#he/she never even did it once in his/her dreams | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aptbelle · 3 days ago

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FOREST BOY

pairing: earthfairy!jun x female!reader

summary: y/n was a lonely little girl. she had no friends, just her imagination and the forest behind her home to get her through the day. the forest is where she’d run to to escape reality and day dream. one day, after running from her bullies, she meets a strange, yet charming boy, wen junhui. junhui shows her what lies deeper in the forest, and she is amazed. every single day, she goes to the forest just to see junhui, and they spend hours together. one thing y/n had noticed about junhui was that she never saw him outside of the forest, nor did he have any interest in leaving. they spend every day together until y/n has to go away for college. the news breaks junhui’s heart, and he goes away, which hurt y/n in return. four years later, y/n lands a job in her hometown, allowing her to come back home. she is excited to see junhui again, but he is nowhere to be seen, no matter how far in the forest she travels. however, she meets another boy, who is very similar to junhui, or so y/n thinks.

warnings: this story only includes jun and minghao! they are characters in this and not related to the ones irl. lower case intended! this story may have possible angst!

author’s note: this is a story i had started on wattpad a couple years ago, but i never published it. so i decided to continue it on here! i hope you enjoy! i am a student, so i will update as much as i can while juggling school.

next chapter: chapter 1

CHAPTER 0: PROLOGUE

THE branches on the ground crunched as 9 year old y/n ran farther away from the neighborhood. she could hear a group of girl's following her, which made her just want to go farther. she knew most of the forest like the back of her hand, but never really made it out this far.

"you can't run forever!" one of the girls from the group yelled, "i'll get you for tripping me!"

it's not like y/n intentionally meant to trip her, her foot was just in the wrong place in front of the wrong person.

she panted as she heard the voices of the girls grow louder. she looked behind her, and could see them coming after her.

not paying attention to whats in front of her, y/n felt herself knock into something, which caused her to fall back. she hit the ground with a loud thud.

"nrggh," she groaned as she propped herself up. she put her hand on her head and winced. her forehead was burning with pain, and seemed to be bleeding too.

"ow," she heard someone else say. she quickly turned around and saw a young boy sitting on the ground in front of her. he looked up, and his eyes widened.

"oh my," he said, quickly dusting himself off and standing up, "are you okay, miss?" he asked politely and stuck his hand out.

y/n hesitantly took the boys hand, and he pulled her up. "yeah i'm okay," she said, "are you?"

"yeah, im fine!" he said, smiling. the boy had chocolate brown eyes, some of the prettiest eyes y/n had ever seen.

"there she is!" a voice yelled from behind y/n. she quickly turned around, and remembered that she was being chased.

it seems like the boy quickly took notice of this, as he kept a hold on her hand. "come on, i know a good hiding spot."

y/n hesitated once again, not knowing if she should trust the mysterious boy or not. with the girls getting closer, she had no choice but to go with him.

she nodded, as the boy began to run farther into the forest with y/n following him. her thoughts began to take her over. 'what if hes just luring me away?' 'what if hes not even a kid and some short old man?' were just some of the things she worried about.

"over here!" he said, interrupting y/n’s thoughts. he pointed to a large bush beside a pond, and the two children ran towards it.

the ran to the other side and ducked down, hiding. y/n sat down on the ground, and put her legs out. both her and the young boy were breathing heavily.

"thank you," y/n panted, smiling at the boy.

he flashed a warm smile and nodded. "my pleasure," he said, bringing his knees up to his chest, "who are those girls anyway? are they your friends?" he asked curiously.

y/n crossed her legs, and chuckled. "no, far from it," she replied to the boy.

"then why are they chasing you?" he asked, turning his head to the side.

y/n sighed. "i accidentally tripped the 'queen bee' of the group," she explained, "and i think she got pretty mad, cause now i've been chased into a forest."

the two children laughed, but quietly so that the group of girls wouldn't hear.

y/n raised her head a bit over the bush, to look for the group of girls.

"damn, where is she?" one of the girls called.

"i don't know," the queen bee of the group said. "when we find you, we'll kill you!" she yelled, and the girls' footsteps stranded farther away.

y/n sighed a breath of relief, and went back down beside the boy. she looked at the pond in front of her in awe. she had never seen it before.

"i never knew that there was a pond back here," she said, "it's beautiful."

"it really is," the boy said, standing up and walking to the edge of the pond. he turned to y/n, and motioned her to come with him.

she stood up and walked to the boy, and crouched next to him.

"look," he said, pointing to something on the water. y/n looked and saw a small frog on a lily pad. it was looking at the two children, before jumping off of the lily pad and onto the ground in front of them.

the boy held his hands out and the frog jumped right into them, croaking. he cupped his hands and sat cross-legged on the ground.

y/n joined him and watched as he held the frog so gently. most people would be scared to touch a frog, but it was as if the boy had some connection to it.

he looked up at y/n. "you wanna hold it?" he asked, holding his cupped hands out.

"uhm," y/n hummed, never having held a frog, or any small animal, for that matter.

"don't worry!" the boy said, his eyes lighting up when he smiled, "just hold your hands out like i did."

y/n hesitantly held her hands out to the boy, and he carefully placed the small frog in her hands.

she tensed up, not wanting to hurt the frog in anyway.

"just relax," the boy said, "just keep your hands like that and it'll be okay."

y/n looked at him, smiled, and looked at the frog. she took a deep breath, and relaxed her body. the frog let out a small 'ribbit,' which made the two kids chuckle.

"it must like you," the boy said, and y/n nodded in agreement.

only a few seconds after he said that, the frog jumped its way up y/n’s arm. she began to feel her body tense up again.

"oh!" the boy noticed, and he reached to grab the frog off of her arm, "it's quite energetic, isn't it?"

"y-yeah," she replied, her voice shaky.

"don't worry, it's fine! frogs do that all the time," the boy said, as the frog began climbing up his arm too. "see?"

y/n softly smiled as the boy took the frog off his shoulder.

"i'm wen junhui, by the way," the boy said, holding his free hand out.

y/n took his hand in hers, and shook it. "i'm y/n," she said, introducing herself.

junhui smiled as he let go of xinya's hand. "you know what, y/n?"

y/n cocked her head to the side. "what?" she asked junhui.

he gave her another sweet smile. "i feel like we're gonna be good friends."

and that they were, good friends. would spend every day together.

jun showed y/n every little aspect of the forest. she visited him every single day after school and spent hours exploring with him. she had finally found a good friend.

but like all good things, it slowly came to an end.

y/n, now 17 years old, ran up to her room and slammed the door. she bit her tongue and sighed, letting the tears fall down her cheek as she remembered her mothers words.

"the only available dorms are going to be closed if you don't move in right now. this is the greatest college in the country, you need to go." her mother's voice repeated in her head over and over like a broken record.

'i can't leave yet,' she said to herself, sniffling and sitting on the bed. she thought about having to leave junhui, the one person who she trusted in that god forbidden town. the only person who ever listened to what she would say. the only person who cared for her.

'i just can't.'

she laid back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, her thoughts running all over the place. the main thought that was taking over her mind was how junhui would feel when he found out. she couldn't bare the sight of seeing him hurt.

she sat up and wiped another tear that fell from her eyes. she turned her head over and looked beside her.

"hey there, m'lady," someone from the window called to y/n. it was junhui, sitting in the window sill and giving her a smile.

she jumped, before sighing. "christ, jun, you scared the shit out of me," she said, putting her hand on her chest.

jun laughed, and fully climbed into her room. "well thats what you get for leaving you're window o-" he paused, taking a look at y/n’s face. his smile slowly faded into a concerned look.

he quickly got on the bed and sat in front of y/n, cupping her cheek. "are you crying? whats wrong?" he said worriedly and wiped a tear that was falling on y/n’s cheek.

y/n put her hand on jun's hand on her cheek. "yeah, it's nothing though," she lied, "i was just watching a sad movie."

jun gave her a sweet smile, and used his other hand to wipe tears falling down y/n’s cheek. "aw, princess," he comforted her, "don't cry! it was just a movie."

jun took his hand off of y/n’s cheek and grabbed her hand. "come on! i have something to show you!" he said excitedly.

y/n’s sniffed and gave her friend a confused look. "i-in the middle of the n-night?" she asked, her voice breaking a bit.

