wasn’t just fleeting glances or hesitant touches anymore. It was real—comfortable, yet exhilarating in a way neither of you had expected.

Heeseung still missed Seoul sometimes, but not in the same way. The urge to escape had faded. Busan, once dull and suffocating, now felt different. Warmer. Brighter. And he knew it had everything to do with you.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft oranges and purples, you both sat on the beach, side by side. The waves crashed gently, the breeze cool against your skin.

“You ever think about what would’ve happened if we never met?” you asked, hugging your knees to your chest.

Heeseung glanced at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’d probably still be a spoiled asshole waiting to run back to Seoul.”

You laughed softly. “And now?”

Heeseung was quiet for a moment before exhaling through his nose. “Now… I don’t know. But I know I don’t regret staying.”

Your heart swelled at his words. Heeseung wasn’t someone who opened up easily, but the fact that he was here—choosing this, choosing you—meant everything.

He turned to face you fully, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. “You changed things for me,” he admitted. ��I don’t know how, but you did.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes making your breath hitch.

“You changed things for me, too,” you whispered.

Heeseung leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, certain.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a lazy grin on his face. “Guess that means I’m stuck here now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Guess so.”

And for the first time in a long time, Heeseung wasn’t looking for a way out. He was exactly where he wanted to be.

Heeseung had only planned to be in Seoul for a couple of days—just enough time to grab some of his things. But the moment he stepped foot back in the city, something felt off.

It was the same as always—fast, loud, and chaotic. The neon lights of the clubs still flickered, the streets were still packed with people looking for a good time, and his phone buzzed with texts from old friends asking if he was back for good.

A few months ago, he would’ve thrown himself right back into it. He would’ve called up a few people, gotten drunk until the sun rose, and woken up with a headache and no memory of the night before.

But now? He just felt… disconnected.

Walking past the places he used to love—the bars, the high-end restaurants, the luxury stores—he realized something. This had been his whole world, but it didn’t feel like home anymore.

Busan was quiet. Peaceful. Boring, he used to think.

But it had you.

And for some reason, that made all the difference.

Before heading back, he stopped by one of the luxury boutiques he used to frequent. The staff recognized him instantly, greeting him with polished smiles.

“Mr. Lee! It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, barely paying attention as he browsed the shelves.

He didn’t even know what he was looking for at first—just something nice for you. You never asked for anything, which only made him want to give you everything.

After some time, he settled on a delicate gold necklace, a designer handbag, and a few other things. Any other girl he knew would’ve gone crazy for them.

Satisfied, he paid without thinking twice. Money had never been an issue for him.

But you—you were about to prove to him just how different you really were.

When Heeseung finally returned to Busan, he was exhausted from the trip, but instead of going home to rest, he went straight to your place.

He knocked, and a few seconds later, you opened the door, eyes lighting up at the sight of him. “You’re back!”

“Missed me already, baby?” he teased, smirking.

Your face flushed at the nickname, but you rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

He chuckled, stepping inside and handing you a few bags. “Got you something.”

You blinked, looking down at them, then back up at him. “You… got me something?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Just open it.”

You hesitated before peeking inside, pulling out the small jewelry box first. When you flipped it open, a delicate gold necklace shimmered in the light.

“Heeseung…” you breathed, staring at it in disbelief. Then you looked inside the other bags, finding an expensive handbag and a few other luxury accessories.

Your stomach twisted.

“This is… this is too much,” you finally said.

He frowned, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

You set the bags down gently, chewing on your lip. “I mean, these are beautiful, and I really appreciate it, but… I can’t accept them.”

He let out a short laugh, confused. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t need expensive things to be happy,” you said simply, pushing the bags back toward him. “You didn’t have to do this.”

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Any other girl would’ve squealed, thrown their arms around him, maybe posted about it online. But you? You weren’t impressed.

“You really don’t want them?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

You gave him a soft smile. “I just think there are better things to spend money on.”

Heeseung blinked, completely taken aback.

Then, unexpectedly, he started laughing. Not out of mockery, but pure disbelief.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “No, I just don’t think money is everything.”

Heeseung studied you, his amusement slowly fading into something more serious.

He had spent his whole life surrounded by people who only cared about status, wealth, and what he could offer them. People who stuck around when it was convenient.

But you… you weren’t like that.

You weren’t impressed by designer bags or expensive gifts. You weren’t drawn to him for his money.

You just liked him. For him.

And for the first time in his life, he wondered if maybe—just maybe—he had been chasing all the wrong things.

He exhaled, shaking his head with a small smirk. “You’re really something else, Y/n.”

You laughed softly, nudging his arm. “Guess you’ll just have to get used to it.”

Heeseung looked at you—really looked at you.

Maybe he would get used to it.

Maybe he didn’t mind the idea of staying in Busan a little while longer.

A few days had passed since Heeseung returned from Seoul, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you had turned down his gifts so easily.

Most girls he had been with would’ve taken them without a second thought. They would’ve kissed him, called him the best boyfriend ever, maybe even hinted at what else they wanted next.

But you? You looked almost uncomfortable, like you hated the idea of him spending so much on you.

And for some reason, that drove him insane.

Now, as he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, he felt that familiar urge again.

I should call her.

It had become a habit—late-night calls with you, staying up until you were barely keeping your eyes open. A dangerous habit, but one he wasn’t willing to break.

Just as he reached for his phone, a knock at his door made him groan. He was about to ignore it when his grandma’s voice called out.

“Heeseung, dear, someone’s here for you!”

Frowning, he sat up. Who the hell would be here this late?

Dragging himself out of bed, he ran a hand through his messy hair before heading toward the door. And when he opened it, he was surprised to see you.

Holding a plastic bag.

“You… brought ramen again?” Heeseung blinked.

You nodded, looking almost shy. “You didn’t eat yet, right?”

Heeseung stared at you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “You worried about me, princess?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Just take the food, Heeseung.”

“Come inside,” he said, stepping back to let you in.

You hesitated for only a second before walking in, making your way to the kitchen like you had done so many times before.

Heeseung leaned against the counter, watching as you pulled out the ramen packets. You always moved so effortlessly in his house, as if you belonged here.

Shit. That was a dangerous thought.

“Why do you keep bringing me food?” Heeseung asked, crossing his arms.

You paused, then shrugged. “I just… want to make sure you’re eating properly.”

Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re weird, you know that?”

You smiled, unfazed. “I’ve been told.”

As you started boiling the water, Heeseung found himself staring again.

The way the light from the kitchen made your skin glow. The way your fingers worked so delicately, even when handling something as simple as instant ramen.

It wasn’t the first time he thought you looked beautiful. But every time, it hit him like a damn train.

“You’re staring,” you said suddenly, not even looking up.

Heeseung smirked. “You’re just so pretty right now.”

Your cheeks burned. “Heeseung—”

“Seriously.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me wanna stay.”

Your breath hitched.

And just like that, Heeseung knew—

He didn’t just want to stay.

He needed to.

🏷️ @tender-is-the-moon @nithxhoon @gvtdoll @kayjiguki @yagsoobin @nesquikluvr @swytstars @cloud-lyy @m1kkso @isagistar @clandestineself @honestlyatomicpanda @immelissaaa @ikeuwoniee @dearestdreamies @jakessrealwife @lannadray @punchbug9-blog @kittympirty @getoxo @heeseungissm @mheretoreadff @highway-143 @starcandybby @evorlaah

[fandom-go-round]

Realizing They're in Love: Reader x BG3

Warnings: Implied Internal Trauma, Personal Relationship Issues, Gross Stuff like Falling in Love

Astarion:

            He argues with himself for a long time before love comes to mind. It’s bad enough that he’s starting to like you but love? That’s just going to make things even harder. Astarion feels like the more he tries to talk himself out of it, the worse it gets. You corner him after dinner one night and he smiles, turning up the charm. You ignore his nervousness, giving him a simple wooden box. He immediately fills with dread; you want something. Of course you do. He’s not expecting there to be a book inside, the next one in the series he’s reading. You assure him that you don’t want anything in return, giving him a gentle smile before heading to your own tent. His heart thunders in his chest, fingers trailing over the cover. He’s not in love, Astarion tells himself as he goes to start the book. He can’t be but… if he is, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. Not with you.

Gale:

            He’s not against falling in love per say, Gale just isn’t looking. Honestly he’s not. This is more social interaction than he’s had in years and he’s not trying to fuck it up, thank you very much. That doesn’t mean he can’t forget himself, especially when you start asking him questions about magic. Gale loves magic most of all and he only realizes he’s been ranting after twenty minutes. He winces, scolding himself mentally and turns to you. You’re both sitting on the floor of his tent, sipping tea in the early afternoon. He fully anticipates that you’re going to half awake, bored to tears and doing something else. Instead, you’re staring at him with rapt attention, eyes bright and small smile on your face. When he’s silent for too long you ask him to keep going, asking if he’ll keep explaining. Gale is more than happy to continue, something warm in his chest. He hopes that you’ll keep looking at him that way even after he stops talking. And you do.

Halsin:

            Loud barks and hoots draw Halsin’s attention, the druid looking up from his papers. You’re a bit away from camp, Scratch and the owlbear cub playing with you. The three of you are chasing each other and wrestling, the cub slamming into the back of your knees. Halsin watches you go flying before laughing and grabbing the cub as best you can. You half swing him around, Scratch barking as you send his friend flying. The owlbear cub gives a roar, rolling through the grass and you laugh, chasing after the dog now. Halsin can’t help but smile; you’re so kind of everyone around you and he enjoys that you can relax. He hasn’t been ignorant to the feelings developing in his chest, just focusing on different things. The warmth he feels only grows as he watches you and he vows to talk about it. Halsin is sure he recognizes the looks you send him; he just needs to find the right time.  

Karlach:

            She realizes she’s in love after a tough fight. Her blood is still pumping and she wants more enemies to show up so she can have an excuse to go wild. You’re joking around with Wyll on the other side of the battlefield, the warlock turning to say something to you. You offer a smile and begin to hike up the slope and trip. Karlach watches in slow motion as you land hard on your ass, sliding down mud straight into the river. Wyll is frozen on the edge of the bank and she quickly makes he way over, worried that you’re injured. By the time she gets over there, you’re laughing loudly, head thrown all the way back. Her heart skips a beat; you’re covered in blood and mud and all sorts of gunk but all she can see is the right smile on your face. She’s in love.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel doesn’t call it love. It’s admiration, respect for your skills. There are very few people she would follow verses leading herself and she admits that you’re good at it. She also enjoys the sex and that’s always a bonus. The sun is just beginning to go down and you stop on the edge of a cliff to watch. Lae’zel turns to scold you (the group needs to get back to camp) but she’s struck by your figure. You look like a painting, noble and steadfast. Your face is determined but not tense, taking in the sunset. There’s something in your eyes, something softer than she expects and it takes her breath away. She swears to herself and turns away, missing the affectionate look you send her. She’s doesn’t call it love, even if deep, deep down she wishes she could.

Shadowheart:

            Night has finally fallen on a long, long day. Shadowheart is thankful that you’re the one with her on first watch tonight; your silence isn’t looming as she prays and the sound of sharpening blades is soothing. There isn’t the need to fill the silence with noise and it feels calm in a way that’s unfamiliar. Usually she finds the night comfortable but cold, like an winter breeze. You’re like the night but warm, a balm on an open wound. She smiles as she watches you, not looking away when you meet her eyes. You smile and she’s filled with affection, even as her hand throbs. The pain is worth it; you make her feel truly seen.

Wyll:

            You’re crouched by a small cave, voice low and arm outstretched. The group had just finished a fight, a camp overrun with bandits. Wyll scowled to himself, looking over the bodies strewed over the ground. The people had been innocent and he wished he had been faster. Movement catches the corner of his vision and he turns, watching as, slowly, a child comes out of the cave. They’re covered in dirt and blood but you smile and they take you hand. Wyll can’t the stop the soft look from coming onto his face as you begin the check for wounds. The world can be a dark place but you give him hope; it’s more than he deserves.

[astroyongie]

✗♡✗♡ +18 Next Partner Reading ✗♡✗♡

Note: Hey everyone! February is the month of love and for that I have prepared some special readings and also games! We will start this one with this incredible reading! next up with be soft love, which will be the opposite and focused on romanticism <33 Please enjoy!

-> Reading done with: The Magical Erotic Tarot

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-> Take a moment to breathe and focus. Choose the image you feel the most attracted to and enjoy!

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴀᴋᴇ

-> 9 of wands, the chariot, 6 of wands

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: The first thing that strikes me in this reading is the fact that they are obsessed with you in all shapes and forms. They love your lips, your tummy. The way you, speak the way you move. Your future partner will love to show you off to the people yet he keeps things between the two of you quite discreet. They perceive you as someone so soft, so innocent. Might call you "little dove", "my bird", "bunny". You truly are someone they cannot leave without, as they have been manifesting you for longer than you have been.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: There's definitely so much passion in here, and your dynamic has a fun side of two coins. In one moment your partner will be the type to take you everywhere with them, long car rides, soft talks, pillow talks. Them drawing soft patterns in your back while you are relaxing. Yet, they would also not be scared to punish you, push you right into the bed, on your tummy when you are acting like a brat. Spanking your ass if you dare to raise your voice at them. They excel domination and respect and your dynamic would show exactly that.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: A ass person. They won't hide it and their kinks would all be around that. For the dynamic of your intimate sessions there's a lot going on. Body worshiping, spank play, ass dropping, anal, punishment play. but also overstimulation and denial depending on their mood and liking, soft degradation as well. The dynamic in the relationship also shows inside the bedroom. But this person truly would have always their hands one your, as they can't keep it to themselves

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

-> 8 of swords, 2 of wands, the magician

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: They probably desire you much than you desire them, and that's because their need of emotional connection is linked to their physical connection. They perceive you as someone who is seductive, someone who has caught them and now they have no issue out of this relationship, this passion, this desire. They perceive you as someone they need to possess, to own, to keep away from prying eyes. That's how much obsessed they are over you

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: You both actually have a very good dynamic, one that is flirty, teasing despite also being able to be serious when its needed. You would be the type of couple that share food, cook for one another. when you go out to eat, you can rub your feet/leg on them and they would respond. there's so much chemistry, passion and romanticism. there's no secrets, you both are able to speak to one another without hiding things

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: This is all about learning things with each other. There's a possibility that this person will have your virginity and you theirs in most cases. in other cases, it indicates someone with a lot of experience, and they will make are to show you everything they know. Threesomes, exhibitionism, voyeurism, body worship, exchange of roles and kinks related to pushing forward and exploring without boundaries. that's how much comfortable you are with them.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴍᴇɢʀᴀɴᴀᴛᴇ

-> The Lovers, The Knight of swords, The Sun

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: I think they perceive you as the one that will fix their heart, their ego. The one person that they found that will make it all go away and make it feel right. It feels like they would be obsessed with your style, the way you dress and act. they love your chest/breast area as well. For some of you, this person is probably in a relationship but they will leave their partner for you because the chemistry and the attraction toward you is way greater than with who they are currently.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: Okay this dynamic is quite interesting, we have here a partner that is quite dominating in the relationship. the type that will take command on things, that will dictate the relationship and provide for you. It seems like they want the other people know you belong to them, and that they are here for you. It's a dynamic where you are mostly being babied, cared for.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: There's such a good dynamic here, the sex is so hot, so passionate where you feel yourself like the happiest person in there. Some kinks I am able to perceive is hair pulling, whips, voyeurism as well. perhaps some loving missionary, naked skin agaisnt skin smash, because they need to feel you close and there. It's a sex that is truly connected and where you both take care of one another.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰᴏᴜʀ- ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʟᴇꜱ

-> 9 of swords, The Priestess, 10 of pentacles

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: You are someone they finds very broken yet so sensual. They probably have this idea of "I need to fix them" as they see you as a little person who just needs to feel loved. They get protective of you rather quickly in the relationship, they want you close and crave you. They love your scent and your hips/waist. they would always want to have their hands in there

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: The dynamic is beautiful and the way they put you in a pedestal, you have honestly won this one. To them, you are everything, innocent and young, soft and so fragile. They would are for you, while also giving you your independence and the space to make decisions for yourself. You would mostly lead In the relationship. It's a dynamic where you both respect and learn with one another.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: Definitely calls you "kitten" in the bedroom, very "pussy drunk" type of person when it comes to you. they love to strip you naked, have their mouth in your neck and mark you up. They will worship you, kiss your body up and down for their own amusement and pleasure. feed you fruits, buy you the prettiest sets of lace. Mirror sex or like having a mirror in the roof would be also a thing it seems

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜰɪᴠᴇ- ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏꜱᴇꜱ

-> knight of wands, the judgment, 7 of cups

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: Their perception of you is quite interesting Ig I must say. the cards show that they see you as someone they can grow old with, someone they want to adventure in the world with, someone they want to share their life with. They love your voice, your breasts/chest area as well. The type to think you are a precious diamond that can only be polish by their own fingers

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: ah, "ride or die" type of thing it seems. Like I said earlier they are the type of person who want you for life so they have made sure they treat you as the mother/father of their children, like a husband/wife material. This person treats you right, provides to a certain extent but their love for you is priority. they will always defend you, no matter what.

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: there's a lot of riding sex in here, also you against their chest with they use their hands and mouth. Breeding kink, bondage and age play can be things they are into. They love making out before and during the sex, their lips on your as there's thrusts coming in and out. they are quite romantic as well inside the bedroom, slow passionate sex is preferred by them than the rough one.

ᴘɪʟᴇ ꜱɪx- ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴘꜱᴛɪᴄᴋ

-> 3 of swords, page of cups, 10 of swords

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 How Do They Perceive You?: they see you as the person that saved them after a heartbreak. It feels like this person has been wishing for love and a partner after a huge disappointment, and the moment they saw you everything made sense. they are obsessed with you. their hand always on your thigh as they talk to you. they will serenade you because to them, you are someone who deserves all the efforts

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Dynamic: Such a romantic dynamic honestly, this person and you are the type to write hand letters, notes, texts often and leave them around/send them when you least expect them to. They might call you "kitten" in some cases. A dynamic where they would stay up late until you come home, until you need them. the type that is jealous and would try to be around you every time, because there's some trust issues alongside the desire they have for you

ﾒ𝟶ﾒ𝟶 Your Smash Dynamic: mutual masturbation can be a thing inside the bedroom, soft music in the background as well, voyeurism or exhibitionism (the fear of getting caught is what I am sensing). Threesomes can be a thing or like you being attached while your partner smashes someone else (this only in certain cases). there's a lot of make up sex, making your cry during it, forcing yourself to look at your reflection as well. boob play, a intimacy that can so times get a little rough depending on both your energy

[shaybae1114]

Orc x reader

You lived in alittle cottage on the outskirts of town. Many found you to be strange but you had the best fruits and vegetables anyone had tasted so when you came into town to trade and sell the line was never ending. The towns people had practically raised you so your booth was always busy. What you weren't expecting today was the fact an orc had set up a meat stand right next to your produce stand. You had arrived before the sunlight to set up as you always do but froze taking in the sight. An orc, well over 6 ft tall, was standing in front of the stand next to yours hanging up rows of wrapped meat. You swallowed as you watched the way his muscles moved, enjoying the dark green color on his skin. You took in the scars that littered his back. Wishing you could kiss each individual scar. Distracted you hadn't notice the orc had turned his head and notice your stare.

"I paid for this stand I won't leave even if you have an issue with my kind." He snarled snapping you out of your perverse thoughts.

"No! I.. I mean no I don't have a problem with orcs. I just hadn't seen you around before. I'm... I'm  sorry I didn't mean to stare or make you uncomfortable." You stammered out your cheeks turning bright red in embarrassment. You looked him in the eyes finally taking in his features. He had four tusks in total. Two larger than the the others , his eyes a vibrant yellow that reminded you of the sunflowers you grew around your cabin. You were attracted to the orc and had already made him think you where racist, way to go.

"Agar Warbringer." He said holding out his hand.

"Agar thats a wonderful name." You whispered shaking his hand as you told him your name. Agar grunted giving you a curt nod before turning back to his meats.

You left him alone to continue setting up your stand. Little did you know Agar couldn't help but keep stealing peeks at the small little human. You hadn't been afraid and looked him in the eyes. Plus the smell of your arousal had been what caught his attention in the first place. A human female attracted to an orc. There must be something wrong with you. He watched from the side as you set out your produce. Watching the way your hair fell and how often you'd brush it out of your eyes. The way the dawn was starting to shine on your skin so very different from his. Then he thought back to your tiny hand in his. How soft your fingers where compared to his. He could feel his cock hardening at the thought of your hands wrapped around him. Agar cursed silently under his breath focusing on the task at hand. He couldn't sell his meats if he couldn't even control his own.

The bell that signaled the start of the market rang through the air and just as fast,  people started to flood in.  As you helped person after person you kept stealing glances at Agar unable to help yourself. He was so handsome and they way he handled people was incredible. Giving small children some jerky to nibble on while there parents picked through his assorted product. The way he laughed with the elders as they told him their own hunting tales. His patience was vast even with those who didn't deserve it.

"Honestly if I were you I'd ask to move your stand." You jumped looking at the young man standing at the front of your line.

"Excuse me?" You asked shocked at his statement.

"Why would they allow an orc to put up a stand next to yours? Your one of the busiest stands in the market that thing will scare away your buyers with his ugly face." You could feel rage boiling up inside of you. How dare he say something so nasty.

