#first a peaceful life and now their name what else will this world take

[junplusone]

i'll always say it's you ; yoon jeonghan

summary: you always used to think that even the end of the world couldn’t keep you and yoon jeonghan apart; you’d find your way back to each other somehow. ten years later, you start to wonder if that’s such a good thing after all.

contains: childhood best friends to ??? to ???, swearing, drinking (+ underage), talk of joshua and cheol's arm muscles, mention of drugs in a joke like once i think, caffeine addiction, peak delusion, jeonghan cheating in games as always, hella yearning

word count: 12.98k

a/n: this is lowkey a mess and probably kind of inaccurate loll but i hope u enjoy! feedback always appreciated xx

the me of today hopes for the you of tomorrow

“What about you, Y/N? Have you ever been in love?”

Hearing your own name slowly zones you back into the conversation at the table. You pause at the question, a drop of soju splashing out of the glass in your hand.

“What?”

“Come on, it’s just a silly question,” the young intern says, rolling his eyes. “You’re no fun, Y/N. We’re off work right now! It’s fine,” he drawls, swaying a little in his chair.

You can’t really remember his name right now, downing the glass in one go, but his bold innocence bothers you. Maybe his demeanor, full of life and promise, is what gets on your nerves. 

Were you like that when you were fresh out of college, too? It’s so unthinkable to you now, at twenty-nine. It feels like ages in the past.

“So? Are you —”

“I hardly think this is an appropriate conversation,” you say quietly, zipping your bag shut. “I think I’m going to head out, anyways. It’s quite late already.”

“But —”

“Chan, just stop asking questions and drink this, okay?” His friends try and calm him down with a glass of water. Amidst the chatter, you decide to slip away, silently pushing in your chair and leaving the bustling restaurant. 

Dinners like this always end up making you feel worse, anyways, like an outlier at a table of people with fervent hopes and dreams of their own. 

You make it two blocks until your phone begins to buzz in your pocket, and you fumble to answer it, knowing there’s only one person who would call you at nine o’clock on a Friday night.

“Hello?”

“Oh, you answered,” Yeonju says, evidently surprised. “I thought you’d still be at work.”

“I’m on my way home now,” you tell her. “Why, did something happen?”

“Kind of,” you hear rustling on her end of the line. “Jeonghan called.”

“Huh?” 

You had stopped abruptly at Yeonju’s words— foolishly in the middle of the road, and you rush to the sidewalk, still reeling. It’s been so long since you’ve even heard his name that it sends your mind into a tailspin when she says it again.

“I thought you knew,” she says, “He said he tried calling you first, but you wouldn’t pick up.”

“I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t have saved,” you remind her. You haven’t had Jeonghan’s number saved on your phone in a long time. There was no need to keep it if you never used it anymore.

“I think you should talk to him.”

“Yeonju,” you shake your head. “Why would I? There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is, and you know it, too,” she doubles down. “You won’t say it, but I know you agree with me.”

She’s right, as much as you want to pretend otherwise. When has Choi Yeonju ever been wrong about you? Sometimes it scares you how good she is at reading your mind, but as always, she delivers reality checks right when she feels like you need them.

“Maybe,” you admit begrudgingly. “But things are just easier without him.”

“Yeah, well, nothing is ever easy,” she points out, “but take your own time, no rush. And take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“I will,” you say with a faint smile.

“OK, perfect. Call if you need anything else, yeah? I gotta go now.”

“Okay, Yeonju, take care.”

“Bye!”

She hangs up just as you unlock your front door, shutting it behind you and kicking off your shoes. The peace and quiet of your apartment welcomes you, and you sigh in relief as you sink into your couch.

Pulling out your phone again, you scroll through your call log. There are a few unsaved numbers, likely just spam calls, but when you see the same number four times in a row, there’s no doubt about who it might have been. Your finger hovers over the screen; should you? Shouldn’t you?

No, it’s easier to just stay angry. It’s easier to pretend his name means nothing to you anymore. 

But even as you toss your phone to the side, Chan’s question still haunts you, like it’s a reminder that maybe you need to retrace your steps and do something different this time. 

God, you had finally been able to go a few days without thinking about him, but today just took you right back to square one.

“Have you ever been in love?”

When you close your eyes, all you see is him.

first time feeling my heart race, never thought it'd beat so fast

TEN YEARS AGO

��Yoon Jeonghan, delete that right now or I’m going to kill you.”

Jeonghan shakes his head vehemently, still cackling at the picture of you on his phone. This is nothing new to you; over the years you’ve gotten used to him finding the absolute worst angles of you whenever you fall asleep in class, or on the bus, and it never fails to get you fuming. 

In fact, if Jeonghan has one talent, it’s probably pissing you off.

“Not my fault you dozed off like that during lecture! Even Yeonju would have bullied you if she was there,” he teases. “I’ve been collecting bad Y/N photos since we were sixteen and in high school, why would I stop now?”

“You’re evil.”

“Thanks, I know.”

“Dinner’s on you, by the way.”

“What?!”

“Do you want to keep that horrendous picture or not?”

“Okay, fine,” he concedes immediately, slipping his phone into his pocket. “But we’re going back to my dorm first because I left my wallet on my desk.”

"Why would you not have that with you? Dumbass," you scold. 

To anyone else, you might sound angry, but somewhere in the unspoken words, you and Jeonghan have already reconciled. 

The weather is chilly and perfectly November-esque, and if not for the thick scarf around your neck you’d be shivering by now. Having Jeonghan by your side adds to the warmth spreading throughout your body, a little piece of happiness found in his company. 

You’ve never needed to explain yourself to him. Somehow, whatever you’re feeling, whatever’s going on, he just knows, and it’s perfect. You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Not much to your surprise, Jeonghan’s roommate is there when the two of you walk in, blankets piled over him as he hunches over his laptop. 

“Hey, Josh,” you greet him. “Everything okay?”

“No,” he frowns, rubbing his eyes, “I may have procrastinated a little too hard on this paper and now it’s due in a couple of hours and I’m totally fucked.”

“This is why I told you to drop that philosophy class at the beginning of the semester,” Jeonghan says, pocketing his wallet. “You don’t even need to take it.”

“Just trying to knock off my humanities electives, but honestly, this one kind of backfired on me,” Joshua admits, defeated. “Where are you guys headed?”

Jeonghan points at you accusingly. “This one tricked me into buying her dinner earlier.”

“I did not!” you gasp. “You walked into that one, stop blaming me for the consequences of your actions! Also, I want ramen, which means we’re going off campus, so you’re driving.”

He narrows his eyes at you as he reaches for his car keys. “You are so evil.”

"Takes one to know one, Hannie."

What throws you off is the way Joshua’s eyes flit between the both of you as you bicker, the way he tells you to have fun in that singsong voice of his as you step back out into the cold, like he knows something you don’t. 

You still remember the day you first met him, when Jeonghan left to go grab something after introducing the two of you, and the question that immediately followed.

“Are you guys together or something?”

And of course, Joshua meant no harm — nobody ever does, when they ask something like that. You and Jeonghan have been fielding questions like that since the start of your friendship. Everyone’s wanted to know exactly what it is that you are to each other, and the answer has always come without missing a beat.

Friends, you’ve always said. 

Friends in the way that you can’t go anywhere alone in your hometown without being asked where the other one is, the way that your parents always set out an extra plate and ask if he’s joining for dinner as usual.

The right word for it would be ‘inseparable’. Sometimes, though, you wonder if that’s all that it is. 

Like now, as you notice the cold has Jeonghan trembling next to you. His teeth are chattering, long lashes framing his eyes that are now narrowed in displeasure. 

When you unravel your scarf from around your neck and reach to drape it around his, they go wide in surprise. 

“What are you doing?”

“You never wear enough layers, idiot.” You tuck the ends into his jacket and the way he’s staring at you steals the breath out of your lungs. 

You can’t run from the fact; your best friend is undeniably attractive. It’s a simple truth, down to his soft but sharp features, the slope of his cheeks, and the hair that frames his face so perfectly. It’s dark out, but Jeonghan’s eyes are lit up like stars. You don’t even realize it until you start to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“Thanks,” he says with a faint smile. “What would I do without you?”

“Freeze, probably,” you reply flippantly, but you look away, unable to take the intensity of his gaze on you.

Just think about the way he looks at you, Y/N.

Was Yeonju right? You have no way of knowing, and you don’t want to tip the scales by bringing any of it up now.

“Alright, let’s go,” you say instead, tugging him along to the parking lot. “It’s late, I’m hungry, and you promised.”

“Why do you always seem so excited to drain my bank account?”

“It’s my favorite hobby,” you quip. “Shall we go?”

“We shall, m’lady,” he says as you get to his car, pulling open the door for you with a wink. Your cheeks burn as you get in, his defined features etched into your brain.

Yes, he’s your dearest, oldest friend, but Yoon Jeonghan has a certain way of making your head spin that throws that very title into question.

when half of me is gone, how can i live as one?

PRESENT DAY

It’s been exactly three days since Jeonghan called you, and you haven’t heard from him since then. You don’t know what you were expecting. Another call? A text? 

No, it would be quite stupid to hope for such things after everything that’s happened.

It’s a quiet Monday night, and your brain decides to take an involuntary trip down memory lane. Ten years ago today, you’d probably be doing homework frantically, most definitely an assignment you’d put off until the night of. Ten years ago today, Jeonghan would be by your side. 

Oh, how some things change over time. 

After another hour of mindless TV and doing whatnot on your phone, your conscience finally wins the moral battle against your pride, and you scroll down through your call log again. Taking a deep breath, you decide to call him back before your brain can convince you otherwise.

All the words evaporate out of your mouth when he picks up on the first ring. 

“Y/N?”

God, it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. Just the sound of your name from him is enough to make you tear up.

“... Jeonghan?”

Silence. After a few seconds your heart sinks, thinking maybe he’s hung up on you and gone radio silent yet again. 

Then you hear it, just barely whispered into the phone: “I’ve missed you.”

Those words tug at your heart so badly you press your eyes closed to prevent your tears from welling up. “Jeonghan, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“I haven’t heard from you in over a year,” you cut him off. “A year, Jeonghan. Do you really think you can just ‘I miss you’ your way back into my life whenever you want?” 

“Don’t say that,” he implores. “You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. I mean it.”

“I’ve heard the exact same line from you so many times,” you tell him, the rest of your words dying in your throat. 

You have many more things to say to him, so many unspoken feelings, but now doesn’t feel like the time. Instead, you swallow your anger like you’ve done every time he finds his way back into your life.

“How… how have you been?”

“I’m okay. I wrote a new song,” he says lightly. “Shows have been pretty alright, things are looking up… just the usual.”

“Oh, I see.”

“What about you?”

“I’m okay, too.” A blatant lie. “Jeonghan… why’d you call me on Friday?”

“Oh,” he starts, like he’s surprised you even asked. “Um, I’m actually in town for a bit, so… I was just wondering if you wanted to meet and catch up again. Y’know, like old times.”

It’s the flippant edge in his voice that stings more than anything else, as if he doesn’t care that your friendship hasn’t been the same for years. Do you mean that little to him now?

But, like always, you have a hard time saying no to Yoon Jeonghan.

“Okay,” you agree. “Just tell me where, I guess. And when.”

“Okay.”

It’s not for a few seconds that you realize your cheeks are wet. Jeonghan feels so far away now, the distance hurts like a piercing pain and you have to slap a hand over your mouth so he doesn’t hear you sob against your couch, the stoic wall you put up crumbling away with every passing moment.

“Y/N,” his voice is shaky now. “Y/N, please don’t cry.”

Feeling caught and cornered, your brain enters fight or flight mode, and promptly chooses the latter. “I’m not,” you blurt out, and immediately end the call, tossing your phone across the room so you aren’t tempted to call him again.

If time traveling was an option, you’d go back to a decade in the past without a question. For some reason it hurts more that after all this time, Yoon Jeonghan is still the one that knows you the best.

You wake up the next morning horribly late for work, with a blinding headache and a notification from Jeonghan on your phone.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: is tonight @ semicolon cafe ok with you? after you get off work?

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i won’t take up too much of ur time, i promise

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i’m so sorry y/n

you: its ok. that works, see u then

It’s well past nine o’clock when you finally enter the office. You almost make it to your desk unnoticed until your boss glances at you sneaking in.

“You’re very late,” Seungcheol observes, leaning back in his chair. His gaze is always stern, and today it makes you even more anxious than usual.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize. “Things just… everything kind of worked against me today. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I believe you,” he says, casting another concerned look at you as you nearly drop your laptop going to your desk. “Is everything okay, Y/N? This really isn’t like you.”

“Yeah,” you lie through a tight smile. Damn Yoon Jeonghan and his stupid face for ruining your whole day. “Everything’s fine.”

Looking back, it’s quite impressive how you manage to keep your composure throughout your whole workday. You know you’ve accomplished a feat when even Junhui doesn’t really notice anything’s wrong. 

Despite how oblivious he comes across at first, your colleague is easily one of the most perceptive people you’ve ever met, as you’ve learned in the past five years you’ve spent at this company.

“Long day?” Junhui swivels around in his chair as he catches you taking a break from your screen.

“Yeah,” you admit, glancing at the clock. Almost five. “Even longer when we get asked to fix all of the intern’s mistakes. How do you just forget to write a whole method?!”

“God, I hope Lee Chan never gets hired as a backend developer. Love the kid, but I’m not sure how he got through college with his code looking like this.”

“Hard agree.”

“Hey, do you have plans after? Me and the rest of the team are probably gonna get dinner together. None of the interns,” he clarifies with a grin. “We need some peace and quiet. I think Wonwoo’s genuinely at his final straw, he’s been downstairs with them all day.”

As tempting as that sounds — Junhui has a knack for finding the best spots in Seoul — you have something more important on your plate for the day.

“Maybe next time,” you decline. “I have to meet someone after work.”

“Oh?” A sly grin spreads across his face. “Someone special?”

“It’s not a date,” you insist, face heating up.

“I never asked if it was, Y/N, you’re just outing yourself at this point.”

“It’s not!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teases, turning back around. “Keep me posted!”

You roll your eyes.

The end of the day couldn’t have come any slower. Usually, you’d get so engrossed in whatever you were working on that you’d end up staying late, but today you shock everyone by packing up when the clock hits five, bidding Junhui a good night as you almost run to leave the building.

(“Someone’s in a rush,” he remarks when you turn your computer off. “Don’t be late on a first date, it’s not very polite!”

“Fuck off,” you respond, when Seungcheol is safely out of earshot.)

The walk home almost freezes your fingertips, and you have to shove your hands deep into your pockets to keep them from going numb. You make a note to dress accordingly for the biting cold later.

At least the weather matches your mood today.

The idea of a hot shower turns out to be a little too inviting, though, because when you finally step out, hair wrapped in a towel, it’s 6:28, and you have a text from Jeonghan waiting to be opened.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i’m here, i snagged a table in the back

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, pulling on an old sweater and some jeans. You don’t have time to fully dry your hair, so you just run your round brush through it a couple of times, hope for the best, and throw it into a claw clip, praying it stays up.

You’re officially twenty minutes late when you finally get to the cafe — it’s not too far from your apartment, thankfully, but you still had to book it — and you approach Jeonghan slightly panting and out of breath. 

(If Junhui was right and this was actually a date, you would be royally screwed.)

“Here, sit,” he pulls out your chair, a little alarmed by your flushed face. “Were you running?”

“Yeah. Sorry I’m late,” you answer, and then you look up at him and the air is knocked out of your lungs as if you weren’t already winded from getting there. He’s even more beautiful than the last time you saw him. “Wow, you…”

“I?”

You’re not even sure what the rest of that sentence was going to be, the words slipping out before you could even think about them. Snap out of it. 

“Nothing,” you say quietly.

“How have you been?”

“You already asked me that.”

“I want to know more.” He’s looking at you like he’s trying to memorize your features; it’s hard to ignore. 

“I don’t have anything interesting going on,” you deflect. “Tell me about what’s going on with you. You said you wrote a new song?”

Jeonghan’s face lights up when you say it. “I did. I spent around nine months rewriting and perfecting it. It’s kind of like my child, in a way.”

“Yoon Jeonghan, a father. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He laughs, and it feels like a part of your old selves is back. “Want to listen?”

You nod, and he passes you an AirPod and his phone. “Imperfect Love,” you read out loud. “That’s deep.”

“It came from a pretty raw place,” he confesses. “Something that’s kind of been on my mind for a while.”

“Something or someone?”

Jeonghan’s face reflects something akin to panic. “What are you talking about?”

“This seems like a song about unrequited love,” you deadpan. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Well, it’s not,” he huffs. “Don’t assume things.”

“This is the kind of update I was waiting for. You didn’t tell me you’d found someone!”

“I didn’t!” he insists, concealing a smile. “Will you just stop asking questions and listen already?”

“Alright, Mr. Unlucky in Love,” you tease, securing the AirPod in your ear and pressing play.

The instrumentals are beautiful, and Jeonghan’s angelic voice fills your ears a few seconds later. You haven’t heard him sing in a long time, and you’d forgotten just how ethereal he sounds when he’s pouring his heart into the mic.

The sunlight that happily illuminates this dark world 

Becomes a star when night comes

Come down to me

There are many, many things shining in this world

But among them, you’re the only one that’s precious to me

Jeonghan is watching you nervously, like he’s anxious for what you will say. You make the mistake of catching his eyes, because immediately you falter — they are gorgeous, he is gorgeous, and it feels like you lose time with every second you spend admiring him.

Even if I can’t be the perfect weather for you

Will you still love me like this?

It feels like a silent plea — you wonder what kinds of things have happened to him in the past year that you missed, all the things you don’t know about. 

Together we become old and worn out

Even if you come to me, who’s useless

At the end of a shining day

I’m happy that it’s you every day

The song comes to an end, and you hand Jeonghan’s phone back to him. His eyebrows raise, like a question.

“Did you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him honestly. “I love it.”

A smile breaks out on his face. “That’s good to hear.”

“I’m still convinced you have a secret crush that you’re not telling me about.”

“Oh, not with that again,” he grumbles, waving off your curious questions. 

What you don’t tell him is that you’ve missed hearing him sing and watching him perform, that the look in his eyes when he’s doing what he loves most is something you adore. There are a lot of things like that you want to say to him, and as good as the both of you are at acting like nothing’s wrong, the situation feels awfully different this time.

“Hey.” Jeonghan has a glint in his eye, the one he usually has when he’s up to something. “Do you wanna leave and go get tteokbokki and fried dumplings at the night market stands instead?”

Your favorites, from when you were a broke college student and couldn’t afford anything nicer. How did he still remember that?

“Yeah,” you say, already grabbing your things and standing. “Let’s go.”

You had forgotten that it was cold as fuck outside.

You had also forgotten that the food stalls were in the opposite direction of your house, so now you’re stuck walking twice the distance in the freezing weather. 

“Are you warm enough?” Jeonghan asks, a bit worried. Stop looking out for me, you want to scream at him. Stop caring. Stop making such a fool out of me.

“I am, but I know you’re not,” you scold instead. “I’ve been telling you for years to dress for the weather.”

“Eh, what’s a little bit of cold?” he jokes, but you catch him shivering violently out of the corner of your eye, and you can’t just watch as he suffers.

“Here.” You pull your scarf off of your neck and hold it out to him. “Wear it.”

“Are you su—”

“Wear it before I take it back.”

You wait until Jeonghan’s listened to you, the warm fabric wrapped around his neck. A part of you thinks you’ll always feel the urge to look after him.

Stop it.

“You still haven’t told me about yourself,” Jeonghan starts hesitantly. “I know I’ve probably missed a lot of things in the past few years.”

“Eight years,” you correct him. “We graduated and then you disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear, things just got really hectic,” he tries to explain. “Like, all of a sudden everything was on my shoulders, and I had to spend all my time working towards what I wanted. That or it was all just gonna go to waste.”

“Right,” you leave it at that, not wanting to start an argument on the road. This always happens — you’ll run into Jeonghan somehow, you’ll somewhat reconcile, fight, make up, and then it’s radio silence from him again. A year after you graduated college, you stopped looking for news articles on him entirely, actively avoiding any headlines with his name in them. It hurt a little too much to bear. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You suck in a breath at the quick response. 

“Yeonju’s doing well,” you start, even though he probably knows that already. “She has a cat now, actually. She adopted him a couple of months ago.”

“Really? What’s his name?”

“Mandu, because she says he’s round and fat like a dumpling.”

Jeonghan snorts. “That’s like when Josh told us his dog’s name was Bingsu.”

“Oh, I remember that,” you say, faintly reminded of his college roommate. “Um, there’s not much else, honestly. Junhui is still a major pain in my ass, that definitely hasn’t changed.”

“Your work friend, right? I thought you two got along pretty well?”

“Yeah, we do,” you admit. You don’t need to explain any further, because Jeonghan knows that your sarcastic remarks are reserved for those you cherish the most.

“It’s been a really long time since you introduced us,” he muses. “But I still remember him pretty clearly.”

He remembers you, too, you think to yourself, recounting all the times you’ve ranted to Junhui about all the times Jeonghan got on your very last nerve. Just not as fondly.

“Oh! Wonwoo actually joined the same company two years ago. I think I told you this already,” Jeonghan confirms with a nod, “But it’s really nice getting to see him again, I missed when we used to hang out in college.”

“Aw, that must be really nice.”

“And the three of us still work for Seungcheol,” you conclude.

“I remember him, too. The one with the huge ass biceps,” Jeonghan says, a bit miffed. “I don’t think he liked me very much.”

“He doesn’t like randoms coming in during work hours, which is what you did, Han.”

“Oh. Right.”

Despite his short response, you know Jeonghan is smiling to himself right now, and you kick yourself mentally for letting the decades-old nickname slip. The two of you may be on a truce right now, but that doesn’t mean you’ve forgiven him.

A few minutes later, the lanterns and lights of the night market come into view. A little piece of childhood memory burrows its way into your heart. The vendors and stalls may have changed, but you used to love visiting this street with Jeonghan when you were still students. 

“I really feel so old right now,” Jeonghan remarks as he follows you through the narrow walkways. “I feel like the last time I’ve been here was when we were eighteen.”

“It probably was,” you say. “Oh! Tteokbokki!”

You don’t even realize the way you’re holding on to the sleeve of Jeonghan’s sweater as you pull him along with you in excitement. He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles to himself as he walks behind you.

“Two cups, please,” you request the vendor when you finally get to the cart, and reach for your wallet. Jeonghan stops you before you can get to your pocket.

“No way,” he says firmly. “This one’s on me.”

“Jeonghan.”

“That voice isn’t working on me this time.” He hands the vendor a couple of bills with a friendly smile. “Just let me buy dinner tonight.”

You cross your arms. “No.”

“Why not? You had no problem doing it back in college.”

“Don’t bring that up now,” you say sharply, stung by the familiar memory. Jeonghan senses the shift in your attitude and drops the subject immediately.

“Wait here,” he tells you. “I’ll be back in a second.”

What are you supposed to do with yourself? Oh, you’re a mess, you realize, the way your feelings haven’t been in check for the entire evening. You were supposed to be so calm and collected, and now you’re anything but.

“Here you go,” the vendor hands you two steaming cups of the spicy rice cakes. “One for you, one for your friend.”

“Thank you.”

The man nods towards Jeonghan, making his way back through the sea of people. “Never let go of someone who cherishes you that much,” he says offhandedly, stirring the tteok in the pot.

You just blink, confused. “What?”

Before the vendor can answer, Jeonghan’s already caught up to you again. “There was nobody in line for fried dumplings,” he tells you excitedly. “Here, have some.”

“Thanks,” you say as you exchange with him for the tteokbokki, ignoring the awkward encounter you’ve just had. “We should probably get out of the way and find somewhere to sit down.”

“Yeah, we should.”

There are a few benches at the corner of the street, and you pick the empty one under one of the streetlamps, a hazy yellow glow cast over it. Sitting down, you bite into the first dumpling, the flavor flooding into your mouth.

“Jeonghan.”

“Yes?”

“Is this shrimp?”

“Yes?” He looks adorably confused in the dim light. “You prefer seafood over pork, right?”

Your heart feels like it’s beating at double the pace. “I do,” you reassure him. “It’s really good. Thank you.”

“Try the tteokbokki, too, it’s just the right level of spicy.”

“I will.”

Just being there and enjoying the food in silence reminds you of how easy it is to just be around Jeonghan. There’s no pressure to break the quiet; it’s comforting and peaceful. 

You watch him savor the tteokbokki sauce and smile to yourself when he winces slightly. He’s always had less of a spice tolerance than you.

“Jeonghan?”

“Hm?”

“Are you going to vanish on me again when you leave Seoul?”

The question stops him in his tracks. He doesn’t seem to have the words to answer, and the lack of a response makes your heart sink.

“Why are you thinking about that right now?” he says instead, chiding you gently. “Did you finish eating?”

The way you’re looking at him now, your eyes are imploring him. Please don’t make me empty promises again. 

“It’s rude to answer a question with another question.”

Jeonghan rakes a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I’ve never vanished, Y/N, it’s just hard for me to leave my work that often,” he insists, “and besides, you’ve got Junhui and Yeonju and Wonwoo to entertain you in the meantime —”

“None of them are you!” Several people passing by glance over at you, but you can’t help that your voice is rising when you feel the anger bubbling up. “You’re my best friend, Jeonghan, do you have any idea how hard it’s been doing life without you?”

“Y/N, we’re past our youth,” he tries reasoning with you. “We don’t have to be attached at the hip all the time.”

Every word he says is like a knife to your chest. “You shouldn’t have asked to meet up today, then.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Jeonghan shuts his eyes, trying to think of the right words. “I just can’t be there for you all the time in the way that you want anymore. You’re stable, you have a solid job, but my livelihood depends on my music and whether people like me or not. That’s the harsh truth of it. And I’m not getting any younger, either.”

“I’m not asking you to be there for me all the time,” you snap. “All I ever wanted was the occasional message. A few updates. Whether you’re doing okay, how your life is going, things like that. Don’t give me bullshit excuses. I know you have thirty seconds to text me back letting me know that you’re alive.”

And stop playing with my heart, you want to add. Whether you’re aware of it or not.

“Fuck,” Jeonghan swears under his breath. “Y/N, let’s calm down and talk about this inside —”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Yoon Jeonghan.” Your fists are clenched right now. Jeonghan knows this about you; you don’t get angry quite often, but when you do, you are a force to be reckoned with. “It’s always a goddamn cycle with you. You show up, make all these promises, and then abandon me again. What am I supposed to do with that?”

You’re on the verge of tears, but you can’t cry in front of him. Anywhere but here.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he pleads with you. “I don’t know what more to say other than I’ve been trying my best, I really have been.”

You’re not having any of it. “Yeah, right,” you scoff, averting your eyes so you have time to blink the tears away. 

“I mean it. I want to be there for you, but…” he trails off, voice shaky. “It’s just been so difficult.”

“Save it, Jeonghan.” You don’t think you can be here for a minute longer without totally breaking down. “I should really get going now.”

“Y/N, wait —”

“If you took the subway, there’s a station down that street if you keep walking for a few minutes.”

“Wait,” Jeonghan insists, standing. “Let me at least walk you home.”

“No need,” you retort, turning around and setting off towards your apartment. It’s even colder now that it’s completely dark out, and you start to regret your choice of coat as your teeth chatter quietly. All you can do is thug it out for the remaining three blocks to your apartment building.

The wind stings your eyes and you tear up anyway, despite your attempts to keep it down for now. Why did you think today was going to go any better than every other time this has happened? 

Stupid. Your fault for thinking anything would have changed in eight years. 

It’s not until you approach the entrance to your building that you hear the quiet shuffling of footsteps. You whirl around, ready to fight, but you stop short when you see Jeonghan standing several feet behind you.

“Just to make sure you got back okay,” he says quietly, walking over to you. You accept gingerly when he places your scarf back in your hands. “It’s late.”

You don’t even know how to feel; you’re too high-strung with too many lines of thought in your brain at the same time. “Thank you.”

“One more thing.” Jeonghan hands you a small plastic bag. You peer inside.

“What is this?”

“Tiramisu,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

“Oh,” you’re confused. “Why?”

It should make you even more furious that he has the audacity to give you a soft smile, but for some reason it doesn’t.

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

The realization hits you belatedly — how did you manage to forget? — that you were so swamped with work commitments, it had totally slipped your mind today. (So that was why your phone had been constantly buzzing with notifications from Yeonju before you’d put it on silent.) 

Jeonghan’s gesture, though, comes as a complete surprise, and it starts to dissipate the irritation from earlier.

“You remembered.”

“Of course,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I never forgot.”

just friends, that's not enough for me

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Normally, you are not someone who is criminally inclined. 

However, it’s currently five in the morning on a day where you don’t have class until noon, so whoever is calling you at this time is most definitely going to end up six feet under.

You answer without checking who it is first, eyes still closed. “Hello?” 

“Happy birthday!”

“Huh?” You lift your head just to be sure you heard correctly. “Yoon Jeonghan, it’s five a.m!”

“I know!”

“Why are you awake?”

“To tell you happy birthday?”

“Thank you, but cut the crap,” you tell him.

“I pulled an all-nighter to finish a project,” he admits. “Worth it, though. I’m the first person who told you, right?”

“You keep forgetting I live with Yeonju,” you point out, glancing over at your sleeping roommate.

“Damn it, Choi Yeonju!”

You grimace at his loud exclamation. “Jeonghan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor and let me go back to sleep.”

“Okay, but I’m waking you up at ten so you don’t skip your linear algebra class.”

“That class is at noon!”

“Yeah, and you take centuries to get ready, dumbass.”

When ten o’clock does roll around, you’re wide awake already. Yeonju is still fast asleep, so you try to get ready for class as quietly as possible.

jeonghan: i’m outside ur building

jeonghan: hurry up i’m hungry

you: ??? when u said u were gonna wake me up i thought u meant u would call

jeonghan: uhh surprise?

“Are you serious,” you mutter under your breath, haphazardly throwing an outfit on and rushing downstairs. Quickly, you press your key card against the reader and push the door open to the sight of Jeonghan leaning against the side wall.

“How long were you waiting?” 

“Long enough. God, you really take forever, but I guess you get a pass because it’s your birthday,” he says begrudgingly, gesturing for you to walk with him.

The weather is quite bleak, but the slight smile on Jeonghan’s face is enough to chase the dreary atmosphere away, like your very own sun.

“Did you sleep at all?” you question, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

“I tried, but by the time I finished the project it was already seven and Joshua was up, so I just didn’t bother. That guy’s a freak, I’m telling you. I don’t know anybody else who wakes up that early just to go to the gym.”

“Well, you don’t go at all. Maybe that’s why he has those nice muscles and you don’t.”

Jeonghan’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Are you kidding? Is this why you keep coming over? To ogle Joshua Hong’s arms?”

“Yeah, cause Joshua Hong is my best friend,” you deadpan. “Is it such a crime to just appreciate a nice set of muscles?”

“Okay, okay, stop talking about Josh when you’re with me and get in the car,” he urges, fishing out his keys. “Or we’ll be late and you won’t make it to that class.”

“I don’t even go half the time,” you point out. “And you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“What I can do is promise you will be happy and fed by approximately half past eleven.” Jeonghan starts the car, adjusting his mirrors. “Is that good enough for you?”

“Deal.”

It strikes you then, beneath the dim sunshine, how good he looks when he’s driving. His eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on the road, humming along to the song playing through Bluetooth. For all the jokes you throw at him for never being seen at the gym, his arms are quite toned, subtly flexed as he makes a turn with one hand on the wheel.

God, you are so done for.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan pulls into a relatively empty lot. The building is quite unassuming, but you recognize this cafe as the one you frequent during exam season for your coffee fix.

“I love this place!” you exclaim, beaming at him. “How did you know?”

“‘Cause you never shut up about it,” he quips back, grinning.. “Stay here, I’ll just be a minute.”

You hum quietly to yourself as you wait for him to come back, content where you are. There couldn’t have been a better start to your day, aside from Jeonghan’s early morning call, and you think you’d be happy to spend the day just like this, peacefully with him and your closest friends.

In truth, you aren’t really sure how to navigate things with Jeonghan at the moment. Your relationship has always been labeled as strictly platonic, but lately there have been things that make you want to think otherwise. A few stolen glances, the way he looks out for you a little extra… you think you’re going insane. 

That, and the way your heart has been reacting when you make eye contact with him lately has been a bit unsettling.

(“Don’t be so delusional,” Yeonju had told you a week ago. “You have a lot to lose here if anything happens. Plus, it’s Yoon Jeonghan, everyone thinks he’s flirting with them.”

“Yeah,” you’d replied flatly. “You’re right.”)

But maybe you’re allowed to be a little selfish. Maybe those sunlit smiles and most vulnerable moments are memories reserved just for you.

The car door opens again, and Jeonghan pokes his head in, handing you a plastic bag as he gets in. 

“Sustenance,” is all he says. “Eat before you go to class or I’ll have to deal with your hangry whining after.”

His words sound annoyed, but his tone is soft with you, like it usually is. You flash him a grateful smile before pulling the boxes out.

“What’s this?”

“Avocado toast, but yours has egg on it.” He wrinkles his nose with displeasure at the combination. “Plus a little sweet treat for your caffeine addiction.”

“This is beautiful,” you hold up the tiramisu box. “The caffeine is speaking to me, Hannie. We are one and the same.”

“One would think you’re on drugs.”

“One would think living with a chemistry major would teach you that caffeine is a drug,” you tease, sinking your teeth into the golden toast. You hadn’t realized just how hungry you were until now — maybe you shouldn’t have skipped dinner last night. “Wow, this is good.”