"yeah!" jun replied, "this is the best time to go, now come on!"

y/n’s smiled at her friend's excitement as she was pulled off the bed. jun lead her to her open window and he stepped out.

y/n’s stopped in her tracks, and furrowed her eyebrows. 'out the window?' she asked herself. "we have to go this way?" she asked.

"yeah, why not?" jun asked, popping his head back in the window.

"what if i fall?" y/n’s asked, stepping closer to the window.

"you won't fall!" jun reassured, grabbing her hand again, "i'll catch you if you do."

y/n sighed, trusting jun, and following him out the window. thankfully, there was a part of roof under her window, so she was able to step on that.

she stood straight up on the roof with jun right in front of her.

"do you want me to help you?" jun asked, holding his hand out to her.

y/n waved her hand to jun. "no, no," she said, "im fine." she laughed nervously, knowing she'd most likely fall.

she tried taking one step, but as she thought, she almost slipped. "woah!" she yelled, trying to balance herself. thankfully, before she could ever fall, jun caught her.

"come on," jun chuckled, holding her waist and hand, "i got you."

y/n’s heartbeat quickened. she was more scared now than ever. she held on to jun as tight as she could until they got to the edge of the roof. jun let go of her, and she felt her whole body tense up.

"i'm gonna go down first," jun explained, walking over to the edge, "and then you can jump down, and i'll catch you, okay?"

y/n nodded, but she still had that gut feeling she was going to fall.

jun went to the edge, sat down, and pushed himself off the roof. y/n heard him hit the ground not too long after.

"are you okay?" y/n asked, still froze

"yeah, i'm good!" jun called from the ground.

y/n sighed. 'okay, i can do this,' she told herself, 'jun said he'd catch me.'

"come on!" jun called, "don't be afraid."

y/n gained enough courage to finally walk over to the edge. she looked down, and saw the ground. it had to be at least a 7 to 10 ft drop.

she took a few deep breaths to calm herself, and she copied jun and sat down on the edge.

she closed her eyes, once again telling herself that she would be okay. she began to count.

"1..2.." before she stopped counting, she put her hands down beside her, "..3!"

she pushed herself off of the roof, and began to fall to the ground. not even a second later, she felt hands grab onto her waist. she opened her eyes and saw jun holding her. she put her hand on his shoulders, and he set her down.

"see?" jun chuckled, looking down at y/n with his chocolate brown eyes, "it wasn't that bad!"

y/n chuckled, nodding in agreement. she took her hands off jun's shoulders, and he took his hands off her waist.

he grabbed y/n’s hand. "come on now!" he said, pulling her towards the forest. he began running, so y/n did too.

jun was a very fast runner, so y/n struggled to keep up without tripping. jun took notice of this, and slowed down to a good pace for y/n.

"what is it you're wanting to show me?" y/n asked as the two passed some trees.

"its a suprise," jun said as he began to slow down, "come on. its right this way."

he walked up to two trees, whose leaves were blocking the path between them.

"close your eyes," jun said to y/n, and she obeyed.

y/n heard the sound of leaves rustling, and felt jun pull her forward. she began walking, and felt her upper arms rub against the leaves.

"just a few more steps," jun said, and y/n could practically hear him smiling.

about two steps later, jun let go of y/n’s hand. y/n stood still, and heard jun stand beside her.

"open your eyes," he said. y/n slowly opened her eyes, and looked out in front of her.

she was standing on top of a hill that looked over the forest. thousands of trees were below her and jun.

"woah," she said, admiring the view, "its so pretty up here." she smiled, looking a jun, but he shook his head, and pointed to the sky. confused, y/n looked up, and her eyes widened.

up in the sky, thousands of stars shone. the moon was bright and big. the sky looked like one huge painting. it was...beautiful.

"oh my god," y/n said in awe, "jun, it's beautiful up here."

"you always said you wanted to go stargazing," jun said.

y/n heard something hit the ground, so she looked down, and saw jun laying down in the grass.

"so," he continued, putting his hands behind his head, "thats what we're gonna do."

y/n chuckled, and laid down right next to jun.

the stars were more visible now that she was laying down. the sight was so elegant that it felt unreal. y/n had never seen so many stars before that night. she was amazed.

"that there," jun said suddenly, pointing his finger, "is the big dipper."

y/n squinted her eyes, but couldnt see no dipper at all. "where?" she asked.

"right above my finger," jun said. y/n looked closer, and saw what looked like a huge spoon in the stars.

"i see it now!" she said, smiling.

"and if you look over this way," jun said, moving his finger over to the side, which y/n followed, "is the little dipper."

y/n looked and saw what looked like the big dipper, but small.

"woah," she said, awing at the two shapes in the sky.

the two watched the stars in the sky for what seemed like hours. jun told y/n everything he knew about stars and astrology. she could listen to him talk about it forever.

“why did you wait so long to do this?” y/n chuckled, “i’ve been wanting to do this for years.”

jun smiled. “i wanted it to be perfect for you,” he replied, “and this is the prettiest it’s ever been.”

y/n felt happy in that moment. she always felt happy with him. he was always so considerate. she felt happy doing something she had always wanted to do with him.

then, like a train, reality hit her.

she was leaving tomorrow.

leaving the forest she loved.

leaving.

leaving him.

it broke her heart knowing she had to tell him soon. she wasn't ready to leave, but she had no choice.

she was going to have to tell him in the next couple minutes, too, since she saw the sun rising in the distance.

"hey, jun?" y/n suddenly spoke up.

"yeah, whats up?" jun asked, sitting up.

y/n sighed. "thank you for tonight, this was really fun," she said to him, her smile wide.

jun smiled back. "my pleasure!" he said, "im glad you enjoyed it."

"but," y/n said, pursing her lips, which made jun's smile fade a bit, "i think i should head back. i don't want my mom finding out im not in bed."

jun nodded. "oh, yeah," he said, chuckling a bit, "it is getting late, isn't it?"

y/n chuckled and nodded, dreading going home, knowing that this was the last time they would hang out.

"do you want me to walk you home?" jun asked, interrupting y/n’s thoughts.

she nodded. "yes please," she said, and jun stood up, holding his hand out. y/n grabbed his hand and he helped her stand up. she dusted the grass and dirt of her clothes, and the two began to walk back into the forest. on the way back to y/n’s house, the two stayed silent, trying not to trip on any roots.

in about 30 minutes, y/n’s home came into view, and they stopped running.

"you know," jun said, looking at y/n, "we should do this again tomorrow."

y/n’s breath hitched. she was going to have to tell him right there. she wasn't ready. she didn't want to, but she didn't want to lead him on.

"hey, uhm," she stammered, biting her tongue, "about that." she looked down as tears flooded her eyes.

she felt jun place his hand on her cheek, and lift her head up. "hey," he said concerned, "is everything okay?"

y/n pursed her lips once again, and put her hand on jun's. she grabbed it and took it off her cheek, "i-i can't," she said, her voice breaking.

jun turned his head to the side, and furrowed his eyebrows. "can't what?" he asked her, his voice sounding worried.

"i can't go stargazing anymore," she told him, letting a tear fall down her cheek.

"why not?" jun asked, "did i do something wrong?"

y/n quickly shook her head, feeling worse by the moment. "no no," she reassured, "its not you trust me."

"then what is it?" jun asked, sounding hurt.

'i don't want to,' y/n said to herself, but she knew she had to.

"i-," she paused and sniffled, "i'm leaving tomorrow. for school."

'i did it,' she thought, feeling guilty about it all.

jun looked confused again, and as if he didn't believe her. "i thought you said you weren't leaving until a week before school started, and thats 3 months away."

y/n wiped a tear from her cheek. "the only available dorms need to be occupied right now or i won't be able to live up there. plus my mom's making me go right now, so-" she paused, and was now crying.

unexpectedly, she heard the sound of someone laughing. she looked up, and saw jun shaking his head, laughing.

"you can really be funny sometimes, you know," jun chuckled, but his eyes said otherwise, "you are joking, right?" he asked, his voice sounded hopeless.

y/n kept her head down, not wanting to tell him, or make eye contact with him.

she heard jun scoff, and looked up to see him shaking his head. "you're really leaving?" he asked, his voice breaking.

y/n nodded. "im sorry, it's not my choice," she told him, and he just laughed again.