"If that's all for you, I think you should go." You said coldly. The boy looked at you in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you actually care about that orc." He gasped. Shaking his head he scowled and left muttering under his breath. You knew violence was prohibited but you wanted to beat some sense into that child. You quickly stepped behind the stand for a second to calm your nerves. As you started to prepare to head back you turned right into Agar slamming your head into his chest. He quickly grabbed your arms to stop you from falling.

"Are you okay? I saw you kick that man away from your stand." He asked with a wince. Why was he over here? The last thing you probably wanted was him so close. Without thinking since Agar had a hold of both your arms still you rubbed your nose on his chest it had stung to slam into him. As his musky scent started to fill your sense you froze. Quickly pulling back from him your face turning red in embarrassment. You had just practically harassed him.

"I'm fine. Thank you for coming to check up on me. Sorry about your chest. I mean sorry. I'm just gonna go back the lines waiting. Thank you again!" You rushed out the words. Mortified how could things possibly get worse.

As the day continued you stayed busy still stealing glances at Agar every chance you had. Then as usual the bell tolled signaling the end of the market. When you looked over at Agars stand again. The orc was quickly loading his cart not even sparing you a glance as he did. A deep ache settled into your chest. Why was it bothering you? You and Agar had barely meet. You needed to leave him alone. Ignoring the tears burning at your eyes you started to pack up your own stand. Working diligently placing all the produce back into the crates you'd brought them in. So busy you hadn't noticed Agar slid inside to stand behind you. Agar shifted on his heels he had come to help you, wanting to court you in the orc manner, but paused as he could smell your tears. Had that man come back? He'd crush his skull for making you cry. Agar chose to clear his throat to get your attention wishing to bring you comfort. What he wasn't anticipating was the terrified shriek that left your lips. Agar covered his ears stumbling back an slamming his head on one of the beams. He lowered himself to sit on the counter rubbing his large hand over the bump.

"Oh by the gods Agar I'm sorry you scared me." You cried out,  pulling him down to inspect where he hit his head. Swatting his hand away so you could see better. "Luckily your not bleeding." You whispered as you gently ran your fingers thru his hair. His forehead was rested on your breast in this postion. Agar found his eyes sliding closed letting out a soft moan. You started to pull away worried that the sound he made was because of pain. Agar wrapped his arm around your waist resting his chin on your breast.

"It's okay I shouldn't have snuck up on you." Agar had opened his eyes to take you in once again, you looked so worried for him. He found himself smiling at the way you fiddled with his hair while holding eye contact with him. "Little one, what made you cry?" He found himself asking. You shook your head wiping at your eyes. You let out a sigh biting your lip.

"I thought I'd upset you. And that you'd no longer want anything to do with me. You were packing up your cart so quickly." You whispered looking down. Agar groaned in embarrassment.

"I was packing my cart up so quickly because I wanted to come help you. I hoped if I helped you perhaps you'd allow me to spend more time with you." Agar gently grabbed your hands unwillingly lifting his head from your breast. He couldn't help himself but to admire the differences between the two of you.

"You wanted to spend more time with me?" You asked drawing Agars gaze away from your hands. At the look of wonder mixed with delight on your face, Agar found himself moving once more this time pulling you closer to him as he sealed his lips against yours. He spread his thighs tugging you into the space in-between. Placing your hands onto his chest he groaned. He dragged his hand up your arm tangling his thick fingers into your hair as he deepened the kiss. You'd never been kissed like this before it was all fire, passion, and need. You felt as though Agar would never get his fill of you. As you moaned collapsing against him no longer able to hold yourself up on your shaky legs. Agar slid his tongue into your mouth, bringing you into a heated dance of your tongues. As Agar broke the kiss he chuckled at the soft dazed look on your face.

"Your so beautiful and kind. You smell like sunshine and taste like fresh fruit. How could I not want to spend time with you? Let's pack up your cart then we shall go for a stroll." You whined softly as he separated the two of you smiling brightly at your response. He was pleased that you where returning his affection. He had truly believed wooing you wouldn't be possible. Yet here you where looking at him with some much love he kept forgetting how to breath. You approached Agar as he put the last crate into your cart.

  "Are you staying in town?" You asked. Agar look at you shaking his head.

"No the people normally prefer I don't stay in town. I rest in my cart." At his words you shook your head. You knew that humans and the mythical didn't get along but that felt like to much.

"Please Agar, come stay at my cabin. I'll make us a hot meal and you can sleep on an actual bed." You begged softly. Agar look down at you his eyes widened. He found himself nodding at a loss for words, especially when your face lit up in a bright smile upon his agreement. The travel to your cabin didn't take long. You lived in the  forest,  just outside the city walls.

"Why don't you live in town?" Agar asked. Taking in your home. You had paused a sad look settling on your face before you answered.

"Mmm my parents where what the towns people call wise men. My father would say they where historians. They'd take down knowledge of anything and everything they could. When my mother discovered she was pregnant they chose this forest. I've been here ever since." A soft silence once again settled between the two of you. You led the horses to the barn as Agar looked at you.

"How old where you when they left?" Agar asked softly.

"I was six. I really dont like talking about it. The people in town took good care of me helped me be an honest worker." You whispered entering your home Agar close behind. You showed Agar a place to wash up as you cooked dinner.

  You and Agar enjoyed your meal sharing stories. Agar helped you clean up.

"I'll show you to the bedroom." You whispered leading the way down the hall. As you arrived to your bedroom and opened the door Agar blinked.

"This is really well furnished for a spare bedroom." He stated simply sitting down on the foot of the bed. You blushed fiddling with your fingers once more.

"It's my bedroom. I thought.... I thought we could sleep together." Agar smiled you where being so bold and brave.

"Come here little one." He groaned as he pulled you onto his lap. You whinned softly at the feeling of Agars cock pressed against your core. He chuckled at the needy sound lowering his head to kiss you. His hands gripping your ass slowly dragging you along his length.  "You feel that little one. I've been like that all day watching you." He growled lowering his head to travel kisses and small nips with his tusk along your neck. He chuckled once more at the needy sounds leaving your lips. "So desperate love. Acting like I don't have every intention to stuff you full."

"Please Agar more. Want you to take me." You practically sobbed out.  Agar burst out laughing at your antics making you pout.

"I have to prepare you little one I'm much to big for you to take me right away." He layed down flat on the bed. "Take off the rest of your clothes and come up here." At his order, you quickly threw off your gown and undergarments. Once again drawing a chuckle from Agar. He found your eagerness endearing. As you climbed onto his lap he shook his head. "Higher love. I cant feast on you from all the way down there." You looked at him swallowing heavily as he licked his lips and tusks. You made your way up untill your dripping cunt was hovering above his face.

"I what if I hurt you?" You asked holding yourself up. This time it was your turn to laugh. The look on Agars face was a mix between being insulted and bewilderment.

"I want you to try." He growled his hands closing around on your hips pulling you straight onto his face. Making you choke on your laughter as his tusk pressed right against your lips, opening you up for his thick tongue. At the first swipe along your clit you whined. He moaned low pushing his tongue into your opening.  He rubbed his nose against your clit as he tried to touch the deepest parts of you with his tongue. Gasping and trying to pull away from the overwhelming pleasure he snarled in frustration. You where interrupting him, with a quick movement you where moving backwards. Finding yourself flat on the bed his face still buried inbetween your legs.

"Oh by the stars Agar I can't!" You cried out as he now had you fully pinned open to his assault. He was fucking you with his tongue every once in awhile giving special attention to your swollen clit. You continued to try to get away from the immense pleasure. Agar brought one arm up to settle on to your hips right under your stomach. Using his other hand he grabbed your leg moving it so he could slip his hand to your weeping cunt. He slid his ring finger into you. Just his one finger was already stretching you wider then his tongue had. You moaned your back arching. Agar didn't hesitate to add a second you where already so wet for him. Agar slid his fingers deeper, watching as you cum. You were such a sight spread out before him so ready, so willing, and so sensitive. As his fingers pressed against your g-spot you cried out the sensation dragging out your already intense orgasam. He groaned in delight making sure you rode out the high of your orgasm, continuing to fuck you with his fingers.

"Your so sweet little one." He sighed dragging his tongue up your sensitive cunt making you whine.

"I could live in between your legs, but now your ready for me. Catch your breath." His eyes were almost glowing with his need to have you. Agar was patient rubbing slowly circles on your thighs as your breathing slowed.

"Please Agar. I'm ready I want you." At your words, Agar moved pulling you towards him. He grabbed his cock in his hand dragging it along you wet folds. As he lined himself up with your entrance he locked his eyes onto yours. Slowly pushing himself in he gritted his teeth. Slow, he had to go slow, you were so wet and tight. He could fill his control slipping. Another soft moan left your lips. With that soft sound Agar could no longer resist. He pushed himself the rest of the way with a quick rough thrust, his balls smacked against your ass. You let out a loud groan your eyes sliding closed at the feeling of being filled. 

"Oh no mate, your gonna keep those gorgeous eyes on me." Agar growled as he began to move. Your eyes flew open thanks to the way he was kissing your cervix with every thrust. "There's my pretty mate. So lovely so tight around me. Irresistible, I will never let you go."

Your nails where digging into his bicep. The pleasure was overwhelming you. You were getting close to cumming. With out thinking you sank your teeth into his chest. Agar groaned feeling your walls tightening on him. "My pretty girl your begging for my seed. Pulling me back so tight." At Agars next rough thrust you cried out into his chest

Agar roared as he slammed himself all the way into you,  slamming into your cervix as he filled you with his seed. Agar brushed your hair away from your eyes taking in the way your eyes where dilated. How your breast rose and fell with each panting breath. Blinking away your tears you looked back at Agar.

"Did you mean it?" You asked softly. Agar looked at you with a soft tilt of his head.

"Mean what little one?" He asked as he ran his hands along anywhere he could easily reach.

"When you called me your mate?" You whispered hiding your face now afraid his answer would be no. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Agar rather it be in your cabin or traveling by his side. Agar froze at your question he thought he had made that perfectly clear. Pulling his cock back he slid himself back in slowly to your sensitive cunt. Your eyes rolled back at the overwhelming pleasure. Agar leaned down resting his cheek against yours. Setting in a slow steady pace.

"I meant every word. Your mine little one. My mate, my lover, my heart. I'll make sure your always full of my offsprings. I'll make sure all you know is how much your mine." As Agar continued to thrust into you at his words your eyes flew open looking at him. Agar above you his green skin shining with sweat under the lanterns. His yellow eyes were filled with admiration and need.

Agar once again picked up his pace. Making you cry out.

"All yours Agar. Your mate. But please I'm so close. So sensitive." You sobbed out fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Agar groaned at your words sliding his hand under your waist he lifted you up to meet his thrust at his brutal pace. Agar closed his lips over yours Pulling you into a heavy kiss. As he slid his tongue into your mouth. You once again came on his cock. Agar slid all the way into you once more as he came. As Agar pulled out fully this time he watched his cum dripping out of your cunt and down your thighs. Dragging his finger along the cum he started pushing it back into your cunt. He wouldn't allow a drop to be wasted. Your back arched at this rate Agar would be the death of you.

"Agar please I...I need some rest." You stammered out. Agar looked at you letting out a soft grunt. He laid down back flat on the bed easily pulling you onto him. Your head rested on his chest while he had your legs inbeetween his thighs. He started to fiddle with your hair.

"Sleep my heart for once you awaken I will have you again." He stated smiling at you his eyes filled with the same look of love and admiration. Agar had finally found his heart and he would never abandoned her.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - prologue

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 3k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Your mom called you a late bloomer, and even though you always hated the way she said it, so full of pity and condescension, you couldn’t argue that she was wrong. You were a late bloomer, physically and socially. Your whole childhood and into your teen years, you were painfully insecure, so you tended to hide and shy away from situations that would stretch your comfort zone. You had a good childhood growing up on the ritzy side of the island. But nothing ever felt…complete. You always had this nagging feeling that something was missing, or rather, that you were missing something.

Your older sister, Carter, was the exact opposite of you. She knew who she was from the day she could walk. She developed physically years before you did, even though she was only 18-months your senior. In school, Carter was one grade ahead of you. Everyone knew her, and everyone loved her. She played sports, won class president four years in a row, and was the obsession of every boy in every grade. She was the best known girl on the island, and you were best known as Carter’s sister.

All of these things should’ve been reasons for you to resent her, for the two of you to compete and grow a bitter rivalry, but you were best friends from the start. Carter never made you feel left out or left behind, folding you into her friend group from the time you were kids.

Your mom didn’t have to force Carter to invite you to hang out with her friends, it was always Carter’s idea, dragging you to parties and begging you to keep her company, even though you knew she didn’t need it. She would encourage you to put yourself out there, to leave your books at home and jump in on the fun, assuring you that everyone wanted you around just as much as she did. Carter always saw something in you that you didn’t see in yourself.

From middle school on, Carter casually dated just about every guy in your friend group - Topper, Kelce, several others. She never committed, and they were all fine with having her for just a little bit. There was only one boy she never gave the time of day. The one that she knew was off limits, without you ever really having to tell her, it was just understood.

You had been in love with Rafe Cameron since the moment you first saw him. He was a year above you, in Carter’s grade, and his family lived down the road from yours. You met him on the school bus your first day of kindergarten. 

You were so nervous, your mouth going dry as all the kids on the bus looked at you with judging eyes, but Carter just grabbed your hand and pulled you along with her, plopping you into a vinyl seat a few rows from the back. As soon as you sat down, a pair of blue eyes covered by floppy blond bangs popped up over the seat in front of you.

You noticed him right away, eyes wide as his sudden presence startled you, and your cheeks burned bright red for reasons that you didn’t understand yet. The boy didn’t notice your blushing, his attention fully focused on Carter as he reached his hand over the seat and pulled at her braid.

“Quit it, Rafe!” Carter swatted his hand away. 

The boy, Rafe, smiled, a small dimple creasing his cheek. You weren’t sure why, but you wished more than anything that he was smiling at you instead. After bugging Carter a little longer, his gaze finally shifted over to you and your eyes shot down nervously to your lap.

“Who is that?” Rafe blurted out, talking about but not to you.

You looked at Carter in panic, tongue-tied as you tried to stammer out your name, which you were struggling to remember. Carter noticed your look of desperation, you were so shy and she had gotten used to speaking for you.

“That’s my sister,” Carter said with pride. “She goes to school with us now.”

“Oh, hi,” Rafe said, polite but unimpressed.

“H-hi,” you managed to squeak out, tucking your hair behind your ears, which were burning red.

Rafe disappeared back into his seat. Carter looked at you, noticing how you were nervously biting your lip, your go to tick when you were nervous. She folded her hand protectively in yours and didn’t let go until she dropped you off at your kindergarten classroom.

This is how your interactions with Rafe would go for the rest of elementary school, and middle school, too. He’d ignore you most of the time, tossing you a word or a look here or there, and you’d melt into an absolute puddle everytime. Your tendency to blush at everything he did never went away, meaning everyone knew you loved him.

Your crush was common knowledge among your sister’s friends, hell among the whole school, but no one dared mention it or tease you about it, lest they tempt Carter’s wrath. But they knew, and you knew they knew, and you knew he knew. 

As a freshman, you quickly became first in your class, taking sophomore math and science courses. You ended up in the same first and last period as Rafe, who always struggled in school. After a few weeks of chatting during labs and lending Rafe your notes, you actually started to feel like he had become your friend. He played every sport, and you were right there in the bleachers for every game. Sometimes, when he’d make a great play, he’d look at you in the stands and wink, making your whole body blush, feeling like the most special girl in the world. But then, on his next play, he’d wink at another girl or playfully bow to the cheer squad and it’d make you want to die, suddenly invisible again.

“He’s such a douche,” Carter would nudge you with her elbow, trying to downplay the moment because she knew you were crushed.

You dreaded the day Carter would graduate and leave you at this school alone. You weren’t friends with anyone in your own grade, it seemed the year you were born produced more mean girls and fuck boys than the one before it. Carter would tell you the girls in your grade were just jealous that you got to hang out with her class, but you always thought it was more that they didn’t understand you, and people tend to attack what they don’t understand.

Cassie Bryant was the worst of them. She was the Kook princess of your year, as pretty and popular as anyone could be. From early on, she mastered the art of being mean to you in a way that crushed your spirit but looked totally friendly to everyone else. She’d make backhanded comments like “the way you dress is so…interesting” or “you’re lucky you have so much free time to study, I’m way too busy.” 

She was even worse when Rafe was around. It was like Cassie had a radar for when he was finally giving you some attention, and the second you felt comfortable, she’d be there playfully stealing his baseball hat or pouting at him and saying “Rafey, do you have a J?” Then as she pulled him away, she’d laugh at you and say “it’s okay, we know you’re too cool to smoke with us.” No one saw the smug look she’d shoot you as she hung on his arm. You’d try to explain to Rafe why her words hurt you, but he never understood. He’d just shrug and say “that’s just Cassie, she has no filter.” 

At least Carter believed you. 

“Pick-me bitch,” she’d spit as she watched you watch Cassie steal Rafe away yet again.

You and Rafe saw each other every day. You’d tutor him for tests and help with his homework, you were in advanced classes and he had to retake most of his credits. He’d call you “Einstein” and “smarty pants,” always finding a way to address you without actually using your name. You never thought much of it, convincing yourself that his nicknames were coming from a place of affection. When he wasn’t copying your homework or convincing you to stay up after all of your work was done to help him with his, you found other ways to feel needed. You’d bring him lunch from his favorite spot when he got in-school suspension, bake him brownies before his big games, and give him rides to all his practices since his dad took away his truck so often. 

Every afternoon at 4:45, you’d stop by the gas station across from your school and get a Redbull and protein bar for him, and a bag of your favorite candy for yourself. You’d park by the field house, waiting in your car with his snacks for sometimes a half-an-hour before he decided to stop messing around with his friends and head out. When you’d give him his snack, he’d kiss your cheek and say, “thanks, kid.” Even though it wasn’t really meant to be romantic, you lived for those moments when you could pretend you were his girlfriend, smiling at the way the cheerleaders eyed your car judgmentally when you pulled out of the lot with the Rafe Cameron in your passenger seat.

“He’s just using you,” Carter would say when you got home.

“No he’s not,” you’d shrug, “we’re friends.”

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. 

Even if Rafe broke your heart everyday, you were fine with it as long as he put it back together the next with some small gesture that made you hope…maybe someday.

Then, in the spring semester of your junior year, his senior year, you were parked outside the field house like usual after one of his baseball practices. You saw his figure emerge from the brick building, his hair wet and clinging to his forehead. You smiled wildly, your heart fluttering every time you saw him, even after all these years. You got his snacks out and set them on the seat for him, ready for your daily thank you.

But he didn’t head for your car like usual, instead he veered toward the group of cheerleaders gathered on the other side of the lot. You frowned, eyes furrowed as you watched him approach the gaggle of girls. When he reached them, he grabbed one of their hands and pulled her out of the huddle. Your heart sank when you realized who it was.

Cassie giggled as Rafe pulled her toward him, the other girls in the circle laughing and catcalling toward them. Clearly everyone in this parking lot knew something you didn’t.

And then he kissed her. 

Rafe pulled away from the kiss, hands still on Cassie’s waist, and watched with confusion as your car peeled out of the parking lot without him.

You didn’t speak to him the whole next week, but he was completely oblivious to your heartbreak, still texting you as if nothing ever happened. 

Thursday, March 23rd

Hey kid, u coming to my game tomorrow? u know I need my good luck charm Read 11:03 pm

Sunday, March 26th

Babyyyyy in drvnk at top’s pick me upppp? :(  Read 2:17 am

 

Tuesday, March 28th

yo dude u got the hw packet done for precal? I’m screwed for tomorrow Read 9:56 pm

You’d stare at the messages for a long time before shoving your phone in your desk drawer or turning it off all together, but always made sure to open the message so he’d know you read it. 

Then you’d cry yourself to sleep. 

Carter would sit in your bed each night, rubbing your back comfortingly, pissed that she couldn’t do more to save you from this hurt, muttering under her breath about how she was gonna kick his ass.

After only a week of unreturned texts and trying to get your attention at school with no luck, Rafe went silent. You thought you’d make him sweat for a few weeks before forgiving him, enough time to show you he cared that you weren’t speaking, but then he did the exact opposite.

“It’s for the best,” Carter tried to convince you. 

Maybe she was right. After you no longer had Rafe in your life, you threw yourself into your schoolwork. You had always been smart, but now that you were more focused on yourself and not him, you were acing every class, top of the honor roll. 

The gang all went their separate ways after graduation. Rafe to UNC Chapel Hill, Carter to Duke, Topper and Kelce to U of Florida. With your sister and her friends gone, you spent senior year alone, but opened acceptance letter after acceptance letter. Rafe faded slowly from your mind as you dreamt out your future. 

Eventually you got the letter you were waiting for, your dream school. The day before you left the island, you promised yourself you wouldn’t miss out on the college experience the way you missed out in high school. 

Then, hundreds of miles away from home, something miraculous happened. Far from the memories of your lonely childhood and Rafe Cameron, you bloomed. You made friends early on, feeling like you may have finally found your people in academia. You picked up intramural sports, now you were the one scoring goals and spiking balls and waving smugly to all your friends in the stands. You dated, and you dated. Never settling on one guy too long, having too much fun to tie yourself down.

