#i don't think i've ever written anything this long in my life

[eightmakesonebraincell-replies]

bro it's actually a mood idk what kind of slump it is but i've also had no motivation to touch or look at anything with more than like 20 words LOL i appreciate you still giving me a long-ass reblog though man 👊

lowkey already feels like eons ago since i wrote doctors but MAN did it take me aggeesss to finish. and you're right why am i only getting the workload and not the eight boyfies??? i don't want you i want hot guys HAHAHAHA yes man i remember randomly asking you medical questions bc you're a doctor's kid so like surely you would know?? why don't you know?? go ask your mum ???

was defs a strange experience to start the fic off with established relos and everything is already happy no angst (yet) OATH we both need an 8XL bed just for me myself and i we ain't sharing it with anybody ✋ i would literally never get out of bed

AHAHAHA yeah i think like 95% of readers predicted that seolhee would not make it esp since i put warning tags but also i like to think that even though they knew it would happen, the scene was still A N G S T Y enough hohoho istg any writer who makes a kid character really loveable and cute has *other* plans for that character

yess writing about a female doctor gave the liberty of exploring the misogynistic side of the medical field bc it's not a loren fic if i'm not trying to simultaneously touch on a million different themes 😌☝️

LMAO not the parallels with dr nam and the extra intern with my own workplace 💀 the more you say the more i realise i projected my entire life into this fic :D AND O F C jongho and yunho are canon dad joke and pun lovers

it makes such a world of a difference having someone you enjoy seeing at work (even if just like platonically) (i wish i could see the wizard at work but alas 🤧)

having a lil kid honestly makes these conversations so much easier bc why does it hit so much harder when they ask all the simple questions that you would never think about, and why do they always make everything sound so simple too? we love a character who makes the plot flow LOL

oof yes all the angst starting to go down where they make jokes about being absent romantically but also it means that it's something they've noticed and have at least somewhat thought about 👀

time vs emotional capacity >>>> this is literally me with everything LOL like time vs social capacity LIKE YEAH I HAVE TIME BUT IT'S NOT FOR SOCIALISING OR ANYTHING i don't have the capacity to do anything but be alone tyvm 🤺🤺🤺

omg you bringing up dr nam again and how the misogyny was tackled suddenly reminded me of a detail i was gonna include at the end of the fic but didn't end up including. (or maybe i did and i've just completely forgotten) but mc starts to document and keep a written record of everything so she has evidence and damn don't we just love ✨character growth✨ in every aspect of life

NOT YOU FINDING IT SATISFYING THAT MC SNAPS AT YUNHO HAHAHA but honestly mc's across all written fics need to have more moments where they snap when they should. boo to perfect mc's we need flawed and imperfect mc's

OOP YKNOW WHAT I DIDN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT THAT poor seonghwa who has literally done no wrong being the one to take the brunt of mc's explosion 🫢 tbh though i think it means a lot for the future plot bc even though she blew up at him, he was the one who took the brunt of her grief after seolhee passes <3 no but this monologue about the last time you did xx you deserve credit too bc you helped cook this part up, especially the iconic part when the last time mc used conditioner was :'))

STRAIGHT UP THIS MINGI SCENE WILL FOREVER BE THE MINGI SCENE this is my peak periodt i don't think i can ever write a more heartfelt and comforting scene than this.

AND THE MEMES STILL TAKE ME OUT LOOKING AT THEM NOW HAHAHAH IT TOOK ME OUT SO HARD THE FIRST TIME YOU SHOWED ME AND IT STILL DOES LIKE WHAT A MONTH LATER?

ooh yes i did end up editing this part (you're right it was meant to lead to a huge argument) but highkey it just didn't feel right? it felt more fitting to their character growth and the overall plot for them to understand where mc was coming from, and they all took the break to reflect on themselves. also like ngl atp i was so sick of writing doctors i didn't want to give myself more arguments to solve HAHAHAHAH ALSO considering surfers and hockey had huge arguments it's nice to do something a little different for doctors

you put it so nicely bro yeah there's the contrast between the chaos the boys experience without you around, but there's also the chaos you experience without the boys around. gotta make sure ALL characters get that character growth going on 🤪

YES. IT'S SEOLHEE 🙈 was probably one of the most mentally exhausting scenes to write bc i remember iMMERsING myself as mc so that i could write the emotions/actions/conversation realistically but heyyyyyyyyyy at least seolhee is happy up there in the sky now 🥹🫶

i think all the readers (and myself) (and mc and the boys) definitely deserve a time skip to the next christmas just to heal everybody's hearts that all worked out and all is okay. relationships are never smooth sailing and sometimes it's a near-breakup that is actually what solidifies the relationship and makes it unbreakable :')) defs was aiming for the hallmark-esque christmas for the full FLUFFY effects and i'm glad it came across as such :')) straight up don't think i can ever top this fic's title and motif and repeated lines of the snow/stars

big boots for both myself aND YOU to fill bc god knows i'll be needing your help when i actually get into the flow of writing spring XD

and if it stops snowing? then count the stars in the sky

genre: poly doctors!ateez x doctor fem!reader, hospital romance, established relationship, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 39.7k

c/w: slow burn in reverse, work/life burnout, heavy medical themes (death, cancer) and mentions of medical procedures (medication, needles, chemotherapy, surgery), grief and crying, brief mentions of self-harm (hitting, pinching), mental breakdowns, workplace misogyny and nepotism, profanity, kissing, non-sexual nudity, m x m interactions

synopsis: after transferring during the last year of your residency program, you work alongside your eight boyfriends at kq hospital. it becomes harder to keep your relationship the same as it used to be as you all navigate the respective challenges of being doctors and nurses. you come to experience love and loss in both warmth and coldness, but only one of them will keep your relationship alive.

a/n: please read the tags carefully as this is probably my heaviest fic in terms of the themes and struggles being explored. mandatory shoutout @sorryimananti-romantic for putting up with my snail-pace writing speed the last five months :)

nobody talks about how ironic it feels to work in the hospital during the holidays, particularly christmas.

in any other establishment that is open, be it a restaurant, cafe, retail store or convenience mart, employees are greeted kindly with festive cheer–warm wishes and sincere smiles from one stranger to another. but nobody walks into the hospital on christmas with laughter and gratitude for the assistance of the doctors and nurses, because nobody wants to be at the hospital.

nobody plans to spend the day there, either.

where white embodies the nature of christmas itself–joy, celebration, festivity, snow–it changes the moment you step through the sliding glass doors of the hospital’s entrance. white is the sterile and detached appearance of the tiled floors and coated walls. it is the bedsheets and linen of the ward beds which fall short of mimicking home. it is the authoritative coats of the doctors who are the arbiters between life and death; the very same coat that jongho currently wears over his scrubs.

you are reminded of this dystopian juxtaposition as you and five others gather around your phone from the brightness of the cosy living room in your shared apartment, talking to jongho over facetime while he hides in a storage room for five minutes of respite.

in the background of your video, the fairy lights blink rhythmically on the christmas tree and reflect off the glossy wrappers of the presents placed underneath its bottom branches. behind jongho, there are shelves of medication that you can recognise as the anaesthetics and anticoagulants solely from the colours of their labels, even in the hazy darkness of the storage room.

“you won’t fucking believe the number of grannies i’ve had to explain to today that no, they cannot go home for christmas because they literally just came out of open-heart surgery ten hours ago,” jongho rubs his temples.

yeosang laughs quietly from beside you, amusement poorly concealed behind his hands. you fondly admonish him with a light slap to his thigh but cannot deny the smile that tugs at your lips too.

rushing in for damage control, seonghwa asks, “how’s mingi?”

“tired as fuuuck,” jongho snickers whilst dragging out his words smugly, as if his own eye bags do not reach the middle of his cheeks. the way he lacks the self-control to police his language is also evidence of his utter exhaustion. “last i heard, he was dealing with a couple who had gotten a bauble ornament stuck up the dude’s ass because they wanted to try something ‘festive’ or some shit like that.”

the stories you hear from the emergency department never fail to amaze you with what the human mind can think of doing. it is natural selection at its finest–exhibit a, b, all the way to fucking z. wooyoung gets an absolute kick out of it every single time though, so there is that.

“plain stupidity,” hongjoong rolls his eyes in exasperation. “people need to stop adding to our caseload.”

you chuckle with agreement. “what about yunho? did you get to see him?”

“he’s in surgery,” jongho shakes his head. “not sure what for, but i haven’t heard from him all day so it must be a pretty complicated one.”

the conversation is cut short when his pager goes off. jongho curses, downing the last of his coffee in one large gulp and grimacing from the stale and grainy taste. he crumples the empty paper cup before he apologises, “i have to go. sorry we couldn’t spend christmas together.”

from over the phone, you and your boys refute him with comforting utterances of “don’t be”s, followed by warm exchanges of “merry christmas”s.

“i love you all,” jongho murmurs shyly, the end of a call the only time other than whispered confessions in the safety of a bed where he is comfortable enough to express himself so intimately.

you respond giddily, “love you too,” at the same time your other boyfriends also return the same spoken sentiments. then the youngest ends the call, rushing to attend to an abnormal ECG reading for a patient.

san lets out a sad little sigh as the screen of your phone turns off. his fingers continue to absentmindedly tousle the back of yours and yeosang’s heads whilst wondering, “when will we get to celebrate christmas together? i don’t think all nine of us have ever been free on the same day since we started dating.”

“most of you finish your residency in just over a year, and jongho in two,” seonghwa fondly pinches san’s cheeks, a bittersweet smile adorning his own face, “so maybe the year after that?”

piping up from your other side, wooyoung suggests to the oldest, “or, hear me out–you and hongjoong work while the rest of us stay at home.”

“and do what,” hongjoong narrows his eyes.

“look pretty,” you say in unison with wooyoung, twin grins of mischief flashing at the only registered doctor and clinical nurse specialist in your relationship.

seonghwa laughs endearingly as hongjoong pretends he is not. the rounds of your cheeks settle with warmth when seonghwa leans down to place a sweet kiss against the corner of your mouth in between a teasing, “i wouldn’t mind that.”

it draws out a girlish giggle from you, forever unable to curb the feeling of butterflies in your stomach whenever you are with your boys, even more so with the intoxication of christmas itself–the season of love. wooyoung tilts his cheek out expectantly for his own kiss at the same time hongjoong scruffs the oldest by the neck with a playful chide, “they’re going to actually drop out from the residency program at this rate, hwa.”

but hongjoong is smitten, as you all are for one another, and contrary to his words there is adoration dripping from his gaze…only for it to immediately disappear when wooyoung punches his forearm.

“kiss me, peasant!” wooyoung demands.

“that’s it,” hongjoong snaps and the younger screeches as his neck becomes wrapped in a headlock. in retaliation, wooyoung bites the skin that is within reach, setting off a high-pitched yelp.

yeosang stands up so you take it as your cue to do the same, both of you tucking your chairs under the dining table as san and seonghwa step back from the commotion. you grab your phone then walk away with the three of them to the continued sound of petty slaps and childish bickering.

just another normal day.

“should we sleep in the main bedroom tonight?”

at your suggestion, san wraps his arms around you from behind. his voice rumbles with enthusiasm that you can feel against your back and you sink into his embrace as he agrees, “good idea, love.”

the main bedroom is quite literally a bed room. it consists of numerous platform beds pushed together to make–for lack of better description–an XXXXXXXXL bed. there is nothing else in the room, any and all visible space taken up by the beds as it is the only way to create a surface size comfortable for all nine of you to sleep together.

there are only double or twin beds in the remaining normal bedrooms because frankly, you all need quality sleep for your jobs. between all of your on-call shifts, leaving the house and arriving home at random hours of the day, it is just easier to sleep separately on most nights. plus, despite the fact that you are all earning more than the average salary already, there is still a fuckload of student debt to pay off and mattresses are fucking expensive. hence, you make do with the one room where you splurged your money.

“i’ll let the others know,” yeosang states. he pulls out his phone to send a text to the group chat. mingi and jongho were unlucky enough to have drawn the short end of the stick with a 24-hour shift, and yunho had apparently been placed on surgery. so although it is not the ideal nine of you, you have long learnt to accept that there will almost always be at least two absent at any one time.

seonghwa has already made himself comfortable in the centre of the mattresses when you walk into the bedroom. he lifts the edge of the blanket, arms beckoning for you to cuddle him. you toe off your slippers and crawl into his arms, slotting yourself perfectly against his chest as he tucks you under his chin and covers you with the blanket that is warm from his body heat.

the bed dips again from the weight of somebody else slipping in behind you. he curls around you, a sturdy arm gently cradling your waist with a comforting weight. you can immediately tell that it is san simply from the way his body feels against yours–you would be able to tell any of them apart simply from the way they held you, even if you were to lose your sense of sight.

slowly tracing a finger along the prominent veins on san’s forearm, the bed suddenly rocks with a gleeful shout before the three of you are crushed under an energetic mass. “wooyoung!” you gasp between exasperated fondness and he giggles whilst squirming to make himself space within the cuddle pile.

san moves over so the younger can slot in beside you whilst extending an arm out to his side. it wraps around yeosang to tuck him into the group, and hongjoong settles in last behind seonghwa on the outside edge. there is a bit of further wriggling as you all adjust yourselves comfortably, but eventually your arms and legs twist together snugly. with seonghwa’s fingers languidly combing through your hair, fingertips grazing your scalp with each repetitive motion, you drift off to the boys’ low whispers and enter a dreamy haze of cackling fire and fluttering snow.

it is well into the early hours of the next morning when one of the trio comes home. the soft click of the front door wakes you up, your body used to sleeping lightly from years of on-call shifts. your ears slowly drag you back into the realms of consciousness as you listen.

there is a dull thud and a muffled “ow” that tells you it is yunho, the only one who has somehow made it a habit of his to bump his head on the cabinet every time he bends down to put his sneakers away. as his soft footsteps pad down the hallway, you track his path mentally in your head; to the open dining room to place his messenger bag down on one of the chairs, to the bathroom to wash his face and his hands, then finally to the main bedroom.

to see his lovers.

yunho nudges the door open with bated breath in hopes that he does not wake anybody up. a smile immediately spreads across his face, unable to contain his fondness at the sight that greets him as his eyes adjust to the darkness. within the hands of slumber, you and the boys have slowly spread yourselves out across the mattresses. still, you somehow manage to find each other through the tangle of blankets–seonghwa’s fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist; the tip of wooyoung’s nose nudging your forearm–unwilling to completely separate even in your unconsciousness.

your body dips with the mattress under yunho’s weight when he carefully inches towards you. his sturdy arms hold his frame over your smaller one and you pretend to be asleep just to feel the protective tenderness with which he dips his head slowly to press the softest of kisses against your temple. his warm lips worship your skin with the reverence a butterfly would land upon the prettiest of flowers.

in the magical remnants of an enchanted pre-dawn, yunho whispers bittersweetly, “sorry i’m late, y/n. merry christmas.” then he tucks the blanket more snugly around you, cocooning you in both warmth and love before he pushes himself back off the bed to leave.

as much as he wants to hold you and his boys, yunho has not yet showered. he is exhausted to his very core, unable to bring himself to the arduous task of showering when he can barely keep his eyes open. so he retires himself to one of the other bedrooms instead even though it is the last thing any of you want.

but all of you are used to it. none of you are strangers to coming home in the ghostly hours of night, fighting off debilitating weariness long enough only to check on the others briefly before falling against a mattress away from the clean warmth of somebody's arms.

it is the career and life that you have all chosen. it is just another normal day.

and it is this exact self-sacrificial nature within the medical field that is easily forgotten and overlooked. you and your boys sacrifice your holidays with loved ones to ensure other people get to go back to their loved ones for the holidays. it comes with the price of time, freedom and memories.

but what can also happen is that sometimes…you end up sacrificing the relationships themselves.

for every rapid shuffle you make throughout the house, gathering your things to haphazardly shove into your backpack, mingi trails behind you easily with languid strides of his own.

“i can drive,” you reason half-heartedly as you focus on the stubborn front zipper. “you can be my passenger princess.”

his scandalised look that you would even suggest a thing goes unnoticed even as he protests, “or you be my passenger princess.”

“okay, and how will i get home? your shift doesn’t even end at the same time as mine.” you throw the door of the fridge open to grab your packed lunch, cramming it into the large compartment of your bag.

“yun’s shift does, so he can give you a ride home unless he gets called in for surgery again.”

“and if he does?”

mingi looks at the whiteboard calendar that is mounted on the wall beside him, squinting at the mass of colour-coded letters that are scribbled into the box marking today’s date. “then wait for hwa. his shift ends at five.”

“no,” you roll your eyes good-naturedly, “you know how often he picks up extra hours because he can’t bear to leave his PICU babies. i’ll just take the bus home.”

“no,” mingi mimics you as he holds out your coat for you to shrug on, “the correct answer is to then wait for hongjoong or call one of us. between the eight of your boyfriends, there’ll always be someone who is just ending their shift or is free to pick you up.”

you look up from your shoes to level him with a blank stare, “you know that isn’t feasible every single day, right?” despite your words, you do nothing to stop him from stealing your car keys out of your pocket.

mingi’s doggedness–all of their doggedness–in ensuring one of them will always be accompanying you to and from work is endearing, but the truth is that it is not feasible. there is a reason why you had been commuting by yourself the last three years of your residency, and along with the fact that the nine of you have different shifts that change each week, the logistics of it all will drive you insane, if not them.

“that’s besides the point. it’s your first day of work today so i’m doing my baby a favour,” mingi coos teasingly, pinching your cheeks because he knows it gets a rise out of you.

you swat his hands away with a grunt, jabbing his side for good measure in retaliation to his smug grin. “you talk as if we aren’t both fourth-year residents. and it’s not a favour if you have to go there anyway since, you know, we work at the same hospital.”

“it’s your first day at this hospital, so technically you’re still fresh meat,” mingi argues as he pulls the front door open. while you lock it behind you–everybody else already at the hospital–he continues, “plus, my shift doesn’t start until tonight so i’m sacrificing my sleep for you.”

you give him a little curtsy with exaggerated gratitude then hurry after him when he swivels on his heel, head held high like a noble king with you as his court lady. except, the roles reverse the moment you reach the car and he opens the passenger door for you with a bow.

“m’lady,” he beckons inside.

you snort but settle yourself into the seat, patiently waiting for mingi to get in from the other side of the car. as he starts the fifteen-minute drive to the hospital, you suddenly look at him with suspicious clarity, head now clearing enough to wonder why the most rational of your boyfriends is being irrational. 

“you’re trying to get on my good side for something, aren’t you? did you spill coffee on seonghwa’s scrubs again?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“what?” mingi’s head whips towards you before he looks back at the road, chuckling nervously. “no? of course not. why would you think that?”

at your lack of response, he crumbles with a confession. “it was hongjoong’s idea! he said i should drop you off so i can size up whoever might try and chat you up on your first day.”

“god, you’re all hopeless,” you burst out into laughter.

prior to today, you and the boys had discussed how public you were all going to be at the hospital about your relationship. it had been decided that you would not deny it if questions arose, but at the same time, you were not going to go out of your way to make your relationship with one another general knowledge.

not everybody is going to be accepting of your polyamorous dynamic and neither do you need people questioning whether you successfully transferred into the residency program at this hospital through…favours. because despite the fact that it is the twenty-first century, it remains the harsh reality that the doctoral field is still predominantly male-oriented, with females automatically assumed to be the nurses–lesser in hierarchy, knowledge and skill.

a rumour as such might not affect the boys but it would be enough to tarnish your career.

as mingi pulls into the underground parking lot for employees, you rest a hand on his forearm to stop him from turning off the ignition. “mingi, i’ll be fine,” you reassure. “go home and get some sleep.”

“but hongjoong–”

“–will just have to stop being a big baby. we’re in our mid-twenties,” you chuckle, “not fresh eighteen-year-olds discovering the opposite gender for the first time. everyone’s going to be too busy on their first day to care about flirting.”

you lean over the console of the car and mingi relaxes easily under your hand that caresses his jawline. he melts once you press a soft kiss against his cheek, conceding, “alright.”

“i’ll see you at home before your shift.”

he nods and watches as you get out of the car. from out of the open window, he gives you a cute little wave, waiting for you to walk through the sliding doors before he leaves. you walk to the elevator doors to press the up arrow, fidgeting with your scrubs and hair with nervous restlessness until the sounding of a soft ding followed by the low groan of parting doors. you take a deep breath, then you walk in.

into kq hospital.

boasting over one hundred different core and specialised departments and home to some of the few fields in advanced medicine, kq hospital is the largest and most renowned hospital in seoul. your years of clinical experience in other hospitals and past visits to your boys during their shifts provide you with a sense of familiarity with the place, but it is still easy to feel overwhelmed by its formidable size and bustling urgency.

seeing the fresh interns and second-year residents gathered in the auditorium as you join them for the morning orientation reminds you of your own four years ago. never did you think you would have to undergo orientation again during your residency, yet here you are, having transferred to kq hospital in your final year for the clinical exposure and opportunities in career advancement that it has to offer.

you sit towards the back of the auditorium, a few seats away from a girl who has the nerves of an intern. you give her a polite smile then face the front, not exactly ready to make small talk unless you have to. yunho always jokes that as an introvert you really picked the wrong job–you have no defence as you pull out your phone and pretend to be occupied.

somebody slides into the seat next to yours a few minutes later. however, your saving grace comes in the form of several people walking across the front of the stage, so you do not have to do much more than dip your head in courteous greeting before everybody settles into silence.

a woman in thin-rimmed glasses steps up to the podium. “welcome, interns and residents. my name is doctor heo and i’m the program director of the paediatric residency program here at kq hospital.”

the hours of the morning quickly blur together into a multitude of faces, names and information. you and a few of the other senior residents had only been required to attend half of the general welcome talk, your orientation much faster and tailored to your pre-existing experience. by the time you have gone through the policies, patient populations and workflows of the paediatric department, your head is reeling to digest it all.

only at twelve do you converge with the interns again, this time at the cafeteria. there is a generous spread of catering of finger food and drinks before the joint lunch you will have with the other faculty members from your department.

“this will be a good opportunity for all of you to meet the residents, doctors, nurses and department heads. get to know your colleagues because they will be the ones you are learning from,” dr. heo advises.

your ears perk up, wondering whether you will be able to see some of your boyfriends. san is already a fourth-year resident in the paediatric department, wooyoung one of the nurses, and even though seonghwa works mainly in the paediatric ICU, his position as a clinical nurse specialist likely makes him important enough to at least show his face.

everybody starts to make their way over to the tables to fill their plates as they mingle and chat amongst one another. you have always had a sensitive stomach that often disagrees with food–the very reason why wooyoung makes your lunch most days, which currently still sits inside your bag–but you do not want to appear ungrateful or picky. so you head to the drinks to at least keep your hands filled.

just as you grab a small glass of orange juice, a voice startles you. “it’s you! hi.”

you turn to find a man maybe a few years younger than you with a bright smile on his face. “hi?” you hesitantly answer, unsure why he is acting so familiar with you.

he frowns slightly, “you don’t remember me?”

you could honestly give less than a flying fuck who he is, but you suppose the whole point of this break is to give those fucks, so you apologise instead, “sorry, i’m not great with faces.”

“i sat next to you during orientation this morning,” he laughs like you have just cracked the funniest joke. he extends his hand out for a handshake, “i’m doctor baek, but you can call me cheolmin.”

“nice to meet you, doctor baek,” you return the handshake, setting your boundaries with your response. “doctor l/n.”

he quirks a brow amusedly. unprompted, he reveals, “my sister’s boyfriend’s aunt’s friend knows the director of this hospital,” as if he thinks you would be impressed. you are willing to bet the seventy-two dollars in your savings account that the director of the hospital does not have a clue who this dr. baek is.

as you struggle to come up with a professional response that is not a sarcastic ‘cool’, you suddenly make eye contact with somebody from over his shoulder. they are looking at you with nonchalant amusement, lips tugged up smugly and their hands in the pockets of their coat.

you hurry to wrap up the conversation and make a move to step around dr. baek. “that’s great, nice to meet you. i’m going to go and introduce myself to–”

“are you doing anything after work today?” he cuts you off, stepping slightly in front of you. “it would be nice for us to get to know each other better, considering we’ll be colleagues from now on.”

“uh…” you trail off, distracted when you make eye contact again with the person and they cock their eyebrow, asking for your permission to play knight. you give the subtlest of nods before dr. baek adjusts himself into your line of vision.

“doctor l/n, don’t play hard to g–”

“y/n,” the dependable voice of hongjoong interrupts dr. baek. your expression relaxes into a smile as your boyfriend sidles up to you, presence steadfast and unwavering. “i didn’t catch you this morning–how are you getting home?”

dr. baek’s eyes narrow even further at the implication of hongjoong’s question than when he realises you two are on first-name basis.

“mingi dropped me off so i can’t drive,” you shrug.

“i finish at five-thirty. i’ll take you home,” hongjoong says, absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair out of your eyes. “make sure to put on your jacket while you wait for me. it’s meant to snow later so it’ll be cold.”

you laugh softly at his attentiveness, “okay, hongjoong.”

unable to watch any longer, dr. baek pivots on his heel and stalks away. your boyfriend cannot resist pulling you closer by the sleeve of your scrubs as he haughtily huffs, “i knew people would hit on you.”

“is that why you told mingi to take me to work today?” you tease. hongjoong is also from the neurology department–definitely not meant to be here right now–but you will save that ammunition for another time.

“oh, look,” hongjoong pretends not to hear you as he ushers you away from the tables. “san and wooyoung are over there. let’s go and talk to people who actually matter.”

the laugh you let out this time is unrestrained, letting yourself be led through the interspersed groups of people towards your other boyfriends–the only people who actually matter. san and wooyoung’s faces break out into the most tender of smiles the moment they lay their eyes upon you and hongjoong, and the remaining nerves and tension in your body completely melt away when you feel their subtle embraces around you.

it may be winter and the road ahead to acclimatise with your new job may be demanding, but you know that you will be shielded from the cold of the world by the warmth that your boys will always bring to you.

“patient history and current status?”

selecting the seventh floor, you press the close button to the elevator doors once your team of four have settled inside. you turn back slightly to look at your interns in wait for a response to your question.

dr. son glances at dr. yang before answering, “the patient is kim seolhee, currently six years and three months old. she was initially diagnosed with T-cell acute lymphoblastic leukaemia at two years, eight months. she was admitted into hospital one month ago due to a relapse and is currently undergoing re-induction therapy. she received a chemotherapy dose this morning, so we are monitoring for any potential side effects from the treatment.”

“and how is she responding to the treatment?” you probe.

“slow response–the leukaemia cells are not clearing as expected so second-line chemotherapy is likely to be recommended.”

you nod at the information as the elevator doors open to the paediatric oncology ward. walking out, you ask, “why is the patient not responding to first-line treatment?”

the following silence permeates with flusteredness that shows neither intern has considered this question. “doctor lee?” you cue instead.

the junior resident takes over with ease. “seolhee’s initial treatment when she was first diagnosed required aggressive chemotherapy due to resistant leukaemia. treatment lasted for two and a half years and she achieved remission at five years, four months. however, she relapsed one month ago due to minimal residual disease in the bone marrow.

“from her history, we know that her leukaemia was resistant to initial treatment and there is the persistence of residual cancer cells at the time of relapse. plus, her diagnosis is T-cell, not B-cell, which tends to present with greater quantities of leukaemia cells and thus requires more intensive therapy. all of these risk factors combined makes it difficult for remission to be achieved through first-line re-induction therapy.”

“well done, doctor lee,” you acknowledge as he beams, “all of that and the fact that her relapse is early–merely nine months after remission–correlates to a higher likelihood of treatment resistance.” you address your interns, “it is easy to focus on the patient’s immediate presentation, but it is just as important–if not more–to look at it in the context of their prior admissions and treatment responses. that was a good attempt though, doctor yang.” reaching the door to the room you are about to enter, you quickly wrap up the conversation and head in.

seolhee looks at you curiously, a new face being one of the only interesting things that change up her repetitive days in the hospital. her sickly pallor and sunken cheeks are a morbid juxtaposition against her rounded eyes and braided pigtails. as you walk closer, you can see that her hair has been plaited loosely with care so as not to strain her already-thinning hair.

you lower yourself to the side of her bed with a bright smile as you compliment, “i love your hair! who did it for you?”

immediately, she beams, any prior apprehension clearing as she tells you, “my favourite nurse! he's been braiding my hair for years!”

“has he now?” you gaze at her fondly as she happily shows you the ribbons tied to the ends too.

“are you talking about me?”

seolhee’s eyes instantly light up in response to the voice that enters the room. she exclaims, “nurse hwa!”

“hello, my snowflake.”

you turn just in time to see seonghwa walking in with endearment enveloping his entire face. you let out a small chuckle, your own eyes melting with honey at the sight of him. of course he would be the favourite nurse.

when seolhee questions why he is making his rounds earlier than usual, he leans in conspiratorially, yet in a whisper loud enough for you to hear, “a little birdie told me that your new doctor is very pretty, so i had to come see for myself.”

he winks at you and you shake your head with an exasperated smile. so much for keeping lowkey and professional. clearing your throat, you play along, “ah, are you the favourite nurse who braided her hair, nurse hwa?” you find it absolutely hilarious that six-year-olds are using the same pet name that you use for your boyfriend.

seonghwa nods, “my girlfriend taught me.”

“she must be quite the amazing girlfriend, then,” you joke.

“she is,” he smiles, gazing softly at you.

for a six-year-old, seolhee is frighteningly perceptive as she looks back and forth between the two of you before blurting out, “is she the pretty girlfriend you always talk about?”

you fluster with a bright blush that you try to conceal behind a cough, only to make eye contact with dr. son and dr. lee giving you the most delightful shit-eating grins on their faces from beside you. seonghwa simply laughs, brightly and joyfully like the festive chime of bells. his affirmative nod in response is just as childishly proud as the one adorning seolhee’s face at having guessed correctly. she decides right there and then that you are her favourite doctor, because you are pretty.

“let me give you something,” she beckons with a small wave, little fingers calling for you to look closely.

seolhee pulls a little booklet out of the bedside table’s top drawer. the cover and edges are well-loved and from the way the top of the little booklet is nearly falling apart, you can tell that she has used it often. she flicks through the empty pages one by one until she finds what she is looking for. fiddling for a few more seconds, she holds out her hand to present you with–

“a sticker?” you ask.

“for doing a good job,” she giggles.

you take the circular sticker from her extended fingers. when you look down, you realise it is a little snowflake with a smiley face on it. the corners of your own mouth tug upwards involuntarily and your cheeks round out until they start to feel sore. never did you think a mere sticker would bring you such glee as an adult, but you are going to wear it proudly.

you tug the breast pocket of your scrubs outwards so that you can stick it onto your name badge, right next to the small twinkling star that is the signature additional design on all of the paediatric departments’ name badges. at your response, seolhee beams with pride.

“where’s mine?” seonghwa childishly quips.

“you haven’t done anything yet,” seolhee wags her little finger at him as he swallows the urge to retort that neither have you. “have you drawn my blood yet? inserted an eye-vee line or a…pick line?”

“no,” he chortles in defeat, “no IV or PICC lines today. maybe a blood test later.”

“so no sticker for you,” she reprimands him rightfully.

the conversation draws a laugh out of you, yet leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. a child like seolhee should be talking about the colour of her doll’s dress and the name of her plush teddy, not medical procedures that draw her line between life and death.

seonghwa eyes your sticker mischievously. “i might have to steal her sticker then.”

seolhee glares at him like a ferocious kitten, easily deciding that you are now her favourite out of all the doctors and nurses. “don’t you dare,” she pouts before turning to you with full solemnity and seriousness to pledge, “if he steals it, come back and i’ll give you another one.”

you send him a smug wink and seonghwa finally concedes, arms raised in mock surrender. “i’ll go back to my morning rounds then. see you later, snowflake,” he gives her a wave before bidding you goodbye with playful professionalism, “see you later, doctor l/n.”

on his way out, seonghwa exchanges brief but warm pleasantries with a middle-aged woman who is simultaneously entering the room. it is easy to presume that she is seolhee’s visitor, considering she is not wearing scrubs. just as you are about to introduce yourself, the woman's eyes skim right past yours to land on the taller of the interns behind you.

"hi, you must be seolhee's new doctor," she greets. "i'm her mother."

dr. yang shifts uncomfortably on his feet and glances at you, unsure how to correct the older woman that whilst he is a doctor, he is not the most senior one. with grace, you extend a warm hand out with an even warmer smile.

