#fic: they radiate like stars

[sunshine-of-my-shoulder]

I hope that in Hiyori's next unit event, she burns away all of the fuel inside of her which she uses to force herself to keep smiling. I hope she stops glowing, much like the sun would when it will reach the end of its lifespan. I hope that, much like a lower mass star (ie the sun), she enters the planetary nebula stage where she becomes highly unstable and the layers of her mask she donned for years gets stripped away until all that left is the core, now a ruined white dwarf. I hope that her core eventually cools down to be a black dwarf. I hope that she's devastated that she considers herself useless to her family and eden because she can no longer be their sun and what purpose does her life have now.

[yuukimiyas]

hiii loves!! ‪ଘ꒰ა´͈ ᐜ `͈꒱ა* ✩ happy tuesday!! i hope it’s as sweet to you as you are to the world & i’m sending all my love!!

[singmyaubade]

Shades Of Cool

toxic!dark!rafe cameron x female!pogue!reader

summary: you are just living your life, completely normal and free. but, what happens when rafe cameron decides that you are his? he's danger.

warnings: smut! 18+ stalking, manipulation, rafe is obsessed with reader, fingering, swearing, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, praise, oral (male receiving), dark!rafe cameron, choking, jealousy, violence, heavy smut..

a/n: i'm delighted I'm finally starting this, even if it took me so long. i genuinely hope you all enjoy this series. i understand that this a bit short, but the narrative is only getting started, so things will only get wilder! however, it is to be expected—this is a rafe cameron fic.

series

One thing that you hated about Outer Banks was how the heat still radiated at night, causing excessive amounts of water to be drank and a great amount of fans that blew hot air into your face.

It only made everyone irritable and only caused more arguments like now,

"I swear to god JJ, I am about to fucking murder you if you say another word," You hissed, giving him a glare as he mockingly grew scared.

"I agree," Cleo said before falling back into her nap.

"All I'm saying is that we have been moping around here for hours meanwhile we could be partying on the fresh beach and cool water," JJ replied, using his hands to represent the scenery to all of you.

"I'm going to have to agree with Y/N," Pope said, turning his head to JJ, "I'm already in tough shit with my parents for when you knocked over my great-grandmothers vase," Pope glared.

JJ put his hands up in defense, "I told you tequila makes me clumsy,"

"Besides every single Kook is there, including Rafe and if he sees Sarah with us, it will only bring another fight and you are not going back to jail," Kie warned, still closing her eyes while the fan blew the air in her face, blowing her hair.

"When have we ever been scared of Rafe?" JJ asked.

"When he gave me a full smackdown for doing my job," Pope scoffed.

"And when he almost drowned me," Sarah chimed in from across the room where she was laying on John B's legs on the carpet floor.

"And when he shot Sheriff Peterkin in front of us," John B added.

"And when-" Pope began.

"Okay that's enough," He said as you giggled, turning your head back to the fan.

You didn't know much about Rafe Cameron since you had moved to Outer Banks only last year and you had met the "star Pogues" a few months ago.

You had never really seen Rafe's face ever, only heard of him honestly.

But you didn't know if it was a bad thing.

All you had heard about was how evil and villainous he was which caused some places to be off limits for the fact that the boys couldn't handle another beat down with the Kooks and there was a greater matter at hand.

But still, you always were curious about "evil" Rafe Cameron.

"You guys are no fun," JJ pouted, sitting beside you on the couch.

You patted the lower part of his leg, "Poor baby," You sarcastically said to which moved his leg swiftly causing you to laugh.

Suddenly the lights and fans turned off as you all except for JJ groaned, knowing that meant the electricity was off you and you would have to deal with the heat and darkness.

Which meant the only choice was the beach party,

JJ cheered, "I win!"

You crossed your arms as you walked on the warm sand, lots of cheering and loud music around you. You could see the Kooks and the Pogues in their own groups, not daring to interact with eachother.

It was hard to get used to the fact that there were two groups of people based on economic statuses and that it meant that if you were one thing, the other one hated you.

You had never been to a place like that but you just kinda got used to it.

Yet you still could never tell which group was really which sometimes.

You were forced to walk around by yourself as John B and Sarah wandered off to a quiet spot while JJ started drinking with Kie as his babysitter and Cleo and Pope wandered around.

All of it sounded like a lot of third wheeling which made you stay away.

But you didn't mind being alone, you liked listening to the waves and watching the festivities that went along with a party.

And you knew that a beer would help you get more into the party festivities.

You walked over the keg where a man with a shaved head and a matching tank top and shorts poured himself a beer as you curiously looked at him.

You had to admit that he was one of the most attractive men you had seen before.

His lips were a perfect shade of pink and they were smooth like sucking on a cherry. His veins were bulging from his hands and you could see the peach fuzz on his jawline that you could only really see upclose.

You snapped out of your analysis as he looked at you as you waited there awkwardly, forming a smile on your face.

"Sorry to creepily stand here, I'm just trying to get a uh-" You said, pointing to the keg.

His face studied you for a second, almost as if he was trying to figure you out. You could tell by his face that he had never seen you before and he looked as if he was trying to figure out if you were a Kook or Pogue.

He chuckled, "Didn't mean to take so long, I wouldn't have if I had seen your pretty face sooner," He smirked, looking you up and down, causing you to blush.

You felt stupid for blushing over something that a man probably said to every pretty girl he saw but you felt something different about him.

You were taken aback by his boldness, "Do you say that to every women that waits for her turn on the keg?" You teased.

"Only the pretty ones," He replied, causing you to laugh.

"Smooth talker I see," You smiled.

"Always," He joked, "I swear I've never seen you around and usually, you know everyone in Outer Banks," He probed.

"Yeah, I just moved here last year," You answered, "I haven't made my rounds yet,"

"Figured," He said, "I would've definitely noticed you,"

"Pfft," You beamed, "I'm sure you would've walked past me on the beach, there are many beautiful girls here,"

"Nah," He laughed, looking off, "You are different from them,"

"How could you already assume that?" You asked, curiosity biting at you.

"For one, you aren't stuck up and preppy which is most the girls on this island," He grinned as you giggled.

"Ay, they aren't all like that," You replied.

"Most of 'em," He added, "But I don't pay much attention to them,"

"Figures," You said, eyebrow raising.

He saw your eyes move the keg and his cup before he offered his cup forward.

"Might as well take mine, I wouldn't feel proud of myself if I let you pour one yourself," He winked.

Great attempt at being a gentlemen.

"No no, I got it," You said before he shook his head.

"I insist" He said, his thumb grazing yours.

"Thank you," You smiled, "I'm Y/N" You introduced, taking the cup from him while extending your other hand for him to shake.

He shook your hand, "I'm Rafe," He replied with a smile as yours slowly fell.

The Rafe? The Rafe you were basically supposed to never interact with and who was the supposed devil? That Rafe?

"Rafe Cameron?" You asked, standing frozen.

"Guess my reputation precedes me," He joked as you didn't laugh but instead cleared your throat.

You took your hand back quickly, "Oh, i-it's nice to meet you," You cleared your throat, "My friends are waiting so I'm gonna-"

He clearly figured you out, "Pogue, I'm guessing?" He snickered.

Your face wrinkled, "Is that supposed to be a funny thing?"

"Hilarious actually," He answered, only angering you more.

"I don't see what's funny about that?" You crossed your arms with ur drink resting in your hand.

He wiped his jaw, "Must be tough at the bottom of the food chain,"

Your nose flared, "Must be tough being an elite asshole,"

He laughed, "I just think it's an unfortunate cause, I mean it's just unlucky," He smirked.

Asshole.

"Unlucky?" Your lip pursed, " I think what's more unlucky is thinking that your cool for a fucked up economic status that has been perpetuated on an island,"

"I just don't believe your friends belong on Outer Banks," He said, not a hint of hesitance in his voice.

He really believed in this bullshit.

"I mean you would really rather hang out with a group of dirty Pogues?" He snickered, looking off.

"Well I am one of them and they are my friends," You scoffed, "You seem more dirty than us," You insulted.

"Is that so?" Rafe mocked.

"Do you wanna talk about your father's dirty money?" You asked.

"I would watch that pretty mouth," He replied, inching closer.

"Or what?" You hummed, acting braver than you usually would.

"Fuck around and find out sweetheart," He came closer, breath fawning on your face.

The whiskey on his breath kissed your nose but not breaking your eye contact with him as you inched closer, eyes on his lips.

As he tried to close the gap, you threw the drink in his face. "Oohs" and snickers filled around the both of you as you stomped away from him.

He smirked, wiping the alcohol off of his face.

'What an asshole,' You thought,

Little did you know that Rafe only grew to like you more.

You found JJ and Kie sitting by the beach together as she laid her head on his shoulder. You were thinking about interrupting them but tarnish their moment, you choosing instead to call it a night and also you didn't feel like trying to find the rest of the group.

You were glad that you knew yourself enough to drive to the party considering that you got tired fast. You couldn't really see in the parking lot due to how dark it was and away from the lights.

You digged in your back pocket for your phone to pull out of the flashlight as you reached for your keys but dropped them instead in the process.

You audibly groaned as you searched on the floor in the darkness for the keys. You went on your knees with your flashing light, searching on the ground as you heard footsteps behind you, darting your flashlight behind you but seeing nothing.

You had a bad feeling but you thought it was paranoia because you were alone in the parking lot and maybe a little due to the interaction you had earlier with Rafe.

You couldn't stop thinking about how he came off as nice but switched so quickly into an elitist piece of shit.

Sounds like how they described him.

But still, there was a pit in your stomach that felt like butterflies when he grazed your thumb.

You sighed, pushing the thoughts out as you finally grabbed your keys, using the concrete-sanded floor push yourself back up off the ground.

Suddenly, you felt a cloth on your mouth and a hand covering your waist as your muffled screams filled the parking lot, trying to kick your attacker behind you.

You felt yourself drifting into the darkness as you screamed one last time,

And everything went black.

tags: @hysteriahall @avengersassemblee @lighttism @whereismymindnow @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @vi06ma01 @haven247 @vanessa-rafesgirl @blvebanisters @riordanness @aleidag1rly @muzanjackson22

[winterarmyy]

Most Precious

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Bucky and the reader had to take shelter from the snow storm after abandoning a mission due to the reader's 'mistake'.

Pairing: avenger!bucky x avenger!female!reader

Words: 2.2k++

Warnings: nudity but no smut content. a sprinkle of angst and i hope the ending is fluffy enough to make up for it.

Inspiration: i saw @buck-star posted this event and some of the prompts inspired me to write this 🥹

Prompts used: stranded/snowed in, cabin in the woods on the mountain, grumpy x sunshine soft reader, mutual pining/idiots in love, sitting lying together in front of the fireplace, a tweaked version of "You're the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have."

Note: feel free to search up #sydneysfluffywinter or #fluff-star winter for more stories under the event. i hope you enjoy this short fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The wind roared like a creature born of anger, staggering through the cabin’s entrance door as Bucky almost broke the door when he kicked it open. Snow seeping into his tactical suit, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. In his arms, Y/N lay limp, her frozen skin clinging to the fabric of his suit on his chest as if she belonged there. She can hear his heart hammered against her ear, a relentless beat behind the layers of cloth. 

It was wild, frantic even; and she told herself it was because of the storm, the desperate trek to find shelter. She thought of her injuries, the way she slowed him down. The guilt made her heart clench and her chest feel heavy; a throb more suffocating than the pain in her thigh and waist. She’d been nothing but a burden.

The cabin was almost as dark as the night, and the coldness of the space was not that far off from the snow storm brewing outside. But this? This wasn’t new to him. He’d endured worse.

Bucky lowered her carefully in front of the fireplace, his movements precise but urgent. Y/N winced as her wounds screamed in protest, the pain was blazing hot despite the freezing air around. Her thigh throbbed, and her waist felt as though it was wrapped in shards of glass. 

Bucky stepped away briefly, his gaze darting over the unlit corners of the room, his hand instinctively brushing the knife at his side. A habit he was not able to forget; the Winter Soldier training never really left him. Satisfied they were alone, he turned back to her.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly, her consciousness slipping in and out. Bucky cursed under his breath. The power was out, but he wasn’t about to waste time diagnosing that now. His jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line as he set out what he needed to treat her wounds. 

Bucky was angry; it radiated off him like steam from boiling water. But the frown on his face wasn’t unfamiliar. Y/N had seen his rigid features a thousand times before. This, though? This was sharper, colder. It wasn’t his usual grumpiness. He was mad. At her. 

The realization was like a slow plunge of blade into her chest, and it made eyes pooled with warm tears. Not from the physical pain scorching her flesh, but the ache of his perceived disappointment.

By the time Bucky had coaxed the firewood into flames, the heat began to thaw the rattling chill in the room. He knelt beside her, his expression set in stone as he draped a blanket over her trembling form. Behind the cover of the blanket, his hands worked quickly, undressing her with care that belied his hardened demeanor. 

He pulled her close as he worked to pull her pants over her bottom. Her face was buried in his neck as he whispered, “The cold will kill you. Come on, now.” His voice, rough but mostly filled with urgency. They didn’t have the luxury of embarrassment – for her, the sensation of him stripping her bare; for him, the temptation to relish the softness of her skin against his hands – not with her life teetering on the edge of frost and blood loss.

He peeled the blanket back just enough to expose her injuries, the torn of her flesh was slick with half-frozen blood. The cold had helped slow the bleeding, but not enough to ease his worry. Bucky worked with a precision that spoke of grim experience. 

Every time she winced or hissed, his grip on the forceps tightened, the metal creaking in protest. It was as if her pain annoyed him, a silent demand for her to be stronger, better; more like an Avenger.

She noticed it every single time, and it pricked into her pride like being wrapped with thorny vines. The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes made it worse. His focus stayed on her wounds, his frown deepening with each moment.

When he finally finished, he noticed the tears tracing her cheeks; a silent trace of a vulnerability she couldn’t hide. They were especially prominent when they glistened in the firelight. His brow furrowed further.

“Bear with the pain a little longer,” he said, his voice gruff. ��I’ll get the team here as soon as I can.” his tone was not that far off from his normal grumpy self.

But to Y/N, at this very moment, it sounded harsh. To her, it sounded more like an order than reassurance. She swallowed, guilt twisting like a vice in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Bucky’s head snapped up, confusion flashing in his stormy blue eyes. “What?”

“I’m sorry for being incompetent. I should’ve noticed them sooner. I should’ve taken them down before they could do anything.” Her voice was a mix of shame and frustration however not as evident as the pure agon trembling through.

His jaw clenched. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

The words were meant to be absolution, but she heard them differently. There’s nothing you can do.

Her voice cracked. “I wasn’t enough.”, streams of hot tears kept falling unapologetically, leaving behind a trail of warmth on her cold skin. 

Bucky’s frown deepened, his frustration bubbling over. “Damn it, Y/N. Why do you always do this to yourself?”

She blinked at him, her confusion cutting through the haze of pain. “Do what?”

“Put the blame on yourself like it’s some kind of default setting. This wasn’t your fault,” he snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than intended.

Her cheeks burned, shame and anger mingling in her chest. “I’m not blaming myself. I’m just… stating facts. If I’d been faster, stronger; if I’d been better; this wouldn’t happen. We wouldn’t need to abandon the mission. You wouldn’t need to carry me all the way up here.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, his frustration spilling out; contaminating the air around them. “You think I care about that? About you being some kind of perfect soldier?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping but no less intense. “I care about you, Y/N. Not your skills, not your damn performance. YOU.”

Her breath hitched, his words slicing through the self-doubt she’d been drowning in. “Then why do you look at me like that? Like I’ve failed you?”

His shoulders sagged, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “That’s not what this is,” he said, his tone quieter now, tinged with exhaustion. “I’m angry because you scared the hell out of me. I’m worried about you, Y/N. You jumped in front of a bullet meant for me without a second thought. Don’t you value your life?”

The words struck her like a blow, but she struck back with equal fervor. “You’re the most valuable person to me! Of course, I will protect you with everything I have. And I’d do it again if I have to!”

Her confession lingered in the air, fragile but undeniable. Bucky’s eyes widened, the storm in them softening as realization washed over him. His anger melted, leaving only the deepest parts of his emotions afloat; his love for her.

His right hand rose tentatively, brushing the skin of her tear-streaked face. His palm cupped her cheek, his warmth a stark contrast to her icy skin. She leaned into his touch, a quiet surrender.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling with an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t quite utter out loud yet. “You… you matter to me.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile. She blinked up at him, the pieces slowly found its rightful place in puzzle. She realized that he meant more than just about worry or duty. It was something deeper, something unspoken but unmistakable. Yet, she reminds herself not to get ahead of the moment.

“Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Because you make it easier to keep going,” he admitted, his voice unfiltered. “When everything feels heavy, when the past doesn’t let me breathe, you’re the one thing that makes it bearable. You remind me that I’m still… me. And that makes you, Y/N, the most precious person to me.”

Her heart clenched, his words cutting through the haze of pain and doubt. The light from the fire danced in his eyes, their usual icy blue now warm and liquid, like the sea yielding to the shore. She hadn’t just been a mission partner or a responsibility to him. She’d been his anchor, his hope.

And for a moment, the storm outside seemed to still; as if time itself paused to let the quiet intimacy between them linger just a little longer. To let the cabin feel like it  was a cocoon, sheltering not just their bodies but the fragile truths they’d finally unveiled.

"Are you okay with that, babydoll?" he asked softly.

Heat rushed to her cheeks at the nickname, her heart stuttering in her chest. She nodded, sheepish, her lips curving into a small, bashful smile. His own lips twitched upward, the corners softening into a rare, genuine grin. Her reaction was worth the vulnerability of saying it aloud.

But as the burning wood crackled and the silence stretched, Bucky noticed the faint tremble still coursing through her body. Even with the fire roaring and the blanket tucked around her, she was trembling.

"You’re still cold," he murmured, guilt threading through his tone as his hand moved gently, caressing her cheek before trailing down to her neck. His touch was soft, deliberate, as though he could erase the chill from her skin with every motion.

Their eyes met in that moment, and the realization hit them both at the same time. 

She nodded slightly, her voice a soft whisper. "Can you… stay with me? Under the covers?"

Bucky hesitated, his instincts warring with his emotions. His hesitation lingered for a moment too long, and she turned her wide, pleading eyes on him. Those damned puppy eyes. And just like that, he was undone.

With a resigned sigh, he stripped off his snow-soaked jacket and tactical vest, leaving them in a damp heap by the fire. His shirt followed, revealing the lines of muscle and the faint scars that told a thousand stories. He slid beneath the covers, careful not to jostle her injured side. The moment his warmth enveloped her, Y/N instinctively curled closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Bucky’s body was a furnace, the serum coursing through his veins keeping his heat steady and intense. Her frozen fingers brushed against his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve in his body coming alive at the contact.

Slowly, he wrapped his right arm around her, careful and deliberate. Pulling her closer; her head snuggled into the crook of his neck, the softness of her breasts resting on just below his chest, her legs entangled with his, until there was no space left between them.

His hand found her back, calloused fingers tracing soothing circles over her bare skin. The gesture was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid that she would break. But the way she relaxed against him, her breaths stabilising as her trembling subsided, told him she didn’t mind. Her nose brushing against his skin, and he felt her sigh; a soft, content sound that made his chest ache in the best way.

"You’re precious to me," he murmured, the words spilling out before he could second-guess them. His lips found her forehead, a lingering kiss that was both tender and grounding. "More than anything."

Y/N’s fingers curled against his chest, her heart thumping a steady rhythm that matched his own. "Bucky," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep but laced with something softer, warmer. "Thank you."

He smiled against her hair, the corners of his mouth curving upward in a way that felt unfamiliar but good. "No, thank you, for saving me", he replied quietly, his sincerity was certain. Then his tone shifted, growing stern as he added, "But, don’t do that again."

She giggled softly at his warning, the sound light and airy, cutting through the heaviness of the moment. "What if I like saving you?" she teased, her voice playful but still tinged with exhaustion.

Bucky rolled his eyes, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "You’re impossible," he muttered, but there was no real bite to his words. Instead, his hand shifted to cradle the back of her head, his thumb brushing gently over her hairline. "Just promise me you won’t scare me like that again."

She tilted her head up slightly to meet his gaze, her lips twitching with a faint smile. "Only if you promise the same."

He huffed, his breath warm against her temple. "Deal." His fingers resumed their soothing circles on her back, and he leaned down to press another soft kiss to her forehead. "Get some rest, doll."

They stayed like that, skin to skin, softness meeting strength. Bucky held her as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if the storm that had almost claimed their life was nothing but a distant memory. For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of everything; the mission, the storm, the unspoken emotions, seemed to lift. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded to nothing.

At some point, their bodies finally surrendered to exhaustion, leading them straight to the warm embrace of sleep and perhaps even to the bashful morning after when they awoke, body tangled together, and all too aware of the touch of each other’s bare skin.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i know it's not a tooth rotting fluff, regardless though, i hope you enjoyed the fic? drop your thoughts, i'd love to read them 💕

[eternalguk]

Checked Out | jjk. (M) — teaser

Your touch blurred my vision, it’s your world and I’m just in it

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : When your best friend asks you to cover her shift at the campus library, you reluctantly agree, figuring it’ll be a quiet night of reshelving books and dodging overdue fees. What you don’t expect is Jeon Jungkook, the star of your shared lectures and the subject of your most distracted daydreams, walking in with a cocky smile and a book to return. Flirty banter turns into suggestive glances, and when Jungkook offers to help you “restock” in the back storeroom, the air grows thick with more than just dust. Alone, pressed between shelves of forgotten novels, you realise some things are worth being overdue for. After all, who needs silence in the library when the tension is this loud?

↠ Genre : pwp, university au, fluff, smut, mutuals (?) to lovers

↠ Word count : tbc.

↠ Warnings : explicit sexual content (more detail will be provided when the fic is released!)

↠ A/n : Hi there ; as promised, here’s a little oneshot featuring the man who drives me absolutely insane (and I know I’m not alone in that)! I promised an anon I’d share this before dropping chapter two of my new series, so here’s a teaser to tide you over! Expect plenty of tension, stolen glances, and maybe a little trouble in the backroom. The full story will be out next weekend, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged - I’d love to hear what you think 🦢!

“I was just thinking…” Jungkook leans against the counter again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You might need some help after all.” His voice is a low, but the hint of amusement cannot be hidden. “Can’t leave you stuck here all night, can I?”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words die in your throat when he steps closer, the heat of Jungkook’s body radiating through the air between you.

��I-”you begin, but your voice falters as he reached across the counter, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. Jungkook’s touch is featherlight, but it is strong enough t send a ripple of warmth down your spine. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping,” he says simply, his voice dropping yet another octave. There was no mistaking the intention in his eyes now, the way they darkened with something more primal, more intense. “I’m good at helping. You should know that by now.”

Your heart pounds as Jungkook’s fingers slide along the edge of the desk, closer to where you are standing. His body is a mere inch away, and you can feel the pulse of his presence, his scent mixing with the dusty air.

You are acutely aware of the space between you shrinking, the tension building with each step the handsome man takes.

“You should really get back to work,” you mutter, but it is more out of instinct than actual desire to stop him.

Jungkook’s proximity is suffocating in the best way, and all the rational thoughts in your mind are crumbling under the weight of how badly you want him.

How badly you need him.

Jungkook chuckles, a soft sound that makes something in your chest tighten. “You’re still pretending this is about work?”

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, his thumb stroking gently over the sensitive skin there.

You inhale sharply, your pulse racing.

“No, I’m-” The words are lost as Jungkook leans in, lips brushing against your ear.

“Good,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “Because I’ve been thinking about you ever since I saw you across the lecture theatre.”

Your breath hitches, and you turned your head just enough for your lips to brush his jaw.

The heat between you is electric, palpable. It is more than just words or flirty exchanges now - it is the space you’d been unwilling to acknowledge. The space that is now pulling you in with irresistible force.

Here it is! Do let me know if you want to be tagged :)

[ethereangel222]

our safe haven

nicholas alexander chavez & fem!reader

premise After years of marriage and raising their daughter, Nicholas and his wife, Y/N, find their love and passion deepening as they consider growing their family.

cw fluff and eventual smut, oral (f receiving), penetration p in v, unprotected sex wc 4k a/n soft vanilla!nicholas fic is needed. this is my fav fic in my drafts so far! i hope you guys enjoy this <3

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

Nicholas quietly entered the bedroom, the soft creak of the door muffled by the plush carpet underfoot. The subtle scent of Amelia's lavender bath soap lingered on him, a reminder of the bedtime ritual he had just finished. He padded over to his side of the bed, his broad shoulders still relaxed from reading Amelia her favorite story, and pulled back the covers.

You were already nestled beneath the duvet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light on your face. The room was cozy, the air filled with the faint scent of the candles you had lit earlier—something calming, like vanilla and sandalwood. Nicholas slid into bed beside you, his body radiating warmth as the mattress dipped slightly under his weight.

He turned to face you, his hand immediately finding your hip under the sheets, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your sleep shirt.

"She went down easy tonight," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. "Asked for an extra story, though. Had to make a deal with her."

You chuckled softly, leaning into his warmth. The house was quiet now, the comforting weight of the day behind you, but as he lay there beside you, it brought back memories of when your life together had just begun—back when you were both teenagers, when everything had been new and full of promise.

You first met Nicholas when you were sixteen. He was the guy every girl had a crush on at your high school. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a natural charm that made it hard to miss him. He was the star of the football team, the kind of guy who could breeze through practice and still show up to class with that easy smile that made everyone feel like they had his attention. But he wasn’t just the jock everyone expected him to be—he surprised everyone, including you, when he joined the speech and debate team.

You’d been on the team for a while, focused on honing your skills and winning competitions. You were serious about it, and Nicholas, at first, seemed like he was just there to round out his resume. But as the practices went on, you realized there was more to him. He was good—really good. And there was a determination in him, a drive to be better, that matched yours. You couldn’t help but respect that.

It wasn’t long before the two of you started spending more time together. At first, it was just for debate practice, going over arguments and strategies late into the afternoon, but soon, those sessions turned into something more. After one particularly grueling practice, he had offered to walk you home. The conversation flowed easily between you, and by the time you reached your doorstep, you realized you were laughing more with him than you had with anyone else in a long time.

From there, it became a regular thing—sneaking out late at night to meet up at the park, lying under the stars and talking about anything and everything. Nicholas wasn’t just the confident, easygoing football player everyone thought he was. He had dreams, ambitions, fears he didn’t show to the rest of the world. You found yourself drawn to him, not just for his looks or his charm, but for the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he was with you.

That summer, everything between you intensified. The chemistry was undeniable. What started as late-night talks turned into stolen kisses, and before long, the two of you were inseparable. You’d sneak into football games just to watch him play, and he’d sit through your debate tournaments, always cheering you on from the sidelines. It was passionate, reckless, and all-consuming.

But it wasn’t just about being young and in love. Even then, you knew there was something deeper between you. Nicholas wasn’t like other guys you’d dated before—he was serious about you, about your future together, and that seriousness only grew when you both turned twenty and found out you were pregnant with Amelia.

The day you told him, you’d been terrified. You hadn’t planned for it, hadn’t expected it. But Nicholas had surprised you, just like he always did. He had sat quietly for a moment, processing, before pulling you into his arms and telling you that everything would be okay. “We’ll figure it out,” he had said, and the way he looked at you, with so much certainty, made you believe it too.

He was by your side through it all—the doctor’s appointments, the late-night cravings, the fear of becoming parents when you were barely more than kids yourselves. When Amelia was born, everything shifted. You got married soon after, a small ceremony with just your families, a simple exchange of vows that cemented what you already knew—you were in this together for the long haul.

And now, as Nicholas lay beside you, his hand moving slowly along your waist, his foot gently slid between your legs, grazing your skin with a slow, teasing motion. The soft, subtle contact sent a shiver of warmth through you, each caress deliberate yet comforting. The quiet intimacy of the moment made your breath hitch, the simplicity of his touch pulling you deeper into the connection you both shared.

It was then, with his foot still brushing against your skin, that he whispered, “You know... I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time we gave her a sibling.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your heart skipping a beat. The thought of another child had been floating around in your mind for a while, but hearing Nicholas say it out loud made it feel more real, more possible. You turned to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You think so?”

Nicholas grinned, his eyes darkening with intent. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I think it’s time.”

You smiled. The thought of expanding your family, of watching Amelia become a big sister, felt right. But then, a small worry crept in. “What if she wakes up?”

Nicholas chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “She’s out like a light,” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “And besides, we’ll be quiet. I promise.”

His fingers teased your skin, and your breath hitched as the familiar heat between you began to rise. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. He shifted, positioning himself over you, his body warm and strong, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened, filled with both tenderness and desire.

Nicholas’ hands moved with a practiced ease, exploring your body in ways that made your breath catch. He knew you better than anyone else—knew exactly how to touch you, how to bring you to the edge of wanting more. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the intensity between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“You sure about this?” you whispered, your voice breathless as his hand slid lower, teasing you, making your body respond instinctively to his touch.

Nicholas’ gaze locked with yours, his voice low and filled with the same determination he had shown since the day you met. “I’m sure,” he said softly, his hand moving with purpose now.

He gave you a soft, reassuring smile. His hand continued its slow descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts with deliberate ease. The heat of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your breath hitched, your body already reacting to the familiar, electric sensation of his fingers teasing your skin.

With one smooth motion, he tugged your shorts down, the fabric sliding easily off your hips. He didn’t rush, didn’t break eye contact as he took his time undressing you, as if savoring every moment. His touch was firm yet tender, knowing exactly how to build the anticipation with every movement. Your shirt followed next, leaving you exposed under his gaze, but there was no awkwardness, no hesitation—only the heat of the moment, and the years of trust and love between you.

Nicholas hovered over you, his eyes dark and intent, the air between you thick with the shared heat of the moment. His lips brushed softly against yours before trailing down your jaw, his breath hot as he moved to your neck. You could feel the anticipation building with every touch, every slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips traveled lower, kissing a path down your chest, the warmth of his mouth sending a shiver through you as he reached the curve of your breasts. He paused there, taking his time, his tongue flicking over your skin before gently closing his lips around one of your nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as his tongue swirled in slow, lazy circles.

As his mouth worked one breast, his hand slid up to your other, fingers teasing your nipple in a rhythm that matched the flicks of his tongue. The heat between you intensified, every touch, every flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands knew exactly where to go, building the tension, his fingers squeezing lightly before shifting to explore more, heightening the sensitivity of your skin.

His free hand, meanwhile, began to slide lower, tracing down your stomach and between your thighs. You gasped again as his fingers gently slipped under the fabric, teasing you at first, drawing out the anticipation. He alternated between kissing your breasts and watching your reactions as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against your most sensitive spot with an expert touch.

You arched into him, your breath catching as his fingers slipped inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. The feeling of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers inside you, sent sparks through your body. He curled his fingers just right, finding that perfect rhythm, and your body responded immediately, hips lifting toward him as your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Nicholas shifted the covers up slightly, casting the room in a soft shadow as he lowered himself under the blankets, his hands gently guiding your thighs apart. His breath hovered just above your skin, and the moment felt intimate, almost reverent, as he placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. He always took his time, prolonging the anticipation, heightening your awareness of every touch, every kiss.

“Relax,” he murmured, you could feel the vibration of his words against your skin.

Then, without further teasing, his mouth found you.

The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a soft flick that sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. You gasped, your fingers instinctively gripping the sheets as he settled into a rhythm. His free hand slid back up to your breast, teasing your nipple again, squeezing lightly as his mouth moved over you—exploring, teasing, and then going deeper. His digits slipping in and out, complementing the rhythm of his tongue.

Nicholas knew exactly how to work you, his tongue gliding over your most sensitive spot in slow, tantalizing circles before shifting, changing the pressure, keeping you on the edge without letting you tip over. The pleasure built steadily, every stroke of his tongue a carefully measured step toward your undoing. His fingers worked in time with his mouth, adding pressure and depth where you needed it most, the pleasure mounting with every touch.

You tried to stay quiet, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, but it was impossible to keep still. Your hips moved involuntarily, responding to the rhythm he set, chasing the pleasure he so expertly gave.

Beneath the covers, the soft sound of his breath mingled with the wet, quiet sounds of his mouth working against you, the sheets muffling the intensity of the moment but not diminishing it. The world outside the bed faded to nothing, and it was just Nicholas—his hands gripping your breast and working between your legs, his mouth coaxing your body higher and higher with each flick of his tongue.

Your fingers tangled in the sheets, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Nicholas seemed to sense it too—he pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue moving faster, more precise, and his fingers working in perfect rhythm, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The tension inside you coiled tighter, ready to snap.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure as he continued, relentless but tender, pushing you further and further. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Nicholas shifted slightly, his tongue finding that perfect rhythm, his fingers deepening their motion, and the world seemed to shatter around you.

Your body tensed, the pleasure flooding through you in waves as you came, your hips arching toward him, your hands gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Nicholas didn’t stop, his tongue still working you through every shuddering moment, his fingers moving in time with the tremors running through your body as you trembled beneath him.

When the last wave of pleasure finally subsided, you lay there, breathless, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all. Nicholas emerged from under the covers, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he crawled up to meet you. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him, his body pressing down against yours in a way that was both grounding and electrifying.

"That’s just the start," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire, his hands sliding up your sides again, ready to continue what he had so expertly begun.

Nicholas hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, his breath still warm from the intensity of what he had just done. You kissed him back deeply, your hand instinctively sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. His skin was hot, his muscles taut beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his need pressing against you through the thin fabric that still separated him from you.

He pulled away slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his own red plaid pj's, and without a word, he smoothly removed them, followed by his fitted shirt, tossing them onto the floor. The muscles in his arms flexed with the movement, and the light from the bedside lamp caught the lines of his chest and abdomen. He stood over you for a moment, naked and confident, his body strong and familiar yet still capable of making your breath catch.

You took in the sight of him—the hard lines of his chest, the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the subtle sheen of sweat that glistened on his collarbone. Even after all these years, he had the ability to leave you in awe, the years of familiarity doing nothing to dull the sharp edge of your desire for him.

He noticed the way you were looking at him, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he leaned down again, brushing his lips softly against yours, his kissed trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers spreading wide over your ribcage, holding you firmly as his mouth explored your skin. Every touch, every kiss was filled with the same passion he had shown since the beginning, but there was a tenderness to it now, something that went beyond just physical desire.

He kissed his way down your body, the warmth of his lips sending a ripple of heat through you with each soft touch. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressing against you as he moved lower, his hands guiding your legs apart again, his breath teasing your skin.

But this time, as he moved between your thighs, he paused, lifting his head just slightly to meet your eyes. "You ready for this?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a kind of determined softness.

You nodded, your body already aching for him, your skin alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Nicholas positioned himself over you, his body perfectly aligned with yours. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his eyes locking with yours as he lowered himself, entering you with a slow, deep thrust that made your breath catch in your throat. The connection between you was immediate and intense, the weight of his body grounding you as he began to move.

He started slow, his movements steady and controlled, each thrust pushing deeper, filling you completely. Your body responded to him instinctively, your hips arching to meet his, your hands gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built between you, hot and urgent.

Nicholas leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, the slow grind of his hips driving you both higher with each thrust. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, the intimacy of the moment making everything feel heightened, more intense.

As he picked up the pace, the pleasure intensified, and you could feel the tension coiling deep inside you again, the familiar ache building as Nicholas moved faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps against your neck. His elbows resting on the either side of your head, his body pressing against yours in a way that left no space between you.

The sounds of your quiet gasps and his low groans filled the room, mixing with the rustling of the sheets and the steady rhythm of your bodies coming together. Every movement was precise, deliberate, and filled with the urgency of the desire that had been building between you since the moment he climbed into bed.

Nicholas' movements became more intense, his pace quickening as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable level. You could feel every inch of him, the pressure and the pleasure combining in a way that left you breathless, your body arching to meet his with every thrust.

Your hips lifted to meet him, pushing yourself closer to the edge with every thrust. Nicholas groaned softly. He kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin, his body tense with the effort of holding back, waiting for you.

“I want us to come together,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, his thrusts hitting your spot in a way that made it impossible to think about anything else.

His breath quickened, his movements becoming more urgent, his hands now gripping your waist as he thrust deeper, faster.His own control was slipping, his low groans vibrating against your skin as his body tensed.

"Come with me," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, waiting for you to tip over the edge.

That was all it took. His words, way his body moved against yours—it all came crashing together in a flood of sensation. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body tightening around him as waves of pleasure coursed through you, your breath catching in your throat as you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Nicholas followed right behind you, his body shuddering as he gave in to his own release, his movements growing erratic as he thrust deep one last time, his own moans mingling with yours as he came, his body trembling above yours as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still pressed together, both of you catching your breath, still coming down from the high, a reminder of the intimacy you had just shared.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his breath still heavy. “That was… perfect."

Just as the two of you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, your breathing still steadying, you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door. Your heart skipped a beat as a small, tentative voice broke the quiet.

“Mommy?” Amelia's voice was soft but clear in the stillness of the room, filled with concern. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your mind raced. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you frantically pulled the covers over yourself and grabbed for your shorts and sleep shirt, dressing hurriedly under the blanket. Nicholas watched you with wide eyes, his own face a mix of panic and amusement as you scrambled to get decent.

Finally, after a moment that felt far too long, you managed to pull your shirt on, smoothing your hair and taking a deep breath before facing Amelia. She stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed bear, her little brow furrowed with worry.

“Ames, baby,” you called softly, sliding out of bed and quickly making your way over to her. You crouched down in front of her, your hand resting gently on her shoulder. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not hurt, I promise.”

Amelia looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “But I heard you... You sounded like you were sad or something.”

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “I know, baby, but I’m not sad. Sometimes grown-ups just talk loud when they’re... having a conversation. I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

Her little face softened a bit, though she still looked unsure. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay,” you assured her, pulling her into a hug. “I promise, sweetheart.”

You could feel her relax a little in your arms, and you stood up, taking her small hand in yours. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded, still clutching her bear, and you gently led her back down the hallway toward her room. The quiet creak of the floorboards underfoot seemed louder in the calm of the night, the house otherwise still. When you reached her room, you flicked on the small nightlight beside her bed, casting a soft, comforting glow around the room.

You guided her to her bed, pulling back the covers and helping her climb in. She snuggled down immediately, her little bear tucked close to her chest. You sat beside her, tucking the blankets around her small frame, smoothing the fabric out with gentle hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mommy?” she asked again, her voice small as she blinked sleepily up at you.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, brushing a hand through her soft hair. “I’m sure, baby. I’m so sorry I woke you up, but everything’s fine. You can go back to sleep now, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes already starting to droop as the comfort of her bed took over. “Okay. Can you leave the door open a little?”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her one last kiss before standing up. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Nicholas had followed quietly, standing in the doorway with a soft smile on his face. He stepped forward, leaning down to kiss Amelia's cheek. “Goodnight, Amelia. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

You and Nicholas exchanged a tender smile, quietly backing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, just as she had asked.