Things just clicked so much easier, no longer living in your sister’s shadow, far enough away from all the shy girl stereotypes to explore and figure out who you were on your own terms. And slowly, all thoughts of Rafe Cameron faded from your mind. You only thought of him when he made cameos in your dreams, the high school nightmare variety - late to class, showing up naked on accident, a test you forgot to study for, and Rafe in the parking lot kissing Cassie Bryant. You’d wake up cursing your subconscious and feel off for about half a day, before your fast paced routine in your new city erased his face from your mind again.

You changed physically, too. Though you didn’t really feel any different, Carter would make comments every time you came home for a holiday or event.

“Damn, bitch,” she’d say, looking you up and down and wolf-whistling. 

“Shut up,” you’d roll your eyes, feigning annoyance when it really made your confidence soar. 

She’s just being a supportive sister, you’d tell yourself, clinging to the same insecurity you’d had your whole life. But she wasn’t the only one, boys noticed you now a way they never used to. You hooked up with enough guys to start to feel comfortable with the attention, but whenever you’d draw eyes at college parties or lecture halls, your cheeks would still go bright red, never quite figuring out how to turn off that particular mannerism.

You were almost done with your third year, a plane ticket to head back to North Carolina for Carter’s graduation already purchased. One night, as she showed you options for her graduation outfit on Facetime, she casually threw out, “some of us from Kildare are going to Miami to celebrate graduation.”

“Oh?” You said, not really listening, going over a term paper with a red pen for the fifth time.

“You should come…” she was nervous, trying to say it casually enough that maybe you might not overthink it and just say yes.

“Wait sorry, come where?” You put down your pen and actually looked at the screen, knowing she hated when you were listening without really listening like this.

“Miami,” she repeated. “A few of us are getting an Airbnb on the beach for a week after finals.”

“Who’s us?” You asked. 

“Oh y’know,” she started listing names of her old friends, a lot more people than you expected, your throat tightening with a social anxiety you hadn’t felt in years at thought of being in a room with that many people from high school. “...Jack, Maddie, Sabrina. Topper and Kelce obviously,” she continued, at least ten names deep, going quiet for a moment before adding “...and Rafe.”

“No.” you said simply, propping the phone back up and returning to your paper.

“Oh, come onnnn,” she whined, not at all surprised by your response. “It’s been four years, and you’re thriving now! You can just pretend he’s not there.”

“Yes, exactly,” you snarked at her. “Just as I’m finally thriving, you want me to spend a week stuck in a house with Rafe Cameron. That makes sense.”

“You and I will hang out on the beach the whole time, we don’t even have to talk to him,” she reasoned. “And he can just sit in the corner and look at your hot body and feel like shit for being such a dick to you in high school.”

You laughed a little despite yourself. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that wished he could see you now. Even though you stayed away from Kildare as much as possible and barely went out when you were home, terrified of running into him, you also dreamt of a time you would see him again. New look, new confidence, new you. 

“Hah! You’re thinking about it aren’t you?” Carter said smugly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Maybe,” you said, turning back to your schoolwork.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” she cheered victoriously.

“Or you can take it as a maybe, which is what it is,” you corrected her.

“Pleaseeee?” She begged. “It’s my graduation trip! And I don’t want to be there without you.”

You sighed deeply, weighing all of the pros and cons as you bit your lip. Carter had always been there for you, and if it was so important to her that you make this trip, it was really the least you could do. Plus, she was going abroad for grad school in just a few weeks, and you knew it would be your last chance to spend time with her for a while.

“Fine…I’ll come,” you finally conceded. 

“Yay!” Carter yelped. “Best trip ever!”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Best trip ever.”

(Chapter 1)

a/n: hi, i'm nat and i've struggled with body image and anxiety my whole life and I have been the victim of countless unrequited loves, particularly in my teen years, though the sting never really goes away. writing this series has been really personal to me so far, and i'm having a great time. I hope you like it. ♡

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[1d1195]

Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

*

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

*

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

*

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. “Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

*

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

*

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

*

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

*

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

*

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

*

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

*

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

*

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

*

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.  

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

*

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. ��Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

*

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

*

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

*

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

*

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

*

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

*

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[janecafe]

getting to know your future spouse (a detailed reading)

1--2--3

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

to book a personal paid reading here

this reading was based on the tarot & oracle cards itself. it not totally foretells the future outcome however everything is yet not set into the stone, the reader is advised to read at their own risk. we still have the rights to make our own dreams and faith. peace!

i will use him or her, she or he as a general point of view of this reading from which is the strongest energy i'm gonna pick up for each pile. regardless of the gender, you can still view or change the pronoun by your preferred gender.

©janecafe 2025

POV: kudos to all hardworking tarot readers out there, it was my first time to read this big pack of energy and i never knew it would drain the hell out of me. it also took me weeks to complete and finished this reading so a big salute! 🍵

sections ⋆

- overall personality, traits & quirks

- physical appearance

- mentality, beliefs or habits

- zodiac signs, letters & relevant numbers

- places and directions

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i. overall personality traits & quirks

he is focusing on himself more onto his financial needs. he is probably busy working on things he needs, despite the doubt, the percentage of faith is higher. i can't totally say, he is afraid to fail but he strongly wants to build stable finances and establish a name on his career.

he is probably someone that is highly respected in his career. someone who maybe abuses power somehow in his job and career. he got the position that is influential, leading or top-level. one of the reasons are- this is his way to protect his bubble, he worked hard for that. it probably took him years to build and achieve that position and life.

however looking on the brighter side, he is detail oriented, career focused, dependable and is willing to work collaboration with his co-workers and teammates. he wants his skills and experiences to contribute to the company for a better and productive work environment. high chances he may also be a business owner and entrepreneur.

i think people have harsh opinions and may have false accusations with your person. as you can see, he exudes a negatively impact from people's perspective.

he also has an obsession over his hair. for him, it must be clean and neat. (came out of nowhere ehihi✌🏻)

this person, is the one that will encourage and support you a lot but it seems like you were just numb enough to think of that, like to think that he likes you at first because you've heard people's opinions towards him that affect on how you look with this person.

you may work with this person, maybe a boss, a mentor or whatsoever it is, but the important recipe here is that they're known to your work and well-experience.

i can say that the connection may start as casual and hostile from the starting months or even years.

he also likes to yell at tv, it was the show he was yelling at as if he was going to be heard.

another description of him is- he is a cold-fish person but also a lone wolf.

signs you can look: feeling charismatic. being more creative than before. new friendships. felt satisfied with your own. a big house celebration. trust issues. desperate to live on your own. desperate to move.

ii. physical appearance

he has an immaculate appearance, even if he wears rags it's an A1 as it is. his hooded pair of eyes fits perfectly to his face. if i were to describe his eyes language it's beady and heavy, it more has sad emotions that describe his entire aura and mood.

as i said, the hair will be neat and clean. it is also thick and soft.

he may have dry and chapped lips. but the teeth are also prominent, maybe there's a gap between his teeth or like a vampire/fang teeth. his height is intimidating, someone who is gifted kinda lofty. (this is how i describe him bcs i am smol ehihi ✌🏻)

let's see what i can get more here. ohh, body yes. it's obvious that it's not attractive enough for most but i think it's healthy and i can't say that his body is very muscular but his chest and stomach is fine. it's not too thin nor fat.

iii. mentality, beliefs or habits

he is a volunteer of a new perspective and trials in life. he is a family-centric person, building a peaceful household is one of his goals and beliefs. i think, it's important for him to choose the right partner.

he is the type of person that won't get immediately in a relationship despite the connection and feelings may build he would likely withdraw or run away from it. it's like he knows himself very well, he knows when he's in love "he gives and risks it all"- so that's his way to avoid the ache feeling. he is knows he's boundaries.

he believes in learning and continues the improvement of every individual. he believes that there is kindness despite people's harsh opinions of him, he can't blame them if that's what they think or perceive him.

he is a thrifty person but is willing to spend money for branded things and important people in his life.

iv. zodiac signs, names, letters & relevant numbers

gale, abigale, francis, francisco, frank, kath, cath, kaye, kate, cecil, cecilia, maria, marian, marie, rich, richard, ed, edward, edwin, eddy, brent, bench, robert, romeo, rob, rock, julie, jillian, julia, julian, james, rey. that's all the names i've got. ✌🏻

6, 37, 28, 10, 19, 12, 88, 22.

scorpio, virgo, sagittarius (2x), aquarius and taurus (3x)

v. places and directions

park, office, lake, grand parents house or old (haunted) house, small town, simply north.

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i. overall personality traits & quirks

she is a carefree person. someone who looks after a bigger picture. i think she knows how to appreciate things, she's just happy whatever life and people treat her. she has a very pure soul. it's like kindness is never a wrong choice, but for her perspective, it's priceless to receive kindness from others as well.

she's too optimistic. she's not that kind of person who bluffs and talks negatively to others. she's not into that negative vibe. she's balanced and mindful when talks.

her intelligence and fair treatment to others is absolutely beautiful.

as well, she loves to inspire others. when she works she's determined and goal-driven. she's loyal to those people who gain her trust, her selflessness shows no personal agenda. if she thinks you are trustworthy then you are worth risking.

i think she has an oily or sweaty face and body. well that's normal though maybe this is one of the reasons why she's always carrying tissues.

she has a deep love for nature, animals and rain.

just another secret to add, she likes to sing but i can say that her voice is good to hear. 😅

ii. physical appearance

okay, with the tower card. if i'm not mistaken, she's tall and this makes her incredible to people's point of view asides from her personality of course.

her eyes had a tinge of freedom and power, on the outer it's large and has a gentle expression.

her side profile and lips are perfectly fine. her overall aura is very zen energy. (jennie song, ehihihi ✌🏻)

i think she has brown skin or may have a dark complexion.

iii. mentality, beliefs or habits

she believes that passion is the one that makes us successful. if you love and enjoy what you are doing you are considered successful from her perspective.

she believes that love comes in the most unexpected way. the type of love that is slow burn- letting the faith unfold its unexpected moments because for her love will leave a big impact on life. those love that's hard to predict, that the divine intervention and power has do it's own timing to find her by grace and truth.

she also has an optimistic mindset.

iv. zodiac signs, names, letters & relevant numbers

names; sophia, susie, jake, jan, john, julie, jennifer, jen. biblical names like david and aaron.

moon and venus. libra(2x), pisces(3x), taurus, aries, cancer (3x)

18, 7, 169, 8888, 48, 9, 4, 25.

v. places and directions

cinema, library, cafe, street, under the table, under the tree, church, lake, underground, balcony, party, cosplay event. a place where most of the weather is scorching hot or summer in simple terms.

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i. overall personality traits & quirks

this is someone who trusts the flow of life. he is not afraid of what comes next even if it does not turn out well. he thinks that conflict, errors and challenges are a normal part of living. he understood of pushing himself through hard for the best because that's how he gets stronger.

he is uncommunicative about his plans and goals that somehow people seem to wonder what life he could have behind those eyes. his voice is all that matters to him.

anyway, he laughs a lot too. if you will personally know this person, you would think that they're the smartest, coolest and most beautiful person you've ever met.

he may have small eye glasses. he is interested in writing, reading and painting one of these might be his daily routine habits.

this person has a deep love and interest in historical places and the supernatural. to simplify, he is interested in the occult but not in black magic especially those called ritual to lure someone. he is not a big fan of that. he thinks love comes in a natural way and in divine timing.

he is not a typical person that gets carried away by his emotions. he is serious about handling his life, perhaps, time is important to him too. he doesn't waste time in a senseless chase.

ii. physical appearance

for his physical appearance, i think he is not into trendy, nice and branded clothing. he is more into casual and plain.

he has a round and cute face shape. there's some prominent detail on his whole body- it can be moles, scar or tattoo.

his hair is short and spiky or curly, it structured his head bone. i also think he has thick eyebrows that compliment his whole face. it was the first one to get noticed by people.

he is mature and old compared to his age, people get shocked knowing his real age because it seems like his appearance is not applying for his age.

overall, he is an attractive person.

iii. mentality, beliefs or habits

i think he's into smoking, lighting a candle or incense he may believe it will bring peace and knock senses.

he believes in organizing and cleaning workspaces because it helps him to determine and focus on work.

he may also be into chewing gum, it's just a habit of him that you can't take away.

iv. zodiac signs, letters & relevant numbers

sun and rising. capricorn (3x), pisces, aries(2x), gemini, scorpio, cancer.

harry, henry jacob benjamin blake juana olivia oliver ava amelia amira akira emile akasha aisha anne ann diane diana summer sophia sophie sai sey atasha, joseph, sky, ryan.

34, 13, 11, 9,5, 20

v. places and directions

cafeteria, school, hotel, casino, bat, beach, zoo, police station, lobby, hallway, south direction.

[enjakey]

This New Version of Me

Pairing: [retired idol!Jake x family friend!reader]!neighbours

Hey guys. Apparently I love writing 24k word fics. It wasn't intentional I swear. Please do read it, I think this is a very nice story (wow what a way to advertise my shit, right?)

Anyways, I think I should mention that maybe this is a anger-triggering story for some fans? It's suggested that after 2027, their contract ends and they disband because they didn't want to continue as idols. And it's suggested that it's because of terrible fans and a harsh industry. So if you have an issue with that, don't read this. This is purely fictional so I hope people can read this by putting their emotions aside. Also I've accepted that I can't write smut for shit. There's just a lot of suggestive shit on her. And maybe mentions of Jake being a bit of a pervert.

Please enjoy guys- like, reblog and comment! I'd love to know your guys' thoughts. I love when people give detailed reviews.

Summary: after most idols retire, they usually have something to fall back upon, some sort of job or hobby waiting for them to return to the layman life. Jake, however, was struggling to find his way. At twenty-seven, he knew it would be a terrible idea to go back to studying, despite his love for physics. So, he dabbled back into the world of music, exploring his talents in song writing and exploiting his contacts for help. While back at his unfamiliar home from his childhood, his family of four living under one roof again, he’s reintroduced to Y/N, the girl next door, who he spent some of his childhood with.

i. where the applause fades

With his head hung low, Jake exited the Brisbane Airport. The entire space was empty, except for himself and the crowd of netizens grouped in front of him, waving and screaming for his attention. Men of the army and police officers held the crowd back with plastic shields and battens. Camera lights flashed in hundreds, his eyes glassing at the flares. He just stood there, defeated and alone in his wallow, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his neck. This was his first time being in front of tabloids and journalists without make-up and a fully styled outfit. He felt bare, naked as the world was going to see him as nothing but himself- no fame attached to his name, no contract with a big music company, no sight of what was to come next.

From a distance, he spotted his brother, Sam, craning his neck over the crowd with a look of pure worry and disappointment- in him or in the public? He couldn’t tell. He hated that it was the first thing he saw in his brother after years. As his chest weighed heavy, Jake bowed down to the tabloids and his fans, arms swinging by his side like weightless bags. Just then, he felt a hand grabbing his bicep- his brother, dragging him away from the ruckus and gripping his lone suitcase as they pushed through insistent bodies. The security guards tried to help the pair of brothers, bodies shielding them from harm but ultimately failing as cameras and microphones pushed through the empty spaces between their arms.

“How does it feel to be back?”

“Jake, one word, please!”

“How are the rest of the members?”

“Is this your brother?”

“Is it true?” Somehow, that was the one question that had Jake looking over his shoulder. “Is it true that you disbanded because you hate your fans?”

He turned away again, letting his brother shove him into his car. Sam threw the flimsy, silver suitcase into the back seat of the car and hurried to turn on the engine. People were slamming the glass of the windows, desperate for his reaction. Jake brought his shoulders together and tried hiding his face under his leather jacket, glasses knocking off his nose in the process. As Sam slammed on the accelerator, Jake bent to reach for his glasses. Neither of them looked back as the running crowd disappeared the further they drove from the airport. For a few moments, they sat in silence, gaze focused on the road in front of them as if it would diffuse the hovering awkwardness.

“Just one suitcase?” That was probably the first thing Sam said to him in person in years.

“Dad said he’d have the rest of my stuff shipped,” Jake grumbled, sulking into his seat and staring out the window.

As he crossed his arms and chewed on his lips, he found his eyes starting to water. He told himself that it was his body getting used to Australia’s sun after not being back for so long. But then he found himself biting back a whimper, chest on the verge of bursting as he held back his hiccups. Then he tried biting his cheek, teeth pressing into the soft muscle, but even that didn’t seem to help. The tremor in his breath betrayed him, a burn in his throat.

He exhaled shakily, finding his vision blurry. The golden afternoon turned into hazy streaks. He willed himself to stop, to push it all down, to pretend that the weight in his chest was nothing more than exhaustion from the long flight. But when he blinked, a single tear slipped past his lashes, trailing warmth down his cheek.

The events of the past month rushed back to him. First, it started with the newspaper headlines, cold and merciless, dissecting his and his band member’s every move, every misstep, every strained interaction between him and the people he once called family. The flood of hate, seeping through screens and whispering in crowded spaces, turning admiration into venom. The uncertainty, the sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if walking away was the right choice or just the only choice left. Then started the fights between his band members and the management, screams and disrespect thrown like daggers in dimly lit rooms, voices hoarse from anger and exhaustion.

At the end came the disbandment. The final press release; the public apologies and the rehearsed words that felt more like a eulogy than a farewell, the goodbyes. He couldn’t tell who was sincere and who was distant- over time, the seven had become great actors, a skill they needed to survive in front of tabloids.

No matter how hard he tried to forget, the past seven years wouldn’t leave him. They were stitched into his skin, echoing in every quiet moment, reminding him that once, he had everything. And now he had nothing but the weight of what used to be.

Sam heard him take a sharp inhale and frantically moved his eyes between the road and his brother. Jake, who had started sobbing into his arm, his nose digging into his jacket and breath halting every few seconds. Tears were streaming down his face, his hair matted onto his skin with a mixture of sweat and stress. He didn’t hear his cry in years- apart from the public breakdown he had over the death of their grandmother.

Swiftly, Sam pulled over to the curb and parked the car. He reached his hand to grip Jake’s forearm, trying to pry his face away from his jacket but he only curled into himself further, bringing his legs up to hug his knees into his chest. It was an ugly sight, for the first thing for him to see after years was his brother’s shattering reality and breaking heart.

“Jake,” he coaxed in a soft whisper. “Jake… Jaeyun, c’mon,” he tried and tugged in the hood of his jacket. Jake didn’t budge.

So, Sam got out of the car and strode over to the other side and opened the door. With an undeniable force, a force that said you have to do what I say because I’m your brother, Sam pulled him out of the car and made him stand in front of him. Jake wasn’t even able to stand- his knees gave out and he slumped into the car, body racking with sobs.

Sam pulled his brother in for a hug, his arms and chest engulfing him in a safe embrace. At first, Jake resisted, his fists pressing weakly against Sam’s chest, a futile attempt to keep himself together. His body was tense, rigid with everything he refused to let spill over. But then, something in him cracked. The fight drained from his limbs, his fingers unclenching as his hands clutched at Sam’s shirt instead, as if anchoring himself to something real, something steady. He let his forehead drop against his brother’s shoulder, eyes squeezing shut, breath shuddering as he exhaled everything he had been holding in.

He couldn’t handle it anymore. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was supposed to handle—what he was meant to endure, what unseen force had decided he was meant to be punished. Was it for leaving? For staying too long? For not fighting harder, or for fighting at all? It felt like no matter what he did, he had lost. Lost his band. Lost his purpose. Lost himself somewhere in the mess of it all. And now, standing in his brother’s embrace, he realized just how exhausted he was of pretending to be fine. His throat tightened, his shoulders shaking slightly. Sam only held him tighter, his warmth steady and unyielding, as if to say you don’t have to hold this alone.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Jake cried. He fisted his brother’s shirt, a desperate attempt to find some grounding in a world he suddenly found so unfamiliar. “What do you mean, it's all gone? What do you mean, I’ll never see them again? Live with them again? Laugh with them again? What do you mean, I won’t ever perform again? Sing again? What do you mean? What does that mean? No way everything we built, everything we suffered through together, just disappears like it was nothing? That the people who knew me better than anyone, the ones who were my family, are suddenly just… gone? That I wake up tomorrow and there’s no rehearsals, no stupid inside jokes, no late-night recordings that turn into early-morning breakdowns? That I don’t belong anywhere anymore?”

Sam rubbed his hand up and down Jake’s back in slow, steady motions, murmuring quiet reassurances, even if he wasn’t sure what to say. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding Jake as his body trembled with the weight of everything he had been holding in. “I know, I know,” Sam whispered, his voice soft, steady, a quiet anchor against the storm raging inside his brother. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

“What do you mean, I have to walk away? Just be okay with it?” Jake continued. “I don’t know what to do without them- I don’t know who I am without them, anymore. I want the last eight years back- take me back, Hyung. Take me back.”

Jake crumbled.

They must have spent close to an hour standing there, in the middle of the road, getting weird looks from pedestrians and other cars driving past. But Sam didn’t care. At that moment, he just wanted his brother to be happy. "You good?" Sam asked, voice low, careful not to break the fragile silence between them. He felt Jake exhale heavily against his shoulder before finally pulling back, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy, his face a mess of tear tracks and exhaustion.

Jake shook his head, voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, "I think I’m done crying for now."

Sam huffed a small, fond chuckle, squeezing Jake’s shoulder before nodding toward the car. "Come on, let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you and we end up on the news."

Jake let out a weak laugh- his first in what felt like forever- as he wiped at his face with his sleeve, taking a slow, shaky breath before finally following Sam to the car. The drive home was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable, just… there. Jake leaned his head against the window, watching the city blur past, his mind still too full, too tangled, but just a little lighter than before. And for now, that was enough.

“I feel like everyone hates me,” he mumbled.

