#have friends partners breakups parties just so many new memories

[girlivealwaysbean]

so tired of being a shitty bandaid for my parents' loneliness. like have u ever considered you passed your curse to me and some days i feel so lonely it's like i can't breathe around the emptiness in my chest????

[softtdaisy]

a better father / Aaron Hotchner

summary. All Hotch wanted was to get a second chance to be a better dad. And now that you were offering him this chance, he fears he might have failed already.

words count. 2,465

a/n.  I got this idea with the episode from season two when Haley comes and she tells Hotch that he forgot about an appointment for Jack and I was like omg I need to do something with that so here's sad Aaron again

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. Hotch knew something about that. 

He had a lot of regrets about Jack. Not being there much when he was a baby, not seeing his first steps, hearing his first word, and missing so many memories that were nicely caught on camera by Haley. Things he could never make up for.

And no matter how often Jack could tell him that he didn’t hold any grudge against his dad, Hotch still felt bad most of the time. Wishing he could get a second chance to be a better dad. 

At some point, he accepted that it would never happen. He was getting older, and the morality wanted him to date women close to his age. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all. He had wonderful dates with them. But none of them wanted to have a child. Some already had one, some never wanted to get pregnant, and some simply couldn’t. And of course it was never a cause of a breakup—or stop seeing them, because Hotch didn’t date most of them. Hotch simply accepted he won’t be a dad again. 

Then he met you.

You were an old friend of JJ's that he met at her birthday. Your work made you travel around the world for many years, which explained your absence during the past parties and you being unknown to most of the team. But you were back in town, ready to meet new people and start a new life.

Hotch never believed in fate.

But he was sure he was destined to meet you.

You were so full of life, acting like a ray of sunshine in every room you were in. And not that he considered himself dark, but he had to admit that his life and job had quite an impact on how he perceived himself. As someone who wasn’t very funny or joyful to be around. Not a very good dad or a nice partner. And sometimes, not even a great boss.

His life was pretty much in black and white. And when you came around, you brought colors with you.

It started that very first night, when you spent almost an hour sitting outside with Aaron. Drinking and watching the stars.

“Shouldn’t you be with JJ?” He asked after you finished a conversation about your favorite countries to visit and the one you recommended for someone like him.

“Don’t know,” you replied, shrugging. “I like being with you.”

Aaron could blame the alcohol for the redness on his cheeks, but you both knew it was insecurity and flattering. It’s been a long time since someone pointed out how they liked spending time with him. He felt…alive, knowing that you wanted to be around him.

And you weren’t lying for a single second. “You’re an interesting man, Aaron Hotchner. You need to let people see that.” you added, giving him a little shoulder bump. You kept your shoulder against his for a second. You loved the little smile your words created and the sparks that appeared in his eyes.

You felt lucky that you were one of the few people he offered a glimpse of the real him.

It started with coffee dates once a week. Before he went to work, and while you were still discovering your new life back in town, you met at the same coffee shop for an hour. You talked about everything, more life than work. You wanted to see Aaron, and not Hotch, the man JJ told you about. 

Even if she gave you such a good description of him that you were already willing to give him your heart without any hesitation.

You loved discovering new things about him every week. 

Each smile was breaking the wall around him.

Each time he put his hand on yours was him installing himself in your life.

And each kiss was you giving your heart to each other. 

These coffee dates were still a thing.

They just happened every day, at the place you were now sharing together.

And not only did you give him a lot of things already, you offered him the chance he thought wouldn’t come again, which he sadly accepted. 

To be a dad again.

You were four months pregnant, and it wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. Either the stress that comes from work or the fact Aaron still felt like he was too old for this, for you. But he was trying his best to make things as perfect as they could be. He was leaving the BAU earlier than before, and every day off was for Jack and for you. 

And every night, he made sure to have at least half an hour with you in the baby’s room to talk about the future.

But sometimes, dealing with both situations can be difficult. And today was another proof.

What was supposed to be a calm office day turned out to be more rough and animated. A new case came in the morning and turned out to be in town. 

Hotch was part of the team that went out to catch the unsub. He was going less on the field these days. There was a selfish reason behind that: he didn’t want to stress you or miss anything important with the baby. But the case being in Virginia, he took the opportunity to follow Spencer and Emily outside while JJ stayed with Penelope, like the good old days.

“God, I wish every case were as simple as this one.” Emily said when they came back to the car, the unsub was with the police officers. And Hotch had to admit it was pretty easy this time. He couldn’t wait to tell you about this one, how good it felt to be back there.

He could already hear you say something like, “We’ll tell our baby how their dad is a superhero,” which reminded him of when Jack used to see him like that. He hoped your baby would feel the same about him.

What if they hated him? What if they blame him for being away, for not doing enough? What if someone terrible happened to them because of his job?

Most of the time, Hotch managed to put these bad ideas away. And when he couldn’t, he found comfort in your arms. That’s what he needed right now.

He only had one thing to do: check on JJ and Penelope once he was back at the office to conclude his report and make sure everybody could go back home soon. Him included.

When Hotch entered Penelope’s office, he was welcomed by her confused and surprised face. “Sir? What are you doing here?” she asked. She got up and took a few steps towards him to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he asked, even more confused than her. 

And the confusion just kept growing when he looked around and noticed Penelope was alone. “Where is JJ?” 

“Hmm, at the hospital?” From her tone, Hotch could tell that Penelope assumed he was supposed to know about her absence and the reason behind it. “[Y/N] called her?” This wasn’t a real question, because Penelope was there when you called. She heard you. But she couldn’t understand why she would know about that before Hotch.

And he couldn’t believe what he just heard. Sure, it made sense that you would call JJ if you needed help. She was one of your emergency contacts. But why wouldn’t you call him? 

Looking for his phone to check on you, Hotch realized his mistake.

He forgot his phone at his office. And spend the whole day assuming you were fine.

Before Penelope could explain the situation, or maybe she did, but he didn’t listen, Hotch ran to his office. He probably jostled some people in the rush, and there was a high possibility that he forgot to apologize. But it wasn’t his priority. Especially not when he grabbed his phone and saw the notification.

Six missing calls.

Around ten texts.

All from you.

You’ve got awful cramps when you wake up, and nothing would make them go away. You spent most of your day in bed, crying—which you didn’t tell Aaron, but he could hear the tears in your voice in one of your voicemails. You were asking him to come and bring you to the hospital to make sure the baby was doing fine.

But he never answered.

“I called JJ; she’s coming. Please don’t worry and text me when you see this. I love you,” said the last one.

When he dialed your phone, Hotch met your answering machine. 

He kept trying during the drive to the hospital. But all he could hear was your joyful voice asking to leave a message and that you would call back later. 

Never has Aaron needed to hear your voice so badly as right now.

The hospital wasn’t too far away from the bureau. Which didn’t prevent him from driving way above the limits. Not that he cared this time. 

Even if Aaron had prepared his speech in the car to appear calm, he lost his words right when he made his first step in the hospital. Being there was scary. Hopefully, when he arrived, the first person he saw was JJ. He rushed to her, almost scaring her from the way he grabbed her arm.

“Where is she? How is she? And the baby?” 

“Slow down, breathe for a second,” she replied, putting a hand on top of his to try and reassure him. “She is fine. And the baby too.”

The seven words that he needed to hear the most.

“I was supposed to bring her home, but she’ll be happy to have you.” JJ added with a sweet smile. If someone could understand Aaron’s position here, it was her.

Once she indicated to him the room you were staying in and he introduced himself to the nurse, Aaron rushed to meet you.

He was relieved to see you, for real. Sitting on the bed with your eyes closed. He took a second to look at you. Aaron hated that feeling in his stomach. He didn’t realize that until now, there was a quiet thought in his head saying that maybe he wouldn’t see you again. 

But you were there, looking better than he imagined you would. 

And when you opened your eyes and saw the man you love in front of you, you lit up the whole room with your eyes. “Aaron, you’re here!”

“Of course, I am,” he sighed, with a tired smile. He finally walked up to you and accepted the arms you were opening for him. It’s been a long time since a hug had felt this good for him. He let it go for a few seconds, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you close to him like that. He imagined you were home, in your bed, on a Sunday morning. Not at the hospital. 

Then everything hit him back. You, being sick and pregnant. Him, not being here for you.

Aaron kissed your forehead before cupping your face with his hands. “What happened?”

“The doctor said it wasn’t serious. Sometimes you get cramped and sick during the second semester. Basically, the baby is telling me to relax and stop overworking.” You replied with a soft laugh that wasn’t effective enough to stop him from frowning. “Love, we are both fine.”

“But I wasn’t there.” 

It hurt you how his voice sounded so sad. 

You heard Aaron speaking when he was physically hurt. And you already hated the way he would contain the pain by gritting his teeth, making his voice sound deeper and heavier. You always thought he was blaming himself for not being careful enough, which explained the tone.

But this time it was different. Aaron sounded like he hated himself for what he thought was a disappointment for you. But for him, mostly. His voice was broken, almost unintelligible. Like he didn’t want to be heard. And deep down, even if it was a part of his life you’d barely ever talked about, you knew where this was coming from.

"Aaron," you said softly, asking him to focus on you and not his pain. "I'm good. We're good.”

When he finally looked up to you, you met his red eyes. “These moments, they’ll happen again, you know.” 

He let out a sad sigh. “That’s not what I want.”

“I know, but you can’t blame yourself for that. This is your job. And we all accept it,” you said. You took one of his hands to put on your rounded belly. “She does too.”

Aaron opened his mouth to reply and argue on how this wasn’t the family dynamic he wanted for his second child. Not again. 

But no sound left his mouth. Which made you smile. This was exactly the reaction you expected from your so serious and composed boyfriend.

“She?” he finally replied, this time the glow in his eyes being replaced by happiness and surprise.

“The doctor did an ultrasound to make sure everything was alright. And this little princess inside finally decided to stop the mystery around herself.” You explained, but it would be a miracle if Aaron even heard you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction: his mouth open, his eyes going from yours to your belly like he was trying to comprehend what you said. “We’re having a baby girl, Aaron.” This time, you couldn’t contain your own tears.

This was all Aaron needed to put all his stress behind. He couldn’t think about his job and everything that came with it when now he knew that in a few months, he would hold in his arms the miracle he couldn’t wish for anymore. A daughter that will be the result of the love he had for you. A daughter that he will love as much as he loves you. As much as he loves Jack.

Even if he still couldn’t speak, you could tell he was as excited as you by the situation. But there was still one thing that was waiting to be clarified.

“And wanna know the best part?” you asked, slowly caressing your cheek. “She’ll be the biggest daddy’s girl and will always love you. When you’re home, at work, or away. You’ll hold a special place in her heart, forever, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. But Aaron knew that he was fighting alone to find the perfect balance between both. 

He had you. And a perfect family to make sure he was a great man and a great father.

[rebelspykatie]

The Gift That Keeps on Giving - Part 1

AO3

Steve’s always been generous with gifts. Growing up, he had access to money that allowed him to dote upon his friends and loved ones. His ex hated it, said he was flaunting his money, but Steve just liked showing people he cared. It wasn’t about the price of the gift, it was about how he listened and remembered their interests. It just benefited him that he never had to worry about the cost. 

He’s never hesitated to follow through on his gut instinct before, whether something will be too extravagant for the receiving party. Even when he got Jonathan that fancy new camera he wouldn’t shut up about, or Nancy that vacation to Singapore for Christmas after two years together. Even when it ended in breakups both times. He still looks back and remembers the appreciative smiles on their faces when they realized he was listening. He may not have been the right person for either of them, but he was still a good boyfriend. 

There’s no way he’s going to let this year be the first year he lets someone down. His current partner is a little eccentric. Steve was going for something different, he never really intended to find a local metalhead that was into his preppy, jock looks, but it’s been nice having so little in common. Every day he learns about something new, some new band or movie that even Robin hasn’t heard of before. It keeps things interesting. 

So when this hot new metal band Corroded Coffin comes onto the scene, it’s all Steve hears about for months. The album is on a constant loop in the car. The lead singer’s face is practically burned into Steve’s eyelids from how many times they’ve watched the music video for their radio single. He knows when they announce their first tour, he absolutely has to get tickets to the show. What are the odds that they’re playing in Indy and it’s right before Christmas? It’s perfect timing for Steve to make this the best Christmas ever for his boyfriend, who doesn’t have the extra cash lying around for an expense like that. 

Except, when he went to buy tickets, he got the date wrong. He should’ve set an alarm, instead of relying on his shitty memory. The presale happened the day prior, and tickets are gone. Resell prices for tickets are astronomical, something even Steve isn’t willing to fork out for what might not even be a legitimate ticket. He’s been burned before with scalpers, he won’t make that mistake again. He starts scouring the internet, trying to find another source for the tickets. Tries calling the venue to see if there are any available if he physically goes down to the ticket office. Nothing works. 

As the date creeps closer, Steve gets desperate. Robin throws out the idea of messaging the band to see if they’re sympathetic to his story. He never expects anyone to respond when they drunkenly reach out to the band, but he wakes up groggy to a message sitting in his inbox. He stares at his phone in disbelief when he sees the message came from the official Corroded Coffin account. 

Steve doesn’t even remember what he said in the messages from the night prior. He reads back over them and cringes. A not so coherent ramble about how he couldn’t become the worst boyfriend ever at Christmas of all times. Just word vomit everywhere about how this guy might leave him if he doesn’t get the tickets. Which is absurd, because his boyfriend doesn’t even know he’s trying to do this. Maybe he’s got some insecurities from past relationships. At least he didn’t bring up Nancy. 

The reply simply reads ‘Slow down there, pretty boy.’ 

He shakes off the last vestiges of sleep and responds ‘Sorry, I was a little drunk and didn’t think anyone was going to see or respond to this.’ 

The little grey dots pop up right away. ‘You weren’t the only drunk insomniac last night.’ 

Steve huffs a laugh. ‘How crazy do you think I am?’ 

He wonders where they are right now, if it even is one of the band members answering. They probably have someone running their social media accounts. He snaps back to reality when he gets another message. ‘I don’t think it’s crazy to want to make your boyfriend happy. I wanna help.’ And that’s how it starts. 

They trade messages back and forth. He finds out it’s not an intern running their account, that they all have access to it, but only one of them enjoys it. The lead guitarist Eddie Munson is apparently the one responding to him. He sent a picture of his guitar with a hand wrapped around it painted with black nail polish. The same hand that wraps around it in their music video, decked out in a dazzling array of chunky rings. 

He’s never talked to a rock star before. Sure, he’s met famous people through his dad, but they were the boring kind of famous, senators and CEOs. Eddie talks about the tour they’re on. It sounds grueling, like their record took off faster than they expected and now they’re on this whirlwind tour that they love, but it’s daunting having people clamoring over you just a few months after anonymity. 

Before long, they’re talking every day. To the point that Steve feels like he hears more from Eddie Munson than his own boyfriend. He realizes how much of a problem it is when Robin catches him smiling at his phone and makes a joke about being in the honeymoon phase, but he’s not texting his boyfriend. He’s messaging Eddie. How did he get so wrapped up in all of this that he didn’t even see how distant they’ve been? He looks back at the messages with his boyfriend and they haven’t text each other in five days. He can’t even count how many messages have been shared between his account and Corroded Coffin’s since then. There’s too many to go back and tally up. 

Is it emotional cheating if he didn’t realize it was happening? One day he barely knew who Eddie was, the next he was grinning in the car when his music came on, thinking of the silly thing they were messaging about last night. Their messages took a turn from him asking for something to getting to know everything about Eddie Munson’s life as a guy raised in a small town and catapulted into the spotlight, and Steve’s attempts to claw his way out of his father’s grasp and build a family he could call his own. The guilt slaps him in the face. He’s been messaging with one of his boyfriend’s favorite band members, and he has no idea. Telling Eddie Munson things he’s never admitted to his boyfriend. Laid all his fears, hopes, and dreams out there to the wrong person. 

He’s lost sight of what he even started this for, to win over his boyfriend and give him the best Christmas ever. It feels weird to bring it up now in conversation with Eddie. To ask for something like a desperate fan and remind Eddie that he’s a commodity to the public feels cheap. This all spiraled out of control so fast. There’s only one thing he can do. End it. Before this gets worse and he falls stupidly in love with some rockstar he’s never seen in person.

Part 2

[alwaysthegeorges]

between the heartbeats - ilona maher x alan bersten (2/?)

Summary - after a heart-shattering breakup, Ilona Maher was left to pick up what was left of her heart. just as she begins to feel like herself again, she runs into a ghost of her past at a party. angst ensues. (and maybe some smut. eventually.)

Warnings - just angst and swearing in this one

Word Count - 1.9k

a/n - smut to come in the next chapter?? lmk if you have any more ideas! i love writing this pair.

If there was one thing the DWTS execs knew how to do, it was throw a party. The room bustled with laughter and movement, glittering lights bouncing off sequined dresses and polished floors. The finale party was always a spectacle, something to be jealous of, but this year they’d outdone themselves. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, and the walls draped in shimmering gold and silver fabric. A dj played upbeat tunes in one corner, their rhythm perfectly matched to the energy of the dancers who couldn’t help but turn the floor into an impromptu stage. Contestants, pros, and guests mingled effortlessly, their shared excitement creating a contagious buzz that spread throughout the venue.

“Did you see that final routine?” a voice near her chimed, cutting through the hum of conversation. It belonged to one of the contestants’ parents, gushing in awe of their child’s performance. “I swear, they’ve never danced like that before! The chemistry, the energy—it was like they were floating!” 

Across the room, a cluster of contestants erupted in laughter, clearly reliving their own moments of triumph and near disasters. It was the kind of night where memories were etched into the fabric of the show’s legacy. For every dazzling smile and heartfelt hug, the unspoken truth remained—this wasn’t just a celebration; it was a farewell to the season’s shared journey.

Something about the night felt final, finite. Ilona couldn’t place her finger on it, but she moved through the crowds and conversed excitedly ever the same. The first thing she did when she arrived at the venue was congratulate the new Mirrorball Champions, gushing to them about their incredible footwork and dedication throughout the season. The celebrity was all smiles, and Rylee thanked Ilona for her kindness, noting how wonderful it was to see her after such a long time. The two women caught up eagerly, wanting to be filled in on all the latest gossip in each others’ lives. They talked so animatedly that they didn’t even realize when Rylee’s partner wandered off to continue mingling. 

The air of the venue was filled with a crackling exuberance, an energy Ilona longed for so badly in her day-to-day. During her time in Bristol, she had tried out new clubs and bars with her teammates, but none of them seemed to capture the sparking magic of nights like this. She was surrounded by so many supportive and energetic friends, most of whom she considered family now, and it made her heart sing in a way sweaty dance clubs never could. 

Ilona easily disappeared into the crowd, searching for someone to chat up from her past season. Her body seemed to be tugged in the direction of the snack table, but she definitely wasn’t complaining. As she wandered over and plucked a few pieces of fruit from the fruit bowl, she turned to survey the room, wondering if she could catch any glimpses of familiar faces. The party was a kaleidoscope of sparkling dresses, sharp suits, and lively expressions, making it easy to get lost in the sheer vibrancy of it all. Still, Ilona’s practiced eye scanned the room with ease, searching for anyone she’d shared a rehearsal room, stage, or laugh with during her season. 

She popped a grape into her mouth, savoring its sweetness as she leaned casually against the edge of the table. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Brooks and Gleb, viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. Go figure , she thought to herself.

“They really know how to party,” a husky voice beside her chortled, sending her body into shock. She would recognize that voice anywhere. Somehow, as her brain wandered, he had managed to sneak up on her.

Ilona hesitantly turned her eyes to him, catching his gaze. He wore a soft smile as he peered at her, and all of a sudden, she felt very exposed. She felt a blush creep on her face, and hoped to god he wouldn’t notice. Something about the way his eyes sparkled at her ignited a familiar feeling in her, one she couldn’t quite explain.

“Alan,” was all she managed to choke out, suddenly feeling very restricted in her tight blue dress.

“You look better than ever, Lo,” he said with a grin, his eyes raking over her form slowly. Her body felt like it was lighting on fire, every nerve tingling under the intensity of his stare. She swallowed, feeling the weight of his attention in a way that made her heart race. 

“You don’t look too bad, yourself,” she forced out, head reeling at the fact he was even here , right next to her. “You guys did a great job tonight,” she continued, not quite ready to let the conversation shift quite yet.

“Thanks. I’m glad you’re here.”

A silence fell over them, thick and heavy. Neither felt sure how to continue on like this, each uncertain of the next words, the next move. The air seemed to hum with unvoiced tension, leaving them both suspended in a moment they didn’t quite know how to navigate.

“I’m surprised you even noticed I was here,” she accidentally blurted out. Damnit, Lo. That was an inside thought.

Alan paused for a moment, eyes snapping to her.

“How the hell could I not when you look like that??”

Her eyes cast to the floor, not knowing where to look. If she allowed herself to look at him, she knew exactly what she’d find, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. Her stomach churned at the familiar compliment, flashing her brain back to memories of when they danced. 

“You seem plenty occupied by your new partner, is all,” she uttered, short and curt. Her tone laced with ice, unintentional, but got her point across all the same. “I have eyes. I can see the way she looks at you."

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” Alan asked, trying to keep his tone light and joking. Still, she could feel the weight of his question.

“No, I just think you could do better than that.” She let her gaze roam around the room again, needing to look anywhere but him. If she saw him staring at his new partner, eyes full of the love he once had for her, she feared she might implode. So much for this being her night.

“Ilona,” Alan said, his tone laced with sadness. His voice remained soft, but she could tell he was carrying the weight of all the unspoken emotions between them. “It’s not like that.”

She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her head, begging her to look at him. Her heart wouldn’t allow it.

Ilona took a deep breath, her lungs filling with the woody musk of his cologne. Something in her chest tugged at the familiar scent, and she let her eyes flutter closed. She took it in slowly, knowing that this is as close as she’ll get to how it used to be. How they used to be. 

A crash sounded to their left, efficiently snapping Ilona out of her daydreaming. The pair’s heads snapped in the direction, worry painted on their features. Alan looked back at Ilona, eyes finally meeting again, and she was suddenly hit with the overwhelming feeling to run. Panic began to rise in her chest at the tenderness of his expression, so she quickly gathered her things and began leaving. Alan caught her arm right as she turned to flee, his face posing a clear question.

“I shouldn’t have come. It’s not fair on either of us. I’m sorry.”

With that, she rushed from the venue, retreating as quickly as possible before anyone could see her tears fall.

Back at her apartment, Ilona finally let herself fall apart. She had done so well these past few months, pushing through the pain of everything that had happened with Alan. As much as she wanted to reach out, to undo the silence between them, she never did. Hell, she even went on dates . Sure, they didn’t ever go anywhere, but she always chalked it up to them simply not being a match. It didn’t matter that her stomach churned every time a man placed his hand on her lower back, or that she constantly got the urge to cancel plans at the last minute, unable to shake the feeling that she wasn’t ready to move on. 

Tonight, all of it came crashing down. She let out a shaky breath through her sobs, her hands trembling as she sank into her hotel room couch. The weight of everything she'd been carrying finally was coming to the surface, not allowing itself to be ignored any longer. The image of Alan with his new partner replayed in her mind, a haunting reminder of everything she had lost. She wiped at the tear that had escaped, her mind spinning with frustration, grief, and something else she couldn’t name. The past few months had been a blur of pretending to be okay, but now, alone, she allowed herself to feel everything she had been burying for so long.

As she finally calmed down enough to sleep, Alan’s words echoed in her ears.

It’s not like that.

What the fuck does that even mean? 

The phrase swirled in her mind, a puzzle she couldn’t quite piece together. What had he meant by it? Is this how he had felt when they were together? Was it all for show to him? She’d been left hanging, the ambiguity of his statement gnawing at her as she desperately squeezed her eyes shut. With any luck, the memory would squeeze out of her brain just as easily. Yet, there it was, haunting her as she begged for silence. Why hadn’t he been clearer? Why couldn’t he just say what he meant?

She rolled over, pulling the blanket tighter around her, but sleep was a long way off. Every time she closed her eyes, the question surfaced again, sharper than before, demanding an answer she wasn’t sure would ever come.

As she tossed and turned, an idea popped in her head. Sure, it was a bad one, but that definitely didn’t stop her from eyeing her phone.

Honestly, she kind of blacked out. Before she knew it, she was on his contact, and pressed call .

“Ilona?” she heard his rasp, quiet, like he had just pulled from sleep.

“Sorry, I– were you asleep?” she asked, immediately feeling a guilty ping in her stomach. 

“No, no,” he muttered, definitely lying. “What’s up?”

“What did you mean when you said it wasn’t like that with your partner?” Blunt, but got the point across. It works.

“What did I mean?” Alan asked, sounding more confused than ever.

“Yeah. What did you mean?”

A beat. She could feel him take a deep breath on the other line.

“I meant that I don’t feel anything for her. She doesn’t make me feel the way you do.”

Now it was her turn to catch her breath.

“Oh.”

“Ilona?”

“Yeah?”

More silence. This had definitely been a bad idea.

“Will you get coffee with me tomorrow?” he asked. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear a bit of yearning in his voice.

“Alan–” she started, but he cut her off before she could continue.

“Please? For old time’s sake.”

And how could she say no to that.

She knew she should say no, knew that seeing him again would only reopen wounds she wasn’t sure she was ready to face. But something in the way he said it, the vulnerability in his tone, made it impossible for her to walk away just yet. One more coffee date.

“Okay,” she whispered, the word slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

A breath of relief seemed to escape him on the other end of the line.

---

masterlist

[ayearwithoutwater]

Eleven.

In the premiere episode of Sex and the City's second season, Carrie narrates: "After a breakup, certain streets, locations, even times of day are off-limits. The city becomes a deserted battlefield loaded with emotional landmines; you have to be very careful where you step, or you could be blown to pieces." She's a month out from her breakup with Big, who she had wanted to be the one, her one, after ten years in New York and five real relationships (one serious).

I hate to draw the parallels between her life and mine, but I suppose they draw themselves, my own private ley lines. My breakup with Henry came after ten years in New York and four real relationships (one serious), and I abjectly refused to go anywhere that I'd previously been with him.

My relationship with New York felt sullied. I'd opened up to him in the way that New Yorkers do, bringing him to all of my favorite spots and explaining to him why my preferred locales—the best shop for desserts, the best Sichuan restaurant, the best corner for people-watching, the best eatery for fried chicken, the best corner in a particular nightclub for making out—were superior to all the alternatives. After we broke up, all of these places felt tainted.

Throughout the episode, Carrie is dragged out of her stupor by her friends. She goes on a couple of dates, she meets a new guy, and she sees her ex-boyfriend in strangers everywhere…until she eventually does run into him in person. It's an accurate depiction of the social scene in New York, with vanishingly small distance between the lives of one and one's ex-partners—here, one needn't go knocking on doors looking for the devil, because he'll make an appearance regardless. The likelihood of accidentally bumping into one another is so probable that it's equally likely to mistake a stranger for someone you once knew as it is for that stranger to actually be the person you want to avoid most.

It felt deeply unfair. Although Henry had spent time in New York since his childhood, I always felt that my relationship with the city ran deeper than did his. He'd grown up being shipped between New York and Singapore, depending on where his parents lived at the time, and I'd assumed that that meant he had many more local haunts out of nostalgia, if not habit, than I did. But, he'd told me once, when I'd asked about his relationship with the city, that he didn't know it very well; he was too young back then to properly explore its depths, and he was only ever a visitor until after he graduated college and became a resident proper. In contrast, I had lived here throughout my most formative years and beyond, and I always had more of it to show him than he, someone who never left Manhattan, ever had to show me. So, I resented the taint of our breakup that seemed to corrode all of my corners of the city. It felt as though even the city itself was taking his side.

The truth is that the places themselves were still the same; I was just looking at them through grief-colored glasses. In my fragile state of mind, I desperately wanted to avoid every echo of what—or who—I'd lost. I wasn't ready to confront the ghosts of my past, reanimations of the life we had shared. I wasn't yet ready for those sad memories to transition into bittersweet nostalgia.

I saw Henry everywhere I went: Port Authority, Fiumicino Airport, rooftop networking events, apartment parties, somewhere in the crowd in a nightclub…and, like within the episode, half the time it wasn't him, but that meant that, half the time, it was. Once, upon exiting the A train on 42nd Street, I thought I saw him just a few paces ahead of me. As if I were deranged Carrie Bradshaw myself, I followed him, my heart racing all the while. I needed to know if it was him. I didn't know what I'd do if he saw me, if we were confronted with one another. I just needed to know.

Someone told me I needed to concede that, given our places within the social strata of New York, running into each other was inevitable; after all, it's his city too, they said. But, my conceit refused to concede anything to the man who'd broken my heart—much less to a man who never ventured into even Brooklyn—and I wasn't about to let him wrest my favorite city away from me, too.

My therapist asked if I'd consider that he was probably just as afraid of running into me. I didn't have a smarmy response. It was, all things considered, probably true.

At the end of that first episode, Carrie breaks things off with her new beau. The writers pull off a gentle fake-out: succumbing to her residual emotions, she calls and asks someone to meet her at "their spot" because she just can't do it anymore, she needs to talk to them. We're led to believe that it's Big she's hoping to meet; instead, it's her closest confidante, Miranda. Miranda, for her part and despite having earlier sworn off any further conversation with the girls about their men, their exes, because she hated to see Carrie so upset, because she wanted Carrie to not dwell, to move on, had also just had a run-in with an ex of her own; she softens her stance, and the two commiserate over french fries.

I came up with a plan of attack: I would retake all of my favorite parts of New York, all of which I'd known much longer than I'd ever known Henry, by begging and cajoling my friends to accompany me there so that I could create new memories. Although the mental scars were still fresh, I rationalized that they, like physical scars, could be turned over and eventually expelled from my body, from me, until nothing remained of the life I had had with him. I just needed to go outside.

I've realized recently that I can now credibly claim to have a memory associated with almost every block in Manhattan below 42nd Street. Years removed from the event, I concede that those memories do, unavoidably, include him. However, they're thankfully no longer the only ones I have. I, too, have begun to move on.

[stuckybarton]

Sucker For Pain i

SUMMARY: You were new to the team, but what everyone didn't know was you weren't so new to the God of Mischief. CHARACTERS: Loki Laufeyson x Ex!Reader [Ex to Lovers again?] WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Slight Angst and horrible self-image. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,956 CHAPTERS: [1/3] A/N; Life happened and yeah, didn’t have much time to write. Not my best work for this mini-series, but I’m fighting through for this. Hope you guys enjoy~

PART TWO | PART THREE

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"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself the first moment you were escorted into the compound by Director Nick Fury. Multiple sets of faces both new and old had come to greet you. For a moment you wouldn't even believe that this is was the new life you would find yourself to be a part of from now on.

Years in the job for SHIELD before disappearing off the grid to get as much information about HYDRA, everyone had thought you had betrayed them and you had accepted that they would think so lowly of you after all the near-deaths you had to endure on the job. Even with the mission becoming more of a death wish, you had accepted the role Nick had given you all those years ago and now you were rewarded, immensely. A spot on the Avengers as part of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

The familiar face of Nat was the first to greet you with a hug. A fiercely tight one, it had been so long since you've seen a friend. Then your eyes fell towards the rest of the team; Bucky Barnes, who you had a few close encounters with during your time with HYDRA. You had witness everything they had done to him and stood on trail to clean his name. Steve Rogers, who, with Sharon Carter, had assisted in guarding Steve while SHIELD was still under HYDRA's control. But among the familiar faces, one stood out the most.

Loki Laufeyson.

To many, the man was a snake, a God that had once brought death and destruction in New York. But to you, he was different, this was the man that you had spent your lonely nights with while under the guise of a traitor. It had once just been a physically thing between the two of you, neither wanting to know about each other's lives. You knew he was a God, a man that had wronged the world, but he had never known about you, the woman that had painted yourself as a traitor for the better of the world. The one that had been called every name on the book for the sake of making sure you did your part right.

Then it got serious between the two of you. Admission of love was told between both of your lips. But it was dangerous for you two to be together especially when you were already told by Fury that you can come back to the surface. You didn't know what side he was on, and you did not have the heart to make him choose if the time would come.

So you two parted. A month ago. The pain still throbbing you like an unattended bullet hole right through your heart. It was still so painful to look at him and not remember him crumbling on his knees begging you to stay. The first sob that escaped his lips and forever haunted your dreams. A never-ending loop in the back of your head as your demons screamed at you for breaking an already broken man.

"I for one am happy you're finally here. Another woman to add to an already Man's Man world in the compound." Nat teased glancing towards the other individuals that had come to know the new face. "With introductions out of the way, you've got a lot of explaining to do for the past few years."

You could only smile at your friend. You did have so much to explain to her, things had been murky between you and Clint, but after everything, Nat had refused to believe you would betray them, betray her, and it was finally a relief to be able to return back home, seeing the people that mean the most to you.

"Tell me about it." You muttered allowing Nat to quickly pull your away from the crowd, but it missed your eyes how he was still looking. Ice blue eyes a contract to the burning gaze he had towards you.

Forget about him. Forget about him. You were here for a new opportunity. No him. Never him.

For the next few weeks, everyone had grown to accept you in your new role as part of the Avengers. You kept up with Steve, Bucky, and Sam during their runs. Sam more than happy to finally have someone that had the same pace as him, but only for you to laugh and out run him just to get a reaction out of the high flier. Tony and Bruce had also found a kinship in you, having provided them enough information about HYDRA's experiments and location made most of their missions easier. Then there was Nat and Clint, your confidant in this new life. Every single moment that was not dedicated to a mission was spent with them; may it be movie night or a simple get together outside the compound, often times bringing Wanda and Vision along just to mess with you and call you a 5th wheel of the group.

But among number of members on the team, everyone had noticed you constantly avoided one Thor Odinson and one Loki Laufeyson. The only real time you would even dare talk to either of the brothers would be during training--other than that, you tried your best to avoid them, Loki most especially. Every single moment that would force the two of you to be in the same room, Loki had a glare while you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Everyone noticed, everyone didn't seem to worry too much. It comes with having a former-villain part of the team. They thought you would eventually get used to the God's presence just as much as they did.