"not your choice?" jun asked, his voice going from sounding hurt to sounding mad, "it was your choice to go to that school."

y/n kept silent, not knowing how to respond, but she knew she was just making it worse.

"so, thats it?" jun asked suddenly, "you tell me you're leaving then you go silent?"

y/n sniffled. she wanted to say something, but didn't know what to say.

jun exhaled, furrowing his eyebrows. "when are you leaving?" he asked, his voice calm, but the tone was still the same.

y/n wiped her tear. "early tomorrow, before noon."

jun pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a long breath. "so," he said, gulping, "this is it, huh?"

y/n felt her heart shatter when he said that. she really wished it wasn't 'it', but she had no other choice.

“im so sorry, jun," she cried, looking up, "i wish it didn't have to be this- jun?"

she paused, for when she looked up, junhui was no where in sight.

he was gone.

she didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.

#seventeen #kpop #jun #wen junhui #junhui #svt #svt x reader #junhui x reader #y/n #kpop x reader #forest #mythology #the8 #minghao #xu minghao #fairy aesthetic #fairy #love triangle

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junplusone · 10 hours ago

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

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

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

word count: 12.98k

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

the me of today hopes for the you of tomorrow

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“So? Are you —”

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

“But —”

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

“I think you should talk to him.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I will,” you say with a faint smile.

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

“Okay, Yeonju, take care.”

“Bye!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you ever been in love?”

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

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

TEN YEARS AGO

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

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

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

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

“You’re evil.”

“Thanks, I know.”

“Dinner’s on you, by the way.”

“What?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Takes one to know one, Hannie."

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

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

“Are you guys together or something?”

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

Friends, you’ve always said.

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PRESENT DAY

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

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

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

Oh, how some things change over time.

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

“... Jeonghan?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I—”

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

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

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true. I mean it.”

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

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

“How… how have you been?”

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

“Oh, I see.”

“What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xxx-xxx-xxxx: i’m so sorry y/n

you: its ok. that works, see u then

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hard agree.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not!”

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

You roll your eyes.

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

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

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

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

At least the weather matches your mood today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I?”

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

“Nothing,” you say quietly.

“How have you been?”

“You already asked me that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something or someone?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sunlight that happily illuminates this dark world

Becomes a star when night comes

Come down to me

There are many, many things shining in this world

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

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

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

Will you still love me like this?

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

Together we become old and worn out

Even if you come to me, who’s useless

At the end of a shining day

I’m happy that it’s you every day

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

“Did you like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had forgotten that it was cold as fuck outside.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you su—”

“Wear it before I take it back.”

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

Stop it.

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

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

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

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

“Everything.”

You suck in a breath at the quick response.

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

“Really? What’s his name?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw, that must be really nice.”

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

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

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

“Oh. Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeonghan.”

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

You cross your arms. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

You just blink, confused. “What?”

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

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

“Yeah, we should.”

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

“Jeonghan.”

“Yes?”

“Is this shrimp?”

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

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

“Jeonghan?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, wait —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is this?”

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

“Oh,” you’re confused. “Why?”

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

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

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

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

“You remembered.”

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

just friends, that's not enough for me

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Normally, you are not someone who is criminally inclined.

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

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

“Happy birthday!”

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

“I know!”

“Why are you awake?”

“To tell you happy birthday?”

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

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

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

“Damn it, Choi Yeonju!”

You grimace at his loud exclamation. “Jeonghan?”

“Yeah?”

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

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

“That class is at noon!”

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

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

jeonghan: i’m outside ur building

jeonghan: hurry up i’m hungry

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

jeonghan: uhh surprise?

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

“How long were you waiting?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

God, you are so done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this?”

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

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

“One would think you’re on drugs.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, and you can gamble.”

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

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

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

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

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

“... Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“Ow!”

“Take it back!”

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

You roll your eyes. “Get out.”

“Go in.”

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

Jeonghan nods, a twinkle in his eye.

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

“See you later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeonghan?”

“That evil bastard.”

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

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

“Yeah? What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

Soonyoung just looks at you in total confusion and shrugs.

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

You walk in on a crime scene.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seem very sober,” he observes.

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

“What’s four plus four?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you bring your keys?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gives you a knowing smile. “Touché.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PRESENT DAY

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

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

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

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

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

“Unfortunately.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you see Yeonju again?”

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

“So it wasn’t a date?”

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

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

“Wonwoo!”

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

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

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

“Fine by me.”

“With pork?” Junhui asks hopefully.

“Done.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, no problem.”

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

“Are you ready to lock up and go?”

“Yeah, let’s head out.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, it’s been pretty tough.”

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

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

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

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

You freeze. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Thanks, Wonwoo.”

“Take care, Y/N. Get home safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SIX YEARS AGO

Jeonghan has been in the studio for hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always?”

“Always.”)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I feel like one.”

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

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

“You know, these things do take time.”

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

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

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

“I need a miracle,” he mumbles instead.

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

And the thought of you dissolves into the music.

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

PRESENT DAY

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

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

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

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

“Oh, all right. We’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeonghan —”

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

“I was. I still am.”

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

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

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

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

“That’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why…?”

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FOUR YEARS LATER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe,” he says with a wistful smile.

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

“Maybe I have.”

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

#jeonghan x reader #svt #seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt one shot #svt fics #svt jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan friends to lovers #jeonghan one shot #jeonghan fics #kpop fanfic

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the-ellia-west · 1 day ago

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Fallen (Possibly may revive this WIP)

Dyn and Adémiah - Rustpearl

(I was inspired, have some Fallen)

Adémiah ran a hand along his shoulder, smiling with a melancholic grace in her eyes, the pearls and opals strung over her face. Gold tassled to her shawl and dress as her fingers stung across his neck.

"You are my sunrise, my daylight, and my light. The burning passion buried so deep in my heart I forgot what it was like to feel this. You are the reason I awake in the morning, and the reason I do not sob my prayers to the sky for shield in the evening." A strange electric shock racing up her fingers as she teased a touch to his jaw, where the finely groomed beard covered a portion of his skin. "The fox that tricks my dreams, you are my fire."

He glanced at her hand, stiffness trying to tense his muscles, but at her touch, his inhibitions melted, and he allowed her to cup his face in her smooth, elegant hand. Her long, delicate fingers wound into his fiery red hair, and he leaned into her, the same electric connection buzzing beneath his skin as his mind screamed at him to leave her on the sofa and run as far away as he could manage. Her fingers met the skin beneath his hair, cool but not icy, and he turned his face into her gentleness, kissing the heel of her palm softly, just a brush, nothing more.

His breath caught in his throat as she leaned closer, breaths gently caressing his neck as she drew close to his shoulder. "May I?"

He nodded gently, and she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, closing her eyes. She found his breath matched time with hers as he leaned into her, opening a space between them where they rested. And for a moment, she let herself forget it all. Let herself forget how much she loathed him. There was no anger in this moment, no hurt, no hate. There was only him.

Adémiah nestled into him, knowing he wouldn't want to return her affection, but she didn't care. As long as he let her have this one moment. It was all she needed.

She pulled back slowly, and locked her eyes into his, deep ocean blue lost in the green of the forest on an early summers day when the light drafts through the leaves. His face twisted in a look of joy and pain. They drifted closer together. Fire an inch from water.

"What is this?" She whispered, his breath more gentle than she could have imagined against her cheek. "What are we? Two lone wolves destined to die together? The sun and the moon, partners in a dance who never meet? Are we meant to be, or meant for loneliness? Are we a fated touch and a bittersweet embrace? Or a chain and pendant, a perfect match? Are we a whisper on the wind, or a prophecy a thousand years in the making?"

He leaned closer, darting her fingers from his hair as the air heartened, thickening into a heavy blanket between them, energy and unspoken thoughts racing from one look to the next. "A mistake." He whispered with the urgency of a man warning war, and he pulled her into a kiss.

They connected at a single point and the fizzling energy exploded into a flower, blooming all at once into a sweet scent that washed all around them, a feeling so complex neither remembered how to breathe. Tension travelled from her to him and back again, locking them together as his hand delicately found her shoulder. A million thimgs communicated in a single moment. Passion and desire, love and hatered, regret, and longing, fire and ice, all and naught.