As you returned to your bedroom, you let out a small sigh of relief, the tension from earlier finally melting away. Nicholas wrapped an arm around your waist as you slid back under the covers together.

“Well, that was close,” he whispered with a chuckle, his breath warm against your ear.

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Definitely closer than I’d like.”

Nicholas kissed the top of your head, his hand resting comfortably on your side as you settled into the bed once more. “We’re going to have to be a lot quieter next time,” he teased, pulling you closer.

“Definitely,” you agreed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as the quiet of the night wrapped around you both once again.

[saythenametotheworld]

Take a Chance With Me | j.ww (18+)

You could not believe that no one ever told you how frustrating (and beautiful) it was to be hopelessly captivated by a boy who thinks love is overrated.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader Warnings: fluff fluff, she fell first he fell harder kinda slow burn lol, mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 25k words. Part 3 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Take a Chance with Me by NIKI. Longer fic because writing this was my coping mechanism for the devastating tragedy that was Backburner. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Take a Chance with Me by NIKI, Forces by Japanese Wallpaper, I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift, Taglist: @katfaceu @mansaaay @scoupsjin @iarayara @gaslysainz @silvermist002 @ssmebody @alyssa19123456

Jeon Wonwoo’s story began one hot evening, just two weeks into your senior year of college. It was at a party—one where you’d arrived late after a supposedly quick pre-game session with your girlfriends at Lea’s apartment turned into a full-on mini-party on its own. You’d almost ditched the party altogether, but Mina said she had to meet this guy at the party, or she’d regret it forever. Of course, she was exaggerating at the time, but you went anyway.

You were the designated driver since you were the only one who didn’t drink, which was because you were late even to the pre-game. Some things just never change, and being late is one of your many talents.

As soon as you pulled up to the driveway of the party venue, your friends rushed out of the car and into the house, leaving you behind to park. Just as you were stepping out of your car, you spotted Wonwoo—tall standing next to the lamppost, and handsome under the yellow-orange glow of the light. He was attractive—the slight flush on his cheeks, his skin glowing under the lamplight, and even in simple square glasses and a plain white tee, he radiated some kind of confidence that made you pause.

He was cute. And he was heading toward you.

Why though? Did he want to talk to you? Maybe get your number? Oh my god. What are you gonna do?

You stood frozen, heart pounding in your chest as Wonwoo closed the gap between you. Sure, he wasn’t the first guy to ever approach you, but he was cute, and it was ridiculous how fast you were crushing on him.

He’s coming, you told yourself, glancing around casually, trying not to look too eager. But just as he was about three steps away—bam! He hit the ground, limbs sprawled out in every direction.

You gasped, rushing over. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He groaned, kicked at the offending rock that had tripped him, and then dramatically flopped onto the grass as if it had betrayed him too.

You crouched beside him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey, you alright?”

Wonwoo blinked up at the sky, glaring like the stars were personally out to get him. Then, locking his glassy eyes on yours, he said, “Hi. My asshole friends abandoned me here.” He hiccupped. “I’m kinda drunk and you’re kinda gorgeous. Would you be so kind to help me out?”

Caught off guard by his random compliment, you chuckled. “Here, let me help you up,” you said, tugging his arm, trying to haul him back to a sitting position. “You can walk, right? You were walking just now.”

“Walking’s overrated,” he muttered, but with your help, he managed to get back on his feet, wobbling slightly.

You told him your name. “What’s yours? Where do you live? Do you need a ride?”

He opened his mouth to speak but someone suddenly appeared beside him, patting his chest. It was Hoshi. “There you are, Wonwoo. We’ve been looking all over for you!” 

“Hosh! You know this guy?” you asked.

“Look,” Wonwoo said, turning to you and pointing a very unsteady finger at his friend. “See that? Fake friend. Never trust people who abandon you.”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who wandered off!”

Wonwoo smirked, leaning in as if sharing a deep truth. “People who gaslight you aren’t your friends. Don’t forget that.”

“I can’t believe I ditched my girl for this. Okay, that's enough from you.” Hoshi slung Wonwoo’s arm over his shoulder. “Where’s that idiot Jun? Junhui!”

A second later, a man came jogging toward you. “Found him?”

“Yeah, help me get him out of here,” Hoshi said, struggling to hold up Wonwoo’s weight.

Jun smiled apologetically at you as they shifted Wonwoo’s arm off your shoulder. “He seems like a handful, but he’s nice sometimes.”

You stepped back, watching them as they wrangled him toward a black pickup truck. “He doesn’t seem that drunk, though.”

Jun chuckled. “You’d be surprised. One time he got wasted and started working on a coding project. Finished the whole thing in one sitting.”

“Didn’t even remember it the next day,” Hoshi added, making a mock exploding gesture at his temple.

You couldn’t help laughing, finding it both amusing and adorable that a fine man like him would have such drinking habits.

“Anyway, thanks again,” Hoshi said, flashing you a quick grin as they started loading Wonwoo into the truck.

“Bye, gorgeous lady!” Wonwoo called from the back seat, waving weakly. “I love you!”

Jun scoffed. “You don’t even know her name.”

“Who cares what you think, Jun? You’re a fake friend!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, waving them off as the truck pulled away. Standing there, you found yourself thinking about Wonwoo—strangely intrigued by this cute, clumsy guy. But before you could dwell on it for too long, you heard Lea’s voice calling your name from inside the house.

“Why are you out here alone? Let’s go!”

You skipped toward her, linking arms as she pulled you inside. “I just met the cutest guy ever.”

If Seungcheol’s face wasn’t the first thing you saw as you stepped into the pool pavilion, you wouldn’t have recognized him at all. His neat blue suit from yesterday had been swapped for something far more relaxed—crisp white pants and a cream button-up that made him look more… approachable. He greeted you the moment you arrived, gesturing to the lounge chair beside his.

“I ordered cocktails,” he said, motioning to the bellinis on the table. “But I took liberties since I didn’t know what you like.”

“You didn’t have to include me, but thanks,” you smiled, taking one of the flutes.

Seungcheol watched you take your first sip before saying, “So, what depressing tale would you be telling me today?”

You coughed, choking very slightly on your drink. “You said you wouldn’t judge.”

He shrugged, leaning back on the chair and fixing his eyes at the infinity pool. “I wasn’t judging. My expectations are based on past experiences. In this case, the experience was yesterday’s story. It was quite heavy.”

“Exactly,” you nodded, setting your glass down. “Yesterday was intense, so I’m dialing it down today with a lighter story about my favorite ex.”

“You have a favorite ex?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “But that’s not the point. Do you wanna  hear it or not?”

Seungcheol nodded. “Please. Proceed.”

“Alright.” You took a sip of your drink before starting. “His name is Jeon Wonwoo.”

THE DAY after you'd first met him at that party, you’d prioritized looking for Wonwoo. Living in the on-campus dorms gave you time to walk around the campus before your class. The problem was, you didn’t know where to start. Your friends could swear they were sick of you, gushing about him and retelling the story of how he called you gorgeous and basically confessed his love for you in under five minutes of meeting each other.

“I know he was drunk, Jill. But people say you become more honest when you’re drunk,” you insisted, not even trying to hide your excitement as you scanned the cafeteria for any sign of him.

“What’s his name anyway?” Mina asked, scowling slightly as she watched you crane your neck, practically spinning in your seat. 

“Wonwoo. I don’t know his last name.”

Mina scoffed. “Wonwoo? Aren’t you like neighbors?”

You stopped mid-scan, turning to her with wide eyes. “We’re WHAT?”

As it turned out, Wonwoo lived in the on-campus dorm too. He and Hoshi were roommates, and you only knew this because, apparently, the guy Mina just had to meet at last night’s party was Hoshi. 

“You’re telling me I’ve been looking around campus for him like a lunatic when he’s been right under my nose this whole time?” you asked, clutching your pearls.

Jill snorted into her iced coffee. “You’ve been obsessed for, what? Twelve hours?”

“Thirteen,” you corrected. “But who’s counting?”

For a while, you tried catching glimpses of Wonwoo around your apartment complex. You even took slightly longer routes on campus, hoping to spot him by chance between classes or during meals. But every time, you came up empty—no sign of him at all.

“Just where does this hot specimen hide his gorgeous self?” you grumbled. “It’s been three days.”

Lea watched you with a glimmer in her eyes. “This is a first. You’ve had crushes before but never hyper-fixated on one until now.”

“Right? I was just thinking the same thing,” Jill affirmed.

“There’s no one like him,” you gushed, tilting your head dreamily. “I think he might be the one.”

Mina choked on her drink. “You’re not serious.”

You laughed, stroking her back gently. “Of course not. I’m just having fun, guys. Relax.”

“Anyway, why don’t you just ask Hoshi?” Jill suggested, sounding like the only sane one in the group. 

Oh. Right. Hoshi. Why didn’t you think of that earlier? You paused, considering the idea. It was practical. Sensible.

“Do you think that’s weird? Just asking out of nowhere?” you asked, biting your lip.

“You’re the one who’s been running around campus like a headless chicken,” Mina pointed out dryly. “Asking Hoshi would be a lot less weird than that.”

You smiled at Mina, batting your eyelashes prettily. “Ask him for me.”

Mina swatted your hand away when you tried to hold her. “We’re not talking right now. And no, I won’t tell you why.”

You grimaced. “Well, no one’s asking!”

Jill laughed. “Just go to Hoshi. You guys are friends. And it’s not like you’re asking for Wonwoo’s hand in marriage. You’re just curious.”

“Alright, alright,” you relented, standing up from the table. “I’ll ask Hoshi.”

Mina gave you a thumbs up as you left the cafeteria, heading out to start your quest. You just hoped your heart didn’t explode from the anticipation before you got there.

You spotted Hoshi in the dance room, drinking water after practice. Perfect. You strode over, determined but trying to keep it cool. He saw you coming and grinned, clearly already knowing what this was about.

“Well, well, well,” Hoshi said, putting his bottle down and crossing his arms with a smirk. “What brings you to my humble corner of campus today? Or should I say... who?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, stop. I just wanna ask you something.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re about to ask me where Wonwoo is, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ve seen this before. You’re already head over heels. It’s okay, it’s a common reaction.”

You tried to look annoyed, but your lips twitched, betraying you. “Fine. Yes. Where is he?”

Hoshi raised his eyebrows, looking overly impressed with himself. “See? I’m basically psychic. I should be charging for my services.”

“Just tell me!” You lightly shoved him.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “He’s usually holed up in the tech building, doing nerd stuff. You know, coding, hacking the mainframe, whatever those guys do.” He waved a hand in the air. “Oh, and I’m gonna tell you this only because you and I are tight—you’re gonna need to bring a snack. Wonwoo’s been known to forget to eat when he’s in the zone.”

You crossed your arms, half-joking but half-serious. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do I need to worry about him starving to death before I even get the chance to talk to him?”

“Maybe,” Hoshi said, eyes twinkling. “But hey, if he does, I’ll make sure his last words are something romantic. Like, ‘Tell her... she was... gorgeous.’”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” you groaned, turning to walk away, though you couldn’t help laughing.

He called after you, still grinning. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you! And hey—if you need a wingman, you know where to find me!”

Now you had a solid lead... and maybe a ridiculous wingman if things got really desperate. But most importantly, you had a plan: bump into him casually.

You spent the next few days timing your trips past the IT building. At first, it felt silly—pretending like you were just ‘happening to walk by’—but today, your patience paid off. There he was, standing just outside the doors, tapping away on his phone. Your heart fluttered the second you saw Wonwoo, that same flush you remembered from the night before creeping up your neck.

You were about to walk over, but then a group of people spilled out from the building, laughing loudly as they passed by Wonwoo. You turned away, worried someone might recognize you. As soon as they were far enough, you spun back to see Wonwoo, only to find him gone.

You sighed. “Next time.”

The next time came—several next times, actually. You just couldn’t land the perfect opportunity! The universe was against you, you could swear with how each encounter was always interrupted by other people, unexpected circumstances, and now, even the weather!

You stared at the sky with a deadpan expression. “Really? Just tell me you don’t want me to shoot my shot with him, why don’t you?” you spoke to the sky, as if it would respond.

You were supposed to do your routine attempt at ‘bumping into Wonwoo’ but the rain started pouring right when you stepped out of your building. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you didn’t bring an umbrella with you. You sighed, scuffing your shoe against the pavement, debating whether to make a run for it or just wait it out.

“Maybe I’m just unlucky?” you muttered to yourself.

Staring at your feet, you noticed a new pair falling into step beside you. You looked up and gasped audibly upon seeing Jeon Wonwoo standing there with an umbrella in his hand. He looked as handsome as you remembered—neat appearance, well-kept hair, and his glasses that suited his face perfectly.

“Wonwoo!” you exclaimed, making him glance at you.

He scanned you for a second. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I know you.”

You told him your name—clearly and in full. “We met at the party last Friday,” you smiled, hoping he’d remember.

“Oh, I met a lot of people that night.”

“You called me nice and gorgeous?” you offered, gouging a reaction from him, but so far—nothing. “And, uh, you also kinda said you love me.”

Wonwoo blinked, clearly taken aback. “Did I?” You saw the confusion in his expression, followed by a flicker of embarrassment. He looked away, his jaw tensing slightly. “Sorry, I don’t remember any of that,” he said, his voice softer, but there was no warmth in it. It felt more like a brush-off.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you said, waving it off casually. “You were really drunk, so I guess it makes sense.” You grinned, hoping the playful tone might make the moment less embarrassing

He seemed like an entirely different person. He was fun that night, sweet even. Was that a one-off thing?

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sound of the rain pounding on the concrete was oddly loud. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, not entirely sure if you should say something or just let it go.

“Well, then. I should go.”

You nodded. “Of course. It was nice seeing you.”

You watched him walk into the rain, dry and safe under his umbrella. You couldn’t help but scoff. If it was the Wonwoo you’d met that night, he would probably share his umbrella with you.

“What a bummer,” you muttered, looking down at your feet again as you kicked your tiptoes on the floor. 

You kept your gaze there, replaying the encounter with Wonwoo and how awful it made you feel. You barely noticed the car that pulled over in front of you until you heard someone call your full name.

When you looked up, you saw Wonwoo in a car with his window rolled down. He turned to reach for something behind him before extending his umbrella out to you. You stepped into the rain for a second to grab it and then backed away with a confused look on your face.

“Thank you,” you called out.

He just nodded, lips tight. “Leave it to the dorm lady when you’re done with it.”

“I will!” you replied, smiling at him.

As he drove away, you waved your hand in the air, your smile getting impossibly wider as you clutched his umbrella in one hand.

Just like that, your quest to make Jeon Wonwoo fall for you was on. You chased him around—well, not really, but you seized every chance to talk to him. First, you personally delivered his umbrella to his dorm, which surprised him because obviously, he wasn’t expecting it.

When you found him at the cafeteria that day, sitting alone at a table while working on something on his laptop, you walked over with your tray and casually slid into the seat across from him.

“You look like you could use some company. Lucky for you, I could use some too. Let’s accompany each other,” you beamed, and he looked up from his laptop briefly—just to see who you were.

“I’m working,” he said, reverting his attention to his work.

You leaned forward with a grin. “I can multi-task. Do you want me to be quiet while you work?”

“Do what you want,” he said, noncommittal.

That made you perk up. As long as he didn’t tell you to leave him alone, you were fine with being quiet. He was quiet too, but didn’t seem to mind your presence. So you stayed, eating your lunch while on your phone and occasionally sneaking glances at him.

One time, you find him at the library sitting at a table with his headphones in, immersed in whatever he was working on on his screen, again. You plopped down next to him, spreading your books out.

“It appears you might need some intellectual stimulation. I’m excellent company for that too,” you said.

Without looking away from his screen, Wonwoo said, “Pass.”

“Are you coding?” you asked, ignoring his refusal.

���I'm studying.”

“For what?” you asked, leaning back to take a peek at his screen. “You're reading a book on your laptop?”

“It's convenient.”

You grimaced. “I bet you don't know what books smell like.”

“No, and I don't really wanna know,” he said, facing you. “Now, can I have some peace and quiet?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry. I’ll just be over here being pretty and smart. Don’t mind me.”

He didn’t respond, just nodded slightly, continuing to work. You watched him for a bit, playfully resting your chin in your hand.

“Wow. My man is so cute and smart,” you muttered and Wonwoo suddenly glanced sideways at you.

You looked away immediately, opening a book, and burying your face in it. Wonwoo reached for it, taking it out of your hand and flipping it.

“It’s upside down,” he said before fixing his gaze on his screen again.

If not for your prior commitment to your friends, you would probably stay in the library until he leaves. Half-heartedly, you packed away your books and got ready to go. Wonwoo noticed you then but didn’t say anything.

You tapped on the table next to his laptop, making him take off his headphones and look at you inquiringly.

“I was thinking of watching a movie this weekend. You’re welcome to join me.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t watch movies.”

You shook your head disapprovingly. “Guess we’ll have to change that about you.”

“Good luck with that,” he replied, putting his headphones back on.

He didn’t seem put off by your forwardness, which was all that mattered to you because it didn’t seem like you were bothering him. You were resolved to continue what you were doing.

Another time, you saw him at the gym when you were there with your friends. He was lifting weights, and you confidently strode over, showing off your figure in your gym outfit. You casually leaned over the machine he was using.

“Wow, so you’re not just working out your brain, you work out your biceps too? Impressive,” you complimented.

“I come here to avoid conversations,” he deadpanned.

“You’re still talking to me, so you’re not really doing a great job,” you chuckled.

Wonwoo sighed, but again, he didn’t tell you to leave. He just continued what he was doing, and you watched for a minute, smirking. You were enjoying yourself, despite his lack of reactions.

“I’ll be over there if you need me,” you said, winking.

“Why would I need you?” he asked, resting his hands for a second.

You shrugged. “You never know when you might.”

As you walked away, your friends were waiting for you with playful smiles. Mina said, “Girl, is it just me or are you kinda embarrassing?”

You scrunched your nose cutely at her. “I am, kinda. But it’s okay. He’ll warm up to me soon.”

You kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into him at random spots—by the vending machine, dorm hallways, the library aisles, or even walking to class despite being in different buildings. 

Sometimes, you felt a little embarrassed, but you liked how fun it was to tease him and flirt with him, despite his aloof attitude. He was gonna break sooner or later, and whatever he decided to do when that happened, you were prepared to accept. You had projected about a dozen different scenarios of him confronting you, but the reality was far more unique.

“Look at us, fate keeps putting us together. Ever think the universe is trying to tell you something?” you told Wonwoo when you coincidentally (for real this time), ended up in the same college seminar together.

He stared at you. “The universe doesn’t work that way.”

Unfazed, you shrugged, opening your laptop. “Maybe not, but it’s more fun to believe it does.”

Wonwoo closed his laptop and turned his body slightly toward you. “Do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes,” you replied without missing a beat. “Wasn’t it obvious? I made sure you’d get the message though.”

He was quiet for a while, staring at you with a blank expression. After about a minute, he asked, “Why?”

You shrugged, keeping your smile. “Because I do. Hey, you confessed your love to me first!”

“When did I—” he stopped and then sighed. “I don’t even remember any of that.”

“It’s okay. I remember enough for the both of us,” you teased, tilting your head with an innocent smile.

Wonwoo seemed to realize arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He shook his head slowly, as if accepting defeat. “Do whatever you want, but I won’t take responsibility for your assumptions.”

“You’re not telling me to leave you alone?” you asked, raising your brows in genuine surprise.

He looked at you, baffled. “What?”

“You’re not telling me to leave you alone,” you repeated, this time more matter-of-factly. “So can I take that as a sign that I can keep following you around?”

Wonwoo grimaced, though it was more out of exasperation than irritation. “You’re not seriously going to follow me everywhere, are you?”

You grinned mischievously. “No, not really. But now that you mention it, maybe I should. What do you think?”

“Well then, leave—”

“Good afternoon, sir,” you exclaimed upon seeing the professor walk in.

You lay sprawled on Lea’s bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, scowling. Next to you, Lea was perched on her stomach, typing away on her laptop.

“The guy’s a tough nut to crack,” you muttered, shaking your head in frustration. “Do you think… maybe he’s just not interested?”

“I thought he made that pretty clear with how he keeps brushing you off?” Lea replied, not looking up from her screen.

You sat up with a sigh just as Mina and Jill strolled into the room. “He doesn’t really brush me off though,” you argued. “More like… he lets me do whatever I want.”

“You guys talking about Wonwoo?” Mina asked and you nodded. “Hoshi is inviting him over for movie night. Apparently, he said ‘yes’.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way? He said he didn't like movies!”

Mina nodded, pulling out her phone and flashing you the screen. “I don't know the details. Hosh says he’s wingmanning you,” she added with a grin.

You squealed, grabbing Lea by the arm. “Quick! Lend me a cute dress. No! I should just go back to my dorm and get one!”

“It’s a pajama party,” Jill interrupted, sitting beside you with a bowl of ice cream in hand. “You’re supposed to wear pajamas.”

You paused, considering. “Yes, but... like, do you have a cute nightgown? Those count as pajamas too, right?”

“I do,” Jill said, shaking her head, “but I’m not lending it to you. You’ll just complain about being cold.”

You slumped back onto the bed dramatically, face-first. “Friendship is dead. It never existed.”

Lea gasped. “Jill! Not you eating ice cream on my bed!”

“Oops, sorry!” Jill mumbled, quickly getting off the bed.

You rose when you heard ice cream, following Jill off the bed and asking to share. Mina was watching you with a soft smile on her lips. Then she said, “You changed a lot, did you notice? Remember when you took a break from school when we were freshmen? You were so different back then.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, mouth full of ice cream. Jill answered for you. “That part of her life was her character development arc. It wouldn’t make sense to remind her of such a depressing time when she’s done a really good job getting over it a long time ago.” 

You shot her a pair of finger guns and winked, appreciating the save.

“You’re right,” Mina said, her expression softening as she came over to hug you. “I’m just so proud of you.”

Jill joined in the hug, and Lea followed soon after, sandwiching you in the middle.

Feeling warm and fuzzy, you leaned over and kissed Mina’s cheek, only for her to pull away, grimacing. “Ew, sticky lips,” she complained, wiping the smudge of ice cream from her face.

“Sorry,” you grinned, unapologetic.

The smell of popcorn filled the apartment as you rummaged through Lea’s closet, pulling out a cozy sweatshirt that still looked stylish enough for the movie night. “This will have to do,” you muttered, tugging it on over your pajamas.

Lea, now in a matching set of flannel, raised an eyebrow. “You really think Wonwoo’s gonna notice your outfit at a pajama party?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shrug. “But it’s better to be prepared.”

When you got back to the living room, the usual chaos of movie night was already in full swing. Hoshi and Jun were bickering over what movie to watch while Seokmin raided the snack stash.

Hoshi called out your name, waving you over with a mischievous grin. “Look who actually showed up.”

You froze mid-step. Wonwoo was sitting on the couch, casually leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, looking as aloof as ever. He was wearing pajamas, which was unexpected because you didn't think he'd be the type to engage in silly activities like this one, but he was cute nonetheless.

You blinked. “He’s real,” you whispered, eyes wide, and Mina stifled a laugh. To Hoshi, you said out loud, “Hosh, you’re my most favorite person in the world.”

Just as you were about to claim the spot next to Wonwoo, Jun swooped in and plopped down right where you were headed. Without thinking, you grabbed Jun by the arm. “Move!”

Jun blinked at you, laughing. “What’s going on?”

You picked up a throw pillow and hit Jun with it again and again until he moved out of your way.

“You’re ruthless,” Jun chuckled, shaking his head but laughing anyway. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you winked at him before turning to Wonwoo. He watched the whole thing unfold with mild amusement, shaking his head as you settled in.

“Comfortable?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” you grinned, inching just a little closer to him. “Fancy seeing you here. I didn’t think you’d really show up. And in pajamas, no less,” you said, flashing him a wide grin.

Wonwoo glanced at his clothes briefly. “Hoshi insisted,” he said flatly.

“Well, I’m glad you came,” you said, batting your eyelashes in what you hoped was a cute way. “It’s not every day I get to sit next to my favorite person.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, unamused. “I thought Hoshi was your favorite.”

You pouted. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he replied, unbothered.

Determined to get some sort of reaction, you leaned closer, pretending to examine his face. “Do you always wear glasses?” you asked, feigning curiosity. “They make you look extra smart.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose, side-eyeing you. “I am extra smart.”

You giggled, undeterred. “I bet you’re super smart, Mr. IT Genius. You could probably hack into all our phones right now.”

Wonwoo didn’t seem fazed. “I’m not that smart. And hacking is illegal.”

“Well, that’s good. Otherwise, you’d see all the photos I took of you before,” you teased, leaning even closer so your shoulder brushed his. “For research purposes, of course.”

This time, Wonwoo did look at you, but only briefly. “Research for what?”

“Oh, just, you know,” you waved a hand vaguely, “studying the behavior of elusive, handsome introverts.”

“Sounds like a waste of time,” he replied dryly, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. You’d almost missed it if you weren’t staring right at him.

You grinned, feeling triumphant at his tiny show of amusement. “Did I just make you smile? Am I your source of happiness and joy now?”

“Just what is up with you?” he questioned, genuinely bewildered.

“I’m persistent. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I have.”

Before you could respond, Hoshi’s voice boomed across the room. “Movie’s starting, everyone! Grab your snacks, get cozy!”

The lights dimmed further, and the opening credits began to roll. You wiggled in your seat, purposely leaning just a little closer to Wonwoo, your head brushing against his arm. Wonwoo glanced at you but didn’t say anything, so you tilted your head playfully and whispered, “You’re not gonna move away, are you?”

He looked away, clearly unimpressed. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know… because I’m annoying?”

“You are,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen.

“Hey!” You nudged him with your shoulder, a mock pout on your lips. “I’m charmingly annoying.”

“If you say so,” he replied.

Every now and then, you’d make little comments, trying to catch his attention. Wonwoo remained mostly unresponsive, only glancing at you occasionally, but he didn’t seem bothered either. In fact, the more you nudged him or commented, the more relaxed he seemed.

Finally, you ‘accidentally’ let your head rest on his shoulder. “Oops,” you whispered, eyes still fixed on the screen. “My bad.”

Wonwoo sighed, but to your surprise, he didn’t push you off. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight.”

You grinned up at him, batting your lashes. “What can I say? I like taking my chances.”

“Just watch the movie,” he muttered, but you could tell—he didn’t actually mind.

With a satisfied smile, you snuggled a little closer, content with your minor victory. 

After the movie, everyone stretched and yawned. Hoshi and Seokmin were already debating what to watch next, while Jill and Lea were dramatically complaining about the lackluster conclusion to the movie. You continued the night with laughter and conversations over light drinks. It was a school day, so no one was entertaining the idea of getting wasted.

You glanced at Wonwoo, who had stayed quiet throughout the night, except for a few quips here and there. You often flirted with him in between conversations, but as usual, he couldn’t even be bothered.

When the group started to pack up, you took a deep breath and turned to him. “Hey, do you wanna walk back to the dorms together?” you asked, keeping your tone light and hopeful.

You were the only ones going back to the dorms, since the rest of your friends lived off-campus, and Hoshi was obviously staying over at Mina’s.

Wonwoo stood up, gathering his things without making eye contact. “No, thanks,” he said simply, pulling his jacket over his shoulder. “I’ll head back on my own.”

Your heart sank a little, but you didn’t want to let it show. “Okay, sure,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off with a casual laugh. “Didn’t think you’d say yes anyway.”

He paused for a moment, adjusting his jacket before looking at you with a slight frown. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t need to follow me around.”

The words stung more than you expected, even though you’d been joking about it all night. You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, you just nodded, forcing a small smile. “Got it.”

Wonwoo gave a short nod, then turned and headed for the door without a second glance. As you watched him leave, the lightheartedness you’d felt earlier fizzled out. You knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel, but his rejection still hurt. You’d pushed and pushed all night, and for a moment, it felt like maybe he was warming up to you. But now, it seemed like you had been wrong all along.

Mina noticed your shift in mood and walked over. “Hey, you okay?”

You plastered on a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll head back now. See you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Your farewell was noisy, with your girls dramatically begging you to stay. There was a big smile on your lips when you exited the door, but as you headed back to your dorm, thoughts of Wonwoo’s words stayed with you. 

Maybe this little game of flirting wasn’t as fun for him as it was for you. Maybe you were pushing too hard. Maybe this was more one-sided than you wanted to admit. It had been fun for the most part, a lighthearted chase that kept your heart racing, but now it was starting to feel tiring—draining, even.

Your brows furrowed in frustration. “I should stop…” you muttered under your breath, kicking at a stray pebble in your path. Then, with a small pout, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “Men ain’t shit,” you grumbled, though the bitterness in your voice didn’t quite match the half-hearted way you said it.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” said a greasy, slurred voice from behind you, giving you goosebumps all over. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

How deeply distracted were you that you didn’t notice the dragged-out footsteps behind you? 

You tried to brush it off, but when the pace quickened and the slurred voice called out again, you got ready to run. Before you could, however, he grabbed your arm.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” the man drawled, his breath reeking of alcohol as he eyed you. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ out here all alone?”

You shot him a sharp glance, trying to ignore the knot tightening in your stomach. “I’m not interested. Leave me alone,” you said, trying to swat his hand away but his grip tightened.

“I’m not so bad, am I? C’mon—just a little company,” he slurred.

You yanked your hand back, eyes narrowing as you tried to fight him off. “Let go!” you snapped, your voice rising in panic.

The man chuckled, tugging you toward him. “What’s the rush?”

With a rush of adrenaline, you elbowed him in the ribs and stomped on his foot with all the force you could muster. But despite your efforts, he was stronger, and your heart pounded as he forced you back against a wall, your breath catching in your throat.

Just as you started to fear you couldn’t fight him off, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Hey!”

Before you could process what was happening, Wonwoo appeared, eyes blazing with fury. He swung a solid punch, landing it squarely on the guy’s jaw. The man stumbled, dazed, before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

You stared in shock, chest heaving, barely registering the fact that Wonwoo had just knocked the guy out. He reached for your hand, his grip firm but reassuring. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice calmer now, though still laced with urgency. “Before he gets back up. Come on.”

Grabbing his hand, you ran with him, your pajamas flapping awkwardly as the two of you bolted down the street. Imagine getting harassed in oversized Pucca pajamas? The ridiculousness of the situation would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so shaken.  

Your heart was still pounding, and you could feel Wonwoo’s hand tightening around yours as you rounded the corner, not stopping until you were safely back inside the campus walls.

When you finally slowed down, panting, you glanced at him. “You just—” you started, still breathless, “You punched him!”

Wonwoo looked at you, still catching his breath. “Yeah.”

The simple acknowledgment sent a strange warmth through you. You both stood there for a moment, the adrenaline fading. You were still catching your breath, trying to process everything that had just happened. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out. “You really saved me back there.”

“I think you would’ve done well by yourself even if I wasn’t there. You probably broke a rib or two with that elbow,” he quipped, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Is that a joke?” you questioned, pointing at his lips. “Are laughing at your own joke?”

He looked at you, his expression shifting back to his usual. “I didn’t laugh. Next time, be more careful. Don’t walk by yourself at night.” His voice was steady, almost scolding, but there was an unmistakable note of concern in it. 

You blinked up at him, feeling your heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the scare you just had. He had just knocked out a guy without breaking a sweat, and now he was here, telling you to be careful. You couldn’t help it—the admiration in your eyes must’ve been painfully obvious because you were falling even harder for him. 

Wonwoo noticed your dazed expression, the way your eyes lingered on him a little too long. His brow furrowed slightly before he sighed, clearly not amused by whatever was going through your head. Without saying a word, he took off his jacket and threw it over your face.

“Go back to your room,” he muttered, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. “And stop being weird.”

You pulled his jacket off your face, blinking up at him with a grin, but he was already turning away, clearly done with the situation.

“Hey! Wait for me! What if he comes back?” you called out, running to catch up to him.

This wasn’t part of the plan. You were doing just fine on the sidelines of college life, navigating the highs and lows of being a student. You were content not drawing attention to yourself in places that didn’t need your presence, happily enjoying the fun college functions from a distance.

Why did you have to join the student council on a whim?

“I’m so sick of this,” you muttered, hauling a large box of banners back into the storage room. Someone else could do it if only there were other hands available to help. Frustrated, you kicked the box, only to recoil in pain when it slammed against your foot. “Ouch!”

“Move,” came a familiar voice from behind you. You glanced back just as Wonwoo pushed you aside, his movements smooth and efficient. With ease, he picked up the box and carried it to the storage room. You followed him, a wide smile creeping onto your lips.

“Thanks a lot,” you said, genuine gratitude lighting up your tone.

Wonwoo gave you a side-eye. “Next time, ask other people for help if you can’t do it by yourself.”

“There was no one to ask! Everyone’s busy with other stuff,” you defended, pouting at being scolded.

“You didn’t ask me.”

“You were busy too!”

“Then you should’ve waited until I was done.”

“What are you so mad about? I didn’t ask because you were busy, and you’re not even in the council to begin with. This isn’t your job.”

Wonwoo sighed, turning away. You followed him out, trying to keep up with his long strides. When he stopped, you halted too, glancing up at him. He stared at you for a moment, inspecting your appearance with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

“Are you checking me out?” you quipped, knowing how he’d react.

Wonwoo scoffed. “Are you heading back to the dorm now?” he asked, and you nodded. “Wait here,” he said before climbing up the sound box to fetch his backpack. When he came back down, he pulled out a jacket and handed it to you.

“Oh, I’m good. I have a jacket in my bag,” you chimed, dismissing it.

“Forget it, then,” he said, putting it away, but you stopped him.

“No! I’ll take it! Mine’s not warm enough,” you grinned. “Thank you!”

Wonwoo’s deadpan expression remained as he rolled his eyes. “Go get your things. We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confusion washing over you. “Huh? Are we leaving together?”

“We’re going the same way anyway. Might as well just go together,” he said, glancing away with a slight furrow in his brows. “You might get yourself in trouble again.”

“We’re on the campus, I don’t think anyone would try something like that here,” you stated, but you couldn’t help smiling. 

After what happened the other day, Wonwoo seemed to be warming up to you now. It felt good to know that he cared enough to walk home with you and ensure nothing happened again.

“If you don’t want to, suit yourself,” he said, turning his back.

“No, wait! Let’s go!”

You rushed back to where you’d left your things, bidding hurried goodbyes to your student council friends. When you returned, Wonwoo was still waiting for you. He sighed at the sight of your massive grin and started walking first, so you ran to catch up with him.

“Wait for me,” you called, giggling as you intertwined your fingers with his. He didn’t shake you off.

“Put the jacket on. It’s cold.”

“Oooh, Jeon Wonwoo,” you teased, peeking at his face. “Are you trying to get promoted to green flag?”

“I’m not a red flag,” he said monotonously.

“When did I say you were?”

“You kept implying it.”

You chuckled lightly. “You know, I heard that people who claim that they’re not a red flag tend to be… well, a red flag.”

“Just wear the jacket. I don’t want to be responsible for you if you get hypothermia.”

You pouted, backing away to put on the jacket. As you did, you unlinked your fingers with his but Wonwoo chased after it, tightening his hold. You blinked at him, confused. “Let go. I need to put this on.”

“Huh?” he blurted, retracting his hand like he’d been electrified. His fingers slipped away too quickly, but the warmth lingered on your skin.

“Do you hate it that much?” you scoffed as you wore his jacket. It was warm and smelled like him. “And no one’s getting hypothermia in this weather. It’s not that cold.”

“Can’t we just walk quietly and pretend we don’t know each other?”

“No, we can’t,” you chimed, linking your arms with his. “It’s impossible because we look like a couple right now.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” you sang, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you strolled down the dimly lit pathway. You allowed yourself to savor the moment, your steps perfectly in sync with his, a warmth spreading in your chest as you walked together under the soft glow of the pathway lights.

The school festival was coming up, and you got to work with Wonwoo on the preparations—you as a student council member, and him with the IT Club. Your tasks were different, not overlapping at all but you were content just being in the same space with him. 

While Wonwoo worked with a clubmate on the sound systems, you were assigned to help with decorations and logistics. Despite your tasks not overlapping, you made a point to stroll by his area often, a smile lighting up your face whenever your eyes met. Wonwoo would only nod to acknowledge you, but each exchange was a little jolt of happiness for you.

The hours passed in a blur of laughter and hard work. You organized tables, hung streamers, and made sure everything was in its right place, all while stealing glances at Wonwoo and his team.

During a break, you found yourself near the sound booth, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. Wonwoo was adjusting a microphone, and you couldn’t help but watch. He looked effortlessly cool, his concentration making him even more attractive.

“Don’t just stand there, you’re making me nervous,” he teased when he noticed you staring.

You flushed, momentarily caught off guard. “Just appreciating the view!” you shot back with a grin.

“Right,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Just don’t break anything.”

“Oh please, I’m the master of decorations! No broken things here!” you replied with mock seriousness.

As the day wore on, the festival started to take shape, and your excitement grew. You loved this sense of unity, the way everyone worked together to bring a festival to remember. It was very tiring, wearing out your bodies with work and your minds with how much you kept brainstorming for the best ideas. But as the sun began to set, and the field was transformed into a magical scene with the glow of fairy lights, all your labor had been worth it.

“Looks great,” Wonwoo said, suddenly at your side.

You nodded, unable to suppress your grin. “It does, doesn’t it? You guys did a great job too. The LED displays are cool.”

“We did what we do best. You guys at the student council worked harder, coming up with cool ideas and stuff,” he replied, giving you an appreciative nod.

Feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment, you could only smile. “Let’s just say we make a great team—each in our own way.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Some of the council guys were a bit pompous and bossy but, yeah, you’re right.”

You laughed at that, hitting his arm and letting your hand stay there. Wonwoo didn’t flinch, even flashing a small smile as you both stared at the fruit of your labor.

The school festival was finally here, and the campus was alive with excitement. You could feel the energy in the air, the smell of food wafting from the stalls, and the cheerful sound of laughter and chatter. 

The day kicked off with a formal ceremony in the main courtyard—with the school band playing a march. Students and faculty gathered under a large banner that read Welcome to the 00 University Festival! You stood with your friends, cheering as the college president gave a short speech about the importance of community and collaboration.

“Let the festivities begin!” he concluded, and the crowd erupted into applause.

As the ceremony ended, you raced to the game booths that had been set up around the campus. Your friends challenged each other to various games—ring toss, balloon darts, and a giant inflatable obstacle course. The laughter was infectious, and you lost track of time as you tried your hand at each game, reveling in the thrill of friendly competition.