"lovely to meet you, mrs kim. i'm doctor l/n, and this is my intern, doctor yang," you introduce, before gesturing behind to your left. "this is my other intern, doctor son, and this is doctor lee, my second-year resident."

seolhee's mother rushes to shake your hand as she trails off, "sorry, i assumed he was the doctor because..."

"i know, i get that often. don't worry about it," you pat her hand placatingly.

she responds, "well, it's going to be nice having a female face around."

from the flush on her face and the overcompensatory laugh that leaves her lips, you know she does not mean it as much as she is trying to cover up her embarrassment. the woman before you is not the first person to have dismissed you as a nurse or an intern solely based on your gender, and she will definitely not be the last. so you pretend not to notice, redirecting with a laugh of your own and the question, “how has seolhee been feeling since her dose this morning?”

mrs kim easily jumps on the change in conversation and the attention shifts to the little girl in bed. you listen intently to any side effects of concern, long having learnt to ignore the layered feelings of fatigue, frustration and disappointment in your chest whenever somebody undermines your capabilities, even if it is never ill-intentioned.

because as with any job, there are sacrifices to be made, and putting other people’s comfort before your own is just one of the many.

you do not want to jinx it, but you think that you may not mind night shifts after all.

“what are you thinking about?”

yeosang fills your entire vision, his brown orbs blinking at you curiously with a mellow dusting of blossom pink speckled across his cheeks from your close proximity. you have often been pulled away into a hidden corner or spare room somewhere within the labyrinth of the hospital by one of your boyfriends for a few minutes of company, but this is the first time yeosang has initiated it. his shy nature is endearing though, and it is a much-needed break during your second consecutive night shift.

you tease, "it's a secret," before pressing an innocent kiss against the corner of his lips right where it quirks up bashfully whenever he is around you. yeosang carefully rests his hands on the dips of your hips and brings you in a little closer towards him as you ask, "what about you? what's on your mind?"

“wondering how long we can stay in this storage room for before one of us gets paged.”

his answer stuns you for a second but then you both break out into giggles at the absurdity of his answer. “jongho has rubbed off on you too much," you adoringly flick the bottom of his chin with the tip of your finger. not many people know, but yeosang is just as bad of an influence as all your other boyfriends when he wants to be.

"we could try," he suggests with a grin. "none of my team was rostered on for a night shift with me."

your laugh easily fills the small space, "neither was my team."

“so nobody would come looking for us, unless–”

a discrete tap sounds against the door from right next to where you and yeosang are pressed up against one another. you both fall silent and motionless, pupils wide and breaths held, hoping you have either misheard or whoever is outside will leave soon. but then you hear another tap and it does not stop. the tapping is incessant, obviously trying to gain the attention of you two. yeosang ducks down as you raise the blinds of the small window on the door and you peer out to find–

–fucking wooyoung squashed right up against the glass pane with a cheshire grin. you finish yeosang’s sentence for him, “unless one of our boyfriends do.”

wooyoung perks up immediately at the word 'boyfriends' as if that is his cue. "hi," he announces, "are you guys making out? i heard yeosang."

you sputter while yeosang pops up beside you with a horrified expression at the younger’s uncouth question. said person beams cheekily, “can i join?”

wooyoung’s breath fogs up the glass with every word he says but he is unfazed. your boyfriend simply rubs the glass with the sleeve of his coat, presses his face up against the window again and continues to look at you both with a dazzling, expectant smile. when neither of you respond, he winks for good measure.

wooyoung flinches and shrieks when you tap the glass right between his eyes. he jerks back enough for you to push the door open and step out through the gap with mirth bubbling in your chest. you playfully drag your fingers across his chest, then tease with faux coyness, “break time is over, sorry.”

the indignant whine you receive in response is more than enough for the amusement to spill out of your chest as you walk away. you will make it up to him with triple the amount of kisses once both of you are home. for now, you walk back to your department, pleased that yeosang’s oncology ward is not far from yours.

even during the late hours of a night shift, the hospital is never completely quiet. the rhythmic sounds of beeping machines interspersed by footsteps and closing doors follow you down the corridors of the paediatric ward. what truly sobers you out of the lighthearted moment you just had, though, are the occasional whimpers; of discomfort, of pain, of nightmares.

you enter seolhee’s room alone–your interns and junior resident scheduled only for the day shift–to find the little girl also by herself. her parents must have decided to go home, having already spent countless consecutive nights by her side since she commenced second-line chemotherapy last week.

seolhee received a dose of nelarabine just this morning so you need to keep a close eye on her. a quick flick through the chart on her rolling cart shows that the nurse on night shift had taken her vitals just two hours ago with no abnormalities.

“doctor snowflake?”

you startle at the quiet murmur. turning to look at the bed, seolhee is looking at you with slow, blinking eyes and a tiny smile. your own eyes soften as you lower yourself down towards her, “why are you still awake?”

“couldn’t sleep,” she mutters.

you scan her face with concern, “are you feeling pain anywhere? feeling sick?”

seolhee shakes her head in reassurance. then in a small voice, she answers, “just lonely.”

the tension in your shoulders releases only slightly. the little girl before you may be feeling all right physically…but at what cost? your chest tightens with humbling clarity–you may sacrifice a lot as a doctor, but your patients sacrifice so much more. neither is it a choice for them.

it is a relatively quiet night; you can spend time with her. and even if you did not have time, you can make time for her.

you pull a chair closer to sit down, gesturing for her consent to lift up her blankets to check her skin for signs of bruising or infection. she nods and you ask, “why doctor snowflake?” to keep her mind occupied.

seolhee glances at your name badge. “because you still have the snowflake sticker and snowflakes are pretty, just like you.”

the line insertion site on her chest is free of discharge and irritation and you fix the front of her hospital gown. “that must also be why nurse hwa calls you a snowflake,” you fondly tap the tip of her nose as she giggles.

“my name means snow,” she tells you proudly. “my parents named me seolhee because i was born on the first day of snow.”

“they named you well, seolhee. you really are a special gift, a precious snowflake.” in the muffled quiet of the hospital ward, you let go of your professionalism for a brief moment to make a hushed promise, “one day, you will be able to join all the other snowflakes outside–free to flutter and land wherever you want.”

not confined to the hospital nor your sickness.

seolhee returns a promise of her own, “and when i’m all better, i’ll come back to visit you.” she beckons for you to lean in before she whispers into your ear, “because you’re my favourite.”

you are technically not meant to play favourites, but it is hard when she is far ahead of the others in the unofficial competition. so you whisper back scandalously, like two teenage girl friends gossiping together, not a doctor with her patient in hospital, “you’re my favourite, too.”

the pager in your pocket goes off and seolhee’s face falls with disappointment. one of her hands involuntarily reaches out in your direction, seeking comfort and companionship in a place where people succumb to grief and isolation every day.

seolhee is only a child. she should be sleeping in her own bed at home, the faint glow from her phosphorescent star stickers across her bedroom ceiling guiding her into whimsical dreams. instead, it is the washed out moonlight filtering through the drawn curtains in her hospital room, shadows of snowfall outside drifting gently across her face, that surrounds seolhee’s fragile body in a romanticised nightmare.

“how about this,” you suggest, “if you go to sleep now, i’ll come again tomorrow night and i’ll tell you the story of how nurse hwa and i met.”

her eyes light up. “you promise?”

christmas has passed, but it does not mean that the season of miracles has to come to an end with it. you nod, “i promise.”

this time, when you make a move to stand up, seolhee does not reach out for you. she does not need you to stay; she has your gift of a promise to hold onto instead.

“goodnight, my little snowflake,” you tuck her blanket around her shoulders. affectionately, you brush her thinning hair off her forehead, “love you.”

you almost miss her sleepy response, a mumbled sentence just as you reach the threshold of the door to her room–words from a little girl whose heart is too big for the world to ever truly contain.

“i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

like the heavy snowfall that comes with the arrival of mid-winter, work quickly starts to pile upon itself into layers that do not melt away easily.

you are not the only one nearly thigh-deep in the snow. besides yourself, yunho, yeosang and san are also residents in your final year juggling demanding caseloads and increasing responsibilities as the seniors. hongjoong has been slaving away in preparation for the annual meeting of the korean neurological association, and seonghwa has recently been tasked with revising the departmental policies and procedures for sepsis protocols.

all of that on top of the nine of you studying for specialty board exams, pouring over journal articles to stay up to date and partaking in research projects, it almost becomes a game of never-ending tag in the house with the small increments of time that are lucky enough to overlap with somebody else.

unable to see one another as often, much less spend time together, you and the boys have to make do whenever you can, wherever you can, however you can. it comes in varying forms; a shared smile in brief passing through the wards, an extra chocolate in your packed lunch, a quick reminder to wrap your scarf snugly.

this morning, it comes in the form of an inconspicuous-looking disposable cup waiting for you in your assigned cubby. you almost miss it and knock it over with the bag you hastily push into the space, but the stark contrast of a black scribble against the whiteness of the cup’s surface catches your eye right before you give your bag a final shove.

it is a cup of takeaway coffee from the cafe downstairs–the one you never buy coffee from because the wait for your order can take up to ten minutes, and that is ten minutes of time every single day that you cannot afford to give up. but for you, there is someone willing to sacrifice those ten minutes of their day.

your eyes soften and eyebrows upturn as you immediately deduce who the coffee is from. if the coffee itself is not a dead giveaway, then the cute, artistic doodle of rudolph surrounded by little hearts around his antlers and the accompanying phrase, ‘you’re my rein-dear’, is.

jongho.

for a brief moment of respite from the unceasing rapidity of the hospital, you are warmed from your very core all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes by your boyfriend’s gesture. one hand starts to reach for your phone to send a text of appreciation when the call of your name jerks you out of the comfort you had been encased in. the cup is set down without finding its sweet home against a pair of lips.

“doctor nam is looking for you.”

you wince. dr. nam, the head of the paediatric department, has never really seemed to take a fancy to you for some reason. you are quite certain you have not done anything to provoke his unwarranted scrutiny, but apparently you can never be too sure.

as you hurry to dr. nam’s office, your legs work on autopilot through the corridors and doorways. your mind bombards itself with a barrage of thoughts, guessing what the meeting may be for, estimating how long it might take, and calculating how far behind you will fall with the onslaught of other tasks you are meant to complete before you are joined by your juniors for your morning rounds.

you do not have time for this, and you most certainly do not have time to–

“–take on an extra intern?”

your eyes blink themselves into a carefully schooled expression of neutrality despite the voiced incredulity in the question you have just asked. dr. nam has summoned you to his office to notify you of an additional intern commencing in the paediatric department and you are to be their assigned senior. what a fucking splendid way to start the day.

it is completely normal for a senior resident to have four juniors to teach, but interns have less experience and confidence, requiring significantly more time and effort–time and effort that you do not know if you have. the thought of another intern in addition to your existing two and second-year resident is enough to make you want to enter hibernation for the rest of your life.

what you also know though is that dr. yoon, another fourth-year resident, only has two juniors under him–both second-years at that. respectfully yet firmly, you bring up such and suggest, “it may be in the best interest of all parties for doctor yoon or somebody else, even doctor ha, to take on the new intern. this can ensure all of our junior doctors are receiving as much one-on-one support and guidance as possible.”

the department head raises an eyebrow, eyes dull and mouth pressed together thinly as he stares back at you dryly. “both doctor yoon and doctor ha are promising candidates to become chief residents. they do not have time to spare to teach interns.”

‘promising candidates’. you are not saying that that is bullshit…but that is bullshit. this is the first time anybody has praised them as such and the only thing that would make them both supposedly more qualified than all the other senior residents is their direct acquaintance with dr. nam himself.

fuck nepotism.

gritting your teeth and taking a deep but restrained breath in what you know is just a losing fight, you yield, “when does the intern start?”

the right corner of dr. nam’s lips raises smugly as he answers, “today. doctor lim will be waiting for you in the resident lounge near my office. orientate him to the department.”

and down the drain goes all thoughts of ending on time tonight. when you stalk over stiffly to the lounge, dr. lim is leaning against the edge of a desk, legs extended and crossed at the ankles in front of him not dissimilar to how his arms are over his chest. one foot taps disinterestedly as he waits. you have a bad feeling you already know what kind of intern he is going to be.

“doctor lim,” you call out.

“you’re doctor l/n?” the intern looks at you snobbishly, very obviously sizing you up and down.

“yes.”

dr. lim takes a lazy glance at the clock on the wall. “you’re kinda late.”

and you’re kinda a fucking asshole, you want to retort. but you have not survived this long without learning how to reel in the burst of flames that erupts inside your chest, so instead you look at him placatingly. “you were not originally part of my planned day. doctor nam asked for a very last minute favour.”

not so much a favour as an outright demand, but he does not need to know.

“i’ll show you around the hospital before our morning rounds,” you state. at his audible sigh whilst pushing himself heavily off the table, you cannot help but get at least one jab in, “an inconvenience for the both of us, but do bear with me.”

after a sarcastic smile, you turn around without waiting to see if he follows. the first place you take him to is where all the personal lockers and cubbies are just to retrieve your forgotten coffee and take a long sip. it spites him as desired, a nose wrinkled in your direction. nevermind the fact that it has long cooled to room temperature–your coffee has never tasted sweeter.

the rest of your day, unfortunately, runs in bitter discord. straight after dr. lim’s orientation, you run yourself dry with morning rounds, acute care and consultations with other paediatric departments, all the while trying to catch dr. lim up to the expected competency for interns. the end of the day does not appear to get any closer within reach and yet, you have no idea where all your time is going.

you end up throwing in the towel exactly seven hours and twenty-three minutes into your shift, when you are trying to teach the very basics of the hospital’s electronic medical record system for the umpteenth time. there are only so many ways you can explain the five steps required to start drafting a progress note for a patient–the very five steps that do not change. if you have to repeat yourself one more fucking time you are going to shoot somebody, doctor’s oath or not, and that somebody has a last name that starts with ‘l’ and rhymes with ‘dim’.

dr. son and dr. yang are sent as the scapegoats to teach the new intern how to navigate the system. with all three of your interns now occupied, you also send dr. lee off to adjust the medication for a few of the patients whose daily lab results had come back this morning with minor fluctuations in numbers.

your body almost crashes the moment your juniors disperse and only then do you tune in to your senses. contrary to the grumbling cavern in your stomach, there is a heavy pressure in your bladder and parchedness in your throat. jongho’s coffee was the last of anything you had consumed today–the lunch wooyoung had packed for you remains untouched in your bag–and you have been unable to step away even briefly to use the bathroom. trudging heavily through the paediatric oncology ward, the one thing that keeps you upright on your feet is that you are not scheduled for an on-call shift tonight. 

“y/n.”

the sweet and low timbre of the voice that sounds from ahead of you immediately turns the one into two things. it takes the remainder of your willpower not to bury yourself straight into san’s arms as he gives you a cute dimpled smile.

your eyes reflect the sparkle of happiness in his once you are close enough, neither of you having planned to run into one another. san is currently in his paediatric haematology rotation and whilst your departments are closely related, it is not very often that your caseloads align for patient consultation directly between the two of you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, unable to hide the pleasant surprise in your words.

san steps in a little, naturally inclined to be physically close to you and answers, “going to check up on seolhee. have you gotten around to seeing her today?”

seolhee was one of the patients you were planning on fitting into your day. one of the nurses had documented nausea and reduced appetite at lunch time, so you were going to review her current antiemetic regimen and decide if it needed adjusting. but then she had ultimately been pushed back as a medium priority on your list with everything else you had to complete first.

when you shake your head, san proposes, “want to join me then?”

your lips quirk upwards at his suggestion. it is sort of piteous that your time walking together through the ward to see a shared patient is the closest to a date you have had with san in the last few weeks. but as he gives you a playful nudge to your side and you back to him like you are strolling along the snowy streets instead of sterile corridors, you are grateful for at least these short moments of interaction.

seolhee’s voice is spirited when she greets you despite the increasingly dark shadows silhouetting her face. you smile, “hi, snowflake. i brought a friend with me this time.”

when san’s gaze is not focused on you, he looks at the little girl with the same softness and deep affection; you like his moon, his patients like his stars. you are unable to imagine san ever working in a career that does not involve children.

“i’m doctor choi,” he introduces himself gently. “i heard you’ve been feeling a bit tired and didn’t really eat lunch today, so i’m here to see what i can do to help you feel better.”

as you bend down slightly to adjust the corner of seolhee’s blanket, san steps behind you to reach for her chart. he unconsciously places his left hand on the nape of your neck and tenderly squeezes out of loving habit. immediately, san feels the tight knots under his fingertips that only surface whenever you are stressed or overworked.

his eyebrows furrow and he dips his head down slightly to softly murmur, “hey, rough day today?”

“just a little,” you admit, looking upwards whilst placing your own hand atop his in reassurance. “don’t worry.”

there is a giggle to the side. seolhee’s eyes flicker back and forth between the two of you before she cryptically asks, “doctor choi, do you know who nurse hwa is?”

“i do…” san answers, puzzled by the random question.

seolhee looks at you and giggles again with a very directed comment, “i see.”

you have said this before and you will say this again: seolhee is frighteningly perceptive. if she were two decades older, you just know she would be that friend of yours who you are unable to hide any secrets from. leaning in, you whisper, “there are six more of us.”

her eyes widen with curiosity. “do i know any of them?”

of the remaining boys, wooyoung is the only other one who is specialising in paediatrics and likely to have come across seolhee before. “nurse wooyoung,” you divulge.

she sinks back into her pillow at the revelation and nods approvingly as if she is your mother. “good choices,” she supports, san letting out a bright laugh from beside you now having caught on to what the conversation is about.

the rest of the bedside evaluation continues as such. seolhee badgers you both with questions about the rest of your boyfriends–which department they are in, what their names are and most importantly, what they look like so she can keep an eye out for them.

you indulge her with answers, far longer than you should, but it is an easy decision when it comes to anything involving your favourite patient and your boyfriends. you have long learnt that any amount of time that you give to somebody else even at your own expense will always be worth lifetimes more to them than the luxury of a punctual meal or longer shower that you would gain from the time instead.

so when your shift for the day ends and you still have not completed all of your work, you end up staying overtime and it is only then, during the evening, that you are finally able to sit. your stomach no longer growls, body running solely on cortisol, the caffeine from jongho’s coffee having long depleted. you turn on your hospital-issued tablet and pull out a stack of jotted notes. with mid-rotation feedback for your juniors in two days, you have their paperwork to complete before you can even start to scrape away at your actual paperwork.

you do not realise how stiff your neck and shoulders have become from hunching over for a prolonged period until there is a knock at the door of the resident lounge and a timid, “um, doctor l/n?”

“yes?” a soft wince escapes your lips when the movement from looking up sends a brief stab of pain down your back.

the intern standing at the doorway comes scurrying in. “i’m here to give you the report on the pathology results.”

“pathology results?” you repeat, mind blank of patients who had needed a biopsy or tumour excision.

“from doctor jeong? from general surgery?” the intern’s voice trails off, face blanching at the creeping possibility that he has found the wrong resident.

“doctor j–oh,” you suppress the sudden tug at the corners of your lips to reassure, “yes, my apologies, i forgot. thank you.”

you have certainly not forgotten about an entire pathology report you have requested–this is simply yunho being your boyfriend. waiting until the intern has scurried off, you flick the clipboard open to find exactly what you had been expecting: anything but a report.

there is a sole sticky note, neon green, that grins right up at you with another of yunho's scrawled jokes. 'are you a snowman? cause i wanna stick my carrot into your mou–'

the clipboard slams shut with a resounding clap in the emptiness of the lounge. back ramrod straight, your eyes dart around scandalously even though you are the only person in the room to witness the contents of the flirtatious message.

"oh my fucking god," you guffaw. "jeong yunho!"

(from somewhere within the general surgery department three floors down, somebody lets out a delighted giggle of glee at the thought of a certain message having been received.)

your laugh eventually fades out with a poignant sigh as you peel the sticky note off the clipboard and stare at it in your hands. the start of this year has already been the toughest year in your residency thus far and it is no easy feat for nine people in the same or similar situation to balance a romantic relationship simultaneously.

you must give, and give, and give, but like you have experienced today, you also receive. it is never anything huge; a coffee, some food, a note, a conversation. yet for now, that is enough to keep moving forward even if your feet are buried deep under the snow.

however, you will soon come to realise that the issue does not lie in whether you are receiving enough or not, but in the fact that you can unknowingly give away too much of yourself without even realising.

you give the little boy and his family who are in front of you a smile that conveys both appreciation and apologeticness. if you were in their position, surrounded by inexperienced interns learning to properly insert a central line, you would be on edge too.

dr. yang and dr. son stand off to the side, hands clasped together in front of themselves with concealed nervousness for dr. lim. said man is anything but nervous, when really, he is the only intern who should be nervous out of the three of them. ever since he started, dr. lim has consistently performed with a shocking lack of care and willingness to learn. but you had learnt the hard way the first time you tried to bring up this issue that dr. lim is not somebody you can touch because of his connections, so you have no choice but to tolerate his incompetence.

you beckon for dr. lim to come closer so that you can show him the proper angle of needle entry. he does, at least smart enough to know he needs to maintain some level of professionalism in front of actual patients lest the hospital be sued.

“for an internal jugular vein catheterisation while the head is in the neutral position, what is the angle of needle entry?” you question.

dr. lim guesses, “twenty?”

“thirty to forty-five, and the angle adjusts based on the ultrasound image,” you correct, not having expected him to remember despite the numerous times you have already taught him on physical phantoms. your gloved fingers trace over the patient’s clavicle towards the sternum as you continue explaining, “locate both the sternal and clavicular heads of the sternocleidomastoid muscle. this forms the triangle where your IVJ lies beneath. the needle should aim towards the ipsilateral nipple.”

positioning the tip of the needle at the apex of the triangle for a few seconds, you then pass it to dr. lim with the instruction, “show me the positioning and angle of the needle only.”

the intern takes the needle from your hand, his other hand roughly probing the sternocleidomastoid muscle before angling the needle perpendicular to the young boy’s neck like he is a fucking hostage. your voice is curt as you rush to correct dr. lim, adjusting his hands with verbal prompts, before you slip the needle out of his hands to fully take over the procedure now.

“you’re not ready yet,” you assert when he glares at you, further reiterating, “when you can independently position and angle the needle, and you can demonstrate to me that you can use the correct pressure when inserting the needle in a mannequin, then you are ready.” you do not care if he has connections with dr. nam. you make it clear to your intern that he cannot fuck around with his theoretical knowledge and phantom training and still expect you to let him practice on real people.

outside the room, wooyoung winces in sympathy for you as he passes by and catches the end of your firm reprimand. you have come home far too many times with pent-up frustration for him–and all your boyfriends–not to know about your notorious intern. wooyoung hands over the central line kit he is returning to the ward’s nursing station then dawdles by the desk.

he waits in hopes of catching your eye and giving you a smile to equip you with the patience he knows must be needed to deal with dr. lim. your boyfriend’s face softens unconsciously as he watches your expression, now concentrated with furrowed brows as you steadily insert the needle whilst monitoring the ultrasound, because wooyoung thinks you look the most charismatic when you are working. when a nurse calls out for wooyoung, he takes one last glance at you before walking away.

you straighten up and step away for dr. lee to take over the rest of the procedure, just in time to see the back of your boyfriend’s figure darting away with purpose. his long unruly hair flies around with mirrored chaos that you could recognise anywhere. and as you explain to the patient’s parents the remainder of the catheterisation procedure, the smile on your face is much more genuine than it would have been mere seconds ago.

it continues to linger subconsciously long after the brief glimpse you get of your boyfriend. for wooyoung, too, it is the same. working together at the hospital means that you can still be a source of light for one another even if only from a far distance and that is always what gets you through to the end of your shift.

when five o’clock finally rolls around, you head to your locker whilst checking your phone. there are no notifications from hongjoong, so you type a quick message to let him know you are clocking off and going to his department first. it is one of those rare days where you two have managed to organise a date–just a quick and simple dinner before heading home since your shifts end at the same time, but a date nonetheless.

“good thing i caught you before you left. doctor nam wants to talk to you.”

you look up to see dr. lee already changed into a puffer jacket and his backpack on, a cheeky grin on his face as he delivers the message and adds, “bet you’re in trouble.”

scoffing playfully, you quip back, “probably for something you did wrong.”

he shrugs exaggeratedly and sing-songs, “who knows,” before darting away with a goodbye.

you sigh and delete your drafted text to hongjoong, alerting him that you will be going to the department head’s office and for him to meet you outside if he finishes. then with heavy steps, you go to find dr. nam. with your stroke of luck, dr. lee is probably right about you being in trouble for something.

and he is right.

“did you tell one of your interns that he wasn’t ready for a clinical task in front of your patients?”

dr. nam’s direct question the moment you step into his office is enough to stun your mind into blankness at how a situation could be wrongfully warped like so. blinking distractedly you start to explain, “doctor lim was tasked with simulating the correct needle placement against the skin–nothing more and nothing less. i had to reiterate those expectations when he–”

“so he was not allowed to insert the central line, correct?” dr. nam interrupts.

you frown involuntarily and parrot, “allowed? it was not a subjective decision to–”

“doctor l/n, you only need to answer the question that i ask. was doctor lim allowed to insert the central line or not?” he interjects yet again.

you barely manage to swallow the rising heat in your chest to answer, “no.”

“you said he was not ready in front of the patient, yes or no?”

“yes.”

dr. nam leans back in his chair. “have your other interns inserted the needle before?”

despite his position as your department head, you keep your mouth shut in defiance because dr. nam is simply fishing for the answer he wants to hear regardless of context. he does not need to hear that dr. lim is a shit intern–all he wants to hear is that you are treating your juniors differently.

as expected, without waiting for your response, dr. nam states, “there have been some…concerns raised that you are not giving your interns equal opportunities.”

“is that what doctor lim told you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“you do not need to know,” he dismisses thoughtlessly, “the point is, there seems to be a bias in the amount of support and guidance you are providing doctor lim. perhaps it is your lack of teaching and provision of learning opportunities that is hindering his full potential.”

struggling to keep your voice polite as frustration quickens your breaths, you defend, “i have taught him the theory numerous times, allowed him to observe, provided him with supervised mannequin practice and step-by-step grading on actual patients, and my experience as a senior resident and his direct supervisor tells me that he does not yet have the competency to insert a central line.”

dr. nam hums as if he is considering your words but the way he distractedly brushes the dust off the surface of his table tells you otherwise. “i see there are differing opinions. this all comes down to miscommunication and lack of clear expectations set from the both of you. i suggest you take some time to sit down and talk to doctor lim about what opportunities he will have moving forward.”

from behind your back, your hands clench together, muscles quivering from how hard your fingers dig into your palms. yet you do not say anything–you cannot say anything, not when dr. nam simply dismisses you with, “i expect there to be no further issues in the future.”

and just like that, the one-sided discussion is over.

your feet drag against the floor as you trudge listlessly back to your locker, body heavy as if you are caught in the very midst of a snowstorm. your shoulders cave even further in on themselves when you check your phone to see no reply from hongjoong.

you want nothing more than to bury yourself in your boyfriend’s arms, nose pressed against the soothing rumble of his chest as he listens to you complain about your day. it will not change anything about the situation with dr. lim and dr. nam but at least you will be able to release the hot steam that has built up from the bubbling pit of lava in your chest.

if hongjoong is still working, perhaps you can sit in his office and wait on his couch. his presence will be enough to keep you grounded.

some of the nurses in the neurology ward greet you cordially as you exit the elevator and you return their smiles before sitting on a bench further down the corridor to avoid being in anybody’s way. you test your chances and call hongjoong’s number, only to hear the line ring until it sends you to his voicemail. when another attempt ten minutes later yields the same result, you send a text telling him to call you when he is finished.

you resign yourself to the bench with a passive sigh and wait, all the while a tempest swirling inside of you. eventually, one of the junior residents tilts her head at the sight of you still sitting on the bench, having passed by you almost twenty minutes ago in the same position. she calls out, “doctor l/n?”

you jerk up from where you are fiddling with your phone. recognising her as hongjoong’s colleague, you ask, “i’m just waiting for doctor kim. do you happen to know where he is?”

“doctor kim?” she furrows her brows, “he left already. he actually left early today.”

“oh.”

the heat in your chest suddenly dissipates, immediately replaced by a frigid hollowness that makes your mind go blank instead. horrified, you feel your eyes involuntarily start to prickle with tears no matter how hard you will for them to disappear.

“do you want me to pass a message on for you?” the resident looks at you with a twinge of concern, but mostly curiosity.

you shake your head and mumble, “no, that’s okay, thanks,” then rush away to avoid embarrassing yourself any further. deciding against asking one of your other boyfriends to drive you home, you forgo catching the bus too in favour of walking through the streets.

it’s not even a big deal. we’ve all forgotten about dates before and hongjoong would never deliberately blow you off.

you know that. you know this is not something you need to be upset over and you know that your boyfriend must have a reason. yet knowing does nothing to stop the trembling of your lips as you swipe furiously at your dripping tears with the back of your hand. on top of everything that has piled up today, hongjoong forgetting about your date is enough to topple it over completely.

the light snowfall from earlier has already stopped but the temperature remains just as low. as you tread through the chalky streets home, thoughts creeping through your mind like the fractal branches of a snowflake–fragile and delicate–you welcome the numbing chill around you instead and let it paralyse your emotions like an anaesthetic.

by the time you reach the front door, you have collected yourself enough. the rims of your eyes and the tip of your nose still have a slight redness to them but your appearance can easily be dismissed by the biting cold outside. you unlock the door and walk in.

you are met with immediate warmth; from the residual heat of shared dinner, from the streaming glow of lights, from the peals of low laughter. walking through the corridor almost feels like walking through a warped tunnel of dissociation–so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

san sits on the couch, languidly scrolling on his phone with an arm wrapped around yeosang’s shoulders, who is flicking through a thin booklet of paper. sitting cross-legged at the coffee table in front of them in a stark contrast of mess is hongjoong–hongjoong who is hunched over his own booklet with a newly-made carpet and tablecloth of thesis and journal articles, textbooks and tablets.

you are so caught up by the hurricane of a scene that you do not realise you are about to step on the corner of a textbook until hongjoong’s head snaps up to look at you.

“be careful!” his warning cry is sharp with alarm.

your body jolts and you step backwards. “sorry.”

despite san and yeosang’s chirpy greetings, you remain frozen to the spot. the two of them clamber up to pull you into an excited hug, only to pause when they realise there is no way to navigate the landmine of paper scattered around the room, so they settle back into the cushions instead.

“don’t mind the mess,” yeosang giggles, unaware of the sudden onset of unease that courses through your body. “even seonghwa has given the okay for him to do this.”

your words come out thick and sticky as you ask, “what is hongjoong doing?”

san’s voice is sympathetic, “there was a last-minute change to his presentation that he’s doing at that annual neurological association meeting. his department head wants him to do a different topic.”

“he could’ve told me, i don’t know, five fucking months ago,” hongjoong curses fiercely at his tablet, “but he just had to wait until my presentation was basically done to let me know.”

you have had a bad day…but so has hongjoong.

the door opens behind you. fumbling for a moment, you try to make yourself smaller against the wall to make room for whoever of your boyfriends has returned. it is mingi back from his shift which tells you just how long you had waited for hongjoong, considering mingi’s shift ended almost two hours after yours did.

“y/n?” mingi’s eyes widen slightly as he smiles, the sight of you a pleasant surprise. he asks, “did you and hongjoong come back from your date already?”

you wince at the bomb he has unwittingly dropped; the very one you yourself were still unsure how to navigate.

“shit,” hongjoong’s head snaps towards you again but for an entirely different reason this time. “holy fuck. oh my fucking god.” his hands flutter as he upturns the scattered notes around him in search of his phone, face draining of all colour as it dawns on him he had silenced his notifications. “the date–i forgot. fuck, i am so fucking sorry, y/n.”

your boyfriends on the couch watch with darting eyes and mingi glances at you cautiously. in some twisted reality, you almost feel immobilised by guilt as hongjoong stumbles to his feet, grasping the phone he has finally found from where it had been tossed under the table.

nothing changes the fact that he forgot nor the fact that you have had a rough day. but just as you had realised, hongjoong has also had a rough day, if not worse than yours. and as with any relationship, one will always have to yield under pressure lest both people break.

swallowing thickly, you manage to force out, “that’s okay. i forgot too.”

a white lie, but a white lie has never hurt anybody.

mingi catches the slight twist of your fingers in the side of your jacket. he murmurs, “let’s go inside,” then tugs you by the elbow. he steps you carefully through the landmines further into the living room, gingerly toeing papers inches aside to reveal the floorboards underneath for the both of you to step on. hongjoong is still looking at you remorsefully as you near, his hands itching to reach out but afraid they will not be met with forgiving ones.