“We don’t hate you,” Sam assured. “If anyone hates you, it’s gonna be Y/N. And that’s only because she hates everyone, so it doesn’t count.”

As soon as Jake stepped through the front door, the familiar scent of home- his mother’s cooking, faint traces of old wood and fabric softener- washed over him. It should have been comforting. But before he could even take it in, a voice from the living room caught his attention.

"In today’s entertainment news, the sudden disbandment of Enhypen-”

The sound cut off in an instant, replaced by the awkward shuffle of movement, the telltale click of a remote being fumbled with, and the kind of silence that felt too forced. Jake’s eyes flickered to the living room, where his parents and Y/N’s family sat stiffly, their faces caught in varying degrees of panic and guilt. And then there was Y/N, sitting closest to the TV, her back still half-turned toward the screen, the remote clutched so tightly in her hands that her knuckles had gone white. He could tell she was trying to play it cool, like nothing had happened, but his thoughts paced back and forth. The disbandment- like it was just another headline, another fleeting story for people to consume and move on from.

Jake stood at the entrance of the living room, the exhaustion in his face making him look older than he was. His body was still slightly tense from hearing the news, but before he could even process the awkward silence that followed, his mother was on him.

"Oh, my baby," Diane, his mother, whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she rushed to wrap her arms around him. "You're finally home." Jake barely had time to react before he was pulled into the warmth of her embrace. His mom smelled the same—lavender and something sweet, like vanilla. The familiarity of it made his chest ache. She squeezed him so tightly it almost hurt, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into it, exhaling deeply against her shoulder.

"Mom," he muttered, his voice hoarse, but she only held him tighter, like she was afraid he'd disappear again.

"I missed you so much," she murmured, running a hand through his hair like she used to when he was younger.

"Diane, let the boy breathe," Rob, his father, chuckled, though there was no mistaking the sadness in his voice. He was next, pulling Jake into a firm hug, his palm pressing against the back of his head like he was grounding him. "Good to have you home, son."

Jake swallowed hard, nodding against his father’s shoulder before pulling away. He interacted with his father the least- a few texts and calls here and there. It was his mother he talked to the most. She would send him long texts and voice notes giving him updates about what’s been happening in everyone’s lives. Jake would respond to her religiously, grateful for how well she took care of him even while miles apart.

“Look at you,” his mom murmured, pulling back to cup his face, searching for his features like she was trying to recognize the boy she had sent off years ago. “Have you been eating enough? You look so tired, sweetheart.”

He let out a breath of something close to a laugh, though it barely had the strength to form. “I’m fine, Mom.”

His eyes flickered across the room, finally landing on Y/N’s parents. They looked kind, familiar- just as he had remembered them to be. "Mr. Y/L/N, Mrs. Y/L/N," he greeted, offering a small smile, trying his best to be polite. It suddenly took a lot of energy to not let his smile falter. "It’s been a while."

"Too long," Mark said, clapping him on the shoulder with a kind smile. "We’re proud of you, kid. No matter what."

Evelyn nodded in agreement, her expression gentle. "We were worried about you."

"I’m okay," Jake lied, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides. He wasn’t sure they believed him, but they nodded anyway, not pushing further.

Then, his gaze landed on Y/N. She was standing near the couch, arms crossed, posture unreadable. The room was dimly lit, but even in the low light, her expression was sharp, her eyes piercing. She hadn’t said a word since he walked in, but she didn’t need to. It was just like her to offer presence instead of words. Her silence was unwavering, a quiet force that had always unsettled him a little when they were younger. Now, after nine years of absence, it was somehow even heavier.

Still, something about seeing her here, standing in his living room, made his chest tighten. Nostalgia, maybe. Or something else entirely.

“Welcome back, Jake,” she said, voice low and so easy to miss if he hadn’t been paying attention.

She cracked him a smile and he could tell the action was unfamiliar to her. It wasn’t that she was deliberate about her demeanour- his presence was simply foreign and understandably so. At the time of his departure, she’s been his neighbour for eight years and known him for seven; interacted with him for five years and had actually been friends with him for two years. They hadn’t spoken since he left, and even before that, their friendship had faded into the background of time. She had been part of his life in varying degrees—first as a neighbor, then an acquaintance, then something like a friend before life inevitably got in the way.

In the long text messages his mother would send him, Y/N was mentioned a considerable amount of times. She told him about the story of how her first boyfriend got her in trouble with her parents and it had become a huge thing- so much so that even she and Rob had to get involved. She told him about how she loved high school and graduated top of her class, how she excelled in her university and graduated with a scholarship. She told him that she was a film and literature geek- he wasn’t sure what her preferences were, but he understood that she was learned, based on what his mother said about her quoting philosophers and artists. Finally, she told him about how Sam helped her get a job in the company that he worked in, the company their father founded. Jake even remembered joking about how this was next level nepotism.

Sam stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He stretched out his arms with a sigh. “Man, that was a long drive.” His voice cut through the tension like a knife, effortlessly lightening the air. He glanced at Y/N, then at Jake, then smirked slightly, though there was no real mischief behind it. “I was telling him on the way here that he’s got a whole welcome party waiting.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We’re not a party.”

“Close enough,” Sam shot back.

Jake watched the pair interact, an unexpected banter between them. He figured, in his absence, the two would become close in some manner. With Sam a staggering nine years older than her, he had somewhat become a mentor to her. There was a quiet understanding between them, one built on shared experiences and, perhaps, the same unshakable support Sam had always offered Jake.

Jake wasn’t sure why that realization unsettled him. Maybe it was because he had been gone long enough for dynamics to shift, for people to form new bonds that didn’t include him. Maybe it was because, once upon a time, Y/N had been a familiar presence in his life, and now she felt like just another part of the home he no longer recognized.

Sam turned to Jake, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You should eat. Mom’s been cooking all day like she’s trying to feed a whole village.”

Jake exhaled slowly, exhaustion catching up to him. “That sounds nice.”

His mother beamed, tugging him toward the dining room. “Then let’s get you something, sweetheart.”

Sam lingered behind, watching as everyone disappeared into the kitchen, their parents fussing over Jake like he was a child returning from war. The room slowly returned to normal conversation, but the weight of the evening still pressed down on them all.

That night, Sam found himself having a hard time sleeping. He had helped Jake into his old bedroom- his old bedroom that had been untouched with the same bedsheets he had when he was fifteen and the soccer ball that he hung on the wall against dark blue paint. He thought he’d have a hard time being back but with the exhaustion that his body had succumbed to, he crashed onto his bed and started snoring before he could even cover himself with the duvet.

Sighing, Sam went downstairs to the kitchen to find himself a cold glass of milk. It was a habit that he never grew out of- only being able to fall asleep after a glass of milk. Jake had the habit, too. He wondered if that changed.

To his surprise, and perhaps dismay, he saw his mother sitting on the dining table with her head held in her hands. She looked scared, confused and maybe even a little sad. Sam circled over to her, pulling out a chair and sitting down beside her. She didn’t lift her head, just sighed deeply, fingers threading through her hair. The kitchen light cast soft shadows across her face, making the exhaustion in her features even more pronounced.

“You should get some sleep,” Sam said quietly, his voice rough from the late hour.

She let out a soft, humorless laugh, “I could say the same to you.”

Sam huffed, glancing down at the marble countertop, “I can’t sleep.”

His mother finally looked up, her eyes glassy, “me neither.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards upstairs.

Then she spoke again, voice hesitating, "is he going to be okay?” Sam leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know,” he paused, then shook his head. “He will be. But not if we leave him to his own thoughts.” She nodded, swallowing hard. “He’s never been good at being alone.” “Exactly,” Sam said. “That’s why we need to keep him busy. Not with work—he’s had enough of that. But just… keep him around people. Keep him moving.” His mother exhaled, rubbing her arms as if warding off a chill, “what do you have in mind?” “Anything,” Sam said. “Dinners, game nights, small outings. Even just sitting with him in silence. He won’t say it, but he needs to feel like he’s not alone. The second he starts feeling like everything’s slipping away, like there’s nothing left for him here, that’s when we lose him.” His mother flinched, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater. “Yeah, you’re right.” “I’m sure everyone will help,” Sam assured her. “We’re here, Y/N and everyone is here… I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

She nodded, knowing that there was no point wallowing over her questions now. She stood up and tucked her chair back in, patting Sam on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, honey. You have work in the morning.”

ii. the art of distraction

Jake's days settled into a fixed timetable.

Every morning, before the sun would rise, Jake and Sam would drive to their neighbourhood gym. Sam was always chatty, breaking the early-morning silence with comments about Jake’s form or rambling about something completely unrelated- work, old high school stories, or how their mom had tried a new recipe and nearly set off the smoke alarm. Jake mostly listened, throwing in a smirk or a sarcastic reply here and there, but for the most part, he let Sam fill the silence. He would just focus on the burn of his muscles- something real, something tangible. It was the one part of his day that didn't require thinking.

Then, Sam would drop him home, always commenting on how he should drive the other car himself before leaving for work with Y/N. He would shower and would come downstairs to find his mother making breakfast. She would be flipping through an old, worn recipe book, even though he knew she wasn’t following it. She never did.

He would grab a knife and roll up his sleeves to help her. Cooking had always been something they did together. When he was younger, he’d stand on a stool beside her, asking endless questions about how flavors worked, why this spice was better than that, why she never measured anything properly. Even when he moved away, he had carried that love for cooking with him. But now, back in this kitchen, surrounded by the warmth of home, it felt different- like a small piece of his old self was still intact.

After breakfast, he would mostly just sit around the living room and keep his mother company. He would catch up on all the films he’d missed or watch one of the many crappy reality tv shows. Sometimes, he’d mess around on the new guitar his father bought him and see if he could get any pleasure out of it- he’d just end up learning how to play one of their old songs and cry to it. His mother had walked into him sobbing on his guitar a handful of times by now, Layla, his dog, whimpering with him at the foot of his leg.

Other times, he’d go on strolls in his neighborhood. The streets felt both familiar and unfamiliar, like a place he should know but didn’t quite belong to anymore. The same jacaranda trees lined the sidewalks, their petals scattering across the pavement just like they had when he was a teenager. The houses stood as they always had, their porches filled with potted plants and old bicycles, but the details had shifted- new fences, different cars in the driveways, fresh coats of paint that made everything feel slightly off.

The corner store where he and Sam used to stop for sodas was gone, replaced by a boutique café with sleek wooden interiors and baristas who didn’t recognize him. He’d sit inside sometimes, nursing a coffee he barely drank, watching people come and go. The world here had moved forward without him, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to catch up or let it pass by.

Some days, he took his skateboard instead, coasting down the streets, feeling the rough pavement under his wheels. It was easier than walking. At least when he was skating, he had something to focus on. Something to keep him moving.

He passed by the Y/L/N's house often, its warm, homey feel still intact. The front door was a deep green now- had it always been? There were wind chimes on the porch, a new set of potted flowers lining the steps. It was the same house, but time had settled into its bones. Just like it had with everything else.

The inside of their house looked different than he had remembered- they must have renovated it. Their garden, which connected to the garden in his house (which it didn’t used to when Jake first left), had towering plants and flowers while his only had grass and a fence. Their walls were lined with pictures- mostly family and group pictures but also many stills of Y/N either smiling at the camera or posing with style. Their house also looked more like an office while his looked more homely- the architecture looked like it belonged in a magazine and the colors they picked definitely weren’t conventional with splashes of orange, white and black. He was told that Y/N’s room, which was on the third floor, looked completely different from the rest of the house but he never got the chance to verify. For lunch, he’d find himself at their house anyway. Everyone, including his parents and brother, would gather around their huge dining table- one he didn’t even remember them having- while Evelyn passed around freshly cooked meals. Lunch was a lively affair, filled with stories and laughter, the air thick with all the moments he had missed over the years. They told him about how Sam nearly ruined Y/N’s graduation ceremony by showing up drunk, swearing he was just “a little tipsy” before tripping over a row of chairs and nearly face-planting in front of the dean. They told him about the time Rob and Mark nearly burned down the Y/L/N's kitchen attempting to cook a “simple” breakfast- Y/N had walked in to find flames licking the stove and two fully grown men panicking with a fire extinguisher. “It wasn’t that bad,” Rob argued, shaking his head. “We handled it.” “We evacuated the house that day,” Y/N deadpanned. Then there was Y/N’s first day at the office, where the employees had tried to surprise her with a welcome cake—only for the whole thing to go spectacularly wrong when her desk collapsed under its own weight. They told him about the neighborhood barbeques, how they became a regular thing- big, boisterous gatherings where half the street would show up, filling the backyard with laughter and the smell of grilled meat. And then there was the Taiwan trip last year, when Y/N somehow got separated from the group in a crowded food street and was eventually found ten minutes later, teary-eyed and clutching a bag of dumplings on the sidewalk. Mark, being a journalist, had even more stories to tell_ wild, absurd, sometimes downright unbelievable tales from his travels, filling Jake’s mind with images of distant cities, bizarre interviews, and once, a near-disastrous encounter with a monkey in Thailand. Jake listened, soaking it all in, the warmth of it settling somewhere deep in his chest. It was strange, hearing about these moments second hand- knowing that life here had kept moving, even when he wasn’t around. One evening, Jake found himself in their backyard with Mark who told him that he’d teach him how to grill on the barbeque. That night, they were set to have a barbeque so an arrangement of raw meats and vegetables were laid out beside them with burgers and hotdog buns. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting an amber glow over the wooden deck and the neatly trimmed lawn. The air smelled of fresh-cut grass, charcoal, and the promise of a good meal. “Alright, Jake,” Mark’s charcoal-covered hands send specs of dust flying in the air as he clasped them together. “First rule of grilling- don’t burn the food.”

Jake grinned at him. “We used to grill a lot, actually,” he admitted. A sense of nostalgia and longing washed over him as he thought back to the time Niki tried his first smore or the first time everyone realised how good a chef Jay was. He remembered how Sunoo would just sit there and wait for his food to be plated and how Sunghoon would tease him for it or how Heeseung was a messy eater.

“Oh, yeah?” Mark looked at him, surprised, and it occurred to Jake that he was probably the last person to watch all the episodes of Enhypen’s variety show. En-O’clock truly had Jake experiencing all the things he would have never experienced before- if it weren’t for the other six, he would have probably been buried six feet under.

“Yeah, I helped out when I could,” Jake nodded with pride. “But honestly, I’d let Jay do the work if he was there,” he realised that throwing out names was probably a bad idea. Expecting Mark to even know the names of these people was too much to even fathom.

But to his surprise, Mark hummed and continued to fan the burning charcoal. “Jay… I think your mom has mentioned him,” she pondered in thought. “She’s mentioned all of them to us- she tells me she keeps in touch with their families, too. I think that’s quite heart warming.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jake cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, tilting his head in surprise. “I think, when we first debuted, she met Jay and Heeseung’s family.”

As Mark started placing skewers of meat on the grill, they heard grass rustling behind them, followed by a string of barks. Layla came bounding into the yard with her tongue flapping in the wind. She ran into Jake and he kneeled to hug her, ruffling her fur and kissing her head. “Hello, Layla. Did you miss me?” He chuckled.

Behind her, Y/N stepped in, looking mildly amused at the scene before her. She had her work bag slung over one shoulder, her hair slightly tousled from the wind, eyes flicking between Mark and Jake at the grill.

"Hey Dad, hey Jake," she sighed in exhaustion, setting her bag down on the patio table. She waddled into her fathers embrace and he kissed her temple. Jake smiled at their interaction. “I forgot we were having a barbeque tonight- makes sense why Diane gave me that top today.”

“A top?” Mark raised a brow in question.

“Yeah, she told me she’d seen a top online that she thought would look really good on me,” she pulled it out of the plastic bag she was holding to reveal a blue and white striped shirt, cropped at the hem and sleeves pre-folded. “She said she’d ordered it a while back and it just came.”

“That’s sweet of her- Diane has good taste,” Mark nodded. “You should go in and show mom. You look exhausted. Maybe take a nap and freshen up before you come back down, sweetheart?”

“In a minute,” she nodded and crouched down to meet Jake’s eye level, her attention going towards Layla. “How are you, Jake?” Her gaze refused to meet him as she scratched Layla’s chin and let her lick her hand.

Over the past few weeks, he realised that he and Y/N never actually conversed alone. It was always during lunch with the entire family around and she would throw a quip or acknowledgement at him. Or it was alone with Mark or Evelyn or Sam or with his parents. It was almost like Y/N had set it up that way, that he would only get to know the crumbs of her life through interactions she had with her family or his family, but never with him. Everything he knew about her was secondhand.

“I’m good,” he pursed his lips.

Before he could ask a follow-up question, she was already leading the conversation. “Rob was telling me that you started thinking about work and stuff.”

“Oh,” his voice trailed. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to talk-”

“No, that’s alright,” Jake stood up and she followed, letting Layla circle around their legs and Mark go back to grilling. “Yeah, I’m not sure if I want to work at his company, though-”

“That’s exactly what I told him,” Y/N crossed her arms. “There’s no point in forcing it.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have anything else in mind?”

“I was thinking, maybe,” he cleared his throat again, feeling his mouth drying up and turning sour. He licked his lips, running a hand through his hair. The conversation was bringing him more stress and anxiety that he liked. But he knew it was high time he started thinking about his future- he couldn’t keep living under two roofs without contributing in some way or the other. “Maybe song writing- I thought I’d reach out to people. I’ve got connection-”

“Song writing?”

Jake was startled by the way her expression contorted. Her brows raised and she tilted her head. He couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or confusion. “Yeah, I wrote a couple songs in the band and people seemed to like it, so-”

“I think that’s a great idea,” she said followed by a nod from Mark. “If you’re confident, then we’ll support you. Right, dad?”

“Yup,” Mark smiled at him.

“Alright,” Y/N clasped her hands together, looking between Layla, Jake and her dad. “So, I’m gonna go take a nap now. Call me when everyone’s here.”

By the end of the barbeque night, Jake was exhausted- mentally exhausted. He hadn’t expected that simply walking around with a beer in hand, making small talk, and reintroducing himself to old neighbors would be so exhausting. His parents led him from group to group like some long-lost son returning home, their pride evident in the way they beamed at him.

It wasn’t long before the recognition started. Some people hesitated before approaching, unsure if they should bring it up, while others were bolder—asking for pictures, throwing casual remarks about his band, even suggesting he play something for them. Each time, he forced a polite smile, shook his head, and laughed it off, but Sam, watching from a distance, could see the telltale signs. The tight grip around his beer can. The stiff nods. The way his jaw clenched just a little harder every time someone mentioned music. He wasn’t just tired. He was simmering, barely keeping it together. He didn’t realise he had to keep up the duty of being a celebrity even after retiring. It was moments like these where he wished Enhypen didn’t do that great- that maybe becoming global idols wasn’t as glamorising as people made it to be- he should know, they resigned because of it.

Most of the night, he was thinking about how much he didn’t know about his family. Or was it families? He didn’t know what to consider Mark, Evelyn and Y/N anymore. His mom was buying Y/N clothes and his father was discussing the future of his career in concern with them. Sam was spending his free time in their house, watching their television- they all had lunch in their house like it was a ritual. Y/N would visit his house first after work before going back to her home- she kissed his mom on the cheek before her own, and looked for Sam in a large crowd before her dad. She spent her mornings in his hall waiting for Sam and Rob to get ready so they could go to work and usually ate his mom’s breakfast. How much was he underestimating how close they were? How much was he distancing himself? He couldn’t tell.

That night, before sleeping, he found himself wandering into the kitchen for a soda. The house was quiet now- he wasn’t used to his house being quiet. It was usually filled with laughter or the buzz of the television, conversations on politics or another stupid topic Y/N was hyperfixating on, the barks of Layla who was now sleeping in her bed in his room.

Funnily enough, he found Sam standing by the fridge with a glass of milk in his hand, the soft glow of his phone screen illuminating his features while he scrolled through an article intently. When he opened the fridge, Sam jolted with surprise at the company. He hadn’t heard him wandering in.

Jake smirked, the light of the fridge casting a glow on his smile. “Still got that weird milk habit, huh?”

“And you still get hungry in the night?” Sam chuckled.

Jake shrugged. “People always tell me it’s unhealthy,” he started, pulling out a can of soda and popping its lid open. “But look at me, I’m shredded,” confidently, he took a sip from the can, a childlike mischief playing on his face.

Sam smiled, watching his brother slowly return to something resembling his old self. It was subtle, almost imperceptible at first- small changes that anyone else might’ve missed. But Sam noticed.

It was in the way Jake had started cracking jokes again, slipping in dry remarks like he used to. The way he joined conversations without needing to be coaxed, adding his own thoughts instead of just nodding along. He still had his quiet moments, still seemed lost in his head sometimes, but there was a shift- like the weight on his shoulders wasn’t as crushing as before.

Tonight, especially, felt different. There was something familiar in the way Jake leaned against the fridge, soda can in hand, relaxed despite the exhaustion clinging to him. Sam knew it would take time- maybe a long time- but at least now, he had hope.

“How was your day?” Sam asked.

“Good, for the most part. Hated that barbeque but I should start getting used to it, I suppose,” he shrugged. “Y/N was asking me about what I wanna do for my career today.”

“What?” Sam laughed. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, she was talking about what dad had said the other day, that I should work with you in the company. But I don’t want that,” he took another sip of his soda. “I told her that maybe I’ll dabble in song writing, composition, shit like that-”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Sam nodded and finished the last of his milk. He moved to wash it, making sure Jake caught the support in his voice.