In between the fun, you made your way to the sound booth, where Wonwoo and Jihoon were busy setting up for the afternoon performances. 

“Snacks for the most hardworking people on the whole campus,” you called out, showing them the containers of food and drinks.

“Thanks a lot!” Jihoon said with a bright smile, taking a snack before returning to his controls. “You’re so thoughtful.”

Wonwoo, on the other hand, merely nodded, a small smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip from the drink you brought him.

“You guys are doing an amazing job! Can’t wait for the party tonight!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over.

“We’ll make sure it’s a good one,” Jihoon replied, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Are you kidding me? DJ Woozi is here. I know it’s gonna be a good one,” you chimed, pointing finger guns at Jihoon.

The latter couldn’t help grinning at your compliment. “You should come over more often! It’s not all boring work here.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll be here often. Gotta make sure you stay hydrated. You’ll need the energy to keep up with the crowd.”

Jihoon tilted his head slightly, unconvinced. “Pretty sure Wonwoo will appreciate it,” he chuckled, nudging Wonwoo’s arm.

You just smiled, winking at Wonwoo before you bid your goodbyes and promised them you’d be back. 

As the afternoon rolled in, the booths and games continued. You lost yourself in the fun, but each time you never forgot to stop by the sound booth, checking in on Wonwoo—and Jihoon because he happened to be there too.

“Want a break?” you asked during one of your visits. “You’ve been at it for hours!”

Wonwoo looked at you, the serious expression on his face softening slightly. “I’m good. Just need to make sure everything is perfect for tonight.”

You nodded, admiring his dedication. “Well, I brought more snacks,” you said, pulling out the waffles you got from one of the booths.

“Thanks,” Jihoon said, taking the bag with a grateful smile.

Soon, the day transitioned into the evening. Students gathered around the stage, and the sounds of music filled the campus. You joined your friends, dancing and enjoying the beats as Jihoon—moniker, Woozi got the crowd hyped.

You could see Wonwoo in the sound booth, focused on the music, and your heart swelled with admiration. Every now and then, you made your way back to him, offering him drinks or just sharing a quick laugh about something funny happening in the crowd.

“Having fun?” he asked during one of your visits, his gaze momentarily leaving the controls.

“Definitely! This is amazing!” you replied, breathless from dancing.

“Good. Just keep your distance from the speakers,” he said and you could see a playful glint in his eyes despite his deadpan expression.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to break anything,” you shot back, grinning.

The night continued to unfold, filled with dancing, laughter, and an electric atmosphere. Later, when the party wound down and the crowd began to disperse, the working group gathered again for a final clean-up.

“I can’t believe how well everything turned out,” you said, looking around at the remnants of the festival.

“Yeah, it was a success,” Jihoon replied, glancing at you. “Thanks for all your help today.”

“Of course! It was so much fun being part of it,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you.

The student council president clapped his hands together to grab everyone’s attention. “Before we call it a night, how about we plan a weekend escapade to celebrate our hard work? A little break after all this?”

Cheers erupted from the group, and you felt your heart race at the thought of spending more time with everyone, especially with Wonwoo.

“Good to know everyone’s up for it!” the president said, smiling. “For now, let us pack up what needs to be packed up, make sure not to miss anything, and then we can head to the after-party.”

You helped pack up the necessary stuff that could not wait until tomorrow. Luckily, the university had a cleaning personnel who would handle the rest, so your work was lighter. Afterward, the group dispersed, some resigning to their dorms to rest, and the others heading to the after-party at an off-campus frat house.

Your friends were waiting for you outside the dorm, and you all hurried off to the party. It was a big shift from the organized chaos of the festival to a more liberated vibe. The living room was packed with students, and the atmosphere was thick with the smell of alcohol, vape, and perfumes mixed with the faintest hint of sweat. Colorful lights dance across the walls, along with the bodies of partygoers moving along to the catchy music.

“Let’s grab some drinks!” Mina shouted over the music, and the group surged toward the makeshift bar set up in the corner. You followed, adrenaline coursing through you as you filled a cup with whatever was on offer.

With drinks in hand, you scanned the room, your eyes searching for a familiar face. And there he was—Wonwoo, standing in a corner, a drink in hand, watching the chaos unfold with an amused expression. His dark hair glimmered under the strobe lights, and he stood out in his plain white t-shirt.

Without hesitation, you weaved through the crowd, clutching your drink tightly. “Hey, you made it!” you said, trying to sound casual despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

“Not willingly,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup.

“Want to join the madness?” you asked, gesturing toward the dance floor, where a group of students swayed and grinded, lost in the music and alcohol.

“Pass,” he said, not even giving it a thought.

“I knew it, but why did I still ask?” you mumbled, chuckling over your cup.

Across the hall, you spotted Mina and Hoshi, getting touchy as they danced to the rhythm. You smiled at the sight of them, lifting your cup in greeting when Hoshi waved at you.

“They look so in love, it’s annoying,” you snorted, but your fond smile was anything but snarky.

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Wonwoo commented, making you glance at him.

“You don’t see it?” you questioned, genuinely perplexed. “It’s so obvious. They can’t even get their hands off of each other.”

Wonwoo hummed, but he looked unconvinced. “It could be the alcohol, you know, making them hot and touchy… and horny. You don’t need love to feel that way.”

You observed him for a while, trying to gouge what was in his mind but to no avail. You could tell though that he was a cynic. “You don’t believe in love, do you?”

“Love is overrated,” he said, sipping from his cup.

You just nodded, acknowledging his admittance and respecting his opinions. “Are you sure you should be drinking? You can’t handle your liquor.”

“Oh, this is plain soda,” he replied, showing you the contents of his red cup. “I’m not drinking. Can’t afford to make stupid mistakes.”

“Mistakes? Like calling some stranger gorgeous and confessing your love for them?” you quipped but there was a bit of snark in your tone.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

That dampened your mood. “Well, good luck then,” you said, bumping your cup gently against his. “Enjoy the party.”

As you turned to walk away, Wonwoo grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go have some real fun. Dancing, drinking, maybe some games because I’m quite good at them,” you smiled, motioning to the chaos around you. “It’s a party after all.”

He released your arm and you couldn’t quite tell what expression he was wearing. “Have fun then.”

“Thanks. I will,” you said with a salute before disappearing into the crowd.

You didn’t see him around the house after that, neither did you try looking for him. You just enjoyed the night, trying to take him off of your mind and the nagging thought at the back of your mind that going after him would not result in anything but disappointment.

Early Saturday morning, you gathered at the school plaza with other members of the festival working group. You were set to leave at 9 am, and despite the hangover from last night, you managed to make it there on time—not without a splitting headache that a handful of other members seemed to share.

“Alright?” asked Wonwoo, appearing beside you with a slight scowl as you pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to ease the pounding pain.

“Hi!” you greeted him, smiling from ear to ear only to wince again. “Ouch. My head is killing me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Wonwoo smirked.

Before you could retort, Jihoon hopped over, a small plastic bag in hand filled with water and medicine. “Here. It’ll help with the hangover,” he offered, his expression earnest.

You groaned dramatically, pouting at him. “Thanks a lot, Jihoon. You’re a literal angel.”

Jihoon’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, the corners of his mouth twitching into a bashful smile. “That’s… Well, it’s not much.”

“No, I mean it. You really are an angel. Your skin is so fair, it’s blinding,” you said, squinting playfully as if his glow was too bright to bear.

“Take the medicine if your head is hurting that much,” Wonwoo chided sternly on your other side, making you turn back to him.

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, opening the bag. You popped a pill in your mouth and fumbled with the bottle of water, struggling to twist the cap off. Just as Jihoon was about to help, Wonwoo snatched the bottle from your hand, effortlessly twisting it open. 

“Thanks,” you said, raising the bottle in appreciation. You mirrored the gesture to Jihoon, grinning widely. “Thanks, my angel.”

Soon, the rest of the group arrived, ready for the trip. Since the university didn’t sponsor this outing, you all had to pay for expenses and transportation. Some students had cars and agreed to carpool with those who didn’t.

Without giving it much thought, you headed straight to Wonwoo’s car, making yourself comfortable in the front seat like you belonged there.

He didn’t seem to mind, though he did say, “I thought you were going in Jihoon’s car.”

“Oh, he didn’t invite me. We’re not that close,” you replied, buckling your seatbelt. “Besides, I’d rather ride you.”

You noticed his hand freeze mid-air, the awkward silence that followed stretching between you like a taut string.

“With you!” you said in a panic. “I meant to say, I’d rather ride with you.”

Wonwoo nodded with a blank expression. “Yeah. I know,” he said coolly.

You chuckled awkwardly, looking outside his window and mentally cursing yourself. When the other cars started driving away, you realized that Wonwoo still hadn’t turned on his engine.

“Are we waiting for someone?” you asked and he nodded.

“There he is,” he said, gesturing at Seokmin, who was rushing toward you with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

He yanked the backseat door open and hopped in immediately. “Wow. Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

“You had three minutes left,” Wonwoo replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he finally fired up the engine and drove out of the campus.

The car ride was filled with laughter as Seokmin took charge of the music, blasting upbeat tracks that made it impossible not to move. He sang along, his voice rising above the catchy beats, and every now and then, he added exaggerated dance moves from the passenger seat, making you and Wonwoo laugh.

“Can you believe we actually survived the festival?” Seokmin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought we’d end up in a full-on food fight or something! Just imagine it—streamers flying, popcorn everywhere, total chaos!”

You chuckled, picturing the scene, however impossible it was. “Yeah, and we’d be the ones cleaning it up afterward.”

“Exactly! But it would’ve been legendary!” Seokmin insisted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Next time, I’m bringing a water balloon launcher. Who’s in?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’d just end up hitting someone with that.”

“Details, details!” Seokmin waved off the concern. “It doesn’t matter as long as you had fun and made lots of memories.”

He stopped and gasped quietly as he watched you extend the iced coffee toward Wonwoo so he could take a sip. You noticed him only when Wonwoo had taken a sip and you’d placed the coffee back in the cup holder.

“What?” you asked.

“Why don’t you guys just kiss in front of me?”

Wonwoo scowled, glancing briefly at his friend. “Why would we do that?”

“Right?” you blurted, snorting. “Didn’t know you were kinky like that, Seokmin.”

Seokmin leaned back in his seat. “You guys. You know that’s not what I mean.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I was just being nice, okay?”

“Right, just being nice,” Seokmin teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “But I mean, he didn’t look like he was complaining. When did he stop complaining about you invading his space?”

“Oh, he’s never complained to me before,” you replied, you didn’t even need to think about it.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “He did not?”

“Not that I remember,” you said, peering at him in the backseat. “And I remember every single interaction we had,” you added with a proud smile.

“But he doesn’t like it when people are in his space,” said Seokmin, pointing at Wonwoo with a surprised expression. “He hates it.”

You shot a glance at Wonwoo, who kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. “Enough, Seokmin. You’re gonna make her think I’m enjoying this.”

“Aren’t you?” he shot back with a grin. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a hot girl following him around, giving him drinks and all that?”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed. “Look at me! 1-800-hot-n-fun.”

Seokmin leaned between your seats, pointing a finger gun at your temple. “Excuse me, ma’am. You’re under arrest for being 10 out of 10 and 2 hot 2 handle.”

You and Seokmin burst out laughing, and even Wonwoo couldn’t hide his grin.

“Settle down, or I'll kick you two out of the car,” Wonwoo chided.

“Is it strange that I’m more invested in your relationship than you are?” Seokmin asked after a moment’s pause.

You shushed him. “Shut up. No one is more invested in our relationship than I am!”

As the miles rolled by, the countryside unfolded around you, with fields of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Just as you were nearing the location, you had to stop at a gasoline station because Seokmin needed to use the restroom.

“How about you?” he asked, just as Seokmin had left the car.

“No, I’m good,” you replied, glancing at him and found him scrolling through his phone. He just hummed, eyes fixed on his screen.

You took in his features—handsome, of course, with that natural air of confidence he always seemed to carry. His jawline gave him an angular, sharp look, yet there was something almost delicate in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, or the way his lashes fell gently against his skin when he blinked.

Your gaze fell to his lips—symmetrical with a defined cupid’s bow and subtle but natural fullness. There was that ever-present slight curve. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it always seemed like it was on the verge of one, and it made you wonder what it’d take to coax a real one out of him.

“You know,” you said, voice dripping with playful mischief, “you have really pretty lips.”

Wonwoo paused, blinking as if processing your comment. His eyes flicked to your mouth, and for a second, the silence between you seemed to thicken. But then he shifted his gaze back to the road, brushing off your words like it was nothing. “Thanks,” he replied, as nonchalant as ever.

At the back of your mind, you wonder if it was as soft as it appeared to be.

“Can you tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue?” you asked again, leaning a little closer with an innocent smile on your lips. 

You knew exactly what you were doing—the teasing tone, the loaded question. It was playful, sultry, but in a way that you could brush off if he didn’t bite. You fully expected his usual indifferent response.

Then again, there was the possibility that maybe he’d pick up your hints this time, and maybe he’d do something about the tension that was building up between you right at this moment. Maybe—

“I don’t think anyone can,” he answered flatly, the corner of his mouth barely twitching.

You threw your hands up dramatically. “Oh my god. What was I expecting?” you groaned, looking away.

Wonwoo remained quiet, so you glanced back at him. You met his eyes, dark with an intensity that you hadn’t seen before. His jaw was clenched tightly, and somehow it felt as though you had done something wrong.

“What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He didn’t say anything. He just unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned towards you. Before you could react, he was already cupping the back of your head and crashing his lips into yours.

You were momentarily stunned, grappling with the sensation of his lips pressing against yours. He tightened his grip on your head, tilting it just right, allowing him to kiss you more deeply. It was firm, yet slow, like he’d been thinking about it for much longer than you’d realized. You closed your eyes as you melted into him, kissing him back with a rhythm that made your skin prickle with the warmth that was slowly creeping into your chest. Your heart raced in its cage—so wildly that you swore Wonwoo could feel it echoing in his own.

When he finally pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of triumph in his eyes.

“So?” His voice was low, teasing. “Can I?”

You blinked, still a little dazed. “Huh?”

He smirked, the smug confidence catching you off guard. “Can I tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue?”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief before you burst out laughing, the tension between you now crackling in the air. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, the flustered grin spreading across your face. “Absolutely. You’re amazing. Basically a pro. Heh.”

Luckily, Seokmin arrived before the mood could get any more awkward. He did notice the shift between you, but when he asked about it, you just brushed it off. Deep inside, you were reeling in the bliss of kissing Wonwoo—wait, no—of being kissed by Wonwoo.

You soon arrived at the villa, its warm stone exterior blending beautifully with the surrounding trees. There was a welcoming warmth to it, and you hoped it was as comfortable as it looked.

“Wow, this place is massive,” Seokmin commented dramatically as he stepped out of the car, looking up at the villa as if it were a five-star resort.

Just then, a girl with beautiful long hair and a bright smile appeared on the porch. “Hey, guys! You made it!” she called out, waving enthusiastically. 

“Claire?” Seokmin blurted, evidently surprised.

“Seokmin!” she squealed, running to him for a quick hug.

You noticed Wonwoo stiffen slightly at the sight of her, his expression shifting as he watched the reunion. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, but Claire seemed blissfully unaware.

“What are you doing here?” Seokmin asked, backing away with a neutral expression.

The student council president came out before Claire could respond. “You’ve arrived! Good. Good. Have you met Claire?” he said, smiling at Claire. “Claire here was kind enough to offer their family villa, so this is going to be our home for the weekend.”

“Oh, I know these guys. We go way back,” said Claire, referring to Seokmin and Wonwoo.

Prez introduced you to her and Claire’s smile widened as she extended her hand to you. “Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too!” you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. You were still processing the sudden tension in the air, especially from Wonwoo.

“Come on in! The others are waiting.”

As the president guided you inside, you watched as Claire held Wonwoo by the arm and walked ahead of you. You felt a sudden surge of annoyance at her, clearly out of jealousy.

Seokmin leaned in to whisper in your ear. “That’s Wonwoo’s ex.”

The revelation made you nervous as you watched them. Wonwoo’s expression was blank, while Claire remained upbeat.

As you stepped further inside the villa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this weekend was going to be more complicated than you had anticipated.

The first order of business in the villa was dinner. After arriving early, everyone gathered around for snacks and chatted, but by dinner time, the group split into two—those helping in the kitchen and those exploring the villa.

You hadn’t planned on helping out in the kitchen, but when you noticed only a few had volunteered, you reluctantly joined in. A mistake, you realized, as your eyes drifted to the living room where Wonwoo sat with Claire beside him. She looked far too comfortable, leaning in close as they talked, her laughter ringing out over the murmur of conversations. Your chest tightened at the sight, the feeling of irritation and insecurity creeping up on you. 

It’s fine. He’s allowed to have a past, you told yourself, gripping the knife a little tighter as you sliced through a watermelon. But does she have to sit so close? Exes shouldn’t be too nice to each other. And does she have to appear now?

“Hey, focus!” Jihoon’s voice cut through your thoughts as he nudged your shoulder. “You’re going to cut yourself if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, blinking down at the cutting board. You had nearly reached the end of the watermelon and were dangerously close to nicking your finger

“Why are you so distracted?” Jihoon teased, glancing briefly at Wonwoo and Claire before turning back to the stove. “Relax. He’s yours. I’m sure of it.”

You let out a dry laugh, though your stomach twisted. “You can’t be so sure. Not with his ex clinging to him like that.”

“I don’t know... He’s heading this way now, so I think I’m right,” Woozi replied, stirring the contents of the pan with a knowing smile.

Before you could process Jihoon’s words, Wonwoo appeared beside you. His presence made the kitchen feel smaller.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the watermelon as he gently nudged you aside. His body brushed against yours as he took the knife from your hand, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. Then he began slicing the fruit with ease.

Your pulse quickened. “What do you think?” you pouted, stepping aside but staying close enough for your elbows to brush every now and then.

“I think you’re trying to get my attention. Getting hurt and all,” he replied, making your jaw drop. He laughed at your expression. “Aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” you told him, rolling your eyes although your heart was fluttering at the sight of his smile. “And even if I did want your attention, I don’t need to hurt myself to get it.”

Wonwoo nodded, agreeing. “You’re right. You don’t need to. It’s one of your many talents.”

You took a paring knife and started slicing the pears, scooting closer to Wonwoo so your elbows touched slightly. “Seokmin told me Claire was your ex.”

Wonwoo hummed in response, not looking up from the watermelon he was slicing. “She is. Freshman year.”

You stopped the urge to roll your eyes. “So you did believe in love.”

“Just because I had girlfriends before doesn’t mean I believe in love.” 

“You know, I heard somewhere that people who claim not to believe in love tend to be the most hopeless romantic individuals to ever walk the Earth.”

“Whoever said that was lying,” he replied, shoving a small piece of watermelon in your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your lips.

You chewed slowly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. The way Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on your lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. On an ordinary day, that would be a good opportunity to make fun of him, but after what happened in the car earlier, you could not bring yourself to tease him.

He cleared his throat, looking away and resuming his task. You glanced around, suddenly feeling self-conscious and didn’t know where to put your hand, so you grabbed a slice of watermelon.

“It’s very sweet. Try it,” you said, offering the slice to him.

Without looking, Wonwoo leaned sideways to you and took a bite of the fruit. You instantly regretted that because now you were the one staring at his lips, recalling the vivid imagery of earlier’s kiss.

“Wonwoo!” a voice called out from the living room, snapping you out of your imaginations. It was Claire and she didn’t have anything to say, just waving at Wonwoo with a smile.

You glanced at Wonwoo who didn’t even bother to show a reaction, let alone respond.

“Does it bother you that she’s here?” you asked, your voice softer now, more curious than playful.

He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”

“So you’re unbothered?”

“I’m unbothered.”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “You know, I heard that people who say they’re unbothered tend to be... well, very bothered.”

Wonwoo let out a small, resigned laugh, finally setting the knife down. His gaze softened as he turned to face you fully. “Again with your odd wisdom.” He raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing but warm. “What’s next? People who claim to have allergies aren’t actually allergic?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” you shot back, laughing. “Allergies are backed by science. But being bothered when you’re in the same room as your ex? That’s a little harder to prove. Just like not believing in love.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he said sarcastically. “I might need to practice my patience so I can keep up with your antics.”

“Oh? You’ll do that instead of telling me to leave you alone?”

Wonwoo scowled lightly. “Did you forget what Seokmin said? That I hate it when people bother me?” he asked, reaching to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear. “I don’t hate you, so I won’t tell you to leave me alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could reply, Claire’s voice carried over from the living room, breaking the moment. You glanced over, watching as she stood up, her eyes briefly meeting Wonwoo’s before she looked away.

I have a feeling in my gut that she’s doing this on purpose, you thought to yourself, narrowing your eyes slightly at the other girl.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” someone called from the kitchen, pulling your attention back.

Wonwoo didn’t seem to notice Claire at all as he turned to the stove to help Jihoon with the final touches. After that, you moved to the backyard just as the evening settled into a cool, dusky warmth. 

The smell of barbecue filled the air, rich and smoky. The large grill crackled and popped as steaks, skewers, and vegetables sizzled under Seokmin’s watchful—albeit playful—eye. You could hear him narrating the process dramatically to anyone who would listen, complete with sound effects.

“And now, behold! The perfectly grilled steak, sizzling under my masterful technique,” Seokmin proclaimed, waving his spatula like a wand.

You sat at one of the long picnic tables on the patio, nursing a cold drink and watching the light from the grill flicker across the faces of your friends. Wonwoo sat beside you, quietly observing the scene while Claire—who had rejoined the group—chatted animatedly with some others across the table. You were trying not to feel too aware of her presence, but it was impossible not to glance her way now and then.

“Hey, are you going to give me a hand, or are you just going to sit there looking cute?” Seokmin called to you with a playful wink.

You snorted, setting your drink down and getting up. “You know, you can’t use that line for everything.”

Seokmin shook his head, grinning widely. “Who said it’s a line? You just happen to look cute all the time, okay? Now, get over here and help me with the skewers.”

Wonwoo chuckled beside you, and you gave him a teasing glance as you headed toward the grill. “Don’t laugh too much, or you’ll be next on Seokmin’s target list.”

“I’ll pass,” Wonwoo replied dryly, though his eyes followed you with a hint of amusement.

You reached the grill, where Seokmin handed you a plate of marinated vegetables to arrange onto skewers. “So, how’s it going over there with Mr. Mysterious?” Seokmin asked in a low voice, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he leaned closer.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

Seokmin nudged you with his elbow. “Don’t play dumb. I saw how you and Wonwoo were looking at each other earlier. You’re practically making out with your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, you win. You are more invested in our relationship than me.”

“I told, didn’t I?” he asked, giving you a knowing grin. “I’ve known the guy for ages. He’s not usually this... I don’t know, present. It’s like he actually pays attention when you’re around. Normally, he’s off in his own world.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted when Wonwoo appeared at your side, casually grabbing one of the skewers you had just finished assembling.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, laughing. “You’re supposed to let them cook first.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, popping a piece of bell pepper into his mouth. “It’s good raw.”

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “It’s what?”

Wonwoo flicked Seokmin’s forehead, discouraging his thoughts. “Take your mind out of the gutters.”

Seokmin rubbed the part of his forehead that Wonwoo flicked, grinning at you and wiggling his eyebrows knowingly. You playfully swatted his arm with the back of your hand.

“So dirty-minded, go away,” you scolded though you were grinning.

Wonwoo smiled softly, and for a moment, the noise of the group around you faded. His gaze held yours, and you felt that familiar warmth spread through your chest again.

Seokmin cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Okay, lovebirds, enough with the eyes! We’ve got mouths to feed.”

You blushed, turning back to the skewers as Seokmin gave you a teasing grin. He leaned over and whispered, “See? What did I say? Sparks.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help smiling.

Seokmin sighed reminiscently. “Man, I’m so single. I wish the others were here too.”

“Right? I would’ve been fun to have them here,” you noted, remembering your rowdy friends.

“We should do this again with them. Say ‘yes’.”

“Yes,” you replied, not missing a beat. “Absolutely, yes.”

As the grilling continued, you could hear laughter and chatter all around—Seokmin’s over-the-top narrations, Jihoon offering sarcastic commentary from where he stood near the grill, and Claire’s voice chiming in from the table, still carrying that same vibrant energy she had when you first arrived.

Once the food was ready, everyone gathered around the picnic tables, the platters piled high with grilled meats, skewers, and sides. The scent of charred meat and fresh herbs mixed with the cool evening breeze. The plates clinked as people passed around dishes, and conversations overlapped in the comfortable chaos of friends enjoying a good meal.

You found a spot next to Wonwoo again, your plate full, though you were more focused on the way his knee brushed against yours under the table. Each little touch felt like a secret between the two of you, unnoticed by everyone else.

Across the table, Prez pointed his fork at you and Wonwoo, grinning. “You two are awfully close for two people who aren’t dating.”

You almost choked on your food, but Wonwoo calmly sipped his drink, completely unfazed. “We’re just eating, Prez,” he said, but his hand landing gently on your thigh under the table contradicted his statement.

“Yeah, and sitting suspiciously close while doing it,” Seokmin quipped, wiggling his eyebrows. “Just saying. The grill master knows things.”

“You really need to stop calling yourself that,” one of your companions teased, shaking her head at Seokmin.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “Excuse me, ma’am, but this title is earned through years of culinary excellence and—”

“Hey, Claire, do you think Seokmin deserves the title of ‘grill master’?” someone called from the other end of the table, cutting off his exaggerated speech.

Claire, who had been quiet for a while, looked up with a smile. “I mean, he did a good job, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

The group erupted into laughter, and Seokmin threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll accept the demotion.”

As the laughter died down, you felt Wonwoo lean a little closer, thumb rubbing your thigh over your jeans. He didn’t say anything, but the way he quietly stayed by your side, even in the midst of all the noise, spoke volumes.

The evening carried on, full of easy laughter, good food, drunk anecdotes, and the soft glow of lanterns that lit up the patio as night fell. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this light, this content, as the warmth of the barbecue wrapped around you like a comfortable blanket and the buzz of alcohol numbed the cold air hitting your skin.

“You alright?” Wonwoo asked, placing a hand over your back as you were resting your head on the table.

Everyone had gone back inside, save for a few others who continued their drinking by the poolside. You and Wonwoo were the only ones left at the table, mainly because you were tired and he didn’t want to leave you.

You sat up and stared at him. “My god, you’re so handsome. I could kiss you.”

“You’re drunk.”

You snort. “I’m not drunk. I never get drunk!” you paused, staring at your index finger. “Actually, I did get drunk… once, twice? Was it thrice? I don’t remember. Anyway!”

You took a deep breath and tucked your hair behind your ears. “Even if I’m not drunk, I always want to kiss you.”

“You do?” he questioned, amused.

You stood up and stepped closer to him, he remained in his seat, watching you with soft eyes. You wobbled a bit but Wonwoo caught your arms firmly, keeping you steady. You held his face with your hands, squeezing his cheeks slightly. “Don’t dodge this, okay?”

“So? Did you…” Seungcheol paused, hesitating. There was a hint of embarrassment on his face as he finished his sentence. “...kiss?”

You laughed, lolling your head back. “You’re a grown-ass man and you’re hesitating to say the word ‘kiss’?”

Seungcheol shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking away with a small pout. That expression intrigued you, surprised to know he could make such a face. Then again, what do you really know about him?

“It’s not my fault. The mood of your story is quite… I’m not sure what to call it. Innocent? In a way?”

“I get what you mean. But to answer your question, we didn’t kiss,” you jeered, rolling your eyes. “I blacked out and forgot, but he told me that we didn���t kiss. He dodged it.”

“You believed that?”

You shrugged. “Wonwoo had no reason to lie about it. I mean, that’s just out of character for him.”

“I see,” said Seungcheol, thinking. “So? What happened next?”

You groaned, taking a big sip of your drink before continuing. “Remember Claire?”

“Yeah, we do not like her.”

“Good, she’s annoying,” you said, rolling your eyes. “She was even more annoying the next day after that...”

Prez had a hike planned for the next day. The area was a popular spot for its beautiful river up the mountain, so you all agreed to go. When you heard a knock on your door, you had expected it to be Wonwoo, but instead, Jihoon’s smile greeted you.

“Looks like we’re carpooling today,” he said.

“We are?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

Jihoon gave a half-shrug. “Yeah, I thought the same. Figured you’d be with Wonwoo, but apparently, he already left.”

“Wonwoo’s gone?” You tried to keep your voice steady, masking the sting of disappointment that followed his words.

“Yeah, he headed out early with Prez, Claire, and a few others,” Jihoon explained, noticing the subtle shift in your expression.

You forced a smile, quickly masking the sinking feeling in your chest. “Well, can’t be helped. I’ll just grab my jacket.”

“Take your time. Calum’s not even ready yet, so we’ve got a bit.” Jihoon leaned against the doorframe as you moved back inside to grab your things.

“Who else is with us?” you asked, emerging with your jacket and a small backpack.

“Just Calum,” Jihoon replied with a smirk. “Which means we get to listen to him complain the whole way.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Well, we better go before he decides to ditch us too.”

As the three of you arrived at the foot of the mountain, you spotted the rest of the group already gathered around the guide for a quick briefing. Your eyes immediately searched for Wonwoo. Sure enough, he and Seokmin were at the front of the line, both seemingly unaware that you’d arrived. A strange tension filled the air as your gaze lingered on Wonwoo, but you quickly pushed it aside, focusing on the hike ahead.

“Okay! Everybody ready to go?” the guide asked and everyone responded with a chorus of yesses.

You saw Wonwoo scanning the crowd behind him, stopping only when he locked eyes with you. There was a subtle change in his expression, something softer as if in recognition of you. He patted Prez on the back, saying something to him before he jogged toward you.

“There you are,” he said with a small smile. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

“Who said that?” you asked, genuinely perplexed. 

“Claire. She said she heard you tell someone that you weren’t coming out today.”

You smirked, annoyed at Claire and her obvious attempt to sabotage you. “And you didn’t think to check with me?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I didn’t wanna wake you. You seemed pretty drunk last night.”

The annoyance you were feeling suddenly dissipated, replaced by shame as you recalled trying to kiss him last night. You looked away, covering your mouth in shock.

“Are you shy?” he asked, chuckling lightly. “That’s new.”

You tutted at him and hit his arm playfully. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, casually taking your sling bag and wearing it across his chest. “I’ll take this.”

You grinned playfully. “Are you a gentleman now? Is it because you’ve fallen in love with me?”

“No. I just don’t want to deal with you complaining about a heavy bag halfway through the hike.”

The hike started out smoothly, with the morning sun filtering through the trees. Your group moved at a comfortable pace, with chatter filling the air as you climbed higher, nearing the mountain’s scenic river. Claire—who somehow found a way to walk next to Wonwoo and you, was leading the conversation close to Wonwoo, which irritated you more than you’d like to admit. 

“Are you alright?” Jihoon asked quietly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. He flashed you a knowing smirk, catching the direction of your gaze.

“I’m fine. Just… taking in the view,” you replied quietly.

Jihoon didn’t seem convinced but dropped the subject. “Well, we’re almost there. Save your energy. There’s still the climb up to the ridge,” he added, pointing ahead to a steeper incline.

You felt a hand on your back and glanced at Wonwoo who just smiled at you. As the group made its way up, the conversation turned to reminiscing about old hiking trips. Claire, of course, found her way into this again, laughing as she talked about a time she and Wonwoo had hiked a similar trail. 

“Wonwoo was such a show-off back then,” she said with a laugh, nudging him. “You remember that, right?”

You could hear the hint of nostalgia in her voice, but Wonwoo barely reacted. He just gave a polite nod, keeping his eyes on the trail ahead and his hand on your back. 

“I was younger. Probably didn’t know better.”

Claire smiled at his response, but there was something about the way she looked at him—like she was waiting for more. It twisted something in your chest.

“Yeah, when you’re younger, you make stupid decisions,” said Seokmin, laughing a tad bit louder than necessary. “You’re so relatable, man. I try to forget my stupid decisions too. Especially the worst ones.”

You didn’t know the context, but you grasped the picture Seokmin was trying to insinuate about Wonwoo and Claire’s history. For some reason, it made you feel better about yourself to know that Wonwoo’s friend didn’t like his ex.

After another thirty minutes of steady climbing, you reached the ridge, overlooking the crystal-clear river that sparkled in the distance. Everyone took a breath, the beauty of the view silencing the group momentarily.

“This spot is perfect!” Prez called out, breaking the stillness as he bounced forward with his phone, ready to take pictures. “Let’s get some photos, everyone!”

Some of the group began to gather for a group shot, while others wandered around, taking in the scenery. You stayed back, wanting to enjoy the moment without Claire’s constant presence.

After a few photos and a lot of teasing from Seokmin, everyone dispersed, walking back toward the trail to continue on. As you moved ahead, you glanced at Wonwoo, who seemed quieter than usual, lost in his thoughts. You wondered if it was Claire getting to him, or if he was just being his typical reserved self.

The hike continued around the river, with a playful challenge thrown in along the way. Seokmin, always full of energy, dared anyone to balance on a fallen log that stretched across a small stream.

“Come on, who’s got the best balance?” he called out, clapping his hands together. “It’s a rite of passage for this hike!”

Prez shook his head, grinning. “I’m out. I’ll leave that to the younger ones.”

Seokmin turned to you, eyebrows raised. “How about you? I bet you’ve got some hidden skills.”

You shook your head. “Have fun without me.”

“Come on!” Seokmin grinned, motioning for you to step up. “Just once. Let’s see who wins.”

“Fine. You asked for this,” you told him, taking off your jacket and tying it across your hips.

The challenge began, and as you wobbled your way across the log, the others cheered from the sidelines. Seokmin was right behind you, steady but focused, and you could feel his presence as you tried not to lose your balance. A few slips here and there, but you made it across, jumping off the log with a victorious grin.

“Not bad, not bad!” Seokmin cheered, clapping his hands as he followed behind you, landing with ease.

You were catching your breath when you noticed Claire, standing a bit too close to Wonwoo, again sharing some kind of inside joke. Your stomach twisted as you watched them, the sight more irritating than the thought of falling off the log.

Feeling a bit frustrated, you turned away, pretending to check your bag but realized it was with Wonwoo. You sighed again, and then suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Wonwoo, holding out his water bottle.

“You didn’t bring water, did you?” he said simply, eyes soft but unreadable. “Drink up.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Thanks.”

“Don’t wanna have to carry you all the way back.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was only trying to downplay his concern for you. “Of course.”

You took the bottle, your frustration softening as you realized he’d been paying attention. It wasn’t much, but you loved it anyway. You basked in it—in his attention which seemed to be on you most of the time.

He didn’t say anything more, just walked beside you as the group started unloading their stuff for a quick lunch by the river. The others went for a swim, led by Seokmin, as expected. You quietly took a sip of the water, the cool water hydrating you as you glanced over at Wonwoo in his usual quiet demeanor. He handed you a sandwich that he’d peeled open for you. Even though he wasn’t saying much, his actions were enough, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going through his mind.

After lunch, Seokmin managed to talk you into looking for wild berries. The guide mentioned there were plenty of wild berries around, so it sounded like a harmless adventure. You walked with Seokmin, Jihoon, and a few others, but Wonwoo decided to sit this one out, saying he was a bit tired. You glanced back at him, wondering why he didn’t want to join. He simply gave you a small wave before sitting by the water’s edge, his quiet presence still lingering in your thoughts.

As you wandered deeper into the trees with the group, the sound of laughter and rustling bushes filled the air. Seokmin was practically bouncing from one patch of greenery to the next, exclaiming every time he found a small cluster of berries.

“Look, these are the good ones! I told you I had an eye for this!” he boasted, holding up a handful of bright red berries.

“Okay, okay! We know you’re the berry master,” you teased, bending down to pluck a few yourself. But as you reached for another low-hanging cluster, you misjudged your footing on a slippery rock. The moss-covered surface gave way under your shoe, and before you could catch yourself, you stumbled forward, scraping your hand against a sharp branch. A sharp sting shot through your palm, and you hissed in pain, clutching your hand.

“Ow!” You winced, inspecting the cut. It wasn’t deep, but a small trickle of blood appeared, and the sting was enough to make you stop in your tracks.

“Are you alright?” Jihoon was quick to notice, walking over to check on you.

You waved him off with a sheepish smile, trying not to make a big deal of it. “Yeah, I just slipped on a rock. It’s not that bad.”

Seokmin, always the dramatic one, rushed over too. “Whoa, are you bleeding? Should we get you back? Do we need a first aid kit? A stretcher?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m fine. I just need to wash it off.”

But despite your attempts to brush it off, the sting lingered, and you felt a little foolish for not watching your step. Jihoon offered you his handkerchief to wrap around your hand for now. “Here, it’s not much, but it should help until we get back.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling a bit more embarrassed than hurt.

After a while, the group decided it was time to head back to the riverbank. As you approached, the sight of Wonwoo sitting alone by the water came into view. He was gazing out at the stream, looking serene.

When he saw you returning, his eyes instantly dropped to your hand, the makeshift bandage catching his attention. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to you, his brow furrowed slightly.

“What happened?” he asked sternly, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Oh, I just slipped. It’s nothing, really,” you said, trying to sound casual, though the throbbing in your palm said otherwise.

Wonwoo, however, didn’t seem convinced. Without asking, he gently took your hand, carefully peeling back the cloth to look at the cut. His touch was soft but firm, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he inspected the wound.

“You should clean this properly,” he said, his voice low, a hint of concern in his tone.

“I will, it’s just—” you started, but he was already pulling you toward the river’s edge.

He crouched down by the water, motioning for you to follow. “Come here, rinse it off.”

You knelt beside him, dipping your hand into the cool water. The sting intensified for a moment before the fresh stream washed the dirt and blood away, leaving the cut cleaner. As if on cue, the guide appeared with a small first-aid kit, handing it to Wonwoo. He opened it, cleaning the wound with a steady hand before covering it with a Band-Aid.

“Here,” he murmured. “This should be better than that cloth.”

You glanced at your hand, grateful, but Wonwoo's next words caught you off guard.

“You said you don’t need to hurt yourself to get my attention?” he asked, an almost teasing glint in his eyes.

You blinked, caught between amusement and exasperation. “I didn’t do this on purpose! And you weren’t even there when it happened. How is this an attempt at getting your attention?”

“You came here with a wound,” he replied, his gaze softening slightly. “That got my attention.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I didn’t ask for you to clean it up or worry about me.”

For a moment, his brow furrowed as he studied you. “You don’t want me to?”

“What? Of course, I do!” you stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “But if you’re just going to hold it against me, no thanks. I’ll take care of myself.”

Wonwoo didn’t let the comment slide. “As if you have to take care of yourself. Lots of people will do that for you,” he said, scoffing as he nodded at Jihoon who was chatting animatedly with other people in a distance. “Like Jihoon, for example.”