“it’s okay, joong, really,” you extend your fingers in his direction and gently squeeze his hand. “sorry to hear about your presentation. i know how hard you’ve worked on it the past few months.”

sadness still lingers in your boyfriend’s eyes at having made such a careless mistake despite the grateful smile he gives you. “i’ll make it up to you after the presentation is finished,” he vows. “i’ll take you out for a nice dinner and i promise i won’t forget this time.”

you chuckle softly with a reassuring nod, “okay.”

“what about you? how was your day?” hongjoong asks.

an hour ago you wanted nothing more than the comfort he could offer while you vented about your day and you are almost certain fatigue and frustration are smeared across your face right now. yet you simply answer, “it was a long day but it was good.”

another white lie.

before your boyfriends can probe any further, you state, “i’m going to take a shower first. might head to sleep early today.” you lean forward to give hongjoong a chaste kiss, who easily relaxes into it with relief. you turn to rise onto your tiptoes to give mingi one too before meeting yeosang and san halfway from where they kneel on the couch to also kiss you goodnight.

then you turn and retreat to your room. it is not all too bad, you reconcile with yourself. alone time would be good after today’s events.

a third white lie.

but again, that is fine, because a white lie never hurt anybody…nobody except for yourself.

winter passes and spring arrives, but contrary to the pulsating liveliness that awakens with the season, things start to dull with repetition and roboticism.

your rotation in the paediatric oncology ward comes to an end and you commence your next rotation in paediatric haematology. whilst your acquaintanceship with your new junior team is nowhere near as close as you had gotten to dr. lee, son and yang, there is also no more dr. lim to deal with. still, unlike the snow that has now long melted away, your workload does not cease nor diminish.

you wake up and you go to work; you manage your patients, teach your juniors and have on-call shifts; you go home, you eat, you shower; you squeeze time to see your boyfriends, you sleep for a few hours; you wake up and you go to work. the cycle repeats itself, neither you nor your boyfriends able to escape from its grip.

seolhee, too, suffers from the torment of her own cycle. second-line therapy had eventually been deemed ineffective against her leukemic cells, requiring her to undergo salvage chemotherapy and putting her at increased risk of myelosuppression. because of this, she is one of the few patients who have remained on your caseload despite the rotation change.

the most unsettling change that the toll of fatigue can have on a person is not the change in their demeanour but in their eyes. and as you complete a routine check-up on seolhee, her eyes watching you with a slight dullness to them that is not due to the late hours of midnight, you do not realise that your own pupils look the same.

you give seolhee a soft smile as you tell her, “i’ll get nurse hwa to check on you in the morning. how does that sound, snowflake?”

“he’s busy?” she asks quietly.

you shake your head. “he’s at home. both him and nurse woo are working day shifts this week.”

“what about doctor choi?”

“he finished his haematology rotation,” you sigh regretfully. “he’s in the NICU now.”

seolhee mulls over the information with her eyes downcast, then murmurs, “are you busy? can you teach me how to braid your hair?” she absent-mindedly touches the nape of her neck where her fingertips meet the smooth skin of her bare scalp. “that way i can braid my own hair when it grows back.”

you still have notes from today to write and tomorrow’s chemotherapy doses to confirm with the pharmacy and platelet orders to put through before you can chance an hour or two of sleep. but what difference does the amount of sleep make when you wake up from both with the same bone-deep exhaustion anyway?

seolhee’s eyes brighten the slightest when you pull a chair up beside her bed and it solidifies your decision to answer, “of course,” because as a doctor, time is not for yourself but for other people. you have to make time out of nothing.

you tug on the elastic around your ponytail and shake your hair out, sectioning off the right side to work with. from your experience teaching all of your boyfriends, it had quickly become clear that braiding was easiest learnt with less hair to work with. splitting the sectioned hair into three locks, you lace them through your fingers to keep them separate as you talk seolhee through the steps.

“take the right strand and bring it over into the middle like this,” you teach, moving your fingers deftly but slowly. “then take the left strand and bring it over into the middle. then we repeat it again–right into the middle, left into the middle.”

your fingers continue weaving the locks of hair over and under, the motions familiar and the memory of teaching somebody else even more so. when you have braided almost to the ends of your hair, you release the braid then tuck your chair closer to the bed so that seolhee can reach easily.

“here, you try.”

at your encouragement, the little girl does as she remembers and starts to section off three locks of hair. her fingers accidentally tug too hard when she encounters a knot and you both rush to apologise.

“sorry, my hair is kind of tangled,” you chuckle lowly as heat rushes to the tip of your ears. “i haven’t used conditioner in a long time.”

“that’s okay. me neither,” seolhee jokes, giggling at her own words before asking you, “why not?”

you distractedly run your fingers through the hair that is not in seolhee’s hands as you slowly answer, “it saves me five minutes each time. it doesn’t sound like a lot, but…”

“...in the hospital it’s a lot,” seolhee finishes solemnly.

you nod. “five minutes can be a long hug before someone leaves forever. it can be somebody’s last confession or last promise. five minutes can be the difference between life and death.”

hush settles over her room while she eases the knot apart, six-year-old fingers gentle with the understanding of an adult several times her age. after a few minutes, she changes the topic. “who was the fastest learner out of your boyfriends? was it nurse hwa?”

“it was actually doctor jeong,” you reveal.

“from general surgery?”

you laugh at seolhee’s memory, “yes, doctor jeong from general surgery. he has the steadiest and most skillful hands.”

“are his braids also the prettiest, then?”

“they are very pretty, but i think doctor choi–the younger choi–does the prettiest braids.”

seolhee’s fingers pause so she can admire the beginnings of her handiwork. “do they still braid your hair?” she asks.

“not anymore,” you give a miniscule shrug. “there isn’t as much time to do things like this and certain things just lose their novelty over time.”

she looks at you curiously. “what does novelty mean?”

“something new and unfamiliar…in a sense, special.”

“why do things lose their novelty then?” seolhee frowns.

you hum, unsure how to answer such a simple yet riveting question when you yourself have never thought about it. you deliberate over your words, “i guess when we see, do and say things that were originally different over and over again, they can simply become habits and part of our routines. we do things just for the sake of doing them and eventually they lose their meaning. when that happens, sometimes you just end up not doing them anymore.”

wistful nostalgia fills you as seolhee continues braiding your hair, the ticklish intimacy sending your mind adrift to a time when your boys would do the same–back to a time when your hair was smooth and knot-free because you still used conditioner. but change is inevitable and you have no time to dwell on what used to be. so after seolhee finishes her braid, you return to your cycle of work, home and sleep.

by the time you get home in the afternoon, most of your boyfriends have long left for their shifts save for san, who was also on-call, and yunho, who is still not back from an emergency trauma surgery. you are barely able to keep your eyes open when you stumble into the bathroom for a quick shower. this time, you completely forgo both conditioner and shampoo, simply wetting your hair as you roughly scrub your face and the rest of your body. you do not bother to dry your hair either, keeping it wrapped in a towel before you sink into bed.

you have no recollection of falling asleep when the soft click of the front door opening and closing wakes you up. eyes still closed, you drowsily listen to yunho’s soft thuds and murmurs as he treads his usual path through the house upon returning. your boyfriend pads softly to the dining room, to the bathroom…then he goes straight to his own bedroom.

no longer do you stay within the clutches of rest. yunho has always, no matter how exhausted, taken time to give you and the others a kiss before he heads to sleep. it is his habit, his routine. you lay awake for a long time, coming up with excuses as to why he has broken his cycle today, waiting to see if yunho will get up again and come into your room.

he does not and you eventually fall asleep again in restless fitfulness.

this will soon become the new norm; yunho will not take an extra five minutes to go into your bedrooms and give you tender kisses. in due time, your heart will no longer clench in disappointment nor will you lay awake in false hope whenever he returns from his shift.

you will simply drift back into the realms of unconsciousness seconds after hearing the click of the front door open, succumbing into peaceful sleep again before the door has even closed shut. after all, things lose their novelty over time.

you do not normally watch dramas or tv shows, or anything that requires a recurring time commitment, really. for one, that is hours upon hours of time that could be used elsewhere, and two, the scattered time you can find here and there is so sparse you often forget the events of the last episode by the time you watch the next.

but your fingers currently hover over the first episode of an airing drama, one too many clips of this particular show having appeared on your feed for you not to crack, so you decide to give it a go. you can watch maybe half an episode before you should head to sleep since your shift starts early tomorrow, but maybe, just maybe, tonight you will spoil yourself with the entire episode.

keeping the volume low on your phone since you are in the living room with a few of your boyfriends, you tuck your feet closer towards yourself on the couch and play the first episode. jongho’s ears perk up at the starting sounds of the introduction from where he is in the kitchen reheating some leftovers and he comments, “it’s been a while since you last watched something.”

you nod just as jongho’s words catch the attention of wooyoung walking past. “you’re starting a drama?” he asks, peering at your phone with a slight snicker. “damn, you’re going to spend even less time with us now.”

it is an off-handed joke with no ill intentions, yet it digs itself uncomfortably inside your chest, even more so when a few of the others also chuckle. your finger twitches to stop your episode. the couch sinks beside you under the weight of mingi, who has moved from his position on the floor to your right with quiet comfort and veiled protectiveness.

“we’ve all been spending less time with one another,” he vaguely points out.

hongjoong looks up from the systematic review he is reading on gene replacement therapy, still rushing to complete his presentation. “you’re right. that’s funny,” he remarks, “i can’t remember the last time we went out on dates, even when just any two of us.”

wooyoung shrugs, “we’ve all been tired.”

your mouth opens before you can stop yourself from snapping, “so why was i the only one who was the butt of the joke?”

“woah, sorry,” hongjoong winces slightly, “we didn’t know it would make you feel upset or anything.”

it is not sadness so much as guilt that pricks at your conscience, because there is slight truth to the situation–you haven’t been making as much effort, but neither has anyone. you are not the one drifting away from the others. you are all drifting apart in your own directions.

jongho steps in to smoothen the situation with a blanket statement, “we’ve all been tired and busy. nobody’s pointing fingers at anybody. drop it.” the microwave sounds and he turns to take his food out.

something is pressed into your hand and you glance down to see mingi wordlessly handing you a set of earphones. he gives you a small smile, nudging your hand with the earphones and a beckon of his brows. you return his smile and place one in your ear before offering him the other. mingi puts it in whilst reaching over to hold your phone in your stead, then taps his own shoulder with his free hand for you to rest your head against.

your boyfriend adjusts the volume higher as he murmurs, “it’s a bit hard to hear,” but you know better. mingi does not care for dramas and the volume is already plenty loud. sometimes, additional noise is just needed to drown out other noise.

the drama continues to play but you heed no attention to it. wooyoung has walked back into his room to finish the lecture he is watching, jongho now sits at the dining table to eat, and hongjoong is working on his presentation again.

the conversation with your boyfriends has ended with the conclusion that there have been no dates recently. yet, there is no extension of the conversation to make a date happen. it would be a lie to say that you have not noticed their absence, but after the first couple of times they had to be postponed or called off entirely, they just started slipping from your mind completely.

you wonder when you had all stopped making the intentional effort to go on dates, but most of all, you wonder when you had all stopped caring.

you only watch half an episode that night. you do not pick it back up again either.

she is alive.

there is a webbing of tubes and wires encasing her entire body–blood transfusions, vasopressors, monitoring lines of all sorts–but she is alive. kim seolhee is still alive.

only at the physical sight of her chest moving up and down does the reassurance unlock the tautness in your joints, the strained muscles in your body almost failing to hold your weight upright as you lean subtly against the threshold of the door.

you had headed straight for seolhee’s room before everything else the moment you had arrived for your shift. the usual fifteen-minute drive to the hospital had been shortened to half its time when mingi had arrived home from his shift just as you were getting ready to leave for yours with the news that seolhee had been readmitted into the ED with sepsis and was now in the paediatric intensive care unit. you had driven on autopilot the entire way swallowing the thick surge of panic that kept rising up your throat despite mingi’s repeated reassurances that she was stable; she just needed further monitoring.

“i thought i was going to die.”

those are the first words that faintly leave her lips when she sees you, her face mercifully free of a ventilator and oxygen mask, which is always a good sign. you weakly breathe out, tone as light as you can make it, “well, thank god you’re alive.”

“missed you too much, doctor snowflake,” seolhee’s hand twitches in your direction with attempted cheekiness as you walk closer. “i came back to follow you to your next rotation.”

despite the situation, you break out into a small bout of giggles at her morbid humour. you had sated seolhee’s curiosity by telling her your entire year of scheduled rotations and by some twist of fate, your PICU rotation had commenced two weeks ago. with a fond tap of her nose that conceals the clenching sadness inside your heart, you joke, “you just like riding in the ambulance, don’t you?”

“maybe,” she grins innocently. “the sirens are pretty cool.”

despite the snort of amusement that leaves you, her answer is what truly makes your throat constrict and voice waver. your words are hardly audible–afraid to break down fully in front of your patient, in front of sweet seolhee–when you respond, “i knew it.”

but she is ever perceptive as she comforts, “don’t cry.”

“i’m not,” you shamelessly counter, even as heat starts to pool around your eyes, and the both of you laugh at your absurdity. but in certain situations if you do not laugh, the only other option will be to cry and you cannot have that because that would be unprofessional–neither would you be able to stop–so you will wait until you are only in the presence of your boyfriends to let yourself go.

sleep starts to take over seolhee again and she drowsily blinks at you, energy depleted from her infection, cancer and the numerous drugs pumping throughout her battered body. she sinks herself a little deeper into her crinkly mattress and fights off her closing eyelids just long enough to tell you once more, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

it is already nearing the end of summer now despite the unchanging pristine whiteness of winter within the hospital walls. yet, you cannot bear to point that out, not when you were so close to losing her phrase of affection forever.

her eyes close and you watch the steady rhythm of her chest rising and falling. thank god she is alive.

your prayer comes from y/n, but the bitter resentment at the irony of those five words comes from doctor l/n. your entire life is dedicated to saving the lives of others, yet time and time again you are forced to wonder just how much power you truly have as a doctor in the face of fate and the gods above; where it makes you wonder whether your efforts and sacrifices will always be in vain if your patient is somebody whose time on earth has just simply run out.

and it appears that you are not the only person weighed down by the harsh insecurities of your career today. yeosang’s knees are drawn up to his chest, arms wrapped around them as he sits on the floor against the wall of the storage room you two are hiding in, mere hours later after your turbulent morning with seolhee.

“he was our age,” yeosang finally murmurs after a few minutes of silence. “he was admitted for a suspected brain tumour only because a sudden headache caused him to lose consciousness.”

whereas seolhee had been a case of could have–she could have died–there are cases like yeosang’s patient. the would have lived; the what if and the if only.

yeosang’s chest shudders as he exhales, “he had had consistent migraines for months but he never did anything about them. he would’ve lived, otherwise. turns out it was a brain tumour all along and it ended up rupturing because it was left untreated…he didn’t survive the surgery.”

your boyfriend rarely cries and today is no exception either. yet the way he leans into your side for both physical and emotional support shows just how much his heart is hurting for this death. death is something you all learn to become accustomed to in the medical field, but desensitisation does not equate to immunity. there will always be ones that hit harder than others.

it is a harrowing death when the patient is close in age because it makes you think of yourself–of your friends, of your lovers–and it hurts that much more to think that it could have been any of those people. this morning has already left your emotions strung tight and heart vulnerable, and very quickly you can feel the same swell of tears threatening to demolish the walls you had hastily built to keep yourself collected.

you want to cry but then that would be taking away from yeosang’s hurt, so you will wait until you are home instead. for now, you tug yeosang into your arms, holding him steady against your chest as if that will support your own walls and keep them from crumbling.

by the time you get home after your shift, you are no more than a mere husk of yourself. you have drained every single reservoir of yours that holds your love, care and courage for your patients. all that is left are the fragile remnants waiting to break at the slightest touch. you trudge down the corridor to your room, muddled mind trying to recall whether san is home tonight to hold you in your sleep, when you walk past the partially-closed door to seonghwa’s bedroom.

instinctively, you glance inside. he lays listlessly on his bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, and you immediately know.

where there are the could haves and the would haves, there are also the should haves; the unjust, the young deaths. those that should not even be an existing phenomenon in the world no matter how cruel the devil may be–those who should have lived.

seonghwa, who wears his entire heart on his sleeve, has lost a PICU baby at work today.

for a split second, there is a shameful thought that suddenly infiltrates your mind–to continue walking past as if you had not seen him until you reach the confines of your own room. but you could never do that to any of your boyfriends, much less seonghwa. seonghwa, who treats each and every baby like his own, who hides in the bathroom to cry after he sees the parents hurting, whose love and empathy is a never-ending fountain of supply.

you knock softly on the door so as not to startle him then gently call out his name. it takes the door opening a little wider for him to realise you are stepping into his room and he immediately sits up, a small smile gracing his face at the sight of you despite the blotchiness of his skin.

“sorry, love. i didn’t notice you standing there,” he apologises.

you shake your head, heart clenching at the sight of him pretending to be okay. you walk closer to him until you can smooth down the back of his hair with kind hands. “do you want to talk?” you tenderly ask.

the tension releases in seonghwa’s shoulders and back as he sags, no longer keeping up his facade at the knowledge that you can see right through him. he looks up at you tiredly with his swollen eyes, “do you have time to talk?”

time you can always make. perhaps the question that should be asked is whether you have the capacity to talk…the emotional capacity. frankly, you do not. you yourself need to cry, whether for seolhee or out of mental exhaustion itself it does not matter anymore. but saying no would be putting your needs before his, and putting your needs after everybody else’s is all that you have known as a doctor, so you will wait until you are alone in the darkness under your bed covers to finally let yourself go.

for now, you rest seonghwa’s head in your lap and brush away his tears, soaking up the pain of his words into your own heart instead. only when his breathing evens out and he no longer stirs under your fingers do you finally ease yourself to lie down next to him, barely hanging on to the edges of your own consciousness. you fall asleep before your tears can even begin to gather underneath your closed eyelids.

that night, you dream of drowning–stifling lungs and gasping mouthfuls–until you eventually suffocate in silence and become swallowed by the black depths of the water. the pillow underneath your cheek is damp when you jolt awake, but whether it is from cold sweat or tears you do not know.

you are convinced dr nam’s job description includes making your life hell. no matter where your rotation takes place, the department head always manages to find fault in something you do…or do not do.

“do you know what our hospital prides itself in?” dr. nam asks rhetorically. “we are not simply a hospital–we are a family. we help each other out in times of need.”

there is a rising snort in your throat that threatens to reveal your cynicism, knowing that when the phrase ‘family’ comes from somebody of higher authority, it is just a cover-up of mock care for the employees. dr. nam continues to smile, not unkindly, but with obvious artificiality that makes it look dangerous as he asks, “so how come you are not helping out in the NICU? i know that the attending has asked you for help.”

overnight on-call shifts already have fewer staff rostered on than usual, but with one of the junior residents having called in sick, the NICU is currently understaffed. the attending physician had paged you earlier asking if you could help out with some of the routine admissions and write up the patient histories and physicals, but you had apologised and declined. for one, you are assigned to the PICU, two, you are the most senior resident on that shift and three, you have endless tasks with far higher priority to complete instead.

you struggle to keep the exasperation out of your voice, sick of being flagged for ridiculous reasons and much less when you are seventeen hours into your shift, “most of the NICU admissions were stable and did not require urgent attention. their H&Ps can be completed later when the juniors are back.”

“ah,” dr. nam nods his head condescendingly, “doctor l/n, you stick by the rules too much. where is your sense of comradeship for this family that we have at kq–if not the entire hospital, then at least within our own department? if i remember correctly, there was a similar incident with one of your past interns.”

it is absolutely ridiculous that even months later you are still being faulted for the central line incident with dr. lim. you stay silent, expression dark and jaw grinding no matter how hard you try not to let your frustration show. 

“go help out in the NICU for an hour or two. i’m sure your own unit is relatively quiet right now,” he instructs. “remember, we’re a family that helps one another.” dr. nam’s grin grows wider, words dripping with saccharine honey that makes it impossible to refute.

“yes, doctor nam,” you respond through gritted teeth. double-checking you have your pager on you so that your actual ward can still reach you for emergencies, you take the elevator down to the NICU.

the next few hours are spent stretching yourself thin over both units as you run back and forth managing patients, answering questions, and most irritatingly, completing tasks that should really be allocated to juniors. it is not until you dazedly mistype the same word four times into the EMR that it registers in your groggy mind that it is already early in the morning, past the quiet time that is your usual window for a brief hour of sleep.

you inhale slowly until your chest is full then let out the longest sigh, your head tilted upwards, eyes closed and shoulders slouching as the world’s worth of resignation weighs down on you. it is 5:30AM, only five more hours–or three if you are lucky–left until the end of your shift. keeping your eyes shut for another few seconds, you recollect yourself to make it through the morning.

a resident appears in front of you, seemingly chipper as he stretches his arms above his head and jokes to a passing nurse that he had an amazing nap in the call room. the brief composure you had gathered immediately dissipates when you hear him. not only have you sacrificed your own sleep to help a unit that is not your own, but there are NICU residents who have taken the liberty to nap instead.

that’s it. you have done multitudes more than your duty requires you to do so. greeting the well-rested resident with a passive-aggressive smile, even if you are aware he is not at fault, you bid your farewell with the instruction, “tell your attending that doctor l/n has gone back to her own unit now.”

you punch the elevator’s number to your floor a little harder than intended, grateful that there is nobody else inside to hear your loud exhale of weariness and defeat. the floor display slowly flickers with higher numbers. maybe being back in the PICU will give you peace of mind.

the elevator doors open to directly reveal a ruckus beside the nursing station. “fucking hell,” you mutter to yourself, finally letting a curse slip through. “what now?”

“what do you mean you’re not a doctor?” a shrill voice cuts through the noise of the small huddle of people as you walk closer.

“i am a nurse, mrs ryeo, not a doctor,” somebody answers.

you could recognise his voice anywhere–it is wooyoung. your exasperation quickly turns into concern and you ease yourself through a few nurses so that you can reach your boyfriend.

mrs ryeo states, “but you’re a man.”

“that is an excellent observation, but unfortunately, that does not change my job qualifications.” despite wooyoung’s innate cheek, it does not usually appear when he is dealing with parents or the occasional adult patient, which tells you that this woman is either a repeating offender or has been kicking up a fuss for some time now.

“hello, mrs ryeo,” you intercept, stepping over to wooyoung’s side. “how can i help you?”

the middle-aged lady scans you up and down with disdain before scoffing, “i don’t want a nurse; i want a doctor.”

your patience has long been running on thin ice and if you did not care about your career, you would turn around, walk two steps away, then twirl around with a curtsey whilst introducing yourself as doctor l/n just to fuck with her. at least wooyoung would laugh.

unfortunately, you do care about your career so you can only explain with a placating smile on your face that you are a doctor–a fourth-year resident at that. mrs ryeo ignores you in favour of rudely pointing and beckoning behind you. “hey, you,” she demands, “see my child.”

a glance over your shoulder reveals that she has pointed to one of your male interns. he does not make a move to step forward, warily gesturing back towards you as he explains, “she’s the senior resident on call right now.”

“i don’t want a fucking resident. i want a real doctor,” she opposes.

“mrs ryeo,” you grit your teeth, “he is my intern. i am a doctor–the most senior doctor currently on shift–”

“bullshit you’re the most senior doctor. i refuse to let you treat my child. i want a male doctor.”

your fingers flutter out to grasp the side of wooyoung’s scrubs, partially to ground yourself, but also because you know that he will not stand there and let you be disrespected. however, there is absolutely no way any of you will be able to talk some sense into her, so it is better to just save your breaths. “dr. ahn will not be in until this afternoon,” you simply state.

“then i’ll wait,” she snaps stubbornly.

you nod, “as you wish. i’ll let him know.” you walk away and the nurses take that as their cue to disperse and continue with their duties now that the situation has been somewhat diffused. 

wooyoung follows you aside to where there are less people. “you okay?” he asks, searching your eyes.

with a dismissive shrug you answer, “you get used to it,” then change the topic to gently remind, “document it on the EMR that she refused to be seen and then fill out an incident report.”

wooyoung nods but continues to look at you unconvinced. “do you finish at seven today? i’ll wait for you,” he offers.

“no,” you grimace, “i probably have to wait until the morning rounds are over. you go home first.” a soft laugh escapes from you when your boyfriend’s eyebrows knit together and you reassure, “i’m fine, really. i should get back to work. i’ll see you at home, woo.”

you turn around before his expression or any further questions can weaken your resolve. from somewhere near the nursing station, you know that mrs ryeo is still staring at you scathingly. breaking down now in any shape or form would only serve to fuel her misogynistic prejudices. so you hold your head up high, pretend that this is just any other day, then continue with the remainder of your shift telling yourself that nothing can make you break.

it is nearing eleven in the morning by the time you get home. your feet mechanically take you to your doorstep and your hands slide the cover of the keypad lock upwards to tap in the number code, mind dissociated from your heart and the rest of your body. like water and hot oil, you keep them separated, otherwise dwelling on how they feel together will inevitably lead to a sudden outburst of emotion.

you feel yourself being dragged back to your senses, automatically tuning in to the rowdiness that increases in volume when you open the door. it is one of those rare sundays where more than half of you are home together. there are shouts of teasing banter, cabinets closing shut and the clink of glassware being washed. vaguely, you can also hear a passionate squabble between two of your boyfriends over something trivial.

whereas before, coming home to your boys would have cooled down your bubbling oil, today they feel like the water you are trying to keep away.

“i swear it wasn’t me,” you hear.

san’s voice is slightly muffled as he teases back, “yeah, whatever you say, yunho.”

you slowly walk into the open living room from where you can also see the kitchen. the countertop surface is covered with plastic bags, groceries for nine spilling out from them as jongho systematically pulls the cold items out to hand them over to san. said boyfriend has his body halfway inside the fridge whilst yunho holds the door open by leaning on it with his weight.

“it’s true! i didn’t drink any this week,” yunho defends himself. “y/n didn’t buy them!”

you falter at the mention of your name. without the context of the conversation, you are suddenly left wondering whether you had messed something up.

“speak of the devil,” yeosang announces, spotting you as he returns from the bathroom. he comes up and gives you quick squeeze in greeting.

yunho perks up at the sight of you. “perfect! let me prove it to you,” he tells san. determined to attest his supposed innocence over something that you still do not know what, your tallest boyfriend turns to face you and asks, “did you restock our protein shakes last week?”

you frown with an unintelligent stutter as you try to recall the sudden information. last week, you had gone out to get some fresh groceries but had suddenly been called in for a shift, so you had had to give up on everything you did not deem as essential. san and yunho’s shakes, unfortunately, did not make the cut.

“no, i–”

“see!” yunho exclaims, whipping around to face san again before you can finish the rest of your sentence. his tone is triumphant as he reiterates, “i told you it was y/n who was the culprit, not me!”

san chuckles with fondness at the other, “okay, you’re forgiven.”

a bitter taste immediately spreads throughout your mouth along with the flaming heat that now covers your cheeks. you cannot tell whether it is anger or embarrassment–perhaps both–but it feels as though the water you have been holding off has suddenly been poured over you.

“why didn’t you go buy them yourself, then, if you knew i didn’t,” you question yunho curtly.

he looks at you with a grin, “because you were meant to buy them and then i didn’t have time to go.” his words are stated as a matter-of-factly with absolutely no intentions to insinuate anything apart from his reasons as to why he did not buy the protein shakes himself.

but you do not hear yunho and his playfulness that you normally indulge in–you hear dr. nam instead belittling your time and you also hear mrs ryeo with her condescending contempt, and now that you are no longer at work, you fail to reign yourself in. you snap before you even realise how heated your words are, “yeah, and i have all the time in the world.” you throw out sarcastically, “next time, why don’t i also mix your shakes, wait on my knees and hold the straw up to your lips while you drink them during your workouts.”

your boyfriends stare at you with wide eyes, silence deafening after the near-shout your voice had risen to by the end of your sentence. you let out a shaky exhale, suddenly sober. you no longer bubble and boil inside, emotions down to a simmer now, but still they remain unsteady and suddenly leave you with overwhelming exhaustion.

“sorry,” you mutter under your breath, “forget i said anything.”

pivoting on the balls of your feet, you escape to your own bedroom, ignoring the concern on wooyoung’s face from where he has woken up and stuck his head out of his own room at the commotion. you shut your door and then sit heavily on the edge of your bed, elbows resting on your knees and head buried in your hands.

“fuck,” you hiss, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes to stop yourself from crying. you are so frustrated–at everything that has happened today, at how you reacted, at the fact that you cannot seem to understand what you are feeling or what you want anymore.

you are going to have to talk to your boyfriends and apologise later, but for now, you just need to be alone.

only a few minutes pass before there is a soft knock on your bedroom door. you make no move to acknowledge the sound. neither do you make a noise of rejection though, so the boyfriend outside your door takes it as his cue to walk in.

“y/n?” he calls out hesitantly.

at the sound of his voice, you immediately look up. it is yunho looking like a kicked puppy, unable to bear any sort of conflict between any of you no matter how big or small the matter. you stand up but stay close to your bed. your heart wants to tug you closer towards your boyfriend yet your feet stay glued to their spot.

“y/n…” he starts again, “i–sorry, i didn’t mean for you to feel as though i was blaming you.”

you shake your head, “it’s fine, i know you didn’t.”

“that still doesn’t change the fact that i hurt you,” yunho expresses, taking a step closer towards you.

“no, i should be the one apologising–sorry. what i said to you was completely uncalled for,” you admit.

“hey, no. i didn’t come for an apology,” he looks at you with rounded eyes, now close enough to grasp you gently by your arms. yunho’s voice is soft as he says, “i’m worried about you. you don’t normally lash out like that…what’s wrong?”

everything.

“nothing,” you answer, avoiding his gaze.

he continues to probe, “are you sure? is it something to do with work?” when you remain quiet, he starts to guess, “...or is it us–”

“it’s work,” you cut him off before he can turn his words into a real question. “work has been tiring. i just–give me a bit of time.” you pat yunho’s hand placatingly, subtly easing your arms out of his grasp at the same time. you do not deserve his affection right now.

he fumbles awkwardly, unease stringing his body tight as his eyes scan yours. “we’ll talk later then?” he eventually concludes, verbally reaching out one more time to see if you want to take it.

“later,” you confirm softly, a small smile gracing your lips that does not reach the rest of your face. “i’m going to catch up on some sleep now.”

“ah, right. you were on call. sleep well then,” yunho concedes. he walks out of your room, gingerly closing the door behind him.

you have barely grabbed a fresh set of pajamas and underwear to quickly rinse yourself in the shower when there is another knock on your door. it takes a lot of energy not to sigh but to open the door instead where you discover san and jongho standing in the corridor with twin expressions of concern.

“did yunho talk things out with you?” san asks as jongho simultaneously says, “how are you feeling?”

you know that they have good intentions checking up on you, but you really just want to be left alone. your own thoughts and emotions are already equivalent to a crowd themselves. “yeah, yunho and i are fine. i’m fine, just tired. thanks for asking and sorry for shouting earlier,” you apologise, because you owe them that much at the very least. then you try and dismiss them before they can ask anything else, “a shower and some sleep will do me good.”

they glance down when you lift up your hand and they see the clothes you hold. jongho knows better than to push, so he places his own hand on san’s back in silent meaning whilst answering on their behalf, “you’re right. we’ll let you sleep. do you want us to wake you up for dinner?”

you smile a little more genuinely but still shake your head. “i’ll eat something before i leave for work tomorrow.”

although san has a lot to say to that, he holds his tongue and lets himself be guided back to the kitchen with jongho’s hand still on him. “let her have some time alone first. she’ll eat if she’s hungry,” the younger reassures him and san can only nod and hope that rest is all that you need. he cannot shake off the feeling that there is much more to it than you are letting on.

you hop into the shower, rinse and dry off and brush your teeth within ten minutes. sleep is your only reprieve now–the only time you do not need to think or feel–and you rush through your routine before you can start coming to conclusions about the whats and whys to the problems in your life. finishing up in the bathroom you go back to your own room, startling when you open the door and are greeted by the sight of wooyoung waiting on your bed.

