#fictional real life engines

[houseboatisland]

In the late 1920s, the Great Western Railway was paying close attention to its South Welsh coal traffic. A Pandora’s Box had been opened by the Great War; ten years after its end, the mining industry was still simultaneously roiled by labor strife and the new issue of competition from other countries who could sell their coal cheaper. Beyer-Peacock was contracted to draw and construct a small number of Garratts, (the GWR leadership was too conservative to build them themselves, although the blue collar rank of Swindon had been eager to try and distraught at being denied,) each of which would do the work of two eight-coupled heavy goods engines. This would cut down on crewing costs and beneficially not require alteration to the existing permanent way.

Six 2-8-0+0-8-2 Garratts were built in a single batch in 1933, hitting the rails just as demand for coal was cratering. Their introduction also meant the redundancy of a dozen or so 4200 Class tanks which already were under scrutiny due to market trends of the day. The Garratts, quickly named “Super Taffys,” were at first resented for their foreignness, but their comfortable cabs and smooth riding quickly won enginemen over.

They survived intact as a class until 1959 when withdrawals began, and never strayed much from their home turf. As a result, they drew trainspotters from the country over to South Wales. A much overpowered double-header Farewell Special was arranged in the summer of 1964, (which worked out beautifully as the class weren’t fitted to steam heat passenger stock,) and these two last survivors were sold right into preservation. This was for the best, not merely for posterity but because Woodham Brothers of Barry Island “couldn’t be buggered” with storing them had they gone for scrap.

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[cocobeanncteez]

Ateez Wooyoung — Between the Lines of Us

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut (mdni / 18+), Drama, non-idol au, university au

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x reader (f)

Word Count: 24k

Warnings/content: Mention of cheating (not by Y/N or Woo), jealous Wooyoung, alcohol consumption / bar + club scenes, arguments, sassy Wooyoung, miscommunication / lack of communication, trust issues, emotional scenes, dry humping, clit play, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex for a bit before using protection (don't risk it, use protection always), multiple orgasms, sorry if I missed anything else! Please note that other than Ateez, all other names used here are fictional.

Engineering had a way of chewing you up and spitting you out, leaving behind a weird mix of pride and exhaustion. Senior year was supposed to be the calm before the storm of real life—at least, that’s what everyone told you. “Your hardest classes are behind you,” they’d said. And technically, they were right. But no one warned you about the infamous one-year course known as Senior Design.

You stared at the whiteboard in your team’s lab space, the markers bleeding dry from overuse. A timeline of deadlines and half-finished ideas mocked you from the board. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt ahead.

Being a biomedical engineering student at Ateez University had always felt like wearing a badge of honor. It still did, but lately, that badge felt heavier than ever. Between your part-time job at one of the dining halls, your Senior Design project, and keeping up with life outside of school, you were running on low energy and low motivation.

And then there was your… situationship, Jung Wooyoung.

You met Wooyoung about five months ago at a bar while celebrating your bestfriend’s birthday. It was the middle of summer, and the night hummed with warm air and the kind of energy that only comes when you’ve got nothing urgent hanging over your head.

Chaerin, your best friend and unofficial social coordinator, had chosen one of the trendiest bars in the city for her celebration, and needless to say, it was incredibly packed. The music thumped in your chest, the faint scent of citrusy cocktails and spilled beer mixing in the air. Chaerin had gone off to play darts with a couple of your friends, leaving you at the bar with a drink in hand, effortlessly chatting up the bartender about his favorite local spots.

That’s when Wooyoung slid into the empty seat beside you.

“Do you always charm strangers this easily, or is it just bartenders?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You glanced at him, your eyebrows raised. He had an easy grin, the kind that said he was used to making people laugh, and eyes that sparkled like he was already planning his next joke. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most attractive man you’d ever seen around here.

“Only the ones who give me free drinks,” you shot back smoothly, smirking when the bartender snorted at your response.

Wooyoung chuckled, resting an elbow on the bar table surface. “Fair enough. But if you’re looking for free drinks, you might be wasting your time here. I’m much better at drinking them than paying for them.”

“Oh, good,” you quipped. “I was worried you might actually be useful.”

His laugh came louder this time, and before you knew it, the two of you were deep in conversation. He told you he was a Computer Science major at the same university as you and he’d just wrapped up an internship at a local tech company and was enjoying a brief break before his co-op started in the fall. You matched his energy effortlessly, sharing stories about your summer adventures and making him laugh so hard at one point that he nearly spilled his drink.

By the end of the night, Chaerin was tugging you toward the dance floor, and Wooyoung was scribbling his number on a napkin with a dramatic flourish. “In case you ever get bored of charming bartenders,” he said, slipping it into your hand with a wink.

The next day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment, the napkin still sitting on your kitchen counter. You’d told yourself you weren’t going to text him. He was funny and definitely, well… hot, but he also seemed like the kind of guy who knew exactly how to get people to like him. You weren’t sure if he was just playing around with you, and you weren’t one to waste your time on boys.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d grinned when you fired a sarcastic line back at him, or how easily he’d kept up with your humor. Against your better judgment, you picked up your phone.

You: Hey, it’s Y/N, the one who’s apparently too good for bartenders. Hope you didn’t get kicked out of the bar for spilling your drink

His reply came almost immediately.

Wooyoung: Kicked out? Please. I was the highlight of the night. But glad to see you haven’t forgotten me yet

You: Hard to forget someone who almost ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes

Wooyoung: What can I say? I always make an impression

One text turned into two, then ten, and before you knew it, you were swapping jokes and stories like you’d known each other for years. Two weeks later, you subtly dropped hints that you were going to a popular club near campus, hoping he’d show up.

The bar was alive with energy, music thumping through the walls as groups of friends and strangers laughed and danced under dim, colorful lights. You walked in with Chaerin, ready for the night.

It didn’t take long for Chaerin to spot someone she knew, dragging you along to meet them. While she chatted with her friend, you excused yourself to grab a drink. As you approached the bar, a familiar voice called out over the crowd.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Wooyoung, leaning casually against the bar with that ever-present smirk. He looked effortlessly good, dressed in a fitted black shirt that rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his forearms. His hair was slightly messy, like he hadn’t planned to show up but somehow still managed to look perfect.

“Wooyoung,” you said, feigning surprise but already feeling your pulse quicken. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah? Or did you secretly hope I’d be here?” His smirk deepened as he pushed off the bar and stepped closer, just enough to invade your space without being overbearing. Of course you hoped he’d be here.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “In your dreams, Woo.”

“Ah, but dreams come true sometimes,” he quipped, leaning against the bar again. “What are you going to drink?”

“Whatever’s strong and cheap,” you replied with a laugh.

“Cheap?” He shook his head in mock disapproval. “You deserve better than that. I’ve got this one.” He signaled the bartender, ordering something with a sly confidence that told you it’d probably be delicious—and a little dangerous.

You leaned your back against the bar, facing him. “Big spender tonight, huh? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just… saw someone worth treating,” he said, his voice low but loud enough for you to catch over the music. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded, the beat of the music syncing with the thrum of your heartbeat.

The bartender handed over two drinks, and Wooyoung slid one toward you. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against yours. “To… unexpected meetings.”

“To unexpected meetings,” you said, like as if you hadn’t dropped subtle hints of your whereabouts for the night. The drink was smooth, sweet but with a bite that lingered on your tongue—just like him.

As the alcohol worked its way through your system, you found yourself laughing more, leaning in closer to hear him over the noise. He leaned in too, his voice brushing your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The space between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

The music shifted, a sultry bass-heavy track taking over, and Wooyoung straightened, holding out a hand. “Dance with me?”

You hesitated for only a second before setting your drink down. “Why not?”

The dance floor was packed, bodies moving to the rhythm, the lights flickering in time with the music. Wooyoung pulled you into the crowd, his hand firm but gentle on your waist. The space between you disappeared as you began to move together, your bodies naturally finding the same rhythm.

His hands lingered on your hips, guiding you closer, his touch deliberate but teasing. You met his gaze, and for a moment, the air between you thickened. His lips curved into a wicked smile, and before you could overthink it, he leaned in, carefully watching your expression to see any hesitation.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he murmured in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin.

You pulled away to look at him. “Have I ever told you that you do too?” This time, you leaned in, brushing your lips on his lightly, testing the waters. But the moment he responded, it deepened. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him, and your fingers found their way into his hair. The music pulsed around you, but it was distant compared to the pounding of your heart.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the haze of the music and the heat between you. When you finally pulled back, realizing that things were getting hot and heavy and you were still in a public setting, his eyes were dark, searching yours.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice rough and low.

You smirked, still catching your breath. “My place or yours?”

Presently, Wooyoung somehow managed to juggle his co-op, his friendships, and his relentless optimism without breaking a sweat. While you were pouring coffee at midnight twice a week for fellow college students at your job, he was asleep. While he was debugging code at a sleek office desk in the morning, you were asleep. While you were buried in your senior design work and other classes, Wooyoung was busy at his co-op or catching up with his friends. He was supposed to graduate a semester early, but he got this co-op last minute, so he decided to push his graduation to the next semester. He liked it better this way as you and most of his friends were graduating during the spring. His co-op was a 20-minute drive away from campus, so he was glad he didn't have to go through the trouble of finding another place to stay and subleasing his apartment for the semester.

You were proud of him—you really were. But the cracks in your schedules meant seeing each other less and less. The only time the two of you could actually spend some quality time together was on the weekends.

It was late on a Friday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your small one-bedroom apartment. The apartment was quiet except for the low murmur of the TV, where an old rom-com played in the background. Wooyoung sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, his laptop open as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for hours,” you said softly, reaching out to run a hand through his silky black hair that he’s been growing out. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

He turned his back to look at you, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Of work? Constantly. Of being awesome? Never.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, appreciating the glimmer of his usual charm. “What are you working on this time?”

“Just polishing some scripts for a demo on Monday,” he said, his voice tinged with focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

Nodding, you left him to it, but the silence between you felt heavier than it used to. Late nights like this had become routine—him buried in his co-op responsibilities, you juggling your courses and your part-time job. Time together had dwindled to brief moments like this, where the companionship was comforting but fleeting.

After a few more minutes, Wooyoung finally shut his laptop with a decisive click and turned to face you. “Hey Y/N? So… I’ve got something to tell you.”

The seriousness in his tone made you sit up a little straighter. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to Busan next week,” he said, his words careful but casual.

“Busan?” you repeated, curiosity flickering across your face. “For work?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s this company event—networking, panels, that sort of thing. I wasn’t expecting to go since it’s mostly for full-time employees, but they extended the invite to co-ops too.”

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. “That’s great, Woo. It sounds like a big deal.”

“It is,” he admitted, though his smile didn’t quite match the excitement in his words. “But it’s over the weekend.”

Your heart sank a little at that. Weekends were precious, the only time you both had to really reconnect amidst the chaos of your schedules. Still, you refused to let the disappointment show.

“Well, you should go,” you said sincerely. “It’s a good opportunity, and you’ve worked hard for this.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened, a small crease forming between his brows. “I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.”

Your relationship with Wooyoung was… straightforward and complicated at the same time. The two of you weren’t dating, weren’t committed to each other, and yet things between you both were exclusive. Your friends referred to him as your “boyfriend,” claiming that’s how he acts. Honestly? You’d be lying if you said you didn’t act like a girlfriend too. There was just no tag for this relationship. Wooyoung only briefly mentioned one time that he doesn’t do relationships but also doesn’t like to fuck around. But feelings? He never really said anything about it. Were you FWBs? Were you… well, let’s just say it’s complicated.

His offer caught you off guard, and you laughed lightly, though your tone was gentle. “That’s sweet, but you know I can’t. I’ve got Senior Design deadlines next week, and one of my teammates is already slacking. If I disappear for three days, I’ll come back to double the workload.”

He nodded slowly, though his smile faded at the mention of your project, knowing how stressed you can get over it. “Who’s the teammate giving you trouble?”

“His name is Minhyuk, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, “Yongha and I have been picking up the slack for him.” You noticed the way his posture stiffened. “Jina is doing fine too, but she’s taking so any credits and has three hard classes, so we offered to ease her load a bit.”

Wooyoung’s expression relaxed slightly, but the way his jaw tightened when you mentioned Yongha didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Lee Yongha, right?” he asked after a moment, his tone light but probing.

You raised an eyebrow slightly. Your university was huge in terms of the number of enrolled students, and you knew Yongha grew up in the other side of the country, so you wondered how Wooyoung knew of him. “Yeah. Do you know him?”

He shook his head quickly, though the flicker of unease in his eyes told a different story. “Not really. Just heard the name around, I guess.”

The shift in his mood was subtle but noticeable, and it lingered in the air even as he changed the subject by asking if you wanted to go to the mall with him tomorrow. You didn’t press him on it, but something about the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes left you wondering.

-x-x-x-

The weekdays came and went, and you found yourself in the thick of the chaos. Your team’s project was barely hanging by a thread, and Minhyuk’s lack of participation was only making things worse. Despite your best efforts to keep everything together, it felt like you were drowning in deadlines. On top of that, Wooyoung was gone to Busan for his company event, and the days felt longer without him.

Saturday morning, you found yourself in the library, headphones plugged in, buried in your laptop and scribbling notes. You could barely keep your eyes open, but there was no way you could afford to fall behind. Your phone buzzed, a message from Wooyoung lighting up the screen.

Woo: Hope you’re surviving the weekend without me

You smiled, a soft warmth spreading through you. You missed him, even if you hadn’t admitted it yet. After a few moments of deliberation, you replied:

You: Surviving… barely. But I’ve got enough caffeine in me to last until Monday. How’s Busan?

Woo: It’s great. The event’s been interesting. I met some cool people. Don’t drink too much coffee

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to ask him more about his trip, about his thoughts on the event, but you couldn’t stop thinking about your team, about the mess you were still trying to clean up.

You: I’ll try. I’ll be glad when you’re back!

You hit send and leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. The library was quiet, but it felt like the walls were closing in. The pressure was mounting, and all you wanted was a chance to breathe.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed again. You expected a simple reply from Wooyoung, but this time it was a voice message. You clicked on it, holding your breath as his familiar voice filled your ears.

"Hey, I just wanted to say, I know things are tough right now, and I’m sorry I can’t be there to help. But just remember, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got this. I believe in you. And if you ever need a distraction, I’m only a call away. I love—ah, um, the ocean here, I love the sea, yeah, I wish you could see it."

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. It was exactly what you needed to hear. There was something about the way he spoke, the confidence in his voice, that made you feel like everything would eventually work out. The end of it made you catch your breath, thinking he was going to tell you he loves you.

Your phone buzzed again, this time a text from him.

Woo: Take a break for me, okay? You’ve earned it. I’ll be back soon, and we can catch up

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart feeling a little lighter. As much as you had to focus on your work, you couldn’t ignore the fact that Wooyoung had a way of making you feel like you weren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.

You were just about to stand up for a much-needed break when your phone buzzed on the table.

It was a message from the senior design team group chat. You quickly reached for your phone, and your eyes landed on Yongha’s name.

Yongha: Guys, I have AMAZING news!

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. With the project feeling like it was slowly spiraling, good news seemed like a distant dream. You tapped the message, intrigued.

Yongha: I just got off the call with the sensor supplier. They confirmed the prototype sensors we ordered will be ready ahead of schedule. We’re good to start testing next week if everything goes as planned!

A wide grin spread across your face. Ready ahead of schedule? That was huge. Testing next week? That was exactly what you needed to keep this project on track and show your professors the progress you were hoping for. For a moment, you let the excitement wash over you, imagining how the timeline would change.

You typed quickly, not wasting a second.

You: No way! That’s amazing! When can we start testing?

Yongha: Next week for sure. We might even have enough time to do a demo for the end of the semester. I’ll need you here to help with the setup. Can you come over to the lab later to go over everything?

Your heart skipped a beat. A demo? That was more than you expected. Things were looking up, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to feel the excitement.

You: A demo before the end of the semester? That’s incredible! Yeah, I’ll come later. Let me know what time works best

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you sent the message. This could be the breakthrough you’d been waiting for, the moment everything fell into place. After all the stress and late nights, things were finally moving forward.

But then your phone buzzed again, a message from your slacking teammate.

Minhyuk: Sorry, I’m behind on my part of the project. I’ll catch up soon

You stared at the screen for a moment, the smile slowly fading. Another excuse. It always seemed like it was the same thing, promises of catching up, but no action. You let out a frustrated breath and quickly closed the message. You didn’t have time to dwell on it right now.

You had to message Wooyoung about this though.

You: Good news! The sensors are ahead of schedule! We can start testing next week

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen. You really didn’t want to complain about Minhyuk, but you couldn’t keep everything bottled up.

You: But… Minhyuk is still slacking off

You pressed send and put your phone down for a moment, running a hand through your hair. You couldn’t let this bring you down now—not with the progress the team had made. You had to focus on the positives, on the opportunity ahead.

A minute later, your phone buzzed again with Wooyoung’s reply.

Wooyoung: I’m proud of you, seriously. But I get it. You’ve been pushing so hard. Take it one step at a time, okay? And if you need a break, just call me. I’m here for you

The words were simple, but they grounded you. You felt a little lighter, like you could breathe again. With the good news about the sensors, maybe there was a way forward after all.

You: You’re the best, Woo! I’m heading to my lab now

You grabbed your jacket and stood up, ready to head out to the lab.

As you walked across campus, the air felt crisp, and a quiet energy hummed through your steps. Campus was relatively calm as it’s a Saturday. Normally, you’d be half-dragging yourself through the day, but today felt different. Today, something good was happening. You couldn’t remember the last time the project felt like it was on the right track.

When you entered the lab, you were greeted by the familiar sound of the soft whir of machines, but the place was noticeably more organized than usual. Yongha was already there, pacing by one of the tables, a laptop open in front of him. He looked up as you walked in, his face breaking into a grin.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with enthusiasm, “Glad you could make it. I’ve got everything ready for us to go over the prototype designs.”

You smiled, nodding as you dropped your bag on a nearby counter. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’re telling me we’re actually getting these sensors ahead of schedule?” Your voice almost had a note of disbelief in it, but you were genuinely excited. It felt like you’d been waiting forever for a breakthrough, and now it was finally here.

Yongha laughed, clapping his hands together. “Yes, ahead of schedule. It’s almost like everything we’ve been working on is finally paying off. I mean, look at this!” He gestured to the sleek-looking box on the counter, a small screen and a set of wires connecting it to the main unit. You walked over to get a closer look.

“Is this the sensor prototype?” you asked, leaning in.

“Yep! This is the first iteration. It’s not perfect, but it's a start. The suppliers said they’ve managed to miniaturize everything, so it should be portable. We’ve got everything we need to start testing today.”

You ran your fingers over the surface of the device, inspecting it closely. It was smaller than you expected, much more compact. The potential was clear. A wave of excitement rushed through you again. This could be the thing that would make your project stand out.

You turned to Yongha, eyes bright. “So, what’s the plan? How do we get started with testing?”

Yongha gestured to the table, where several test tubes, samples, and the rest of the lab equipment were laid out. “First, we need to calibrate the sensor, make sure the readings are accurate. I’ve got some control samples here. We’ll run a few tests and make sure everything works before we try with real biological samples. I’ve already set up the software—just need to input the parameters for each test.”

You nodded, walking over to the table to take your place beside him. ��Sounds like a plan. Let’s get this show on the road.”

As you both dove into the work, the lab began to feel alive with purpose. You were no longer bogged down by the frustration of Minhyuk’s lack of effort. The pieces were finally falling into place. For the first time in a long while, everything felt like it was moving forward in the right direction.

As you calibrated the sensor, the rhythm of your work was interrupted by a soft buzz from your phone on the counter. You glanced over, seeing that it was another message from Wooyoung. You smiled briefly, thinking of him in Busan.

Wooyoung: How’s the lab going?

You quickly tapped out a response, not wanting to lose focus on the task at hand but appreciating his check-in.

You: It’s going great! The sensors are ahead of schedule. I’m at the lab with Yongha now, testing everything. Hopefully, we’ll have good results today!

After a beat, another message popped up.

Wooyoung: That’s awesome

You: Yup, I’m gonna get back to work now

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, refocusing on the task at hand. You and Yongha continued working through the calibration and fine-tuning of the sensor, running test after test. There were some hiccups along the way—a few misreadings here and there, a few software glitches—but with each iteration, it became clearer that the sensor was working exactly as it should. The readings were more accurate with each test, and the excitement in the lab built with every successful result.

By the time the afternoon stretched into the evening, you were both buzzing with energy. The data was promising. The prototype sensor was functioning very well. This could really be the breakthrough you needed.

“I think we’re ready for the real samples next week,” Yongha said, leaning back in his chair and wiping his brow. His voice carried a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “What do you think?”

You stepped back, surveying the lab table strewn with equipment and data printouts. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close—closer than you’d dared to hope. “Yeah,” you said, a grin spreading across your face. “I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Yongha chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re more patient than me. I’d start testing tonight if I could.”

You laughed. “That makes one of us. I’m ready to celebrate getting this far without setting something on fire.”

“Well, speaking of celebrations…” Yongha stretched his arms over his head and stood up. “I’m heading to that café down the street for a frappe before I call it a night. Want to join me? My treat.”

The mention of caffeine perked you up instantly. “A frappe sounds good, but I’m paying for my mocha cream bread,” you said, grabbing your bag.

“Deal,” Yongha said with a smile. “Let’s go before they sell out.”

The evening air was crisp as you and Yongha stepped out of the lab. The café wasn’t far, just a short walk down the cobblestone path lined with trees that rustled gently in the breeze. You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, glancing at Yongha.

“So, how are your other classes going?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Not too bad,” Yongha replied, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “Biomechanics is killing me, though. I can’t tell if it’s the material or the professor’s monotone voice.”

You laughed, nodding knowingly. “Dr. Kim? Yeah, he could make winning the lottery sound like a tax seminar. I survived his class last semester with copious amounts of caffeine and an unhealthy attachment to Quizlet.”

“That sounds about right,” he said with a grin. “How about you? What’s your least favorite class this semester?”

“Easy. Biostatistics,” you groaned. “I get the concept, but the actual analysis makes me want to curl up and cry. It’s like the numbers are personally attacking me.”

Yongha chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re handling Senior Design, work, and Biostatistics? You’re a masochist.”

“Or just really bad at prioritizing my sanity,” you joked, earning another laugh from him.

Before long, the café came into view, its cozy interior lit by soft, warm lights. The rich smell of coffee and freshly baked goods greeted you as you stepped inside. You both ordered—Yongha sticking to a frappe, while you opted for your favorite mocha cream bread and a white chocolate frappe. You found a small table near the window.

The conversation shifted as you sipped your drinks, veering between shared frustrations about classwork and lighthearted teasing about your group’s quirks. You were genuinely enjoying yourself—it wasn’t often that you got to talk to Yongha outside of project stress, and it was nice to connect on a more casual level.

Then the door swung open, and you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Wooyoung’s friends, Yeosang and San, walking in. Their laughter trailed off as they spotted you. They looked surprised, their gazes flickering between you and Yongha.

You’ve hung out with them a couple times and they were genuinely amazing people. You weren’t very close to them yet, but your friendship was blossoming. You knew Chaerin had a thing for San and planned to make a move on him soon.

“Yeosang! San!” you said, smiling. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Grabbing a bite after the gym,” Yeosang said, his tone light but his eyes curiously scanning the scene. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Ah, yes,” you gestured to Yongha. “This is my classmate and senior design teammate, Yongha.” He smirked, and you noticed San and Yeosang didn’t seem… impressed. “Yongha, these are my friends, San and Yeosang.”

Yongha nodded. “Pleasure to meet you.”

San raised an eyebrow, but there was a serious expression on his face. “Likewise.”

“Well, we should let you get back to it,” Yeosang said after a beat, nudging San. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

“Yeah, see you around,” San added, giving you a wink before following Yeosang to the counter.

As they moved away, Yongha exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Your friends are… interesting.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “They’re good guys. Don’t take it personally… I think they’re just exhausted from the gym.”

“I won’t,” Yongha said with a small smile, though his eyes followed the pair as they ordered their drinks.

You remembered how Wooyoung tensed up when you mentioned Yongha before. Taking a sip of your drink, you watched Yeosang and San grab a table on the other side of the caf��.

You didn’t really know what was going on, but you had a feeling that they all knew each other.

-x-x-x-

The open group floor of the library buzzed with life, a mix of chatter, the tapping of laptop keys, and the hiss of the nearby espresso machine filling the air. You sat cross-legged on a worn couch, sipping a frozen hot chocolate drink as Chaerin scrolled through her phone beside you. Siya perched on the armrest, her legs swinging slightly, her energy as vibrant as her orange blazer.

“I’m telling you, it’s perfect,” Siya said, holding her phone out to show a picture of the dress she’d been obsessing over. It was a sleek, floor-length black gown with a thigh-high slit and an intricate beaded neckline. “Isn’t it gorgeous? Classy but with just enough wow factor to make people remember me.”

Chaerin leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “It’s beautiful, but are you sure it’s appropriate for a business club event? The slit is a little… daring.”