You felt a spark of irritation flare. “God, I hope you’re saying that because you’re jealous.”

Wonwoo’s scoff came out a little too loud, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Exactly,” you said, pouting as you stood up abruptly, a wave of frustration rising in your chest. “You don’t like me enough to get jealous of other guys.”

Wonwoo stood up too, his expression softening just slightly. “Let’s go back together, okay? Don’t go with Jihoon.”

You crossed your arms, turning away. “Did you hear me complain when you came here with your ex?”

Wonwoo fell quiet for a second longer than expected. When you turned to look at him, he was smiling. You raised an eyebrow, making him chuckle lowly.

“You don't have to worry about her.”

“I'm not worried,” you denied, huffing. “Why would I be worried? I'm a 10. 2 hot 2 handle.”

Wonwoo chuckled, pulling you by the waist and wiping your damp forehead. “Don't hang out with Seokmin too much, you're starting to sound like him.”

You didn't say anything, too caught up in the feeling of being close to him to form a coherent sentence.

“Come on. Let’s pack up,” he said, quietly dismissing whatever it was that just happened between you.

After the hike, you all went back to the villa to pack and get ready for the long drive home. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow, tired motions, still buzzing with the high of a day spent outdoors, but ready to settle into the comfort of a car seat. You grabbed your jacket and water bottle, feeling a slight soreness from the hike, but overall content with how the day had gone.

When Wonwoo finished loading your stuff in the trunk, you made your way to the shotgun and sat there while waiting to leave. Claire appeared at your window, startling you a little. She was smiling as she knocked.

“Hi, Won,” she greeted as if she couldn’t see you there. “You didn’t forget your promise, right? That you’d give me a ride back?”

“Of course,” Wonwoo replied.

“Yay, thank you!” she said, opening the front seat door, much to your confusion.

Claire stared at you for a while, making you feel self-conscious all of a sudden. You gave her an inquiring look, which she returned with a raised eyebrow, gesturing for you to get off.

“Do you want me to get off so you can sit here?” you asked aloud, genuinely curious. “Seriously?”

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo asked, making you glance at him.

Claire spoke before you could respond. “Oh, I don’t mean to offend you or anything. It’s just… well, I get woozy when I sit in the backseat for long drives. Wonwoo knows this. I hope you understand.”

Her words seemed innocent enough, but her tone grated on you. You glanced at Wonwoo, half-expecting him to shoot down the excuse for what it was—a blatant attempt to sit next to him. Instead, he gave a simple nod, signaling for you to move.

Your heart sank. Seriously? It was obvious what she was doing. Glaringly obvious. And yet, he was just... fine with it? You bit back your frustration, forcing a polite smile as you got out of the shotgun seat.

“Oh, thanks a lot! You’re such an angel,” Claire gushed as she slipped into the seat beside Wonwoo. Her voice was dripping with exaggerated sweetness, but there was a glint of malice in her eyes that you were sure only you could see because her back was on Wonwoo.

“I have snacks,” she added to Wonwoo, pulling out a bag. “We can share it. I know you like to nibble on something when driving.”

Still silent, deadpan, you slid into the backseat, trying not to let it bother you. You stared out the window, hoping something—anything—would distract you from the irritation building up. Then you spotted Seokmin jogging toward the car, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face.

That was a relief. Seokmin is fun so you’d probably be too busy laughing to even notice the two other people in front of you.

You moved to open the door for him, but he went straight to knock on Wonwoo’s window.

“What’s going on? I thought you said you were too tired to drive?” Seokmin called through the rolled-down window.

“Yeah, I was waiting for you,” Wonwoo replied, his voice light as he opened the door to step out.

You blinked in confusion as Seokmin slid into the driver’s seat, chatting animatedly. Wonwoo made his way to the back, where you sat still trying to piece together what just happened. When he reached for the door, you instinctively tugged it shut, surprising both of you.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurted, opening it again quickly, your cheeks flushing. Wonwoo raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just chuckled softly as he pulled the door open himself.

He settled next to you, draping an arm over the seat. “Where’s our blanket?” he asked, glancing around.

“Our—” you started, then caught yourself. “It’s… uh… there!”

You pointed toward the compartment near the gear shift. Wonwoo reached for it, undoing the fold and casually covering himself with it.

“Hey, I brought that for myself,” you protested, though there was no real heat behind your words.

“I’m cold. If you need it, you can scoot closer,” he teased, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile.

“Don’t just hog it,” you complained, tugging the blanket but Wonwoo tutted, glaring at you playfully before scooting closer to you and covering you with the blanket.

Seokmin, who had been fiddling with the car’s controls, sighed dramatically, tilting his head toward you two. “I’ve never felt so single until now.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was undeniable. As the car finally started moving, you caught Claire’s icy stare in the rearview mirror.  She was not enjoying the ride at all, and you hadn’t even left the parking lot yet.

The ride back to the university had been a blur. After the initial chatter and laughter, the exhaustion from the hike finally caught up to you. You vaguely remembered the sound of Seokmin’s playful banter, Claire’s chipper voice fading in and out, and the muffled conversations that filled the car, but most of it was a fog.

By the time you woke up, the sun had dipped lower in the sky. You blinked groggily, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. It was then you realized your head was resting on Wonwoo’s arm, nestled comfortably against his shoulder. The scent of his hoodie filled your senses, and you stiffened slightly, unsure how long you’d been using him as your personal pillow.

You hesitated to move, not wanting to wake him if he had dozed off too, but then you felt him shift. His arm flexed slightly under your weight, and you quickly sat up, feeling your face grow warm as you straightened yourself.

“Sorry, was I heavy?” you started, voice still heavy with sleep.

Wonwoo turned his head toward you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It’s fine. You looked tired.” His voice was calm, as if it was no big deal, and somehow that made you relax a little.

You glanced out the window to see familiar buildings coming into view. The car was already pulling into the university parking lot, the journey back seemingly much shorter than expected—probably because you’d slept through most of it.

Seokmin was the first to break the silence from the front seat, stretching dramatically as the car came to a stop. “Finally! I thought we’d be driving forever.”

Claire, who had been unusually quiet toward the end of the ride, turned in her seat to glance at you and Wonwoo with a tight smile. “Did you get enough sleep back there?” she asked, her tone sugary but edged.

You smiled politely, pretending not to notice the underlying tone of her question. “Yeah, I feel better now, thanks.”

Stepping out of the car, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders as the cool evening breeze hit you. Wonwoo came around the side of the car, his backpack slung over one shoulder and yours in his hand, his expression as calm and unreadable as always. You walked together in silence toward the dorms, the sounds of your friends’ voices fading behind you.

“I guess that’s the end of our little trip,” you said softly, breaking the quiet between you.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replied, glancing over at you. “It was fun.”

You nodded, the memory of the hike and the car ride settling into something softer, quieter. You couldn’t recall every detail of the trip, but a few things stuck with you—the feeling of warmth each time he attended to you, the quiet closeness that had lingered in the space between you, and although it had been a silly joke, the kiss that you shared with him in the car.

At the dorm entrance, he paused, turning to you with a small flicker of worry on his face. “How’s your hand?”

“This? Oh, it’s totally fine,” you said, showing him your hand. “You took really good care of it.”

Wonwoo gave a slight nod, his lips curling into a faint smile.

He walked you all the way to your room, with your bag in his hand while you kept talking to him, asking him this and that like a curious toddler. 

“What are you doing today?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Probably working on an assignment.”

You raised a brow, pushing the conversation further. “And after that?”

“Gaming, maybe,” he replied with a small smirk, clearly entertained by your persistent questioning.

You tilted your head, pretending to think deeply. “Do you need help with the assignment?”

He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “No, I’ve got it.”

As you reached the door to your room, you hesitated, glancing at him. The idea of letting the day end here felt anticlimactic, and you weren’t ready to let it slip away so easily. He stood there, still holding your bag, his usual calm expression giving nothing away. 

“Do you wanna come in for a bit?” you asked, glancing at him. 

He blinked, a little surprised. “Why?”

“So I can hang out with you more,” you answered honestly, flashing him a playful smile. “You can get started on that assignment and I promise not to bother you too much.”

His eyes flickered to the door, then back to you, his lips quirking into that small, barely-there smile he often wore. “Sure.”

You opened the door and stepped inside, the cool air from your room greeting you as you flicked on the lights. It wasn’t much—a cozy little dorm room with just enough space for a bed, desk, a single couch, a built-in closet, and a small shelf where you kept a stash of snacks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, motioning to the small couch by the window. You placed your bag down and went over to the mini-fridge. “I’ve got some juice or water. Or… ah, here we go,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of sodas. “Would you like some?”

Wonwoo took a seat, casually stretching his long legs out in front of him, his gaze following you as you handed him a can. He accepted it with a nod, popping it open with a soft hiss. The sound filled the quiet room, making the moment feel more intimate somehow.

He opened his laptop and began working, but you couldn’t help glancing over at him every now and then. The subtle shift of his focus, the way his fingers moved over the keyboard—it was distracting in a way you weren’t expecting. You grabbed a bag of chips and sat on the floor next to the couch, close enough that your shoulder pressed slightly on his leg.

“Why are you on the floor?” he asked, reaching for the side of your head and rubbing his thumb through your hair.

“I don’t wanna eat on the bed,” you replied, leaning slightly in his touch. “I’m fine, you can keep working,” you added, pulling up an app on your phone.

You were content with the quiet—both of you immersed in your own different bubbles, but still feeling the warmth radiating from each other. You didn’t think you’d actually keep your promise to be quiet and let him work, but here you are.

“So, about the hike…” Wonwoo said after a while, leaning back into the cushions as he stretched out his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

You took a sip of your soda, trying to act nonchalant. “Yeah, it was nice. Different.”

“Different?”

“In a good way.” You smiled. “I didn’t expect to have that much fun either. Well, except for the part where I hurt myself,” you added with a playful grimace, showing him your bandaged hand again.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened as he glanced at your hand. “Just be careful next time.”

There was a pause. You could feel him watching you, and when you finally looked up to meet his gaze, there was something in his eyes that made you feel both nervous and confident at the same time. It felt like the perfect moment to say something, to push the boundary of whatever this tension was between you.

Wonwoo put his laptop away. “Come here,” he said, patting his lap.

You stood up almost immediately, placing your arm around his neck as you lowered yourself down on his toned thighs. Not many words were exchanged between you—you didn’t need to anyway, you both knew exactly what you wanted.

Wonwoo’s lips met yours in a soft, lingering touch, as if testing the waters. But after a second, a wave of heat surged through you, and you felt your entire body come alive. His lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of the soda he'd had earlier, and you couldn’t help but lean in closer, deepening the kiss.

He responded almost immediately, a low, quiet sound escaping him as his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fingers dug into your sides, not harshly, but enough to make your breath hitch. The room around you disappeared—there was no bed, no walls, no anything. Just the two of you lost in each other.

Your lips parted, allowing the kiss to deepen, and when his tongue swept across your lower lip, a shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was something more, something primal, and hot—very hot. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him, and he obliged, his lips moving against yours with more urgency, more need.

You gasped when his teeth grazed your lower lip, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through your body, and your knees weakened. His arms tightened around you, holding you steady, as though he could sense how much you were melting into him.

When you pulled back, you were in awe, staring at him with your mouth hanging open. Wonwoo smiled a content smile—proud, even, as he traced the outline of your face with his thumb.

“Wow, that was so much better than what we did in the car,” you blurted before you could think about it. “I mean… heh. Not saying that one was bad, just, you know. This one is better.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before reaching for his laptop. His focus reverted back to his work, which caught you off-guard since you were still sitting on his lap, with his hand supporting your back.

He’s not seriously going back to his assignment, is he? you pondered, a bit disappointed. But he did, pulling you closer slightly as he used his two hands to type.

You casually slid out of his lap, sitting your butt on the armrest, but he held your legs in place just as you were about to get off completely, so you just left it there. For the next hour, you sat there together, him working on his assignment, and you scrolling through your phone.

You were both silent—he’d always been quiet, but you? Your mouth may be quiet, but your mind is spiraling—overthinking, replaying, wondering, and projecting different scenarios in your head—all while celebrating another blissful kiss from Wonwoo.

In the days that followed, things between you and Wonwoo felt different— and unmistakably so. It wasn’t just the quiet, stolen glances anymore, or the playful teasing that came so naturally. There was a shift in the way you interacted, in the way he smiled more often, and in how he seemed more comfortable around you.

Before, it had always been you who initiated any kind of physical touch in public—holding his hand, a playful nudge, resting your head on his shoulder when you were tired. But now, it was him, too. Wonwoo would casually drape an arm across the back of your chair when you sat together in the library, or he'd give your shoulder a quick squeeze as you passed him by in the hallway. In private, he would hold your hand, or rest his hand on your thigh when you were out with friends. There was nothing over the top about it—just small, simple gestures—but the warmth of it lingered each time, leaving your heart racing a little faster.

One afternoon, you both sat in a quiet corner of a cafe, sipping iced coffee while you pretended to focus on your assignments. Wonwoo was clicking away on his laptop, his attention mostly on the screen, but every now and then, he’d look up, meet your gaze, and flash you that rare, quiet smile that made you melt just a little.

“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He didn’t look up, but his lips curved upward. “What? I always smile.”

“Not like this. You’ve been smiling because of me.”

Wonwoo finally met your gaze, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. “I smile for a lot of people.”

“Oh? Do you kiss a lot of people too?” you shot back, leaning forward and watching as a faint flush touched his ears.

He shook his head, still smiling but retreating behind his usual mask of aloofness. “That was a fluke. And I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me.”

You gasped dramatically. “You filthy little liar!”

He simply chuckled but didn’t argue further. Instead, he glanced over at your half-empty cup and nudged it toward you. “Finish your drink, or you’ll complain about all the ice melting away later.”

Your heart fluttered at the subtle care behind his words. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to outwardly fawn over anyone, but these little moments showed how much he paid attention. You wanted to impress him, so you drained your cup in one go, even though you were already full. He chuckled softly, giving you a look that said he saw right through you.

It wasn’t all just the proximity and teasing, though. You’d started noticing how you both went out of your way to take care of each other. You would save him snacks from lunch or remind him about deadlines, just wanting to show you cared. He, in turn, would grab an extra coffee for you in the mornings or walk you to class when it got dark, without making a big deal out of it. He was thoughtful, considerate—genuinely so.

Later that evening, you met up with him for dinner at a small restaurant near the campus, you greeted him with your usual chipper smile.

“Is that a scrunchie?” you asked, eyeing the yellow lace scrunchie around his pulse.

“Hmh?” He glanced at his wrist. “Oh. Yeah, it’s a backup.”

“Backup?”

“You keep losing yours when we go out. I got this for backup.”

“Aw. You’re so obsessed with me and I totally understand. I mean—” With flair, you flicked your hair out of your shoulder. “Just look at me.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, taking the scrunchie from his wrist and handing it to you. “Fix your hair. I don’t want it in my soup.”

You took it with a teasing grin. “Thanks. You could have just gotten those plain black hair ties though. That way, I wouldn’t feel too bad for losing them.”

“I thought it would look good on you,” he mumbled but you heard him just fine.

Out of habit, you would’ve teased him—asked if he’s falling for you. But the way he looked away with the tiniest hint of shyness, the red tint on his ears, and the slight furrow of his brows—they all made your heart race. You needed not to ask, the fact was staring right back at you.

The thought of Wonwoo finally falling in love with you was daunting—terrifying in the best way. But you didn’t know how to navigate this phase.

You decided to keep things playful, like always. “Are you falling in love with me, Jeon Wonwoo?” you teased, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Wonwoo scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an air of practiced indifference. “I’m not falling in love with anyone,” he denied smoothly.

“Maybe not,” you shot back, a knowing grin curling your lips. “But you definitely like me.”

Just then, the server approached, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. “Oh, to be young again,” she said, her gaze flitting between you two. “You two look adorable together. How long have you been dating?”

“We’re not dating,” you said automatically, flashing the woman a charming smile. “It’s just me. I like him a lot, and he’s… well, he’s just putting up with my antics.” You scrunched your nose for added effect, fully expecting the server to move on.

But the woman tilted her head thoughtfully. “Isn’t that what a couple is?” she said, her smile widening.

You blinked, taken aback by her question. “Sorry?”

“If you like him, and he puts up with all your silly antics,” she continued with a hearty laugh, “then you’re a couple.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the teasing atmosphere suddenly charged with a different kind of tension. You glanced at Wonwoo, half-expecting him to deny it too. But he just stared back at you, lips quirking into an amused smile, saying nothing. 

This wasn’t the first time someone mistook you for a couple. You’d lost count of how many times people asked things like, “When did you start seeing each other?” And every time, you laughed it off, always the first to deny it, brushing away the idea with a joke. Not because you didn’t want it to be true—but because you were scared of making Wonwoo uncomfortable, scared of pushing something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Wonwoo, however, never once denied it, though he never really confirmed it either.

“Have you decided on your order yet?” the woman asked, prompting your attention.

After dinner, you walked back to the campus, completely satisfied by the good food. You were clinging on Wonwoo’s arm, your head swaying from side to side as you hummed a song that you liked listening to these days.

“Why do you keep telling everyone we’re not a couple?” he asked out of nowhere, making you glance up at him in surprise.

“Because we’re not?” you replied, brow furrowed.

A smirk tugged at his lips, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “For someone who’s supposedly head over heels for me, you seem to hate it when people think we’re a couple.”

“I don’t hate it. I actually like it!” you defended, tightening your grip on his arm. “I’m denying it for your sake. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” he echoed, glancing down at you.

You paused, biting your lip, trying to think of how to respond. “Because… I guess I just didn’t want to assume you were okay with it. I didn’t want to make it weird by pushing something you hadn’t even said you wanted.”

“Why would you go out of your way worrying about me when I don’t even make a big deal out of it?”

His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but there was something in the way he said it—something that made your heart skip. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You couldn’t quite piece together what he was really getting at. It was confusing and you didn’t want to make your own conclusions.

Wonwoo let out a soft sigh, moving a step ahead of you, his hands slipping into his pockets as he walked on.

“Hey, wait up!” you called after him, jogging to catch up, completely unaware of the small, knowing smile that played on his lips.

BACK IN the present, Seungcheol scoffed and started clapping, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Wow.”

You frowned, confused. “What? Why are you clapping?”

He stopped, resting his hands on his thighs and giving you a sarcastic smile. “You were so dense, it’s embarrassing.”

“Hey! Whatever happened to just listening and not judging?”

You were in your dorm room again, the familiar comfort of your space wrapping around both of you. It had become routine—spending time here, where you could sit across from him or lie together in peaceful silence. Wonwoo, as usual, had his legs crossed, leaning on the backrest of the couch, looking more relaxed than ever as he talked about his plans for the future. 

It was the kind of conversation that you’d expect from Wonwoo. He had been so open about his future, talking about post-college job prospects and what he planned to do with his IT degree. You listened, intrigued by his calm and composed outlook.

“What about you?” he asked, catching you off-guard.

It was odd to be caught off-guard because of the way your conversation was going, it was expected of Wonwoo to ask about your plans too. At the time, it hadn’t sunk in yet, but you remembered that you were already a senior and would soon be graduating. It was a difficult question for you—a student who didn’t know what to do to launch the career she wanted to pursue.

“What do you wanna do?” he asked again, tilting his head in the way he did when he knew you weren’t paying attention.

You found yourself drifting, your gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. It was a habit now, the way your eyes traced the curve of his mouth whenever he spoke—how his lips moved with each word, the subtle way they pressed together in thought. You barely registered the question he had just asked, lost in the subtle details of him.

“Hey?”

You blinked, your gaze snapping back to his eyes, but the words tumbled out before you could think. “I so badly want to kiss you right now.”

Wonwoo sighed, like he was almost bored, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. His non-reaction is only comical to you now.

You shrugged, already moving to stand up. “Never mind, then.”

You turned to leave but then came a sudden tug that had you sitting on Wonwoo’s lap, a brief glimpse of him swiftly taking his glasses off and tossing them aside before his lips crashed into yours—all in a span of two seconds. 

You were dumbfounded, but you immediately returned his kiss with the same amount of fervor.

“There. Happy?” he muttered, looking bored, though you weren’t fooled by his attempt to downplay what had just happened.

You blinked, still catching your breath. Slowly, you pouted as you reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. “I don’t really wanna talk about careers right now.”

“Okay,” he said, shrugging. “Then let’s talk about us.”

“Us?” you echoed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse had quickened.

He nodded, watching you with gentleness on his face that gave you butterfli. “Yeah. Us. Me, you, and what we want this relationship to be.”

The room felt still, his words hanging in the air between you. You couldn’t stop staring at him—at the way, his dark eyes softened as they traced your face, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as if there was something more he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to.

Your heart was pounding, your pulse echoing in your ears, and the proximity of him—so close, so inviting—was intoxicating. He looked at you with a quiet intensity, his gaze flickering down to your lips, and in that instant, something between you snapped.

Wonwoo grabbed your face and pressed his lips onto yours—softly, languidly, like he’d been deprived of it for so long that he wanted to savor every second of it. You quietly kissed him back, closing your eyes to immerse yourself. Every touch felt electric. The way his hands slid up your back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The way his lips moved with a rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of your heart. It was overwhelming—the intensity of it, the way you could feel his heart beating through his chest, how the heat was engulfing you from head to toe.

You pulled back for a moment, just enough to catch your breath, but your forehead stayed pressed against his. His breath was warm against your lips, and his eyes—half-lidded and dark with desire—locked onto yours. He didn’t say anything, but he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. You could still taste him on your lips, the memory of the kiss lingering, sending a thrill through you all over again.

“Kiss me like that again and I’m gonna take it as your confession of love,” you said, breaking the silence.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and kissed you again with the same amount of sweet abandon. You gasped when he pulled away, utterly shocked.

“Is that… Is that your confession of love?”

“You’re impossible,” he sighed.

Before you could say anything else, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it was deeper, hungrier. His lips molded against yours, his grip on you tightening as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss as he tilted his head, changing the angle to kiss you even harder.

You felt dizzy, lightheaded—completely consumed by him. His lips, his touch, his scent—all of it was too much, yet not enough at the same time. You wanted more of him, more of this.

Your hips bucked forward, slamming onto his crotch where you found out that he too was being spurred further into the pit of desire. The contact made Wonwoo grunt, nipping your lower lip and wrapping strong arms around your waist. 

Breathless, you pulled away, staring into his eyes and wondering if this was actually happening. Wonwoo lifted you by your thighs and moved from the couch to the bed in a heartbeat. There, he carefully laid you down, running gentle fingers through your hair.

“Wonwoo…” you whispered, unsure of what you were going to say, but needing to break the silence.

He pressed a thumb on your lip, shushing your softly before kissing you again. This time, he abandoned your lips too quickly, moving his kisses down to your jaw and up to your earlobe. The tickling sensation spread through your nerves, intensified by his hand slipping under your shirt to palm your breast. You moaned out, arching toward his touch as your way of asking for more.

Wonwoo’s lips left your ear, trailing to your neck down to your collarbone. His hands were busy with the buttons of your shirt, all while you were angling your neck to give him better access of your skin.

He pulled back once he was done with the buttons, marveling at the sight of your body, and letting out a sharp exhale before lifting the hem of his shirt and tossing it across the room.

“I can do a lot more without those,” he rasped, gesturing at your underwear and you hurriedly took them off.

While you were fiddling with the hook of your bra, Wonwoo dived down to kiss your belly, sucking with an intensity that you knew would leave tiny bruises on your skin. He was moving upwards, grabbing a boob as he peppered his path with kisses and then taking his mouth to meet your nipple. As if by his design, he sucked your nipple and pressed his fingers on your sex at the same time.

The moan you let out was throaty, spurred on by the ministrations of his mouth and his fingers. He rubbed tentative circles on your cunt, trying to find your clit based on your reactions. When he did find it, your mouth parted open as you took a sharp intake of breath, and the confidence on Wonwoo’s face made you want him even more than you already did.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, licking a stripe on your neck. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

You bit your lower lip, trying not to lose your mind with just this. “Since when were you so arroga—agh!”

“Shh, you’re distracting me,” he said after pushing a finger in your cunt that had you gasping. He watched you writhe underneath him, going absolutely feral with just a finger. When he pushed another one inside, you were close to crying, whimpering, and clenching around his fingers.

“Wonwoo please…” you whined, forehead creased and lips downturned—desperate, needy. “Inside, baby. Please.”

“Come on. Say it properly. I can’t give you what you want unless you speak to me clearly.”

You threw your head back and sobbed before meeting his gaze again to say, “Fuck me, Wonwoo. I need you to fuck me really really good.”

Wonwoo groaned softly, clenching his jaw as he pulled his fingers out of your pussy. He shimmied out of his sweatpants and positioned himself between your legs, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

You watched in anticipation as he licked his fingers and used them to palm his erection. As he did, your breath hitched, chest heaving up and down as you waited patiently for him to do what he came to do. He lowered himself, placing his hands beside your head as he prodded your entrance with his cock. 

Finally, you let out a guttural moan as he pushed inside you with one messy stroke. The nerves all over your body were rejoicing, feeling both relief and a delightful pain as your cunt stretched exquisitely.

“Damn, look at you,” he drawled, leaning lower to give your open mouth a sloppy kiss. “I didn’t know you could get any prettier. If I did, I would have done this a long time ago.”

“Move, Wonwoo,” you managed to rasp out, not even trying to hide the desperation in your voice. “Please, move. Please, please, please, please!”

He did as you asked, moving languidly as he practiced the clench. That didn’t take long. In no time, he was rocking inside you over and over in a rhythm that made you lose your mind. You writhed and whimpered, urging Wonwoo to keep going.

When it looked like you couldn’t take any more, he paused for a bit, squeezing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Then he lifted your leg over his shoulder and rammed deeply into you, grunting at how tightly you clung onto his manhood.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pausing to take a break. You reached to wipe the sweat forming on his forehead and saw the expression on his face—something between pained and delighted. “We’re not done yet,” he said, hovering over you and ravishing your neck before picking up where he left off.

You kept at it, moving in sync with each other, getting lost in a blur of passion and desire. Your mind was clouded, thinking about nothing except satisfaction and release. You rose to meet his thrust, clawing at his back as you desperately chased a high that was almost within reach.

“Oh, Wonwoo,” you cried out, eyes rolling back just before the pulsating release engulfed you with euphoria.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo murmured, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unsteady as he chased his own climax, driven further into a high by your blissed-out face.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, staring at the ceiling with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing to break the silence. You turned on your side, moving toward him and resting your head on his arm. His hands found a spot on your waist, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your skin.

“Is this the part where I ask if I could be your boyfriend?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You giggled. “We’re way past that now. But I’d say ‘yes’ just for the sake of it.”

“But I don’t believe in love. Is that okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s overrated.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that,” you replied, chuckling lightly.

He turned on his side so he could face you, his eyes gleaming with affection and fondness. Those eyes were directed at you. “I’m not good at this. And I don’t know what to call this, but I know I can’t stand the idea of not being yours.”

You kissed his cheek. “It’s fine, Wonwoo. If you want me like I want you, it doesn’t matter what we call it.”

“Okay, baby,” he grinned, pushing your hair out of your shoulder. He brushed his thumb over the skin of your neck, staring intently at it. “I may or may not have left some…” he trailed off. “...marks.”

You gasped, sitting up with a jolt and hitting his chest. “Jeon Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo simply grinned, propping himself on his elbow as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“The girls are gonna see that and know that we had sex!”

He shrugged. “They’ll probably just say something like, ‘About damn time’, you know?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying,” you said, standing up at once and heading for the bathroom. Wonwoo followed behind you, draping an arm around your shoulder and then kissing the side of your head.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“No, do it again,” you said sheepishly, looking away. “Just… not where people can see it.”

You peeked at Wonwoo’s face and saw him sporting a massive grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

From the start of your official relationship, things shifted dramatically. Wonwoo was completely different from his usual aloof self. He’d be all over you—holding your hand, lying on your lap, hugging you from behind, anything as long as he was attached to you. He’d hold your hand even when the two of you were quietly reading books—a habit he eventually picked up from you after your constant attempts to get him to read an actual physical book made of paper.

Your dorm room, as always, was the prime spot for these intimate moments. He’d lazily wrap his arms around you, leaning in to steal kisses when you least expected it. The guy who once seemed indifferent now craved your touch.

When hanging out with friends, it was no different. Wonwoo would always reach for you without looking because he knew you’d always be within his reach. He would casually intertwine his fingers with yours, or simply place a hand on your thigh. It was so second nature that he did it once to Hoshi by mistake, his hand absentmindedly landing on Hoshi’s knee while he played a game. Hoshi, immediately recognizing his chance to mess with him, leaned his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, pretending to cuddle closer.

Still blissfully unaware, Wonwoo absentmindedly reached up and cupped Hoshi's cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

“Man, I didn’t realize you were this clingy,” Hoshi teased, leaning into the warmth.

Wonwoo blinked, his brain catching up, and when the realization hit, he let out a horrified gasp, retracting his hand so quickly it was like he'd been burned. “Hoshi, what the—!” he stammered, scooting away from him as far as possible.

Across the room, you were in stitches laughing with the rest of your friends, watching the whole thing unfold.

“Babe,” Wonwoo called out to you, almost desperately, making a beeline toward where you sat. The sudden, affectionate tone in his voice had everyone cringing.

“I could never get used to this,” Jun said, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief

“I hate it when they call each other that,” Seokmin added with a mock grimace. “Like, okay, you’re not single and lonely. We get it.”

Wonwoo pouted as he made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you like a child seeking comfort. “I missed you,” he mumbled dramatically into your shoulder, sending another wave of exaggerated groans through your friends.

You playfully tapped his forehead. “I’m like five steps away.”

“That’s five steps too far,” he said, all mock seriousness, burying his face into the crook of your neck while the others looked away in mock disgust.

Moments like this had become common now, where he let little things slip that showed just how much he cared. Yet, he still clung to his old habit of feigning indifference, as though denying his feelings made it easier to hide how deeply he’d fallen for you. But it was all in good fun, and you found it adorable when he would switch back to his aloof, “too cool” personality just to see you smile.

Despite the teasing, you liked this new side of him. It felt good knowing Wonwoo was willing to show both you and your friends a part of himself that not everyone got to see. Your relationship had leveled up, and it was evident not just in the way he acted but in the ease you felt together now

“Can we go back to when the only simp in this friend group was her?” Jill asked, pointing at you. “Wonwoo’s giving me the creeps.”

Feigning offense, you placed your hands on your hips and said, “Wow, okay. Sue me for being drop-dead gorgeous and having a boyfriend who’s head-over-heels with me. Whatever.”

“Don’t listen to them, babe. Jealous friends are fake friends,” said Wonwoo, covering your ears and kissing the side of your head.

“He was perfect. The best boyfriend one could ever ask for, except for the part where he didn’t believe in love. Actually, that didn’t even matter in the long run because he was still such a great guy,” you recounted, sighing contently as you gazed at the horizon, the warm colors of the sunset painting the sky. “I had never met anyone like him again. I don’t think I will.”

Next to you, Seungcheol furrowed his brows slightly, the confusion evident on his face. “If he was so perfect—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you interjected, turning to him with your palm raised. “There was no ‘if.’ Wonwoo is perfect.”

“No, hear me out,” he insisted, grabbing your hand and gently putting it down. “If he was so perfect, why did you break up?”

You retracted your hand and glared at him, pretending to be offended. “It is, what it is.”

“What does that mean in this context?”

“It means, we were just not for each other,” you said, shrugging in acceptance. “He was lovely and perfect, and all that. But—You know, I read somewhere that we were all created in pairs, and that we were put in this Earth to be with that one person—our pair.”

“Polyamorous people are not gonna like it when they hear that,” he shot back, a teasing grin on his face.

You tutted, shaking your head. “Listen!” Narrowing your eyes at him, he mimed zipping his lips, letting you continue. “As much as I wanted Wonwoo, we weren’t the perfect match.”

“Okay, I get it,” he replied, nodding thoughtfully. “So how did it end?”

You let out a heavy sigh then flattened your lips together in a tight smile. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the whole time I was telling the story, I never once mentioned anything about us fighting.”

Seungcheol’s face lit up in realization.

“That’s because we’ve never had a fight. Not even once,” you added. And somehow, that was everything.

How did it end?

It wasn’t anything grand, much like how you got together in the first place. Wonwoo continued to be a great boyfriend, one you could always boast about. Your friends were envious of such a perfect relationship—one where your man was obsessed with you and adored you to death, not to mention good-looking and smart. He was a catch.

Wonwoo had a quiet patience that made it easy to handle your boundless energy. When you’d burst into a room excited, full of chatter, he would always listen with a soft smile, never overwhelmed by your liveliness. He didn’t need to match your enthusiasm; his calm presence was enough.

And you understood him just as well. You knew when he was getting tired, even when he tried to hide it behind his usual stoic demeanor. Like when he’d sit a little closer than usual or his fingers would linger on your arm. That’s when you’d ease up, toning things down without him needing to say a word. You were attuned to his subtle cues, a silent understanding between the two of you that others rarely noticed.

But Wonwoo wasn’t just passive; he knew how to take care of you, too. When your stress bubbled over, he’d pull you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head, whispering words of comfort so softly they barely broke the silence. You’d feel the tension melt away in those moments, reassured just by being close to him.

“I hate dental checkups,” you complained, slumping on Wonwoo’s bed the moment you entered their dorm room. 

You had just arrived from a dentist appointment and had to have your teeth cleaned as a regular procedure. Wonwoo sat in front of his computer, eyes fixed on the game he was playing, but he was listening to you.

“Was it bad?” he asked, fingers moving rapidly on the keys and eyes darting left and right as he focused on the screen before him.

“It was! I forgot it was time for a cleaning procedure, so I went there totally unprepared. I didn’t get to meditate and mentally prepare myself for the torture. It was awful,” you grumbled, burying your face in the sheets.

“Come here,” he called, glancing only briefly at you.

You walked towards him with a slouched back, sitting on his lap and burying your face in his neck.

“It can’t be helped, it’s not like you can just neglect your teeth. You did a great job back there,” he murmured, his voice gentle and comforting. “I hate dentist appointments too.”

You lifted your head and peeked at his face. “Right? It’s the worst.”

He hummed. “I can’t even last two minutes on that table without gagging. It’s a nightmare.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised to learn something new about him. “You know, I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Wonwoo cocked an eyebrow, finally meeting your gaze just as the unmistakable sound of ‘Victory’ echoed from his headphones. “Really now? Should we put that mouth to use then?”

You gasped, covering your mouth dramatically at how incredibly attractive he sounded. The atmosphere shifted, a sultry heat igniting the air between you.

“What? You didn’t tell me that just to brag about it, did you?” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk.

At this point, you were sure your panties were already on the floor. “Jeon Wonwoo, you hot specimen of a man,” you said, lunging at him with an urgent kiss.

Your relationship was not only built on mutual respect and adoration but also on an undeniable passion. As your lips met, you could feel that familiar spark, igniting something deep within you.

And despite his usual laid-back attitude, Wonwoo would go along with your plans. You’d drag him to social gatherings with friends, where he might seem indifferent, but you knew better. His hand always found yours under the table, and though he stayed quiet, the squeeze of his fingers let you know he was happy to be there—just because you were.

Even when you coaxed him to take breaks from gaming or studying, he’d give you that knowing look, letting you win every time. “Alright,” he’d say with a sigh, but the way he let you guide him outside for fresh air told you he enjoyed the break more than he’d ever admit.

Yet, as you basked in these moments, a thought nagged at you, echoing in the back of your mind. You turned to Wonwoo, breathtakingly handsome in the golden light of the sunset. 

“Babe,” you began, “did you know we never had a fight yet? Not even about the smallest things.”

His brow furrowed slightly, realizing the truth in your question. Then he looked at you curiously. “I didn’t realize. Isn’t that a good thing?”

You pondered his response. “I think it is, but it’s weird, isn’t it? Why don’t we fight? Couples fight all the time. Look at Hosh and Mina.”

Wonwoo shrugged, taking a bite out of his churro. “Maybe because we don’t let small things get in the way of our relationship?”

“Hmmh. We understand each other so well, don’t we?” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know why, but somehow, I can’t help but think that maybe it’s too easy. Like we never challenge each other or have those deep conversations.”

“We have deep conversations all the time.”

“You’re right, but not because of a fight,” you stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

Wonwoo frowned, and you could sense the wheels turning in his mind. Then he hummed, and said, “It does make you wonder if we’re really communicating or just avoiding issues.”

What he said struck a chord with you. Days turned into weeks, and the questions loomed larger with each passing moment. You began to notice the cracks beneath the surface of your perfect relationship. The playful teasing became tinged with seriousness, and the easy laughter felt strained at times.

You pondered over the conversations with Mina and your other friends about love and relationships, and it began to dawn on you: What if what you have was limiting your growth instead of nurturing it? What if you had mistaken stagnation and decay for safety and comfort?

One evening, you and Wonwoo sat in your dorm room, the atmosphere cozy as you both worked on separate assignments. He was focused on his computer, while you scribbled notes on a notepad. You glanced at him, the familiar sight of his concentrated expression making your heart flutter. It was in these moments that you felt most at peace. And then came the thought that you couldn’t seem to shake: How could something so good not be enough?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. Wonwoo looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

He tilted his head, taking in your every word. “What’s on your mind?”

“Remember when we talked about how we’ve never fought at all?” you began, fidgeting with your pen.

Wonwoo hummed, nodding.

“Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and…” you paused to sigh, biting your lower lip to prevent the words from spilling out of your mouth. You knew it had to be said, that it was necessary to see if you should continue moving forward or move on with your lives.

Wonwoo reached for your face, wiping away a tear that you didn’t realize had rolled down your cheek. “I know. You don’t have to say it.”

Your lips turned downward, trying your best to hold back your tears. “But isn’t that avoiding the issue too?”

He chuckled lightly, pulling you toward him in a tight embrace. “It is but, isn't it better than saying things that will only hurt each other’s feelings?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, nuzzling against his chest.

Wonwoo was patting your back in a slow, soothing rhythm, calming your nerves and helping keep your tears at bay. “I know what you’re thinking, baby. I’ve been thinking about it too. And it’s okay, it can’t be helped. Maybe it’s for the best too.”

You exhaled sharply before letting yourself sob in his shirt, tears rolling down your face like a sudden downpour. Wonwoo tightened his hug, shushing you gently as he rubbed your back, muttering soft ‘it’s okay’s in your ear.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“Me neither,” he said softly, pressing a kiss on your head. “But I think we need to face the reality of our futures. Our paths are set to diverge anyway, even if we try to change it. It might be for the best if we part ways now, while we still have these great, happy memories of each other.”