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on between you and Loki?" Nat inquired avoiding your punch.

What you hated the most about sparring with Nat was her capability of multitasking. Talking and snooping about someone else's business while also kicking their ass in the process--this was the predicament you were in right in this very moment.

"Nothing is going on." You muttered landing back first on the mat after being thrown like a rag doll by Nat. Eyes looking at the ceiling, you wondered if it was a good idea to actually come clean to her about her past with the God of Mischief. "I know what he's done to New York and I think you can't blame me for taking precaution when it comes to him."

Nat now comes hovering on top of you, the narrowed eyes and gentle smirk was all you needed to know--she knew it was bullshit. But when she had stopped pushing you for more information, it was enough for you to just change the subject.

"They found Dominic?" You inquired. One of the first big missions that everyone was focusing on was one of the leading Scientist for HYDRA. With the exposure of HYDRA to the world, some of them had moved away and found themselves in much shadier company, much to everyone's radar now spiking.

Dominic Wagner was, in part, partially responsible for the Winter Soldier program in the modern era. One of the pioneers in moving the project into a much younger sets of test subjects. You lost contact with the man as soon as your got back into the surface, but it had also meant a target was on your back when they found out you were a double agent.

"He's in Russia. Wasting away all the funding for the program with parties" Nat points out. "Still a better way to spend the money that abducting kids everywhere."

You nodded, memories of files upon files for the prospects still haunted you to this day.

"When are you taking him out?" You inquired. In your time with the SHIELD, the red in both of your ledger had made you two a hot commodity if the situation present itself as shoot to kill. Neither of you would hesitate. You knew you would now, after everything, but if it means one less bad people in this earth, you would swallow your new morals.

"Fury wants him alive." She pointed out finally standing back up to her own two feet, leaving you on your back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. "I know as much as you do, we want him dead for everything he has done, but we need him alive so we can get the others."

You nodded, this was one of the few things you had to get used to as part of the team. Death was best solution in SHIELD--at least in your team, not here. As long as you were part of Steve's team, you would need to choose whether or not killing would be the best option. Hope that you weren't so blessed to be given in your time under.

"I get a first shot when we don''t have any use of him anymore." You muttered finally standing back up with Nat's help. Steps faltering at the sight of the God of Mischief, training with the likes of Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes. A weird mix up, but wasn't hard to understand why.

"Why don't you shoot your shots with him for now." Nat teased, finally making you break from staring at the plain black shirt and green sweatshort-clad Loki Laufeyson. "If we try to ignore the death count during his attack, he is sort-of your type in men." Nat wiggled her brows. quick to avoid you as you attempted to swat her in the ass, eyes now turned away from God and his training partners.

"By type, you mean psychotic with possible Daddy-issue? Then you might just be right." You snort.

"I'm offended you think of me as such, Darling"

Jerking your head to the owner of the voice, how the hell did he sneak up behind you without you noticing. You glanced at Nat in panic and like the traitor that she was, made a terrible excuse of being needed in Bruce's lab. Now being left in the man's presence, you could all but remember the last time you had been this close to the man.

Heartbreaks.

Words that you didn't mean.

Words that he didn't mean.

It still hurt you, and you were sure it hurts him just as much, if not more now, finally realizing why there had been a need for a breakup between the two of them all those weeks ago.

"Here I thought I would have someone to trust. You mortals continue to disappoint me." He hissed.

Your eyes glanced at the other training trio, noticing all three of them were in their own little world to even noticed what was going on between the two of them.

"Tell me, Darling..." He whispered, head leaning towards the shell of your ears. The familiar shiver run through your skin as just his voice. Memories of the very things his silver tongue had whispered had you flustered and breathless, more than from your earlier training with Nat. "Was it satisfying to play with a God?"

Before you could even mutter a word, his constantly gentle hand now covered your jaw, emitting a squeak from your lips and stopping you from saying a word. He was never this forceful, nor did he do anything that would hurt you. Was this the true nature of the man you had finally thought you have been the best part of you. To have loved a man that everyone was right to stay away from?

"Or is it shame finally coming to you, to be ever involved with someone like me?"

You tried to pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong--stronger than you could ever think of being.

"Or is this you taking your opportunity to move from one bed to another? Who will it be this time, Y/N? My oaf of a brother or will it be Soldier out of time? Who will you whore this time?"

And you finally snapped. With a resounding slap, all three individuals had heard your attack on the man and Loki finally releasing his hold on your jaws. A chuckle escaped his lips and only brought the first line of tears to fall from your eyes. You never wanted to believe him to be a monster, but here he was, proving her wrong.

"I am in doubt of the foundation of our relationship for the past years, Y/N. I am the God of Mischief and Lies and the only mortal I had ever truly opened to had done this to me. Lied to me for such a long time, lied about the entirety of our relationship."

"You will never understand."

"Oh no," he chuckled darkly, eyes glaring straight into your own. "I understand well enough to know, you would never love someone like me and I deserve every lie and heartache I am enduring because of everything I have ever done in my past."

Before you could defend yourself and the genuinity of your relationship with the God, he had made his excuse. Leaving you to ponder of the true damage of your breakup with Loki, and the aftermath it had now held for the both of you. He was right, you had lied, and either way, their relationship will fall apart because of those lies.

He was the God of Mischief and Lies.

Yet, he did not expect for this biggest lie to break him the most. The separation had been painful, he had always hoped for a better life with you. Then a month passed since your breakup, he sees you, it hits him like a sharp knife to the chest all over again. He experience the pain of a stab to the chest, but it would never compare to the pain of seeing you in this very compound with the truth of your life that you refused to ever open to him.

This was karma coming to haunt him it seems.

It had been well over a week now since the first time he had actually confronted you about everything. It wasn't how he planned for things to go through. He never wanted to hurt you, but he was a monster after all. A monster that his own father had told his people to avoid. A bedtime story to scare mischievous kids into submission.

He had always thought after everything he had to endure, had to do, had to escape, he could finally live a peaceful life. A life to finally start anew. A life where he could finally change for the best. A mortal woman had made him make those ideas come into reality, you had always became the reason why he would never have his redemption in life.

A bitter idea with no possible resolution.

How could he have ever believed that anyone would ever love someone like him? After everything he had ever done, he was never allowed to be loved. You had proved that somehow.

'Mr. Laufeyson, you are needed for a meeting with the team'

Breaking from his little bubble. He sighed finally returning back to reality, into the little comforts the library could give him. The week had been gruelling for him, three individual witnessed the altercation between himself and you. It had spread like wildfire, but thanking the Gods that no one was able to listen to the conversation.

He had to endure most of the questioning. In everyone's eyes, he was, after all, still under everyone's constant scrutiny. A man that no one could trust. But he refused to say a single word knowing you did the same thing. It was better to keep your mouth shut instead of letting people know exactly what had happened. Somehow that brought a smile on his face. He might not share a future with you, but might as well make the most out of making your life a living hell, as much you did it to him.

Shutting the book he was barely even reading, he placed the book back into the shelf before walking his way towards the meeting room.

He could easily teleport, but he preferred to enjoy his moments of peace without his oaf of a brother breathing down his neck or Stark constantly testing his patience with his quips. It also gave him a moment to school his features, he knew well enough about the mission to know you would also be in attendance. Be more invested in this mission than anyone else.

It was a few things he was relearning about you now that you were out in the open as everyone claims you to be. You were a free spirited being that could meld with anyone you were in the area with. He had watched you throw relentless jabs at Tony during your first few days that had the man surprisingly raise a white flag. But the most dangerous thing he had to learn was the familial relationship you had with one Natasha Romanoff and Clint Burton, two people that he kept his distance with the most.

"Professor Snape has finally graced us with his presence."

Loki has learned since joining the team to choose his battle when it comes to Tony. This was one of those moment. Finding a vacant chair besides his brother, he had taken his seat. A big mistake on his part as he finds from across the table, you sat. In between a glaring Romanoff and Barton.

Wearing a smirk, just to get on the two super spies' nerve, he turned his attention right back into the meeting. He begins formulating a few little schemes to not only get on the two's nerved, but most especially yours.

[kim-seungmine]

moonlit

title: moonlit

characters: fem!reader x lee minho (lee know) of stray kids feat. bang chan, kim seungmin, hwang hyunjin, kid!yang jeongin

genres: exes to lovers au, romance, angst, based on eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, chan’s one sided love if you squint real hard, bff!seungjin.

warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking and food, mentions of insecurity/emptiness, minho is lowkey a flirt (and smooth af), this one is WORDY, sometimes nonlinear (flashbacks marked in italics, phase 2 completely happens in the past), lots of inner conflicts, watch me repeat the same words again and again.

word count: 14k

synopsis: after a nasty breakup, you have lee minho clinically erased from your mind... only to be reminded that while memories can be erased and forgotten, feelings will always demand to be felt.  

Phase 1: Awakening

You clamp your shaking legs together, desperately trying to look like you’ve got it all together. The carton box on your lap feels heavier with each passing second as you wait for your name to be called. When the receptionist finally tells you to enter the consulting room, your head is full of him. His laugh, his voice, his touches, his smile, his empty promises, his lies, his last words…

This is why you’re doing this. You want him gone.

“Miss Y/N, please have a seat.” The doctor, Seo Changbin, motions at you to sit at the back of the room. A nurse places a tripod in front of you, setting the camera so it will capture your whole body. “Your sessions will be recorded, and we will keep all the recordings as archive. These recordings are confidential unless they’re needed for national security purposes. And, of course, if you wish to get your memories back in the future.”

Dr. Seo smiles, the calming tone in his voice doesn’t match the weight of his words. “You… you can restore the memories back?”

“I can’t,” he answers. “Patients are usually able to remember some past memories when triggered. And at least you will be reminded of why you want to do the erasure procedure in the first place. There are a lot of patients who regret doing this, and the last thing we want is to get sued because people make the wrong choices for themselves. I’m sure you have already read that part on the consent form.”

Great, you’re going to stop him from messing with your head by letting strangers literally damaging your brain.

“I won’t sue you. Let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Dr. Seo points at the camera. “Now, tell us everything, starting with who you want to erase.”

You grip your box tighter, as if to check if all the things inside still cause you pain no matter how many times you’ve seen them. You could have done this the normal way—crying, cutting your hair, even turning to God for help.

The thing is, one of these days the pain is going to swallow you up, and then you’ll be left with nothing. Nothing but an empty shell.

You should have been able to do this the normal way, but you’re too weak. Can’t you be weak for once? You can, right?

Clearing your throat, you stare at the lens. “Lee Minho.”

“Lee Minho,” you repeat. Louder. Clearer. “I’d like to erase Lee Minho.”

Chan finishes his beer in one gulp while you’re still struggling to open yours. It’s a shame, really—you drink almost every week, he drinks twice a year. He tosses the now empty can to the trashcan before opening another with ease, handing it to you. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you take a sip and watch him tear a pack of dried squids open.

“You’ll never go to those parties again,” he says. “I didn’t know my parents invited you because of that.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine. They meant well.”

He pulls his hair in frustration. “I can’t believe they said that in front of everyone! You must’ve been so shocked. I’m sorry.”

You grimace, the unwanted attention was indeed quite embarrassing. Enough to make you politely reject the next time Chan’s parents invite you to another gala. Mr. and Mrs. Bang have always been supportive of their eldest son, letting Chan started his own business instead of taking over the family business. Chan’s mother had called you a few days prior, asking you to accompany her son since it would be a good opportunity to “build connection and expand your business.”

You and Chan did exactly that, so it wasn’t like they were lying. But Chan’s parents also used the opportunity to try to convince the two of you that you’re match made in heaven.  

“Can we drop this?” You glance at your watch, stretching your limbs before rising from your seat. The traffic light turns red and you signal at your best friend to walk faster. “I keep getting flashbacks of CEO Kang’s son laughing at us.

Chan follows suit, placing his hand at the small of your back before crossing the street. You let out a relieved sigh when you reach the warm subway station. “Kang Younghyun has more embarrassing incidents than ours combined,” he scoffs. “This is nothing compared high school. No worries.”

“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asks as you train is arriving. “I should’ve brought the car instead of letting my parents drive us to the party.”

You click your tongue at him. “Then you’ll miss the last train.”

“I can take a cab home. You always fall sleep on the train it’s giving me headache!”

“Bang Chan.”

The train stops and opens its doors. “Fine,” he mumbles. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

“No promises!” you tease, stepping into the train a second before it closes. You wave at Chan until he disappears into a small dot before choosing the seat beside the door. The train is almost empty; standing near the door is a high school student listening to an online lecture and sitting across you is…. the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. He meets your eyes for a second before shifting his attention back to his phone again, leaving you slightly disappointed.

You despise socializing at parties but you want the Hottest Man Alive to talk to you? Y/N you’re so pathetic.

The sight of a bundle of name cards inside your purse is what gives you a reality check, various names and faces are popping up in your mind. Only now you feel how exhausted you are, parties and talking to a bunch of strangers have never been your thing. You take your platform heels off just as the train makes its stop, one of them almost hitting Hottest Man Alive as a result.

Apparently God has decided to make you the embarrassment icon of the day.

“I’m so sorry!” you panic, about to reach your flying heel when he stands up and picks it up. He silently places it in front of you before pulling out a card out of his pocket.

“It’s okay, just check out our café when you have time.” Hottest Man Alive slips the card into your palm, rendering you speechless with his bashful smile.

Oh, you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

You run your eyes over the black embossed letters once more, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat as you mentally convince yourself that he does want you to pay his café a visit. Your whole life has always been normal, so alarmingly calm and peaceful it makes you question your whole existence. Sometimes it feels like you’re living in someone else’s dream, foreign and temporary. Uncertain and insecure.

Last night was… weird, to say the least. You’ve never felt that attracted to someone before, not even your ex-boyfriends. In that moment, you felt unstoppable, carefree, happy… everything that wasn’t you.

Sadly, that moment didn’t last long and now you’re back to your overthinking self. What if he was just playing with you? Will he find you desperate or, God forbid, easy if you actually show up at his café? But what café owners don’t want a new customer? Besides, you’re bringing Chan, so Hottest Man Alive (or Lee Minho, according to his name card) is getting two new customers. If anything, he will be thanking you and hoping you will come again, just like any normal business owner.

“Hey,” Chan calls out to you, knocking on the car window. “We’re here, daydreamer.”

You shove the card back into your wallet, met with Chan’s confused eyes when you finally open the door. “You okay?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You look so out of it.”

Chan knows nothing about your encounter with Hottest Man Alive; he would’ve freaked out if he knew you wanted to visit a café because a random (handsome) stranger told you so. “Just thirsty. It’s so hot,” you mumble.

Eat Here Café gives off the homey atmosphere that immediately calms your nerves. You quickly scan the whole building, looking for any sign of Hottest Man Alive. You feel lighter yet bummed that he’s not there, except for some photos of him with a group of children pinned on the wall.

You choose a table near the cashier. “I’ll order. What do you want?”

Chan shrugs. “Any kind of cake.”

The puppy-like part timer greets you with a smile when you reach the counter. “Good afternoon, what would you like to order?”

“Injeolmi bingsu and Coke, please. Oh, and a vanilla cake!”

He repeats your order politely and you decide that you like the boy, taking a glance at his nametag that says Kim Seungmin. You never really pay attention to part timers before, but this one is remarkably efficient, polite, and very very cute (in a “I’d like to adopt him!” way).

You drop some cash into the tipping jar, the twinkle in Seungmin’s eyes feels so rewarding that you’re ready to put it into your “little things that made my day” on your journal later. He hands you the buzzer with a bright smile. “Please wait for your order!”

“Your stingy ass never gives such a generous tip. Did he flirt with you or something?” Chan marvels—loud enough to get Seungmin’s attention—when you return to your table. There are times when you regret being Chan’s business partner, but you realize that you’ve invested so much of your time and energy into building the company. That, and Chan is actually a dependable friend when he’s not trying to ruin your image.

Chan gets your order after the buzzer vibrates, digging into his cake right away. “Whoa this is good!” he exclaims. “How did you find this place?”

“…Instagram.”

“Do you think they hired a branding consultant already?”

You shake your head. “They post pretty regularly but I don’t think so.”

Chan’s eyes sparkle. “Do you think we should ask to meet the owner or something?”

“Hey Seungmin, iced Americano please! And remind me to pay your bonus later.”

The faintly familiar voice stops you from answering, your eyes wildly searching for the source. And there he is… the one you’ve been dreading to meet and also the one you’ve been yearning to meet. Lee Minho saunters into the café with his charming bunny smile and soft eyes, earning everyone’s attention except for Seungmin who’s still taking orders.

Seungmin only replies with a short hum, not taking his eyes off the cash register. You glance at Minho, mentally surprised by the way he doesn’t seem to be bothered with how Seungmin treats him.

“Quit staring before you start embarrassing yourself,” Chan warns you in the most boring tone. “I think he’s the owner.”

You almost spit out your drink. “I’m not staring!”

Minho exchanges some words with Seungmin before focusing his attention to all the customers. Your bingsu is melting, but you still follow his every move through your peripheral vision, not knowing whether you want him to recognize you.

“You really came!”

Chan points at himself, then at you. “Us?”

Minho shifts his gaze to Chan like he didn’t even notice the dimpled man was there whole time.

“Ah… y-yes,” you stutter. “This is very a nice café.”

One look at Chan and you know there’s no way for you to hide anymore. “He invited me!” you quip. “I mean, us.”

“Do you have anyone handling your social media accounts? Planning the digital marketing? Creating ads?” You have bombarded Minho with questions before Chan says anything, skipping the whole small talk step in “how to smoothly intrigue clients” manual.

Seungmin arrives with Minho’s iced Americano, putting the tall glass in front of him with no words before smiling at you and Chan. “Does any of you want anything else?”

“Yes, please,” Minho interrupts before you can refuse. “Please order whatever you want, it’s on the house.”

“Pulling the boss card, huh?” Chan jokes. “Then I’ll have orange juice.”

“Y/N?”

You didn’t have a chance to try the vanilla cake Chan ordered because he inhales food instead of digesting them, but the chocolate ice cream looks beyond tempting—

Minho chuckles. “How about our vanilla and chocolate ice cream?”

“Did I say that out loud?” you mumble to yourself, but proceed to thank Minho for his suggestions and tell Seungmin you’d like to have those. Minho flashes you a soft smile, almost making you melt on the spot if it weren’t for Chan’s leg kicking yours.

The conversation continues without any embarrassing incident. Chan lets you do all the talking, only adding further details when necessary while Minho asks you challenging but intriguing questions you answer passionately.

The so-called meeting ends with Minho promising to sign the contract by next week and Chan shaking your hand under the table, both confused and impressed.

“Is that why your employees are so relaxed around you? Because you just want everyone to eat and live well? I swear Seungmin didn’t even try to curse discreetly when you told him to wipe the counter for the 5th time,” you ask.

Minho laughs as the said boy exits his station, backpack slung across his shoulder. “Yes I’ll transfer your money after our guests leave. Don’t you dare remind me again!” the former yells playfully before the part timer opens his mouth. Seungmin bows to you and Chan before scowling at his boss. “You’re the one who told me to—nevermind. See you tomorrow, hyung.”

“I really like that boy,” you coo when Seungmin closes the door.

“I treat them as my friends,” Minho says. “I decided to do this because I just want to help everyone, including my employees. I don’t want Eat Here to be one of those expensive, pretentious cafes. I just want everyone to eat what they want, that’s why we have all sorts of things here. Combination of Eastern and Western, stuff like that. But this is still business, I have to do things to keep it running, right?”

You’ve met a lot of people with beautiful visions, but you’ve never met someone who wants something so simple yet complicated like Minho. It’s been quite a long time since you’re genuinely excited for a project, and now you know why Chan didn’t freak out upon knowing that you met Minho on the train.

“You guys can do whatever you want,” Minho adds, waving to a pair of part timers clocking in. “Are you going back to the office?”

Chan stretches his limbs. “Yeah,” he groans. “Gotta make sure our intern doesn’t jam the printer again.”

Your phone rings the moment Chan finishes his sentence. ”You jinxed it! Hyunjin is calling.”

“Whatever it is, wait until we’re back!” you whisper-yell at your intern.

“But noona, the printer—”

You give Hyunjin no chance to blabber about one specific printer and end the call. Minho giggles at your antiques, and you don’t have the energy to stop yourself from admiring his pretty features in the most obvious ways possible.

Chan pats your back before grabbing his phone and stands up. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

“Take these.” Minho writes your name on one of the paper bags, handing them to you with a big smile. “For everyone at your office. Thanks for reaching out to us.”

You peek inside the bag that has your name scribbled on it, not surprised to see both vanilla and chocolate ice cream inside—it’s the clear bottle that you’re curious about.

“Bye! I’ll send you the gym’s contact later!” Your best friend slash business partner waves at your new client slash crush from the driver’s seat. You take out the bottle, it’s filled with sikhye.

Your favorite drink, but Minho isn’t supposed to know that.

“Everyone deserves a fresh start. Don’t let anyone from your past haunt you. Start Erasure now.”

Minho mutes the television, heaving a sigh as he recounts his fateful meeting with you yesterday. The world has always been rather weird, he would say, but nothing defeats meeting his ex-girlfriend—his first love—who has no recollection of your time together. He heard from his former classmates that you sent them a message a few years ago, informing them that you would undergo the erasure procedure. According to his friends, you specifically told them to “never ever mention Lee Minho’s name or ask you about the procedure.”

You’re back in his life now, happy as ever, and the last thing Minho wants is breaking your heart all over again. He no longer owns that special spot in your heart, you owe him nothing. He left you insecure, disappointed and soulless, and now it’s his turn to be haunted by all the questions and what ifs in his mind.

His phone vibrates as soon as he flips the signage open, your name flashing on his screen. “Hey Y/N what’s up?”

“Minho I can’t multitask so please give me quick and accurate answer. I’m at the traffic light in front of Lotte now—”

“You need to turn left.”

“Okay… didn’t know my non-existent sense of direction is that obvious — damn, let me change lanes.”

Minho suppresses a chuckle. You’ve always been bad with directions.

“Turn left once more, and you’ll find us. We’re right across the first G25 store on the street.”

He steps out the café to welcome you when he spots a white Kia arriving. In contrast to his horrifying memories of teaching you to drive, you manage to parallel-park your car smoothly in 10 seconds, stopping Minho from offering to help you park your car.

“Sorry,” you grimace. “I suck at directions. Last week was the first time I went here and Chan was the one driving so I wasn’t really paying attention… and before you ask, no I can’t use GPS while driving. I barely managed to dial your number.”

Minho lifts his hands. “I was just going to say hello.”

“Oh, good! People always judge me for that!”

You don’t let him respond as you point at the photos on the wall. “Tell me about them!” you request. “Our photographer Hyunjin is going to be here any minute, and we’ll give this corner a special attention. Your customers need to know this.”

Minho scratches his head bashfully, the glint of admiration in your eyes is making him a bit dizzy. It’s been a long time since you looked at him like that. “Uhh, okay. These are the kids I’m supporting, they live in Africa,” he starts. “I hope I can visit them someday, but they’ve been sending me letters, saying thank you... telling me about their days and all.”

“Wow!” you marvel. “How does it feel? To receive such lovely letters?”

“Honestly, it kinda makes me feel like a parent,” he replies. “It feels wonderful.”

Moving onto the next set of photos, his smile grows wider. “I teach these kids dancing, sometimes taekwondo. They’re all very sweet, especially the maknae, Yang Jeongin.” Minho points at a boy with contagious smile. “He can be a brat sometimes, but everyone loves him.”

“Is this an orphanage? Can I meet them?” you blurt out.

“Of course! You’ll love them to bits.”

“You have to come back with Y/N noona!”

A few weeks later, Minho took you to the orphanage. You played with the kids all day and watched him teach them dance. You thought the kids wouldn’t like you as much, but now they’re trying to persuade you to stay the night.

“Aww, of course I’ll come back. Be a good boy, and we’ll be back sooner than you thought!”

Yang Jeongin, the youngest boy in the orphanage, has done everything to make you stay. If it weren’t for your “adult responsibilities,” you would have caved in because nothing could beat his puppy eyes and hopeful smile.

“Alright, go back inside, everyone. All of you need to sleep.”

The kids grumble at Minho’s command, slowly walking back to the main hall. After making sure no one sneaks out to follow you, the two of you make a stop at a nearby park that Minho claims to be the perfect place to admire the moon.

“Okay, you’re not lying. The moon does look pretty from here.”

The man sitting beside you smirks in satisfaction. “I never stay too long but I always like spending time here. Now that I think about it, you kinda resemble the moonlight.”

The switch of the mood has you cackling. “Aren’t everything about the moon associated with werewolves and murders? You’re expecting me to fall for such a lame pickup line?”

“That’s not how I see it.” Minho disagrees. “I think you’re radiant, bright but not blinding. Take it as a compliment.”

The word radiant strikes you light a lightning, forces you to face the harsh reality that you’re doing a really good job in hiding the hollowness inside—all the lingering questions and uneasiness. You’re far from being the light Minho admires.

“Trust me, I’m not radiant whatsoever.”

Minho stiffens, observing you carefully until you feel brave enough to look at him. At first, you see pity in his eyes, but it morphs into something that feels too good to be true. You find tranquil in his gaze, so serene that you nearly let your tears fall.

He reaches for your hand, interlocking your fingers together before pulling you up from your seat. “I’ll tell you whenever you’re being the moonlight that you are,” he promises, his voice is a perfect mix between sincerity and mischief. “Prepared to get sick of me because I’ll remind you everyday.”

Just because most people often cross the line doesn’t mean that being able to exert self-control when needed is something to be proud about, but Minho has always thought of it as his positive trait.

He’s going to cross it out of the list today.

His hand is still holding yours tightly, chatting away with a lopsided smile on his face. And yours. This wasn’t what he intended to do, but life loves to play God and tests him the moment he thinks he knows what he’s doing. Giving you his name card on the train has spiraled into taking you home hand-in-hand, peppering kisses on your temple when you become too cute to handle (which is almost all the damn time) and falling in love with you all over again. What happened in the subway impulsive and dumb, but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted to see you again, he longed to talk to you.

Minho just wanted a second chance to be good to you, but will things ever be enough? How will he make things right again? Providing you free coffee and say thank you for your visit? It was a selfish wish he shouldn’t have acted upon.

“We must’ve crossed paths somehow. There’s no way that we’ve never met before!” you say, swinging your intertwined hands happily.

It’s too late. History repeats itself, but Minho’s too far gone to stop. He’s trying to feel it, the need to exert self-control—he can’t.

“I didn’t come home often,” he lies, every word feels like knife stabbing his heart. You hum in response, a yawn escaping from your mouth as both of you are nearing your unit. Minho watches you enter the door password, mouthing the numbers silently, 2 3 0 9. Your grandma’s birthday. It’s always been your password for everything—phone, laptop, even Minho’s old apartment since you were the one who set it for him. It stays with him until this very day although he no longer lives in the same apartment.

You tug at his sleeve. “Come on in.”

Your stuffs are pretty much the same, if not exactly the same as a few years ago. The only things missing were those related to him. Polaroid photos of you together, the umbrella he left at your place, the mug he…. wait.

The purple mug Minho bought for you is sitting on the kitchen counter, causing him to nearly trip over his own feet. Did you forget to get rid of it before the procedure?

“Let me go change first,” you tell him. “Feel free to grab any snack. There’s cold water and beer in the fridge.”

He can barely answer as you disappear into your room. Memories start flooding his mind, it feels as if he finally finds all the folders with your name on them that he tried so hard to bury, stashed in the deepest part of his heart.

Those memories were so painfully beautiful he has to bite his lip to prevent his tears from falling.

“Oh that’s my favorite mug!”

You’re back, dressed in the black loose T-shirt you always wear during summers. Minho’s eyes automatically dart to your left shoulder, spotting the hole on the shirt that exposes a part of your shoulder.

Another thing that hasn’t changed. Another thing that makes you the you he knew. Another thing that diminishes his self-control into nothing because you have no idea how much he loved to—

“Minho?”

You cradle this face softly, wiping the tears he didn’t know he shed. Confusion and panic reflected in your irises. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” He touches his cheek before attempting to laugh. “Something probably went into my eyes...”

“Let me see.” Before he refuses, you’ve taken a step closer, gently blowing into his eyes. “Better? Want some eye drop?”

Minho shakes his head, removing your hands from his face and plants a kiss on your forehead. Another mistake that feels so right. “I guess I’m just tired. Is it okay if we chat some other time?”

You mumble an okay, following him to the front door. When he turns the door knob, you reach for his hand. “Hey,” you murmur, slowly examining his face. Minho tries to read yours in return, sensing your hesitation. He waits for a good minute patiently, letting you form words in your head.

“What are we? These things we’ve been doing… what do they mean to you? Does this mean we’re…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, more directed to yourself than him, and Minho understands what you’re talking about. He tightens his grip on the knob, desperately begging himself to stop all of this. You don’t deserve another heartbreak when you’ve done everything to continue living.

You’re a whole new person, yet you remain the one he adored. How can you be so different yet familiar? How can you be so… dearly you?

“Minho, does this mean that we’re—”

Minho throws his arms around you, burying his head into the crook your neck before slowly trailing his lips towards the exposed part of your shoulder. You have no idea how much he loves leaving kisses there, on that particular spot. As strange as it sounds, it gives him the strength and hope he needs. Minho never told you this; you’ll never be able to imagine how happy and relieved he currently feels when he plants one, two, three, countless kisses that set his whole being on fire.

“We are,” he whispers, dropping one last kiss before pulling you even closer, enveloping your body in his embrace.

There’s only one thing in Minho’s head now: love. He can only think about loving you better than before, and in this moment nothing can stop him from doing so because whether he likes the old you or the new you doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho just loves you, and he doesn’t want to think about anything else. Not even his selfishness. And especially not your future heartbreak.

“You’re so precious, Y/N. You’re so precious to me.”

Hyunjin is the only one at the office when you arrive. He’s busy with his camera, changing its setting every now and then before capturing random things on his desk. You and Chan were on the fence about hiring him at first since you’re just a small company and he’s a student with high expectations. However, Hyunjin turns out to be the one of the most eager apprentices ever, and you’re going to bawl your eyes out when his internship ends next month.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, only earning a distracted “Huh?” as an answer.

“Hyunjin, don’t forget to go over the photoshoot details with me before we leave later, okay?”

He lifts his head a little this time. “Okay. Let me just finish trying out this new technique Seungmin taught me.”

You chuckle, snapping a photo of your intern yelling at his camera when he messes up. Sending it to Chan, you write, “We should give him a raise.”

Your phone rings a few seconds later, frowning when Chan’s urgent voice greets you. “I’m inside my car. Can we talk?”

“Whoa, relax. What happened?”

“Y/N, please. Just come out for a sec.”

No one wants to start a fight with Chan when he’s talking in that tone, so you inform Hyunjin you’re stepping out for a bit. Chan’s sedan is parked right in front of the building, his conflicted face prompts you to enter the car right away.

“You told me there’s something weird about Minho but now you’re dating him? And you’re hiding it from me?” he deadpans without waiting for you to close the door.

“I didn’t mean to hide it from you,” you murmur. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

Chan sighs in exasperation. “Why do you think you owe me an explanation?  I’m your best friend, not your mother. How is Minho different from any other guy you’ve dated that you really tried to keep it a secret from me?”

You gulp. “Things between Minho and I… it’s different. I thought I knew what liking someone felt like, but after meeting him I realized I knew nothing about it. Everything feels so overwhelmingly wonderful and insanely intense I think I may fall apart if I start talking about it.”

Your best friend gives you a knowing look, but says nothing as he stares at a random stranger walking down the street. “And I know you’re not really fond of him so I was trying to look for the perfect timing to tell you. Sorry.”

“I just want to keep you safe. This guy knows small details about you that even I didn’t know. Are you sure you never met him before?”

He pauses, taking a deep breath before adding, “Did you do that erasure procedure?”

“How am I supposed to know?” you snap. “Isn’t forgetting about the whole thing the point of the procedure?”

“You love him, don’t you?” Chan’s voice is soft this time, but his words hit you right in the gut you have to stop yourself from flinching. Hearing someone say that they love you is scary, admitting that you are in love is a hundred times scarier.

Taking your silence as a yes, Chan turns on the engine. “Look, the last thing I want is seeing you sad. It breaks me, more than you know. So please consider trying to find out the truth. How are you going to love him if you don’t trust him? How is he going to love you if he keeps you in the dark?”

You lean your head against the window, watching your best friend dialing Hyunjin’s number to tell him that both of you will be back after lunch.

“We better be quick,” Chan says. “Hyunjin’s terrified he will have to answer Mr. Song’s call again.”

“We should definitely give him a raise.”

“Oh we will,” he snickers. “If he survives Mr. Song’s call.”

“You’re cruel.”

For the first time in your life, you feel like a ruling queen inside your island instead of a trapped princess. You know every nook, every secret passage, every hidden treasure that nobody else has ever explored. Everything feels real for once, you’re in control and you want to stay here forever.

Eat Here has gained more regular customers since you and Chan started handling its social media accounts, and the face-splitting grin on Minho’s face whenever a new customer pushes the door open makes you feel proud and giddy at the same time.

You weren’t able to witness your Hottest Man Alive greeting his customers happily today, but you promised to pay him a visit at the café. It’s a few minutes past 10, meaning the café has closed for the day, so you were prepared to see everyone cleaning up. To you surprise, there’s nobody inside when you arrive.

“Minho?”

Your boyfriend waves from inside the pantry. “Coming!”

Moments later, he comes out with a tray of food. Gesturing at you to take a seat, he places a bowl of potato salad, a pot of kimchi jjigae and some side dishes. “Wait, let me get some more.”

You recall your phone conversation 2 hours ago, vaguely remembering telling Minho that you haven’t had dinner. When he serves the last batch of side dishes and a bottle of sikhye, you tease him for being so sweet.

“I’m not being sweet though?” He pulls out a chair for himself, watching you eat with content eyes. “You said you were starving, so I prepared you some food.”