“Exactly!” Siya beamed, clearly unbothered. “What better way to make an impression? I’ll be memorable and professional. Win-win.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Siya, you’re not making an impression; you’re making a statement. Don’t be surprised if someone asks you for a red carpet interview.”

“That’s the goal,” she said with a dramatic hair flip. “Honestly, we were going to call this event ‘The Business Ball’ but our club’s president didn’t like it. Besides, this event is less about stuffy networking and more about showing off and rubbing elbows with people who matter.”

“Who matter… like Song Mingi?” Chaerin teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Siya gasped, clutching her chest. “How dare you call me out like this! But, yes, I might want him to notice me. You don’t just let a tall, sexy man with a voice like that go unnoticed.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes, smirking. “If Mingi doesn’t notice you in that dress, he’s blind and not worth your time.”

“Exactly!” Siya pointed at you triumphantly. “See, Y/N gets it.”

Chaerin grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Fine, but if you end up stealing the spotlight from the guest speaker or get caught in an oops moment with that slit, don’t come crying to us.”

“I won’t!” Siya waved her hand dismissively. “I’m a professional. I know how to handle a slit.”

That sent the three of you into a fit of laughter, drawing a few curious glances from nearby students. You didn’t care—this was one of the few times you could let loose after a weekend of work and lab stress.

When the laughter died down, Siya sighed wistfully, looking at the dress on her phone again. “Anyway, I still need to buy it. It’s a bit expensive, but it’s worth it, right?”

“Totally,” Chaerin said, nudging her. “Think of it as an investment in your future—and your love life.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Just make sure you don’t outshine the actual event. We wouldn’t want the business club talking about your dress more than the keynote speaker.”

“Let them talk,” Siya said with a grin. “Isn’t that the whole point of black-tie events?”

Siya set her phone down and leaned forward, clasping her hands dramatically. “Okay, enough about me. What’s new with you two? Chaerin, have you figured out what to wear for your cousin’s wedding yet, or are you still pretending you’ll find something last minute?”

Chaerin groaned, dropping her head back against the couch. “Ugh, don’t remind me. My mom keeps sending me links to these over-the-top hanboks that make me look like a walking flower arrangement. I love her, but I’m not trying to outshine the bride.”

“Just go modern,” you suggested. “There are some stunning minimalist designs that would make your mom happy and still let you breathe.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chaerin retorted, poking your arm. “You’re not dealing with a family that’s convinced weddings are the Olympics of fashion.”

“Touché,” you said, grinning.

Siya smirked, nudging Chaerin. “You’re stressing for nothing. You could show up in a potato sack, and people would still talk about how good you look.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” Chaerin said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, what about you, Y/N? Anything exciting from your end?”

You hesitated, swirling the remains of your iced coffee. “Not much, honestly. Just the usual—Senior Design, work, and trying to stay sane.”

Chaerin raised an eyebrow. “No drama with your Jung Wooyoung situation? You both have been unusually quiet.”

Siya’s eyes lit up. “Girl, how are you surviving that? He’s fine as hell. If it were me, I’d catch feelings in, like, a week.”

“Oh she has feelings for him, that’s for sure,” Chaerin chipped in.

You laughed, but the mention of Wooyoung brought an odd flutter to your stomach. “It’s not that deep,” you said, brushing it off. “We both know what it is, and we’re keeping it casual.”

“Hmm,” Chaerin hummed, unconvinced. “And how’s that working out for you, really?”

“Honestly? It’s fine,” you said, leaning back. “We don’t get to hang out much because of his co-op and my schedule, so it’s not like we’re in each other’s faces all the time. It works.”

“Does it, though?” Siya pressed, tilting her head. “I mean, you’re cool with it now, but what happens when one of you starts wanting more? It’s been a couple of months already and y’all low-key act like a couple anyway.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I think we’re both too busy for that kind of drama.”

Chaerin exchanged a glance with Siya, who smirked knowingly but let the topic drop.

“Alright, if you say so,” Chaerin said, sitting up.

You glanced at the time on your phone and sighed. “Speaking of busy, I should probably head out. I’ve got a ton of work to do before lab tomorrow.”

Siya groaned dramatically, flopping against the couch. “You’re leaving us? Who am I supposed to talk to about my fashion emergencies?”

“You’ll survive,” you said with a grin, grabbing your bag. “And for the record, buy the dress. It’s a power move.”

Siya beamed, giving you a thumbs-up. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

Chaerin nudged you lightly as you stood. “Don’t work too hard, okay? And let us know if you need help with… well, anything.”

You hesitated, her words making you pause. For a second, you thought about telling them everything—about Yongha, the awkward café encounter and the way it seems like there’s some sort of history between the boys. But the thought of unpacking all of that now felt exhausting, and you weren’t even sure where to start.

“I will,” you said instead, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “See you both later.”

As you stepped out of the library, the cool evening air hit you, a welcome contrast to the stuffy warmth inside. The conversation about Wooyoung lingered in your mind as you walked, mingling with the memory of Yeosang and San’s frosty reception toward Yongha.

You shook your head, as if physically trying to dispel the thoughts. It wasn’t your problem, you reminded yourself. Whatever happened between them was their business, and you had more pressing things to focus on—like preparing for tomorrow’s lab session and making sure the project stayed on track.

When you got to your apartment, you were surprised to see Wooyoung leaning casually against your doorframe, his phone in hand. He looked up as you approached, a grin spreading across his face.

“Woo? What are you doing here on a Tuesday night?” you asked, punching in your passcode to unlock the door.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied smoothly, slipping his phone into his pocket.

You gave him a skeptical look as you pushed the door open, taking your shoes off. “Seriously. Did you lose a bet or something?”

He followed you inside without answering, kicking off his sneakers by the door. The moment you turned to close it, he was on you, pressing you gently but firmly against the wood.

“Woo, what—”

“I just had to see you,” he interrupted, his voice low and breath warm against your cheek. His hands rested on either side of you, caging you in but not making you feel trapped.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him see that. Instead, you smirked, sliding your arms around his neck. “Can’t wait three more days, can you?”

His laugh was soft and breathy, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, their usual mischief laced with something heavier. “Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone teasing but edged with sincerity.

You tilted your head, brushing your lips lightly along the side of his neck. “You’re lucky I don’t mind breaking my no-midweek-visits rule.” A rule you had in place solely because you had to get up quite early on Wednesdays and you would struggle if you didn’t sleep early due to certain… distractions.

“Lucky?” He let out a soft scoff, his lips curving into a smirk as he dipped his head closer. “I’d say I’m very lucky.”

Before you could retort, his mouth found yours, the kiss warm and demanding. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, as if daring him to show you exactly how much he’d missed you.

Wooyoung’s hands tightened on your waist as the kiss deepened, his body pressing against yours in a way that made it hard to think straight. His lips trailed along your jaw, down to your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

“Woo,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady despite the haze settling over your thoughts. “I thought you were busy with work this week.”

“I am,” he said between kisses, his voice a little breathless. “But I needed a break. And you.”

The bluntness of his words made your chest tighten, though you weren’t sure if it was because of how easily he said it or how much you liked hearing it.

You tugged lightly at his hair, making him look up at you with those dark, teasing eyes that always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He grinned, cocky as ever. “Impossible to resist?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands sliding up to frame your face. When the kiss broke, you rested your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. “You’re such a distraction,” you muttered, though there was no bite to your words.

“Good,” he said softly, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “You work too hard anyway.”

You couldn’t argue with that, but you also couldn’t let him think he could just show up and derail your week. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” you teased, poking his chest lightly.

“Or maybe you’re just always in a good mood when I’m around,” he shot back, smirking.

“Don’t push it,” you warned, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He stepped back reluctantly, giving you a little space. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave… for now.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Behave? That’s new for you.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, walking into your kitchen to grab something to drink. You took this opportunity to hang your jacket and freshen up a bit in the bathroom, changing into a new sleepwear set you ordered online.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the faint sizzle and savory aroma of something cooking drew you toward the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as you turned the corner, your breath hitching just slightly. There was Wooyoung, standing at your counter, sleeves rolled up—well, lack of sleeves entirely, as he’d taken off his hoodie and was now wearing a loose black tank top. The fabric hung low enough to hint at his toned chest, and his arms, lined with prominent veins, moved with practiced precision as he chopped up whatever vegetables he could find in your kitchen.

He didn’t notice you at first, focused on his task. His brow furrowed slightly as he tossed the freshly chopped vegetables into the sizzling pan with a flick of his wrist. The sound of the oil crackling filled the air, mixing with the scent of soy sauce and garlic. You stood there, watching him cook. You couldn’t help but blatantly check him out. You wanted to run your hands over his veiny arms and watch his abs harden while he’s fucking you, and— the sound of running water interrupted your thoughts. Wooyoung finished cooking what you were certain of was fried rice and was now washing his hands.

Mentally reminding yourself to pull it together, you walked into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” you asked, leaning casually against your small, 4-seater dining table, trying to appear unaffected.

Wooyoung looked over his shoulder while drying his hands with a towel. For a moment, you swore you saw his jaw tighten, like he was trying to hold something back. His eyes scanned you slowly, from head to toe, and you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering just a second too long on the way your sleepwear clung to your body. The shorts were undeniably short, and the crop top left a little too much exposed skin, but you didn’t expect his reaction to be this… intense.

The look in his eyes shifted, almost imperceptibly, as if he was battling with something inside. His fingers tightened on the towel, and you could see the slight twitch of his jaw as he tried to keep himself composed, his usual cocky smirk faltering for just a second.

Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung made his way towards you. He placed his hands on the dining table on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. “I think the question is what are you doing to me, Y/N?” he said in a low tone. You moved slightly to sit on the edge of the dining table.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said innocently, though your next action of pulling him closer by the waistband of his sweatpants was anything but innocent.

“I—fuck, Y/N. If you keep doing this to me,” his hand moved into your hair, gently grabbing it to tilt your head back to look at him, “I won’t be able to behave anymore.”

“Then don’t,” you said daringly, spreading your legs to give him the space to stand in between them. Wooyoung wasted no time in crashing his lips onto yours. Your hands were around his neck, trying to pull him even closer if that was even possible, while his hands were moving up and down the exposed skin of your thighs. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down your neck to the exposed skin of your chest before he came back up.

“May I?” he asked, his fingers at the hem of your top. You nod and try to take it off, but Wooyoung stops you. “Keep it on, it looks so good on you.” He pushes your top up only enough to free your boobs so that he could latch onto them. His tongue swirls around your nipple while his hand plays with your other boob, giving it a gentle massage. He switches sides and mimics his actions. Once he’s done, he trails kisses down to the waistband of your shorts and looks up at you for consent.

“On the dining table?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. Wooyoung smirks. “Dessert on the dining table, why not? Besides, you never use it anyway.” That was true since you always eat on your couch while watching something. “Now lean back and relax for me, sweetheart.”

You did as he said, and he slid your shorts along with your underwear down your legs. “So eager for me,” he states, noticing the wet stain on your panties before tossing it onto a chair. He gets down on his knees to be at eye level with your pussy, and moves your thighs to rest over his shoulders. He trails kisses along your inner thighs before reaching your heated core. Your hand moved into his hair and your body feels so warm. Wooyoung licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, letting out a small moan at your taste. He repeats his actions a couple of times before latching onto your clit, gently sucking the nub. You squirm, bucking your hips up. Wooyoung smirks, moving his arms around your thighs to hold you down in place so you couldn’t move.

“Woo… god, fuck,” you moan. He hums before lapping at your clit in a faster pace that had you gripping the sides of the table. He let go of one of your thighs to bring his hand to your hole, slipping a finger inside while continuing to lap at your clit. Your free thigh moved to squeeze his head once you felt the pressure building up in your lower abdomen. Wooyoung added another finger and pumped it in and out in a similar pace to the way he ate you out. “I… Woo, I’m—” Before you could finish your sentence, your orgasm crashed over you, rattling your body. Wooyoung slowed his pace while you rode out your high, savoring the taste of your cum on his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean before lifting you up, grabbing your clothes from the chair, walking to your bedroom.

Wooyoung set you down on your bed and took his tank top and pants off, leaving himself bare in front of you. He reached for the drawer on your nightstand, taking a condom from it. He set it aside as usual since you both went a little raw for a bit.

He pumps his hard cock in his hand before running it along your wet folds to lubricate it. You whimper when the head of his dick rubs against your sensitive clit that was still pulsating from his previous actions. “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” he asks and you buck your hips, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“I want to ride you,” you say and Wooyoung felt like he would bust at your words.

He moved to lie down on your bed, and you straddle his lap. You reconnect your lips to his, kissing him in a heavy way, slipping your tongue in his mouth. He matches your pace while his hands move along the sides of your body, feeling every inch of your skin. Without breaking the kiss, you take his dick in your hand, aligning it with your hole before sinking all the way down. You moaned at the stretch and the mild sting you felt. You gave yourself some time to adjust, pulling away from the kiss. Wooyoung’s hair was disheveled and his lips were swollen, and he looked so, so sexy. You rolled your hips against his, placing your hands on the wall in front of you while you moved up and down his length, your warm walls squeezing his cock.

“Always so tight no matter how much I fuck you,” he comments, his hands grabbing your ass. “I’m gonna need that condom now, Y/N.”

You smirk, ignoring his words to move faster on him, teasing him dangerously the way he teases you. Wooyoung’s bites his lip, the thrill of letting you him raw brings goosebumps to his skin every single time. But you had to get off him, and you quickly ripped the square packet, taking the circular item out, wasting no time in unrolling the condom onto his dick. You climbed back onto his lap and sank back down on his cock. This time, you placed your feet flat on the bed and bounced on his dick, your bed squeaking at the movement.

“F-fuck Y/N,” Wooyoung moans, his hips bucking up to meet yours halfway, skin slapping hard against each other. He reached between your legs to rub your clit in circular motions while you slammed down hard on his dick, chasing your orgasm.

“Woo, you feel so fucking good.” Your core tightened and you let go, moaning loudly while letting yet another orgasm wash over you.

“Almost there,” Wooyoung groans, fucking up into you faster before coming to a still, spilling inside the condom in you. You felt his dick pulse with every load he shot, and you slumped down against his chest, breathing heavily. He kissed your forehead, letting you lie down on his chest until you moved to get off him.

“You good there?” he asks and you hum in response, getting up to go pee and wash your hands. Wooyoung follows you to the bathroom to clean up and dispose the used condom before throwing his clothes on. He waited for you to get dressed before engulfing you in his arms.

“Let’s have dinner now, hmm?” he says, kissing your head before taking your hand in his, dragging you to the kitchen.

-x-x-x-

Chaerin’s apartment smelled faintly of vanilla candles and coffee, the cozy vibe a perfect contrast to the slightly chaotic retelling of your night with Wooyoung. You were curled up on her couch, legs tucked under you, while Chaerin sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from a steaming mug of tea.

“So, let me get this straight,” Chaerin began, her tone dripping with exasperation. “He shows up unannounced, cooks for you, fucks you, and then stays the night on a Tuesday? And you’re still not dating?”

You shrugged, twisting the edge of a throw pillow between your fingers. “It’s not like that. We’re just… having fun.”

“Having fun?” Chaerin repeated, raising an eyebrow so high it practically disappeared into her hairline. “That man is head over heels for you. And you’re just letting it slide because…?”

“Because we’re busy,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “He’s got his co-op. I’ve got my own stuff. Adding dating into the mix would be like asking for trouble.”

Chaerin gave you a pointed look, her tea forgotten on the coffee table. “Y/N, you’re literally living the plot of every rom-com ever. Boy likes girl, girl pretends it’s casual, drama ensues, and then—bam! You realize you’re in love with each other. Just skip the drama part and go straight to dating. Y’all already act like a couple, so I don’t see how things would be any different.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is, though!” Chaerin leaned forward, her enthusiasm contagious. “You already spend all your free time with him. He clearly adores you. What are you waiting for, a neon sign?”

Before you could argue, she shifted gears, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Speaking of signs, I made a move on San. I, um, waved at him at the east dining hall.”

You chuckled. “That’s it?”

Chaerin tossed a throw pillow at you, laughing when you barely dodged it. “Shut up! It’s not that easy, okay? San’s… intimidating.”

You raised a brow. “San? Intimidating? He’s like the human embodiment of a golden retriever.”

“Yeah, but a hot golden retriever,” Chaerin argued, her cheeks flushing. “Every time I see him, my brain just… short-circuits. It’s embarrassing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, sitting up straighter. “You’ve got to shoot your shot, Chaerin. What’s the worst thing that could happen? He says no? I doubt it though.”

She groaned, flopping onto the floor dramatically. “Why do you have to be so reasonable?”

“Because someone has to be,” you teased.

Chaerin propped herself up on her elbows, giving you a sly grin. “Fine, I’ll make a… stronger move on San if you admit that Wooyoung is more than just a hookup.”

You rolled your eyes, getting to your feet. “Not happening.”

“Then I guess we’re both cowards,” Chaerin called after you as you headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Guess so!” you shouted back, though your chest tightened a little at the thought of Wooyoung and everything he made you feel—feelings you weren’t quite ready to unpack just yet. You knew you had strong feelings for him, but you didn’t know if he felt the same and for now, you liked the way things were between the two of you, so why ruin it?

After spending an hour with Chaerin, you headed to the dining hall for your work shift. Then, you made your way to the engineering building, the familiar buzz of fluorescent lights and faint hum of lab equipment greeting you as you entered.

You glanced at your phone, checking the time. 6:06 PM—not bad. You weren’t expecting much from today’s meeting; it was supposed to be a quick check-in with the team to discuss next steps, but you were going to stay back for a while with Yongha to get some data collected.

As you approached the door of the lab, you noticed Jina walking in at the same time. She gave you a polite smile, clutching her laptop to her chest.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, holding the door open for you.

“Hey, Jina,” you replied, stepping inside, thanking her for holding the door for you.

Your eyes immediately landed on Yongha, who was already seated at the lab bench, scribbling notes in a notebook. His sleeves were rolled up, and his focus was so intense he didn’t even look up when you and Jina entered.

What surprised you, though, was seeing Minhyuk in the corner of the room, fiddling with a piece of equipment. It was a rare sight.

“Minhyuk?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He turned at the sound of his name, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Hey. Thought I’d show up for once.”

You exchanged a glance with Jina, both of you equally stunned. Minhyuk had been the notorious ghost of your team, always finding excuses to skip meetings or leave work undone. Seeing him here felt almost surreal.

“Did the universe shift while I was gone, or are you actually here to help?” Jina teased, setting her laptop down on the table beside Yongha.

Minhyuk laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I deserve that. But seriously, I’m here to pull my weight tonight. Promise.”

Yongha finally looked up from his notes, his expression unreadable as he glanced between you and Minhyuk. “Guess miracles do happen,” he said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled as you set up your laptop, the tension easing slightly. “Well, it’s good to have all hands on deck. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

As the team settled into work, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. With everyone present and seemingly motivated, maybe—just maybe—tonight would actually be productive.

The hum of the centrifuge joined the soft clatter of keyboards as everyone found their rhythm. It was almost unsettling how focused Minhyuk seemed, diligently taking notes and double-checking calculations with Jina. For once, it felt like a proper team effort.

Yongha stood by the biosensor prototype, carefully adjusting the settings on the connected monitor. He looked up, catching your gaze. “Hey, Y/N, can you double-check the calibration? I think we’re close, but I don’t want to risk any errors.”

You nodded, moving to stand beside him. The device gleamed under the lab’s fluorescent lights, the culmination of weeks of late nights and stress. “Sure. Let’s see.”

As you worked, Yongha leaned slightly closer, his focus entirely on the screen. “By the way,” he said softly, “I’m glad Minhyuk showed up, but I’ve got to admit, it’s a little suspicious.”

You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the screen. “Suspicious? Or are we just not used to seeing him do actual work?”

“Probably both,” Yongha replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Still, I’ll take what I can get.”

You hummed in response, working on adjusting the calibration.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, glancing at you as you adjusted the monitor. “How is it that you’re so good at this? Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Flattery won’t get you out of work, Yongha.”

He grinned, leaning just slightly into your space as if to check the monitor, though there wasn’t really a need. “Who says I’m trying to get out of work? I love being here. Or… maybe I just like watching you work.”

You paused, fingers hovering over the controls, your brain scrambling to process his words. Was he being serious, or was this just Yongha’s way of lightening the mood?

“Uh-huh,” you said, trying to sound unaffected. “Maybe you should focus on not breaking anything.”

He chuckled, his voice low enough to make your stomach flip. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare ruin your work.”

You smile, quickly shaking his words off, choosing to focus on the calibration instead of the sudden shift in his tone. It wasn’t the first time Yongha had been playful, but tonight it felt… different. You were his teammate in a couple of shared classes before and he never really said anything out of the ordinary. Maybe he was more comfortable with you now that you had to work with him for two whole semesters.

Once the calibration was complete, you stepped back. “Numbers look good. We’re ready for the test.”

“Nice work, as always,” he said, his voice softer now, almost private despite the others being in the room.

“Thanks,” you replied, not quite meeting his eyes. You could feel his gaze lingering, and it sent a weird feeling in your stomach. Not butterflies, no, but uneasiness. You hoped he was just being friendly today.

Jina and Minhyuk joined you at the bench, their chatter breaking the moment.

“Calibration’s done?” Jina asked.

“Yep,” you said, grateful for the distraction. “Let’s run the test.”

As the prototype whirred to life, everyone fell into their roles. Yongha stayed close by your side, occasionally brushing past you to adjust something. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable—except you noticed.

When the results appeared on the monitor, a wave of relief washed over the team.

“Detection’s on point,” Jina announced, her excitement evident. “We’re exactly where we need to be.”

“Finally,” Yongha said, glancing at you with a smile. “I’d say that calls for a small celebration.”

Minhyuk laughed. “If by celebration, you mean heading home to sleep, I’m all in.”

The group chuckled, and Jina clapped her hands together. “Let’s call it a night. We can fine-tune everything tomorrow.”

As you packed up, Yongha lingered nearby, helping you put away the equipment.

“Good work tonight,” he said, his tone softer now that the others were preoccupied.

“You too,” you replied, trying to keep things casual.

He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m glad we’re on the same team. Makes the late nights easier.”

Your breath caught, and you gave him a small smile, unsure how to respond without reading too much into his words.

“See you tomorrow, Yongha,” you said instead, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“See you, Y/N,” he replied, his eyes lingering on you as you walked out the door.

As you stepped into the cool night air, your mind raced. Was Yongha just being friendly, or was there something more to his words and lingering glances? You shook your head, brushing the thought aside. You didn’t have time to overthink this—not with everything else on your plate.

Your feet faltered when you noticed a familiar figure leaning casually against his car parked at the curb.

“Wooyoung?” you muttered, blinking in surprise, wondering what he was doing here. Was he waiting for you?

He straightened up as soon as he saw you, a grin spreading across his face while you walked up to him. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “How was your—”

“Y/N!”

The sound of Yongha’s voice made you turn, catching sight of him jogging toward you, a blue notebook in his hand.

Wooyoung immediately stood taller, his expression sharpening as his eyes landed on Yongha. You didn’t miss the way his posture shifted, suddenly alert.

“I forgot to give this to you,” Yongha said, stopping in front of you and holding out the notebook. “It’ll help with your part of the write-up for the paper. I made the notes… especially for you.” His tone was light, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze flicked briefly to Wooyoung, and you felt the tension between them before a single word was exchanged.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you said, accepting the notebook. You glanced between the two of them, the air growing heavier by the second. “You two know each other?”

“No,” Wooyoung replied coldly, his voice a stark contrast to the easy warmth he’d shown earlier.

Yongha chuckled, tilting his head slightly as if sizing him up. “Oh, but I believe I’ve seen you around. Jung Wooyoung, am I right?”

His cocky tone made Wooyoung’s jaw tighten, and you quickly stepped in. “Uh, Yongha, thanks again for the notes.”

Yongha didn’t move, his smirk deepening as he looked at you, though his eyes softened which Wooyoung immediately noticed. “How are you heading home, Y/N? I drove here, so I can drop you back if you’d like.”

Before you could even open your mouth, Wooyoung let out a low, dark chuckle that made your stomach flip. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with an unmistakable edge. He stepped closer, positioning himself between you and Yongha. “I’m here to take my girl home. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken challenge. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden tension crackling in the air and the way Wooyoung claimed you as his. Yongha’s smirk widened, clearly relishing the moment, while Wooyoung’s jaw tightened, his stance growing more assertive.

“Your girl?” Yongha repeated, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. He crossed his arms, the smirk never leaving his face. “Interesting. I don’t think she mentioned that during our late-night lab sessions.”

Wooyoung took a step forward, his posture calm but his eyes sharp. “Funny. I don’t think she mentioned you at all,” he shot back smoothly, his voice steady but tinged with a dangerous edge.

Your eyes darted between the two of them, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. “Okay, that’s enough,” you said firmly, stepping between them before things could escalate.

Yongha held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Y/N. I’m just making sure you’re taken care of.” His gaze flicked to Wooyoung one last time, his smirk fading into something more serious. “Guess I’ll see you in our lab tomorrow.”

He gave you a final glance before turning and walking away, leaving the tension thick in the air.

Once he was out of sight, you exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “What the fuck was that, Woo?”