You pulled away from his embrace, looking up at him with your tear-stained face. The thought of never laughing together again weighed heavily in your heart, but there was also a flicker of understanding that this was the right choice.

“Remember when we were in that seminar, and you asked me if I liked you?” you chuckled through your tears, the memory bringing a smile to your lips.

Wonwoo laughed, a soft sound that felt like a warm hug. “How could I forget? That was when I started falling for you.”

“Really?” you asked, eyes widening at his revelation. Wonwoo rolled his eyes as if he regretted telling you that. “No, but seriously?”

“Yes, yes,” he gave in. “You were so confident then. So straightforward and honest. I may have experienced having my heart skip a beat for the first time.”

“No way!” you giggled, snuggling into him. “Why were you pretending to be so nonchalant for a long time?”

“I kinda liked having you chase me around,” he admitted sheepishly. “Why? What were you gonna say about that day?”

You pulled back, sitting up. “Oh, I wanted to ask if you were gonna tell me to leave you alone that day before the professor came in and I cut you off.”

He scoffed, feigning indifference. “Well, I guess you know the answer to that now.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his torso while you looked up at him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replied in a heartbeat. “Love was worth a try with you.”

“I’m gonna remember you forever.”

“That’s quite a big promise, but okay. I’ll take you up on that.”

And you spent the rest of your college days in each other's embrace, dreading the inevitable but also accepting the reality of your future. Jeon Wonwoo was a breath of fresh air, the warmth of the early morning sun, a prelude to a beautiful song, and a sweet memory of your youth that would stay with you forever.

[fin]

[girlrotterr]

☆ 𓈒 ݁ I wanna hold the hand inside you. ๋ ♩ ⋆ ݁

ellie williams x ballerina! reader Summary: Ellie, an art school dropout working at a bookstore, has a habit of sketching strangers she encounters. One day, she becomes captivated by a rising ballet star practicing at a nearby theater. a/n: Happy holidays, my angels! I'm endlessly grateful for your support and kindness. To show my appreciation, here's a festive little fic to celebrate the season! 🎄

The first flakes of snow swirled against the inky sky, catching the amber glow of streetlights as if they were performing a pirouette in the winter night. Ellie slouched on her stool behind the counter, her gaze drifting to the frost-rimmed window. Outside, the world carried on with its holiday bustle—carolers huddled under lampposts, the tinny strains of their song barely audible over the rush of traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. She dragged the edge of her sleeve across her face, smudging lead further down her wrist, and stared at the half-finished sketch in her notebook.

The shop was quiet, except for the soft hiss of the radiator and the muffled strains of an old jazz record spinning in the corner. The Christmas tree, barely taller than her arm, stood crooked in its stand, its few ornaments glittering under strings of mismatched lights. Ellie wasn’t much for festive cheer, but it had been her boss’s idea—a “charming touch” to draw in customers. So far, it hadn’t worked.

The bell above the door jingled, sharp and sudden against the quiet. Ellie glanced up, expecting the usual—a hurried shopper looking for last-minute gifts, maybe another student trying to trade old textbooks for cash. But the figure standing in the doorway was neither.

You hesitated there, framed by the frosted glass, the soft glow from the streetlights catching on the gold buttons of your coat. Snow clung to your hair, melting into shimmering droplets that slid down your scarf. Something about the way you stood—poised yet uncertain—caught Ellie’s attention. You stepped inside, the sound of your boots muffled by the threadbare rug, and the door swung shut with a gust of icy air.

Ellie straightened, wiping her smudged fingers on her jeans. Your eyes flicked around the store, tracing the shelves with a kind of deliberation that made Ellie’s skin prickle. You moved with a grace, like you carried some secret rhythm only you could hear. A dancer, Ellie thought, though she couldn’t explain how she knew.

“Can I help you?” Ellie’s voice came out rougher than intended, the words blunt in the stillness.

You blinked, startled, your gaze snapping to hers. For a moment, you didn’t speak, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your coat. Ellie noticed the way your hands moved, smoothing invisible creases, your knuckles brushing against the buttons as if trying to iron it out. 

“Yes,” you said at last, your voice soft but steady. “I’m looking for an old choreography journal. I heard this store might have it.”

Ellie arched an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter. “Choreography journal? That’s pretty specific.”

You nodded, your expression earnest, and Ellie sighed, pushing herself to her feet. “Right. Follow me.”

You trailed behind her as she wove through the maze of shelves. The air smelled of aged paper and pine, and the faint hum of the jazz record followed you into the back corner of the shop. Ellie scanned the spines, her fingers grazing over faded titles until she spotted it—a leather-bound journal, its edges worn with age. She pulled it free and turned, holding it out.

“This the one?”

Your face lit up, a smile breaking across your features so suddenly and so vividly that it hit Ellie like a sucker punch. “Yes! Thank you,” you said, your voice breathless as you took the journal from her hands, cradling it like something fragile and precious.

She watched as you moved toward the counter, her fingers itching to grab her sketchpad. She didn’t know what it was—maybe the light catching the curve of your cheek, or the quiet determination in your eyes—but she felt the urge to capture it before it slipped away.

The bell jingled again as you left, the journal tucked under your arm. Ellie sat back down, her fingers already moving, charcoal sweeping across the page in quick, confident strokes. She sketched the tilt of your head, the fall of your coat, the way you had looked when you first stepped into the shop, snow still clinging to your scarf.

When the drawing was done, Ellie stared at it, her chest tightening.

“Should’ve said something,” she muttered, closing the notebook with a sigh.

Ellie’s hands drummed absentmindedly against the steering wheel, the engine’s hum matching the rhythm of her thoughts as she drove down the dimly lit streets. The Christmas lights that adorned the lampposts casted a muted glow over the pavement, reflecting off the windshield in streaks of red and green. She flicked her gaze over to Jesse, her best friend, who sat in the passenger seat with his head tipped back, looking up at the sparse stars through the cracked window.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were starting to like this cold," Ellie teased, her lips curling into a grin.

Jesse smirked but didn’t reply right away, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. After a beat, he looked over at her, his expression softening. “It’s not the cold that’s got me in a good mood. It’s this whole, ‘helping out with your job’ thing. Plus, I get to spend some time with you before I clock in at mine.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "You mean the part-time gig as the world’s most underpaid stagehand?"

Jesse chuckled. “Hey, I’m getting better at lifting things.”

The two of them shared a laugh before the silence settled comfortably between them. Ellie had never been one for big plans, but Jesse’s spontaneity had a way of keeping things interesting, even on cold winter nights like this one.

Pulling into the theater's lot, Ellie parked in the space closest to the backstage entrance, and Jesse threw open the door with a flourish. “Wanna come inside for a bit? They’re rehearsing for The Nutcracker, and I don’t feel like sitting around alone.” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got nothing better to do.”

Ellie shrugged, her hand on the door handle. “Yeah, sure. I’ve got a couple hours to kill anyway.”

The two of them walked inside, greeted by the familiar hum of stage lights and the distant chatter of performers. The backstage area was a chaos of costumes, props, and stagehands rushing about in preparation for the evening’s rehearsal. Ellie had seen it all before—Jesse working his second job, moving props, fixing lights, and usually getting caught in the drama of the theater. But tonight, she didn’t feel like hanging around the cluttered backroom, so instead, she followed Jesse down a narrow hallway, where the low murmur of music seeped out from beneath the door to the rehearsal space.

The room was filled with dancers—some stretching, others running through pirouettes, all wrapped in the familiar warmth of motion and music. Ellie leaned against the wall just inside the door, watching them with a quiet sense of awe. The elegance in their movements, the sharp precision of each turn and leap—it was a world so different from her own, so alien in its grace.

But then, her eyes caught you.

You were at the front of the group, gliding effortlessly across the polished floor, your body flowing in perfect synchrony with the music. There was something magnetic about the way you moved, something Ellie hadn’t been able to shake since that first moment she saw you in the bookstore. She hadn’t known it then, but seeing you now, so focused, so composed—her heart gave an unexpected thump.

You paused mid-step, adjusting the position of your arm as the instructor called for the group to repeat the sequence. Ellie’s breath hitched in her chest as she watched you. She didn’t know much about ballet—hell, she didn’t know much about anything that required that level of discipline—but she knew that you were a star in the making. And something about you standing there in that moment made her feel like an outsider, unsure of whether to approach you or simply watch from a distance.

Her fingers twitched, the urge to capture you on paper bubbling to the surface before she could stop herself. The sketchbook she always carried with her was nestled in the crook of her arm, the familiar weight comforting in its presence. Without thinking, she pulled it free, the pages flipping open with a soft rustle, and she found the nearest bench, settling down with a practiced ease. The dancers continued to move in their own world, their rhythm uninterrupted by her quiet intrusion.

Jesse, oblivious to the change in the air, slapped her shoulder as he walked by, his voice laced with his usual lighthearted teasing. "I’m gonna go clock in."

Ellie gave him a sharp nod, her focus already elsewhere. “Go do your thing.”

He gave her a crooked grin before disappearing into the back, leaving Ellie alone with her sketchbook and the image of you in her mind. Her pencil hovered over the paper for a moment, and then she was moving, sketching you in a flurry of strokes.

The movements were swift but careful, each line drawing out the fluidity in your form—the arc of your arm, the curve of your body as you turned, the elegance in the tilt of your chin. Ellie’s hand moved instinctively, following the rhythm of your dance in a way she never had before, as if the beat of the music pulsed through her own veins. The sketch began to take shape quickly, a blurry but vivid impression of you.

She glanced up briefly, just to catch the way your foot landed on the floor with a light thud before you floated effortlessly into another spin, and Ellie was back to the page, her pencil pressing harder now, as if she could make it feel more real. The slow burn of the sketch was intoxicating—each movement of your body translated into a new line, a curve, a shadow on the paper. There was something about watching you from here, at a distance, that felt so… personal, like she was drawing you in a way that words never could.

Her pencil moved faster as you paused in a stretch, your back arching in a way that made Ellie’s breath catch in her chest. A small frown creased her brow as she captured it, the lines growing more confident, more precise with every passing second. 

You were beautiful.

Ellie bit her lip, feeling a warmth creeping up her neck at the thought. It was like you were a part of the drawing now, and she didn’t know whether that made it feel more real or less. She wanted to show it to you, somehow, but the thought of speaking to you—really speaking to you—sent a quick pulse of anxiety through her chest. 

The dancers were in full flow now, the music swelling with urgency. They executed one complex sequence after another, their bodies bending and stretching with fluidity. But at the front of the room, where you were, the music seemed to swell around you, highlighting every intricate move, every flick of your wrist, every lift of your leg. You were the center of it all—focused, your concentration as sharp and precise as the form of your body, each movement a well-practiced line of choreography.

But then, in the middle of a delicate turn, it happened.

Your foot slipped.

It was almost imperceptible at first, a slight misstep—a mere second of imbalance—but it was enough to unravel the perfection of your movement. Your ankle buckled, the graceful arc of your body faltering. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat as she watched you lose control, your arms flailing for balance, but your foot twisted in a way that left you no choice.

You crumpled to the floor with a soft thud, the sound of your body hitting the hardwood echoing in Ellie’s chest. A sharp intake of breath escaped your lips as you caught yourself on your hands, but it was clear you weren’t going to recover quickly. For that split second, time seemed to freeze—there was only the sound of your pain hanging in the air, as still as the tension that gripped the room. Ellie felt her stomach drop, her hands instinctively tightening around the edges of her sketchbook as she kept her gaze locked on you, her heart pounding wildly.

The other dancers rushed to your side, their faces a blur of concern and urgency, but Ellie couldn’t tear her eyes away. She felt as if her whole body had gone rigid, her muscles taut with the sudden, overwhelming need to do something, anything—but she couldn’t. She was rooted to the spot, her mind frozen with the image of you crumpled on the floor.

"Shit," Ellie muttered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper as she clenched her jaw, frustration building in her chest. Her fingers, stiff with worry, drummed against the pages of her sketchbook, but she barely noticed the paper crinkling beneath her touch.

It felt like hours before Jesse reappeared, though it was only a minute or so later. He stepped lightly into the space beside Ellie, his shoes tapping against the floor. He scanned the scene in front of them, his eyes flicking over to where you were being helped up by one of the instructors.

Jesse plopped down next to Ellie, stretching his legs out in front of him and settling in with the ease of someone who had been here a thousand times before. His tone was casual, but Ellie could hear the concern that lingered beneath it, the weight of the situation finally beginning to register in his voice. "You good?"

Ellie’s focus was still completely fixed on you. Her mind was a swirl of confusion, worry, and something deeper she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t know how to process it, how to feel about seeing you like this. She’d watched you dance so effortlessly before. But now, this—this moment—felt different. “I don’t know… I think she’s okay, but—” She trailed off, her voice trailing behind the question, as she watched the instructor gently guide you off to the side. Your movements were slow now, the instructor’s arm around your shoulders, offering what little support you might need.

Jesse leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. He folded his arms across his chest, the casual way he settled back into his seat making it clear that this wasn’t his first time seeing something like this happen. 

“Ohh, her. She’s a rising star, man. You wouldn’t know it from how quiet she is, but she’s a big deal around here. Preparing for The Nutcracker… it’s like, a huge role for her.” His voice softened as he spoke, but Ellie could still hear the admiration in his words, the way he seemed to know something more about you than she did.

Her brow furrowed, her thoughts racing in a dozen directions. 

Jesse’s  gaze shifted back to you as you sat on the bench now, resting your injured ankle. There was a brief pause before he continued, his voice quieter now. 

 “Last year, though… she had a huge setback. Bad performance, all the pressure got to her. She messed up, and it cost her. Big time.” He glanced at Ellie, gauging her reaction, before he continued, his voice more subdued. “She twisted her ankle during the performance. It’s been hard for her to bounce back.”

Ellie’s stomach tightened at the revelation, her heart sinking. “Are you sure she’s gonna be okay?” Ellie asked, her words tumbling out before she could stop them. There was a tightness in her chest now, a knot she couldn’t unravel as she watched you—still holding yourself, but now with a limp, a hesitation in your steps.

Jesse let out a long sigh, his expression softening with something like sympathy. “She’s tough. But… yeah. It’s gonna take a lot to get back to where she was before. The injury’s made it harder to balance sometimes. I think it messes with her head more than anything.” He paused for a beat, his eyes lingering on you, still sitting off to the side, the pain evident in your movements even though you tried so hard to mask it.

Ellie couldn’t look away. The sight of you made something inside her ache, something she couldn’t name. 

Ellie walked into her apartment, the door creaking as she pushed it open, the familiar scent of stale air and dust greeting her like an old friend. The heater was a noisy beast that struggled to keep the cold at bay, but she couldn’t afford anything better, not when every paycheck was stretched thin between groceries, rent, and whatever scraps of art supplies she could scrape together. She sighed, a breath that carried the weight of the long day, as she kicked off her boots. 

The floor was cold under her feet, but it didn’t matter much—everything in this place was a little broken, a little worse for wear. She shrugged out of her coat, letting it drop onto the couch, and peeled off her layers one by one. The thick sweater, the scarf she had wrapped too tightly around her neck, the faded jeans—she tossed them all aside like they didn’t matter anymore. She had long given up on caring about how she looked or how this place looked. No amount of rearranging could fix the fact that it was barely livable.

Ellie crossed the small living room to the heater, cranking it up to the highest setting, watching the way it sputtered to life with a half-hearted groan. The warmth was slow to come, but she didn’t mind the wait. She needed to lie down. She needed to close her eyes for just a moment before the thoughts crowded in.

She dropped onto the couch, sinking into the familiar, sagging cushions. The spot had molded to her body over the years, each depression a reminder of how many sleepless nights she had spent in this place—thinking, drawing, wasting time. Her sketchbook was always within reach, a constant companion even when she hated it, when the pages felt too full of the messy, unrefined parts of herself.

Ellie was a scrappy art school dropout with no grand dreams of gallery shows or fame. After her dad—Joel—had passed, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He’d been the one who held things together, who made sure she had everything she needed, even when things were hard. His sudden death shattered her world, leaving her with no safety net. Without him, there was no way she could afford the tuition. So she quit.

Her shifts at the bookstore paid for the crappy apartment, but it didn’t cover the bills, let alone the art supplies she burned through. Still, she kept coming back. It wasn’t the job she wanted, but it kept her from starving, kept her from getting evicted. Her fingers were always covered in ink and graphite from sketching during breaks, filling pages with fragmented portraits and half-formed ideas. 

Ellie had been lying on the couch, the irritation of the thumping bass from next door creeping under her skin like an itch that couldn't be scratched. She'd pulled her pillow over her head, hoping it would drown out the noise, but it only seemed to make the thudding louder. The muffled music bled through the walls, a constant, annoying reminder of how small and stifling her apartment had become. She felt trapped—trapped by the noise, by the walls, by the life she couldn't quite get out of.

And then the moment came. Another wave of pounding bass rattled the floor, sharp and insistent, until Ellie couldn’t take it anymore. Her frustration built up until it was a tight knot in her chest, and before she even realized it, she was on her feet, storming out of her apartment without a second thought.

Her feet barely made a sound as she walked down the hall, her breath shallow, fists clenched. The door to the apartment was slightly ajar, as if inviting her in, and Ellie, in her agitated state, didn’t pause to knock. She pushed the door open, ready to confront the source of the noise, but then everything stopped.

You were there.

In the soft glow of the moonlight, you moved with a grace that stole Ellie’s breath away. The warm, golden light wrapped around your figure like a blanket, casting your silhouette in a soft, delicate glow. Your body spun through the air, each movement flowing effortlessly into the next, as if you were part of the rhythm of the world itself. Your form was fluid, every line of your body a quiet expression of something beautiful.

She stood frozen in the doorway, her chest tight as she watched. The world seemed to slow down around her. There was no harsh music blaring, no noise at all—just the sound of your movements and the occasional soft swish of fabric. The way you danced was mesmerizing, like you were lost in a world of your own.

Your focus was total, your expression one of quiet concentration, but it wasn’t just your skill that held Ellie’s gaze. It was the way you seemed to move so effortlessly, as if you were floating. You were lost in your dance, your body becoming an extension of the space around you. For a brief, fleeting moment, Ellie forgot everything—the irritation, the frustration, even the reason she’d come here. All that mattered was the way you filled the space with your presence.

God, you're everywhere.

Ellie’s heart thudded in her chest, each beat louder than the last. The thought hit her, unbidden and sharp: fuck, I can’t escape you. You were a constant presence, even if Ellie hadn’t fully realized it until now. In the bookstore, in the theater, in the quiet of her own apartment, and now here, in the soft glow of your world. It was as if fate had tied her to you, whether she liked it or not. And in that moment, Ellie couldn’t decide if she was terrified or intrigued by that pull.

You finished your spin, landing with the kind of grace that left Ellie almost breathless. The room around you felt smaller, quieter, as if your very presence had claimed it..

But then, in that instant, your movements faltered. Your eyes flickered toward her, and suddenly the connection snapped. Your gaze locked with hers, and Ellie felt a jolt run through her body, as if her entire world had shifted. The stillness of the moment was broken by the uncomfortable tension that now hung between them.

You froze mid-spin, your wide eyes betraying a mixture of surprise and fear. The tension in your body was palpable as you instinctively took a step back, your shoulders tightening, your lips pressed together in discomfort. Ellie saw the way you hesitated, a quick breath caught in your chest, as if you weren’t sure whether to move or stay.

You were scared. Unnerved by her presence.

Ellie raised her hands slowly, palms out in a gesture of apology, her voice coming out softer than she intended. “I—I didn’t mean to—your door was open, and the music… I just…” She trailed off, words tangling on her tongue as her gaze flickered over you, taking in the guarded way you stood, every muscle taut as if ready to defend yourself.

The silence between you stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside and the soft tick of a clock somewhere in your apartment. Ellie swallowed hard, the warmth of the space and the sheer presence of you making her feel like an intruder in a world she didn’t belong to.

You folded your arms, your expression shifting from wary to something unreadable. The moonlight poured through the wide windows, catching on the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to your skin. Your hair framed your face, slightly disheveled but effortlessly stunning, and the tension in your jaw made Ellie’s chest ache in a way she didn’t fully understand.

“Look,” Ellie started again, shifting awkwardly, her fingers curling into the strap of her bag. “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything. I live next door, and the music was… loud.” She winced inwardly at the weak excuse, the words sounding hollow even as they left her lips. Her frustration from earlier had long since dissipated, leaving only a raw mix of nerves and something else—something she couldn’t quite name.

“Loud?” you repeated, your voice soft but edged with incredulity.

Ellie nodded quickly, her cheeks burning. “Yeah. But, uh, you dance… really well. Like, beautifully well.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, your arms still crossed, but the sharpness of your gaze seemed to dull just a fraction. Ellie could’ve kicked herself. Compliments probably weren’t what you wanted to hear from the stranger who’d just barged into your apartment uninvited.

“Thanks,” you said finally, your tone clipped. But there was something in the way you said it—something quieter, almost hesitant—that made Ellie’s stomach twist. The tension in your frame didn’t ease, and you kept your distance, clearly not ready to let your guard down.

Ellie shifted on her feet, the urge to say something—anything—gnawing at her. “Right. I’ll, uh, get out of your hair.” She took a step back toward the door, but her movements were sluggish, reluctant. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, louder than the muffled music still playing faintly in the background.

She hesitated, glancing back at you over her shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” she said, her voice quiet, almost shy, “you’re… incredible. I can tell how hard you work. ”

The tension in your face softened ever so slightly, a flicker of something Ellie couldn’t quite place crossing your features. But you didn’t say anything, just leaned lightly against the edge of a small table near the window. The moonlight caught on the curve of your shoulder, illuminating the quiet strength in your posture, the determination etched into the lines of your body even in stillness.

“Next time,” you said finally, your tone even but laced with a sharp edge, “knock.”

Ellie nodded quickly, a sheepish, almost apologetic smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Totally. Got it.”

Without another word, she slipped back into the hallway, the door clicking shut softly behind her. Ellie leaned heavily against the wall, running a hand through her unruly hair as she exhaled a shaky breath. Her heart was still racing, the image of you under the moonlight burned into her mind.

The faint glow of the Christmas lights bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of colors, soft blues and reds dancing across the walls of Ellie’s small apartment. The space felt warmer than usual, though the heater sputtering in the corner certainly wasn’t responsible for that. It had everything to do with you being here—sitting cross-legged on the floor with a box of ornaments balanced in front of you, a soft smile playing at your lips as you unwrapped another bauble.

Ellie glanced at you from the corner of her eye as she worked to untangle the mess of lights in her lap. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught herself watching you, though she’d gotten better at not staring outright. You’d been coming around more often lately, showing up with little excuses to see her: a borrowed book you’d “forgotten” to return, a leftover pastry from the café near your place that you thought she’d like, even a random bottle of wine to “celebrate surviving another week.”

At first, Ellie had been cautious, unsure of what to make of your easy smiles and playful teasing. But slowly—so slowly she hadn’t even realized it at first—her defenses had begun to drop. You’d found a way to fit into the cracks of her life, easing past her guarded edges with a kindness that felt effortless.

And Ellie, despite herself, had started to let you in.

The moments you shared now felt natural, unforced. Like when you’d taken it upon yourself to help her pick out a Christmas tree after learning she’d never had one. You’d teased her mercilessly about her bare-bones apartment, joking that she needed “at least one thing in here that screamed holiday cheer.” And she’d let you, because even when you were poking fun at her, there was something so warm and genuine in the way you spoke to her, like you’d known her forever.

“Ellie,” you said now, breaking her from her thoughts. She blinked, looking up to find you holding out a small ornament shaped like a snowflake. “This one’s cute. Front and center?”

She shrugged, the corners of her mouth twitching into a faint smirk. “Sure. You’re the boss.”

You laughed softly, reaching up to hang the ornament near the middle of the tree. Ellie couldn’t help but notice how easily you seemed to fill the quiet spaces in her apartment, your presence bringing a lightness to the air that hadn’t been there before.

Tonight felt like another step forward, a bridge you’d both unknowingly been building.

Ellie stood beside you now, her hands tucked into her pockets as she stared at the tree. She was close enough that you could feel the faint warmth radiating from her, close enough that her quiet presence felt like an anchor in the room.

“It’s… not bad,” Ellie said, her voice soft.

You turned to her, arching a brow. “Not bad?”

She smirked, her gaze flicking toward you. “Yeah. Not bad.”

You nudged her lightly with your elbow, grinning as you shook your head. The ease between you was palpable, the kind of comfort that only came after spending hours together—sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional comfortable silence.

Ellie’s apartment, once cold and cluttered, now felt warmer somehow. The pile of sketchbooks on the coffee table no longer seemed like a chaotic mess but a testament to the creativity Ellie carried in her bones. The tree, crooked and adorned with mismatched ornaments, added a glow that felt almost magical.

“Thanks, by the way,” Ellie said, breaking the silence. Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “For, you know… doing this.”

You looked at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. Ellie was many things—sarcastic, quick-witted, and guarded—but moments like these reminded you of how deeply she felt things, even if she didn’t always show it.

“Of course,” you said softly, your smile gentle. “Everyone deserves a Christmas tree, Ellie. Even you.”

Ellie let out a soft laugh, glancing down at the floor. “Never really had one growing up,” she’d admitted, “Joel tried once, but it just… didn’t stick. Felt weird, I guess."

“Guess it’s time to start” you teased, your voice playful but warm.

Ellie glanced up at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. The Christmas lights twinkled softly in the background, their glow reflecting in your eyes, and Ellie felt the faintest tug of something deeper, something she didn’t yet have the words for.

But as the silence stretched on, you glanced at your phone, noticing the time.

"I should probably head out," you said, your voice breaking the calm. Ellie looked over at you, blinking as if snapping out of her own thoughts.

"Oh, yeah. I didn’t mean to keep you," Ellie replied, a trace of reluctance in her voice.

You stood, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. "It’s fine. I’m just—" you paused, then smiled. "I’ve got to get back to the theater. You know, practice."

Ellie nodded, walking over to the door with you. She hadn't realized how quickly the time had passed, how easily it had slipped away in the comfort of your presence. It felt almost too good to be true, this—whatever it was between you.

Before you opened the door, you paused, turning back to Ellie. Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, everything seemed to quiet around you both.

"Hey," you said softly, catching her off guard. "I, uh, I know it’s short notice, but the performance is next week." You hesitated for a beat, your words coming out a little more uncertain than you’d intended.  “I’d really love for you to come. If you’re free, of course."

Ellie blinked, taken aback for a moment. She hadn’t expected the invitation—hadn’t expected you to even consider asking her.

"Of course I’ll come," she said, a little more quickly than she’d planned, but the sincerity in her voice made the words ring true. "I wouldn’t miss it."

You smiled, the warmth in your expression spreading like sunlight. "Thanks. It means a lot."

With one last look, you opened the door, stepping into the cool air of the hallway. Ellie stood there for a moment, watching as you disappeared down the stairs, your footsteps echoing in the stillness.

She stood there, frozen, for a beat longer than she should have, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

Ellie sat on her worn couch, the edges of her sweater tugged absently as she focused on the task at hand. Her sketchbook lay open before her, its pages worn and filled with sketches that had been born out of moments stolen in the corners of her day. Some of them were hurried, some more thought-out, but all of them were tied to the presence of the girl who had so unexpectedly woven herself into Ellie’s life.

She looked at the sketchbook for a moment longer, her eyes tracing the lines of the last drawing—the one of you, mid-spin, your hair a blur, your focus sharp. The way your body seemed to stretch toward something greater, something just out of reach, resonated with her more than she'd care to admit. The way you'd looked at her that night, vulnerable but powerful, it felt like something she couldn't just forget.

Ellie’s fingers grazed the edges of the book, her mind racing for the right words, the right moment. She didn’t have much, but she had this. She didn’t know how to express what she felt with words, but a drawing? That she could do.

She pulled a strip of brown wrapping paper from a roll on the floor beside her, laying it across the table. Her fingers worked quickly, folding the paper neatly around the book, securing the corners with tape, the sound of the tape cutting through the quiet air like a small, deliberate movement. Ellie’s tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she carefully placed the final piece of tape in place.

The book, now wrapped, felt heavier than it had before. Maybe it was the weight of her unspoken words. Or maybe it was the anticipation of tomorrow—the performance, the moment where she'd see you again.

Ellie sat back, her hand resting on the wrapped gift for a moment. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional rattle of the windows from the breeze outside. She glanced over at the corner of the room, where the small Christmas tree flickered faintly.

She didn’t know if it was enough. She wasn’t even sure if you’d like it, but the thought of not giving it to you felt unbearable.

With a final glance at the tree and the city lights dancing through the window, Ellie slid the wrapped book into a small gift bag, adjusting the top with practiced care. It wasn’t perfect—her hands a little too quick, her movements too hurried—but it was hers. She picked it up, feeling its weight, her heart thumping a little faster than it should have.

Tomorrow. Your big performance. 

Tomorrow, she’d give it to you.

The room was heavy with the weight of unspoken pressure as you stood in the center of the rehearsal floor. The mirrors reflected back not just your movements, but your fears, your frustrations, your self-doubt. The music swelled, a familiar, haunting melody that once had felt like second nature. But today, it sounded distant. Out of reach. Your foot faltered again. Just a small stumble, but enough to make your heart skip a beat, enough to draw the instructor's sharp, disapproving gaze.

"Again, you're off balance," the instructor said, voice cold, piercing the silence like a dagger. You clenched your jaw, trying to steady your breath. The words sliced through you, but you refused to let them break you.

You fought for this role. You had fought for months after the injury, after last year’s disastrous performance that still haunted you like a nightmare. You had pushed your body beyond its limits, rebuilt what had been broken, and now, you were here—fighting to keep this role, to prove you were strong enough. You were enough.

The music began again, faster this time, more demanding. You forced your body to move with it, the rhythm pulling at your every step. Each pirouette felt like it could crumble beneath you, each jump a risk you couldn’t afford to take. Your ankle, still fragile, sent a twinge of pain with each landing, but you fought it back, pushing through the discomfort. Your focus was sharp, despite the sweat beading down your forehead, despite the exhaustion gnawing at your muscles.

You would make it. You had to make it.

"Again!" the instructor snapped, crossing their arms. "You're losing control."

You swallowed hard, grinding your teeth, the bitterness of those words tasting sour in your mouth. Your legs burned, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn't stop.

You spun into the next movement, a leap that felt too high, too far—but you made it, landing with a soft thud that sent a jolt of pain through your ankle. But you didn't falter. You didn't let it show. You pushed through the sting, lifting your chin as you reset yourself. You had to prove them wrong.

But then, as the music paused for a breath, your instructor spoke again. Their voice, though calm, was final.

"You’re getting replaced."

The words hit you like a cold wave, crashing over you and pulling the air from your lungs. Your world seemed to tilt, and for a brief moment, everything blurred. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You forced yourself to meet the instructor’s gaze, but the sting of their eyes was unrelenting. The disappointment was clear, written in the subtle shift of their posture, in the way they avoided your eyes.

"What?" you whispered, your voice cracking, but the question hung in the air like a dead weight, swallowed by the silence.

The instructor didn't respond, just stared at you, impassive. You tried to steady your breath, trying to hold onto something, anything. Your pulse thudded in your ears, but you couldn’t let it break you. Not now.

But they didn’t move. Didn’t soften. Their gaze was colder than you’d ever felt it before.

"You're not ready," the instructor continued, the finality in their tone wrapping around you like a chain. "We can’t afford to keep you in this role. Your balance is off. We need someone more stable."

A dull ache spread through your chest, hollowing you out from the inside. Stable. They might as well have said you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough, not after everything.

"Just... give me one more chance,. you found yourself saying before you could stop it. You stepped forward, but they didn’t flinch. Your hands clenched at your sides, your legs trembling beneath you, but you didn’t let yourself collapse.

But the instructor's response was curt. "The decision is final."

The air in the room thickened, the weight of it suffocating. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only felt your legs shaking as if the floor had disappeared beneath you. You had fought so hard, put everything into this role, this comeback. And now… you were being replaced.

The music that had once felt like a lifeline was now silent, and in its place was only the sound of your own heartbeat crashing in your chest.

"You're done here," the instructor added, turning away, leaving you standing alone in the center of the room, your body trembling and your breath shallow.

The silence stretched on, but it felt like hours. You stood there, fighting against the overwhelming rush of emotions—defeat, frustration, disbelief—and yet, a part of you felt something else, something deep and burning. You were not done.

The city’s stillness hung in the air, thick with the weight of dawn, as Ellie leaned against the railing of her balcony, her breath fogging up in front of her. The faint hum of the early morning felt too quiet, too empty for the chaos that had built up in her chest the past few days. But it was all muffled now, drowned out by the image of you standing there, on your balcony in the freezing cold. It was 5 a.m., and there you were, just... staring into the distance, your body wrapped in a sweater too thin for the chill that had already crept into the world around you.

Ellie’s mind raced, worry creeping in. She had seen you around for months now, your quiet, focused presence tugging at something inside her, something she didn’t want to admit. She could never ignore you, even from afar. And now here you were, vulnerable and alone in the cold, your shoulders hunched against the wind, and all Ellie could think about was how wrong it was. How you should be inside, getting rest before tonight—before everything hinged on tonight—and yet here you were, standing in the dark. Alone.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Ellie called, her voice cracking through the silence.

You jumped slightly at the sound, and when your eyes landed on her, it felt like a punch to the gut. There was something about you in that moment—lost in thought, distant, wrapped in the cold, but so incredibly... beautiful. It was in the way you carried yourself, how you seemed to light up even in the darkness. It was so raw, so vulnerable, it made Ellie’s heart tighten in her chest.

You looked confused at first, blinking at her, then a little embarrassed, as if you hadn’t realized how cold it was out there. “Just... thinking,” you said softly, your voice carrying a layer of fatigue that Ellie could almost feel.

“Thinking?” Ellie’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t stop the concern from bleeding into her tone, the need to pull you inside, to wrap you in something warm. “It’s freezing out here. And it’s... it’s 5 a.m., what are you doing?”

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze dropping to the ground, the quiet tension hanging thick between you both. Ellie could feel it, a thick pulse in her chest, like she was waiting for something—anything—to break the silence.

Then, she noticed the gift bag in your hand, something carefully wrapped, something she had almost forgotten about in the chaos of everything else.

“Shit,” Ellie muttered under her breath, stepping closer to the railing. She wasn’t sure what made her do it, but the words just slipped out. “I brought you something.”

You looked up at her then, surprised, as Ellie held out the gift bag. It was awkward—too much, maybe—but it was all she had in that moment.

“It’s—uh, it’s for the show tonight. You don’t have to open it now, though,” she said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck, trying to hide the sudden, nervous flush creeping up her neck. The words were tumbling out too fast, her chest tight.

You took the bag from her, your fingers brushing hers for a moment, and Ellie felt a spark of warmth flood her skin. She watched you, her breath coming a little quicker now, unsure of how to feel about this. You glanced down at the bag, your expression unreadable, before you pulled the tissue paper aside and peered inside.

Ellie’s stomach flipped as you pulled out the sketchbook. She hadn’t thought about how it might feel to have someone open it, not like this. Her sketching had always been so personal, something she kept to herself, but this felt... different. Watching you flip through the pages, her sketches of you—sketches she’d never planned to show anyone—made her feel exposed, too visible. She could hear the soft, surprised intake of your breath as you saw the drawings, but Ellie didn’t dare speak, afraid of breaking the moment.

“Ellie,” you said her name like a whisper, your voice catching in her chest. She met your eyes, her heart skipping a beat at the softness in your gaze. "This is... " There was a pause, and then your eyes darted up to meet hers. 

Ellie swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. The way you said her name, the way you looked at her—there was something in it that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as awkward as it felt. That maybe, despite her nerves, it was okay.

“I…,” she muttered, her fingers twisting nervously. “I just... I wanted you to have it. You know, for the show.” She let out a small laugh, but it sounded more like a sigh. “I’ve been sketching you for a while now. I—uh, I wanted to give you something.”

You smiled, your lips curving up in the smallest, softest way, and Ellie felt her heart race at the sight. “Thank you, seriously.,” you said, your voice full of sincerity, and Ellie couldn’t help the flush that spread across her cheeks. It was too much, too real, and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to say that,” Ellie muttered, shifting on her feet, her gaze avoiding yours for a moment. “I just wanted to do something for you.  I don’t know, I just... figured you might like it.”

“Ellie," you said, and your voice was steady now, the uncertainty that had clouded your face earlier gone. “Let me perform for you.”

[crimsonbubble]

Head Full of Stars

cw. nsfw, afab omega!reader, alpha!hongjoong, heat/rut, possessiveness, overstimulation, strength kink, tummy bulge, creampies, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pussy drunk joong, scent kink, marking, praise *not proofread, just pure horny

[I wrote this fic with my pussy bruh like it’s pure filth] I took an a/b/o test before this and got omega 🧍🧍

His rut is getting closer, you can feel the air around him get heavier. You were lying in bed when Hongjoong came home earlier than he said he would be. He crowded your space with no remorse, heat rolling off of him in waves.

The energy in the room shifted as he was sent into full throttle with his rut. Your senses are beyond overwhelmed; trying to adjust to the amount of alpha hormones radiating off of him but the only thing it’s making you do is produce more and more slick. You shudder under him, core pulsing with the need for a knot, his knot, your alpha’s knot.

Hongjoong buried his nose in your neck, taking deep inhales of your scent. It makes him dizzy, uselessly rutting his throbbing cock against your drooling pussy. You cling to his shoulders tightly. Hongjoong rips your and his clothes to shreds, stuttering out apologies as he rubs his cock through your slicked folds.

You whimpered pathetically as you watched him rub his cock through your slick. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, ‘mega. Need you, need you now-” Hongjoong leaned back, hooking your legs over his elbows. He hurriedly pushed in, bottoming out immediately. He tried to hold still to let you adjust but your pussy was so fucking tight and warm around his thick cock.

Hongjoong started with shallow thrusts, increasing his speed embarrassingly fast as his instincts took over. Hongjoong’s nails dug into your thighs as he used them as leverage to pull you into his hips. You whimpered at the familiar burn of the stretch. Hongjoong’s cock may not be proportionate to his height and built but it certainly lives up to his title as an alpha.

Normally he’d demand eye contact but he can see that his cock is fucking any sense of coherency out of that pretty head of yours. But it’s okay, Hongjoong loved to fuck the thoughts out of you; he thinks you look the prettiest when you’re taking his cock. Hongjoong can feel himself losing it, but he can see that you’ve already lost it.

You’re letting yourself get taken with the pleasure, doing what you do best; lying pretty and letting your alpha take care of you. Hongjoong growled low in his throat as he inhaled your scent again. He lapped over the mating mark on your neck, rocking his hips even harder. ‘Mine’ That’s the only word replaying in his head.