“It is,” Jeonghan agrees, “but I’ll stick with no eggs for now.”

“You’re just ignorant and have bad taste.”

“Again, free pass only because it’s your birthday.” Jeonghan waits for you to swallow, then asks, “So, does twenty-one feel any different?”

“Nope,” you say decidedly. “Why would it? The only thing that’s changed is that drinking is legal now.”

“Oh, and you can gamble.”

“Right, but I don’t have enough savings to do that.”

Jeonghan laughs to himself at a stray memory. “Remember when I turned twenty-one? I’ve never had a night more disastrous than that one.”

“I do remember! Anyone would assume you were a raging alcoholic,” you snicker. “Even Soonyoung felt the need to sober up and help me get you back to your place. Do you know how impossible that is for him?”

Jeonghan looks like he’s questioning his whole life. “Yeah, that is pretty bad,” he admits. “Good thing it hasn’t happened since and I’m a responsible alcohol enjoyer now.”

“You drank a whole bottle of soju before your exam last week because you ‘needed to pregame’ or you’d fail it.”

“... Right.”

The two of you eat in silence, careful not to drop crumbs in his car, enjoying the midday quiet with each other’s company and nothing else. It’s moments like these with him that you cherish the most.

Yeonju’s Don’t be so delusional echoes in your head, like a silent rebuke.

“Hey, we should start heading back,” Jeonghan says, glancing at the time. “Let this be the day that Y/N graces the lecture hall with her presence.”

You groan, not wanting to spend another hour and a half trying not to doze off listening to who is possibly the most boring professor at your entire university. Jeonghan pats your back empathetically.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you, “Just think about how you’ll feel later when it’s all over and done with.”

“I’ll feel like it was a huge waste of time and I could have just asked Wonwoo to catch me up,” you grumble. 

Jeonghan’s smile falters a little bit at the mention of your classmate, one of Soonyoung’s friends and therefore a part of the friend group. You still can’t figure out why Jeonghan isn’t too fond of him, but you  just assume they haven’t had the opportunity to connect as much and brush it off.

“He got me through data structures last semester,” you offer, trying to defend your point. “Or I’d probably have failed.”

“Right, I remember,” Jeonghan says absentmindedly. You don’t say anything more until you’re back on campus again, picking up on his sensitive mood. When you start making your way to your lecture hall, he follows you, and you let him.

“I’ll walk you to class, I have to print something out at the student center, anyways,” he explains, bag on one shoulder. “Also, you left this in the car. Eat it after class, or whenever.”

You take the plastic bag he hands you, the faint scent of coffee filling your nose. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan fills your ears with silly stories about his friends over the short walk and you listen carefully, always happy to hear about the boys. It’s been a while since you’ve seen them anyways; you’ve been swamped with work, and time that all of you have free together is quite rare.

“I should go in now,” you tell him when you reach the hall. You wish you didn’t have to be here, but you might as well, and Jeonghan can easily read the annoyance written on your face. He pats your shoulder gently.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you. “Come over later so we can all eat cake and listen to you rant about your god-awful professor.”

“Okay.”

“And so you can get an eyeful of Joshua’s arms, you freaking pervert.”

You gasp. “Am not!” you screech, punching his arm.

“Ow!”

“Take it back!”

“Not afraid to speak my truth,” Jeonghan says instead, feigning injury. “This is literally abuse.”

You roll your eyes. “Get out.”

“Go in.”

“Fine,” you huff, pulling open the double doors, but you look back over your shoulder before you let them close behind you. “See you later?”

Jeonghan nods, a twinkle in his eye. 

(You won’t know it now, but this is the look on his face that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.) 

 “See you later.”

Choi Yeonju is, you discover, the lightweight of all lightweights.

That title had belonged to Soonyoung up until now, but tonight even he’s watching her in disbelief from where he’s perched on Joshua and Jeonghan’s couch.

“I only gave her a shot,” he promises you, eyes big and pleading. “I swear on my life.”

“I know,” you sigh, grabbing her sleeve and pulling her away from the wall she’s about to faceplant into. “It’s okay, I’ve got an eye on her.”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung offers sheepishly. “I know you were planning on getting wasted tonight.”

You were not, in fact, planning on that at all. “Who told you that?”

“Jeonghan?”

“That evil bastard.”

The evil bastard in question is currently deeply immersed in a card game with a couple of others at the small kitchen table. The subtle flush on his face tells you he’s a couple of drinks in, and if you squint enough, you can see the silhouette of cards hidden in the sleeve of his jacket. Typical.

“Y/N!” Yeonju taps your shoulder urgently. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

She grins. “I wanna go to the bathroom.”

“Alright, come on. You gotta stand up,” you inform her gently when she doesn’t budge from her spot on the sofa.

“Comfy,” is all she says, mumbling into the furniture.

“Do you still need to go to the bathroom?”

“No.”

Soonyoung just looks at you in total confusion and shrugs. 

“Nothing to do about it until she asks again,” he says before sinking into the couch beside her. He still looks relatively sober — sober enough to handle the situation if Yeonju decides to walk into a wall again — so you tell him you’ll be right back and decide to check in on the game going on.

You walk in on a crime scene.

“You!” Seungkwan throws an accusing finger at Jeonghan, who you can tell is playing innocent through his surprised expression. “You rigged the game!”

“I didn’t do anything! I won fair and square!”

“Count the cards,” Seungkwan tells Wonwoo vengefully. “There won’t be fifty-two, I’m telling you!”

Jeonghan stands suddenly, laying his hand on the table. Everyone else is too busy yelling amongst themselves, and Wonwoo seems to be content with watching them argue, but you catch the way Jeonghan slips the cards in his sleeve into the pile unassumingly.

“Excuse me, boys,” he says smugly, “but I’m going to go on a little victory walk. Don’t mind me, enjoy!”

Seungkwan grumbles, but lets him go in favor of helping Seokmin back into the chair he’s just fallen off of. In the meantime, Jeonghan sidles up to you, faintly smelling of tequila.

“You seem very sober,” he observes.

“I am,” you laugh. “Not entirely, but sober enough to notice the cards you stashed during the game.”

Jeonghan’s face morphs into one of surprise, then mirth. “Shh,” he winks, placing a finger on your lips. That alone short-circuits your brain, so you nearly miss his next words. “It can be our little secret.”

“Oh, you are tipsy tipsy,” you murmur, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know if you’re up for that victory walk you were talking about.”

“I am! I’m so up for it,” he announces, tucking his arm in yours. “Let’s go take a walk outside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“What’s four plus four?”

He rolls his eyes. “Ninety-two,” he says sarcastically. “Please, I’m not a lightweight like the rest of our friends.”

You cast a glance at the couch; Soonyoung has been roped into listening into whatever story Yeonju’s telling him very animatedly, sitting attentively with his back unnaturally straight. He looks a little scared of her energetic narration, which is a first for someone like him.

They should be fine, right? You don’t plan on being gone for long — usually you wouldn’t think twice about leaving Soonyoung and Yeonju together, but in their current state you’re not sure how chaotic they’ll get.

“They’ll be fine.” Jeonghan mirrors your thoughts as if he’s read your mind. His voice feels a little too close, like his lips are right by your ear. Too close, too close — you’re faintly aware of your breathing accelerating, heart running on sheer adrenaline.

By the time you snap out of it, he’s already at the door, turning to find you when he realizes you’re not next to him. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” is all you can manage before you grab your coat off the hook and follow him out the door. A part of you wishes Yeonju was sober so she could slap the delusion out of you.

Jeonghan opts for the stairs — “We’re only on the second floor!” — and is waiting patiently at the main door for you. The smile he greets you with is blinding, and his eyes crinkle a little more when you return it. 

“Did you bring your keys?”

“Right here.” Jeonghan pats his pocket reassuringly and pulls the door open. “After you, m’lady.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” you laugh, reveling in the moment. 

It’s windy outside, and you glance over at Jeonghan, satisfied to see that he’s dressed warmly for once. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and for a man his size, his thick sweater is draped over his body in a way that makes him look a little smaller. It’s adorable, and it just makes you want to reach over and squish his cheeks.

“You’re awfully quiet for a man who just won a game against Boo Seungkwan,” you tease gently. Jeonghan chuckles, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

“Nothing new,” he says. “Seungkwan just has bad strategy and won’t admit it.”

“Or you just enjoy cheating a little too much.”

He gives you a knowing smile. “Touché.”

You’re not exactly sure where you’re going; you don’t think Jeonghan does, either, but the two of you fall in step together perfectly on the sidewalk. It’s not too late yet, maybe nine or ten, and the streets are relatively crowded, as expected for a college city.

“Do you think we’ll be really different when we’re thirty?”

You look at Jeonghan, a bit surprised at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Like, we’re twenty-one now,” he explains, “Remember when we were sixteen? We had so many ideas about what we were gonna be, and we’re already there. Five years passed so quickly.”

You nod, reminiscent of your childhood days. “We’re gonna hit thirty before we know it.”

“Do you think I’ll be bald by thirty?”

“If you are, I’ll take lots of pictures of you and your shiny head,” you joke. “For memories.”

“Noo, not my hair,” Jeonghan laments theatrically. “My gorgeous, gorgeous hair.”

You can’t even counter that, because it’s true: Jeonghan must have won the gene pool because his hair has always been soft and silky. It’s longer now than it used to be, curling a little bit just under his ears and brushing the back of his neck.

“Soonyoung’s been campaigning for you to go platinum blond,” you inform him. “He keeps saying if you do it, he’ll dye his whole head bright yellow.”

“Highlighter Soonyoung is really not something I want to see.”

The more the wind picks up, the tighter Jeonghan has his arm looped around yours. His lips are pursed, like he’s preoccupied with something else.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Are we still gonna be friends when we’re thirty years old?”

The subtle, vulnerable tone in his voice surprises you a little bit. Drunk words are sober thoughts, you suppose.

You try to cheer him up, saying, “Why, did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

“No,” he shakes his head firmly. “Everything is so much easier with you.”

Don’t be delusional, don’t be delusional, is the mantra in your head as you attempt to ignore your rapid heartbeat. The truth is that you agree — the way Jeonghan just gets you makes things so uncomplicated and free.

It’s been this way since middle school, when twelve-year-old you found home in the boy who always helped you sneak snacks from your desk during class when the teacher wasn’t watching. 

Jeonghan has always been the first person you think of in a sticky situation; he’s always been reliable, above all, because he knows you would do the same for him without even needing to think about it. He’s been by your side for so long, you can’t even picture what a life without him would look like now.

Your next words would never see the light of day had Jeonghan been sober, but you suppose you can get away with erring on the side of honesty.

“Me too,” you tell him quietly, holding onto him just a little bit tighter. “I like life a little better when it’s with you.”

because i love you, because saying i love you isn't enough

PRESENT DAY

The office is quiet when it’s late at night; there aren’t many people who enjoy staying past their stated hours, but you figure it can’t hurt to finish some additional tasks when you don’t really have much to go home to. You can’t remember the last time you had a day to yourself without worrying about deadlines; the lines of code haunt you in your sleep and fill every waking hour. Every night spent working overtime is a testament to your determination, though it crumbles it a little each time.

Today, though, you’re joined by Junhui and Wonwoo, the three of you working under the dim light. The rest of your team packed up and left hours ago, so it’s just you on this floor of the building.

“I feel like my eyes are melting in their sockets,” Junhui complains, stretching for the first time in what you think is a solid eight hours. “I don’t know how Wonwoo does it.”

“He’s a machine,” you joke. He’s got headphones on, most probably noise canceling, so you know he can’t hear you two. (Or he’s choosing not to.) “I just don’t want to go home with this stuff unfinished because I know I won’t stop thinking about it all night.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve pulled an all-nighter in the office.”

“Unfortunately.”

Junhui frowns. “You need to take time for yourself,” he expresses. You let him lecture you, even though he’s younger. “Do stuff that you enjoy that doesn’t involve writing code. You know, enrich your personal life.”

“Maybe,” you sigh, putting your head in your hands. “There’s barely any time as of now.”

“Speaking of personal lives, I still can’t believe you won’t tell me about your date,” he sulks. “You’ve always come back with stories about your dates.”

“There haven’t even been that many,” you say at the same time Wonwoo turns around with his headphones off of one ear, asking, “Date? Really?”

You give the man a look. “You didn’t hear us say your name, but that was what caught your attention?”

“Well, Jun’s always talking, but the last time you went on a date was two years ago, so this is news to me.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Junhui reasons. “Everyone has bad dates. It’s a universal experience.”

“Okay, first of all, it was not a date,” you clarify. “I just met up with a friend from college.”

This piques Wonwoo’s interest. “Wait, really? Who?”

“Right, I keep forgetting you guys went to college together,” Junhui mutters under his breath.

“Did you see Yeonju again?”

“It was nobody,” you lie through your teeth, kicking yourself internally for your choice of words. As much as both men know about your ongoing tug-of-war situation with Jeonghan, you don’t really want to bring it up in conversation, and definitely not now of all times. “It went fine, just some catching up.”

“So it wasn’t a date?”

“You really need to stop believing everything Junhui tells you without fact checking it first.”

“Damn,” he says. “And we thought you were finally getting some action.”

“Wonwoo!”

The conversation is interrupted by the low rumble of your stomach in the few seconds of silence that pass afterwards. Both men turn to look at you expectantly.

“I haven’t eaten all day,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Wonwoo volunteers, already reaching for his phone. “Is kimchi fried rice okay with you guys?”

“Fine by me.”

“With pork?” Junhui asks hopefully.

“Done.”

The three of you promptly get back to work, aiming to maximize the amount of work you get done before the food arrives and you inevitably break focus. By the time the delivery notification goes off on Wonwoo’s phone, you’ve knocked off about three quarters of your to-do list for the day.

Good enough, you reassure yourself, pulling the sticky note off of your desk and flicking it into the trash can. 

Junhui eats in a record time of ten minutes — you swear you’ve never seen him scarf down food this fast before — and starts packing up at his desk, dropping off a couple of notes on Seungcheol’s desk for tomorrow morning’s meeting.

“My girlfriend is going to be so upset if I’m not home soon,” he says ruefully, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “Take care, guys! And thanks for dinner, Wonwoo, I owe you one.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

You and Wonwoo finish not too long after, and you take your time cleaning up the place, making sure everything is thrown away and in its place. 

“Are you ready to lock up and go?”

“Yeah, let’s head out.”

It’s not until you’re in the elevator, heading to the parking garage, that Wonwoo speaks up again. A little hesitantly at first, but the concern in his tone is still evident.

“Hey, has everything been good with you lately?”

“Hm?” You look at him curiously, wondering what it was that made him ask. “Yeah, why?”

He shrugs, looking down at you through thick-rimmed glasses. “Just haven’t checked in with you in a bit. Seungcheol’s needed me all over the place lately, so it’s been a while since I caught up with you guys.”

“Right, you’ve been in back to back meetings with the design team,” you muse. “Seolhwa was talking about how chaotic it’s been in the restroom earlier.”

“Yeah, it’s been pretty tough.”

The elevator opens with a ding! and you follow him out, fishing for your keys that are probably somewhere in one of your pockets.

“I parked a little far,” you tell him, “so I’ll get going now. But I’ll see you at tomorrow’s meeting, right?”

Wonwoo just looks at you gently, like he’s seeing right through you. 

“Jeonghan’s the one you met up with, isn’t he?”

You freeze. “What?”

“I had a feeling, but it was a little more obvious when you started getting defensive,” he chuckles. “Plus, I think you forget I’ve known you for nearly a decade now.”

You allow yourself to breathe, relaxing the taut muscles in your neck. “I didn’t want to make it awkward,” you admit. “I know you said you guys still keep in touch sometimes. I don’t want to make it weird.”

Wonwoo raises his eyebrows. “Just for birthdays and things like that. We weren’t really that close in college, either.”

Not really knowing what to say, you stay silent, eyes glued to the ground. He seems to sense this and drops the matter, reaching over to pat your shoulder.

“I won’t pry,” he says lightly, “But if you ever want to talk about it, just know you can always call up an old friend.”

You smile. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

“Take care, Y/N. Get home safe.”

The drive home is numbing. The playlist you have on dulls into background noise as you focus on the road, fighting the urge to yawn. It’s nearly eleven o’clock at night, and all you want is to be back in your bed.

At the back of your mind, all you can think about is the text you woke up to this morning.

yoon jeonghan: hey, i just wanted to tell you tomorrow is my last day in seoul 

yoon jeonghan: i don’t know if you want to see me or not, but i’ll be at semicolon cafe working for most of the day. pls drop by if you have some free time. i really miss you.

So typical of him, to leave it up to you to go find him. And yet, you would — if it came down to it, you would go to the ends of the earth if he asked you to. 

Yeonju would be furious if you told her you were even considering it, you scold yourself. After all, she’d only told you to speak to him once for your own peace of mind. Last week should have given you all the closure you needed. 

Still, your conscience is swayed at the idea of being able to see him again. 

You shake the thoughts out of your head, as if the subtle action could erase the pain and longing you’ve felt for the past eight years. 

The traffic light turns green. You step on the gas and don’t look back.

even if i can't be the perfect weather for you, will you still love me like this?

SIX YEARS AGO

Jeonghan has been in the studio for hours.

Nothing seems to sound right, and the frustration makes him want to pull his hair out. He can’t even remember the last time he got out of the chair, but he doesn’t want to lose even a little bit of whatever workflow he’s managed to maintain while he’s been in here.

Occasionally, when the weather is just a little dull and time seems to tick by too slowly, he wonders if he made the right choice. Maybe he should have stuck with his career, actually put his degree to use, instead of setting it aside in the name of passion.

He’s vocalized these thoughts to his manager many times, and Jihoon is awfully good at raising his spirits, but the self doubt seeping into his soul is very hard to ignore.

Reluctantly, he presses the play button again, whatever he’s conjured up in the last couple of hours playing in his headphones again. It doesn’t sound any better this time. 

Yes, he could swallow his pride and ask Jihoon for help, but after a year and a half of unsuccessful ventures in the music industry, he wants to be able to do something on his own.

Prove himself; to Jihoon, the world, and you.

Jeonghan will never forget your only words to him when he’d first revealed his plan to switch career paths, just a month or two before graduation. 

(“I always believe in you,” you’d said, following it up with a comforting hug. 

“Always?”

“Always.”)

And when you said that with such conviction, placing all of that trust and belief in his hands, he knew there was no way he could turn back on what he’d set his sights on. In truth, on days where things just seem so bleak, you are his strength, and he wishes he could tell you that.

But when your name comes through on his phone, he falters.

What is he supposed to say? All he can give is excuses, that nothing’s really worked, nothing has panned out in his favor yet. As it is, the two of you haven’t spoken that much since graduating, both of you occupied with your own goals and careers, and at times like these he feels your absence a little extra.

Is this what it means to grow up and grow apart?

For now, he ignores the buzzing, telling himself he’ll come back when he’s snagged his first real achievement. You’ll be proud of him, and he’ll finally make something of himself.

Jihoon walks into the room, closing the door quietly, right when he’s about to listen to the track for maybe the hundredth time.

“Oh, hey.” Jeonghan can hear the exhaustion in his own voice. “What’s up?”

“Wondering when the last time you slept was.” Jihoon sinks into the chair beside him, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like a zombie.”

“Yeah, I feel like one.”

“You need to spend less time in here,” Jihoon advises gently. “Or you’re going to lose your mind. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

“I just can’t figure out what it is I’m missing,” Jeonghan sighs, evidently frustrated. “It’s like, almost there, but not really. It’s been killing me for days.”

“You know, these things do take time.”

“Or maybe I’m just not cut out for this and I should just go work for a news channel instead.”

Jihoon watches him carefully, picking up on his slumped shoulders and tired eyes. “And then you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you held on just a little bit longer. Do you really want that?”

Jeonghan doesn’t really know what else to say. He’s been hearing the same things from everyone around him — his parents, his sister; everyone talks of a future where he’s already succeeded, but that isn’t set in stone. Nothing is promised, he knows.

“I need a miracle,” he mumbles instead.

“You need to eat,” Jihoon corrects. “I just placed an order for dinner, and I know you like sundubu-jjigae, so you have no excuse to bail on me this time.”

Jeonghan considers this for a moment, then gives in. “Fine,” he says, “but I can’t stay too long.”

“Good.” Jihoon rises, and then places a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m proud of you. You’ve been working really hard.”

“Thank you.”

He’s alone again, when the door closes behind the shorter man. It’s something he’s had to get used to; he’s learned to rely on himself over the past year or so, but when the reality of loneliness sinks in, it breaks his heart just a little. 

Even more so knowing that it’s his fault that he’s pushed everyone away, including you.

Your name is still burned into Jeonghan’s brain, and his fingers itch to respond, but he ignores the urge. His phone is left forgotten as he slips his headphones on again, tinkering with the unfinished track.

And the thought of you dissolves into the music.

we used to be best friends, i remember you said you can be yourself when i'm around

PRESENT DAY

Today is the day that Choi Seungcheol learns that you are full of surprises.

In all your five years of working for him, he’s never once had you call in sick for work or ask for a day off. You’ve always been hard-working, maybe too much at times, but he sounds like he definitely didn’t anticipate this.

“Oh,” is all he says when you request the morning off. “Yeah, sure. Are you feeling alright?”

“Not really, but I will be before the client meeting at three, so I’ll be present for that.”

“Oh, all right. We’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

It weighs on your conscience that the first time you request time off also happens to be the first time you blatantly lie to your boss, but you’ve already deliberated this enough with Yeonju over call last night.

(“I’ve been such an honest worker,” you said dramatically, “and now I’m running all that to the ground.”

“Don’t be so theatrical. Choi Seungcheol can afford to give you half a day of paid leave.”)

Now that you’ve settled that, you grab your heavy winter coat, setting out into the morning cold. Damn Yoon Jeonghan for making you move your whole day around for him. You had predicted correctly that Yeonju would berate you for it — you sat through a lecture over the phone last night — but that hadn’t deterred your resolve to see him again.

Who knows? His behavior is so erratic that even you, who knew him like the back of your hand at one point, can’t predict him anymore. Today could very well be the last time you see him for another few years until he decides he has the time for you again.

Whatever, you huff to yourself as you walk briskly, knowing that as upset as you get, the soft spot you harbor for him will never go away.

You had worried that it would be a little too early, since it’s only eight in the morning, but you have no problem finding Jeonghan in the sea of caffeine-deprived corporate workers getting their fix in the small establishment. He’s engrossed in his laptop, and he doesn’t realize you’re there until you take the seat across from him, waiting for him to look up.

“Oh,” is all he says, pushing his screen down. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I didn’t think I would, either.”

Jeonghan gives you a sorrowful look, hair fluffy like a halo around his face. “I’m trying, I really am.”

“Jeonghan —”

“I’m juggling so many things at once,” he says quietly. “And I never wanted you to think any less of me. I wanted you to be proud of me..”

“I was. I still am.”

“But I still haven’t done anything.” He sounds more agitated as he speaks. “I haven’t gotten anywhere, I’ve barely made a name for myself. Nothing I do is paying off.”

“You’re trying, though,” you tell him. It saddens you to see him like this. It’s not often that Jeonghan talks about how he feels, especially not now that you’ve grown so distant. “And you don’t have to go off and accomplish great things for me to be proud of you. I already am.”

He’s quiet, like he’s dwelling on something.

“I’m sorry,” he says a few seconds later. “It’s just all been such a mess.”

“That’s okay.”

In the silence between those two words are many more that don’t need to be spoken for him to understand. You’re doing okay. Everything will turn out okay.

“I wish things could go back to the way they were,” he says again, eyes a little shiny when he looks back at you. 

Nostalgia fills your brain, all of those treasured memories with him resting in a well-lit corner of your heart. 

“You know, it really hurts, Han, to keep doing this push and pull with you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” he laughs wistfully, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I never meant to hurt you, Y/N, honestly. And I’m really trying to be better about it. Things are looking up now, I think. It’s getting a little easier than before.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I knew you could do it.”

“How…” Jeonghan starts tentatively. “How long are you here for?”

“I’m not sure,” you reply, fidgeting with one of your bracelets. “Not too long.”

“Are you going to have something to eat?” An olive branch.

“I have food I meal-prepped at home.” A subtle denial.

The silence is loud. You try to think of something, anything to say to fill it, but you come up blank. There’s not much else to be said in the fraught air between the two of you. Not now, anyways.

“I’m sorry, I should let you get back to work,” you say suddenly, eyes landing on his half shut laptop. “I didn’t mean to take time out of your day.”

“That’s okay,” he says softly. “I’m really glad I got to see you.”

“Have a safe trip to… wherever you’re going.”

He chuckles. “Just Jeju, but thank you.”

Before you leave, you reach for the scarf loosely wrapped around your neck — your favorite one you’ve had since college, the plaid cream-colored one — and you set it down on the table. He just looks at you questioningly.

“Why…?”

“It’s cold,” you say with a faint smile. “You haven’t changed, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Thank you.”

You take the time to memorize him — the curve of his face, the soft look in his eyes, the one reserved for you and the ones he holds close. If you could etch his features in your brain here and now, you would.

“Well,” you start, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Don’t be a stranger, Han. The next time I see your name, it better be a call from you instead of another news headline.”

Jeonghan nods, eyes forming crescents. “I’ll do my best.”

And there is something to be said about the love in looking back, for sure, but there is also love in not looking back, in choosing to keep your eyes trained on the path before you. There is love in knowing your weaknesses, that if you turn around you might not be able to walk away after all. 

You don’t release the breath you’re holding until you walk out the door. It’s raining, you realize with a start, the previously clear sky clouded over. It seems that your overcast heart has been mirrored by the earth.

The rhythmic droplets provide a strange sense of comfort as you let yourself get soaked, for lack of an umbrella. It works in your favor, anyway, because nobody will assume anything’s amiss if your face is already drenched.

Pit, pat. The smell of wet soil rises in your nostrils, and you let the tears fall.

no matter where i am in the world, i'll say it's you

FOUR YEARS LATER

The lights are blinding, and the sounds of the camera shutters are incessant. But this is the life Jeonghan has always dreamed of, so he doesn’t dare complain.

In truth, he doesn’t care for a lot of the interviews he’s been asked to do — he can’t be bothered by the mundane, mind-numbing questions he gets asked over and over again. Nothing ticks him off like the insensitive digs into his personal life they always ask him, searching for information he doesn’t wish to disclose.

But he does it, anyway, because what choice does he really have? It’s good for your image, Jihoon always tells him, adding another event to his schedule. It’s for your public platform.

“So, you’ve come out with another hit single,” the interviewer starts, beaming at him. His teeth are so artificially white, they seem to reflect the bright studio lights. “How does it feel to accomplish such a success yet again?”

“It’s really great,” Jeonghan answers honestly. “I’m very grateful to my manager, producer, and my beloved family. And, of course, all of the wonderful fans. I couldn’t have done any of this without them.”

“A touching answer as always, Jeonghan-ssi.” The man flashes a smile at the cameras. “Your new single To You was really well received by fans, especially for its fresh and passionate take on what it feels like to be in love.”

The blazer feels stiff now, under the heat of the lights. Jeonghan tries not to dwell too deeply on the true inspiration for the song he’d written late at night a couple years ago, overcome by his own heart.

“I’m really glad that everyone’s been enjoying it so much. That really was the intention,” he says, “to have a song that makes you feel like you’re floating.”

“And it does!�� the interviewer laughs. “A lot of viewers really appreciated the sincerity of feelings that was conveyed through the song. Which raised the question; have you ever been in love before?”

Something akin to a late realization suddenly hits Jeonghan right there in the hot seat, under all those lights and cameras. His hand comes up to toy with the end of the scarf he’s wearing, a keepsake of treasured memories.

“Maybe,” he says with a wistful smile.

Wherever you are in the world right now, there’s a small part of him that dares to hope you’re watching.

“Maybe I have.”

thank you for reading! if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear it :) much love, ashi xx

[opal-owl-flight]

New.

I just think that maybe, maybe. It took awhile for 3 to get used to Neo3 being called their old number.

[avatarchic]

TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white. 

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes. 

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him. 

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret. 

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you. 

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is. 

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child.  “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory. 

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements. 

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss. 

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently. 

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f’me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.” 

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern. 

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. 

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum. 

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest. 

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.” 

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you. 

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You’re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you. 

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[meleeyz]

┈﹒ ꒰ 𝗚𝗢𝗟𝗗𝗘𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗚𝗘, 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 ꒱

ekko 𝒙 fem!reader

୨୧ English is not my first language, so I regret in advance if something reads weird or is misspelled

୨୧ Perhaps this is too dramatic for some ;)

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

Night in Piltover was quiet elegance, the kind that dripped with wealth and feigned perfection. Stars winked above, their light reflected by the towering spires and crystalline windows of the city. But tonight, amidst the gleaming grandeur, a soft tension thrummed in the cool air. Beneath the golden glow of lanterns, your white dress shimmered like starlight incarnate, its delicate embroidery and flowing silk whispering wealth and purity. You felt like an angel about to take a leap into the unknown—or a cage.

Inside the grand church, the air was heavy with anticipation. The pews were filled with Piltie elite, their fine attire and sparkling jewels a contrast to the warmth you wished for but couldn’t find. Beside you stood your almost-husband, the epitome of Piltover’s carefully curated perfection. He smiled at you, his expression more practiced than earnest, as if your presence were just another acquisition in his long list of accomplishments.

You hated it.

Your heart didn’t flutter for him. It raced for someone else—a boy who shouldn’t even have made it to this part of the city. Ekko. The name was like a secret melody in your mind, one only you could hear.

He wasn’t here yet, but he’d promised he’d come. He’d promised to take you away from this sham of a life, from this hollow marriage and suffocating world of pristine surfaces and rotting cores.

Yet, as you waited, time ticked on mercilessly.

Across the street, atop a marble rooftop, Ekko crouched in the shadows, barely breathing. From his perch, the church looked unreal, like something out of a fairy tale he’d long stopped believing in. And there you were at its heart, radiant in your white dress.

His “Firefly.”

You glowed brighter than anything he’d ever seen in Zaun. Brighter than the neon signs that buzzed and sputtered in the Sump, brighter than the firelight his crew wielded against the darkness. You weren’t just his light; you were his hope. And that terrified him.

What was he doing here? How could he possibly ask you to leave this behind—to leave safety, luxury, and a future so carefully paved for you? What could he give you, really? A life in the Undercity, filled with danger and constant struggle? A target painted on your back because of who he was and what he fought for?

Ekko’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He’d planned it all out—how he’d swoop in, crash the wedding, and take you with him. But now, paralyzed by his own doubts, all he could do was watch as your future was written without him.

Inside the church, your heart thudded painfully against your ribs. Every second that passed chipped away at the fragile hope you clung to.

“Are you all right, my dear?” your fiancé asked, his tone smooth but empty. It was the voice of someone who didn’t really care for the answer.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though your throat felt tight, and your words came out more brittle than you intended.

His brow arched slightly, and a polite chuckle escaped his lips.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

You froze, your mind racing for a lie.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Just…nerves.”

If he saw through you, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded, his focus already drifting back to the priest at the altar.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace,” the priest intoned, his voice echoing through the cavernous space.

Your breath caught, your fingers curling into the delicate fabric of your dress. This was it. This was the moment. You turned toward the church doors, your eyes scanning the shadows outside for any sign of him.

Please, Ekko. Please don’t let me make this mistake.

But all you saw was the flicker of green light, distant and fleeting.

He was gone.

Ekko didn’t dare look back.

His hoverboard zipped through the alleyways, a glowing streak in the dark. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to run back into that church and fight for you, to whisk you away like he’d promised. But he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t enough.

“She deserves better,” he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking. “She deserves better than me.”

His words rang hollow, and the weight of them nearly made him falter. But the hoverboard carried him forward, away from the world you belonged to and deeper into the place he called home.

Your heart shattered, splintering into a thousand jagged pieces as you realized he wasn’t coming. He had left you here, in this gilded prison, to face a future you didn’t want.

The priest’s words barely registered as he continued the ceremony, and when your fiancé slipped the ring onto your trembling finger, you didn’t protest. What was the point?

Yet, as you repeated the vows, your voice was hollow. The promises felt like lies falling from your lips, each one carving another scar into your heart.

In that moment, you hated Ekko. You hated him for giving you hope, for making you believe there was something more, for making you love him so deeply that the absence of him felt like drowning. But more than that, you hated yourself for still loving him, even now.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

[perpetuallyburntout]

S4!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Strawberry Blonde - Mitski

‼️SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON FOUR OF UMBRELLA ACADEMY BELOW THE CUT‼️

Okay so I know I wasn’t the only person absolutely crushed by season four of Umbrella Academy, but in the middle of grieving over it, I had the best/worst idea. Technically a fanfic idea, but I don’t know if I have the commitment to write the whole thing, so if someone else would like to, by all means :)

The events of season four start six years after the end of season three. Six years of (mostly) peace. Let’s just say Five met someone in that time (for the sake of making sense, I’ll refer to them as Lover). Met someone he found himself falling for. And they fell for him, too. And it was perfect. And for the first time in a painfully long time, Five was happy. Content. He had his suspicions about how long this peace would last, but… for now, things were good. More than good, they were wonderful. He’d met the love of his life.

And then the events of season four begin to happen. And Lover is there with the group the whole time. At this point, they’re family, too. They want to help, and Five wants them to stay close to him.

Until he and Lila decide to go on their own on the subway, leaving Lover with the others. And in the seven years Five and Lila are stuck together, the same thing happens. And when they finally return, Lover knows something is off. And when the truth comes out, their whole world comes crashing down.