You shrug, letting him pour sikhye into your glass. “I just never expected that you’re someone who…”

“… cooks?” he finishes for you. “I just did the bare minimum. Do you really want to see me being sweet?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Minho clears his throat, the way he stares at you makes you fidget in your seat. Only God knows what’s inside this man’s mind. One second he’s nonchalant and cool, then he’s Mr. Flirty and makes you all swoony.

Patting his thigh, he smiles at you. “Come here baby.”

You shake your head in fear of completely losing your sanity. “No. What are you trying to do?”

“Being the most romantic boyfriend ever. Come on.”

Minho tries his best to suppress his laugh as you finally settle yourself on his lap, not sure whether you should rest your head on his shoulder or peck his lips or marvel at how firm his thighs are... damn it Y/N, what are you? 17?

Although you’re just sitting there like a log, Minho looks unbothered and reaches for the chocolate cake. He slices it into smaller bites, taking a piece of it with the fork before telling you to open your mouth. “If you still want ice cream then we can get some on the way home.”

“I’ve had enough ice cream for today. I went to this cute ice cream parlor with Chan.”

You take the plate from him, stuffing yourself with the rest of the cake. Minho’s soft pats on your shoulder and the sweet taste of chocolate seem to flush all the initial awkwardness from your system.

Another hour passes with you curling up on Minho’s lap, the latter listening to your little speech about how grateful you are for vending machines as if you’re talking about world peace. Your back hurts and his thighs ache but the way your head nestles in the crook of his neck and the way he pecks your cheek every few minutes are enough of a spell to trap both of you in this exact moment, where lies, doubts and regrets cease to exist.

You wake up with a jolt, reaching for your water bottle on the bedside table. It’s surreal for a dream to feel that real—it almost felt like a memory, something distant but present nonetheless. You’re sure that was the younger Minho you saw in the dream instead of the one you know, and before you come to a realization that it’s currently 2AM, you’re already dialing his number.

He picks up on the fifth ring. “Hmmm my moonlight, missed me?”

His sleepy voice causes you to blush, definitely not seeing that coming. “Nothing.” You wince at your parched voice. “I just had a dream.”

Minho lets out a low laugh, you can hear him sitting up on his bed. “About me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Tell me about it.”

You sink into your bed, heaving a sigh you forget to hide. “It’s complicated.”

“Was it a bad dream?” Minho’s voice is firm but oh so calming that you start recounting every detail you can remember. He listens to you attentively, humming once in a while, and your muscles are all relaxed now. Minho is here, listening to your bullshit in the wee hours of the morning. Minho is here, calling you his moonlight with the most caring tone ever.

“I miss you,” he declares the moment you finish talking. “Can I come over?”

“All of sudden? Minho, it’s 2AM.” You glance at the clock. “Wait, it’s 2:18 now.”

“Then I’ll be there at 3AM.”

“But—”

He hangs up, and you just sit there until Minho enters your room at 3AM sharp, taking in your dumfounded state before plopping himself onto the bed and pulling you close. “I’m here,” he sweetly says and you can only nod, eyes boring into his as he runs his thumbs along your cheekbones. “I like you, exactly the way you like me. I like you more.”

You shake your head, burying your head in the crook of his neck to hide your red cheeks. “It was just a dream,” he adds, enunciating each word like a mantra. Closing your eyes, you repeat his words again and again inside your head, traces of pain from the dream still crawling up your skin as Minho’s sweet praises lull you to sleep.

“I’m sorry but that’s classified information. We cannot mention anything about our patients.”

“But she did the procedure because of me! I’m the one she erased!”

“That only gives us more reasons to forbid you from obtaining any information. It’s our policy to protect our patients, especially after the procedure is done.”

Minho wonders how this sullen kid managed to land the job, but bites his tongue before he really gets kicked out. He takes one deep breath before pleading at so-called receptionist (his name is Kim Seungmin but he could care less) once again. “May I at least know whether she was in so much pain?”

Seungmin fixes his glasses. “People her age mostly spend their money on traveling or whatever cool things they want to do, but she chose to have her memories manipulated so she wouldn’t have to remember you. I think that’s enough of an explanation.”

It’s no big deal, Minho tells himself. It’s normal for people to have the Erasure procedure thesedays. In fact, it’s become so normal that no one bothers to talk about it anymore. Erasure is simply another way to move on, just like Love Alarm is another way to detect love. If you decided that your memories together weren’t precious enough to keep in your heart, so be it. If he hurt you that much but you chose to erase him instead of confronting him, then it’s your loss.

Exactly. Was he that bad? Did he hurt you that much?

“Excuse me, Sir?” Seungmin is already standing by the door. “I think it’s better for you to leave.”

“Alright.” Minho lifts his hands in defeat, starting to feel bad for the poor boy who’s just trying to keep his job. “Hang in there, kid.”

“Congratulations, you just earned a VIP pass to Hell.”

Eat Here is doing well, the kids he’s supporting are starting school soon and he finally gets to return the feelings of the girl he loves the most but yes, Seungmin is right. The gates of Hell are open for Minho.

“Right,” he scoffs. “As if you didn’t greet people with a smile and convinced them that erasure was the best solution for all their problems.”

Seungmin grits his teeth; talks about Dr. Seo Changbin’s Erasure Centre are never easy for both of them. For Seungmin, it reminds him of all the pain, rage and guilt he thought he was used to seeing. For Minho, it reminds him of his selfishness and failure to make you happy.

“The erasure did help a lot of people though,” the puppy-eyed boy trails off. “It’s been years yet I’m still torn between wanting the procedure to perish and thanking it for saving lives.”

“Maybe it does save people. But then there’s Y/N.”

“And you,” Seungmin adds.

Minho chuckles. “And you.”

“Are you just gonna wait until she realizes that those dreams actually happened?”

A long silence looms over them until Seungmin slides a clear CD case along the counter. “I guess it’s time to reveal how I risked my life for you the day I quit my job there.”

A label with your name is plastered on it along with the logo of the centre. It’s the answer to all his questions when he first met Seungmin. The sole proof that everything between the two of you happened.

“I can get sued anytime,” the part-timer warns jokingly. “So use it well, and don’t cry. She said some hurtful things, but you deserved it anyways.”

“Do you think it could last another hour?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo and tells the models to get a 5-minute break. “Do you want an honest answer or an intern-can-make-anything-happen answer?” he whispers at you while checking his shots.

You’re currently at a photoshoot in Gyeongju with a client you desperately need to impress, but your clumsiness just had to choose today to get in action. Chan was almost furious when you told him you left all the cameras’ charging cables at Minho’s apartment.

“So we’re fucked up,” you conclude. “How many outfits are left?”

“Including this one… three.”

“We’re so fucked up,” you correct yourself, approaching Chan to relay the expected bad news when a familiar car arrives at the villa. You barely hear Hyunjin muttering, “God is a male… for today…” before rushing to take the black duffel bag from Minho’s hand. He only smiles when you tell him he’s getting all the hugs and kisses later.

The photoshoot continues smoothly; allowing you, Chan and Hyunjin actually breathe after 5 hours trying to make the cameras’ batteries last as long as possible.

“I’m so sorry Chan,” you sigh.

He lets out a weak chuckle. “It’s fine. The problem’s solved anyways.”

“No thanks to me.”

“Thanks to you.” Chan glances at your boyfriend who’s leaning on his car, watching you from afar. “Minho brought the chargers, but you were the one who made him drive all the way here. You need to stop underestimating his feelings for you.”

You let Chan’s words sink in, eyes meeting Minho’s in the process. For a split second you forget about everything’s that’s been bugging you, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in his affection for you.

“Do you trust Minho now?”

Chan puts his hand inside his pocket, exhaling softly. “I know he’s crazy for you Y/N, I’m not dense. But does that mean he’s being honest with you?”

Hyunjin snaps one last photo that marks the end of the shoot, giving you a reason not to respond to Chan, jogging towards the models instead. “Thank you, everyone!” You bow to them. “There are some snacks left inside so please eat before you go, or you may take them home.”

You can still feel Minho’s eyes on you, following you wherever you run with the sweetest kind of fondness that makes it hard for you to question him. He’s like a prince who comes from another kingdom after crossing the long bridge and fighting in the wild forest. He stands there in front of your castle, waiting for you to deem him worthy of your love, of you.

How do you say no to that?

But how do you know if he sees you the way you feel he does?

After that night, you’ve had other dreams—the ones you never told him—each dream etched itself into your mind, filling in the empty spaces slowly but surely. They become a part of you so naturally that you’re convinced you somehow lived them.

“What are you thinking about?”

Minho has just finished loading the last box of props into Chan’s car trunk, now waiting for you to break your train of thoughts with an amused smile. You barely hear Chan and Hyunjin saying goodbye before they enter the car, leaving the two of you alone.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Minho’s smile is long gone, his expression mirroring yours: confused, lost, a bit scared. “Are you okay?”

Even your 18 year-old self knew what to do then. A bit late, but she did it. The thought of embracing her as a part of you is making you nauseous, the acknowledgement of having a past you don’t remember is disturbingly scary.

“Those dreams... they were real, right? Those are my memories.”

Your stomach churns when Minho nods, surprisingly calmer than you expected. He pulls out a CD out of his bag, carefully slipping it into your hand. The thin plastic feels heavy in your hold, the world as you know it crumbling at the realization that this Lee Minho was the same boy who had your heart in his palm and broke it.

“I tried to picture this situation in my head every single day, but never had the courage to actually tell you. I’m so sorry Y/N. For everything, then and now.”

Lee Minho, the one who sees you as his moonlight, was also the one whose heart could never be yours.

“I’m Lee Minho. We’re both from Gimpo, and we met at high school. We were best friends, then sometime during 11th grade we started dating. You were this amazing, lovely girl who wore your heart on your sleeves, and I was the asshole who failed to realize how blessed I was to have you.”

Minho pauses to look into your eyes, the sorrow in his orbs triggers the tears you refuse to shed. “I became your boyfriend because I didn’t want to lose you,” he continues. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? Stupid and inconsiderate. All I had to do was tell you how I felt…”

"B-but why?” you sob. “Y-you l-lied to me, Minho. Again.”

“I did. Fuck. I did,” he admits. “You have every right to never ever forgive me. But Y/N, I never meant to play with your feelings. I was too late, but I loved you then. I love you now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to love anyone else even if I try.”

Phase 2: Forgotten Days

“A mug?”

Minho hums as an answer while copying your English homework in a speed of light, failing to answer your questions about why, out of all things he could buy in Japan, he decided to gift you a mug. You let out a huff when he leaves your next question hang in the air (“How did you know that I needed a new mug?”), but lets him be since the bell will ring in 15 minutes.

The purple mug is quite heavy and somehow that makes your heart flutter. Minho gave all the other classmates green tea Kit Kats and keychains, but he was willing to fit the bulky mug into his tiny suitcase for you.

You don’t know what’s going on inside his head most of the time, for all you know he could’ve bought the mug because he forgot to buy something for you and decided to grab the first thing in sight. It’s just a little gift, something you should just appreciate without thinking too much about it, but you can’t help but wonder. Sometimes you feel sorry for yourself for overanalyzing Minho’s every little gesture, trying to guess how much he likes you.

“I’m done!” Minho exclaims, returning your book before grabbing his wallet. He finally looks into your eyes, smiling at you as he ruffles your hair. “Gotta grab some snacks. You want anything? Strawberry milk? Chips?”

When he comes back with both although you told him you only wanted chips, Minho argues that he knows you’ll get hungry in the middle of lessons. Again, it shouldn’t feel so special, but he’s looking at you now, you and no one else. Lee Minho is like an enigma, but at times like this, you bask in his bright smile and everything is forgotten.

Summer is the enemy you’ve managed to beat every single year, but combine the scorching heat with excruciating cramps and you don’t stand a chance. You peek into the practice room once again, but Minho is still practicing his dance routines, his phone laid neglected at the corner of the room. The supposed-to-be 30 minutes practice turns into an hour, and you decide to just wait outside since you don’t have energy to go home on your own.

The door opens when you’re on the verge of passing out, luckily someone has caught you before you collapse on the floor. “Y/N,” Minho’s voice forces you to open your eyes. “What happened?”

“… cramps…”

He lifts you and dashes to the infirmary without saying anything else, yelling at some other students to “fucking move!” while trying not to trip over his undone shoelaces. You try to tell him that you’re alright, just a little tired from enduring the pain but he gives you no chance to talk.

Minho finally stays still after kicking the infirmary’s door to no avail. He makes no other attempt to open the door, slowly making eye contact with your drowsy eyes. You love seeing fire in Minho’s eyes, especially when he dances or plays with his friends. This is the first time Minho sees you with such intensity, but this is not the passionate flame you’ve been craving to see. This fire is destructive, painful. It breaks your heart that he’s looking at you like this, like you’re the source of all unfortunate events that happens in his life.

You feel like you’re the unfortunate event in his life, and the thought is enough to make you break free from his bruising grip, pushing the door open yourself.

“Go back to practice,” you tell him, sitting on one of the beds. “I’ll lie down for a bit then go home.”

Minho rummages through the medicine cupboard, taking a painkiller pill and fills an empty glass with warm water. “Drink this, I’ll take you home.”

“I’m fine, Minho…”

He shakes his head. “You’re sick and I’m taking you home.”

Too weak to argue, you swallow the pill and let him walk you home. Minho keeps his hand around your shoulder the whole time, not even bothering to check his ringing phone. He doesn’t talk to you either, and at this rate the silence is more concerning than your cramps.

“Can you go up on your own?” he murmurs when you reach your apartment building. “I have to go back to school, but I’ll stop by later.”

You only nod, about to wave him goodbye when he reaches for your arm. “Wait.”

Minho cups your face, pressing his lips on yours and stealing your breath away. Soon, he starts kissing you harder, but his lips still feel cold against yours and he still feels so faraway even when he’s gripping your waist like his life depends on it.

“Minho,” you manage to rasp, cradling his face to stop him from planting another kiss on your lips. He opens his eyes, staring at you with those beautiful eyes that, sadly, never really shine for you. “Your friends are waiting.”

Still panting, Minho gives you a nod before pulling away. The fire you saw in his eyes earlier has died out.

As you watch him walk away, you finally realize that you’ve been asking yourself the wrong question. It’s not about how much Minho likes you, it’s about whether he likes you at all.

If Minho could choose only one person to be with for the rest of his life, he would choose you. He enjoyed watching movies with you, he loved sending his silly selfies to you, he always wanted to end a tiring day by talking to you all night long.

He can still do that, you’re still his friend. The only difference is that he can hug and kiss you and tell other people that he’s yours. Minho doesn’t know why he lets the words “boyfriend and girlfriend” change the dynamics between the two of you, but it’s too late to undo everything.

“Can we just be friends again?” he repeats the question in his head over and over, yet he can never voice it out. The look in your eyes will be too devastating for him to bear, and he will you lose you forever.

“I’m outside,” he tells you over the phone, trying not to flinch at your excited “Oh!” 

A few minutes later, you step out of the elevator, walking towards him with big steps.

“Feeling better?” he asks, noting the way your eyes light up at the question.

“Hmm. I took a short nap and it’s gone.”

Minho sighs. “Don’t wait for me next time. If I take too long, you can just go home. I’m sorry that I let you wait around like that.”

The last sentence causes you to lower your gaze, seemingly self-conscious with the fact that he forgot you were waiting for him. “Bought you some ice cream,” Minho says, trying to distract you from your thoughts. “Chocolate, vanilla, mint choco, it’s all there.”

“As an apology?” you half-tease, the tinge of sadness in your voice causes Minho’s heart to clench a little.

He quickly pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. “Yes and no,” he murmurs into your hair. Part of him is relieved when you don’t question his answer, only humming against his chest before wrapping your arms around him. It’s so easy to make you happy and it angers him. You’re too kind. Too patient. Too loyal. You’re too in love with him, and it hurts not being able to feel the same.

But as the warmth of your body starts to comfort his senses, Minho realizes this is where he wants to be. He wants to be with you, no matter what the labels are. “If you miss the last bus you’re gonna have to walk all the way home,” you remind him, voice muffled since neither of you wants to let go.

“One more minute,” he replies, fingers playing with the hole on your shirt. He places one feathery kiss there, a silent promise that he’s going to try his best loving you. The one promise that could have made you stay, but it remained unsaid until the day you left him.

“Surprise!”

Minho lets out a yelp, coughing up confetti that you pop right in front of face. His parents, standing a few steps behind you, are giggling at their son’s reaction. “I thought you had to go somewhere with your mom!” he exclaims, the surprise in his eyes is now replaced by confusion and… annoyance?

You quietly step aside, letting him shake off the confetti as you’re trying to find your voice. Minho’s parents don’t seem to notice the tension, laughing and explaining that they invited you over for the family birthday dinner.

His mother ushers both of you to the dining room where the feast awaits. “After all this time you still haven’t introduced Y/N to Soonie!” she protests jokingly while the said cat is purring at you. Coming over to Minho’s house without his knowledge sounded like a terrible idea right from the start, but now you really wish you had turned the offer down. The birthday boy only pats you on the back before telling you to sit down, and you spend the rest of the dinner conversing without ever looking at each other in the eyes. That’s no surprise, what surprises you is the fact that you don’t even bother trying to get him look at you.

After 2 years, you’re finally tired of waiting for Minho to love you.

“Soonie doesn’t usually like strangers,” Minho says as you’re walking to the bus stop. “But he really likes you.”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like me. Do you like me?”

Minho chuckles. “What kind of question is that?”

Words are bubbling inside your head, all emotions threatening to spill out you have to literally swallow them down. It feels like the world has come to a stop—the realization that your world has been revolving around Minho all this time makes you feel queasy.

“Y/N?”

You want to explode. You wish you can explode. There’s nothing you want more than taking out every piece of your broken heart, count all of them and show him how much you’ve been hurting. You thought your love was enough for both of you, but the bigger your love grew, the farther the distance between the two of you became.

Minho keeps his gaze on you as you’re mustering up courage to ask the most heartbreaking question. “Why?” you quiver. “Why do you pretend that you like me? Why do you bother doing that for 2 years?”

“I-I like you. So much,” he stutters. “Just not in the same way you like me…”

Blinking your tears away, you return his tormented gaze. “Then why did you let me like you alone? Every fucking day you let me wonder how much you like me, if I mean anything to you… I wait for you, convincing myself that you must’ve liked me if you chose to be my boyfriend. But it’s just a game to you, isn’t it?”

Lee Minho has always had his own way to love. You’ve seen him showering those around him with love in ways that seem so ordinary that people often take it for granted. But you see and feel everything, including hints that your feelings have always been one sided. You bury all those hints, telling yourself that he only needs time.

That time never comes, and you have run out of lies and excuses and hope to cover up for both of you.

Phase 3: Chasing Moonlight

The Queen lived under a spell all this time, believing that the foreign kingdom was her whole world while she didn’t even have a home to begin with.

But the ruins of her castle—the only thing that’s left of the kingdom she tried to understand her whole life—will become one. She’s going to build herself a new kingdom, one that she knows by heart, and call it home.

“Noona!!! I’m going home!!! Don’t stay there too long!!! You’ll get sick!!!”

You tear your gaze from the cloudy sky as Hyunjin shouts at you from the ground. You dismiss him with a little wave, forcing a small smile so that the boy will leave instead of going back to the rooftop.

“He’s right,” Chan adds. “You’ve been here for hours.”

After showing up at work with puffy eyes and hoarse voice, Chan attempted to send you home, but you insisted to complete some of your tasks before breaking down during lunch after Hyunjin accidentally revealed that he would meet Seungmin at Eat Here.

So here you are, finally sated after crying all the tears you had left at the rooftop during the remaining working hours.

“I’m fine,” you croak, cringing at your own voice. “You can leave.”

“And let you stay here until you’re all stiff and frozen?”

“Just let me be pathetic for one more day.”

He furrows his brows. “You’re not being pathetic. After what he’s done to you, weeping is the least you should do.”

You let out your first laugh of the day. “I surely wept.”

Looking incredibly relieved that you haven’t lost the ability to feel other emotions than sadness, Chan continues, “Wanna talk about it?”

“Do you know what hurts the most?”

He takes the longest time to think, but shakes his head at the end.

“The fact that I’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’s supposed to be a good thing, but go on.”

“Should I give him one last chance? Or should I just hate him until I die? What’s the right thing to do? What should I do to heal? What should he do to heal? All these questions are driving me insane.”

Those questions are the easiest to answer, so you expect Chan to sigh and tell you to snap out of it, but he just smiles at you. “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?”

“Have you tried answering your own questions? What you want to do is what you’re supposed to do. It’s easy, my dear friend.”

“I want to…”

Your mind wanders to last night, recalling that agony on Minho’s face that mirrors your own. A small part of you wants him to suffer for the rest of his life, consumed by guilt and the sheer horror of being erased from someone else’s memories.

“I want to curse him out.”

Chan playfully smacks your head. “You didn’t do that?”

“My mind went blank, then I started crying. That wasn’t cool at all, I know,” you huff. “I should’ve told him to go to hell or something.”

“After that? What do you want to do?”

You bury your face into your palms, ignoring the teasing tone in Chan’s questions. “The last time we talked, you were Lee Minho’s #1 hater. What happened?”

“I just wanted him to be honest with you. I never hated him,” he tells you softly. “Do you?”

You may never get all of your memories back, but the ones you can remember are enough to know that being with Minho used to be a silent torture. He was a thorny rose, beautiful yet unattainable. You wanted him so much you refused to look down and see your bloody fingers. The thorns were stuck there for the longest time, eventually infecting your soul until you were too weak to heal yourself.

But he’s not that boy anymore. He’s just Minho who listens to all of your rambles and actually keeps all those details in his mind. He gives you the warmest hugs and the most sincere kisses. He stays by your side, and you will always want him to stay.

When you finally lift your head to answer Chan, he gives you his reassuring smile that never fails to make you feel better. It’s the first time he’s talking about Minho without a frown, and you hope it’s a good sign. “Like I said,” he sing-songs. “Do what you want to do.”

The sound of footsteps approaching prompts you to curl yourself into a ball, trying to make yourself as invisible as possible under the dining the table. Jeongin manages to push the heavy door open after a few tries, mumbling that you’re not going to take the “king of hide and seek” title from him. You can’t help but giggle at his determination, waiting for him to find you while he’s scanning the whole room.

“Minho hyung!”

You stay still, not wanting to fall into the 5 year-old’s tricks so easily… until you hear Minho’s voice calling the little boy’s name. “What are you guys playing? Where’s Y/N?”

“We’re playing hide and seek,” Jeongin answers, his eyes still as sharp as a hawk. “I’ve found everyone, only Y/N noona is left!”

Minho hums. “Want me to help you find her?”

You don’t hear Jeongin responding, but the next thing you see is a pair of pretty eyes staring into yours. “Found her,” Minho murmurs.

Jeongin pulls you out with a huge grin on his face. “I knew you were there! Thanks for helping me, hyung.”

Minho ruffles the boy’s head before gazing back at you. “If you’re thankful, can I borrow her for a second? We just need to talk, then she’s all yours.”

You can’t find the strength to say no, hoping Jeongin will somehow be clingy this time. “Are you guys fighting?” he asks instead.

“Do you think we’re fighting?”

Jeongin nods, his sparkly eyes turn gloomy. “If I let you talk, will you make up?”

Minho glances at you. “I don’t know… I made a huge mistake.”

“Did you make her cry?”

“Yeah,” Minho confirms, voice thick with remorse and you’re not sure how long you can pretend to be okay in front of Jeongin.“I’m a bad person, aren’t I?”

You crouch down, pinching the boy’s pout with an endearing smile. “I promise nothing bad will happen. Can we go outside now? I’m sure everyone is waiting for you.”

Still a bit sullen, he links his hand with yours and lets you lead him out, Minho trailing behind the two of you. Once you’re back at the garden, Jeongin whispers into your ear, “I’ll always be your friend, noona. I won’t hurt you.”

“Of course you won’t,” you laugh. “I’ll join you soon, okay?”

Minho turns to you as soon as Jeongin goes back to his friends, studying your expressions carefully. You want to tell him so many things, yet the only words you can produce are, “Fuck you, Lee Minho.”

You feel slightly lighter when Minho says nothing to defend himself, sitting on the grass before gesturing at you to do the same. It fuels your need to let out the pain you previously sealed inside your heart, ironically basking in his comforting presence as you do so.

“The whole time I felt like something was missing. You knew that, then went on hiding the rest of the puzzle pieces and left me there, incomplete. Just like that.”

This isn’t your first time baring your heart to Minho, the last time you did it you were left with such immeasurable pain that erasing a part of your brain—your soul—sounded like a better choice. You wait for the sadness and rage to take over your mind, but the storm never comes. You wonder what makes it different until Minho shifts to look at you in the eye.

Minho is looking at you with those pretty eyes like you’re the only one he can see. It’s not just a sweet dream you tried to dream of every night when you were 17. You’re no longer the only one who’s wearing your heart on your sleeves.

“Am I doing this because I feel guilty or because I genuinely want to be with you?” he begins. “Believe me Y/N, I spent months trying to find the answer and justify what I did, but I guess you can never exactly separate those two feelings.”

His confession is bittersweet; you know it won’t end all your personal battles. You still have to fight them, help yourself to understand why you are thinking and acting the way you are. The gaps have been filled, and now you have to be the one who define yourself.

“I thought I could just treat you better for the rest of our lives. I was sure my love would be enough to heal you. That was very stupid and selfish of me, and I’m sorry. You’re free to hate me, push me away, ruin my life… the decision is yours. But I don’t wanna hide how I feel anymore. Not from you.”

You’re still pondering his words when Jeongin comes to check on you, making sure Minho isn’t making you cry again.

“No, Jeongin, I’m fine. Look? I’m not crying!” you reassure the pouty kid.

He beams at you with his toothy smile. “Really?! Did you make up? Friends have to forgive each other!”

“I know, sweetheart,” you coo. “And yes, we made up. Friends forgive each other.”

Minho shoots you a surprised look, but you ignore him until you convince Jeongin that he can continue playing. “I don’t know whether we can go back to what we were,” you tell him, gazing at the clear sky. “I still need time to process everything, but I was afraid that I wouldn’t ever see you again. So we can be friends, if you want.”

He chuckles, eyes sparkling and hopeful. “Hi. I’m Lee Minho.”

“I’m Y/N,” you reply. “Anyways, Lee Minho my new friend, how did you know that I’m here?”

“Your scary friend Bang Chan told me you’d be here.”

“So you think Chan is scary.”

Minho does something that’s between a shrug and a shudder. “He’s always shooting daggers at me how do you not notice?!”

As you and Minho spend the rest of the day laughing and enjoying the sun, you rediscover the magic of following your heart.

It’s heavenly.

To Minho, there are only okay days and good days. Bad days almost never happen, but today is a bad day. Everything started from Eat Here’s fruit supplier sending them the wrong strawberries, then Seungmin called in sick minutes before his shift started, and now he has to deal with a couple whose order hasn’t been processed since 40 minutes ago.

“I apologize for the inconvenience. We’re processing your order now and it will be on us. Jisung, we need another 2 glasses of lemonade—”

“We need our food, not—”

Minho’s lips stretch into a thin smile, the kind of smile he hates because you once said you could sense that he was faking it. His business smile is the only that can save him now, so he ignores the fact that you’re watching the whole chaos and says, “It will be on us. You’re going to need more drinks while waiting.”

After making sure that he’s appeased the angry customers, Minho goes back to the small table at the corner where you’re waiting for him. He can no longer mask his fatigue and annoyance when you lay your eyes on him, all he wants now is to hold you in his arms and sleep everything away. He knows he can’t ask you for more, he’s already getting more than he deserves since you agreed to be friends with him again.

He’s undeniably the luckiest man in the whole galaxy, but it’s human instincts to always want more. There are days when his longing for you is too much to handle, and today is one of those days.

His train of thoughts is interrupted when a cold glass is pressed against his cheek. “Minho?”

“Huh?”

Your eyes crinkle knowingly when he focuses his eyes on you again. “I want to listen to you ranting but I really need to go now. Chan needs me back at the office.”

“Okay,” he answers rather brashly. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Minho almost pouts the way Jeongin does (that pout always gets him) whenever the two of you are going home, luckily he stops himself just in time, opting to wonder what will happen if he tells you that he wants you to stay just a minute longer instead.

You make your way to the door, but not without stopping to give him one last advice, “You better not complain that everything is annoying every 5 seconds if you want that new guy to last more than a day. He’s been looking like a lost quokka!”

Your “warning” came out a bit too loud than you expected. Of course, it reaches Han “that new guy” Jisung’s ears and Minho hopes he remembers to give the poor kid a slice of cheesecake for free after his shift ends. You flash him an apologetic smile, turning to Jisung to convince him that his boss isn’t as bad as he seems before your phone rings.

“He’s harmless, Jisung, just make him iced Americano everyday, praise his cats, and you’re good. Okay, I have to go now or I’ll be jobless in an hour! Byeee!”

Minho’s mouth has curled into a lovesick smile at your antics, waving at you until you close the door of your car. The way you naturally calm him down surprises him everytime, it’s like you’re unaware of how much power you have over him.

God, you really own every inch of his heart, don’t you?

Second chances are overrated.

People change, but once you pay attention to them a just a liiiitle more, you realize that they’re still the same. Lee Minho believes he doesn’t deserve any second chance from you, yet he finds himself seeking forgiveness the moment he looked into your eyes again. As selfish as it sounds, Minho wants your love. Nobody else’s, just yours.

He tried to fill in the empty space you left with other people, but none of them fit. It was always too much or too little, punching him right in his gut for ever thinking that what you two had was too much, that you were too much.

Seeing you fast asleep in his living room with Soonie, Doongie and Dori is another reminder that you were never too much.

You were, and still are, his everything.

Dori opens her eyes before jumping out of your arms, making you stir. Minho quietly strokes your hair to lull you back to sleep, but soon your eyes flutter open as well. “Hmmm look who’s here… the hottest man alive,” you mumble.

Minho points at himself. “Not that I’m surprised, but thank you.”

Your sleepy smile and the breathy chuckle that comes after make his stomach flip. It’s just a simple reaction, something you probably didn’t realize doing, but it feels breathtakingly intimate and loving to Minho. A small part of you that only him can see, something that will cross his mind sometime during work, making him wish time to pass quickly so he can rush back home. To you.

Damn, he promised himself not to let him picture a life with you as the love of his life, but look at his defense crumbling right in front of you because of a mere smile.

You seem to notice his dilemma, lips forming another smile. Opening your arms, you whisper, “Come here.”

The voices in his head are drowned by your request, it’s echoing inside his head like a deathly spell. You have him in your embrace nanoseconds later, curling your hands around his neck as he completely succumbs to his longing.

Minho’s head buzzes with the need to tell you that he loves you, wants you, and misses you to the point that he almost asks you to please please please please forgive him and take him back.

“Okay.”

He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, eyes flickering to yours. You chuckle at his reaction, cupping his cheeks with your warm hands. “Say that again.”

“Say… what again?”

Minho blinks up at you, tiny groans of regret escaping his lips when he realizes that he just spilled everything out loud. “I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I know this isn’t about me, but—”

“Did you mean it, though?”

“Of course I did,” Minho says. “But I want to go according to your pace.”

“If I didn’t want the same thing I wouldn’t be here, Minho.” Your voice is as sweet as honey, hypnotizing him into dropping his hopeless pretense. “I’ve built a new home that truly feels like home. It’s probably just a small house, filled with everything that makes me me. But it feels like a beautiful kingdom, and it’s not complete without you in it.”

You don’t have to say it; the way you hold his gaze with such a raw, pure sincerity and the way you asked him to be with you as if he’s the best person in the whole world are enough to let Minho know that he’s all forgiven.

Feeling a tug at his shirt, he meets your expectant eyes once again. “Are you going to continue staring at me like that until we fall asleep?”

The last traces his fear for disappointing you melts away as you start stroking his hair. “I love you,” he rasps, unconsciously leaning in until his lips brush over yours. “My precious moonlight, I’ll do my best so you won’t ever have to erase me again. I love you, Y/N, please don’t leave me.”

You barely manage to nod before Minho finally crashes his lips against yours, not giving you any chance to steal a breath as he lets his feelings overtake himself. He explores every part of your lips like a madman and you accept whatever he gives you, trying to keep up with his feverish kisses and letting him know that he doesn’t need to hold back.

The sudden urge to see you encourages him to pull away. Minho says nothing for a while, only looking into your eyes with silent adoration. Still breathless, you prop yourself up to reward him with a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, the sweet gesture causing Minho to attack you with a series of playful smooches.

“How long do you think this will last?” you ask in between kisses, giggling when Minho switches your positions, you’re now lying on top of him.

“This?”

You pinch his cheek. “I gotta admit it feels kinda nice to hear you saying please so many times.”

Minho arches an eyebrow at your cheeky remark. “Is that so? Wait until you find out how much I like hearing you beg.”

“Minho!” you exclaim, dropping your head on his chest to hide your flushed cheeks. He wraps his arms around you, ready to make you even more flustered before accidentally locking eyes with his cats. You lift your head when you feel his body stills, following his gaze.

“Oh no,” you murmur. “The kids saw that, didn’t they?”

He smiles sheepishly at each of them, somehow feeling like he’s gotten caught by his parents. “This kind of thing happens when you love someone,” he attempts to joke. “So get used to it, okay kiddos?”

You nudge his chest with your chin. “God, you’re shameless.”

“They’re cats!”

“Then why are your ears so red?!”

Minho tuts. “That’s it. We need to do this more often so they’ll get used to it.”

As he silences you with another searing kiss, Minho almost malfunctions at how addicting and comforting it is to have you as his again. It’s impossible to fathom all of his feelings for you into words, yet he still hopes you’ll feel every single one of them.

And you do, because Minho is yours. Entirely yours.

“How did you pass your driving test? Did you bribe them or something?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to answer Seungmin’s accusation, eyes glued to the road.

“Watch it,” Minho warns monotonously while you’re gripping his hand, too scared to witness the younger trying to drive. Seungmin shrieks in horror when Hyunjin hits the break almost too late. He glares at the passenger seats where you and Minho are seated. “Hyung can you just take over? Or at least switch seats with me?”