Wooyoung turned to you, his expression softening slightly, though the irritation lingered in his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing, Y/N. What’s with him?”

“He’s just a teammate,” you said quickly. “We work together. That’s it. I’ve literally told you this before”

Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t waver. “He doesn’t look at you like it’s just it.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Woo, you can’t just show up out of nowhere, act territorial, and pick a fight with someone you don’t even know.”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “I wasn’t picking a fight. I just don’t like the way he talks to you.”

You tilted your head, giving him a pointed look. “And why do you care so much? We’re not—” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Dating, you wanted to say. And he knew that all too well.

His eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. “Because I do,” he said simply.

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, he let out a small sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

You hesitated but nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time to push the conversation further. As you got into his car, you couldn’t help but glance back toward the building, wondering what Yongha’s smirk and Wooyoung’s reaction really meant.

The silence in the car was deafening, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of your jacket as you adjusted uncomfortably in your seat. Wooyoung’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles faintly white under the dim glow of the dashboard lights. You wanted to say something, to break the heavy quiet between you, but every time you opened your mouth, the words died in your throat.

When he finally pulled into the parking lot of your apartment, he parked in one of the guest spots and pressed the button to turn the engine off. Neither of you moved right away.

You sighed. “Woo, we need to talk about—”

He unbuckled his seatbelt abruptly, the click echoing in the confined space, and turned toward you. Before you could say anything more, he leaned over, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was intense, urgent, as if he’d been holding back all night and couldn’t anymore. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as he poured everything into the way his lips moved against yours. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t hesitate to respond, your hands gripping his red hoodie as if to ground yourself.

His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, and you felt the heat radiating off him as his body leaned closer. The world outside the car faded, leaving only the sound of your quickened breaths and the electricity buzzing between you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths uneven. “I couldn’t wait,” he admitted, his voice low and gravelly.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “I can tell.”

A small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but the fire in his eyes remained. “He gets under my skin,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “The way he talks to you, the way he looks at you—”

“Woo,” you interrupted gently, your voice soft but firm. “It doesn’t matter. He’s just a teammate.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze searching, before nodding slightly. “I know, and I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. But I just… I needed him to know you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and though a part of you wanted to protest the possessiveness, another part couldn’t deny the thrill it gave you.

You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his again in a softer, lingering kiss. “Do you want to come inside?” you whispered against his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Lead the way, beautiful.”

-x-x-x-

Chaerin’s living room was cozy as always, with its mismatched throw pillows and faint scent of vanilla candles. You were curled up on the couch, nursing a cup of hot cocoa while Siya sprawled out dramatically on the rug. Chaerin sat cross-legged in her oversized armchair, scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

“So,” Siya began, her tone teasing and suspiciously triumphant. “Guess who got a ride home from Song Mingi last night?”

You and Chaerin turned to her at the same time. “No way,” Chaerin gasped, leaning forward.

“Details,” you demanded, pointing at her with mock seriousness.

Siya grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, we were at the business club event, right? We got all chatty and flirty and he offered to drive me home after. You know, all polite and gentlemanly.”

“Uh-huh,” Chaerin interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “Cut to the good part.”

Siya pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Fine. We started talking about music on the way back, and I wanted ice cream, so he took me to this place up the hill. He parked at a viewpoint, and we were sitting in the truck of his car. Next thing I know, we’re making out.”

“Making out?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Siya’s grin widened. “Okay, fine. He fucked me in his car.”

Chaerin clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did,” Siya said smugly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And let me tell you, Mingi is not shy once he’s into it.”

“Girl!” Chaerin exclaimed, half-scandalized, half-impressed. “In public?! In his car?”

“Well, I mean it was pretty late and there were no cars around and the area was dark too. No clothes were taken off though, ugh. He lifted my dress and pushed my thong aside. He’s got a big dick though as I expected.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “Okay, Siya wins this week’s tea spill, hands down.”

“Obviously,” Siya said with a wink. Then, her gaze flicked to you. “Speaking of tea, what’s going on with you? Anything juicy?”

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to last night: the tense encounter with Yongha and Wooyoung, followed by the way Wooyoung has kissed you in the parking lot.

“Y/N,” Chaerin prodded, leaning forward, sensing you did, in fact, have something to share. “Don’t make me beg.”

You sighed, setting your mug down. “Okay, fine. Something kind of… weird happened yesterday.”

Both girls straightened up immediately, their attention locked on you, a look of concern evident on their faces.

“So, I was leaving my lab, right? And guess who’s waiting outside for me—Wooyoung.”

“Wait, Wooyoung?” Chaerin interrupted, her eyebrows shooting up. “Since when does he wait for you?”

“Exactly,” you said, gesturing for emphasis. “It totally caught me off guard. But before I could even process it, Yongha called out to me.”

“Oh no,” Siya groaned, already sensing drama.

“Oh yes,” you said with a nod. “He came up to give me some notes for our project, but he was being all… flirty about it.”

“Flirty how?” Chaerin asked, narrowing her eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “You know, the usual. Saying he made the notes especially for me, smirking like he’s the king of the world.”

Siya whistled low. “Bold move. What did Wooyoung do?”

“That’s the best part,” you said, your lips twitching into a smile despite yourself. “He just steps in, all dark and broody, and says, ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m here to take my girl home.’”

Both girls gasped, Chaerin practically sliding out of her chair. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he did,” you confirmed.

“That’s… kind of hot,” Siya admitted, fanning herself dramatically.

Chaerin leaned forward, her eyes wide. “And? What happened next?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Honestly, I was worried they might start a physical fight. But Yongha backed off, and Wooyoung drove me home. End of story.”

“Yeah, right,” Chaerin said, crossing her arms. “We know you. There’s no way that was the end of it.”

You hesitated for a split second too long, and the knowing look they both gave you made your cheeks heat up.

“Spill,” they said in unison.

“I mean… he got kinda possessive and kissed me in his car. We had sex and he stayed the night again,” you said, your cheeks heating up and both the girls squealed loudly.

You leaned back into the couch, feeling the weight of your thoughts as you looked between Chaerin and Siya, trying to explain the unease you were feeling. “But girls… Something’s off,” you said, your voice quieter now, more serious. “It’s like... I don’t know how to put it, but everything’s been weird lately.”

Siya tilted her head, intrigued. “What do you mean ‘weird’?”

“Okay, so the other day, Yeosang and San were acting super weird when I introduced them to Yongha,” you started, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’ve never seen them act that way before. It was as if they knew him—like, knew him well—but they didn’t acknowledge it.” You leaned forward, your eyes scanning their faces for understanding. “And then Wooyoung? He... his reaction was weird too. It felt like he was trying to hide something, like he didn’t want me to get involved with Yongha.”

Chaerin raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so you think Wooyoung and the others know each other? Like, they’ve all met before?”

You nodded slowly, the confusion in your mind spilling out. “Yes! It’s like there’s some secret, and no one’s telling me. I mean, Yeosang and San were cold, but they were still polite. And then there was the way Wooyoung... I don’t know, he just shut down when I mentioned Yongha. Like, something snapped in him. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t want to push him.”

Siya’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, but that’s suspicious. Why wouldn’t they just tell you if they knew each other? It seems like they’re hiding something.”

“I don’t know. It’s like a weird tension between them,” you said, exhaling a frustrated breath. “And I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of something I don’t understand. It’s all so strange.”

Chaerin gave you a reassuring look. “Well, you’re right about one thing: something is definitely going on. They’re all acting like they’re trying to keep their distance from each other, but it’s clear that there’s history.” She tapped her chin, thinking. “But what if this is more than just them being weird around you? Maybe there’s something deeper there. Something... they don’t want you to know about.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I want to trust them, especially Wooyoung, but it’s hard when everyone’s acting like there’s something I’m not supposed to know. I’m caught in the middle of this... thing, and it’s driving me crazy. I have to work with Yongha for a couple more months until we graduate, so I really don’t want to be in this weird situation.”

Siya pursed her lips, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “If something’s off, there’s a reason for it. If Wooyoung’s keeping something from you, or if he’s acting shady, you need to find out what it is.”

Chaerin nodded in agreement, looking at you seriously. “But don’t stress yourself out. If you want to get to the bottom of this, you have to stay calm. Don’t let them pull you into something you don’t want to be part of.”

“I know,” you said softly, but the knot in your stomach remained. “It’s just... I’m starting to feel like I’m missing something big, and I’m not sure if I want to know what it is.” You looked at your friends, the weight of it all sinking in. “But I also feel like I don’t have a choice but to find out. How I will do that, I do not know… yet.”

After hanging out with the girls for a while, you decided to head to your lab instead of going home despite it being nearly 8PM. You weren’t expecting anyone else to be here so late, but as you turned the corner, you spotted Yongha, seated at one of the workbenches. His head was bent over a stack of papers, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, setting your bag down on the table across from him.

Yongha looked up, startled, but quickly composed himself. “Oh, hey. I could say the same to you.”

“I’ve completed my work for the day,” you admitted. “Figured I’d get a head start on next week’s data.”

He nodded, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then he spoke, his tone softer than usual. “About last night... I wanted to apologize.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Apologize?”

“For the way I acted. Outside the lab, with Jung Wooyoung.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “It was out of character for me, and it definitely wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just... lost my cool a bit.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Yongha wasn’t one to show vulnerability often, and the sincerity in his voice threw you off. “It’s fine,” you said slowly. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what was going on, but... it’s not a big deal.”

Yongha gave a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe not to you. But to me...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

You frowned, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Yongha, if there’s something bothering you, just say it.”

He hesitated again, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw some sort of worry flash through them. “It’s just... Are you two… you know…” He let the question hang in the air, his meaning clear.

You felt your face heat up. Honestly, you didn’t know what to say since Wooyoung preferred to keep his… situation with you strictly between his friends and yours. “Uh, we’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking,” you said quickly, though the words felt awkward on your tongue. “Why?”

Yongha’s lips quirked into a small, almost wistful smile. “No reason. I was just curious.” He leaned back again, crossing his arms. “He’s protective of you. I noticed that much.”

You shifted in your seat, unsure how to respond. “Wooyoung’s just... like that. He looks out for the people he cares about.”

“Hmm.” Yongha’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, grabbing his pen and pretending to focus on his notes. “Well, I’ll leave it at that. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Right,” you said, suddenly feeling the need to busy yourself with something. You pulled out your laptop and started typing, but your mind was racing.

You had your messages linked to your laptop, and a notification popped up from Wooyoung.

Woo: Are you home yet?

You: I’m at the lab

Woo: Oh. With Lee Yongha?

You: Yeah, he is here. Why?

Woo: No reason. I’m sure you’re having a great time.

You stared at the message on your laptop, the tone unmistakably sarcastic. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your stomach twisting. What was his problem?

You: What’s that supposed to mean?

The typing indicator popped up immediately, and then his response came through like a slap.

Woo: Nothing. Just seems like he’s got everything handled. Don’t let me interrupt your night.

You let out a sharp exhale, your jaw tightening as you reread the message. The passive-aggressive tone wasn’t like him—or maybe it was, but it was usually cloaked in humor. This wasn’t funny.

“Everything okay?”

Yongha’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him watching you, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. He had his hands tucked casually in his pockets, but there was an edge to his expression, like he was waiting for an opening.

“Yeah, all is well,” you muttered, locking your laptop.

Yongha tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Ah. Trouble in paradise?”

“There’s no paradise,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “And definitely no trouble.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his smirk widening. “He seems pretty bothered, though. Can’t imagine why.”

You glared at him, feeling your frustration bubbling over, mentally reminding yourself not to open your texting app on your laptop while he’s around again. “Why are you so interested?”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Just curious. He’s not usually the kind of guy who loses his cool. But then again...” He paused, stepping closer, his voice dropping slightly. “I can see why he might.”

You froze under the weight of his words, your heartbeat quickening. Was that a compliment? A challenge? You couldn’t tell, and it only made the tension in the room worse. The fact that he mentioned that Wooyoung wasn’t the type to lose his cool was enough to confirm your suspicion that they, in fact, knew each other and were pretending otherwise.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice quieter now, but firm.

Yongha stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. Just making an observation.”

You didn’t respond, turning your focus back to your notes in an attempt to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. After a moment, Yongha grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, pausing in the doorway, “I don’t think he’s mad at you. He’s mad at me.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the door swung shut behind him.

You stared at the closed door, your thoughts spinning. What did Yongha mean?

When you glanced back at your laptop, the last message from Wooyoung still sat there, burning into your mind.

No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you knew you currently were caught in the middle of it all. You decided to push your thoughts away for now while you walked back home.

When you got to the hallway outside your apartment, you spotted Wooyoung waiting, leaning against your door. He was dressed in business casual attire today and you knew he came straight from work. His arms were crossed, but his posture was stiff, his expression unreadable.

You sighed as you approached him. “Woo?”

“Just wanted to talk,” he said casually, but there was an edge to his voice.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it open for him to follow. He did, shutting it behind him, the click echoing in the silence.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you turned to face him. “Okay… talk.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the floor before meeting yours. “What’s going on with you and Yongha?”

You blinked, thrown by the question. “Seriously? We’ve been over this, Wooyoung. He’s my teammate. Nothing is going on.”

He scoffed, his jaw tightening. “You say that, but it’s like every time I turn around, you’re with him. At the lab, at the café...” Of course, Yeosang and San would tell him about the café. You were surprised he’s only bringing it up now when he clearly has an issue.

“Of course, I’m with him!” you shot back, exasperated. “We’re working on a project together. A project that will take a whole academic year. You knew this from the beginning!”

“And he’s making it more than that,” Wooyoung snapped, stepping closer. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re blind to it.”

“And what if I’m not?” you countered, your voice rising slightly. “Why does it matter to you? You’ve made it pretty damn clear we’re not together, so why do you care so much?”

He flinched at your words but recovered quickly, his frustration mounting. “You know why I care!”

“No, I don’t!” you said, the emotion bubbling over. “Because you keep dancing around it, Woo. You act like I belong to you, but you’re the one who set the rules. You’re the one who doesn’t want this to be anything more than... whatever this is!”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he processed your words. “You think I don’t want more?” he finally said, his voice low but heated.

“Then why aren’t we dating?” you demanded, your voice cracking, though you’re the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around in a rapid pace. “Why are we stuck in this limbo? If you care so much, if you want me the way you act like you do, then why won’t you just say it?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is that simple!” you fired back. “You’re just too much of a coward to admit what you want. Or maybe you don’t know what you want at all.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone dropping to a whisper.

“No, what’s not fair is you showing up at my door, acting possessive, and then refusing to give me anything real,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Woo.”

“You agreed to be with me like this, Y/N,” he muttered, taking slow steps towards you before resting his forehead against yours. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Wooyoung pulled away after a moment to look at you, his eyes softening slightly, but the anger was still there. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “Then stop. Stop confusing me. Stop... God, Woo, I know there’s some history between you and Yongha and you won’t come clean to me about it. You’re all acting like you don’t know each other and it’s tiring me out. Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

He didn’t move, his gaze locked on yours. “I can’t, Y/N.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But I don’t know how to... I don’t know how to… I would rather you not know. I don’t know what to do.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy and unsteady. You swallowed hard, your emotions swirling. “Then figure it out, Wooyoung,” you said softly. “Because I don’t want to be caught in this. I do not know what’s going on. I have to work with him for couple more months. Please… don’t make things difficult for me.”

You turned away, leaving him standing there in the middle of your apartment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Y/N,” he called after you, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop.

“Lock the door on your way out,” you said, disappearing into your bedroom, shutting the door.

And with that, the conversation was over, but the unresolved tension lingered, a storm waiting to break.

-x-x-x-

You didn’t hang out with Wooyoung over the weekend like you usually do. For the first time in months, you found yourself with nothing but your own company and an endless list of tasks you had no desire to complete. You went to work, cleaned your apartment twice, even reorganized your closet, and attempted to binge-watch a show, but your mind refused to focus. Every time your phone buzzed, you checked it instinctively, but it was never him.

By Sunday afternoon, you gave up pretending you didn’t care and texted Chaerin instead.

You: Free? I need to get out of this apartment

Chaerin: Always free for you babe. Lunch at the kimbap place near campus?

You: Sounds good, see you in 30

You arrived at the small restaurant, spotting Chaerin instantly. She waved you over, already halfway through an iced tea. “You look exhausted.”

You sighed, sliding into the seat across from her. “I am.”

She arched an eyebrow. “This is about Wooyoung, isn’t it?”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, what else can it be when you look like this?” she said, sipping her drink. “So, what happened?”

You told her about the argument, the frustration bubbling back to the surface as you recounted every word. Chaerin listened attentively, her expression growing more serious as you went on.

“And then he said he didn’t want to lose me,” you finished, slumping back in your chair. “But he still couldn’t give me a real answer. He said he doesn’t want me to know what’s up with him and Yongha, and he said he doesn’t know what to do. So I told him to figure it out.”

Chaerin shook her head. “Wow, that boy is a mess.”

“I know,” you said, exasperated. “But I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep thinking maybe I was too harsh, or maybe I should’ve pushed him more—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “You said what you needed to say, Y/N. He’s the one who needs to get his act together.”

You nodded, though her words did little to ease the ache in your chest.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, leaning forward.

“The plan?”

“Yeah,” Chaerin said. “Are you going to wait for him to figure it out, or are you moving on?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. The truth was you had feelings for him. You were in love with him. You wanted things to work out.

“I guess I’ll see what he does,” you said finally. “But I’m not putting my life on hold for him.”

“That’s my girl,” Chaerin said, raising her iced tea in a toast. You smiled faintly, but the knot in your stomach remained.

After lunch, you took the bus to Jina’s apartment to work with your team on one of the project reports. Jina lived in the same building as Wooyoung, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering if he was home right now and if you should go to his place after. A part of you wondered if that was a terrible idea, considering the fact that he hasn’t texted you at all since the argument.

When you reached the lobby of the building, you noticed Yongha had just arrived too. You greeted him while waiting for the elevator. “Hey, you’re here a lot earlier,” you said, remembering that he said he would be an hour late on the group chat.

“I got off my shift early,” he replied with a grin. “Did you see the graphs on the report? If Minhyuk mixes up the axes on one more graph, I might just lose it. I swear he’s trying to set a record for how fast he can make me question humanity.”

You laughed, a genuine belly laugh that echoed through the quiet lobby as you both stopped in front of the elevator. “It’s the way he does it so confidently that kills me,” you said between giggles. “Like, ‘Oh yeah, that Y-axis? Totally accurate.’”

Yongha joined in, chuckling softly. “At least it keeps things interesting. Who needs peace of mind when you can have chaos?”

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open—and your laughter abruptly died when you saw who was standing inside.

Wooyoung.

He was leaning casually against the elevator wall, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. His sharp eyes immediately landed on you and Yongha and his casual demeanor shifted ever so slightly, tension creeping into his stance.

“Y/N,” Wooyoung greeted, his voice calm but unmistakably cool.

You blinked in surprise. “Wooyoung?” Why haven’t you texted me at all, you wanted to ask, but remembered Yongha was here too.

“Hey,” Yongha chimed in, stepping into the elevator with you, his confidence undeterred. “Didn’t know we’d get the pleasure of running into you here.”

Wooyoung’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Life’s full of surprises.”

As the elevator began its ascent, Yongha leaned slightly toward you, his head tilting as his eyes zeroed in on your hair.

“Hold still,” he said softly.

“What?” you asked, confused, glancing at him as Wooyoung’s gaze sharpened.

Yongha reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your temple as he plucked something from your hair. His movements were deliberate, almost slow, as if savoring the moment.

“There was a leaf stuck,” Yongha explained with a small grin, holding it up for you to see.

“Oh,” you said and smoothed your hair reflexively. “Thanks.”

Wooyoung, who had been watching the exchange with a darkening expression, shifted his weight slightly, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“A leaf, huh?” Wooyoung said, his voice low and edged with sarcasm. “Good thing you were here to save the day.”

Yongha chuckled, clearly amused by the tension. “What can I say? I’m observant.”

The elevator dinged, signaling your floor, and you stepped out quickly, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Before the doors closed, you turned back to Wooyoung, who hadn’t moved from his spot. His dark eyes met yours, a storm brewing in his expression that sent an uneasy shiver down your spine.

“See you around,” he said, his tone clipped. The doors shut, and you exhaled slowly, the knot in your stomach tightening as you walked toward Jina’s apartment.

Yongha, however, seemed completely unaffected, his usual easygoing grin still in place. “That guy has quite the glare,” he commented casually.

You shot him a look, but he only laughed.

“Let’s just get to work,” you muttered, though your thoughts were already tangled in the intensity of Wooyoung’s gaze—and the unspoken tension that seemed to grow heavier with every passing moment.

-x-x-x-

5 days later

It was a typical Friday night, and you were more than ready to unwind. Chaerin, Siya, another friend named Maya, and you had decided to head to your favorite bar for a much-needed girls’ night. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was just the kind of distraction you needed from the stress of school and all the drama. Wooyoung had ignored your messages, and you honestly did not know what to do anymore. For now, you decided to focus on girls’ night.

Chaerin laughed as she raised her glass to make a toast. “To surviving the week and pretending we have it all together!”

Siya clinked her glass against yours. “To good times and great friends!”

You joined in with a grin, feeling the weight of the week start to lift as the alcohol started to take effect. You weren’t sure how much you’d had already, but you were definitely starting to feel more relaxed. You weren’t a lightweight drinker and sobered up pretty quick too. Sometimes, you hated it.

The night continued with music, laughter, and the comfortable camaraderie you’d come to expect with Chaerin, Siya, and Maya. You were enjoying yourself, letting go of the stress for a while—until you noticed a familiar face entering the bar.

San.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t unusual for people from your university to end up here. But then came Mingi, Yeosang, and Yunho, and finally, Wooyoung.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down. You hadn’t expected to run into him here tonight, especially not after everything that had happened the past week. You tried to look away, but your gaze was drawn back to him again.

“Y/N?” Chaerin called out before following your gaze. “Oh… Fuck, he looks so hot!”

“Who?” Maya asked following her gaze. “Oh Kang Yeosang? I agree.”

“I meant Choi San,” Chaerin said with a chuckle. “But well… I suppose all the men of their group are quite the eye candy.”

“And so are we!” Siya squeaks out, her face flushed pink from the alcohol. “Look at us, girls! We’re so sexy! We’re so stunning! We’re so smart! We’re so beautiful!” The three of you laughed at drunk Siya’s words, and you patted her head affectionately. “Hey! Could I get a chocolate martini?!” she called for the bartender.

“I’ll have one too, thank you,” you told the bartender who nodded and headed off to make your drinks. You decided not to turn back and look at Wooyoung, not wanting to ruin your night by feeling sad over the fact that he chose to ignore you.

But moments later after having yet another drink, you turned back to see where he was. You caught sight of the booth where the rest of the guys were, but Wooyoung wasn’t there. Your eyes scanned the area, trying to find him, but struggling due to the flashing-colored lights.

And then you saw him standing against a pillar… with a girl. She was leaning so close to him and from the angle where you were at, it appeared that she could be… kissing his neck? You watched them more carefully. It seemed like they were just talking.

“Uh oh. Double trouble,” Chaerin announced, catching your attention.

Before you could ask her what she meant, you heard someone call out your name. “Y/N!”

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart already sinking. Standing a few feet away, wearing his usual confident smirk, was Yongha. Flanking him were his two friends, Jaehyun and Taemoo who you’d briefly met once when they were waiting for Yongha outside one of your shared classes.

“Yongha?” you blurted.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, stepping closer with that familiar air of nonchalance. His eyes, however, scanned your face like he was trying to read your mood.

Jaehyun and Taemoo greeted your friends with easy smiles, and soon enough, introductions were exchanged. Chaerin immediately latched onto Jaehyun’s arm, chatting him up like they were old friends, but she was just sociable like that. Siya, meanwhile, was too occupied with her martini to pay much attention, but Maya caught Taemoo’s attention after recognizing that they were in the same major.

“Jung Wooyoung’s back with his ex again?” You heard Taemoo say to Jaehyun, causing the girls to glance at you. You didn’t react, though your stomach dropped. So that girl was his ex?

“Are you surprised?” Jaehyun said with a laugh. “Dude should move on. I can’t imagine running to the same girl that cheated on me thrice.”

You immediately glanced at Chaerin who looked at you. Wooyoung was cheated on thrice? If that’s true then why is he talking to his ex again?

Yongha kept his focus on you. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but still loud as the music was blasting.

You hesitated. It was clear he’d caught onto your distracted state, but you weren’t about to spill your emotions in the middle of a bar. “I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a small smile.

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn’t believe you, but he let it go. “Well, let me know if you need anything,” he said, leaning in just enough to make the gesture feel intimate.

Before you could respond, Chaerin called out, “Y/N, you have to come dance with us!”

You glanced back at Yongha, who gave you an easy shrug. “Go. Have fun.”

You allowed Chaerin to pull you toward the dance floor, but as you moved with the beat of the music with the girls, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in your chest. You tried to focus on the rhythm, the lights, the energy of the crowd, but your eyes kept drifting back to that pillar where Wooyoung had been.

He wasn’t there anymore. Neither was his ex.

Frustration and something sharper—jealousy, maybe—pricked at your thoughts. Was this really what you were to him? Someone he could ignore all week and then end up with another girl, his ex of all people, at the club?