In that moment he was all she knew. The fire inside him she'd seen the moment she first laid eyes on him, his hair as soft as down feathers haloing around her face in the space. His hot, rough skin as one of her hands wove back into his hair and the other found his arm. She smelled the faint wisp of pinesmoke in his hair, heard the loathing in him despite he did not speak, tasted the wine on him that he doubtlessly tasted on her.

"A misfire." He gasped against her. "A crack in our logic, a flaw in the universe. I hate you."

"And I never want to see you again."

But their lips met again despite the warnings tossed between them, a garden of weeds neither had dared to pick, now stuck between them like a magnet. She didn't remember how many times they repeated this dance.

Only that it ended with a scowl, as Dyn pulled away from her, loathing in his eyes and blood on his lips. He smoothed his hair back, glared down at her, and said, "No matter how much you pretend, I see you for what you are. A fragile raven with a silver tongue. She calls misfortune and manipulates the heart. She is afraid of emptiness, because she knows death by name. She lies and schemes to stave off the inevitable when the cold comes creeping in and she is left without love. And the end she calls upon will come for her at last with hollow mind and icy hands."

And with that, he left.

(This is my third time writing a kiss scene...)

Please Comment you thoughts!!! I WOULD LOVE TO READ THEM

(Read tags for extra context)

@thewritingautisticat @yolbert @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @ambersky0319 @lunaeuphternal

@an-indecisive-nerd @homelessnerd @vesanal @thebookishkiwi @write-with-will

@hihopelessromantics @pastellbg @seastarblue @i-do-anything-but-write @darkandstormydolls

@supercimi @blargh-500 @sunflowerrosy @corinneglass @carb0n-m0n0xid3

@tiredpapergirl @whatwewrotepodcast

#this ship will be the death of me #they're both drunk in this scene because bad decisions babyyyyyy #you are also welcome to theorize what Dyn meant at the end #Adémiah is symbolized as a raven #Dyn as a Fox #This is not a toxic ship... whennn they figure themselves out #they're meant to ba a dislike-to-hate-to-neutral-to-hate-to-dislike-to-neutral-to-like-to-love #fallen wip

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flufflights · 3 days ago

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𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 ─ by someone just like you

𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: Y/N’s life is super boring. Like, nothing ever happens. That is, until Sunghoon, the new mysterious guy, shows up at school. He’s quiet, cool, and totally out of her league, but something about him pulls her in. She’s got to know what’s up with him. Is he really as mysterious as he seems, or is there something deeper going on?

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: non-idol!Sunghoon x fem!reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: high school romance, strangers to ???, fluff, angst (subject changes each chapter)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: one swear word

𝗙𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Yunjin...Le sserafim, Jake...enhypen

𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: (open - send an ask or comment to be added) @morganaawriterr @kittyyy003

𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: (open - send an ask or comment to be added) @sugarikiz @slayyuna @irasvr

𝗟𝗶𝗹𝘆'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: first chapter done!!! Enjoy reading!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!

It was 6:30 in the morning, and Y/N’s stupid alarm clock was being so annoying. It was buzzing so loud it almost fell off her nightstand. She groaned and hit it as hard as she could. "Why does school even start this early?" she muttered, rolling out of bed like a lazy potato.

She threw on some clothes and ran outside to meet her best friend Yunjin. They always walked to school together, talking about random stuff. Today, Yunjin was already talking about lunch. "They better have spaghetti today," Yunjin said, already dreaming about it.

"Yeah, but if it’s soggy again, I’m throwing it in the trash," Y/N said.

When they got to the schoolyard, Y/N stopped walking so fast she almost made Yunjin crash into her. She saw this guy standing by the lockers. She had never seen him before, and he looked like he hated being alive. His brown hair was all messy, and he had his hands in his pockets like he didn’t care about anything. "Who is that?!" Y/N asked, pointing at him.

"Oh, that’s Sunghoon. He’s new. I think he transferred here or something. That’s all I know." Yunjin answered.

"Sunghoon? What kind of name is that?" Y/N said, still staring at him. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk to anyone.

Before she could say anything else, the bell rang. "Fuck, we’re late!" Yunjin yelled, grabbing Y/N’s arm and running toward class.

When they got to their seats, the teacher walked in and guess what? Right behind her was Sunghoon. Y/N felt her stomach drop. He looked all serious and weird, like he didn’t even want to be there. "Class, this is Sunghoon. He’s new, so be nice," the teacher said, like she said every time someone new came.

Sunghoon nodded, but he didn’t say anything. Some of the girls in class were already whispering and giggling.

"You can sit next to Y/N," the teacher said, pointing at the empty seat by her.

Y/N’s heart stopped. He walked over and sat down, but he didn’t even look at her. Not once.

Y/N tried to say something because it was so awkward. "Uh, hi. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"Hi," he said, super quiet and not even looking at her.

That was it. One word. ONE. He didn’t even seem like he wanted to be her friend. She tried to pay attention to class, but she couldn’t stop sneaking looks at him. He just stared out the window like he was thinking about something way more important than math.

When class ended, Yunjin rushed over. "So? What’s he like? Did he talk to you?"

"No. He just said ‘hi’ and that’s it," Y/N said, rolling her eyes.

"Wow, maybe he’s, like, super shy. Or maybe he’s just one of those mysterious guys," Yunjin said.

"Yeah, mysterious or just boring," Y/N said, but she couldn’t stop looking at him as he left the room.

Before she could think too much about it, Yunjin grabbed her arm. “Come on, let’s go to lunch before the line gets too long.”

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kathlare · 9 hours ago

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slim pickins

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In a late-night haze, Amelie confronts the emptiness of her fleeting connections and her own unresolved emotions. Through music, she channels her heartache, exposing her longing for something genuine.

Wordcount: 1.2 k

Warnings: angst, mention of anxiety, alcohol.

full masterlist // request over here!

September 18th, 2023 - New York City, NY

Amelie stood by the door, her fingers gently brushing Jack’s shoulder as he pulled his jacket on, preparing to leave. His eyes were still heavy with the afterglow of their latest encounter, but the expression on his face was entirely indifferent—exactly the way they both liked it.

—Goodnight,— Amelie said softly, leaning in to give him a quick, perfunctory kiss on the lips. He kissed her back lazily, as though he didn’t even care that they’d just slept together. He had already mentally checked out.

—Yeah, good night,— Jack muttered, giving her a once-over, but his eyes weren’t really seeing her. He turned on his heel, stepping out of her apartment without another word.

Amelie didn’t feel anything as she watched him walk away. No regret. No longing. No bitterness. Just a heavy emptiness that had become too familiar. She closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, her eyes closed.

She needed something else. Something that didn’t make her feel like she was existing in a void. But everything she wanted seemed out of reach, like a dream fading in the morning light.

The soft click of the door locking broke her trance. She glanced down at the mess scattered around the floor—clothes strewn about like they had no purpose, like they weren’t even hers. She bent down, collecting the remnants of the night: a discarded heel here, a wrinkled shirt there. The room was a mirror to her mind—chaotic, fleeting, and empty.

Once she was dressed, Amelie sat down at the piano, her fingers tapping against the ivory keys. She didn’t even think about it; the melody came naturally, rising from the quiet ache inside her chest. The need to write. To scream her frustration into the only medium that ever made sense.

She closed her eyes, letting her fingers find the keys, the notes growing more urgent as her thoughts took shape. The words tumbled out before she could stop them, raw and desperate, slipping from her lips as the piano supported her.

—"Guess I'll end this life alone,"— she hummed under her breath, her fingers gliding over the keys in a gentle rhythm. The melancholy of the music seemed to match the weight on her heart, the feeling that no matter what she did, she'd always end up right back where she started. Alone. Empty.

—"I am not dramatic, these are just the thoughts that pass right through me,"— she sang softly, her voice low and almost breathless, catching on the sadness that lingered in every note. The song was forming itself, pouring out of her like an untold story, one she'd been too afraid to admit to herself for a long time.

Amelie’s fingers danced across the piano keys, a slow, deliberate pace matching the heaviness in her chest. The melody had taken on a life of its own, tugging at the rawness she could never quite bury, no matter how much she tried to keep it hidden beneath the distractions. She couldn’t escape the feeling—the ache, the longing—for something real, something that wasn’t tainted by shallow encounters or fleeting moments of distraction.