“you okay?” he asks as soon as he sees you.

annoyance starts to grind your gears no matter how hard you try to remind yourself that your boyfriends are purely looking out for you. but concern has its limits before it starts to become overbearing and when they keep asking one after the other, you are unable to appreciate their efforts.

“i’m fine,” you respond tersely, words no longer genuine after how many times you have repeated them to questions you have heard on loop.

“are you sure? i know you had a rough day at work with mrs ryeo and–”

“wooyoung,” you finally interrupt, “just drop it. please.”

his expression falls and you immediately regret your words. but what’s done is done and the list of people you are hurting today only seems capable of growing–what is one more person on the list? wooyoung stands up and leaves your room with a quiet, sorry, and you do nothing to stop him.

hearing the door shut behind you, you walk over to where the curtains are pulled aside to let the afternoon sunlight of autumn filter in. all the curtains in the bedrooms are blackout curtains, the first additions to the apartment from day one of your careers. you draw them closed, shutting out the sunlight and plunging your room into darkness.

at last, you slide into bed. the screen of your phone lights up as you plug it into your charger and you find a text from yeosang and one from seonghwa just a few minutes ago, but you do not open them. you clear your notifications before you can even read the previews and put your phone on ‘do not disturb’. making sure your alarm is set for tomorrow’s shift, you switch the screen off and shove it under your pillow.

you close your eyes. you have a long list of people to work things out with before you can truly say that you are fine. but there is one thing you fail to realise as you finally fall asleep. the name at the very top of the list is not one of your boyfriends’–

it is your own.

the incident ends up being swept under the rug. you wake up that next morning an hour before your first alarm goes off, lying in the muted hours of dawn before the world starts to stir with the shadows on the ceiling of your bedroom twisting and warping like creatures.

your entire body is filled with an inexplicable sense of dread at the thought of the day ahead. it is not solely due to what happened yesterday between you and your boyfriends. there are a multitude of contributing factors but frankly, you fear dwelling on them and finding out just what percentage of your anxiety stems from the boys. unable to fall asleep and not entirely ready to face anybody yet, you decide to leave for your shift early.

the drive to the hospital feels particularly dystopian today. no matter what season the streets transition into over the year–regardless of the brilliant vibrance of autumn that has blanketed the ground for the last two months–it unfailingly turns back into the perpetual state of sterile winter once you are inside the hospital. it has never been something that you have dwelled on, but now it seems to be the truest reflection of your current self–a mere utopian facade hiding what is inside your walls.

you return nurse aeri’s enthusiastic greeting upon walking into the PICU with chirpiness that your weekend was great. you gasp with animated reactions at the story little siwoo tells you when you reach his room during your morning rounds. you comfort mr and mrs chae with graceful compassion and warm smiles when you tell them their daughter can finally be discharged. not a single person would look at you and think that something is wrong, and yet, you feel like you are simply a ghost of your emotions, detached and distant from your own words and actions. not even the news of seolhee stabilising enough to be transferred out of the PICU back to the paediatric oncology ward gives you the same genuine spike in emotions you would have felt a week ago.

the brief encounters with seonghwa around the unit and the brief glimpses of san and wooyoung around the department do nothing to alleviate your blanket of anxiety because they are a visual and physical reminder of the cavernous pit in your stomach. you end up going home after your shift with a tightness in your chest that has gradually become suffocating at the thought of being confined in the same space as your boyfriends, wondering if they are expecting you to talk to them; the conversation you had brushed off yesterday.

you are not ready yet and you do not want to talk, so instead you do what you do best–walk through the threshold of your front door with a plastered expression of neutrality as though nothing has happened the day before. but to your surprise–whether pleasant or bitter, however contradictory that may be, you cannot tell–they too appear to skirt around the issue.

there is a restless buzz in the air as yunho portions dinner out into separate bowls for those who are at home. hongjoong is hunched over his laptop with concentration at the dining table as usual, zeroed in on his presentation even amongst the bustle of yeosang and jongho setting the cutlery around him, but the jitters in his legs tell you differently. when he spots you walking closer, he shuts his laptop and places it to the side to greet you.

“seonghwa made ramen bulgogi for us before he left,” he tells you while you wash your hands at the sink and peer into the pot yunho is holding.

you gingerly slide into the seat across from hongjoong, watching yeosang dawdling in the kitchen as if he is trying to find something to keep himself busy with. “i thought he wasn’t rostered on for night shift today,” you absentmindedly comment.

jongho places your bowl of ramen in front of you and sits to your right as he answers, “he had to cover for one of the other nurses.”

you nod, waiting for the two in the kitchen. yunho comes to sit on your other side at the head of the table and yeosang beside hongjoong, their bowls placed down with a clunk that leads to silence in conversation.

“how’s your presentation going?” yunho vaguely asks hongjoong after a few minutes.

the older picks at his meat in his bowl, “it’s going alright. i only have the limitations and future directions for neurological gene therapies left to research.”

there is another lull in conversation before jongho asks, “did your surgeries go smoothly today?”

yunho nods, “i led a couple of trauma surgeries today. only one of them ended up going overtime.”

“you’re going to surpass the other doctors soon, doctor jeong from general surgery,” you tease slightly.

the boys share a few chuckles before the table falls silent once more and you can only hear the occasional slurp of noodles or clatter of chopsticks against the bowl. you glance at hongjoong, who is scratching the back of his neck, then at yeosang, whose gaze you can see darting around his bowl like he is avoiding eye contact. shifting your weight slightly in your chair, you suddenly start to realise why they are all acting so awkwardly.

it is not that your boyfriends are trying to skirt around yesterday’s fallout–if you can call it that–like you are. instead, they are waiting for you to be the one initiating the conversation so that they know for sure you are ready to have the conversation. the sentiment is appreciated but it does nothing to stop your muscles from clamming up even further.

the thought of talking and even just thinking about why you are feeling the way you are is enough to overwhelm you entirely again. it is much easier to simply pretend you are okay than to face the problems head on, because then you have to actually acknowledge that something is wrong. but you know that it is not just one issue but several things exacerbating one another, and just that awareness in itself already makes your insides lurch and clench dangerously. 

there is one sole advantage to your boyfriends’ approach to handling this situation. the timeline of when to talk is left up to you, so you choose the one option they had failed to preempt–not to talk at all. you finish your ramen in silence pretending you do not see the shared glances between the boys, get up to place your dishes into the sink ignoring the gazes that linger on your back, then retreat to your bedroom whilst shoving your emotions into the deepest corners in the back of your mind.

they gave you a choice. you simply made one.

the weeks pass by. you change through another rotation and the beginning of winter arrives once more. the only thing that stays the same is the elephant in the room that remains unaddressed and your lonely fight to keep it that way.

restlessness seeps into every interaction that the boys share with you. it follows you to work, jongho and yunho making excuses to go to your ward just to see what you are doing even though their own wards are on the other side of the hospital. it is in the way san tries to swap himself onto night shifts the days he knows you are working one as well, and in how seonghwa liaises with your colleagues under the guise of his role as the CNS, simply to probe whether you are overexerting yourself or not.

it follows you home too, a constant breathing down your neck in the form of mingi carefully scanning your expression the moment you walk through the door after your shift, and in yeosang hovering within five feet regardless of where you are. wooyoung checks the fridge first thing after coming home, counting the boxes of meal prep to make sure you had taken one to work that day, and hongjoong asks how your day was with the intention of probing further to ask how you are coping. he is not the only one who tries to check and your answer never changes–work was good, you are fine.

gradually, you find yourself trying to avoid their line of sight, ducking behind colleagues on the wards or back into your own bedroom at home. it is easier to pretend that you are okay than to admit that you are not, and when that does not work, to just stay away from your boyfriends completely. you are well aware that avoiding them is not healthy, but smokers too know very clearly the health risks of tobacco yet continue to smoke. just how many things are there in the world that we know are unhealthy for ourselves–physically, mentally, socially–and we still choose to make that decision?

but as with any unhealthy choices, they eventually lead to detrimental consequences. unbeknownst to you, each denial of help causes the string inside of you to wind up tighter and tighter until it becomes taut enough to snap at any moment.

and that is what ends up happening on a wednesday night.

seonghwa and wooyoung are both still at the hospital. by the time they get home after their shifts, it will already nearly be time for dinner, so with everybody’s first preferences for cooks still working, you are the next in line. hongjoong had originally offered to order takeout instead since you had been on call last night, but you had been unable to fall asleep despite how exhausted you felt and you hated being stuck in the limbo state of idleness between rest and non-rest.

“are you sure you don’t want us to just order takeout today?”

“it’s fine, hongjoong,” you respond shortly, “i’ve already started cooking.”

yeosang sits at the countertop separating the kitchen from the open living room and dining area, watching as you make a simple soup and stir-fried dish. you try to ignore his intent staring but it is difficult when his gaze quite literally follows you from cupboard to sink to stove. it is only when he hesitantly asks, “are you okay?” that you realise you have left your expression unschooled, dark frown covering your face.

you force your features to relax and nod, trying not to throw a question back at him asking what he is doing just staring at you. his question catches the attention of san sitting on the couch, who calls out to check up on you, “is something wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong,” you sigh, turning around as if that will help to block them out, aware that your patience for them–for anybody–has started running thin. you idly hum at san’s reminder to ask them for help if you need it despite knowing fully well that having an extra person in the kitchen space would only serve to have the opposite effect to its intended purpose.

jongho passes by behind you to fill up a cup of water at the sink. as he waits, he glances at you stirring the pot before double taking at your expression. he tentatively questions, “you alright? do you want me to help?”

“why do you keep asking me that?” you reply, only half-jokingly. you drive him out with an irritated wave of your hand, “just sit and wait.”

your boyfriends are at least tactful enough to understand they are not to step foot into the kitchen until dinner is cooked, but it does nothing to alleviate the sensation of holes being drilled into the back of your head. you are so focused on ignoring them that you do not realise when seonghwa and wooyoung come home from their shifts.

“hey, love,” seonghwa sidles up to you in the kitchen as you slice some extra spring onions. “how’s your day been?”

as he asks you, he comes up from behind and slides a hand around your hip to rest on it. his touch is habitual–something he always does to you and the boys–but you are tense and on edge. you jerk in surprise, accidentally slicing your finger with the knife. it is only a small cut and absolutely unintentional on your boyfriend’s part, but your fuse finally runs out and you drop the knife with a clatter, whirling around angrily to face him.

“can you fucking stop doing that?” you snap, tone clipped and unkind.

seonghwa flusters, trying to apologise and look at your injury whilst simultaneously jerking backwards in confusion at your hostility. he stutters, “i–y/n, are you okay? i didn’t mean to surprise you–”

“no, that’s not it,” you interrupt, blind to the stinging in your finger. “i mean your fucking questions, and not just from you. all of you.” you lash out at the other boys too who have now stood up and are varying distances from the kitchen. “every single fucking day you ask me if i’m okay. can you please stop that?”

san slowly walks closer until he reaches the countertop that separates the both of you. “y/n,” he calls out to you sadly, your sudden anger uncharacteristic, “we’re just worried about you. we want to make sure that you’re okay.”

“i know you do,” you cry out with exasperation, heat starting to gather behind your eyes, “and i’m trying to be okay, alright? i’m trying for everybody’s sake. but you make it so fucking hard when each and every single one of you keep asking me how i’m feeling as if you want me to fucking break down.”

“that’s not what we’re trying to do,” hongjoong tries to reason with you, but you are unable to rationalise anything in the spur of the moment.

you desperately blink back tears. “i’ve tried to pretend that everything is okay–pushed everything to the back of my mind so that i don’t think about it and hope that it resolves itself…but it’s not working.” you take a shaky breath, lips quivering and voice quieting with every word, “i’m just one person at home and i’m just one person at work. i am so fucking tired all the time.”

“but you aren’t just one person. you can tell us and we can help you.”

you do not even register who says that, because your eyes blur with wetness and your voice increases with frustration, “no, i can’t. when you’re tired, when you’re exhausted, you don’t have the time or the energy to ask for help, much less to fight for yourself. you think i haven’t thought about complaining to you guys and letting myself cry in your arms? or escalating whatever happens at work to the higher-ups? i know what i should do, but it’s all useless.

“when you are about to be caught in an avalanche and buried alive, do you remember to ignore your instincts and run horizontally instead of attempting to outrun it? do you remember to keep your mouth shut to stop yourself from choking on snow? or to use your arms and legs to create air pockets for yourself, or to spit and use its trajectory to work out which way is up and down after you’re disorientated? no, you fucking don’t, because in the moment you can only focus on surviving. there is no time to do anything but that.”

your boyfriends are stunned into silence, not only by the bitter resentment that coats your loud voice and mars your face with furrowed eyebrows, but by the raw confession that tumbles out of your lips. they had known you were tired recently, just not the extent of it.

the tone of your words soften with exhaustion and heartache as you look them in the eyes one by one, “just think about ourselves…things aren’t the same between us anymore, don’t try to deny it. we don’t love each other like we used to. things have changed between us this year–it’s just that nobody has brought it up.” the tears that have pooled around your eyes finally slip down your cheeks. “and you know why? it’s because we’re all just trying to survive now. we don’t have the time or the luxury to do anything but survive.”

there is no thought that can be formulated in response to your words. seonghwa opens his mouth but then shuts it again because he knows you are right. it is ugly, but it is the truth.

having been in a relationship together for over four years now, not even including the turbulent years prior to becoming official when you were all navigating the hardships of medical school, your bonds are built upon the foundation of comfort and understanding. but what happens when that comfort turns into complacency, and understanding turns into indifference? what happens when time runs its course and wears down a relationship?

you avert your eyes downwards, the lines of the kitchen tiles blurry underneath your feet as your vision mists over, afraid to look at the sad gazes of your boyfriends any longer. there is a sudden thump of body colliding against the wall and a muffled curse that draws everybody’s attention, including yours, towards the corridor. mingi’s head snaps upwards with guilty eyes from where he had been trying to slink his way in from the front door unnoticed before accidentally stubbing his toe.

your body makes a split-second decision with the diversion. you push past seonghwa in the kitchen, past san and yeosang at the countertop and mingi by the wall, and past the rest of your boyfriends just standing there, back into the safety of your bedroom. it is from years of muscle memory navigating the apartment that you do not walk head-first into anything despite your vulnerable state, although your boyfriends also step out of your way in stunned stupor.

fumbling for the edge of the door behind you with your hand the moment you walk past the threshold to your bedroom, you step backwards until you are able to push it closed. it shuts with a loud click and then finally, you are alone.

you slowly sink forward to the ground, legs useless as your hands reach out towards the floor to hold yourself up. the world around you continues to blur with wetness, a stinging heat behind your eyes and nose, yet the tears do not fall and you do not cry. your gaze remains unfocused on the spot right beside the leg of your bed, frozen in your own stupor of tangled thoughts and emotions.

time, fucking time. you despise that word with your entire soul. in this world, the ones who are truly rich are not those with endless wealth to spare–the ones who are truly rich are those with endless time to spare.

when was the last time you drank freshly-brewed coffee at a cafe instead of guzzling down the grainy staleness of a rushed instant coffee that has not even been mixed properly? when was the last time you sat down for a knife-and-fork meal with warm food instead of popping a mint into your mouth to stave off your hunger pains for a little longer? when was the last time you went shopping for a pretty dress and a cute pair of matching heels instead of sniffing your scrubs at the end of a shift wondering whether you can postpone the laundry for one more day? when was the last time you used shampoo and conditioner when washing your hair instead of simply rinsing it under the water before your eyes closed on themselves?

they are such simple tasks of everyday life, yet they have now become unattainable luxuries in the face of insufficient time. you deliberately sacrifice the quality of your life to save a few extra minutes here, a few extra minutes there. but no matter how much time you are able to scrape out of thin air, it slips through the cracks of your fingers like fine sand and disappears amongst the people around you. even one spare minute, if you have any leftover after prioritising your patients, must be somehow split between the eight of your boyfriends.

you can save however much time you can, but it will never be enough. you are not enough.

the knotted twist of anxiety that has been distorting your insides for the past few weeks suddenly unravels with shattering clarity as your fears suddenly weigh you down with crushing exhaustion. you cannot even take care of yourself anymore–how can you take care of your boyfriends, much less eight of them? you want everything to just stop, but what exactly ‘everything’ entails, you have no idea.

there is a soft hand on your shoulder squeezing tenderly. it is warm, you idly think to yourself. they murmur, “y/n,” and only when they squeeze you again do you dazedly look up, blinking to clear your vision. mingi’s round eyes gaze at you and you find him kneeling beside your crumpled form on the floor of your bedroom. you have no energy to acknowledge him further than another blink and prolonged eye contact.

he stares at you for a few seconds, eyes full of words that he holds back, before simply asking, “have you showered yet?”

you do not answer, but he had not questioned you with the intention of receiving an answer. he responds for you, “probably, but i doubt you washed your hair. come,” his hand slowly travels down from your shoulder to your smaller hand, “take a shower with me.”

mingi’s gaze does not waver despite the slight narrowing of your eyes that tells him you are tired and unamused. “i stink and i want your company,” he states. then he makes the decision for you and tugs you upwards with him. despite his strength, mingi’s hands are gentle as he holds you, leading you out of your bedroom and into the bathroom instead.

you stand there and let him guide your arms through your jumper so that he can take it off your head. he does the same with your shirt, your pants and with your undergarments, his touch intimate and loving not with sexual desires but with devoted care as if he is afraid you will crack under the slightest of pressures. his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps where they brush against your skin and your eyes close with the softest of sighs, letting yourself relax under your boyfriend’s careful movements.

the bathroom begins to steam up from the spray of hot water and mingi steps you into the shower with him. quietly, he wets your hair and lathers his shampoo into it, sturdy hands massaging the tension out of your scalp and the nape of your neck. you watch the concentration in his creased brows and the water that drips down from his chin falls between your chests. not once does he look at you–only focuses on properly shampooing your hair.

it is only when mingi is rinsing your hair and you are no longer facing him do you pluck up the courage to speak delicately, “why aren’t you asking me if i’m okay?”

he is silent for a few seconds and you feel the slight pause in his hands against your scalp before he continues to run his fingers through your hair. “do you want me to ask?”

once again, you do not answer, but that is an answer in itself.

“plus,” mingi softly murmurs, hands leaving your hair, the click of a bottle cap opening resounding in the echo of the bathroom louder than his voice, “you’ll just say that you’re okay…even though you’re not.”

then the touch of his fingers returns as he teases something cold into your hair from its roots to its ends. almost immediately, you choke up and your expression crumples, lips trembling downwards as your eyebrows furrow, because mingi is putting conditioner in your hair. it is embarrassing that this of all things is what finally marks your breakdown, but mingi does not comment when your shoulders shudder with shaky exhales nor when you fail to hold in a stuttering sob. he lets you cry out your sorrows, pain and fatigue and he simply continues to massage the conditioner into your hair.

mingi simply continues to love you in the way that you did not love yourself.

when your hair is rinsed, only then does he turn you around to face him. under the showerhead with only the comforting tranquility of water pattering against the tiles around the both of you, he softly tilts your chin upwards to capture your lips in a kiss. it is a slow but simple kiss, lips pressed against yours with a thousand utterances of comfort and reassurances dancing across them.

he gives you one kiss, then another, and another, each one sweeter than the previous despite the salty tracks that run down your cheeks. your hands find their way onto his chest and the steady beat of his heart thrums underneath your palm. mingi rests your foreheads together, your tears falling in solitude with the water and with the tears that fall from inside his heart.

finally, he asks, “is it work?”

you shake your head slightly. “i don’t know.”

“is it us?”

the tears that had slowed down reappear with a strangled sob as you answer truthfully, your fears emerging at least, “i don’t know.”

“that’s okay, you don’t have to know,” he whispers, “and you don’t have to be okay.” he pulls away a little so that he can cradle your jaw with his hands and look into your eyes. “take the day off tomorrow, y/n.”

you do nothing to stop the tears that continue spilling over the bottom of your eyes as you shakily answer, “i don’t have time. my patients need me.”

“you do have time,” mingi counters, thumbing your tears away. “you just haven’t been spending that time on yourself. even doctors get sick, you know.”

“i’m not sick,” you deny.

your boyfriend pulls you into his chest and encases you in a protective embrace. “physically, maybe not. but your mental health is just as important, and sometimes the things that you can’t see inflict more suffering than the things that you can see.”

it is something that you all know and understand, but when you are trapped in a workplace where the mentality revolves entirely around a medical model of physical health, the disparity in value you place between your physical and mental health becomes so deeply ingrained it is almost impossible to change.

“mingi, what if…” you trail off. your boyfriend nuzzles the top of your head with his chin before brushing his lips over the crown of your forehead in encouragement. you swallow thickly to continue, “what if i need time alone?”

mingi pulls away from you once more, slowly so as not to further upset your already-scattered emotions. he looks at you earnestly, considering your words and their meaning–whether he is understanding your undertone correctly and whether this is a genuine request for respite or a spur-of-the-moment cry for reassurance. he watches your eyes flicker back and forth between his own.

“if that’s what you need,” he finally whispers, wrapping you closer in his arms again, “then i’ll support you no matter what.”

he feels your small puff of surprise against his chest and it pierces through his heart like a sword. how he wishes that you would realise that he and any of your other boys would pluck all the stars in the universe’s galaxies if you were to ask for them. but instead, you are asking him in a small and timid voice, “you’re not upset? the others won’t be upset?”

mingi chooses his next words carefully, aware that they could easily be misunderstood but also unwilling to treat you like a child where the world is only full of happy endings. not that you believe that anymore, anyway. “we will be upset,” he gently breaks to you, “but only at the situation that we're in because things have ended up like this before we could even really do anything for you. y/n, we will never be upset at you in this situation, much less upset at the decisions you choose to make. if time is what you need, then take however much time you need.”

you do not have the courage to lift up your head to meet his eyes, shame starting to creep through your veins because what if this decision is simply a decision to run away yet again? but then mingi senses your doubts and draws you in for another kiss. he captures your lips between his, pressing against you a little harder when you both start to run out of breath. he draws it out for longer until the kiss becomes dizzyingly and intoxicatingly blissful and fills your mind with thoughts of him and him only.

when you can finally inhale, the air swirls with a mix of his scent and the shampoo he had used. here, under the warm spray of water within the safe confines of the shower and mingi's arms, it may only be momentary but you are okay.

“can you tell the boys for me?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. “i don't think i can tell them myself.”

mingi nods and the corners of his lips rise bittersweetly. “of course.”

so for the first time in four years since moving in with your boys, on a night that snows lightly but unceasingly, you pack a small bag of clothes and essential belongings…

and move out.

“good evening, doctor jeong from general surgery.”

the running joke between himself and the little girl in front never fails to draw a laugh of amusement out of yunho, who pretends to bow in formal greeting as he returns the acknowledgement, “good evening, kim seolhee from the paediatric ward.” when she giggles, he comments, “you look like you’re having a good day.”

seolhee grins and nods with excitement. not only does her expression look livelier, there is a slight healthy glow to her skin as well. “i was just telling doctor snowflake that they’re letting me go home for christmas next week before my next round of treatments start.”

at her words, there is no way to avoid eye contact with your boyfriend as his gaze automatically flicks over to where you are sitting beside her bed. ever since you moved out a few days ago into a friend’s rented apartment with a spare couch, your encounters with your boyfriends around the hospital have been…different.

a shift in dynamics was always going to be inevitable because it was–is–an action of request for space to think and just breathe, even though neither parties are truly mad or upset at one another. just as mingi had reassured you in the shower, it is simply the circumstances that have piled up and led to a consequence like so, and if you need time away from a contributing factor to sort your emotions out, there are absolutely no hard feelings. despite all this, your boyfriends cannot help but yearn to reach out and bring you back into their arms–to bring you back home.

yunho’s eyes soften the moment they lay upon you and he savours the sight of you today, unsure of when he will next see you around the hospital. “that’s so good to hear,” he says earnestly, “and i’m sure that news has made doctor snowflake’s entire week.”

he smiles at you warmly and this time you find yourself mirroring his expression, awkwardness taking a backseat because you know he is genuinely happy for both seolhee and you. the level of fondness and love you have for seolhee has long blurred past the usual level of care you would show to a patient on your caseload. she has spent more christmas’ in hospital than out, so to be able to spend these holidays at home is the greatest gift seolhee could receive and the greatest gift you could witness.

your boyfriend lingers around for a little longer, pushing his visit as long as he can without it being obvious that he does not actually have a reason to stay. eventually he says, “i better get back to work. enjoy your christmas at home, seolhee.”

she nods happily and then he looks at you. “i’ll see you–” yunho cuts himself off, holding back from finishing the sentence with ‘at home’. he corrects, “i’ll see you around.”

“see you,” you respond amiably, fingers fiddling with the hem of your scrubs as he walks out.

yunho only makes it a couple of steps away before he bumps into wooyoung making his evening rounds. they exchange brief conversation and you quickly avert your gaze when you see the taller of the two gesturing back into seolhee’s room. seolhee’s eyes dart between yours and the view outside her room before she points out, “it’s nurse woo!”

“really?” you lie, pretending you had not noticed. yunho has already walked off by the time you look back, so only wooyoung is looking at you. he makes no move to come into seolhee’s room. instead, he gives you a little wave with a hopeful smile. a small exhale of fondness leaves you as you return his gesture through the room’s window with a similar amount of restraint. however, it is enough to make your boyfriend break out into a beam, and then he goes running off.

seolhee is already staring at you when you turn to face her again. she raises an eyebrow. “are you and your boyfriends fighting?” she immediately asks.

her question makes you flinch with a sheepish smile, knowing that she would catch a whiff of it sooner or later–just not this fast. are you and your boys fighting? it is technically not a proper argument nor a proper break from the relationship, but there is the need to take a step back and rethink what certain things mean to you–to the boys–and what you want your life to look like.

you are not about to unload all of this onto the now seven-year-old girl with an ‘it’s complicated’ as your answer, so you opt for a simple, “yeah, kind of.”

seolhee shrugs and comments casually, “my parents used to fight all the time.”

you are reminded of her mother, mrs kim, who you have seen several times during visiting hours after that first meeting with her. you are also reminded of mr kim, her father who drops by whenever he can when he is not at work. they have been nothing but strong and supportive parents during seolhee’s battle with her cancer and you cannot reconcile that image of them with the image of constant arguing.

“what changed?” you probe curiously.

despite the smile on her face, the glimmer in seolhee’s eyes fade slightly. “i got diagnosed and then they realised that in the grand scheme of the universe, life is just too short not to spend every moment loving each other.” she turns to look outside the window on the other side of her bed. “we learnt a lot–love isn’t just about expensive outings and fancy gestures and impressive words because there are a lot of things that i can’t do that other normal kids and families can…we learnt that love is all about the small things too and those small moments in life are the things we truly end up cherishing, especially during the tough times.

“mum helps me pick out the colour of my bandanna when i want to wear one, and dad helps me hold the bucket up when i’m feeling sick. i pretend to hide my parents behind the curtains to see if the nurses will let us have an extra five minutes past visiting hours, and they will always smile and give us ten. we don’t always love each other the same way as other families do, but those are the things that we’ll remember the most.”

you look out the window with seolhee as you listen to her words. the snow has fallen lightly the entire day and now under the streetlights, the growing layer of snow glows brightly amongst the dimness of the winter night. you think back to your boys–the lack of dates and diminishing displays of love; how that had been one of the first indicators that something had changed in the relationship dynamics. then you also think back to those small gestures they had done for you; the silly notes, the coffees, the brief conversations, the meals, the break room hugs.

“it’s kind of like snow,” you murmur to neither yourself nor seolhee in particular. “you don’t notice it at first, and only when it starts to form a layer on the ground over time do you start to realise how much it has actually snowed.”

the moment those words leave your lips, you are suddenly reminded of how even those small gestures had gradually disappeared–how that too played a part in the shift in your romantic relationships. your tone is wistful, “then the snow melts and it's gone, just like that.”

seolhee looks back at you, considering your words thoughtfully. she hums for a moment before putting forward, “it melts, but does that change the fact that it snowed in the first place?”

the snowflakes continue to drift softly outside like butterfly wings. as beautiful as they are, there will come a time when they melt away, but the reality before your eyes right now is that they exist–they are there. it is snowing.

“no,” you reply, “it doesn’t.”

“then maybe it's up to us to remember that it snowed until it does snow again,” she smiles triumphantly, the innocence of her radiating beam so strikingly different to the clarifying wisdom she has suddenly dropped even if she does not know the true extent of the meaning her words hold to you. seolhee points at your name badge to drive her point home, “it's just like your badge. my sticker is gone now but that doesn't change the fact that it used to be there.”

your head flicks down immediately and you tilt your badge upwards so that you can get a good look it at. disappointment washes over you when you find that her words are true and her sticker is gone, so worn and loved that it has fallen off somewhere within the hospital. you have no idea when that occurred but it must have been today, because it was still there this morning when you touched it for comfort on your drive here. now, only the faint outline of its shape remains.

it should not hold as much sentimental value as it does, but the realisation that seolhee’s sticker is no longer with you makes you ask, like you the child and seolhee the adult, “can i have another one?”

her voice takes a rare tone of complaint as she grumbles, “i lost the sticker book when i moved back to this ward.”

“that’s a shame” you remark, as genuinely upset as the little girl beside you.

she lets out an endearing little sigh, then pats the back of her hand with her own. “that’s okay, you can look outside whenever you miss me. remember,” seolhee blinks at you earnestly, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling outside.”

you place your other hand over hers with a hint of a challenging smile. “and if it stops snowing?” you ask, testing the seemingly boundless wisdom that is hidden inside of her.

seolhee beams, answer so clear and obvious. “then count the stars in the sky.”

for the first time in his life, jongho is late.

his, san’s and yeosang’s mornings had all started off a little rough after the latter had rushed past the open door to the bedroom the other two were sleeping in together, dressed in his scrubs and puffer jacket ready to leave, only to double take at the sight of them still in bed. they had been woken up by yeosang’s frantic question, “jongho? don’t you have work today?”

san had groggily lifted his upper body off the bed as jongho jolted into a sitting position, trying to pull himself together. “what?” jongho’s brain had remained foggy no matter how alert he appeared in panic. “what time is it? what day is it today?”

“it’s six thirty,” yeosang had responded, san’s grunts of confirmation affirming the same. alarm had suddenly run through yeosang as doubt creeped into his own mind. “and it’s monday…isn’t it?”

“yeah,” san had confirmed again, voice thick with sleep.

jongho had been certain he did not have work. “i checked the whiteboard last night. my name’s not down for a shift,” he had stated, only to break out into cold sweat immediately afterwards with realisation. you are the only one who goes to all the effort to note down everybody’s shifts for the fortnight on the whiteboard–the very same one that has not been changed since you moved out.

“oh, shit,” jongho had cursed. “i do have work.”

and so for the first time in his life, jongho is late. he knows he only has himself to blame for relying on somebody else for something as important as when he has to show up for work, but for years that is how it has been. not once have you ever made a mistake with the erasable calendar, always taking meticulous care to check that all the shifts for each day are correct because it is the easiest way to help you all keep track of where everybody is for the day.

nobody asks you to update the whiteboard. you just do.

hongjoong realises the same thing in the wake of jongho’s rush to leave the house. he stands in front of the bathroom sink, his eyes half-closed as he brings his toothbrush up to his mouth, only to get a gross mouthful of plain bristles. it is still too early in the morning to swear so he sighs in resignation instead, “not again.”

he pulls the head of the toothbrush back out of his mouth to squeeze a glob of toothpaste on top. it is the third morning in a row that he has done this, still unaccustomed to your absence in the house. on the mornings you leave for work earlier than him–which is most days–you have always pre-squeezed his toothpaste for him, simply because you know it takes a little longer for the cogs in his head to start turning in comparison to your other boys.

hongjoong does not ask you to squeeze his toothpaste for him. you just do.

it is second nature to you, just as it is to hang wooyoung’s keys on the jacket hook by the front door so that he does not upturn the entire house looking for them like he has been for the past fifteen minutes. seonghwa follows hot on the younger’s heels flipping cushions back onto their spots on the couch, shifting trinkets on the kitchen counter back where they belong and closing all the cabinet doors that are swung open haphazardly.