Hongjoong has you damn near folded in half, drilling his obscenely thick cock into your aching cunt. “Alph- ah-!” Your sweet voice made him groan, his eyes following the way your hand slid between your bodies. Hongjoong could feel his knot grow, catching around your pretty and stretched hole.

He watched you press against the bump he made in your lower stomach, his eyes rolling back as he felt the pressure inside you grow. “My sweet omega, my pretty girl. You want it?” You don’t know how Hongjoong dares to tease you right now but it makes you throb nonetheless.

“Want my knot? Want alpha’s knot?” He chuckles softly, his usual teasing smirk on his face. You whine more at his teasing, pressing harder against the bump in your stomach. Hongjoong falters slightly, reeling his hips back before driving in again, letting his knot slip in too. Your back bows deeply, coming around his cock with a mewl. Hongjoong lets out a shaky breath as he pulses inside you.

You’re breathing is laboured, uselessly pushing at his chest. Hongjoong lets your legs fall to his sides, cradling your face gently. “It’s okay, ‘mega. Just relax, pretty.” Hongjoong watched as you tried to steady your breathing, guiding you through it as he sneakily trailed his hands down your body. His fingers traced over your clit.

You started thrashing immediately, your nails digging into his shoulders. Hongjoong remained still, your needy omega state far too weak to move Hongjoong in his now pussy drunk state. He continued to play with your clit, moaning at the way you clenched around his cock. He had subconsciously let more of his scent ripple off of him, as he felt your body getting warmer the more he played with you.

Hongjoong pressed his mouth to your neck, painting dark hickeys across your skin. You continued to squirm, body too sensitive to know what it wants. Hongjoong gently pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, feeling his knot finally start to deflate slightly. He inhaled your scent again, the smell flooding his senses. “So sweet, my pretty mate,”

Hongjoong licked at your neck, gently pulling his hips back. He can feel your body shudder against his, pressing his chest to yours as your pussy leaked his cum. Your scent has now clouded his mind, driving him further into his rut mindset. His lips curled into a snarl as he pushed back in, continuing his pace from before. His thrusts got harder with each push, more pheromones rolling off of him as he buried his cock in you. Hongjoong mumbled into your neck, a possessive growl rumbling from his chest.

“Pups. Needs to give you pups. Need you big and swollen with my pups.” Hongjoong can’t stop the images of you with a pretty bump, carrying his pups. “Gonna look so pretty. Gonna give me strong pups, right? Give alpha nice, strong pups?” You dumbly nodded, whimpering as each thrust drives more cum in and out of you.

You’ve lost count of the orgasms you’ve had but it doesn’t matter as Hongjoong continues to lose himself in you as he babbles nonsense. Hongjoong’s flooded your pussy with more than he’s ever produced in his life. The only thought now, in the forefront of his mind, is to knot, knot, and knot. He needs to knot you again.

He needs to feel you stretch around his knot, needs to feel your pussy wrap around his knot, needs to cum in you one more time. He feels like another useless alpha know only knows how to pump and dump but you wrap yourself around him so tight, letting him sink into you one more time.

[matriarchjojo]

" HOT MODEL SEX. " | BONTEN VERSION

starring! : mikey, sanzu, ran, rindō, kakucho, koko, takeomi

warnings! : 18+, actual corruption, reader smokes, petnames (good girl), drunk sex, anal sex, oral, really long

a/n! : This is an alternative to the first model!reader fic, this time with bonten (there's also gonna be a part two of this one)

The guys did a lot of things

Drugs, murder, theft, gambling, more drugs and

Going to fashion shows.

It's mostly just to wind down and be social..plus the men are fashionable, it's just a thing that comes with being born in Tokyo. It became a ritual, whenever one of their favorite designers did a show and there was nothing important to do that other people couldn't do, they would check it out.

They'd sit in the front while photographers huddled the very front of the stage.

The haitanis and koko enjoyed these shows the most, especially the Versace, dior and dolce shows. Before every show started, they'd look through the small brochure they'd give out, showing the clothes and, of course, the models.

There was this one beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, elegant, fierce model that caught their eye everytime. They've seen her already many, many times, and that model was you.

Your legs, your walk, your hips, and your face. Your very presence made these cold men feel something again, admiration.

Sanzu was high as fuck at all the shows, having just done a few lines in the bathroom but no matter how dazed he was, he'd always took notice of you..being high made you somehow even more ethereal. You looked like an angel, like a holy vision.

"Oh..she's here again," Ran mentioned, reading the brochure, staring at the picture and tilting the thin pages to show his brother, rin immediately smiled before taking a drag of his cigarette.

The anticipation of you arriving on the runway was like foreplay, but when you appeared in skimpy clothes, showing off that sexy body of yours, walking with purpose and confidence made these men horny. Even mikey, he just liked that menacing aura around you, especially when you wore that heavy smokey cat eye that made your eyes look like daggers, ready to kill.

The men would notice the looks you'd give them, and only them. Sometimes, even sly and sexy smirks when you wouldn't be dead focused on the way in front of you. You recognized the men, of course you did. It's hard not to notice them. They were admittedly flashy and attractive men. You had no idea what horrible and dangerous men they actually were, though..

One fateful after party with your co worker's and fellow models, drinking champagne in a tight black mini dress, you spotted the men from the show at a table, smoking and drinking. Eyes set on you.

With your mind a little buzzed and feeling extra sexy, you thought you might excuse yourself and go outside for a smoke, but not before walking past their table and smiling at the two lilac haired men.

You were standing outside on your Louboutins, feeling the cold night air hit your hot skin. You heard the door open and sure enough..

It was the two men.

they were walking right up to you. as you put your cig between your glossy lips, they both held up lighters next to you. You eyed them up and felt a shiver up your spine. You smirked and leaned forward to let one of them light your cigarette.

"The show was fabulous tonight.." the taller one said before holding out his hand. "Ran." He introduced. "Rindou," the other followed.

A smirk crept up on your lips again before blowing smoke out of your lungs and you continued to tell the men your own name

"We know." Rindou said, with his hand and cigarette covering his mouth.

Not long after the little meeting, you went back inside and met the other men since the brothers invited you to the table.

As you all talked, you felt how the white hot stares of the men made you sweat and feel their lust radiating. You felt high, exchanging lustful looks with each of the men..

Koko was particularly interesting to you, the way he carried himself and his slightly feminine demeanor made you attracted to him.

Kakucho had that boyish and shy charm to him, takeomi was a hot older man and sanzu seemed like he'd be a crazy fuck.

You'd die to get tag teamed by the brothers.

Mikey had that mysterious and melancholic aura to him.

They were all sexy and you'd let yourself get whored out by them. You'd definitely meet these men again..

Luckily, the brothers gave you their numbers, saying, "Come by our Penthouse sometime, yeah?" Making you smile as you saw they already gave you the address. "We'll see.." you said teasingly before getting up and walking back to your friends.

One of your friends and Japanese model, sachiko, came up to you with a concerned look on her face. "Did you just talk with those men?" She asked, flipping her long black and shiny hair back.

"Yeah, why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow

She softly grabbed you by the shoulder, turning you around so the men were out of sight. "You don't know who they are?" She whispered, you shook your head and let out a quick laugh, "No, but I'm trying to" you responded, jokingly.

"You should stay away from them, I'm telling you..they're dangerous."

You just laughed again, thinking she was joking, or trying to get you away from some kind of players. but she didn't seem to smile or change her worried look. She was serious.

"I'll be careful." You smiled. Trying to calm her.

Sachiko let go of your shoulder. She didn't look like your words calmed her, but she knew you're an adult woman and could take care of yourself..

She couldn't do more than warn you and hope you listen to her words.

A week afterwards, all the shows were done and you found the little note from the hot guys.

You were just done showering and took your phone out, it was 20:30.

You don't have anything to do right now, and you don't wanna sleep yet, so..

Maybe you'll be a little bitch and just show up without a warning..but no, for the first actual meeting you should call beforehand.

You picked up your phone and typed the number in. For the first time in years, you felt nervous to call someone..you felt like you were 14 again and you're about to call your high-school crush. It felt nice to feel like that again, but your hands were slightly shaking when you heard the phone ringing, waiting for someone to pick it up. Your heart raced and your body tensed up

"..yeah?" rindou picked up, and he sounded out of breath and his voice echoed

"Rindou, right?" You confirmed, and he went quiet for a second before he sensually chuckled

"Y'know, in Japan, if you don't know someone that well, you use their last name.." he smugly corrected you

You grinned. "Right, I'm sorry, Mr.Haitani." he went quiet again before-

"Good girl,"

Your body tensed up, and your blood ran hot. "How come you're calling so late?"

"You mentioned that you and your brother owned a club, I just wanted to know which one it was"

Not long after that call you dried your hair, did your makeup and picked out a sexy I.am.gia black mini dress with some miumiu heels. you grabbed your dior saddle bag and put on your jewlery as you adored yourself in the mirror, striked poses and kissed the mirror before you grabbed your keys and happily went out.

you hailed a cab and told the taxi driver to drive you to roppongi at the haitani club, the man then side eyed you and asked what a woman like you wanted at a club like that, you just laughed and didnt answer.

truly you didnt wanna know why every person was so on the fence about these people, you just wanted to have fun and maybe get some dick.

once the man dropped you off, you thanked him and handed him the money, as you stepped out he said "hey, be careful." before he drove off again.

as you set your eyes on the club, the building was gigantic, booming with music and bright flurescent purple lights. there was a line of people in front of the entrance. You did not have the nerve to wait THAT long to get into a club you didn't even know was worth the hassle.

but thankfully, a man with a lilac mullet and a cig in his mouth stepped out of the vip entrance. It was rindou. your eyes met, and his immediately widened as he choked on his cigarette smoke. He waved you over to him, and you skipped to him on your pretty heels, clacking against the smooth concrete.

he hugged you as a greeting and you smiled

"You.." he chuckled, slightly embarrassed biting his bottom lip."You look amazing." he complimented, eying you up and down as if he was ready to just pull you into the club and eat you up

..or out.

he looked at the bouncer and grabbed your hand. "She's with us," he mentioned, to which he nodded. "Yes, sir"

rin motioned his head for you to head inside with a playful smirk while he kept holding your hand.

the music inside was even louder than you expected, the second you looked around you saw multiple hot people dancing, drinking and making out.

rin led you to a glass staircase with a tall man standing in front of it, but he stepped aside as soon as rindou walked up to him. you looked at rin. Obviously, he's one of the owners. Of course, he's gonna be let through. the two of you reached the top of the staircase and saw couches with glass tables in front of them

people were also drinking, and women were dancing, but some people were also doing cocaine. rindou just put his hand on your shoulder as you approached the table where his brother was sitting. he stood up when he saw you to hug you. "heyy, god, you look gorgeous.." he said with both his hands on your hips. "Come sit with us." You did as he asked and sat down on the white couch, crossing your legs.

rindou sat down next to you just like his brother, so now you were sandwiched between two hot men in business suits that wore beautiful smelling perfume. "whatdya wanna drink?" the younger brother asked, showing you the drink menu.

you ordered some rosé and the two just ordered the same. once the three of you were a little tipsy, you got handsy, and both of the brothers had their hands on either your lower back or thighs, close to being under your mini dress.

you also kissed them multiple times with tongue, rindou took the bottle and held it to your mouth, letting you drink, watching some of the alcohol spill from your mouth down between the valley of your tits. you giggled and kissed him afterwards. He softly groaned into the kiss as you suddenly felt rans lips against your neck, sucking harshly, trying to get your attention again. you looked back at him with a smile, he was pouting "dont forget about mee" he complained playfully before grabbing your hot and flushed face to press his wet lips against your own, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth, seeking your own. rindou rolled his eyes. " You've been hoarding her all for yourself the whole time." ran, broke the kiss, and looked at you, "then let's just ask her who she wants to go home with"

you bit your bottom lip and swiped some of your hair from your face. "dont be mad if i ask this.." You began, and the brothers just stared at you in expectation as their ringed hands grabbed at your soft thighs, feeling burning cold against your hot skin. "Can i go with both of you?" their eyes widened, they didnt expect you to ask that, but they weren't mad, far from it, actually.

"i mean, we've never actually shared a girl before, but.." ran began and kissed behind your ear. "we'll be happy to have you being our first..right, rin?" he asked his brother, to which his hand turned your head to look at him. "i don't mind that.." he said softly against your glossy lips before kissing you.

the three of you stumbled out of the club and the flashing lights of cameras suddenly blinded you, you rolled your eyes as they yelled your name, you had no idea how the fuck the stalkerrazzi even found you. "You're so populaaar," ran drunkenly hummed, just continuing to drag you along. you just rolled your eyes again, shielding your eyes from the lights. There's nothing you hated more than these fuckers..

suddenly, in your drunken mind you had an idea that you were probably gonna regret in the morning.

so you just suddenly grabbed rin by his tie to aggressively make out with him as your other hand grabbed at rans crotch, you love to shock the paparazzi, you know they wont leave you alone, so you can at least make them uncomfortable while you tongue fuck this hot and apperantly controversial guy and grabbing the cock of an also controversial man

you broke the kiss and looked back at the cameras, holding your middle finger up with a big smile, putting on your dior shades, rin just stuck out his tongue as his brother did the same,

ran dragged you back to their black Bentley, you then pulled both of the men into the back of the car, the flashing lights following you to the car and you just sat yourself down into ran's lap as you kept kissing rindou, swinging one of your legs across his lap. the driver hesitantly asked. "..wh-where to, sir?" rin tore himself away from your enchanting lips "home."

you bareley remember the drive home, all you remember was having rins cock on your mouth and rans slim but long fingers in your wet cunt. And you remember when you two were in their bedroom you were completely naked except for your heels, getting pounded in the ass and having another hard cock in your throat, ran was in the front and rindou was in the back, you whimpered and whined as you felt their long and hot cocks filling you to the brim, you faintly heard their heavy breathing and little compliments that made you drool on rans cock even more.

"You're so good- so fucking good," ran huffed before letting out a gutteral moan, moving his hips into your face, looking down at you with his hand softly settled in your beautiful hair.

"Her fucking ass is so tight-" rindou groaned lowly before giving you a firm smack on the ass, while his other hand held your hips in a tight grip. "You've never done anal before, did you?" He asked, out of breath.

Ran pulled his dick out of your glossy mouth for you to answer, but your hand kept stroking him "no.." you paused to moan but it feels fucking good.." you mewled, biting your bottom lip, smearing your lip liner even more.

Rindou grinned down at you and huffed out a small chuckle "I can tell, baby" he said "can feel how wet your pussy is" he said before continuing to pound into you

Ran smiled down at you and took your hand "your pussy needs some attention too, huh?" He smacked his lips as if he was pitying you "my selfish brother completely ignored your pretty clit.." Ran helped you up and rindou immediately took your arms into his rough hands, his cold metal rings burning your scorching hot skin.

The older brother got in front of you to lift your leg and put it around his waist, aligning his cock with your pussy.

You thought you'd finally get to cum soon but then he slid the tip of his cock through your wet cunt and circle your clit with it "your gasps when it hits your clit are so cute" he teased.

You bit your lip even harder, not even caring if you're gonna bruise it or draw blood. You just wanted his cock, you never wanted anything more.

"Please ran--" "ah-ah" rindou interrupted you. "Remember what I told you about formality?" You let out a frustrated moan, throwing your head back feeling rindous fat cock breaking you in, almost feeling him in your guts. "Please, Mr.Haitani..fuck me stupid, sir"

That was all you remember when you woke up in-between the two gorgeous men, their arms over you under the soft blanket. As comfortable as you were, you had a splitting headache and aching legs. you planned on getting up but you saw your phone light up on the bedside table behind rindou, you reached over him carefully to not wake him.

Once you read the messages you almost jumped up and screamed in anger and embarrassment.

Last night events with the paparazzi went viral and everyone was texting you about it, your friends were just cheering for you but the news sites were shocked about the "alleged mob members hanging out with supermodel"

Alleged mob members??

You looked at the sleeping men next to you and froze up, it felt like time stopped. You sat there for ten minutes before continuing to read the articles your friends sent you, you looked so fucked up in those pictures, still hot but...fucked up.

Surprisingly, you didn't care that much about them being part of a criminal organization, you were just shocked that no one told you up front.

You carefully got up, put on your bra and panties before getting out of the room to get yourself a glass of water to sober up a bit, then raid their bathroom cabinet for some painkillers.

Your arms, thighs and ass hurt like hell. You got to the kitchen and immediately filled a glass with water, you chugged it down and filled it up again.

As you drank your second glass you heard footsteps, probably woke one of them up as you climbed over them.

You suddenly choked on your water when three of the other guys you met walked around the corner, seeing you almost naked, messy hair and messed up makeup. It was koko, takeomi and kakucho.

They stopped in their tracks, trying and failing not to look you up and down

"Fuck- sorry I didn't know- I thought this was the brothers' place" you tried to explain, wiping the spilled water from your chin

Kakucho looked down at the floor while shaking his head "don't apologize, we're sorry we didn't know you were still here.."

"Still here?" You asked, placing the glass down on the white marble counter

Takeomi chuckled. "You guys weren't exactly quiet.." kakucho awkwardly coughed. He was so cute..you'd suck him off right here, even with your sore throat. "uh..do you want some painkillers?" Kaku asked politely, still making eye contact with the floor.

You smiled "yes, thank you.." kakucho nodded and walked away, he expected you to wait there for him to come back but you followed him, you noticed his eyes quickly flicking yo you every now and then.

You leaned against the sink once you two reached the bathroom, your hips right next to his face, you looked down at him and he looked up at you after he tried to find some painkillers, he tried to look back down but you kept his head up by his chin, making him gulp heavily and keep his eyes fixed on you this time

He was immediately hard and he didn't know why, nothing happened..yet.

But It didn't take long, or many words

For him to have your cunt on his mouth and your gorgeous legs on his shoulders, he didn't seem like it, but the way he was moving his tongue now made up for the little words you exchanged, and before you knew it you were cumming in a shaking frenzy, moaning and biting your fingers to keep quiet. Your fingers in his pretty and smooth ebony hair, feeling his heavy breath on your mound while grinding back on his face.

Once you came back, you were wobbly on your legs, but held onto kakus strong arm for leverage. You leaned over to him "maybe next time we'll have more time to do more" you whispered before kissing his cheek.

You turned the corner and more men were there. The brothers, sanzu and mikey..

"There's the one that got away" Ran said taking a drag of his cigarette while rindou just looked you up and down while drinking some type of alcohol, in the morning.

His eyes told you that he was ready to go for another 4 rounds.

Sanzu stared at you intensely before speaking up "next time you guys hold a whole ass concert, I better be invited" rindou furrowed his eyebrows, looking like he was ready to vomit

"In your dreams, coke-head" Ran responded, reading the newspaper with crossed legs

You chuckled and sexily turned on your heels to walk back into the brothers' bedroom to get your clothes before heading back out, "let's party sometime again, huh?" You smiled, looking at the brothers, then sanzu..you don't know why but he seemed like fun to party with.

And lucky you, he stood up and walked after you, "let me drive you, it's pretty cold out and..you're not dressed for the weather" you chuckled and rolled your eyes "lead the way then.."

Surprisingly he didn't try to hit on you, the drive home..which disappointed you a bit. But when you saw your hotel you grabbed his shoulder and said "you can stop here" the pink haired man stopped his luxury car and got out before you to open your car door, what a gentleman.

"Ugh, you know what's crazy?" You asked him to which he grinned and tilted his head "what?"

"I'm already ready to party again.." you giggled to which he got a smug grin on his face "that's because those two snobs don't know shit about partying right."

You turned your head to him and smiled curiously "and you do?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, giving you a card with his number

"Call me when you're ready to party for real" you took the card with your index and middle finger, you grinned getting closer to him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

[koiiiji]

author's note ; another day another fic, i feeding my our delusional ass with... yes, i love cold, emotionally unavailable huge man, and?!

starring ; shingen and kid!reader, shintaro being ass as usual in past 2 chapters

the room was dark, illuminated only by the faint, pale light filtering through the paper walls. Yamazaki Shingen sat cross-legged in his kimono, his massive, tattooed frame a shadow in the silence. his eyes were empty, unfocused, lost somewhere far away — a man trapped in his own quiet despondency. once-fearsome leader of the Yamazaki syndicate had withdrawn into himself.

yet, he heard the door slide open, the soft creak breaking the oppressive stillness of the room. at first, he didn’t bother to react. another servant, no doubt, or one of his men, scurrying to avoid the weight of his silence. but then, the sound of small footsteps, lighter than he expected, drew closer. a tiny figure darted in and out of the shadows, barely making a noise, yet somehow tugging at the edges of his attention.

you sneacked the room without hesitation, you were playing some sort of game — hide and seek, perhaps. energy radiating through the heavy stillness like a burst of sunlight. you had been playing with Shingen’s men, even though they hardened by years of servitude, and hadn’t the patience to play properly, so they had likely just told you to hide, hoping to redirect your boundless energy. and now, here you were, running toward your father, blissfully unaware of the gloom that surrounded him.

he frowned, not quite understanding what this strange, fearless presence was doing so close to him. he hadn’t recognized you at first. so small, so out of place in this cold, dreary room. why was a child allowed in his quarters?

but then something clicked in his head.

eyes.

oh, you are his kid

with a soft grunt of effort, you clambered onto his lap, tugging at the fabric of his kimono with your tiny hands. you wriggled around until you were perched comfortably on his knee, giggling to yourself as if this was all part of the game.

Shingen remained still, his massive hands resting idly at his sides. he didn’t push you away, didn’t tell you to leave. he just… let you be.

you poked at the intricate designs on his tattoos, tracing the dark lines with your small fingers. tigers and all patterns that once symbolized power and fear were nothing more than curious drawings to you, something to explore. to you, they were just part of him.

before he could fully process the moment, the door slid open again. Shintaro, entered the room, sharp eyes immediately falling on the small child perched on Shingen’s lap. his expression hardened in a flash.

“what are you doing here?” Shintaro barked, his voice slicing through the room. his usual composed demeanor faltered, clearly irritated at the sight of you. he moved quickly toward you, reaching out to pull you away from Shingen’s unmoving form. “this is no place for you to —”

before Shintaro could finish, Shingen’s voice rumbled, low and firm, cutting through the tension like a dull blade.

“she’s just a kid.”

it was more of a grunt than a full sentence, but it stopped Shintaro in his tracks. he glanced at his brother, surprise flickering in his eyes. Shingen’s face remained impassive, his gaze never leaving the far wall, but there was no mistaking the subtle command in his words. it was the first sign of awareness — of anything — Shintaro had seen from him in a long time.

for a moment, Shintaro hesitated, unsure of what to make of the situation. Shingen, who had barely acknowledged the existence of his children before, was now… allowing this? a small girl, climbing all over him as though she belonged there, and Shingen didn’t push her away, didn’t scold her, didn’t so much as flinch.

Shintaro’s brow furrowed, his hand still hovering near you, but he slowly pulled it back. he wasn’t used to seeing his brother like this, and he didn’t quite know how to respond. Shingen had retreated so deeply into himself that any kind of engagement felt foreign — alien.

you, oblivious to the tension between the adults, tugged at Shingen’s sleeve once more, small fingers tracing the patterns of his tattoos. you giggled softly, as if the weight of the room didn’t affect you in the slightest.

Shingen’s large hand twitched, barely perceptible, as though considering whether or not to move. but in the end, he did nothing, letting you play with the fabric of his sleeve. his expression remained unchanged, but the fact that he hadn’t brushed you off was enough for Shintaro to take note.

after a long pause, Shintaro sighed, the sharpness in his eyes dulling. he stepped back, crossing his arms as he took in the scene — his towering, silent brother, and the small, curious girl who had somehow wormed her way into his lap without a word of protest.

“i see,” Shintaro muttered, almost to himself.

Shingen didn’t respond. he remained quiet, still trapped in the cocoon of his own thoughts.

and in the quiet of the room, Shingen let his daughter stay.

[cheolism-archive]

BREAK AND RETURN

✰ — brother's-bandmate!minghao x f!reader ✷ — summary: last week minghao did what he thought was best and put an end to your fling. he sees you again before band practice and can't help but give in to his desires. ✰ — wc is approx. 5k ✷ — genre: 90s au, smut, fwb/fucking your brother's friend ✰ — warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it! yk it!), pet names (good girl, angel, etc), jealousy, possessiveness, and lust. backshots, off-screen masturbation, fingering and pussy-licking. lmk if anything else should be added :) ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: this is a part of @beomcoups's "now that's 90's" svt collab! thank u very much for letting me join the collab! i had fun chatting n interacting with new people ^-^ i hope everyone enjoys the fic!! thank you very much to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and reassuring me <3 tagging @idyllic-ghost and @onlyhuis bc i think you both wanted tagged but i can't remember, so sorry!!!

here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid. 

he knows better. he truly does. he isn’t some idiot stuck at a claw machine at an arcade, doesn’t keep feeding it his money while never getting any closer to winning a prize. minghao knows when to quit something, when to step away. 

that’s why he broke things off with you, after all. he had thought it would be easy. the two of you weren’t in a real relationship. you weren’t like tom cruise and nichole kidman – the two of you were just fucking. no strings attached. 

but of course there were strings attached. you’re the kid sister to his friend and bandmate, josh; at first minghao thought he would be fine keeping it a secret. he didn’t need to take you out on dates and show you off like you were the best thing since bon jovi. the two of you were content in each other’s arms, naked chest against naked chest, legs intertwined as you dozed off. 

minghao, however, wasn’t stupid.

he knew there were strings attached to the both of you. he knew that it was a bad idea, fucking his bandmate’s little sister. every time he kissed your warm mouth, he knew he was betraying josh’s trust. it wasn’t fair of him to to that to josh, and it wasn’t fair of him to put you, josh’s sister, in a position to lie to your own brother. 

so minghao took initiative and broke off the relationship. 

he wasn’t stupid, and he knew the first time he would see you after breaking up with you would be hard. he knew it would be. it’s hard for real couples, for couples that hold hands as they walk down the street and talk about what to name the cat they’re going to adopt. he had imagined it would be hard, to some degree, to see you. the two of you might have steered away from such topics as rings and shared apartments and other things that left the fantasy of forever in your minds, but he knew you. he knew how you sighed after he kissed the space under your ear, he knew how you looked fresh from the shower with your face shining from the heat of the water. he knew how you looked when you concentrated on painting your toes, how you looked when you begged him to see clueless at the theater because josh thought it would be stupid and you didn’t know who else to ask. 

he knew you, and perhaps that was worse than dating you. 

he knew you, and you knew him, and minghao isn’t stupid but he didn’t know that seeing you again would hurt so much. 

you look beautiful. you always do, according to minghao. you’re sitting on that old couch josh and him spent an hour trying to shove into the garage for their band practices. you’re wearing ridiculous clothes, baggy comfy pants and the ugly oversized sweater with the worn collar and checkers and stripes on it. you’re talking to soonyoung, hands waving excitedly as the two of you laugh. your beauty bubbles out with every breath of laughter, seems to radiate in your chest like a little star, and minghao knows that even if winona ryder was in the room with them he would still choose you as the most beautiful. 

you catch sight of minghao. you shoot him a grin, large and inviting, as if he hadn’t made you cry last week. you give him a little wave. “hi, minghao!”

and then you turn back to soonyoung, your knee pressed against his. 

it’s so ridiculous; he’s ridiculous. minghao feels his stomach twist, as if someone was wringing it like a wash cloth after doing dirty dishes. you’re beautiful and radiant, and you spoke two words to minghao before turning to soonyoung, as if minghao wasn’t anyone particularly special. 

he can’t help but stare at you. you lift a hand, and, in a move he recognizes as you flirting because you’ve done it to him when you want him to fuck you, you tuck your hair back behind your ear. you are wearing small pearl stud earrings and immediately minghao recognizes them as the ones he bought for you a year and a half ago, right before the two of you started fucking. 

you tuck your hair back behind your ear and soonyoung watches, his mouth parted a little, and minghao feels like he needs to punch something. 

“funny, isn’t it?” josh says, appearing at minghao’s side. josh runs his tongue over his lip ring, pulling at the sleeves of his plaid jacket. “it looks like soonyoung’s got a crush on my kid sister.”

“yeah,” minghao says, throat tight. he watches as soonyoung edges slightly closer, his thigh now pressed firmly against yours. you don’t move away. minghao wants you to move away, or better yet, slap soonyoung. 

minghao isn’t a violent person, either. he isn’t violent, nor is he jealous. but once he also had thought he was above the lure of lust, was above giving into the craving of needing your body against his, dick stuffed in your pussy and his mouth dominating yours. 

maybe you just had some sort of power over him that no one else did. maybe it’s like that movie practical magic, and you’ve placed a spell on him, bewitching him. 

“i think he’s going to ask her out soon,” josh carries on, as if he’s ignorant to the way minghao is one step from having a crisis. “i saw the drive-in is going to be playing jurassic park. i remember when it first came out and how much she loved seeing it at the theater. it’ll be a good chance for soonyoung to ask her on a date.”

minghao scoffs. “you know he’s scared of that movie. whenever we bring out the vhs he runs.”

josh shrugs. “if he likes her as much as i think he does, i think soonyoung will be fine.”

“and you’re okay with it?” minghao turns to josh, putting his back to you and soonyoung. “you’re totally okay with soonyoung dating your sister?”

josh shrugged, twisting his mouth a little in thought. “well. i think – i think he really likes her, you know? he’s not just gonna fuck her and leave her hanging around until he wants her again.”

minghao’s mouth sours, and he bites back a venomous remark. that’s what his relationship with you was like, wasn’t it? he has no place to try and insert himself between you and soonyoung’s blossoming relationship.

“you know how soonyoung is, though,” minghao says, despite himself. he folds his arms in front of him, drumming his fingers against his bare skin. he sees the little flower tattoo on his ring finger, the one he got after you spent an evening at his apartment drawing flowers into your lisa frank notebook with glitter pens. “he’s flighty. he’s never stayed with a chick longer than a month. what if he breaks her heart?”

josh hums. “i can’t keep her locked away in the house forever, hao. she’s grown. she can make her own decisions. and if that is soonyoung, the same soonyoung who refuses to drive without everyone wearing seatbelts and insists on someone holding his hand as he gets a tattoo, then i’m fine with that.”

minghao huffs. he walks away from josh, knowing that josh is right. you are grown and can make your own decisions. for a year and a half, that was minghao. you chose to go to his apartment, chose to get on your knees and offer your mouth. you chose to lay by his side, fingers gently tracing the vine tattoo that climbed up his left arm as minghao murmured about the future. for a year and a half you chose minghao, until he took that choice away from you. 

and now you were sitting at soonyoung’s side on an old, musty couch, laughing at some stupid joke. 

minghao grabbed his bass off of its stand, bringing the strap up around his neck. his fingers find the strings naturally, absentmindedly plucking out the beginning of u2’s “one”. on the body of his bass, down towards the bridge, is a strawberry shortcake sticker that you had gingerly pressed onto his instrument. 

josh joins minghao, calling back to soonyoung. jihoon and vernon come through the door leading to the kitchen, each of them holding a jolt cola. 

“finally,” minghao sighs, glaring at the two other men. “come on. practice started ten minutes ago.”

soonyoung stands from the couch, still talking to you. you’re looking up at him with a smile, eyes sparkling. 

“kwon soonyoung!” minghao snaps. he stops playing the bass, narrowing his eyes at soonyoung. “come on! just because you have all day doesn’t mean the rest of us do. why don’t you fucking respect the rest of us and stop flirting and get the fuck over here.”

josh sucks in a breath next to minghao but doesn’t say anything. soonyoung gives you a small wave, and then he’s jogging over. he glances at minghao, murmuring a small apology. 

minghao doesn’t care. he’s watching you. you lean forward, elbows on your knees, tilting your head and eyes on minghao. your sweater – that overly large, horrible sweater – is loose at the collar, and as you lean forward the hole widens and gapes and falls, giving minghao a view of the valley between your tits and the top of your black silk bra, and all that skin above it. 

and he remembers. minghao remembers what it was like to press his mouth to your skin, to hold your tits in his hands and feel their weight and warmth. he remembers being between your warm thighs, remembers how soft your body was and how he always seemed to sink into it. 

you stand. “well, i’ll leave you guys alone so you can practice.”

minghao watches as you leave, the hem of your sweater covering your ass. he remembers you walking from his bed wearing an overly large nirvana shirt, how the hem tapped against your ass as you walked away and to the kitchen. 

and here’s the thing: minghao isn’t stupid. 

he broke things off with you. he isn’t with you anymore, doesn’t have the privilege of getting horny and jealous of you. he doesn’t get to act on his frustrations when he sees you taunting him, when he sees you getting your petty revenge for breaking up with you. you’re stirring something up with soonyoung, and he doesn’t get to veto that, doesn’t get to act as if he has any say in your life. 

after all, he’s the one that made sure he wouldn’t. he’s the one that made sure to draw the line between the two of you. 

practice starts, and minghao is somewhere else entirely. he gets the order of the songs mixed up, starts playing basket case before live forever. he loses all of his picks and has to borrow from vernon, and his mind keeps slipping back to you. 

an hour passes like that, with minghao not really there. he’s between your thighs, face pressed against your pussy; he’s in your arms, heels digging into his back as you urge him to go deeper. he’s everywhere but there, everywhere with you. 

eventually minghao loses another pick, and josh sighs from the front. he goes over to the speaker and dials it off, frowning at everyone. “i’m thinking we should take a break. we’re not doing our best, and everyone seems really scattered right now. let’s break for supper and come back and really put work in.”

the others nod, turning off their instruments or, in jihoon’s case, setting down his drumsticks. “we need to get focused,” jihoon agrees, serious. “we’re not going to keep maintaining gigs if we’re fucking around like this. we need to be serious about what we’re doing. we need to be bringing our everything to every practice. none of this bullshit.” 

josh nods, setting his guitar back in its case. his case, just like minghao’s, is decorated with stickers you’ve slapped on. besides strawberry shortcake there’s lisa frank, rugrats, pokemon. there’s squiggly lines and smiley faces and flowers, all the signs pointing to you. 

“honestly,” joshua says, voice grave, “if, by some fucking miracle, the black rose calls back and says they want us to perform for them, i’ll have to turn them down.”

soonyoung protests, brow furrowed. “come on! this is just one practice we’ve fucked up. it’s not like we’re always fucking around. let’s just take a break, clear our heads, and come back at it. this isn’t something that needs to be repeated or stressed over.”

“i’m thinking about a triple decker pizza,” vernon says, prompted by no one. josh rolls his eyes, grinning, and the band begins to split into groups for food. 

“where you wanna go?” soonyoung asks minghao. he’s blinking innocently at minghao, completely ignorant of the absolute sin going through his mind. he doesn’t know that minghao thought about punching him only an hour ago, doesn’t know he’s been fantasizing about the way your thighs felt under his fingertips while fumbling his fingers over the bass strings. 

“i think i’ll just run home and grab something,” minghao lies, setting his guitar on its stand. soonyoung pouts, nodding. 

minghao lingers behind the others, lying to josh about misplacing his keys and promising to lock the house behind him. you were doing your homework, josh said, and he didn’t want you to be disturbed. 

minghao waits until soonyoung, whom always seems to be the last one to leave, pulls out of the driveway with vernon jamming out in the passenger seat beside him, and then he’s moving. 

he knows the way up to your bedroom as if it was his own. he goes up the carpeted stairs, past the various pictures of you in flouncy dresses and huge bows as babies, past the awkward family photo with you and josh pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, wearing matching sweater vests. he flips on the mickey mouse lightswitch at the top of the staircase, and then he’s opening your bedroom door. 

your room is your sanctuary. the bedroom walls are painted a soft lilac from your childhood, covered in posters from spice girls to nirvana and aerosmith. there’s beanie babies hanging over your mirror, a troll doll on your dresser. your room is littered with comics and cd cases, all of your cds stacked in small piles around the stereo. you’ve got backstreet boys playing from your stereo, and minghao doesn’t even have it in him to make a comment about it. 

meanwhile, you – 

you are on your bed. you’re still wearing that sweater, but that’s all. your blankets are on the floor, pillow stuffed underneath your hips. your entire lower half is bare, one leg extended out and the other bent. the room has the faint, barely-there smell of cunt, and it’s more intoxicating than any drug. 

you meet minghao’s eyes sheepishly, hands smoothing down your thighs. “missed you,” is all you say, fingers slowly dragging across your thighs and towards your center. 

minghao is across the room in record time, pulling off his bomber jacket and throwing it to the ground. “we don’t have a lot of time,” he says, hands pulling up the hem of his shirt to zip down his pants. “the others just went to eat.”

“then you better hurry,” you say, eyes sparkling. you don’t make any comments about him stumbling back into your bed after breaking everything off. instead you spread out your legs, your hands making quick work of your sweater and bra, and minghao falls onto your bed. 

“i’ve prepared,” you say as he settles between your thighs. he can’t help but run his hands over your skin, treasuring the feel of your skin beneath his. this was his favorite place on earth, he realizes; between your thighs, skin to skin. 

“you’ve prepared?” he echos, raising a brow. you nod, biting down on your lip. “been waiting for me, is that it?”

“you or soonyoung,” you say, grinning at him. 

minghao scowls at you, pinching your skin between his fingertips. “shut up,” he commands you. “don’t wanna hear you say his name ever again.”

you laugh at him, reaching out. you lace your fingers around his neck, bringing his face down to yours. you press a quick, close-lipped kiss to his mouth. “sorry,” you say, voice still light and giggly. “couldn’t help it.”

minghao growls, and then he’s lacing his hands in your hair and smashing his mouth back to yours. he pries open your mouth with his tongue, delving in and reclaiming that familiar space. he can’t believe he’s gone over a week without kissing you – it’s a sin, he’s sure, to not kiss you and have you whimpering underneath his touch. it’s a greater sin to not kiss you than it is to be kissing his friend’s little sister, surely. 

he sucks at your bottom lip, moving his hands down your thighs. they’re sticky on the inside, no doubt from when you prepared yourself earlier. when he moves his hand deeper between your thighs it’s wetter, warmer, stickier, and he thinks that this is a heaven of it’s own. you sigh against his mouth, and then he’s ducking his head and moving his body, mouth slipping from yours and skimming down over your chin and along your throat. 

you whine, and he can’t help but chuckle against your skin. he suckles at your throat. you open beneath him so wonderfully, it’s a wonder he was ever able to separate from you at all. 

minghao moves down your body, kissing each and every spot he missed. the top of the valley between your tits, the skin of your shoulder. he mouths at your nipples, slipping his hand up between your legs so his fingers brush at your pussy lips. 

you shiver beneath him. he laps at one of your nipples with his tongue, fingers dipping and sliding your cunt. he doesn’t apply any real pressure,  just content with teasing you and hearing those whines and moans he missed. 