Her mind kept drifting back to Lando. She couldn’t help it. It was like a magnetic pull, drawing her thoughts back to him even though she’d tried so hard to push him out of her life. But no matter how many men like Jack she kissed or how many times she distracted herself with someone who didn’t matter, the truth was inescapable: she couldn’t have him.

—"A boy who's jacked and kind, can't find his ass to save my life,"— she sang softly, the words flowing naturally. The line made her snicker under her breath, the bitterness mingling with her grief. The men she met, like Jack, were just placeholders, people to pass the time when what she truly wanted was out of reach. And Lando… well, Lando was still out of reach. Always out of reach.

Her fingers faltered on the keys for a moment, a flash of something too painful sweeping through her. She blinked away the sting in her eyes and continued, pushing herself forward,

but she couldn't finish the line. Not yet. The weight of it all—the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings—had gathered too quickly, drowning her in a wave of emotion she wasn’t ready to confront. Her throat tightened, and her fingers came to an abrupt halt on the keys.

Amelie took a deep breath, pushing the chair back from the piano, feeling the sting of her own inadequacy. She wasn’t ready. The song was too raw, too honest. And she wasn’t sure she could expose that part of herself to the world, especially not in a song that so perfectly captured the messy, tangled emotions she couldn’t make sense of.

Her eyes flickered over to the window, the lights of New York shimmering against the dark night sky. There was something beautiful about the city in moments like this. She felt small here—insignificant even—but in the best way possible. It was like everything she wanted to forget was swallowed by the vastness of it all.

But the pain didn’t go away. It never did.

She grabbed her phone, checking the time. 2:43 a.m. Another night wasted, another evening spent in someone else’s arms to drown out the memories of Lando. She tried to push the thought away, but it lingered, like a shadow she couldn’t outrun.

Amelie tossed her phone aside, frustrated by the constant loop of her thoughts. She stood, pacing around the apartment, feeling the tension knotting her shoulders. It had been months since she’d seen Lando. And not just seen him, but spoken to him.

He was gone. He had moved on, and yet, she couldn’t seem to let go.

—Fucking idiot,— she muttered under her breath, sitting down on the couch. Her head lolled back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. What was it that made him so hard to forget?

The truth was simple, and it hurt like hell: she loved him. And that was why it hurt. That’s why she kept falling back into this cycle of numbing herself with other distractions—other people like Jack, who were easy, uncomplicated, and most of all, fleeting. None of it was real. Not like what she had wanted with Lando.

She stood and walked to the window, pulling back the blinds. The city was alive with the hum of late-night traffic, the occasional honk of a car horn carrying in the distance. But there was no sense of peace in the view, not for her.

She rubbed her temples and walked back to the piano. It was time to finish the song. She didn’t have much left in her, but she knew the ending was there—just a few more lines to get out.

She sat down and placed her fingers on the keys once more, letting the sorrow in her heart guide her hands. The words started to pour out again, but this time, they were heavier. More honest.

—"Jesus, what's a girl to do?"— she sang softly, her voice trembling with the weight of it all.

The line caught in her throat, and she paused. It had been too much, too damn much. She wasn’t just singing about the lack of good men or the endless cycle of disappointment. She was singing about herself. About how tired she was of playing these games. Of pretending she didn’t care.

She pressed her lips together and tried again.

—"This boy doesn't even know the difference between there, their, and they are."— The line was sharp, biting. But it was true. She wasn’t talking about Jack anymore. She was talking about all of them. All the men who didn’t understand, who couldn’t see her for what she was. All the ones who couldn’t measure up to the one she wanted.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, a sudden heaviness gripping her chest. She had spent so long pretending she didn’t care. Pretending that her feelings for Lando were something she could ignore. But the truth was—God, the truth was that Lando had always been it for her. And she couldn’t have him.

Not now. Not after everything that had happened. After he’d moved on to someone else, and after she had pushed him away when he needed her the most. She was the one who had shut him out, and now, it was too late.

—"A boy who's nice that breathes..."— her voice faltered as she reached the next line, but this time, it didn’t come out. The ache in her chest rose, unbearable, and she slammed her hand down onto the keys in frustration, the discordant sound filling the empty apartment.

Her eyes stung with the beginnings of tears. She wiped them away angrily, trying to push through the overwhelming emotions. But it wasn’t working. The song, the words, the music—it was too much. It was all too much.

Amelie stood abruptly, shaking her head as if she could physically shake off the weight of it all. Her legs carried her into the kitchen, and she opened the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine. She didn’t even bother with a glass, just drank straight from the bottle. The alcohol burned down her throat, but it didn’t numb the ache inside her. Nothing did.

She leaned against the counter, staring at her reflection in the window, the city lights flickering behind her.

—Why do I keep doing this to myself?— she asked aloud, her voice low. She hated the fact that she had so many questions with no answers, and the most infuriating one of all was why she couldn't stop thinking about Lando. Why she couldn’t stop wanting him.

She wasn’t going to let herself break down. Not now. Not again.

She tossed the wine bottle into the recycling bin and wiped her face, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t keep wallowing in this. She had to keep going. There was no other option. The world didn’t stop for her sadness.

But as she walked back into the living room, the song still hanging in the air like an unfinished thought, the answer to her internal question lingered.

Because she loved him.

No matter what she did, Lando was always going to be the one she couldn’t forget. The one she couldn’t walk away from.

And that’s when she realized—there was no fixing her. Not anymore.

Not when her heart still beat for the boy who didn’t fight for her.

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sleepboysummer · 13 hours ago

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the girl that remains of penny lamb stands in the middle of his room. it feels hollow, the heavy air of something that used to be there but is missing now. there is so much that she'd lost.

she has avoided reading the news or answering questions, hating every single person who tried to talk to her about what happened that night. the reports had made her into a miracle, a poster child of god's great blessings. no one spoke of the others except for in unit. no one ever spoke of him.

she looks around at his bedroom and all of his things. her eyes fall over posters, and pictures, and so much more, all of the things he had cared about so much. he was the smartest boy she had ever known. that was one of the things she was most in awe of about him- his mind was always so much greater than his seventeen years, constantly running, so full of thoughts and ideas and life.

he wanted to be a writer. he had so many dreams.

the girl that remains of penny lamb is hesitant to touch anything in this room, afraid that her hands will stain his memory, that she'll erase anything that's left. her fingers hover over the wood of his desk, stacked with soda cans and sticky notes. there is so much left unfinished. an incomplete page of scribbled writings still waits in an open notebook, his desk chair halfway pulled out, pencils and papers strewn over the floor. he was not ready to die.

so she holds herself in silence, waiting for something that'll never come. it's cold. the air is still. the only sound is her shaky breaths as she wanders slowly around his room, searching for something she didn't know, desperate to feel him again. her fingers tremble as she reaches his bed. it's been made since he'd passed, that much was clear- it's unnaturally perfect next to the mess around the rest of the room.

she runs a hand over the sheets, blankets neatly folded at the foot of the bed, set there with so much care from a mother. her only son, her baby taken from her just days before. what had she done when she'd learned what had happened? had she cried over his body? had she screamed at the paramedics? had she broken her vow of silence, no reason to fufill it any longer, begging for another chance? he was still just a child, his shelves were full of action figures. he was the youngest one to die.

the girl that remains of penny lamb had woken on september 14, at exactly 6:22 pm. she had been pulled away from the cart by the calculated hands of paramedics who had rehearsed this so many times before. a blanket had been thrown over her shoulders in an attempt to seem caring, but no one cared about her- they were all focused on the ones who hadn't made it out of the accident.

she sat shivering, fingers digging into the itchy fabric, doing anything she could not to look at the mangled bodies being taken out onto stretchers. you could barely tell who was who. they had all been twisted beyond recognition, arms and limbs hanging lifelessly like marionettes forgotten by time. it made her sick. but the thought of the alternative, averting her gaze down into her lap, only drove her eyes straight ahead once more.

shell-shocked, that's what they called her. a girl with the wide eyes of a war victim, sitting silently, covered in blood. the sole survivor. poor, poor penny. what a brave young girl, how strong she must be to stay alive.