“i never understand why you don’t just put your keys back onto the same hook whenever you get home,” seonghwa exhales.

wooyoung pointedly chooses not to respond to that, instead firmly stating, “i’m telling you, they were on the couch just last night."

“and why would you put them on the couch in the first place?”

“that’s besides the point,” the younger waves his words away carelessly, going back to the couch once more and sliding his hands along the cracks in case they slipped inside.

“how does y/n always manage to find your keys,” seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair.

“i don’t know,” wooyoung suddenly dampens, hands coming to a stop in the middle of the couch as he thinks of you knowing exactly where his keys are in the chaos of the house. “she just…does.”

and there are a lot of other things that you just do. when mingi saunters into the kitchen after dinner, feeling peckish but not for something unhealthy considering it is already close to bedtime, he pokes his nose into the fridge as san washes the dishes. the latter glances over his shoulder.

“you want me to cut you an apple later?” san offers.

mingi nods happily and requests, “without the skin?”

the older laughs, repeating his words, “without the skin.”

when mingi is handed a plate of neat apple slices ten minutes later, he finds himself subconsciously comparing them to the ones you will silently place into his hands after dinner before he even asks for them. san’s slices are the same in appearance–skinned and uniform–except he cuts them into thicker wedges than you do.

mingi takes a bite into one. the apple tastes sweet and tart across his tongue and yet he cannot help but think that the apples taste better when you cut them. whereas san cuts them into six slices, you cut them into nine; just something that you do.

later that night, yunho is again the last one to arrive home after his surgeries run overtime, save for seonghwa and yeosang on night shift. it is pitch black when he enters, bumping not only into the shoe cabinet but also an untucked dining chair as he fumbles his way in with his hands outstretched.

the night light that is usually plugged into the wall of the living room is not on to greet him in the dark hours past midnight today. the light was something you had insisted he buy, absolutely not because the design of the glowing mushroom cap was cute, but because you did not want anybody–read yunho–tripping flat onto their face coming home from a late shift. you are always the one to turn it on if you know one of them will be late, but this time there is no light…because there is no you.

yunho does not ask you to turn the light on for him. you just do. nobody asks you to do any of those small things for them, yet you just do, because that is your way of showing you see, your way of showing you care, and your way of showing you love.

a wave of longing washes over yunho, the sands of his heart already long damp from the moment you moved out. how he wishes he could just walk into your room right now and shelter your peacefully-sleeping form from the shadows of the night with a tender kiss, just like he used to.

but he cannot, not anymore, and he regrets more than anything not doing it while he could.

nurse yejin, the head of the paediatric emergency department, is just about to greet you as you walk up to the nursing station when she takes all but one look at you and points out, “you’re looking like shit this morning.”

from anybody else, that statement would have been insulting despite it being the truth. but nurse yejin has always been frank and blunt, not one to beat around the bush with the intent of getting to the root of problems as efficiently and effectively as possible. ‘head nurse things’, she had told you early on in your rotation.

you let out a laugh in response, although it probably looks like a grimace more than anything. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” you joke.

it is only true to a certain extent since you have not been sleeping on a bed but on a couch for the past six days, now counting seven. but ever since you moved out, you have woken up every morning feeling out of routine, standing in the middle of the unfamiliar living room disorientated and wondering whether you usually brush your teeth before changing into your scrubs or after, and whether you usually grab your socks before you pack your bag or right before you leave for work. you do not realise how mentally ingrained into your system your morning routine is, down to the number of steps your feet can take on autopilot and the exact placement of the items your hands can grab without looking, until your environment changes entirely.

the drive to the hospital is also different. it is only ten minutes longer than your usual commute and the streets all look similar under the covering of snow, yet it still throws you off, setting the tone as such for the remainder of the day.

this morning had been no exception–arguably worse–when you realised with frustration that you had no more clean scrubs to change into. you had forgotten to run a load of laundry the day before, leaving you with no choice but to borrow your friend’s clothes that were presentable enough for you to wear to work until you could change into a set of the hospital’s spare scrubs.

forgetting to do your laundry is no rare occurrence but it has never been an issue. how many times had you opened your wardrobe, uncertain whether you would find a set of wearable scrubs, only to be surprised by an ironed and neatly-hung set waiting for you? it has never been an issue until now, as realisation dawns upon you that one of your boyfriends has always looked out for you by ensuring you always had clean scrubs for work.

“you better snap out of it quick then, doctor l/n,” nurse yejin advises, words pulling you back to the present. “we have a thirteen-year-old male arriving in a few minutes with a first-time generalised tonic-clonic seizure. episode lasted for six minutes, now postictal but stable.”

your mind immediately shifts, focus zeroing in on the length of the seizure as the head nurse continues to provide you a handover of the paramedic’s call. you instruct, “notify the fellow or resident currently on call in paediatric neurology. tell them to be ready for immediate assessment.”

nurse yejin nods and reaches for the phone as you walk off briskly to prepare for the patient’s arrival. from behind, she watches you with a slight smirk of pride because there you are; fire lit up in your eyes once again. only, it is nowhere near as intense as it used to be.

for fire, too, has a life of its own. it is able to burn and burn and burn, engulfing whatever it can within its vicinity in order to keep itself alive and bright. but even the strongest of fires will eventually burn out into nothing but a wither of smoke if it does receive enough fuel to keep it sustained, whether sourced by itself or provided by those around it.

“you’re not eating?” your intern asks you, hours later.

you turn your head slightly towards her to show she has your attention, but you keep your eyes glued to the screen as you rapidly type up the notes for the seizure patient from this morning. “you go have lunch first,” you respond distractedly, not having realised it was already past one thirty. “i’ll eat in a bit.”

only, when it comes to three o’clock, a wrench having been thrown into the works by a sudden code blue, you realise you do not have a lunch to eat. “fuck,” you curse at yourself, hands digging into your bag once more in hopes of finding a stray protein bar. you knew you should have thrown in a couple of them last night while it was on your mind.

just like your scrubs, your lunch has never been an issue for you until now. once more, realisation is forced upon you as you wonder why not; san has always had an uncanny sixth sense that somehow alerts him each time you forget to stuff your lunchbox into your bag so that he can do it in your stead. on the days you forget and he leaves earlier than you, hongjoong is there to take it to work, personally finding you on the wards to deliver it to you.

sometimes, your lunch will be packed in a different container. when wooyoung makes a heavily-spiced or greasier dish, he portions some to cook with less chilli or seasoning specifically for you to take to work the next day because he knows your stomach is sensitive, especially when you are stressed or fatigued. today though, you have no choice but to grab something from the cafeteria.

even the instant coffee you quickly brew for yourself tastes particularly unpalatable and sand-like, a tricky feat considering how rock-bottom the standard already is. jongho has always somehow managed to make it taste bearable if he does not have time to order freshly-brewed coffee from the cafe. you think that maybe it is because he takes the extra minute that you do not to properly pre-dissolve the powder in some boiling water before diluting the coffee with the rest of the water. and jongho does do that, except the reality is that it tastes better simply because he is making it for you.

you find your mind incessantly churning as your day continues in a similar manner–sudden awareness of all the different ways your boyfriends have been looking out for you. it shadows you from the hospital back to your friend’s apartment, which is pitch black when you get back after your shift. your friend had texted you earlier that she would be out drinking with friends and unlikely to return before the morning, so when you unlock the door, you are greeted by nothing but deafening silence and apocalyptic stillness.

using the display of your lockscreen to illuminate a path, you toe off your shoes and sluggishly trudge into the living room. you have never come home to complete blackness before–one of your boyfriends, usually yunho, has always made sure to keep a night light on for you. but this time, the lonely gloom of your friend’s apartment beckons to you in a way that is hauntingly comforting. so instead of turning its lights on, you sit down heavily on the couch in the darkness.

the night seems colder than usual.

you lean back onto the cushions of the couch and stare blankly at the ceiling above. the display on your phone dims before turning off from idleness. as if your body takes it as a cue to do the same, you close your eyes and slowly exhale, muscles deflating into the couch as the silence spreads over your body like the gradual creep of water freezing.

just what exactly are you doing? what is it that you need?

did you simply need an opportunity to just be yourself, away from those who you felt the need to always be a perfectly happy and positive y/n around? or did you need space to reconsider the state of your relationship with the boys? maybe it was never even about the relationships in the first place, but that you had no way of isolating yourself from work so you chose the next best option to cut yourself off from.

perhaps, you really just wanted to continue running away and hiding from a greater problem that you do not want to acknowledge.

a wetness builds up behind your eyelids, confused and overwhelmed by the fact itself that you still cannot make sense of your emotions. maybe it is because there is no one answer but that all of them are answers, because no matter what you try to do or where you try to run, you cannot seem to rid the bone-deep exhaustion that continues to crush and constrict your soul.

however, there is one thing you are certain of after today. having spent so many days away from the boys and your normal routine, only now do you realise just how many subtle routines there are that intertwine you all together. some you only notice because of the change it has brought upon this week; others long known because they ceased to occur.

but seolhee’s words resonate within you. yes, some of those routines had disappeared, but like the snow, it does not change the fact that they existed in the first place. the commonality that all of the routines share–whether it be those you had previously been so hung up about dwindling or those you are only just becoming conscious of–is that they are all routines of love.

and like the golden warmth of the sun during the frigid bitterness of winter, you do not learn to truly appreciate something until it becomes absent from your life.

sometimes, you wonder what the end of the world will be like.

you wonder how it happens; whether it would be instantaneous, one second everybody going about their everyday life then the next second everything gone, people’s last moments still in blissful ignorance as to what has become of them and the world; or whether it would be gradual, an agonisingly slow and painful wait as inevitable doom creeps closer, no better than mercifully taking your own life.

you wonder what you would feel; fear for what will be or resignation for what is to be? regret for what had been or grief for what will not be? you wonder how you would realise, where you would be the moment it happens, who would come to mind first, why the world would be ending.

you have wondered so much and yet, you would have never expected to experience a part of your world ending through a phone call, your ringtone jarring and eerie in the late hours past midnight, jolting you awake on an unfamiliar couch to the sight of an equally unfamiliar ceiling. it takes you a few seconds to process the sound, disoriented from having accidentally fallen asleep still in your scrubs with no recollection of the last few hours.

by the time your fingers fumble across your phone, it has already stopped ringing. squinting, you turn the screen on. there are fresh notifications at the top of your screen showing two missed calls, but before you can process who they are from, the silent living room is disturbed by the piercing sound of your ringtone once again.

it is only seonghwa who is calling but an unsettling shift in the air abruptly makes the hair along your skin rise. something is wrong. you pick up.

“...hwa?”

“hey, love,” your boyfriend responds carefully. “where–are you at your friend’s place right now?”

you sit up on the couch and adjust the phone closer towards your ear with both hands. “yeah…i am.”

you can hear seonghwa take a shaky exhale before answering, “i think you might want to come to the hospital.”

blood rushes to your ears and your breath hitches. “why?” you whisper out, voice barely audible as your clutch on your phone tightens.

he does not answer you immediately. it is not until you choke out your question once more, voice urgent and desperate, that he breaks. seonghwa's tone is solemn, hesitance to speak louder than a waterfall, and never would you have thought that it would only take something as simple as his next two words for you to experience what feels like the end of the world.

“it’s seolhee.”

the room spins around from under your feet. you suddenly find yourself blindly groping the surface of the kitchen countertop, having stumbled your way across the dark living room. the phone call has ended–you cannot recall whether you hung up on seonghwa or whether he hung up on you, or whether it is actually still ongoing, his concerned shouts of your name simply falling upon deaf ears.

your breathing becomes increasingly shallow but you do not start crying. your expression remains stonily frozen as you frantically feel and search the countertop with your hands, uncaring of the ruckus and mess you are making. you are looking for something. what are you looking for? you need something. you need to bring something, but what? keys. you need to bring your keys. you need keys. you need your car keys. car keys, so you can drive to the hospital. you need to drive to the hospital because seolhee is there. you need to get to the hospital and you need to drive and you need your keys, where are your keys? you need your keys.

something cold brushes against the side of your pinky and immediately you snatch it up. you rush to the front door, toeing on the first thing that feels like a pair of shoes, then yank the door open before they are properly on your feet. you have no time. your leg jitters and your finger repeatedly jabs the elevator button as you watch the display numbers of the floor slowly move upwards towards yours. please, you beg to whichever higher entity is willing to listen to you, please, i have no time.

the moment the doors start to crack open, you force your way into the elevator. the doors cannot close fast enough and you pace in restless circles in the enclosed space while it takes you down to the underground carpark. your feet have already exited the threshold of the elevator before the doors even fully open again and your frantic steps reverberate loudly in the echo of the parking lot as you sprint for your car.

“y/n!”

you almost miss the yell of your name in your distraught, but your steps falter at the last moment, slowing down only slightly to turn in the direction of the sound. there is no time to question what you see. mingi is there, rapidly closing the distance between the two of you.

he stands in front of you within seconds and his chest heaves with effort and adrenaline. you feel your face crumpling as you instinctively and automatically reach out for him. mingi catches your hands, letting you squeeze his own in panic even if your nails dig into his skin.

“mingi, seonghwa–seolhee, she–the hospital–”

“i know,” mingi nods quickly, gently shushing your unintelligible blabber, “i know. let’s get you to the hospital.”

he envelops your hand in his and tugs you along behind him towards his car. you want to urge him to run, but he maintains a steady pace until he can pull the car door open and guide you into the seat. mingi can feel your anxiety rolling off in waves as he rounds the front of the car to the driver’s seat and he knows how desperate you are for him to hurry up and floor the pedal, but he also knows that feeding into your panic with his own will only make things worse.

mingi drives as fast as he can without speeding too dangerously, although he cuts it close with a few red lights. the two of you sit in loud silence the entire ride. your boyfriend glances over at you every now and then, brows furrowed with concern, but you remain motionless with your eyes fixed to the road in front despite the erratic rhythm of your heartbeat.

“y/n–” your boyfriend cuts himself off upon arriving at the hospital, where you tumble out of the car the moment it jerks to a stop. he is not quick enough to grab you as he puts the car into park and he fumbles to undo his own seatbelt whilst you are already weaving your way towards the sliding doors to the elevator.

you run. never before in your life have you ever run with such sheer desperation. one after the other, the soles of your shoes strike against the ceramic tiles of the lobby before they become thuds against the vinyl flooring of the wards.

the past month, you have walked this exact path almost every single day; you have seen stretchers being rushed in, and parents and family members forcibly pulled away from the side of their loved ones to make way for immediate medical assistance from doctors like you. but today, you are on the other side–you are the one rushing into the paediatric ED dishevelled and crazed, uncaring of how you look to the rest of the world.

“seolhee,” you mutter to yourself, pace slowing to an unsteady stumble as you twist and turn to find her familiar smile. “seolhee, where are you?”

nurse yejin spots you and rushes up to grasp you by the elbow. “doctor l/n,” she urges with wide eyes, “she came in as a code blue. she's in the resus bay but she–”

your blood runs cold and the rest of nurse yejin's words become a muffled fuzz in your ear along with the surrounding clamour of the ED, replaced instead by a high-pitched ringing that reverberates throughout your entire skull. gaze unfocused, you sway as your feet slowly pivot in the direction of the resus bay. nurse yejin’s outstretched hand falls to her side and she watches you helplessly, your shoes shuffling with contradictory urgency and hesitancy towards the sliding glass doors.

around you, the commotion of the ward blurs away, your vision narrowing into a pinprick tunnel the closer you get. seonghwa tries to reach for you when you pass by him and some of your colleagues near the doors, but you continue shambling forward as if you are possessed, mind and body completely blind to his presence and touch. you do not stop until you reach the doors. slowly, you bring your hands up to rest on the cool surface as you press yourself closer and look inside.

it’s a code blue, you think to yourself in a state of trance and stupored confusion at the scene that unfolds before your eyes, but why is nobody resuscitating seolhee? why is nobody helping her? why isn’t anybody doing anything?

“seolhee,” you whisper vaguely, right hand weakly hitting the glass. then again, you call out her name, this time with more urgency. “seolhee.”

you hit the glass once more, then a third time but harder yet. “seolhee!” you shout, both hands now fisted and pounding against the glass in distress. “seolhee! somebody save her!”

hands start to pull you back but you do not register any of them nor are they strong enough to draw you away from the doors. the anguished cries of your name are left unheard, but despite the wildness of your crazed desperation, your mind vaguely registers the few words that somehow manage to break through. the sounds are warped and distorted as if you are continuously being thrust underwater then hauled upwards over and over again, but it is enough for you to piece them together.

“cardiac arrest…multi-organ failure–” “–terminal lucidity–” “–time of death–”

your body nearly topples over as you freeze under the resistance of those around you, jostling around limply in the crowd of limbs. all of a sudden, you are wrenched out of the water and your chest convulses trying to gasp for air. the noise of the ED and the shouts around you flood back into your ears like a tsunami, except it comes from every direction imaginable with force that has multiplied infinitely and pulverises your entire soul.

you cannot stay here any longer. you run.

you run wherever your feet take you and you do not stop, even when your lungs and your legs begin to sear at the same intensity as the inferno that currently incinerates your heart. lurching up stairs after stairs after stairs, you run and run and run until you burst through the doors to the rooftop of the hospital where your chest takes in a heaving inhale. the piercing temperature of the air leaves your system shocked and breathless and you stumble over to the ground.

there is nothing to break your fall in every sense, so there, on your hands and knees at your absolute lowest in the stinging cold of the hospital rooftop, you finally shatter into smithereens. it starts off as a tremble of your lips and a quiver of your chin, a choked stutter of breath as your eyebrows crumple and your eyes blink back the growing heat behind them. but then a small cry of pain leaves you and you lean back heavily onto your feet before your hands fist the material of your scrubs. your skin turns white as you clench and rock yourself back and forth, breathing erratic and sobs increasing in volume until they are long, soulful wails.

your entire body convulses uncontrollably with each gut-wrenching cry that leaves you. the world around you blurs away from the tears that fall down your face and your head pounds with lightheadedness. you hit your chest with an agonised fist, again and again, harder and harder, because you would rather feel any physical pain than the shattering crevice in your heart.

you are suddenly jostled by a strong pair of arms wrapping around your upper body. they tuck you firmly into their chest, a hand wrapping around your wrist to stop you from hurting yourself any further and the other pressing your head against the warmth of their neck.

they shush you repetitively with soothing rocks back and forth. as they comfort you, their own voice cracks from their constricted throat, “i’ve got you, y/n. just cry.” only then do you hazily register it as seonghwa’s voice. seonghwa, who was just as close to seolhee as you, understands the pain that is breaking you apart and is here to hold you through it.

you cannot rid the image of seolhee’s last smile out of your head–her excitement to go home for christmas, her cheery confession of how much she loves you. you fist the front of seonghwa’s scrubs and weep, “it hurts, seonghwa. why does it hurt so much?”

he rests his cheek against the top of your head, his own tears falling freely and dripping down to join yours on the snowy floor in bittersweet harmony. as doctors and nurses, grieving for patients is a luxury that cannot be afforded for every single life that is lost. grief is a weakness in the medical field because you cannot look back–you can only look forward and do your best to make sure there are no more lives that are lost.

but you forget that grief is not a weakness as a person, and you are human first and foremost before you are doctors and nurses. sometimes, it becomes a necessity to grieve before you can keep moving forward.

“i know, love,” seonghwa brushes his hand over your hair as he tries to keep his voice from breaking. “grief is the price you pay for loving somebody.”

because unfortunately, life comes with transactions and between two people, there will always be one person who must pay the price of love.

you close your eyes, gritting your teeth when your face crumples again and a fresh bout of sobs escapes through your lips. seonghwa presses his lips to the crown of your forehead, resting them there while you shake in his arms. eventually, he murmurs into your hair, “you want to know what seolhee’s mother told me once?”

your answer is in the form of more anguished cries but you hang onto every word that comes out of your boyfriend’s mouth like they are your lifeline. the corners of seonghwa’s lips tug upwards with mournful nostalgia as he tells you, “she’s always wanted to thank you for loving her daughter as if she is your own…so it’s okay–it’s normal for you to hurt so badly, because you love seolhee and the more you love somebody, the greater the price you pay.”

seonghwa’s unconscious choice of phrasing–that you love her, not that you loved her–simultaneously cradles and crushes your heart. it is an exact reflection of the last conversation you had with seolhee. snow may melt, but it does not change the fact that snowflakes flutter down from the sky. seolhee may be gone, but it does not change the fact that you love and remember her.

“seolhee’s last wish was fulfilled,” seonghwa softly murmurs, pulling out his phone from his pocket to turn the screen on. the light hurts your sensitive eyes when you try to make out the display through your fuzzy vision and you can just barely make out what looks to be the time on his lockscreen. he explains, “it’s four thirty am…that makes it christmas already. not only was she able to spend some time at home with her family again, but now she gets to spend the rest of her christmas back where she came from–”

your boyfriend pulls away slightly and tilts your head up tenderly with his fingers. you see him properly for the first time tonight. his eyes are just as red and swollen as yours are, cheeks wet and glistening despite the small smile he gives you when you finally look at him. he finishes, “–the sky, with all the other beautiful angels just like her.”

you slowly follow his gaze upwards. once more, a wounded cry breaks free at the sight that greets you. it no longer snows, the thin blanket of snowflakes covering the ground and the rooftop the only traces left and already steadily melting away. but that is not what makes you sob even harder.

the skies above you are filled with an endless expanse of stars, shining and gleaming no matter where your eyes look. there are thousands upon millions of stars, too many to begin counting even if you were to stand on the rooftop for numerous lifetimes.

the heavens cried in the form of the first snow when seolhee was born, for they lost her to the world. but tonight they rejoice, for their precious angel has returned soaring through the starry skies. and even amidst her joy of freedom–from the shackles of pain and suffering–seolhee remembers to tell you that she loves you more than you can fathom.

more than you can count the stars in the sky.

you jolt awake confused and disorientated for the second day in a row. only, this time it is not a jerk-induced reaction to your ringtone but a sudden thrust into consciousness by the feeling that you have overslept.

shit, what time is it? i have work.

the rising flood of panic in your chest is immediately quelled when you spot a scrap of paper on your bedside table, handwriting printed neatly in the centre.

hongjoong took sick leave for you today. don’t worry about work and go back to sleep after you take the painkillers.

that is when you register the fucking terrible headache you are sporting and you let out an involuntary groan as you press a hand to your temple. your other hand grabs the two tablets and you down them with the glass of water beside the paper.

groggily, you pat the mattress around you in search of your phone to look at the time. apart from the dim glow of your bedside lamp, the curtains to your left are drawn shut in your room, making it impossible to discern whether it is the morning, afternoon or night. the numbers blink back at you when you turn the screen on and you find that you have slept past lunchtime. confusion swirls inside of you with an unusual mix of something else. taking the day off work is not the only thing that is off.

wait.

your head jerks to the left, then to the right, then down at your bedding–the blue-grey colour familiar and soft to the touch. you are in your room–your room room, back at your place with the boys. you turn your phone on again and check the date. it is christmas.

and then it hits you.

it is still christmas. it is still the same day as what now feels like a vivid fever dream. you can only recall bits and pieces, so hazy and yet so evocative at the same time. it is like trying to make sense of an optical illusion; it disappears when you think about it too directly, but the moment you take your mind off it even slightly, it is right there in your peripheral vision, begging for your attention.

you remember being woken up by seonghwa’s phone call and your desperation to get to the hospital. you remember mingi driving you there and then sprinting towards the ED. you remember breaking down on the hospital’s rooftop after finding out that seolhee had…

your fingers pinch the inside of your left wrist to stop yourself from finishing the memory. with an unsteady exhale, all tension is lost from your body and you fall back to slump against the headboard. grief starts to take over you once more, vice tightening its grasp around your heart but simultaneously leaving a cavernous hollowness and numbness in your chest.

that is how wooyoung finds you an hour later, still staring blankly at the bedroom wall across from you and swimming in muddy water. he had only tentatively knocked twice on your door before entering, half-expecting you to still be asleep and making a soft noise of surprise when he finds that you are not. in the back of your mind, you vaguely feel a twinge of guilt at not having the energy to do something as simple as greet him as he sits carefully on the edge of your bed.

but wooyoung is a persistent soul and an even more persistent lover. he has learnt from experience that sometimes, asking anything but what he truly wants to ask is what you actually need. wooyoung catches himself from gazing sadly at you, putting on a small smile instead as he lays a hand over your thigh. his touch is warm through the blanket.

“should i bring in some food for you? there’s dumpling soup,” he tells you. “or do you want to go to the living room? we can put on a movie.”

it is hard to find the words to answer him–hard to even hum or nod or shake your head in response. your fingers twitch slightly in the direction of wooyoung’s hand still on your thigh and he immediately moves it to place over yours. the rhythmic touch of his thumb brushing back and forth over your skin is soothing.

“we don’t have to talk. we can just sit for a bit,” he offers.

the room settles into silence for a while as he gives you time to decide. finally, you ask, voice quiet, “who’s home?”

wooyoung wriggles a little closer with restrained excitement at your response. “all of us are.” when you blink at him in reaction, he understands your question immediately because none of you can remember the last time the nine of you had a day off together, much less on a christmas. he explains, “we all took whatever personal leave we could.”

“the hospital let?” you frown slightly, the tone of disbelief the most amount of emotion you have shown so far.

wooyoung mirrors the minute increase in animation with cheek in his vague shrug, “they can’t afford to fire any of us. plus…i think we’ve all realised that some things are more important than work.”

you are more important than work; ‘us’ is more important than work.

something tugs at your heartstrings and you sit up a little straighter. looking at wooyoung, a slight spark of resolve lighting up in your eyes, you slowly suggest, “can we…have a talk?”

he is taken aback with pleasant surprise as he answers, “of course we can. we don’t have to do it today though.”

“no,” you shake your head, “let’s talk now.”

while we still can. before it becomes too late. plus, who knows when the next time all of you are together like this will be.

so you follow wooyoung out of your bed and then out of your room, his fingers intertwined between yours as he walks the both of you into the living room. it is a lie to say that it is not awkward seeing everybody’s heads turn towards you in simultaneity and your knee-jerk response is to dismiss their poorly-concealed concern with a wave of your hand and an, ‘i’m fine’. but you think you have had enough of that–enough of pretending and enough of pushing them away.

yunho opens his arms from his seat on the couch, eyes hopeful. you push away any second thoughts and bury yourself against him. your boyfriend pulls you right into his chest whilst tucking your legs off the ground over his thighs and he murmurs against your temple, “you sleep okay?”

you nod into his neck as jongho asks, “did you take the painkillers?” and seonghwa questions, “do you want dumplings?”

a small puff of amusement comes out of your chest because just mere weeks ago, perhaps even one, questions like these would have fanned an inexplicable inferno inside of you. now, it all seems so long ago, but it does not change the fact that you are apologetic about it–apologetic about a lot of things.

“i took them, thanks jongho. and maybe later, hwa,” you respond softly. “come sit?”

the boys heed to your words immediately and the oldest of your boyfriends crosses the living room in three large strides to take your other side on the couch, the rest of them settling on the adjacent couch or on the floor. the shared warmth from being sandwiched between seonghwa and yunho immediately envelops you in comfort and safety and your body relaxes into the shape of theirs.

you do not know where to start, much less what you even want to say to the boys now that you are here with them. there are masses of things to unpack and each one seems like such a colossal mountain to climb. some you do not know the route up, others you know the route up but not the way back down, and the rest you cannot even see the mountaintop. so you choose to start easy: at the very bottom of the trail where it is safe.

“i miss having clean scrubs,” you blurt out, “and i miss the lunches that wooyoung cooks and the coffees that jongho makes.”

from beside you, yunho’s body rumbles with low laughter at your unexpected conversation starter and he glances down at you fondly. his voice is soothing in your ear as he says, “we miss seeing your night light greet us whenever we come home.”

“and the changes you make on our whiteboard calendar,” yeosang adds.

“we struggled to remember our shifts without you keeping track of them,” jongho divulges sheepishly.

yeosang tattles with a giggle, “he was late for work for the first time.”

“yeah,” you smile, “i heard.”

jongho huffs out before quipping, “at least i still knew how to squeeze my own toothpaste and find my own car keys.”

both hongjoong and wooyoung curse indignantly at the uncalled-for betrayal of the youngest as he pointedly ignores them and continues, “some of us have realised we have non-existent survival skills without you.”

“oh, speak for yourself,” san nudges him endearingly.

but you are more than grateful for the lightening of the mood because you do not think you would have the courage to otherwise abruptly apologise, “i’m sorry that i took so many things for granted.”

“what? no,” san counters, the first of many others to parrot the same thing. “we’re sorry about that too. when you moved out, we also realised just how many things you do for us without our appreciation. you raised a valid concern because our relationship with one another is something we have all become too complacent about.”

yunho squeezes you a little tighter with the arm he has around your shoulders. he muses, “it’s easy for a long-term relationship to become less ‘exciting’, but we forget that part of the reason is because we simply become so attuned to one another’s likes and dislikes, preferences and habits that it becomes our own second nature to do those things naturally. it isn’t that we love each other less, it’s just that we become so used to the way we love and are loved that we stop noticing it.”

your mind drifts slightly to a sweet, little girl with a bright smile, telling you that relationships are not always about the grand gestures, but rather the small things. she always did know better than you.

“in saying that though,” hongjoong brings up, “as important as it is for us to start appreciating all of those things again, i think it’s just as important for us to put in the conscious effort to go out of our way to have quality time and conversations with one another, like going on dates.”

wooyoung cackles, “that’s a bit rich coming from you, mister sorry-i-forgot-about-our-date,” and a snort comes out of you despite yourself.

the older flips him off. on both hands.

now occupied with his handsy insults, seonghwa takes over the conversation instead, “no relationship is perfect. they all need mutual effort to maintain and it definitely won’t be easy, especially since so many of you are nearing the end of your residency. it’ll be a busy few months preparing for the board exam and there’ll be plenty of hurdles to jump over in the future too, but things will work out because we’ve got each other’s backs now.”

the boys all smile affectionately at one another and at you. seonghwa presses a loving kiss against your temple and you bathe in the brief feeling of everything being okay before you remind yourself that it still is not. “on that note,” you start cautiously, “i owe you all another apology.”

you catch the gaze of mingi’s soft expression from opposite you, who gives you a small nod and a minute smile of encouragement. with an exhale, you admit, “the way i handled everything–not just moving out but everything leading up to that–i know you were all trying to look out for me and i shouldn’t have pushed you all away the way that i did. i just–everything was so overwhelming and confusing and tiring, and i wanted to work things out by myself because all of you had enough things to deal with, and i…”

once more, you are unsure of what you want to communicate. you are sick of not knowing and not understanding and your eyes start to water with frustration.

at your sentence trailing off, mingi finally speaks up, “life isn’t meant to be smooth sailing, y/n. yes, they’re your feelings, but that doesn’t mean that they have to make sense to you.”

and it is as if that is the validation you have needed all along, because the vice around your chest finally loosens its grip. you can breathe again and the rush of oxygen into your lungs without a heavy weight crushing you inwards is liberating.

“as healthcare workers, we become accustomed to seeing other people in the most painful moments of their lives.” mingi gently shrugs his shoulders, “we become accustomed to invalidating our own feelings. it doesn’t matter if we’re having a bad day; there will always be somebody else having the worst day of their lives. but we forget that pain is not relative–just because somebody else is hurting ‘more’, it doesn’t make our own hurt hurt less.

“and yeah, work is always going to be shitty and we’re always going to run ourselves ragged chasing after time, and then coming home from work to eight of us is going to be tiring too,” he chuckles softly. “but y/n…i think part of the reason why it’s been so hard for you is because you never let yourself have time for yourself. you never let yourself be tired or be hurt.”

you swallow your objections–the voice inside of you that says you shouldn’t and the voice that says you can’t–because you know mingi is right. you just needed to hear that you should and that you can.

he continues, “we all need quiet time away from other people and that’s okay. we spend all day showing our patients, their families and our colleagues the best side of ourselves, which means that a lot of the times we only have the…” mingi scratches the side of his head as he finds a way to express his thoughts without saying ‘the ugly side’, because that is far from what it is. “we only have the side of ourselves that we do not like as much because it isn’t what we view as ‘perfect’. but it simply holds our realest emotions–fatigue, stress, worry, frustration, impatience. it is not just you who has that side–we all do and we understand better than anybody how guilty it can feel when that is the only side that is left by the time we get home.”

there is a brief pause in the conversation as he lets the words sink in. around you, heads and gazes lower alike to the floor because that guilt is something that resounds with everybody in the room. you continue to look at mingi, though, unable to avert your eyes as his solace finally stirs the cathartic release of tears flowing freely from your heart to your eyes.