“I can’t.” He points at you. “Y/N is scared as hell and I’m not gonna let you hold her hand.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath when several other cars pass him. “Give me a break! This is my first time driving at the highway,” he argues. “And I was supposed to borrow Chan hyung’s car! Driving your car makes it even ten times scarier!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with my car?!” your boyfriend protests.

The three men continue talking over each other, causing you to roar, “SHUT UP!! Hwang Hyunjin, if you take your hands off the wheels you’re gonna die before you even scratch the car!”

Twenty painful minutes later, Hyunjin succeeds in parallel parking the car with the help of a very frustrated Seungmin. The two boys are heading to the orphanage right away, leaving you and Minho alone for your little date.

Minho opens the trunk, setting it up quickly before pulling you to sit beside him, handing you one of the toasts he packed this morning. “Whoa, the moony park is even more beautiful during the day,” you muse, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Minho agrees. “Should we come here more often at this hour?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re with me.”

Minho snorts at your cheesy answer, but you still sense his wary from the way he keeps glancing at you from time to time. “Is this about the erasure recording you found in my room yesterday? Is that why you took me here?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re still keeping it. I thought we agreed to destroy it,” he says, doing his best to conceal his uneasiness. You initially thought it was a great idea to forget it ever happened, but no, you’re not running away. You want to accept all the consequences of the decisions you have made, especially this one.

“We did, but then I realized I didn’t want to. I don’t want to erase anything anymore, Minho. I want to live life as it is. It’s a memento from the most important period of my life, and while it hurts, it’s a part of me.” You throw your arms around him, squeezing his body until he turns to you and return your hug. “It’s also a reminder that what we have is stronger than anything, don’t you think? I erased you and I still fell in love with you again. Like an idiot.”

Relief washes over you when Minho chuckles, carefree and amused. “You’re not an idiot,” he teases. “You just have an exceptional taste, and I’m way too irresistible. Let’s face it, you were already crazy for me even before I gave you my card.”

“No I wasn’t! I just thought you were attractive!”

“I am the hottest man alive.”

You sigh. “You’ll never let me live it down.”

“No,” he affirms. “Because you’re right. It’s time to stop trying to forget our past. I’ll never forget the fact that you’re calling me the hottest man alive, just like I’ll never forget how much I’ve hurt you. And how much I’ll always try to make it up to you.”

You laugh at his comparison. “I honestly can’t tell whether we’re having a serious conversation or just trolling each other.”

“It’s my talent, baby. Life is always fun with me.”

Although the park has become more crowded and your boyfriend is never big on PDA, you have no choice but giving him a kiss on his cheek. “You don’t have to do anything for me,” you whisper. “Just love me.”

“Hmm.” His lips stretch into a loving smile, the one smile reserved for your eyes only. “That I do.”

Minho isn’t a prince charming who sweeps you off your feet. He is your wandering prince and you’re his moonlight, illuminating his gloomy world. You show him that he doesn’t have to wander for the rest of his life, that he can call you home and stay.

And Minho will always be with you, showering you with the love you deserve. He’ll be the one who fight the demons for you and with you, he’ll be the one who reminds you over and over again how strong and precious you are whenever you lose faith in yourself. Together, you are moonlit. Together, you are complete.

[kitacco]

happy ending.

pairing: gn!reader, kita shinsuke (timeskip).

genre: angst, with a little fluff.

summary: what defines a happy ending?

cw: haikyuu spoilers..

wordcount: 3k.

high school relationships rarely lasted, your mother had always told you that. you were aware, everytime you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend and kissed his cheek, you wished on the stars that your relationship would be that rare one.

it wasn’t.

the memory never left your mind, even after five years. you and kita announcing your polar destinies the night of graduation, the night you thought would be the start of a beautiful love story. you don’t blame him, neither does kita blame you. what kind of love would the two of you have for each other if you tried to force your dreams on the other?

he kissed you goodbye that night, and told you he hoped to see your dreams come true.

years passed and you’d finally graduated university. with a degree and an internship under your belt, kita and the heartbreak was long forgotten. still, you hadn’t found anybody like him yet. like you’d told him once, you were living in the big city. you’d constantly tell him how much you dreamt of the big city, living and working in tokyo was a goal you fantasized with since you were at least thirteen. the idea of leaving everything behind and becoming unstoppable - because that’s what being from the city would give you, you thought; endless opportunities and a stable, extravagant life. kita only smiled, every single time. you don’t understand how could you’ve been so stupid to completely miss the intent behind his gleaming eyes, nodding to your every word, to everything you promised to accomplish. tokyo was your dream, though, and before you could realize, kita had made it clear for you to see.

even though you wished you could completely forget kita (you’d never tell him that, or acknowledge it yourself), his old classmates were a constant reminder of his existence you wished to forget. you knew some of them would follow the same crazy dream you had, still, you wished the city was big enough that you wouldn’t have to encounter them, ever. 

of course, you were unlucky enough to find yourself under atsumu’s arms, the man approaching you in a coffee shop. you’d seen him already, but you decided to ignore him because you knew exactly what he’d say. plus, wasn’t that the purpose of growing up?

“so, how’s kita?”

you don’t know if you’re glad kita didn’t tell them about your breakup, or just accept the fact those things were personal for him. either way, you’d found yourself in a situation you couldn’t avert.

“i don’t know, haven’t seen him since graduation.”

that seems to shake atsumu, stopping on his tracks as he followed you out of the store, “you guys haven’t talked to each other?”

“we broke up long ago, atsumu, but it’s fine,” you sigh, taking a sip of your coffee. “we had different ruotes that’s all.”

“yeah but, long distance could’ve worked, you guys were soulmates.”

were you? you used to think the same. guess the idea was denied by you the moment kita suggested your breakup. which brought you to the idea: did he not feel the same anymore? you decided it was way too late to reminisce on it, not wanting to open already healed wounds, and remember things you wish you hadn’t done.

atsumu knew the truth, though. kita had mentioned it once, and he happened to catch on it while the team left the school on their last reunion with the third years. kita casually wondered if you both were to go your separate ways, wouldn’t he hold you back?

atsumu knew you guys had broken up the night after, but still, he had a little hope that kita perhaps would realize that being selfish in situations like that wasn’t bad. of course, at the time atsumu didn’t understand it, because, as a kid, he thought love was stronger than anything, and what you two had could and should never be destroyed. now, a few years have passed, and when he sees you, a completely different person than you were while you were in school, atsumu understands what kita was trying to do.

“so, have you met someone new then?”

such a simple question that had so many different answers.

yes, you had tried talking with a ton of other people. at parties, college, work, anywhere. you’d often go on blind dates, with guys that would invite you on dates, double dates, anything. tagging along friends and accepting whatever random friend your friend’s partners would like to introduce you to. you could say you were still a child at heart, or maybe you were still not over your high school love. you couldn’t admit, though, being almost twenty four and you were still not over your ex? that was insane.

“not really, too busy with work,” you decide to answer, hoping atsumu changes the topic. “what about you?”

“same, the city is quite hectic, and so is work,” atsumu chuckles, probably remembering something funny. “girls are pretty hard to get around here.”

that makes you smile too, “would’ve never guessed you were having trouble in the love department, doesn’t being an athlete come with a bunch of girls that find you attractive?”

“not enough to put up with certain things, though,” atsumu’s tone is suddenly serious. “love isn’t that easy.”

yeah, you know that.

“well, since i met you after so long, it would be rude of me if i didn’t invite you to my little get together i’m having for my birthday this weekend.”

you’re taken aback. even though you and kita dated for a long time, and were very much acquainted with the volleyball team, you and atsumu never had that kind of relationship. you also thought for the longest time that atsumu disliked your personality, kita always trying to tell you he was just too intense for you. still, you smile, nodding your head. it wouldn’t hurt, right?

being completely honest, never in your head you thought could meet someone unexpected. you knew atsumu would’ve most likely kept in contact with at least half the high school team, still, being adults wasn’t all fun, and work was inevitable. everyone was busy, and probably far away - that’s what you thought. you were proved wrong when you patiently waited for the door of the apartment to open, and none other than atsumu’s twin opened the door for you, eyes widening at your sight, almost as if you shouldn’t be there.

just like atsumu, osamu asks you everything about your life that’s happened to you since you graduated school, still, avoiding the topic that you were worriedly waiting for it to be brought up. to your luck, it wasn’t.

would’ve been your luck, or the fact osamu knew exactly why he shouldn’t bring it up?

you don’t have time to think about it, as you advance inside the flat, a drink in hand and a polite smile on your face to the unknown people in the place. it wasn’t too crowded, probably only 20 people were there, not many familiar faces but ones you genuinely weren’t expecting to see, like suna, aran, osamu, and members of atsumu’s professional team you genuinely didn’t know, nor wanted to know, honestly. you were being nice, for the most part, grateful for atsumu’s invitation, whilst in your head you continued to count the time until enough hours had passed and you could say sorry, got work for tomorrow. however, there was no time for that, losing the count on your head when an extremely familiar grey haired man walked across the room.

“it’s nice to see you again.”

you take a few minutes to answer, still in shock. kita is standing next to you on the balcony. he’d seen you long ago, the moment osamu opened the door for you. still, he decided to give it a few minutes before approaching you, knowing it wouldn’t be as easy as a hello.

kita is as quiet as always, and the look on his face hasn’t changed since the last time you saw him, although you can tell he’s changed. you wished you could say he was the same guy you’d loved for the entirety of high school, but surely, kita was unreadable to you, a complete stranger.

“i-i wasn’t expecting to see you here,” you confess, finally speaking up.

he smiles, eyes still lost in the traffic under the building, the honking of cars and loud noises keeping the atmosphere thin, otherwise, it wouldn’t be easy to continue this conversation, if you could call it one yet, “me neither, i assume atsumu kept this a secret from the both of us.”

you scoff with a smile that cannot reach your eyes, because you know what atsumu wants, and what he expects from this planned, unplanned encounter he’s created. but it doesn’t work that way, and later in the night you learn that.

“how’s your life going?” you quietly ask, instantly regretting it. it’s not that you didn’t care, it’s just that it hurt to remember, suddenly that last night you saw kita playing in your head. “i should apologize—”

“don’t, we were young and you were hurt, i should’ve thought my words better.”

“no, i was wrong, for looking over your dreams,” you mutter, heart tugging. “i think i wasn’t ready to say goodbye.”

the confession is left in the air, for the both of you to repeat inside your minds. kita doesn’t respond, and you’re not sure if you want him to or not. either way, seeing kita again wasn’t going the way you’d always dreamt it would, suddenly the reality falling over your shoulders heavier than what you’d wanted, “i should go.”

“i’ll walk you home,” kita instantly says, turning around to follow you, hand almost reaching out for yours to hold.

you can hear your heart beating like when you were a kid. kita would always walk you home after school, no matter how tired or how busy he was. he always put you first, and now you’ve realized you not only took that for granted, but also started to believe kita would genuinely do anything for you. 

you never thought there would be an exception for the rule.

“it’s fine, i wouldn’t want to ruin atsumu’s birthday like that,” you chuckle, trying to ease the atmosphere.

“one last time,” kita whispers in the night, making you jolt. “let me do it one last time.”

it’s quiet, despite the busy streets, the both of you walk in silence, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. you’re unable to bring up any topic of conversation or form any question, a lump in your throat constantly growing. you’re curious too, about his life, what he’s doing, what was so important for him to give up on the two of you. it’s selfish, you don’t want to accept it but deep inside you know, and you hate yourself for having the same thoughts you did the night kita told you he wanted to stay in hyōgo to become a rice farmer. you thought it was stupid, to say the least, and you started questioning his love for you. because he'd always heard you talk about tokyo and your plans of coming to the big city as much as your wish to stay by his side even after school, so then, why’d he break up with you after telling you your paths were parting? if he genuinely loved you, wouldn’t he make an effort to prove it?

“let it go,” kita suddenly says, making you face him, confused. “i know what you’re thinking, it’s not worth it.”

“what am i thinking?”

“about that night.”

you sadly reach your place, a building as tall as atsumu’s, but surely not as spacious. the two of you stand there for a few seconds, as if waiting for the other to speak up your mind.

“you can come in, if you want,” you mutter, avoiding his eyes.

kita smiles, nodding his head. “it’d be a pleasure.”

luckily you’re a neat person, opening the door to your apartment and stepping inside it before kita to make sure there wasn’t anything out of place. you knew how observing kita was, and even though you knew he wouldn’t nag at you to be cleaner, he’d surely giggle at the fact you were still as messy as you were in high school. but you’re not, and kita confirms that as he rapidly eyes your place.

“it’s really nice.”

“yeah, i can’t complain,” you answer, making your way to the kitchen. “do you want tea?”

“water is okay,” kita answers, taking a seat in your coach.

you genuinely don’t know what the two of you are doing. sitting on the couch, separated by a gap you purposely made, which makes kita smile, because, suddenly you’re acting like you’re fifteen again, and even if you don’t believe it, kita wishes he could go back in time and enjoy those moments again. because tonight everything will go back to normal.

“kita, i really want to apologize for what i said that night,” you start again, and kita clears his throat, raising a hand for you to stop.

“don’t apologize for words you don’t regret.”

“i do! i regret everything i said!” you cry, knowing kita can still read through you, yet you’re unable to anymore. 

“you don’t have to, either, your thoughts were valid, and maybe i should’ve chosen another moment to break up with you. i ended up hurting you,“ kita looks at you, big gleaming eyes as the light of the moon illuminates his face in contrast to the faint warm light lighting up the room. “still, i don’t regret the decision i took that night, that’s why, it’d be unfair to put the blame on you.”

and like that night, your heart breaks again. kita is smiling as the words leave his mouth, as if he was proud of it. once again, the anger you felt that night rushes through you, and the scene repeats itself.

“why’d you do it?” you whisper, voice faltering. “it doesn’t make sense.”

“because i love you.”

the words don’t seem to go through your head, blinded by the hurt in your heart. “no you don’t, you never did otherwise you’d fought for us.”

“there was nothing to fight for, i wasn’t gonna stand between you and your dreams, i couldn’t bring myself to do such thing.”

“you didn’t have to!” you lament, standing up from your seat as your heart beats frantically. “we could’ve been together but you didn’t want to! you could’ve just told me you didn’t love me anymore instead of making me cry over stupid words all these years, still holding into the hope of you loving me.”

“i do love you,” kita repeats again, but he knows you’re not listening, and he knows you’re hurting too.

“we could’ve kept it long distance! we could’ve called each other at nights, texted in the day, visited each other every once in a while, kita, it’s only six hours! it’s not like i was completely off the planet, yet you decided to end it like it was nothing! you gave up before we could fight!”

“because i love you!” kita raises his voice, and you yelp, eyes finally meeting his. he approaches you gently, hands grabbing at your sides as he keeps you in place. “i love you so much i didn’t want to stop you from living your dreams.”

“that’s not fair, you don’t get to decide what was better for me.”

“i was in love enough to know i didn’t want to hurt you,” he insists, and you sigh.

“you’re not making any sense, didn’t it go through your head that maybe leaving would hurt me more?”

“it’d be only for that time, look at you now, you’re successful, living in your dream city and living your dream life, staying with me would’ve only brought you pain.”

“what pain, kita! i don’t understand what pain you’re—”

“what would’ve happened if we stayed together? traveling every once in a while, unable to see each other but from our phones, the two of us busy with two completely different lives, what would’ve happened? what kind of life would that have been? the both of us having to leave something behind to keep a love that at the end would still falter?”

“you don’t know that—”

“we’d end up hurting each other more than that night,” kita mutters, indiscreetly wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

your face was damp, drowned in tears, yet you were so distracted by kita’s words you hadn’t noticed your sobbing. kita’s heart continued to beat under your warmth, his fingers barely moving in your back for you to let it out, because he knew how much it’s been hurting you all these years - or just realizing that now.

“what now, then?” you mumble against his chest, and he looks down at you. “what are we supposed to do now?”

kita waves both of his hands at you from inside the train, that smile never leaving his face. the tears continue to fall from your eyes, and your body continues to shake, unable to quiet down your sobbing. but you’re not crying because you’re sad.

kita’s heart tugs at his chest, pointing at your wrist on the other side of the tracks. you look down, wrapping your fingers around your wrist decorated by the bracelet kita had given you the night of graduation, the one that, in your hurt, you’d thrown back at him, refusing to accept it. to your surprise, kita held onto for so long, hoping to one day give it to you again, and for you to finally keep it.

you’re not crying because you’re sad, you assure kita that.

you cry because, even though it’s still hard, you can understand why kita would do all this.

you understand why kita was willing to give up his love for you.

the train starts moving, the doors long closed, and kita sends you one last smile, eyes closing so he doesn’t have to see your tears as the last image of you, in his head, only picturing the bright eyes you made when he clasped the bracelet around your wrist.

“my biggest dream was you.”

[honeysorwell]

You rush into my life, stay a little while (I know that we can have it all)

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x fem!Reader x Sally Mckenna

Word Count: 2,7k

Summary: A concert like any other was what joined the musician Sally Mckenna with Billie Dean and her girlfriend Y/N. Even when time passes and domesticity takes over the routine of the three women, Sally still feels that everything she is living with these two women is just another welcome adventure in her life, but her perspective changes, even if silently, after an unexpected gift and she ends up remembering of words said by a fortune teller decades ago. 

[gif by @grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

[gif by @julianemilian0]

A/N: Hey @tltl​ !! I'm your Secret Santa! And I wish you the best for this holiday! I have no idea how things are in Italy, so if the situation is okay, I hope you can spend this holiday with the family you love. I promise I did my best to fulfill your wishes, and I honestly hope you like it!! Stay safe, and if you ever need a friend and feel comfortable with me, I'm here!

Warnings: I honestly believe that there is nothing that will trigger someone, but I think it's cool to warn that this is like an AU since Sally can leave the Hotel (even because she doesn't live in one) and she is absolutely NOT dead... and their relationship starts before Billie gets her television show.

Enjoy it!

When Sally’s younger self accepted a fortune teller's invitation for an experience with her, she expected nothing. Even in her teenage years, everyone in the town where she lived knew that the thing Sally wanted the most was to be a singer in the future, and even looking at the thought-provoking and incredibly flashy sign shining in shades of purple and gold, the phrase “I can tell you the greatest truth about you deeper desire”, the blonde one had some suspicious guesses about what she would hear.  

Perhaps some absurd about an authorial song that would be heard on a world scale, or about a featuring with some world-renowned artists  — just raw ideas that would momentarily cheer up her small, young, and a little pessimistic heart  — but nothing was even close to what she received.  

You will only find the love you want and wait for  — intense, lifelong, and reciprocal  — when you stop believing in its existence.  

The blonde girl in the printed coat remembers cursing the lady before leaving the place without paying her, but the fortune teller did not seem to care and did not try to stop the teenager from escaping, and perhaps that made Sally's perception of the situation even vaguer.  

She remembers thinking while she was going home with some friends, that maybe the city was too small and that was why the enigmatic woman had discovered about her recent breakup. She loved the bastard but after discovering that the boy who lived in her heart without worries was cheating her with a girl from the local religious choir, even with tears in her eyes, it was over.  

The thought made sense at the time.  

A teenager looking for love.  

But time passed and she became an adult woman looking for love.  

Sally doesn't know why she was graced by such a specific memory now, with Y/N's arms around her waist and her head lying in Billie's collarbone, who even just about to fall asleep, was still pressing her against Sally’s naked one.  

It was a particularly pleasant and absolutely surprising arrangement.  

In a particularly exhausting show, in which she also expected nothing from, Sally saw the two women in the audience. They seemed in love, always exchanging honest touches and sweet smiles, but even in all that passionate aura, the two pairs of eyes were always fixed on Sally.  

The concert contracts offered to Sally was starting to grow significantly, as much as the price she received for each performance, as well as the size of the places that hired her, so she was rarely in the same stage two weeks in a row.  

And something in her heart was happy about it.  

Her social media were doing well with likes as followers growing each day, her covers had a nice number of views on digital platforms. And, more importantly, she finally stopped performing only in depressing bars  — in addition to getting an audience that really paid attention to what comes out of her lips or the harmonies of her guitar  — and this was very good, much more than she believed she could achieve in her early teenage days, but still, something inside Sally would like to see that couple again.  

But in the following week, regardless of which bar the musician was playing in, they were there. And in the next one too. And the next one.  

Only in the fifth week did one of them bought her a drink.  

Y/N.  

Her expression was sweet and bright, and every time she flicked her eyelashes, something inside Sally lit up. She looked a little uncertain, but still took a spare napkin and, taking a pen out of her bag, started writing on the paper.  

The musician took advantage of the moment, traveling her own gaze at the pleasant woman beside her and silently wishing to use her fingers to make sure her hair is as soft as it looked, and if she smelled as good up close as it looks from a distance.  

But something was wrong, especially because Y/N was alone. And even without planning to do so, Sally's focus was distracted with everything around her, looking for the owner of the blond hair who always accompanied the one beside her, and a forced breath escaped through her nose angrily and accidentally when she noticed that her search as unsuccessful since the blonde was not there. However, when a subtle introduction of herself jumped out of Y/N's tongue, and a sweet smile was directed at her... that was enough for Sally to smile back at her as she started a pleasant conversation.  

Within minutes, when their cocktail party was almost over, Y/N made it clear what she intended by sharing a bar counter with the blonde musician, and Sally felt intoxicated. She always knew it was impossible for anyone not to feel intoxicated by a beautiful woman, especially when the words that slipped from her lips were so inviting, but that sounded like it was coming from another planet.  

“You performed very well on stage. A true artist. No one in the audience could take their eyes off you.”, Y/N's voice was happy and loud because a new musician was performing on the stage. She was trying hard not to have her sentence drowned out by his voice, and Sally could only smile and get in her game.  

"Interesting. Especially for someone who has heard me sing so many times.”, even with the dark, bluish light painting the entire surface of the entire bar, Sally was pretty sure she saw Y/N's cheeks flush.  

“Oh... So... You saw us?”  

No verbal response was made by the musician, she just shook her head positively before taking another sip of her own drink, patiently waiting for what Y/N would say next.  

“I like to hear talented people.”, The phrase escapes her lips like nothing, and how genuine her voice sounds makes Sally's shoulders a little less tense, “And Billie believes that you have a beautiful face and talented hands. I told her that we only saw you play the guitar so we couldn't jump to conclusions.”  

“I don’t know her, but I think Billie is quite a perception person, and I already like her.”, at the moment the words slip through Sally's tongue, she knew that she said something good because Y/N was smiling at her like if she was some huge and shiny toy she just won in some tough game at an amusement park.  

"Billie and I would like to get to know you better... But if you are not interested in our arrangement, just know that we will continue to watch you because... you have so much talent, not because we are stalkers."  

"Thank you... So, if Billie is also so interested as you said, why she is not here drinking with us?", Sally's voice sounded like all of her flirtations ones, answering the compliment with a sweet voice and asking the question with a dripping malicious amid curiosity, as she looked at the napkin Y / N had given her.  

Two names and two phone numbers, but the blonde one just wanted to make sure it wasn't some kind of joke.  

Some lost bet.  

Some stolen kiss and a sinful night while the partner isn't looking.  

"She's smoking outside, but believe me... Billie will be here in just a moment."  

And, as if she knew she had been mentioned, the blonde one in question appears at the front door and walks towards the two women at the counter as if she owns the place. If the look wasn't enough to show Sally that Y/N wasn't kidding, the blonde woman's lack of subtlety in sliding her right hand over Sally's shoulder before sitting next to Y/N would show Sally that yes, she was interested too.  

Billie Dean.  

With her formal clothes and her sagacious desire for a television program. She was not like Y/N, stepping on eggs and sighing deeply before starting a conversation with a stranger she found attractive. Billie was quite the opposite. She knew exactly what she wanted and, when Sally accepted the invite to go on an actual date with the couple, the musician found that everything reflected in those brown eyes was pure malice, even if she was immersed in unexpected grace.  

Unexpected.  

And almost unexpectedly, Sally fell in love with the two women.  

Unexpected loves were what ruled the life of the woman in printed clothes, but all with an expiration date. Her last love disappointment - with a tall and clear-eyed man that she forced herself for months to forget her name - was enough for the musician to stop believing in something good and permanent showing up.

So she let it go and forced herself to learn how to just take advantage of the incredible people who were going through her life for the time they here in her life.  

But since Sally first laid eyes on that couple, while her fingers echoed the melody of her songs in a bar she had long since gone to, they have not stopped to surprise her.  

Y/N and her apartment in pastel colors, which was the first place belonging to the couple that Sally met, almost 6 months ago. The apartment that nowadays was always full of Sally's grocery shopping. It happened in the second month when the three women went to the musician's house in search of a bottled sauce that was missing at Y/N's house for dinner, and when they stopped in a red traffic light, the suggestion flew between Billie Dean's lips automatically.  

"You could just take things you like to eat at Y/N's apartment... So we would make sure that nothing you like is missing."  

When the silence became thick inside the car, the medium lost the focus of her cell phone, focusing her eyes on Sally and Y/N, who was driving the car, to explain her thoughts, and so she received two heads producing affirmative nods and smiling before returning to the usual silence. After all, it is more practical for everyone to leave their groceries at the home of the person who cooked the most in the arrangement.  

Two months later, Sally simply thought that bringing any groceries back to her home when she rarely spent any time there was senseless.  

And that was new.  

Different. Amazing. And new.  

Because of all the things Sally didn't expect, the one at the top of the list was being silently presented with a new place to call home. Or rather, two new places.  

Whenever Sally imagined a place that would be like her second home, her mind automatically painted the image of a studio. Large, with a few instruments, a matte wallpaper, and shiny pictures hanging on the walls. Everything in addition to a table full of paper with letters being finished.  

But the present proved to be more and more surprising every day, mainly because the musician knows that she probably has more clothes in Billie Dean's house than in her own wardrobe. She also knows that her guitar and unfinished rhymes rest in the western part of Billie's office, next to the window.  

It was good. New. Passionate.  

But it probably has an expiration date. And for the first time, Sally believes she's okay with that.  

She doesn't know why she thinks about it, and especially at that moment where the two women who live in her mind are lying and almost asleep in her arms, but still, she does.  

Because she loves the simple and unique moments when she receives more affection and adoration than she imagined in a lifetime. Like when Y/N caress her hair absently after work while when she is laying down in her lap, looking for words that rhyme with the verses Sally writes. Or when Billie arrives tired of the recording studio, feeling that her energies are almost consumed and still gives her the most beautiful of all smiles when she readily accepts the musician's arms in a hug.  

But her bubble of memories bursts when Billie starts to move, and then Sally needs to move away and consequently move away Y/N so that the older blonde can get up. And she does, but not before giving them an explanation.  

"I forgot something, I bought it for you."  

You.  

It's a dangerous word, especially in their arrangement, which is why Sally remains silent as she watches Billie stagger towards the bag she used today. She is naked, with the marks of the dark lipstick that Sally's kisses painted on her legs, but the medium doesn't mind and absently rummages in her purse before, after just a few seconds, grabs a relatively large and thin velvet box in her hand, and goes back to the mattress.  

Y/N is still rubbing her face, trying to dissipate the sleep that had almost taken the best of her, just to try to give Billie all of her attention, and the image is lovely even amid the marks of Sally's lipstick staining her neck. But the musician continues lying down, enjoying the view of Billie's body in front of her without even moving a muscle, until the medium opens the box and the contents of it are seen.  

It is a set of jewels.  

A pair of earrings and two more pieces that Sally can't quite see what they are because she doesn't catch her eye on the box. And the musician only knows that the first ones are earrings because Billie gently moves Y/N's hair out of the way before placing the jewelry gently on her ears.  

It is beautiful, in gold and with only a small and delicate emerald.  

A part of Sally is enchanted by Y/N's sweet smile while she thanks for the gift - which she now wears proudly - with a subtle kiss, but another part of her being almost forgotten would like the two to do it privately.  

Because Sally knows that this happens - those sweet, domestic moments full of gentle kisses and loving touches that are shared only between the two woman - but since the arrangement between the three started seven months ago, the musician has never seen one of these moments and, a part of her just look away.  

But fast enough, Billie has two fingers on Sally's chin, gently lifting her face until her brown eyes focus. But this intense exchange of looks quickly comes to an end, because the medium smiles and moves away, bringing the musician's line of sight into a necklace.  

"I know you like your dark chokers, especially the one with the silver pendant that Y/N bought you." Billie's voice is sweet and smiling as she opens the necklace clasp.  

Sally remains silent almost without blinking, like a deer caught by a car's headlights while trying to cross a highway, but everything becomes softer and easier to understand when S/N takes her hand and squeezes it while Billie continues to talk.  

"So I looked for a set that had a necklace with a long, loose chain, even with a small stone because honestly, the rings with larger emerald stones were just dreadful...", at that moment the medium closed her eyes and for just one second she has a disgusted expression on her face as if the small mention of the jewels she didn’t like was something powerful enough to make her sick, but then her eyes open and her cheeks are painted a light pink before she continues, in a more whispery voice, "So you can use the necklace and your choker together."  

Sally feels her body move in automatic as she sits on the bed and lets the medium put the necklace around her neck, and then Billie's lips are on hers in the sweetest way the musician has ever felt and for a second she feels tears starting to form in her eyes. But Sally doesn't spill them, she just smiles. And then she feels Billie smiling against her lips too before the medium moves away and finally puts a delicate ring with a small emerald on her own ring finger.  

They don't say anything. There are no thank you, or questions about any motivation. Just incessant smiles as the three of them lie back between the covers in silence.  

Sally believes that in a few hours her face will be in pain from smiling too much, but the musician hardly cares, because for the first time in almost twenty years she wants to go back in time and pay that fortune teller.

[you-can-call-me-wanda]

Better Off

Pairing: Johnny Thunders x Reader

Author’s note: Let me know if this got too sappy or serious lol. I feel like it definitely did...

You never saw it coming.

The day had been perfect. You and Johnny, your boyfriend of almost eight months, had spent the whole day together. You went out for lunch at a cute little diner, then went and took a walk through Central Park. The two of you took your time strolling through the park, soaking in the nice weather. On your way back to your apartment, you had picked up some dinner to eat while watching a movie that evening.

The whole day had been spent with the man of your dreams. He was everything you could have wanted in a partner. He was kind, and witty, and loyal. He opened doors for you and held your hand anytime he could. He laughed at your jokes and amused you with his own. He made time for you in his busy life as a musician and made you feel loved. You loved him and it was clear that he loved you just as much.

Or at least you thought he did.

When the two of you had gotten home, Johnny began to act a bit strangely. Well, strange for him. Even after eight months of being with you, Johnny sometimes still got shy and nervous around you, a fact that you found absolutely adorable. But this night, Johnny was acting more nervous than usual. You had chalked it up to being tired or stressed. He had been in the studio earlier this week working on some new material. Maybe that’s what was getting to him.

“Um (Y/N),�� Johnny said, interrupting the movie.

You paused the movie and looked up at him, sitting up a little straighter.

“What’s up babe?” you asked. He seemed awful serious all of the sudden.

“Um, well, this is kind of hard to say but I think that maybe- well, I think maybe we should split up,” he said, fumbling over his words.

You stared at him waiting for him to get to the punch line of whatever joke he was playing.

Unfortunately, there was none.

He sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just think it’s for the best.”

“What? Why?” You had so many questions. You needed to talk to him about this.

“I should just leave,” he said, getting up from the couch and hurriedly making his way to the door.

“No, stop,” you said, following after him. “What do you mean we should split up? What happened?”

“(Y/N) please,” he said, eyes looking glassy as he turned around to look at you again. “Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” His words came out hoarse, like he was trying to hold back tears.

What the hell could he be getting choked up about? You were the one in the middle of getting dumped.

“I just- I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” you said a bit incredulously. “Just give me a fucking reason, Johnny!”

Despite your tone, you weren’t mad at Johnny. You were just hurt. This felt like it was coming from nowhere and you were completely lost as to why this was happening. People don’t just break up with people for no reason.

“I just don’t see it working out,” he mumbled with his head low, unable to meet your eyes.

“So, we’re really done?” you asked. Your voice was hushed now, barely above a whisper. The tears that had been forming in your eyes finally began to fall down your face.

Johnny couldn’t even agree out loud. He simply nodded his head.

Not wanting him to see you cry, you turned away from him.

“Just go,” you said, wanting the exact opposite.

You wanted him to envelope you in his arms and take it all back. You wanted him to pepper your face with kisses and apologize for everything he had just said. You wanted him to stay.

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he did as you said and made his way out through the apartment door, shutting it behind without a glance back at you or word spoken.

You fell to the floor the second the door closed, crying. You couldn’t believe what had just happened. How could you have been so stupid to think that Johnny really loved you? Clearly, you had meant nothing to him. Had you really meant nothing to him? If you had, he wouldn’t have left you, right? What were you going to do now?

You sobbed into your hands as a million questions raced through your head.

****

As it turned out, getting over Johnny was proving to be quite difficult. The first few days after the breakup were, of course, the worst. You had spent the majority of your time laying in bed with a box of tissues and eating takeout. As much as you had wanted to stop thinking about him, everything reminded you of Johnny and brought you to tears. Even when you slept, he was on your mind, filling your restless sleep with dreams of him.

Your friends were quick to pull you out of this depressive slump though. The second after you had called them and told them the news they had rushed over to your place with a bottle of booze and a trash bag to get rid of anything Johnny had left at your apartment. You stayed up for hours talking about what happened between you and him while your friends listened and tried their best to console you. They were pissed at Johnny in a way that you weren’t. Where they were more focused on him breaking your heart, you were still stuck on why. Johnny had never told you why he was ending things with you and you couldn’t stop wondering what had happened. Part of you believed that perhaps you were to blame, that you had done something to go and mess your relationship up.

For the next couple of weeks, you tried your best to move on. It was hard though. Your apartment was filled with memories of your time spent with Johnny and you were constantly reminded of him. As much as you would have liked to be angry and bitter with Johnny like your friends were, you just couldn’t feel that way towards a man who you’d loved so dearly.