Chaerin pulled you closer to her. “Can you come with me to the bathroom?” You nodded, letting Maya and Siya know you were headed there before Chaerin dragged you along. You waited in line, grateful that it was moving faster than you’d expected. Once you and Chaerin used the bathroom and washed your hands, she took a picture of both of you at the mirror.

“Let’s go take a shot before we hit the dancefloor again. Be a bad bitch, Y/N, come on,” she said, making you raise an eyebrow. “Wooyoung noticed you. I saw him looking at you and Yongha.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he probably thinks I’m here with Yongha. But… I can’t believe he was with his ex.”

Chaerin chuckled. “Well… take advantage of that. Make him jealous and he’s gonna come crawling to you. Besides, I saw that girl leave, so I take it that maybe she was trying to go after him again.”

You sighed, leaning against the bathroom wall for a moment, though Chaerin’s last sentence relieved you. “I don’t know if I want to play those games, Chaerin. He’s been ignoring me all week. What if it doesn’t even work? What if he doesn’t care?”

Chaerin gave you a pointed look as she fixed her lipstick in the mirror. “Oh, he cares. The way he was staring? Trust me, he cares, and let me tell you girl, that man has always had feelings for you. He just doesn’t want to admit it yet.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you hoped she was right. “Still. This whole thing feels... exhausting. I don’t know if I have it in me tonight.”

Chaerin put her hands on your shoulders and spun you to face her. “Y/N, look at me. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re fun. If Wooyoung can’t see that, then screw him. But trust me, he does see it. And if making him sweat a little gets him to step up, why not? Worst case, you have a good time, take some shots, and enjoy yourself with your girls.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “You always know how to hype me up.”

“Damn right I do,” she said with a grin. “Now come on, let’s grab that shot and show everyone—including Wooyoung—how bad bitches have fun.”

With renewed energy, you followed her out of the bathroom and back to the bar. Chaerin ordered two tequila shots, handing one to you with a wink. “To being the main character,” she said, raising her glass.

You clinked your shot glass against hers, downed the tequila in one go, and let the burn energize you.

As the two of you made your way back to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but glance around the bar. Your eyes automatically sought him out—and there he was. Wooyoung was back at the booth with the rest of his group, but his focus wasn’t on his friends.

It was on you.

You felt Chaerin nudge your arm. “Told you,” she whispered before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the crowd of people dancing.

The music pulsed around you, and for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to let go, swaying to the rhythm and matching Chaerin’s energy. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yongha and his friends near the bar, watching you with amused smiles.

And somewhere in the mix of lights, music, and glances, you realized Chaerin might’ve been right. Maybe it was time to make Wooyoung sweat.

Yongha was making his way toward you, the smoothness of his steps betraying his drunk state. His friends remained at the bar, chatting amongst themselves, but Yongha was solely focused on you.

Chaerin grinned, noticing his attention on you. “Looks like someone’s got their eyes on you,” she teased, nudging you playfully. “Let loose, my girl. Be the bad bitch you are. Show Wooyoung what he’s missing!”

You laughed loudly, running a hand through your hair while you danced to a remixed upbeat song that had the whole dance floor moving.

"Mind if I join you?" Yongha asked, his voice slightly slurred but still carrying that flirty edge that made you think he wasn’t exactly sober.

You raised an eyebrow, but with a playful smirk, you stepped closer to him, the music pumping louder as it filled the space between you two. "I suppose so." You were playing a dangerous game, but you had too much to drink and at this point, you did not give a fuck.

Yongha didn’t waste any time. His hands found your waist with a confidence that almost made you forget the tension earlier in the night. You let him guide your movements as the music shifted into a new song that had the crowd cheering, his grip firm yet gentle. You could feel the heat from his palms on the exposed skin of your waist. As you both moved together, his eyes never left yours. He pulled you in closer as you swayed together, and you were reminded of the way you had danced in this very club with Wooyoung before.

But amidst the heat of the moment, your eyes flicked to the side, catching sight of Wooyoung. He was standing in the same spot near the booth with his friends, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense. The slight furrow of his brows was all you needed to see to know he wasn’t happy. However, San looked incredibly amused and he leaned in to whisper something in Wooyoung’s ear.

Something shifted inside you, the cocktail of emotions from earlier mixing with the alcohol buzzing through your veins. You knew it was very petty, but in this moment, you didn’t care. You weren't about to let him have all the control over this situation. You weren’t going to be the one left wondering what could have been, while he played his little games.

Without breaking eye contact with Wooyoung, you dropped it down low, your body moving in sync with the rhythm of the music, your movements slow and deliberate as you bent at the waist, inching down to the floor. The look in Wooyoung’s eyes shifted immediately—surprise, anger, maybe even a flash of jealousy—but you didn’t look away.

Yongha’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you back up, and as you stood upright, you let your back press against his chest for a brief moment. The heat of his body against yours, combined with the thrill of making Wooyoung watch, sent a surge of adrenaline through you.

You let your gaze hold Wooyoung’s for just a few seconds longer before you finally broke away, returning your attention to Yongha, who was still grinning at you, clearly enjoying the game that was unfolding.

Wooyoung, though? He wasn’t smiling. The tight set of his jaw said it all.

As soon as the song finished, you excused yourself. “I’m going to get a drink upstairs,” you let Chaerin know. The club had a mezzanine floor that was a lot less crowded and didn’t have a dance floor.

“Good job out there, babe!” she drunkenly yelled, pulling you into a hug before you pushed through the crowd to make it upstairs.

You moved to where a window was open, and you relaxed when you felt the chill air hit your heated body. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heartbeat.

When you felt a presence behind you, you turned around, surprised to find that Wooyoung actually followed you upstairs. The white button up shirt he was wearing had most of the buttons unbuttoned, exposing his toned chest.

Wooyoung’s eyes flashed with something dark and unreadable as he stepped closer to you, making you take a step back, your back hitting the wall beside the window. The tension in the air thickened, and you could feel your pulse quicken, though you didn’t want to admit it. He stood inches from you, his presence overwhelming.

“What the hell were you doing with him?” Wooyoung’s voice was low, rough. The irritation, the jealousy, all bubbling to the surface now that he had you cornered. And yet you found it hot.

Hot that he definitely cared about you. Hot that there was a vein popping on the side of his neck from the clear anger he was feeling. Hot that his eyes were scanning your body the same way it does when he wants you.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the fire burning in your chest. “You’ve been ignoring me all week, and now you want to get all possessive?”

His lips curled into a tight smirk, but it was empty, edged with frustration. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Y/N. I was giving you space.” He emphasized the word, his eyes flicking over you. “But it looks like you moved on from me already, huh?”

You chuckled in an unamused tone. “Moved on? I could same the same about you, Wooyoung. Weren’t you chatting up another girl?”

“She means nothing to me,” he said quickly. “I don’t care about her.”

“She’s your ex girlfriend.”

His eyes darkened at the mention of her, and he stiffened, clearly not expecting you to know that much. “Oh, so I guess your precious little Yongha told you about her and I, hmm?”

You felt a sharp sting in your chest at the way Wooyoung said ‘your precious little Yongha.’ The bitterness in his voice, the way it rolled off his tongue, left you with a sour taste in your mouth. You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure, but your patience was running thin, and the anger was bubbling in your chest. “What, are you jealous now?”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched, but instead of answering you directly, he took a step closer, reducing the space between you two. “You wanna know why I’m pissed?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Because I can’t fucking stand seeing you with other guys. Especially him. Especially anyone who isn’t me.”

You froze, feeling your heartbeat skip. This was the first time he was being this... honest. Vulnerable, almost. But instead of giving you comfort, it made everything feel more complicated. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me, Wooyoung,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone.

Wooyoung sighed, his eyes darkening as he reached out to touch your arm, his fingers barely brushing your skin. “You think I want this? Think I wanted to let you go all week without talking? You think this is easy for me?”

You were about to respond, but the words got caught in your throat when Wooyoung stepped closer to you. His body was suddenly right in front of yours, invading your personal space, and all you could do was look up into his eyes, the fire in them burning bright. The heat between you two was palpable, thick enough that it made it hard to breathe.

“I’m not blind, Y/N,” he continued, his voice more intense now. “I saw the way you moved with him. You looked good together. Too good.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the possessive edge in his tone, but it only added to the frustration that was now boiling over inside you. You couldn’t help but feel the same anger—anger at yourself for letting him get under your skin, and anger at him for pushing you to this point.

“Stop making this about him,” you spat, stepping closer to him, your body finally reacting to the proximity. You jabbed your finger into his chest. “You’ve been acting like I’m nothing to you, and now suddenly, I’m supposed to be okay with—”

Wooyoung didn’t give you time to finish. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him, his lips crashing down on yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. For a moment, you froze, but it didn’t take long before you kissed him back, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him even closer. The kiss was hot, desperate, the frustration and the jealousy all pouring out into this one explosive moment.

He pulled away just long enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous, something you weren’t sure you could handle—but you didn’t care.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You shuddered at the intensity in his words, but you couldn’t deny it. You wanted him. You wanted all of it. “I do,” you breathed out. “I want you, Wooyoung. I only want you.”

A low growl escaped him, and before you could react, he pressed your back against the wall and his lips were back on yours. His hands were on your hips, pulling you into him, grinding against you in a way that made your pulse race.

The heat between you two was undeniable now, a wild, consuming thing that neither of you could fight. The tension, the unresolved anger, and the attraction all mixed together in a way that had your body aching for more.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, the friction between you making your head spin. The music in the club faded as you focused on the way Wooyoung kissed you with such urgency, such intensity.

But as much as you wanted this—wanted him—the words were still hanging in the air, thick with meaning.

He pulled away after a moment, setting you back down on your feet, holding you steady. “Why’d you pull away?” you whispered, your hands still tangled in his hair. “Why don’t you just tell me what this is, Wooyoung?”

He stopped for a moment, looking you dead in the eye. “Because I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what this means. I don’t know how to make this work between us, but God... I want you.” His voice cracked slightly, but the raw honesty made your heart skip a beat.

Your lips brushed against his again, more gently this time, but still charged with the same intensity. “Then stop overthinking it,” you whispered against his mouth. “Let’s just figure it out.”

“I can’t, Y/N. Not when you’re around him most of the time.” You stared at Wooyoung, his words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Your chest tightened, frustration flaring in your veins. “What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, shoving him back just enough to create space between you. “Are you seriously blaming me for working with Yongha? For doing what I’m supposed to do for my project?”

“It’s not about the project,” Wooyoung shot back, his voice strained as he ran a hand through his hair. His eyes darted away for a moment before locking onto yours again. “It’s about him, Y/N. I can’t stand seeing you with him. I can’t stand knowing you’re laughing with him, spending time with him—letting him get close to you.”

Your eyes narrowed, the anger bubbling over. “You’re acting like I have a choice, Wooyoung! He’s on my team! What am I supposed to do? Avoid him? Quit my project? Is that what you want?”

“No,” Wooyoung growled, his voice dropping low, his frustration palpable. “I just... I don’t trust him, okay? He’s not who you think he is.”

You froze for a moment, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “And what does that even mean? If you have something to say, then just say it, Wooyoung. Stop dancing around the truth!”

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might finally spill whatever he’d been holding back. But instead, he shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You’re unbelievable. Do you know how exhausting this is? You can’t just drop cryptic hints and then expect me to read your mind. I’m not a damn mind reader, Wooyoung!”

“I’m trying to protect you, Y/N,” he snapped, his voice rising. “I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt, but you just don’t see it!”

“Then help me see it!” you shouted back, stepping closer to him. “Tell me why you hate him so much. Tell me why this is such a big deal to you. Or are you just too scared to be honest with me?”

Wooyoung’s eyes burned with frustration, but underneath it, you caught a glimpse of something else—pain, raw and unfiltered. His lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but then he stopped, shaking his head again.

“I can’t,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t need to know.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You can’t even trust me enough to tell me the truth,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “How do you expect this to work, Wooyoung? How can we have anything if you keep shutting me out?”

“It’s not about trust,” he said quickly, his voice desperate now. “It’s about me. About what I can’t deal with. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. But I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” you pressed, tears threatening to sting your eyes. “Can’t let yourself care about me? Can’t let yourself get close because you’re too scared of what might happen?”

Wooyoung’s silence was deafening, and the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“This isn’t fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “It’s not fair to me, and it’s not even fair to you. If you can’t trust me, if you can’t let me in, then what’s the point, Wooyoung? What are we even doing?”

His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need.”

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. “Then maybe we’re better off letting this go,” you said softly, turning away from him. “If you can’t communicate with me…” you shook your head with a sigh, “then let’s stop whatever this is, Woo. I… I’m done trying.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, hoping—praying—that he’d stop you. That he’d fight for this, for you.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, his head bowed, his silence cutting deeper than any words ever could.

-x-x-x-

Nine days had passed. Nine long, agonizing days since you last spoke to Wooyoung. Since you walked away from him—since he walked away from you.

You tried to keep yourself busy, pouring your energy into school, work, and anything else that could distract you from the gnawing ache in your chest. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his words, his silence, his absence.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and you had just finished your shift at the dining hall. Your body ached from the long hours, and the emotional weight you carried didn’t help. You trudged home, trying to focus on mundane tasks to keep the sadness at bay.

In your apartment, you loaded the washer with your laundry, throwing a detergent pod into it when you heard the doorbell ring. Frowning, you quickly start the washer, the sound of the machine filling the silence as you headed to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and it was rare for someone to show up unannounced. When you opened the door, you froze.

Wooyoung stood there, looking like a shadow of himself. His hair was disheveled, covering most of his eyes, and his face was pale, his usual sharp features softened by exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn’t been sleeping.

Before you could say a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could smell his usual perfume, and you couldn’t help but take in a deep breath. His body felt heavy against yours, as if he was on the verge of collapse, and the way he clung to you made your heart ache.

“Wooyoung…” you breathed, your voice shaky.

He didn’t respond right away. His head rested against your shoulder, and you felt the uneven rise and fall of his chest as he tried to steady himself.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, your hands hovering for a moment before you let them rest gently on his back. “What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

“I didn’t know how to face you after everything. I thought if I stayed away, it’d be easier,” he said, his voice barely audible. “But it wasn’t. It only made everything worse.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, his face inches from yours. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying—or fighting not to.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continued, his hands trembling as they gripped your shoulders. “I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it. With you. With… everything.”

Your heart broke at the sight of him like this, so vulnerable, so raw. But the hurt you’d felt over the past week wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“I was scared,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’m still scared. But I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the washing machine.

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

Wooyoung hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Of history repeating itself,” he said finally, his voice trembling. “Of you being around him. Of him… taking you away from me, just like before.”

You felt a pang of confusion mixed with sadness as you pieced together his words. But before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t give up on me. Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the rawness of his plea cutting through the ache you’d carried for days. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before moving slightly away from you, just enough to meet your gaze fully.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making your breath catch. “I want this to work. I’m ready to talk to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his confession settled in. For a moment, the weight of everything—the silence, the confusion, the pain—seemed to dissolve in the warmth of his words.

“You’re ready?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his eyes searching yours. Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm but hesitant. He led you to sit on the couch with him, and for a moment, there was only silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts.

Wooyoung exhaled deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said, his voice low. “But if I’m going to do this, I need to tell you everything. No more hiding.”

You nodded, your heart pounding.

“When I started college, Yongha and I were roommates,” he began, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “It was a random assignment, but we clicked almost instantly. He was funny, easy to talk to, and we had so much in common. It didn’t take long for us to become best friends. We did everything together—parties, late-night food runs, you name it.”

He paused, looking down at your hand in his, as if drawing strength from your touch.

“At the time, I was dating my ex, Sohee, the girl you saw me with,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “We’d been together since senior year of high school. She goes to another university nearby, but we made it work. Or at least, I thought we did.”

You felt the tension radiating from him as he tightened his grip on your hand slightly.

“The first time she cheated on me was during her freshman year,” he said bitterly. “She got drunk at a party and hooked up with some random guy. She swore it was a mistake, begged me to forgive her, and like an idiot, I did. I told myself it was just a one-time thing cause she was drunk.”

You stayed silent, letting him continue at his own pace.

“The second time was during spring break,” he said, his jaw clenching. “She hooked up with one of her friends while I was visiting my family. I didn’t find out until weeks later when her other friend accidentally told me about it. By then, I was already questioning everything, but I was too scared to let her go. She was my first love, you know? I thought I could fix us.”

His eyes darkened as he continued, his voice filled with pain and anger.

“But the third time…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “That’s when everything fell apart. It was during the start of junior year. I came back to campus earlier than planned after a weekend trip. Yongha had texted me saying he’d be at Yeosang’s place, so I figured I’d swing by and hang out. When I got there…”

His voice cracked, and he looked away, his eyes glistening. “I walked in on them. Sohee and Yongha. They were making out in Yeosang’s living room, like I didn’t even exist. Like what they were doing wasn’t the ultimate betrayal.”

Your heart ached as you listened, the rawness in his voice cutting deep.

“I ended it with both of them right there,” he said firmly. “I told Sohee we were done, and I told Yongha I never wanted to see his face again. Yeosang had gone to the nearby convenience store to get beer and when he came back just as I was about to leave, he told them to get out.”

He turned to you then, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear. “That’s why I’ve been so distant, Y/N. That’s why I’ve been so scared to let you in. Because I know what it feels like to be betrayed by the people you trust the most. And when I saw you with Yongha constantly…” He shook his head, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t handle it. It brought everything back.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you absorbed his words, the weight of his past hitting you like a tidal wave. “Wooyoung…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I’m not saying this to make excuses,” he said quickly, his gaze locking onto yours. “I just… I needed you to know. I needed you to understand why I’ve been such a mess. But I swear to you, Y/N, I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want my past to ruin what we could have.”

His vulnerability broke something inside you, and without thinking, you reached out, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. “You won’t lose me,” you whispered fiercely. “But you have to let me in, Wooyoung. I can’t fight for this alone.”

He held onto you like you were his lifeline, his head buried in your shoulder. “I’ll try,” he promised, his voice muffled. “For you, I’ll try.”

You gently pulled back from the hug, your hands still resting on his shoulders. Wooyoung’s eyes were heavy with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“Wooyoung,” you began softly, your voice steady but full of feeling. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. No one deserves to be betrayed like that, especially not by the people they trust most.”

His jaw tightened, and he glanced away, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on his lap. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I trust you, Y/N. I do. It’s him I don’t trust.”

You nodded, understanding his perspective. “I get that. What Yongha did to you was unforgivable, and I’m not here to defend him. But Wooyoung, I need you to know that whatever he and I share—it’s strictly professional. I’m his teammate. Nothing more.”

“I know that,” he said quickly, his eyes darting back to yours. “But it doesn’t stop me from… hating that you have to be around him. It’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near you.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I can’t change the fact that we’re on the same team,” you said gently. “But I can promise you this: Yongha doesn’t mean anything to me. You do. And I would never let him come between us.”

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on your hand as if anchoring himself to you. “I want to believe you,” he admitted, his voice strained. “And I do. I trust you. But the thought of him…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You’re allowed to feel that way,” you said softly. “I’d probably feel the same if I were in your shoes. But this—what we have—it’s worth figuring out, isn’t it?”

His gaze softened, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease just slightly. “It is,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re worth it. I’m just…”

“Scared,” you finished for him, a small, understanding smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded, his eyes glimmering with the weight of unspoken fears. “Yeah. Scared of losing you. Scared of… him trying to ruin this.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you said firmly, cupping his face with your free hand. “And as for Yongha, I’ll handle him. He doesn’t get to ruin anything—not for you, not for us.”

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now.

You smiled back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Well, too bad,” you whispered against his mouth. “You’re stuck with me.”

For the first time in days, the tension between you seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but genuine sense of hope.

“So… you want to date me?” Wooyoung asked in a sheepish tone, though there was a tinge of insecurity and vulnerability to it.

“I do, Woo. I’m in love with you too,” you admitted, and his eyes widened. “But I’d rather not rush into anything right now.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his widened eyes softening as he absorbed your words. There was a flicker of relief, though it was quickly accompanied by a slight furrow of his brow. “Not rush into anything?” he repeated carefully, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You nodded, keeping your gaze steady. “I want to make sure we’re both ready for this, Woo. I’m in love with you, and I know you feel the same, but after everything that happened, I don’t want us to start something that might get tangled in unresolved feelings or doubts.”

His lips pressed together as he considered your words, his thumb unconsciously stroking over your knuckles. “I don’t doubt how I feel about you,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the vulnerability in his voice.

“I know,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. “But it’s not just about feelings. It’s about making sure we’re in a good place—both of us.”

Wooyoung’s gaze dropped for a moment, his lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. When he looked back up, there was a flicker of determination in his eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted, though his voice was tinged with reluctance. “I just… I’m scared that if I wait too long, I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, leaning closer so your foreheads nearly touched. “I’m not going anywhere. We can take things slow, figure this out together. There’s no rush, Woo.”

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile, though the vulnerability lingered in his gaze. “Slow, huh?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Does that mean I still get to kiss you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound lightening the mood between you. “You already kissed me, genius,” you teased, brushing your nose against his.

“Yeah, but that was before the whole ‘taking it slow’ thing,” he countered with a grin that was quickly becoming more playful.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “Does that answer your question?” you whispered when you pulled back.

Wooyoung grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Crystal clear,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, though there was a new softness to it—a promise of patience and understanding.

-x-x-x-

2 months later

The rooftop of Wooyoung’s apartment building was a winter wonderland, blanketed in fresh snow that crunched under your boots as you ran. Your hectic semester had just come to an end, and with it came heavy snowfall, much to your delight.

Wooyoung had been relentless, pelting you with snowballs and laughing with childlike joy as you tried to dodge them. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his grin wide and mischievous as he chased you.

“Truce!” you called out breathlessly, holding up your hands.

“Truce?” he echoed, feigning suspicion but dropping his snowball nonetheless. He stepped closer, his dark eyes glimmering under the soft glow of the rooftop lights.

You nodded, smiling as you tried to catch your breath. “Yeah. I surrender.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk, leaning in close. “Because I was going to win anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” you replied, laughing as you playfully shoved him.

His arms wrapped around you in a swift, warm hug, pulling you against him. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his breath visible in the icy air.

“Whose fault is that?” you teased, but your words softened as you looked into his eyes.

He smiled at you, tender and full of something deeper. “Let’s go inside.”

The elevator ride down was quiet, your hands still entwined as warmth slowly returned to your fingers. By the time you reached his apartment, your cheeks were pink from the cold and from the way Wooyoung’s gaze lingered on you.

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, handing you a blanket before sitting down beside you. “I, uh… have something for you,” he said, his voice a little unsure.

You raised an eyebrow. “Something for me? What’s the occasion?”

“Just… stay here,” he said, quickly getting up and disappearing into his room.

When he returned, he was holding a small box wrapped neatly in silver paper. He sat down beside you again, his knee brushing yours as he handed it to you. “Open it.”

Your fingers were slightly trembling—not from the cold anymore—as you carefully unwrapped the box. Inside was a delicate necklace with a small heart pendant wrapped in the infinity symbol, the metal catching the light beautifully.

“Wooyoung…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I wanted to give you something that shows how much you mean to me,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “The heart is for… well, my heart, because it’s yours. And the infinity symbol… it’s because I want this to last. Forever.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked at him, your eyes already glistening with emotion. “Wooyoung…”

He reached out, gently taking the necklace from the box. “Can I?”

You nodded, turning so he could clasp it around your neck. His fingers were steady, but when he finished, he let them linger on your shoulders.

“I love you,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his words. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. And I want to ask… will you be my girlfriend?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you turned back to face him. “You’re such an idiot for even having to ask,” you whispered with a watery laugh.

His face fell slightly. “Wait, is that a no—”

You didn’t let him finish, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. He froze for a moment before melting into it, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, and you smiled. “It’s a yes, you idiot. Of course, it’s a yes.”

His grin broke out like sunshine, bright and pure, and he kissed you again, more passionately this time.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

The warmth of Wooyoung’s embrace enveloped you as you sat together on his couch, the delicate weight of the necklace now resting against your collarbone. His kisses softened, turning into small pecks on your lips, your cheeks, and even the tip of your nose, making you giggle.

“You’re in a good mood,” you teased, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

“I just secured the best girlfriend in the world,” he said smugly, his arms tightening around your waist. “Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

“Flatterer,” you replied with a mock roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His tone shifted slightly, becoming softer, more sincere. “These past two months… you’ve been my light. Even when I was being a coward, you stuck by me. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll spend every day trying to prove myself wrong.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his face in your hands. “Wooyoung, don’t say you don’t deserve me. We both have our flaws, our scars, but that’s what makes us stronger. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Stuck with you, huh?” He opened his eyes, a playful glint returning. “I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” you said with a grin. “Now, how about we celebrate? Hot chocolate and a cheesy rom-com?”

“Cheesy rom-com?” he groaned dramatically, though his lips twitched with amusement. “I thought we were celebrating, not torturing me.”

“Hey, I’ve endured enough action movies for you,” you shot back. “It’s your turn to compromise.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But I’m picking the snacks.”

“Deal.”