but what onlookers didn't know, and the girl that remains of penny lamb did, is that the only one left had not been injured that night. she had come out of the disaster unharmed, left without even bruises on her knees to prove what she had been through. the only thing that brutally reminded her every time she looked down at herself was the blood- blood that was not hers.

since the moment of the accident, the only thing that she could see was red. stinging her eyes, staining her clothes, sticky and sickening and wrong; it clung to every last inch of her skin like he was still holding onto her, begging her not to leave him there. to take him with her beyond the crash. she squeezed her eyes shut as they carried him off, too afraid at what she might've seen if she'd opened them. she couldn't even imagine him like that. if she didn't think about it, it couldn't be true- because in some horrible, awful way, he was still with her; he was all around her, he was everything.

that night she had stood frozen in the shower, hands trembling as she gripped a bloodstained cloth. it was nothing like in the movies where you could stand under the water until it ran red and it would all be over. this was worse, so much worse, since the time spent at the scene had gave it long enough to dry. she couldn't just look away and let it wash down the drain. she had to fight against the tears pricking at her eyes, scrubbing until her skin was raw, every moment forced to watch what was left of him be washed away. there was a sick part of her that didn't want to. a part that wanted to stay there, lingering in memories forever, never letting go of him and of what they could've had. but when she looked down at herself once more her skin was clean and he was gone.

standing in his room for what is probably the final time makes her feel the same.

the girl that remains of penny lamb lets herself cry- she has put it off until this moment, as if pretending could keep him with her. the emptiness hangs in the air, it suffocates her, resting heavy on her chest until her shoulders are racking with sobs. she sinks onto the floor and stays there, crumpled over as if she had been one of the bodies they'd found that night. her face presses into the side of his bed like the shoulder she wishes she could cry on. her hands curl into his sheets until her knuckles go white. she will never understand what it is that let her be the one to live, and maybe that is for the better.

#yeah fuck it i posted this on ao3 js now (also sleepboysummer on there) but its going on here too #whats that one thing #i didnt say his name but he popped in your head didnt he #something abt that #rtc #ride the cyclone #rtc fanfic #legoland play #penny lamb #legoland penny #ricky potts #penny rtc #ride the cyclone penny #jane doe rtc #ride the cyclone jane #ricky rtc #jesus christ there are so many character tags

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vizjpmdose · 1 day ago

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How to Lose a Date dad!James Patrick March x daughter!reader. || 1.3k+ words. !!: Overprotective parent, threatening, not proofread. a/n: accepted this request since I already have a similar fic to this idea prepared in my drafts.

SUMMARY: You met a boy during the latest event in the Cortez, you wanted to go on a date with him but you hid it from your dad. Once your dad found out he planned to scare the boy off, and in order to get you back in his favor he decided to spoil you.

requested by: @tate-langdons-wife

Ms. Evers was like a mother to you. Someone you can tell everything to and she never judges, her advice are always so gentle too, unlike your dad's.. So you found yourself opening up to her about the boy you met during one of the events in the Cortez. You both did had a good talk for an hour and he suddenly asked you to go on a date with him. You stood there at the doorframe of a small bathroom in one of the empty hotel rooms, watching Ms. Evers clean the bathroom while you keep telling her everything.

Ms. Evers chuckled lightly, actually enjoying your enthusiasm. "Oh, my dear, you should embrace these moments of youth. A handsome young man wanting to take you out on a date is quite the occasion! Does your father know?"

She thinks that your father knows. But you actually don't want him to know. And you don't know where you got the nerve to not tell your FATHER about this.

"No.." You muttered out, letting it hang in there for a little bit. "You know how he is, Ms. Evers." You added. A part of you feels guilty but you shook it off. "Promise me, Ms. Evers. Not a word to him." But just as those words left your lips, the room’s air grew heavier, colder. A familiar chill prickled your skin.

"Oh, do go on, my darling. I wouldn’t dream of interrupting such a fascinating revelation." Your dad, 'Mr. March' spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Your heart dropped.. You stayed silent for some seconds before letting out a shaky sigh. "Dad, please-"

"No." He replied plainly. He started walking towards you, the feeling of his presence growing more heavier as he even walks with elegance and fierce. "What did I tell you about these.. Little rascals these days?" He was talking about the boys these days, referring to them as 'little rascals'. He even emphasized the 'little rascals' as if there's a bitter taste on his tongue.

"He's not a 'rascal', dad.. He looks formal and is easy to talk with!" You replied. You just really want to experience new stuffs. Your dad's lips pressed into a thin line. He's about to scold you for daring to defend a boy in front of a man like him. But just as he was about to scold you an idea popped into his mind. "Very well. If you believe this boy worthy, then I shall meet him." Before you can even react, he already walked away.

You know you have no other choice but to follow that order. But at least he's kind of.. Considering it, right?? You told the boy about it, and he made you blush with the; "I'll handle your dad for you."

Even you 99% doubt that your dad would even let the boy talk while he's talking with him. But at least the boy immediately agreed to meet your dad. That's counted as a greenflag.. right..?

The day where the boy will be meeting your dad finally came.

The boy entered Room 64. The room where you told him to meet your dad. As the boy pressed the doorbell, a calm voice from the inside replied instantly. "Come in." The boy opened the door and stepped in, finding your dad wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit sitting on the velvet couch while holding a drinking glass with whiskey in it. His eyes dropped to the boy, he took a quick sip before gesturing to the armchair in front of him with a tight smile.

"Have a seat." He spoke. The boy nodded and made his way to sit down. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm-" Before the boy can even finish his sentence, your dad interrupted.

"You intended to take my daughter out on a date? What do you think of her?" He suddenly asked sharply. The boy's eyes narrowed, the way your dad just cut him off already got him embarrassed greatly. "Uh, sir, I just.. Yes, I want to take her out on a date. We had a good conversation the first time I met her in the latest event held here in your hotel, sir. I think our conversation could be more genuine while on a date, and.. I think she's great." The boy spoke, he used all the confidence he had in his body to answer that.

Your dad raised an eyebrow as he slowly lowered his drink. "Great?" He asked as he tilted his head a bit and squinted his eyes. "My daughter.. deserves far more than great! She deserves devotion, respect! And a companion who understands her worth.” , "Would you kill for her? No! You can get her killed instead." He started snapping. He didn't even acknowledge the whole sentence that the boy said. Your dad's words grew more sharper that made the boy froze on the chair.

"Out." Your dad ordered to the boy as he finally finished his lecture. "Out before I decide to wall you up alive." He threatened. In fact, he had been planning to actually do that. The boy immediately walked out in shame without a word. Your dad watched the boy from the window as he leaves his property.

"Pathetic." He mumbled to himself.

Later that night, you were so confused that the boy didn't even go to your room or texted you before leaving. In fact, he haven't texted you until now. You then found out from Ms. Evers that your dad scared off the poor boy that the boy had to leave without so much as a goodbye. You got mad, hella mad and upset at your dad even though you lowkey predicted that would happen. You decided to ignore your dad a whole day tomorrow or even a week if you could.

Time has passed, it's the morning now and you just woke up. You're still mad as you remembered last night. But when you opened your phone you saw messages of your friends telling you through texts that the boy took another girl on a date instead. That means.. He wasn't even serious in the first place. As you read that, your anger for your dad slowly died down.

The door of your room suddenly opened, revealing your dad. "What did I tell you, hm?" He asked out, reminding you that he's ALWAYS RIGHT. You sat up and brushed your hair back in frustration and defeat. "Dad, please stop randomly showing up."

"Nonsense. I just want to protect you, darling." He scoffed out as he walked towards your bed. "Is that so hard to understand, my dear?" He asked softly this time as he started to comb your hair with his fingers and the feeling slowly made you calm down. "..No dad." You mumbled out in defeat.

He flashed a soft smile and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. After that he stood up straightly again lets out a whistle, the whistle he uses to call Ms. Evers. Ms. Evers then came in holding a dress/other type of outfit that you wanted to wear on a date with that boy. You spoke about that to Ms. Evers, you told her how much you want to purchase that dress/outfit. Your dad secretly immediately bought it just to cheer you up immediately as well.

"I granted your wish," He chuckled out as he watched your eyes widen. He then pulled out dollar bills from his pocket. He quickly counted it and gave it to you. "An advance allowance to cheer you up, my dear. Go hang out with your girl friends instead. They're more trustable." He added, your dad was right. Really right.