Diego grows angry. Lover just grows somber. It’s even worse, because when they look at Five again, his expression is different. The aching love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at them… it’s dulled to something faint. Still there, deep down, but… unsure. As if he’s questioning himself. Questioning what he should do now. Who he’d pick if given the choice.

Of course, he’s not given the choice. Not even the choice to take Lover far away and talk to them and really explain and try to do something. No, no… the world’s ending. For the final time. And he knows how to make sure it never comes to an end ever again.

Lover’s there for the entire conversation. Every bit of grief and anger they’d felt towards Five suddenly melts away, replaced by desperation. They’d let the world end for the rest of eternity if… if it meant maybe things could be different. If it meant maybe he’d love them, and maybe he’d never love anyone else besides them.

They’re eventually forced to leave with Lila’s family and get on the subway. And while everyone else is confused and emotional, they’re curled on the ground, gasping and sobbing, knowing what this means.

And the Hargreeves stop the world from ending. And all the timelines reset. And everyone else in the world gets their happy ending.

And Lover thinks they’re happy. They do. But they never fall in love again. For some reason, every time they think they find someone, an aching pain in their chest makes them hesitate. An unfamiliar voice calling their name makes them pause. A flash of something, perhaps a memory, too fast to register but not fast enough to ignore the heart wrenching pain of, makes them withdraw. It’s almost as if…

They’re waiting for someone that never existed.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

So! When I had this idea, I was listening to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski, and here’s how the lyrics played out in my head:

I love everybody because I love you

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I looked over it and I ached

(12:00 PM. August 8th, 2024. Lover’s enjoying their day in the park, sitting in the grass, eyes shut against the light breeze and warm sun. They turn to their side, almost as if to tell someone about how lovely the weather is. But no one’s there. A weird pain begins to ache in their heart.)

I love everybody because I love you

I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape

I picture it, soft and I ache

(Others—perhaps friends or family—come over and greet Lover, noticing their confused and distant expression, and ask what’s wrong. Nothing, they say, though they can’t escape the deep longing in their chest for… something that was never there.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

(Flashback timeeee- or… alternate timeline time? Flashback to a time in an alternate timeline, there we go.)

Reach out the car window tryna hold the wind

You tell me you love her, I give you a grin

Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape

So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines

Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

(Shows Five and Lover together, in love, making memories together. Happy.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(Events of season four began to play out, but ofc with Lover being part of the story.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(The climax of the story. Flashes of the last two episodes. Five and Lila returning, the explanation, the heartbreak, Five finding out how to save the world for good, Lover meeting his gaze one last time as the subway pulls away forever.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Lover repeating his name to themself, trying to remember for as long as possible, not able to let go.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Flashback ends, returns to Lover in the grass on that sunny day, murmuring the name to themself. They’re not quite sure why.)

°。°。°。°。°。°。

I hope you all enjoyed this little idea! I got a little rambly and wrote WAY MORE than I planned on, but it’s an idea I’ve fallen in love with this past hour and I wanted to be able to share it with all of you <3

[ravenrothstr]

Me and You, and The Spaces In Between

summary. Y/N takes a long vacation after a heated argument with her boss. With her career hanging by a thread, she escapes to a peaceful getaway, where she unexpectedly meets Jaehyun, unaware of his identity.

genre. idol! au. work! au. fluff

words count. 18.0k

disclaimer. the story is fully fictional. other names mentioned are just for the story and pure imagination, with no bad intentions

tags. @apolloxxivmin

-- ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧 --

Every day, you merge into the city’s endless flow, a quiet figure lost in the current of bustling lives. Your weight is invisible but suffocating—a dull, relentless pressure that wraps around your chest and pulls your shoulders low. You drift through the same grey office building, slip into your usual seat, and speak in a voice that seems to evaporate as soon as it leaves your lips. Surrounded by colleagues who hardly notice you, you feel like a ghost, an echo fading in a room with louder voices.

"Good morning, sir", you greeted your boss, Mr Noh.

Unanswered, unnoticed. Like always.

The hierarchy here is an unbreakable chain, with you at the very bottom. You feel it every day, every slight glance past you, every ignored idea, every task passed down without a thought. Numbed by the countless responsibilities that serve everyone else but you.

Each day feels the same as the last, blurring into a cycle that leaves you feeling less alive. Trapped within this silent existence, you wonder if you’ve forgotten how to hope.

"Y/N, meeting", Aeri reminded you.

And once again, it feels like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed when you hear your boss call you in privately to his office.

"We're giving you some time off."

"Pardon?"

You pause, recalling the tense moment with your manager, Mr. Han, when you submitted a proposal under your own name instead of his. The argument had been fierce—no one else in the company had ever been bold enough to stand up to him like that.

--

"You know how this company operates. It’s about hierarchy and respect. This isn’t a game, Y/N. You’re fortunate to even be here. You need to understand your place," Mr. Han said, his tone looking down on you.

Finally, you looked up to meet his gaze.

"Looks like you’re lucky too, Mr. Han. If we were recognizing talent, you’d be beneath me."

--

You were confused. Why would you be receiving time off? Were they suspending you for knowing your worth and finally pointing out the mistakes in the company?

"Y/N, I suggest you take a break for a month or two. We know working in this industry, especially for women, can be challenging, with emotions and all."

Your heart sank. You understood what he meant, even if he avoided the term. You walked back to your desk to pack up your things as your coworkers began to whisper around you. You tried your best to swallow the situation, but you couldn’t help catching Mr Han out of the corner of your eye—perfectly sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, unsuspended and free of any disciplinary action.

What a world we live in.

--

As you walk home, your heart begins to shatter. No one ever warned you about being an adult when you were a kid. All the stories summed up life with nice things—love, happiness, hope.

Hope.

Something you haven’t felt in a long time.

The next day feels strangely different as if the world has shifted ever so slightly in the light of dawn. You’ve cried the whole night, the weight of everything finally breaking through the dam you had built within.

As the first rays of sunlight peek through your window, you reach for your laptop. The familiar device now feels like a portal to the past.You pull up old photos, and as you scroll through each image, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. They’re snapshots of a time when life felt more colourful, the world more open.

"I was so happy, everything was brighter", you thought to yourself.

You can almost hear the laughter and feel the warmth of those sunlit moments. You remember the promise you once made to yourself: “I’ll capture whatever makes me happy.” It was your goal, your way of finding beauty in the everyday.

As you linger on a particularly beautiful shot, quiet determination begins to bloom in your chest. In that fleeting moment of clarity, you realize what you truly need: to escape, to break free from the chains that have held you down for far too long, and to reclaim the part of yourself that has been lost in the shadows.

--

“Jeju? What’s with the random trip?” Aeri’s voice crackled through the phone as you made the call after arriving at Jeju Airport.

You paused at her response, recalling the dark moments you had faced recently. You longed to tell her how you felt like you were dying inside, but now wasn’t the time.

“Well, it’s a long story,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though a hint of weariness slipped through. Aeri hesitated on the other end, sensing something was off.

“Are you okay, Y/N? You sound… different.”

You glanced around the busy airport, considering her concern.

“I’ll talk about it later,” you said finally, trying to sound reassuring. “I just need some time to clear my head.”

Aeri sighed, still worried. “Alright, but take care of yourself, okay? And call me if you need anything. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Aeri,” you said softly.

With that, you hung up and slipped your phone back into your bag. As you stepped out of the airport, a sense of relief washed over you. Jeju was beautiful, even under the cloak of night. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling lighter already. This was exactly what you needed—a place far removed from all the chaos.

--

After checking in at your hotel, you were eager to explore, despite the late hour. Spotting a nearby bike rental station, you quickly rented one, excitement bubbling inside you as you anticipated soaking in the atmosphere of Jeju at night.

Pedalling along the quiet streets, the cool night air invigorated you, and the gentle sound of waves crashing in the distance created a soothing backdrop. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery light that danced on the water. You felt a surge of freedom as you rode, each pedal pushing you further away from the chaos of your life.

"Please, just let time stop. Just for a moment," you thought as you pedaled, enjoying the peacefulness around you.

But then, as you turned a corner, disaster struck. You didn’t see the other bike until it was too late, and with a loud clunk, you collided, sending both of you off balance. You stumbled to a stop, heart racing, and looked up to see a young man—his surprised expression mirroring your own.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, rushing to check if he was alright.

He brushed himself off, standing tall with a sharp glare. His features were striking, and you could sense his annoyance, though he didn’t seem to want to dwell on it. As you both steadied your bikes, you felt the tension in the air.

“I didn’t mean to ruin your ride,” you said, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I’m really sorry. It was an accident.”

He sighed, his frustration still evident, but he seemed to be reining it in. “Just… be careful next time,” he muttered, adjusting his bike before giving you one last look and riding off into the night.

You stood there, watching him go, your initial embarrassment shifting to frustration. This definitely wasn’t how you had pictured starting your trip. Just when you thought the encounter was over, fate had other plans.

--

The next morning, you wandered down to the hotel’s cozy café for breakfast, eager to indulge in some local cuisine. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the scent of warm pastries. You settled at a small table near the open terrace, enjoying the view of the sun rising over the horizon.

You began to take out your new film camera, it was a camera you had once promised yourself you would fill with happy encounters, but that promise had fallen by the wayside as you drowned yourself in work. Struggling to get a grip on how it functioned, you started to look through the settings when a figure walked past your table.

It was him—the guy from last night. He sat down at his own table, and as soon as he caught sight of you, he rolled his eyes dramatically, as if to say not you again. Your stomach twisted slightly, but you decided to ignore him, focusing instead on your camera.

After finishing your meal, you grabbed your camera and stepped outside, eager to immerse yourself in the beauty of Jeju. The streets were alive with colour, and you began to capture the scenes around you—lush greenery, quaint shops, and the stunning coastline.

You wandered through the local market, snapping photos of the bustling vendors and their vibrant displays of fresh produce and handmade goods. Your heart lifted with each click of the shutter, the camera becoming an extension of your desire to find joy in the small things.

As you moved deeper into the market, you caught sight of him again. He was at a stall, inspecting some fruit. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you didn’t need to let his presence affect your mood. Instead, you focused on capturing the essence of the market, the lively interactions, and the warmth of the people around you.

But the moment you turned your camera towards the stall he was at, he noticed you. You could see his annoyance as he shot you an incredulous look, clearly irritated that you were taking pictures in the same space. He waved his hand dismissively as if trying to shoo you away.

This time, you couldn’t help but smirk. You weren’t about to let his irritation spoil your experience. You continued to film, zooming in on the vibrant colors and lively atmosphere, reveling in your newfound freedom.

You decided to embrace the moment, letting the world around you inspire you rather than letting him dampen your spirits. It was a new day, and you were determined to make the most of it—no matter who else was in the frame.

--

With the sun beginning to set, casting a warm golden hue over Jeju, you decided to call it a day. You returned to your hotel room, feeling a sense of fulfilment from capturing the beauty of the island. As you entered the room, the familiar buzz of your phone interrupted your thoughts. It was your mom calling.

“Y/N! Where have you been? You need to come back home!” she scolded, her voice a mix of worry and frustration.

You close your shut eyes for a moment, wishing the situation was just a dream.

“Mom, I’m on vacation. I told you I needed some time away,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady.

“Time away? This isn’t just a vacation! You’re running from your responsibilities! You think it’s okay to just leave everything behind?” Her words felt like a punch to the gut.

“I’m not running away. I just need a break to think,” you protested, your frustration bubbling over. “I can’t deal with everything right now.”

“You think you can just ignore your responsibilities? Your brother needs support, and you should be helping your family, not gallivanting around Jeju!” she snapped.

You clenched your fists, tears filling up your eyes resulting to you trying to suppress the anger rising within you as you ended the call. Everything felt like a mess now, and you didn’t need any additions to that. You began to look around your room, searching for an escape. Your eyes landed on the dark sea beyond the balcony, and an idea quietly surfaced. Grabbing your film camera, you decided to take a walk along the beach.

You wanted to cry; you needed to cry.

You began to look around your room, searching for an escape. Your eyes landed on the dark sea beyond the balcony, and an idea quietly surfaced. Grabbing your film camera, you decided to take a walk along the beach.

You gazed out at the vast, dark sea, wishing your life could be as calm as the ocean before you. With each soft crash, you felt your sadness slowly wash away, like footprints disappearing under the water. For a good ten minutes, you stood there, breathing deeply, letting the steady hum of the sea drown out the noise in your mind.

When you finally opened your eyes, the world felt lighter, your heart less heavy. You wiped away the last tears, determined to hide any evidence of your pain. With your camera ready, you prepared to capture this peaceful moment you wanted to hold onto.

But just as you were about to take the shot, you spotted him—the man you had bumped into earlier. You sighed, thinking, of all the places. You weren’t in the mood for another encounter.

“I knew it, you were one of them,” he said.

You tried to ignore him; you had no energy to argue.

“I’m calling the cops on you.”

“Great,” you replied, sarcasm lacing your voice.

--

“She’s a sasaeng,” the man stated, crossing his arms. “She keeps following me around, and I want to file a report.”

You felt a wave of disbelief wash over you. You both found yourselves at the police station, the atmosphere tense and awkward. He stood confidently at the desk, explaining his version of events to the officer, who listened with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t even know you or your name. Sir, this is ridiculous,” you said.

The officer glanced between the two of you, clearly intrigued by the unfolding drama. But it was hard to believe you didn’t know him; you seemed genuine yet utterly uninterested in Jaehyun, a very famous idol.

“So, you’re saying you don’t know him?”

“Yes! I only bumped into him a few times. How does that make me a stalker?”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “Why are you so defensive? You’re the one who keeps showing up wherever I am.”

“I’ll just remind you that we’re on a small island,” you shot back, but the officer interrupted.

“Okay, let’s settle down. Ma’am, can you provide your name and occupation?”

You opened your mouth, ready to say, “I’m a accountant at—” but then it hit you like a cold wave. You weren’t your job anymore; you had been suspended from your job. The reality of your situation dawned on you, and suddenly, you felt lost.

You froze in the moment, a flood of emotions swirling inside you. Who were you without your job? Had you become so immersed in your work that your identity was tied solely to it? Did you even know what you liked or disliked anymore?

With a heavy heart, you looked up at the officer, and instead of your title, you simply stated,

“Just write Y/N, unemployed.”

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow, and for the first time, his irritation seemed to fade slightly. Maybe you weren’t really a stalker; you were just here for peace of mind like he was.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself to explain your side, but a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were no longer the person you once claimed to be.

The incident ended with the officer clarifying that you were not a stalker, emphasizing that it was simply a misunderstanding. Jaehyun also acknowledged that you genuinely didn’t know who he was.

Ultimately, the officer concluded that both of you should avoid each other to prevent any further distress.

As you both stepped away from the desk, the tension began to dissipate. Outside, the cold evening air brushed against your skin, and an unexpected silence hung between you for a brief moment.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Jaehyun said, his tone more conciliatory now. “It’s just… it’s hard to escape from all this sometimes.”

“Tell me about it,” you replied, letting your guard down for the first time.

He exhaled, rubbing his neck. “Look, I’m sorry. My group’s been through a lot, and trusting strangers doesn’t come easy anymore.”

A hesitant smile tugged at your lips. “Your group… NCT?”

His expression softened, pride flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, that’s us.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering. “I get it. Caution makes sense.”

His eyes stayed on you, gentler now as the cool night wind tousled your hair, and for a quiet, heart-stopping moment, he just looked at you.

“I’m sorry, too,” you murmured.

A small smile broke across his face. “No hard feelings.”

--

The night air was calm, and without another word, you fell into step beside each other, walking back toward the hotel. The silence was surprisingly comfortable, but you couldn't help to calm down your emotions.

Somewhere in the ease, you felt tears gather in your eyes and Jaehyun was quick to sense it as you turned your head towards the sea to avoid him.

“So…” Jaehyun began, hoping to distract you. “What brings you here, then? To Jeju?”

Quickly, you brushed away the tears on your cheek and looked up at him.

“Just… a short escape,” you murmured, your voice soft and unsteady. “Work, life… everything started feeling like too much.” He listened intently, his gaze steady, as if inviting you to say more.

“I felt like I was drowning. Coming here was supposed to be my chance to breathe again. And then… well, then you happened,” you added with a faint, self-conscious smile.

A warm chuckle escaped him as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I ruined that, didn’t I?”

“Maybe just a little,” you teased, your smile widening as you caught his gaze. “But I suppose I can forgive you. I must have ruined yours too.”

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “It’s alright. A night walk by the ocean seems like a pretty good way to make it up.”

You both smiled, the soft night air carrying a quiet understanding between you. A gentle breeze swept over, and he looked up at the stars, his hands in his pockets.

“You know… after so long being on stage and in front of crowds, it’s strange to be away from it all. I don’t think I’ve ever really had a chance to just… breathe. I thought I wanted this break, but now…” His voice drifted off, hesitant, as though he feared where his words might lead.

“But now?” you asked softly, inviting him to continue.

He looked at you, a vulnerability in his gaze you hadn’t seen before. “Now, I’m not even sure who I am without all of that.”

His words hung in the quiet night, and in that moment, you saw Jaehyun not as an idol but as someone searching, just like you. And suddenly, it struck you—you weren’t alone in your own struggles.

“Maybe that’s okay. Life is about figuring it out the next day-”

“After all, this is our first time living.”

His gaze softened as if the simple gesture meant more than either of you were prepared to admit. By the time you reached the hotel, the conversation had lulled into a quiet, companionable silence.

You both moved towards the elevator, standing side by side in silence. As the doors slid open, Jaehyun stepped in first, holding the door for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a step inside.

After pressing your respective floors, the elevator hummed softly as it ascended. Jaehyun glanced over at you, but you seemed lost in thought.

“Look, about earlier...” he started, unsure of how to continue, but you interrupted.

“I don’t want to make this a big deal. Let’s just keep our distance and enjoy our vacations.”

“Sure,” he replied, a bit reluctantly.

As the elevator came to a stop, the doors opened, and you stepped out, leaving a lingering tension in the air as you both went your separate ways, still unsure of what this unexpected connection meant moving forward.

--

The next morning, Jaehyun strolled down to the hotel dining area for breakfast, feeling a mix of anticipation and apprehension. As he scanned the room, he spotted you at a table in the corner, engrossed in your iPad. You seemed to be in your own world, occasionally glancing up as if lost in thought.

He hesitated for a moment, debating whether to approach you or not. Just then, you looked up and caught his gaze. A flicker of recognition crossed your face, and for a brief moment, it looked like he was about to smile. But then, you quickly stood up, gathering your things.

“Hey, it’s okay. I was just about to leave,” you said, attempting to keep your tone light.

There was an edge of awkwardness in your voice. You didn't want to impose on his space, especially after the previous night's tension.

“Wait, you don’t have to go,” he said, his words felt like they were lost in the air. Jaehyun’s heart sank as he watched you stand up.

"It's okay, I was finished anyway"

“Really, it’s fine,” he insisted, trying to sound convincing, but the sincerity in his voice didn’t seem to reach you.

As you walked away, Jaehyun’s quiet presence lingered in your mind as you stepped away, clutching your phone. Every ring from Mr Han felt like a reminder of all you’d been trying to escape from, of the life you’d left behind for a few days in search of peace. You quickly find a quiet corner where you can take the call.

“Mr. Han, I—” you started, trying to find the right words, but the frustration in your former boss’s voice cut through the line.

“Y/N, you really need to get back to me. The client is waiting!”

Heat rose in your cheeks as you tried to stay calm. “I understand, but I’m not in a position to help right now as I—” The anxiety surged, your breath growing shallow.

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Gripping the wall beside you for support, you closed your eyes, your breathing ragged as you struggled to keep yourself steady. Feeling you could drown from your cold sweats. With shaking hands, you ended the call, unable to continue.

The pressure of everything—the job you’d left, the life you’d momentarily escaped—felt like a weight pressing down. You barely noticed when you turned, and there he was, standing close, his gaze soft and filled with worry.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun’s voice was a quiet thread of concern woven into each syllable. “Are you alright?”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of everything crash down on you. The distance between you and Jaehyun felt insurmountable, but the urge to lean on him was overwhelming.

“Yes… I’m okay. I’m just trying to find balance,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Y/N, you need more than that,” he insisted.

He guided you to a nearby bench, the quiet warmth of his hand on your shoulder grounding you.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to,” he said softly. “Just… breathe. Let’s sit for a minute".

For a moment, you just sat there, grateful for his quiet support.

“Thank you, Jaehyun,” you murmured, overwhelmed by his kindness.

“I’m just doing what anyone would,” he said softly, studying your face. “Are you okay now? You know, it’s alright to take a break.”

“I wish it were that easy,” you admitted, the frustration heavy in your voice.

Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again. Another message from Mr. Han. You glanced at Jaehyun, and he looked at you with sympathy, silently acknowledging the struggle you were facing.

“I don’t think you should answer that,” he said gently.

“It’s just work. I should deal with this,” you said reluctantly, the thought of the conversation ahead making your stomach twist.

Before you took the call, you glanced at Jaehyun, fear flickering in your eyes. He offered you a reassuring smile.

“I'll be here,” he said softly.

With a heavy heart, you stepped back, torn between the connection you craved and the unrelenting demands of your reality.

--

You both walked to a small café along the coast. The atmosphere was quiet and cozy, the gentle hum of soft music wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Jaehyun went to order for both of you, reminding you of the moment he suggested it when you slipped your phone back into your pocket.

“How about we grab some coffee?” he had said, his tone warm and inviting

When he returned to the table with two steaming cups, you took a moment to really look at him. How gentle and kind he was towards you softened your heart. How lucky he loved once to receive such affirmation. His fingers linger on yours as he passes you your drink.

"Thanks", you murmured.

The silences between you are like the soft pattern of rain outside. It was as if the calmness of the café had created a peaceful bubble that allowed both of you to just be. No words were needed, just the quiet company of each other and the warmth of your coffee. After a while, you took a deep breath and broke the silence.

"Jaehyun," you started, your voice soft, your eyes still trained on the rain outside. "I’m sorry. I'm sorry about last night, about this morning-"

He looked at you, but you couldn’t meet his gaze just yet.

"I didn’t mean to cause a scene or make things uncomfortable. I'm just... not handling things well. I was so overwhelmed."

Jaehyun’s brow furrowed slightly, but he remained quiet, waiting for you to continue.

"I guess what I’m trying to say is," you hesitated, finally turning to face him, "I want to repay you for stepping in, for making sure I was okay. You didn’t have to, but you did, and I really appreciate it."

You gestured toward your plate. "So, I’m paying for this. Consider it my way of saying thank you."

"You don’t have to repay me, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"But I want to," you insisted, your eyes practically pleading. "Let me do this, okay?"

Jaehyun chuckled softly, holding your gaze. "Alright, I won’t argue with free coffee."

Relief washed over you as a smile finally tugged at your lips, and he smiled back, the warmth in his eyes making everything feel lighter, easier.

"Finally," he thought to himself, glad to see your walls slowly coming down.

You and Jaehyun stepped outside the café, and the fresh scent of rain on the pavement lingered in the air. As you linger on the ambience Jaehyun notices you taking out his film camera, but you seem hesitant as you try to switch on the camera.

Jaehyun, noticing your uncertainty, tilted his head with a curious smile. "Need some help with that?"

"Yeah, I’m still getting the hang of it. Do you…?"

Without a word, he stepped closer, gently taking the camera from his hands.

"Here, I’ll show you," he said.

His fingers brushed against yours as you adjusted the settings, and you couldn’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest.

You bring the camera up to eye level as you point it toward a bright red umbrella left forgotten near the edge of a shop.

"How about something that stands out but blends in with the mood of the scene? Like that umbrella there,"

You handed the camera back to you, guiding your hands to the right angle as he stood close behind you. His presence was calming but you couldn't help feeling a tangled in your stomach.

"Focus on that,"

You took a deep breath, following his advice, and snapped the shot. The sound of the shutter felt satisfying, and as you glanced down at the preview, a small sense of accomplishment swelled in you.

"Perfect, you’ve got a good eye for this."

"You should seen my mentor," you teased, your smile widening.

He grinned, stepping back slightly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned back toward the rainy street.

"Want to take a few more? There’s plenty of stories out here, especially in the rain."

For the rest of the afternoon, the two of you wandered the quiet streets of Jeju, capturing fleeting moments—a woman pulling her scarf tighter against the breeze, raindrops collecting on a parked bicycle, and an old couple sharing an umbrella. Each moment shared between you and Jaehyun felt easy, and natural, like the rhythm of the rain.

--

You both held ice cream cones as you settled on a bench near the shore. The sun peeked through the clouds, casting a soft glow as you savored each delicious bite. Just as you took another lick of your ice cream, the clouds grew dark, and drops of rain began to fall.

“Jaehyun, we need to run!” you exclaimed cheerfully, quickly covering your ice cream with your hands.

In a rush, you both sprinted to a nearby market, trying your best to stay shaded under the roof outside. You could feel his laughter vibrating in the air as you both struggled to keep your ice cream cones from getting drenched.

As you continued to finish your ice cream, savoring the sweet flavor, you turned your gaze back to the shoreline. The ocean's sound was soothing and calming despite the downpour, creating a scene that felt straight out of a movie. Just then, you stole a glance at Jaehyun.

His laughter was infectious, and the way he scrunched up his nose while trying to protect his treat made your heart flutter. It felt like you were falling into a deeper ocean, one filled with warmth and joy.

You pulled out your camera to capture the moment. The raindrops danced on the surface of the water, creating a mesmerizing pattern.

"Just for the memories," you thought.

Jaehyun turned to you, curiosity shining in his eyes. “So, do you take pictures as a hobby or professionally?” he asked.

“Just a hobby, actually. I don't recall having any photogenic pictures in my album,” you replied, chuckling at the thought. "I just take what makes me happy,"

"But we just spent the day capturing random moments. Regardless, they're still really beautiful to me," he defended, his gaze sincere.

"Well, it was fun for me," you said, your smile widening.

Jaehyun's expression softened, and a bright smile spread across his face, illuminating his features even in the dim light of the rainy day. There was something disarming about the way he smiled, as if the world around you faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of more days like this. For the first time in so long, you found yourself eagerly waiting for the next day. The rain continued to fall around you, but it only added to the magic of the moment, making everything feel fresh and alive.

"Do you think we'll ever meet again? Somewhere not here?" you asked, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

Jaehyun’s expression shifted, becoming more serious as he stared deeply into the rain.

“I hope so,” he said slowly, turning to face you. “I really wish we could get closer, even after this vacation is over," his gaze unwavering.

His sincerity wrapped around you like a warm embrace, and for a moment, the world outside the small market felt like a distant echo. You could see the longing in his eyes, a reflection of your own feelings. The connection you’d formed felt too precious to let slip away, despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

“I would like that too,” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest.

--

As the days passed, your time together seemed to fly by, each moment filled with laughter and shared secrets. But all too soon, the end of your vacation arrived, and the reality of parting ways settled heavily in the air.

You found yourself standing outside the hotel, your suitcase at your feet, the familiar buzz of the bustling streets around you fading into a dull roar. Jaehyun stood a few feet away, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, a contemplative expression clouding his features.

“Guess this is it, huh?” he said, attempting to sound light-hearted, but the weight of the moment hung heavily between you.

“Yeah, it feels surreal,” you replied, forcing a smile despite the tightness in your chest.

You had hoped that this moment wouldn’t come, that time would stretch on indefinitely, allowing you to hold on to the connection you had formed. He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours.

“I really enjoyed our time together. It was… different, in a good way. It was nice to be around someone who didn’t see me just as Jaehyun from NCT. You reminded me of what it’s like to just be… myself.””

You nodded, feeling a bittersweet tug at your heart. “I’m glad I met you. And, I’ll always remember this time.”

A silence enveloped you both, filled only by the distant sounds of laughter and traffic. As the moments stretched, you couldn’t help but feel a void beginning to form in your heart. It was a feeling you hadn’t anticipated, one that blossomed from the realization that you had fallen for him during this brief interlude in your lives.

Jaehyun shifted, his gaze dropping to the ground before meeting your eyes again. “Come see me at my concert sometime, let's meet again,” he said, his tone hopeful.

The offer hung in the air between you—simple, yet charged with unspoken meaning. You hesitated, caught between the desire to say yes and the reality of the busy life waiting for you back home.

“I’ll think about it,”

You both lingered in the moment, neither wanting to be the first to say goodbye. Eventually, Jaehyun glanced at his phone, a reminder of his own responsibilities tugging him back.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm, as if he genuinely wanted you to find peace.

“You too, Jaehyun. Don’t lose yourself in all of it,” feeling a surge of protectiveness for him.

With a final smile, you watched as he disappeared into the bustling crowd, your chest heavy yet filled with a strange sense of hope. As you made your way to the airport, you found yourself holding on to the memories of Jeju—of sunlit days, stolen glances, and quiet conversations.

Back in your own world, things quickly resumed their usual pace. Work piled up, Mr. Han’s demands didn’t ease, and the familiar pressures of life weighed on your shoulders. But every so often, you’d catch yourself replaying moments from Jeju: Jaehyun’s smile, the way his laughter echoed along the shore, the quiet understanding that had passed between you.

--

"Ah, that was a super long meeting," you sighed, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes.

"Tell me about it," Aeri replied from her desk, looking equally drained.

Just then, the secretary approached you, holding a note in her hand. "Y/N, someone left a message asking you to call them back."

You glanced up, confused, and exchanged a quick look with Aeri, hoping for some clue. But she looked just as surprised. Hesitantly, you dialled the number, feeling a surge of anxiety as the call connected.

"Hello?"

"Yes, is this Y/N?"

"Yes, this is Y/N speaking. Can I help you?"

"I'm a staff member from SM Entertainment. Jaehyun requested a direct invitation for you to his concert…" Your heart dropped, and every word became a blur after hearing Jaehyun’s name.

You quickly looked at the calendar. Had it really been months since your trip to Jeju? The staff member kindly repeated the message, explaining that Jaehyun had arranged a ticket and backstage pass for you.

"I'm... sorry, but could I get back to you on this?" you asked, still trying to process the unexpected invitation.

"Of course," they replied. "We'll leave your name on the VIP list. If you decide to come, just let the staff know at the VIP section."

You hung up, your mind racing. You never imagined Jaehyun would follow through on his promise, let alone make it so personal. As you stared at your phone, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were ready to step back into that world—or if you even wanted to.

That evening, you had dinner with Aeri, who was as cheerful and lighthearted as always. Watching her laugh, you couldn’t bring yourself to share your concerns about Jaehyun. Somehow, her happiness felt too precious to disturb. After a moment, you decided to break the silence.

"Hey, Aeri," you began, trying to keep your voice casual. "Do you know NCT?"

"Of course, who doesn’t!" she laughed, and you could feel your nerves creeping up. But then, she added with a casual shrug, "Besides, my boyfriend’s from that group."

Your jaw dropped. "Your boyfriend is an idol?!"

She quickly shushed you, almost flipping over the table to keep you from speaking too loudly. Glancing around the restaurant, she sighed and whispered, "Yes. I didn’t mean to hide it, or that I don’t trust you. It’s just... you know, we’re kind of friends from work, and I didn't want things to get complicated."

You smiled, absorbing the surprise. Somehow, knowing she understood the complexities of dating someone in the public eye made you feel a bit less alone in your own tangled thoughts about Jaehyun’s invitation.

As the days crept closer to the concert, you continued to hold it all in, the uncertainty gnawing at you. On the evening before, you finally took a deep breath and decided to invite Aeri along. You figured her presence might ease the nerves and make it all feel a bit more normal.

"Aeri," you said, and she responded with a distracted "Hm?" without lifting her gaze from her work, so you decided to keep it short.

"I, uh... I got an invite to the NCT concert. Would you want to come with me?"

Aeri’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement, her fingers pausing on the keyboard. "Are you serious? Of course! How did you even score an invite like that?"

“Just… something that came up, you know?” you shrugged, keeping it vague.

“It’s going to be amazing! I can’t believe we’re actually going to see them perform live!”

Her enthusiasm brought a smile to your face, and, for a moment, the tension in your chest eased. With Aeri beside you, maybe facing Jaehyun again wouldn’t feel so daunting after all.

--

The night of the concert arrived, and as you stood outside the venue with Aeri, you could feel your heart racing. The bustling crowd, glowing lights, and excited chatter filled the air with an electric energy. Aeri, practically buzzing beside you, squeezed your arm as you both made your way to the VIP entrance. Her excitement was contagious, and you felt a flicker of it yourself, though nerves twisted in your stomach as you thought of the reason behind your invitation.

Inside, the venue felt even more surreal. The rows of seats stretched out like a sea, and the stage glowed with anticipation as fans filled the room. Your VIP passes led you closer than you’d imagined, right near the front, and as you settled in, you felt Aeri’s hand in yours.

“Can you believe we’re this close?” she whispered, her eyes gleaming. “We’re about to see them, live!”

The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd, followed by a collective gasp as the stage illuminated, and NCT appeared. The opening beats hit, and the whole arena seemed to come alive as the members took their places, Jaehyun among them. Your eyes drifted to him, a mix of emotions stirring as he sang, danced, and commanded the stage effortlessly. In that moment, he looked entirely different from the man you’d spent time with on Jeju—a star in every sense.

Aeri was in her element, cheering along with the crowd, and you found yourself swept up in her excitement. The concert unfolded like a dream, each song weaving between moments of high energy and softer ballads that made the arena feel intimate. As you watched Jaehyun move across the stage, your mind flickered back to all the memories you’d shared, and a pang of nostalgia washed over you.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Aeri exclaimed during a brief interlude, her face glowing. You nodded, forcing a smile, but your heart was conflicted. This night was as exhilarating as it was overwhelming, and as Jaehyun’s gaze swept over the audience, you wondered if he’d see you and recognize you in the crowd.