As you both moved to the kitchen to prepare for your cozy night in, you couldn’t help but glance down at the necklace again, your fingers brushing over the pendant. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was a promise, a symbol of the love you both were willing to fight for.

And as Wooyoung pulled you into another unexpected hug, whispering “I love you” into your ear, you realized that this was it—this was the beginning of your forever.

The End.

A/N: Precious readers, you have made it to the end! I want to sincerely thank you for taking the time to read yet another fic of mine, or if this is your first one, I hope you enjoyed it! I am working on a new story that will come out this month, so stay tuned! <3

[sunflowerhae]

GG! (Good Game!) 👾🌀👾 (L.DH)

Summary: Famous YouTuber and Streamer y/n just moved in next door to scholastic loser haechan! No sweat for him! No big deal! Not like he has her picture above his computer! Not like he owns her merch that he stayed up all night to get! Not like he cried when she started playing his favorite video game! Not like he’s completely and utterly obsessed with her and all his friends know it!

Oh wait…Major deal.

Genre: SMAU (with occasional written parts) , loser college student!Haechan x streamer fem! Reader, somewhat strangers to ???, fluff, angst, mostly just haechan being obsessed with reader (you’re welcome delulu fans!)

Starring: All members of NCT DREAM, all members of AESPA, might have some occasional other artists pop in & out!

Warnings: profanity, sexual themes and language, mentions of obsessive behavior, y’all are NAWT going to like y/n sorry, more to come 😫☺️‼️

Playlist: punch, NCT 127 // about you, The 1975 // the adults are talking, The Strokes // disco, Surf Curse // from the ritz to the rubble, Arctic Monkeys // spy?, WHOKILLEDXIX // mass anasthesia, Mediavolo

Notice: all depictions of artists are fictional and no way represent who these artists are in real life. Any similarities are simply coincidence. All pictures are taken randomly from Pinterest. Anything you would like to see removed, please message me PRIVATELY and it will be discussed.

Notes: yay! I’m so excited for yall to read this UGH. I’ve been wanting to get back into the swing of writing recently, and I’ve been super obsessed with SMAU’s and thought I’d try it out. Lmk what u think! I love a boy obsessed w me so it felt only right to make this. Enjoy! 🌀👾💥

Status: Ongoing..

Want to be added to the taglist? Send me a message, or comment under the masterlist!👻

P R O F I L E S

The Flops™️ | extra |

Bad Girls Club | extra |

Intro

Ch. 1 - the worlds tiniest violin

Ch. 2 - that dog in u

Ch. 3 - MISANDRIST

Ch. 4 - I need a gun

Ch. 5 - manifesting 🫶

Ch. 6 - wattpad fanfiction (written)

Ch. 7 - Lala land

Ch. 8 - check engine light

Ch. 9 - chat is this real (Bonus)

Ch. 10 - The Friendzone™️

Ch. 11 - lil dude

Ch. 12 - #virgin

Ch. 13- Renselle 4 life

Ch. 14 - suicide not postponed!

Ch. 15 - don’t HMU ❌

Ch. 16 - u broke him 💀

Ch. 17 - FTCU by Nicki Minaj (written)

Ch. 18 - lover boy

Ch. 19 - 12 baddies 1 Porsche

Ch. 20 - idiot

Ch. 21 - FUCKING DEAN?

Ch. 22 - TINY LITTLE HICCUP

Ch. 23 - The Big One (written)

Ch. 24 - the twilight soundtrack

Ch. 25 - #thankyouy/n

Ch. 26 - ur girl is whack

Ch. 27 - Stockholm syndrome maybe?

Ch. 28 - ur grounded.

Ch. 29 - pause.

Ch. 30 - Restraining Order

Ch. 31 - I’m fine.

Ch. 32 - all hands on deck (written)

Ch. 33 - pooja, what’s this behavior?

Ch. 34 -

Ch. 35 -

Ch. 36 -

Ch. 37 -

more to come… 💭

🤖 Plot questions 🤖

Y/n and Haechan’s ages

☆ Main Masterlist ☆

[mantisgodsdomain]

The part that you haven't heard about in more detail here, for reference, is our miscellaneous research on typography, calliography, and type design, because we haven't done it in anywhere near as much detail and still arguably know nothing. In this case, you get to hear "oh yeah we're relearning cursive" as part of an unrelated ramble. This is because if we don't have at least one thing to chew on throughout the day, we wind up in a dull, grinding state of mind where we start losing chunks of important things, such as our ability to not be a huge asshole and/or hit people with sticks.

Sometimes, this means gnawing on plots, either ours or others'. Sometimes, this means learning new things. If we're operating on any subject in particular, we prefer to keep a level of basic competence high enough to let us feel like we have reasonable authority in saying something. If we are expressing an opinion, we want it to be one that is informed, because seeing people say things where they obviously don't know what a single word in that sentence actually means makes us want to chew through glass and people spreading blatant misinformation and unexamined, unbelievably blatant bias makes for our absolute least favorite dish. If we don't know something, and it's worth knowing, then we should bother to learn, because it is worth it to know at least enough to know when someone's bullshitting you, and be able to apply the knowledge you have acquired in one field to other ones over time. Many things work along the same basic lines - if you look at enough of them, then eventually, you'll learn the intersections, and the way one thing interacts with another.

In unrelated news, now that we are officially in formal education again and thus interacting with people who feel very confident in the idea that they are bringing an objectively correct perspective to the room, we are learning that apparently our "basic level of knowledge that we feel like we need to possess to feel even vaguely confident talking about the subject in any context" is most other people's "at least bachelor degree level knowledge". We are unclear on if this is a new discovery or not, as last time we were in an actual physical school it went badly enough that our memory of the year it occurred in is functionally irretrievable. This is not good for the superiority complex, probably.

is the fountain pen thing why your broskis been rbing the occasional fountain pen post or was that shared brainrot

It depends which broski you're talking about but probably. We have been exploring the ins and outs of the fountain pen since, like, the start of this month and we have already regaled our MOTW group with "hey did you know that you can buy a fountain pen that looks like a shark for three dollars" and similar such thoughts.

Though not all of our miscellaneous interests make it onto this blog, as we try not to post on things until we are reasonably informed on them, our close friends get to be regaled with the lovely story of whatever niche subject that we have dedicated our time and energy to learning things about every week or so, and we've been talking about pens for slightly longer as we learn more thoroughly how to work with them, and being told about things by an enthusiastic insect tends to get you looking at things (whether you like it or not)

[koalapastries-writes]

Hi it’s me the same person to request trans drivers as last time. I was wondering can week get more trans drivers, preferably something angsty maybe them thinking you cheated on them because they weren’t manly enough or something. Preferably with op81, ls2, cl16, aa23, gr63, ln4, and fc43. Thanks luv

CHEATER!

trans ftm!formula one x male!reader

summary: your boyfriend thinks you'll leave him for a "real man" (you don't need to)

warnings: swearing, hurt/comfort, insecurity/dysphoria, suggestive content (charles, oscar), mentions of minor alcohol abuse (franco gets drunk bc he's sad), one mention of being hit by a car (lando), williams!engineer!reader (logan), drivers having beef with other people (general, but totally fictional and not indicative of real life)

contains: alex albon, charles leclerc, franco colapinto, george russell, lando norris, logan sargeant, + oscar piastri

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: for the sake of transparency i'll say now that usually i will only do vv light angst if its related to the driver or moderate angst if its an outside source and it will always be hurt/comfort bc i am not strong enough for heavy angst lmao

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @miloformula123fan

[b00tyliciousbabe]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙

oddballs and eggnog

goofybf! x THICC male reader

summary: love me a nerdy man that’s got a lil spice to him. plus a lil xmas lore!

notes: HI BEAUTIFULS! merry xmas to those who celebrate. it’s been a while fr, my bad dawgs uni work has been ploughing my ass so violently im reconsidering if a degree is even for me. but as a masochistic bottom, i had to channel my energy elsewhere; thus, this fic is just me showing the variety of my tastes as the true indecisive femboy that i am. show me a cute guy and i will plan my whole life with him. i need to get a grip.

originally, i canonically wrote this character with ginger hair (y’all know i fold for redheads), but the more i kept writing, the clearer it became to me that dark brown hair/black aligned with my OWN understanding of him. it’s all fiction anyways so feel free to adapt body types as you see fit. enjoy my lovelies 🎀

album rec: flo - access all areas. these girlies have my heart. been following them since about 2022 and they are genuinely my fave artists, cannot wait for flo world domination.

you guys had mutual acquaintances for a couple years, but it wasn’t until the two of you got to university that your friendship really blossomed. the engineering student didn’t have the best luck when it came to relationships; in fact, people would only toy with his emotions when they wanted something from him, so he learnt to put up a wall of cynicism.

these barriers he had fortified for his own protection made him quite a reserved guy. never cruel or nasty. just quiet. sure, he wasn’t a complete loner, he had a few VERY close bros who he’d let in, but it was clear that in this silence, he was safe.

he’s super handsy, whether that means pulling you on his lap, be it at parties or when he’s gaming, or placing his hands in your back pocket when y’all walk to class, he just wants to hold you. probably got something to do with the fact that he needs to make sure you’re real and not the angel he believes you to be. you love your needy bf and his craving for physical touch.

this is kinda juxtaposed by how flustered he gets by your words. the minute you whisper in his ear, he could cum in his jeans on the spot. he gets so red when you compliment him which makes him squeeze you tighter.

he wasn’t a virgin before meeting you, he’d had a few hookups but nothing sexual with someone he genuinely cared about. as a result, it made sense why he was very nervous when it came to your first time together.

to relax him, you decided to give him a blowjob to ease the tension and allow him to cum quick in the first round so he’d last longer during anal. sat back on the edge of his bed, he wore a vest and baggy joggers, awaiting your fingers to unleash his raging boner. you knelt down and flashed a comforting smile to him, which he failed to mirror perfectly.

‘we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready to. I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.’ you said concerned, stroking his abs, clear to you that he was stressing.

‘nah baby, i want this so bad. it’s just gotta be really special because you’re really special to me.’ he said gripping your chin.

‘i love you, y/n. like a lot.’

‘i know that you weirdo, i love you too, you mean so much to me.’

‘now, lemme show you how much.’ you said coyly, to which he was more than happy to oblige.

when i tell you, your man eats so well that his cum is literally like milk. the typa white, thick, pearly cum that you would swallow every drop of, because it truly is just disrespectful not to. the first time he came was a surprise for the two of you. he didn’t realise how much he loved seeing his cum all over your face, decorating your juicy, wet lips. the head you gave him was so good, he napped for 2 hours straight after you drained him. but that deffo changed him for the better.

his hobbies include boxing and gaming. he’s such a nerd he makes his own demo projects, playing with his classmates. you always chastise him for not making his hobby a lucrative endeavour - your boy’s got a talent and he doesn’t seem to know it. equally, he loves his legos and comics just as much as he enjoys coding, making you the prettiest bouquet of lego flowers for your first date. after spending some time walking, he took you back to his place and y’all spent the entire night binging his favourite marvel and dc films.

one time it was his birthday and you thought it be a good idea to make a short graphic novel of the journey of your relationship - ending steamily with you pregnant.

‘baby, i love this so much! who knew how sexy you’d look with a baby bump?’ ‘anything can happen in the multiverse’ you laugh, as he kissed your jaw.

‘I’m gonna fuck you so good tonight.’

as we have established, he’s far from experienced. he holds your hand through missionary always because it makes him feel safe. makes so many jokes during it as a way to deflect. lowkey loves being choked. you took the lead most of the time before, using him as a pole and ride the shit out of him.

but, that night he ploughed you with a sense of purpose, so deep and mercilessly that your insides were moulded into an incubator for any hypothetical foetus he would soon impregnate you with. after, he laid curled up next to you, caressing the belly that he had now filled with

‘i hate biology sometimes,’ he says breathlessly. ’you’d look so good with our lil baby growing inside your belly.’

your boyfriend is the goofiest mf ever; playing practical jokes on all his friends and fulfilling his role as your comedian. definitely one of your favourite characteristics of his.

his sleeper build is INSANE. he might appear tall and lanky, but he is far from it. bench pressing more than 100 kilos with one arm - the brudda is basically superman. he’s what you’d get if clark kent had ginger hair, and was a huge weirdo.

though he cannot dance to save his life. he used to be very awkward and shy, but the minute them clothes are off and you two are in the sheets? stroke game is giving pornstar baby girl lemme tell you! ever since your first time, it’s like you awaken the sexual drive in him that’s been missing all his life. this, paired for his complete adoration for you makes him a lethal weapon in bed - quite literally, your man casually packs an 8 inch pussy destroyer with veins that massage and pummel your gummy walls so well.

after this moment he became the BIGGEST TEASE. slapping his dick all over your face. as you chase his dick like a good puppy, he giggles at how desperate you are. ‘sweet Jesus you feel good’. ‘holy shit’. ‘don’t act like you don’t love it.’ painting hickeys all over your neck . he loves when ppl ask you because of how flustered you get, makes him want to mark you more. he’s no longer shy to the world and he thanks you everyday for that. living to call you princess - in both a mocking and endearing tone, he loved toying with your nipples because you’re his lil doll. in cowgirl he will play with them whilst jerking you off to get you to cum all over his abs. and! he LOVES eating ass - like almost obsessively, as if he’s high of your pussy.

he smells so good. so good. you always act like a bitch in heat whenever he steps out of the shower with a towel skimpily wrapped around his adonis belt.

your bf loves playing with his cum and using his dick as a paintbrush to decorate your belly, butt, and face. ‘my masterpiece’ + ‘my muse’ he professes. somehow managing to entrance you to always stroke his dick during makeout sessions. he brings his hands to play with your hair, knowing that his dick is in extremely good hands with you - literally. always pulling you off of his dick because he is really sensitive and ur mouth is a fucking weapon, but will show you that he’s the boss and could leave you bedridden for a couple days after a good fuck.

things he would say drunk off of eggnog:

‘i would die a happy man beneath those beautiful cheeks of yours’

‘put ur hole on my North Pole.’

‘ay, you Don’t get to call me handsome unless you’re gonna HANDsome of those fat cheeks of yours to my lap.’

‘come on, I’ve been a good boy, Santa says gimme some of that pussy you know I love so much.’

‘that ass of yours, come here lemme unwrap it.’

this man has you written into his destiny. he always dreamed of raising a son and dressing him up in the flyest outfits and with you, that desire became reality. you too truly are a match made in heaven.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙

taglist:

@ghostking4m

@gayaristocrat

@lysanderplume

@acoustickitten

[theonottsbxtch]

SET FIRE TO THE RAIN | LN4

an: i'd like to preface this by saying this is purely fictional and i don't believe lando would behave like this, i've been in many situations like this or where i've watched goregous girls be brought down, if you ever find yourself in a situation like this, talk to someone and if you're too scared to do that. my inbox, my messages are open to talk, i know how difficult it is and i'll always be there for you, every step of the way. love you all <3

summary: based off of this request , the story of a girl who manages to set fire to the rain by finally cutting off a pattern.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: toxic relationship

She had sworn off men.

The last one had hollowed her out in ways she hadn’t thought possible. They’d met at university, and from the start, there was an intensity that made her feel alive, as if the world had cracked open just for them. He was charming, magnetic—a rare kind of brilliance that pulled people in without effort. But beneath the surface, there had been something darker. She’d noticed it in small moments at first, like the way he’d make her doubt her own memories or twist her words into knots she couldn’t untangle.

With him, everything good came with a price. A beautiful night could end with his cutting silence, or an ordinary conversation could spiral into accusations and resentment. He knew exactly how to keep her on edge, to keep her second-guessing herself, until she wasn’t sure where her own thoughts ended and his began.

By the time she realised how deeply he’d tangled her sense of self, it felt too late. She was trapped in a constant push and pull, desperate to hold onto the parts of him that had once felt like home, even as they chipped away at her sanity. She left university more bruised and broken than she’d ever been, feeling like a stranger to herself.

For months after, she found herself replaying conversations, picking apart moments, wondering if somehow she had been the problem. She promised herself she’d never let anyone pull her back into that place—she was done with love, or whatever twisted version of it she’d believed in.

But then she met Lando.

And he was different, at the start at least. There were no telltale signs, or maybe there were and she'd missed them all. But with Lando, she felt like a whole new woman.

Meeting him felt like something out of a story she’d stopped believing in. He was bright, alive, a force of nature. She’d been swept up almost instantly, drawn not just to his charm but to the way he seemed to move through the world. Lando was a Formula One driver—a rising star with an infectious grin and the kind of life that felt thrillingly out of reach. He wore his confidence like a second skin, turning heads everywhere he went, and somehow, for reasons she still didn’t fully understand, he’d turned his gaze toward her.

Their first days together were a whirlwind. He flew her out to races, their weekends a blur of city lights, roaring engines, and late-night conversations where he shared his dreams with a vulnerability she hadn’t expected. She felt as if she was breathing for the first time in years. Lando seemed genuinely interested in her—not just in her beauty or her laughter, but in the way she thought, the things that kept her up at night. He listened in a way her ex never had, his attention a gentle but steady presence that quieted the shadows of her past.

With Lando, she was lighter, bolder. She found herself laughing more, breaking free from the cautious habits she'd formed to protect herself. Even the constant travel, the media attention, the risks that came with his career—none of it scared her. If anything, she was excited by it, captivated by his life at full throttle. She told herself that this was what real love must feel like: exhilarating and limitless.

And yet, as the months slipped by, small things began to nag at her—a flicker of irritation in his eyes when she questioned him, a quiet possessiveness in the way he’d tug her closer when others looked her way. They were tiny cracks, the kind of things she could overlook. But her instincts, dulled as they were by the thrill of his attention, began to stir, whispering that all wasn’t as perfect as it seemed.

She brushed off those whispers. She had promised herself she wouldn’t let fear drive her life, wouldn’t let a good thing slip away just because of shadows in her past. Lando was different, after all. He had shown her sides of herself she thought she’d lost forever.

But sometimes, late at night, she couldn’t ignore the familiar tightening in her chest, a flicker of unease she couldn’t explain. It was nothing—just a bad memory she needed to bury, she told herself.

She was safe, she was happy.

And that was all that mattered.

Until it didn’t.

It started in the small, invisible ways. A slight edge to his voice when she couldn’t make it to a race. The way his grip on her hand tightened a fraction too much when she was talking to someone else, even just a friend. She told herself these things were normal, the quirks of a man under constant pressure. Lando’s world was built on speed, danger, and fierce competition. It made sense that he’d be intense, that he might sometimes hold her a little too tightly.

Then came the nights when he’d disappear after races, unreachable, only to return hours later with excuses she could barely piece together. She’d lie in bed, watching the clock, her mind twisting in circles she’d thought she’d left behind. When he finally came back, he’d laugh off her questions, brushing them aside with an easy charm that was starting to feel a bit too practised.

“You worry too much, baby,” he’d say, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a smile that was all show and no substance.

She wanted to believe him. She’d fought so hard to let her guard down, to believe that love didn’t have to mean hurt. And for a while, she’d manage to push the doubt aside. After all, wasn’t it better to be with him, flaws and all, than to be haunted by ghosts she couldn’t let go of?

But the cracks widened. One evening, after a long dinner with friends, he pulled her aside, his voice low and edged with irritation. “I don’t like how you were looking at Oscar tonight,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing.

She blinked, caught off guard. “Oscar? He’s your teammate, Lando. We were just talking about your race.”

“I don’t care what you were talking about. You don’t need to give him that much attention.” The words were soft, but there was an edge beneath them that sent a chill through her.

It was like something inside her split open, letting old fears seep through the walls she’d so carefully built. She tried to laugh it off, to remind herself that Lando was nothing like the man from her past, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was slipping, that she was losing her footing on familiar, dangerous ground.

The excuses she made for him started to feel heavier, harder to carry. She was left questioning herself, wondering if maybe she was the problem, if somehow, her history had left her too damaged to hold onto happiness.

But deep down, beneath the doubt and the fear, she knew something was wrong. It wasn’t just her past haunting her this time; it was Lando. The way he seemed to light up her world only to cast shadows over it moments later. The way he made her feel seen and invisible all at once. She could feel herself changing again, growing cautious, careful.

And with each passing day, the Lando she’d once trusted felt more and more like a stranger.

But leaving? That felt impossible.

After all, who else would love her like he did?

No one would.

At least, that’s what her ex had said. It was what Lando insinuated, so it had to be true.

The words echoed in her mind on the quietest nights, when she lay beside him, his arm heavy over her waist, pinning her down in more ways than one. She’d stare at the ceiling, tracing the same lines over and over, feeling trapped in a strange in-between—a place where she was too afraid to stay but too afraid to leave.

When she’d first heard those words from her ex, they’d cut deep, etching a truth she carried like a scar: No one else will love you. No one will understand you the way I do. She’d almost forgotten how it felt to hear them again, subtle and soft, woven into Lando’s comments, his sideways glances, the way he’d sometimes pull her close and murmur, “You’re lucky I put up with you, you know.”

And, to her shame, she’d nod, a small part of her believing it. Maybe she was lucky, she thought, to be wanted by someone as thrilling as him. Who else would have taken her on whirlwind weekends, whisked her away to foreign cities, painted her life in colours she’d only dreamed of? Who else could make her feel this alive and desired? Surely, she should be grateful.

So she stayed, clinging to that fragile, half-real world they’d built together. She ignored the voices of her friends, who’d started to ask if she was okay, if she was happy. She brushed off their concerns with a laugh, told them Lando was just “passionate,” that he had a fire in him, that life with him was thrilling, intense. But the truth was that he didn’t bring just fire; he brought a burn that left her raw, exhausted, a shadow of the woman she’d thought she’d become.

The turning point came one rainy night, it hardly rained in Monaco, after an argument that had started small but escalated, Lando’s anger flaring as she’d barely managed to keep herself from shrinking under his words. He’d stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving her alone in the dim light, the sound of rain pattering against the window like a quiet reminder of everything she was losing.

As she sat there, a familiar sense of dread settled in her chest, mingling with the weight of words she’d heard too many times before. You’re lucky I’m here. No one else would deal with you. No one else would want you.

But this time, she felt something else—a flicker of defiance, an anger that had long been smothered by fear and doubt. She realised, with a clarity that shook her, that these words weren’t truths but weapons. Weapons used to keep her in place, to make her question herself until she couldn’t see straight.

Maybe she was more than what he saw in her. Maybe she was more than the broken woman her ex had left behind.

The rain outside was pouring harder now, pounding against the window, drowning out everything but her own heartbeat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the weight lift, even if only slightly. She didn’t know if she had the strength to leave, but she knew she couldn’t stay—not like this.

Being with Lando felt like trying to set fire to rain.

Every time she reached for warmth, for comfort, her hands came away empty. Every promise he made seemed to evaporate just as quickly, leaving her cold and reaching for something that was never really there. Loving him was an exercise in futility, like trying to hold a flame in a storm, only to be drenched by the downpour of his moods, his shifting affections, his quiet, calculated disapproval.

He came home that night, soaked from the rain, his eyes darker than usual, his expression unreadable. She could smell the sharp tang of whiskey on him, the subtle tremor in his hands as he reached for her. She took a step back, though, bracing herself.

“Where were you?” she asked softly, not even expecting a real answer. She’d stopped expecting those a while ago.

He shrugged, a hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Out,” he said, as if that was explanation enough. He glanced at her, his eyes sweeping over her with a mix of amusement and something colder, something she couldn’t place. “Why? Did you miss me?”

There was a time when she’d have laughed, played along, swallowed her doubts and insecurities just to keep things smooth between them. But that time was gone. Now, she felt nothing but a quiet emptiness where her laughter used to be.

“Maybe I did,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But not anymore.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, maybe, or the sting of wounded pride. He scoffed, leaning back, crossing his arms as he studied her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She swallowed, steadying herself. “It means I don’t want to be kept in the dark anymore. It means I’m done waiting for you to be someone you’ll never be. You talk about how lucky I am, Lando, but the truth is, I think I deserve better than… than this.” Her voice cracked, and she felt her face flush with both fear and defiance.

He laughed, a low, mocking sound that sent a chill through her. “You think you can do better than me?”

She met his gaze, her hands trembling as she fought to keep her voice steady. “Yes. I think I can.”

It was a small, simple statement, but as the words left her mouth, she felt something shift inside her, like a flame catching despite the rain. She knew he’d try to reel her back in, try to make her doubt herself, to make her think she’d never be enough for anyone else.

But she’d felt enough of the fire and the rain, the illusion of warmth that left her soaked and freezing. She was done waiting for him to change, done trying to be enough for someone who would never be satisfied.

He watched her for a long, silent moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a harsh, humourless laugh, he turned and walked away into his gaming room, leaving her standing alone in the dim light, the rain pounding against the windows like a heartbeat.

And as she stood there, she realised she’d already begun to let go. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of the emptiness, the quiet. She was ready to face it, to feel the cold and the rain, knowing that someday she’d find her own warmth again.

This time, she wouldn’t look back.

She packed her bags, and unlike with her ex, she didn’t cry. She didn’t find an excuse to stay.

With each item she folded and placed into her suitcase, a sense of liberation washed over her. Clothes, books, the little mementos she’d collected during their whirlwind romance—all of it felt heavy, like anchors that had dragged her down into a darkness she no longer wished to inhabit. This time, she didn’t hesitate to let go.