“That’s exactly what Y/N and Mark said,” Jake mumbled. “I didn’t know you guys talked about me to her- or anyone. I didn’t realise everyone’s that concerned”

Sam didn’t know what to say for a moment. Was he meant to scold him for not realising that obviously his family would be concerned for him? Was he meant to apologize? Was he meant to feel guilty for discussing him? Was he meant to defend himself and everyone that cared about him?

“We worry,” Sam agreed. “And we don’t want to pressure you.”

“Right,” Jake nodded. “But why Y/N? She’s so young, she’s barely getting started-”

“Isn’t she the same age as Jungwon?” Sam pondered. “Wasn’t he your leader?”

It wasn’t until Sam said it that Jake realised the resemblance. Jungwon was strong-willed and while being young, he was still the most responsible and considerate of them all. Jungwon led an entire group while still figuring himself out, just as Y/N navigated a demanding career while proving her worth in a room full of people older than her. They weren’t the loudest or the most assertive, but their quiet confidence commanded respect. They adapted, learned fast, and took responsibility even when they didn’t have to- because that’s just who they were. It was like they were cut from the same cloth.

“Y/N has just always been like this,” Sam continued. “It’s been easy for most of us to talk to her about things in general- work, family, life. She’s the most unbiased. So her judgement usually isn’t cloudy.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “In the company, after me, everyone expects her to take over.”

“You’re joking,” Jake quipped.

“She’s got the sharpest instincts in the room. You’d think she’s too young, but she carries herself like she’s been doing this for decades,” Sam said with pride.

“I can’t lie,” Jake finished his soda and threw it in the trash. “I see it.” It was in her mannerisms, the way she deadpanned and quipped at everyone, looked out for him when she didn’t have to, worried about him along with his parents. Jake saw it, he saw how strong-headed she was.

“And also, to be honest. Maybe there’s some bias involved,” Sam admitted. “She’s like the daughter mom and dad never had.”

“Oh,” Jake said.

“And think about it. You and I are like the sons Mark and Evelyn never had. So, yeah, I guess we’re like one big family. We’re all gonna look out for each other.”

You and I. Me. Jake was part of the equation- he always was.

iii. safety nets- distractions

Sam had always been the kind of older brother every kid wished for. Seven years older, he was more than just a sibling- he was Jake’s first best friend, his coach, his protector. It wasn’t like their parents were absent or lacking in any way, but with the age gap between them, Sam had naturally taken on the role of looking out for Jake. He made sure Jake never felt lonely, never felt like the little brother who was too young to tag along.

When Jake was a kid, Sam would spend entire afternoons with him in the backyard, coaching him through soccer drills like he was training a professional player instead of a scrawny seven-year-old who could barely kick straight. Sam never got frustrated, never told him to give up- he’d just laugh, ruffle Jake’s hair, and say, “Try again, little man.” And Jake would, every single time, because if Sam believed he could do it, then he had to at least try.

Even when Sam got older, when he had his own friends, his own responsibilities, he never stopped making time for Jake. It wasn’t forced—it never felt like an obligation. Sam just showed up. If Jake had homework he was struggling with, Sam would sit next to him at the kitchen table, breaking down math problems like it was the easiest thing in the world. If Jake needed a partner for a science project, Sam would make a mess of their living room building whatever ridiculous contraption Jake had dreamed up. And if Jake was having a rough day, Sam just knew. He wouldn’t ask too many questions; he’d just hand him a controller and say, “One round of FIFA, loser. Don’t cry when I win.”

School trips were something else entirely. When Jake was in middle school and parents were required to chaperone, it was Sam who showed up instead. He was already in college by then, but he never acted like it was a hassle. He’d lean against the classroom doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face, and suddenly every girl in Jake’s class was whispering and giggling behind their hands. “Oh my god, is that your brother?” they’d ask, eyes wide, and Jake, half-annoyed but mostly proud, would groan and mutter, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Sam never made a big deal out of it, but he always made sure Jake had fun. Whether it was guiding their group through a museum or sitting with Jake at lunch so he wouldn’t have to awkwardly find a spot, Sam had this way of making things easy. And for Jake, who had spent his whole childhood looking up to his older brother, that meant everything.

Even now, after all these years, after everything Jake had gone through, Sam was still showing up. Still watching out for him, just like he always had. So when Jake realised Sam had the entire family looking out for him and keeping his empty space occupied, he wasn’t surprised, just grateful. They had woven a silent but careful web of distractions around him, filling every gap in his day with something, anything, so he never had to sit alone with his thoughts for too long. It was subtle, never suffocating, but now that Jake thought about it, he realized just how much effort had gone into keeping him occupied.

His mom made sure he spent time in the kitchen, roping him into preparing meals like he used to, subtly reminding him of the simple joys of cooking. His dad and Mark invited him to his workshop, handing him tools and asking for help with fixing things that probably didn’t even need fixing. Evelyn would constantly ask him to set the table or carry their groceries in, making sure it was mundane enough to not raise his suspicions, to make him feel useless. Sam dragged him to the gym with him in the mornings, making it seem like an impromptu decision every time but never once letting Jake refuse. When dragging him to malls or the theatre, he’d bring Y/N along with them, pitching new movies they could watch or propose to go to the arcade.

“You’re pushing forty,” Y/N would say every time.

“I’m not even thirty-five, yet,” Sam would respond every time.

Y/N was rather the silent one. Jake knew, from whatever Sam had told him, that she cared about him. She could pretend like she forgot him, didn’t like him, was obligated to him, but he still knew she cared. She wasn’t the type to do things or ask questions to people she didn’t care about. Everyday, without a doubt, she would ask him how his day was and if he did anything worthwhile. She would run past his room every morning to greet him, brought him a cup of coffee- his favourite, mocha latte- after work and by the end of the day, she would tell him, without fail, to sleep well. It was become a routine, predictable. And Jake didn’t know if he was allowed to find comfort in that.

She even started approaching him more often. He could be with Sam or he could be alone but she would approach him and tell him about her day- how Sam annoyed her a little more than usual or how her favourite barista in the coffee shop she visited regularly had been fired. She would tell him about how Diane and Evelyn often conference called her while she was at work, hoping to catch up with her but their timings were so bad that they’d always call her while she was in a meeting and she’d always get in trouble. She told him about how when she first started work, she used to spend longer working hours stretching into the night and how Rob used to scold her for it.

“I keep thinking I need to prove myself when I fail to realise that I already have.”

Somewhere, somehow, she became the easiest distraction. Most of the time, she didn’t even have to speak. Y/N never even liked speaking to fill the silence. She never tiptoed around him or treated him like he was fragile. If she wanted an answer, she would ask him. If she wanted to go on a walk, she invited him. If she had to run an errand, she’d drag him and Sam along. Sometimes, she didn’t even say anything- she’d just hand him a cup of coffee, sit down next to him, and that was that. No questions, no expectations. Just quiet company.

Y/N’s life wasn’t a construct of secondhand interactions anymore to him- she was starting to become clearer and clearer in his head.

That afternoon, Y/N’s words about wanting to prove herself rang in his head, repeating like a broken tape recorder while he sat on his bed, guitar in his hand. A pile of crumpled sheet music was strewn across the room, a notebook with crossed out lyrics sitting in front of him. Frustrated, he started playing his guitar, trying to find a new melody. She continued in soft, uncertain strums that didn’t quite fit together , like puzzle pieces forced into the wrong places. He played them over and over again, fingers ghosting over the strings, brow furrowed in frustration. The words were harder. Every line he wrote felt hollow, every phrase too forced, too distant from what he actually wanted to say.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before flipping through the notebook again. The scratched-out lyrics stared back at him, taunting. Maybe he was trying too hard. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. How did he do this so effortlessly during Enhypen?

“Sounds great.”

Startled, Jake flung his head around to find Y/N leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed and a grin gracing her lips. She looked like she’d just woken up, hair in messy curls and her frame still dressed in pyjamas. They had a holiday at work, so he figured she must have slept in. Sam didn’t even wake him up for gym that morning- he went alone.

“No,” Jake shook his head. “It’s horrible,” he buried his face in his palms out of defeat. “I’m so done,” he grumbled.

“Can I help?” She sauntered into his room and he was suddenly aware of how messy it was. Jake was usually the clean type. He liked making his bed every morning. Folding his laundry and vacuuming his floors were something he loved doing during Enhypen, especially because he was roommates with Niki for a better half of their run together. But now that he was home, he had a habit of slacking and pushing everything to the last minute. It probably wasn’t a good idea.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, glancing at the pile of discarded sheet music on the floor. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore.”

Y/N didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she wandered around his room, stepping over balled-up pages and pausing by his desk. She picked up a crumpled sheet, smoothing it out before reading the half-formed lyrics. Jake watched her carefully, waiting for her to laugh or make some sarcastic remark. But she didn’t. She just hummed under her breath, tilting her head slightly like she was piecing something together.

“This isn’t bad,” she finally said, tapping her fingers against the paper.

Jake scoffed. “That’s generous.”

She ignored him, walking over to his bed and plopping down without a care. “What’s it about?”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the neck of his guitar. “I don’t know yet. I thought I did when I started writing, but now…” He exhaled sharply. “Now, it’s just a bunch of words that don’t make sense together.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then maybe that’s the problem.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “You’re trying to write something without knowing what you want to say. It’s like…” She paused, thinking. “It’s like setting out on a journey without a destination. No wonder you’re going in circles.”

Jake stared at her. He stared at the way she sulked into his headboard, her matting down on her neck. He stared at the way she didn’t think the way they were sitting was odd, with his hand only a breath away from hers, their knees on the verge of touching if either of them moved. Y/N stared back at him, unbeknownst to what was going on in his head. Sam had told him that when they were younger, after Jake had gone off to become a trainee, Y/N had fallen asleep in his room a plethora of times. She would say his room had better ventilation, that his mattress was softer and hers was old and musty. Back then, Sam and the parents thought she just didn’t like being away from Sam because she’d grown attached to him by then. Seeing her now, leaning against his bed like it was her most natural reaction, made him wonder how often she slept over.

Y/N might not tiptoe around him anymore, but he still did.

“You’re right,” Jake swallowed, gulping down his thoughts. “I’m tired.”

Y/N got up from his bed, making her way out. He wasn’t sure what else he expected her to say, just grateful that she said anything in the first place. Was he allowed to expect more from her? The girl he abandoned all those years ago to chase his idol dreams? Was he even allowed to expect things from her? He realised he never really asked, never really apologised.

“Have you eaten yet? Your dad’s calling you down for breakfast.”

Later in the day, while the sun stood at its highest point, Jake found himself crossing their garden to enter the Y/L/N’s house. He was wearing one of his better outfits- a pair black layered baggy jeans, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket to match. With a cap on his head, he sauntered into their house with his hands shoved into his pockets. Upon entering, he saw Evelyn sitting on the couch with her laptop, typing away at whatever work she had to complete. Mark and Y/N were nowhere to be found.

“Hey, aunty,” he chirped.

“Oh, Jake!” Evelyn exclaimed, surprised to find him standing in front of her. “I didn’t even notice you,” she smiled, removing her glasses.

“Sorry,” he scratched the back of her neck. “Um, where is everyone?”

“Oh Mark and your dad went out for a drink, if i’m not wrong,” Jake hummed. “Y/N is upstairs, I think. You can go check. You’re going for a movie right now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Sam’s waiting for her,” Jake pointed a thumb behind his shoulder as though Sam would suddenly appear. He was still sitting on the couch, surfing through television broadcasts with a lazy hand. “He sent me to get her.”

“She must be in her room, honey. Third floor.”

Shyly, he walked up the stairs, feeling Evelyn’s gaze on him until he disappeared up the corner. Jake wasn’t sure why he felt awkward about wandering their house alone. He’d done this multiple times already over the past few weeks and when he was a child- but, granted, their house hadn’t been renovated by then. It was, however, his first time seeing Y/N’s room. Sam had told him stories about her room- yes, stories; not descriptions- like it was mythical. He said her room looked like it came out of Pinterest, perfectly decorated with just the right amount of furniture and trinkets on her walls. He told him about the huge mirror that stood on one of the walls facing the balcony and how it was impossible to take a bad picture in it. He himself had only been inside a handful of times and one of those times included accidentally falling asleep on her bed. He told him that it felt like sleeping on a bag of clouds and swan feather- Jake told him to stop exaggerating. When Y/N found out he slept on her bed, she didn’t speak to him for a whole day. She hated people being in her room.

When he reached the third floor, Jake hesitated. He looked down the hallway and he just knew the door to the right was her room. He didn’t need to check or ask. It exhumed a calling towards him- Jake almost laughed to himself.

Taking a breath, he knocked on her door once. Then twice, and then a third time. He didn’t hear an answer. He frowned and shifted on his feet, wondering what to do next. It couldn’t hurt to just walk in, right?

Cautiously, he turned the knob and cracked the door open, expecting to find her asleep or listening to music on noise cancelling headphones. But he didn’t. Her room was empty but warm, lived-in, but meticulously put together. The sunlight streaming in through the glass wall illuminated the soft, neutral tones of the space- creamy whites, muted beiges, and the occasional deep green from potted plants scattered near in the balcony.

A large, unmade reading chair sat in the corner by a low bookshelf overflowing with books, some stacked haphazardly, others lined neatly. A small lamp with a warm golden glow rested atop it, its light currently off, but Jake could picture her curled up there at night, reading with a cup of tea in hand.

The walls weren’t cluttered but were far from empty. Polaroids were pinned above her desk, some curling at the edges, capturing frozen moments of laughter, travels, and blurry candids of people he recognized- Sam, Mark, Evelyn, his parents. There were a few framed prints scattered among them- ocean waves, constellations, and delicate ink sketches of marine creatures and pictures of her friends, wide smiles pointing at the camera.

The infamous mirror Sam had mentioned stood tall against the opposite wall, its frame sleek, pink and simple, catching the golden sunlight at just the right angle. The bed beside it was neatly made, adorned with soft linen sheets and an assortment of pillows in varying sizes and textures and stuffed toys, one of a shark and another of a dragon. A folded throw blanket was draped over the edge, looking inviting but untouched.

Her desk, however, was the only thing that looked truly used. Papers were stacked unevenly, a notebook left open to a page filled with scribbled notes, and a coffee mug- half full- rested dangerously close to the edge. A pair of reading glasses sat beside it, as if she had just been there moments ago.

Jake took a step inside, his gaze drifting toward the open balcony door, where sheer white curtains swayed lightly in the breeze. It smelled like her- vanilla, salt air, and something distinctly familiar yet hard to place.

Unashamed, Jake took a picture of himself through her mirror to find that Sam was right- it wasn’t possible to take a bad picture in it. It captured the lighting perfectly. Then, he let his fingers dust through the books on her shelf- some that looked brand new and others that looked mangled and lived in, a lone spiderman comic amongst them. Curiously, he opened a book titled “An Apprenticeship or The Book of Pleasures,” flipping through it to find sticky notes, annotations and doodles. It was a thin book but it seemed to be her favourite.

As Jake’s eyes roamed the room, they landed on a partially open door tucked beside the bookshelf. It was subtle, almost blending into the wall, but its presence felt deliberate. Curious, he took a few steps closer, pushing it open further to reveal a spacious dressing room. The sound of a running shower filled the air and he realised she must have been taking a shower.

The soft scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of fabric softener. Shelves lined the walls, holding neatly folded sweaters, carefully arranged shoes, and a row of coats hanging in perfect order. A sleek dresser stood against the far side, a small jewelry stand resting on top, glinting under the warm overhead light.

It felt personal, almost too personal, and for a brief moment, he considered stepping back. But something about the space- about Y/N herself- made it impossible to ignore the quiet attention to detail, the way everything seemed placed with intention.

When he turned around, he spotted how the bathroom door was left cracked open. He didn’t mean to notice it- he almost felt guilty when he realised what his eyes landed on. But somehow, as sheer curiosity took over to him, he found himself stepping closer to the bathroom door. Through the crack, he could see the green tiles and white paint in her bathroom and a rectangular mirror that hung above the basin. In the mirror, he saw Y/N’s reflection, face calm and unmoving as she lathered soap onto her naked arms. In that moment, Jake should have ran- abort and pretend like he never saw anything.

But he couldn’t move.

His feet planted onto the ground and his eyes continued to roam, his hand clutched the center of his shirt as though he wanted to reach for his heart. He could see the perk of her nipples, the valley of her breasts and her curve of her waist- her waist that he was sure he could wrap his hands around in perfect harmony. Then, his eyes moved to her mouth- her mouth that was singing something, her lips wrapping around the lyrics of a song he couldn’t hear while she rinsed off soap with a handshower.

Jake should have left by now- he could hear his heart telling him to leave, screaming to him that this wasn’t right, that he’d seen too much already. But then his dick twitched and he didn’t know what to do anymore. He simply stood there, watching her shower and sing, her hair wet and reaching the curve of her ass, hands touching herself as the water glided down her body.

But perhaps it was when he saw her reaching the handshower between her legs that his conscience snapped back. He turned away, launching himself back into her room as quietly as he could. He left her room and ran back down the stairs, his heart pounding in his ears as though he had done something criminal- it might as well have.

He saw Y/N naked.

Y/N. Naked.

He knew about five people that would beat him to pulp if they found out he was peeping like some sort of creep. He felt creepy- he felt icky… but somehow, he didn’t feel guilty. Scared, petrified, confused at how his body was reacting, icky, disgusted even. But not guilty. So much so that he knew that night, he would end up fisting himself at the thought of her and her naked on top of him, doing all the filthy things one could imagine.

“Is Y/N not there?” Evelyn asked when he stumbled down the stairs, a dazed look on his face. She was still on the couch, doing work, her glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose.

“Um, she’s showering,” he stumbled on his words, biting his lips, then his cheek. He looked everywhere but at Evelyn, Y/N’s mother, unable to get the thoughts of her slapping him if she found out what he just saw.

“Are you going to be late for the film?”

“Oh, no, we have plenty of time,” he assured, swinging his arms around aimlessly and tapping his foot.

“Then just wait for her honey, I’m sure she won't take long.”

And he did wait for her, sitting beside Evalyn on the couch with his hands clasped on his lap, innocently scrolling through his phone while all the ocean’s waves crashed in his chest. He received a message from Sam, asking what was taking so long, but Jake didn’t reply. He was too stunned to reply, to sit there and tell him that she was showering and that he’d seen her in her shower, naked and sexy with water dripping all over her.

“Is she still not down?” Evelyn’s disappointed sigh brought Jake back to reality. He could hear her tutting, reaching for her phone, presumably to call Y/N. “It says her phone is busy. Do you mind going up and checking again, Jake?”

Hesitantly, tentatively, Jake made his way to her room again. He stood in front of her door and stared, her brown, wooden door that taunted him and ridiculed him and shamed him- he willed himself to try and forget, to move on and pretend like it never happened.

He knocked. And he heard her voice.

“Mom? I’m on the phone, could you give me a minute?” He heard her yell.

Jake gulped. “It’s Jake.”

“Oh, sorry, come in!”

So Jake opened her door for the second time, this time finding her sitting on the edge of her bed in her pajamas, her damp hair falling down her back in subtle waves. She held her phone to her ear, mumbling something to her friend before hanging up. Jake stood at the entrance, his hands awkwardly hanging on his side. He just stood there and stared and Y/N must have caught on to his off behaviour and titled her head.

“Everything ok?”

Jake opened his mouth before his brain formed words to speak. When he realised, he closed his mouth again, raising a finger instinctively to figure out what to say. Suddenly, his tongue felt too big to fit in his mouth.

“Movie?”

“Oh, right, I forgot!” Y/N jumped out of her bed and made her way back to her dressing room. “I’m so sorry, give me a minute to change and I’ll be right down.”

Relief- and disappointment but Jake wouldn’t let himself admit it- was the only thing he felt when the movie ended and he, Sam and Y/N were working their way down the mall and into the parking lot. He could hear Y/N rambling about the philosophies and cinematography that the movie held and normally, Jake would have things to say about it too. But he stayed silent, looking around the mall and focusing on the kids running around with chocolate in their hands and the couples that wandered around the shops and boutiques.

The whole drive back, all he could think about was Y/N- the way he could feel the heat radiating between them when she absentmindedly sat beside him in the theatre, how their hands would brush against each others while reaching for the popcorn or how they’re feet kicked together whenever they laughed at a scene in the film.

It was nothing, really. Just small, meaningless touches. Accidental. Unintentional. But then why did it linger? Why was he still thinking about it, even now, watching the headlights of passing cars blur into streaks?

He glanced at her in the passenger seat, illuminated by the faint glow of the dashboard. She was scrolling through her phone, completely unaware of the hurricane in his head.

He exhaled slowly, turning his gaze back to the window.

This was stupid.

But for the first time, he wondered what it would be like if it wasn’t.

iv. i can be your batman, you be robin

Unexpectedly, one evening, just as he was about to fall asleep, he received a phone call. On his screen flashed the names of people he once felt the most familiar around, ones that once made up his entire world- Jay. Heeseung. Sunoo. Niki. Sunghoon. Jungwon.

His heart clenched. It had been a while. Too long. His thumb rushed to accept the call and suddenly, the once-familiar faces filled his screen. The room was instantly flooded with overlapping voices, laughter, and exclamations.

“Jake Hyung!” He heard Jungwon screaming, his bunny-lime smile filling his screen. “Did we wake you?”