The concert came to a close with an eruption of applause and cheers, the room filled with the lingering energy of excitement. As the lights brightened, Aeri was practically bouncing beside you, her excitement escalating as you both made your way to the backstage entrance.

In the waiting room, NCT members were casually chatting after the high-energy performance. When you and Aeri entered, they greeted you warmly, and Aeri, in particular, seemed over the moon. She introduced herself and excitedly complimented the members, her enthusiasm making them all laugh.

“Hey! Thanks for coming!”, Taeyong greeted.

“Hi, thank you for having us,” you responded, a little overwhelmed by how down-to-earth they were despite their star status.

They were friendly and approachable, making small talk that felt genuine rather than forced. Then, you saw him—Jaehyun, standing at the far end of the room. He hadn’t noticed you at first, busy talking with another member, but when he turned and saw you, his expression softened instantly. His eyes met yours, and he broke into that familiar smile that had haunted your thoughts since Jeju.

“You actually came,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of disbelief and relief.

“I didn’t think I would, honestly. But here I am”, feeling your nerves flutter. “Thanks for inviting me. It’s… surreal seeing you here.”

“I’m glad you came. Really,” Jaehyun replied, his voice sincere.

“We’re actually heading to an after-party at a club nearby. You both should come! It’ll be fun!”

Aeri’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Oh my gosh, we have to go! It sounds amazing!”

You felt a wave of hesitation wash over you. The idea of a club after the concert seemed exhilarating yet overwhelming.

“I’m not sure,” you said, glancing at Jaehyun, who was watching you with a hopeful expression.

Jaehyun stepped closer, his demeanour reassuring. “You’ll be with us. It’ll be a good time, I promise. Just think of it as a celebration.”

You sighed, weighing the pros and cons. The thought of missing out on an opportunity to bond with Jaehyun and Aeri made your heart sink, but the thought of the club’s atmosphere sent your anxiety into overdrive. Finally, you agree relented.

The moment you stepped inside, a wave of culture shock hit you. The atmosphere was electric, pulsating with music and vibrant lights. It was everything you had imagined but somehow more overwhelming.

"Come, stay close to me", Jaehyun grabbing your hand.

You were glad for a moment, but as all of you made it to the couch women were swooning over Jaehyun. You felt a pang of discomfort watching the attention he received; it was overwhelming for you. You kept close to Aeri, who was revelling in the excitement.

“Look at them! They’re totally obsessed!” she laughed, pointing out the fans who crowded around Jaehyun, capturing every moment on their phones.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by the attention. He mingled with ease, laughing and chatting while he would glance over at you occasionally.

You couldn’t help but feel lost. The club scene was so much different to your usual surroundings, and you were more aware than ever of the differences between your world and Jaehyun. As the night wore on, you tried to enjoy the night, but every laugh from the crowd felt like a reminder of your insecurities, and the joy you saw on Aeri’s face only made you feel more disconnected.

Jaehyun continued to glance your way, concern flickering across his features as he noticed your discomfort, but you couldn’t shake the feeling overwhelmed, you took a step back, needing a moment to breathe. The pulsating energy of the club felt too much, and you realized you weren’t really enjoying your time at all.

You glanced at Aeri, who was caught up in the moment, and your heart sank. You had hoped this would be a fun adventure, but instead, it was just a reminder of how far you felt from everything that was happening around you.

“Aeri, maybe we should head back? It’s getting pretty wild in here,” you suggested, trying to keep your voice steady amid the noise.

She shook her head, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “No way! This is amazing! Just leave me for a bit; I want to enjoy this!” Aeri grinned, clearly swept up in the atmosphere.

Frustrated, you scanned the room, searching for someone to help. Just when you were about to give up, you felt a familiar presence behind you. Jaehyun appeared concerned etched across his face as he noticed the distress in yours.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

“I can't get Aeri to leave, I'm worried about her”

Without a second thought, Jaehyun nodded, taking charge.

“I’ll help. Let’s get her home,” he said decisively. With a reassuring grip, he took your hand, weaving through the throngs of people until you found Aeri, still lost in the music.

“Aeri, it’s time to go home,” he said gently, but there was an authority in his tone that she couldn’t ignore.

As the three of you made your way out of the club, Jaehyun kept a protective arm around you, making sure you felt safe amidst the chaos. Outside, the cool night air hit your skin, a refreshing change from the stifling atmosphere inside.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she gets home safely,” Jaehyun reassured you, pulling out his phone to arrange a ride for Aeri.

His attention to detail and care made your heart swell a little, reminding you how he was to you at Jeju. Once the ride was confirmed, he turned to you, concern still lingering in his gaze.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

You nodded, feeling grateful for his support.

“Thanks for stepping in,” you said softly.

With Aeri safely in the car and waving goodbye, you turned to Jaehyun, feeling the weight of the night lift slightly.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess,” you said, a hint of embarrassment creeping in.

“Hey, it’s not a mess if I’m here. Let’s get you home too, alright?”, he replied, his tone light but sincere.

As you both walked to his car, you felt a flicker of connection rekindling between you. Even in the chaos, there was a comfort in knowing he had your back, and for the first time that night, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

“So, did you have fun at the club?” he asked, glancing at you with a hint of curiosity.

You paused, considering your response. “Honestly, I prefer to sit back and enjoy quiet moments,” you admitted.

Jaehyun looked surprised but intrigued. “Really? You didn’t enjoy the excitement?”

“It felt overwhelming. I like to unwind in my own way,”

He nodded, contemplating your words. “I get that. But I just thought it would be nice to share that experience with you.”

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your heart fluttering at the thought of him wanting to include you. “I just… prefer quieter settings.”

“Maybe I can find a balance for both of us,” he suggested with a grin. “How about I invite you to a few more gatherings? Just to see if we can make it work.”

You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you, but you reminded yourself that it couldn’t hurt to try.

"Yeah, sure"

--

Over the next few weeks, you and Aeri joined Jaehyun and his friends on special occasions at the club. The flashing lights, pulsing music, and the lively atmosphere brought a new kind of excitement to your evenings. You enjoyed the laughter, the freedom to dance, and the chance to see Jaehyun in his element. But slowly, the late nights and the constant energy began to wear on you. You felt your enthusiasm dimming with each outing.

Still, every night, when the evening wound down and people started heading home, Jaehyun was there. He would walk you to his car, his hand lightly brushing against your back in a steady, comforting gesture. He’d ask if you were alright, his gaze full of quiet concern, and he’d listen when you tried to explain the small things that felt out of sync. Yet, even with his steady presence, you couldn’t shake the weariness that came from trying to belong in a world that didn’t feel like yours.

One night, as he was driving you home after yet another club outing, you found yourself staring out the window, watching the empty streets rush by. Jaehyun glanced over, sensing your silence.

“You seem… tired,” he said gently, breaking the quiet.

You sighed, nodding. “I am. It’s fun to go out and be with everyone, but… I don’t think this is really me.”

"You don’t have to keep coming just for me, you know,” he said. “I want you to feel comfortable.”

"I know, I really do. I just starting to think if we have another connection rather than these events,"

"Y/N, of course we do. Jeju was everything to me", he firmly defended.

The silence that fell between you both was thick, filled with unspoken words and questions. You stared out the window, your heart aching with the uncertainty, the shared nights that only left you feeling more adrift.

Jaehyun seemed to sense the tension too. Instead of pressing further, he let out a soft sigh and suddenly steered the car toward a small convenience store that glowed against the quiet street.

“Come on,” he said, parking and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Let’s get some ice cream. My treat.”

You glanced over at him, a little surprised but grateful for the change of pace. “Ice cream at midnight? Are we back in Jeju?” you teased lightly, letting a small smile escape.

“Maybe,” he grinned, opening his door. “Or maybe it’s my way of slowing things down—taking us back to something simple.”

The two of you entered the store, the fluorescent lights casting a soft glow over the rows of snacks and drinks. Jaehyun led you to the freezer aisle, opening it with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he considered the options.

“You choose,” he said, stepping aside to let you take your pick.

After a brief moment of indecision, you reached for your favorite flavor, and Jaehyun grabbed one for himself. The store was empty save for the clerk, who gave you both a nod as you paid and made your way out.

Sitting on the table outside, you unwrapped your ice cream in comfortable silence, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The quiet felt soothing, like the ocean breeze back in Jeju.

Jaehyun glanced over before he spoke. “I know things have been… different. And I’m sorry if I didn’t see how you were feeling sooner.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t know how to bring it up,” you admitted, taking a small bite of ice cream.

He nodded, looking down thoughtfully. “I just thought… maybe you’d see a different side of me. That maybe we’d find new memories, even if they weren’t always perfect.”

“We did,” you said softly. “But I think I just wanted a side of you that felt a little closer. More like this.”

Jaehyun’s face softened, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Let’s keep it simple, then. The way it should be.”

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you. And in that quiet moment under the stars, with only the hum of the city around you, you both found a new kind of connection that felt real, like the kind that would last even when the music faded.

--

"So, why don’t you take photos of people?" Jaehyun asked over dinner that evening.

He had invited you to his place, a rare occasion given both of your busy schedules—especially with him working on his solo album. These days, it felt like you hardly saw each other, but recently, he’d been reaching out more.

More than a friend would.

You flipped through the faded photos of Jeju scattered on the table, both of you reminiscing about the quiet beauty captured in each frame.

“Sometimes, the happiness we see in people is just a mask hiding what they’re really feeling,” you explained softly. “I thought I’d rather respect that.”

Jaehyun nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting back to you. “So, are you masking something now?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes I am,” you replied with a grin.

“Are you going to be honest and tell me?”

“Nope, I’m keeping you guessing.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, chuckling as he shook his head.

You looked at his vintage Polaroid camera, an idea forming.

“Alright, how about this?” you proposed. “Let’s take a picture of each other and exchange them. I’ll write my true feelings on your photo, and you’ll do the same on mine. But there’s one rule: we only give the photos back when we’re ready to reveal what we really feel. Deal?”

Jaehyun looked at you, captivated by the idea. He was so absorbed in your words that he took a moment to respond.

“Deal.”

You both took turns photographing each other, trying to hide your shyness by laughing and teasing. When it was Jaehyun’s turn to photograph you, he held up the Polaroid, his gaze warm and intent.

“Alright, turn a little to the left,” he instructed, his voice soft but focused. “Now, smile.”

You followed his direction, feeling a bit silly under his careful watch. The camera clicked, capturing the moment, but he didn’t lower it just yet.

“That’s perfect,” he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You look… beautiful.”

Your cheeks warmed at his compliment.

“Let me see!” you demanded with a playful grin as the photo developed.

When it was your turn to photograph him, Jaehyun relaxed into the moment, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a bit.

“Tilt your head just a bit,” you instructed. “Now, give me that serious look you do on stage.”

He smirked but complied, trying to keep his expression neutral, though the hint of a smile broke through. You clicked the shutter, capturing the side of him that felt both familiar and new. When the photos finished developing, you handed his picture back to him with a grin.

“Take a look at yours! Before it officially becomes mine,” you teased, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “You look really good. I’m lucky to have this picture.”

Jaehyun’s heart skipped a beat at your words, charmed by your cheerful excitement. He couldn’t help but find you adorable.

You each wrote down your true feelings on the photos, not knowing what the other had written. You both tucked the photos away, holding onto them as though they held something precious.

--

As you step out of the office building, your phone rings. Jaehyun’s name appears on the screen, and despite your exhaustion, a smile lights up your face.

“Hello, Jaehyun.”

“Hey, Y/N. Where are you now?”

“I just finished work—”

“I have something to tell you, and I wanted you to be the first to know,” he interrupts, his tone urgent. You freeze at the sudden seriousness, sensing that something might be wrong.

“Okay… go ahead. I’m listening.”

You can almost picture him on the other end, catching his breath, trying to steady himself before speaking.

“There’s this producer—someone really skilled, who could be a huge help for my new music project. He’s interested in working with me,” Jaehyun says, his excitement barely contained.

“But?” you prompt, sensing there’s more.

“But the catch is… he’s only available tonight, and he wants to meet at a club.”

You feel a twinge of discomfort. In your mind, nothing good ever seems to come from such meetings, but you remind yourself that this is Jaehyun’s career. You’re not fully familiar with the music industry, so you want to hear him out before passing any judgment.

“I wanted you to be the first to know. And… to make sure you’re okay with it,” he adds softly. “I don’t want to do something you wouldn’t like.”

You pause, giving his words careful thought. Of course, you want Jaehyun to succeed and have every opportunity he deserves. But the idea of him going to a club, especially for a meeting, doesn’t sit well with you. Yet, you don’t want to be the one to hold him back.

“Jaehyun, I’m probably the last person you should be asking for… permission. I don’t know enough about your industry to judge.”

“I know,” he replies quickly. “But I just really wanted to share this with you. It means a lot to me.” There’s a vulnerability in his voice that tugs at your heart. “Come with me?”

“No,” you say gently. “This is something you need to handle on your own. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You’re never a distraction, Y/N,” he insists. Then, after a pause, he adds, “I’ve heard… things about this producer. That he has a reputation in clubs, especially with… girls. So, please, come with me. I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”

You sigh, the weight of his request settling over you, knowing he wants you there as his anchor, as the one he trusts most.

After a pause, you finally agree to go with him. Jaehyun breathes a sigh of relief, thanking you over and over. Before you know it, he’s already arranging a driver to pick you up, wanting to make things as easy as possible.

When you arrive at the club, the noise, the flashing lights, and the press of bodies instantly overwhelm you. The crowd is thick, and you feel almost invisible as you enter. To everyone here, you’re just another face in the crowd, a nobody. Your eyes immediately scan the room until they land on Jaehyun, not far from where you are, deep in conversation with the producer.

Not wanting to intrude on his discussion, you make your way to the bar, ordering a drink, hoping it will settle your nerves. As you wait, you can’t help but overhear a few girls nearby, chatting animatedly about Jaehyun. You glance over, noticing their eyes are all trained on him.

“That’s Jaehyun, right? The one talking to the boss?” one of them says, her voice full of admiration.

“Yeah. He’s even more handsome in person,” another girl adds, twirling her hair. “And now that he’s connected? Total package.”

A sinking feeling settles in your chest as you realize these girls are part of the producer’s entourage—or perhaps for his amusement. Their conversation softens as they discuss “getting called in” to meet Jaehyun, clearly viewing him as the next big opportunity.

It doesn’t sit well with you, the way they’re admiring him only because of his rising reputation. They don’t see the Jaehyun you know—the one who spends late nights perfecting lyrics, who pours his heart into every melody. To them, he’s just the latest shiny thing, a stepping stone for their own ambitions.

For a moment, you feel an urge to step in, to somehow defend him, to tell them he’s worth so much more than shallow admiration. But you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you’re here for him, not to let your insecurities get the best of you.

Finishing his conversation with the producer, Jaehyun glances around and his eyes light up when he spots you. His face breaks into a warm smile that melts away any remaining doubt you had about being here.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft but full of warmth. “Thanks for coming. Really. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” you reply, smiling back at him. “I’m here for you.”

You both linger in a shared silence, the pounding music and chaos of the club fading into the background as you lock eyes. In this moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the room.

“So, how did it go?” you finally ask, breaking the silence.

“I think it went well,” he says, unable to hide the pride in his smile. “But I don’t want to get ahead of myself.”

“A little confidence never hurt anyone,” you tease lightly.

Jaehyun laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Maybe. Having you here makes everything better, like… I’m doing something right.”

Your heart felt like it had taken a hit, an arrow striking somewhere deep. You wanted to tell Jaehyun that the whole scene felt wrong from the start, that it made you uneasy. But seeing him genuinely happy, glowing with the promise of new opportunities, softened the edge of your discomfort. Maybe, for him, it was worth it.

Just then, the group of girls who had been watching him earlier made their way over, flashing practiced smiles.

“Hey, Jaehyun, right? We work with the producer,” one of them said, her voice dripping with charm.

Without hesitation, they closed in around him, the leader of the group resting a hand lightly on his arm.

You took a step back, feeling like an outsider in a place you never wanted to be, as Jaehyun exchanged polite words with the girls. But soon, their interactions became more forward—laughter too loud, hands lingering on his shoulder, his back, brushing against him as if they couldn’t resist touching him.

More girls nearby started to notice, whispering excitedly, “Isn’t that Jaehyun? I heard he’s working with the producer now.”

Their voices were filled with admiration and a hungry curiosity—the kind that surfaced only when someone had something others wanted. Slowly, more of them drifted over, until Jaehyun was nearly surrounded, their hands reaching out as if he were some prize. One girl even handed him her phone, asking for his number under the pretense of “future projects.” Jaehyun, always polite, tried to decline without offending her, but the group was insistent, treating him like a trophy.

A knot tightened in your stomach. It hurt more than you wanted to admit, watching them admire him for all the wrong reasons. And he, standing at the center of it all, looked caught off guard but also resigned, as if he’d been here before—surrounded by people who only saw his status.

Watching this unfold tore at you, and before you knew it, you turned and started to walk away from the loud party. The instant Jaehyun noticed, his expression shifted to concern. He excused himself from the throng of girls and quickly made his way over to you.

"Y/N, wait!" he called, gently grabbing your wrist. "What’s wrong? Talk to me."

"Everything, Jaehyun," you replied, voice tight. "You’re at the center of it all, surrounded by people who only see you as a symbol of power and connections. It just feels… wrong."

Jaehyun furrowed his brows, clearly caught off guard.

"I didn’t ask for this, Y/N," he said defensively. "I’m not trying to play some 'manly' role. This is just work—I told you. These girls work with the producer. I can't just push them away."

“Well, if this is part of your work, then maybe you don’t need me around,” you replied, trying to walk away again, but he tightened his grip on your wrist.

“Y/N, you’re being unreasonable now,” he said, frustration seeping into his tone.

You looked up, eyes fierce. “Maybe I am, Jaehyun, but that’s the problem. Men like you get placed on a pedestal, while women who speak out—women like me—get labeled as ‘too much.’ You may not see it, but this whole scene reinforces everything I stand against.”

A flash of offense crossed his face.

“So what am I supposed to do? Stop living my life because you don’t agree with how it looks? I’m not doing anything wrong, Y/N.”

“But you’re not doing anything either,” you replied, disappointment clear in your voice. “I guess this is where we clash, Jaehyun. I can’t accept this part of your life.”

You lowered your gaze, your heart aching with the weight of leaving him, but deep down, you felt he wasn’t fighting for anything real. His voice shook as he processed your words.

“So what now? Are you ending this over something I didn’t even know was an issue?”

“I can’t pretend it doesn’t bother me—just like it bothered you when you thought I was intruding on your privacy.”

Jaehyun looked down, the weight of the situation crashing over him. He seemed crushed, the reality of losing you sinking in.

“Do you… hate me?” he asked softly, his voice laden with sadness.

You felt the ache in his words, but you both needed this moment of honesty.

“Jaehyun, I could never hate you,” you replied, tears brimming in your eyes. “And that’s why this matters so much to me. I’m sorry, Jaehyun, but I have to go.”

You pulled away, leaving him standing there, alone in the crowd, as you walked out into the night. Leaving Jaehyun standing alone in the cold night air. A part of you wished he’d have reached out, tried to hold onto you—but the reality was stark and unyielding. With each step, your tears fell harder, the painful truth settling in: he wasn’t the kind of person who would fight to keep you.

Walking away, you pulled out your phone and dialed Aeri’s number.

“Aeri? Can you pick me up? Please, I can’t stand this anymore,” you choked out, voice thick with emotion.

But as your steps slowed, the realization hit: no one was coming right away. You tried to locate a nearby bus stop or a taxi, but you were unfamiliar with the area, so used to going everywhere with Jaehyun by your side. The weight of it all settled on your shoulders, and just as you were about to lose hope, you accidentally collided with someone.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, bowing your head, trying to hide your tear-streaked face.

“Oh, aren’t you Y/N? Are you okay?” you looked up to find Jeno standing before you, a mixture of concern and surprise on his face.

“Are you—” you stammered, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “Jeno?”

“Yeah, Aeri sent me to pick you up instead. She said you needed it,” he replied, glancing back toward the club before focusing on you again. “What happened?”

You let out a sigh, feeling the familiar knot tighten in your chest. “It’s complicated.”

Jeno’s brows knitted together, a genuine empathy in his expression. But sensing your reluctance, he didn’t press further.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he offered softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Aeri’s worried.”

Grateful for his calm presence, you nodded and followed him to his car, parked under the dim glow of the streetlights.

As he drove, Jeno glanced at you, his tone gentle but thoughtful. “If you need to talk about it… I know a bit about you and Jaehyun.”

You managed a small smile. “Aeri filled you in, huh?”

He nodded, smiling back. “Jaehyun can be… a lot sometimes.”

Looking out the window at the passing lights, you swallowed the lump in your throat. “We fought. Over something that just… doesn’t seem to matter to him.”

Jeno’s expression softened.

“If it matters to you, then it’s worth something. When someone’s in the spotlight like he is, sometimes it takes a while for them to understand the impact of their actions.” He looked at you, a steady reassurance in his eyes.

“Give it time. If he truly cares, he’ll come to see why it’s important to you. You deserve someone who’ll stand by what you believe in.”

“Thanks, Jeno,” you whispered, grateful for his steady support.

--

“Y/N, can you help me with this?” your colleague asked, passing over yet another project folder.

“Sure, just put it aside with the other folders,”

You barely look up as you tried to focus on the spreadsheet in front of you. Each day new assignment seemed to pile higher on your desk. Regardless, you still work like crazy to the point it seems like you wanted the pile of work.

Aeri hovered nearby, her expression laced with concern. “Are you… okay?” she asked gently.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just getting things done before audit season.”

“That’s it, y/n. It’s not even the audit season yet, you should take it slow. You’ll be worn out before the audit season”

You just scoof her off, saying you’re not the type to get tired easily. But as she walked away, you felt the weight of it all pressing down. Taking a deep breath, you glanced at your phone, but the screen remained empty.

That night, you decided to take a break and invited Aeri over to your apartment for drinks. She arrived with her boyfriend, Jeno, who brought along a few snacks and his usual easygoing smile. The three of you settled around the living room, drinks in hand, with laughter filling the space as the night went on.

You’ve been trying to keep up with Aeri teasing Jeno and revealing funny stories from the office, sipping from your glass and smiling at the right moments, but your mind kept wandering off. At one point, Aeri gave you a knowing look.

“Hey, are you really okay?” she asked, nudging you.

“Yeah, just… you know, work’s been a lot lately. I’m probably just exhausted.”

“I told you, you would run out energy before the audit. You should be more gentle to yourself”,

You looked into the can of beer in your hand, it was empty. Somehow it reminded you how you’ve been feeling lately, despite the tons of work.

“I should have. I thought the load if work would fill up my mind, my time. But now, I don’t feel anything”,

Aeri and Jeno was suprised at your confession. You had always seem to have your life together, she wasn’t expecting you to rant out just like.

“Y/N”, Jeno unsure of how to address the situation. “Hm, are you— hm— drunk? Should we call it a night?”

You chuckled, how miserable you have been trying to maintain the image of indepent woman that now you were unsure do people that you seriously when your not mentally unstable.

“I must be a bit tipsy—“,

“Your waiting for him, aren’t you?”, Aeri interrupted, which took you by suprises. “I can tell by how happy you are with him”

Your eyes slowly turn into glass without you realising as Aeri continue.

“That now, when he left, he took it with him”,

You slowly look at her. Aeri had always been cheerful, lifting up the mood that she might seem immature sometimes. But in the moment, you realise that she must have been masking her pain.

Just like how all of us have been doing.

“Yes, and I’m missing him too much”.

Aeri slowly scotch closer to you, wrapping her arms around you.

“It’s okay, y/n. You don’t need to tough it out for now. There’s nothing wrong about it”, as she whisper to you while embracing you.

Her words cracked something inside you. A tear slid down your cheek before you could stop it. You finally let the tears flow, the concern and understanding in her words made realized she’d noticed everything you thought you’d hidden.

Aeri wraps her arms tighter around you. Just like you, she had her own struggles masked by smiles and laughter, and for the first time, you both let yourselves be vulnerable together, acknowledging the pain you’d all been carrying alone. Jeno placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, saying nothing, letting you both just be.

—

Unlike you, Jaehyun headed to the club that night, on his way to meet the producer to discuss new ideas for his songs. He had been working with the producer for a few weeks now, and while Jaehyun appreciated the producer's vision and creativity, he was growing impatient with the slow progress. It didn’t help that the producer seemed wrapped up in the nightlife scene, filling his evenings with club activities that left Jaehyun restless, wishing he could focus solely on the music instead.

Just like you, he was starting to feel worn out.

“Hey, Haeun,” Jaehyun greeted a woman who had approached him early on, soon after hearing he’d be collaborating with the producer.

She smiled back, a faint, knowing look in her eyes. After weeks of politely declining advances from the women who had initially surrounded him, the interest had mostly faded. One by one, they’d lost interest, sensing that Jaehyun wasn’t interested in mixing business with pleasure—or perhaps realizing his connection with the producer wasn’t as social as they’d hoped.

“Looking for the producer?” she asked casually.

“Yeah.” Jaehyun ordered a drink, taking a sip as he looked around. “Do you know where he is?”

“Oh, you know him,” she replied, sliding her hand subtly onto his lap. “He’s probably just handling some ‘work’ stuff. He’ll be here in a minute.”

Jaehyun resisted the urge to pull away, the casual touch a reminder of how he’d been drawn into this world—a place he never truly fit into. His mind drifted back to a different kind of night, quieter and far from the flashing lights and unfamiliar faces. And as much as he tried to forget.

His mind drifted to you.

Jaehyun gently removed Haeun's hand from his lap, hoping to diffuse the situation without causing a scene.

"Sorry, Haeun, but I’m just here to talk business." he said, keeping his voice calm,"

Her smile faltered, her expression twisting with embarrassment and irritation. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a challenging tone.

“Oh, come on, Jaehyun,” she said, her tone laced with annoyance. “You’re really just here to work? Don’t act so above it all.”

When he didn’t respond, she moved in even closer, pressing herself against him as though determined to wear down his resistance. Jaehyun felt his patience thinning; he pushed her gently but firmly aside, realizing that his polite refusals weren’t going to get through to her.

“Look, Haeun,” he said, keeping his voice steady but his tone sharp, “I meant what I said. I’m not interested.”

The flash of anger in her eyes was unmistakable, her pride clearly bruised.

“You think you’re better than everyone here?” she sneered, her voice loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby. “Or are you just here to use the producer and then leave, like none of us matter?”

Jaehyun took a deep breath, steadying his frustration. He missed you—missed the clarity and grounding you brought, and for a split second, he felt the sting of how right you’d been about all of this.

“I’m here for my music,” he replied, his tone measured and cool. “If you don’t get that, it’s best you leave me alone.”

Without another glance, Jaehyun turned and made his way out of the club, distancing himself from her and the crowd. He could feel the weight of their stares trailing behind him, but he kept his gaze forward. The entire encounter had left him feeling hollow, revealing the shallow undercurrents he’d ignored for too long.

Outside, under the quiet stretch of the night sky, Jaehyun searched for solace in the calm after the chaos. He pulled out his phone, his thumb hesitating over your contact. He wanted to call you, to hear your voice and find comfort in the familiarity he’d pushed away. For a long moment, he debated it, the thought lingering like a lifeline in the silence.

But his pride held him back. He’d already felt it bruised enough tonight, and the painful reminder of the distance he’d let grow between you weighed heavy on his heart—a reminder of what he’d lost and what he might never get back.

--

Jaehyun wandered to a street bar near his place, settling into a quiet corner with a bottle and a glass. The night air was thick with the hum of city life, a familiar background to his quiet unraveling. He glanced at his phone, fingers hovering over a message he’d hesitated to send for too long.

With a steadying breath, he finally typed to the producer:

I don’t think this is working out. I’ll need to step back from our project.

He hit send, feeling the release like stepping off a tightrope, his resolve solid. He poured himself another drink, the burn of the alcohol both grounding and numbing.

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to steady himself. In moments of despair, his mind always drifted back to you, longing for the comfort of your warmth amid the silence.

He lifted his head from the glass just as a familiar face appeared across the bar, sparking instant nostalgia.

“Jaehyun?” The voice was warm and surprised. When he looked up, he saw the wide grin of an old high school friend, Minseok.

“Oh—Minseok-ah!” Jaehyun stood as they reached out for a handshake, pulling each other into a friendly chest bump.

“What are you doing here alone?” Minseok asked.

“Just trying to get through the day. How about you?”

“Why do it alone? Come on, let’s drink together,” Minseok said, chuckling as he took the seat beside Jaehyun.

Laughter quickly filled the air as they caught up, reminiscing over shared memories. The comfort of familiarity eased some of Jaehyun's earlier bitterness as the drinks kept flowing.

“So, what are you up to now? Last time we talked, you were at SNU studying music,” Jaehyun asked, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Minseok smiled. “I’m producing now. If you’re ever looking for someone to collaborate with, I’d be honored.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re producing now?”

“Yeah, I’ve been at it for quite a while.”

As the conversation deepened, Jaehyun found himself opening up about the fallout with his previous producer, the frustrations of the past weeks, and the growing feeling of losing himself in the industry.

Minseok listened intently, sympathy etched in his expression.

“I get it. It happens you know? Sometimes, people even forget why they’re doing what they love in the first place.”

Jaehyun sighed, swirling his drink.

“Yeah, I just didn’t expect it to feel this empty”.

“Well, come to my studio,” Minseok replied, pouring another drink. “Maybe I can help.”

A spark of hope flickered in Jaehyun's chest, something he hadn't felt in ages—something he had lost in the sterile demands of his previous producer.

“I’d actually like that… a lot.”

--

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Jaehyun threw himself into his music, each day dissolving into the next as he filled the empty hours with endless melodies and late-night recording sessions. Minseok’s studio became his second home, its walls absorbing every failed attempt, every breakthrough, and every quiet moment of doubt.

One evening, Jaehyun headed to the company building for a round of final checks on his solo album. His body was tired, but his mind was relentlessly driven. As he walked past the studios, he nearly bumped into Jeno, who looked like he was the last one out after practice. Jaehyun’s face lit up, grateful for the unexpected company and a break from his own thoughts.

"Hyung!" Jeno greeted with a wide grin, pulling him into a quick hug. "Are you here working on your solo album?"

"Yeah," Jaehyun replied with a tired smile. "Just wrapping things up, trying to balance it with the group’s schedule."

Jeno chuckled, nodding knowingly.

"Sounds like you’re living in the studio these days."

"Yeah… but my friend's been helping a lot."

"That’s good. You could use the support."

Jaehyun hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Hey, Jeno… have you seen Y/N around lately?"

There was no hiding the fact that Jeno was the one who took you home that night. When news broke of him being spotted with a woman in his car, rumours quickly started to swirl. Although SM Entertainment promptly cleared things up, stating that Jeno was simply helping out a friend, the speculation had already spread far and wide.

Jeno’s expression softened. He knew this question would come sooner or later.

"We hung out a few nights ago," he said, choosing his words carefully. "She’s… well, she’s been busy with work. The overtime's wearing her down a bit."

"That's good to know", Jaehyun's shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was a flicker of something else—regret, maybe.

Thoughts of you had crept into his mind more than he wanted to admit, but he still felt the weight of their last encounter at the club. The harsh words exchanged, her disappointment in him—it all lingered, making it hard to reach out.

"She's changed a bit," Jeno continued, his tone gentle. "But she's still Y/N… maybe just a little more guarded."

Jaehyun looked away, clenching his jaw. He hadn’t reached out, and not for lack of wanting to. After the fight, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she didn’t want to see him anymore, that maybe he’d crossed a line that couldn’t be erased.

"Hyung, you should reach out to her. I think she’s waiting for you, even if she wouldn’t say it."

Jaehyun’s chest tightened, a surge of longing mixed with uncertainty. The thought of her waiting gave him a sliver of hope, but the memory of her disappointment held him back.

“Maybe…” Jaehyun murmured, half to himself.

But he knew he’d have to decide soon—before the silence between them became a wall neither could cross.

Jaehyun’s thoughts churned as he walked back to his car, Jeno’s words echoing in his mind: "I think she’s waiting for you." He replayed the last fight in his head—the hurt in your eyes, the way you turned and walked away, and the silence that had followed ever since. Every part of him wanted to see you, but his pride and guilt had held him back. Still, the hope that you might be waiting was enough to push him forward.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he decided he couldn’t go another day without seeing you.

—

Exhausted from another late night at the office, you stepped out into the chilly evening air, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. Fatigue clung to you, making every step feel heavier. All you wanted was to go home and collapse into bed.

But as you descended the office steps, a familiar figure caught your eye—Jaehyun.

The sight of him only reignited the simmering anger you'd been trying to bury since your last argument. Without a second glance, you walked right past him, clutching your bag tightly. He blinked, briefly thrown off, before quickly following you, trying to keep pace.

"Y/N… can we talk?" he called, his voice almost pleading.

"We have nothing to talk about, Jaehyun," you replied, your gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Please… I need you to listen to me," he insisted, desperation edging into his tone.

"I already got your message, Jaehyun."

He frowned, confusion flashing across his face.

"What message, Y/N? I never even reached out to you yet."

"Exactly," you shot back, bitterness lacing your words. You stopped abruptly, finally turning to look at him, eyes cold. "No reply is a reply, don’t you get it?"

He fell silent, visibly taken aback by the weight of your words. You could see the hurt flicker across his face, but you refused to let it soften your resolve.

"Since when did you start seeing silence as a bad sign for us?" he murmured, searching your face. "We’ve shared so many moments in silence… yet I always felt connected to you. I thought you understood that."