It was nearly a month after the breakup that your friends finally convinced you to go out with them and have some fun.

“C’mon (Y/N), it’ll be fun,” your friend whined. “It’s been so long since you’ve gone out.”

So, you relented. It had been awhile since you’d gone out to do anything fun. Mainly your days had consisted of working, eating, and sleeping. It would be nice to get out for a change.

Your friends practically cheered when you agreed to go with them and dragged you straight to your closet to find something “more acceptable” to wear. Apparently, sweatpants and a t shirt weren’t appropriate party attire.

Once you had finished getting ready and were looking “fucking hot (Y/N), you’re going to have to ward off all the boys”, you and your friends were headed out the door and on your way to the party.

You weren’t sure whose place you were at, but you recognized a good amount of people as you took in the scene. It was dimly lit, full of people, and the music was so loud the walls were almost shaking. No doubt the cops would show up later due to a noise complaint. People were mostly lingering around, sipping a drink, and talking with the people around them.

Your eyes traveled around the room as you and your friends approached some people you knew. It was then that you spotted him. Sitting on the couch, sandwiched between to other guys, was Johnny.

One of your friends followed your gaze and spotted him as well.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N),” they said. “I didn’t know he was going to be here. We can get out of here, go home, have our own fun.”

You smiled sadly and looked away from your ex-lover and back to your friend. “It’s alright, I was bound to run into him eventually.” It was true, you and Johnny ran with the same crowd. You knew one day you’d have to face him again. “Let’s just stay. We were so excited for tonight.”

“Are you sure?” your friend asked, skeptical.

You nodded. You were done being miserable, you decided. Yeah, Johnny had broken your heart, but you needed to let that go. Tonight, you were going to have fun and forget all about the boy seated just across the room.

That was how you found yourself in the upstairs hallway, flirting with a boy you’d never met. He was cute with dark hair and dark eyes. He smelled like booze and was slightly swaying on his feet, but you weren’t too concerned about that. You had no intention of doing anything more than flirting with the young guy. Maybe you’d let him steal a drunken kiss or two, but he was mainly a distraction from Johnny who had surely spotted your presence at the party by now.

“Fuck,” the mystery boy slurred, “you’re so hot,” he commented before almost crashing into you. You caught his staggering body with your hands around his waist and moved your face to the side to avoid his attempt at kissing you.

“And you’re drunk,” you said, laughing slightly. “You need to go lay down somewhere.”

The boy nodded, his head slumped against your shoulder. You decided you’d help him into the bedroom down the hall before leaving. The party had kind of sucked anyways.

After helping the boy into the bedroom, you reentered the hallway.

“Hey,” a familiar voice sounded as you stepped out of the room.

You looked up. It was Johnny.

You forced yourself to ignore the flutter of your heart and greeted him coldly.

“Hey.”

Johnny looked nervous. His eyes darted around the hall, unable to stay trained on you for more than two seconds at a time. He fumbled with his hands as he stood there, putting them in and out of his pockets several times as if trying to figure out what to do with them.

“What do you want?” you finally asked, his silence bothering you.

He shrugged. “I just wanted to ask how you were doing is all,” he said.

You scoffed and Johnny looked surprised.

“You dumped me with no warning and no reason and now you’re gonna ask me how I’m doing?” you asked. “Go fuck yourself, Johnny.”

It seemed the anger your friends held for Johnny finally caught up to you. Johnny’s eyes were wide. He clearly had not expected that reaction from you. Part of you was happy to have caught him off guard. Again though, Johnny didn’t say anything. He just kept on staring at you.

“How do you think I’m doing Johnny?” you asked, continuing on with your rant when it became clear Johnny was not going to respond. “I’m doing awful, thanks for asking,” you said with fake cheer.

You stormed past him, ready to leave him and this awful party behind you. He reached out and caught your wrist as you walked past, stopping you from leaving.

“Let go of me,” you said through gritted teeth. He was really pissing you off now.

“Wait,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you (Y/N).

“Well, you did,” you snapped. As much as you wanted to pretend you were fine and over him, you weren’t.

Johnny sighed and let go of your wrist, shoulders slumping. “That really wasn’t my intention.”

“It wasn’t?” you asked. “Then what was your intention, huh? To make me look like an idiot? To make me feel like a goddamn fool?”

“No,” Johnny said, shaking his head earnestly. The look in his eyes reminded you of the day he had broken up with you. He was upset. He looked hurt.

“Then what?” you snapped, hands on your hips.

“I thought you’d be better off without me!” he said, nearly shouting to get his point across. “I thought you’d be better off without me, okay?”

That shut you up.

“Why would you think that?” you asked, tone considerably softer than before. You were baffled. You had no idea that Johnny had felt that way.

Johnny looked tense and he pulled at his hair in frustration before answering you.

“Because- because look at you and look at me!”

“I don’t understand-”

“(Y/N), you’re literally perfect!” he exclaimed. “You’re -you’re so good and kind and beautiful and smart and I’m- I’m not. I’m awful. I’m just some loser junkie trying to make it big. You deserve so much more. I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought you’d be happier without me.”

Johnny’s words brought tears to your eyes.

“Look,” he said, gesturing at you. “Now I’m making you cry. Again. God, (Y/N), you deserved more than me. I knew I was bringing you down and did what I thought was best. I never meant to hurt you, I swear.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice watery.

“You wouldn’t have let me go,” he said, looking guilty and just as upset as you.

“You’re right,” you said, nodding and trying to pull yourself back together to talk with him. “I wouldn’t have let you go. I wouldn’t have let you go because you are so wrong Johnny.”

You took his hands into yours as you went on. “Johnny, I’m not perfect, okay? I get tired and mean, I’m an awful cook, and I am definitely not as smart as you think I am. The list goes on.”

“But none of that matters to me,” Johnny said. “To me, you’re perfect.”

“That’s what I’m trying to get at,” you said. “Johnny, I love you for you. I love every part of you, flaws included. The only part of you that I don’t like is that you’re not mine anymore.”

“So, what are you saying?” he asked, looking down at your interlocked fingers, afraid of getting his hopes up.

“I’m saying I want you back in my life.”

“But-”

“Johnny, I want you in my life,” you said, silencing his argument. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, now looking deep into your eyes.

“Then trust me,” you pleaded. “I’m a better person with you by my side.”

Johnny hesitated a moment before eventually nodding and you threw your arms around his neck in joy. You pressed a loving kiss to his lips, trying your hardest to prove to him how much you loved him.

“Come home with me,” you said, arms still wrapped around him.

“Okay,” he agreed, the ghost of a smile on his face.

You kept standing there, holding him, overcome with joy at just the feeling of having him back in your arms.

“You have to let go of me first?” he joked, now fully smiling due to your affection.

“Promise me you won’t leave again,” you said, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I promise,” he said, leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss which you happily returned. “I promise.”

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #434

“i hate this town, it’s so washed up, & all my friends don’t give a fuck  /  they’ll tell me that it’s just bad luck, when will i find where i fit in?”

You get a text from your ex. He/she wants to hang out. How do you respond? Admittedly, I would. Do you have a friend of the opposite sex that you secretly want to be more than friends with? No. Well, there are times where I think I WANT to like-like Girt, but I just don't. And yet he's always been there for me without fail, is super funny and kind and chill... but I think we were just friends for too long; he feels like my brother by this point in time. If your partner smoked, would that be a problem for you? If it was cigarettes, yes. Even weed (UNLESS it was for medicinal purposes and not a constant thing) I'd be iffy about. I just don't want to date a smoker. Lung damage is lung damage and weed actually has more carcinogens, and I don't want to sign myself up for all that. I don't want to watch my partner wither away from nonstop smoking and also have myself suffer from second-hand smoking. When will you next see your best friend? There's no telling. Right now I'm trying to be realistic and responsible with the money I DO ever get and put it towards more important investments, but I really do want to take a plane up there at some point. But that's also waiting until Covid is in the past. Heeeell no would I be stepping into an airport right now, even being vaccinated. How many tattoos would you like to have? Too many to count, ha ha. I want LOADS. Paint me, baby. :') Do you like your first name? I actually do. Have you ever talked to a boyfriend about an ex-boyfriend? Yes. It's kind of inevitable when you go into a new relationship, hoping it'll go well and be seriously invested, that you let your partner know "oh hey, this happened and seriously affected me to where I'm going to have 'my days.'" Greatest birthday gift you ever got? My snake Venus was technically a birthday present, though I obviously picked her out. Worst memory you have? Losing Jason. I can't say enough that the night of the breakup still doesn't feel real. First memory you can remember? My brother going down our slide into the Hurricane Floyd flood in our front yard, ha ha. I was around two, I wanna say? I don't feel like looking up the date of the hurricane. Oldest object you own? When did you get it? I'm sure that would be a stuffed animal we have stored away somewhere. Or my baby blanket, also safely tucked away. Meanest person you know? Why do you feel this way? I don't "know" Colleen anymore, but God knows she fit the bill. She was so fucking rude to people (yes, she was one of those people that bitched out store employees that have no control over things that inconvenienced her), the world revolved around her problems, she started drama with the damn grass... It's funny even picturing how she was my best friend once. My standards were lower for who I could befriend back then, but goddamn. Ever been dumped? By who? Yes, Jason. Technically Sara as well, but "dumped" seems like an unfitting term? Like we just talked it out and sorta mutually agreed that it was wiser that we weren't together at the time. Have you ever dumped someone? Why? Yes, mostly because I didn't like-like them. Juan was more so because I believed a rumor by Rachel, and Tyler, I just wasn't invested in and had NO desire to put up with the "we need to talk every five minutes" crap. Where do you buy most of your food? Wal-Mart. Last house you have been to: whose was it, and why were you there? My sister's, for my nephew's birthday party. Have you ever been a drunk driver? No, and fuck you if you've ever put others (and yourself) at risk like that. One kid you cannot stand? None that I know, and that's very few. Has anyone ever saved your life? Jason and Mom literally have. Last thing you cried about? Ha ha, I finished watching another SOMA playthrough earlier, and I will ALWAYS start to cry at the end. Without fail. Would you sacrifice your life for someone else's baby? I honestly think I would if it was a split-second decision. Tell me about your latest dream: I think my APAP mask wasn't positioned well last night, because I had a SHITLOAD of nightmares. Too many to even remember. Have you ever been in a limo? No. I've always wanted to experience that once, man. Have you ever been the maid of honor in a wedding party? No. Has anyone ever seen you naked? I was born naked, my man. Mom used to give my sister and I baths together, and I took a bath with a best friend once as a kid. Then one other person has. Do you have a calendar? If so, what is the theme of it? Not a current one, no. Nicest thing you have ever done for a complete stranger: I have no idea. Meanest thing you have ever done to a complete stranger: *shrug* Have you ever been sent to the principal's office? If so, why? And how did you feel? Yes, I think because they wanted to ask the reason behind all my morning tardies. I was soooo scared, just being a kid. Person you hope you never run into again: Colleen. Have you ever streaked? Heeeeell no. Why do you hate your ex? I don't hate any of them. What animal did you last pet or hold? Roman, my cat. What color is your hair? It's my natural brunette right now. I want to dye it SO badly. Have you ever fallen asleep in someone's arms? Yeah. Have you ever had to clean a cat box before? Yeah, seeing as I own an indoor cat. Christmas is coming. Who are you buying gifts for? In the hypothetical situation where I had the money, I'd buy things for my parents, my stepmom, my two immediate sisters, Ash's kids, as well as her husband, but only because I'd feel obligated to as he's considered a close member of the family. I'd also totally get something for Sara! When somebody intimidates you, how do you usually act around them? SCARED. I get quiet, stutter if I do talk, and possibly cry. Is your favorite singer in a band or does he or she ride solo? He was originally the singer of Black Sabbath, but he's been solo for forever now. I prefer him solo, honestly. Did your parents ever hang your old artwork up on the walls? Ohhh yes. Mom still does, ha ha. What is the weirdest obsession you’ve ever had? Nothing really "weird," I think... How long can you be in a car before wanting to get out? It depends on if I have my music or not. If I do, I can last hours, but if not, I don't really like being in the car at all. Have any songs ever inspired you to play an instrument? No. Do you ever use Pandora?No. Are you better with creative writing or writing essays? Creative writing, but I'm fine with both. What is the weirdest animal you’ve ever seen as a pet? I know OF someone who rescued I want to say a baby bobcat, or something along those lines, but I didn't know that guy personally. I don't think I've ever actually met someone with a truly *strange* pet... The most unique I've seen is probably just a chinchilla. If you had to change one, would you rather change your hair or your eyes? My eyes. I don't like them much, mainly the shape. What was your favorite computer game as a kid? I loved the various Oregon Trail games, as well as one I think was called The Amazon Trail 3. Then there was a few dinosaur games I LOVED, and then there were the classic kids' games like the Putt-Putt and Fred the Fish series. Any shows on TV that you flat out refuse to start watching? 13 Reasons Why. I don't even support that show existing. Pajamas with feet: yay or nay? NOOOOOOOO, that is so uncomfortable. What is your opinion on fruitcake? That's an even BIGGER "no." Who did you last dream about? I don't remember. Do you have trouble remembering important things? Yes. .-. I barely remember anything. Which animal can you imitate the best? I dunno? Have you bought any drugs this month? I don't do drugs, so. Have you ever set foot in a tanning bed? Nope, never will. Do you know the Soulja Boy dance? Ha ha, I did as a kid. My then-best friend, younger sister, and I wanted to learn it. I don't remember it now, that's for sure. What is the best ice cream flavor? Ben and Jerry's "Phish Food" is GODLY. Wallpaper on your computer's desktop? Teddy, my late dog. Do you clean when you’re upset? Hell no, I do the opposite: nothing. Do you sleep with the door open or closed? It stays open. My cat would pitch a fit otherwise. Do you know anyone who has actually been in an alcohol or drug related crash? Yes, actually. It was incredibly tragic; the both of them were high (maybe drunk, idr for sure), and my friend was driving with her best friend in the passenger seat. They crashed, and said friend's best friend died. For YEARS she would share pictures of them together on Facebook, "talking" to her, and it was just so heartbreaking. I doubt she's forgiven herself to this day, but she seems to have mostly moved on the best she could, being married with a daughter now. Have you ever gotten a professional massage? No, and I do NOT want one. I don't want some random stranger touching me in ANY way. Do you have a good relationship with your first love? No. We haven't talked in years, so maybe he feels no hatred for me at this point, but I do for myself. I don't hate him at all. Do you feel like you have life figured out? bitch hell no What would you do if you were faced with an unplanned or unwanted pregnancy (at your current age)? Was I raped? I'd almost certainly abort because I would be traumatized as FUCK. If it was my own fault, I think I'd go through with the pregnancy, but give the baby up for adoption. There is no way I could raise a kid right now. Or probably ever. Water or Gatorade? I don't like either, really, but I HATE Gatorade. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? It's been pierced twice, and I'm thinking of getting it redone again, but this time use a hoop instead of a stud to keep the damn piercing from falling out and closing in my sleep. Have you ever slapped someone? On the arm as a kid. That doesn't excuse it, though. Who are the pictures of in the room? I have a lot of posters, but no real photographs of anyone. Have your parents ever smoked pot? Dad did a lot of drugs before I was born, but Mom's never touched anything. I think. Would you ever consider moving to a different country? I'd love to live in Canada, if that didn't entail leaving my family. What is your favourite food from your culture? Cheeseburgers, alsdf;alwer Do you know any pick-up lines in a foreign language? No. What degree are you or will you pursue while in college? I've dropped out of college three times. I am never going back to major in anything. I changed my major quite a few times while I was there. Favorite arcade game? I don't really have one. One of my life goals is to go to an arcade that has Silent Hill: The Arcade, though. There are very few throughout the world, and it looks fun. Would other people consider your sense of humor inappropriate? I don't see how. Some inappropriate things can make me laugh, but it's definitely not my favorite form of humor, and I myself don't really make jokes of that sort. Who is your biggest celebrity crush right now? Mark Fischbach. :'') What are they famous for? He's a big YouTuber, aND WILL ALSO BE A MAIN ACTOR IN A SHOW NEXT YEAR. LET'S GOOOOOOOOOO. Have you ever had a controlling boyfriend/girlfriend? No, I would NOT stand for that bullshit. Do you have any gay family members? I know my mom's... cousin I want to say is gay. Somebody related to her is. Was your first kiss romantic? I feel like it was. What are you most likely to go to jail for? Pirating shit. Well, can you even be locked up for downloading minor shit? Shows what I know. Have you ever liked someone that was in a relationship with someone else? Boy, have I. Would you ever get a boob job? When (or if...) I lose all the weight I want, I can almost guarantee a breast lift will be something I'd want. Certain things happen when you lose a shitload of weight alsdkf;alkwe Have you ever tried to break up anyone because you liked one of them? Not intentionally. What would you think if you found out your ex was gay? If we're talking THE ex, safe to say I'd be shocked. Did you ever think someone didn’t like you, but come to find out they really did? It's weird, I've felt both ways with Girt? Like there were times I was pretty much 100% certain he liked me, but I'd also be like "nah, no way, he sees me as a sister." Turns out he like-liked me. Are you worried about anything right now? I can't possibly recall the last time I WASN'T worried about something. When you are home alone, do you still close the door when you shower? I don't shower when I'm home alone because I'm afraid of ever fainting and busting my ass again. What noise do you hear? I'm currently listening to "All Signs Point To Lauderdale" by A Day to Remember, and I can also hear my fan going. Do you go online everyday? Pretty much without fail. It'll probably be a cold day in Hell before I willingly don't come online, ha ha.

[x1musings]

“just this once, please stay with me.”+ “do you ever think about me?”

☆pairing: hangyul x reader

☆request: #73 + #85 from 101 prompts by anon

☆genre: angst + fluff??

☆word count: 2.7k

☆a/n: anon, you didn’t give a genre or au in your request, so i just went with mix of angst and fluff. it turns out that i’m better at writing angst than pure fluff, who knew? but i’m not sure how i feel about this piece. also, this is the longest one i’ve written yet, so i hope you guys enjoy! let me know your thoughts :)

☆song recs: empty space by james arthur + about you by tyron hapi feat. laurell

you knew it was a bad idea to go to the party your ex-boyfriend was hosting, but part of you wanted to see him, to see whether he has gotten over you. it had been over a year since you two had broken up and while you had told your friends that you were completely over him, you couldn’t help but miss him. you missed the little things in your relationship; the way he would hug you tightly when you were tired or upset, the way his face would light up with the brightest smile whenever he saw you, and the way you two could talk for hours about anything and everything. you missed having him in your life; whether you wanted him back as your boyfriend or your best friend, you didn’t know.

as you stood outside the door to his apartment, a rush of memories overwhelmed your mind. you remembered when he first moved into the apartment. it was when you two were just friends, and hangyul was bursting with the excitement of living alone for the first time in his life. you two had just graduated from high school and were about to start university, the world at your feet. you remembered how he stood next to the door, telling you to brace yourself for the “awesomeness” you were about to see. he had been standing there with his chest puffed out and his hands on his hips like he was some kind of superhero, so you couldn’t help but laugh at his child-like expression, which led him to tickling you as your punishment for laughing at him.

“y/n, you ok?” your friend asked, shaking you out of your reverie.

you pushed the brightest smile you could muster to your lips, “yeah, i’m fine. just preparing myself for the chaos inside.”

your friend laughed. “tell me about it. i think i’ve already heard something break in there.”

you laughed along with your friends, hoping they didn’t notice the inner turmoil going on in your mind. for the first time that night, you were regretting your choice to come to the party. you hadn’t even stepped inside, and you were already reliving all of the memories you two had created. you could only imagine what it would be like stepping into his apartment for the first time since your breakup, let alone seeing him.

your friend rang the doorbell, and as you waited for the door to open, you had to curb your urge to either run away or puke. suddenly, your mind was filled with all the worst-case scenarios that could happen if you walked through that door. what if he has moved on, and you have to watch him be with his new partner all night? or what if he still hates you, and throws you out? or, what if… before you could think of other ways the night could go wrong, the door swings open to reveal his best friend, seungyoun.

“finally, you guys made it! i was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” seungyoun said, as he gave each of you a hug. when he got to you, his smile widened. “i’m glad you came. it’s been weird not having you around. we’ve all missed you.”

you gave him a small smile, before hugging him. you had been close with all of hangyul’s friends before you broke up, and after it all went down, it was hard for you to see them without feeling the pain of your break-up all over again. so, you avoided them, going out of your way to make sure you didn’t bump into them, which even meant giving up your favourite coffeeshop that they all frequented.

“i missed you guys too,” you whispered as you pulled away. you pause before asking the question that has been on your mind since seungyoun first invited you and your friends to the party. “does he know you invited me?”

with the way seungyoun squirmed, you knew he didn’t. “i mentioned it,” seungyoun said, looking anywhere but you. “but i don’t know whether he actually heard me.”

you knew it was a bad idea to stay, but seungyoun pulled you further inside the apartment before you could make your escape. “it’s fine, y/n. if he makes a big deal, just say that i forced you to come, which isn’t a lie. i did force you to come.” he gave you an encouraging smile before walking away, leaving you to your thoughts.

the living room of his apartment hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw it. it was still a classic bachelor pad, the walls and worn-out furniture were all dark tones of black and brown, with posters and action figures placed around as decoration. but the closer you looked, the more the changes became apparent. all the photos you two had up were replaced with odd knick-knacks, like snow globes and seashells. the plants you always had on the bookcase was replaced with hangyul’s collection of trophies and medals from his taekwondo and basketball days. all traces of you were gone.

you expected that he would get rid of everything that reminded him of you, just like you had done to him, but actually seeing it broke your heart.

“y/n?”

you froze at the sound of his husky voice. you knew you were inevitably going to see him, but you hadn’t expected to see him this quickly.

“hangyul…” you breathed out, as you turned to face him.

everything around you was tuned out as you stared at him. he looked the same as before, yet completely different at the same time. his eyes, that had always held a warmth in it, raked over your body, taking in every little change. his jaw dropped slightly, as he came to grips with the fact that you were really there. his hair was raven black now, and slightly longer, to the point that it fell just below his eyebrow. at a glance, you could tell that he had matured a lot over the past year. he was still as clean-shaven as he was when you were dating, but gone were the quirky and colourful t-shirts, now he had on a classier outfit that showcased just how much he had matured in the past year.

“what… what are you doing here?” he asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between you.

you clear your throat, hoping that your nervousness doesn’t show in your voice, “i bumped into seungyoun a couple of days ago, and he invited me and my friends to your party. i hope you don’t mind. i can leave if you want me to.”

he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up, “no, it’s fine. stay. i know the others missed you. enjoy the party.”

he turned around quickly, and walked away, like he couldn’t get away fast enough. it stung to see him run away, but a small part of you was glad that the worst was over. you walked to the kitchen, where you knew you could find some alcohol to take away sting of watching him walk away from you, again.

after drinking enough to get you buzzed, you walked out the kitchen, trying to find one of your friends in the crowd. it didn’t take long to find them, their loud singing drawing you towards the make-shift dance floor in the living room. you laughed as you watched your uncoordinated friends try to dance sexily to the hip-hop music that was blasting out of the radio. before long they noticed you staring and dragged you into the middle of the dance floor, where you let everything go. you ignored all the memories and the emptiness in your gut, letting the music and the excitement in the room flow through you. you knew you looked as ridiculous as your friends, but in that moment you didn’t care. for the first time in a long time, you were laughing and enjoying yourself.

you had been dancing and laughing with your friends, until you suddenly realised what song was playing. you froze. sure, you had heard the song since your break-up but hearing it now, in hangyul’s apartment, brought back so many memories you desperately wanted to push away. it wasn’t until your eyes locked with his, from across the room, that you noticed you were looking for him. while everyone around you danced happily to finesse by bruno mars and cardi b, you and hangyul stared at each other, and from the look on his face, you knew he was remembering the same memory as you.

he had been trying to choreograph a dance for the dance crew he was a part of, and since no one else was around, you offered to help him. the only problem was that you forgot that you have two left feet and couldn’t dance to save your life. after hours of trying to teach you the most basic moves, hangyul pulled you into a hug.

“i love you, but let’s leave the dancing to me, ok?” he had said, his face bright with laughter.

you scoffed. he wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to admit that to him. “i’m not that bad.”

“babe, a baby giraffe has better coordination than you,” he said, before darting out of the way as you tried to swat his arm. he ran around the dance studio, laughing evilly every time he was able to dart out of your reach.

“you take that back now.” you tried to chase him, but between your lack of coordination and lack of stamina, you knew it was a losing game. so, after a few minutes, you inevitably end up lying on the floor, huffing and puffing, as hangyul stood over you.

hangyul laughed at the sight below him, his eyes sparkling with a teasing glint, “well, if i took it back, i’d be lying, and my mum didn’t raise no liar.”

hangyul broke eye contact first, pulling you out of your trance. he turned back to his friends, tuning back into the conversation with ease. but you couldn’t look away. the remnants of the memory stayed at the forefront of you mind, and you realise with a start that you still wanted him in your life. no, you needed him in your life. there had been an empty space in your life, and hangyul was the only one that could fill it.

but you didn’t know if he needed you. and, the thought that he didn’t need you in the same way you needed him, broke you more than you wanted to admit. he seemed happy, from what you could see, but you knew he wasn’t the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. you couldn’t read him the way you used to. but there was a sliver of hope lodged in the back of your mind: what if he feels the same way? 

you don’t know what compelled you to stay until the last person had left, something pulled you back every time you started to leave the party. even when your friends were leaving, you made an excuse, saying that you missed the guys, so you wanted to stay and hang out with them. but, when the last person left the party, you realised there was no reason for you to stay alone with hangyul. you two hadn’t spoken since the conversation you had when you walked in, and it seemed like he was avoiding you. so, you grabbed your bag and started making your way to the door.

“wait!”

you stopped abruptly, having not expected him to talk to you. you turned to face him, taking in the way he nervously scratched the back of his head, looking anywhere but you.

“just this once, please stay with me.”

had it not been for the fact that his whole apartment was dead silent, you probably wouldn’t have caught what he said. he had spoken in a soft tone, his voice barely carrying over to you from where he stood. 

“what?” you asked, in disbelief.

he took a minute to gather his confidence. “stay,” he said, finally looking you in the eye, “please.”

you nodded, not trusting your voice. you were happy, no ecstatic, that he asked you to stay, but you also didn’t want to get your hope up. you put your bag down on the couch, and the two of you stood looking at each other in an awkward silence. for the first time since knowing him, you didn’t know what to say to him.  you wanted nothing more than to go back to the time when everything was easy with him, when you didn’t second-guess every word that came out of your mouth.

you decided to walk away, taking the opportunity to venture into the parts of his apartment you hadn’t seen that night. you could feel him following you, his gaze burning through you. you opened the door that you knew led to his bedroom, wanting to see if he had made any changes to this room like he did with the living room. you walked around the room, as he took a seat on his bed, watching you as you took in every detail of the room.

you had so many things to ask him, so many things to say, but every time you opened your mouth, you doubted yourself. did you have the right to ask him anything about his life? you weren’t friends, but you also couldn’t say that you were strangers after everything you two had been through.

“so, how have you been?” you asked, breaking through the silence. you leaned against his desk, looking directly at him.

“i’ve been better. i’ve really busy lately.” he leaned back on his arms, looking somewhat relaxed for the first time in your presence. his answer was as vague as possible, so you pushed on.

“are you still dancing?”

“when i have free time, which lately hasn’t been much.”

you walked over to the bed and flopped next to him. “what about the orphanage? do you still visit?”

“every week.” he laid down next to you, turning his head to look at you. “i heard you visit the kids too.”

“sometimes…” whenever i think of you. you couldn’t bring yourself to say that, scared of the wounds you might be opening by speaking your truth.

“what about you? how have you been?”

“i’ve been better,” you said, echoing his exact words. you didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking.

“care to elaborate?”

you hesitated, deciding whether to tell him the truth and come up with some white lie.

“do you remember why we broke up?”

from the corner of your eye, you saw his head swing towards you, clearly shocked by the sudden change of subject. “what?”

“i’ve been thinking about it lately, and i realised that i don’t remember why we broke up.”

he cleared his throat. “why were you thinking about it?” he asked softly.

“last month, i ran into a couple of old friends who asked about you, and why we broke up. i couldn’t give them an answer, because i don’t remember. ever since then, i’ve constantly been thinking about you, us, the way we used to be... do you ever think about me?”

you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for his response. he had the power to shatter the sliver of hope you had with a single word. you felt the bed shift beneath you, but you barely registered it as a cloud of doubt and anxiety takes over your mind.

suddenly, you felt his lips on yours, hesitant and soft. his hand cupped your cheek as he slowly deepened the kiss, running his tongue across your lower lip. there was a hesitation in everything he did, like he was expecting you to push him away. but you didn’t. instead, you kissed him back with everything in you, pulling him as close as you can. you didn’t want to let him go, not when you finally felt like you were home. so, you held on, pouring your love and need for him into the kiss and into every touch.

he slowly pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed as he whispered against your lips, “i never stopped thinking about you.”

[emilyplaysotome]

The Game of Love - Chapter 1

Since I have a bad tendency to obsess over what I write until I give up on it, I’m posting the first chapter of something new I’ve been dabbling with. Think of it like an original Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole, without the characters you know.

Meeting someone special is hard for anyone, but more so when you’re famous.

I can’t tell you when it was that I went from being Hana to being Hana on a billboard, but it happened slowly enough that I went from eating virtually unnoticed at a restaurant to being bombarded with selfie requests during the short time I picked up my food. I suppose that being one of the youngest women to ever win a Grand Slam will force you into the spotlight, but I’ve never thought of myself as a superstar.

The goal had always been to win gold at the Olympics.

Maybe Roland Garros.

And Wimbledon.

The U.S. and Australian Open if I was lucky.

They never told me that if you win the Australian Open and then manage to win the others in the same year, the world goes mad. They never told me that Nike, Adidas, and Reebok fall all over themselves trying to get you to agree to let them put out the “Hana shoe” and you go from being a struggling journeywoman on the tour to being richer than you ever could have imagined, thanks mostly to your team who milks you for every free moment when you’re not on the court.

You learn how to wear dresses and talk on camera and carry the weight of what it means to be a champion, constantly looking over your shoulder at the younger, hungrier crowd behind you that works twice as hard and trains harder because they don’t need to be on Good Morning America when you do. Your identity becomes “Hana the Tennis Champion” and you forget who you were when you were just “Hana, the girl who loves tennis” – hitting balls after dinner with dad on the courts by your house or joking around with the girls on the junior tour.

Those girls become competition, and your friendship is forced to change despite wanting it to be the way it was when things were simpler. They are nice and you love them, but the feelings are complicated and you forget what it means to have friends who see you as you are. There is always a commitment, a show, a movie, a project, a product – even during the off season, and of course, there’s the training.

You’re grateful to be successful doing what you love, but you know it can’t last forever and one day you decide you want to go out on top and announce that you’re done with the game that up until this point has been your entire life.

And you’re only 32.

I’m only 32.

The day after I retired I woke up as Hana, for the first time in 20 years. I suppose it’s out of habit that I still wake up at 7 A.M. and go for a run, but it’s been a few months and not much has changed.

My mom suggested I get a therapist.

That this major transition would be hard on anyone, but even harder on a prodigy who has been used to a regimented training schedule since she was 11.

I laughed it off, but after a couple of weeks I could feel the unease nagging at me, mocking me, asking me, “Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

My therapist says a lot of high achieving people struggle with their self-worth outside of their profession. She challenged me to reconnect with friends I’d made at all stages of my life and I learned that being great at one thing left little time for love, creativity, music, and hobbies.

I also learned that I didn’t make many friends in my 32 years since I was too focused, too dialed in to waste time on anything outside of the goal. To be the best in the world I had taken on the mentality that everything outside of my goal was superfluous, but now I struggle to make it through the day.

“Who is Hana if there is no tennis?”

“I am…I am…”

“What are you feeling Hana?” my therapist asks.

“Scared. Confused. Angry. Lost.”

I’d had this rosy image of retirement, where I’d leisurely wake up next to a partner and make breakfast for us. Not just any partner if I’m being honest…him.

“I wake up at 7 A.M. and run 5 miles,” I find myself saying. “Then I make a breakfast smoothie. And then I remember that I don’t have anywhere to be and the depression takes over.”

“Have you been doing interviews?”

I shrug, “Not as many. They asked me to do commentary for the U.S. Open this year and I said I’d think about it.”

“What is your hesitation?”

I pause, thinking about what it would be like to live a tournament without participating in it. To see and comment on someone’s legacy that wasn’t my own. To one day have to announce that I’d been dethroned in my achievements and smile as if it didn’t bother me, when I’d probably just wonder if I’d retired too early.

“I never wanted to be on television. And I want to be able to answer the question who Hana is if there is no tennis.”

“It sounds like this time is providing you with a beautiful gift – to explore that question and your interests without limitations.”

She’s right, and I feel guilty for pitying myself when I have the freedom to do and go wherever I want. I let out a caustic chuckle and say, “I want to live in my games.”

“The ones you used to play on the road?”

I nod, wondering how serious she thinks I am and wondering if the statement is a joke at all.

“Why do you think you like them so much?”

“It’s fun to be someone who isn’t Hana. And it’s fun to fall in love.”

“Has Hana ever been in love?”

I think for a minute and nod.

“But you knew that, didn’t you?” I ask.

She shrugs and pushes her glasses up.

“I’m asking Hana the person, not Hana the superstar.”

“But our breakup was all over the tabloids…”

“Our time together is about you, not what’s in a tabloid.”

“Superstars have to date superstars. It’s like a law,” I say laughing. “What would Instagram think if I gave them anything other than aspirational?”

I’m lying but I can’t help myself, even in therapy my pride gets in the way of being honest. Dating him was never about appearances, at least, it wasn’t for me.

“Tell me about him.”

Eight years of memories flash in my mind, 22 to 30.

“We met after I won my first major. His movie premiere had him in Australia and he got tickets to the final. We ended up at an after party together and he gave me his number. It was good until it wasn’t and then he broke up with me.”