The silence in the apartment felt almost deafening, but it was a comforting kind of silence, the kind that echoed with possibilities rather than the suffocating weight of past memories. She moved methodically, her hands steady and sure, and each zip of the suitcase felt like another step toward reclaiming herself.

When she finished, she stood in the middle of the living room, looking around at the remnants of their life together. It felt surreal, like a movie set she’d walked onto without ever really belonging. There were the photos of them at races, beaming smiles and happy moments frozen in time, and the framed poster of him in his racing gear, his helmet in hand, looking ready to conquer the world. But now, instead of warmth, those images filled her with a sense of finality. They were remnants of a story that had come to an end.

Her heart raced as she glanced toward the room he was in, half-expecting Lando to return and confront her, to wrap her in his familiar embrace and whisper sweet words that would lure her back into his web. But she shook the thought away. She wouldn’t fall for that crap again. This was her moment, the beginning of something new, and she refused to let fear creep back in.

Because she loved herself.

And in order to love herself, she had to choose herself.

So she did.

the end.

[bropunzeling]

"sports rpf means dumbing down your beautiful paragraphs by 50%" is a boring reductive take and im tired of seeing it. first of all, close 3rd person pov is not meant to be an accurate depiction of a real internal monologue, it is a literary tool. maybe a sports boy wouldn't think that beautiful thought about the ocean spontaneously, but guess what - neither did you or i! we had to actively work and think and edit to come up with that gorgeous sentence, and that's fine, because that's how fiction works!! we write larger than life to convey an essential truth about life!! it's fINE. second of all, the whole thing smacks of dumb jock stereotypes and that shit isn't cute. maybe they don't know what alliteration is, but i don't know shit about back-checking or the inside of a car engine. maybe we're both big dummies. have you thought about that.

[sweetflanfiction]

Assymetrical Symphony - Part 6

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N.: Thank you guys for commenting and faving the story. I'm always happy to read all you guys tell me! I'm going to try and reply back. Anywho, let the rollercoaster begin.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5

• ··········· • ············ •

The following week, you restarted the journey to becoming a member of Piltover's society under Esther’s wing. 

The official story was: Your real mother was your aunt, and you had come back to Piltover after your fictional mother died, and because your real mother's maternal instincts were so fine-tuned, your real mother didn't mind that you or anyone else, for that matter, called you her child, and her your mother. Complicated? Yep. It would feed the gossip circles for years, and honestly, you both thrived on the drama.

Clothes were brought, space was made, introductions were done, and the process of making you an official Rainemour in the world was set in motion. 

It felt like home, back to your old Topsider self, with the added extra of waking up, kicking and screaming with the feeling of fingertips on your forehead.

It had been a flurry of new faces, new places, and new customs. You met the house staff, Jaime and Oly, and the cook, Voltaire. While the two keepers lived on the lower floors, Voltaire lived somewhere other than the Cinquefoil building. He had been your mother’s friend for a few years and was the chef at several topside restaurants.

You still hadn't met the elusive Wyllah, but you had found out who she was. She was an art merchant, away on business, but most important, she was your mother’s significant other. Your mother had told you one night, almost in fear, she had found love after your father’s passing. You had blinked and shrugged. Nobody deserved to go through life alone.

Your mother’s life has been quite interesting on this side of the dimension rift. She was a writer, penning a series of fantasy books that magic lovers drank like water. She also found herself advocating for better education in Piltover. All of Piltover, especially the undercity. Esther tried to help those who wanted a chance to change their future.

It was only a matter of time until fate brought her and a certain engineer who also had a like-minded vision together. After that meeting, Esther became a patron of the Talis Lab and the Academy, helping with funding for any projects regarding the betterment of the city. 

And that was the reason why you were now making your way towards a familiar lab in the Academy. A commission for her needed approval and had been delayed long enough with the rocket attack and you appearing out of thin air. Or, according to the gossip, like an illegitimate child. 

“You didn’t need to come along.” She mumbled while pushing the elevator button.

“I wanted to come.” You smiled confidently at her. You wanted everyone to see you and become accustomed to you. It would be beneficial if you wanted to get into the business of saving the world. 

“To check on your friends?”  

You nodded. Before the Herald and the HexAngels, between Jayce becoming a councilor and the hextech showing its true colors, most of your time was divided between the music conservatory, the orchestra, Talis' labs, and home. And from all of those, home was the one you went to less and less with time. Therefore, when allowed to have even a single second of normalcy in a familiar place, you seized it. 

When the elevator dinged, you walked inside with a conviction that was only masking a feeling of nervousness. Yes, you knew this place and the face on the other side of the lab door, but they didn't. You were just a stranger.

“Has it changed much?” Your mother whispered, and you grinned at her.

“Nah, a few artworks and garbage cans. Some names on the doors, but nothing else.” 

“Really? Fascinating.” Her face was deep in thought.

“Stop.” You chuckled, knowing that look. She was taking mental notes. “It’s not that interesting.” 

The elevator pinged and opened again. Instinctively you walked out first, knowing exactly where to go, your mother keeping up with you, scoffing. 

“Well, excuse me if I find it amazing that my child jumped through time and space to save the world.”

“I didn’t save the world.” You rolled your eyes at her.

“Viktor is still alive, isn’t he?” She noted, raising her eyebrows.  

As soon as she finished that sentence, a small thump of a dry explosion was heard inside the hextech lab. Like an empty milk carton was squished with a stomp. 

“I’m sure he’s fine.” She added. 

Another small firecracker-like explosion was heard, prompting you both to look at each other and break into a jog to reach the lab.  

As expected, the door was locked, and although you had told your mom about a lot, the magic part was still something that needed some explanation. So you resorted to the least efficient way to open a closed door: banging on it. 

“Viktor! Jayce?” Esther shouted. A few groans from behind the door warned you there was someone alive inside. Well, capable of moaning in pain was more accurate. 

“Get the enforcers.” You mumbled to your mother; she nodded and raced around the corner. 

As soon as she was out of sight, you pulled your glove off and magically unlocked the door, punching the rune you painted near the lock. The door immediately opened with the force of your hit but didn’t swing open as expected. It hit something and bounced back, slamming shut again while someone grunted in pain on the other side. 

It’s funny how you could know someone from their tiniest squeak. And you knew that groan. You'd know it had it come from the other side of Piltover. Hells, you'd know it if it had been heard through the actual space and time rift. 

Carefully this time you twisted the door handle, opening the door gently and peeking inside the lab.

 Although the curtains were open, a dusty, thick white fog lingered in the air, making the room a shade darker. The floor was littered with tools, gears, and pencils that had fallen from their places, and a pair of goggles was lying on the floor next to a welding machine.

Viktor was sprawled on the ground, leaning back into one of his hands while the other was gently massaging his face. One of his legs was twisted uncomfortably, and the other was bent at the knee in front of him. You could see as he rubbed his face that there was blood coming from somewhere. After a while, he shook his head and looked up at the door.

When he managed to focus his gaze on you, his eyebrows knotted in confusion and then realization. With a sigh, he sat, grabbed the leg that was twisted uncomfortably, and brought it forward. You heard a metallic thud. Hextech leg. Your gaze shifted to his face; you saw the blood coming from his nose, but it didn’t seem broken. Above his eyebrow was a small curved gash, a courtesy of the goggles he probably ripped off his head.

 “We do need to stop meeting like this.” he mumbled, trying to get up with the grace of a baby deer using its long limbs for the first time.

 Putting your glove back on, you took a step closer and offered him a hand, which he accepted with raised eyebrows and a head tilt.

 With more expertise than he was expecting, you grabbed his hand and forearm and pulled him up. Picking this man off the floor had become a skill both you and Jayce obtained a long time ago. His disability unfortunately made him an easy target for misfires. While you and Jayce would easily dodge anything coming your way, Viktor wouldn’t. Couldn’t. And since the fastest way to move him fast was pushing him out of the way, the three of you would end up on the floor, and either you or Jayce would shield Viktor from whatever was malfunctioning at the time. It wasn't your proudest idea, but it worked, and for better or worse, you all would escape relatively unscathed.

 “Like what?” You asked, joining him in dusting off his clothes.

 You patted his back gently, feeling the brace on his spine under his clothes. You didn't find it.

 “After an explosion.” He swished the dust off his coat sleeves. The off-white coat was a tinge darker after the mishap. 

 “Technically, this is the first time we meet after an explosion.” You emphasized the word ‘after’ and he stopped mid-swipe, turning his face back towards you.

 Shrugging, you lifted the corners of your mouth, giving him a grin that he responded to with a chuckle. You looked around the mess that was the lab at this moment and spotted his white cane and his wheeled bench.

You grabbed the cane first and gently pushed the stool so it would roll down next to him. He plopped down with a groan, using the table as leverage. You handed him the cane, and he nodded. You smile at his messy figure.

 “Thank you.” He said, placing the cane between his knees and leaning into it with a heavy sigh.

 “Do you need anything else?” You asked softly, stopping the urge to kneel next to him and take stock of his injuries.

 “There is a first-aid kit somewhere on Jayce's desk. It’s on the...”

 Before he finished the sentence, you jiggled the white box next to him, having already grabbed it when he mentioned it.

 “How did…?” He asked, looking at you questioningly, and panic set in for a second.

 “Oh, my dear boy!” Your mother burst in, followed by several Enforcers, and you sighed in relief. 

 “Is everything alright?” One of the Enforcers said, and you took a step back, leaning against the table behind where Viktor sat.

 “Yes…” Viktor stated while your mother fussed over him.

 One of the enforcers looked at you, and you recognized his eyes. He had been one of the men you had pushed out of your way at the front door of the Academy. You looked at the floor, trying to not provoke the man.

 “Funny. You always seem to appear whenever anything goes boom, don't you?” He spat towards you. 

“Not funny at all.” You replied, your tone serious, trying once more not to escalate the situation. For your sake and the people you cared about who were now looking between you and the Enforcer.

“Maybe we should call Officer Kiraman. I’m sure she would like to know that once again you’re in the vicinity of an attack.” He snarled, and you scowled at him, about to let him have it.

“You are going to call Officer Kiraman over a malfunctioning piece of equipment?” Viktor interrupted, straightening up with a wince while using his cane to get up from the stool. “Do you think she’ll get here before or after reading all the condolence letters sent to her? Or perhaps she will make time on Remembrance Day, right before the speech honoring her deceased mother."

 A pin could be heard through the silence if a pin would have dropped in the lab. The main enforcer was looking at him, mouth hanging open; you and your mother looked at each other and then at a very collected, very serious Viktor. He seemed taller, with his shoulders straight, and you knew that after that tumble he was going to hurt for at least a week, but that didn't stop him from stepping up to the Enforcers. You had forgotten how much sass that man could pack in a single line.

 “When is it going to be, officer?” The engineer shrugged, limping back towards a pile of sheets that had flown back. “I need to tidy up before she gets here.”

 It took the group of Enforcers three seconds to clear out after that, and a collective sigh was heard from the three of you.

 “You’d think being knocked around would make their synapses work faster.” Viktor waved a hand at them, still picking up papers, stopping midway to look at you, like he had just realized you were there. “Not that I agree with knocking around enforcers…or that you knocked around enforcers… I’m just saying…”

 He was flustered, talking with his free hand while his eyes looked around the room. You chuckled, and he stopped when he heard you. 

 “You’re just saying…?” You teased, rolling your hand for him to keep going.

“Nothing of importance, I suppose.” He turned back to the table.

 “I was hoping you could show me the reader.” Esther announced, grabbing a few nuts and bolts and placing them next to Viktor. “But I imagine it's not functioning.”

 Viktor turned to her, realizing finally why you were both there. He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck.

 “Well, yes and no.” He said, tilting his head from side to side. “The explosion wasn’t it, but it was a component that I was trying to recreate to use in another experiment.”

 “And now both are fried.” You answered by crossing your arms. 

“Well…yes. But if you give me a few hours, I can make it work, at least for the reader. The other thing will wait, I guess…” he said quickly. “Better yet, give me a few minutes so I can get it, and I can at least show you what I have for now.”

“It's quite alright, dear. Take your time. We can just come back another time.” Esther said, and part of you felt disappointed. 

 Your second home was right here.

“That would hardly be fair. You’ve made it here. Give me a few minutes, an hour tops.” He was limping around waving his hand and cane.

“I suppose I do need to speak with Councilor Salo.” Your mother shrugged nonchalantly. “Do you want to—”

“No.” You cut her off. “Not really. You go ahead. I’ll get reacquainted with the Academy.”

“Reacquainted?” Viktor inquired, looking towards you.

“Last time I was here, I didn’t exactly take the scenic route.” You covered your mistake with an easy joke, and he chuckled at it.

• ············ •

You managed to walk around the Academy undisturbed. It was weird to walk around the familiar corridors, passing by people you knew and fighting the urge to say hello and strike up a conversation. It was awfully lonely, seeing everyone going about their lives, never knowing about you.

 Although it saddened you, you understood that it wasn’t because you weren’t needed in their lives but because fate found a way to replace you. Maybe you hadn’t saved Sky from falling down the stairs in this universe, because maybe her classroom was on the same floor she was at.

As you wandered, you found yourself in a corridor with very recognizable double doors. The Council Chamber was guarded by several guards, and you felt the morbid curiosity to see if the room was the same as it was in your time. 

As you searched your brain for a way to bypass the guards, a familiar whispering in your ear. The rune from the elevator flashed behind your eyes. The one you hadn’t managed to make work. You took your gloves off again and drew the symbol in a railing, disguising it as an absent movement as you looked down to the courtyard. You let it go, and nothing happened for a couple of seconds.

And then the groaning of metal grinding against another surface filled your ears. Your eyes turned upwards as you saw the metal spike that held the Academy’s banner to the stone ceiling give way and slip. The heavy banner made a swoosh noise as it fell, and your eyes widened. 

You saw the Enforcers run towards the elevator and the stairs. You turned your back to them and waited until their hurried footsteps had softened. 

Quickly you made your way to the chamber through the door you had burst open. A new door had been placed and locked, but you unlocked it with three swipes of your fingers.

 The chamber room was as spacious as you remembered, the hole in the dome a grim reminder that those who sat in this room were as vulnerable as everyone else in the city. You remembered Viktor’s diagram, looking around at the empty and cracked chairs. Most of the smaller debris had been cleaned off, leaving only the big and medium chunks. The ones that couldn't just be carried off by crewmen. The sun shone high and bright in the clear sky, illuminating the whole room, the long pieces of the damaged dome casting a shadow on the floor.

You touched parts of the smooth stone that were still intact and walked toward the edge of the room, feeling the wind on your face. It had been an awakening to these people, but not the one that Piltover needed. This whole region forgot how hard it is to break a rope and how easy it is to break a strand. Only in the end did they figure out that the many are more powerful than the few. That blood, once spilt, is equally red whether it is from Zaun or Topside.

Closing your eyes, you stood for a moment, somewhat grieving what had been the beginning of the end.

(Nemo - The Code)

Welcome to the show. Let everybody know I’m done playing the game. I’ll break out of the chains.

Until the wind started whispering in your ear and your eyes shot open. What looked to be blue dust started to float like specks of dust toward the middle of the room, and you followed the flow. There was nothing there. But there could be. 

You better buckle up; I'll pour another cup. This is my bohème, so drink it up, my friend.

 Your hand moved unconsciously, drawing the rune in the air like it was second nature. You pushed it out with a flick of your hand. Like in the graveyard, it divided itself into several wisps of light and quickly moved toward parts of the broken table and chairs. A familiar rune appeared, but so did many others. Some are more complicated, others just little flicks of light. Shining bright in the middle of the rubble or being illuminated by sunlight.

I went to hell and back. To find myself on track, I broke the code.

 You walked towards what had been the middle of the cog-like shape and watched as the wisps danced around. Looking around, you noticed the runes were surrounding you, pulsating like a heartbeat; you noticed your hand doing the same, in rhythm with the wisps. You saw a small piece of rubble that had been missing by the cleaning crew and took a deep breath. 

“Here goes nothing.”

Let me tell you a tale about life, 'Bout the good and the bad; better hold on tight.

 Starting with the rune in front of you, you carved it on the floor, the piece of rubble in your hand serving as a makeshift chalk. You kept carving the runes on the floor in front of where they appeared in the air. The world around you faded, and your vision became focused.

 See the rune, and trace the rune on the floor. 

Let me taste the lows and highs; let me feel that burning fright.

It was automatic; you didn’t think or even study the rune. At some point, you felt like it was the rune commanding you to write, rather than your desire to write them. And even though it was akin to someone using your arm and hand to do this, it never felt like you couldn’t stop. 

 It was almost cathartic.

Somewhere between the O's and ones, that's where I found my kingdom come.

 When you found yourself at the beginning of the circle of runes, you stopped and took a step back. The wisps had disappeared, but you could see a faint light throbbing under the scratched runes. 

 It looked so unbelievably perfect for something that you had scratched on the floor with a piece of cement. Every space between runes was precise, and the little ticks and dots were perfectly balanced. 

 With that amount of rigor, it was easy to see something was missing, a single wisp in the spot where the cog table opened. Familiar strokes. Ones you’ve been looking at ever since you woke up in the hospital. 

 You looked at your palm, the rune there shining so bright it almost burned. Taking a few steps towards the space, you shook your hand in the air and slammed it into the slot.

My heart beats like a drum.

The whole room shook, and for a second you got scared, but when the runes started ungluing themselves off the ground and quickly zapping around different parts of the table, you became too fascinated with the show to care.

 If the building fell, you don’t think you’d even notice.

 Every piece of wreckage, big or small, started floating above you, aided by strands of magic that pushed and pulled and moved different pieces toward different places. Their rightful places. Once a piece found its match, it was welded together by a flash of blue light, leaving them complete with a trace of metallic blue where the crack had been.

I went to hell and back. To find myself on track, I broke the code.

 You noticed the same thing happening in the chairs, and by the end of the magic show, the table and the chairs were floating around you. Slowly drifting and turning into their right position. Until they wafted back down to the floor with an incredible low thud.

 It was almost overwhelming once it was all over how the silence settled around you. The runes on the floor disappeared, your hand stopped glowing, and the table was complete, whole, pieced together by little blue veins. The only thing you heard was the birds outside, the wind through the damaged dome, your heavy breathing, and the clunk of a metal cane hitting the floor.

 Your neck snapped at the sound, and you saw a wide-eyed Viktor standing in front of the side door you had entered.

 “Your… your mother is… She’s looking for you.” He stuttered.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty

[houseboatisland]

Operation Nestled Dragon

Even before the passage of its iconic Transport Act 1947, the first Attlee ministry had been laying the groundwork for what we would today call a strategic steam reserve. Operation Nestled Dragon, which went into effect as early as December 1945, called for “at least 4,000” steam locomotives to be stored and kept in constant readiness in the event of “any cataclysm which could strain supply.” This was a somewhat arbitrary number; the LMS alone had 8,000 locomotives on the eve of Nationalization. It was believed that a majority of the country’s engines would survive attack during a wartime scenario, the most likely reason to activate the reserve at the time. 4,000 engines kept as a backup to unscathed stock was deemed sufficient. (It has to be said there were no strategic reserves of coaches or trucks, whether planned or even merely discussed!)

These engines and the necessary facilities would be dispersed as needed throughout the country. Bigger towns would have more engines and more MPDs (motive power depots) allocated to them, London having the most. The number of engines kept in a single “strategic MPD” was always limited to 20. In this way, an attack such as an aerial bombardment would be less likely to take out a population center’s entire locomotive stud at once.

To “activate” the reserve, the Minister of Transport was required to approach the Prime Minister and his Cabinet, and a vote be held on the matter.

Strategic MPDs could be crude or elaborate. By design they were severed from the nearest railway, so that no tracks were visible for any overcurious trespasser, potential spies or reconnaissance aircraft to follow. Every MPD had to be able to have these missing rails laid back in “within or under three hours” if called upon. Often, abandoned mines and tunnels were used and their insides fitted out. These ‘naturally-occurring’ locations were codenamed “dragon’s lairs.” Other times a location had to be built from scratch; these artificial MPDs were codenamed “rabbitholes.” Always was there emphasis on keeping the MPDs dry, ventilated and fireproof. Each MPD needed a turntable, a reliable water supply, coal bunkers, storage space for rails, sleepers, a small number of spare parts, adequate headroom and an overhead crane for heavy repairs like boiler swaps, and of course bunks for crews should the reserve be activated and they be based there. Otherwise bunkrooms were vacant, although men on duty for maintenance of stock and depots did find use for them during their shifts.

There was little methodology in place for which engine classes were preferred for the reserve. Great Western engines were less favored as they were built to run on high-quality South Welsh coal, and it was assumed the quality of coal sourced during a crisis would be poor. In any event however, some still “found their way in.” In general however, Eastern, Midland and ex-WD locos formed the majority of the workforce. Every engine belonging to the various military railways such as that at Longmoor were considered part of the reserve too, so it could be said that several pieces of the reserve’s stock were out in the open all along. Also joining their ranks as they came about were BR Standard classes, some built specifically for the reserve. These had neither BR nor serial numbers, being built “off the books.”

At first, engines reserved were simply stored and maintained in the livery they wore at the time of their “reassignment.” As time went on, (and their maintainers became bored,) a semi-official livery of black with white and navy blue stripes was settled upon and applied, one engine at a time. Quickly a crest for the Strategic Reserve was designed by one anonymous artistic crewman, and the reserve’s motto agreed: “Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit,” a superstitious British phrase.

Attlee and Churchill were both said to have toured a strategic MPD at least once. “Here we are in the belly of the beast. You lot have done some splendid work; Britain thanks you,” Attlee had said on his visit. “Men will do anything to play trains away from the wife without interrogation,” Churchill remarked on his, perhaps half in jest.

Thus was the system. As steam on the public or “civilian” British Railways was phased out, further freshly withdrawn engines were added to the reserve stocklist. Much speculation was made as to why coal bunkers and hoppers and water towers continued to be maintained even as the steam engines finally vanished from the national network in August 1968. This was explained away as infrastructure left in place for railtours by preserved engines, and in hindsight must have sounded ridiculous.

As generations of enginemen retired, they had to pass on their skills to the fresh blood. The years then went by without significant cause for alarm. The closest the reserve came to being activated was at the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis in late October 1962; declassified materials confirm that as many as half of the reserve was in full steam awaiting the call, and track gangs were ready and waiting to lay in rails. The crisis ebbed of course, and by the second week of November, the number of engines idle was back to “Normal.”

Margaret Thatcher’s Government planned to shut the program down, but this was averted… just. John Major however couldn’t be dissuaded. Privatization was in full swing, and the Soviet Union had dissolved itself. The reserve suddenly seemed very redundant, (but per its own 1945 definition, not completely,) and the winding down of it all began. On the 1st of December 1998, some 53 years after the beginning of Operation Nestled Dragon, all 4,855 locomotives and their associated depots and crews were demobilized by the Blair ministry and most of the reserve’s documentation declassified. Everything became public knowledge, including the engines themselves, quite literally overnight.

At once, the locos and their facilities were up for auction. Dozens of Strategic MPDs were made into living museums demonstrating how the reserve worked. Many of the engines belonged to classes otherwise thought extinct, such as the LNER Thompson L1s and the LMS Garratts, and here were surviving specimens being pulled out of the metaphorical wardrobe like nothing. The British preservation scene was in a matter of hours awash in perfectly functional engines no one expected to still exist, which coupled together in a line were longer than most if not all of the railways themselves! Several also were sold abroad to the United States and Canada.

The public couldn’t be blamed for this all being such a shock. They hadn’t been prepared.

Their predecessors however certainly were.

[maxdibert]

Having a shitty past is no excuse for being a horrible person, and Snape was a horrible person. Snape fans always try to turn him into a tragic hero, but there was nothing heroic about him when he was just an obsessive bigot who followed a group of genocidal maniacs

Well, I think I’ve said this a million times already and explained in exhausting detail why growing up in a particular environment—lacking social, emotional, economic, or essential support—and being subjected to violence during the most crucial years of cognitive development creates the perfect breeding ground for antisocial behavior. It also makes vulnerable or socially excluded youth prime targets for sectarian groups (whether religious, political, or otherwise) that prey on their situation, offering them promises of protection, safe spaces, surrogate parental figures, or social progress. These groups actively seek out kids with emotional voids caused by dysfunctional family dynamics, minimal to no financial resources, and a profound sense that the system has failed them at every turn. They offer these kids an alternative system—one that gives them a roof over their heads, a hot meal, a place to belong, and people who won’t marginalize them like the rest of society has—at the simple price of blindly following the group’s ideology. And they do it. Of course, they do. Because what other choice do they have? This group gave them life, a place in society, and restored their status as human beings.

But since I’ve spoken about this at length before and about how Severus’s life shaped his decisions, I feel like I’m starting to sound like a broken record. So, since I’m also reading a legal ruling I need to memorize by Friday, I’m going to indulge myself and dissertate as freely as I please—because hey, if you’re going to throw hate, I’m going to grant myself the privilege of replying however I want.