You shook your head, feeling the frustration bubble over. "This is different, Jaehyun. You don’t understand—"

"Then make me understand!" he interrupted, his voice rising with urgency. "Let me in, Y/N. I know I should’ve reached out, and I'm trying to make up for it now. I was caught up with my schedule, the solo album, everything... but that’s not an excuse."

He took a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging.

"I'm just... shocked that my silence hurt you this much. I got so used to feeling your love, even in quiet moments, that I took it for granted. I thought you knew how much you mean to me without me having to say it."

You stood there, caught between shock and confusion, unsure whether to feel angry or softened by his words. He looked down, his gaze falling to the ground, as if ashamed.

"Jaehyun," you started slowly, "I think… I think I’m a bit lost."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, before looking back up at you, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze.

"I like you, Y/N. I really do. And the thought of living without you… I don’t think I can do it anymore."

The raw honesty in his words left you speechless, your emotions tangled in a knot you couldn’t quite unravel. Your mind and heart seemed to be waging a silent war, each pulling you in a different direction.

"Jaehyun," you finally whispered, barely able to find your voice. "I… I can't give you an answer right now."

He nodded slowly.

"I understand. And that's okay. Really. You can keep living your life, just as you are. But… if you ever find your way back to me along the way, I'll be here, waiting."

The two of you held each other's gaze, a shared softness settling over the tension. For a moment, it felt like the world had quieted around you, leaving just the fragile connection lingering between you. After a beat, he spoke again, his voice gentle.

"Let's just have dinner together. I can’t bear seeing you like this. Let me at least make sure you’re okay tonight."

You hesitated, but the sincerity in his eyes made it hard to refuse.

A short while later, you found yourselves seated at a quiet, tucked-away street bar. The dim lighting cast a soft, golden glow over the tables, creating a small bubble of warmth around you both. As you sat across from him, waiting for your food, an awkward silence settled between you.

“Thank you,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “For agreeing to this. I know things have been… complicated.”

“It’s just dinner, Jaehyun,” you murmured, but even as you said it, you both knew it was more than that.

“I know. But it’s been a while since we’ve done this—just sat together. I missed it.”, you stared at him, disbelief crossing your face.

"So, what made you finally reach out to me?"

The question seemed to catch him off guard. He shifted, his fingers tracing patterns on the table, clearly thrown by your directness. But you held his gaze, waiting, wanting nothing but the truth. Finally, he exhaled, as if releasing a breath he’d been holding for too long.

"Jeno told me about you," he admitted, his voice low.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of curiosity and surprise tugging at you. "What did he say?"

"He told me how you’ve been working late, how you've become more reserved, and… how you were hurting. And I knew I couldn’t just sit by and let that happen—not when I’m part of the reason."

His words hung heavy in the air, raw and unfiltered. For the first time, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in him, a glimpse of the struggle he’d been hiding beneath the image he showed to the world. You took a slow, deep breath, feeling a pang in your chest as you watched him.

"At first, I questioned everything you said during the argument, and I let my ego get in the way. I didn’t want to admit that maybe… maybe I was the one who let things get this far. I thought… maybe you’d be better off without me."

The honesty in his voice chipped away at something inside you, softening the wall you'd built around your heart, brick by brick. After a quiet moment, he spoke up again, even softer.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N. More than I realized, honestly.”

The sincerity in his eyes held you there, and for a brief moment, the walls you’d built around yourself began to soften. Just then, the waiter arrived with your drinks, placing them carefully on the table before slipping away. You took a small sip, feeling the warmth of the drink calm some of the tension lingering between you.

"Jaehyun," you began softly, choosing your words carefully. "I really like you. I like you a lot, maybe even more than I should," you confessed, and you saw his eyes light up, a flicker of hope sparking within him. But you quickly continued, grounding him.

"But I can't just jump into your arms because of that. Not when there's still a part of you—something in you—that I’m struggling to accept."

Jaehyun listened intently, his gaze unwavering, absorbing every word with an intensity that made your heart ache. He nodded, acknowledging the weight of what you were saying.

"I need time," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Time to think this through carefully, to be sure that I can handle everything that comes with loving you."

He took a deep breath, his expression softening with understanding. "I respect that. Take all the time you need. Just… let me show you that I can be better, that I can be someone worth waiting for."

The sincerity in his promise warmed something deep within you, a small glimmer of hope settling in your chest.

"Let's do that".

--

After that night, Jaehyun took your words to heart. He didn’t push or demand more than you were ready to give; instead, he let his actions do the talking. He slowly made his presence a comforting constant in your life. Despite the walls you’d built around your heart, you felt them weakening.

He started with the small things. He’d text you after your long workdays, asking how you were holding up or sharing a lighthearted story to lift your spirits. Occasionally, he’d wait for you outside your office building after a hectic day, bringing you to a nearby café or restaurant, where you’d chat about work, life, and everything in between over the meal. He’d simply sit and listen, his attention fully focused on you, as though you were the center of his world. In those moments, you felt truly loved.

But then came the grander gestures—the ones that truly took you by surprise and reminded you just how serious he was about making up for lost time.

On one of his overseas trips, he sent you a carefully wrapped package. Inside was a small, hand-carved music box with a delicate melody that played when you turned the handle. Alongside it was a note in his familiar handwriting.

“For when I can’t be there in person, I hope this brings you a bit of comfort. - Jaehyun”

The small gift warmed your heart, and you could almost picture him browsing through shops, trying to find something that would mean something to you. As the days passed, you found yourself reaching for the music box on nights when you missed him more than you wanted to admit.

One evening, he invited you out to dinner, insisting it was just a casual meal. But when you arrived, you realized he’d gone out of his way to reserve a table at a restaurant you’d mentioned in passing, one you’d wanted to visit for ages. The thoughtfulness behind each gesture made it clear—he was listening, paying attention to the details you sometimes didn’t even remember sharing.

After dinner, the night felt lighter, as though a fragile peace had settled between you. As you both walked out of the restaurant, Jaehyun glanced at you, his expression hopeful but cautious.

“Would you… like to come over?” he asked softly. “I could show you some of the tracks from the album.”

“Sure,” you replied with a gentle smile.

He led you to his place, a quiet but cozy apartment just like how you remember it was. As you entered his place, you immediately noticed the shelves lined with LPs which was new since the last time you visit, each one carefully organized. Jaehyun led you to the collection, his face lighting up as he pulled a few records out to show you.

"These are some of my favorites," he explained, flipping through the collection with an easy familiarity. He held up his own LP, his album, with a hint of pride and vulnerability in his eyes.

"Have you heard my album?" he asked, his tone soft, almost uncertain.

You shook your head. “Not like this for sure. I was… waiting for the right moment, I guess.”

You hesitated, glancing at the LP in his hands. “Honestly… I think I was a little scared to listen deeply,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaehyun’s brows furrowed, a look of gentle curiosity on his face.

“Scared? Why?”

You sighed, searching for the right words.

“I was afraid I’d hear… parts of you that you’d given to someone else. Your songs comes from a place of real emotion. The way you write, the way you sing—I could tell.” You sighed, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know if I was ready to face how much you loved someone else.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between you, broken only by the soft hum of the record player. Jaehyun looked at you, his expression shifting from surprise to something tender and understanding. He gently placed the LP onto the player, setting the needle down carefully.

“Then let me share it with you now. These songs… it’s a part of my journey, but it doesn’t define where my heart is now,” he said with his gaze soft on you.

He gestured for you to sit on the couch, and you settled in beside him, a comfortable closeness forming as you listened. The gentle strains of his voice surrounded you, and in that moment, you felt the walls between you begin to melt away. With each track, you could feel his heart and effort poured into the music—every beat, every melody felt like a glimpse into parts of him he’d never fully shared before. You found yourself leaning in, absorbed by the rawness in each song.

“How does it feel?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if not to disrupt the music or the moment.

“Feels like I should have listened to it sooner,” forming a smile at your face as you turned to him.

A quiet joy softened his face, and he settled back into the couch, content. The music continued to flow around you both. As the last notes faded, you slowly got up from the couch. Moving over to the record player, you reached down to adjust the LP, prepared to reset it for another play.

Just as you turned around, ready to ask if he wanted to listen again. But when you turned, you found him leaning back against the cushions, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady—fast asleep.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips. For all the intensity and energy he had shared with you tonight, he looked peaceful now, almost childlike, as though he’d finally allowed himself to rest. You walked over quietly, taking a seat next to him, your gaze lingering on his sleeping face.

“He must be really tired”, you thought.

In the silence, you found yourself tracing the memories of every little thing he’d done. His thoughtfulness, his attentiveness—it all added up to something deeper, a love that went beyond words. Each one making it harder for you to keep your walls up.

After a while, you entered a room quietly to reach for a blanket, the dim light casting soft shadows over everything. As you looked around, your eyes landed on a small picture frame on the bedside table. The photo was faced down, but on the back, in Jaehyun's familiar handwriting.

Love.

Curiosity tingled in your chest, and with a hesitant hand, you reached out and flipped the photo over. Your breath caught when you saw the image—a Polaroid of you, taken at the day you promised to tell your feelings when you held in his. You remembered the day, the laughter, the way he’d been looking at you just before he snapped the picture. It was one of those moments you didn’t think he’d remember, yet here it was, tucked close to where he rested.

You carefully draped the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders. But as you leaned forward, Jaehyun stirred, his eyes fluttering open, a bit disoriented as he took in his surroundings.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to fall asleep—” he mumbled, his voice laced with sleep, eyes blinking up at you.

You remained silent, your emotions laid bare by the tears that still clung to your lashes. His gaze softened as he noticed them, his brow furrowing in quiet concern.

“Are you… okay?” he asked gently, his hand lifting to brushing your arm to comfort.

You closed your eyes briefly, gathering the courage to voice what had been lingering in your mind. When you finally looked at him, your voice was barely a whisper.

“Can I… can I kiss you?”

For a moment, silence filled the room, his expression shifting from surprise to something deeper, something almost vulnerable. He leaned in closer, giving you the answer, the distance between you dissolving until your lips met in a soft, tender kiss—one that seemed to carry everything unsaid between you both.

As you pulled away, he looked at you, his gaze searching.

“What happened?”, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you.

Without a word, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the polaroid you had found in his room. Jaehyun’s eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he realized what you’d found. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. Instead, he looked at you with a vulnerability he rarely showed, his gaze filled with emotions he had kept hidden.

“You kept this,” you whispered, your voice wavering as you traced the edges of the photo. “All this time… you kept this.”

He nodded, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I couldn’t let it go,” he admitted softly, fingers brushing over the polaroid. “It reminded me of what I couldn’t say out loud.”

Tears pricked your eyes again, but this time, they were mixed with the warmth of understanding, the realization of how deeply he felt, even if he hadn’t always known how to show it.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a polaroid—a picture of Jaehyun. You held it in your hand, feeling its familiar weight. On the back, in your handwriting, was the word Love, mirroring the same word on his photo of you.

Finally, you handed it to him, and Jaehyun’s eyes softened as he realized you had kept this silent connection close. Then, without warning, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your own, his warmth surrounding you like a shield.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice filled with a quiet conviction. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you, to show you.”

The words you had longed to hear settled into the quiet spaces of your heart, filling the emptiness you hadn’t even realized was there.

“I love you too, Jaehyun,” you murmured back, feeling the weight of your shared confessions settle between you like a promise.

With a soft smile, he pulled you closer. His arms hold you securely as you rest against his chest. The room was filled with a comforting silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing. Gradually, your eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the night and the emotional weight finally catching up with you.

With one last glance at each other, you let yourselves drift off, content and safe in each other's arms. For the first time, neither of you felt the need to say anything more—everything had already been said in the way you held each other, two hearts finally at rest.

--

Two years later, you both found yourselves on a long-awaited vacation in Japan, a trip you’d talked about countless times. After Jaehyun’s military service, you were grateful for the time he had before diving back into his schedule. And for you, ever since the break you took during your suspension, you’ve improved tremendously at work. Recognizing the benefit of rest, your company has even begun encouraging employees to take breaks now and then.

Now, riding the train through a breathtaking winter landscape, you both watched in awe as snow blanketed the world outside, each flake catching the soft, wintry light. The quiet rhythm of the tracks provided the perfect backdrop, bringing a sense of peace to all the hard work that had led you here.

You leaned closer to the window, mesmerized by the beauty—the trees dusted with snow, rooftops transformed into sugar-coated sculptures, the whole world cloaked in a serene white glow. It felt like a scene from a dream.

Jaehyun, watching you with a soft smile, felt warmth rise in his chest as he took in your wonderstruck expression. Suddenly, drawn to the moment, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. You turned, a little startled, only to find him inches away, his gaze warm and steady.

“That was a surprise,” you laughed, cheeks warming as he smiled back.

"Your just so beautiful", his eyes shining.

The train eventually stopped at a small station, and Jaehyun led you toward a quaint post office nearby. He’d planned this little detour—this spot was known for its “love letter” tradition, where visitors could write and send letters to each other that would arrive years later. Jaehyun handed you a pen and paper, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he nodded toward a desk set up in the corner.

“Let’s write something for each other,” Jaehyun suggested, he handed you a pen and a fresh sheet of paper, gesturing toward a small desk in the corner.

“Okay, no peeking, alright?” you teased.

Jaehyun smiled, a playful glint flashing across his face. He nodded, giving you space as you sat down at the desk. The pen in your hand felt heavier than it should have as if the words you were about to write were more than just ink on paper.

Both of you wrote in silence, the soft scratch of pens filling the room. You tried to focus on your words, but your mind kept returning to Jaehyun. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you hadn’t yet admitted. But for now, this letter would be the way you could say it without speaking.

When you finished, you folded the paper carefully, sealing your thoughts inside. You watched as Jaehyun did the same. He didn’t look at you, but there was something about the way he held his letter that made your heart race.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. The playful energy between you had shifted, replaced by something deeper, something more serious. Without a word, Jaehyun reached out, taking your letter from your hands before handing you his.

"You look serious," you remarked, a soft hint of curiosity in your voice.

For a moment, you stared at the letter in your hands, uncertain, feeling the weight of the moment settle around you. Jaehyun’s voice broke the silence, softer than before, yet filled with an unmistakable certainty.

“I think we both know this is more than just a letter,” he said, his gaze unwavering.

You hesitated for a moment, then gently unfolded the paper. To your surprise, it wasn't the long, elaborate love letter you had expected from him, but a simple, heartfelt message. As you read the words carefully, a deep emotion stirred within you, each sentence carrying more weight than the last, settling in your chest like a promise you never thought you'd receive.

"Y/N, let me love you forever. Marry me"

Your heart stopped as you looked up at him, eyes wide with disbelief. There he was, the man who’d become everything to you, standing before you with all of his heart laid bare in front of you.

Jaehyun slowly took your hand, his other hand still holding his own letter, his voice barely a whisper. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The air around you felt thick with the weight of his words, his quiet question hanging between you like the most fragile thing in the universe. Your heart pounded in your chest, too fast to comprehend, too full to contain.

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat as you looked into his eyes—those eyes that had been with you through everything, the eyes that had seen you at your best and your worst. And now, they were waiting for you to answer, waiting for you to take that leap with him.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, Jaehyun. I’ll marry you.”

The words felt like they had been waiting a lifetime to escape your lips, and the moment they did, a wave of warmth and relief washed over you both. Jaehyun’s face lit up with an overwhelming joy, his eyes sparkling, as though a burden he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying had finally been lifted.

Without a word, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close, his embrace tightening as if to make sure you were real, that this was really happening. You felt the steady beat of his heart against yours, and for the first time, everything felt perfectly aligned, as though the world had conspired to bring you both to this very moment.

Jaehyun pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand cupping your cheek tenderly. His voice, soft and full of emotion, slipped from his lips. “I love you. I’ll love you forever, Y/N.”

And as he kissed you, gently and full of promise, you knew that this was only the beginning of the beautiful life you would share together.

-- ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧 --

[with-my-calamitous-love]

CARVE YOUR NAME INTO MY BEDPOST / MIGHT AS WELL BE DRUNK IN LOVE

shouto todoroki x f! reader

at a work party gone wrong, shouto finds a secret moment with you amongst the crowd.

smut! you are responsible for what you read!

inspired by dress + slut!

it was hard to find secret moments in a crowded room.

shouto todoroki, now japan’s #2 hero and possibly one of the most famous men in the nation, was loved everywhere. he was handsome, and just socially awkward enough to be charming. he was the topic of most headlines and gossip tabloids these days- and the press thought the knew everything about him. a 22-year old male capricorn, the youngest sibling and a top ranking graduate of UA high school.

one thing shouto relished in, secretly, was that no one had any idea about you and him.

and its not like they made it particularly easy for him.

like now.

shouto came to this event dressed in a sleek black tie and all eyes on him. at this point, he had grown somewhat used to it. he’d you, his wife, by his side. you’d squeeze his hand 3 times everytime you felt his anxiety flare up, especially when the lights began flashing and the familiar clicks of the reporters came about.

at first, he could handle it. just smile, nod, and let the world watch him act. its what he did for most of his life, anyway.

“shouto! are you still maintaining a relationship with your father?”

“shouto! over here!”

“is it true you and your wife want to raise your first child as a hero?”

“can you tell us about your marriage?”

“are you trying to be more like your father these days?”

“how is your family coping with everything thats happened?”

“shouto! what can you tell us about touya todoroki?”

it was starting to grate on him.

he felt the sweat trickle down his forehead at the constant questions. his fists clenched, wanting to shut off all the noise. they had put him and his family through enough, yet they still looked for more stories and more gossip.

he did his best to answer all the questions, taking a deep breath and disassociating like his PR team had told him to do. he was handling it, up until he couldn’t find you through the crowd.

his blurry and hazed eyes scan the room, looking for you and where you might have gone. the air suddenly began to thin, the years of anxiety and inadequacy beginning to build up at the back of his throat. worst of all, you weren’t there to help him ground himself. he was lost in a sea of people, and none of them were you.

luckily, someone else was there to step in.

“OI! BACK OFF FOR ONCE!”

a familiar blonde barks, much to the relief of shouto. after all, pro-hero dynamight had just as much respect as shouto, and the media was more or less used to his abrasiveness.

he lets out a sigh of relief as most of the reporters and fans take a step back, allowing him and bakugou to escape to different corner of the room. the #1 hero immediately senses something is wrong, specifically the fact that you weren’t with your husband.

“the press getting to you?” the blonde asks, his usual dick-bag self being suppressed to help his ‘friend.’

shouto nods, and bakugou sighs sympathetically. even someone like him, who relished in the fame and praise of being hero, understood the mistreatment shouto had experienced all his life. he saw how that mistreatment was only amplified when the public got involved.

“wheres [y/n]?” he asks, red eyes scanning the room for any sign of you. shouto does the same, like a boy in the sea searching for a raft.

bakugou rolls his eyes, deciding he’ll be the hero. “go look for her. i’ll keep them off your back.” he says, turning back to the media frenzy and adjusting his tie, ready to give them what they want. “but you owe me one, icyhot.”

with one manly pat on the back, bakugou walks back out to the crowd, giving shouto a chance of peace.

he immediately opens some door to a room. its some fancy, pompous washroom only the rich could afford. the size of it could it a family, if it wanted to.

but he didn’t care about the lavish architecture. he cared about the way his heart calmed down at the sight of you, sitting on the counter.

“hey.” he walks over to you, sitting next to you and taking your hand. you immediately note his anxiety, evident by the dryness of his throat. theres guilt that creeps into your throat once you realize you left him all alone.

“hey, sho.” you say, immediately taking his hand in yours.

“i lost track of you in the crowd. are you okay, love?” he asks, bi-coloured eyes staring at you with nothing but love. you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“i’m okay.” you say, chuckling awkwardly. “just, you know… parties.”

he nods sympathetically, understanding how neither of you were particularly fans of big crowds. his gaze flickers over to the washroom door for a moment, making sure the door is locked.

“are you okay, though? those reporters out there were down your throat.” you ask, watching as his expression darkens slightly. from just outside the washroom, the sounds of partygoers can still be heard loud and clear.

he boy sighs, the stress of the media's questioning weighing on him. he appreciates your concern immediately, and he knows he can at least be honest with you.

"it was...a lot," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "they kept asking about my family, and about the you...and i just feel like they're trying to get a reaction out of me."

you nod, understanding his frustrations. you’re quick to validate his worries. “thats exactly what they’re trying to do. they’ll profit off of anything.”

shouto knows that to be completely true.

after the news of endeavour’s abuse towards his family (specifically his firstborn son) came out, shouto felt as though him and his entire family had been engulfed in flames. he soon learned that the paparazzi will do anything for a story. the more you fall apart, the more they’ll flash their camera’s and take notes of your pain.

it seems despite his valiant efforts to get out from his fathers shadow, theres still people that won’t let him forget it.

as if you two share a psychic connection, you can immediately sense whats on his mind. his pain is yours too, and it kills you knowing that there not much you can do to stop it. “i remember when they got a hold of your family story. they took the years of abuse and made money off of it.” you scoff. “its disgusting.”

he feels a pang of anger and disgust at the memory of the media's handling of his family history. he can still remember the way they had twisted and distorted the truth, using it for clickbait headlines and sensationalized stories. it had been traumatic and painful, and they had made it all seem like entertainment.

"it is," he agrees, his voice filled with irritation. “they had no right to turn our lives into a spectacle for their profit. it made me sick.”

you sigh, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “so much talk about your father these days… i can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

shouto ruminates for a second, looking down at his own lap. being young is art, in its own twisted way. being famous means constantly being reminded of what hurts you the most. for shouto, that was the fear that he would one day resemble his father.

they loved to think he’d never forget.

the constant discussion and speculation about his father's actions and legacy has been weighing heavily on him, and he's been trying to distance himself from it as much as he possibly can.

"it’s been...difficult," he admits quietly, looking down at your intertwined hands. “i know who my father was, and what he did, but i feel like everyone is always waiting for me to do the same. like… they're just waiting for me to make a mistake so they can say 'see? you’re just like your father after all.'"

his voice cracks slightly at that last part.

you shake your head valiantly, cupping his face and making sure he’s looking at you. the only other sound that can be heard in the room are the quiet drips from the sink. otherwise, you and shouto managed to drown out the noises from the party. all that mattered was the two of you, together, as if you were in a snow globe.

“shoto, listen. you aren’t your father. you’re so much more. i know the man i fell in love with. i know him because he’s twice the man he came from. he’s kind, and strong, and everything his father wasn’t.”

at that moment, shouto thinks: what if all he needs is you?

“thank you.” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. “i needed that.”

you easily reciprocate, feeling his warmth and all that makes him him.

“it’s everything that made you.” you whisper. “all that pain and all that suffering you went through… it made you the man i fell for. all those dead end streets led you to me.” you smile.

with that, he feels truly at peace. if all that suffering led him to you, he’s consider it worth it. he’ll pay the price and you won’t, as long as it means he can love you.

without a word, he leans in to kiss you. his lips fit on yours like the universe especially crafted you two for each other. nothing else matters right now. all of that pining and anticipation, his hands shake from holding back this entire night. he’s desperately waiting to love you, and show you how much he does.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

theres indentations of shouto all over you.

first, your head. because he’s all you think about. his jokes, his smile, and the way he makes you feel.

second, your heart. he never wanted you like a best friend. half the time, he dresses up just so he can feel your hands remove the fabric from his muscles, kissing every patch of exposed skin possible.

third, in between your thighs. literally, because he’s on his knees, head between your legs and pressing his soft lips against your clit. he could carve his name onto your skin if he wanted to, and you’d probably let him.

one of your hands press against your mouth, trying to silence the urges to cry out for him. he looks so fucking gorgeous right now, his tie undone and shirt just unbuttoned enough to show off his muscles. his abs are covered in kiss marks leftover from your lipstsick- a finishing touch to an already beautiful masterpiece.

he’s tugged your panties all the way off, and pushed your dress high enough to give him access. he was salivating just thinking about getting between your legs, tasting you and letting you cum in his mouth.

you tug at his hair in fistfuls, urging to give you the orgasm you need. his eyes are closed, focusing solely on the way his tongue swirls around you. his mouth and chin glisten from all of it, and he’s doing this for his pleasure just as much as yours.

the way you moan makes him tighten his grip on your hips, ever so slightly increasing his pace. he chuckles to himself, acknowledging the effect he has on you. the vibrations of his voice and warm breath pushing against your already pulsing core sends a shiver down your spine.

“careful, love.” he whispers, only pulling away from you slightly. “wouldn’t want anyone to find us, hm?”

“i know.” you whimper. “fuck, just don’t stop.”

he happily obliges.

“good girl.” he whispers, his tongue slowly circling the bundle of nerves in a messy pattern. his tongue moves in a maddening pace, sending brain-melting waves of pleasure to you.

the ecstasy is inescapable, and you’re not even gonna try. this was your secret. those people out there, that thought they had you and your husband figured out, had no idea what was actually going on right now.

you’re his one and only, his lifeline. forever, he wants to wake up by your side. you’re the only person who makes his hand shake and heart beat despite all the pain he’s gone through.

“say my name.” he says, looking up at you.

“shouto!”

and everything just stops.

he’s lovesick, all over his face. his tongue blessedly picks up the pace, not daring to stop for even a second. you’re lovelorn and nobody knows. everyone wants him, and thats your crime. you silently cry out, head throwing back while you feel that not in your abdomen slowly begin to unwind. he guides you threw it, making you cum from nothing but his mouth.

and when you do cum, he takes it all happily. because in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman.

the two of you were all dressed up- they may as well be looking. shouto came to that party with a sleek black tie, and left without it. he only bought it for you to take it off.

tags! 🫧

@crushmeeren @whenanafallsinlove @bbluefllame @satirediary

p.s i don’t normally write smut so i have no idea if this is good or not 🥹 thank you for reading!

[p0orbaby]

Life Was So Simple Then (1)

summary: you and leah embark on a trip through Europe in an effort to save your marriage

warnings: a smidge of angst but you’ll live

a/n: i may or may not be considering making this a series…

word count: 1.4k

-

The train moves at a comfortable hum, soothing in its way, while London shrinks behind you in pieces, in windows, in corners. The world outside your window looks surreal, vaguely greenish, fragmented by flashes of trees and brick houses. There’s something almost too quiet about it, an uneasy softness to the edges of this journey that is meant to patch you both back together.

You’ve been married for—what is it?—six years now. But you were Leah’s shadow long before that. You’ve been her plus-one, her background feature, her silent assistant in uncountable ways that now feel petty to list. The bitter edge surprises you as it rears up unbidden. You take a breath and decide you’ll name these feelings, as if naming things might tame them. Resentment. Grief. Stubborn hope. You and Leah have been through worse. But also… maybe not.

You glance at her. She’s examining her nails, mouth set into that default neutrality she pulls out when she’s feeling strange or anxious or tired. It’s her ready face, the one she’s kept in her kit since she was just a gangly teenager at Arsenal, desperate to be taken seriously, to get noticed for more than her posture and a fast left foot. You remember those early days. You remember being eighteen, in the stands, showing up for her even when you barely knew her. When all she had to offer was coffee in half-cleaned thermoses and lectures about work-life balance that were one part playful, two parts scolding, and strangely magnetic.

When you finally pulled her into that first kiss, it was a Thursday. You remember that because she had a match the next day. She’d stood there with her mouth half-open, one eyebrow raised, until she laughed that strange, short laugh, pulling you in by your wrist, the way she always did when she was uncertain about something but willing to give it a go. Afterward, you’d watched her lace up her shoes, this careful process that she performed like ritual. The order mattered: left, then right, then another knot. The same attention she brings to everything—coffee, calls, stretching, the single glass of wine she never finishes at dinner because it’s “almost too nice to ruin.”

Back then, she’d just been Leah. But then she’d become Leah Williamson, and you, married to her, got folded into the package. You’d get, “oh, that’s Leah’s wife!” from strangers at the shops, from mothers of kids at school fundraisers, from friends of friends who never bothered with your name. You hadn’t known how strange that would feel until it did, like there was this parallel version of yourself, waiting in the wings, and now this strange person had overtaken you. You’re still working on making peace with that, though there’s little peace about it.

Leah raises an eyebrow as if reading your mind, which is a trick she’s only gotten better at. “You’re very quiet. Am I allowed to ask if something’s wrong?”

“You could,” you say, but it sounds a little brittle, so you reach for her hand, entwining your fingers, hoping the gesture makes up for it. She doesn’t flinch, which is a start. You’re not entirely sure where you left off, after the months of silent dinners, of days bookended by her rising before dawn for physio appointments and crashing in bed long after you’d fallen asleep. Now, as her fingers brush your knuckles, you can almost feel that old connection, an unexpected sliver of warmth threading through the silence.

“Fine, be cryptic.” Her mouth quirks in a half-smile, the kind that used to come so naturally but has felt harder and harder to coax out. She lets go of your hand and turns back to her phone, skimming news alerts and whatever else she’s curated into a daily distraction routine. That’s new, too, the constant scrolling. It used to be just the morning Guardian and the Arsenal forums, but now she reads everything as if she’s half-waiting for some seismic news, some validation that she made the right decision. Retirement. The word feels abrupt, like something has been shaved off the ends. The other day she’d admitted to reading the tabloids. Just the sports ones, she’d said, in that overly casual voice she uses when she’s trying not to sound defensive.

“Did you pack the sandwiches?” Leah’s voice drifts up, and it takes you a second to process that she’s talking to you.

“Yes, your honour.” The words slip out like they used to, like you’re just starting out, laughing over drinks after midnight. You see her relax a little, a sign she’s actually been worrying about the sandwiches, and you realise she’s probably equally terrified that she’ll spend the entire trip thinking about where she’d rather be. The knowledge of her own shifting nature used to thrill her; she’d tell you she was “made of kinetic energy,” that she couldn’t ever be truly still. Now, it seems to disturb her.

“Well, just checking.” She doesn’t ask you to get them, and you don’t offer. You suspect there’s a silent mutual agreement that eating will come later, a familiar tactic she’s deployed whenever nerves or a big match made her too jittery to eat. You’ve read about married people developing shared instincts, unconscious patterns. But this knowledge, like all the habits you’ve developed over time, somehow doesn’t offer the comfort you’d expected. It’s like putting on a jacket that’s become a touch too tight, and you find yourself oddly self-conscious.

As you both sit in this semi-awkward silence, you try to remember the last time you truly sat together like this, uninterrupted. The thing is, you can’t. Even on the few weekends she’d been around the last season, it had always been meals with other players, birthday parties with people you barely knew, her agent dropping by with a sheaf of papers and a grin that you’ve come to resent, though you never say so. Leah had been “there” in a vague sense, the way a familiar armchair is there: functional, comfortable, reliable in theory. But Leah herself? The woman you fell in love with—that particular version of her seemed more and more like a house you once lived in but that someone else owns now.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks finally, in that deceptively soft tone that makes you feel like you’re on trial. She’s always done that, approached difficult conversations like they’re penalty shots. Direct, unflinching, too close to your heart.

“You, mostly.” The honesty slips out before you can stop it. “Us, I mean”

She lets out a soft sigh, nodding as if she understands something specific, though you suspect she doesn’t. Her understanding has become like that of someone who’s learned a language only halfway. There’s the ability to navigate, but no intuition, no rhythm.

“Does it feel strange to be doing this?” she asks. “Like, taking this whole trip to—what’s the word?—to reset?”

You nod, though it’s more than strange; it’s surreal. You’re on a mission to resurrect a version of each other that you barely recognise anymore. The stakes are uncomfortably high, like someone’s dared you both to restore something irrevocably broken.

“You know,” she says, “I used to imagine us doing something like this. But I thought we’d be sixty or something, grandkids on the way, planning things for fun, not… whatever this is.” She looks down, expression somewhere between regret and wonder.

“Yeah. Me too.” You allow yourself a small laugh. “I thought we’d be the kind of couple who’d stay on for tea in strange little pubs and get lost in French villages and drink wine in the countryside”

She snorts, “I’m not sure if I’d drink the tea. Have you seen the quality of some of the pubs out there?” The joke feels just shy of funny, but you force a laugh, hoping she doesn’t notice the effort.

“But you’re right,” she says, finally. “I thought the same. That’s the dream, right? And I don’t know…” She trails off, staring out the window, at the blur of countryside, the unremarkable patches of brown and green that scroll by. “I don’t know if I even know what I wanted anymore. Or what I still want”

The words hang heavy, a confession too thick for this tight, narrow train car. It’s too early in the journey to delve into it fully, too fragile a moment for honesty of this weight. You reach for her hand again, a steadying anchor. Her grip is warm, though her fingers feel a little too light, as if she’s not fully committed to the touch, a detail that pierces your heart like a needle.

“Then maybe…” you start, pausing, wondering if the words are too simple for what needs to be said. “Maybe that’s what we’re here to find out”

[arc-misadventures]

Meet the Family Au Rin: Rin takes Jaune to her destroyed town where she made makeshift graves for her parents. Rin she talks about her and Jaune while Jaune just supports her. (Nora and Pyrrha are taking down any Grimm near by. The entire team already killed the Nuckalevee)

Meet the Family: Rin

Rin: So this... this is what's left of my hometown... It was destroyed by that, Nuckalevee we killed...

Jaune: This place is... whoa...

Rin: Yeah.. My family's house was right there.

Jaune: That pile of rubble, and ash?

Rin: Yes... My mom died in that house...

Jaune: Oh... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry to hear that, Rin.

Rin: It's okay, Jaune. My father also died here... somewhere... He died trying to kill the, Knucklevee. But, he failed... I met, Nora after that when we were trying to escape from here.

Jaune: Are you okay, Rin? Being here, after everything that has happened... It must be hard for you.