“Watch him fall back asleep, he’s always the first to sleep,” Sunoo laughed with a hand on his mouth.

“No, no. This is… this is good,” Jake chuckled and rubbed his eyes. “Hey… I’ve missed you guys.”

Jungwon grinned. “We figured we should all check in. It’s been a while, huh?”

“Too long,” Heeseung nodded. “It’s weird not seeing you guys every day.”

“We used to be in each other’s faces twenty-four seven,” Niki chimed in. “Now my mom complains that I sleep too much.”

“Same,” Sunghoon said. “My sister actually told me I’m annoying.”

They talked over each other, voices colliding in a chaotic but comforting mess. Someone was complaining about their younger sibling, someone else was recalling an old inside joke, and before long, they were all laughing- loud, raw, unfiltered laughter. The kind that tightened his chest but made it feel lighter at the same time.

They reminisced about late-night practices, the exhaustion that only they could understand, the little traditions they had before going on stage. They talked about their families, about adjusting to life outside the limelight. Everyone had found their way home, but that didn’t mean they didn’t miss what they had.

“Remember that one time we got locked out of the dorm?” Niki suddenly said, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Oh god,” Jay groaned. “Not this story again.”

“No, no, let him tell it,” Jungwon grinned.

Niki leaned forward dramatically. “So, picture this: we just finished practice at like, 2 AM, right? We get to the dorm, and guess what? No keys. No phone. No manager to save us. And it’s freezing.”

“I remember Sunoo was about to cry,” Sunghoon smirked.

“I was not!” Sunoo shot back, scandalized. “I was just- mildly concerned for my well-being.”

“Sure,” Heeseung drawled. “Anyway, we had to sleep in the practice room that night, right? I think I used Sunghoon as a pillow.”

“Worst sleep of my life,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

“Best sleep of mine,” Heeseung grinned.

Jake listened, letting their voices wash over him. He laughed along, but there was an ache in his chest, subtle but persistent. They were all home now, living different lives, adjusting to the quiet after years of chaos. But no matter how good things were, no matter how much they pretended, there was still a part of them that missed it. Missed each other.

“We really went through it, huh?” Jungwon mused after a moment, his tone softer now.

“Yeah,” Jake murmured, shifting against his pillows. His voice held something else, something unsaid.

Silence stretched for a second, not awkward, just… heavy. They all felt it.

Jay was the first to break it. “So, Jake. What have you been up to?”

Jake ruffled his bangs and mulled over the question for a minute. What was he doing? Passing his days with the aim of starting another day the same way? Letting his family members take care of him like he was still a broken child? Writing unworthy music in hopes of making a career? He was too embarrassed to even say, especially when everyone else seemed to have so much going on.

Sunghoon had started training children in ice skating and with his background, companies were flocking for him to be their employee and even raised his salary by threefold. Jay was working in his dad’s travel company like he was always meant to. Jungwon took up karate again and was hoping to partake in championships. Niki started working in a dance company with his sisters. Sunoo was looking to tie up with cosmetics brands and hopefully create a line of vitamins and skin-care. Heeseung found a job as a music teacher in a local high school and he said working with passionate students was more fulfilling than he had expected.

“Just with family, at the moment,” he admitted. “Seeing if I can write any music to send to labels.”

“That’s great, man!” Heeseung chirped. “I knew you’d get into something like this.”

“Yeah, he bet on it,” Niki laughed.

Jake chuckled. “Yeah, I hope it goes well.”

“How’s the family?” Sunghoon chirped.

“They’re all well. They’re great,” Jake nodded. “My family and my neighbours' family are really taking care of me.”

“Neighbour? Oh, Y/N’s family?”

To be honest, Jake barely mentioned Y/N to them. He was surprised when they even remembered. There were times in the night when he’d remember her existence and stalk her instagram to find recent posts of hers. He watched her grow up to be the woman she was through her instagram posts and through the group pictures and selfies his mother would send him. He showed them what she looked like once through a selfie his mom and her had taken. She was probably only seventeen at the time and he remembered everyone calling her cute and moving on.

“Yeah, her,” Jake said. “I’ve been getting close to her and my brother again, so that’s good. We spend a lot of time together.”

“That’s good, Hyung,” Sunoo said. “I’ve been getting in touch with my old friends, too.”

“It’s good to have family around at this time. I’m glad, Jake,” Jay said.

The call stretched on for longer than expected. No one seemed in a hurry to hang up, even as yawns slipped in between conversations and the glow of their screens cast soft shadows on their tired faces. They were scattered across different places now- different homes, different lives- but for a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the same boys who had once fallen asleep side by side in the practice room, the same boys who had spent years navigating the chaos of their dreams together.

The laughter came in waves, filling the quiet spaces between their words. Some stories were old, retold so many times they no longer needed the details- just a name or a phrase was enough to make them all break into knowing smiles. Others were newer, updates on their lives, glimpses into what came after. They made their families and pets greet everyone, parents asking children how they were doing only to be answered with feigned assurances. The rhythm of their voices, the way they spoke over each other without thinking, the ease in which they slipped back into old habits- it was comforting. But beneath it, there was something else, something unspoken.

It wasn’t the same. It would never be the same. But for now, it was enough.

Eventually, the energy began to dip, the laughter turning into softer chuckles, voices growing slower, heavier. Someone yawned, then another. One by one, they began saying their goodbyes, reluctant but inevitable.

“Let’s do this again soon,” Jungwon said, his voice laced with sincerity.

“Yeah,” Jake murmured. “Soon.”

The screen flickered as each face disappeared, until only his own reflection stared back at him in the dim light. Then, finally, the screen went dark.

Jake lay there for a moment, his phone resting loosely in his hand as he stared up at the ceiling. The room felt quieter than before, the weight of the silence settling over him like a blanket. His chest was heavy, filled with something indescribable- a strange ache, a quiet longing. All he wanted to do was hug them one last time- but at the same time, there was a lightness to it. A warmth.

Y/N barged into his room after work. She had tied her hair into a ponytail but it wasn’t so proper with loose strands of hair sticking out and her hair frizzy due to the heat. She had a LEGO set in her hand that she bought before coming to his house upon hearing that he hadn’t left his room since the morning. She hadn't seen him during lunch either, so she knew something must have been going on in his head.

“What’s that?” Jake asked. He was sitting on his bed, guitar in his hands as he went through the old songs he had sang. Layla slept in his bed, curled into a fluffy ball with her tongue poking out of her mouth.

“The Titanic LEGO set,” Y/N said, proudly smiling at him with her teeth peeking from behind her mouth.

“That’s insane- isn’t it nine thousand pieces? How much did you spend on this?”

“What? Oh, shut up,” Y/N grimaced at him. “Just start it with me, it’ll be fun.”

“Did my mom put you up to this?”

She grimaced at him again. “No. Do you think I babysit people on command?”

“Alright, Alright, sorry.”

Jake glanced at her, a small smile forming. He knew she wasn’t forcing him into this- if he had said no, she would’ve left without another word. But she had come here, straight from work, with this giant LEGO set and an easygoing smile, and for some reason, he didn’t want to say no.

They worked in comfortable silence for a while, sitting on the floor, occasionally breaking into small conversations about the day or laughing at silly mistakes they'd made. The pieces clicked together rhythmically, the scattered instruction sheets spreading around them like a map.

Half an hour later, the door creaked open again.

Sam leaned against the doorframe, eyeing them both. “Okay, I was wondering why it was so quiet. What’s going on here?”

Y/N looked up, tucking her knees under her chin. “We’re building the Titanic.”

Sam snorted. “Of course you are.” He walked in, plopping down beside them with no hesitation. “Let me guess, Jake didn’t actually want to, but now he’s taking it way too seriously?”

“I-” Jake started, then realized he had no real argument. He was taking it seriously now.

Y/N smirked. “Pretty much.”

Sam laughed, grabbing a piece from the pile. “Alright, scoot over. If we’re doing this, I’m not sitting on the sidelines.”

And just like that, the night stretched on, filled with soft laughter, scattered LEGO pieces, and the quiet comfort of being around the right people.

“You know, we had a group call last night?” Jake said while cleaning up for the night. Sam had gone downstairs to help set the table and Y/N agreed to have dinner at their place. The three were barely able to make it quarter way with the LEGO set and agreed to work on it in the coming days.

“Oh?” Y/N said, rubbing dust off her hands.

“Yeah, it was nice,” Jake nodded.

“Just nice?”

“I mean, no. Obviously, it was great,” Jake laughed. “It’s just… it feels like a terrible break up.”

“I get what you mean, Jake,” Y/N nodded and moved closer to him to test the waters. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he collapsed into the bed.

He buried his hands in his hair. “We laughed, joked, even argued over stupid things. But the whole time, I knew the call was gonna end, and everyone would go back to their own lives. And I don’t know why, but that kind of sucked.”

Y/N didn’t say anything right away, just watched him as lay still on his bed. Over the past months, she’s been watching how his mood fluctuated. Some days, she and Sam were sure he was getting his spark back but then, something happens to bring his mood down- he’s reminded of something. He’s mentioned in the news, he reads an article about Enhypen. Y/N realised it was all about being patient with him.

“Do you think you made a mistake? Disbanding?”

Jake shook his head. “No. But it still stings.”

She nodded, letting the silence settle for a beat before she nudged a LEGO piece towards him. “Well, at least you guys haven’t disappeared from each other’s lives completely.”

Jake glanced at her, then at the LEGO in her hand. “Yeah. Guess that counts for something.”

“It’s okay to miss, Jake. I’m sure they miss you too.”

That night, before falling asleep, Jake cried into his pillow for the second time. It wasn’t the kind of crying that came with loud sobs or shaking shoulders—just a quiet, tired release. His face pressed into the fabric, muffling the uneven breaths as the weight of everything settled in. The group call had been good- really good- but it had also peeled back something he hadn’t been ready to look at so closely.

He missed it. He missed them.

And that night, through his tears, he wrote a song. He wrote a song that spilled out all his guts- about Enhypen, about his loneliness, about Y/N, about himself.

v. almost, almost- and then

The anniversary dinner was vibrant- Diana and Rob were beaming at their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary, their hands intertwined under the table as they soaked in the love around them. A grand chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, its crystals reflecting soft specks of light across the room. A grand piano hummed softly in the background, the melody weaving effortlessly between bursts of laughter and the gentle clinking of silverware against fine china.

Each table was set with crisp white linens, polished silverware, and delicate wine glasses that caught the flickering candlelight. Floor-to-ceiling windows reveal a breathtaking city skyline in the distance, the lights of the buildings shimmering against the deep indigo sky. A soft murmur of conversation fills the space, blending with the distant notes of a live jazz band playing in the corner- smooth, unintrusive, the perfect background to the night.

Servers glide seamlessly between tables, refilling glasses of expensive wine and delivering beautifully plated dishes- filet mignon drizzled with a rich reduction, fresh seafood resting on beds of saffron-infused risotto, vibrant salads topped with edible flowers. The air carries a mix of aromas- seared butter, truffle, aged wine- all adding to the indulgence of the evening.

Rob and Diane recounted how they first met as college students. Rob was a business major, Diane a hard-core history major and their paths only crossed due to an elective that neither of them took seriously. He sat behind her, always borrowing a pen and forgetting to return it, and she never let him live it down.

The first time they met outside of college, it was due to a mutual friend who invited them to a bonfire and since then, they’d become friends. Diane was the type to dissect novels over coffee, eyes lighting up as she talked about themes and subtext, while Rob would listen, teasingly pretending to understand before admitting he was just there for the caffeine. She thought he was annoyingly charming; he thought she was terrifyingly smart.

Their love wasn’t immediate- it grew in late-night study sessions, in shared laughter over bad takeout, in the quiet understanding of knowing someone will always show up when you need them.

It wasn’t until a particularly disastrous double date- where Diane was set up with someone else and spent the entire night wishing she wasn’t- that she finally realized it. She left her date at the restaurant, showed up at Rob’s apartment unannounced and professed her love for him.

They got married a few years later, not in a grand wedding but in a small ceremony surrounded by close friends and family. Their love wasn’t about dramatic declarations or fairy-tale intensity- it was about showing up, about choosing each other, over and over again.

And that’s exactly what they had been doing ever since.

When Rob finished telling their story, the table erupted in applause and sappy praises. Y/N, caught in the warmth of the moment, glanced across the table and met Jake’s eyes.

Just for a second. It meant nothing, but a small part of her wished it would.

He smirked slightly, barely perceptible, before taking a sip of his drink. She shook her head, looking away, though there was an undeniable heat crawling up her neck.

Meanwhile, Mark and Evelyn passed them their anniversary gift, a coupon for a cooking class with a famous chef that was coming into town and everyone burst into laughter.

“Mark, your cooking skills are just as bad as mine,” Rob jabbed at Mark but accepted the joke anyway.

Jake gifted them a custom made wine that they promised they’d crack open for a taste back at home. Sam got them a custom made vinyl that included all their favourite songs. Y/N gave them a handmade photo album of the pictures she’s taken of them since she’d known them- from when she was thirteen to twenty-five.

Jake nudged her with his shoulder, wiggling his brows. “That’s an impressive gift,” he praised. “How’d you think of it?”

“To be completely honest,” she started, ignoring the strength of his gaze, the heat of how close his face was. “It was last minute,” Jake laughed and leaned back, finishing the last of his drink as Y/N rolled her eyes. Sam caught sight of their exchange, signaling towards her in curiosity. She simply shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Y/N didn’t know when she started looking at Jake differently. The crush she had on him when they were children had long faded, dissolving into something distant and unremarkable. When he left, the pedestal she had placed him on disappeared too, replaced by the cold realization that life moves on, with or without the people you thought would always be there. For years, Jake existed to her only in memories- half-formed recollections of laughter in sunlit backyards, inside jokes that lost their meaning over time, and the echo of a boy who once felt larger than life.

And then he came back.

At first, he was just a fragment of the past- familiar but distant, like an old song she used to love but hadn’t listened to in years. She recognized him, but she didn’t know him anymore, not really. He was Jake, but he was also someone entirely different.

Somewhere along the way, though, things shifted. She saw him in the in-between moments- the way he loosened his tie at dinner, the way he leaned back in his chair, quiet but present. She caught the subtle changes in him: the ease in which he navigated conversation, the flashes of his old self woven into someone more composed, more grounded. And somehow, without realizing it, she had stopped seeing him as just a remnant of childhood and started seeing him as a man.

And that realization unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

The dinner wound down in a way that felt natural, warm, and just a little bittersweet.

After the last round of toasts, the servers brought out a beautifully plated anniversary dessert- a chocolate cake with the words Happy Anniversary decorated on it. Diane and Rob, still glowing from the celebration, shared a quiet moment, their hands intertwined as they took the first bite.

Conversations softened as people settled into a comfortable post-meal haze. The older family members reminisced about past anniversaries, the younger ones grew restless, and somewhere in between, Y/N, Jake, and Sam found themselves caught in the cozy lull of it all.

Jake leaned back in his chair, swirling the last sip of wine in his glass. Sam checked his watch, subtly nudging Y/N to start thinking about heading out. Evelyn and Mark joked about who would pick up the tab this year- Mark swore it was his turn, but Sam already had his card out.

Eventually, coats were retrieved, hugs were exchanged, and Diane and Rob thanked everyone for making the night so special.

Outside, the night air was crisp, and the city hummed with life. The family stepped onto the sidewalk together, still wrapped in the lingering warmth of the evening. Mark and Evelyn walked ahead, their laughter carrying through the night, while Diane and Rob strolled behind, their hands intertwined as they whispered to each other.

Jake and Y/N fell into step beside one another, a quiet comfort settling over them as Sam guided them to the car. Sam drove and Y/N sat up front, leaving Jake to his phone in the back. Occasionally, Jake would catch Y/N’s eyes looking at him through the rearview mirror and just as fast as he’d catch her, she’d look away and back at her phone.

“It’s nice to have parents that are so in love,” Sam said.

“Thirty-five years,” Jake said. “That’s crazy.”

“Do you think we’ll ever have that?” Sam mused.

“I can’t lie, Sam,” Y/N started. “I thought you’d be married by now.”

“I’m still young.”

“Mom and dad got married in their twenties.”

“Shut up, Jake.”

Sam had his fair share of love stories when it came to his dating life. He dated a few people during high school, then in college but once he started working, looking for someone that wanted commitment was like looking for a needle in a haystack. He’d been on a plethora of dates before. Some were set up by his friends, others by his parents but nothing seemed to work out. He even had a phase, not many years ago, where he was desperate to settle down and even prayed to God that he’d get married soon and start a family.

Jake didn’t know about that phase.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone, Sam,” Y/N said to him, rubbing his arm before concentrating on her phone again. “I’m sure we all will.”

“Aren’t you too young to know what you want?” Sam asked, unbeknownst. He’d forgotten what it was like to be her age, to be young and filled with hope about what the future could hold. At his age, he’d started losing hope and entered into a stage of acceptance.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugged. “I know what I want now. God knows how I’ll feel five years later, right?”

“Five years go by fast,” Sam sighed.

“Yeah tell me about it,” Y/N scoffed. “I can’t imagine pushing thirty- I don’t know how you did it, bro.”

“The hits just never stop coming,” Sam rolled his eyes and the other two chuckled. They caught each other’s gaze again, this time deliberate and unmistakingly.

Jake’s fingers tapped idly against his knee. “Pushing thirty can’t be so bad,” he mused, his voice just a little softer. “Depends on who you’re spending it with.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, barely perceptible.

Sam, completely unaware, let out a dramatic sigh. “If you two are gonna start getting existential, I might actually drive this car into the river.”

Y/N tore her gaze away first, shaking her head with a quiet laugh. But even as she looked away, she felt it- Jake’s stare, lingering like a thought left unfinished.

When Sam parked in their garage, he said he’d see them at the Y/L/N’s house. Their parents had already made their way there, buzzing to open the bottle of Jake’s wine. Y/N and Jake found themselves stuck in the hall, leaving them in the aftermath of the evening.

Y/N sank into the couch, exhaling as the evening settled into her bones. The soft hum of the house filled the quiet, but it felt different now- like something was brewing beneath it. She barely had a moment to gather her thoughts before Jake walked in, a glass of water in hand.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her.

His fingers brushed against hers as she took the glass, and she swore she felt it more than she should have. She lifted it to her lips, taking a slow sip, before setting it on the table. When she glanced back at him, he was still looking at her.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” she cracked him a grin, letting her hands fall to her waist to feel the fabric of her black dress, hugging her curves in all the right places. He looked at her like he knew exactly what was underneath- which he did but she didn’t know that. “You look quite dapper in the suit, too,” she said.

Jake chuckled with a nod, ridding himself of his blazer before collapsing beside her too. Jake loosened his tie, letting out a slow breath as he settled beside her. His shoulder brushed against hers, not by accident, and she felt the warmth of him seep through the space between them.

“I forgot how exhausting these things could be,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Really?”She let out a laugh. “You’ve been to bigger events than this as an idol, right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But it’s different.”

“Right,” she nodded. “What was it like? The idol life.”

Since he’d been back, this was the first time anyone in his family had asked him the question. It almost felt like everyone was tiptoeing around it- knowing but not knowing, avoiding but begging. When Y/N let the question spill from her mouth, it felt like a weight had lifted.

“Haven't you watched any of our videos? Interviews?” Jake asked and felt himself frown when she shook her head.

“I’ve listened to your music and everything,” she admitted. “But the rest… your mom watched everything. Like every single thing and sometimes, if I’m in the hall, I’ll watch with her. I’ve seen glimpses. That’s all.”

“That’s fair,” he said, bringing his lips between his teeth. “Life isn’t the way they show it on the internet, anyway.”

“I figured,” she said. “I heard it’s rough.”

“It is- especially I-Land. God I hated it,” he groaned. “But, to be honest, we had it easier than some of the other groups.”

“I don’t know how you’re surviving,” she said. “The past eight years of your life- it’s just been non-stop. Albums, interviews, tours, filming, cameras 24/7. Makes me wonder if you had time for anything else.”

“Like what?”

“Life in general, I guess?” Y/N shrugged. “You never got to experience all the normal things in life- college, dating, friends, family.”

“I meant, the members were my friends- we basically lived a lifetime's worth together,” Jake leaned over to take the abandoned glass of water. “Plus, we all have dated before,” he said, slowly bringing the rim of the glass to his lips and keeping a cheeky gaze on Y/N perked expression.

“Is it?” She raised her brows.

“Yeah, well it wasn’t like a priority,” he dabbled. “I wasn’t a monk but yeah. I’ve been with people,” he placed the glass in its previous position and rolled up his sleeves. The veins in his arms burgled, the muscle wrapped around his bones all the more evident. Y/N pretended not to notice.

“People? Plural?”

Jake shrugged, resting his arm on the back of the couch. “I mean, not a lot. I wasn’t out here having some wild double life. But it happened.”

“Who?” she pressed.

He gave her a look. “You expect me to name names?”

“Obviously.”

Jake laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “A couple were people in the industry- idols, dancers. People who got it, you know? No attachments, no drama. And then a couple outside of it, whenever I had the time.”

Y/N processed that. It makes sense. He had spent years balancing an insane schedule, under constant scrutiny. A full-fledged relationship must’ve felt impossible. Not just because of time- though that was reason enough- but because of the pressure, the expectations. The way love, for him, could never just be his. It belonged to headlines, to speculations, to strangers who thought they knew him better than he knew himself.

She could picture it now- the missed calls, the messages left on read, the late nights where exhaustion pressed heavier than longing. The way something as simple as meeting someone for coffee could turn into a scandal overnight. How could anyone sustain something real under those circumstances?