“hao,” you groan out, fingers moving to his hair. you tangle your fingers in his locks, pulling softly. “hao –”

he shushes you, and then his fingers are slipping into your cunt. you moan out, head tipping back. he slips two into your hole, biting down at his lip as your pussy contracts around him, trying to suck his fingers in further, desperate for his touch. 

your cunt is hot around his fingers. it’s not as tight as it would have been if you hadn’t prepared, and it’s easy for him to slide his two fingers down to the base, brushing his fingertips against your core.

“fuck,” he sighs, pressing his face against your stomach. he breathes in, inhaling your scent. you’re so wonderful. you smell wonderful, feel wonderful. he wants to devour you; he can’t imagine why he ever left you. 

he slides his fingers from your cunt, drawing a high whine from your lips. minghao clicks his tongue at you, and then he’s pushing three fingers in. you shudder, cunt clenching so tight around his digits that he can’t move. 

“easy, baby,” he mumbles, his free hand going to your leg. minghao pulls your leg over his shoulder, nose pressing against your thigh. he can feel your skin against his eyelash as his breathes you in here, too. “gotta be easy and good for me.”

you let out a long breath, eyes sliding shut. your cunt loosens around his fingers, and as a reward minghao moves down further between your legs. he presses his face to your cunt, the smell of your pussy surrounding him. 

he knows he should hurry. he knows his band will be back soon. but that doesn’t stop minghao from running his tongue along your clit, doesn’t stop him from tasting this part of you. he missed it so much – missed your cunt, how it smelled and felt and tasted. 

your thighs clench around his head, but he continues. minghao scissors his fingers in you, not focused on stretching you but instead making you feel good. he laps at your lit in broad strokes, and then he’s sucking at your little bean, a loud squeal escaping your lips. 

“quiet!” he hisses, though he feels his lips twitching up at the corner. he does it again and again between licks of his tongue, feeling your body shake beneath his and little sounds of ecstasy escape your lips. 

“hao!” you whine out, fingers digging slightly into his scalp. “gotta – gotta hurry, josh –”

you couldn’t manage a full sentence, high moans and squeals escaping your mouth and interrupting your words. but minghao understood all the same, and he was pressing one last kiss to your pussy before he withdrew. 

he wiped his hand off on the sheets, and then he was pushing his pants and boxers down to his knees. he fisted his shirt with one hand, raising it and keep it away from your soaking cunt as he moved close. 

you plant your feet on the bed, tilting your hips up for him. you’re so good, he thinks. you’re perfect. and you’re his. 

minghao pressed the head of his cock against your cunt, watching as your entire body seemed to freeze in anticipation. you were so ready for him, so eager. you were biting down at your lip, eyes large and watching, and minghao couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t feeling the same way. 

he crowded down over you, releasing his shirt and moving his hand to cup your face. minghao rolled his tongue into your mouth, the noises of your wet mouths meeting making his cock throb with anger.

he fucked into your cunt, a deep groan escaping you. your pussy was tight, despite preparation, but warm and wet and minghao slowly slid deeper and deeper. your body took his cock easily, as it always had, and he knew that the two of you were meant for each other. 

“hao,” you moan out, lashes fluttering. you speak against his mouth, breath hot. “feels good, hao. want it. missed you so much, hao.”

“i know, baby,” he mumbles, hand sinking into your hair. he slides until his cock is buried as far as it can go within you, your pussy clamping down on his cock. he wanted to move, wanted to immediately begin fucking you. instead he held back, hand twisting in your hair. “i missed you too.”

you bite at your lip, and then you’re tightening your legs around his waist. minghao takes this as permission, and he begins drawing his hips back. the slide of his dick against your walls feels so good, feels perfect, all slick warmth that makes his toes curl and eyes flutter. 

he can’t believe he left you. he can’t believe he ended this. he’s so fucking stupid – 

minghao fucks back into your cunt, and it feels like coming home. he begins setting a slow, deep rhythm that makes you arch up around him, mouth wide and eyes pinched shut. he just looks at you, takes in the shape of your mouth and your lashes, just looks and adores you. 

his hand moves from your hair to your ear, and he traces the shell of your ear as he grinds into you. he follows the curve, adoring. he thumbs at your earlobe, just touching you, when he touches that pearl earring. 

and minghao thinks back. he thinks back to how you had tucked your hair behind your ear for soonyoung, how you had acted all cute and coy for him. how you had taunted minghao. 

his hips slow to a stop, and you whine for him. for a moment he just focuses on your earrings, staring. 

“you’re such a bad girl,” he growls out, and then he’s slamming back into your pussy, the sound of skin hitting skin loud. you cry out, startled, and then he’s setting a punishing, brutal pace. 

“you’re so bad,” he hisses, hand moving down to your throat. he doesn’t choke you, just places his hand against your throat. “teasing me like that with soonyoung. so fucking bad. wanted me to get jealous, didn’t you?”

you whimper, eyes rolling back as he fucks you. each thrust into your cunt is wet and loud, and he fucks you knowing that you’ll feel the ache hours later. 

“wanted me jealous of kwon soonyoung,” minghao murmurs, and he’s ducking his head to bite at your neck. you cry out, cunt tightening around his dick. he bites and licks and sucks, marking your neck as his. 

because you are his. he was a fool to think otherwise. you’re his and he’s yours, and he’ll show kwon soonyoung. 

minghao pulls out – you whine – and he flips you around. minghao moves to his knees, pulling you up and back so you’re on all fours. he enters you with a rough thrust, and then he’s resuming his hard pace, chasing out each sting of skin slapping skin, seeking that pain-pleasure. 

“you’re mine,” he says, hands tight around your hips. he watches your ass jiggle with each thrust, some animalistic urge to take coming over him. “you’re mine, angel. fucking mine and no one else’s. got it?”

you nod against your pillows, arching your back and pushing back to him. you fuck back onto him, meeting each thrust, and minghao can’t help but feel satisfied. 

as if you’d ever do this for kwon soonyoung. as if you’d ever let him fuck you like this, as if you’d ever give yourself over to kwon soonyoung as eagerly as you do minghao.

“you gotta cum,” minghao commands, slapping at your ass. you cry out, fingers twisting in the sheets. “gotta cum around my cock, baby. milk me.”

he reaches down, grabbing his shirt and pushing it up out of the way. his fingers slip into your cunt, fluttering around where the two of you are connected to grind down on the gummy area surrounding your clit. you whine, and only a couple of thrusts later you’re tightening around his dick. 

“that’s it,” minghao says, biting down on his lip. “gush around my dick, angel. come on, cum for me.”

your moans rise in pitch as you cum, and he fucks you through it. he fucks into your pussy as it quivers, fluttering around his dick. once you’re finished, whining from oversensitivity, minghao pulls out of your pussy – your warm, tight, delightful pussy – and fucks into his hand until he’s shooting out warm stripes of cum, painting your back white. he feels fuckin amazing, adrenaline and lust and something he can’t quite name rushing through his veins. 

he pants, watching as his cum taints your skin. you’re so beautiful like this, stained with him. he says as much, rubbing his hand over your ass and back. 

a car honks from the street. minghao curses, and then he’s flinging himself off of the bed. he grabs his bomber jacket, hesitates, and then quickly wipes himself down. 

“i’ll wash it,” you promise, and he ducks down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your mouth. 

“good girl,” he murmurs, moving to press a kiss to your temple. “such a good girl for me.”

he darts for the bathroom after leaving your bedroom, flicking on the goofy lightswitch. he looks in the mirror. he looks – well, he looks like he just spent the last half hour fucking someone. 

but not just anyone, he thinks, grabbing his shirt and flapping it to try and get some fresh air against his skin. he spent the last half hour fucking you. 

vernon looks at him weirdly as he hands minghao a few slices of pizza. “been busy?”

minghao shrugs, pressing his hair back from his face. “went jogging a bit to try and clear my mind of all it’s shit. need to bring everything to practice.”

vernon looks like he doesn’t believe minghao, but vernon, also, doesn’t care. so minghao watches as his friend grabs a soda from the fridge. “cool,” is all he says, and then vernon begins slurping at his drink. 

soonyoung enters the room with his own pizza, setting it on the counter. “i made sure to get some you like,” he says to minghao. 

minghao feels, slightly, like he should feel guilty towards soonyoung. soonyoung, after all, has a crush on you. and minghao just fucked soonyoung’s crush. 

then again, minghao thinks, it’s soonyoung’s fault for getting a crush on you when you spend every other day getting your brains fucked out by minghao. 

joshua enters his house with a large grin, holding a plastic cup in one hand. “you’ll never fucking guess who called.”

“president clinton,” soonyoung says, raising a slice of pepperoni pizza to his mouth. “wait. better yet. monica lewinsky.”

“no,” josh says, “cut it out. i’m talking about the fucking black rose club! they called! and they want us for next thursday!”

“well,” minghao says, a grin taking over his face. “it isn’t a friday or saturday performance, so the club won’t be too busy.”

“but it gets our name out there,” josh agreed, clapping vernon on the back. he looks so sincerely happy, lip ring glinting in the artificial light of the kitchen. “we’re getting on the map.”

minghao raises vernon’s soda in salute towards josh before drinking it and handing it back to vernon. “things are looking up,” minghao says.

minghao isn’t stupid. he knows they’ll need to work their asses off for the next week in preparation of playing at the club. he knows this is only one step on the mountain of success, only one step towards their goal line. he knows he’ll need to talk to you, sincerely. he knows he’ll need to apologize, knows he needs to explain everything. 

yes; minghao isn’t stupid. 

but, he thinks, watching as you come down the stairs, fresh from a shower, he is awfully lucky. 

[acotarxreader]

Flower

Azriel x Reader (Rhysands sister)

Synopsis: You and Azriel are sent deep into the mountains in search of a flower that may save Feyre's life during childbirth but quickly the frenemy status is put to the test as past trials come to a head leaving you to decide between your new sister and the potential love of your life.

Warnings: Fluff,, teasing angst, frenemies, physical fighting, mentions of wing damage/loss, blood, sweetness, silliness, Az calling the reader Kid.

A/N: You voted for it so here it is, my next Azriel fic. I enjoyed writing this, did it kinda quickly so forgive any mistakes and let me know what you think!

P.s I named Rhysand and Readers sister Aruna which means Moon in some languages.

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“We’re lost Azriel”

“We’re not, you have no trust in me, this is basic Illyrian training” Azriel pushed an elongated branch from his path, releasing it thoughtlessly to smack you into the chest, a small yelp leaving you. 

“Fucking hell!” You swiped the pollen markings it left from your chest, knotting your face into a scowl towards the back of the Spymaster's head. 

“Next time duck” he called back, grin-laced words.

“Next time pick someone else to accompany you on your wild goose chases” Your boot sank into the uphill climb, the mud sinking its teeth into the well-worn leather as you fought with your lungs to keep breathing. 

“You were chosen for official Night Court duties by an official member of the Night Court government, have a little pride”

“An official Night Court prick more like” You muttered in reply to Azriel’s faux-inflated self-importance. Two days ago you had left Velaris, in pursuit of a special medicinal flower, Madja’s hope to save Feyre from the birth of her child. You had been hiking upwards for what felt like all 48 hours of your journey, your calves practically speaking to you now. 

“Do they not cover outdoor pursuit in your healer apprenticeship?” Another branch slapped into from the direction of the Spymaster.

“Do they not cover manners in Windhaven?” 

“You’ve known me for centuries, you know they don’t teach manners” He grinned, your sure footing overtaking his position as he held back a thicket of branches for you. You rolled your eyes as you passed him, missing his clear deception. Your foot snagged on a millennia old root system of an ancient tree, sending you finally downwards on your travel to bump along a forgotten path for a few seconds before another primeval tree stopped your course. Azriel shot with his usual agile step down after you. 

“I didn’t think you’d fly that far” He laughed down at you, your clothing covered in moss and mulch from your trip. 

“This is it, this is where you kill me. This was all a plot, all those centuries as the best pain in the ass culminating in this fake trip, Feyre isn’t even pregnant is she?!” You threw your arm across your forehead in fake dramatics, feining pain as he Azriel rolled his eyes before offering you a hand to pull you up. 

“I think if I was going to kill you, I’d have left Cassian to drown you that time we went swimming when we were 40”

“Ah, the last time I went swimming with you fools” You took his hand as he hauled you up, your muscles settling back into their place after their 360. You both continued your hike with some element of hurry but also with comfort.

“You used to love swimming with us and I mean c’mon I stopped him, no points for that?”

“You only stopped him because the death of Mor’s favourite cousin would have meant your certain death”

“I’m telling Rhysand you said that”

“Fine by me, he knows” You smirked before skipping along, hands behind your back in rested peace, your head gazing up through the canopy, the stars beginning to sparkle down over the moon-bathed forest. Azriel marvelled towards you, somewhat enamoured at the strong sense of peace radiating from his best friend's sister. You stretched above the sunken path towards a low-hanging branch, bright blush berries glowing in the scarce light. Your linen shifted slightly from your skin as you reached, revealing the troves of scars and chasms from the savagery of Spring's deepest betrayal of Azriel’s chosen family. You turned to him, a childlike grin as your cheeks filled with the lush fruit, a small laugh leaving Azriel as he gently shook his head. 

“Come here Kid, you’re all berry” He smiled, running the back of his sleeve down your cheek, banishing stray seeds until you pushed his arm away. 

“I’m like 10 years younger than you Gramps” 

“And I’ll always take care of you because of it” Soft tones of sincerity radiated from the Spymaster, his usual sarcasm towards you banished for a moment of truth. 

“Until you get old and frail and I send you to a retirement camp, you have about five good years left my friend” He shoved you back with a laugh, moment over. 

Another hour of so of what felt like aimless walking culminated in the both of you scaling prehistoric trees to settle in the canopy for rest, safe from the creatures roaming below in search of their next meal. 

Leaks of light snuck through the budding Spring flush of growth, crossing Azriel’s eyes until he stirred from his sleep. He sat up from his hammock, to look over to the adjacent tree to find your sling empty. 

“YN?” He yawned out, stretching as the branches creaked with the movement, your lack of reply had him calling out again. Azriel’s boots nearly split the soil on landing as he tried his best to keep his imagination from running away with his logic. He always woke up first and always had to haul you from your sleep, you were famously not a morning person. He called louder into the forest, listening back for any reply or clue as to where you’d run off to. He found his step quicken to match his heartbeat as he transversed great ground quickly. Light flashed around him as he found the edge of one of Illyria's many mountainous lakes, to see your silhouette floating in the centre of it. 

“YN!” He roared out, no response from you as his imagination very much took control. Without full consciousness, he tossed his over jacket to the ground, his heavy boots taking a spot next to it as he waded quickly into the silty lake, still calling for you. His feet could no longer touch the muddy bottom as he reached you in the centre of the still lake.

“YN!!!” A marred hand met your abdomen as the other found your lower back beneath the water, forcing your body up where you jolted out of your trance, thrashing water as you kicked your legs awake. 

“What the fuck you frightened me!” You pushed back from his hold, wrapping your arms around your waist, your snowy tank top clinging to your wet skin.

“You frightened me! What are you doing out here?” He pushed his wet hair from his face, allowing the colour to return to his face. 

“I was getting the moss and leaves out of my hair after yesterday’s little escapades, no need to lose your head” You shot back, before beginning to swim back to shore.

“I was calling for you! I thought something terrible happened to you!” Azriel allowed uncharacteristic anger to leech through his words as you both met the shore again. You turned your back to him as you wring out your hair, the drips of water creating mud in the dust. The soaked fabric clung to the fissures in your back where your wings once sat proudly, Azriel swallowed deeply at the sight, trying to keep the crime from inflating his anger further. You turned at his silence, noticing the path his eyes would have followed. 

“Something terrible already did happen Azriel” You bit, snatching your overshirt from the ground to shroud your scars, your shaking hands attempting to lock the buttons into place as the dots connected in Azriel’s head. 

“Is-is that why you don’t swim anymore? You don’t want people to see-to see what they did?” You looked up slowly through your eyelashes, hands on the final button before uprighting yourself completely. 

“The world should know what they did to me, what no amount of healer study I do can fix, what Tamlin’s fath- what that Court did to me, to my mother to my sister-” You bit out, the anger heating your skin seemingly drying the beads of water on your flesh “-and they will one day when Rhysand decides, when I am once again of use to my Court”

“YN, you’re of use now” he attempted to silence your inner voice escaping into the world, only to have you raise a palm. 

“To answer your question, no, that’s not why I don’t swim with you anymore, I don’t because Aruna loved it and the water feels wrong without our little sister-” Cold burning rage that Azriel was accustomed to seeing in Rhysand but never from you filled the space between you. 

“Now, let's go find that flower and go home, I’m not losing another sister” Azriel only nodded before leading the way back to the make-shift camp in contemplative silence. 

The next few hours carried that thematic silence through the woods, only the occasional check-in broke it up. You didn’t even comment when Azriel released multiple branches in your direction or when you definitely passed the same boulder twice. The soles of your shoes were leaving imprints on your feet but you stayed silent, refusing to give Azriel the satisfaction of being right when he told you to change your shoes. 

Azriel swung around to you on his heels as you released a blood-curdling scream from your exhausted lungs, a nearby bird fleeing the tree top at the raised alarm. His face lost any flush of colour as his eyes locked on the arrow piercing through your right thigh. He moved quickly to guide you to the floor as you screamed, blood spurting free from your flesh. In one swift movement, Azriel shielded you from another targeted arrow, it splicing one of the veins of his wings as he winced. 

“Azriel!” You cried, your shaking hand going towards the bloodied arrow. 

“Stay down!” He ordered, pulling some shrubbery over you as you crowed, his century-long training kicking into action as he launched in the direction of the ammunition. Tracking and trailing as fast as he could until he found the perpetrators, two members of the Hybern army armed to their teeth in weaponry. Azriel launched into swift movements, like a well-learned dance with vicious precision. 

Meanwhile, you snapped the long end of the arrow, leaving the cruel head with its teeth buried in your flesh. You pulled yourself up, desperate to follow the sounds of your best friend and his battle cry. Your hobbled step worked perfectly with your exhausted feet, sending you crashing for a second time this trip, down a bank to a stream. The welcomed thud of a great tree stopped you before you could enter the rushing water. You lifted your face from the squelch of the river clay, hazy eyes landing on a brilliantly blue flower, growing like a solitary soldier between ancient rocks. You groaned as you pushed up from the mud, your detour causing the head of the arrow to be pushed in further. You managed to snatch the lifeline from its home, tucking it into your pack before beginning your laboured ascent up the steep bank. The definition of an uphill battle as you fought against the overgrowth, using deep root systems like rescue ropes until you reached the mouth of the bank again. Your faltering step carried you in the direction of the Spymaster, who was deep in his own entanglement. You watched as Azriel slashed the leg of one soldier before pressing the other into a knotty tree trunk, his blood soon covering Azriel as Truth Teller dealt its fatal blow. 

“Azriel!” You shrieked in warning as the other soldier regained some strength, just as Azriel turned to your voice, a green-soaked blade slid into the Shadowsinger’s wing releasing pressurised blood systems.  The advantage didn’t last very long before Truth Teller claimed another victim, the soldier slumping to the ground with a final breath. Azriel stumbled backwards, his adrenaline fleeting until the support of a large oak met his back, allowing him to slide to the cool ground. 

“Az!” You yelped, limping to collapse next to his side, pallor growing across his face. You ran a hand over the wound, bright scarlet mixing with the sickly poison of a blade. 

“I told, I told you to stay” He spoke with gritted teeth, attempting to sit more upright against the tree. 

“You know I try my best to never listen to you” You smiled weakly, tears beginning to threaten the rim of your eyes as Azriel’s head dipped to fall on his chest. You moved quickly to prop his head up, his eyelids like lead as the poison worked through his system.

“We have to get you help, we have to get back”

“I-I can’t winn-ow both of-of us” Huffs of air left Azriel.

“Winnow yourself, I’ll figure it out” He lifted a heavy eyelid open, looking down to find your wound weeping fresh blood, swirling into his own. 

“The-re there could be mor-more of them out here YN, you-you have to be the one to-to go” 

“No!” You began digging through your pack, pouring the canteen of drinking water you had over his wound, trying to flush as much of the sick serum out as you could. The cobalt shimmer of the flower caught your eye again as you dug through for more water, looking from its bright colour to the dullness in your best friend. You began mashing it up into the lid of the canteen, its healing powers flowing into the water as you shook the two lifelines together. 

“YN you-you found it”

“I did Az and you’re going to drink it” He pushed away slightly from you. 

“Its-its for Feyre, get it to Feyre”

“I’ll figure that out, you need it Az” You held the lid of the canteen to his lips, Azriel turning his head from it despite his screaming nerves calling out for its relief. 

“Kid, it’s too-too valuable, give it to Feyre”

“You’re too valuable Az! I’m not losing you too, for once in your Godsdamn life don’t fight me! Let me look after you for once!” You grabbed the nape of his neck, tilting his head back to help the liquid into his mouth despite his futile protests. The sacred serum swirled through his system, like a torch in a blackout, defending off the tar-like liquid that tried to clog his system. You took your overshirt from your skin, ripping the clean sections free to soak in the remaining drips in the lid before applying it to the wound. 

“No YN, use-use it on yourself” He tried his best to push your arm away, unable to find the strength to allow you to make contact with the tattered spine. Unbeknownst to you, in your adrenaline-fueled state, your trousers were becoming laden with the blood spurting from your wounds. You sat back on your ankles, two Azriels dancing in your double-vision. You forced your eyes close, trying to banish one of the Azriels away, the swirl of blood loss becoming a bit too much as you fell back on your side, using a weakened arm to prop yourself up. 

“YN! You’re okay Kid! You’re gonna be okay, stay awake” Azriel turned himself onto his knees, his strength finding its way back to him as his hands met the soft skin of your cheeks, blood leaving them to rush towards your open wound. 

“I knew you’d be the death of me” You gave a weak laugh, your head rocking slightly from side to side. Azriel gave a small smile before closing the space between you, his medicinal-soaked lips meeting your frosted ones. Pulses of energy beat between you both, like everything that has ever happened both good and bad didn’t matter before this moment, each other’s lifeline in every sense. The traces of the river flower pulled you back from the brink with the essence of Azriel’s every being guiding you home. Shadows leapt around you both, pulling you both through the space until cool, clean stone laid under your legs. Azriel pulled back from you, his thumbs tracing over your cheeks as your eyes fluttered open. 

“Are you kissing my sister?” Rhysand stood from his desk to look down at his closest allies, in a ball on his office floor. Cassian leapt to help you up, lying you down on the chaise before Rhysand went to pull Azriel to his own feet. 

“It-it was to save her life” Azriel had thoughts of wishing the arrow had finished him off. 

“Likely story” Rhysand laughed, guiding his dear friend to his desk chair before sending for Madja. Cassian busied inspecting your battle wounds.

“We were attacked and-and they poisoned me and YN she-”

“-she gave you the flower?” Rhysand sank to Azriels eyelevel, searching for answers in the stormy eyes of the Spymaster. Azriel nodded gently, his head hanging in both shame and exhaustion. 

“It's okay Azriel, I wanted it for my mate, YN wanted it for hers” Azriel’s head shot back up to look at the High Lord's grinning face. Rhysand raised his hand to his face, making a locking motion at his lips before standing again, Madja quick on the scene to help. 

—-------------------

5 years later 

Azriel stood at the water's edge, the small lapping of the lake at his feet, the sun warming his wings as he stretched in the healing heat, a small V-shaped scar left in one of the spines. He allowed his eyes to fall close, inhaling the scents of the forest and the whoosh of the gentle breeze. 

“Argh!” He flinched at the sudden wave of cold water meeting his face, rubbing it from his eyes until he opened to see you stood, waist-deep in the lake and laughing. 

“You’re dead” He laughed before wading in as you roared with laughter, attempting to swim away from him to your friends. You took Nyx from Cassian’s arms as Azriel reached you. 

“I have the baby!” You laughed. 

“Oh weak move YN, hiding behind a child” He tilted his head back in laughter, Nyx kicking water up at his uncle, his own fit of giggles leaving him. 

“Not you too Kid! Betrayal!” Azriel chuckled, wiping the water from his face that Nyx quickly replaced again. You hugged Nyx close into your chest, Azriel paddling closer to you, his arms wrapping around the both of you, his hands tracing down the scars on your back, melting into the deep fissures on his hands, making the skin feel whole again. 

“Hey Az! Someone’s awake!” Rhysand called from the shoreline before bending down to the travel cot, pulling your baby from her cocoon, still swaddled in plush towelling. Cassian took Nyx from your arms before tossing him high in the air, Feyre immediately lecturing him. You and Azriel went laughing to the shore again, stray splashes escaping you both. Azriel took the baby from his brother's arms, kissing her head softly as she looked up at him, his entire world. 

“Hello Flower” 

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

Whatcha think?

ALSO! There are over 500 of you lovelies!!?? That's so crazy!!! Thank you so much for all of your kind words and support my friends! -C

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Very Hopper Holidays

Hopper POV || wc: 3.7k || tags: smoking, recreational drugs, grouchy old men dealing with their feelings, smart-ass Eddie Munson, meet-cute Steddie, Steve and Max siblings, El thinks Steve is cute (so does Eddie), emotionally available Wayne Munson gives the best advice, holiday fluff, found family

This is a companion piece to my fic The Babysitter Chronicles, but can be read separately!

Brief background: Wayne patched Steve up after his fight with Billy in s2

Hopper’s freezing his goddamn balls off out here, waiting on the front stoop in the dark, banging his fist on the door. There’s no answer, but the lights are all on and it’s dinnertime on Christmas Eve. So someone’s fucking home, and the sooner they answer the sooner he can leave.

“Dammit, Wayne. Open the door so I can give you a damn present, or next time I pick up your nephew maybe I throw him in jail for the night instead of bringing him home.”

Sure enough, the door flies open, but it’s not Wayne on the other side. The kid’s standing there, layered in enough flannel shirts and sweatpants to dress all of El’s shithead friends with some left over. Hopper watches as he drags the sleeve of an oversized black flannel across his red and dripping nose, shifting uncomfortably and eyes darting side to side.

“Munson,” Hopper crosses his arms, “where the hell’s your uncle?”

Even bundled up like a little kid, he still tries to make himself bigger, taller, meaner, like he always does when Hopper picks him up. “Not here.” The tone is flat, devoid of Munson’s usual snark as a particularly intense gust of wind slams the screen door open against the side of the trailer.

“It’s Christmas eve, what do you mean he’s not here?”

“He’s working.”

Hopper scoffs. “You’re telling me your uncle works Christmas eve?”

Munson scoffs back at him, a dramatic mockery of Hopper’s own tone. “We’re Jewish, asshole.”

Well, shit.

He doesn’t have time for the kid’s hardass act. All he wanted to do was drop off a simple thank you and also merry christmas but now probably happy hanukkah gift and be on his way to his own family. He can only hope El spares him a bit of holiday mercy for making her wait. 

“Kid, can I just come in?” He takes another step up, only for Munson to block his path.

His eyes grate across Hopper’s jacket, noting the star on the chest. “No cops in the trailer.” 

A low grumble forces its way up Hopper’s throat which breaks into a frustrated groan when another gust of wind scrapes the exposed skin on his cheeks. He stamps his feet on the stairs hoping it’ll keep the blood flow going to his toes as they start to tingle. Munson’s wrapped his hands up inside the sleeves of what’s most likely one of Wayne’s old jackets.

“Look,” Eddie starts, sniffling another drip back inside his nose, “if you could just–”

But Hopper cuts him off with a deranged laugh, head thrown back in dismay at this entire situation. “No, you look here. You’re going to listen to exactly what I have to say.”

Eddie’s taken a step back, and yeah, Hopper supposes he’s never seen the Chief of Police actually freak out before. But it’s been a long day of wellness checks and stove fires, and Eddie’s the only thing standing between him and a night of kid’s Christmas movies and spiked eggnog.

So he pushes forward, spurred on by the kid’s once-in-a-lifetime stunned silence. “Now it’s clear that Wayne’s working nights, probably earning holiday hours to pay for the radiator which is pretty obviously busted, given the ten to twenty shirts you’re wearing. Meaning you’re alone, in a tin box with a tiny space heater that’s so old it’s a fire hazard shoved into the corner of your room.” The Chief walks up the stairs, standing on the step just before the door so he’s towering over Eddie, who shrinks in on himself just a bit. 

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Munson.” Hopper ticks off each gloved finger as his list of demands grows, Eddie’s growing wider in time. “You’re going to let me inside so I can piss and blow my nose, since I’ve been standing out here for too fucking long. You’re going to pack a bag, you’re going to call your uncle, and you’re going to tell him you’re staying with me for the night.”

Eddie stammers, mouth flapping around words he can’t find fast enough. It doesn’t matter, because Hopper’s on a roll now.

“Then,” he steamrolls Eddie again, pushing his way into the trailer, closing the door as Eddie stumbles backwards down onto the couch, “you’re going to eat my food, you’re going to watch our movies, you’re going to smile when we smile and laugh when we laugh because even if you’re Jewish you can still have a damn good fucking Christmas eve!”

He’s sick and tired of stupid teenage boys trying to be something they aren’t, like they’re manly or tough or strong for barely surviving on their own, practically raising themselves. And the best way Hopper can drill that into their thick skulls is to get them to shut the fuck up and feed them.

The silence lingers on the frost coating the inside of the windows and the crust of dried snot on Eddie’s sleeve. The kid’s avoiding eye contact, like Hopper will just leave if he’s ignored. But if Hopper can outlast guards in the POW camp, and a little girl who hates green beans, then he can sure as hell outlast Eddie goddamn Munson. So Hopper waits. And waits. 

It pays off, like he knew it would. The kid gets up, storms towards one end of the trailer. Hopper slowly follows down the narrow hallway and sees Eddie viciously shoving rumpled clothes into a backpack, mumbling about pigs and asshole cops. 

After all’s said and done, they’re pulling up to the cabin about twenty minutes later. The front door opens with a bang in greeting, causing Eddie to jump out of his skin. But when they step through the now open door into the warmth of the living room, there’s no one there to greet them.

Ah, so she’s a little upset.

El’s door is closed, like it’s not supposed to be. Light shines out from underneath, and he can hear soft voices inside. The whispers are abruptly hushed when he knocks on her door. “El, honey, I need you to open the door. Six inches, remember?” Hopper tries turning the handle but it doesn’t budge. Honestly he can’t help but wonder why he bothered to install a door with no lock when she’s got superpowers– that’s on him, he supposes. 

He turns around to find Munson standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Take your jacket off, put your shit down, and stay a while, will ya?” Hopper laughs at Eddie’s incredulous expression, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed tight. 

“Ok,” Eddie drags the sound out in question as he sets his pack next to the couch, “who opened the fucking door?”

“Hey, language!" Hopper calls, Max’s voice echoing his own.

Eddie startles, head whipping between Hopper’s no-doubt exasperated expression and El’s still-closed bedroom door. He drags his hands down his face and sighs as her mimicry sends the girls into a fit of giggles. He hasn’t decided yet if Max is a good influence on El, even if Hopper knows it’s not himself she’s mocking.

He hears the creak of the bathroom door opening as Steve walks back into the living room. Hopper can’t help but turn to watch the show, the two boys coming face to face. 

Munson’s oversized black and red flannel covers the ripped sleeves of whatever tattered, black band t-shirt he’s wearing. Which would be on par with what he normally looks like, except it’s contrasted against bright blue, wool pajama pants with little white snowflakes on them. When Hopper first spotted them at the trailer, a teasing smirk on his face, Munson only rolled his eyes and argued they were the warmest clean pair he had.

Harrington, on the other hand, has lived his entire life in locker rooms and an empty house. Which means that he once again forgot to bring a shirt to change into after his shower. It's not normally a problem-- except when El catches him, a blush lighting up her face like a goddamn Christmas tree, accompanied by incessant giggles that make Hopper want to drown himself.

What is a problem is Munson’s shameless gawking, mouth wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies. His blush puts El's to shame, red blotches burst across his neck like hives. Hopper can practically see the steam rolling out of the guy’s ears, hearts popping out of his eyes as he just stares and stares his fill, completely unaware that Hopper’s still standing less than five feet from him.

Thankfully, so far Steve is none the wiser. He’s got a cotton swab in his ear, head tipped down as he double-knots his Tigersharks swim team sweatpants. Hopper notices they hang baggy and loose around his hips. Another shitty reminder of how much weight the kid’s lost since getting kicked off the team because of his ‘incident’ with Hargrove. He wonders about the last time the kid ate a decent meal, and pushes down the rising anger at the most realistic answer, which is not recent enough for his liking. Hopper has the same gnawing concern when he looks back at Munson, dark circles under his eyes, skinny as a bean-pole. 

He’s got to stop taking in strays.

“Harrington, we’ve talked about this.” Hop tries to keep the frustration out of his voice, but if he has to watch El swoon over the kid’s wet hair and bare chest again he’s gonna blow a gasket. “Put a damn shirt on.”

“Oh, yeah sorry, Hop.” Which is the exact moment Steve decides to turn his head. They both catch Munson giving Steve a once over, who then chokes on his own spit when he notices Steve looking back at him. Hopper knows Harrington’s trying to turn over a new leaf, but he also knows the kind of people Richard and Helen Harrington are. So he’s a little surprised when, instead of having to stop a potential hate crime, he notices a similar blush bloom across Steve’s chest– or maybe it’s the heat from the shower. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Muson’s screech is so high it could set dogs howling. Steve flinches at the outburst, and Hopper hopes this little interaction doesn’t trigger another migraine for the kid. He was barely pushing through when Hop picked him up yesterday, but seems to be feeling better today.

“Munson, I need you to tone it down,” Hopper argues. It goes unnoticed.

Steve’s sputtering. He runs a nervous hand through his hair and of-fucking-course Munson gasps, swoons just like El. Harrington’s free hand fumbles for a shirt hem that isn’t there. He realizes he’s half naked and turns into a deer in headlights, hands frantically moving over his chest like he doesn’t know how to hide himself. Unfortunately the unintentional groping sends Munson into a coughing fit. 

“Me? What the hell are you doing here, Munson?”

Munson scoffs, crossing his arms as he backs himself into the wall behind him. “The high and mighty Chief of Police here basically kidnapped me. Forced me to pack a bag and tossed me into his truck.” Ah, there’s the Munson he expected. Except if it wasn’t for how many times Hopper’s hauled the kid in, he might not have noticed the nervous energy in Eddie’s twitchy fingers and shifty eyes. “He failed to mention–” he waves around at everything until Munson’s wild gesturing lands on a half-naked, sweats hung low, hair slicked back, barefoot Steve Harrington.

The squeal of El’s door opening behind him propels Hopper full-speed into the living room towards Steve’s duffle. He pulls out the first shirt he manages to find. It hits Steve in the face, and they both breathe a sigh of relief when he pulls it on.

“Aww,” El complains, before her eyes grow ten sizes too big when she catches Hopper glaring back at her. 

“Who the hell is this guy?” Max asks. She makes her way toward the kitchen, dragging El with her to help pull out dishes and cups. 

“Apparently another kidnapping victim.” Steve huffs, annoyed, before making his way over to the girls. “Munson, get over here and help me set the food out.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from where he’s pulling a large cast iron out of the oven, so he misses the absolutely priceless distress scrawled into Eddie’s bulging eyes and flapping hands. Looking back and forth between Harrington and Hopper, Eddie points to himself in confusion as if Steve hadn’t asked him by name. Hopper can only chuckle at the kid’s antics. He rolls his eyes and tilts his head toward the kitchen so Munson finally gets the jist, moving across the cabin in double-time. 

It’s a more intense Christmas dinner than Hopper was hoping for, but after introductions and a full stomach, everyone’s relaxed a bit. El and Max curl up on the couch next to him, snuggled under the same blanket surrounded by bowls of popcorn and half eaten bags of candy. The boys, finally over whatever awkward tension laced between them earlier, are sitting rather comfortably next to each other, poking fun at the cliche holiday movies that Hopper secretly enjoys.

Well after the girls are tucked in and the boys have set up a mess of sleeping bags and blankets on the living room floor, Hopper moves quiet as a mouse across the trailer to Eddie’s duffle. After a quick search, he pulls a joint from a hidden zipper pocket hand-sewn inside the lining.

Kid must think he’s so smart, like he’s the first guy to ever sell drugs.

Hopper deserves a little treat after all the shit he’s been through this year. It’s been ages since he’s smoked, and with the boys here to help watch over the kids, he thinks he can allow himself time to relax for just a little bit. He’s earned it. Plus, it’s not his fault the damned kid decided to try to sneak his stash here. Hop’s not an idiot, even though the boys clearly thought so when they went out for some ‘fresh air’ earlier and came back looking a little less fresh than when they left.

So he brushes the snow off of his favorite lawn chair, wraps himself up in a tattered old blanket, and lights up in the cold, winter air. 

Hop loved smoking in high school, so he takes a long inhale, reveling in the burn heating his chest. Unfortunately, Hopper hasn’t been a teenager in a long, long time. His coughing fit is loud enough to wake his non-existent neighbors. But when he can finally breathe fresh air again, there’s no noise to be heard from inside.

He goes slower this time, tugging on little puffs as he watches the snow fall between the pine trees. It’s quiet, a good quiet, filled with the rustling of rabbits in the brush and bugs singing in the night. Even the joint is absolute shit, like most of Munson’s wares. It’s still enough for him to relax, to appreciate what unfortunate circumstances have gifted him, and keep him from dwelling on what he’s lost. 

Less than an hour’s passed when a pair of headlights shine down the drive. Wayne steps out of his beat-up truck, in only slightly better condition than Eddie’s van, and makes his way over. Without a word, Hopper gets up and grabs another folding chair propped against the end-railing and sets it next to his own.

The joint’s gone by now, but Hopper pulls out a pack of smokes and offers one to Wayne, who silently takes it with just a slight nod of his head in thanks. Out of the corner of his eye, Hopper notices Wayne’s worn-down work boots have a gash at the front, exposing the hard steel underneath the suede. He’s wearing a large, thick flannel that looks exactly like the one Eddie was wearing when Hopper found him, and it’s just as oversized on the old man. 

There’s almost nothing similar between Wayne and his nephew. Wayne’s always been a quiet one. A guy who’d make his way to the back of a crowded room, who kept his head down when he knew what was good for him. And Eddie is– is really just something else. Loud, obnoxious, brash, a kid with a well-crafted personality faker than government coverup. Almost one of a kind, if Hopper didn’t happen to know another boy just like him.

Wayne clears his throat, stubs out the bud with his boot in a little pile of snow. “Got a note from my foreman saying you kidnapped my boy.” His tone is gruff, but Hopper catches the small uptick to the man’s chapped lips.

He doesn’t say anything when Hopper heads inside. It takes him a minute to find the wrapped bottle and two glasses. While he meanders around, he checks that the boys are still both snoring away and the girls are sound asleep amidst a pile of stuffed animals.