Rin: It's a little hard, but... y-your here with me, Jaune.. so... It doesn't hurt as much...

Jaune: Rin...

Rin: ...

Rin: I... I want to make a memorial...

Jaune: A memorial?

Rin: Y-Yeah... I know how to make shift one based on my families traditions... c-could you help me make one?

Jaune: It would be my honour.

~~~

Rin: Okay... It's done...

Jaune: You know... for a pile of rocks... It's really nice.

Rin: Thank you, Jaune... this means a lot to me.

Jaune: Like I said, Rin; It's my honour.

Rin: T-Thank you...

Jaune: Are we done, or is there something else we need to do?

Rin: Well... We bow our heads, and say a silent prayer to the departed. Unless you're not comfortable with that...?

Jaune: That's fine. Alright, after you then?

Rin: (Clap!)

Jaune: (Clap!)

Rin: Mom, Dad... It's me... Rin... I'm doing well... I've avenged you, I slayed the, Knucklevee... And, I've also found, a home.. I have new friends, and a new family... and... and someone special I want to spend the rest of my life with... Thank you for all that you've done for me... I love you... Goodbye...

Jaune: Mr. and Mrs. Rin... You're daughter... Lian Rin is a wonderful person. She is brave, warm, sweet, and beautiful... I thank you for bring her into this world... And, I swear on my families name of, Luna Jaune Arc that I will protect her... and, if I could have your permission... to one day... marry her, and take her as my wife... I may have to marry several girls... they won't take no for an answer. But, nonetheless! I wish to marry her... I pray for your blessing... I love her, and I want her to stay in my life, now, and forever... I promise... May your souls rest in peace...

Jaune: Okay... now what?

Rin: I guess we can leave now... there's nothing else to be done...

Jaune: Yeah... the others will be waiting for us. But, don't you want to check your old home? You might find something there?

Rin: N-No... Everything was destroyed in the fire. Not even my mothers remains...

Jaune: Alright I thought I should...

(Tink~!)

Jaune: Hmm...? What's this...?

Jaune: A ring?

Rin: A ring...? Wait...?! That's my moms wedding band!

Jaune: Your moms wedding ring? Well... That's one hell of an answer...

Rin: C-Can I have that back, Jaune...? Please...?

Jaune: Of course; Hold out your hand.

Rin: Okay.

Rin: W-W-Wait...?! Jaune that's my...?!

Jaune: There... Perfect fit...

Rin: Jaune... Y-You didn't need to put it there... people will think you asked me to marry you...

Jaune: Do you want me to get a different ring then?

Rin: ...

Rin: W-What...? W-What are you talking about, Jaune...?

Jaune: Rin...

Jaune: Marry me?

Rin: Yes.

Jaune: That was fast. You barely even thought about it.

Rin: I've been thinking about it since I first met you...

Jaune: Really?

Rin: W-Well... not imminently after meeting you... but, seeing how you treated the three of us... I couldn't help but fall in love with you... So... I... I can't help, but imagine being married to you, Jaune. So... Yes, I will marry you, Jaune Luna Arc...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Luna is actually my first name...

Rin: R-Really?

Jaune: Never liked it as a first name...

Rin: Well... I'll make you love it, Luna...

Jaune: We'll see about that... Lian...

~~~

Nora: YESYESYESYES!!!

Pyrrha: Oh gods... That was beautiful!

Nora: Yes! Kiss the girl, Jaune! Shower her in love, and affection!

Pyrrha: One down two to go!

Nora: Bet ya he'll ask me to marry him before you!

Pyrrha: I'll take that bet!

Beowulf: GRRR! RAHH!

(BANG!)

Nora: Excuse me?! We're having a moment here?!