You smiled widely as you took your time to appreciate everything he gave you right now. A good morning indeed. "Thank youuu!" You thanked him enthusiastically. "Thank you for saving me, dad." You added, softly and seriously.

"Always." He replied, still having the soft smile on his face.

"The boy is a damn watermelon, my dear. Green on the outside while red in the inside." He joked, following it with a loud laughter. Ms. Evers cracked a chuckle while you laughed along softly.

likes/reblogs/comments are very appreciated specially in long fics like these. They make my effort feel appreciated and gives me more motivation. Thank you!

#james patrick march #james march #evan peters #american horror story #ahs hotel #ahs #james patrick march x reader #james patrick march x y/n #james march x reader #james march x y/n #james march imagine #evan peters x reader #ahs fandom #evan peters fandom

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lightdancingwords · 2 days ago

Text

One Day - Part Three of ?

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character

Series Summary: You were rescued by Dean Winchester a long time ago. Over time, you kept bumping into each other.

Word Count: 2948

Tags/Warnings: Violence, profanity, angst, argument, monsters/supernatural, grief and death

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! This story is AU as it does veer a bit from the history we see in Season 1 of Supernatural. There will be references to episodes and seasons, but it'll change as the chapters come. Enjoy the ride!

Dividers: credit to @talesmaniac89

Chapter Three: The Psychic of Missouri

Dean Winchester tightened his grip on the Impala’s steering wheel as he navigated through Lawrence, Kansas. Beside him, Sam shifted in his seat, restless. Dean was tense—returning to their childhood home dredged up memories he didn’t want to face. Yet, Sam had been persuasive in convincing him to come back due to some uneasy dreams.

Christ. Psychic dreams. His baby brother… was a fucking psychic. What the damn hell. God.

Still, he was happy to have Sam back, if not under ideal circumstances. John went on a hunt and went missing. Though it was more or less clear that John was choosing to avoid his sons, Dean was convinced something was wrong.

Sam had been reluctant to help out at first. That all changed when the same creature that killed their mother also killed Sam’s girlfriend, Jessica. Now both brothers were determined to find out why their father was avoiding them.

What Sam didn’t know was that Dean had been calling his father incessantly, leaving voicemail galore. Worst of all, John wasn’t responding. It was killing Dean that his father essentially abandoned them… again.

“Look, man, I don’t know what you’re expecting at this house,” Dean said to Sam, trying to convince his brother to drop this nonsense. He really, really didn’t want to see that house again.

“I know, Dean,” Sam said, fighting to explain it in a way Dean would understand or even just accept. “It’s just… we have to be there. Something’s wrong.”

Dean sighed, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel. “All right, fine.”

The Impala’s engine growled as Dean pulled up outside the house he once called home. He had a few small memories that he remembered outside of watching his mother burn on the ceiling. Some of them were actually nice, like the apple pies his mother made him. Her warm hugs. The way she’d touch his cheek.

His heart ached at remembering Mary. It’d been 22 years and the grief never left him. All the beer, all the women, all the hunts… it’d never leave him.

“All right… let’s go.”

Learning that Sam had been right about something off in their old house, learning from Sari that something was haunting the house, had not been on Dean’s bingo list. More, discovering that John consulted psychics galore to track down the who and what that killed Mary was another shock.

Just what the hell was John keeping from them? Except Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to confront his father, not really. That always had been Sam’s thing… and God, Dean envied him that strength.

Missouri… was an interesting woman. She clued in on Sam’s grief, scolded him for mentally cussing her out, and even threatened him with a spoon if he put his boots on her coffee table. Christ, he’d never been so spooked before and he faced a goddamned Wendigo.

Then the other surprise hit him in the face—at least, not literally this time.

“You can come in now,” Missouri said to someone just over her shoulder.

Sam and Dean looked up, confused. Then Dean’s eyes widened. He was about to say something when Missouri scolded him again.

“What did I say about swearing?”

Dean stopped, swallowed hard, and sat up straight. “Y/N… what are you doing here?”

Exasperated, Missouri rolled her eyes at Dean. “Lord help me, I don’t know where you get your manners. She’s here because she needed my help, same as you.”

Sam glanced back and forth between Y/N and Dean, confused. “I’m sorry, could someone fill me in?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Dean, turned to Sam and offered her hand. “I’m Y/N. I met Dean a couple of years back. He helped save me from a vampire. Then a few months ago we bumped into each other again.”

Sam shook her hand. “So you’re another a hunter?”

“Yes—”

“No,” Dean said firmly. “She’s just playing at one.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Dean. “That’s not what you said at the asylum.”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. You’re not a hunter. You should go back, go home, pretend none of this stuff happened,” Dean said, irritated.

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like we could forget everything that happened to us?”

Y/N nodded at Sam. That made Dean even more grumpy. “That’s not the point, Sam. Y/N’s only been in this shit for a couple of years. We’ve been in it our whole lives! She remembers what it’s like to be normal!”

The penny dropped for Y/N. Up until that moment, she hadn’t been sure what Sam was in this equation. Now she knew: he was Dean’s brother.

“So you lied to me,” Y/N said angrily. “You said you understood why I couldn’t go back.”

Dean scowled. Before he could say anything more, Missouri spoke up. “That’s enough out of you, all of you. We have business to attend to.”

Sam nodded. “Our old house. There’s something there. Something inside.”

Dean huffed. He was pissed. He was pissed and he was scared and God, he hated it. Sam was becoming increasingly weird. His father was avoiding them. And seeing that damned house….

Y/N glanced at him and something softened in her gaze. He wondered what she knew. He certainly didn’t tell her anything, but what if Missouri did? God…

Sam was relaying to Missouri what he sensed and dreamed. The older woman nodded and declared, “Let’s go see that house.”

“What about Y/N?” Dean asked, testy. He was so not having this.

“She can come with and don’t you sass me boy,” Missouri said, cutting off his protest. “This is a good learning experience for her. Plus, I think it’d help her solve her problem.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He was in Hell. Sam nudged him and pulled him close so they could talk quietly.

“Hey… what’s going on? What’s the big deal about Y/N?” Sam studied his older brother, the way he was clenching his jaw, evasive with his eyes.

Dean’s nostrils flared as he fought to keep his temper. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea she’s coming with. She’s practically a kid, Sam.”

Sam glanced over at Y/N, saw the way she carried herself. She was straight-backed and lean, with the measured movements of someone who learned to husband her energy.

“Is it true?” the younger Winchester asked.

Irritated, Dean scowled up at Sam. “Is what true?”

“That you accepted her being a hunter.”

More scowling. “Shut up, Sam. Let’s go.”

Seeing the Winchester house again so soon after their first visit must’ve been weird for Jenny, the new owner of the house. Missouri did everything she could to reassure the young mother, but Dean could tell Jenny was freaked.

Y/N on the other… While Missouri did her psychic crap, the young female hunter stayed quiet, looked around, even chatted up with Jenny.

So why the hell was Dean so mad? Well, that was unfortunately easy for him to understand. It was the house. It was seeing memories, ghosts of Christmas past.

He remembered his mother being upset with John on the phone and came over to reassure her that it would be okay. He’d hugged her, tried to take his mother’s heartache.

He’d been a goddamned child. He shouldn’t have had to do that, but he felt so responsible for them all.

Seeing Y/N in the midst of it was like a knife in the gut. He didn’t want her embroiled in any of this shit. Instead, she was, and he wanted to tear his hair out over it.

“You gonna tell me why you went to Missouri?” Dean asked, his voice low and rumbly. Y/N looked up and gave him a flat look. God, it should be a crime to look that hot while being coldly furious with him.

“I needed a psychic,” she said at last. “Missouri’s come up often when I looked into them. And she definitely nailed the issues I had before I even said them out loud.”

His smile was fleeting. Given how Missouri nailed Sam with the statement about his loss and got to Dean without him ever saying a word, he was inclined to believe Missouri was the one to talk to regarding the house’s history.

Missouri came back downstairs briskly. “There’s definitely some bad energy here. We got work to do.”

“What? Her too?” Dean asked in open exasperation regarding Y/N’s involvement.