When he closes the front door behind him, Jim hands the bottle to Wayne and sets the two glasses into the snow between them. Wayne hums in thought, turning the bottle over in his hand. “Macallen single?”

Jim actually croaks, chest light and filled with laughter when he clocks the mirth in Wayne’s teasing eyes. Maybe him and Eddie aren’t so different after all, both having a shithead sense of humor.

“Just Johnny.” Jim wipes a hand down his face like that’ll hide the sincerity in his smile. “You helped patch up my kid, Wayne. You didn’t save the goddamn world.”

The light in Wayne’s eyes dims only slightly. Instead of unwrapping the bottle, he unscrews the lid off the top, ripping the paper off with it, and pours them both half a glass. They silently cheers, even though the air between them has shifted slightly. 

“Thought that boy was a Harrington, not a Hopper.” It should sting, but it doesn’t, because Wayne’s not that type of man. It’s a genuine question, one that Jim’s not sure how to answer. So he keeps silent, hoping Wayne will cave and move on like his kid does when things stay too quiet. But Wayne sits, and sits, and his own gut finally starts to roil. Ah, so that's what it feels like.

“Apparently I’m good at picking up strays.” Jim’s attempt at a joke falls flat between them. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Although, I think I got to Harrington a little too late.”

Wayne takes a decent sip from his glass, smacking his lips together. He peers out into the dark, just beyond the porch railing. But Jim can tell he’s not looking at the woods in front of them or the starry sky overhead. Wayne’s looking at something that’s long behind him.

“Ya know, Harrington didn’t look much different than my boy did when he showed up lookin’ like a dropped sack of peaches. Just a little thing he was; no hair, clothes that didn’t fit. Hell, I’d almost been able to see his ribs if it weren't for the bruises.” Wayne’s looking down at his feet now, scuffing the snow off the bottom of his boots. He downs his glass in one go before pouring himself another. 

“I beat myself up for too long for not doing something sooner. My own nephew, my own brother, livin’ only two towns over, and I had no idea it was that bad. Told m’self over and over that I should’ve known, should’ve helped sooner.” Wayne heaves a heavy sigh before looking up at Jim again. There’s guilt in the crinkles around his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with resolve. “You might not’ve always been there for the Harrington kid, but that don’t mean he don’t need you now. Maybe more than ever, by the look of him. And if he’s got you watchin’ out for him, maybe he’ll turn out more Hopper than Harrington afterall.”

Jim can’t take the intense eye contact anymore and firmly looks away, finishing his glass and extending it out to Wayne for a refill. It’s quiet, Wayne’s patience sitting on his shoulders like the world’s most uncomfortable blanket. But even blankets that are scratchy as hell can still be warm.

After a while, the silence releases enough tension that he can sit back again, and the two men slowly sip their whiskey and watch dawn break through the trees. Wayne grabs the bottle as he moves to stand and pats Jim’s shoulder a little too hard. The man’s stronger than he looks.

“Why don’t you bring Eddie back yourself a little bit later, give me a chance to fix that radiator. Plus, being around Harrington might be good for him,” he chuckles to himself, hopping into his truck. “Maybe show the boy not every kid who don’t wear all black ain’t a damn conformist suburban yuppie.” Jim laughs, Wayne’s mockery a spot on impression.

All’s still quiet in the cabin, each kid right where he left them. He’s not sure if it’s the joint, the two whiskeys, Wayne’s advice, or just a combination of everything, but there’s a heat behind his eyes he hasn’t had to deal with in a long time. He’s not typically a crier– happy or sad. The only time he’s cried since Sarah was in the elevator shaft, El collapsed in his arms just after closing the gate. And even then, it was only a few stray tears.

Now he’s unspooling wads of toilet paper to blow his damn nose in, crying like a kid who got coal in their stocking. Except this isn’t like when he thought he’d lost El, or when he’d held Sarah’s hand when she took her last breath. Jim Hopper’s happier than he’s been in a long, long time. And after the shit awful year he’s had– that they’ve all had– he lets himself revel in the joy of having a family again.

Gorgeous graphics provided by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

And as always, thank you to @carolperkinsexgirlfriend for telling me "I think your calling might be writing well-meaning, grumpy old men" and also, "you just understand the spirit of The Old Man", but mostly just thank you for being an amazing beta reader <3

[jksoftii]

☆♡ JUNGKOOK FIC RECS ♡☆

this is a list of my favorite jungkook fics! most of these contain smut so no minors allowed. please show your love to all these amazing authors :) !!

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

SERIES

Birds by @missbickerbocker a f s strangers to lovers au (Doctor!Jungkook x TravelBlogger!Reader)

Summary - In Jungkook's world stability is key. He knows what exactly is expected of him as head doctor of Seoul's ER Unit. But when an unfortunate collision lands him at your bedside in his own ER unit, his stable world starts to shift. — the angst, the sexual tension, everything about this is just perfect!! doctor jk 😭🙌🏻

Gradation by @shina913 a f s bestfriend to lovers au fwb slow burn (Bestfriend!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your wedding day your fiancé leaves you at the altar. While reeling from embarrassment and heartbreak, your bestfriend, Jungkook, wants to do everything that he can to help you heal. — i remember coming back to this fic again and again because the entire storyline in itself was so comforting, everyone around oc was so caring and jungkook especially made my heart burst in this one!

Friday nights and takeout by @ahundredtimesover a f s strangers to friends to lovers (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the café, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he — i love love love cute happy endings. there was a lot of scolding eachother but their dynamic itself was just endearing 🤧💖 @ahundredtimesover 's other works are also wonderful! you won't be disappointed checking them out!

Lost Stars by @yoongiofmine a f s strangers to friends to lovers au slow burn (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. — i read this in one sitting because it was so interesting! the twists in this story kept me engaged, i felt like i was in a movie.

Coquet by @shina913 a f s fake dating au strangers to lovers (Escort!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous. — another one by @shina913 because i can't get enough of their writing! the angst, fluff, smut everything was balanced so well. top notch literally. sexy escort jungkook made me get on my knees no joke 🙌🏻🤧

Once You Realize by @kooala a f s friends to lovers idol au (Idol!Jungkook x Idol!Reader)

Summary - Seeing your friend regularly turned out to be difficult because of your colliding schedules, but seeing him again after a couple of months something about the way you thought about Jungkook seemed to have shifted. If only you wouldn’t have started getting close with someone else before you had realized how you felt about your best friend — this indeed is the cutest falling in love story! it's a slowburn but not overwhelming. sjdhjsjs it's just adorable 🥲

ONESHOTS

In which drabble series by @onlyswan a f s established relationship au (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - this is the cutest collection drabbles of boyfriend jungkook!! i recommend all of the installments, the writing is perfect, it's packed with perfectly illustrated details and vivid emotions and you can feel the love radiate from them 🥹 Art is by far my favorite writer on here 🙌🏻 these are a few of my personal favs from the installments -

in which jungkook comes home drunk but bam can’t speak f wc: 2.6k

— no because drunk jk is a menace and we all know it. this was so chaotic and fluffy it made me want to scream!!!

in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes f wc: 2.8k

— jungkook with glasses. my weakness. but this was so cute and fluffy! it's his little journey figuring out how to handle his glasses with oc!

in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give a f s wc: 8.3k

— this is actually a angsty one but it shows their ups and downs as a couple and gives more insight into their relationship!

The Boy with Galaxies in his Eyes by @oddinary4bts a f s wc: 52.9k strangers to fwb to lovers au (Idol!Jungkook x TattooArtist!Reader)

Summary - you had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours? — this has a LOT of angst, i won't lie i cried a few times reading this too. the character growth in this was just so phenomenonal. i go back a lot to this and read it again and again just to re-live the story. and ofc the smut is an amazing add on toooo 😭🙌🏻

My babysitters a quarterback by @ohpretty-baby a f wc: 30k enemies to lovers high-school au (Quarterback/Babysitter!Jungkook x Cheerleader!Reader)

Summary - after getting cheated on by the star of the hockey team, park jimin, your life (as expected) goes downhill. what you don’t expect is your parents being skeptical of whether or not you’re a good older sibling for your sister. you also don’t expect them to call jeon jungkook—the person you hate most—to babysit the two of you.

or, alternatively: jungkook babysits you even though the two of you are the same age. — i love this so much oh my goshhhhh this is one of the fics which will make you laugh and cry at the same time. it's fluffy and their dynamic is absolutely adorable. it's sooooo beautifully written!! :))

Spring will come again by @baepsaesbae a f s wc: 10.9k strangers to lovers au (Photographer!Jungkook x Baker!Reader)

Summary - Springtime generally brings new beginnings, but being stuck in a small town all your life means nothing ever changes. Finally, something, or rather, someone, stumbles into your life. Can this shy boy manage to change your life forever? — everything in this just feels so warm and comforting and jk is so sweet and so precious in here. there's angst but a very cute happy ending. the writing was so well done and so well articulated!! <333

Safety Net by @pradaksj (TWO-SHOT) a f s enemies to friends to lovers roommates au (Boxer!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. — this is one of my favorite fics ever. it's hilarious and emotional at the same time. both are literally the definition of dumb and dumber 😭 @pradaksj did a lovely job at illustrating their relationship progression. boxer jk just has my entire heart 😵‍💫🙌🏻

Be-Ghoul-Ment by @dokyeomin f wc: 10.1k idiots to lovers university au (Blonde!Jungkook × Reader)

Summary - [beguilement (noun): an entertainment that provokes pleased interest and distracts you from worries and vexations] --- You hate haunted houses more than you’ve ever hated anything. You don’t understand the appeal. But this Halloween, you decide you might hate Kim Taehyung even more. — the cutest fic ever! jk and oc both being a nervous wreck in this was so relatable 😭, and I loved the side friendships with Taehyung and Hobi. It was so sweetly crafted and left me feeling happy inside.

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.3

Chapter Three: The Air Buzzes Whenever You're Near

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck,

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: HEHEHEHEHE. Yes, this fic is basically a slice of life, low stakes, and all-around good vibes. Eventually, there will be some drama but nothing too heartbreaking… maybe… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Magnets by NIKI

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CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY MORNING  

The soft hum of your phone vibrating roused you from the haze of sleep. Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the dim light of the TV still playing softly in the background.  

Your hand instinctively reached out to grab your phone from where it had slipped to the floor beside the couch. As you shifted, something warm and solid tightened around your waist.  

Oh.  

Oh no.  

Your breath hitched as the realization settled over you like a weight. Pedro’s arm was draped across you, his body pressed against yours, radiating warmth. Your head had somehow found its way to the crook of his shoulder, and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest against your side told you he was still asleep.  

Oh God.  

Carefully, you reached down to grab your phone without disturbing him. Your thumb brushed across the screen to silence the alarm, and you winced when you saw the time: 4:30 a.m. Far too early to be awake but late enough to question how this even happened.  

Your heart pounded as you tried to make sense of it. You’d been watching a movie—something quiet and low-energy, just as you’d requested. You vaguely remembered leaning back against the couch, your body growing heavier with sleep. But you hadn’t expected to wake up like this, tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

Pedro stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his lips as he adjusted his arm around you, pulling you even closer. Your breath caught, panic and something else—something warmer—bubbling to the surface.  

Do I move? Do I stay? Oh, this is bad. Or is it good? Your thoughts raced, but your body refused to cooperate, frozen in place as if the universe had hit pause on this moment.  

A faint smile tugged at Pedro’s lips, even in sleep. His face was softer like this, the usual teasing edge replaced by something peaceful. It wasn’t fair, you thought, how he managed to look so effortlessly handsome even now.  

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing. Carefully, you began to shift, attempting to untangle yourself without waking him. But as soon as you moved, his arm tightened again, and this time, his eyes fluttered open.  

“Mm, what time is it?” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.  

You froze, caught in the act. “Uh, it’s... early. Like, really early.”  

Pedro blinked a few times, his gaze slowly focusing on you. And then, as if realizing the position you were both in, a sleepy grin spread across his face.  

“Well,” he murmured, his voice still thick and low, “this is a nice way to wake up.”  

Your cheeks burned. “I—uh, I didn’t mean to—”  

“Relax,” he interrupted softly, his eyes twinkling despite the early hour. “I’m not complaining.”  

You stared at him, caught between embarrassment and the inexplicable urge to laugh. “Pedro...”  

He stretched slightly, his arm finally loosening its hold on you, though he made no move to pull away entirely. “You fell asleep first,” he said, his tone teasing now. “I just... went with it.”  

You let out a soft huff of laughter, shaking your head. “This is so unprofessional,” you muttered, though there was no real weight behind the words.  

Pedro smirked, sitting up slightly but still close enough that you could feel his warmth. “Guess we’ll just have to keep it a secret,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Our little... accidental cuddle.”  

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curving into a smile. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.  

“And yet,” he countered, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart stumble, “here you are.”  

The air between you shifted then, the teasing fading into something quieter, something unspoken but undeniable. For a moment, neither of you moved, the world outside the suite forgotten.  

And then, because it felt safer than facing whatever this was, you stood, clutching your phone like a lifeline. “I need coffee,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze as you made your way to the kitchenette.  

Pedro watched you retreat into the kitchenette, his easygoing grin fading into something thoughtful. He stretched lazily, his hair still mussed from sleep, before following you at his own unhurried pace. 

You were already fussing with the hotel’s coffee machine when he appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like he belonged there. “You know, you’re very intense about your coffee for someone who just woke up,” he teased, his voice warm and teasing.  

You startled slightly, glancing over your shoulder at him. “I need caffeine to survive this,” you muttered, your words a little too sharp, betraying just how tightly wound you felt.  

Pedro quirked an eyebrow. “This? What exactly is this?”  

You didn’t answer right away, turning your attention back to the machine and praying it would brew faster. “Nothing,” you said finally, though your tone was anything but convincing.  

He stepped further into the kitchenette, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to spook you. “Is it the early morning? Or... could it be that you’re stuck sharing a suite with me?”  

You froze, clutching the edge of the counter. His voice held that teasing lilt you’d come to associate with him, but there was something softer underneath it, something that made your stomach flip in a way you were trying very hard to ignore.  

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your tone made it sound like you were anything but.  

Pedro chuckled, and the sound was low and warm, filling the small space between you. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”  

You turned to face him, your heart thudding in your chest. He was standing closer now, his dark eyes studying you with a mix of amusement and something else—something you couldn’t quite name.  

“I just—” you started, but the words stuck in your throat. How were you supposed to tell him that sharing a suite with him, waking up next to him, was a level of surreal you weren’t prepared for? That he wasn’t just Pedro to you; he was Pedro Pascal, your literal celebrity crush and the man who’d unintentionally been making your life both thrilling and impossibly complicated?  

“I’m just trying not to embarrass myself,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Pedro’s grin softened into something gentler, something almost fond. “You’re doing fine,” he said simply.  

Before you could respond, the coffee machine beeped, signaling it was done. You practically lunged for the cup, desperate for something—anything—to do with your hands.  

Pedro didn’t push you further, but as you handed him a mug of coffee without meeting his gaze, he murmured, “For what it’s worth, I like having you around.”  

Your heart gave a traitorous little leap at his words, but you forced yourself to nod, mumbling a quiet “Thanks” before retreating back into your room to get ready.  

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY

The car ride to work was tense—at least for you. Pedro, of course, seemed completely unbothered, chatting with the driver and making the occasional attempt to draw you into the conversation. But all you could manage were one-word answers, your mind too busy overthinking everything about the morning.  

Once you arrived on set, you threw yourself into your work, doing your best to stay out of Pedro’s way. Which was easier said than done, considering he seemed to have made it his mission to seek you out every chance he got.  

“Hey, everything okay?” he’d ask in-between takes, his dark eyes scanning your face like he could read your thoughts.  

“Yep, totally fine,” you’d reply, before darting off to find something—anything—else to do.  

By lunchtime, you were exhausted. You slumped into a chair in the corner of the break area, picking at your food while scrolling aimlessly on your phone.  

“Who are you hiding from?” Daisy’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you. She plopped down in the chair across from you, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth as she gave you a curious look. “You’ve been acting weird all morning.”  

“No one,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly, because Daisy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  

“Oh, really?” she drawled, leaning forward with a knowing smirk. “Does this have anything to do with a certain actor you spent the night with?”  

Your face went hot, and you nearly choked on your drink. “I—what? No! It’s not like that!”  

Daisy’s smirk only grew. “Uh-huh. Sure. You’re just blushing like crazy for no reason.”  

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s complicated, okay?”  

“It doesn’t have to be,” Daisy said lightly, leaning back in her chair. “Pedro seems pretty into you, you know.”  

Your head shot up, your eyes wide. “What?”  

She shrugged, biting into another piece of fruit. “I’m just saying, he keeps looking at you like you hung the moon. It’s cute, really.”  

You shook your head, trying to brush off her words, but the flutter in your chest told you it wasn’t that simple.  

And as if on cue, Pedro walked into the break area, his gaze immediately landing on you. He smiled, that easy, disarming smile that made your knees weak, and started making his way over.  

“Oh my God,” you muttered under your breath, sinking lower into your chair.  

“Good luck,” Daisy whispered with a grin, grabbing her tray and leaving you alone just as Pedro reached your table.  

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and casual, as if he hadn’t just sent your heart into overdrive. “Mind if I join you?”  

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but all that came out was a soft, barely audible, “Sure.”  

Pedro sat down across from you, his eyes twinkling with that same unreadable expression that always made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.  

“So,” he said, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned forward slightly. “Why have you been avoiding me all day?”  

And just like that, your heart was racing again, because of course he noticed. Of course he did.  

Pedro’s question lingered in the air, heavy with curiosity and a touch of concern. He tilted his head slightly, watching you like he had all the time in the world to wait for your response. His fingers drummed idly against the table, a subtle rhythm that matched the uneven beat of your heart.  

“I… Um…” you stammered, feeling like your words were stuck somewhere in your throat.  

Pedro’s brow furrowed, and his expression softened. “Did I make you uncomfortable last night?” he asked, his voice quiet and laced with genuine worry. “I’m so sorry if I did—”  

“No, no,” you interrupted, your voice rushing out faster than your brain could keep up. You waved your hands slightly, as if trying to erase the idea entirely. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”  

You trailed off, feeling the weight of his gaze. Pedro didn’t push, didn’t fill the silence with reassurances or jokes like he usually did. He simply waited, his head still resting on his hand, his warm brown eyes encouraging you to keep going.  

Taking a deep breath, you clenched your hands together in your lap, as if grounding yourself. “I’m just… I can’t believe you really want me around,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like you actually want to be friends with me. It seems so…”  

��Unreal?” Pedro finished for you, his lips curving into a soft smile.  

You nodded, biting your lip. “Exactly. Unreal. I mean, you’re you—a ridiculously talented actor, charming, funny, and so... well, famous. And I’m just... me. I keep waiting for the moment you’ll realize I don’t belong in your world.”  

Pedro blinked at you, his expression flickering between surprise and something deeper—something that made your chest ache in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.  

He sat up straight, his hand reaching across the table, stopping just short of yours. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. “First of all, you’re not just anything. You’re smart, talented, funny as hell, and honestly, one of the most grounded people I’ve ever met. That’s a big deal in this industry, you know.”  

You looked up at him, startled by the earnestness in his tone. “Pedro…”  

“And second,” he continued, leaning a little closer, “I do want you around. Not because of some weird celebrity power imbalance or whatever you think this is. I want you around because you make my days better. You make me laugh. You make everything feel... lighter.”  

The lump in your throat grew, and you had to look away before your emotions spilled over completely. You focused on the half-eaten piece of fruit on your plate, blinking rapidly. “You don’t have to say that,” you murmured.  

“I’m not saying it because I have to,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”  

When you finally dared to meet his eyes again, you saw nothing but sincerity staring back at you. It was the kind of sincerity that made your carefully constructed walls feel like they were made of paper.  

“Okay,” you said finally, your voice soft but steady.  

Pedro smiled then—a real, heart-stopping smile that lit up his entire face. “Okay,” he echoed, sitting back in his chair with a satisfied nod.  

The tension between you eased, replaced by something warmer, something fragile but promising. And for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Pedro saw something in you worth sticking around for.  

“Now,” he said, breaking the moment with a playful grin, “can we please talk about how you were about to burn that coffee machine this morning? Because I have questions.”  

You groaned, rolling your eyes as he chuckled, the sound wrapping around you like a familiar melody. And just like that, the world felt a little less overwhelming, and Pedro felt a little more like home.  

The afternoon passed in a blur of tasks, and now, you found yourself walking toward the makeup trailer, your phone clutched tightly in your hand as you prepared to fetch Pedro for his next scene.  

You knocked lightly before stepping inside, the scent of hairspray and setting powder filling the air. Pedro was lounging in the makeup chair, eyes closed as Andrea Cracknell, the key hair and makeup supervisor, gave his hair a final tousle. Suzanne Harper, one of the main hair and makeup artists, was touching up the edges of his beard with careful precision.  

The warm glow of vanity bulbs cast a golden hue over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the soft crinkles near his eyes.  

Dara Hannon, the daily hair and makeup trainee, glanced up and grinned as you stepped in. “Ah, there’s our favorite ray of sunshine,” she said, setting down a brush. “You always look so put together. How do you do it?”  

You laughed, heat creeping up your neck. “Trust me, I don’t. I just hide it well.”  

“She doesn’t need to hide anything,” Pedro murmured, cracking one eye open. His voice was smooth, laced with something teasing but warm. “She’s effortlessly stunning.”  

You felt your brain short-circuit.  

From across the room, Samanta, one of the junior makeup artists, let out a low whistle. “Damn, Pedro. You don’t hold back, do you?”  

Chloë Pyne—one of the main team hair and makeup artists—smirked, tilting her head as she studied you. “He’s right, though. You have one of those naturally pretty faces. Like, the kind that doesn’t need much makeup.”  

Pedro hummed in agreement, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long. “See? Told you.”  

You waved them off, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Okay, okay—enough. I came to get you, not to hear you guys exaggerate.”  

Pedro grinned. “We’re not exaggerating. You just don’t take compliments well.”  

“I take them fine,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but him.  

He chuckled, stretching his arms as he stood from the chair, towering over you. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”  

Your stomach flipped, and you wanted to sink into the ground. “Pedro—”  

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Yes?”  

You huffed, turning on your heel. “Come on, you’re needed on set.”  

Pedro chuckled behind you, his footsteps light and easy as he followed. Just before you stepped out of the makeup trailer, his hand brushed against your arm—barely there, a whisper of contact—but it sent a ripple of heat up your spine. You swallowed hard, pretending not to notice, pretending your stomach wasn’t doing ridiculous little flips at the way his presence lingered so close behind you.  

By the time you reached the sound stage, the energy on set had shifted.  

“There she is!” Vanessa beamed the second she spotted you, setting her script down to stride over. “Finally. The only competent person around here.”  

You snorted. “I think that’s an insult to literally everyone else.”  

Vanessa grinned. “And yet, somehow, they’ll survive.”  

Before you could respond, Joseph and Ebon chimed in from where they were going over their lines.  

“Thank God, I thought Pedro kidnapped you,” Joseph teased, crossing his arms with a smirk. “We were about to send a search party.”  

Ebon shook his head. “Nah, he would’ve kept her hidden all day.” He gave Pedro a pointed look. “You’ve been hovering.”  

Pedro scoffed. “I don’t hover.”  

Vanessa snorted. “You so do.”  

You stood there, mouth opening and closing like a fish, unsure how to defend yourself—or Pedro, for that matter—when another familiar voice called out.  

“Ah, the prodigal assistant returns!”  

You turned to see Jess Hall, the first AD, grinning as he strolled over, script in hand. “Seriously, where have you been? I swear the set runs smoother when you’re around.”  

“I… I’ve been doing my job?” you offered weakly.  

Jess huffed a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, keep being humble, we love that.”  

Before you could protest, Matt—the director—walked up, arms crossed, surveying the growing crowd around you with an arched brow.  

“So…” he mused. “Am I missing something? Because the way everyone gravitates toward you makes me think you might actually be running this set.”  

You blinked. “Uh—no? I mean, I just… I don’t know, I just do my job like everyone else.”  

Matt squinted at you like he didn’t quite buy that, but he just hummed and glanced at Pedro. “You keeping her distracted, or is she keeping you distracted?”  

Pedro grinned. “Bit of both.”  

Your brain stalled.  

Matt shook his head, muttering something about actors before waving a hand. “Alright, let’s go, people. Back to work before I regret hiring all of you.”  

As the cast dispersed, Pedro leaned in, voice low, warm. “See? Told you everyone likes you.”  

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Pedro’s laughter rumbled beside you, rich and warm.  

“Why are you like this?” you muttered, voice muffled against your palms.  

He tilted his head, smirking. “Like what?”  

“You know what.”  

Pedro simply grinned, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, as if he wasn’t single-handedly unraveling your ability to function like a normal human being.  

There was a steady thrum in the air whenever he was close—something neither of you acknowledged but both of you felt. It was impossible not to.  

It crackled between you when you stood side by side, almost magnetic.  

And when your fingers brushed, even just for a second? Electric.  

You pulled your hand away as if burned, hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you tensed. But of course, he did. Pedro always noticed. His gaze flickered down to where your hands had been, amusement dancing in his dark eyes.  

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing. “Someone might think you like me or something.”  

You sucked in a sharp breath and, without thinking, smacked his arm.  

Pedro just laughed, dodging the second playful hit you aimed at him before finally relenting, his hands raised in surrender.  

“Alright, alright, I’ll behave,” he promised, though his smirk said otherwise.  

With a final glare, you turned and threw yourself into work, desperate for some sense of normalcy.  

The next few hours passed in a blur of controlled chaos—wardrobe changes, prop resets, last-minute adjustments. You did your job like clockwork, moving through set with practiced efficiency. Fetching cast members, tracking schedule updates, and ensuring things ran as smoothly as possible.  

Your friends worked nearby, their presence grounding you amidst the constant hum of production. But despite the familiarity of routine, you felt off-kilter.  

Every time you caught sight of Pedro—laughing with the cast, deep in conversation with Matt, even just sitting between takes, flipping through a script—your stomach did that thing.  

The stupid fluttery thing.  

By the time filming wrapped for the day, you were both exhausted and wired, your brain still buzzing with the day’s events.  

You found yourself huddled in a loose circle with some of the PAs and crew, all of you packing up while chatting, the easy rhythm of conversation filling the space.  

Daisy elbowed you playfully. “So, how’s your day been? You seemed a little… frazzled earlier.”  

You cleared your throat, focusing very intently on coiling a stray cable. “Just… tired.”  

Jordan snorted into his coffee. “You’re such a bad liar.” He raised a brow. “Let me guess—Pedro?”  

Your mouth opened, but no words came out.  

The entire group cackled.  

“Yeah, thought so.”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumbled, hugging your clipboard to your chest like it might somehow shield you from their knowing smirks.  

“Oh, sure,” Lucy drawled, her smirk downright devious. “It’s not like the man literally gravitates toward you every chance he gets.”  

“That’s just how he is!” you argued, feeling heat creep up your neck.  

Daisy hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure.”  

“You guys are insufferable.” You crossed your arms, trying and failing to suppress your flustered expression.  

Jordan held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. We’ll drop it. For now.”  

As the conversation flowed, the tension you’d been holding onto all day slowly unwound. Someone cracked a joke about a prop malfunction earlier, and you found yourself laughing, the sound blending into the hum of easy chatter around you.  

“Okay, but did you see the way the fake blood exploded everywhere?” Daisy wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes.  

Jordan shook his head, still grinning. “Poor props department. That cleanup looked brutal.”  

Lucy snickered. “I swear, Matt almost had a stroke.”  

You smiled, the stress of the day fading into the background. It was moments like this that made the long hours worth it—these small pockets of joy, of shared experiences.  

Then, like clockwork, he entered the periphery of your awareness.  

Pedro’s laughter rang out from somewhere behind you, low and familiar. The sound curled through your chest like a flickering ember, and before you could stop yourself, you turned slightly—just enough to catch sight of him.  

He was leaning against one of the equipment carts, deep in conversation with Matt, a lopsided smile playing on his lips. But then, as if he could sense you looking, his gaze flicked up—searching, landing squarely on you.  

And suddenly, it was just the two of you.  

Your breath hitched.  

Pedro’s smile softened, his eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners. He lifted a brow, like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.  

You tore your gaze away, your face burning, heart hammering against your ribs.  

“Yup. She’s gone,” Jordan muttered, loud enough for only the group to hear.  

You smacked his arm. “Shut up.”  

Daisy cackled. “Oh my God, you’re so screwed.”  

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands as the laughter around you grew.  

Maybe you were screwed.  

Because, try as you might to ignore it, that pull—the steady thrum of something unspoken, something undeniable—was getting harder and harder to resist.

You quickly said goodbye to your friends as they boarded the shuttle back to their hotel, the last remnants of laughter lingering in the air. The set had mostly cleared out, leaving only a few crew members finishing up and the cast slowly trickling out of their trailers. You tucked your arms around yourself, the night air cool against your skin as you waited for the others, your thoughts still buzzing from the day.  

Then—warm hands.  

A firm, sudden weight against your back.  

You barely had time to process it before you were lifted off the ground.  

A startled squeal left your lips as Pedro spun you effortlessly, laughter rumbling in his chest. “Gotcha,” he murmured near your ear, his voice thick with amusement.  

“Pedro!” you gasped, swatting at his hands, but you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that followed.  

He finally set you down, his arms still loosely around your shoulders, and when you turned to glare up at him, he had the audacity to grin—full, boyish, utterly unrepentant.  

“You didn’t even hear me coming,” he teased, giving your shoulders a playful squeeze before finally stepping back.  

“You ambushed me,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “I almost had a heart attack.”  

Pedro smirked. “I’d apologize, but your little scream was too cute.”  

Your face burned. “You’re insufferable.”  

Before he could respond, you heard stifled giggles from nearby.  

You glanced up just in time to spot Coco, Vanessa, Joseph, and Ebon approaching, all of them watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.  

“Oh, don’t stop on our account,” Vanessa quipped, smirking.  

Coco nudged Joseph with her elbow, grinning. “Are we interrupting something?”  

Pedro, ever the shameless one, just threw an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Not at all,” he said easily, then glanced down at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Unless you think we were?”  

You glared at him, resisting the urge to shove him away—because knowing him, he’d just make a bigger scene.  

Instead, you turned to the group, feigning exasperation. “Can someone please save me from him?”  

Ebon just laughed, shaking his head. “Nope. You’re on your own, kid.”  

Your stomach did an unfair little flip as Pedro pulled you closer, his warmth seeping into you despite the cool night air.  

And the worst part?  

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be saved.  

Pedro’s arm was still draped lazily around your shoulders, his body warm against yours, the scent of his cologne lingering—something woodsy, something undeniably him. You willed yourself to ignore the way your pulse picked up, to pretend your skin wasn’t tingling from the casual intimacy of it.  

Vanessa arched a brow, arms crossed as she watched the two of you with blatant amusement. “What are you doing just standing out here?” she asked, tilting her head. “You could’ve knocked at my trailer.”  

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath Pedro’s hold. “I, uh—” You cleared your throat. “I didn’t have your guys’ numbers, so I just thought I’d wait near the trailers.”  

Coco gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “You mean none of us thought to give you our numbers?” She turned to the others, looking genuinely offended. “What kind of monsters are we?”  

Ebon chuckled. “Okay, okay, let’s fix this.” He pulled out his phone and waggled it in front of you. “Give me your number, we’ll add you to the group chat.”  

You hesitated, suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed. You had kept a certain level of professional distance with the cast—sure, you’d exchanged pleasantries, worked alongside them, shared the occasional laugh—but this? Being included like this?  

Pedro, still pressed close, must have sensed your hesitation because he squeezed your shoulder lightly, his voice softer this time. “Told ya,” he murmured, just for you. “We like having you around.”  

Your chest tightened.  

Before you could overthink it, you rattled off your number, and within seconds, your phone buzzed with a message from an unfamiliar group chat.  

Coco grinned. “Welcome to the chaos.”  

Joseph laughed, shaking his head. “You have no idea what you just signed up for.”  

You looked down at your phone, at the flood of messages already rolling in—Vanessa sending a series of emojis, Ebon dropping a meme, Pedro sending a voice note that was probably nonsense.  

A warmth spread through you.  

Maybe you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to be saved.  

But you were sure of one thing.  

You didn’t mind being pulled deeper into this.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

Turns out, everyone was exhausted. Some opted for room service, others had plans to meet up with friends in the city. The once lively group slowly dwindled, leaving you and Pedro lingering near the car.

Without a word, he reached for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder like it was second nature.

You blinked up at him. “Pedro—”

“I got it,” he said easily, already heading toward the car.

You huffed but didn’t argue, too tired to put up much of a fight.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, the streets of London painted in golden hues from the setting sun. Pedro, ever so casually, turned to you.

“Do you wanna go out for dinner?” he asked. “Or we could just order room service.”

You shrugged, watching the buildings blur past the window. “I don’t mind either way. It’s up to you.”

Pedro hummed as if considering his options, but he didn’t push for an answer right away.

When you arrived at the hotel, the two of you walked through the dimly lit hallway to your floor. The plush carpet muffled your steps, the air between you thick with something unspoken—comfortable, warm, charged.

At your door, you kicked off your shoes, swapping them for the soft hotel slippers. Pedro did the same, toeing off his boots before setting your bag down on the small table in the suite’s living area.

“You didn’t have to carry that, you know,” you told him, watching as he stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up slightly.

He smirked, that lazy, insufferably charming smirk. “I didn’t have to,” he echoed. “But I wanted to.”

Your stomach did a flip.

You swallowed, folding your arms as if that might steady you. “Well… thanks.”

He shot you a wink. “Anytime, cariño.”

After flipping through the room service menu, you both settled on an easy dinner—something warm and filling without the hassle of going out. Quickly calling the food service on the landline, the order was placed, and as you sank into the plush couch, stretching your legs, you sighed.  

"During the weekend, I’ll probably go grocery shopping," you mused aloud. "Ordering room service and eating out every day is going to burn through my savings if I keep this up." You glanced at Pedro. "So, I’ll stock up on food in the pantry if I’m still, y'know… here. In your suite."  

Pedro, who had been casually leaning against the armrest of the couch, stilled. His expression shifted from amused to something unreadable. "Why?" His brows furrowed. "Where are you going?"  

You blinked at him, confused for a second. "Uh… the front desk said they might have a room for me by next week, remember?"  

"Oh." His lips parted slightly, but he didn't say anything else.  

You watched the way his fingers tapped idly against his knee, as if the thought of you moving out hadn’t quite registered until now. There was something oddly endearing about the way his frown deepened. Like he didn’t like the idea of you not being here anymore.  

Before you could think too much about it, you cleared your throat, shifting the conversation. "Anyway," you said lightly, folding your arms over your chest, "you guys did great today on set."  

Pedro’s eyes flickered back to yours, and just like that, his easy grin returned.  

"Yeah?" He leaned in slightly, resting his forearm against the back of the couch, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Any specific compliments, or just a general ‘you guys did great’ kind of thing?"  

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at his teasing. "Oh, I definitely had specific compliments." You tapped your chin, pretending to think. "Vanessa was incredible, Joseph absolutely killed his scene, Ebon had amazing delivery—"  

Pedro gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Wow. So, I just… I don’t even make the list?"  

You bit back a laugh. "I mean… you were fine."  

"Fine?" he repeated, eyes narrowing playfully.  

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Serviceable. Passable. Not bad."  

Pedro let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back against the couch. "Unbelievable. Here I was, thinking you were my biggest fan."  

You giggled, nudging his knee with your foot. "You’ll survive."  

He peeked at you from beneath his lashes, a slow smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I guess I will."  

The warmth in his voice made your breath hitch. You quickly looked away, pretending to check your phone as the sound of the hotel staff knocking on the door saved you from whatever moment you’d just stumbled into.  

Pedro stood up to grab the food, but not before murmuring, just low enough for you to hear—  

"But it’d be a hell of a lot easier if you stuck around."  

And just like that, the butterflies were back.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — LATE NIGHT  

The scent of warm food filled the suite as you both settled onto the couch, the soft glow of the television flickering against the dimly lit room. Pedro had absentmindedly put on a movie, something familiar and easy to watch—though neither of you seemed particularly focused on it. The conversation flowed naturally between bites of food, soft laughter filling the quiet spaces in between.  

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Pedro asked, “So… no special someone waiting for you back home?”  

You froze mid-bite, your fork hovering near your lips. It wasn’t the question itself that threw you off—it was the way he asked it. Casual, like it was just another topic of conversation, but there was something in his voice. A quiet curiosity. A weight that made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed and shook your head. “Nope,” you said simply. “It’s just me.”  

Pedro hummed, nodding slowly as he chewed. “Huh.”  

You raised an eyebrow, setting your plate down on the coffee table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  

He smirked, tilting his head toward you. “Nothing. Just surprised.”  

You scoffed. “Surprised how?”  

He took his time answering, setting his own plate aside before stretching his arm along the back of the couch. His fingers drummed lightly against the cushion behind you, close enough that if you leaned back just a little, you’d brush against them.  

“I don’t know.” He exhaled, gaze flickering to the screen before finding you again. “You’re funny, smart, kind—"  

Your eyes narrowed. “Sounds like you’re about to say something insulting.”  

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I was gonna say, I just don’t get how someone like you is single.”  

A warmth crept up your neck, and you quickly picked up your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering right away. Your heartbeat thrummed a little too fast, a little too loud.  

“I don’t know,” you murmured finally, voice quieter now. “Relationships just… never worked out for me, I guess.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, his usual playful expression softening. He didn’t push, didn’t ask for more. Instead, he just nodded, accepting your answer without prying.  

And then—because the air was starting to feel too heavy—you smirked. “What about you? No special someone waiting for you?”  

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Nah. It’s just me, too.”  

Your lips twitched. “Well, that is surprising.”  

Pedro groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “Oh, come on—”  

You laughed, nudging his leg with your foot. “I’m just saying! You’re charming, talented, kind of a big deal—”  

“Kind of?” He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense.  

You grinned. “Kind of.”  

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath about how unbelievable you were, but there was a smile playing at his lips.  

And just like that, the weight in the air lightened again, the conversation slipping back into something easy. The movie played on, mostly forgotten, and the two of you sat there, side by side—closer than before, shoulders brushing every now and then.  

Neither of you moved away.

End Notes:

OOOOOHHHH?!?! Things are heating up??? Or maybe it’s literally nothing at all and it’s all in your head 😃✊

OOF— you might stop sharing the suite at the end of the week? Oh naur T^T

Thank you all for the lovely words and comments that ya’ll keep leaving on each chapter. It warms my heart and gives me fuzzy feelings that make me dizzy AAAAAAHHH

Mfs, I’m posting this while I’m outside at a club LOL

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