Pyrrha: Motherfuckers!

~~~

(KA-BOOM!!!)

JR: ...

Jaune: I think, Nora's blown a fuse...

Rin: Pyrrha also...

JR: ...

Jaune: Well then... shall we get going then?

Rin: Let's...

Jaune: After you then, Mrs. Arc.

Rin: This is the best day ever~!

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 5 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

It was supposed to be a peaceful—boring—day. You yawned and stretched your arms above your head, feeling the tension in your muscles ease as you walked back from the raid you had been sent on as support by the Hunter's Association. Healing a few injuries here, casting some support spells there—typical stuff. A cozy evening of spoiling your children at your Gardens awaited, and maybe you’d even treat yourself to some well-deserved rest.

You let your guard down for just a moment, something you rarely did outside your domain. And perhaps, you shouldn’t have.

The first thing that went wrong was the collision. You hadn’t even sensed anyone nearby, which should have been impossible. Your senses were too sharp, finely tuned from years of surviving the system’s trials.

The second thing that went wrong was that you stumbled backward from the impact—an almost absurd realization, given your strength and agility.

You could’ve been able to catch yourself immediately, but before you could react, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you.

The third—and most unsettling—thing was the face that came into view as you were pulled flush against the person. Your eyes shot up, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. Stormy grey eyes stared down at you, too close, too familiar.

There, standing before you with an unreadable expression, was Sung Jinwoo.

Your mind went blank for a split second before you quickly masked your surprise with a polite smile—a customer service smile, the one you used to deal with awkward situations. What the hell was this situation? A K-drama plot twist? You fought the urge to groan. There was no way he would recognize you. You had worked hard to stay anonymous, to keep your involvement in his life strictly hidden. This was just an unfortunate run-in, surely—

And just as you were about to step away, you felt it—the familiar tug in the back of your mind.

<Fancy meeting you here, Trial Player!>

Damnit, you cursed internally, your blood running cold.

"'Trial Player,' huh?” Jinwoo’s voice was calm, almost casual, but there was a dangerous curiosity in his tone. The strange glint in his once stormy eyes, now glowing in a sharp blue, set your nerves on edge. “Interesting title.”

Of course, the system wasn’t done. It never was.

[Dear Trial Player, (Name). 

Be careful not to spill your secret to Player Sung Jinwoo, 

else you may find the penalty... quite costly.]

[To not disrupt the predestined events of this world too much, things that should be kept a secret by the Trial Player include: 

- True origin 

- Prior knowledge of this world.]

[Reminder to watch your words, Trial Player.]

You swallowed hard, mind racing. You were treading on dangerous ground. The glint in Jinwoo’s eyes wasn’t the detached curiosity of someone stumbling upon a stranger; it was the look of a predator that had cornered his prey.

“It’s… complicated,” you managed to say, trying to buy yourself some time as you mentally sorted through your options.

“I have time.” His voice was as calm as ever, but the weight behind those words made it clear—he wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t going to let you go, until you explained yourself. And of course, he had. You knew his schedule better than anyone else—You hold back wince; you sounded like a stalker just now.

 His eyes never left yours, and the weight of his stare was almost suffocating.

Your eyes darted around the street. Too open. Too public. If you were going to spill even a fraction of the truth, you needed privacy. “...Follow me,” you said, steeling your nerves. There was no escaping this encounter now, but at the very least, you could control where the conversation would take place.

Jinwoo’s lips quirked up in the barest hint of a smile, as if he’d already won. He let you go, didn’t ask questions, didn’t press you further—just nodded, as if he had expected nothing less than your cooperation. He fell into step beside you, his presence both comforting and unnerving at the same time.

---

You sat across from Sung Jinwoo in a small, secluded café, your fingers nervously tracing the edge of your cup. It was peaceful here, or at least it was supposed to be. The gentle hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee—under any other circumstance, this would be the perfect place to relax.

But the man sitting in front of you wasn’t just any ordinary guy. He was Sung Jinwoo, and not the E-rank, sweetly awkward and adorable version of him you once quietly helped. No, this was the Jinwoo who had been through hell and back, the one who had grown stronger, and the one who was currently giving you the most piercing stare you had ever been given in your whole life.

You weren’t afraid of him, but you weren’t naïve enough to think this would be an easy conversation, either.

God, why couldn’t it be the E-rank him? At least that Jinwoo wouldn’t be giving you this much of a hard time.

[Choose your words carefully, Trial Player.]

You clenched your jaw at the system's ever-helpful reminder.

Jinwoo was watching you intently, sipping his coffee as he waited for your answer. His questions were understandable—he was the protagonist of this world, after all—but each answer felt like walking a tightrope, balancing half-truths and white lies. Years of surviving in this world had changed you, turned you into someone far more cautious and guarded than the girl who had first been dropped into the dungeon all those years ago. But you hadn’t expected to have to use those skills on him of all people.

“Look,” you started, choosing your words carefully. “There are things I can’t tell you—things I’m not allowed to tell you.”

His eyebrow raised slightly, though he pushed further on that matter, for now.

“This ‘Trial Player’ business. What does that mean?”

You bit your lip, carefully considering your next words. You had to walk a fine line here. “I had a role to play before you became the system’s player. A trial run of sorts.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “So, you were meant to take my place?”

“No.” Your response was immediate, a bit too sharp, perhaps, but you needed him to understand that. “I was never meant to take your place. I was… a beta tester for the system. Nothing more.”

Jinwoo’s gaze bore into you, as if weighing the truth of your words. The silence stretched, tense and heavy, until he finally spoke again. “And now?”

“I... don’t know.” The only truth you let slip.

“I suppose you’ve been watching me for a while now,”

Your heart skipped a beat. So, he did know?

As if knowing what you wanted, Jinwoo then mentioned the system. Apparently, his system had become unnecessarily chatty—and vague—about you after his awakening. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Just because the system hadn’t forbidden you from helping Jinwoo in small ways didn’t mean it would keep your actions secret forever.

“Paying the hospital bills,” he continued, his eyes locked onto yours. “Items arriving at my door when I needed them. Heals when there was nobody around.”

Your customer-service smile faltered, a tiny fraction at the edges of your lips. He had figured it out. There was no point in denying it. “...Yes.”

You were out of your depth now, there was no turning back.

"So," Jinwoo leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours, "how long have you been helping me?"

Your fingers twitched. "For a while now," you answered, purposefully vague. Not a lie.

"Years, then."

You nodded, biting back the urge to say more. He didn't need the specifics.

"And why?" His gaze was steady, but there was a flicker of something behind it—curiosity, maybe, but also wariness.

You had expected that question, but it didn’t make it any easier to answer. Why had you helped him? The official answer was because he was the protagonist of this world. But deep down, it was more than that. You admired him—his strength, his perseverance, and the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without complaint. Somewhere along the way, admiration had blurred into something deeper, something more personal.

"I just... wanted to help," you said softly, your fingers tightening around the cup in your hands. “The system... didn’t give me much of a choice from the moment it chose me as the trial player. And perhaps it had turned a blind eye; helping you—it felt right." Another half-truth, but still rooted in reality.

Jinwoo studied you for a long moment, his gaze intense. You could almost feel the gears turning in his mind, trying to figure out whether you were a threat or an ally. He didn’t press further, which was almost worse. Silence stretched between you, heavy with unsaid words and unanswered questions. You wished you could explain everything, tell him the truth without the system suffocating you in response, but you couldn’t. So, you settled for half-truths and hoped they would be enough.

Then, out of nowhere, the conversation took a turn.

“Let’s keep it that way then,” Jinwoo’s voice was casual, almost too casual, “you’re joining my party.”

Your mind screeched to a halt. “Wait, what?”

“I said,” he repeated, leaning forward slightly, “you’re joining my party.” There was something in his tone that left no room for argument, but it didn’t make any sense. Jinwoo had always been the lone wolf. Solo raids were his thing. He didn’t need healers anymore—not with his own incredible healing factor.

“No—”

“I’m not asking.” And you berated yourself once again for being weak to his eyes, especially the current glowing ones. That beautiful, beautiful blue hue.

“Why? I mean, you don’t need me.”

Jinwoo’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching onto the strange phrasing, and you suddenly felt the invisible tightness around your throat. Watch your words, Trial Player, the system’s voice echoed in your mind, a third reminder today that made your blood pressure spike every damn time.

The system wasn’t just blocking you from outright saying it; it was suffocating you, a warning wrapped in discomfort. You cursed yourself internally.

Jinwoo answer interrupted your thoughts, “Let’s just say… I’m curious. About you.”

Oh. Oh. What did you expect? This wasn’t about your healing abilities. He was suspicious of you. He knew something was off, and now he was keeping you close—keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and all that.

But you weren’t his enemy, were you?

You opened your mouth to argue further, but just as you were about to speak, the system chimed in again.

<You have been invited to join Player Sung Jinwoo’s party. Trial Player (Name) cannot refuse this offer. Would you like to accept? {Yes}>

You let out and internal scream. Seriously?

"...I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?" You said, your cheeks were starting to hurt from forcing a smile throughout this conversation as you selected the only option on the screen.

Jinwoo smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "No, you don’t."

---

After discussing the details for your future joint raids, you watched Jinwoo’s back as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel a sinking sense of dread. You were trapped. Whatever game the system and Jinwoo were playing, you were caught in the middle. And now you were officially part of his party.

You sighed, slumping back into your chair. It was supposed to be a peaceful day. You should’ve known better.

[So, how have you been? ~]

“Shut it.”

---

The partnership was, for lack of a better word, complicated.

Jinwoo noticed it was a word often associated to you.

The more time Jinwoo spent with you only made things murkier. You were a puzzle wrapped in a riddle, and no matter how many pieces he tried to put together, he was always left with gaps. It was frustrating, but it also intrigued him in a way that nothing else had since he became the Player.

Jinwoo was suspicious—he couldn’t afford not to be. Jinwoo never imagined having someone like you beside him, much less allowing it. For the longest time, he had preferred working alone—solitude was safer, simpler. He didn’t have to worry about anyone getting in his way or betraying him. So, naturally, he had kept you under close observation, convinced that the cost of keeping you around would be more than just the unease gnawing at him.

From the start, Jinwoo had believed that taking you along would mean a decrease in his own growth. Experience was precious, and dividing it was a risk he was prepared to accept—but you had assured him that wouldn’t be necessary.

"I won’t take any exp from you,” you’d said with a quiet confidence that he hadn’t known how to trust. “I’ve got a feeling it doesn’t work like that for me anymore."

He’d been skeptical, of course. Experience was everything to a player, and he’d been prepared to lose some to keep you around. But as the weeks went by, he found your claim to be frustratingly true. No matter how many monsters you felled, it was only his system notifications that pinged, announcing increases in his experience points, his level bar that filled up, not yours, as though the system recognized you as an extension of him.

It was as if you just weren’t there.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or more suspicious. What kind of player didn’t gain EXP? It didn’t fit with the rules, and Jinwoo was nothing if not a careful observer of the patterns around him.

---

The material rewards, however, were a different story.

There was a strange way you treated the remains of the fallen monsters. At first, he hadn’t paid much attention to it; after all, every hunter had their quirks. But you would always linger after the fights, almost reverently inspecting the bodies, picking through the materials they left behind. When he finally asked you about it, you had given him that infuriatingly cryptic smile.

“Do you mind if I take whatever you don’t need?” you had politely asked one day, the first time out of the many in future raids to come. “I promise it won’t go to waste.”

“What do you even need them for?” he had asked, watching you examine the remains of a C-rank goblin with almost childlike fascination.

“Hmm…” You’d glanced up, meeting his gaze briefly before turning back to the material in your hand. “Think of it as... research.”

He’d agreed, more out of curiosity than generosity. And every time he did, he could have sworn he caught a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. It was an expression so genuine and bright that Jinwoo found himself taken aback. What exactly you were doing with those materials, he had no idea, but you seemed genuinely grateful, almost... happy. And Jinwoo found it oddly endearing every single time.

The guarded woman he fought beside every day for the past few weeks by now—the one who always hid herself behind walls of practiced calm—suddenly looked more humane. A person delighted over something so simple.

“Thank you, Jinwoo.” you said softly as you packed away pieces of monster hides, bones, and crystals with precision.  The way you spoke his name felt different than when others said it. Like it was laced with something unspoken, something almost... familiar.

For a moment, he’d thought he might be able to catch a sliver of truth from you. But then, as quickly as it appeared, your guard returned, and you slipped back into your composed, impenetrable self.

---

Yet, for every discovery he made about you, new questions took root. The way you spoke to the air when he couldn’t see your system window was one of the strangest things he’d observed. It wasn’t like how he interacted with his own system—a cold, mechanical guide that answered in emotionless text.

He had come to terms with it, which made it more puzzling when you, on the other hand, seemed to have a strangely conversational relationship with yours. It was as though you were talking to a real person rather than an AI. And there were times he swore he heard you bantering with it. The fact that he couldn’t see it, that he couldn’t know what it was telling you without you telling him, left him on edge.

While you could see the familiar blue screens of his own system at all times, yours sometimes seemed to exist in an entirely different realm. He didn’t have enough information to even confirm you had the same kind of system he did.

One evening after a raid, after you had muttered something to the empty air beside you, Jinwoo couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer. The two of you were taking a break in the clearing of a forest-like dungeon, waiting for the mana in the air to settle. His shadows patrolled the perimeter, leaving the two of you in relative isolation.

“You’re… talking to it, aren’t you?” Jinwoo asked, as you finished your quiet exchange with your invisible companion. “The system, I mean.”

“Hmm? Oh.” You paused mid-motion, halfway through tucking away the latest monster core you’d collected, s if you hadn’t just spoken aloud to someone—or something—that only you could see. You glanced at him, something unreadable flickering behind your eyes before you looked back at the core in your hands.

“It’s not quite the same as your system,” you said finally, your voice almost too soft to hear over the rustling leaves. “Let’s just say we have a complicated relationship.” You paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Yours is… a guide, yes? Cold, instructive?”

He nodded, and you seemed to weigh your response.

“Mine is… let’s call it more opinionated.”

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, clearly unsatisfied. “You mean to tell me that your system has a personality?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Something like that.”

He muttered, narrowing his eyes. “You know more about my system than I do, and yet I can’t even see yours most of the time. Feels like a rigged game.”

“You mean the same way my kills count towards yours instead?”

Fair point.

“You could say I know it pretty well. And… it knows me.” Your tone was careful, and he realized he’d learned something more about you in that one sentence than in all the raids you’d fought together.

It was almost as if you wanted to be honest—desperately so—but something stopped you every time you got close to revealing too much. It seemed less like a power play and more like you were protecting something—maybe even protecting him. But that didn’t make sense.

 Still, Jinwoo could see glimpses of genuine loyalty in your actions. The more he witnessed this, the more he felt torn, unable to decide if you were an ally bound by strange circumstances or a threat with motives he couldn’t yet see.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [013/10/2024] -

The later parts of this chapter (where it switches to Jinwoo's p.o.v.) are originally part of the next chapter, but I substitue them with a new fight scene.

[lila-lou]

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 1✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, ANGST, Fluff, John being a dick

Word Count: 5697

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The air in the bar felt thick, heavy with the scent of spiced cider and a faint edge of old whiskey, blending into the murmur of low conversations and a crackling rock song on the jukebox. You’d come here tonight for a quiet drink, something to chase away the chill of early autumn and the memories that always seemed to creep up on you this time of year. But all thoughts of peace vanished the moment you saw him.

Dean Winchester.

He was older, his jawline sharper, more rugged than you remembered. But it was him, sitting across the bar, just as cocky and self-assured as he’d been five years ago. He was laughing at something, a low, rough laugh, and you could just make out his voice. Next to him was a younger guy with shaggy hair—his little brother, you guessed. The kid was a bit taller than you’d imagined, but something in the way Dean looked at him told you it had to be Sam.

Five years.

It had been five years since Dean Winchester had walked out of your life, without so much as a word or even a backward glance.

Three months was all it had taken for him to slip past your defenses, just long enough to make you feel something real—just long enough for him to break your heart.

You’d told yourself you’d moved on, but now, seeing him here, you weren’t so sure.

You didn’t know if you were more shocked or furious. What the hell was he doing here, sitting at the bar in your town, like he hadn’t left a storm behind him? You felt your hands curl into fists at your sides, trying to keep your breathing steady as you watched him lean into his conversation, completely unaware of your presence.

You clenched your fists tighter, the old hurt and bitterness simmering to the surface. Five years might as well have been five days with the way the memories rushed back.

Dean had been your first everything—first real crush, first kiss, first love, first time.

He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world, like nothing else mattered when you were together. But then, without so much as a word, he was gone. Left you staring at empty halls, his laugh an echo that haunted you long after he disappeared. You’d never gotten an answer, just silence.

And now, here he was, like some ghost from a past you’d never properly buried.

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed away the hesitation. You weren’t a teenager anymore; you deserved answers. And damn it, he needed to know that some things didn’t just disappear.

You took another step forward, just enough for him to catch sight of you from the corner of his eye. His head turned, and when he saw you, his face went slack with surprise, the hint of a smile fading as quickly as it had come. His green eyes—those same ones that had once looked at you like you were his whole world—widened slightly.

“(Y/N)?”, he said, your name a quiet murmur, almost like a question, as though he couldn’t believe it was really you.

The casual surprise in his tone snapped something inside you. For a second, you just stared back, holding his gaze, letting him feel every bit of anger that had built up over the years.

“Surprised?”, you asked, letting a little edge slip into your voice. “You look pretty good for a ghost, Winchester”.

He blinked, the surprise melting into something else—guilt, maybe, or regret, though he tried to hide it quickly behind that familiar cocky smirk. But it didn’t reach his eyes, and you could see he was still searching for the right words, like he hadn’t quite prepared for this confrontation.

“Didn’t think I’d run into anyone from back then”, he finally said, a little hesitant, his voice quieter than usual.

“Back then?”, you laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You mean five years ago, when you left without a word? Disappeared like none of it mattered?”.

His expression softened, and he glanced away, jaw tightening. “Look, (Y/N), it’s… it’s complicated”.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you looked Dean up and down, letting the silence settle between you. The discomfort in his face was almost satisfying, but it didn’t ease the ache in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Sam giving you a small, awkward wave, clearly recognizing you too. He looked between you and Dean, shifting on his feet.

“Uh, yeah… I, um, need to use the restroom”, Sam mumbled, flashing an apologetic smile before slipping away, clearly eager to avoid whatever confrontation was brewing between you and his brother.

“Complicated”, you repeated, letting the word hang heavy between you. “That’s all you’ve got after all this time?”.

He flinched, looking up to meet your eyes, and for the first time, you saw something raw there, a vulnerability he hadn’t let you see back then.

“(Y/N), I know it sounds like an excuse”, he began, his voice dropping low, careful, like he didn’t want anyone to overhear what he was about to say. “But I had no choice. My dad… he needed me, and we had a job to do. I couldn’t stay, couldn’t keep you in that mess”.

You scoffed, trying to brush off the way his words still managed to stir something deep inside you, that same helpless longing you’d tried so hard to bury. “Right”, you mumbled, voice thick with the bitterness you’d been carrying. “So you just left, thinking it’d be better for me. Meanwhile, I was left to… to deal with the fact that I fell for you, Dean. Fell hard, too”.

He looked up, his expression softening with surprise and guilt, but you pressed on, feeling the words rush out, bitter and relentless.

“You waltzed in, got under my skin, made me believe�� Fuck. I was such an idiot”. You shook your head, feeling the sting of it, years after you’d tried to laugh it off, to forget. “Every guy after you didn’t stand a chance, you know that? No one ever got close because, no matter what I told myself, I couldn’t get you out of my head. You twisted me up so bad in those few weeks, like some lovesick kid, just waiting for someone who never even bothered to say goodbye”.

Dean’s shoulders dropping slightly as he listened, as if your words were pressing down on him. He didn’t look away, though—he let you speak, let you throw every hurt and frustration at him without backing down. When you finally stopped, breath catching in your throat, he exhaled, like he was trying to find something, anything, to say that might make this better.

“(Y/N)”, he started, voice rough. “You don’t know how many times I wanted to come back, to give you some kind of answer. But I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave again. And my life, this life I was born into… it wasn’t fair to pull you into it. It wasn’t fair to you”.

You shook your head, fighting the sting of tears, refusing to let him see just how deep this still hurt. “So you just decided for me? Dean, I’m not some fragile thing. I could’ve handled it”.

Dean sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck, frustration and regret etched into his face. “Hell, (Y/N), you were only sixteen at the time. Sixteen. You were… you were just a kid. You wouldn't have been able to handle it”, he murmured, the words coming out almost reluctantly, like admitting them hurt as much as hearing them.

Your voice came out sharper than you intended, laced with every bit of bitterness and hurt you’d kept buried for years. “What, old enough to get fucked but not old enough to be talked to?”.

Dean flinched, the words hitting him like a slap. For a second, he didn’t look up, the guilt and shame clear on his face as he shifted uncomfortably, searching for the right words. “That… that’s not what I wanted it to be”, he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never wanted you to feel used, like it didn’t mean anything. Because it did… you meant something to me, (Y/N). More than I knew how to handle back then”.

Dean took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to the floor again as he struggled with words he couldn’t seem to say. The regret was clear in his eyes, the weight of things left unsaid hanging heavy between you.

You could almost see the thoughts playing out in his mind, the memories stirring. Back then, you’d been the only girl to ever make him feel something real—something beyond the easy, shallow hookups he’d drowned himself in afterward. Every girl since had been nothing more than a distraction, a way to bury the ache that losing you had left behind. But with you… it had always been different. You were the one he could never quite forget.

But none of that slipped past his lips. Instead, he stood there, wrestling with the weight of his own silence, unable to give you the honesty you deserved. Maybe he feared it would only hurt you more, or maybe he knew that nothing he said would make this right.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet, almost desperate plea. “You’re right. You deserved so much better than what I gave you. I thought about coming back more times than I can count. Thought about finding you, explaining… But every time, I stopped myself. Figured you’d moved on, that you were happier without me dragging you down. And… I was scared”. He laughed softly, bitterly. “I was scared of exactly this. Of seeing how much I’d hurt you”.

His words hit you like a wave, but you kept your expression steady, refusing to let the hurt show again.

You sighed, feeling the weight of all those years settle in your chest, a bittersweet ache you’d learned to live with but never really let go of. “I thought so highly of you back then, Dean”, you murmured, a hint of bitterness creeping into your tone. “I guess I was just a stupid little girl, thinking you were… I don’t know, some kind of hero”.

Your gaze flickered over him, taking in the familiar jawline, the strong shoulders, the way he still carried himself with that careless confidence. He looked so much the same that it hurt—like no time had passed at all, like he hadn’t been the ghost haunting your memories, the person you’d tried to convince yourself you were over. And yet, here he was, just as handsome, and the old ache you thought you’d buried crept back in, uninvited and relentless.

Dean looked away, swallowing hard, like your words struck something raw in him. When he met your eyes again, he looked almost small, a shadow of the confident guy you’d known, as if every regret he carried had finally caught up to him.

“You weren’t stupid, (Y/N)”, he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You saw something in me I couldn’t see in myself. And maybe I didn’t deserve it. Hell, I know I didn’t. But you were never stupid for believing in me. You were… you were just too good for someone like me. Still are”.

The honesty in his voice was like a knife, cutting through every defense you’d built. You’d wanted him to admit what he’d done, to see how he’d hurt you, but hearing it now, hearing him lay it out in plain words, didn’t bring the satisfaction you’d imagined. It only left a hollow ache where your anger had been.

Dean watched you, his gaze softening as the anger in your eyes began to fade, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. You’d spent years thinking he was just another guy who wanted what he could get and didn’t care who he hurt to get it. A fling, a mistake, a heartbreak that was yours alone to carry. But as you looked at him now, the regret in his face, the years of silence suddenly seemed to make a little more sense. Maybe it hadn’t been so simple after all.

You could almost see him back then, barely nineteen, just a kid himself, weighed down by responsibilities he never asked for.

-Flashback-

The sun was barely breaking over the horizon that day, casting a dim light across the worn-down motel room they’d been staying in for the past weeks. Dean had just started to drift back to sleep after another restless night when he heard his dad. He groaned, barely cracking his eyes open as his dad’s voice cut through the motel room.

“Dean! Get your ass up, we’re moving out in ten!”.

Dean shot up, a surge of panic replacing the sleep in his veins. “What? Now?”, he mumbled, scrambling out of bed, his heart sinking. They weren’t supposed to leave this town for at least a few more days—long enough for him to say goodbye, to figure out how to explain things to you without breaking every promise he’d made. Long enough to try to leave things right, to tell you why he couldn’t stay.

But John was already packing, barely glancing at him as he tossed weapons into duffel bags, his movements efficient, mechanical. “Got a new job lined up. No time to waste”. He gave Dean a hard look, that unyielding gaze Dean knew better than to question. “You knew we wouldn’t be here forever, son. It’s time to go”.

Dean swallowed hard, dread clawing at him as he glanced over at Sam, who was shoving his clothes into a bag, already resigned to the drill of their lives, even at fifteen. But this time, leaving didn’t feel like any of the others.

He’d thought he had more time with you. Thought maybe he’d found something real, something worth hanging onto, in the middle of all this chaos. He thought maybe you’d understand, maybe you’d wait. Or at least, that he could tell you the truth. That you were more than a distraction from a life that had always felt too heavy for him.

Dean swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he tried to gather the courage to push back, to buy himself just a little more time. He cast a quick glance at his dad, trying to keep his tone casual, like it was no big deal.

“Can’t we at least wait until tomorrow? There’s… there’s something I need to take care of”, he mumbled, hoping that his dad might, for once, let him have this.

But John scoffed, barely pausing in his packing as he tossed another weapon into the duffel. “A thing to take care of?”. He looked up, his mouth twisting into a bitter, sarcastic grin. “Let me guess… that girl. The one who’s got you sneaking around like some lovesick little puppy”.

Dean shifted uncomfortably, his heart sinking as he caught the mocking gleam in his father’s eyes. “It’s not like that”, he said, though even he could hear the weak protest in his voice.

“Sure it isn’t”. John’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he shook his head, chuckling darkly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to, Dean? I told you weeks ago to cut ends with her. You think this life has room for little Miss Perfect? Some snob who thinks she’s too good for all of this?”.

Dean clenched his fists, his pulse racing as he fought the urge to defend you, to say that you weren’t like that—that you weren’t some spoiled girl who thought herself better than their life. But he knew better than to argue. He’d heard this tone before, the edge that warned him that any pushback would only make things worse.

John went on, shaking his head with an incredulous laugh. “Can’t believe you’re even thinking about her right now. Thought I raised you better than that, son. No girl—especially not some high school princess—is worth dragging yourself through the mud for. What, you think you stand a chance of keeping her? That she’d stick around if she knew the real you? Give me a damn break”.

Dean’s face burned with anger and shame, his heart twisting at the casual cruelty in his father’s voice. He wanted to yell, to tell him that you weren’t just some fling, that you mattered. But every instinct he’d been raised with told him to keep his mouth shut, to hold his feelings tight, because showing them would only lead to disappointment, to the same disapproval he’d grown up under.

John’s gaze hardened, his expression turning cold as he looked Dean up and down, unimpressed. “Get your head out of the clouds, Dean. No piece of ass is worth it, and I’ll tell you right now—no girl’s worth going soft for. Not in this life. So pack up, and let’s go. You’re not risking everything just because you’re chasing after some girl who doesn’t belong here”.

Dean felt a sting in his chest, a hollow ache settling in as he fought to keep his expression steady, to hide just how much those words hurt. In that moment, he realized that arguing would only make things worse, that his dad would never understand. So he swallowed the hurt, burying it as he always did, and forced himself to keep his voice steady, distant.

“Yes, sir”, he muttered, voice barely more than a whisper, feeling the words settle like stones in his gut. He didn’t look up as he zipped his duffel bag shut, his throat tight as he wrestled with the urge to run out the door, to find you, to tell you goodbye.

But he stayed. He let his father’s words sink in, let them mold around his heart like armor. And when he finally climbed into the Impala, eyes fixed on the road ahead, he forced himself to believe what John had said—that you’d be better off without him, that whatever you’d shared was only a distraction from a life he’d never be free from.

As they pulled out of town, he forced himself not to look back, to focus on the road, on the only life he’d ever known. But the image of you, the sound of your laughter, the warmth you’d brought to his life lingered in his mind, haunting him like a ghost he’d never truly escape.

-End of the flashback-

Dean’s eyes flickered back up to you, and you could see the anger and disappointment simmering there, shadows of the memories that had clearly never left him. His father’s words, that hard, dismissive scorn, lingered in the depths of his gaze, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of the pain he’d buried all those years ago.

“I wanted to say goodbye”, he mumbled, almost to himself, the words barely making it past his lips. There was a heaviness in his tone, the regret palpable, and for a brief moment, he looked like that nineteen-year-old kid again, held back by forces he’d been powerless to resist.

Without another word, he drained the rest of his whiskey, his fingers tightening around the glass before he set it down. Then, with a quiet sigh, he rose to his feet, pulling his jacket on, the same guarded, closed-off look returning to his face. You felt the ache in your chest deepen as he moved, like he was preparing to leave you behind all over again.

He took a long breath, his gaze drifting over you, lingering in a way that seemed almost painful for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, a war waging between the urge to stay and the instinct to leave—to protect you from the life he couldn’t escape. Even after all these years, there was something raw and vulnerable in the way he looked at you, as if seeing you now hurt just as much as leaving you had.

You saw his eyes trace over your face, lingering for a moment too long, taking you in as if trying to memorize you all over again. The softness in his gaze twisted something inside you, a reminder of what you’d once shared, of the way he’d looked at you when he thought no one else was watching.

“You know”, he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, “you’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen”. He paused, catching himself, a bittersweet smile pulling at his lips. “Well… woman, by now”.

You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words, the years of unspoken things between you. It was the truth, you realized—the same honesty he’d kept hidden all those years ago. But there was a sadness there too, an ache that told you he didn’t think he could ever give you what you deserved.

“Dean”, you whispered, stepping closer, searching his face. “You don’t have to leave again".

He clenched his jaw, glancing away for a second, wrestling with himself, his hands clenching in the pockets of his jacket. “I want to stay. Hell, I want nothing more than to stay“.

Without thinking, Dean reached out, his hand warm as it cupped your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. He held you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to let go of but equally afraid to keep holding onto. His gaze softened, his voice dropping to a whisper, rough and broken. “But I do have to leave, sweetheart”, he murmured, almost like he was convincing himself. “I always have to leave”.

The word slipped from his lips, “sweetheart”, and in an instant, you were sixteen all over again.

-Flashback-

The rain had come out of nowhere, heavy drops pelting down in sheets, turning the quiet evening into a storm as you and Dean huddled under the diner’s awning, laughing as you watched the parking lot become a sea of puddles. He was supposed to be walking you home after sharing a couple of milkshakes and a basket of fries, each of you pretending it wasn’t a date but knowing it was.

The rain showed no signs of letting up, and Dean glanced down the street, then back at you, running a hand through his damp hair as he chuckled. “Guess that puts a dent in my plans of playing gentleman and walking you home”.

You smiled, half-shivering as the wind picked up. “I’d say your plans were doomed from the start”.

He laughed, that easy, genuine laugh you’d already grown to love in the few days you’d known him. Then his gaze shifted toward the motel just down the road, a short, drenched run from where you stood. He hesitated, as if deciding whether to risk suggesting it, then shrugged. “We’re just five minutes from where I’m staying… probably closer than your place. Why don’t we wait it out there? Just until the rain lets up”.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm despite the cold, and with that unspoken agreement, you broke into a run together, both of you soaked within seconds as you sprinted down the empty street. By the time you stumbled inside his dingy motel room, breathless and laughing, you were dripping wet, water pooling around your feet as you shook out your arms and tried to wring out your hair.

“Looks like we didn’t exactly outrun the storm”, you teased, brushing a strand of soaked hair from your face as you looked around the cramped room, your nerves setting in as the reality of being alone with him settled over you.

Dean grinned, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over a chair. His own hair was plastered to his forehead, and water dripped from the collar of his T-shirt, but he looked at you with that familiar, slightly mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Guess not. But you know, there are worse places to be”.

There was a pause, a stillness that settled between you, the laughter fading as you met his gaze, the dim light from the single lamp casting a soft glow over his face. You saw something shift in his expression, a quiet vulnerability that made your heart race as he took a hesitant step toward you.

Without thinking, you closed the distance, your breaths mingling as you both moved closer, the world outside the room slipping away. Dean’s hand lifted, his fingers tracing along your jawline, gentle but deliberate, like he was afraid of scaring you off. His thumb brushed over your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that made you shiver, and he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

“Is this okay?”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze searching yours.

You nodded, too lost in the moment to speak, and that was all he needed.

He closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was soft, almost hesitant, like he was still holding back, afraid to take more than he was allowed. But as you melted into him, as your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hand slipped to the small of your back, the kiss deepened, the world fading to nothing but the feel of him, the warmth of his touch.

His other hand tangled in your damp hair, pulling you closer as if he needed this as much as you did. The intensity of it surprised you, the way he kissed you like you were something he’d been searching for but hadn’t dared to hope he’d find. You felt every unspoken word, every promise he couldn’t make, in the way his hands held you, in the way his lips moved with yours.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, he looked at you with a softness you hadn’t seen before, a quiet reverence that made your heart ache. “You’re… something else, Sweetheart”, he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, a confession that felt like a secret he hadn’t meant to share.

The rain outside was forgotten, the cold fading as you looked at him, feeling, in that moment, that he was the only person in the world.

-End of the flashback-

The memory faded, but the feeling lingered, that same warmth flooding your chest even now, five years later. Standing here with him, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, the years between you seemed to vanish, leaving only that undeniable pull that had drawn you to him back then—the one that still left you breathless.

Dean’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand still cradling your face, his touch just as tender, just as careful as it had been that night. You felt the years of anger and hurt begin to unravel, slipping away in the quiet, unspoken apology in his gaze. Even now, after everything, he still had the power to make you feel like that sixteen-year-old girl, standing in the glow of his attention, melting under the weight of his presence.

Dean’s gaze held yours, his thumb tracing one last gentle line over your cheek, the faintest tremor in his touch. His voice, low and rough, barely broke through the silence as he murmured, “But this time… you get a goodbye”. His words hung in the air, laced with a finality that tugged painfully at your heart. His hand slipped away, falling slowly, as though he were reluctant to break the connection, and you felt the warmth of his touch linger on your skin even after it was gone.

Just then, you saw movement from the corner of your eye, and Sam stepped out from where he’d been standing a little way off, his presence cautious, like he was unsure if this was the right moment to interrupt. His gaze flicked between you and Dean, a mixture of concern and understanding in his eyes.

Dean glanced over at his brother, his jaw tightening briefly, then gave a short nod as if signaling that it was time. Sam shifted, visibly uncomfortable, but nodded back, clearly catching onto something unspoken between them.

You looked at Dean, your chest heavy, a thousand words hovering on the edge of your lips, none of them able to break the ache settling inside you. He was here now, right in front of you, and yet it felt like he was already gone again, slipping through your fingers like he always had.

“Dean…”, you began, your voice barely more than a whisper, not even sure what you wanted to say—only that the thought of him leaving, of watching him disappear one more time, felt unbearable.

Dean’s gaze lingered on you, his expression a mix of longing and regret. He gave you that small, sad smile again, the one that barely reached his eyes but held a world of unspoken words. "Take care, sweetheart", he murmured, his voice rough, each syllable feeling like a farewell he wasn’t quite ready to give. He brushed his fingers lightly over your arm, the touch so soft it sent goosebumps skittering across your skin, a reminder of the warmth he’d once brought into your life, now bittersweet and fading too quickly.

He turned to leave, his back already to you, and something inside you snapped—an urge, a need to hold onto this moment, to keep him here just a second longer. Without thinking, you reached out, your hand catching his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He turned back, surprise flickering in his eyes as he looked down at you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance between you.

Rising onto your toes, you slid your hand up to the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. His breath catching as you pulled him down, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft yet fierce, filled with the years of longing and questions you’d never had the chance to voice. He hesitated, just for a heartbeat, and then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he returned the kiss with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your hair, as his lips moved with yours, slow and purposeful, as if trying to make up for all the lost time in this one stolen moment. The world around you faded, the sounds of the bar, the ticking clock, all slipping away as you sank into him, feeling the strength of his arms, the familiarity of his touch. You felt his heart beating against yours, strong and steady, grounding you in a way only he ever had.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, breath mingling in the small space between you. His gaze was softened, his expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen, as though he was as taken by surprise as you were by the depth of what had just passed between you.

“That’s a proper goodbye”, you whispered, a faint blush coloring your cheeks despite yourself, but you held his gaze, not wanting to break the connection.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles, a glint of that familiar warmth sparking in his eyes. You reached into your bag, your fingers brushing against the worn card you always kept there—a small, simple card from your bookstore, printed with your name and number. You handed it to him, your hand lingering as he took it from you, his fingers brushing yours in a touch that felt both comforting and electric.

“Call me”, you said softly, barely above a whisper, your voice carrying a warmth and a hope you hadn’t let yourself feel in years. “When you’re around again… I’ll pay you back with a milkshake”.

He looked down at the card in his hand, tracing his thumb over the print before glancing back at you, a mixture of amusement and something deeper in his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just held your gaze, as if committing this moment, this feeling, to memory.

Finally, he nodded, tucking the card carefully into his pocket. “I’ll hold you to that”, he said, his voice low, a promise wrapped in that quiet tone.

With one last lingering look, he turned, his hand trailing down your arm until his fingers slipped away. And as he left, you felt a strange sense of peace settle in your chest, a hope that maybe this time, things wouldn’t end with silence and an empty space where he’d been. The ache was still there, but it was softened by the warmth of his touch, his kiss, and the quiet promise that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Not gonna lie.. I think this is my favorite so far

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙄𝙫𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙩 𝙔𝙤𝙪*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Angst (Happy ending of course)

Warnings: Abusive father! Violence, Blood, Alcohol, Sick mother, Lots of cursing. Father is a real piece of shit and puts hands on reader multiple times. Sorry for any mistakes or missing tags.

Just for another warning because I think it’s important. This has content that could trigger some people. Please please read the warnings. If any of them make you uncomfortable please don’t read. Also a reminder. You’re not alone. No one ever should be laying their hands on you. I love you. You’re loved. You don’t ever deserve anything like this.

Find The Request Here

-🖤

Changbin wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to him. He kissed your neck tenderly nuzzling himself into your neck. You both were snuggled up on the couch watching a show. “My angel” he said softly before softly kissing your neck once more. When you were with him it felt like nothing else mattered like the world was alright. Your moment of happiness was short lived though seeing your phone buzzing. It was your father. Just seeing his name flash on your phone made you anxious.

After your mother had passed away your dad became an even bigger monster. He was always a good for nothing, But now not working as much as he did he stayed home drinking. Your mother had told you before the only reason she had stayed with him was because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Her family was from another country, she didn’t have much money or friends. She was such a brave woman though. You don’t know how she dealt with him so long but I guess him never really being home helped. He had gotten fired from his big job because of his drinking and anger problems. Going to work one day hungover and punching a coworker so hard it broke his nose. He had to pay a hefty fine for that. Now he has a slow job where he only works a few days.

One of your earliest memories of him being his asshole self was him telling you how he hated that you were a girl. He hated that in his words ‘that useless bitch couldn’t even give me a boy.’ He wanted a son so badly and he made sure you knew that. He never really bonded with you however he’d be damned if you didn’t respect his authority. The first time he ever laid hands on you, you were 9. You accidentally knocked over a table braking the lamp that was placed on it. He grabbed you by the wrist smacking you across the face. ‘You stupid fucking brat! Look what you did, you’re just like your fucking mother!’ He spat pushing you away from him.

After that day it just kept going. Having to wear long sleeves at school to hide the bruises. At one point you had to stay home for almost a week. You had stepped in front of him to protect your mom when he hit you square in the face busting your lip. It stayed swollen and bruised for a while. Tooth slightly cracked from the incident.

You wanted so badly to tell someone. Confide in a teacher anything. You were scared to though. Scared they’d blame your mom, put her in jail and take you away. So you endured it. As your mom started to get sick he turned more of his attacks on you. Although a complete peace of shit he wasn’t stupid. He knew if he did anything to her the doctors would see it.

After she had passed you kept yourself from the house as best as you could. Not going home as much as you possibly could. You got a job at a cafe down the road and that’s how you met changbin. He was a regular who once you started talking admitted to only coming so much to see you.

You kept your home life a secret to him as much as you could but one day you were getting intimate you forgot about the bruises. When he had lifted your shirt his smile dropped. He looked at you with wide eyes “what the fuck? Who did this to you?” He said clenching his jaw. All you could do was sob he held you in his arms rubbing your back. “I’m sorry for raising my voice I just- y/n please- what happened?” He asked.

Through your sobs you told him, you unloaded everything in a word vomit of sadness. He would and wanted to go find your father. To beat him senseless, to show him how it feels but he knew you needed him more. He held you so tightly, feeling his own heart breaking from your words. Knowing a family member could do this to someone they were supposed to protect. To love and cherish just broke him. He was such a family oriented person and now he realized why you never wanted him to meet him. Never talked about him. He asked why you couldn’t just leave explaining to him how your mother wasn’t from here, how you had no family and no one else to rely on.

“Shit- it’s my dad” you said frantically picking the phone up.

“Where the fuck are you? He spat.

“I’m- I’m just at a friend’s house” you stuttered.

He laughed “sure, you’re probably slutting around. Get your fucking ass home.”

He hung up leaving you shaking. “I gotta go.” You said picking your keys up.

“Y/n you don’t have to” Changbin said with pleading eyes.

“I’m sorry.” You said before heading to the door.

Your brain wondered what was going on. Why he needed you home. As you pulled up coming through the door you saw him slumped in his usual chair. “About fucking time” he hissed. “Do something useful and go get me some more beer” he demanded.

You stood there almost dumb founded. Before he hissed again “don’t make me say it again!”

You nodded heading down to the store and getting it for him. When you got home again you sat the beer beside him. He gave you a smirk “glad you know how to listen” he chuckled. Your nose twitched at his smell, you hated being close to him. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and B.O. always radiated off of him. He motioned for you to leave and you did slinking back to your room to text changbin.

Him: Y/n! Text me back! I’m worried!

You: I’m fine. He just wanted beer

Him: I swear I’ll end him one of these days

You: I’m gonna go to bed ok? I’ll see you in the morning! Love you!

Him: Love you to beautiful. Text me when you wake up🖤

You fell asleep shortly after always finding peace in sleep. The next few days were the same old. Going to Changbins after work going home late when you knew he’d be passed out. Today though. You had to run home for your wallet. When you walked through the door your dad was in the kitchen. You took one look around and realized something had to have happened. Things were thrown around. Smashed. Your body froze before you could go to walk back out he saw you.

“Where do you think you’re fucking going!” He yelled. He made a bee line toward you.

“I’m- I’m picking up another shift at work I just came home to grab something.” You lied.

“Bull fucking shit!” He spat.

He grabbed you by your throat lifting you up against the wall. His eyes were dark, knuckles bloody from punching the wall. “I get fucking fired from my god damn job only to come home to see you running back out? For what huh? To go fucking whore around some more?” He said. “No! There’s gonna be some fucking changes!” He screamed.

He dropped you to the floor before grabbing you by your wrist dragging you to the kitchen. “You’re gonna get another fucking job, you’re gonna start paying the other bills!” He spat. “You got it!”

When you didn’t answer right away he slapped more like punched you across the face. “Answer me bitch!” He said gritting his teeth. All you could do was nod scared for your life. You felt a warmth running down, your nose was bleeding.

“You’re fucking pathetic you know that, just like your fucking mother! That bitch. That bitch fucking deserved what she got! I’m glad she’s fucking dead!” He spat. Something had come over you at that point. You shoved back making him stumble backwards. You made a dash to the door luckily in his drunken stupor he stumbled getting back up. You ran. Not even bothering getting in your car afraid it take to long.

So you ran. You ran as fast as you could until you couldn’t anymore. You hid yourself in the bushes at the park panting. Trying to catch your breath as you fumbled to call changbin. “Hey angel” he said happily but when he heard you breathing heavy his heart sank. “Y/n what’s wrong? Are you ok?” He asked.

“I’m- I’m at the- park down- down the road- please” you stuttered out.

“Stay there I’m just down the road!” He said before grabbing his keys speeding to you.

He gripped the steering wheel afraid for what had happened. “Angel? I’m here!” He yelled out.

You peaked your head out, when he got a good look at you anger filled his body. ‘That mother fucker’ he snarled. There was no time to be angry right now though. You needed him. So desperately needed him.

He sat beside you pulling you into his arms. He took his jacket placing it around you as he whipped away the blood from your nose. He noticed the handprint mark around your neck, he gritted his teeth seething. You sobbed, holding onto him for dear life. He rubbed your back “ssh sh it’s ok angel, I’m here, I got you.” He said.

He rocked you back and forth letting your sobs subside before asking you anything. “Does it hurt?” He asked lifting your face to him looking over your nose and neck. You nodded. It hurt to swallow, hurt to breathe, everything just hurt. “Can I take you to the hospital?” He asked. You were hesitant but you nodded.

The car ride there all he could do was watch over you. Scared something could seriously be wrong. Cursing at himself for not being there. He was in the process of finding a new place. A new place so you could move in with him. The only reason you didn’t live with him now was for the fact he had other roommates and if the tenant found out about you they all could be evicted. He was gonna surprise you today with the good news, that he found a place. Close to his work and close to a bakery you had wanted to work at.

When he had gotten to the hospital they all looked at him like he had done it. They checked you over asked him a million questions. The cops being called from below to ask him questions. They weren’t completely shocked when they heard your dad’s name. He was notorious for his anger outbursts and violence. He had a list of charges that had gotten one being the man he punched at his old job. They wrote everything down, took pictures of your bruises and wounds. Asking you lots of questions before leaving.

“Y/n did you know you had a broken rib at one point?” A nurse asking you.

You shook your head.

“Looks like it happened a while ago, it fused back but not properly. You ever have sharp pains?” She asked.

“Yeah, she use to complain about side pains but they kinda just stopped.” Changbin chimed in.

“How is she right now?” Changbin asked.

“Nothings broken however you’re lucky, the pressure he had around your throat bruised your vocal cords. Any harder you could be looking at serious damage”

The nurse had left to grab some papers changbin took your hand into his. He kissed your cheek softly rubbing his thumb over yours. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there” he said softly.

You shook your head “I don’t want him hurting you either” you said looking up at him.

“I’m proud of you though, pushing back and getting yourself out of there. Your mom would be proud” he said with a small smile. His words made you smile a bit. “She definitely would.”

“I had some news to tell you” he said hoping this would make you smile.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m moving. Well we’re moving” he said with a smile. When you looked at him a bit confused his smile grew “I got a place for the two of us. Wish it could have happened sooner but-“ he said.

You wrapped your arms around him hugging him tightly “we’re gonna live together? I’ll get to spend all the time with you?” You said eagerly.

“Yep! Got the keys today!”

When the door opened you thought it was the nurse however it was an officer. “Y/n we have your father in custody. Do you have a place to stay for the mean time?” He asked looking over at your boyfriend.

“I do, but can I go back and get something’s you asked.

The officer nodded “I’ll have to escort you because it’s a crime scene now.”

You nodded.

“Whenever you get discharged we can go alright?” He said before walking out.

After you went to the house grabbing your clothes, laptop and a few things you smiled saying good riddance to this place. You had the few things from your mom packed, having nothing more in this house for you.

Moving in with changbin was something to get use to. However he helped you every step of the way. You got into much needed therapy and after your father’s sentence you felt like things were going up. As a little house warming gift Changbin had surprised you with a cat. You had bonded with him with the many times he had taken you to the cat cafe. You always said how much you wanted him and now you had him. You had your little family now.

Changbin showered you in love as usual, never missing a chance to compliment you, praise you and tell you how much he loved you. You knew in your heart your mom wherever she was, she was happy. Happy seeing her little girl finally get out of the situation. To live her life to the fullest.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / fanfiction aus 𓈒✳︎🏡

[take the quiz here to see which one you get!]

✰ MARK — childhood friends to lovers!au