And yet… Here he was.

Sitting beside her in the quiet, where no cameras could reach, no voices could interfere. Just them. She glanced at him, at the way his fingers rested on his knee, the way he looked at her like he was waiting for something- an answer, maybe. Or maybe just for her to understand.

“What about you, Y/N?”

“What?”

“How was your life?” He continued, moving on from their previous conversation. “You know, after I left.”

“You say that like we were close,” she chuckled.

“So?” He pressed. “Go on, I wanna know.”

“I feel like you don’t really know me,” she said, resting her head on the couch. “Like, you’ve missed a lot.”

Jake blinked. “What do you mean?”

She exhaled, rolling her lips together like she was deciding whether to say it at all. “You were gone for a long time, Jake.”

He didn’t argue.

Y/N studied him for a moment, finding regret in his glassy eyes. “You weren’t there when I had my first friendship break up and Sam had to lull me to sleep- you know what I mean? Like, you weren’t there to know.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t there, I got it.”

“failed my first job interview because I was so nervous I forgot my own name.” She laughed at herself, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “And I spent a whole year thinking I wanted to be a photographer before realizing I wasn’t actually any good at it. And I took a break year after high school because I was so depressed and lost that I just wanted to rot in bed. This was after the remodeling so at least I got to do that in style.”

Jake watched her closely, his chest tightening with something complicated, something that feels a lot like regret. He should have been there for those moments. Not just the milestones, but the quiet, insignificant ones, too. The late-night doubts, the tiny victories, the way she figured herself out piece by piece.

He missed it all.

“Now, even my closest friends are scattered in different countries. The only people I ever really had were my parents and your family,” she said. “Sam was really the only person I trusted for a really long time.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not that serious, though. I know I say it like a sob story,” she laughed. “I’m so content with where I am now.”

“I’m glad, Y/N,” Jake trailed off, letting his fingers find a place on her knee. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why it felt so weird when you left,” she continued. “I think you were my first introduction to life… you know that quote? Nothing stays the same? You made me realise that.”

Jake swallowed, hard.

“Y/N…”

“No, seriously,” Y/N smiled again, trying to assure him that he needn’t feel guilty. But talking about herself for the first time felt freeing. For the longest time, it was always about him- his problems, his issues, his needs and his protection. Now he was listening to her, all the sorrows, grieves, wins and achievements that made her who she was. “I love my life right now.”

“I should have stayed in touch,” he whispered.

Y/N let out a small scoff, but there was no real bite to it. “Yeah, well. You didn’t.”

The silence that followed was thick, stretching between them like a thread pulled too tight. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. The hum of the house felt distant now, drowned out by the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

Then, softly- so softly that Jake almost didn’t hear it- Y/N murmured, “I hate you a little bit.”

His stomach twisted. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the way she said them. Fragile, unguarded. A quiet confession laced with something bitter, something vulnerable. She hadn’t meant it, not really. But it still landed somewhere deep inside him, settling in the space between regret and longing.

Jake exhaled slowly, tilting his head as he studied her. “Yeah?”

She nodded, watching him carefully. “Yeah.”

But her voice wavered just slightly, and that was when he saw it- the way her fingers tightened against her lap, the way her chest rose and fell a little too deliberately. She wasn’t just angry. She was hurt.

Jake shifted closer, just a fraction, barely enough to call it movement. But she noticed. He saw the flicker of something in her eyes, something sharp and aching. The hand that was placed on her knee pressed further into her skin and she let him, her eyes darting between his. Her lips were pulled between her teeth in curiosity, anticipating.

Her gaze flickered- to his lips, to his hands and then back to his eyes. Then, with a quiet breath, Jake leaned in just a little more, not enough to close the distance, but enough to make her heart race in her chest. He swallowed and his lips parted but it did nothing to steady him.

“Good.”

Slowly, softly, he placed his lips on hers- almost as though he was testing the waters, waiting to see what her reaction would be. And then she moved, bringing herself closer to him and her hands wrapping around his neck. His hands flew towards her waist, sliding towards her hips and their lips moved in harmony. Jake could feel the world around him come back together in one piece- perhaps this was all that he needed, her hands in his hair, his fingers buried in the skin of her legs.

Her dress limited her movements and when he realised, Jake took no time in lifting the hem of her dress to her waist and dragging her onto his lap. Yelping into his mouth, she chuckled and continued to kiss him- breathless and desperate as the air around them finally seemed to settle, as though this was what was meant to happen all this while.

“I’ve waited for this,” Jake tilted his head and placed another kiss on her lips. “For so long,” then he kissed her cheek and trailed them down her neck, playing with the strap of her dress before ultimately pulling them down.

Her tits spilled out of the dress, the dress bunching at her waist as cool air hit her skin. She let her fingers unbutton his shirt, hands trailing to feel the skin underneath- warmth and curves that she didn’t know she needed to touch until then.

“I missed you, Jake,” she found herself saying between breaths. “I really missed you.”

vi. 偷偷藏不住

The song Jake had written and perfected all those months ago? He’d finally sent it out to a list of labels and he hadn’t told anyone. And he wasn’t planning on it either. Not because he didn’t want to or because he was selfish- it was because he didn’t want to jinx. Over his time in Korea, he’d started believing in superstitions and found that sometimes, though it didn’t seem natural, they just made sense. He didn’t want to think about it.

He focused on Y/N instead. Jake leaned back in the chair, watching Y/N from across the room. She was reading, her legs tucked beneath her as she sat on the couch. She didn’t seem to notice his gaze, but he couldn’t help it. It had become almost natural to look at her, to appreciate the quiet moments when she was lost in something, anything, and how she looked when she didn’t realize he was watching.

He wanted to tell her about the song, to tell her about the labels he’d sent it to. He wanted to share this part of his life with her- something that meant a lot, something that felt like it could change everything. But he didn’t want to risk it. Not yet.

"Hey," he said softly, breaking the silence.

Y/N looked up, meeting his eyes with a small smile. "Yeah?"

He felt that familiar flutter in his chest. There was something about her presence that had become his anchor, the thing he always wanted to come back to after everything else.

“Wanna go do something?”

The pair found themselves at the beach, bikini and trunks clad as they hopped into the car in the middle of the night. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was louder, the rhythm almost hypnotic. The moon cast a pale glow over the water, and the sand felt soft beneath their feet.

Jake kicked off his shoes, and Y/N followed suit without a word. The sand was cool against her skin as they walked along the shore, the sound of their footsteps swallowed by the waves. It was peaceful, but there was an energy in the air, an unspoken current between them.

“This is exactly what I needed,” Y/N said softly, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She glanced up at him, her smile warm. “You always know how to pick the perfect places.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He was too busy watching her, trying to read the subtle shifts in her expression. “You look happy,” he said, his voice low.

“I’m always happy,” she looked at him confused, though her smile refused to leave her mouth.

“You know, you should really let me take you out more. The beach, I mean. Doesn’t seem right to keep coming here alone.”

Y/N smirked, glancing at him sidelong. “Yeah? And you think I’d let you drag me around more?”

“Maybe,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “If you let me, I think I’d be able to.”

They started off just walking along the shore, the waves occasionally rushing up to their feet. It was quiet at first, the air between them still carrying the weight of unspoken things. But then, without thinking much about it, Y/N bent down and scooped up a handful of wet sand, letting it slip through her fingers.

Jake, watching her, smirked. “Don’t even think about it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, pretending to be innocent. “Think about what?”

Jake didn’t trust her for a second, stepping back cautiously. “You’re gonna throw that at me.”

She grinned. “Am I?”

Before he could react, she flicked the remaining sand in his direction- not enough to be a real attack, just enough to be annoying. Jake let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Alright. You asked for it.”

Without warning, he lunged toward her. Y/N yelped and tried to take off running, but he was faster, grabbing her wrist and spinning her back toward him. They were both breathless, tangled in laughter, and before she could think of an escape plan, he lifted a handful of sand and let it sprinkle over the top of her head.

“Jake- ” she gasped, swatting at him. “You- ”

But he was already bolting down the beach, laughing like a kid. Y/N groaned but didn’t hesitate before chasing after him, their footprints overlapping in the sand. The chase was brief—he let her catch him. And when she did, she shoved him lightly, but instead of letting her go, he caught her hand, pulling her into a sudden spin.

They stumbled into the surf, waves washing over their ankles, the water shockingly cold. But neither of them cared. They were still laughing, breathless, eyes locked for a beat too long.

Jake’s grin softened, his hands still lightly holding hers. “Truce?” he asked, though his voice carried something else, something softer.

Y/N tilted her head, lips curving mischievously. “I don’t know. I kind of liked seeing you flustered.”

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

And yet, he didn’t let go.

“I’m really glad things turned out this way,” Jake mumbled, sliding his hands onto her forearms.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” she said. “The last thing I expected to happen but- I’m glad.”

“I don’t want to mess things up,” he admitted. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

They lay there, supine on the beach, the cool grains of sand tangling into their hair and clinging to their damp clothes. The tide hummed a steady rhythm in the distance, the waves kissing the shore before pulling back.

Neither of them spoke for a while, letting the silence stretch between them, filled only by the whisper of the wind and the distant cries of seabirds. The sky, once speckled with stars, had begun its slow transformation- deep blues fading into softer shades, the first streaks of pink and gold bleeding into the horizon.

Jake turned his head slightly, glancing at Y/N. Her eyes were fixed on the sky, a serene expression softening her features. He resisted the urge to reach out, to brush the sand off her cheek, to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Instead, he exhaled, letting his fingers curl into the sand beside hers, close but not quite touching.

As the first light of morning stretched over the ocean, she finally spoke, her voice quiet, like she didn’t want to disturb the moment. “We should head back.”

Jake hummed in agreement, but neither of them moved right away. It wasn’t until the sky had fully surrendered to the dawn that they finally pushed themselves up, dusting off the remnants of the night.

It was probably one of the tiny, frustrating connector pieces that held larger sections together- the kind that looked identical to five others but somehow wouldn’t fit wherever it was supposed to. Maybe they were struggling with part of the hull, where two large sections needed to snap into place but keep misaligning, or a delicate detail like the tiny lifeboats that wouldn’t sit right.

Jake, exasperated, insisted they were missing a piece. Y/N argued that they just weren’t looking hard enough. Sam found them arguing when he walked in and it was almost comical.

“How are you so stupid?!”

“I’m not stupid, you’re just not reading the instructions right!”

“Is this how you want to spend the weekend?” He laughed, standing between the pair that were laying stomach down on the floor in Jake's carpeted room. “Have nothing better to do?”

“We’re finishing this before Monday or I’ll lose my shit, I swear,” Y/N pointed a threatening finger at both of them. “I keep seeing it half cooked sitting on his shelf and it’s driving me off the walls.”

Sam gave her a puzzled look. “You visit his room that often?” He looked between the pair.

Jake and Y/N, caught off guard, started looking at each other, wide eyes and pursed lips. They didn’t know what to say to him, allow him into their secret or gaslight him until he left. Y/N wasn’t even sure why he asked such a question.

“Sam, help us or leave!”

Sam lingered for a second, looking between them with suspicion but ultimately shrugging it off. He figured that if there was anything weird going on between the pair, he would have caught on by now. But unbeknownst to him, the pair had been dating for a couple of months now, stealing stolen moments with their hands clasped under the table during lunch, taking Layla out on walks, grocery shopping together and sneaking into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night. They felt like teenagers all over again, not having experienced such a rendezvous as children.

Sam helped them, though not without rolling his eyes first. He plopped down beside them, picking up a random piece and squinting at the half-finished model.

“You two are way too invested in this,” he muttered, trying, and failing, to snap a section into place.

Jake scoffed. “Says the guy who just sat down to help.”

Y/N smirked, nudging Sam’s shoulder. “Face it, you can’t resist a challenge.”

The room settled into a concentrated quiet, filled only with the occasional snap of plastic bricks clicking together and the muttered curses when a piece refused to fit.

At one point, Jake’s hand brushed against Y/N’s, lingering for just a second too long. She shot him a look- half warning, half fondness. He smirked but said nothing.

Sam, blissfully unaware, kept building.

“We’ve scheduled another group call tonight,” Jake piped while trying to pluck apart a pair of parts he accidentally stuck together.

“Oh?” Sam smiled.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” he continued. “It’s been a while. I think the last time was a couple months ago- before mom and dad’s anniversary.”

“Yeah, I think the last time you told me, Heeseung’s brother was getting engaged,” Y/N mulled over the details that Jake told her all those months ago but ultimately gave up.

“So everyone’s getting married but me?” Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, huffing as he continued to read the instructions of the LEGO set.

The pair ignored him. “Yeah,” Jake confirmed. “My birthday’s coming up, right? So they all said they wanted to call. I think this is gonna become a norm- I hope so, at least.”

“I hope so, too,” Y/N smiled at him and they silently went back to playing with their impossible set of LEGOs.

The group call was already in complete disarray by the time Jake joined. Sunghoon was mid-rant about something, gesturing aggressively at his camera while Jay, half-listening, scrolled through his phone. Heeseung had his mic muted, but his shoulders shook with silent laughter, probably watching something stupid on another tab. Jungwon, ever the responsible one, was trying to get everyone’s attention, but Sunoo kept cutting him off, making dramatic expressions every time someone spoke.

“Can you guys just-” Jungwon started.

“Wait, wait, do that face again,” Sunoo interrupted, pointing at his screen, barely holding back laughter.

Jungwon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is why we never get anything done.”

Meanwhile, Ni-ki, who had been quiet the entire time, suddenly leaned in, squinting at his screen. “Jake, are you in bed? Bro, it’s not even that late.”

Jake scoffed, adjusting his laptop. “It’s-” He checked the time. “It’s eleven.”

“Exactly.”

“Finally,” Sunghoon scoffed, sipping from a can of soda. “The birthday boy graces us with his presence.”

“It’s not even my birthday yet,” Jake chuckled, adjusting the laptop on his lap.

“Yeah, well, none of us are free on the actual day,” Jay pointed out. “So this is what you get.”

“Be grateful we even remembered,” Heeseung joked.

“You didn’t,” Jungwon said flatly. “I reminded all of you.”

Jake chuckled, the warmth of familiarity settling into his chest. The conversation continued in its usual chaotic rhythm—teasing, overlapping chatter, and Sunoo dramatically reenacting something that had happened earlier that week. Then, amidst the noise, Jungwon shifted in his seat, glancing away from the screen as if distracted by something off-camera.

Jake barely noticed at first, too busy laughing at whatever ridiculous claim Ni-ki had just made. But then Jungwon disappeared from his frame entirely, leaving only the top of his head visible for a moment. The others barely registered it, still caught up in their conversation, until he reappeared, this time holding something in his hands.

An actual birthday cake.

The glow of the candles flickered softly, illuminating his face as he settled back in his seat. The sight of it made the conversation stutter for a second before Heeseung let out a surprised laugh. “No way. You actually got a cake?”

Jungwon grinned, a little sheepish but mostly pleased with himself. “Well, yeah. Someone had to.”

“Jungwon, I would marry you,” Jake gasped.

“I lit the candles,” Jungwon went on, ignoring them. “But then I realized that would be kinda pointless since you’re, y’know… not here.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “Yeah, the whole blowing-out-the-candles part kinda loses its charm when we’d have to just pretend you did it.”

“We could all blow on our screens at the same time,” Heeseung suggested.

“That’s disgusting,” Sunghoon said immediately.

The whole thing was so dumb, so completely stupid, and yet Jake felt a knot in his throat. They really didn’t have to do all this, but they did. Just to make him feel a little bit like they were together again.

They spent the next hour catching up- on music, on random TV shows, on things they’d seen online that reminded them of each other. The conversation never stayed in one place for too long, always shifting like waves, full of interruptions and tangents that made no sense.

At some point, when the laughter died down just enough, Jake cleared his throat. “So, uh… I wanted to tell you guys something.”

“Is he finally admitting he sucks at Mario Kart?” Heeseung cut in.

Jake rolled his eyes. “No.”

Surprisingly, the call had ceased to a silence and everyone stared at their screen, waiting for Jake to say something. Sunoo looked the most bewildered, surprised at how silent it had gone.

“So?” Jay coaxed.

“I sent my song to a few labels,” He finally blurted out.

Silence. A split-second beat before the entire call erupted.

“NO WAY-”

“DUDE!”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?”

“This is huge!”

“Any news yet?”

Jake let them go on for a bit, barely holding back a smile. “Nothing yet,” he admitted. “Didn’t wanna jinx it. But… I don't know. It feels good to finally put it out there.”

“Well, we’re proud of you,” Jungwon said firmly, and the others nodded along. “Like, really proud.”

Jake exhaled, some of his nerves settling. He knew they meant it. That’s why he’d wanted to tell them- despite his stupid superstitions, despite his own fears. After they all spent a few seconds clapping, Heeseung had moved on to talking about his brother’s wedding. He told them that he was the best man and that it would most probably take place a year later- the happy couple were busy figuring out their schedules and work that delaying it felt like the best idea.

“You’re all invited, by the way,” he announced. “Mark your calendars.”

“To an unknown date?” Sunghoon sputtered out laughing.

“Be grateful I even invited you,” Heeseung deadpanned.

“I’ll probably have a date for the wedding,” Jake said. “Is that okay?”

The call ceased to a silence once more as the group processed the information. This time, Niki was the most bewildered, raising his brows and side-eyeing his Hyung with confusion. Then, Heeseung let out a scoff.

“I’m dating someone-”

“It’s Y/N,” Jungwon deadpanned.

“How the fuck did you know.”

“Dude, it was so obvious. You talk about her all the time,” Jay rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Sunoo said, dragging out the word. “Looks like Jake’s the first one of us to get a girlfriend.”

“Not surprised,” Jay snorted. “He was always the freakiest one out of all of us.”

Jake choked. “What the hell does that even mean?!”

“I thought that was Heeseung Hyung,” Niki’s voice drowned out.

“C’mon, man,” Sunghoon smirked. “We’ve all seen you in action.”

“Oh my God.”

“I’m not even shocked it’s Y/N,” Sunghoon went on. “This was bound to happen.”

Niki hummed. “Honestly, I thought it was already happening, and you two were just waiting to say something,” and Jungwon followed his profuse nodding.

Jake groaned as the teasing continued, hands covering his face. But underneath the embarrassment, he felt lighter. Like everything was finally where it was supposed to be.

vii. Happy birthday?

One thing about Jake’s family- they never did celebrations halfway. With the kind of wealth they had, extravagant parties and lavish dinners were almost expected, a given for any occasion worth acknowledging. But this time was different. This time was special.

For the first time in nearly a decade, they were celebrating Jake’s birthday together, all of them in the same place, at the same table. If that wasn’t reason enough to book the most exclusive restaurant in town for the night, then what was?

The clinking of glasses, the gentle hum of background music, the soft glow of candlelight- it all felt like a moment frozen in time, one he’d look back on and remember as nothing but happiness. His mother sat beside him, refilling everyone’s glasses, a proud smile never leaving her face. His father, usually reserved, was surprisingly talkative, sharing stories from Jake’s childhood that had everyone laughing. Sam, always the troublemaker, kept trying to sneak extra bites of dessert before it was even served, earning a playful slap on the arm from their mother.

“We went to an astrologer when Jake was born and we told her to read his future,” Rob, a drunken mess, raised his wine in the air. “She told us that he would grow up to do great things- and he did!”

Rob desperately tried making him stop drinking.

“He always used to drool as a child,” his mom reminisced. “And always picked at his lips- that habit never left.”

“God, mom,” Jaked rolled his eyes.

Y/N sat across from Jake, her eyes catching the light just right, and every so often, when their gazes met, she’d smile at him in a way that made his heart trip over itself. She was wearing the dress he bought for him and the jewelry he picked out- he told her that this was his way of showing his love and appreciation and the pair also scheduled birthday sex where he’d eventually rip everything off of her.

The table was full of laughter, teasing, and clumsy attempts at making a toast. Someone- probably Sam- had convinced the waitstaff to bring out an over-the-top birthday cake, three tiers tall, decorated with sleek gold details. They all cheered as Jake cut the first slice, feeding a bite to his mother first, then his dad, then Y/N and Sam and then Mark and Evelyn.

While they all posed for a family photo, Jake’s phone vibrated. He didn’t think much of it at first, chalking it up to a random app notification or another birthday wish from a random contact. Everyone had moved on to use the karaoke and Jake had even forgotten about checking it. He sang two, maybe three songs before handing the mic over to Mark and Sam and he settled onto a chair beside Y/N, enjoying the show.

It wasn’t until Y/N went up to sing that Jake took his phone out. His intention was to record her, maybe use the video to black mail her in the future. But then he saw the notification and he swallowed, hard. His hands quivered and his head spun- he was sure he was either being carried in cloud-nine or being buried six feet under. Both were bad, at that moment, when he realised what was at stake.

Y/N. Their relationship.

Y/N stopped mid-song, letting the karaoke machine drawl its music as her attention landed on Jake. He looked scared and she grew concerned. “Jake?” Everyone’s attention turned to head, heads snapping in unison.

“What is it?” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, peeking past his head to find his email opened on the screen of his phone. “What is it?”

Jake swallowed, gripping his phone tighter as if grounding himself. His heart pounded so loudly he could barely hear the karaoke music in the background. “I, uh-” His voice wavered, and he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to just say it. “One of the companies I sent my song to… they liked it.”

Silence. A heavy, breathless kind of silence where the weight of his words sank in.