“like i said, it’s okay to take time away from us; in your room or out with your friends or somewhere else. but at the same time, i want you to know that it doesn’t make us love you any less if you don’t come home happy. you don’t love us any less when we’re unable to leave our baggage at work, because you have the same struggles. in fact, you are often the first to offer to share the load.

“as doctors and nurses, we have signed up for a lifetime of baggage and sacrifice. and that is exactly why it is that much more important for you to know that home is your safe space.” mingi gazes at you with all the earnesty in his heart. “we are your safe space where you can share your baggage. we might not be able to take it off you, but we sure as hell can curse or laugh or cry together over it, and sometimes, just that is already enough to help you keep carrying its weight over whatever mountain you are facing.”

from beside mingi, san watches you with a clenching heart. in an ideal world, san would rather you have no baggage at all and he be your only mountain–the one who shields you from the harsh elements of the world and is your unwavering presence from sunrise till sunset and yet again till the following sunrise. he sees the way you finally lower your head and let months of repressed tears fall in front of them, soft sobs in yunho and seonghwa’s comforting arms and the rest of your boyfriends within reach.

but san knows your tears are no longer ones of pain or fatigue, so for now, that is enough. he scooches closer across the floor until he is at your feet, peering up at you from between the strands of hair that have fallen in front of your face. tenderly, he asks, “y/n, will you move back in with us?”

a warm hand brushes over your cheeks. it could be san, it could be seonghwa, it could be yunho or it could be any of them. but it does not really matter. what matters is this: in order to love others, you must first love yourself–

“yeah,” you slowly nod, “i will.”

–and part of loving yourself is letting others love you. there is no place like home, much less a place like where your boys are. snow melts, but it will always fall again. without fail.

as your boyfriends all shuffle closer and envelop you in the middle of an embrace that is long overdue, loving warmth dizzying to the touch, outside the windows the first snowflake of many others flutters its graceful path down from the sky. soon, snow will cover the streets as far as the eye can see.

nobody talks about how ironic it feels to work in the hospital during the holidays, particularly christmas.

in any other establishment that is open, be it a restaurant, cafe, retail store or convenience mart, employees are greeted kindly with festive cheer–warm wishes and sincere smiles from one stranger to another. but nobody walks into the hospital on christmas with laughter and gratitude for the assistance of the doctors and nurses, because nobody wants to be at the hospital.

nobody plans to spend the day there, either.

but that is exactly why it is ironic. the hospital is a symbol of misery, the white colour of its interior the embodiment of sterility and detachment all year round–all except for a few days. on christmas eve, christmas itself and perhaps even the rest of the week leading up to the new year, the corridors are adorned with never-ending lengths of glittering tinsel, the wards are filled with the low hum of christmas carols on a looping playlist, and the staff all wear silly scrubs with rudolph faces and dancing santas on them.

there is an underlying hum of excitement and festive cheer that overrides the usual despondency of the hospital as everybody pretends it does not exist, even if just for a few days. the electric buzz thrums not just in the air at work but outside of work too, filling households with a hustle and bustle of liveliness–yours included.

“hongjoong!” you yell as you knock on the bathroom door, “we’re leaving in a few minutes!”

you press yourself flat against the door as yunho races past you with several pairs of socks in both hands despite the ones he already has on his own feet. he skids to a wobbly stop and shuffles backwards two steps to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“gross,” you laugh, pretending to wipe it off your face, but yunho is already skedaddling off again back towards his destination of the living room, on a mission to deliver the socks to your other boyfriends.

ever since you, yunho, yeosang and san all passed the board exam and became fully licensed doctors like hongjoong, your shifts have been significantly more consistent. it is much easier for you and your boyfriends to drive to work together in fewer cars, making the mornings before work significantly more chaotic. your wake-up times and subsequent bathroom usage is no longer as staggered as it was with different start times and several more night shifts, but it is a good chaotic–a bright and lively chaotic.

hongjoong yells back at you, “my hair gel isn’t hair gel-ing!” and you nearly topple onto him when he suddenly pulls the bathroom door open.

his hair is swept up neatly away from his forehead and there is not a single strand that is out of place. you chuckle and tell him as such, “your hair looks perfect, joong,” but you know his nerves are due to something completely different. you cup his jaw and gently pull him towards you for a kiss before you encourage, “you’ll do great today. you already presented at the korean neurological association earlier this year–what’s a seminar to the hospital staff in comparison?”

your boyfriend groans, “i know these people though. they’re all my colleagues.”

“and all of these colleagues will be wearing their ugly christmas sweaters or have stupid antler headbands with glowing lights on top of their heads. trust me, you’ll do amazing,” you reassure, pressing another chaste kiss against his lips to quieten his worries.

“y/n! hongjoong!” yeosang hollers.

“coming!”

you pull hongjoong out of the bathroom with you hand in hand, only letting go when you both fumble to catch the socks that yunho chucks through the air in your directions. within the next few minutes, there are playful elbows, harmless shoves and childish curses as you all cram yourselves in the corridor to put on your shoes and walk out the door to the car.

as you squish into the backseat with hongjoong and yeosang, yunho in the driver’s seat and san beside him, the latter wonders what you should all do after work. by some christmas miracle, neither you nor any of your boys have been scheduled for a night shift today, which means that if there are no hiccups at work, the nine of you will be able to spend christmas together once more.

you like to think that your guardian angel is still looking out for you, even an entire year later.

“should we try to make a reservation for a nice restaurant?” san suggests. “or should we stay up and watch a movie together?”

hongjoong proposes, “i have a friend who works at a pretty decent french restaurant if we want to go there.”

voicing your opinion without prefacing it with an apology is still something you are working on, but you have gotten much better at communicating over the year. you pipe up, “i’d prefer to stay at home tonight, but the movie sounds like a good idea. maybe we can go to your friend’s restaurant for new year’s?”

“yeah, i don’t really fancy going out tonight either,” yeosang agrees. “but new year’s, definitely.”

san nods enthusiastically. “i’ll let the rest of the boys know,” he says, then sends a question for movie recommendations for tonight into the group chat.

it is not long after that yunho pulls into the hospital’s car park where you all pile out and wait obediently by a nearby pillar as he backs the car into a particularly tight space. when he has turned the ignition off and carefully squeezed himself out without slamming the door into the car beside him, it is his turn to wait obediently as you all thank him with a quick hug or peck on the cheek.

you grasp the collar of his coat and pull him down to give him a teasing kiss on the forehead but he tiptoes instead to make it harder for you. in retaliation, you quickly jab his side and he immediately keels over enough for you to plant a triumphant kiss on his face. the boys chuckle around you, yunho pretending to nurse his wounds as he stumbles after all of you into the elevator.

the doors close and he straightens to offhandedly comment, “you guys thank me for driving every single time.”

yeosang shoots back with the same nonchalance, “because we’re thankful every single time.”

yunho claps his hand over his mouth and looks at the younger out of the corner of his eyes, but it is clear that he is hiding a bashful grin behind his fingers. the expression is not lost to any of you, your displays of gratefulness always done with the intention of making one another feel appreciated for even the smallest of things, because you have all learnt that a simple thank you goes a long way.

“see you all after work,” hongjoong says, stepping out into the lobby with the rest of you following him to let those waiting for the elevator get in.

just as you all turn to walk off your separate ways to your respective departments, he calls out as an afterthought, uncaring of the people around, “merry christmas, babes!”

you reciprocate his words with a laugh, a tinkling, cheery sound that makes san reach out for your hand and intertwine your fingers together to pull you in for a quick kiss of endearment. “choi san!” you giggle, slapping him lightly and looking around to see if anybody noticed.

if there is one thing that has changed the most over the year, it is how daring your boyfriends have become with public displays of affection. but, just as wooyoung has made it a point to remind you all of his newfound motto, what is the hospital going to do? fire all nine of you?

highly unlikely.

“alright, babes,” san tugs you along teasingly, “let’s get to work.” pinkies intertwined and swinging gently between your bodies, the two of you walk towards the same department, letting go only at the last moment to lead your morning rounds.

there is a running joke that it does not matter if you end up having enough children to make an entire soccer team because almost half of you are now fully licensed to work with children; you and san as doctors, seonghwa and wooyoung as nurses. there is no need to worry about ageing either, not when the other five are each in charge of their own specialties too.

you and your boys do not work at a hospital–you and your boys are the hospital. and it certainly feels that way when there is almost always at least one of them watching over you, regardless of wherever you are in the paediatric department.

it is later that day as you are attending to a three-week-old baby in the NICU when a second-year resident walks up to you, addressing you carelessly. immediately, you feel wooyoung’s ears perk up and watchful eyes zero in on the offending resident as the both of you recognise the younger.

“good to see you’ve stuck with paediatrics, doctor lim,” you greet neutrally. it is anything but good to see him still in the medical program at all, but you digress.

your past intern ignores your comment, confidence through the roof not only because he has somebody backing him up but because he is now a second-year resident. he shortly says, “doctor nam wants you taking over the shift for the NICU attending tonight.”

the department head has more or so left you alone for the last few months, but you guess he suddenly felt a christmas urge to scratch an itch that never existed in the first place. your expression remains impartial as you ask, “for what reason?”

dr. lim is unable to hide the brief flash of surprise across his face, not having expected you to put up a fight. he quickly scowls, “do as you’re told.”

you will not, in fact, ‘do as you’re told’, not when dr. nam is blatantly abusing his power to assign you a shift without a proper justification or notice–and through dr. lim at that too. you sure hope wooyoung can hear you as you respond sarcastically, “tell doctor nam to notify me of this change in schedule through an email from the chief resident. i’m sure he’s familiar with the proper procedure that i’m referring to.”

“i’ll make sure to tell him,” dr. lim scorns and you snort as he retreats.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to you,” you mutter at his back. you hope he slips on ice on his way home tonight.

you jump in surprise when you turn around and find wooyoung right there, an absolutely shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. he cackles as he quotes, “‘merry fuckin’ christmas to you.’ the boys are going to love it when i tell them what just happened.”

the shove you give him only serves to make him laugh even harder but you cannot deny that a sense of pride rushes through your body. force doctor nam to leave written evidence that can be used against him, jongho had advised you to do one day, and you feel a surge in confidence that this might actually work.

wooyoung certainly thinks that it will, gathering himself enough to give you an attractive smirk as he leans closer to whisper into your ear, “that’s our girl.” pleasant shivers run down your spine at his deep voice and it leaves you on cloud nine long after he stalks off absolutely preening at the response he has elicited from you.

you do not hear from dr. lim or dr. nam again nor do you receive an email regarding the extra shift tonight, so you begin to safely assume that the request is no more–that is, until the end of your shift when you are in the team workroom finishing off a referral letter.

“doctor y/n,” dr. bang grabs your attention from the table opposite you with a cryptic tone of amusement. “i think you’re wanted.”

you blink at the slight smugness on her face with confusion until she beckons her head behind you in the direction of the office door. you glance back, suddenly expecting dr. nam to be standing there fuming and ready to give you a harsh reprimand for your snarky response. except it is not him.

of all people, you did not expect it to be mingi, pressed up against the little window that looks through the door into the room. but then you realise he is not the only one peeping in–there is another pair of mischievous eyes in the corner of the window that you recognise as yunho’s, and another face pressed up against the large window along the wall, and oh–

they are all gathered around the workroom peering in with varying expressions of cheekiness as they enthusiastically wave at you. it is hard to tell whether you are the monkey in the zoo or if they are the monkeys staring out through their enclosure. you guffaw, half in embarrassment and half in exasperated fondness, then scramble to save your work and log off for the night before your boyfriends garner even more attention than they already have.

with unrestrained eagerness, your boys drag you off after exchanging rushed but warm wishes of  “merry christmas”s with your and san’s colleagues. seonghwa pivots around from where he has been walking at the front of the group, “should we walk home today?”

“in the snow?”

he nods excitedly, so obviously the youngest in his family despite being the oldest in your relationship. “we can finally experience a hallmark christmas.”

“what about our cars?” yunho asks, although he is not at all opposed to the idea.

seonghwa suggests, “how about you and i drive the cars home and then we’ll start walking back here. we can meet up along the way and walk the rest home together.”

the two of them share a look for a few seconds before they immediately take off in unison in the direction of the lifts to the car park, yunho hollering over his shoulder, “walk slowly!” within seconds, they disappear from sight around a corner and the rest of you blink at the fast exchange that has just occurred.

“fuck it, we ball,” wooyoung grins, earning himself a scandalised look from hongjoong as a reminder he is still in the hospital. “come on, gramps,” he snickers, then loops an arm around the older’s shoulders and starts to drag him towards the main entrance, the rest of you falling into step beside them as he devises, “let’s think about how we can attack the two with snowballs once they get back.”

only, he really should have known who he was going to be up against.

you and your boyfriends are about halfway home, cutting through a small field of what is now covered in a decent layer of fresh snow, when a snowball suddenly whizzes past your face and explodes against the side of wooyoung’s head in a detonation of white crumbs. he whirls around with a shriek absolutely ready to risk it all in the name of your dared treachery, only to see yeosang getting pummelled in a similar fashion and then jongho following victim immediately after.

“snowball fight!” comes seonghwa and yunho’s combined battlecries from thin air before a hail of pre-made snowballs is unleashed upon your group.

hongjoong’s screams fill the air until he is abruptly cut off by a mouthful of snow and wooyoung runs around like a headless chicken as three snowballs hit their mark in quick succession. you laugh loudly, running to hide behind jongho who has escaped several feet away from the danger zone. san, too, starts to retreat a distance, but only to shovel snowballs together without the risk of anybody stepping on them.

a shower of residual snow sprinkles over you as yunho switches targets and pitches his snowballs in your direction. however, you rapidly realise his eyes are only fixated on jongho. your shield now a danger hazard, you make a split decision and run as fast as you can through the snow towards your tallest boyfriend. call yourself fickle or whatever, you are simply a survivor.

“traitor!” mingi yells out and points a finger at you. “y/n has switched sides!”

the boys echo with a roar, “traitor!” and you squeal with adrenalised glee as you leap the final stride towards yunho, who stretches out a hand to pull you behind him. seonghwa immediately rushes to defend you both, throwing snowball after snowball with scary precision and strength. you can only hear the solid thump of snow hitting against thick clothing and the splutters of indignation as a result of the eldest’s lobs because your eyes are closed from how hard you are now laughing.

with equally-as-scary unity, hongjoong and your five youngest boyfriends charge in simultaneity towards you and yunho. neither of you have time to brace yourselves before you are tackled into the snow, limbs tangling together as seonghwa also jumps on top.

you cannot tell who is who, but you can tell exactly whose laugh is whose–each one so distinct and playing out as different melodies in your ears. your own laughter is radiant and effervescent and the sound makes every one of your boys break out into a joyous smile. yunho starts to push the others’ weights off of himself and you, and they begin to roll off the pile into the snow around you.

one by one they join you on their backs, your bodies leaving the memory of your merriness deep in the white softness of the ground. you are all a little breathless; from the physical exertion and adrenaline of the childlike fight, from the windedness of being tackled into a dog-pile, from the chill slowly seeping in through your clothes from the snow, from the soul-stirring view of the night sky above.

you all lay there in silence, hush broken only by the scattered puffs of visible air as you catch your breaths under the whispering snowfall.

it is amazing how much can change in one year. you still fatigue from juggling your time, down to the last second. you still burn out from the sacrifices you make as a doctor, no matter your years of experience. you still grieve over the loss of seolhee, particularly on this day. but you are finally at peace with yourself, with your life and with the love you deserve, and you realise that you are also breathless from the overwhelming feeling of how lucky, content and happy you are.

in a burst of gratification and fulfillment, you are unable to stay silent. you confess, heartfelt words that you keep close to your soul every day, “i love you more than there are snowflakes falling right now.”

your boys turn to look at you, gazes softening impossibly at the tranquil smile that adorns your face. seonghwa feels a heat gathering behind his eyes, knowing better than any of them the weight behind your confession.

he prompts, softly, tenderly, “and if it stops snowing?”

you smile wider, because you have been taught the answer by a forever-seven-year-old-girl who received all the bad things in the world yet chose to only see the good; who taught you not to focus on what has melted away, but rather what you remember; who taught you that the purest reflection of love is something that is hard to see but will always be looking over you.

and so if it stops snowing?

“then count the stars in the sky.”

[rosalind-hawkins]

What Do I Ship?

Don't mistake this for a tolerance or tier list. I will read and write ships that aren't even on this list, or write ships from the secondary list sometimes, this is just to give you a general sense of the stuff I mainly support/think about and in what capacity. Might be updated periodically. Ranting and comments in the tags.

Re: the Mokuba ships, I only ship them in non-problematic ways, where either the Kaiba brothers are ageswapped, making Mokuba the same age as the rest of the main cast, or where they only get together far post-canon where Mokuba's an adult. We cool? Cool.

Primary Ships

(things I can/want to create content for; this does not include every ship I've ever written, just the ones I care about/are currently engaged in writing/plan to write multiple fics for, or ships I just stan in a way that I know it'll never end)

Euroshipping (Kaiba x Ryou)

Puppyshipping (Joey x Kaiba)

Mumbleshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Duke)

Teaseshipping (Joey x Ryou x Kaiba)

Snareshipping (Joey x Duke)

Trustshipping (Kaiba x Ishizu)

Polarshipping (Joey x Mai)

Blueshipping (Kisara x Kaiba)

Mizushipping (Kisara x Priest Seto)

Minorshipping (Ryou x Duke)

Mastershipping (Duke x Kaiba)

Puffshipping (Joey x Ryou)

Sweetshipping (Ryou x Mokuba)

Wintershipping (Mokuba x Amane)

Rollshipping (Duke x Ryou x Joey)

Secondary Ships

(things I will read but I don't write {much, or anymore, in some cases} for one reason or other)

Wishshipping (Joey x Yugi)

Powershipping (Kaiba x Marik)

Graceshipping (Ishizu x Ryou)

Doubtshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Marik)

Petshipping (Duke x Kaiba x Joey)

Axisshipping (Kaiba x Siegfried)

Angstshipping (Ryou x Marik)

Irateshipping (Marik x Joey)

Buddyshipping (Joey x Tristan)

Heartshipping (Yugi x Ryou)

Fragileshipping (Yami Yugi x Ryou)

Changeshipping (Duke x Marik)

Logicshipping (Priest Seto x Priestess Isis)

Gemshipping (Ryou x Thief King Bakura)

Thiefshipping (Yami Bakura x Marik)

Candleshipping (Kaiba x Ryou x Yami Bakura)

Antagoshipping (Kaiba x Yami Bakura)

Corruptshipping (Priest Seto x Thief King Bakura)

Stoicshipping (Kaiba x Priest Seto)

Shimmershipping (Duke x Mokuba)

Guardshipping (Kaiba x Roland)

Senetshipping (Ishizu x Duke)

Angelicshipping (Ryou x Rafael)

Mercuryshipping (Kisara x Kaiba x Ishizu)

Entrepreneurshipping (Duke x Kaiba x Siegfried)

Unnamed (Aigami x Marik x Yami Bakura)

Scholarshipping (Kaiba x Ishizu x Ryou)

There's also plenty of random unnamed poly ships that I want to play around with in one-shots, usually a combo of my top six fave characters.

[primofate]

Where he would propose and how it happens [Genshin Men]

Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread (this will be my fixed disclaimer as a writing parent, haha)

Notes: All of these were captured by me in game. I just felt like exploring the beauty of Genshin more and this was a great way to do it while mixing it with writing. Note that you may not agree with some of these, and that's totally fine, these are my thoughts and ideas :)

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Aether

Aether is a simple man, and though he plans his proposal he doesn't really think much of the place, somewhere where the two of you frequent, maybe on your daily/nightly walks.

It happens just as the two of you are about to go back, this is where you sit and relax for a while as the sun sets. You can see Mondstadt in the distance and the beautiful orange sky.

As you're about to turn and walk away he catches your wrist and pulls you back into the middle of those tiny pink flowers.

Now that he thinks about it... This is where his journey really started: Starfell Lake, and how perfect would it be to start a new one with you?

"Y/N, I...want you to stay. I mean, forever," the words are simple but it gets across.

Albedo

Also a simple person. You might think Dragonspine when you think Albedo and I agree that all that snow could be romantic but I went for Starsnatch Cliff. It's a good place to see Mondstadt, and he takes you there after the sun has set.

He would probably comment about how you can see a lot of things from here, and how the world is such a great, vast place, full of things to explore and discover.

"...and yet I find myself thinking... how all that I want is right next to me. Would you do me the honour of being my lifelong partner?"

Alhaitham

Something's up and you can tell, this isn't your usual route home, and honestly you've never stopped in these parts of the city. You've passed by it sure, but never with Alhaitham.

You ask him where the two of you are going and if there are some extra errands to run before going home. He only shakes his head and ends up leading you over right next to the glowing Padisarah flower.

He HAS planned this, so why does it feel like he hasn't? Even has a ring in his pocket (granted it is the SIMPLEST ring one could ever imagine, that's just how he is)

Ends up just taking the ring box out and showing it to you while trying to speak "I..." doesn't speak much of his emotions so has a hard time, but feels pathetic afterwards so meets your eyes straight on. "...A promise... That what I feel for you... is everlasting,"

Ayato

That small shrine/garden/sitting area just outside the Kamisato Estate. It's just a bit more private than the sitting area INSIDE the estate.

You wouldn't think anything of it because you do hang out here from time to time.

Ayato might seem like a grand person but in the end he doesn't want to stray far from home.

"I'm...sorry if this is a bit abrupt," fishes out a ring box from his long sleeve. "I've been meaning to ask for a while now, will you share your life with me as my beloved?"

Baizhu

That nice little hill just outside of Bubu Pharmacy, where you can find Glaze Lilies strewn about and the night view is quite nice. It's a place the two of you go just to get some quick, fresh air if Baizhu isn't feeling too well. Changsheng is left at the pharmacy from time to time, this is one of those times.

"I've been thinking...how precious time really is," he looks at you with tenderness in his eyes, yet a lot of uncertainty shrouded in them. "I don't know where this road will lead me... but you alone are my lifelong remedy. Would you accompany me on this journey?"

Cyno

Cyno often comes here to watch the sun set, since he was a student, but he does think it's more beautiful at night.

The two of you are leaning over the railway and looking at Sumeru, just talking about the day.

Cyno doesn't really plan it. He seems to be the type to but when he feels that it's the right time, specially when he feels it strongly, there's no better time than the present.

It's while he's watching you talk enthusiastically about your day, that there's a sudden twist in his heart. This is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

"Y/N--" he cuts you off successfully, wonder in his eyes. "What do you say to being intertwined for life?"

Dainsleif

Anywhere where there is an unobstructed view of the stars and night sky, but particularly at the hill of Cape Oath, where the two of you lie side by side on the grass, staring up at the stars.

At this point the two of you have been travelling together for a while, looking for answers to his curse. To Dainsleif, the two of you are pretty much married already, but just to confirm it, every night, he asks "Is this the path that you choose? To bind your fate with mine?"

And every night, like a promise, you say yes.

Diluc

Diluc doesn't stray far from home too. He prefers to stay close to his memories, no matter how painful they are.

He HAS planned it, but ends up proposing at an unexpected time.

It's when he's on the road home and you're waiting right by the lamp post for him. It's late. Later than usual and here you are worrying about how it's a cold night and that he should've worn more.

It's at that moment that it hits him, "Y/N, the thought of being separated...it's not something I'd want to imagine" he grips your hand tightly. "...For the rest of my life, it's you that I want to spend it with,"

Doesn't even have the planned ring on him and apologizes about the word vomit he just did. He was just overcome with emotions right then and there.

Gorou

That small spot next to Bourou Village. Watatsumi Island is beautiful in general, but Gorou knows the good spots.

Is nervous but tries not to show it, but you can totally tell because he's way too stiff.

"Wh-What do you mean? Nothing's wrong!" When asked if everything's fine.

When standing at this spot though, his nervousness seems to go away and for a minute everything is normal until... "H-Hey, Y/N, so..." you look at him and he's fumbling with his hands, unable to meet your gaze. "Y-You, and I--We've been...You know--"

Seems to panic. He is SO uncool right now. Closes his eyes and just blurts it out when he realizes this isn't working out "With all my heart, will you marry me?!"

Heizou

Little secret garden just next to Inazuma city. Quiet place yet you can hear a bit of the hustle and bustle in the city.

Heizou is the type to get on one knee and confidently, directly say it.

He's planned it, and gets you right in the middle of the bridge (has probably asked someone to take a photo as well)

"Y/N, beloved," grins "would you unravel the mysteries of life with me?" (thinks it was such a cool line, then hands you the ring in a box)

Itto

Does not think about it nor plans it. Just happens and it happens because he talks about it casually. You can't really tell if he's serious.

He has this conversation with you in Chinjuu Forest, which is a naturally beautiful place, but he's really only there with you to look for onikabuto.

"You know, it'd be really cool if we could keep doing this huh?"

You ask what he means cause you don't really have any idea. You guys have been doing this for ages. Why would it stop now, is what you think.

"I mean, like, you know, forever," he says this while looking under a rock. "Like if we were just onikabuto fightin' partners forever, get it?"

You stall for a moment and wonder if he knows what he's saying, and you ask if he specifically means he just wants you as an onikabuto fighting partner.

"Oh, well, yea it's ONE of the things I like about you, but I like your kisses too. Hehe," scratches the back of his head then looks like he gets a bright idea. "Oh hey that's an idea! How 'bout we just become partners for life, Y/N?"

Yeah, that's how it happens.

Kaeya

Kaeya keeps it simple, but also romantic. He gets that spot above the gate of Mondstadt, where you can see Barbatos' statue from a distance. He knows how much you love the city and he has a special place in his heart for it too.

The two of you pretty much keep each other warm up there, with him behind you and his arms wrapped around your shoulders.

At some point, as the two of you have been talking for ages and when the perfect silence descends, he leans into your ear and asks you to close your eyes. When you do, you feel him slip something onto your ring finger as he says "A thousand words wouldn't be enough to tell you how I really feel...Would you want to create a thousand and more memories together instead?"

Kaveh

Kaveh thinks its only appropriate to propose at his masterpiece, but he thinks you're even more of a masterpiece than anything he's made or encountered before.

Plus the place just holds a lot of meaning and memories for him. It's beautiful too and you've always said that you're proud of him for completing it.

His is a pretty simple proposal. "I've always thought that something's been missing in my life...I think I've figured out that it's you, Y/N. It's only going to be you,"

Kazuha

Inazuma holds a lot of memories for Kazuha, some that are rather unpleasant. But home is still home and perhaps he wanted to create more good memories there.

Truth be told he could have proposed to you anywhere, and I don't think he had really planned it. It was just something heartfelt that he wanted to say as he sees you climbing up the stairs to the shrine. The sunlight hitting you perfectly and the sakura blossoms just cascading around your form. It's perfect, he thought.

You're a few steps further up from him and it makes him look up at you the slightest bit. With a shine in his eyes and a smile on his face he asks, quite sincerely "Have you ever felt like home was right next to you, Y/N?"

and before you could answer he answers his own question first. "I have, despite the storms and catastrophes I've gone through...Y/N, you're the home that my heart forever needs,"

Lyney

Lyney plans it, but doesn't do it in a grand way. He just wants it to be sincere and special. He thinks this place is cute, what with the little sort of gazebo with a small sitting space to just sit and drink tea.

He proposes to you as the two of you sit, you've never been here before and wonder why the two of you are out here, actually.

"Oh, is it strange? Haha, I just wanted a bit of a change," Rubs the back of his neck and starts to feel nervous.

You explain that you're not complaining, just curious, but you like it!

"Oh, that's a relief. I'm...Uh..." sort of fumbles with something in his coat, really funny seeing as he's a magician and is supposed to be nimble with his fingers. Recovers quite fast and manages to do his classic "flower-behind-your-ear" trick and hands it over to you.

He does the same trick, but this time takes a ring out. "Y/N, you complete me in ways words can't express...will you..." gulps before he continues "marry me?"

Neuvillette

Seems very posh but prefers to keep it simple. He thinks its more special rather than making a super grand gesture. He could of easily proposed in front of the Opera Epiclese, but instead did it at one of the small fountains in Marcotte Station.

The two of you are out on a nightly stroll and this is just where the two of you ended up.

Clears his throat before starting, takes your hand in his, but its his eyes that really do the talking. "I may not be the best in expressing my deepest thoughts and emotions...but there is one single thing that I am quite sure about," he stalls here and seems to look into your soul.

"And it's you, my love. As I take my next steps into this life I lead, I would be honoured if I take them with you by my side,"

Scaramouche

Has it on his mind but doesn't particularly plans when or where he's going to say it. Just knows that he wants to.

While out on an assignment the two of you pass by Mawtiyima Forest. You've always thought it looked like such a magical place. You request to sit on a hill for a bit before moving on.

Scaramouche, as usual, grumbles about this but relents and ends up plopping next to you as well. Truth be told he also liked this particular forest and how quiet yet vibrant it was.

No words are exchanged for a while, just the two of you looking at the view. Scaramouche sneaks a glance at you and you have that stupid, wide eyed look on your face, the glowing blue mushrooms reflecting off of your eyes.

He secretly thinks its cute.

He shows that by aggressively saying. "I don't know what you had in mind when you agreed to come with me, but you're stuck with me till the end now, got it?"

Yes. That's pretty much his proposal.

Tartaglia

Is one who would take you on a vacation off on an isolated, quaint and cute island like Petrichor with wonderful views of Fontaine's waterfalls.

Is the type to get down on one knee while this beautiful background is in sight. Totally plans it and is the cliche, basic proposal. Would totally love the townspeople to clap and cheer while this is happening too.

"Y/N, every day spent with you is a treasure, and I want it to continue for the rest of my life, will you marry me?"

Thoma

Has planned it. Makes sure you have a good time beforehand, probably at some festival and it's when the two of you are winding down, sitting on that rock with the lamp on it that he asks.

"Isn't it magical?" he asks as a starter and you ask what exactly he's talking about. "How it's always a good time and how easy life seems when I'm with you,"

You tell him that's because he always takes good care of you and he laughs heartily at that. "I'm glad to hear it," kisses your forehead and smiles down at you.

"Every day, Y/N, I just fall deeper in love with you...Do you think, maybe, we could spend our whole lives together?"

Tighnari

Plans it and is calm about it. Has everything under control. He chose Pardis Dhyai specifically for its aesthetics and specifically the inside in case it rains. (He doesn't want you to get wet as he proposes, but also doesn't want his ears and tail wet as it happens.)

Clears his throat before he starts, doesn't have a ring because he just doesn't seem the type, for him its more of a pact.

"Rather than talk about emotions alone, I'd want to highlight that you've been quite the mind-stimulating study partner," coughs into his hand "but of course, that's only one aspect of you that I like...it's safe to say that I like you enough to propose the pact of marriage...would that be alright with you?"

Venti

Where else would he think was a good place to propose? Of course he would do it here.

No roundabout way of saying it. Confident in all aspects, partly because he's a God but partly because...what has he got to lose, really?

Doesn't really propose marriage cause...he's not a mortal. Forever might be a thing for him but maybe not for you.

"It's been a while since I've felt really at ease with someone, you know?"

You jokingly say he seems to be at ease with everyone, specially after a few bottles of wine. He laughs out loud at that, and remarks back that no one can make him laugh the way you do.

"It's blossomed into something more beautiful than I thought it would be, Y/N. You, me, and us. Can we stay like this till the end?"

Wriothesley

Has planned it and has stuck to his plan. At a little vacation home at the Southeast of the Beryl Region. The two of you spent a few days relaxing there, under the guise that Wriothesley needed a break.

On the last day he surprised you by revealing that he had asked your family and friends, both from faraway regions and nearby towns to come and celebrate with the two of you.

Celebrate what, you ask.