ever since you've basically known your name, mark has been the boy next door. there was the cheeky, red letters of "lee" painted on the mailbox, the windows were adorned with the same coloured curtains, and the same doormat has been sitting in front of their door for ages. you have loved mark ever since you two have met. there wasn't a day where you wouldn't think of him, and there hasn't been a day when you haven't loved him. it was like a vicious circle which you couldn't get out of, because those stupid feelings would destroy the oh so precious friendship of yours, and you cannot let that happen, right? i mean, that's what you've thought for far too long, since this friendship meant more to you, than the fragile feeling of love - you didn't want it to get to the point where you would rather spit on each other, than talk it out. maybe that's why you pushed him away from yourself? maybe you just did that because you weren't too sure of your own peace of mind? no matter what, you knew the decision itself was wrong, only to realize it way too late. damaging the friendship and crying yourself to sleep was all your fault, after all, being way too proud and scared, stupid even; when you came back to the town where you two grew up, the least thing you wanted was to meet mark lee, mainly because you wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes after all these happened. but you had to, so soon you even got a little surprised. it's been a while since the last time you have been home, your bedroom seemed way too unfamiliar at that point, just like the vhs tape placed directly in the middle of your bed. one which you haven't seen yet. it didn't have a title, the white label completely empty as you picked it up. you were a little bit cautious when placing it in the system, waiting for it to play whatever is on it, not having such large imagination to expect anything. it was a home video montage, full of videos of you and mark: playing together, getting ready for the first day of school, going to the movies, the way you two got engaged in middle school as a joke, and the omnious day of prom... you got teary eyed, with one thing on your mind - you have to go and save whatever's left now. maybe you're not too late.

✰ RENJUN — soulmate!au

life had been pretty much grey and dreary until you found The One. the other half everyone had been so obsessed to find. you were never big on all this stuff, because you were convinced you'd be able to live as a single half for you whole life, and don't need anyone else to feel complete. deep inside you knew that all of this is bullshit, truly, and all that was coming out of you was true bitterness and constantly ongoing unsuccessful confessions, making you believe in your delusions. with every passing second, you had to see people find their other half, while you were left to deal with the grey world you were left in, not as a choice but as fate instead. you felt like a loser, a big zero, who doesn't even deserve a soulmate. you thought you were destined to die alone, maybe compensate with something of brilliance: be a composer or a singer, write or paint something extraordinary, lord knows what, just something of importance! you were looking for yourself in every corner of the world, not for a lover or a fling, not for an other half, fully ignoring the law of attraction. it might have been some reverse psychological trick, effecting it all. and this may have been the reason behind why you had to leave that horribly boring theatre play, sneaking out and bumping into The One, who handed back your accidentally dropped bag, slowly looking into your eyes. he might have worked at the theater as he was wearing a name tag on his elegant shirt - huang renjun, it said. but it doesn't even matter, because his eyes were brown! brown! not grey, brown! everything cleared up. you did find the half - with brown eyes and a smile so bright.

✰ JENO — coffee shop!au

it was pretty much bittersweet to step foot in your favourite café: it was getting dark out there, and although the rain has stopped pouring, you got absolutley soaked to the core along the way there, rain replacing the tears on your face by then. your hair was sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, your body trembling without stopping, as you entered. the bell placed above the entrance was ringing lightly, gathering everyone's attention to you, although there wasn't too much people there except for the baristas, maybe two wandering souls, working on their laptops or reading in a cozy corner. well, maybe if it wasn't for getting dumped literal minutes ago, you wouldn't be here either, but it was still the most reasonable choice compared to going to a club or a ruin bar, gettig incredibly drunk, Plus! a good espresso might be able to clear the fog in your head, which you were in need of during this stupidly stressing period of life. you expected hyuck to greet you by the coffee machine, grinning ear to ear, as he always does when you visit between two lectures, but there was a completely new face behind the counter. it's been a long time since you've last seen a new employee here. his smile was sweet and rather warm, eyes conveying a sense of concern as you took one step closer, rubbing your eyes while getting your purse out of your pocket - you discreetly looked at his name tag, right on his black apron: lee jeno. whatta name... by then, you were way to hopeless to try and guess how the day would go, but life had to surprise you, fate deciding funnily against all odds: next to your cup of coffee, there was a napkin, hiding a telephone number on it, messily written down with a short message as well: "would you go out on a date with me, darling? :)"

✰ HAECHAN — rivals to lovers!au

lee donghyuck's name rushed through the hallways of your music academy just as quietly as a whisper, and you never knew why was it all like that ever since you've stepped foot into the school. you couldn't even hide the way too obvious rolls of your eyes every time you heard it. lee donghyuck was one of the biggest prodigies at the academy, no one could even be considered as a rival for him, this is mainly why he was such a big living legend amongst the students - you couldn't even hide how annoyed this made you, especially because he made sure you knew this ever since you two were little. music played a huge part in both of your lives, and somehow, you two always seemed to be at each other's throat, the first place at being the best always changing between the two of you. you could never get rid of each other either; your dad, always being so positive, once said, on your way to the academy sometime between sophomore and junior year, that the only reason behind this is that you two are equally good at what you're doing. you were pretty much skeptic for the longest of time, and felt as if you were destined to be the forever second next to him. you've had enough of always bumping into walls, since hyuck was the one who could stand at the first place ever so proudly. in kindergarten, in middle school, and even in high school, every. god damn. time. and that infuriating smile was plastered all upon his face even when you two were asked to not perform alone on the annual charity gala of your academy - you two had to perform something phenomenal, putting the childish jarring aside, growing out of the silly phase of hating each other, which was all made up by you, and you only, pushing the poor boy away from you. the boy who had always been so obsessed with you, utterly and completely. he won this time again, isn't it right?

✰ JAEMIN — photographer!au

when jaemin brought up the idea of making the last parts of his portfolio with you (which basically means about you), you were a little bit skeptic at first. you loved jaemin dearly, since he was a really understanding friend, but... you were simply terrified of cameras. you didn't really like the idea of being captured at all, you hated looking back at yourself on pictures taken of you, and you couldn't even think about how high quality his pictures would be with that hyper super machine, focused on all the little flawed details of your face that you absolutely despised. no, you couldn't even bear the idea of this whole project, and you stood by this decision of yours, jaemin waiting patiently the whole time, not pushing it too hard. since he wanted to work with you no matter what, giving up on his plan wouldn't be too typical of him - the fight didn't last long but it was pretty heated, him highlighting so many known things that needed to be said finally: it's childish how you reflect on yourself, and your delusions stop you from way too many things. the way he said straight into your face how beautiful he thinks you are, inside and outside, and that he wants the whole world to know how ethereal you are, made you tear up a little - especially when he said his heart breaks every time you speak so lowly of yourself. he truly thinks you're the modern manifestation of aphrodite, that you are his own venus, the muse of him, someone he can adore... that he's way too in love with you to let go of this, and-; the kiss you gave him was short, yet gave him exact answers. answers to hundreds and thousand of unsaid questions he kept hidden in himself for years and years on end.

✰ CHENLE — blind date!au

you clearly didn’t brace yourself for this whole fiasco proposed by donghyuck himself, foolishly believing his reasonings behind how perfect of a matchmaker he is. of course you knew that what he way saying was partly stupid, plus you were like a seventy percent sure he wasn't even sober when he set up a blind date during that omnious frat party he wasn't invited to. you didn't have to worry or anything, that's just how you were - overly anxious of such things, even if you weren't meeting a psychopath. you were only a bit vary of the awkwardness this whole new experience would bring, both of you rushing home way too soon from the date, trying to forget about it as soon as possible. these misconceptions about how the night would go stayed straight until you stopped in front of the restaurant to wait for your - then late already - date. you were a little nervous he stood you up, and you got yourself into the most beautiful piece of clothing from you wardrobe for nothing, but it was worth it, looking back at it, as zhong chenle arrived and you two simply just... clicked? automatically? not to mention you two decided to leave the place after the hors d'oeuvre, since you both found the place a little too fancy at that moment, going to a simple ice cream parlor instead, taking a walk in the park after, talking about anything and everything that came to mind: family, politics, movies and the most embarrassing memories from your childhood came up too, as you couldn't help but laugh at how chenle dropped his ice cream cone on the ground, while he simultaneously promised you that he wouldn't drop the cone on the next date - and you smiled, so happily.

✰ JISUNG — secret admirer!au

you were head over heels for jisung and his undying love for dancing. but, thinking a bit deeper about it, while writing that foolish, teenager like love letter for him, forced into the role of his secret admirer, there were much more of those things that made you feel head over heels for the boy: he showed you what persistence was, he spent the whole of his youth with you, and he wasn't afraid to spend the rest of his life with you, helping you out anytime you're in need of it, since he couldn't not do that as you "best friend". he couldn't be evil with you, he was never able to leave you and he couldn't even envision a future in which you weren't by his side. but the border he made up between the two of you, was never crossed - you two were friends, not more, not less. you were so torn deep inside, as you were helpless, being in the never ending limbo you would rather push forward, but he kept on tugging it backwards; the idea of writing letters was originally from your mother, who had enough of your obvious agony. she was positive you would write every feeling of yours out, making it easier as time goes by. their number kept growing, however, one letter becoming a dozen soon enough, maybe even more in the meantime, while not writing a name on any of them, referring to yourself only as a mere secret admirer. they suddenly disappeared from the bottom of your drawer one day, though, realizing way too late that the ringing phone in your pocket was in fact park jisung, the picture of him taking up the screen of your mobile - did he know?

[reidmania]

let the grass grow | spencer reid

summary; you love spencer too let him stay while your world falls apart at your own hands.

warnings; hurt x comfort w no comfort, exes, angst w no happy ending, self depricating thoughts, insecurities, self sabotaging, avoidant attachment reader, fem reader, early seasons spencer, mentions of not eating, scars but never says whats from, arguments, but u guys love each other. its just sad tbh. 1.7k words

an; this is purely for my own sake and i wanted to make it a comfort but i genuinely couldn't bc this is a very real and relevant issue that no comfort seems to comfort so.. enjoy the pain?? song is let the grass grow by ruel, my man my man.

‘so I'll leave before you go, ‘cause there's no tears when it's my fault this self-sabotage, all of our other scars don't compare. take the river to the sea, drown myself, so I don't sink, find my peace there, underneath the hurricane, break a promise, so I can leave, burn a forest so i can sleep. lay my head stone and let the grass grow over me’

You could feel eyes on you everywhere, constantly throughout the entirety of the day. Even though deep down you knew no one was really staring at you the amount you built it up to in your mind. Constant judgement and quiet questioning from the gaze of your co-workers made your stomach fill with an overwhelming sense of sickness, it made you want to crawl into a hole and remain there in a foetal position for the rest of the time life offered you.

Quiet whispers of worry bounced around the building from your co-workers to one another, each one who had asked if you were okay throughout the day – multiple times, every to which you’d reply with a nod of your head and a forced smile on your lips that left indents on your cheeks, when your eyes remained the same distant and sullen that caused their worry in the first place.

It wasn’t until you were leaving the building you heard the same question after a whisper of your  name, but from Spencer.

Your head turned towards him faster than you meant it to, you swore any faster and you would’ve ended the day with not only a worse mood than you woke up in but also whiplash. Your eyes met his and you wished they didn’t. The care is held and balanced evenly in his eyes, causing a slither in the walls you had built up around yourself and everything that fell below surface level.

“Are you okay?” His eyes studied your face as if he would find any hint of truth in your expression since he knew better than to believe the lie that fell from your lips. Spencer Reid wasn’t an idiot, anyone and everyone was painfully aware of that, you were painfully aware of that. He hadn’t asked the question the same amount everyone else did, he hadn’t even talked to you today until now.

You nodded in response, casting your eyes away from his and back to the elevator you wished would hurry up. Two weeks, it had been two weeks since you broke up with Spencer, it had been two weeks of Spencer everyday asking you why, and it had been two weeks of you being unable to provide an answer that seemed good enough for him. Nothing you said seemed to help him understand why you would break off something that was going so well, that made you both evidently happy, everyone could see it, everyone watched you both pine after one another for years.

“Talk to me” He begged for what felt like – and probably was, the hundredth time.

Your head shook, because what were you supposed to say? What did he want you to say? You didn’t know and for you that meant you were better off not saying anything, maybe because the truth you fought to keep away from the open air seemed so pathetic and embarrassing it was better left unsaid. He was asking you to show him the deepest and worst parts of you and you were refusing and he just wouldn’t let it go.

“I don’t have anything to say” You replied, the same response as every other time he asked. It wasn’t enough, not for Spencer because he knew it wasn’t true.

He frowned, and it broke your heart. 

“I just want to understand,” He pleaded with you, reaching out for your hand. You pulled it away, what you were doing was mean, you knew that, it was unfair and mean to both him and yourself. Depriving you both of what you both wanted and yearned for so deeply all because you constantly felt like the world was closing in on you and things fell apart under your touch, it was just mean – but you weren’t cruel enough to allow Spencer the touch of your hand to pull it back all over again.

“I wish you would” You mumbled out, muffled enough you could convince yourself he didn’t hear even though you knew he did. You didn’t intend to be mean with your words, you wished he understood that you were physically incapable of what he was asking from you, it wasn’t something you could bring yourself to do.

The elevator dinged and the door opened and you were thanking the world, until Spencer got on next to you and now you were left in a confined space with the one person who seemed to break through the box of self deprecation you would bury yourself into, time and time again. You didn’t want him there, you didn’t want him in your space, in your mind and in the middle of your emotions that took you down day in and day out. 

You wanted him, that wasn’t something you tried to hide, just something you deprived yourself of because you didn’t want him to want you, you didn’t even want you. The fact someone else could, someone like Spencer, was overwhelming in a number of ways and it only furthered the insecurity that consumed you.

“I’m here, I know there’s more than what you’re letting on.” He said, you wanted to appreciate his effort of reassurance but it didn’t help. You loved Spencer, and you were now certain he was the sweetest person to ever exist. How could you allow yourself to indulge in something so sweet and so pure when you deemed yourself the opposite. You fell apart and buried yourself in your own issues, you spent days lying in the darkness of your bedroom body starved and scarred, you’d mull over every mistake you ever made and everything in your life that should have belonged to someone more deserving.

You didn’t answer him, so he spoke again. “I have been and I'm going to be here until you’re ready to talk about it” his voice was gentle and dripping with reassurance you wish you could accept because his words were suppose to be reassuring but they left a bad taste in your mouth and just made your heart clench tighter in your chest to the point you thought it might’ve stopped beating.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You said, not turning your head to face him but you were sure enough that they best portrayed what you were feeling, too much.

He let out a breath, a sigh of a sort and shook his head as he spoke, “I never said you did, I don’t mind waiting for you–”

There it was.

“I don’t want you to do that.” You snapped slightly, guilt instantly infested your gut but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t need him to wait around for this feeling to go away because it never did, your entire life, it never had and you didn’t imagine that changing. “I don’t want you to wait for me, Spencer. I don’t want you to just wait around for something that’s never going to happen, this won’t change. I made my decision” you huffed out the most you had said to him since that night you ended things which consisted of a teary eyed argument.

He dragged his hands through his hair as he tried to figure out what to say, then the elevator came to a stop and you were moving off it quicker than his brain could process and then he was following you and he was reaching out for your hand, even though he knew better by now. “You said you loved me, you said that while you were breaking up with me. You said you loved me and that you were sorry, you couldn’t do it anymore and then gave me nothing else” He stated, his eyes pleading for some sort of answer, something he could blame himself for.

That's not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to blame himself – that was almost a part of the whole point. If he blamed you for this, if you ended it now then there was no chance it would happen any other way. You could live with him blaming you with this, much better than you could live with getting hurt or inevitably hurting him. “I do love you Spencer” You said, you weren’t going to lie about that. 

Your arm pulled away from his touch but he only reached out again, “I’m trying to respect your decision, but I don’t understand. You love me but you don’t want me to wait, you love me but you broke up with me – I just- You’re doing this thing where–  you like to shut down and shut everyone out and I don’t want you to do that. If you don’t want to be with me then I’ll respect that but If you think I can stand around and watch you fall apart you don’t know me, and I would really prefer to think you did because for the longest time I thought I knew you and now finding out that maybe I don’t is– Well it sucks.”

You huffed out, you knew it was unfair and contradicting and you almost wished you had never gotten involved in the first place because you hated the fact you were hurting Spencer right now because your emotions were confusing. It was unfair. “I’m sorry” You started. He was right, you knew him and he knew you, on the slightest of a deeper level.

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologise and then brush it off. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be honest. You keep everyone at arm's reach, on surface level– I want more than that, I want to know you, and understand you, I want to understand this. Tell me what you need and I'll do it, but I need to understand why first.” 

How were you supposed to tell the single handedly most sweet, kind and perfect person that you were unable to provide him with the one thing he wanted – to know you. How were you supposed to admit that something as simple as that was too much to ask for. 

“There's this expectation that I can't reach, that I never have, never will and I love you, Spencer, that's true – but I'm not going to let you sit around and watch me fail time after time again to reach the expectation of basic human existence.” You shook your head as you pulled your hands away from his grasp, your body turned as you walked away.

He stood calling out your name but his feet stayed glued to the ground, and there was no response from you.

[bisexualiteaa]

A Night Beneath the Stars

Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem Reader (SMUT MDNI)

CW: established friendship, younger Logan, cursing, reader has telepathic powers, mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, mentions of insomnia, reader and Logan bond over not being able to sleep, fingering, oral (f receiving) unprotected P in V, creampie, p0rn w/o plot, pet names, praise kink, dumbification, Logan is down bad but so is reader, possible spelling/grammar errors, fluffy ending

You were newer to the mansion, having only just been brought to Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters about a year or so ago. You remembered when you had first arrived, how nervous you were to meet the professor, how intimidating of an experience it was in meeting other mutants in general. You had spent so long keeping your mutation a secret from others, the shame of being different than normal people was still something that was going on even as times were changing. People still seemed to believe that anyone with a mutation was some kind of monster. You knew you shouldn’t have to worry about that here at the mansion, not when everyone around was a mutant, yet you couldn’t help but be nervous. Everyone did their best to make you feel welcome, knowing it was a bit difficult at first considering that you were an adult rather than a new student joining. However that didn’t mean you weren’t welcomed with open arms, and assurance that you were safe and accepted here. That you were amongst friends now who understood you.

You were often invited to tag along with Ororo, Jean, Scott and Logan whenever they would go out in town. In the hopes, or rather Ororo’s hope, to help you open up and feel a little more at home at the mansion rather than isolated away in unfamiliar territory. At first you didn’t take them up on it, preferring to stay behind and get accustomed to life at the mansion, but they never failed to extend the invite each time, waiting for the day you would finally peak from your shell and tag along. When you first started going with, you would just hang out with the girls. Enjoying the time drinking, gossiping, talking about each other’s love lives, and what led you all to being at the mansion. However, over time you and Logan had slowly begun to kindle something of a friendship with one another. The connection you had with him was almost magnetic with the way you were drawn to him. You didn’t know how else to explain it really. Like two kindred spirits once lost and now reunited, everything came effortlessly between you. You would happen across him late at night in the kitchen, finding him nursing a beer or smoking a cigar as you would sit next to him and enjoy a glass of whatever you could get your hands on. Sometimes you both would just sit there in comfortable silence, providing moral support to each other by just being there. You didn’t need to speak to know when one of you was upset, or to know what he needed, you just understood somehow. Other times, he would find you out in the gardens, seeming to be in your own little world as you stared up at the night sky. When you were outside you were often meditating, trying to take in the peaceful surroundings to help calm you enough to go to sleep. Slowly, your late nights spent trying to unwind would cross paths more and more, leading you both to meet up just about every night. Logan would begin to join you as you would sit outside and gaze upon the stars with you, just as you would join him in the kitchen with a drink when he was there.

Your friendship was always something of an enigma to the others, where you were soft and kind, Logan was rough and jaded. They would have never guessed that of all people, you would have found comfort in someone as gruff as him. Being known for the way his temper was, and how he normally kept to himself, it was shocking to the others anytime they would see him laughing with you, or see a soft smile stretched to his lips. Ororo would often tease you for it, saying you managed to soften him up and claiming that she’s never seen him so happy than when he’s with you. It would often leave a blush rising to your cheeks when Scott or Jean would tease you about him, asking if you two had finally gotten together yet. Despite all of the teasing, they were happy for you both. It was obvious he was who you needed to feel comfortable here at the mansion finally, and you were who he needed to help him soften up a little. They truly would have never guessed that he would open up to anyone, much less the near polar opposite of himself. Yet you understood each other in ways the others didn’t. Your late night talks, spent trying to unwind for bed had turned into a ritual of sorts, leaving you both unable to sleep without talking to the other, and over that time your bond had only grown stronger.

Many people figured that the friendship kindled between you and Logan would turn into something more. What with the fleeting glances shared between you, and the way his hand would often rest against the small of your back when he was next to you. There was a palpable tension that resided between you, one you prayed would finally lead you two to being more than just friends. Others bet that what you had was nothing more than a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. That if you were to date the Wolverine, you would end up heartbroken by his whirlwind personality. You tried not to pay attention to those comments, no matter how unkind they were. You knew that he could be a lot sometimes, and that to most he wasn’t exactly the kindest man on earth, but you knew better than to think he would treat your heart with such malice. You trusted that if you were to explore that option, and he didn’t want you in that way, he would tell you. You loved the way he always stood by you when you were in a room together, giving an aura that he was almost your protector of sorts. It left butterflies in your stomach when his hand would come to the small of your back as a silent sign that he was there when you were upset, or when his hand would clasp yours gently to lead you somewhere more isolated and private to help you calm down. Anywhere you were, Logan wasn’t very far behind, and vice versa, and while some might have thought it was weird, you counted it as your biggest blessing. The others would often find you two sitting and watching movies together, or out on missions together. The professor delighted in the way you seemed to benefit each other and balance each other so well. You were an effective team, and not only that, you were each other’s comfort. He would cook for you, you would bake for him, you would enjoy drinks and conversation together and every night, you both would find yourselves at each other’s side until sleep would finally call your names. Your friendship took a matter of months, nearly an entire year to fully kindle to a point of trust and comfortability, but one night was all it took to finally change the dynamic between you from platonic to something a bit more romantic.

The evening started the same as all of your evenings together went. You were sat in the gardens, enraptured by the stars that freckled the night sky, observing the different constellations and the phase the moon was in for the night. It was a beautiful summer night, just warm enough to be able to be outside in your night dress, but with a calm, cool breeze that kept it from being too hot to withstand. It was perfect. “Can’t sleep, bub?” A familiar, slightly gruff, voice asked you pulling you from your thoughts. The nickname gave away exactly who it was, only one person ever called you that, meaning Logan was finally here to join you. You turned his way as he spoke, and offered him a soft yet excited smile as he leaned against the doorway, seeming to watch you from afar. His eyes drank in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled from the wind, the moon’s rays casting an almost ethereal glow upon you in your night gown. You looked as if you were right where you belonged, the night time your golden hour. Your smile brought a warmth to his heart that he thought had long since frozen over, its brightness enough to lighten his every sour mood and calm him even after the toughest of days. He looked upon you like an art student seeing their favorite work of art in person for the first time. He was completely enraptured by you. In awe of your beauty, wondering what it is that he could have ever done to be so lucky to call you a friend. Although he was secretly wishing that you would consider more than that someday with him, but those thoughts were for another time. He was here with you now, and he wanted to cherish that. “I never can without our nightly meet ups” you admitted, your tone gentle yet spoken with conviction as your gaze fixed upon him. He adored that he was your solace, happy that he could be there for you in the same ways you were for him. His lopsided grin always sent a giddy flutter to your stomach and made your heart skip. For someone who was known for being hard to put up with and cold to almost anyone he came across, you loved that you were his one exception. The sunshine to his storm clouds as the others would often describe. There was an undeniable chemistry between you that made your bond so strong. “Heard you would be able to see Jupiter and Saturn tonight while looking at the moon. Didn’t want to miss the chance, only happens once every twenty years” you added, patting the ground next to you in invitation for him to sit with you. “Come join me?” You asked, and who was he to ever deny you? He made his way over to you, lit cigar in hand as he sat down with you, following your eyes as you looked up into the night sky. “How can you even see it?” He asked between puffs of his cigar, making you chuckle as you pointed up at the sky. “See those two dots behind the moon? They’re pretty small, but that’s what you’re looking for” you answered, making him hum with intrigue in reply before turning to look at you. He swore he could see the reflection of the stars as he cast his gaze upon you, watching them twinkle in your eyes as you spoke. The way you looked at him with the same wonder and regard as the night sky every night left him so utterly weak in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He could sit there and listen to you talk about astronomy for hours and be perfectly content, happy to hear the sounds of your sweet voice.

“See that over there? There’s the Little Dipper, and right over there is Orion’s Belt” you said, pointing to each constellation, teaching him the names, locations and small little facts about it all that you knew. What you hadn’t noticed was the more you spoke, the closer you two seemed to move together. It was as if you were being magnetically pulled to one another without realizing it. “The Greeks use to believe that when their greatest heroes died, their spirit would pass on and the gods would place their likeness in the stars so that their sacrifices would never be forgotten” you stated, making him smile softly as he listened to you. Stuff like this from anyone else would normally bore him, but from you? He could listen to you ramble on and never get tired of it. It made his night talking to you away from others so you could open up and just be yourselves. “You believe it?” He asked, genuinely curious of your input, making you chuckle. “I’m not sure. I’d like to. I like to think that my mom is up there somewhere” you answered, making him hum as you both looked to one another, his sympathetic gaze turning into an arm wrapped around you, pulling you to him. “I’m sure she is, bub. ’m sure she’s damn proud of you too” he said comfortingly, making you smile up at him appreciatively for his kind words. He wasn’t always good at consoling others, but for you, he would always do anything he could to see that gorgeous smile stretch to your lips. “I hope so. I hope when the time comes some day, that maybe I’ll join her up there” you replied before a comfortable silence fell upon you, listening to the crickets chirp and the wind whistle softly through the trees. “Save a spot for me?” He asked, making you smile warmly. “Of course, but not before I’d haunt you for a while. Gotta make sure you know I’m still around” you replied, making him chuckle. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, bub” he answered, leaning his head against yours as you both gazed upon the stars.

“Almost forgot. I got something for you” he spoke up after a few beats of silence, placing the cigar between his lips as he rustled something from his pocket. “I remember you saying somethin’ about wanting whatever those rocks are you always talk about” he said, making you giggle in response. “You mean crystals?” You asked, looking up at him from where you were resting your head against his shoulder. “Saw one in a store today, thought you might like it” he said before dangling a dainty necklace in his hand. “Aww Logan, you didn’t have to do that! Now I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything” you replied, making him chuckle. “How were you supposed to know? It’s a surprise for a reason” he responded as you looked at it. It was a small piece of rose quartz shaped into an obelisk, resting on a thin chain. You smiled excitedly as you inspected it, not only was it a crystal but it was rose quartz, the crystal that symbolized healing, compassion and eternal love. You weren’t sure if perhaps he picked it deliberately for its capabilities, or if it was chosen for you at random, but you almost didn’t want to believe that it was a coincidence. “Would you help me put it on?” You asked him, looking up at him with a smile so bright that he swore the sun couldn’t even compare. “Course, turn around and I’ll help ya” he replied, happy to see you liked it as much as he hoped you would. You turned your back towards him, sweeping your hair to the side to keep it off of your neck before feeling his fingers ghost along your soft skin. You shivered, feeling goose-flesh rise along your arms as he put the chain around you. You giggled as he struggled with the comically tiny clasp in his large fingers, hearing him mutter a curse every now and then under his breath as it would slip from him, but eventually he managed to get it clasped for you. “Now I’ve got to get you something” you insisted, making him chuckle as he watched you readjust your hair and look at the necklace with wonder. You were just so damn precious in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it bub, really. I wanted to” was all he replied with, assuring you that you were in no debt from his kind gesture as you turned back to face him. “How’s it look?” You asked making him smile as he took you in, admiring you for all of your beauty, not just the necklace. “Beautiful” he responded meaningfully, but something in his eyes and in his tone told you that he wasn’t just talking about the necklace. You gave a giggle in response, blushing at the compliment.

“You like it?” He asked and you were quick to pull him into a tight hug, making him smile as he took that as a yes. He hugged you back warmly, his head resting slightly on the top of yours since you were shorter than he is. Your hair smelled so nice, the signature scent of your shampoo something he’d grown to love. He especially loved when your perfume would transfer to his clothes when you would hug him, catching even the slightest whiffs of it on occasion when you weren’t around kept him sane on even the worst of days. “I love it. Thank you Lo” you said appreciatively, your face buried into the crook between his neck and shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body against your own and the feel of his arms around you. You both pulled apart slightly after a few moments, a palpable tension now hanging thick within the summer’s night air. You pulled away just far enough to still be close enough in his hold, but not completely separated. Your faces now sat so close together that you could feel the ghost of his breath against your lips, sending a pulse of excitement through you. He smelled of tobacco, smoke, pine and that distinct scent of him that made you feel at ease. Safe. When you were with him, it was as if all time had stopped, as if all others ceased to exist. In this moment, it was just you and Logan.

His fingers brushed a small section of your hair that fell into your face back behind your ear, allowing his rough palm to rest against your cheek as you gazed into his eyes. You smiled at him as the distance between you dwindled, feeling that almost magnetic pull to one another once more. Your eyes fluttered to his lips before looking back into his beautiful brown eyes, wondering if this would finally be the moment. “Don’t look at me like that, bub” he said playfully, a smile stretching to his lips and making you giggle. “Like what?” You asked teasingly, making him give you that lopsided grin you loved so much. “Like you wanna kiss me” he answered, making you smile even wider with excitement and it made him melt. No one had ever looked at him with such pure love in their eyes until he met you. Attraction; sure. Love? This was a first, and he could see just how strongly you felt for him in that gaze, wishing he would have taken his shot sooner. “Maybe I do want to kiss you” you answered, making him chuckle. “Oh do you?” He responded playfully, making you shake your head. “Yeah, maybe I do” you replied, butterflies fluttering in your stomach with each brave word you could utter. “What’s the matter? Scared you’ll like it too much?” You asked confidently, making him laugh at your cocky tone that reminded him a lot of himself. He was rubbing off on you and fuck if it wasn’t cute. “Me? Scared? Don’t kid yourself bub” he replied, making you laugh. “Then kiss me already” you challenged telepathically, and he certainly did not need to be told twice.

You felt him pull you closer, allowing there to be a moment of anticipation that would keep you on your toes before his lips finally met your own. It was a moment so electric, you swore he must have been able to hear the way your heart was pounding in excitement. You smiled into it, your hand coming to rest on his chest to keep him close to you, feeling as his heart started racing against his sternum beneath your palm. You hummed contentedly into it, feeling him release a shaky breath as his free hand rested against your hip, squeezing it gently to remind him that this was really happening. You wanted him just like he wanted you. It was almost unreal. “Are you really sure I’m who you want?” He asked, making you rest your hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into his skin. “I’ve never been more sure of anything” you replied confidently before kissing him once more, allowing your tongue to drag against his bottom lip, asking his permission to allow you to let it deepen. He gave in with a groan, allowing you your chance to slip your tongue in and explore at his pace. You didn’t want to move too fast and scare him off, but you also didn’t want to move too slow and bore him. You moaned softly into his mouth as his hands caressed your curves, feeling your warm skin beneath your soft night dress. The friction of his hands against you, mixed with his intoxicating kisses sent fire coursing through your veins.

You smiled playfully into your kiss as an idea came to you. Your arms looped around Logan’s neck, pulling him down with you as you allowed yourself to fall backwards into the soft grass. You giggled as he fell on top of you, holding himself up above you before looking down upon you with a grin and a wild look in his eyes. The scent of your arousal filled his senses, clinging to you like the sweetest perfume. “Don’t look at me like that” you joked, using his own words against him, making him chuckle. “Like what?” He teased, grinning down at you with a hungry look in his gaze. He looked as if he might eat you alive. It was thrilling. “Like you’re going to ravage me” you answered, your hands cascading along his broad chest, making him groan at your gentle touch. “Why? Afraid you’ll like it too much?” He asked in that ever familiar cocky tone, making you giggle as he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, placing sweet kisses along your throat as he inhaled your scent. You moaned softly before biting your lip with excitement, your hands moving to card through his hair in appreciation. “Logan…” you breathed, moaning quietly each time his lips would brush against one of your more sensitive spots. “Not afraid, wanna see what I’ve been missing out on” you spoke telepathically once more, making him rise his head from your neck to look at you. He looked almost surprised to hear what you’d said, like he needed to see you to make certain he heard you correctly. “What did you-“ “you heard me” you replied boldly, a soft grin on your lips as you waited for his response, allowing him a way out should he not want this to go where it was leading. Yet you spoke the words he’d been dying to hear for months now. “Fuck…c’mere” he replied, pulling you into a kiss, making you giggle excitedly at his response. “You know all the ways to get me so fuckin’ worked up” he spoke into it, trailing one of his hands up your thighs as yours carded through his hair again. You moaned softly once more as his fingers found your clit beneath the wet spot forming in your panties, rubbing small circles against you. He took the opportunity to let his tongue explore your mouth, tangling with your own as he slipped his hand beneath the waistband and into your underwear. You were intoxicating. The scent of your arousal, mixed with how wet you were for him and the sounds of your sweet sighs and moans pulled a growl from his throat. The guttural sound sent a shudder through you, making him chuckle as he felt your clit throb beneath the pad of one of his rough fingers. “Pretty girl, you like getting me all worked up, huh?” He asked, rubbing slow, methodical circles into your clit, making you squirm beneath him from pleasure. “Yes…” was all you could get out, making him groan as you rolled your hips against his hand. “Good girl” he said, peppering your neck with kisses again as he worked you up, listening to you whine and mewl for him to give you more.

“Gotta get you nice and ready sweetheart, be good for me and take it, yeah?” He asked, pulling away only momentarily to unbutton the top of your gown, exposing your bare chest to the night air. “Such a pretty little thing” he complimented, his fingers finding their way back to your core as his kisses began to trail down to your chest. You moaned in delight as he wrapped his lips around one of your pert, sensitive nipples, sucking it as his finger teased your waiting hole. He moaned at the taste of your skin, the way you were so ready for his finger to slip inside of you. “So tight for me” he said, working the tip of his finger in and out slowly before pressing further inside of your heat, leaving you to lull your head back at all the stimulation. “Just like that princess, take my fingers, open up for me” he cooed, talking you through it sweetly as he worked you open. You moaned as his finger curled against that gummy spot inside of you, feeling as his mouth latched to your other breast to pay it equal attention. Your hands in his hair yanked the raven strands on occasion, making him groan against you as he stretched you with his fingers. “Logan…” you moaned, making him grin up at you. “Feel good, bub?” He asked, making you whine as you shook your head yes. “Let me get a taste, hmm? Bet she tastes as sweet as the rest of you” he said, sliding down your body before scrunching your dress up your hips a little, exposing your panty-clad cunt to him. He pressed a soft kiss to your core through the damp fabric, making you moan and buck your hips at the feeling. He gave a chuckle at your eager response and sensitivity. “Let’s get these off of you” he said before sliding your underwear from you, slipping them into his pocket for safe keeping. “So pretty for me” he complimented once more before dipping down between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your clit before his fingers found their way back inside of you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he worked you with his tongue and fingers, your nails scratching his scalp in appreciation for the bliss he was granting you. “Oh my god…Logan!” You moaned, making him groan into you. The sound of his name on your tongue was music to his ears. You’d never felt so good. The way his hot muscle worked circles into your bud, paired with the way his fingers worked in and out of you, you were floating on cloud nine. “Shh, gotta stay quiet baby. Don’t want to get caught now, do you?” He asked, making you whine and bite your lip as you tried your best to keep your voice down, but it was hard. It just felt so good, you couldn’t help it. You felt his fingers curl against that spot within you again, his tongue fluttering in just the perfect rhythm that had the knot in your belly growing taut. “Logan, I…” you tried your best to warn of your impending orgasm through your moans and pants. “Gonna cum for me? C’mon, want you to cum on my fingers doll” he said, feeling you squeeze around his fingers, keeping his pace exactly where it was to get you there. Before you knew it, you were toppling over the edge, gasping as your back arched and your cunt tightened around his fingers. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth opened wide in an O shape as your release washed over you like a tidal wave. “There we go, good girl” he said, helping you ride out your orgasm before you grew too sensitive.

He sat on his knees before you, watching your chest rise and fall with each heaving breath you took to try and come back to earth. You smiled sweetly at him, an almost drunken look on your face as he drank in the sight of you in your afterglow. “So fuckin’ beautiful” he complimented, making you give an appreciative hum in response, seeing the effects you had on him as your eyes raked his body with hunger. He needed you, needed to mark you as his, have his scent linger off of you so the others knew exactly who you belonged to. “For the love of everything, please take your clothes off” you said with a grin, making him laugh. “Leave you waitin’ too long, sweetheart?” He asked with a cocky smirk, making you grin wider as he came back up over top of you. “Yes!” You said through giggles as you watched him strip himself of his white tank top, leaving you absolutely enamored at his build. You’d seen him without a shirt on before, after all you both would spar together fairly often, and you’d helped patch him up after missions when his healing hadn’t quite caught up yet. But in this sense, this was entirely different. Here, he was bared for your eyes only. You squealed in surprise as he rolled you both to where you were on top of him now, your shared joyful laughter melding together into the most perfect moment. As you held yourself up over him, your hips resting against his, you couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes. You fit against him perfectly. Like two pieces of a puzzle, he was who you needed to finish the big picture. His hand came up to gently sweep your hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear once more so he could see your face. His hand then rested on your cheek, rubbing comforting circles along your skin. “I love you, Logan” you admitted, the words escaping you before you could even have the chance to hold them back. Your heart raced anxiously in your chest as you waited for his response. Waiting to see if he would turn you away, or tell you this was nothing more than a fleeting moment. But that moment never came. Instead, you felt his lips press to yours, pulling you back down and against him as his other hand looped around you. He wanted this. He wanted you. He chose you. “Fuck I’ve been dying to hear that. I love you too” he replied as he pulled away for air, pressing his forehead against yours, watching you smile happily at his response. “then what are you waiting for?” you asked telepathically, making him chuckle as you looked at him. “For you to take my pants off and show me how much you want me” he replied, making you grin as you kissed him once more, just as intimately as before, only this time your hands began to fumble with the buckle of his belt.

Blindly you managed to get it undone, then unbutton and unzip his jeans as your tongue tangled with his. You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling it gently before releasing it, earning a guttural growl from him in response. You giggled mischievously before grinding your hips against him through his boxers. “Think it’s funny to tease me, huh?” He asked, making you grin. “It’s a taste of your own medicine” you replied coyly as you continued to grind against him, littering his neck with kisses as your hands roamed his body. Your hands found their way beneath the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and allowing his cock to spring free. You watched as it bobbed and his tip slapped just above his navel, standing completely at attention all for you. “All for me? Hardly even done anything to you yet and you’re already so worked up” you teased, making him scoff in response. “Right. Because fucking my tongue and fingers is hardly doing anything to me” he quipped, making you giggle. “It is hardly anything in comparison to the real deal” you said telepathically, gliding your pussy along his cock, allowing him to slip between your folds and his head to bump your clit but not allowing him inside. He groaned at the feeling of your wetness gliding up and down his length, his fingers digging into your hips with how tightly he was gripping you. The stimulation of this alone was already enough to work him up but he needed more. He needed to be inside of you. “Don’t you want to find out?” You asked. “Fuckin’ tease” he grumbled, making you chuckle before you lined him up to your entrance.

You eased your way down onto him, your knees digging into the ground on either side of his hips as you worked to take him all the way inside of you. You hissed at the painful stretch, thankful that he worked you up as much as he did beforehand but still struggling. It took a few tries, but eventually you managed to fully sheath him inside of you. You moaned as you took a moment to allow yourself to acclimate to his size, feeling him throb within you as you kissed him sweetly. His one hand rested on your cheek as the other rested on your hip trying to help provide a soothing distraction to the pain. You tested a roll of your hips, moaning delightfully as the pain morphed into pleasure. “Logan..” you moaned as you began to set a steady pace, his hands at your hips helping you keep that rhythm. “Fuck, sweetheart” he groaned, watching your breasts move as you bounced on his cock. Your hands rest against his chest for leverage, listening to your shared moans and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the air around you. Your nails dug into his skin when his tip grazed your g-spot, leaving puffy red marks along his chest as you threw your head back. You heard an animalistic growl leave him in response, looking down to see a feral look in his eyes. “Do that again” he said, making you grin as you began to drag your nails all the way down his chest to his chiseled abs, hearing him groan in pleasure from the pain. “Fuck” he panted out as he thrust up into you. “Right there!” You whined, your eyes rolling back in bliss as he hit that spot repeatedly. “I’ve got you bub, gonna take good care of you” he replied, fucking into you at a faster pace that left you delirious. “Oh, Logan!!” You moaned, not caring if you were too loud now, not caring if you were to be caught, all that mattered to you right now was how good he felt inside of you.

You were lost in all the pleasure he was giving you, his name the only thing on your mind that was blanker than paper at this point. “Not a single thought behind those eyes right now is there, sweet thing?” He asked with a cocky grin, making you whimper at the way he made you so stupid on his cock. He loved it. “Feels s’ good” you babbled out the best you could, clear sentences now beyond you with the way his fingers began to circle your clit. He knew all the ways to get you to feel so unbelievably good, it was almost unreal, unfair even. “C’mon baby, cum on this cock. You can do that for me, can’t you? Wanna feel her squeeze me good and tight” he said, making you shake your head yes in response. “Yes! Yes, wanna cum s’ bad. Fuck!” You babbled almost incoherently, making him chuckle at how eager you were, listening to your moans rise in pitch and the way your walls squeezed him tight told him that you were close. All you needed was a little push and you would be sent over the edge. “Gonna fill you up good, what d’ya say? You want that? Want me to stuff you full so everyone knows who you belong to?” He asked, making you moan at the thought of him cumming inside of you, filling you up to the point it leaked out of you. “Yes!! Want it, want it so bad please!!” You replied, making him groan in response. Such a good, obedient little thing. “So close…Logan please” you moaned, grinding against him and meeting his thrusts for that extra little bit of friction to get you closer. “Cum for me, baby” he said, working your clit just how you needed to topple over the edge finally. Your back arched as a gasp left you, your eyes rolling back as you moaned with your release. He groaned as your cunt spasmed around him, coating him with your slick and pulling him closer to his own peak. He sat up to meet your lips with a feverish kiss. “Fuck, I love you. So fucking much” he said into it, tongue and teeth clashing with your own as he rutted up into you before releasing himself inside of you with a deep groan. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss along with him, the feel of him throbbing inside of you as his seed painted your walls was quite a pleasurable sensation. You felt him ride out your orgasms as much as you could before you both became too sensitive.

You both pulled away for a moment to allow air to fill your burning, oxygen depraved lungs, looking into each other’s eyes as you shared in the afterglow. You smiled at him as you cupped his cheek, placing a tender loving kiss to his lips before resting your slightly sweaty forehead against his. You enjoyed the peacefully quiet moment together, the only sound being that of your collective breathing slowing to a normal tempo once more. “Want to come back to my room for the night?” He asked, making you chuckle. “I’d like that” you replied before kissing him softly again, feeling him stir within you making you gasp at the feeling. He laughed at your cute reaction. “How are you already-“ “Healing factor. Can go all night if you want” he replied with a smirk, making you blush as you hummed with interest into your kiss. “Don’t threaten me with a good time” You said before he pulled you off of him to situate himself back into his jeans and your nightgown for the trek back through the mansion. He scooped you up into his arms bridal style, making you giggle and squeal in surprise. “Hope you’re ready for a long night then” he said, making you grin. “Then take me there before I change my mind” you said with a grin, making him chuckle as he carried you to his room, closing the door behind him with his foot.

While it may have been a long night, it was certainly one you would never forget.

[rnakamura22]

When they heard that you found your way home

Random　Characters

Prefect is female! Yandere vibes! Her name is Yu!

Malleus　Dragonia

Oh, Don't mind the sky getting pitch-black and thunder striking down rapidly! What? Flying classes got canceled? You saw Jack and Epel were totally soaked? Where are you even looking? Another man? That’s unacceptable!

You’re his first friend and crush! To him, you are like the first sunshine of spring! A beautiful blue butterfly in the meadow flying above the flowers! A gem more precious than any treasure he has! And now you’re just dumping him? Nuh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen! He’s one of the most powerful magicians in the world, so it takes no more than a flip of his hand to crush any form of way back home. He could lock you up in his room, mess with your body, destroy any form of mirror, etc. Hey, this was gonna happen one way or another since he already decided for the future Queen of the valley long ago(AKA when he met you).While he locks you up in his Diasomnia room, he could happily come and discuss the wedding plans. He already decided on the crown by the way, but he made a promise to discuss the dress colors with you since taking your opinion into account is necessary. Lila would be teary eyed of Malleus’s growth. You have no choice to accept your fate since even if you escape, he will come searching for you. After all, can a mere human win against a loving dragon?

Lilia Vanrouge

This 700 year old vampire fairy has more knowledge and experience than any of the villains. He thought his love ended with Malleus’s mom. But then, you came along. A cute little innocent human who only lived about a little percentage of his life! You are like a baby! You’re too young to survive out there! What if your way back home never worked! What if some thing got messed up? No, you need to be in the world safe and sound! He will protect you! He still has feelings about the age gap though. I mean, what happens in family day at school with your future children? Well, not to worry! As for making you stay, just break a few mirrors or take out any bad memories! He needs to look out for his juniors after all! He won’t break you, but he will punish you if you disobey. Fairies are possessive. Blame your own luck for shooting the heart of the vampire fairy.

Rook Hunt

At first, he seems happy for you! A lost deer should run back to her herd as quick as possible. But you forgot he’s a hunter. And a skilled hunter like him NEVER fails.

He casts his unique magic on you as you are about to leave. A part of him wishes for your happiness, but he couldn’t help it. A large part of him couldn’t forgive you. The most valuable prey were about to outrun him. He could never accept that. His magic will find you. Wherever you go, however you try to escape, the chase continues. Until you give up your world and return with him, they would be absolutely no peace.

Epel Felmier

(Anyone else love peel’s smug VILLAN faces from the ghost bride?)

Epel acts happy but inside, he’s devastated. He wanted to visit his home village again just the two of you. He knows he’s got competition when it came to you, and it was all for nothing. Well, he ain’t admitting that, that’s for sure.

From that day on, with the help of Vill and Rook, he creates a special gift for you. An apple red as the roses. A glittering poison apple just like the Beautiful Queen of his dorm created. To trap you, his one and only Snow White. He still wants to have fun with you and the first years. He wants to graduate with you. You gave him courage, and made him happy. He wants to return you with his own thankful emotions. #Yeah, Right.

On the day you were going to leave, he comes up to you and thanks you, than he says the magic words.

“Prefect…I want to give you something. Please have a bite. It’s a special apple I picked. It’s the most delicious apple I harvested and the most beautiful one! I cared for it so much!”

Epel now understands what Vil said for so long. His cuteness can become a weapon. Look at your eyes! You melt for his cuteness, and bites the apple without thinking twice, I mean, who can resist his cuteness. Instantly, you fall unconscious.

“Whoah!? That was close… but now you can be with us forever Yu! Snow White won’t hold a candle to you…. Let’s graduate together Ok? And we can be together forever…”

He’s a poisoned apple, what would you except? As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

Sebek Zigvolt

Ah, he says like 90% of the time about how fairies are better than humans, but for you, it’s an exception. He might not show it, but he cares a lot about you. He’s a tsundere after all.(No, you cannnot tell me otherwise) But he blames you for dumping him and making him feel bad.(AKA you two are not dating)

“This is your own fault human, you made me fall to your schemes and now you’re throwing it all away? Unacceptable!”

He may not show it, but he enjoyed school life with you and the other humans of his grade. He wants to live with you at the valley of Thorns. But your comment of going back to your world snaps something.

Better run away because lightning bolts are coming down in 10 seconds to smash that mirror. He will not let you go. And is you disobey…say goodbye to your eardrums and your freedom.

Silver

(Anyone else love this Silver’s face? I believe Silver can be a villain too, you won’t change my mind)

He is SHOCKED with a capital S. He’s a human, but raised by Lilia and fairies so he has fairy values and they may be SLIGHTLY different from humans especially about love.

He wants to be with you after graduation. He already planned a few preparations so you won’t be getting away.

Before you go, he casts his unique magic on you to appear in your dreams as a dashing prince. Saving you, chasing you, maybe choking you a little bit. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Convincing that your world is horrible and terrible, and you should come back to Twisted Wonderland and live with him. Silver is a prince, and you are his princess. To him, the bad witch is your world. After all, he needs to defeat the bad witch to save his one and only princess. Than he can live happily ever after.