He saw Y/N’s spine stuffed and was pleased at seeing her temper. Good. Maybe they could fight it out and it’ll turn into a make out session.

Missouri bopped him upside the head. “Act like a gentleman,” she said sharply. “I know your daddy didn’t teach you to be this rude.”

Dean cringed, rubbed his head and stared at Missouri. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

“But you were thinking it,” Missouri retorted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think of that girl that way.”

He scowled at Missouri. Sam actually smirked as he came back to them. He liked seeing Missouri put Dean in his place, just a little bit. Dean scowled.

God. After this, he was going to want to drown a bit in beer and breasts. Maybe Y/N’s breasts. Then Missouri glared at him and he grabbed his libido and shoved it back into a box. He seemed to have to do that a lot when Y/N was around.

Y/N’s gaze shifted between Dean and Missouri and smirked. “Do I want to know?”

“I’d say something but she might smack me again,” Dean grumbled. He wanted to flirt. Something to distract himself. However, Missouri was putting a kibosh on all his favorite activities and distractions.

Her smile widened and her eyes sparkled. Y/N really had gorgeous eyes. He’d forgotten. “You’re scared of her. More scared than you were with the vampire or the ghost.”

“I’m not scared,” he protested.

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not!”

Y/N was laughing as she walked away. Damn, she had a nice ass.

It didn’t take much to convince Jenny to get her to take the kids out for a movie and give them time to cleanse the house of the stubborn poltergeist.

Seeing Y/N walk around his childhood home gave Dean a funny feeling, like his chest was being compressed. He didn’t like it. He honestly did not do well dealing with feelings. Like John, he just sat on it until he blew up.

He couldn’t do that this time. He couldn’t blow up, he couldn’t sit on it. It festered and gnawed at him. God, he couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

Y/N kept looking at him and he twitched under her inscrutable gaze.

“What?!” he asked, snapping irritably.

Y/N shook her head and that made it worse.

“Then quit looking at me like that,” he said, grumpy as Missouri mixed whatever the hell it was they needed to cast the poltergeist out.

“Dean,” Sam said, trying to deflect and calm his brother.

“It’s all right, Sam,” Y/N said gently. She looked back at Dean. “It’s about your mom, isn’t it?”

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “How the hell did you know that? Did Sam tell you?” God, if his baby brother blabbed, Dean was gonna punch him one.

Missouri rolled her eyes at the toxic display of machismo and kept on working. Her mix was almost ready.

“God, no,” Y/N said with exasperation in every breath. “I read up on it. I…” She glanced over at Missouri, then back at the brothers. “I’ve been doing a lot of research.”

“Great. Another book nerd.” She really was like a female Sam.

Y/N was undeterred. “Things about poltergeists and ghosts and how they connect to what’s left behind. Which meant reading about traumatic deaths, murders… unusual deaths.”

Comprehension dawned in Sam’s eyes. “And you found out about our mom.”

“Yes. I knew this was your home,” Y/N said gently.

Dean’s jaw clenched tightly.

“I went to Missouri for more information about spirits in particular. I guess I wanted to understand the afterlife or at least life after death,” Y/N said carefully.

Missouri looked up at Y/N and there was a look that read she knew more about Y/N’s motives than she was admitting. Dean saw it, knew it’d take a stallion or something to drag it out of the psychic.

“The Winchester fire and… what happened to your mother… came up in my reading,” Y/N said finally.

“So what do you think?” Sam asked curiously, like an eager puppy.

Y/N considered it. “It’s not your mom,” she said at last. “I think there’s another reason why there’s a poltergeist here. Maybe it was drawn to the violent death, drove out all the previous owners and tenants.”

Missouri quirked a brow. “Are you sure you’re not psychic too?”

“No offense, Missouri,” Y/N said with a weak smile. “I really hope not.”

“Same. You don’t wanna know what’s in that boy’s mind,” Missouri said with a nod to Dean.

Dean bristled, but kept quiet. Sam nudged him as if to convince him to talk, and Dean shoved him back hard. Sam laughed.

Y/N gave Dean a thoughtful look and somehow he felt naked in that moment. Not a good naked; the scary kind where he was 4 years old again and watching his mother die.

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Let’s go get to work,” he said roughly.

They thought it was over. Sam knew better. Despite Dean’s misgivings, the brothers—and Y/N—were camped out in the Impala. The initial cleansing worked, Dean insisted. Sam believed otherwise.

Y/N offered to come with because she was curious about them. Dean was super-irritated. Bad enough he had to help wrangle his brother free from a cord choking him, smash holes in the wall and dump Missouri’s poltergeist dust into the wall. Oh no, they had to come back and keep a watch out because Sam had a ‘feeling’.

So much beer after this.

Then they saw it: Jenny pounding on the upstairs window. The trio spilled out of the Impala running for the house. Dean had to kick in the door, barked an order for Sam and Y/N to grab Sari and Richie while he grabbed Jenny.

Dean got Jenny out quickly, only to realize Sam still hadn’t come back down. He was about to run up when Y/N came out with both kids.

“Where’s Sam?” he demanded from Y/N.

“He handed me Richie and told me to run,” Y/N said, breathless. “Dean, something has him!”

Dean wasted no more time. His father’s voice echoed in his head, ordering him to take Sam and run. He’d been tasked to keep his brother safe and by God, he would.

Y/N was right behind him. For once he was grateful to not face this alone.

Before they could regroup, a woman’s voice echoed through the room. “Leave them alone!”

The figure of Mary Winchester appeared, her presence radiant and protective. She stood between the trio and the poltergeist, her gaze fierce.

“Mom?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Mary didn’t look at him, her focus solely on the spirit. “You don’t belong here,” she said firmly. The poltergeist shrieked, its form twisting and writhing as Mary’s light engulfed it. With one final cry, it vanished.

The room fell silent. Mary turned to her sons, her expression softening. “Dean. Sam.”

Dean stepped forward, his voice breaking. “Mom?”

“You’ve grown so much,” she said, tears in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you both.”

Sam’s voice trembled. “Why are you here?”

Mary’s form began to fade. “To protect you. To protect them.” She glanced at them, her eyes full of love.

And with that, she was gone.

The silence in the room was deafening. Dean’s hands clenched into fists, his emotions warring within him. Sam placed a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Y/N broke the silence. “We should check on Jenny and the kids.”

Dean nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Missouri was waiting for them at her home that night. Her knowing eyes met Dean’s, and she nodded. “She did what she needed to do.”

Dean’s voice was rough. “She shouldn’t have had to.”

Missouri placed a hand on his arm. “Sometimes, love is stronger than anything else. Even death.”

Dean was mulling that as he walked Y/N to her car. Her vehicle was a Honda Elsment, compact but designed to use space well. “So… how much you wanna punch me?”

Y/N actually snorted. Absurdly, he found that appealing. “Earlier, I really wanted to.” Her gaze softened, just a bit. “Not so much after that.”

“I still don’t like you being a hunter. I’ll be honest. Don’t do it, Y/N.” Dean looked pained, “Go back to your life.”

”I can’t, Dean,” she said quietly. Damn it. She had that soft voice that just cut through him. “I can’t live in ignorance or pretend this isn’t happening.”

He shook his head. “You’re stubborn.”

“Back atcha, Winchester.”

He quirked a half smile. “First time we met, you kissed me. Second time, I let you walk away.”

Her brows swooped up and she smiled. “And the third time?”

He barely let her finish before he framed her face with his hands and captured her lips in a kiss. In the midst of it as he explored her mouth, tasted her, he felt her hands slide up his chest.

When he eventually broke the kiss, when he finally let her go, he smirked at her. “Can’t wait to see what happens when I see you again, Y/N.”

She let out a breath, her cheeks flushed. “What makes you so sure we’ll see each other again?”

He grinned. “Call it a hunch, sweetheart.”

Tag List: @spxideyver, @deadlymistletoe, @bitchykittenconnoisseur, @aarpfashionvictim, @stoneyggirl2

@foxyjwls007, @katastrophicmind, @globetrotter28, @deansimpalababy, @daisychaingirl

@nancymcl

(If I added you to a tag list you did not want to be a part of, feel free to send me a message and I’ll remove you. Or comment here. Same with being added! As always, reblogs, likes, and feedback are always welcomed!)

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