Here’s a question: why does it even matter? Seriously, what does it matter if he was a shitty person? Do you know that people go to space today thanks to the work of physicists and engineers who were literal SS members? That after WWII, all the top scientists, physicists, chemists, and engineers were granted amnesty and fast-tracked into citizenships so they could work on government projects? That people working within a stone’s throw of concentration camps are the pioneers behind some of the greatest technological advances of the 20th century? And you don’t care that the products you consume are derived from the work of collaborators with mass genocide, but you’re upset that people find a fictional character interesting? I don’t want to sound cynical, but honestly, it’s ridiculous to get so morally high and mighty about a character who doesn’t exist and who followed an extremist cult for, what? 3 or 4 years tops? and then canonically worked actively to take it down. If we put Severus in a real-world, wartime context, the guy would be a literal war hero with medals to his name. No exaggeration. If he survived, he’d be recruited with a fat paycheck to work in internal affairs for some major world power’s secret projects. That’s just how the world works.

And yeah, he was obsessive. But in an era where everyone suffers at least one anxiety episode a month, where the best-case scenario is that your panic attacks don’t spiral into chronic mental health issues—can we really judge him for that? Like, most of the people I see being ultra “snater” are folks who openly declare themselves neurodivergent, and one of the common denominators of all neurodivergence is obsessiveness. All of them. Whether it’s chronic anxiety, depression, OCD, ADHD, paranoid schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder or autism. Every single one has an obsessive component. So it’s kind of ironic—and even hypocritical—for people who are themselves pretty obsessive (because let’s face it, we’re all compulsively doomscrolling here to soothe our anxious compulsions with little dopamine hits) to judge this character’s obsessiveness as a negative trait. Maybe let’s take a good look in the mirror, too.

And let me just say, no court would convict Severus of collaborating with a terrorist group. Not a single one. Impossible. Especially since he literally collaborated against said group, so any judge would happily clear him—not after the war, but the moment he struck his deal with Dumbledore. Severus is what’s known as an informant. He worked from the inside, exposed himself to greater dangers than regular agents. Legally speaking, there have been cases where people guilty of heinous crimes—including crimes against humanity—were let off because they provided critical information. So imagine someone like Severus, who, as far as we know, didn’t even kill anyone during his time in the group, willingly spilling the beans and agreeing to work as a spy. He’d be celebrated as a hero of war. Hell, they’d probably buy him a mansion in Florida if he wanted one. That’s just how our system works, and honestly, this kind of moralist posturing is pretty cringy because you’re talking about a guy who literally saved half of magical society’s asses and without whom the kid destined to save the world would’ve died in his first year at school.

You can dislike him or think he’s a jerk, but he was damn good at his job. And compared to the people he’s often unfairly measured against (Sirius, James, Remus...), he actually did something. They didn’t. Absolutely nothing. Contribution: negative one.

[willtheweaver]

Suspiciously specific and specifically vague writing prompts

• Extraterrestrial archaeologists in the far future uncover your body. They then write a scientific paper on humans based off of what they found out about you.

• Retell your favorite myth or fairy tale in a modern setting

• Turn a modern of futuristic story into a mythological epic

• Your OCs realize they are fictional characters. *Cue chaos and existential crisis*

• Good news: you’ve reincarnated into your favorite video game. Bad news: you’re a self-aware NPC (Al-la VLDL)

• Have you ever wondered what a tree thinks?

• A murder victim’s ghost does everything in their power to get the attention of the dim-witted detective assigned to the case

• Hero is given everything in order to stop the apocalypse and yet they still find a way to fail

• Make a grand story out of something mundane

• What would happen if the dancing plague occurred today?

• You must use tropes that you hate, and are totally overused. Find some way to make them work;turn them on their head, use malicious compliance, totally invert them

• What is the real reason why no one turned up to Professor Hawkins’ party

•A white hat, a blogger, and an AI must team up to stop an international hacking ring before they start WW 3 (bonus if none of the unlikely heroes get along)

• An atheist is deemed worthy enough to receive the mantle of god. Awkward… and what exactly are the philosophical implications?

• You’re a mimic. Describe a day in the life of tricking (and devouring) foolish adventures.

• Someone from the past is resurrected. They go on a rampage when they find out that [great deed/feat of engineering/ work of genius] is being credited to [aliens/Atlantis/ Hollow Earth dwellers, etc.]

[featherwurm]

I'm going to get a lot more personal on here than I usually do:

Baulder's Gate 3, and especially Karlach, make me feel seen in a way no price of media I've ever engaged with before has. It's a big reason why I love it and why it's sticking with me like it is. I too am a big, loud, enthusiastic woman who says out of pocket shit. I have a heavy internal dialogue with myself. I have a temper, I'm bisexual, I love cute shit. I endured years of being utterly touch starved. I love sex and food and being alive...

I also have cancer; it's Follicular B-Cell Lymphoma. I was diagnosed in 2020 when it had reached stage 3A. It's currently under control after chemo* and I'm living my life normally. But while it's a very treatable kind of cancer, it's not fully curable**. There's nothing in me they can remove (it's my whole lymphatic system that's broken) and no drug currently that can wholly knock it out. It's cause is not known (genetically or environmentally), and its unusual for this type of cancer to affect someone as young as I am (I was diagnosed at 35 - it's much more common 65+***). So every three months I go into oncology and they check my blood and symptoms and see if I'm doing ok. I get imaging and biopsies occasionally too. This will go on until I'm not ok (hopefully a long time yet). I'll have to have still manageable but more invasive treatment the next time around. It's a well researched kind of cancer, and my oncologist hopes that in the next decade there may be some more permanent cure for it.

So you can see where I'm going with this. When you hit Karlach's monologue after killing Gortash, I've never felt better understood. I have no one to blame for my condition, no revenge arc of course, but the very same fear, frustration, grief, and anger are all things my husband has heard from me. I've never seen a more beautiful and moving and real exploration of the topic that resonates with me so meaningfully out of a piece of fiction that I love. Béart's performance is amazing - capturing a whole spectrum of emotion.

Karlach's story is absolutely not incomplete as written, confirmed by both the devs and Sam Béart - a terminal condition is just that. You don't get to fix or save her, you get to go with her through tremendous trial and difficulty. If you want to continue that story in your mind that's great (I know I'm eager to do so, for my own personal encouragement if nothing else) but on it's own it's a whole story about coming to terms with something that doesn't have a quick and easy little fetch-quest resolution.

So - every time I see another whinging post/essay/bitchfest about how her story feels "unfinished" or "incomplete" or "has too much cut content" you can see why I might take it a bit personally - knowing that the life I have, the easy solutions I don't get, and the frustration and grief I live with is seen as incorrect and wrong and bad writing makes me a little pissed off. If you think the story is incomplete as told and think a 'third engine upgrade' is missing you completely missed the point.

Karlach doesn't get a simple easy ending because people like me**** don't get that either. And like my husband and the others who love me you can choose to follow that story anyway. And that's fucking beautiful.

*Yeah dealing with cancer and undergoing chemo during a pandemic was really a peach.

**XKCD hits the nail on the head here and here.

***Current treatments have good decade long prognoses... but saying 'you'll probably be fine for the next 10 years' is a lot different at 35 than it is at 65.

****And believe me I've heard from a lot of chronic/terminally ill folks who love the game for the way it represents these things and feel the same, with her Gale, and Shadowheart too.

[sherewrytes]

Half crazy, Toji x reader

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

REBLOGS HELP ENGAGEMENT

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

character lookbook

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Taglist: (you can comment to be added)

@sparkling-obsidian @queendessi24 @masterofthepp @thedondiva45

Previous Next

Chapter: Racing Shadows

The streets buzzed with tension as the underground scene reached fever pitch. The scent of rubber and gasoline hung in the air, mixing with the hum of engines revving and the low chatter of spectators. It wasn’t just any race night—tonight, the stakes were higher, and reputations were on the line. Toji Zenin’s crew was about to go head-to-head with Hiromi Higuruma’s squad, a rising force on the circuit.

Toji stood by his black 1979 Dodge Charger, white neon lights flickering beneath it. The beast was all muscle, just like the man himself. Tattoos snaked down Toji’s arms, and his eyes were fixed on the crowd. Somewhere out there, Y/n was watching. He’d spotted her earlier, and his jaw had tightened, though he’d tried to play it off. He wasn’t about to show weakness in front of the crew or, worse, Hiromi.

Hiromi Higuruma stepped out of his blood-red Ferrari F12 Berlinetta, a confident smirk playing on his lips. His ride was a monster, all sleek curves and roaring power, but Hiromi was the real threat tonight. The man exuded arrogance, as if every win was already guaranteed. Dressed sharp as always, Hiromi’s eyes landed on Toji, narrowing as he walked over.

“Zenin,” Hiromi’s voice dripped with disdain. “You ready to finally lose that rust bucket? Or are we going to pretend you’re still the king of the streets?”

Toji exhaled smoke from his cigarette, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “ Rust bucket, are you a fucking 5 year old, try harder with the insults. We’ll see who’s still standing by the end of the night, Higuruma. You sure you can handle it?”

Hiromi chuckled darkly, stepping closer, his voice low and taunting. “Handle it? Please. I’ve been handling everything—money, cars... women.” He paused, locking eyes with Toji. “Though, from what I hear, you’ve been slacking on that last part. You got eyes for one girl, but I haven’t seen you make a move. What’s the matter, Zenin? Can’t close the deal?”

Toji’s jaw clenched. Y/n had been the only one he cared to look at, but Hiromi’s words hit a nerve, one he didn’t want exposed in front of the crew. Sukuna, leaning against his blood-red Chevy Camaro, shot a glance at Toji, sensing the rising tension.

Hiromi kept going, his voice louder now, trying to rile Toji up. “What’s wrong? You’re afraid? Because the way I see it, all you do is stare. No approach, no talk. Is that your game now? Losing it with cars, losing it with women?”

Toji’s cigarette dropped from his lips, his fists tightening. Before anyone could blink, he was inches from Hiromi, nostrils flaring. “Watch your mouth, Higuruma, or I’ll shut it for you right here.”

The crowd quieted, eyes widening as the tension crackled between the two racers. Gojo, ever the joker, stepped forward with a grin. “Relax, Toji. Hiromi’s just bitter ‘cause he thinks he’s hot, but no one actually wants him.”

Hiromi’s eyes flicked to Gojo, but he wasn’t backing down from Toji. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hit a nerve? Seems like your boy over here just confirmed it. Maybe after I take your car tonight, I’ll take the girl too.”

Toji lunged, grabbing Hiromi by the collar, ready to throw a punch. The crew moved fast—Geto, Sukuna, and Gojo pulling Toji back while Panda and Nanami stepped in to hold Hiromi. The energy was electric, and it felt like a fight was moments away from breaking out.

“Save it for the track!” Geto snapped, his voice cutting through the chaos. “We’re here to race, not brawl.”

Hiromi straightened his shirt, his smirk never faltering. “Yeah, Zenin, listen to your crew. You’d need them after I beat you anyway.”

Toji glared, seething. “You want to raise the stakes, Hiromi? Fine. Pink slips.”

The crowd gasped. This wasn’t just a race anymore—it was a declaration of war. Racing for pink slips meant losing your car if you didn’t win, and with cars as custom and expensive as these, that was everything.

Hiromi’s grin grew wider. “Now we’re talking. But just so you know, Zenin, after I win your car, I’ll put it to good use. Probably better than you ever could.”

Toji’s smile was sharp, dangerous. “You better pray you’re fast enough.”

Hiromi leaned in. “Always am.”

Race 1: Gojo Satoru vs. Kento Nanami

The first race was Gojo against Nanami, and the tension was palpable. Gojo, all smiles, pulled his baby blue Mazda RX-8 to the start line. His white hair practically glowed under the streetlights, and he shot Nanami a playful wink. “You ready to get smoked, Nami?”

Nanami, leaning against his sleek black Porsche 911 Turbo S, didn’t even respond. He was all business, adjusting his sleeves and climbing into the driver’s seat without a word. His car was a silent killer—sleek, powerful, and devastatingly fast.

As the light flashed green, both cars roared to life. Gojo’s Mazda took off like a rocket, zipping around the first corner with ease. His grin widened as he weaved through traffic, laughing to himself. But Nanami was calm, composed, and relentless. His Porsche moved like a panther stalking its prey, never too far behind, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Gojo’s hands moved fluidly, switching gears, his confidence unshakable. But on the final straight, Nanami closed the gap, his Porsche’s power surging forward. It was neck and neck as they approached the finish line, but Gojo’s laugh echoed as he barely edged out the win.

“Close one, Nami!” Gojo called, leaning out his window, though Nanami’s stoic expression didn’t falter.

Race 2: Suguru Geto vs. Toge Inumaki

Next up was Geto versus Inumaki. Geto slid into his yellow and black Nissan Primera GT, the green neon lights casting a ghostly glow beneath the car. Inumaki, his face tattoos glowing under the streetlights, pulled up in his dark green Mitsubishi Eclipse, the car’s wide body kit giving it an aggressive edge.

Inumaki’s hands gripped the wheel tightly, his eyes focused ahead. He was new to the scene, but everyone knew he had potential. The light flicked green, and Geto’s Primera shot forward, the engine howling as he took an early lead.

Inumaki followed closely, his Eclipse cornering sharply, though Geto’s experience gave him the edge. Inumaki’s focus was fierce, his tattoos and piercings giving him an intimidating look as he raced, but Geto was smooth, taking corners like a dancer, always a step ahead.

In the end, Geto crossed the finish line first, but Inumaki wasn’t far behind. “Not bad, kid,” Geto smirked as he pulled up next to him, and Inumaki nodded, his face unreadable.

Race 3: Sukuna Ryomen vs. Panda

Sukuna was up next, and his blood-red Chevy Camaro looked like a beast ready to devour the streets. Across from him, Panda, with his massive build and double-sleeved tattoos, slid into his blacked-out Dodge Challenger. Gold cuffs glinted on his wrists as he revved the engine, the roar echoing through the lot.

Sukuna grinned. “Let’s see what the new guy’s got.”

The race began with a thunderous start, Sukuna’s Camaro exploding off the line with raw power. But Panda’s Challenger wasn’t far behind, the massive car barreling forward with surprising speed. Panda’s calm demeanor didn’t match the intensity of his car, but his control was impeccable.

Sukuna’s grin widened as he pushed the Camaro to its limits, weaving through the course with reckless abandon. Panda followed, his Challenger staying close, but Sukuna’s experience won out. As they crossed the finish line, Sukuna let out a whoop of victory.

“Not bad, big guy,” Sukuna called out. Panda, ever the silent type, simply nodded.

Race 4: Toji Zenin vs. Hiromi Higuruma

Finally, it was time for the main event: Toji versus Hiromi. Toji stepped into his black Dodge Charger, the white neon lights flickering ominously beneath it. Hiromi, across from him, sat in his Ferrari F12, its blood-red body gleaming under the streetlights.

Toji’s face was set, jaw clenched as he revved the engine. This wasn’t just about the race anymore—it was personal. Hiromi had thrown too many insults, and Toji wasn’t about to let him get away with it.

Hiromi’s smirk hadn’t faltered. “Better say goodbye to that Charger, Zenin. It’ll look better in my garage.”

“Keep dreaming,” Toji growled.

The light flashed green, and both cars roared to life. The race was on.

The moment the light flashed green, the sound of tires screeching and engines roaring filled the night air. Toji’s Charger took off like a bullet, but Hiromi’s Ferrari was right on his tail,

a sleek red blur chasing the massive black muscle car through the neon-lit streets. Both cars thundered down the highway, weaving through the urban landscape at breakneck speeds.

Toji gripped the wheel, his hands steady, eyes razor-focused on the road ahead. The raw power of his Charger reverberated through his body, the engine growling as he pushed it harder.

This wasn’t just about racing anymore; this was about showing Hiromi, the crew, and especially Y/n, that no one could touch him—not on the streets, not anywhere.

Hiromi, in his Ferrari, was grinning like a madman. His sleek, custom-built machine cut through the air with a deadly precision, roaring behind Toji.

Hiromi’s confidence was palpable as he drew closer to Toji, pushing the Ferrari to its limits. He flicked his eyes to the side mirror, watching Toji's Charger devour the road ahead.

"You’re slipping, Zenin!" Hiromi shouted through his open window, his voice taunting, carried by the rush of wind. "You drive like you fight—sloppy and slow!"

Toji didn’t take the bait, but the fury in his chest burned hotter. He pushed his Charger even harder, the custom-built engine roaring with every shift of the gears. His knuckles whitened on the wheel, his jaw locked in determination.

Hiromi swerved up alongside Toji, their cars nearly kissing as they raced through a tight alley. The Ferrari’s sleek frame allowed it to glide with ease, but Toji’s Charger was a beast, chewing up the pavement as he powered through the turns. Hiromi’s laughter echoed across the alley as he pulled ahead slightly, his red Ferrari glinting under the streetlights.

"Guess I’ll be taking that Charger home tonight," Hiromi mocked, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Maybe I’ll even take the girl too. She deserves a real man."

Toji’s teeth ground together. His muscles tightened as Hiromi’s words fueled his fire. Y/n flashed in his mind, her eyes on him earlier tonight. She’d watched him, and in that moment, Toji knew he couldn’t lose. Not to this prick.

Without warning, Toji slammed his foot on the accelerator, the Charger’s powerful engine snarling as he surged forward. The gap between their cars closed in an instant, and Hiromi’s smirk vanished, replaced with shock as Toji pulled ahead.

"You’re not taking anything, Hiromi," Toji growled, eyes locked on the road as he took a sharp corner, his Charger sliding sideways with precision, drifting flawlessly. The tires screeched against the asphalt, sending sparks flying into the night air.

Hiromi’s Ferrari struggled to follow Toji’s aggressive moves, and for the first time in the race, doubt flickered in his eyes. Toji’s car was a monster, devouring every turn, every straightaway, with ferocious speed.

From the sidelines, the crowd roared in approval, the energy electric. Gojo, Sukuna, and Geto watched intently, knowing this race was more than just about cars—it was about pride, respect, and dominance.

"Toji’s got this," Gojo smirked, leaning against his RX-8, arms crossed. "Hiromi’s not ready."

Sukuna exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes following Toji’s Charger as it surged ahead. "He better be. That Ferrari’s not playing around."

Back on the road, Toji took another sharp corner, the Charger roaring as it bolted down the final straightaway. Hiromi, desperate, pushed the Ferrari to its absolute limit, trying to catch up, but it wasn’t enough. Toji’s skill, his raw determination, and the power of his custom Charger were too much.

As the finish line approached, the crowd leaned in, holding their breath. The neon lights from both cars flashed as they tore through the final stretch, but it was Toji’s Charger that crossed first, Hiromi’s Ferrari trailing behind by mere inches.

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Toji let out a breath, feeling the adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he slowed his car, pulling it to a stop. Hiromi skidded to a halt beside him, fury etched across his face.

Toji climbed out of his Charger, his expression cool and composed. Hiromi, on the other hand, slammed his door shut, his pride in tatters. The tension between them hadn’t diminished, and it was clear that things were far from over.

"You got lucky, Zenin," Hiromi sneered, stepping closer to Toji. "Next time, I’ll bury you. And we race for pink slips again—because I want that Charger."

Toji turned, his gaze cold, his voice low and lethal. "You don’t stand a chance. But if you want another shot at getting humiliated, I’m all for it."

Before Hiromi could respond, Gojo strolled over, grinning. "What’s this, boys? Another rematch already? Damn, Zenin, you really don’t let these guys breathe."

Hiromi glared at Gojo but kept his focus on Toji. "Next time, Zenin, I’ll take everything from you."

Toji smirked, leaning against his Charger, eyes gleaming with confidence. "You couldn’t take it if I gift-wrapped it for you."

The crowd began to disperse, the adrenaline still pulsing in the air as the racers regrouped. Y/n stood at a distance, her eyes fixed on Toji, who caught her gaze for a brief moment before looking away, his expression unreadable.

Hiromi stalked back to his Ferrari, his crew following behind, but the tension between him and Toji lingered like a storm cloud, promising that this rivalry was far from over.

Toji’s POV:

The race had been a rush, but now that it was over, Toji leaned against his Charger, the heat from the engine warming his back as he took a slow drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled from his lips, drifting into the cool night air, mixing with the distant cheers and hum of conversations around the lot. His eyes flickered toward Sukuna, who was sitting on the hood of Gojo’s RX-8, rolling up another joint with meticulous precision. The whole crew was there, unwinding after the adrenaline-fueled race.

Toji’s mind was still buzzing. Hiromi's words replayed in his head, especially the part about taking everything from him—including her. His jaw clenched slightly, but he masked it with another pull from his cigarette. He wasn’t going to let Hiromi—or anyone—get under his skin. But Y/n… she’d been watching, he could feel it. Every time he was around, he caught her eyes on him, just like his had been on her since that first time outside the library.

Gojo’s loud laugh snapped him out of his thoughts. The man was standing a few feet away, chatting up some girls who had stuck around after the race. Typical. Geto was nearby, doing the same, his relaxed posture oozing charm as he leaned in to talk to one of the girls, a grin tugging at his lips. Meanwhile, Choso rolled up late, as usual, pulling up on his custom motorbike with a low growl. He parked and swung his leg off, the gold accents on the sleek black bike gleaming under the neon lights.

"Why is she walking over here?" Choso asked, nodding in the direction of Mei Mei, who had just broken off from Y/n and Shoko. The rest of the guys followed his gaze.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, already grinning as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Shit, hide your wallets, boys. She smells money from miles away."

Toji’s eyes shifted, narrowing slightly as Mei Mei strutted toward them with her usual confidence. And, as if it were instinct, his gaze flickered past her, locking onto Y/n who was standing a distance away with Shoko. She looked good—too good, even in the simple outfit she had on. His cigarette paused mid-air as his eyes lingered just a little too long. He forced himself to focus back on Mei Mei when Gojo's voice rang out again, teasing.

"Yo, isn’t that Y/n’s friend?" Choso asked as he parked his bike and sauntered over to the group.

Toji straightened, keeping his face neutral, but he knew what was coming. Damn Gojo. The guy always had a knack for turning the spotlight on Toji when he least wanted it.

Mei Mei arrived, glancing around the group before her eyes settled on Toji, her usual cool demeanor not faltering even for a second. "So, Toji," she started, her voice casual but carrying an edge of curiosity. "You gonna tell me what’s the deal with you eyeing up Y/n everywhere, or what?"

The group erupted in laughter, Sukuna shaking his head as he exhaled a puff of smoke. Geto chuckled, leaning back against the wall with a knowing grin.

Toji took a slow drag from his cigarette, playing it off, exhaling the smoke in a lazy stream. "What are you talking about?" he said smoothly, though his heart skipped a beat. His eyes darted briefly toward Y/n again—bad move.

Gojo was on it in a second.

"Ohhh, Toji’s playin’ dumb now, huh?" Gojo piped up with a smirk. "Come on, man. Don’t think we haven’t noticed you checking her out at every turn." He nudged Sukuna, who snickered beside him, still focused on rolling his joint.

"Maybe he’s just shy, y’know?" Geto added with mock seriousness, shooting a wink in Toji’s direction.

Toji shot Gojo a glare. Bastard. He tried to play it cool, leaning back against his car with a shrug, tapping the ashes of his cigarette. "You all got nothing better to do than gossip like high schoolers?"

"Hey, no judgment," Gojo teased, his grin widening. "I’m just saying, if you’re gonna keep staring, might as well make a move, man. Y/n’s right over there."

Toji felt his pulse quicken, but he wasn’t about to let Gojo get the satisfaction. "Fuck off," he muttered, taking another drag from his cigarette as he side-eyed Gojo. The group continued to laugh, but Toji’s gaze inevitably drifted toward Y/n again.

Y/n’s POV:

Y/n could feel eyes on her before she even looked up. The race had been exciting—chaotic, really—but now, standing with Shoko, she felt a different kind of tension hanging in the air. She glanced across the lot and saw Toji’s crew huddled together. Mei Mei had left her and Shoko, heading straight for the guys, her usual confident strut not faltering for a second.

"She’s gonna stir up trouble," Shoko muttered beside her, lighting a cigarette as they watched the scene unfold.

Y/n nodded, biting her lip. She could see it from a mile away—Mei Mei had a habit of stirring the pot. But that wasn’t what was really on her mind. It was him. Toji Zenin. Or was it Fushiguro? She still didn’t really know why he switched between the two names. Either way, there was something about him that she couldn’t shake.

She’d seen the way he looked at her—subtle, but not really. The way his gaze lingered just a second too long, the tension in his jaw when she passed by. And now, standing here, she could feel his eyes on her again, even though she wasn’t looking directly at him.

"What’s the deal with him anyway?" she asked Shoko, trying to sound nonchalant, though her heart was beating faster than usual.

Shoko took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling before answering. "Toji? He’s… complicated. Quiet, but intense. And those rumors—yeah, they're wild, but it’s mostly because he and the guys are street racers. They’ve got that whole ‘bad boy’ rep going on."

"Bad boy, huh?" Y/n murmured, trying to mask her curiosity.

Shoko turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "You’re curious, aren’t you?" she teased.

Y/n didn’t answer, her eyes now locked on Mei Mei, who had stopped right in front of Toji, clearly about to stir something up. She watched as Mei Mei pointedly asked him something—probably about her. Toji’s reaction was calm at first, but then the guys started laughing, Gojo especially, and Y/n could see Toji shift slightly, his body tensing.