That's when he gets down on one knee and pops the question "You know, I could still be mistaken," he grins at this but is clearly joking. "but I don't think I am and seeing as you've put up with me, Y/N, I think it's safe to say you're my forever person,"

It was days after when you realize how confident he is of this whole thing when you think about the fact that he had pre planned to invite all your friends and family over to "celebrate"

Xiao

Also a person who doesn't stray far from home. The rooftop of Wangshu Inn is actually quite romantic on quiet nights, with a view of Liyue and a gentle breeze.

To Xiao, marriage isn't really about a ring and signing papers. It's a contract and a promise to each other.

On one of the nights, he just thinks it's the right time to say it.

He's more quiet than usual and you ask if something's wrong.

He pauses for a while before answering. "...Apologies, there's a lot on my mind..."

Xiao has become a lot more open with you through the years.

"...I... just wanted to propose the prospect of being...binded together," you ask what that means cause you're not really familiar, you end up asking if that's the same as marriage.

"M-Marriage? Uh... Yes... I suppose that's what mortals call it... but being binded together is more..." stops talking and gets red in the face. "Let's... just leave it at that,"

I like to think that the process of binding is just that your souls are entwined together...So when one of you passes, you still remember them in your next life, type of thing. Cause if you're a mortal, chances are, you'll die earlier than Xiao. Anyhow, that's a completely different story.

Zhongli

Zhongli prefers the quiet and the nature. This is probably part of your occasional stroll when the two of you need some quiet time.

Zhongli, with how long he has lived, also doesn't see marriage as the normal get-down-on-one-knee-with-a-ring-thing, but for him, it's a contract. It's more binding than anything in the world.

"Y/N, we've walked this path countless of times before," he starts as the two of you continue to stroll. You reply saying that you like this particular area where the bamboos are.

"Is that so?" suddenly stops and looks at you. "In that case, would you care to listen to a proposal I have?"

Clears his throat when you give the approval. "As I've said, we've walked this path countless of times before..." he takes your hand in his "but for me, who has lived longer than you, I've traversed this path for even more times," he closes his eyes. "Yet, with you by my side, this path changes. It transforms into something resplendent. As if...every time had been the first time I've walked through it. It is with you, Y/N, that I discover life anew, despite the thousands of years I've lived. Would you consider forming a contract of lifelong partnership with me, and only me?"

End

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[dokyumms]

don't say "i do"

one year ago, your parents made you and wonwoo break up for the sake of an arranged marriage and he left your life with a simple click of the front door. one year later, you're finally getting married, and you're already regretting every decision you've ever made. the worst part? you bump into a familiar face right as you're about to walk down the aisle. ♫ now playing: "try again" - jaehyun, d.ear

pairing: ex!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: fluff, comedy? idfk

word count: 2.1k

cw: arranged/forced marriage, cursing, original male character, mention of drinking/alcohol, running away, kissing

a/n: a request for my lovely moot @jjjjeonww! inspired by a reel she sent me, but then i lost it so i'm just going off of what i remember... if this looks rushed, it's probably bc it is 😭 (i've been working on this for days ok) also changed my formatting AGAIN but ANYWAYS enjoy kings

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

when you made the choice to send your ex an invitation to your wedding, you didn't think he'd even receive it.

it was an irrational decision, one you'd made after a few too many drinks with your friend.

"won't your parents be mad though?" she asked, watching as you finalized the decision, sloppily writing down his address on an envelope on your living room floor. you really did save an extra invitation just for this, but you were too scared to really do anything with it until that moment, too intoxicated to logically think this through.

"eh, they're already making me marry some rich asshole, the least they could do is just let me invite one person." you shrugged, tossing it somewhere on your "to mail" pile and leaning back against the base of the couch.

this was all really dumb, it really was. there was exactly one week before your wedding, yet you were drinking cheap soju in your living room at 4 am and making bad decisions. inviting your ex to your wedding was a pretty good example of one.

at least your friend not only has a higher alcohol tolerance than you, but is also better than you when it comes to wise decision making.

"i don't know, wonwoo most likely believes that you broke up with him because you fell in love with someone else. i wouldn't show up if i were him."

you groaned, she was right. when you refused to break up with wonwoo for the sake of some money your parents would gain from a marriage with some rich guy they knew, they took matters into their own hands. they had a whole professional letter writer (whatever job that was) analyze some essays you'd wrote for college and write a letter to wonwoo, saying that you two should break up because you lost feelings for him and found someone else.

the letter was planted in your kitchen for him to find, unknown to you. so when wonwoo confronted you about it, you had no idea what to say, but he took your speechlessness for an answer and left. you couldn't even blame him. the letter was written with your exact handwriting as well as your tone of voice, you would've thought you'd wrote it as well if you weren't, well, yourself.

that day, you lost the love of your life and learned that your parents were crazy lunatics.

"well, this might not even be his address anyway, mingyu probably sent me the address of a dumpsite."

"you seriously asked his best friend??"

"who else was i supposed to ask?"

"yeah, there's no way that's his address then. he also must think you dumped wonwoo, remember?"

"well, i rented him a camper van in france for a week and basically paid for that whole trip, so he sent me that."

"are you kidding... rich people are so stupid. so stupid!" and the night ends with laughter, the letter long forgotten.

but before you know it, it's your wedding day, or what you've been calling it: doomsday.

you didn't even write a vow because who even was this guy? exactly. you hardly even knew him, let alone enough to write a whole vow for him. thinking about kissing him was just making you gag.

whatever, at least you look pretty. the one good thing to come out of this wedding might just be your dress, but it's not like the one guy you actually want to marry will see it, so now you're just sad again.

your heels click and clack as you make your way toward the doors leading to your demise. it's okay, just close your eyes and pretend he’s wonwoo. what was his name anyway? you're pretty sure that it was jaewon or something- or maybe jaehyun?

well, you don't have time to contemplate the groom's name anymore, because you're literally right in front of the doors now. the typical wedding music is playing, awaiting your arrival. you take a deep breath. your dad wasn't even considerate enough to actually walk you down the aisle, so much for being so eager for you to get married.

okay, you actually have to go now, but you start to second guess yourself. after this, you might just be bound to some barely known rich guy for life. the exit door is so close, why don't you just run away?

you turn to look at your hopeless escape, but instead of a door you see... wonwoo? a very good looking wonwoo at that.

he's standing kind of awkwardly, looking at you as if he's in some sort of daze. he's dressed in a suit and wearing a new pair of glasses. other than that, he looks just about the same as you remember, and for some reason, you're relieved.

when he notices you looking at him, he coughs, shaking his head.

"sorry, i was looking for the restroom,"

you almost want to tease him for the lame excuse, but you’re probably not in the place to do so. looking around, you try to locate a restroom, but to no avail. you’re honestly still in shock that he’s even here.

“um, i don’t really know my way around here either, sorry…”

he chuckles lightly, “it’s okay, no worries, y/n.” he says, adjusting his glasses before speaking again.

“you look beautiful, by the way.”

it’s barely above a whisper, a voice he only used when you’re both in bed and he’s feeling particularly flirty, peppering your face with kisses and giving shy compliments against your skin.

you begin to forget that you’re not actually getting married to wonwoo, but reality hits when you take into account the situation you’re in. you’re talking to your ex right before you’re supposed to get married to another man.

he seems to notice your dilemma, rubbing the back of his neck. “you should probably go in soon, you know? can’t have them waiting on their bride forever.”

you wait for a minute to answer, “…but what if i don’t want to?”

wonwoo furrows his eyebrows, confused. “what are you saying?” you can barely hear him over the pipe organ that begins to replay the wedding song; you’re running out of time.

is this really worth it? losing the love of your life for some cash? no, it's not, and you're definitely not missing the one chance you have at this moment.

it's not like your family really needs it anyway, you think.

“fuck it,” you mutter, kicking off your heels and taking a hold of his wrist.

he watches you, even more bewildered than before. “y/n, what are you doing-“ and you’re making a sprint toward the exit with him in hand. you’re well aware that he has more than enough physical strength to hold you back, but he doesn’t, just yelping after you as he tries not to trip.

this was nowhere near what you'd thought escaping a wedding would be like. when you day-dreamt about it, it'd played out as something cringey, like wonwoo busting through the door right before you say "i do" or something. right now, you absolutely have no idea what you’re doing, dragging wonwoo out of the wedding venue with no plan whatsoever.

"y/n! what about your wedding?" he asks as you both step out of the emergency fire exit (yes, you seriously used the fire exit as an escape. that's what it's for... right?). you don't answer his question, waiting till you're both a safe distance away from the venue.

you learn quickly that taking off your shoes was the best and worst decision of your life. you know you would've tripped if you tried to run in heels, but the feelings of gravel against the bottom of your feet might just be worse than that.

suddenly, wonwoo abruptly stops, making you turn around. you're both still in the middle of the parking lot, not nearly as far away as you would like to be, but you stop anyway.

"if you really want to run away from your wedding for some reason, can we at least take my car?" he offers, catching his breath while pulling out a pair of car keys from his pocket. in the distance, you hear someone or two call out your name.

"yeah, that's probably a good idea."

so now you two are in wonwoo's car, driving to what seems to be his place. his car hasn't changed in the last year, the familiar scent of his air freshener gives you some sense of nostalgia. the drive feels like old times, like when wonwoo would drive you to your university or when he'd take you out to the museum in another city, soft music playing as you two sit in comfortable silence.

but unfortunately for you, there's not exactly time to reminisce because you have a lot of explaining to do.

"so, why'd you back out of the wedding? wasn't that the guy you, um... left for?" he asks. you can tell he's trying to be cool about it, but the way his grip on the wheel tightens just a bit gives him away.

you grimace. yeah, it wasn’t your fault, but you still feel a pang of guilt surge through you at the mention of of the break up. slowly, you begin to tell him everything: the letter, your parents, all of it.

he still looks skeptical, but you see the tension in his shoulders fade as you talk. before long, you both arrive at his place.

"wait for a moment," he says, getting out of the car. you think he's going to get something, but he simply walks to the other side of the car and opens your door.

"thanks..?" you tell him, sort of stunned at his courtesy. he just smiles at you, standing there for another moment. "well, i was going to carry you, if that's okay."

you swear you feel your eyeballs bulge out of your eyesockets as you stare at him like he just asked you to do a backflip. he laughs softly at your expression. "your feet- they hurt, don't they?" he asks, gesturing to your feet that are littered with little specks of red and debris from the pavement you ran on earlier.

"it doesn't really hurt that much won-" you try, getting up from the seat, but wonwoo gently pushes you back. "just let me, shouldn't i take care of my bride?" he argues, scooping you up with ease and kicking the car door shut with his foot.

you squirm in his grip as he carries you through the entrance of his place, only letting you go once he seats you on the couch. like his car, his apartment looks relatively the same as you remember, and it honestly still feels like your second home.

"do you have anything on you? like your phone?" he asks, sitting down beside you. you shake your head, all of your belongings are still at the venue because as stated before, you did not think this through. it suddenly dawns on you that you might be screwed. "it's okay, at least no one's going to barge in here." he laughs, trying to lighten the mood a little, but he sees that it doesn't do much.

"hey, look at me," he urges, tilting your jaw so you're making eye contact with him. "i promise you, it's going to be fine. we'll work this out," he assures you.

"i just have one question," he starts again, "do you still love me?"

you swallow, hard because yes, of course you still love him, but would he even forgive you for leaving him? it wasn't exactly your fault, but you feel guilty about it anyway.

he waits patiently for your answer, keeping the eye contact between you two as you respond.

“well… yes?” you say hesitantly, scared of his reaction. he wouldn't throw you out of the house or something, he's definitely not the type to, but it's still nerve-wracking: confessing your feelings to him all over again.

he smiles softly at your answer, leaning in a little. "so you wouldn't mind if i did this, right?" despite having some clue on what he's about to do, you raise an eyebrow before he gently presses his lips against yours.

your eyes close at the familiar contact, god, you missed this. it’s short and sweet, wonwoo breaks the kiss before you become too engrossed in his lips.

“well? don’t leave me hanging,” you pout. he thinks for a moment, trying to figure what you’re talking about before he makes a noise of realization.

“i love you too, was the kiss not enough to say that?”

you smile at him; he smiles back. yes, you just ran away from your wedding and people are probably looking all over the place for you, but who cares? certainly not you.

“let’s get married,” he suddenly decides, “we’re already dressed for the occasion anyway. you think the venue is still open?” you know he’s probably joking, but you look at him and seriously consider his suggestion.

“wait… maybe it is. let’s go check!” you bounce off the couch, dragging wonwoo with you. “wait, y/n, you’re not wearing any shoes!” he shouts after you.

—

“you really forgot my address? it’s been the same for years, y/n.”

“what? so i spent all that money on mingyu for no reason?”

“ah, so that’s the emergency fund he used to go to france.”

[niningtori]

an iron man | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: beomgyu has only ever known how to live function as a rental sexbot. he fucks whoever and whatever comes his way with a forced smile plastered on his face. that is, until you, a self-proclaimed trainwreck, come along.

genre: android!au, sexbot!au, angst, romance, fluff (more than i ever thought i could ever write i fear...), skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

warnings: very brief and vague mentions of beomgyu being forced to engage in sexual acts he does not want with previous clients, skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, praise, dacryphilia, sub!gyu

word count: 14.7k (trust i will not be writing this much again if this flops BWNWJSJEJDK)

notes: terrified to post this one because this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written and if it gets a bad reaction i might die :,) also very unsure if this is the best time to post it since it's during kinktober so i'm not sure if the demand is there but i love this work so so much i pray you all like it. if you don't read anything else from me, i hope that you read this bc i rlly care ab it :,) please don't be mean i beg

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he’s been living like this. living is an odd term, too, and it’s not just because “life” is ill-defined for an android, but because to call what he experiences a life feels like a bastardization of the term. his power is turned on at some point, usually late at night, he fucks or gets fucked by somebody he probably doesn’t know, then he does the same shit all over again. so yes, he may be “alive”, but he wouldn't dare to call what he experiences living. living is too precious of a term to be used so cheaply on a sex android who’s made available for rent to the highest bidder of the night.

he’s seen how people live through his scattered vignettes of human life. he only gets them when he’s powered on, but he soaks them up with pleasure because they’re the only thing he’s ever known. some people do it wildly, living unattached to everyone and everything. their lives are not completely dissimilar to his, in a way, except they have a choice in the matter. they have time to find themselves, what their likes and dislikes are, and they get to connect with people in a way he will never have the power to. others, though, live the kind of life he really wants. they live by loving and being loved, knowing and being known. he wonders what it’d be like to know somebody outside of whatever secret deviant sexual pleasures they have. he wonders what it’s like to be known, too, but he guesses you would need to have something for someone to care enough to know about in the first place. he has no such thing.

it’s a night like any other when he’s powered on by a total stranger. he briefly takes in his surroundings and notices that it’s a really nice place, but you wouldn’t be the first rich person to rent him — not by a longshot. next, he takes you in. now, there’s no reason for you to dress up, really. you have no need to tempt him, as he will be able to feign attraction no matter what you look like, but he still finds it odd that you seem to have forgone any effort to appeal to him, if only because most people’s fantasies require them to look and feel sexy; but you don’t look sexy at all. you look like you’ve just gotten home from a long day at work, and honestly? you kind of smell like it, too.

“do you think you could do the dishes for me? i’m exhausted,” you ask with a perfectly-timed yawn. what…?

he short-circuits for a moment as he tries to think of an appropriate response. he’s never had anyone try to get him to do chores for them, but maybe this is some sort of weird roleplay? maybe you want him to act as a house husband for you before doing the deed, which isn’t necessarily a problem since he’s well-versed in acting, but there’s just one issue.

“i don’t know how,” he tells you honestly.

“you don’t know how to do dishes?” you ask curiously.

“it’s not in my programming,” he replies. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed because of the way he hesitates and looks away from you when he says it. he can’t possibly feel that, though, so it must just be your imagination.

“oh… that’s alright. okay, do you know how to clean a room? mine’s kind of dirty,” you try. 

“n-no,” he says, and he wishes the earth would just swallow him whole. he’s never failed at living up to expectations, and never so badly, at that. just what kind of fetish is this? 

“that’s okay,” you sigh, and he may not fully understand it, but he can sense your disappointment. “well, what can you do?” and the question is not asked maliciously, but with what seems to be genuine wonder. ah. he knows how to answer this one. slowly, he walks up to you and loosens your hair. you look up at him in shock, but he just cups your face, swiping his thumb across your lower lip. 

“i can do whatever you want me to, baby,” he whispers alluringly. “just tell me how you like it.” you’re so stunned at his switch in demeanor that you forget how to speak for a moment, but you quickly recollect yourself and pry his hands off of you.

“i don’t want you to do anything,” you insist. “i’m just tired. if you can’t help me clean, that’s alright. you can watch something if you’re bored. i think that’s it. well, goodnight.” beomgyu is malfunctioning at the moment. he thinks the gears in his head might be sparking while he tries to understand this new development. you don’t give him time to process it, though. you just slam your bedroom door shut behind you. he thinks he hears you lock it, too.

genuinely at a loss at the thought that he has nothing and no one to do, he sits himself on your couch. he tries not to make himself too at home at first, just barely making a dent on it and scooting to the very edge of the cushion as to not appear to be too relaxed. what if this is some sort of test? what if you’re actually going to come out soon so you two can fuck? until then, what should he do next? thoughts like this plague him until he accepts the fact that you are actually sleeping. your obnoxiously loud snoring is a dead giveaway, and he finally, finally feels brave enough to fiddle with your remote control. 

he scrolls for something to watch. movies and shows have been on as background noise during sex before, so he’s somewhat familiar with them, but he’s never gotten the opportunity to pick for himself or actually pay attention to what's happening on screen. he settles on a romantic movie about a robot who joins human society. the robot falls in love with a human girl, but in the end, the robot has to leave the girl because the town won’t accept him, even after using him. she marries a human man and has children, and eventually grandchildren, too. she still loves the robot even though he’s gone, which he thinks is supposed to make him feel sorry for her, but all he can feel is pity for the robot, who spends the rest of his life alone. 

it’s enough to make him cry, which he shouldn’t be able to do in a non-sexual setting, but he does it, anyway. it’s just so unfair to him. the girl is able to live a normal life while the robot is doomed to be alone forever. why? because he was born different? it’s not his fault that he was invented, but he spends the rest of his time on earth paying for the crime of existing in a world not built for him. the more beomgyu thinks about it, the more wronged he feels. he’s outright sobbing by the time you plop down on the couch beside him. he jumps up and straightens his posture while trying in vain to regain his composure.

“yeah, this movie makes me cry, too,” you quietly remark. he’s silent, not because he didn’t hear what you said, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to act after being caught red handed.

“can i ask you something?” you ask in lieu of his lack of a response.

“yes,” he feebly answers.

“why are you crying?” you question with a tilt of your head, but something in him tells him that you already know.

“because the movie made me sad,” he admits after a pause.

“are androids supposed to feel things like that?” 

“... no,” he replies after a pause. 

“then why can you?” 

“i… i don't know. just please don’t say anything to my owners,” he pleads. he knows that if the company that owns him were to find out about this, he’d be scrapped in a heartbeat. or worse, they’d analyze him like a labrat to try to find the anomaly within him. his “life” as a sexbot will be over, and he’d really rather be a box of scraps than live as a case study in a lab somewhere. 

“it’s okay,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you watch him trying not to spiral. “i won’t tell them. it’ll be our secret.” beomgyu has never had a secret to share with anyone before, so he feels an overwhelming amount of excitement at the idea that he will finally have one. his chest feels warm at the thought.

“thank you,” he says with a grateful smile.

“no problem,” you reply with a yawn. “i’m tired, so i’m heading back to bed. i just wanted to get some water. goodnight, for real this time.” 

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly. you return his words with a sleepy smile and go back into your room. he finds that he’s smiling even when you leave. 

he spends the night consuming as much media as he conceivably can before he has to leave. usually, he'd be powered off after he’s done being used, so he greedily savors every moment he can. who knows if he'll ever get this chance again. when you wake up, you're surprised to see that he's exactly where you left him, still watching the screen intently.

“good morning,” you say while stretching your arms. 

“good morning,” he replies. 

“are you ready to be returned?” you ask. 

“... yes,” he lies. 

“okay. i think somebody will be here to pick you up in an hour or so. you hungry?” 

“i don't really eat,” he bashfully answers. for some reason, he's embarrassed at the fact that you're treating him like a human while he's unable to fully act like one.

“oh. i guess that makes sense,” you nod. 

things are quiet until he’s picked up, but it’s not an awkward silence. you sit next to him on the couch as you wolf down some breakfast and let him watch whatever he pleases. when he eventually hears knocking at your door, he feels an incomprehensible sense of dread.

“i think that's them,” you remark, breaking the silence. 

“y-yeah,” he replies. 

“well, it was nice to meet you,” you say, reaching out your hand for him. he’s unsure what to do with it. not missing a beat, you gently grab his hand and shake it. he's stunned at the physical contact, and he's still reeling when you let the man from the rental company in. you have a brief conversation with him before he walks towards beomgyu.

“goodbye,” you tell the android with a smile and a little wave. 

“... good—” and the man switches him off.

-

the next time beomgyu is powered on, he’s in your house again. relief floods him when he realizes it. you don’t seem as exhausted as the last time he saw you. when that was, he has no idea, but if he had to guess, he’d say it was just last night because of the fact that he’s so popular he’s rented almost every day.

“hey,” you greet him with a smile. he’s still feeling relieved before he realizes that tonight might be the night where you ask him to have sex with you. maybe you were just tired last night and had no desire to fuck, but he can tell that you’re feeling more energetic tonight. 

“i didn’t catch your name,” you add. 

“... beomgyu. i’m part of the choi line, but i’m a custom model, so they gave me a name,” he tentatively replies.

“nice,” you nod, and you briefly introduce yourself before asking if he wants to watch a movie. 

“watch… a movie?” is this some sort of euphemism for fucking? it wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard of something like this. as mentioned before, some people like movies as background noise. 

“yeah, you can pick,” you say, casually plopping down on the couch and patting the cushion next to you. he hesitantly takes your cue, and he’s mentally preparing himself for what comes next before you take a blanket and cocoon yourself in it so tightly, it’d be impossible for him to touch you.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, and he jolts a bit when he realizes that he’s been staring in disbelief. “oh, are you cold? do you want a blanket, too?” 

“‘m fine,” he replies.

“are you sure? the clothes they make you wear look a little thin,” you observe with your nose wrinkled, and he feels impossibly small under your surveying eye. “here, i’ll get you some sweats. i think soobin left some the last time he was here.” 

“who’s soobin?” he asks a little too quickly. so quickly, in fact, he doesn’t even have time to process why he even asked.

“my friend. stay here, i’ll grab them for you.” 

when you return, you have a long pair of sweatpants in hand and a big t-shirt. 

“you can change in the bathroom. it’s down the hallway and to the left, okay?” he nods in response.

he strips his clothes off as best as he can, and it feels like he’s shedding a second skin. when he’s finished undressing, he pulls on the clothes you gave him and stares in the mirror. it’s in his programming to always be mindful of how he looks, but he feels especially self-conscious now that he’s wearing a normal outfit. he fixes up his hair and clears his throat before exiting your (messy) bathroom and making his way back into your living room. he finds you fiddling with your phone before you look up at him.

“took you long enough,” you tease, and he blushes, which stuns you. just how human is this guy?

“s-sorry, i —” 

“hey, i’m just kidding. you’re fine. you look pretty good in those clothes — soobin would be jealous,” you chuckle. his ears perk up at the mention of soobin again. is he your boyfriend? he must be. why else would he have clothes at your house? is that why you don't want to sleep with beomgyu? because you have someone already? if that's the case, why rent him at all? but he is not brave enough to ask these questions, so he settles for a soft “thank you” and returns to his spot on the couch.

you toss him the remote and he catches it with ease before unsurely flipping through your streaming services. he finds something that piques his interest and turns to you with an uncertain look before you nod encouragingly. he selects it and lets it play. he doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself sinking further and further into the cushions as it progresses. 

it’s a sweet movie — a romantic comedy about an amnesic woman whose memory is wiped clean every morning, but a man falls in love with her, anyway. she never remembers him, so he has to make her fall in love with him in a new way every day. he finds himself smiling throughout it, but a particularly funny scene has him actually laughing for the first time. it’s a squeaky sort of thing, and he has never laughed before, so he’s somewhat surprised as it leaves his throat. he looks to you in trepidation, but you just smile warmly and respond with a soft chuckle of your own. he finds that he looks to you every time a new development occurs, and you always answer encouragingly. 

the end of the film surprises him. it’s bittersweet in that she never does get her memory back, but the man makes a video recounting their entire love story for her to watch every time she wakes up. it ends with them living happily together in spite of everything, and it’s enough to make him sob. he turns to you and sees that you’re teary-eyed as well, but you seem to be enjoying his reaction so much that there’s still a grin on your face. after the film ends, you can tell that he has something on his mind.

“what’s wrong? didn’t you like it?” you gently ask.

“i did. i just don’t understand,” he replies timidly.

“don’t understand what?” 

“why he would do all of that for her, i guess,” he says. 

“because he loves her. when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you always find a way,” you tell him, and the sentiment seems to strike a chord within him.

“even if they’re that different?”

“of course.”

-

beomgyu spends the following nights with this same routine. he’s switched on, sees you standing in front of him with a smile, gets comfortable, and watches as much media as he possibly can while you two chatter away about every scene. he learns much more from it than he ever did from experience with his previous renters, and he finds himself becoming more and more emotional by the day. you never try to question him or press him to explain any of his feelings, and it just makes him feel even more comfortable with you. 

one day, he even feels comfortable enough to ask you a question. the question. 

“can i ask you something?” 

“of course! what is it?” you reply in earnest. beomgyu has never directly inquired about you.

“why do you rent me? i mean, i know we watch stuff together now, but why rent me in the first place?” and even when he feels exponentially more at ease with you than he ever has in any other context, he’s still nervous when he asks it. 

“oh, my friend did it as a joke, i guess,” you shrug. “he thought i needed to get laid or something, but i’m not into stuff like that, so i just thought i’d ask you to help me clean. obviously, that’s what i actually need,” you giggle. what he feels at your words can only be described as disappointment. “stuff like that”? so you’re not into sleeping with sexbots? is it because you find them disgusting? is it because you find him disgusting? he’s not sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it.

“oh. so why don’t you buy a cleaning bot?” he asks softly, and while you are usually pretty perceptive of his emotions, you don’t register the fact that he’s at a loss right now.

“i dunno. my parents were always against that sort of thing. they thought it was wrong, i guess, so i didn’t grow up with them like everyone else did. i didn’t really have an opinion on them until i met you,” you tell him while grinning and lightly nudging him with your elbow. he tries his best to smile because, in theory, your words are really sweet. you see him as more than just another android, so why does he feel like that’s not enough? 

the fragile connection you two have made seems even more fragile now. at least, it does to him. you only met each other because of a joke your friend just so happened to make, not because of fate or the divine intervention that he always sees in the movies. maybe in another world, your friend rented a different sexbot. maybe you’d even treat them the same way you treat him. the thought alone makes something ugly burn in his chest. 

still, you are oblivious to the internal war raging within beomgyu. 

“hey, i’ve got an idea,” you tell him, and he perks up a bit. “have you ever listened to music?” 

“not really,” he replies solemnly. people have played it in the background of their sexual escapades, but he hasn’t really gotten the chance to listen the same way humans do. you finally register his crestfallen appearance, but you chalk it up to him feeling like he’s missing out. 

“why don’t we listen to some? i can play a bunch of different genres so you can find what you like,” you suggest, and he agrees to it. truthfully, he doesn’t fully understand how music can be better than movies and shows, but he is curious to find out what makes it so special. 

and special, it is. he doesn’t like every song you play, he realizes, but that’s only natural given how different they are from each other. he finds himself being drawn to the more emotional and moody ones, but he can’t help but enjoy the way you quietly sing and nod along to the more upbeat tunes. 

as you continue to sit together, you begin to fiddle with your hair. you’re scoffing and loosening it for the umpteenth time before you’re about to give up, but beomgyu stops you.

“let me do it,” he says.

“do you know how?” 

“i think i can. i’ve been watching you,” he says simply.

“... okay.” 

you turn your back to him to give him access to your hair and he scoots closer to you. closer than you’ve ever been. his touch on your head is careful as he gently gathers your hair and begins to braid it. you’re not sure how much time passes because he’s actually quite slow, but it’s relaxing all the same. you find yourself softly humming to the tune of the song playing. the lyrics are a little dark, but you follow along in earnest, and beomgyu thinks he finally understands why people like music so much. for moments like this. he tries to soak up every detail he can, from the way the light hits your frame to the melody you hum, and he wishes this moment could last forever.

but you only have so much hair, so the moment does have to end, eventually. he ties up your hair and you pull out your phone camera to admire his handiwork. admittedly, it’s a lot better than anything you could’ve done. it seems that he’s a fast learner.

“this looks perfect! thanks, beoms,” you say warmly. he’s stunned for a second at the nickname.

“beoms?” 

“yeah, like beomgyu. beoms,” you say with a casual shrug, and something in his chest blossoms. “i give all of my friends nicknames.” and something in his chest explodes at the title of “friend”. 

“you do?” he asks excitedly.

“yeah. like, i call soobin ‘soobinie’ or ‘soobie’, sometimes,” you giggle, and the bloom of hope in his chest dies with it. 

“are you two close?” he asks, even though he knows the answer will probably hurt him.

“very. he’s my best friend,” you answer fondly. oh. you’re beomgyu’s best friend — you’re beomgyu’s only friend, and tentatively at that. the idea that the deep connection he feels with you is even deeper with someone else, at least in your eyes, makes him feel sick. do you let soobin play with your hair? do you hum along to songs you’ve shown him while he does it? do you smile at him after he’s finished and compliment him on his skills? probably, probably, probably. the ugly feeling that was previously completely foreign to him now takes its usual place in his chest, and it makes his stomach hurt so much that if he could vomit, his metaphorical dinner would be all over the floor.

“oh,” is all he can say. 

-

days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, but every time beomgyu awakens, he finds you smiling up at him. this can’t be good for your bank account — he’s quite expensive to rent, after all — but he’s far too afraid to actually bring it up. what if you realize just how much money you’re sinking into him and want to stop renting him? what will he do if you don’t want him anymore? he feels an incomparable sense of dread at the thought. 

he prepares to sit on the couch and watch something, listen to music, or even play a video game with you. you two have gotten into them recently, and he’s discovered that he very much enjoys playing with you, even when you’re yelling at him and demanding that he stop letting you win. he can’t help but grin when he thinks about it. you start playing a song, and you do, indeed, invite him to sit on the couch, but you don’t sit down next to him and start babbling away about your day like you usually would. 

“do you think you could do me a favor?” you ask. 

“what, do you want me to wash your dishes?” he jokes, and you share a laugh before you say your next words, but all laughter and joy is profusely sucked out of him when you say them.

“no, smartass, but can you braid my hair for me? i’m going over to soobin’s tonight, and i want it out of my way.” 

“soobin’s?”

“yeah, it’s been a while since i’ve stayed the night, and he said we’re way past due for it,” you tell him, and the world as beomgyu knows it comes crashing down around him. 

“you’re staying the night with him?” 

“mhm. he’s right, it’s been too long; but don’t worry, i bought a pass so you can play video games online. there’s even a headset so you can talk to people, if you want. maybe you’ll even make some friends,” you say while playfully waggling your eyebrows. beomgyu’s silence is pensive, to say the very least, and you worry that he’s apprehensive of making a friend that isn't you. 

“seriously, you might like it. it’ll be good for you to meet more people, honestly. i’m sure it’s driving you crazy to only have me to talk to,” you jokingly add, but to beomgyu, it’s the worst joke he’s ever heard. no, it does not drive him crazy to only talk to you every day. in fact, even though he’s not conscious during the time you spend away from each other, he thinks, deep down, that he still somehow misses you when you’re apart. and no, he does not think he needs to have anyone but you. you are more than enough for him, so how could you ever think he needs more? again, he is taunted by that same strange and implacable feeling he’s been having ever since he met you, yet he can’t quite put his finger on it, even when he nods and tells you that he’ll try making new friends. 

but as he brushes out your hair and you sing along to the words:

"i’m glad i didn’t die before i met you

but now i don’t care

i could go anywhere with you

and i’d probably be happy"

he finally understands what that feeling is. that warm, all-consuming feeling. that feeling of comfort, safety, and unconditional understanding. that feeling of infinite curiosity about the other person. that feeling of wanting to known and be known in a way so profound it physically aches. 

yes, as he gathers your hair and ever-so-gently twists it in his hands in preparation for you staying the night with a man you clearly prefer over him, the feeling becomes clear as day. love. what he feels for you is love — an emotion he should never be able to even fathom, yet he does. 

and it makes him loathe himself to a degree he never thought he was capable of.

he’s so put off by this sentiment, he almost can’t finish the braid because his hands are shaking so much, but somehow, he finishes, anyway. 