“They don’t just like it,” he continued, lifting his phone slightly as if to prove it was real. “They want me to come to New York. They’re offering me a job.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. Sam’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Around the room, expressions flickered between shock, excitement, and something unreadable.

“Holy shit.”

“No way.”

“Jake, that’s huge!”

His mother’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes already welling up. Sam clapped his back so hard he nearly dropped his phone. Y/N just stared at him, lips parted, and in the dim light of the private room, he swore he saw something shift in her expression.

“You never told us.”

It was the night before Jake was flying to New York. His bags were packed, tickets were booked and the family had already had a farewell dinner together. His mom cried and his father raised a toast for being blessed with two remarkable sons. Mark and Evelyn quipped about how he was already leaving, having barely been back. Y/N, however, had stayed quiet, looking at everyone through her lashes and past the rim of her wine glass. Occasionally, she would crack a smile but it was evident that it was feigned. No one bothered to ask her the matter, though, in fear of ruining the already sad night of Jake’s departure.

The night that Jake found out about his job offer, the night of his birthday a few months ago, he and Y/N came home to a huge fight. She was throwing pillows at him, almost ripping them to shreds for the feathers to come flying out. She then threw her heels at him, all out of pure anger as she cursed at him and asked why he hadn’t told her sooner, to give her a heads-up as to what to expect. Then, she broke down in tears, slumping into a ball in the corner of his room, hiding her face into her hands as sobs escaped her throat.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” She repeated her words over and over again and Jake comforted her, not knowing what else to do.

That night, he slept on the couch, mulling over all the rights and wrongs that he had committed in his life. However, he could never understand if leaving to pursue his dreams of k-pop was a right or wrong, virtue or sin. If he had never left and simply pursued his dream of engineering, maybe he and Y/N would have been planning their wedding right now. Maybe he would have been more familiar to his family.

After that fight, Y/N never brought it up again. She pretended like it never happened, spending the last of his days stuck beside him. She seemed normal, felt normal- so normal that it almost scared Jake. But he played into it, knowing he would regret it later.

When the dinner was over, Y/N was nowhere to be found- not in his room, not in Sam’s room and surely not with Layla, who was already sound asleep. So, he sauntered into the Y/L/N’s house and made his way towards her room. Her door was slightly ajar, but the room was empty. The faintest rustle of the curtains drew his attention to the open balcony doors, where a figure stood bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight. Y/N, arms resting on the railing, eyes lost in the distance.

Jake hesitated for a moment, taking in the way the night breeze lifted strands of her hair, how her shoulders rose and fell with a quiet exhale. Then, he stepped forward.

“Didn’t feel like staying?” He murmured, voice low as he leaned against the doorway.

She turned slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet. There was no smile, no teasing remark. “Needed some air.”

Jake nodded, stepping closer until he was beside her. “Mind if I join you?” She shook her head, and they stood in silence, the city stretching out before them, the weight of the night settling between them. “You’re quiet,” he pointed out.

She exhaled through her nose, a slow, deliberate breath. “Yeah.”

Something in her tone made his stomach twist.

Jake waited, hoping and praying that she would say something to fill the tension. But she wasn’t the type- she never was and never will be, now especially. So, Jake does.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like that,” he said, voice careful.

“I know,” she nodded.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Y/N-”

“That’s all you have to say?” Y/N shot him a blank stare. “That you’re sorry?”

“No, of course-”

“Jake, you’re leaving me,” she said. “All over again.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, knowing where this would lead. “You know it’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Sure. It’s never fucking like that,” she let out a bitter chuckle. “Then tell me, Jake, what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly the same as last time. You left. You moved on. And now, you’re doing it again.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair? That I let myself believe this time was different? That I actually thought you were going to stay?”

Jake stepped closer, instinctively reaching for her, but she took a step back. That hurt more than her words.

“I have to go,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “This is everything I’ve been working for-”

“Yeah, I fucking know that,” her voice raised. “Just let me be hurt.”

Her voice cracked, and suddenly, all the fight drained from her body. A shaky breath, a single tear sliding down her cheek, then another. She tried to blink them away, but her body betrayed her. Her fingers curled into trembling fists, and before she could stop herself, she buried her face in her hands, hair falling forward like a curtain to shield her from the world.

Jake felt something deep in his chest tighten, like a fist squeezing his heart until it ached. The sight of her breaking apart- because of him- was unbearable. Without thinking, he closed the space between them, pulling her into his arms. His hand cradled the back of her head, his other arm wrapping around her shoulders, holding her together as best as he could. Like she would slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold on tight enough. She mumbled a string of “I hate you”s into his chest, trying her best to break free until ultimately, she succumbed into his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick, uneven. He shut his eyes as he felt his own tears welling up. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if that would make him stay. She pressed her forehead against his chest, and when she spoke again, her voice was muffled against his body, but he heard every single word.

“You know,” she started, sniffling, “when you first left for training, I spent almost a month sleeping in your bedroom because I missed you so damn much. I missed you, just missed seeing you around the house every day, walking to the bus stop with you and your brother, going to the market with our moms-” Her breath hitched. “I missed you so much, I didn’t think it could hurt this bad.”

Jake’s throat closed up. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chin pressing against the top of her head as if he could will away the weight of everything she was saying.

Because he remembered too.

He remembered the way she used to run to his house every morning, dragging him and Sam out by the wrists so they wouldn’t miss the bus. He remembered sneaking extra snacks into her grocery basket when their moms weren’t looking. He remembered lying on the grass beside her on summer nights, Sam yelling at them to come back inside to shelter against mosquitoes.

He remembered the first time he left.

And now, he was doing it again.

"I remember," he admitted, his voice raw. "I remember all of it, Y/N. I didn't forget."

Y/N let out a broken breath, like she had been waiting for those words.

Jake swallowed hard and pulled back just enough to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lashes damp, lips pressed into a thin line as if she were trying to stop them from trembling. She looked at him like he was already gone.

“I hate it, I hate leaving you like this,” he continued. His thumb brushed against her cheek, wiping away a tear that had just fallen. "But you have to know- none of it was ever easy for me, either."

For a moment, there was only the sound of their breathing, the distant hum of the city beyond the balcony, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them.

Then, he reached for her hands, prying them gently away from his shirt. He held them between his own, squeezing.

"But I don’t want to lose you over this," he said softly.

Y/N's brows furrowed, her fingers twitching in his grasp. "You already are."

"Don't say that," he murmured. "Please."

“This is how it’s like to love someone like you, isn’t it?” Y/N pulled away from him, keeping him at an arm’s length as she wiped her nose with her forearm. He watched her through her puffy eyes and nose, her messy hair that he loved so much, and streaks of salty tears on her cheeks that looked permanent. “Someone who never feels like they have enough- who’s never content.”

“You think I’m not content with you?” Jake’s voice was laced with disbelief, his brows knitting together as he took a hesitant step forward.

Y/N let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Jake, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it now- like he was bracing himself for something he didn’t want to hear.

She exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair. “I mean that you’re always searching for something more. Something bigger. It’s who you are. And I love that about you, but it also means that I- ” she paused, her voice catching in her throat. “I’ll never be enough to make you stay.”

Jake’s stomach twisted. “Y/N- ”

“Don’t,” she whispered, cutting him off. “Just- don’t try to tell me that’s not true.”

Jake wanted to argue. Wanted to hold her and tell her that she was wrong, that she meant the world to him, that she represented everything good that he had going on in his life. That she was the one constant in his life, the person he always came back to, the one who knew him better than anyone else. That no matter where he went or what he chased after, she was always in the back of his mind, woven into every decision, every late-night doubt, every quiet moment when he let himself wonder what truly mattered. But deep down, wasn’t there truth to what she was saying?

“Come with me,” Jake breathed.

“What?”

“To New York. Come with me.”

She let out a breath, shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “Jake…”

He took her hands in his, gripping them like if he held tight enough, she wouldn’t slip away. “Why not? We’ll figure it out, we always do-”

She pulled her hands away. “Because I don’t want to,” she admitted, her voice thick with uncertainty. “I love my life here. My job, my family- everything. I like being the most loved person in the room at home, I like walking the same streets I grew up on. This is my dream, Jake. This,” she gestured vaguely, meaning everything- the life she had built, the people she had around her, the version of herself she had grown into.

Jake felt something crack inside of him. “So that’s it?” His voice was quiet now, the fight leaving him as quickly as it came. “You won’t even try?”

“You expect me to leave my perfect life?”

“You expect me to leave mine?”

“I never said that,” Y/N stood firm on her words. “I just asked you to let me hurt.”

That night, their bodies spoke in ways words never could. Desperation laced every touch, every kiss, as if they could etch each other into memory through skin alone. Jake’s hands traced the curves of her back, pressing her closer, like if he held her tight enough, he could somehow stay. Clothes were shed in silence, urgency melting into slow, lingering movements. He kissed every inch of her, memorizing the way she shivered under his touch, the way her breath hitched when he whispered her name against her lips. It wasn’t just love- it was grief, the kind that settled deep in the bones, knowing this was the last time they would be like this.

The drive to the airport was unbearably silent. The weight of what lay ahead pressed against them, thick in the air. Y/N sat in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into the fabric of her hoodie, staring out at the passing streets she knew by heart. Jake sat beside her, his hands curled into fists against his jeans, knuckles white. Every so often, he stole a glance at her, but she never turned to meet his gaze. She just kept staring out the window, watching the city she loved blur past, like if she memorized it enough now, she wouldn’t forget what it felt like with him here. Jake’s chest tightening with every mile that brought them closer to the departure gate. Neither of them spoke, because what was left to say?

viii. epilogue (the one with the happy ending)

Heeseung’s brother’s wedding was the kind that felt like it had been plucked straight from a dream. The venue was an elegant garden estate, sprawling and timeless, where nature and luxury blended seamlessly. Rows of white chairs lined a stone-paved aisle leading to a breathtaking floral arch, woven with ivory roses and soft greenery. As the sun dipped below the horizon, fairy lights draped across the trees flickered to life, casting everything in a golden glow. The atmosphere was nothing short of enchanting—warm, intimate, and brimming with quiet romance.

Inside the reception hall, deep forest green and champagne hues decorated the space, accented with gold detailing that shimmered under the glow of grand chandeliers. Long banquet tables were set with delicate floral arrangements, gold-rimmed plates, and flickering candle lit lanterns, making everything feel impossibly elegant. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as a live band played soft jazz in the background, transitioning into upbeat melodies as the night carried on. The dance floor, bathed in the warm light of hanging lanterns, was alive with movement- couples twirling, old friends reuniting, and guests celebrating love in all its forms. It was the kind of night that people would remember, not just for its beauty but for the way it made everyone feel—- ike they were part of something special.

In the middle of it all sat Jake, his hand clasped with Y/N’s, refusing to let her go. Around the couple sat the rest of Enhypen, chattering about where the newlywed’s honeymoon would be. They were all older now, busier, lives stretched across different places and paths, but sitting around the same table, drinks in hand, it felt the same. Heeseung was glowing with pride, still riding the high of his brother’s big day. Sunghoon had already teased him for getting emotional during the vows, and Jay was deep in conversation with Jungwon about how weddings always had the best food.

“So,” Sunghoon started, leaning forward with a grin. “Are we going to talk about how Jake actually managed to be in a long-distance relationship?”

“Do you guys really have such low expectations from me?” Jake snorted, bringing a rice cake to his mouth.

“I can’t lie, I'm surprised, too,” Y/N chuckled.

Jake stared at her, expressionless and feigned disappointment. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”

“I love you, too.”

The pair would be lying if they said they weren’t surprised by themselves.

After Jake left, Y/N fell into a puddle of sadness that crashed into her like a wave, along with the tides of realization that her emotions would forever stay unrequited and unmatched. She would brood over her schedules and would drag herself around with a frown or heavy eyes. She no longer sat with enthusiasm while watching movies with her parents or playing with Layla. She no longer spoke with confidence during business meetings, mouthing her words like a programmed robot. And worst of all, she no longer liked online shopping with Diane.

It was painful watching the girl tut and sneer at things that would normally bring her joy- books, food, movies and even driving to the beach at night. Every night she would come home, she would mumble her greetings to anyone else in the house and go straight to bed. Sometimes she'd skip dinner, other times she'd skip breakfast and on days where her schedule was empty, she'd lay in bed all day, watching a show while not even bothering to shower.

It took two days for Sam to beat out a confession from Y/N, where he finally cried out a longing for Jake and their relationship- how everything so perfect suddenly was snatched out of her hand like a child with a stolen lollipop. She weeded and sobbed in Sam’s arms until her parents and his parents arrived in her room, confused at her disarray and begging for her to tell them what happened.

Sam finally explained it to them- how she and Jake had fallen in love, how they snuck around everyone for a few months dating and how him leaving for New York left Y/N shattered and empty. Upon hearing this, the parents had booked her a ticket to New York within a heartbeat. Before Y/N could even protest, yell at them for overreacting, tell them that she never wanted to see Jake’s face again- her bags were already packed.

Jake received an unexpected call from his brother while he was at dinner. Jay, who lived in Seattle, flew down to meet Jake for the weekend. They ate at a small restaurant that was famous for its brunch buffets. It was exactly when Jake was pouring syrup onto his pancakes that his phone rang.

“Y/N’s coming to New York,” Sam said. “Go get her.”

When Jay drove Jake to the airport, Jake finally understood why they said airports were both the place of the greatest happiness and greatest tragedy. For the most part in the past few years, Jake’s visits to the airport were filled with tragedy- disbanding from Enhypen, leaving Y/N and landing in New York for a job that costed him his favourite person. Now, he was visiting to experience what he hoped would be a miracle- that Sam’s call wasn’t just a prank and that he would see the woman of his dreams standing there, waiting for him.

Sure enough, when he arrived, he saw Y/N standing at a far corner, a look of daze and confusion as she gripped her suitcase. She looked around with glassy eyes, holding back tears in an unfamiliar environment. Then, she spotted Jake from afar as he waved at her, jumping at the sight of her. He wore his signature smile, the one that filled his face and brought out his teeth. Y/N let out a wet chuckle.

The pair ran towards each other and collided in the middle in an embrace. Jake, up until that moment, had never kissed her with that much desperation and aching.

After that, flying back and forth to visit each other had become a norm.

At Heeseung’s brother’s wedding, Sunoo asked the couple to recount their love story and he listened with heart eyes. Sunoo loved listening to people’s love stories- he had asked Heeseung to tell him about his brother’s a plethora of times by now.

“I’m so glad she’s stuck with me,” Jake grinned at her, squeezing her hand as she looked back at him.

Jungwon sighed dramatically. “Love is real, I guess.”

Heeseung groaned. “Please, not at my brother’s wedding.”

Laughter rang through the table, but even as the conversation moved on, Jake stared at Y/N, silently grateful for every moment that had led them here.

[toxicmalysh]

Are you listening Detka?

Wanda X female reader

Word count: 1k+

Summary: established relationship, Wanda is the CEO of her company and has to travel from time to time, whilst calling your attentive girlfriend things take a turn

Warnings: masturbation (R and W), slight degrading, mentions of breeding if you squint, that's pretty much it

✧⋆✦⋆✧

Your girlfriend being the head of her company had its perks, she spoiled you, rotten, anything you even paid more than 5 seconds of attention to she'd buy it for you. Going abroad to sight see, spending time in beautiful villas and beaches. Driving you around in expensive cars with that clean smell. Dates in exclusive restaurants drinking wine you couldn't afford even if you worked for months. It was a lush lifestyle you never imagined until you bumped into the curious woman at your local cafe a few years ago.

However, her job also had its cons, specifically her need to travel from time to time. The job was demanding, having to go to different sites was one of them. It wasn't often but when it was it was for a few weeks at a time leaving you lonely in your shared bed, missing her comfort dearly.

The time difference wasn't much, leaving you a few hours ahead, and she called routinely in her evenings after countless meetings. Usually you'd talk about her day, useless staff not handling her instructions, or your day and how your part time job was going. Tonight however, you were missing one of her features in particular, her ability to make you feel good. You were craving her touch.

"it was an absolute nightmare, I kept telling him he needed to format the spreadsheets before printing them because of the pdf conversion but he just wasn't getting it."

Wanda's voice was smooth through the phone speaker, her subtle accent normally mesmerized you, but there was a slight hoarseness from how tired she was. The usually raspy tone she'd take with you when telling you to spread your legs or lay still.

Your thighs were mindlessly rubbing together, as you found yourself fidgeting to suppress the ache between your legs as your girlfriend spoke. You cleared your throat before attempting to respond.

"haven't you already explained that to him the last time you saw him?"

You listened to the slight groan from the other side, more lewd thoughts filtering into your mind and the idea of how she was usually under you when making that sort of noise.

"I did yeah,"

She took a sharp breath before continuing, you wanted to pay attention, but the throbbing was unbearable and the thought of Wanda next to you stroking your thighs wasn't leaving your head anytime soon.

You shuffled around, humming along to what Wanda was saying, focusing on removing your pyjama bottoms and panties.

"and he tried to argue that he hadn't had this issue before, but he absolutely did because I have told him so many times the graph gets cut off on the right hand side,"

Your focus was faulty, your hand gliding over your right breast slowly, pinching ever so gently over your nipple, all you could process was the cracking of her accent and the wetness spreading across the skin of your thighs.

You rolled your nipple a few times before placing your phone on speaker, onto your nightstand, tracing slow lines down your abdomen before your mound. You needed Wanda so badly, shutting your eyes imagining her hands on your skin.

You pick up specific words coming from Wanda's rant, "dumb" "choke" "so well" "for me" "go on", those few words usually used in a context of punishment or pleasure with you.

Your head was fuzzy, imagining Wanda's fingers gliding up your soaking folds, warm and sensitive from the neediness of the situation. You hummed in response to Wanda's sentences whenever she paused for more than two seconds.

"Are you okay?"

The question snapped you out of your trance for a moment, your fingers freezing, and you began composing yourself to answer,

"Yeah Wands," you were more breathless than you realised, "yeah just keep talking."

"okay darling, well," she paused to remember where she was, your fingers rising to rub tight circles on your clit, "after all of that she finally agreed that,"

Warm, you felt so warm, your chest rising quickly, your fingers moving faster, you weren't even aware of how heavy your breathing had gotten over the phone.

"Are you listening detka?"

Wanda's voice wasn't irritated, but rather low and curious, you began nodding before answering, gulping as you hummed in response not trusting your own words.

There was a few moments of silence before Wanda spoke again,

"let me hear how wet you are."

Your eyes rolled and you let out an audible whine at her words. Usually you'd be humiliated with how she knew what you were doing, embarrassed that you couldn't control yourself around her, but with how close you already were and how badly you needed her, you slid your fingers slowly into your pulsing hole before finding a rougher rhythm.

Wanda could hear your fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, the wet sounds echoing through the phone. She reached for her own pyjamas, pulling them down before placing her phone on speaker matching you.

“Do you miss me that much sweetheart? Need my touch that badly?”

You whined down the line, your fingers moving faster inside yourself, you were nodding quickly, even though Wanda couldn't see, she knew you were, she knew you were answering like the good girl you were. You could feel yourself throbbing around your digits, feeling slightly unsatisfied knowing it wasn't Wanda's slender fingers filling you up.

“Tell me, what would you want if I was there detka?”

You hummed softly, pulling your fingers from your pussy and onto your clit, making faster circles than before, needing a release.

“I.. I would want you to be rough, make sure I knew you still needed to touch my body, feel my pussy around your fingers.”

Wanda's hand found her own clit, groping her breast firmly as she breathed out, imaging you squirming beneath her, crying for anything,

“What about my strap hm? Would you want me to fill that pretty cunt of yours?”

Her voice was broken and your eyes rolled at the idea, suddenly feeling empty with just your hand to pleasure yourself. You cried out as you pushed two fingers back into yourself, curling them the same way Wanda would.

“Please, please I need your cock.”

Your voice was dripping with impatience and neediness, Wanda knew you were close, and the moans that were falling from your lips were pushing her faster to her own climax. She could imagine the way your pussy would throb around her strap, sucking her in deeper as you twitched in pleasure from such strong orgasms.

“I miss you so much.”

Wanda let out an unholy whine at your words, squeezing her eyes as she focused on the sounds of your fingers squelching in your heat. She felt the familiar coil in her abdomen, needing to let go of her pent up stress.

“You have no idea how badly I want to taste what's making all that noise.”

You bit your lip at your girlfriend's voice, breathless and whiney. Her voice was always so commanding and stable, right now it was anything but, shaking and cracking as she moaned through her words. Even the idea of how needy Wanda was to feel and taste you was enough to push you to the orgasm you were ready to beg for,

“Can I cum? Please can I cum? Please please?”

Wanda thought it was adorable how messy you were when begging, repeating words, struggling to finish a sentence, it was utterly adorable. She waited a few seconds, successfully catching up to you before answering,

“Come for me detka be a good girl for me.”

As soon as you heard Wanda's high pitch moan leave her lips, hearing the slight ruffle of the fabric on her end from how hard she was convulsing, your body finally snapped. A white hot rush spread across your body, your limbs locking as they shook erratically, your legs squeezing your hand and arm. Your back arched off the bed and you let out a cracked moan, falling limp immediately as your legs fell back open.

Your breaths synchronised, and you ran your fingers through your hair as you caught your breath, eyes remaining shut as you came down. Just as you were ready to apologise to Wanda for not listening to her rant, her quiet voice climbed through the speaker,

“Can you do another one for me sweetheart?”