“That’s a very condensed version.”

I shrug again, feeling bitter that he seems to have moved on just fine and I haven’t dated anyone despite the rumors that pop up from time to time. I don’t feel like talking about how I kept pushing for us to move forward, with a vision for my retirement and life with him as he kept pushing for me to stay on the road. I don’t feel like talking about how much of our time was spent apart and how I suspected he preferred things that way.

That it was better to have a girlfriend too busy to take up more than an hour of his day on a regular basis than a girlfriend who could be present the way she wanted to be when we were together.

A pleasant chime goes off and she silences the alarm, noting we’re out of time and asking if next week works.

“My schedule is free,” I joke, but I feel annoyed that there’s nothing but endless free time and nothing to do with it.

When I’m home I open the games I referenced in therapy – the ones I jokingly call “choose your anime romance adventure games” with my mom versus their proper designation of “otome” games, as they’re known with the fandom online that I’m a part of. It’s only when I’m online that I feel like I can momentarily answer the question that nags at me, and that’s because no one know I’m me.

HanaLovesOtome the tumblr user is popular because of the screenshots she posts, not because she’s one of the most celebrated athletes of a generation.

She participates in every event and has spent an ungodly amount of money on special date stories and lottery gatcha items that put her consistently in the top ten featured users of Ikemen Inc.

She’s popular because people will ask her to purchase stories and games they can’t afford, and she’ll video record herself playing or twitch live stream the sessions so everyone can get a sense of what it’s like to fall in love with Ikemen Inc.’s most exclusive bachelors.

Even when I was on tour, I loved playing otome games because for a couple of hours I could stop thinking about my life and instead lose myself in a world overseas where I get to make choices for a protagonist whose name I’ve made my own as I decide what eligible bachelor she’ll fall in love with.

I’d found the games a year before we’d broken up, mostly by chance after seeing an ad on twitter that boasted, “The Perfect Boyfriend is in your phone - meet him now!” While normally I would have continued to scroll past, something about the caption had stopped me in my tracks. Looking back it was probably because the idea of the “perfect boyfriend” being in my phone was ironic having had such a drawn out long distance relationship in which it often felt that he only existed in my life virtually.

After entering my name for the main character I would be controlling, “Decoding His Affections” thrust me into a world that consisted of a simple illustrated background, paired with a cartoon character sprite whose various expressions matched the dialogue being said in the text box where the story played out.

While the prologue of “Decoding His Affections” was free, it ended with a prompt asking me who out of the five characters I’d just met, I wanted to get to know as my Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department partner and future perfect boyfriend. For the low price of $3.99, I could purchase one of five options and determine how my protagonist would fall in love. Depending on my dialogue selections, I was either granted a “Love Ending!” or a less desired “Happy Ending!”

Throughout the course of 13 interactive chapters, Sebastian went from being my underling, to my partner, and finally, to my boyfriend. As the protagonist with my name started to fall for Sebastian, I found myself enjoying the escape from my reality with a game “self” who always met with a positive response in love.

I soon found myself lost in a world where I could be transparent with my intentions without any fear of rejection. Sebastian clearly liked my main character back, but was conflicted about falling for a woman whose time in Tokyo had an expiration date. Even though their relationship was in a grey zone for the majority of the game, he was always warm, always loving, and most importantly, had responses that gave me butterflies as I read his poetic musings from a cold hotel room after a long day of training.

Seeing as how these games were a product of Japan, in addition to the subdued romance I also found myself getting a kick out of the cultural differences that were peppered throughout the story. Simple gestures such as the time that Sebastian grabbed her hand in order to protect her from an impending explosion, resulted in a shook inner monologue where my heroine wondered if her heart was racing from the danger, or because of the physical contact. There was something sweet about this world in which men and women shared a shyness around physical touching that was unlike anything I’d ever experienced as a Western woman. Handshakes, hugs, and even kisses on the cheek were something that happened in my life on a daily basis, yet I was suddenly living in a world via my phone where every gesture was laced with romantic subtext.

It was clear that the only thing Ikemen Inc. changed in their games was the names of their clearly Japanese love interests, in order to better appeal to a western audience. Other than that, their games remained true to their point of origin.

Looking back, our relationship was already strained with me hinting towards my expiration date and him pushing me to stay on the tour. The day I’d played my first otome game we were bickering over text about it, him convinced it would be better for both of us if I refocused on my career instead of settling down with him in his Calabasas home. As I achieved Sebastian’s coveted “Love Ending!” thanks to my carefully selected dialogue choices, I surprised myself by tearing up in which I read an ending where Sebastian confessed to me, or moreover the woman I whose life I was intermittently controlling, his undying love.

I’d felt a bit foolish at the time, having fallen prey to simple plot devices and romantic tropes, however Sebastian had done something for me that my relationship could not.

He’d managed to touch that part deep in my heart that still wanted to believe that romance was possible in this world, and more importantly, was possible for me.

In the weeks to come I found myself leaning on these games more and more as it became clear that my vision for the future did not align with his, it felt like every free second I was pouring myself into my fantasy life. By the time he ended things, I’d made way through the entire Ikemen Inc. catalogue of premium games and started to make my way into the exclusives with a higher price point, more beautifully illustrated scenes (CGs), and the Ikemen Inc. community leaderboard.

I play them a lot lately.

Maybe too much.

When I log in to my tumblr I see a message from my friend KittyGirl.

OMG Hana! Did you see they released Tyler Holland?

I saw and I played and I’m posting the full vid on twitch later ;)

…

I wonder who KittyGirl is as she types, and I wonder if she ever wonders who I am. I wonder if she would care if I was Hana the superstar or if she even follows tennis.

A lot of the girls on here don’t.

A lot of the girls on here are much younger than I am.

I wonder if it’s weird I don’t have many friends my age and that the people I feel closest to at the moment are all usernames in my feed.

STOP HANA YOURE THE BEST!

I smile because it gives me a sense of purpose and I haven’t felt that for some time.

It’s really good. He might be in my top 5 boyfriends.

NO. Really!?

Really.

Sometimes I wish that the men in my phone would come to life. That one day I would wake up and Sebastian would be there in human form, not his two-dimensional anime character form. I’ve thought about what he would look like if he were real.

Not just him.

Him and all the others I’ve dated over the years.

I wonder what it’d be like to date someone you know would never leave you.

Who could be that perfect boyfriend, or husband, or father.

It’s just as I’m thinking about this again that my phone chimes, letting me know I’ve received an email. I’m surprised to see it’s from Ikemen Inc. and that HanaLovesOtome has been invited along with the four other top Ikemen community users for an all-expenses paid, one month vacation to Ikemen’s Dream Resort.

My gut reaction is to scream, “Yes!” but then I remember I’m Hana the superstar.

What would people think if they found out?

What would the tabloids write if they saw me?

I pause.

Who is Hana if there is no tennis?

Hana is HanaLovesOtome.

And so I write an email back, deciding not to loop in my management team, and let the team at Ikemen Inc. know that I would be delighted to experience the resort. The response back is immediate and includes additional details and an NDA.

I skim the details of the agreement, relieved that I am not allowed to talk about the experience as that means no one else will and my identity as Hana the superstar will most likely be off limits to the press and send it back.

It all happens quickly and before the hour is up I’ve managed to secure my spot in the Ikemen Fan 5.

In the two weeks leading up to my departure, I no longer feel depressed or as if time stretches out in a way that makes me feel small and insignificant. I have an event to look forward to and arrangements to be made.

My therapist thinks a solo trip will be good for me and encourages me to journal and continue with the homework she’s given me outside of our sessions. My mom agrees that it will be good for me to have a real vacation which is something I haven’t had in years.

I’ve seen the world through touring but I’ve never really had time for tourism.

To that point, when I get on the plane it strikes me that this is my first time on a plane without the purpose of coming from or going to a tournament. I check two large suitcases and still bring a racquet in case I need the release of losing myself in a training session or two, despite the fact my performance no longer matters.

I wear the sunglasses I always wear to obscure my identity in first class and a wig and baseball hat and n95 mask, which always does the trip. At Narita airport, I see a man holding a sign that says “HanaLovesOtome” and I follow him to a town car that takes me two hours outside of Tokyo proper. It’s only when we pull off the main road, down a long skinny isolated one that I take off my disguise and breathe a sigh of relief that I managed not to attract the attention of any photographers or fans.

In my head I always saw Ikemen Inc. as a small developer, tucked away on a floor in a nondescript office building somewhere in Toyko.

The reality of their facilities surprised me, and we drove 15 minutes through dense woodland, past another small road with a sign indicating guest and employee parking - up to a manicured property where at the center was a sleek looking high rise. My driver stopped under the porte-cochere and helped me with my suitcases, triggering the mechanism for the large glass double doors to open which caught the attention of a man inside.

“Please, allow me to be of assistance,” he said, quickly grabbing the roller’s handles and helping me in to a spacious reception area. “I’m Roman and I run the resort division of Ikemen Inc.”

“Hana.”

There was something familiar about the way that Roman talked and the way he dressed that I couldn’t quite put my finger on as he introduced me to the woman at reception and made small talk about my trip. I engaged in the idle banter until the persistent feeling that I knew him from somewhere became so overwhelming that I finally found myself asking, “Have we met before?”

“Yes,” a female voice called out behind me.

I turned to see a girl, no older than 20 approaching us with a suitcase of her own. She wore the same expression that countless fans wore upon recognizing me as they rushed up to me and asked for a selfie except she was not looking at me, but at Roman.

“He’s Roman Hinton, from Ikemen’s Paradise Palace.”

“Ah, you’ve stayed with us in Paradise I assume?” Roman asked the girl smiling.

“Oh you have no idea,” she said dreamily, and it was then that I realized my wish of dating one of the men in my phone might come true.

That’s the end of my rough first chapter. Let me know if you want to know where we go from here and I might post more. Tagging @nitelotus​ since she asked to see it 

[aquaminwrites]

Fake Love | Jung Hoseok (M)

PAIRING: Jung Hoseok x F!Reader, mentions of Namjin

GENRE: Fake dating AU, enemies to lovers, fluff, smut, minor angst

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content, dirty talk, slight dom!Hoseok

WORD COUNT: 16.2k

DESCRIPTION: Every year, your family spends the holidays at your parents’ cottage in the country. Freshly single and not wanting to be picked apart by your family for being alone, you decide to recruit one of your friends to pretend to be your boyfriend. The only available volunteer? Your brother Namjoon’s roommate, Hoseok. Only problem? He absolutely hates your guts.

I should get up, you think to yourself. Daylight is precious in the dead of winter, and you’ve probably already wasted at least half of it wallowing in self-pity. You’re lying in bed, duvet pulled high over your head, wondering exactly how and when your life took such a left turn.

Breakups have never been easy for you. You’d always had trouble when it came to dating—you’d always described yourself as the girl that no one would fall in love with, but who had a lot of friends. You were social, flitting around with ease between one group of friends to another, but you had always wondered if your absence would be noted if you were to just stop showing up to parties or work functions.

But then you met Jackson.

The office you worked in had a Christmas party three years ago, back when you’d just been an intern and were keep on rising through the ranks to a full-time position. You were well liked, always offering a helping hand to anyone who asked and generally did your best not to make waves. You didn’t know what to expect when you showed up at the bar, which had been totally rented out for you and your colleagues. You also didn’t really know anyone at the party—the one other intern that you’d befriended having gone home for the holidays—so you’d just lingered by the bar on your own, silently surveying the crowd.

Jackson had come to join you, muttering something about how he hated office Christmas parties. You weren’t sure if he’d been speaking to you, or just muttering to himself, but the smooth, dulcet tones of his voice had you turning to look at him.

He was handsome. More than handsome—he looked like he just strolled out of a men’s fashion magazine, wearing a black turtleneck, a dark grey blazer, and a pair of ironed dress pants. He held a glass that held two thimblefuls of amber liquid that he casually sipped as he leaned against the dark oak of the bar. He tilted his chiseled jaw in your direction with an eyebrow raised, and you hoped he hadn’t caught you openly staring.

“I don’t know if I’ve seen you around the office before,” he noted with a curious glint to his eyes.

“I’m just an intern,” you admitted, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the sleeve of your dark green crushed velvet dress.

“Not just an intern,” the man corrected, leaning his elbow against the bar so that he could turn to fully face you. You offered up the same courtesy, though, you felt heat rushing to your cheeks as you realized just how close he’d been standing. He held out his hand, a warm smile on his face. “I’m Jackson, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his palm pressing against yours. “Nice to meet you.”

And that’s how your relationship with him began. It was a whirlwind, the two of you falling in love hard and fast. Within the first three months, you’d moved into his penthouse apartment, and you’d both met each other’s parents. Jackson had been a blessing in your life, teaching you what it meant to be in love and how to love another person. Your happiest memories were of his smiling face, of him telling you for the first time that he loved you, and the nights that you two explored one another’s bodies until the sun came up.

There was so much good in your relationship that it felt easy to slip into a false sense of security. You’d been hired on as a full-time employee at the company, taking on additional responsibilities and getting your own cubicle on a different floor. Jackson had been working hard as well, his eye on a big promotion that would have bumped him up to a six-figure salary if he landed it.

Of course, he did. And it was when he did that things started to fall apart.

He was never home. He always promised that he would make it in time for dinner, than he would spend the weekend with you and work wouldn’t be involved. He made reservations at restaurants, and wouldn’t show up. He’d take you to the movies, but have to leave halfway through to make an important phone call. On your third anniversary, as he was balls deep inside of you in an expensive hotel room, his cell phone rang and he actually had the audacity to stop and answer.

The breakup had been mutual, though it had been you who initiated the conversation. You loved Jackson, and part of you still does. But he was married to his job, loved it more than anything. It was his priority, not you. And to his credit, he’d admitted his faults and that he’d been a neglectful partner. You knew that you hadn’t been the best girlfriend either, not wanting to try to communicate with him because you were scared he would just leave you for someone better.

It’s been about two months since the two of you ended your relationship. You hear he’s dating someone else. Someone as handsome as him never stays single for long.

With his promotion, Jackson had also become your boss. And after your mutual split, working under him proved to be too difficult. So after a week of severe anxiety about even setting foot into the building and living in a hotel, you quit your job and had to find a new apartment.

The only saving grace had been that your older brother, Namjoon, knew that there was an empty apartment in his building, on his floor. You’d moved in without much thought, glad to have family nearby. Namjoon was only a year older than you, so the two of you were extremely close. You were the first person he’d told when he started dating his boyfriend, knowing that all you cared about was his happiness. Namjoon had started seeing Seokjin about a year ago, and the two are still going strong.

As for the job part, you’re still figuring that one out. Thankfully you have enough savings to last you for a while, but finding employment was definitely something at the top of your list. Right underneath ‘Get out of bed’.

Having your brother as your down-the-hall neighbour has its pros and cons. One pro is that you sometimes buy groceries for him and vice versa, the two of you always looking out for one another and making sure your pantries are always full.

One con is that Namjoon has a key to your place. And he likes to use it.

“Sis, where are you?” Namjoon calls from your front hallway. “I thought you were coming over for lunch today. Jin’s already here.”

You tug the blanket higher over your head, releasing a whine. You hear Namjoon’s socked feet padding towards you, and the sigh of disapproval at your current state.

“You have to get out of bed sometime, you know?” He says, and you can hear his frown before you see it. “It’s been two months, Y/N. You can’t just stay in bed all day. You’ve barely unpacked your apartment.”

You grumble, though you know he’s right. You don’t have that many belongings, nor is the apartment even that big. But you still have boxes in stacks in the corner of your living room, the bare minimum having been unpacked before you began to sink into the pool of self-pity that you find yourself in now.

You feel a light tug at the duvet before it’s yanked halfway down our body, exposing you to what remains of the afternoon sun. You’re in your typical pyjamas, an oversized shirt and shorts, and with how quickly Namjoon had ripped the sheets off, you begin to shiver and pout.

“Fuck you, fine, give me fifteen minutes to shower and freshen up,” you groan, blindly grabbing your pillow and swinging it in Namjoon’s direction.

Your brother dodges the blow and hops backwards, opening all your curtains and flicking on every light switch he can find. You haven’t moved yet, but you shout an affirmative when you hear him asking if you’re awake yet by the front door. He leaves you to your own devices, and not wanting to keep him and Seokjin waiting, you stumble out of bed and towards your bathroom.

The shower does you good and you examine your reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under your eyes haven’t gone away, no matter how many daytime naps you’ve taken over the past few weeks. You swipe some concealer under your eyes so you don’t look like a total corpse, slip on some leggings and a sweater, and tie up your wet hair in a bun.

With whatever remaining energy you have, you trudge down the hall to Namjoon’s apartment, rapping lightly on the door. You hear shuffling inside, and the unmistakable sound of Seokjin’s windshield wiper laughter. The door finally swings open, revealing the last person in the world you ever want to see.

“Wow, Y/N, you look like shit,” Hoseok says with a smirk, as if his insult is in any way charming. You shoulder your way past him into the apartment.

Jung Hoseok has been the bane of your existence since your junior year of high school. He was a transfer student, same age as your brother. Namjoon had been the one to take Hoseok under his wing when he’d first arrived, and the two of them quickly became best friends. But for some reason, he absolutely hated you. Whenever you were around, he would only ever tease you and try to get a reaction out of you, and you could never figure out what you had done to make him treat you this way. It’s infuriating, to say the least.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going home for the holidays,” you grunt, not expecting your brother’s best friend and roommate to still be home so close to Christmas. Usually, Hoseok spends the holidays with his parents and his sister, and you don’t have to deal with him being a total pain in the ass whenever you come to visit Namjoon.

“My parents decided to go to Europe on vacation, and my sister is with her boyfriend’s family for Christmas,” Hoseok shrugs. “So I’m stuck here. Aren’t you lucky?”

You roll your eyes, heading towards the kitchen where you hear Seokjin trying to keep Namjoon away. “Lucky as a heart attack.”

“Y/N!” Seokjin cries when he sees you, his arms opening so you can shuffle into his grasp for a hug. “There you are. Namjoon and I were taking bets on how much longer it would take for you to get here. I beat him by one minute, so now he owes me a shoulder massage.”

“You cheated!” Namjoon pouts as he sets the table. You notice that he places down four sets of cutlery, and you inwardly groan knowing Hoseok will be joining you. “You just guessed one minute sooner than what I guessed, then she happened to walk through the door.”

Seokjin tuts. “Strategy, love.” Though he saunters over to where Namjoon stands, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead before hip-checking him back into action.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Namjoon pipes up as everyone takes their seats. Hoseok decides to sit across from you, in a move that you can only assume is to aggravate you further. “Don’t forget that we’re all driving down to Mom and Dad’s cottage on Friday for Christmas.”

You give a solemn nod, and pick at the green beans on your plate. Every year, you and Namjoon join your parents for a weekend at your family’s cottage for the holidays. It’s a long-held tradition, one that you were more than happy to share with Jackson when the two of you had been dating. He’d always been the perfect buffer between you and your parents—not that you don’t love them, but they have a tendency to be a bit overbearing. They’d toned it down when you and Jackson had gotten together, and now that you’re single, you’re dreading the flood of questions and pitying looks from your mother in particular.

“Why the long face?” Hoseok questions, spearing a piece of chicken with his fork. “I thought you loved going to the cottage for the holidays.”

“She’s glum because her and Jackson broke up, so she has to carpool with us,” Seokjin supplies unhelpfully. You kick his shin under the table, earning a loud, indignant yelp.

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “You and Jackson broke up?”

“Don’t act as if Namjoon didn’t already tell you,” you scoff. “I didn’t move down the hall just for the fun of it.”

He shrugs, speaking between mouthfuls of food. “I thought maybe you two were downsizing. No need to get snippy with me, I don’t know or care about every minute detail of your life.”

You’re rolling your eyes before you even realize that it’s happening. “Maybe if you actually used your brain, or the power of observation, you’d realize that Jackson and I haven’t been together in almost two months.”

“Again,” Hoseok repeats, slower this time, as if you’re a child who can’t understand his words. “I don’t care about your life.”

“Hey,” Namjoon warns. “That’s my sister, bro.”

“Okay, let me rephrase,” Hoseok declares, tapping his long index finger against his chin. “How’s this: I don’t care, period.”

“Seokjin, babe,” Namjoon asks softly, back straight, cutting into his chicken with far too much calmness. “Where do I keep my rubber flip flops?”

“In the front hall closet,” Seokjin replies around a mouthful of food. “Why?”

Namjoon immediately focuses on Hoseok, eyes narrowing significantly. “My roommate is about to have an accident.”

You clear your throat loudly, muttering to yourself about how annoying it is that men can’t just figure their shit out with words. “I’m not upset that I have to carpool with Joonie and Seokjin, if you must know. It’s just…” Your voice gets quiet, and you can’t believe you’re voicing these fears out loud, but it’s too late to stop it now. “It’s my first Christmas in years without Jackson, you know? Even though we broke up, I really miss him. And I haven’t told my parents about it either, so now I not only have to break it to them, but also have to field all their questions about my love life, and my mother will inevitably try to set me up with one of her friend’s sons.”

Namjoon can’t help but snort. “Yeah. Remember that time she made you go on a date with her coworker’s nephew?”

“Of course I remember,” you grumble. “He took me to dinner and then tried to get me to invest in his pyramid scheme.”

Hoseok cackles, shaking his head.

You prop your elbow up on the table and place your chin in your palm, blowing few loose strands of hair from your face. “Maybe I could bribe a friend to come to the cottage and just pretend to be my boyfriend for the weekend. Mom and Dad will be shocked that Jackson isn’t there, but at least they won’t try to set me up with anyone and I can go back to wallowing in self-pity once the holidays are over.”

Namjoon considers it, his head titling from side to side. “Not the worst idea in the world, if you’re really that stressed about going alone.”

You give a nod. “You think Jungkook would want to come? He’s a little young, but at least he’s easy on the eyes.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Jungkook and his brother are with their parents on a cruise or something. They’re not due back til after this cottage debacle is done.”

You frown. “What about Taehyung? Or Yoongi?”

“Taehyung’s got plans, and Yoongi went back home for a few days,” Namjoon responds apologetically. “I could maybe ask Jimin if he’s free.”

You shake your head. “I spoke to Jimin the other day, he’s going back home for the holidays to be with his family, too.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow, looking around at everyone at the table. You’re purposely not making eye contact, but when he speaks, he voices the one thing you desperately do not want.

“I’ll go.”

You regard him wearily, your heart hammering in your chest. No. He did not just offer to come. “What? Why?”

Hoseok shrugs, listing off the reasons on his fingers. “My family’s not around this year, and your parents already know me. I’ve got nothing better to do, and if I’m being honest, I’m curious as to how this train wreck of a weekend is going to go.”

You frown, wanting nothing more than to faceplate into the spring mix on your plate. “I have no other option, do I?”

Hoseok smirks. “Get ready, babe. You’re in for a hell of a weekend.”

It’s just for a few days, you can survive a few days. Besides, if this is going to happen, you are absolutely writing down a list of rules for Hoseok to follow. Groaning, you decide to just accept your fate after weighing the pros and cons. When you finally agree, Hoseok blows you an exaggerated kiss, causing you to gag.

From his seat across the table, Namjoon watches the two of you with cautious eyes. He glances over at Seokjin, who just subtly shrugs his shoulders.

A hell of a weekend, indeed.

—

You end up driving down with Namjoon and Seokjin to the cottage, Hoseok having to work last minute. He had promised he would still be in time for dinner, he just needed to wrap up some stuff at his dance studio before the weekend began.

You’re about ten minutes away, the three of you driving in comfortable silence, when Namjoon turns in the passenger seat to look at you. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Y/N?”

You shrug, tucking your phone into your coat pocket. Nothing interesting is happening on social media away. “What other option do I have?”

Namjoon mimics you, his shoulders lifting nonchalantly. “Just seems like a lot of trouble just to get Mom and Dad to get off your back about being a single Pringle.”

“First off, you and Jin have been spending way too much time together,” you state with a frown. “Second, you have no idea what it’s like dealing with Mom and Dad when it comes to this stuff. They honestly worshipped the ground Jackson walked on. At least with Hoseok there, I have some sort of buffer.”

Seokjin eyes you from the rearview mirror. “Still surprises me that Hoseok was down to do it in the first place, to be honest. Are you paying him or something?”

“I offered,” you say, leaning back in your seat and watching the snow-covered trees pass by. “He said he didn’t want my money.”

Namjoon glances at Seokjin with a weary expression, but you don’t see it as you lean your head against the window.

You arrive at the cottage, which is really more like a second house. Your parents had always wanted a vacation property, working hard and making sacrifices to turn their dream into a reality. And the house was beautiful—you and Namjoon had spent many summers there as children, running through the woods behind the house until you reached the lake, splashing about without a care in the world. You spend every Christmas there as well, a long-held tradition that carries on to this day.

The cottage itself is a two-storey home with tan bricks and a wrap-around porch. White Christmas lights line the edges of the dark-shingled roof, wrapping around the porch banister and creating a pathway to the front door. There had been a decent amount of snowfall earlier that day, so some of the lights are diffused under the powdery blanket that covers the house.

Seokjin parks the car and you all file out, collecting your bags. You’re just about to ring the doorbell when the door flies open, revealing your mother, washed in the golden light emanating from inside. She’s wearing one of those god-awful patterned Christmas sweaters that Seokjin got her last year (he’s sporting a matching one, to your chagrin), with a Santa Claus hat perched atop her head.

“My babies!” She coos, dragging all three of you inside. The house smells like home, a combination of spiced scented candles and home cooking, and stepping across the threshold feels like a warm hug. Or perhaps it’s your mother’s arms locking around you, cutting off your circulation. It’s hard to tell.

“Hi Mom,” you smile, looking around. “Where’s Dad?”

She waves a hand flippantly. “Your father got a new barbecue for himself as a Christmas gift. He’s out in the backyard, bundled like a fool, cooking up more meat than we could possibly eat.”

As you, Namjoon and Seokjin file inside, you notice as your mother does a mental head count, and see the look of realization dawn on her face as she catches that there is one less ball of testosterone than she is expecting.

“Where’s Jackson?”

“Oh,” you begin sheepishly. “We, uh…you see, he’s…”

“They broke up,” Namjoon offers, taking everyone’s coats and dutifully placing them on hangers in the hall closet. “A few months ago.”

Your mother’s eyes widen and that look of pity that you hate filters into her irises. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she sighs, tugging you close as you allow your body to go limp in her hold. Tears start to well in your eyes, which you don’t expect. But it’s also the first time you’re telling her about your break-up, and sometimes you just need to be held by your mom. “You know, if you’re looking, I have a coworker who has this son—”

Ah, there it is. You peel yourself away, going so far as to take a step back. “Actually, Mom, I—”

You’re cut off by the sound of the doorbell, and your mother cocks an eyebrow. She peers out of the window, and suddenly looks taken aback. She swings the door open to reveal a rosy-cheeked Hoseok, overnight bag slung over his shoulder, holding a bouquet of red roses and what looks like a pie.

“Hoseok!” Your mom says his name with a slight inflection at the end, both a statement and a question.

“Hi, Mrs. Kim,” he beams at her, and she allows him inside. “Sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t interrupt if you guys already started dinner.”

“Oh, no, the kids just got in,” she waves off. “But…and pardon my rudeness, but what are you doing here?”

“Mom,” you interject, taking a step towards Hoseok. “That’s what I was going to tell you just now. Hoseok is…uh, he’s…”

Oh god, I’m so awkward, you chastise inwardly. Why can’t I just say it?

“We’re dating,” Hoseok offers. “Y/N didn’t tell you because she wanted it to be a surprise.”

Your mother tilts her head before she nods, a smile breaking across her face. “That’s so great! I always thought that you two disliked each other, but I suppose love always finds a way.”

“Uh, yeah,” you say unconvincingly. It’s then that you take notice of the giant bouquet of roses he’s carrying, and you point at it dumbly. “What are those for?”

Hoseok smirks, breaking character for a split second before his face transforms once again into that of an angel. “For you, Mrs. Kim,” he responds, giving a slight bow and offering the flowers to your mother. She gushes, because of course she does. She’s always considered Hoseok to be one of her favourites amongst Namjoon’s friends, and she loves roses.

“How sweet! Thank you so much!”

Hoseok’s smile grows wider at her acceptance of the gift. He then, however, plucks one rose from the bunch. “You’re welcome. Except for this one,” he says before he turns in your direction. “This one is for you.”

When you take it from his grasp, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the apple of your cheek. It takes all your willpower to not jump back, but to keep your feet planted where they are. You’re meant to be posing as a couple, of course he’s supposed to kiss you. So how come your heart won’t stop racing in your chest?

You decide to ignore it and just accept the rose with a bashful smile, one that has your mother in an absolute joyous fit.

“You’re too kind, Hoseok. Here, let me take that into the kitchen, and Y/N will help you with your coat. We still have some preparations to do with dinner, and Seokjin’s already offered to assist. Y/N, why don’t you bring yours and Hoseok’s bags up to your room and give him a tour? It’s been ages since he was last here.”

You mutely agree before taking Hoseok’s coat to put in the hall closet. As he sheds his layers, you can’t help but notice how nice he looks when he cleans up. His hair is styled so that it’s parted close to the middle in loose waves away from his face, and he’s sporting a thin, dark green knit sweater over a pinstriped dress shirt. It looks like he even ironed his dress pants.

“Okay, babe,” Hoseok grabs your bag as well, emphasizing the pet name. You want to gag. “Let’s go to our room.”

That was one thing that you’d somehow forgotten in this whole mess. You and Jackson had always shared your bed, which obviously was never an issue. But sharing a bed with Hoseok means…well, sharing a bed with Hoseok. And you’re pretty certain you would rather cut off both legs and serve them with Christmas dinner than have to share a bed with him.

You curse yourself for not fully thinking every detail of this arrangement through, but begrudgingly lead him upstairs nevertheless. It’s too late now. Your room at the cottage is at the end of the hall, beside Namjoon’s. You’d decorated the room as a teenager, and your parents left it largely untouched, never bothering to change it. The same went for Namjoon’s as well, except they knew not to touch anything because your brother was—and still is—so particular.

The room itself is pretty simple. It’s painted an off-white with a combination of framed art and little polaroids and other photos pinned to the walls. String lights frame the window, and there’s a dresser, and a vanity with more pictures of you and your friends throughout the years taped to the sides. It’s cozy and warm, and being here reminds you of all the happy memories of your childhood. Hoseok looks around the room with an expression that you can’t quite place before dumping his bag on the bed. He saunters over to your vanity to look at the pictures you’ve kept up there all these years.

You watch him with both curiosity and apprehension as his eyes skim over the pictures of you and Namjoon as kids, you and your best friends in high school, and you almost miss the imperceptible clench of his jaw at a strip of photo booth pictures of you and Jackson. You see where his eyes are trained and immediately stride over, placing the rose he’d gifted you earlier on the tabletop, and pulling the photo down.

He watches as you regard it with a heavy heart, noticing how you breathe out heavily through your nostrils. You look as if you want to tear up the pictures and throw them in the trash, but instead you just open one of the empty drawers of the vanity and place it gingerly inside.

“Not over him yet?” Hoseok asks, his voice quieter than you’re expecting.

You look up at him, expecting to see either mirth or pity, but surprisingly, when you look into his eyes, you see gentle understanding.

“I…” you begin, unable to maintain eye contact. You run your hand through your hair and fold your arms over your chest. “I miss him,” you admit. “But our relationship was over way before we broke up.”

Hoseok gives a nod, but doesn’t prompt you to explain any further. He just shoves his hands in his pockets and moves away from the photos, understanding that maybe he’d overstepped his bounds.

It’s then that Namjoon pops his head in the doorway.

“Hey, lovebirds,” he grins, obviously having a hard time maintaining the façade. You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Dinner’s ready.”

“We’ll be down in a second,” Hoseok states, and Namjoon just shrugs before disappearing.

You turn and give Hoseok a wry smile. “Gonna try to kiss me again or something?”

Your brain nearly short circuits the minute the words leave your mouth. Am I…flirting with Hoseok?

He snorts in reply, hands still in his pockets. “No one’s around, so nah, probably not. This weekend is just for show, remember? I know I clean up nice, but try not to fall in love with me, yeah?”

“Ah, there he is,” you say with just the slightest hint of irritation. “For a second, I thought aliens had kidnapped you and replaced you with someone who was actually tolerable.”

Hoseok holds his hands over his heart and makes a fake pained noise. “My lady, you wound me! How doth I go on in a manner such as this?”

You blink at him. “Doth?”

He just shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I just, uh…I wanted to let you know that…”

You wait for his response, unsure of what he’s about to say. Your eyes meet his, and you can see the conflict plain as day on his face. With a sigh, he shakes his head.

“Never mind. I just wanted to say that I hope this weekend goes well.”

You regard him curiously, but give a slight nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

The two of you head downstairs to find everyone else in the dining room, Namjoon and Seokjin sitting and sipping wine while chatting animatedly with your father.

Your socked feet pad along towards the delicious smell of a home cooked meal, Hoseok following close behind. You’re not used to being so physically close to him, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body. You try not to think about how you can smell his cologne, a delicious, perfect smell that has you biting the inside of your cheek.

You sneak a glance at him. Has his jawline always been so sharp? Admittedly, Hoseok has always been good-looking, but you’d never bothered to notice until now. You mentally slap yourself for thinking these things—this is Hoseok. Asshole extraordinaire, your brother’s best friend and roommate, and the bane of your existence since you were sixteen.

“Hoseok! Y/N!” Your mother calls as she lowers the hot dishes down onto the placemats. You turn away from Hoseok momentarily to eye her, a frown forming at the obvious giddiness filtering into her voice. She nods skyward, causing the two of you to look up as well. And then she says the one word you’d been dreading since you set foot into the cottage: “Mistletoe!”

She’s right. Pinned to the entryway into the dining room is a sprig of mistletoe, dangling over your heads. She’s evil, you concur. My mother is the devil.