"Here we go," Shoko said with a smirk, flicking her cigarette onto the ground.

Before Y/n could respond, Mei Mei turned, smirking slightly, and began walking back towards them. Y/n could feel her heart racing. What the hell had she said to him?

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Gojo shift his stance, his usual grin replaced with something more mischievous. He turned toward her direction, eyes glinting with that playful arrogance he always carried, and called out loud enough for the entire group to hear as well as other surrounding groups.

"Y/n! Toji’s been checking you out all night—why don’t you give him a reason to stop pretending he’s not interested?"

The words hit her like a punch, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She caught Toji’s eyes for a split second, and his expression, usually so unreadable, flickered with something—frustration, maybe? Annoyance?

Y/n swallowed hard, her pulse skyrocketing. She didn’t know what to say or do. But then Toji moved so fast it was almost a blur—he grabbed Gojo by the collar, jerking him forward as if he was about to land a punch. Gojo, ever the jokester, just laughed, his smirk unfazed.

"Come on, man," Gojo grinned, still laughing. "I wouldn’t steal your girl... unless..." His smirk widened.

Toji didn’t hesitate. His fist swung, but Gojo dodged easily, still laughing as Toji’s temper flared.

Toji’s fingers still buzzed from nearly decking Gojo, the cigarette barely hanging from his lips as he clenched his jaw. He wasn’t usually this quick to react, but Gojo had hit a nerve tonight, pushing him to the brink.

He took a deep drag, eyes narrowing as the smoke left his lips, rolling his shoulders back, trying to cool off.

That’s when Mei Mei casually sauntered over, plucking the freshly rolled joint right out of Sukuna’s hand as if it was hers to take. Toji's eyes flickered toward her in mild annoyance, but Mei Mei simply ignored him, lighting up the joint and taking a long, deliberate pull. She tilted her head back, exhaling the smoke with an almost too-calm demeanor.

Then, without missing a beat, she pulled out her phone and texted something, her lips curling into a smirk as she glanced briefly at Toji before looking down at her phone again.

She sauntered over to Gojo, who was still smirking, watching Toji carefully from the corner of his eye. "Mr. Moneybags," Mei Mei said smoothly, locking eyes with him. "Tell your dad to call me."

Gojo groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Mei Mei, please leave my dad alone. I beg you."

She just laughed, a soft, almost musical sound, clearly enjoying the way Gojo’s eyes narrowed in mock irritation. "We both know you like when I bother him, plus he is one of my sugar daddies" she teased.

Just then, Toji’s eyes snapped across the lot. Shoko was dragging Y/n, who was clearly resisting, toward their group. Y/n tugged against Shoko’s hold, but Shoko was relentless, her arm wrapped firmly around Y/n’s wrist. The closer they got, the more Toji could feel the tension building in his chest. He’d already been thrown off tonight, and now she was being pulled right into the middle of it.

He could feel his heart rate pick up, but he tried to play it off, taking another slow drag from his cigarette, acting like her presence didn’t throw his whole vibe off.

Y/n’s hair was slightly tousled from resisting Shoko, her eyes wide as she shot a pleading look toward her friend. Shoko, completely unfazed, kept dragging her forward until they were finally in the middle of the group. Geto, who's leaning casually against his car now, sizing up the situation, turned his gaze toward Shoko and smirked.

"Shoko," he drawled, eyeing her up. "You’re looking a little too good tonight."

Shoko didn’t even blink, shooting him a look of pure disgust. "Eww, bro, no," she replied flatly, which only made Geto laugh harder, shaking his head as he pulled out a cigarette of his own.

Then, Shoko turned on her heel, fixing her eyes on Mei Mei. "Cough it up," she demanded, crossing her arms. Mei Mei, still with the joint hanging loosely between her lips, raised an eyebrow and chuckled. She rummaged through her designer bag for a moment before pulling out the Jacquemus wallet that Shoko had been nagging her about for weeks.

Shoko snatched it from her with a satisfied smile, examining the sleek leather. "Finally," she muttered, tucking it into her own bag.

Geto leaned over, still smirking. "I could’ve gotten you something prettier," he said smoothly, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Shoko waved him off. "Geto, please shut up," she deadpanned, pulling out her own cigarette to light up.

But Toji’s focus had already shifted completely—Y/n was standing right there now, wearing just a skin-tight white tank top that clung to her every curve, paired with her jeans. His eyes lingered on her, muscles tensing beneath his wife-beater.

He’d ditched his jacket after the race, feeling the heat in more ways than one. But now, standing here, trying not to look directly at her? That was a challenge he wasn’t sure he could win.

And, of course, Gojo noticed. The guy lived to mess with him. The smirk on Gojo’s face widened when he saw how hard Toji was trying not to stare at Y/n.

"Well, well," Gojo said smoothly, sidling right up next to Y/n with that cocky confidence only he could pull off. He leaned in close, flashing her a playful grin. "Y/n, you know," he began, his voice low, dripping with amusement, "I always knew you had good taste. Hanging out with us, looking all... well, let’s just say you’re the highlight of the night."

Y/n couldn’t help the little laugh that slipped past her lips, half-embarrassed, half-amused by Gojo’s blatant flirting. He had that charm about him—so easy, so smooth. But at the same time, her eyes kept flicking over to Toji, as if trying to gauge his reaction.

Toji was pretending he didn’t hear it, trying to stay cool, but the cigarette between his fingers was burning faster than it should have been. He took another drag, slow and measured, trying to keep his expression neutral. But Gojo wasn’t letting up.

"You know," Gojo continued, now leaning even closer to Y/n, "you should really consider hanging out with us more often. I mean, I could show you a good time—better than some guys around here."

It was a direct jab at Toji, and Toji knew it. His eyes snapped up, locking onto Gojo with a dangerous glint. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot as he straightened up, his broad frame tense.

"Oi," Toji’s voice cut through the chatter, low and sharp. His eyes were focused, burning with a barely-contained fire as he looked directly at Gojo. "Back off."

Gojo laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down, Toji," he teased. "I’m just having a little fun."

Y/n felt the tension spike in the air, her heart racing. She hadn’t been sure what Toji’s reaction would be, but now it was clear. He was pissed.

Toji stepped closer, his eyes now on Y/n, ignoring Gojo completely. "You okay?" His voice was a little softer now, but there was still that edge to it.

Y/n nodded, though her pulse was racing. "Yeah, I’m fine," she said, her voice a little breathless.

Toji’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer before he nodded, turning his attention back to Gojo. "Stop messing around," he muttered, the warning clear in his tone.

Gojo just grinned, but this time, he took a step back, deciding to back off—for now.

Sukuna, who had been watching all this unfold with mild interest, finally spoke up, his voice lazy and amused. "Damn, Toji. Didn’t know you had it in you to get all protective."

Toji shot him a look, but didn’t say anything. His heart was still racing, his mind still half on the race, half on Y/n. But one thing was for sure—next time, Gojo wouldn’t be running his mouth so freely.

Toji’s POV:

Toji felt the air crackle with tension as Gojo leaned in closer to Y/n. He clenched his fists, the frustration bubbling beneath his skin. But before he could act on that impulse, Gojo piped up, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Come on, man, I won’t do that... unless..." He let the words hang, his smirk widening.

Toji reacted instinctively, grabbing Gojo by the collar and yanking him forward. “You really want to test me right now?” he growled, eyes blazing with barely-contained rage. Gojo just laughed, clearly enjoying the playful threat. “Chill out, I was just joking!” he wheezed, still chuckling as he pushed Toji away.

Meanwhile, Y/n turned to Shoko, a frown on her face. “How could you sell me out for a wallet?” she teased, shaking her head.

Shoko shrugged, a playful smile creeping across her lips. “Two birds with one stone,” she replied, nudging Y/n gently.

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me about the whole ‘I’m getting a wallet’ plan!” Y/n protested, laughing.

Choso, who usually stayed quiet, chimed in unexpectedly, “So, Y/n, are you coming to my party later tonight?” His voice was casual, but there was a hint of excitement in his eyes.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “It’s 1 AM in the morning, Choso,” she replied, ready to decline.

“AND?” he shot back, not missing a beat.

Just as she opened her mouth to say no, Mei Mei cut in with a sly smile. “Give me the location; we’ll all be there.” Then she turned to Toji, that same playful grin lingering. “Including Y/n,” she added, her tone teasing.

Choso eagerly shared the details, his eyes glinting with anticipation. “It’s at my place—just a few blocks from here. Should be a good time.”

Geto leaned back against his car, his gaze fixed on Shoko. “How are you guys getting there?” he asked, his voice casual, though the excitement simmered just beneath the surface.

“I’ll drive,” Shoko replied, rolling her eyes at Geto’s obvious interest. He shot her a cheeky smile and a wink, which made her shake her head in exasperation.

“Alright, well, see you boys at the party!” Mei Mei said, leading the girls away, Y/n glancing back at Toji one last time before she was whisked away.

Toji kept his gaze locked on her as she walked away, a mixture of longing and frustration swirling inside him. But then he noticed her stop, and his heart dropped. Y/n greeted Hiromi with a hug, her smile wide as she wrapped her arms around his rival.

His blood boiled instantly, anger flaring through him. “Holy shit, she knows him?” Geto exclaimed, his surprise mirroring Toji’s internal turmoil.

Toji took a step forward, ready to pounce, fists clenched at his sides. “What the hell is she doing?” he muttered, unable to contain the rage that bubbled inside him.

“Wait,” Sukuna said sharply, grabbing Toji’s arm to hold him back. “Ask her at the party. Don’t make a scene here.”

Toji gritted his teeth, struggling to rein in his anger as he watched Y/n and Hiromi laugh, completely unaware of the storm brewing within him.

Y/n’s POV:

Y/n felt a wave of relief as she stepped away from Shoko, laughing at their playful banter about the wallet. But then she turned, and her heart did a little flip when she saw Choso looking her way. His friendly demeanor was hard to resist. “Are you coming to my party later tonight?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to decline, but then Mei Mei chimed in with her usual enthusiasm, and suddenly the idea of going didn’t seem so bad. “Give me the location; we’ll all be there,” Mei Mei said confidently.

The prospect of a party was tempting, and Y/n felt a rush of excitement. But just as she started to think it over, she caught sight of Toji. He was watching her intently, a storm brewing in those dark eyes of his. She had never seen him look so intense, and it made her heart race.

When she hugged Hiromi, she was blissfully unaware of the tension spiraling around Toji. His arms were so familiar, and she felt safe in his embrace. They laughed about something that had happened during their last encounter, completely lost in their own little world.

But when she pulled away, she felt the weight of someone’s gaze burning into her back. It was Toji. She turned slightly and caught his eye, but the moment didn’t last long. The tension radiating from him was palpable, and it made her stomach twist in an odd mix of excitement and unease.

Then she noticed the anger flaring in Toji’s expression, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at Hiromi. She realized then that she might have unintentionally stepped into the middle of something brewing between the two.

“Hey, Y/n,” Hiromi said, his voice smooth. “You got plans after this?”

“Yeah, heading to a party apparently. I'll see you around!” she replied, trying to keep the conversation light as she pulled away from him.

As she walked back toward Shoko and Mei Mei, she glanced over her shoulder at Toji, who was still watching her. The expression on his face was intense—almost possessive, and it made her wonder about the undercurrents she sensed between them. What did it mean that he seemed so affected by her interactions with Hiromi?

The tension in the air felt electric, and as they headed off toward the party, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated between her and Toji.

[alicerosejensen]

Together Forever Pt.1

Warning: Kidnapping, age difference, Leon!ID, affectionate nicknames, surveillance, forced cohabitation.

Synopsis: Working in D.S.O as an ordinary archivist did not promise to be too difficult. At least you didn't have to risk your life or supply the agents with information, you just took care of the valuable data received by the agents, putting everything in order. Everything would be fine… until someone decided that you needed protection from this fucking world full of zombies and other biological weapons.

Note: something like trial of the pen. I think there will be two or three parts, but this is the first time I'm writing something with a sequel (not counting those three texts about a Reader from college). I'm not sure it's going to be good, but I'll try. And yes, I don't approve of this shit in real life. Everything that is written here is strictly FICTION and you do not need to take it literally. If you have any triggers or dislike then skip it.

Part 2

Part 3

It was outrageously easy. Not that Leon thought that your forced "move" to him would be too difficult, but it was even easier than he imagined. His little archivist was still sleeping soundly in the backseat of his car under a strong dose of the drug so that you wouldn't resist when he drove you to his country house. It's okay, Leon just understands that you will need time to get used to your new good life, but he understood that it would be stressful. Therefore, your forced immersion in a sound sleep is just a precautionary measure so that you do not harm yourself by your own stupidity while he was putting you in an SUV. After all, you could have hit your head, cut yourself, or he could have accidentally bruised you when he stuffed you in, but he foresaw all this in advance and now his sweet girl is just sleeping while they go to the new house that Leon has already prepared.

But there will be no special consequences. Leon looks in the rearview mirror, which was specially lowered a little down so that he could observe your condition in case of anything, although there was no excitement. He just drove the car along an empty road, only occasionally there were cars driving straight back to the city. Outside there was only the forest and silence, but another hour of travel and he will settle you in a cozy warm house. A shared bedroom with warm blankets and soft pillows is already ready there. In the trunk he has three large boxes of boxes of your books that he collected in advance in the afternoon when you just left the apartment and some clothes for the first time, but Leon thought it needed to be washed, so it's okay that you sleep in his clothes…then he will buy you a lot of new things. In general, he will buy his baby whatever she wants…the thought made his lips lift in a slight smile.

He accurately calculated the dose of sleeping pills based on your weight, so the drug acted quickly but relatively safely. At least the feeling of nausea, dizziness and disorientation will haunt you for a while until the drug is removed from your body, but that's okay! Leon intended to look after you and take care of you until you finally come to your senses.

When the well-guarded and well-maintained with all the needs for housing finally appeared a few meters away, Leon turned off the engine as soon as he parked the car in the garage where, in addition to various tools with which he repaired his bike, there was also a collection of pistols. He opened the back door and carefully, like a porcelain vase, carefully carried it into the bedroom in his arms. Your head was leaning against his chest and while Leon was carrying you up the stairs, he could not resist the desire to kiss you at least on the forehead. Although it was uncomfortable, his lips touched only the top of your head, forcing you to squirm in his arms, causing an even bigger grin.

Leon opened the bedroom door, got to the bed in just a couple of steps, put you on the soft pillows and reached out to the bedside table, flicking his index finger on the small switch, turning on the lamp. A dim yellow light illuminated a small space, falling mostly on your placid sleeping face. Just like a real sleeping beauty… Leon stroked your cheek with his palm for some time, just admiring you and scrolling in his head how cruel this world is to such an innocent beauty. He saved Ashley, but for some reason she couldn't hook him like you, and Ada… well, it's interesting to solve this riddle woman for a while, but in the end the brain gets tired of the unsolvable task. He is a government agent and people with his profession value the usual stability more than anything else, for which they are ready to give all the money they earn. And you are his little archivist, who spent hours sitting in a dusty archive, sorting through folders with old reports and other documents. Even if you read something from this, you still don’t understand how dangerous it is outside, but he will protect you and you will love him. Necessarily.

However, now it was important for Leon to take care of his baby…

He wanted you to feel as little discomfort as possible after waking up, so getting up from the bed he found some old but clean things in the closet and going back to the bed began to change his little angel. Leon carefully unlaced and pulled your boots off your feet, placing them neatly next to you to put away later. Your jacket, skirt and even blouse followed by a bra. He could not help but hold an enthusiastic glance on your beautiful breasts, his palm gently slid over them, seeing how your nipples harden from the cold air soaring around the room and from this magnificent spectacle it became tight in his pants.

Your flawless appearance alone drove him crazy, causing an unbearable desire to undress himself and just lie down next to you, hugging, feeling your hands on his back. But he drove away the voluptuous obsession by taking his shirt in his hands, gently lifting your body to put your hands into the sleeves and fasten the top buttons, as if you were a doll that needed to be changed…who knows, maybe it will even become his favorite activity? In the end, somehow you got into the blood like smoke, penetrating deeper and deeper that it became impossible to get you out of his head.

Like a parasite, Las Plagas captured all thoughts without giving a single chance to escape, and if at first these feelings were frightening, then after watching you became an integral part of his life for six months. Leon convinced himself that he was taking care of you as he is now, laying you under a warm blanket with pillows so that you lay a little on your side if you suddenly start vomiting because of the drug and it's impossible not to touch your cheek with your lips at least once.

But you didn't wake up. And Leon still gave another kiss on the forehead, clasping your face with his hands, inhaling the fragrance of the desired body. His little songbird.

"You'll feel so good here with me. I promise."

He whispered and it was as if she heard something through a deep sleep, making him smile from the way your eyelids tremble in your sleep while he strokes you on the shoulder.

But while Leon left you to rest, going down to the first floor to unpack boxes of things and books that he took from your unsafe apartment. The door to the bedroom remained unlocked and even slightly ajar so that he could hear how you wake up.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Of course, Leon never had a plan to kidnap anyone, but after all the traumatic events, some paranoia and … the horror that Jason was talking about begins.

As soon as the president's plane disappeared into the sky, Patrick talked incessantly about a pretty young archivist girl to whom he constantly turns up during breaks to treat coffee or a sweet bun to relieve boredom, but Leon always listened with half an ear when circumstances did not force him to go down to the archive and meet you there.

"Can I help?" your voice rang out among these endless folders with documents and boxes on dusty shelves from which his nose itched all the time. Leon tried to determine your location, but perfectly developed reflexes did everything for him when he abruptly turned around seeing you behind his back in a cute skirt, white blouse and jacket. From here, the alarm quickly subsided when he realized that there was no danger.

Perhaps he stared at you a little longer than he should, looking at every small detail on your face, forcing you to sigh impatiently and repeat your question. The agents rarely went down themselves, but mostly they just sent the archive a request and a deadline by which to provide the necessary information, often in digital form.

It was the first red flag and the first wave of feelings that came to him when you first met.

"So?…" you wanted to repeat the question for the third time, but he still spoke.

"Yeah…I need a report. Spain 2004. Los Illuminados" Memories rolled over him like an unpleasant wave, but you just nodded your head as you walked past him, carefully picking up a bunch of boxes, maneuvering between them so perfectly.

Leon only needed this report because of another outbreak in Africa. Not to him, but to his colleagues, however, it was faster to go down himself than to send a stupid request that is still unknown when they will see and process.

"I'm sorry for the mess, we have a little rearrangement and cleaning at the same time. What kind of report is needed? I'll look at the database" you stared at him with such cute eyes that he smiled at you, however, after taking a step, he stumbled over one of these damn boxes, after which you immediately flew up to him grabbing his forearm to help him get up. Not that he needed help, but it was nice.

"Are you hurt?" you asked quickly, to which Leon chuckled merrily. "God, I'm sorry, the last archivist made such a terrible mess here and they made me clean everything up alone. Do you need a Band-Aid?"

"No. It's all right, really, but it's nice of you," Leon dusted off his hands and you stared at his palms as if checking whether he really hurt himself. "But it's better to clean up everything here. It will be sad if such a cutie falls just like me"

You smiled at his compliment, not offended like the others. It touched his heart pleasantly.

"So what kind of report exactly is needed? I'll file it in a week."

"The Kennedy Report. The original." Leon said quickly, carefully catching the information on your face, however…nothing. Perhaps you haven't even touched it yet and haven't even heard anything about those events. Patrick said that you are very young and have only recently come here, so it would not be surprising.

"Okay, it will definitely take some time, but everything will be ideally as it should be. Is it urgent?"

"You have all the time in the world"

He doesn't remember how long it took before you finally pulled out a dusty folder from some box with other reports and handed it to him personally. It's funny that even when you found out that he is the same Kennedy, you practically did not react at all.

You dusted it off and sneezed yourself, so Leon could only hope you didn't have asthma or something. But something else was important because since then you have not left his thoughts.

Patrick told him about your favorite coffee and buns... More precisely, Leon himself saw that he constantly brings you to the archive during lunch. This helped him bond with you, so he started bringing you lunch and even helping with those huge heavy boxes. It's almost indecent that you weren't even given an assistant to put everything in order. And then soft unobtrusive touches began. Passing a cup of coffee, he could accidentally touch your fingers; you let him hold you by the waist as you walked down the stairs. It was easy for Leon to help you, and he even liked that you were like a little doll in his strong arms. It seemed like one careless move and he would accidentally break you.

At some point he was suddenly afraid that you might fall and get hurt or accidentally spill coffee on yourself or one of the many boxes would easily fall on you. There were so many dangers lurking at every corner and he could not always be there to save you. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't not take care of you. Unfortunately, you absolutely lacked care for your personal belongings, but Leon hacked your phone only for security reasons. In principle, there was nothing terrible, except for those moments when some narrow-minded friends invite his dear angel to some noisy clubs or meetings late at night. It wasn't good!

And Leon was most angry when you came home late at night, not worrying about what kind of bastards might harm you. God, you literally put your own life at risk, so of course he had to protect his beloved in every way possible, even if it meant locking you at home.

It was easy to find out the address, insurance number and other documents. D.S.O carefully checks all the details of the new employees, but fortunately everything was in order. And it didn't take much effort for Leon to find all the necessary information, although it took a lot of time to prepare for your forced move to him. Leon has fully equipped his country house, protecting all the sharp corners so that you don't hit. It bought a lot of soft pillows and warm blankets just for you, terry towels, favorite cosmetic products for skin care...Yes, breaking into your apartment also turned out to be a trivial matter. The problem was only that Leon was worried that you might be bored, so after looking at a bookshelf full of various books, he decided that it was worth taking them all with him along with the things from the closet. Well, your game console, too.

the preparation took about three weeks, considering that he also had some working moments that he could not ignore in any way. After all, he should be able to provide you with complete material well-being, because Leon intended to take care of his cute doll with all the love he was capable of. The only catch is that, despite the fact that you liked him, you always kept him at arm's length, just like Patrick, promising yourself no novels in the workplace. Especially with agents who can hurt your heart and soul for fun. That's why you refused Leon even a simple dinner, but this refusal only made him feel touched by you, showing how innocent you are, convincing him that, of course, you should be under his protection.

You thought he was nice and circumspect, but you, but how could you know that he hooked up a tracking device to your phone to know where you are always? Leon was a professional agent of the president himself, but he always looked after you in the car while you were walking to your house after work.

And yet you didn't let him get close to you. Therefore, when Leon realized that it would not work out in a good way, he moved to radical measures by preparing a syringe.

One move and grabbing you with one hand, closing your mouth in a dark alley not far from your own house. Frightened, you put up minimal resistance trying to hit the attacker in the groin and run away as far as possible, since the shoes were comfortable enough, but it was still a lost cause in advance

"Stop messing around, it's for your own good, sweetheart"

The frightened brain tried to do at least something to try to escape and escape, but what are the chances against it? It seemed to you that a steel grip completely squeezed you into a vice, cutting off oxygen and slowly plunging you into a thick abyss from which it was impossible to escape despite all the pathetic attempts to bite or hit opponent.

Being scared, you didn't even know who the voice belonged to. But it was because of your ridiculous floundering in an attempt to escape that Leon stuck a syringe in you, after which all the muscles seemed to turn to stone.

"Shh, everything will be fine sweetie." Leon turned you around to face him when consciousness was already leaving. "So go to sleep and be the good girl you always were. And I'll take care of you..."

Someone else's lips gently touched your face, once he easily picked you up in his arms, quickly laying you on the back seat of the car.

Everything is fast perfect fast clean and no witnesses.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

While you were resting on the top floor, Leon set up cameras in the house so that you could monitor your actions while he was not at home. Actually, he was thinking about a comfort zone like the one in the last apartment - a small cozy hanging chair, a cute fluffy white rug and a small table lamp with a coffee table where you could put a mug with a hot drink while reading a book or watching TV. He even figured out in his mind exactly where in the house it would be best to arrange while taking the boxes out of the trunk into the living room. The luggage wasn't too big, Leon decided a long time ago that he had more than enough money to buy everything for you himself, but it should take a couple of days before the drug he injected into you finally gets out of your body, so your things will lie in the next room for a while, which a little later, maybe in a year or two will become a nursery.

Leon looked into the bedroom again when he put all the boxes together, but you continued to sleep in the same position in which he left you. Smiling, he had a desire to take a break and drink coffee. In complete silence, only grasshoppers were chirping outside and a strong wind was making noise, as if foreshadowing bad weather, everything was quiet when he sat down on the sofa holding the remote control. It took no more than a couple of hours before something fell with a crash upstairs, forcing Leon to quickly jump to his feet and instantly run down the stairs, opening the bedroom door and seeing you on the floor trying to get back on your feet.

Poor bunny, but Leon will take care of you...

I'm a little burned out for writing, despite the fact that I have a lot of requests that I still want to answer. It's just that my psychological state does not allow me to make beautiful and smart sentences even in my native language, so I don't even know if I will finish this nonsense with yandere Leon. Reviews are welcome at least because they cheer up the author by showing that you care.

Of course I will publish something from time to time, but it will probably be at a long interval.