Hoseok turns to you, and your eyes widen at his proximity. He smirks, that insolent, infuriating half-grin that both has your blood boiling and your heart racing. “Well, baby,” he purrs, wiggling his eyebrows. “Shall we give them a show?”

Before you have the chance to vehemently protest, One of Hoseok’s hands is on your lower back, and the other is cupping the back of your neck. He dips you down, catching you off guard. Your arms instinctively loop around his neck so you don’t fall, and in that split-second of shock, he kisses you.

Like, really kisses you.

This isn’t the peck on the cheek that he’d given you when you’d first lied to your mother about the two of you dating. The way he’s kissing you now feels different, like it’s grounded in something you can’t quite place. And, perhaps in a moment of temporary insanity, you kiss him back.

As soon as Hoseok feels your lips moving along with his, a deep groan rumbles in his chest. Your fingers curl into his hair as he presses you so close, and you swear you feel the wetness of his tongue gliding across the seam of your mouth.

Namjoon wolf-whistles and the two of you break apart before it can get too heated. A good thing, since you were starting to lose yourself in the feeling of Hoseok’s lips against yours, the gentle way in which his thumb rubs circles against your lower back. Hoseok lifts you back to standing and you immediately hide your face against his shoulder, your back to the rest of your family as he holds you close. You’d never been overly affectionate with any of your exes in front of your parents, even Jackson. So having practically made out with someone who you consider your nemesis in front of them is mortifying.

You feel his lips against your crown, almost imperceptible. You peel yourself away from him to look into his eyes, his expression unreadable. You hear someone at the table clear their throat, and it breaks the spell, causing you to take a step back, trying to hide the deep blush on your face behind your hair.

“If you’re done,” your father states in a teasing tone, “the rest of us would like to start eating.”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you and Hoseok take your seats opposite Namjoon and Seokjin. Your parents are sitting on either end of the table, Hoseok closest to your mother and you closest to your father. The spread of food on the table looks delicious, and you all start to dig in. Seokjin won’t stop piling sweet potatoes and turkey slices onto his plate, and when Namjoon scolds him for it, he proceeds to lick every item just to lay his claim.

You wonder what it’s like for your brother and his boyfriend to share one brain cell.

“So,” your father finally pipes up once everyone’s plates are full and the sounds of forks and knives clinking has filled the room. He gestures to you and Hoseok, an eyebrow raised. “When did this happen?”

You turn to look at Hoseok, realizing in your stupidity that you hadn’t come up with a backstory. Hoseok sees the apprehension in your eyes and decides to be the one to speak up.

“It was a few weeks after her and Jackson had broken up and she moved into our building,” Hoseok comments, addressing both of your parents. “I hadn’t seen Y/N in a while, since she was always working. But then one day she came over to visit Namjoon, and…” He then turns to look at you, making sure your eyes don’t stray from his. “I just thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and that I was an idiot for not noticing sooner.”

Your jaw can’t help but drop just slightly at the confession, but then you remember that this is all an act. This is just so your parents will leave you alone about what happened with Jackson, and Hoseok is just a better actor than you’d ever given him credit for. It sets a sharp bitterness in your mouth, forcing you to remember that you hate Hoseok, and that he hates you too.

For some reason, though it’s been fact for the majority of your adult life, the harsh reality has your heart clenching in your chest.

“How romantic!” Your mother’s cooing interrupts your thoughts. Hoseok is smiling gently at you, and you can’t help but blush and turn away to pick at your food as you gather your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you agree, clearing your throat. “We both thought that maybe it would be a little too soon after everything that happened, but…”

“It just feels right,” Hoseok finishes for you.

You can’t help but wonder if an alien really did abduct the real Hoseok and left an imposter as a replacement, but you play along, nodding slightly.

“Yeah. It does.”

—

Dinner passes with the expected amount of painful questioning, mostly from your mom. Your dad has always stated that he trusts your judgment when it comes to the guys you date, and since he already knows Hoseok, his questions are thankfully minimal. When you’d first brought Jackson home for dinner, you were worried that he and your father wouldn’t get along. But as was in your then-boyfriend’s nature, he won them both over with his sharp wit and bold sense of humour.

You sink into your chair as the memories long since past swirl around in your mind and have you staring off into space. Hoseok seems to notice immediately and he nudges you under the table as Seokjin and your father engage in a dad-joke competition that has your mother and Namjoon each refilling their glasses of wine.

“You okay?”

Your fingers drum along the stem of your own wine glass before pushing it away. “Had too much to drink maybe. I think I have a bit of a headache.”

Hoseok frowns, glancing at the others. “Do you want to get some fresh air?”

You offer up a small smile. “Actually, yeah. That’s a great idea.”

Hoseok beams at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead, catching you off guard, and rising to his feet. “Y/N and I are going to go for a quick walk. Too much wine, you know?” You hear him joke, though the ringing in your ears that began when his lips touched your skin hasn’t stopped just yet. You take a second to gather yourself, ignoring Namjoon’s apprehensive eyes, and follow Hoseok to the front foyer to collect your coats.

Winter has never been one of your favourite seasons—in fact, if you were forced to rank them, it would most likely place dead last, with summer being at the very top. But you have to admit, as you and Hoseok walk one of the trails that leads down to the lake, winter truly can be beautiful.

The sound of your snow boots crunching against the snowy ground fill your ears as you take in the sight of evergreens coated in snow, of other cottages in the distance glowing in the frigid night, and the decorative lights that break through the dark blue of the night sky. It’s quiet, save for the satisfying noise of snow being displaced under the rubber soles of your boots. Beside you, Hoseok is silent, chin tilted upward as he quietly observes everything around him.

Hoseok has been to your cottage before, just once, in the summer when you were teenagers. It had been the year he’d first moved to the city, and Namjoon had wanted him to feel welcome. That was the summer he’d wound up on your shit list, pushing you off the dock and into the lake where your foot had caught on some seaweed and you’d nearly drowned. After you’d been rescued and it was confirmed that you were alright, he’d laughed in that loud, maniacal way that you would grow to detest, dramatically making fun of how you’d fallen when he’d shoved you. After that, you had urged your parents to ban him from ever visiting the cottage again, having humiliated and nearly killed you that summer.

The path to the lake winds through the woods, though it’s a path that has been trodden by so many that you could walk it with your eyes closed. Neither you or Hoseok say anything—there’s no need to, you find, as the silence doesn’t feel as awkward as you’d expect. If anything, it feels comfortable and familiar. You chalk it up to just having known Hoseok for a long time, that his presence at your side isn’t as unfamiliar as that of a total stranger.

Eventually, the trees part and the sound of the lake lapping against the shore fills your ears. You’d always loved your cottage for this reason—being by the lake, hearing the steady rhythm of the water, always fills your mind with calm. There are a few fallen logs that serve as seating, and you dust off the snow to make room for you and Hoseok to sit down.

Your hands are shoved into the pockets of your coat and you sigh, glancing out at the horizon. It’s dark, but you can see dots of warm light on the other side of the water, and you smile to yourself at the thought of other families getting together and enjoying the holidays.

You wonder if Jackson is with his new girlfriend.

Prying your eyes away from the waves, you stare down at your boots, suddenly hyper focused on pushing a small pile of snow from the outside of your foot to the inside, and back again. Hoseok notices, his voice soft when he speaks.

“You know, it’s okay to miss him.”

Your head snaps in his direction as you peer up into the warm chocolate of his eyes. “What?”

“It’s okay to miss him,” Hoseok repeats with a shrug. “I can tell that you’re not totally over your breakup.”

You frown, turning back to fixate on the snow. “Is it that obvious?”

Hoseok snorts. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m doing the majority of the heavy lifting with your parents, right now. If Namjoon ‘secretly’ rolls his eyes one more time, I think they might actually fall out of his face.”

You nod absentmindedly, remembering once again that none of this is real. Hoseok isn’t your boyfriend, and neither is Jackson. You’re alone, single and horribly lonely, and the weight of that reality starts to really sink in.

You don’t want to cry, but you feel tears escaping as you take in a shaky breath. “It’s just hard to get out of bed sometimes, you know?” You admit feebly, ashamed of how small your voice sounds. “I just can’t help but think that if maybe I had done more, or been more, then maybe we might still be together. I wish…I just wish I was enough for him. He was always enough for me.”

Hoseok seems to hesitate, but then he apprehensively lifts his arm and places it around your shoulders. It’s a little awkward as his hand gives you a good natured pat, not trying to pull you into his body heat, just sitting beside you and trying to offer you comfort. You can’t help but notice the distinct difference between this Hoseok and the one that was trying to charm your family. In there, he was cool, funny, and warm. Out here, he’s awkward, contemplative, and nervous.

You can’t help but think that you kind of prefer this version of Hoseok.

“You know,” he begins, his voice cutting through the chill in the air. “You can’t live your life thinking about shit like that. You’re always going to look back at moments in your past and think that if you had done something differently, that the outcome would be more favourable. But honestly, dwelling on it is only going to make it worse, since you can’t change it now. What’s done is done. You gotta move on.”

Deep down, you know Hoseok is right. But still, as your breath hitches in your throat, it doesn’t stop you from asking, “Do you think it’ll ever stop hurting this much?”

It’s then that Hoseok scoots a little closer, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace. You let yourself melt against him, your head resting upon his shoulder, as he rubs your arm and places his cheek against your crown. You close your eyes, the scent of sandalwood and spice filling your nostrils. And for the first time in what feels like ages, you don’t see Jackson’s face when you’re met with the darkness behind your eyelids.

No.

This time, you picture Hoseok.

And when he speaks, you nearly forget about Jackson altogether.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know it will.”

You arrive back at the cottage, not feeling nearly as horrible as you had when you’d left. You apologize to your parents about not sticking around to help clean up or clear the table, but your mother just winks and says it’s alright, that it’s only natural to want some alone time with your new boyfriend.

You hate that you’re lying to her, but you also can’t stop the way your breath catches in your throat at the insinuation.

Alone time with your new boyfriend.

You pretend that those words aren’t circling in your brain as you sink into the covers, squishing yourself on one side of the double bed. Hoseok is on the other side, doing something that you can only describe as touching himself.

Not in a sexual way. But he’s lying down, arms shot straight up in the air as he runs his fingertips along his inner forearms, alternating every few seconds. His eyes are closed, and he looks absolutely insane.

“What are you doing?” You have to ask, turning your head on your pillow to face him. He’s moved on now to gently caressing his own chest, looking just as  odd as before.

“My mom used to do this to me when I was a kid,” he explains, his eyes still shut. “It helps me fall asleep.”

You blink owlishly at him, unable to help the small giggle that escapes your lips. He cracks an eye open, glaring at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you respond, fully turning your body to face him now. “You just look crazy, is all.”

Hoseok drops his arms against the sheets in a minor huff. “Well, princess, sorry if it bothers you. You gonna volunteer to do it for me, then? Because if not, it’s going to be a long night.”

You gape at him for just a moment, though it morphs into an amused smile. “You really can’t get to sleep without someone touching you?”

Hoseok grumbles, annoyed that you know at least one of his secrets. “Unfortunately not.”

In a moment of boldness, you scoot towards him and gesture for him to face you. He does so with an unsure look, and you can’t help but notice his eyes widen as you start to run your fingers through his hair.

You don’t know what possesses you to do so, but all you know is that the strands are silky between your fingers, and your ministrations has Hoseok’s eyes starting to flutter shut. As your nails gently scrape along his scalp, he lets out a low moan, one that has him immediately darting awake and pulling away from you.

“I’m good,” he stutters out, creating distance between your bodies. “Th-thanks for that. But I’m okay.”

“Oh,” you respond, surprised and just slightly disappointed. “Well…goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” he replies gruffly, turning his back to you and tugging the duvet up to his chin. You sigh and do the same, attempting to get comfortable. You wind up staring at the wall as the minutes tick by on the clock, sleep deciding to evade you on this night.

From the other side of the bed, Hoseok also remains wide awake, his hands twitching as if he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But he doesn’t, because you’re his brother’s best friend, and you hate him. You’ve made that clear. So instead, he forces his eyes shut, and counts sheep until slumber decides to consume him in all-encompassing darkness.

—

The rest of the weekend passes by in a blur. There’s a new, underlying tension between you and Hoseok that you’re trying your best to ignore, although you know that at least Namjoon can sense that something is off.

You don’t tell anyone that when you’d awoken on Christmas morning, that Hoseok had been clinging to you like a koala, arms looped around your middle and a leg slung over yours. You’d carefully extradited yourself from his grasp without waking him, heading downstairs to help your father prepare breakfast for everyone.

But over the course of the entire weekend, Hoseok had been nothing but a total gentleman, always offering to help out with the dishes and setting the table, indulging your dad in talks of sports he knew nothing about, and even going so far as to help your mother with cooking. It made you look at him differently. He was so domestic, and you couldn’t deny the butterflies in the base of your stomach whenever he smiled in your direction. It had been confusing, to say the least.

It’s with the utmost relief that you find yourself backing your bags alone in your room, happy that you can finally return to your apartment to wallow in self pity all by your lonesome. You hear a rap against the doorframe, and as you turn, Hoseok steps into view. He’s dressed casually, wearing an oversized sweater and a pair of loose track pants, but you still can’t help but think that he looks effortlessly handsome.

You’re not sure when your brain started to produce these thoughts, but you try your hardest to ignore them.

“Hey,” he greets, almost sheepish. “You packing?”

It takes you a second to find your voice. “Yeah,” you nod, going back to sorting your belongings in the confines of your duffel bag. “You have all your stuff?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, pushing off from the door frame to make his way over to you. You feel his presence before you see how close he is, and his proximity has you standing up to your full height as you face him.

“Did you need something?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

Hoseok smiles with a shake of his head. Has he always looked this radiant?

“No, nothing like that,” he states, scratching at the back of his head. “I just, uh…wanted to say that surprisingly, I had fun this weekend.”

You can’t help but grin. “Yeah, me too. Definitely got my parents off my back, so I definitely owe you my thanks in that department.”

“Oh?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Do I get to choose my token of gratitude?”

You tilt your head in confusion. “I mean, sure, I guess? Do you want money or something? Because that might have to wait until I’m employed again—”

“No,” Hoseok interrupts. “Nothing like that.”

You feel your palms starting to sweat. “Then what?”

You see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows hard. His voice sounds almost husky as he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

You almost take a step back, but force yourself to remain rooted in place, though shock is evident on your features. “W-what?”

“Kiss me,” he repeats, and you feel the warmth of his palm against your hip. “Without anyone watching, without the whole fake-boyfriend pretence.” He looks into your eyes, hopeful and oddly sincere. “Please?”

Your throat feels dry, and you swear the room is starting to spin. But your mouth speaks before your mind can catch up, asking, “Just once?”

The look in his eyes becomes unreadable, almost distant, before he answers, his breath fanning across your face. He’s so close. “Yeah. Just once.”

Your body feels like it’s running on autopilot as you lift your arms to loop around Hoseok’s neck. His grip on your waist tightens as he draws you in, closer and closer. You rise to the tips of your toes and feel his nose grazing against yours. You feel his lips barely grazing against yours, almost touching but not quite. You feel dizzy with want, this inexplicable spark of desire growing within you and warming your body from the inside out. For the very first time, you realize that you want him, that you want Jung Hoseok, and it terrifies you.

You’re just about to finally close the distance when you hear your mother from the doorway.

“Y/N, Hobi, I just wanted to—oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

You practically jump back from Hoseok, the moment shattered as you retract your arms from his body and curl in on yourself, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. You hear Hoseok sigh before he reluctantly moves his hands from your waist.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Kim,” he says in a strained voice. “I should probably finish packing up my car anyway.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, oddly close to the corner of your mouth. The next question he whispers into your ear, so quiet you almost don’t hear him. “See you back at the apartment?”

Oh. Part of you had hoped that Hoseok would offer to drive you back, but you suppose it makes more sense for Namjoon and Seokjin to take you. You and Hoseok need some distance, a little space to figure out the whirlwind of confusing emotions that have threatened to consume you whole. You just nod dumbly, still not looking at him. If you look at him, you might say or do something you’ll just regret later, with your mother as a witness by the door.

He lingers a moment longer before finally leaving the room. Your mother smiles at him as he goes, and he offers her a small upward quirk of his lips in return. Once the two of you are alone, and you’ve shoved the rest of your things into your duffel, your mom walks over to you and sits on the bed. She pats the spot next to her, and you take a seat, hands folded in your lap.

“How are you doing, sweetie?”

You’re confused by the question. “Uh…fine?”

“No,” she shakes her head, reaching up to play with a strand of your hair. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

You’d known that from the beginning. Your mother had always been your biggest confidant, and she hadn’t had a chance to really talk to you by yourself since getting to the cottage. You’d been expecting this conversation, dreading it even. She continues.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you and Jackson had broken up?” She asks gently. You’d known that your mother had loved the boy, taken him in as a second son. She had joked in the past that the two of you should get married, and that had been the direction you thought your life was going in. But life has other plans. It always does.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before replying. “I was embarrassed,” you admit truthfully. “I…I don’t know, Mom. I guess I always thought that Jackson was going to be it for me. I told so many people how much I loved him, and everyone would always tell me in return that we were the perfect couple. What kind of perfect couple breaks up because he’s married to his job?”

You take in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I just needed time to figure out my new normal again.”

She nods, staring off into space. After a beat, she pipes up. “Hoseok is great, though.”

You glance over at her, not realizing the tiny smile that has made its way onto your face. “Yeah. He is.”

“You know,” your mother muses, the distant look in her eyes full of nostalgia. “When you two were in high school, I always suspected that he had a crush on you. Boys always show that they like girls in the stupidest ways when they’re younger, what with all the teasing and such. But I have to say, the two of you together just make sense.”

You bite your lower lip. “We do?”

“Yeah,” she affirms. “I see it in the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention. He really cares about you. And I know this relationship is new, and it’s coming off the heels of a breakup, but don’t let him go. Okay? At least not without a fight.”

In that instant, you almost tell her that the entire thing is fake. That none of it is real, that Hoseok is just a talented actor who had wanted to see how much of a shit show this weekend would truly be. But as your mother beams at you with all the love and warmth that you’d missed being holed up under the covers in your apartment, you just smile in return.

“Okay, Mom. I promise.”

Hoseok is already gone by the time you all pile into Seokjin’s car, saying he needed to get back to the studio to check on something, even though it was the day after Christmas. You don’t say anything, opting to put your headphones on and drown out everything around you as you stare blankly out the window.

“Can she hear us?” Namjoon asks his boyfriend as your eyes start to flutter shut. Seokjin’s hands tighten around the steering wheel as he glances back at you through the rearview mirror.

“I don’t think so. She’s got those giant noise-cancelling things on her head, and I think she’s taking a nap.”

Namjoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “This is a mess, Jin.”

Seokjin agrees with a grunt. “Honestly, I still can’t believe Hobi actually agreed to come this weekend. Volunteered, even.”

“Yeah, well, you know how he feels about my sister,” Namjoon whispers, just in case you’re secretly awake or between songs. “This isn’t healthy for either of them. One of them is gonna get their heart broken, and it’s gonna be Hoseok.”

Seokjin tries to be optimistic. “But it looked as if she was into it, no?”

He strokes his index finger along his chin, pensive and frustrated. “I don’t know. Y/N has always been pretty good at hiding it in front of people whenever she’s upset or anxious. But whatever happened this weekend didn’t feel fake to me. From either of them.”

“Ah,” Seokjin tuts, driving with one hand as he leans his elbow against the windowsill. “They’re both adults, Joonie. They’ll figure it out, and everything will go back to normal.”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon responds with an air of trepidation. But he doesn’t say anything else.

—

Before you can blink, it’s New Year’s Eve. As soon as you’re back from your parents’ cottage, you pretty much go back to your previous routine—hiding out from the world in your apartment under the covers, only really coming out to eat or go to the bathroom. But this time, you’re not only hiding from the chaos that’s outside, but also from Hoseok.

You’ve never been more confused. You haven’t spoken to him since that weekend, nor have you gone over to his and Namjoon’s apartment. Your brother has reluctantly been giving you space, something that he only ever does when he knows you’re experiencing inner turmoil.

You flop down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering just how you got here. You try to think back on when exactly these feelings had sprung up. Part of you wants to believe that it’s just because you were dying for affection of any kind after your break up, and Hoseok was just the one to provide it for you. You try to reason that if it had been any of your other friends, like Jungkook or Yoongi, you’d probably feel similarly.

But the larger part of your brain knows that that isn’t true.

You shut your eyes, taking in a deep breath. You need to be honest with yourself for once.

Truth be told, you’d always had a bit of a thing for Hoseok. When you’d first met him, you had just come home from varsity soccer practice, still wearing your uniform and dripping with sweat. He was sitting on the couch with Namjoon, joking around and teasing him as he struggled through some video game you didn’t recognize.

You’d immediately been attracted to him, his smile being the first thing that had you mesmerized. But you don’t really know what happened after that. He’d taken to teasing you, purposely pushing your buttons just to get a reaction. He was never particularly cruel, mostly annoying, but you figured that he hated you all the same. And because you refused to be pushed around, whatever he gave, you returned. If he was rude to you, you were rude right back. If he was passive aggressive, you accused him of being a giant baby.

Things only got worse when you started dating Jackson. Hoseok absolutely despised him and you could never figure out why. You figured it was because Jackson was quick-witted and often left Hoseok speechless, and he defended you whenever Hoseok decided to act foolishly. You never thought much of it until now, your mother’s words echoing in your head.

Had Hoseok been jealous all this time?

You try to shove the thought away, along with the butterflies that are still occupying your stomach, but to no avail. Maybe Hoseok really did like you, and maybe you like him too. Why else would he ask you to kiss him at the end of the weekend without anyone there to witness it? Surely that had to mean something.

You groan in frustration as your eyes shoot open.

You’re falling for Jung Hoseok.

In that instant, your phone buzzes. Part of you hopes it’s him, but instead it’s your brother’s name that pops up on your screen.

[Received: 10:07pm] Namjoon: The guys are all here. Are you still coming over for the countdown? We have wine

[Sent: 10:07pm] Y/N: How dare you tempt me with the devil’s juice

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: Bitch

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: You love wine. Come over

[Received: 10:08pm] Namjoon: Put on real people clothes. No ratty PJs allowed.

[Sent: 10:09pm] Y/N: You sound just like Dad. Fine. I’ll be over in 10

[Received: 10:10pm] Namjoon: Love you sooooo much. Jin and I are just doing some last-minute stuff, let yourself in whenever you’re ready

You heave a sigh and sit up, realizing you can’t hide from Hoseok forever. You drag yourself out of bed, quickly changing, making sure you look presentable, and trudging down the hall to Namjoon’s apartment.

You can hear the ruckus that is seven boys from behind the door once you approach. Everyone had come back from visiting their families, gathering at Namjoon and Hoseok’s, as is their tradition. You feel your palms start to sweat as you reach for the doorknob, slowly twisting it open and slipping inside.

No one seems to hear you come in, as there’s no break in conversation between the five boys situated in the living room. Jin and Namjoon are nowhere to be found, so you assume they’re still in the process of getting ready for the evening’s festivities. The television is on, showing one of the many New Year’s Eve countdown specials, some musical group performing their latest hit blaring from the speakers. You’re just about to make your presence known when you hear someone mention your name.

“Hobi, is it true that you actually went to Joon and Y/N’s cottage for the holidays?”

The voice belongs to Jimin. You peer around the corner into the living room, still going unnoticed. Hoseok is there, sitting on the couch nursing a beer.

“Yeah,” he responds gruffly, as if he doesn’t want to talk about it.

A new voice pipes up, this time belonging to Jungkook. He sounds incredulous as he asks, “Is it true that you went there posing as her boyfriend to her parents?”

Another affirmative grunt. You hear a chorus of laughter, and you can’t deny that it stings. Are they laughing at Hoseok having to spend a weekend with the person he hates the most, or are they laughing because your situation is just that pathetic?

“And how was that?” Yoongi asks as he downs the rest of his bottle of beer.

You can really only see the back of Hoseok’s head, but you can tell based on how he grips his beer a little tighter that he’s getting annoyed with his friends and their teasing. You’re about to step out from around the corner to put an end to all of it when he finally speaks up.

“Honestly? A waste of fucking time. She didn’t even put out. I figured she would be easier than that. Not that I want Jackson’s sloppy seconds anyway.”

Time stops.

You can’t breathe.

You can hear the guys speaking, but you can’t process it. You feel like you’re underwater, being dunked in a frozen lake with the ice trapping you below the surface. You don’t realize you’re crying until you hear your name being called.

“Y/N?” Namjoon asks as he pokes his head out from his bedroom. Immediately, all of the eyes in the room fall on you.

Hoseok stares at you, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

You want to throw up.

Namjoon approaches you quickly, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You don’t break eye contact with Hoseok as you start to shake your head.

Finally, you spit out, “Fuck you, Jung Hoseok.”

You wrench yourself from your brother’s grasp and head for the door, slamming it shut on your way out.

None of it was real.

None of it was real, and you feel so absolutely fucking stupid for believing that it could have been. Every touch, every kiss, all of it was just Hoseok doing what he does best—pretend. You were right all along. All he wanted was just some sick entertainment, and to maybe lure you into bed so that he could go back to his friends and brag about it behind your back.

You make it back to your place and throw the door open, not looking back when you swing it shut with your foot. But instead of the sound of the door slamming against the wooden frame, you hear it whack against something soft. You turn and immediately become furious at the sight of Hoseok stepping foot into your private space.

You march over and shove him hard, causing him to stumble back.

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

You’re almost shocked at how eerily calm your voice is. But you know that the dam is about to break, and if Hoseok doesn’t leave right this minute, you’re going to unleash a tsunami upon him.

“Y/N, wait, I can explain—”

That does it.

“Explain what?” You can’t help but yell. You’re just so tired, so embarrassed, so humiliated that all you want is him to leave so that you can cry your eyes out under the covers in peace. You try to shove him again, but he’s expecting it this time, his feet planted firmly on the ground. “Explain how this whole thing was just so that you could have more ammunition to make fun of me? So that I could be another notch in your bed post? Well, guess what, I don’t want to hear it, so why don’t you just get the fuck out and leave me alone!”

Hoseok vehemently shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You bite your lip to stop from screaming at him, staring up at the ceiling in a feeble attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

“I’m asking you nicely, Hoseok,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Please just leave, I can’t even look at you, I can’t—”

Before you can blink, he’s on you, lips pressed so firmly against yours that the contact makes your teeth click. Hoseok soothes the sting as his movements slow, his mouth coaxing a light moan from your throat. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, and for a delirious moment, you sink into the feeling of the kiss, of him kissing you.

It isn’t until you feel him tugging you against the length of his body that his words come rushing back to you in a flood of shame, anger, and hurt. You plant your hands on his chest and forcefully push him away, a resounding CRACK ringing through your apartment as a red mark in the shape of your handprint blooms across his cheek.

Hoseok is stunned, immediately letting you go. He rubs at where you’d slapped him, his lips downturned in a frown that doesn’t suit his beautiful face. He gapes at you for a few minutes before finally choking out, “What the fuck was that for?”

“Stop toying with me!” You practically wail, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t get to just…just kiss me like that out of nowhere and pretend like everything is okay! What am I, a joke to you? Someone you can play around with and then go back and brag about to your friends?”

You take in a deep, wavering breath, shaking your head as you force yourself to look him in the eye.

“I can’t believe I trusted you.” You see Hoseok’s face fall, his hands twitching at his sides, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you imagine that it’s because he wants to reach out and touch you. You hate yourself for wanting it to be true. “I can’t believe I confided in you, that I—”

You clamp your mouth shut before the secret you’ve been holding back ever since Namjoon had introduced the two of you all those years ago slips from your tongue. This seems to spark something within Hoseok, and his face sets in determination.

“That you what?” He demands, taking a step forward. “I’m not playing around, Y/N. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.”

“Then why did you say those things about me to the others?” You cry, hot tears streaking down your face. You helplessly swipe at them with your sleeves, hating that you’ve allowed yourself to get this emotional, that he’s seeing you break down in front of him. You turn away burying your face in your hands. “I’m so stupid, I’m so, so fucking stupid…”

You feel his arms circling you, and you start to cry harder when you feel his lips press against your crown.

“You’re not stupid,” he promises quietly, a large, warm palm rubbing gentle circles against your back. “This is real. The entire weekend with your parents—every touch, every kiss, I meant it.” He lets out a laugh. Not one of humour, but one of weary exhaustion. “You’re really gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, force yourself to pretend as if his touch isn’t a welcome comfort. You will the tears to cease, shakily asking, “Say what?”

Another laugh, this one followed by a short, hitched breath.

“I’m in love with you.”

You immediately try to wrestle yourself out of his hold, though his hands remain steadfast on your waist. “You what?”

His grip tightens ever so slightly, his gaze soft as he smiles down at you. “I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes search his, breath caught in your throat. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he promises, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

You’re too stunned to speak. How long had you dreamed of Hoseok saying those exact words to you? For him to want you, only you, for the weekend at your parents’ cottage to have been real instead of just a ruse to get your family off your back? Your eyes are still fixated on his, trying to figure out whether or not he’s telling the truth.

Hoseok must sense the thoughts racing through your mind, so he decides to continue. “When Namjoon introduced us back in high school, the first time I came over and you’d come back from soccer practice, my jaw nearly hit the floor. Namjoon figured out how I felt and warned me to stay away from you, so I kept my distance.”

Namjoon knew? Your brother knew this whole time?

“I was an asshole to you because it was the only way I knew how to get your attention. We were kids at the time, you know? Just stupid teenagers. But by the time we’d all grown up, that was just how we spoke to each other, and it was the only way I knew how to get you to even look in my direction. And then you were dating that asshole Jackson, and you just seemed so happy, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” He scoffs at himself, letting out a deep sigh. “I’m an idiot, right?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your voice is locked up in your throat, refusing to come out. So you just stare at him, stunned.

He continues. “I shouldn’t have said what I did back there. The guys…they don’t know how I feel about you, and they wouldn’t leave me alone. I know that it was wrong, and I regretted it the second I said it. But I don’t regret spending time with you, getting to really know you, or getting to pretend like you were actually mine, if only for a few days. I know I have a lifetime to atone for, and I just need you to know that I’m going to try, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t know what to say.

Hoseok smiles nervously, one hand coming up to rake through his hair. “You know, Y/N, I’m kind of bearing my heart and soul to you here, a little feedback would be appreciated.”

You still can’t will yourself to speak, and you feel Hoseok’s hand on your waist starting to slip.

“Look, I’m really sorry, I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut. Forget I said anything, I’ll just go—”

Before he can turn, you cut him off with your hands on either side of his face and your lips against his.

Words evade you, so you hope that you can convey everything in the kiss. Hoseok melts against you, his hands holding you close, slipping under the hem of your shirt to fan across the skin of your lower back. You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, only pulling away for a second to catch your breath.

“Holy shit,” Hoseok pants, his breath fanning across your lips. “You just kissed—”

You kiss him again, effectively shutting him up, because there are more important things the two of you can be doing with your mouths. Hoseok sinks into the kiss, moving you backwards until he’s crowding you against the wall of your front hallway. You moan when his tongue traces along your lower lip, and you open up for him, knees nearly buckling at the sensation of the first touch against yours.

The kiss is everything you’ve dreamed of and more. You can feel the sincerity, the desire, the love as Hoseok’s movements slow, stealing all the air from your lungs. His tongue gently caresses yours as he takes control, and you can feel his eyelashes fluttering light as a feather against the curve your cheek. Your fingers card through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. He moans into your mouth, the same erotic sound that had escaped him the first night at the cottage. Hoseok presses you more firmly against the length of his body, and you can feel his arousal against your lower stomach.

Pulling away with a great amount of reluctance, your eyes search his. All you see is the truth.

Both his, and yours.

“It was real to me too,” you confess, breathless in the best way possible. “I didn’t know I wanted it to be until you kissed me under the mistletoe, but I do. I want you, Hoseok. All of you. Deep down, I think I always have.”

The smile that spreads across his face is so beautiful and radiant that it rivals the sun. Hoseok presses his forehead against yours, and takes in a deep breath as his eyes shut. He doesn’t say anything, and you run your thumb along his cheek, pecking at his mouth.

“What is it?”

“I just…” he begins, his voice so soft and so full of emotion. You press your palms against his shoulders so that you can see him fully, and you’re shocked to see the tears clinging to his lashes. “I love you,” he confesses, and you still feel your breath hitch at the words. “I love you, and I just need a second to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“You’re not,” you promise, smoothing out the collar of his shirt absentmindedly. You want to say those three words back to him, but you know that you’re not ready yet. There’s still years of hurt to work through, to resolve and fix. But your heart longs for him, marvels in how right it feels to be in his arms, to kiss him, to be as close to him as possible.

Hoseok seems to be able to read your mind, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your hip. “I know I have a lot of apologizing to do,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’d like to show you just how sorry I am, and how much I love you, if you’ll let me.”

Even after his confession, and though he’s holding you so close that nothing else but the two of you exists, you have to feebly ask, “Promise you won’t use this to make fun of me behind my back with the guys?”

Hoseok’s head hangs in shame for a second before he rises to look at you, the smile gone from his face. It’s replaced by a look of sadness, pain filtering into his gaze. “Please, Y/N. I need you to believe me when I say that I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever. I’m not about to blow my chance with you for some stupid prank.”

You worry your lower lip between your teeth before you raise your hand, holding up your pinky finger. “Promise?”

A tiny smile begins to spread across his face as he holds his up as well, hooking his little finger with yours. “Promise.”

You’re not sure who leans in first after that. All you know is that his hand is cupping your jaw and you’re clinging to his shirt as he kisses you with so much love, passion, and adoration that you swear your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

Hoseok guides you in the direction of your room, and the two of you stumble along, clothes thrown overhead and shed along the way. By the time you feel Hoseok gently push you down on the bed, his shirt is off and you’re only in your bra and panties, a plain, boring white set that you wish was just a little fancier. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind though, as he climbs over you and looks down at your body as if he wants to devour you whole.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, his mouth scorching hot as he pulls bruises with his teeth along your neck and collarbone. You whine beneath him as he noses your bra strap down your shoulder, sucking and licking down the curve of your breast.

“Hobi, please,” you whimper as he tugs your bra down to expose your nipples, immediately looking you dead in the eye as he elongates his tongue and traces the very tip along the edge of your areola. He lavishes your breast with attention, his thumb grazing over your other nipple before he switches his ministrations. You arch into his mouth, and Hoseok takes the opportunity to slide his hands underneath you to unhook your bra.

He tosses it aside flippantly before pressing open mouthed kisses between the valley of your breasts, and down your stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about you ever since that first night at the cottage,” Hoseok breathes against the band of your panties, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. He tugs them down slowly, his voice deep and husky as he tries to keep himself under control.

You can tell it’s a losing battle, if his blown out pupils and the tent in his jeans are any indication.

“The things I want to do to you,” he growls, his palms spreading your legs wide so that they’re flat against the bed. You whimper out a moan as he trails kisses from your knee up your inner thigh, stopping just before where you need him most. “With my tongue…with my hands…” Hoseok runs his thumb along your dripping slit, not adding much pressure, but just a ghost of a touch to let you know that he sees what a mess you’ve already made. “Fuck, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp as you feel his calloused digit swipe lightly over your swollen clit. “Hobi, please, I need more—”

He smirks up at you, and you watch as he, with all the time in the world, bends down while maintaining steady eye contact. His tongue pokes out of his mouth and he flicks the tip of it against your clit, and it’s enough to already having you buck up towards him for something, anything.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and give me what I want?” Hoseok purrs before leaning down to suck on your clit, hard. You yelp at the sensation but then he moves away, looking up at you expectantly.

You card your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the roots. “Yes, Hoseok, please, anything. You already have me. Please, please, I need you.”

“Mmm,” he hums, sucking on it again before backing off. Part of you wants to smack him upside the head. How is he still so infuriating? “Can’t wait to make this pussy mine. Can’t wait to claim you, to ruin you for anyone else.”

You can’t help but grumble. “I don’t know, at this point, I’m starting to believe you’re all talk—”

You’re abruptly cut off my Hoseok latching his mouth to your clit, delivering the perfect amount of pressure as he licks and sucks at your most sensitive area. You moan out something akin to his name, and it only spurs him on further. He growls against your pussy and you feel it vibrating deep in your core, your fingers grasping for purchase against his soft strands.

Your eyes flutter shut as he focuses all his attention on your clit, drawing out more and more obscene moans and whines from your lips. It’s when you feel two of his fingers sliding into your heat that your eyes fly open and you start to squirm in his grasp.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Hoseok growls as he continues to massage your inner walls with his long, deft fingers. He curls them upward until he finds what he’s looking for, the spot deep inside of you that has you keening when he presses on it. You feel him grin against your skin. “Ah, there it is.”

You’re not sure if you can survive this experience, not if he keeps talking like that. But it stirs something within you, something primal and desperate, and you buck your hips as his movements get faster and faster.

The obscene sound of his tongue flicking against your clit stops as he suddenly sits up, and you let out a whine of protest. His fingers remain inside of you but he moves so that he’s draped along your side, slightly hovering over your body. He leans in to kiss you, just as his hand starts to move. The heel of his palm beats against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, and you cry against his lips as he shifts to whisper the filthiest things into your ear.

The wet sound of his fingers fucking you and his palm slapping against your pussy fills the room and has your legs starting to shake.

“Press those legs really wide for me, baby,” Hoseok orders as his hand picks up speed. You do as he says, and to reward you, his hand fucks you a little harder. “Good girl. Fuck. I’ve been thinking of making you come all fucking week. Mmm, how does it feel, baby? How does it feel to have my fingers fuck you open, prepare you for my cock?”

You want to scream, but you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, the release that you’d so desperately been longing for rapidly approaching. Instead you whimper out a barely-there response, Hoseok’s fingers dragging brutally against your g-spot.

“Always dreamed of watching you come, of making you come. It’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted, and now I have you right where I’ve always wanted you. Now I want you to come for me. Can you do that baby? Can you come on my fingers?”

One of your hands fists the sheets while the other holds him close, nudging him with your nose until he gets the hint to kiss you.

“Come for me,” he murmurs into the kiss, and you feel your walls begin to clench down on him.  The fluttering begins, and Hoseok’s tone becomes gentle, almost reverent. “Good girl,” he praises as he feels the beginnings of your orgasm. “Good girl, come on, come on…”

You come with a scream, bucking your pussy against his palm as he helps you ride out the pleasure. Shockwaves tear through you as Hoseok extends your orgasm for as long as possible, peppering your face and neck with kisses as you finally start to come down.

“Mmm, baby, look at you,” Hoseok purrs, sliding his fingers out of your wet heat and holding them up so you can see how they glisten in the dim light. “Open your mouth for me, Y/N.”

You do as you’re told, and you see his nostrils start to flare as he slides his fingers into your mouth and you suck the evidence of your own bliss off his skin. His prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, removing is fingers before he kisses you for all he’s worth. Your fingers tremble as you struggle with his belt, still feeling lightheaded from his earlier ministrations. Hoseok eventually just lifts himself off the bed and shucks off his jeans and boxers in one go, abandoning them in a pile on the floor as he palms his hardened cock.

You sit up on your elbows as he places a knee back on the bed, and you bite your lip at his size. Hoseok is gorgeous, truly having a dancer’s body. He’s streamlined and lean, and his cock is thicker than you expect. He strokes himself steadily while gazing upon you like a wolf about to pounce on a rabbit.

“How do you want it?”

You bite your lip before reaching over to gently grasp his wrist. “I want to see you.”

Hoseok nods as you sit up fully and open the drawer to your bedside table to retrieve a condom from your stash. You open the foil and help slide it down his length, watching with a hint of smugness as his eyes roll back in his head when you squeeze his shaft. Once it’s rolled on all the way to his base, he nudges you to lie back, and you part your thighs for him once more.

He lets out a groan, hooking your legs over his elbows, before he leans forward, the head of his cock brushing against your still-sensitive lips. “I still can’t believe this is finally happening,” he chuckles breathlessly as he effectively folds you in half, leaving you completely open and exposed for him. You reach down to guide him in, your other hand cupping the back of his neck as he rests his forehead against yours.

You feel the head of his cock parting your lips and then the delicious sting of him slowly filling you up. You don’t realize you’re both holding your breath until Hoseok releases a choked moan and you whimper out his name in response. You take him, inch by delicious inch, until you feel his pelvis pressing flush against yours.

He takes a moment to just breathe through the feeling of your tight, wet heat wrapped around him, and it allows for you to adjust to his girth inside of you. Once you feel ready, you peck at his mouth as a signal to move.

More proof that Hoseok is a dancer—his hips, once they start to roll into you, are absolutely fucking deadly. He fucks you like he’ll never get the chance again, like it’s his last day on Earth and he wants you writhing beneath him to be his final memory. Your nails scrape along his back as he starts out slow, his cock filling you so perfectly, going even deeper than his fingers had just moments before.

You also notice that when Hoseok isn’t whispering into your ear with the some of the filthiest shit you’ve ever heard, he cannot stop kissing you. It’s almost as if he can’t believe you’re real, and the feeling of your lips against his grounds him in a way that he just can’t explain.

He starts to pick up the pace, his hips slamming against yours with more vigour. “How does it feel, baby?” He grunts, grinding into you. “How does it feel to have my cock buried deep inside of you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he braces his knees against the bed and starts to fuck you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling your ears. You moan as he nips at your jaw, your nails dragging long, angry red marks along the honeyed skin of his back.

You’ve never seen Hoseok like this before in all the years that you’ve known him. His brow is furrowed in concentration, forehead dotted with sweat. You can tell that he’s trying to hold himself back as he explores every inch of your body, worshipping and revering you like he goddess he knows that you are.

“Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he praises, sucking in harsh breaths as he pounds into you, the bed frame creaking under the force of his thrusts. You’re helpless beneath him, and you see the veins in his neck start to protrude as he starts to lose control.

“Baby, I’m so close,” you keen, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face.

“Yeah?” He asks, even though he can tell that you’re almost there. He presses the full length of his body against yours and fucks you until there’s nothing left in the entire universe but you and him. “Come with me, baby.”

When you come for the second time, you come harder than you ever have before. You scream out his name as you cling to him for dear life, your back arching clear off the bed as you feel wetness coating you both. Hoseok nearly chokes as he comes, burying himself deep inside of you as he spills into the condom, pinning you to the mattress as your name falls repeatedly from his lips.

Hoseok collapses on top of you, effectively squishing you under the weight of his body. You pout and squirm, nudging at his shoulders, though his spent body makes no effort to move.

“Hobi,” you whine with an air of laughter in your voice, limbs going limp. “Get off.”

“Let me just…bask in this for a second,” he pants, face still buried in the crook of your neck. “I’ve never made a girl squirt before.”

“Oh my god,” you wheeze, shoving at his shoulders. He moves off of you and you roll onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow. He takes the opportunity to peel off the condom, tying it in a knot and tossing it in the trash. You say something, but it’s muffled by the fabric and Hoseok can’t help but giggle.

“I can’t hear you, dumb-dumb.”

You lift your face, but then cover it with your hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never done that before.”

“Sorry?” Hoseok asks, rising slightly before wrapping his arms around you and tugging you flush against him. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, and the best sex I’ve ever hand, and you’re trying to apologize?”

You peer at him through the gap in your fingers. “It’s embarrassing.”

Hoseok wrenches your hands away from your face and kisses you before you can protest.

“Believe me when I tell you that it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You don’t need to be ashamed of yourself, or your body, or anything. I love you. Every part of you.”

You bite your lip and look away, knowing you’re unable to say the three words that you know Hoseok wants to hear more than anything. But again, sensing your discomfort, he lifts his hand to brush your hair away from your face.

“Don’t feel guilty,” he says quietly, stroking his thumb along your cheek. “You don’t have to say it back. I hope that one day you will, but I don’t expect you to reciprocate right away.”

Your eyes bore into his, and you wonder why this version of Hoseok couldn’t have been the one you’d met when you were sixteen. You lean in and kiss him so softly and so shyly that it’s barely there. But when you pull away, he’s smiling at you. That beautiful, radiant smile that makes you glad you’re lying down because it makes you weak in the knees.

“I’m getting there,” you promise, nose brushing against his. And you know it to be true. Even as you’re in his arms now, nestled perfectly like you were always meant to exist in his hold, you’re falling, falling falling. You just need some more time. But you know you’ll get there, if his tiny, hopeful smile is any indication.

You suddenly start to hear a ruckus from the hall, and also loud cheers from street level outside. You rise slightly, trying to peer over at your alarm clock, but Hoseok drags you back down with a pout.

“Clean up later. I’m comfy.”

“What time is it?” You ask, ignoring his petulant frown.

Hoseok caves and rolls over, emitting a small noise of surprise. “11:59.”

Then you hear people starting to count down.

10!

9!

Hoseok turns back to you, his eyes wide and shining as he takes you in, still basking in the after glow.

8!

7!

6!

You smile at him, the tiniest tear clinging to your lashes, and as you blink, Hoseok wipes it away with his thumb before it can tumble down your cheek.

5!

He leans in closer…

4!

Your eyes slowly close as you slide your hand along the back of his neck…

3!

His arms pull you in until there’s no space between you…

2!

You feel his warm breath fanning across your lips…

1!

Happy New Year!

The clock strikes midnight just as Hoseok kisses you, fireworks exploding just outside to ring in the new year. You lose yourself in the feel of him once more, in the taste of his tongue as it glides along the seam of your mouth. You don’t protest as he rolls on top of you, his thigh pressing between yours to spread your legs yet again.

When his questing hand blindly reaches out for the drawer of your bedside table, you detach from him momentarily to pant out, “Shouldn’t we go back and rejoin the others?”

Hoseok merely chuckles, tearing open another condom. “Screw the others,” he grins, and you can’t help but bite your lip in anticipation as you feel his arousal growing stiffer between your thighs. “I have a lot of lost time to make up for. They can wait.”

And as he pushes inside of you again, you can’t help but agree. You’d spent so long feeling so sad and so lost, you’d nearly forgotten what it was like to experience true happiness, and true bliss.

But as Hoseok worships your body and makes you forget about the outside world, you figure that you deserve to cling to whatever small piece of joy that you can. And you do—over and over, until the sun comes up and neither of you have the strength or energy to carry on.

Even after all of that though, Hoseok still bugs you to run your fingers along his arms and chest to help him fall asleep. You snort and call him a brat, to which he taunts you by saying you’re going to need to buy extra sets of sheets for every time he comes over.

You just shake your head as he drifts off, snoring softly, looking more and more like an angel as slumber finally takes him. You press a kiss to his forehead and nuzzle against him, his arms automatically wrapping around you, even in sleep. You sigh with a smile, relaxing in his grasp. You know that you still have a ways to go, but with Hoseok by your side, you finally feel ready to step into the sun.

Happy New Year, indeed.

A/N: It is FINALLY DONE! This is the longest one-shot I’ve ever written. I meant to have this out sooner, but you know how life is sometimes. I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you all had a happy and safe new year. Drop me a line and let me know what you think!  Please share if you liked it!<3

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2019 Day 17: Friends To Lovers

No Longer A Bat-chelor | @envydean Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6787 Main Tags and Warnings: Wildlife Rescuer!Dean, Wildlife Vet!Cas, fluff, blanket sharing Summary: Dean's always been too busy for a relationship, but, after a visit to the wildlife vet with his latest rescues, Cas asks him out and Dean agrees. Maybe the universe just needed him to wait until the right time.

Catch 22 | @dmsilvisart Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3664 Main Tags and Warnings: friends to lovers, pining, halloween, swearing, suggested or mild sexual content Summary: Their entire town knew that Dean or Cas were a sure thing if you wanted meaningless sex and you were in for a damn good time. Word got around and neither man left their partner wanting when the night was through. DEAN A year ago, at this Halloween party, Cas and Dean ended up tumbling into bed together after the festivities. They had been friends for ages and occasionally fuck buddies when one of their dates hadn’t panned out. Since then, they’ve been a regular for each other but still not exclusive. Dean knew Cas occasionally had other partners and so did Dean. Truth be told, it had been a couple months since Dean got any enjoyment out of sex that wasn’t with Cas. CASTIEL Cas was leaving his schedule open in case Dean called. It was pathetic but that's what it was. He wanted his best friend around as more than just a hookup, He wanted Dean to himself. He hadn’t enjoyed sex for months unless it was with Dean. Don’t get him wrong, he still had sex, but there was no connection. He couldn’t leave fast enough when all was said and done. He always spent the night with Dean though.

C Is For... | @spinnerjen Rating: Mature Word Count: 24369 Main Tags and Warnings: Major Character Death, Cancer, Terminal Illnesses Summary: Summary: Health expert and dietician, Castiel has just been told he has two years to live... He plans to make the most of it.

Since Always | @casbeanwrites Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1936 Main Tags and Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, best friends, first kiss Summary: They are best friends, they always have been. Or so Dean constantly tells himself.

Memories Can Hurt or Heal | @fangirlingtodeath513 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1606 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - No Monsters Summary: Dean moved into this house months ago. There's one box on the top shelf of his closet that remains unpacked. A rainy Saturday morning seems like the perfect time to reminisce, doesn't it?

Goddamnit, Cas! | @imbiowaresbitch Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3932 Main Tags and Warnings: Friends to lovers, human Cas, porn without plot, fluff Summary: Human!Cas has an oral fixation and it is positively destroying Dean's ability to think. Cas isn't trying to be a cocktease, but Dean is about to burst. And yeah, Cas is a total cocktease.

Not a couple | @huntersandwerewolves Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2426 Main Tags and Warnings: school reunion, friends to lovers, confessions, first kiss, frottage Summary: Castiel had had enough. After years of sexual tension, unrequited feelings and being teased by their friends, he was done. Dean wasn’t in love with him and he was fine with that, but he didn’t have to rub it in. The length Dean went through to make sure people knew they WEREN’T dating was ridiculous and frankly, Cas had had enough.

trustworthy for such work | @reallyelegantsharkfish Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7474 Main Tags and Warnings: Dragon Castiel, djinn dean, Dragons, Djinni & Genies, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Demisexual Castiel, Mutual Pining, Magic, Wishes References to Addiction, References to Knotting Summary: Cas hugs his pillow, and he’s mostly asleep when a memory works its way in. His father watching Fox news, a fearmongering piece about ifrits in healthcare. His father’s voice, saying, Blood is how they take your wishes. Cas always assumed that meant through feeding. But —

First Words | @suckerfordeansfreckles Rating: General Word Count: 1051 Main Tags and Warnings: friends to lovers, mild hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, Cas had too many drinks, love confessions Summary: Cas isn’t sure why he decides to text Dean now, at 3:24 a.m. — but with how his stomach is roaring and his head is pounding, his mouth still tasting like cheap tequila, all he wants is his best friend to take care of him. Cas: I don’t know why i even let Meg drag me out to party, but this isit Cas: i think i’ll die Cas: i didn’t realize i had such a low alcohol tolernce

Untimely Confessions of Love and Other Things - A Hunter's Realization in 5 Parts | @lemonsorbae Rating: General Word Count: 1732 Main Tags and Warnings: Post-Canon, Pining Dean, Oblivious Castiel, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers Summary: They’re dangling off his tongue again, those three little words; the three most terrifying words in the entire English language. It’s getting harder and harder to hang on to them, to keep them imprisoned.

Adventures in Problem Solving | @blueeyesandpie Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5726 Main Tags and Warnings: no warnings, fluff and goodness, College/University AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Christmas, Fluff, Russian Castiel, Human Castiel, Student Castiel, Student Dean Winchester Summary: Dean and Cas have been living together since freshman year and despite their many differences, that's how Dean wants to keep it. Then senior year rolls around and Castiel reminds Dean that his student visa expires soon after he graduates. Dean has a mad plan, but can they keep up the charade long enough for Cas to stay in America where he belongs, or will Dean's growing feelings get in the way?

i need you | @breathingdestiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1688 Main Tags and Warnings: au, actor!cas, actor!dean Summary: Dean and Cas are acting in the same movie after a long time. This would be fantastic if Dean didn’t have a huge crush on his best friend.

Sweeten My Heart | @breathingdestiel Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2332 Main Tags and Warnings: hs!au, pining Summary: Cas is in love with his best friend who is straight and could never love him back. But why is Dean all of a sudden calling him sweetheart, sunshine, and other pet names? Is it possible that Cas's love isn't unrequited after all?

Pen Pal | @peanutbutterjelly-pie Rating: General Word Count: 5246 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Pen Pals, Friends to Lovers, Fluff Summary: “Hey, Cas, you wanna be my pen pal?” * * * * * * * * * (Dean is twelve years old when he asks Castiel to be his pen pal, not knowing that it will change his life completely.)

I'm Okay With That | @DesiraeLovesDestiel Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6221 Main Tags and Warnings: Professor Cas/Mechanic Dean, best friends to lovers, pining, love confssions Summary: "Look Cas, I'm sorry, okay? Really. I never meant for you to find out, or make you uncomfortable. We can just pretend this whole thing never happened." "Seriously? Pretend that I didn't just learn you've been in love with me for fourteen years?" Dean has been in love with his best friend Castiel Novak since they were children. A fact that Cas was NEVER supposed to find out.

Hands | @marian-elisa Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2297 Main Tags and Warnings: Friendship/Love, Canon compliant, missing moments Summary: Dean wasn’t sure of when it happened, but holding Cas’ hand had become just as vital as breathing for him. Or: a reflection written from the point of view of their hands.

Let's Just Get a Beer Instead | @a-winchester-scorned  Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5941 Main Tags and Warnings: Destiel, Bottom Castiel, PWP, Top Dean, First Time Summary: Dean’s plan to get Cas laid didn’t go as planned, so they settle for a few beers at a dive bar.

Dean Likes (Cas') Anatomy | @braezenkitty Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2328 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, First Time, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, Blow Jobs, Frottage Summary: Dean and Cas have been best friends since they were kids, and they've also had crushes on each other for just about as long. They finally get their shit together thanks to an Anatomy midterm.

Not good enough? | @notfunnydean Rating: General Word Count: 6099 Main Tags and Warnings: sad!dean, Crying!Dean, pining!dean, Pining!Cas, two idiots in love Summary: When Dean finds a list in Cas’ room, where Cas has written down everything he hates about him, Dean tries to become a brand new person. But Castiel seems to hate that as well.

Ten Years Gone | @mittensmorgul Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4011 Main Tags and Warnings: Fluff, Anniversary, Feelings, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape Summary: Ten years after Cas first pulled Dean out of Hell, they both realized that somewhere along the way, they'd saved each other.

What Do You Wish For? | @envydean Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1500 Main Tags and Warnings: Camping, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, semi-public smut, First Time, allusions to Dean/Others, Wishes, Recreational Drug Use, Weed, sharing joints Summary: Dean, Cas, and their senior high school friends are on their annual camping trip. The sun has set and Cas wants some space to reset himself after a lot of socialising and Dean joins him.

Cold-Hearted | @supernatural9917fic Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1595 Main Tags and Warnings: they were roommates, Friends to Lovers, angry breakup songs, Fluff and Smut Summary: Dean's just gone through a bad break-up, so Cas helps him the best way he knows how- booze and angry break-up songs.

Never or Forever | @almaasi Rating: General Word Count: 5604 Main Tags and Warnings: Canon Universe, Fluff, Romance, Relationship Reveal, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Mistaken for a Couple, Resolved Romantic Tension, First Kiss, Family Dinners, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Jody, Matchmaker Jody Mills, Wayward Sisters, Everyone Is Alive, Kaia Nieves Lives, Eileen Leahy Lives, POV Jody Mills, Eavesdropping Summary: During an impromptu family dinner, Jody figures out that Dean is in a happy long-term relationship. But does he even know? Cas is clearly paying attention. Yet Dean seems to think he's single. Jody never thought of herself as a meddler – but clearly, under circumstances such as these, something must be done.

Gulls N' Roses | @almaasi Rating: General Word Count: 2414 Main Tags and Warnings: Canon Universe, Romance, Fluff, Gift Exchange, True Love, Roses, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, Holding Hands, Ghost Hunters, Seaside Storms, Arcades, Dean Loves Pie, Angel Castiel, Autistic Castiel Summary: While mid-hunt, Dean gives Cas a red rose. Interpreting the gift as a gesture of true love, Cas decides to give Dean something very special in return.

Prince of the Ether Realms | @almaasi Rating: General Word Count: 5423 Main Tags and Warnings: Canon Universe, Fluff, Romance, Weddings, Misunderstandings, Marriage of Convenience, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Sam Knows, Shipper Sam, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Portals, Cuddly Dean, Angel Castiel, Agender Castiel, Prince Castiel Summary: To complete a spell, Castiel needs to marry a human. Sam, Dean, and Cas make do with a simple two-minute ceremony in the bunker's library. It means nothing, it's just a means to an end. But what begins as a shortcut for spellwork becomes something far more important, as the human Cas chooses to marry is Dean. As it happens, the shift in their relationship is very real – and the effects, one might say, are universe-bending.

Whoa There Cowboy | @almaasi Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5381 Main Tags and Warnings: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Dean's Cowboy Fetish, Cowboy Dean, Bisexual Dean, Cowboy Castiel, Porn Watching, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, First Time, Masturbation, Roleplay, Frottage, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Castiel Watches Dean Winchester Sleep, Episode: s13e06 Tombstone Summary: If you're gonna jerk off, watch something you find sexy, Dean said. There's a dirty cowboy movie on TV, and that suits him perfectly. But he never expected that Cas would want to watch /him/.

A Place and a Feeling | @almaasi Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24402 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Romance, Schmoop, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Feelings With Porn, Real Estate Agent Castiel, Castiel in Glasses, Castiel in Panties, Bisexual Dean, Workplace Relationship, House Hunting, Love Confessions, Desk Sex, Premature Ejaculation, Moving In Together, Cuddling & Snuggling, Pets, Adopted Children, Adoptive Parents Castiel & Dean Summary: Human AU. Dean Winchester still hasn't found the perfect little house in the suburbs he's always dreamed of. On the off-chance that another meeting with his totally adorkable realtor could finally change everything, Dean keeps going back to Castiel's agency. Like Cas always says, home is both a place and a feeling. But what if the place Dean's looking for is Castiel's house, and the feeling is Castiel himself? Sometimes the most unprofessional choices lead to the most enjoyable personal consequences. This is one of those times.

...and so you fell 'verse (WIP) (Series) | @babybluecas 

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 15605 Main Tags and Warnings:canon divergence, alt-season 9, fallen!Cas, fluff and angst Summary: After the fall, Cas finds his way to the Bunker, but that's hardly the end of his road. Humanity comes with its burdens, but it might have some perks as well.

Tag Your Porn | jscribbles (AO3) Rating: Mature Word Count: 3517 Main Tags and Warnings: panty kink, fourth wall, TFW reads fanfiction, naughty Summary: When Becky sends Sam some of EllenOfOz's fanfiction, he makes it his mission to use Destiel fanfiction to mortify Dean. But to his surprise, Cas seems intrigued by panties, Dean slowly becomes engrossed in fanfic, and what the hell are they doing cooped up in Dean's room for so goddamn long? Sam is scarred for life when he goes to find out exactly what they're up to.

[warbetweenthevanities-x]

So I've got this headcanon. Remember how they had this sleepover in January 2011? That's after X Factor ended. And I've been thinking that this might be where they could have first had sex, cause before that, they were always in that X Factor house and around people and I'm sure some stuff happened there too but nothing all the way. Anyway, that's my headcanon. And I'm suddenly thinking that Why don't we go there sounds like a callback, a memory of that.

Then I wanted to tell you a bit about some thoughts I had before reading your analysis about what I thought when they might have had rocky patches or breakups.

In my head, the happy honeymoon phase actually lasted until mid 2012. at first, when the whole thing with the stunts started, like Caroline, Eleanor, I don't think they took that seriously at all. I think for a while that was more of a laugh to them, which, in my head, is why they were still so flirty in Dallas, Australia and New Zealand in spring 2012

then in June, there were the first signs of real separation. like aborted gestures, where you can really see that they're suppressing their instincts to touch. painful to watch, those gifs always kill me. that's where I think they were really in trouble and realized that management etc were really serious about this, especially with Harry supposedly moving out, the denials they had to do, the "biggest load of bullshit" tweet, and then Haylor. I think all those things hit home real hard. which is also when they start getting their partner tattoos. such a coincidence... (also this screams Through the dark and Something great to me)

anyway, from what I've read, they seemed pretty miserable in 2013 during the tour, visibly separated, tense, pale etc. there were still accounts of them having gone on dates or to parties though, there were the rope and rose tattoos, so I think they held on throughout the first half of 2013. but I can imagine that it was really wearing them down. that would have also been the time when Louis stopped being... well, "flamboyant", and enough time would have passed that all this would have had to mess with them

and then add to that that Harry was constantly being pushed as this front man, eventual solo artist, he had those new friends in London with the group surrounding Grimmy, and I think on top of everything else they would have had to deal with the constant attention Harry was getting, like, they both would have realized just how incredibly popular he was, how many people would have flirted with him. I imagine there was probably a bit of self-discovery for him going on there too, except not in the HarryandLouis bubble, but with others around him. we know how jealous they could both get, and I don't think there was necessarily a lot of drama or distrust about it, but - it was a thing they had to deal with on top of everything else

which is how I explain to myself everything that happened in october: on the 15th, there was a blind gossip article about one of them having cheated on the other, and that Harry was having a coke problem. on the 16th (and 28th), Harry talked about Still the one in 1D concerts, on the 17th, there was that concert where it looks like Harry was getting really choked up at the end of Over Again. that was also the time when this picture was floating around on Instagram with Harry and that model Paige Reifler sitting on top of him in a dressing room, so that's on top of everything else. then add to that that Louis was losing weight and escaped alone to Fiji for a few days...

what I was thinking so far is this: that this was the first kind of sort of but what I see as a possibility is that late summer 2013 to late autumn 2013 things got really rocky with all that going on and piling up. that's what I'm thinking that maybe Louis refers to in his lyrics, when he "gave in to the pressure" (to quote Too young) at the time and actively tried to stay away from Harry, and that Harry was sort of desperately trying to convince him otherwise (see Still the one, I imagine that to have been a way of not just telling everyone else but also telling Louis "hey, you're still my person, despite everything else that's going on, that's all bullshit, please don't do this". it would explain the blind gossip breakup rumours, the Louis going to Fiji alone, Harry during Over again, and... well, I found somewhere that two ghosts was written at THAT time, late 2013, while you have it one year later. but in my head it fit really well here, and maybe Harry's finally like "okay you know what, we'll have it your way then", but regrets that pretty quickly? (Where do broken hearts go referring to that time?)

anyway, there's this theory I read somewhere that they spent christmas 2013 in Holmes Chapel together, and that afterwards, Louis went home and told some family members about Harry, like Lottie and Fizzy, because it seems like he avoided his family for a few months after that, and I can imagine that it would have come as a shock to the girls, especially considering that they had gotten along well with Eleanor

so then in 2014 there seemed to have been a push back to being more open with each other again, lots of receipts seemed to have started popping up about someone having seen them together etc, Blind Gossip even reports that Harry and Nick broke up (haha) and that he and Louis are working things out. lots of Ready to run and Fireproof vibes. there's a receipt that they were in Jamaica together, in The Box on Valentine's Day, they're getting the anchor and arrow tattoos, there's a receipt of someone having talked to Harry about Jamaica and how he said that he was there with his friends and boyfriend, and when he was asked if it was still the same he supposedly said "of course, always". in may they were supposedly seen kissing behind a car, the rainbow bear becomes a thing, july is Jay's wedding after which Lottie definitely starts acting like she knows exactly what's going on (and like she had time to get used to it), they've got matching tans afterwards, several people said they had seen them out having dinner together that autumn, Lottie and Gemma spend lots of time together, Louis gets his dagger tattoo, Harry supposedly talked to someone about his "other half" who he'd been with for 4 years. Harry sold his house and didn't buy a new one, then Louis buys a house in LA that should have been a bit overkill and too expensive just for himself, so it's said that they probably bought it together. february 2015 they fly down to australia together, for the first time publicly on the same flight since 2012

now, from what Louis said about the break, I think he wasn't happy with that suggestion at all at first, cause he'd just felt like he'd really found his place etc. and if Harry really was the one to make it back in 2014, I can imagine that that threw them back into something rocky, especially if we add to that what you said about Harry's desire to explore rockstardom and LA and all that, and Louis was like "... okay where does that leave me/us?" so maybe that's where Love you Goodbye comes in? and what I was actually thinking was, what if Perfect comes RIGHT AFTER. like, the MORNING AFTER. that they decide "okay, whatever happens, we probably won't see each other as much when that time rolls around, but for now let's enjoy this anyway? it would fit if that lead into Olivia with all the "I LOVE YOU" but also the "I'm scared of what happens when you're not here anymore" vibes. and then right into Walking in the wind, and IICF and Home

okay, now something else comes into play that I've been thinking about a lot. so their last concert is in october, then it's officially over and they're free to go and do whatever. but the thing is, before the band's break, they never had to work to be together and see each other. you know what I mean? since their schedules were made for them by other people and they always saw each other. and after the break, it wouldn't be like that anymore. and since they're not used to that, they might not have actively put work into making sure they see each other even if they still love each other. so they might actually have not seen each other more often than not and might have just gone about their lives and done their own stuff. they'd grow apart before they even realize that it's happening. and that's when I think they could have started to fight a lot more, and go back and forth a lot (hello Sweet Creature), and fight some more, and go in circles, and "run out of words" to say because they've said it all before, and finally Harry takes "the higher ground" and puts an end to it (and this is where I get major Ever since new york vibes).

so they don't see each other. they go and do other things (and other people, probably... Carolina?), they get everything out of their system. EVEN THOUGH they probably both know very soon that they miss the other and that it's all not the same without them. I think they still would have had contact from time to time, especially because of Jay and what happened with her and how Harry would have been there for support from time to time and definitely at the end. maybe they even have sex again at some point, who knows (Meet me in the hallway gives me that vibe). Sign of the times totally fits there as well, as a mix between Jay telling Louis "Stop your crying, it'll be alright", and Harry going "we've been here before, will we ever learn, we don't talk enough, we should open up".

and man, From the dining table. Harry's MAJORLY MISSING HIM and real tired of that break. Cherry, even if written later, seems to me about just that time, like, if he ever got wind of Louis with aaanyone else, also Louis seems kind of alright, why does he seem alright if I'm feeling like shit? (cue Louis and Miss you and "everything's fucking great") and maybe they're "trying to be friends" but Harry hates it (just everything that will later be To be so lonely, basically)

also I don't think Lights up is about Louis, or at least - I think it's about Harry more than it is about Louis, and that journey of self discovery he kept talking about. finding out who he is. who he wants to be. sort of his coming out song, but it also reminds me of that struggle they probably did go through about whether they actually would want to come out, officially, or not. but yeah, for Harry it feels like a reflection of him finding himself and becoming comfortable with who he is and where he's at and what he might want. Falling is playing into this in my head too, like you had a connection there as well, the whole identity crisis thing where he'd desperately have missed Louis helping him through it (but ultimately it was probably good that he did it on his own).

and on the other hand there's Louis, doing a shitload of growing, "doing better" in his place on the other side of London "even when it hurts like hell", cause "nothing wakes you up like waking up alone", and he thinks a lot about their relationship and everything that happened and that he'll always love Harry despite everything (Fearless and Habit and "I'm too tired to be tough, just wanna be loved by you" and Always fucking you), AND THEN Harry comes along with that damn album and everything he's saying on it and then they SIT DOWN AT THE FUCKING KITCHEN TABLE AND FINALLY HAVE THAT CONVERSATION. like a real, proper, serious ADULT conversation about how, if they do want this again, they're gonna have to be adults about it and actually put some real, grown up work into their relationship

and basically there's no way they weren't back together at the start of 2018. and we can have all those songs, Golden, Adore you, Sunflower, Canyon Moon, Only the brave (even if he didn't write that by himself) and Fine line (we'llbealrightwe'llbealrightwe'llbealright)