“are you done?” you ask as you fiddle with your hair and look back at him.

“mhm,” he replies. 

“yay! thank you!” you say giddily. 

“you’re welcome,” he mumbles. you’re not stupid, so you notice that something is off about him, but you just assume it’s because he’s nervous about being left alone to make new friends. you feel guilty in a certain sense, but it’ll be good for him to branch out and meet new people, so you tuck the feeling away as best as you can before packing your nightly essentials and getting ready to leave.

“i’ll be back tomorrow morning,” you tell him, and he only nods with his lips pursed, which makes your heart feel sour.

“try not to miss me too much,” you tease, but it doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest. 

“have fun,” he replies weakly, and your previously sour heart now kind of aches, but you have to do this for him. you can't always be beside him for everything, right? besides, it's only for the night.

you open the door to leave, but before you go, you turn back to him and he senses hesitation in you. before he can question it, you’re opening your arms, and his eyes widen when he realizes you’re inviting him in for a hug. you almost regret doing it as soon as you open them for fear of making him uncomfortable, but he embraces you before you have time to process such feelings. on beomgyu’s end, he has always been wary of touch for obvious reasons, but he gravitates towards your open arms like he was meant to be in them.

he rests his chin on the top of your head for a moment and you spend an unknown length of time just standing with your arms wrapped around each other. 

“i’ll miss you,” you admit, and before you can smack yourself for being so dramatic and sentimental over what will ultimately only be one night, you can swear you feel his grip tightening even more around you.

eventually, you break away and look up at him with a smile. you ruffle his hair and promise to see him later, and he answers you with a nod. then, you're leaving and locking the door behind you.

immediately, beomgyu feels a sense of loss he’s never felt before. after all, to experience loss, you must have something worth losing in the first place, and he has never had anything like that. at least, not until you. so he stands at the door for who knows how long, just like a puppy waiting for his owner to get home. 

-

soobin can sense you’re out of it before you even finish crossing through his doorway, and it puts a halt to your typically overdramatic greeting. 

“what’s the matter? are you feeling okay?” he questions concernedly as he pulls you in for a hug. you nod before you break apart from him and walk through the threshold. 

“y-yeah. it’s just, i don’t know, i guess i just feel bad about leaving beomgyu all by himself,” you tell him as you plop down on his couch. 

“the android you’ve been renting?” he asks incredulously. “i’ve been meaning to ask you about that, actually. why’re you renting it so much? i barely even see you anymore. is the sex that good?” 

“you know i don’t use androids like that,” you snap in annoyance, partially because he’s calling beomgyu “it”.

“i know, which is why i’m so confused. why rent it in the first place if you’re not getting anything out of it?” 

you struggle to answer his question. you promised beomgyu you’d keep his secret, but you trust soobin, and you know he won’t judge him, or worse, report him. besides, it’ll be good to have an unbiased third party weigh in on the situation. with this in mind, you tell him about beomgyu, skipping over some of the more personal details. he’s in disbelief at first and actually thinks you’re just fucking with him, but as you tell him more and more about the time you’ve spent together, his smile falls and his face turns serious. 

“so that’s why i feel so guilty about leaving him alone,” you finish with a deep sigh. he’s silent for a few moments before collecting his thoughts.

“god, i can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers.

“i know. it’s insane, but it’s true. he’s just so… human. you should've seen the way he looked at me when i told him i was leaving. i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone look so sad before.” 

“well, you’re right about him needing to make friends,” he says with a nod, and it validates all of your misgivings about leaving him alone. “but don’t you think you should, i don’t know, think about what all of this means?” 

“what do you mean?” you ask, and in that moment, he knows you have no idea about the way beomgyu probably feels about you. he’s not 100% confident in his deductions, but the way you describe how beomgyu acts around you pretty much tells him everything he needs to know. 

“i mean, you basically have a completely sentient creature who relies on you for everything. if he’s as human as you say he is, then he can probably feel everything that we do. right now, i’d guess that he feels like you’re all he knows.” and the sneaking sense of guilt that was previously threatening to creep up on you is now completely overwhelming. you’re all he knows. and you left him all alone to fend for himself and make his own friends. yes, he needs to learn how to make connections, but how could you expect him to know how to do that? it took weeks for him to finally seem comfortable around you, so how could he possibly know how to make them on his own? moreover, even though it's nothing to you, you're his entire world. he must feel like you abandoned him.

“i’ve gotta go,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks. 

“i–i’ve gotta go home,” you repeat as you hurriedly stand up and hug him goodbye. 

“wait! i think you should —” 

“love you, bye!” you shout as you book it out of the doorway. 

-

when you return home, you open the door to see beomgyu listlessly staring at the television screen. when he hears you, he turns to look at you with watery eyes. he looks so lost in this moment, and all of your suspicions are confirmed.

“beoms, i am so sorry,” you tell him as you rush over and throw your arms around him. 

“for what?” he asks with a gulp as he stays in your embrace, shakily wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i’m sorry for leaving you all by yourself. i thought it was just for one night, so it’d be alright, but you don’t have anyone but me right now; and i realize that it’s unfair for me to expect you to meet other people all on your own when you’ve never had to do it before. if you want friends, i’ll help you, okay? i’ll be there with you as you do it,” you tell him, and you feel his body trembling. 

“i-i’m sorry. i know it’s not a big deal, but when you’re not with me, i feel so scared. i… i don’t know how to do anything by myself. i’m s-sorry i need you so much,” he whispers, and your heart breaks. 

“don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “how about this: i’ll join you online and we can talk to people together. then, when you’re ready, you can start hanging out with my friends in person, too, okay? we can keep going until you don’t need me anymore.” beomgyu outwardly agrees, which seems to put you at ease, but there’s just one issue: he’ll always need you.

-

gaming online is actually really fun, but making friends is hard for someone like beomgyu. he’s quiet and a little awkward at first, but after a few nights and with your help, he finally warms up to the people he games with. he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s even able to shit talk with them a little. 

“fuckkk, that’s so unfair!” his new friend, kai, wails over the headset. 

“it’s not unfair, you just suck,” beomgyu chuckles, and kai whines again. you laugh at their interaction before kai continues.

“how are you so fucking good at this game? you’ve only been playing for a few nights, and you’re already better than me!” he pouts. 

“i’m just gifted,” beomgyu boasts.

“very true,” you add, and he beams, but kai’s next words throw him off-kilter.

“whatever. stop asking your girlfriend to argue with me — you two make me sick,” he jokes with his signature maniacal laugh, but the two of you are too stunned to laugh along. you look at each other in sheer embarrassment, and you can see beomgyu’s ears turning bright pink beneath his blond hair. you’re not sure why you feel so mortified, but you do. this is beomgyu, for god’s sake. there’s no earthly way you could ever see him in anything other than a purely platonic way, so why does your heart feel uneasy at the notion? while you’re still too stunned to speak, beomgyu tries to pipe up and respond.

“sh-she’s — we’re not, uh —” 

“damn it!” kai yells as his character dies yet again, and any momentum beomgyu previously had to clear up the misunderstanding is killed stone dead in its tracks. 

he turns to look at you unsurely, but the awkward moment seems to have passed for you as you laugh at kai’s character’s death. if only he could be as unfazed.

after kai goes offline, you two decide to quit gaming for the night. you turn to beomgyu nervously, and he immediately knows that you’re going to say something serious. he hopes beyond hope that it’s not about what kai said.

“can i ask you something?” and his heart sinks. oh god, you probably caught onto his feelings. he’s not sure he has the confidence to tell the truth, but how could he lie to you?

“y-yes,” he replies, voice a bit unsteady.

“okay, you can say no if you want, but soobin invited us to a get together he’s having pretty soon. it’s not anything too crazy, so there’ll only be a few of us. i think it’ll be a good start for you. maybe you’ll even make some new friends, you know?” he’s silent at your words just out of sheer shock. he’d definitely missed the mark when guessing your intentions. 

“it’s okay to say no,” you hurriedly add, “but my friends are really nice, and i’d be with you the entire time. even if you don’t talk to anybody, you can talk to me.”

“okay,” he agrees before he can even really think about it. he guesses he’s just relieved that you still don’t know about his feelings, but part of him aches even still. 

“really?” you ask incredulously. “oh my god! i have to tell soobin — he’ll be so excited!” you babble, and his lips curl upwards at how happy you are. he wishes he could always make you happy like this, and it seems that he’d agree to absolutely anything if you were the one asking.

-

work has been especially taxing today, which is nothing new, but you have this insatiable suspicion that something feels… off as you finish up for the day. as you’re about to head out for the night, you wonder what beomgyu will want to do once you get home. maybe he’ll want to play games with kai, or maybe he’ll want to watch a movie with you. maybe he’ll let you cuddle up to him for warmth, which he’s been very willing to do, lately. the unspoken rule that you two will never touch has become blurry for some reason, but you’re pretty touchy with all of your friends, so it only feels like a matter of course to you. 

you’re thinking about all of the potential ways tonight could play out when it hits you: you didn’t reserve beomgyu. you spit out a curse and hurriedly take out your phone to book him, but it’s too late. he’s already assigned to someone for the night. fuck.

when you get home, you’re anxious beyond belief. you haven’t spent a night without beomgyu in months, but more importantly, he hasn’t spent a night without you. you try not to think about how scared he will be when he’s powered on in a stranger’s home. you hope he’s able to just switch back to his initial programming, but somehow, you just know it won’t be that easy. you feel sick with worry when you think about how someone so human will have to involuntarily turn his feelings off and pretend to enjoy something he’s being forced to do — with no compensation, no less. he must think you abandoned him. he must think you don’t care about him. how could you forget to reserve him when he needs you so much? fuck how busy you were with work, his wellbeing should have been your first priority.

so you sit and watch the hours tick by. you try to relax. you try to tell yourself it’s only for one night, and he’s been doing it for years, but something just feels wrong, wrong, wrong. you’re about to try to force yourself to go to sleep so the night ends more quickly when you hear a rapid knocking on your door. it’s strange for someone to call on you so late, indeed, but when you look through your peephole, you see none other than the very boy you’ve been worrying about. 

“beomgyu?” you say incredulously when you swing open the door. immediately, he embraces you, and you feel hot tears streaming down your neck as he nuzzles his face into it. you hold him as best as you can as you rub circles into his back and try to shush his cries.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” you tell him, and he whines. you try to break away to get a good look at him, but he just pulls you in even closer, as if you’re his only lifeline in this world, and in a way, you are.

after his breathing slows and his sobs die out, he reluctantly parts from you, so you hold his hand and lead him to your couch. his eyes are swollen and bloodshot while his nose is a bright pink, but he never once takes his eyes off of you for fear of letting you out of his sight. in his mind, you can’t leave as long as he can see you.

“are you alright?” you tentatively ask, hand still holding his and soothingly caressing it in an attempt to calm him down. he goes to nod before stopping himself and shaking his head in the negative. your eyes soften even more at the action.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you try, and he nods before clearing his throat.

“i, um, i woke up and i was at this woman’s house. she… she wanted me to get undressed, but i didn’t want to, so she started doing it for me.” you wince at his words, but he’s not finished yet. 

“she kept touching me, and it was so disgusting i just — i just couldn't stand it, so i ran away and came here. i don’t mean to make your life harder, and i won’t ask for you to stay the night with me anymore, but if you could just let me stay here, i promise i’ll learn how to clean or do anything you want. please, just don’t make me —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,” you say softly, but firmly. “you are not making my life harder. you can stay here as much as you want and do whatever you want while you’re here. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean for this to happen. i was just so busy with work, and by the time i realized it, somebody had already booked you. i promise you that it’ll never happen again, okay? so you don't have to be afraid. i’m not leaving you, and i won’t let anyone hurt you, either.” 

you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look so relieved before. it looks as though you just saved his life, and to beomgyu, you essentially did. he holds your hand even tighter, as if you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of this planet. 

“wait here, i’ll get you some clothes,” you say gently, but as you go to leave, he holds you even tighter. your eyebrow quirks in a silent question at his actions, and he looks sheepish for a moment before saying his next words.

“c-can we just stay like this for a bit? just for a little while? i’m still scared,” he mumbles, and your heart melts.

“of course. come here,” you beckon, and he falls into your arms and rests his head on your shoulder, breathing your scent in as he tries to imprint this moment into his hardware. you stay like that for a while before you finally convince him to change out of his uncomfortable clothes. he reluctantly lets you go, and his eyes follow you everywhere you walk. 

that night, you stay up later than usual to spend more time with him. he stays glued to your side and ensures that he’s always touching you in some way, which is endearing in a way you can’t seem to put into words. when you’re about to head to bed for the night, you swear you hear him whimper, but he lets you go, anyway. as you lay your head down and get comfortable under the covers, you hear a timid knocking on your door. you call him in, and his gaze shyly flickers between you and the floor. 

“c-can i stay with you tonight? i won’t bother you, i swear. it’s just — i just still feel weird. y-you can say no! i just thought that —”

“come here,” you softly interrupt, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen. he closes the door behind him and shuffles towards you, stopping uncertainly at the edge of the bed in a silent plea for permission to enter it. you feel a weird, warm feeling in your chest when he does it. you scoot over and pat the open space next to you before he gathers enough courage to slide in. you cover him with your blanket, and he stiffly accepts it. you giggle at his awkwardness and cuddle up to him, placing your arms around his waist before thinking better of it. how could you just invade his personal space when he’s clearly traumatized? you go to remove your arms and scoot away before he firmly locks you in place.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, settling himself into your embrace and mindlessly toying with the ends of your hair.

“are you sure?” you ask.

“i’m sure.”

it isn't long before beomgyu hears your breathing slow down, and eventually he hears you begin to snore. he smiles at the sound. he can't really sleep, but he's perfectly content with watching you rest. he continues to play with your hair, and you nuzzle into his touch every so often. he doesn’t want to repeat the events leading up to tonight, but he would do it all over again — any number of times — with a smile on his face if it meant he got to be with you like this again. 

-

the next morning, beomgyu waits for the usual delivery guy from the company to pick him up, but it’s currently way past the usual pickup time. he’s most certainly not complaining, but you don’t seem even remotely fazed by the matter. however, while you’re casually flipping through your streaming catalog literal hours after he’d already be gone, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“um, d-do you know when i’m being picked up?” you pause, and he worries that he may have said the wrong thing before you turn to him.

“do you want to be picked up?” you ask solemnly.

“n-no! of course not. it’s just, you know, i’d usually be gone by now, so i —” 

“do you want to stay here? with me, i mean,” you interrupt.

“i… i do,” he replies with a gulp. usually, that’d be all you get from him, but it feels like the perfect opportunity to be honest about his feelings. “i always want to stay with you, but i know i’m expensive, and i don’t want to be a bother.” he looks ashamed as he admits it, but if he had the courage to look in your eyes, he’d note the fondness that lies within them.

“i told you that you’re not a bother to me. i also told you that you could stay here for as long as you want, remember?” and he does, so he nods. 

“alright. i meant it when i said it last night, and i mean it now. if you want to be here, you can stay for as long as you’d like. you don't have to worry about your owners anymore, i promise.” and he thinks he’s never seen you as serious as you are now. he wonders what you mean before it dawns on him.

“you… did you buy me?” he asks in disbelief.

“y-yeah. i’m sorry, it sounds so gross when i hear it out loud, but that doesn’t mean that i own you or anything. what i really wanted to buy was your freedom, so you can stay as long as you want, but that also means that you can leave whenever you want, too.”

“i’m so sorry,” he says in a hushed, hurried tone. “i know i'm expensive. i’m really sorry.”

“money is not an object to me,” you dismiss in faux arrogance with a wave of your hand in hopes that it’ll lighten the mood, but beomgyu can’t stop the tears from falling over his waterlines, and you’re afraid your attempt to help him only made him feel more indebted to you. all worry is promptly washed away when you feel him pull you into his arms. 

“thank you,” he just barely breathes out. “i don’t know how i’ll ever pay you back, but i’ll try, i swear.”

“you don’t have to do anything for me, beoms. i should’ve done it a lot sooner, but i’m just a little slow, i guess,” you muse, and he chuckles softly into your neck.

-

sleeping with beomgyu should’ve only happened once, but every night when you say you’re heading to bed, he looks at you with puppy eyes and you find yourself inviting him to come along. each time, he looks so excited that if he had a tail, it would most certainly be wagging. he obediently follows you to your room and settles into the empty space next to you before holding you in his arms as you drift off. he’s even taken to humming the tunes of songs he likes when you struggle to settle down, and his baritone voice lulls you to sleep like a charm every time. he spends his time by just looking at you and trying to reconcile with his new reality. this is real. he gets to spend however many nights he wants next to you, as per your own words. even if you didn’t mean them, he plans to take them seriously. he is perfectly content with spending the rest of his life just sleeping with you, looking at you, being with you. 

-

soobin’s get together is tonight, and you look different than usual. your typical look is very casual, which makes sense because you’re only ever at home when you’re with him, but you are now primped and ready to be seen, and it makes him anxious because you look even more lovable. he knows these people are your friends, so they must’ve seen you dressed up before, but that only makes him all the more uneasy; they know a side of you he is only now seeing, and it makes that same old ugly feeling he's grown so accustomed to sprout in his chest. 

when you arrive at soobin’s place, the first thing you do when soobin swings open the door is jump in his arms like you didn’t just see him a week ago. he spins you around with a dimpled grin that’s so sincere, beomgyu feels emotionally decimated by it. you both giggle as you break apart, and the jealousy beomgyu feels brewing within feels unpacifiable. 

“is this beomgyu?” soobin asks, grin still very much apparent.

“yes! you’re gonna love him,” you answer giddily. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” soobin says warmly while stretching out his hand, which beomgyu awkwardly shakes while he tries to force his lips to curl upwards in what he prays is a believable smile.

“nice to meet you,” he mumbles.

“everyone’s already here, but you’re late as always,” soobin playfully chastises, and you pout in response.

everyone greets you when you walk in, mostly by hugging you and lightheartedly scolding you for not coming out anymore. they’re very clearly bantering with you, but each reproach feels like a knife to beomgyu’s heart. he’s the reason you haven’t seen them in so long. 

clueless to it all, you introduce him as your friend to everyone, which only makes him feel worse, somehow. he is just one friend out of many, meanwhile you’re his entire world. you’re far too caught up in the joy of seeing some of your favorite people after so long to notice his dismay, however.

you lead him to soobin’s couch to have a seat with you and one of your friends, taehyun maybe, offers him a drink, to which he awkwardly declines. you quickly follow up with something to the effect of “he isn’t much of a drinker,” and beomgyu nods in affirmation. you try your best to include beomgyu in conversation, but they’re all talking about people and places he doesn't know. all he knows is you, and the world you two built together seems smaller and smaller with every new topic of conversation. 

he notices that soobin seems to be eyeing him somewhat strangely, though he tries his best to play it off. he could just attribute it to surface level curiosity, but his intuition tells him it’s much deeper than that. is soobin sizing up his competition? maybe so, but there’s not much to see. beomgyu is handsome, and he knows it, but soobin knows a side of you beomgyu has only ever heard stories about. you’ve told him about your friends and the goings on between you and your coworkers, but it pales in comparison to actually meeting them. he makes an internal note to ask even more questions than he usually does the next time you’re telling him about your day. until then, he sits as close to you as humanly possible and clings onto your arm, which is so second nature to you, you don't even notice that he’s doing it. 

soobin, who is usually not the inquisitive type, can’t help but question the dynamic between you and beomgyu. at first, the lingering glances and intimate gestures were innocuous enough to be written off as mere friendliness, but when you whisper something in beomgyu’s ear and he flushes a bright pink, soobin knows he can’t ignore it any longer. he especially can’t ignore it when you turn away from beomgyu and he raises a hand to the ear you just whispered into as if he’s reliving the moment. well, time to test his theory. 

soobin slides into the open cushion next to you and begins excitedly chattering about how pretty you look tonight, and he even takes your braided hair into his hands and twirls it between his fingers.

“your hair looks pretty,” he muses.

“beomgyu did it, actually,” you grin, and soobin glances over to said boy, who is currently glaring daggers at him. the look in beomgyu’s eyes is so intense, he almost wants to back off, but he has to get to the bottom of this. 

“did he? you know, it’s been a while since you stayed over. wanna have a sleepover tonight? you have some clothes here from last time, and we can cuddle, i know you like that,” he says as innocently as he possibly can. 

before you can even reply, beomgyu is slamming his hands on the coffee table. you turn to face him in surprise, and the look on his face is the angriest you’ve ever seen him. his eyes are dark and his nostrils are flared as he heavily breathes. he’s never been angry at all in front of you, actually, so to say you’re taken aback is the understatement of the century. 

“beoms? what’s wrong?” you ask concernedly, completely turning away from soobin. your voice is enough to somewhat placate him, but before he can fully calm down, soobin is saying his next words.

“i’m sure he’s fine. beomgyu, you can find your way home tonight on your own, can’t you?” beomgyu is positively seething at this. before you can question him again, he’s gripping your hand so tightly it’s like it’s the only thing keeping him from drowning, so you excuse the both of you and drag him to the bathroom for some privacy.

“are you alright?” you ask, frantically scanning his figure for some sort of sign of pain or discomfort. 

“i-i’m fine, i just, uh, i don’t feel good,” he says flatly. 

“what’s wrong? is it too much? do we need to go home?” he’s so flustered, he barely registers that you’re calling your house “home”, but he still notices it in spite of everything, and it’s like a balm on his aching heart. 

“y-yeah, can we go home? please?” he pleads, and you hurriedly nod. 

“of course, just let me say bye to everyone before we leave, okay?” and he wants to say no, but he’s as weak as ever in front of you, so he relents.

that doesn’t stop him from gripping your hand, though, as you say goodbye to everyone. you go to give soobin your usual hug, but beomgyu pulls you back to him even more tightly. you write it off as him not feeling well and just wanting to leave as soon as possible, to which you oblige, and before you know it, you two are scurrying out of soobin’s place like there’s something chasing you.

as you’re driving home, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but it isn’t until you’re walking through your doorway that you check it. 

soobie: we need to talk. call me as soon as you get home

you’re worried beyond belief at his serious tone, so you tell beomgyu that you’ve got to make a call before ducking into your bedroom. you don’t shut the door behind you, because why would you? 

you quickly call soobin and the line connects after just one ring.

“what’s wrong?” you ask anxiously, and soobin just sighs, which makes you all the more anxious.

“we have to talk about beomgyu.” 

“beomgyu? what about him? is something wrong?” you question.

“yeah, i mean, maybe. this might sound crazy, but i think — i know — he likes you.” you’re stunned silly for just a moment before bursting into laughter.

“likes me? what the hell are you talking about?” you dismiss, and you sense his agitation even through the phone.

“i’m serious. i had a feeling before, but tonight just confirmed it. he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment, just trying to process his words, but once your mind somewhat clears, you can’t help but deny, deny, deny.

“you’re wrong. it’s not like that at all. i’m just the first person who’s ever treated him nicely, and i —” 

“you’re not listening,” he cuts in irritatedly. “he looked like he wanted to skin me alive tonight. how else do you explain that?” 

“soobie,” you sigh. “you’ve got it all wrong. maybe you’re right and maybe he was feeling insecure, but that’s probably because i’m the only person he knows. he most likely just felt like you were stealing my attention away.” 

“you’re always so dense about these things, you know?” he groans. “okay, look, i’m not sure how they came about, but i do know that he has feelings for you. maybe it started out as dependence, i’m not sure, but it’s definitely much more than that now.” 

“that’s impossible,” you snort, actually feeling a bit impatient now. how could he possibly think that your relationship with beomgyu was anything other than platonic? 

“why? because he’s a robot?” oh, that shuts you up. “just think about it. if he were a human, would you still be saying the same thing? like i said before, if he’s as human as you say he is, he can feel the same way we do, and he’s definitely capable of feeling love, too.” you are, again, stunned into silence. suddenly, as if there was a fog that covered your brain before, things that you never really considered become clear to you. the soft touches, the gentleness. sleeping in the same bed and waiting for you to get home. wanting you — needing you — around all the time. the way he plays with your hair. the way he’s so interested in everything you have to say. the clinginess, the dependence. it all makes so much more sense to you. 

“i —” you begin, but you just so happen to glance up and see beomgyu right outside of your doorway… looking absolutely devastated. 

“i’ve gotta go,” you tell soobin as you hang up, not even bothering to say your usual goodbye. 

“beoms, did you hear us?” you ask tentatively, and he flinches a little bit before looking down at the floor and nodding.

you’re unsure of how to navigate this situation from here, but while you’re still trying to figure it out, beomgyu speaks.

“i-i’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly. “i understand if you don’t want me anymore.” 

“w-what? no, i —” 

“i’m just really sorry,” he says, looking as ashamed as a person ever could. “i know it’s wrong, i know it’s disgusting, but i —” 

“beomgyu.” 

“but i can’t help it. i wish i could, but i just can’t; and i understand if you want to return me or whatever, but if you could just —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,”  you interrupt firmly, no room for argument. he stares at you with defeated eyes, and you feel your heart break in two. “i am not disgusted, and i don’t want to return you.” his eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't quite understand, so you continue. 

“your feelings are not disgusting to me, don’t ever say that again, okay? please? it makes me sad,” you plead, and he hesitantly nods. “i think it’s normal, actually. you don’t really know anybody else other than me, so of course you’re confused.” 

“confused?” he asks incredulously, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“confused,” you nod. “it'll change once you meet more people, i swear.” you try to smile reassuringly, but suddenly, you see tears welling up in beomgyu’s eyes. 

“beoms?” you carefully try.

“i don't need to meet more people. i just need you,” he chokes out. “don't tell me i'm confused because i'm not. i-i'd rather you just say you don't want to be with me than tell me that.” your heart clenches at his words, but he continues. 

“i just want to be with you, no one else,” he tells you desperately. “i can understand if you don't feel the same way, but i can't stand to hear you say i don’t love you, because i do. i really, really do.” and as if you're dissociating, your mind is bombarded by times where he's shown you this exact sentiment. again, you go back to every intimate moment you two have ever shared. it was easy to just chalk it up to his lack of experience, but when he's telling you that's not the case so earnestly, is it truly possible to still believe it’s nothing? after a while, you decide that it most certainly is not. 

the question is: do you feel the same way? you try to put a name to the feelings you have when you’re with him. the trust you have, the understanding. the desire to share everything you know and like with him, no matter how mundane it may seem to others; and consequently, the endearment towards him when you see how eager he is to listen. more than that, the intimacy between you two. how you like waking up to him smiling down at you, and how when something happens, he’s the first one you want to tell, good or bad. how when you listen to new music, you feel excited at the prospect of sharing it with him. 

you realize you want to know more about him, the happy things and even the sad things. why he is the way that he is, why he thinks the way he thinks. the peace you feel when he’s running his fingers through your hair and holding you close when you watch the same film for the dozenth time. you try to picture a world where somebody else rented him. a world in which somebody else got to see him as soon as they wake up or as soon as they get home from a particularly grueling day at work, and you finally understand that you wouldn’t like that at all. but why? you’ve only ever thought of him as a friend, right? so why does it matter to you? 

your eyes focus on beomgyu again, and you notice how utterly defeated he looks. his heart is on full display for you — and you alone — as tears stream freely down his pretty, doll-like face. are these tears just for you? you think so. is it safe to trust that these feelings he has for you are real? you’re not sure, but you want to. still, there’s something stopping you.

“i think… i think i feel the same way,” you admit, and his previously downtrodden appearance immediately lights up with hope. “but we shouldn’t.” and the words are like lead in your mouth. 

“why not?” he asks, clearly distressed. you just gave him an inch, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take a mile. he never in a million years would have thought that you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so he can’t just let them go so easily.

“i just… it’s just not something that i can —” 

“is it because i’m an android?” he questions, voice teeming with self-loathing. 

“n-no! i mean, we’re just so different,” you tell him, trying to skirt around the topic as best as you possibly can, but he won’t have it.

“whatever it is, i’ll change it. please? i can do anything,” he pleads. 

“it’s not like that. i want to, but we can't. i-i'll get older. i won't look the same — i won't be the same,” and it’s embarrassing as hell to admit it out loud, but you mean it. beomgyu’s urgent gaze softens, and he inches closer to you before he’s standing before you. he reaches out to gently cup your face and tenderly pushes your hair behind your ears.

“and what about me?” 

“what about you?” you scoff, but you don't pull away from his touch, though your eyes do dart away. “you’ll still be you, and i’ll be old and —” 

“what about when my parts start creaking? what about when i don’t remember things like i’m supposed to? you’ll still love me then, right?” he asks, but he already knows, and your eyes snap back to his.

“th-that’s different. you can get repairs. i can’t —” 

“then i won’t. you’ll get old and gray and i’ll get rundown and out-of-date. i don’t care what happens, as long as i’m with you.” you’re silent in the wake of his heavy words, so he quickly continues.

“you told me that when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you said you always find a way, and i want to find a way to be with you.” your heart simultaneously warms and aches at this sentiment. 

you consider what it would be like to be with him. things would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. maybe you’ll come to regret it someday, but you don’t want to think about that right now. you feel like the luckiest girl in the world when you think of the fact that somebody so beautiful, inside and out, wants to be with you. you don't think you’ve done anything particularly special for him, but he still wants and accepts you for everything that you are and ever will be.

“okay,” you say shakily, and you finally recognize that his hands are still very much cupping your face, fingers lovingly rubbing against your cheeks. he smiles in pure relief at your answer, but he makes no move to break away his hold on you. 

you notice how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips, and you decide you'll have mercy on him as you lean up to him and press a chaste kiss on his pouty lips before parting. he’s visibly red at the action, and you grin at how flustered he looks. on beomgyu’s end, he feels another bloom of excitement and swell of hope threatening to overcome him. when he looks at the playfulness in your eyes, he smiles even wider. 

“i love you,” he whispers affectionately.

you pause before you tell him:

“i love you, too, beoms.”

-

that night, beomgyu is even clingier than usual. he sticks like gum to your side. when you head to sleep, he eagerly nestles in your bed and holds his arms wide open. you follow his lead and settle into his warm embrace. he sings you one of his favorite songs you’ve ever shown him. the last words you hear before you sink into sleep are:

“to die by your side

is such a heavenly way to die

to die by your side, well

the pleasure, the privilege is mine”

notes pt. 2: sfw work ends here!

you and beomgyu have been “together” for a few weeks now, so the relationship is still very new. surprisingly or not, things seem more or less the same. you guess you never realized just how intimate you two have always been until you put a label on things. the only tangible differences are that instead of just a mere hug when he greets you, he plants kisses all over your face before finding his ways to your lips. and when you’re watching movies or even just talking, he’ll steal a kiss or two. and when you head to bed, you know you can expect him to catch your lips like a man starved before you sleep. things get heated, sometimes, but they never lead to anything besides labored breaths and promises to calm himself down. you take his hesitancy as him wanting to take it slow and treasure your first time together, and you realize he still may be traumatized from the years he spent as a sexbot. 

you have apologized to him for telling soobin his secret. you let him know your reasoning for telling him, and he accepted your apology quite graciously. honestly? he was never mad, and he tells you that very clearly, but you still feel somewhat guilty even when he says he understands. your guilt is only absolved when he says he’s thankful you told soobin because things may have never changed without his wise input. he says that he’s grateful to soobin for being a voice of reason in the face of your emotional density. you blushed when he told you this, and apologized for being so slow on the uptake, but he just assured you that he wouldn’t have you any other way, which made you love him even more, somehow. 

you’re now about to go to soobin’s again for another get together with your friends. second time’s the charm, you cheekily told him when you brought it up, and he blushed in response. when you two walk through the doorway, everyone cheers. you greet everyone as usual, and beomgyu tries his best to keep his searing jealousy at bay, but his anxiety starts clawing at him as soobin seats himself next to you and asks you how you are. 

you giggle and tell him you’re doing well, and he responds by updating you on his tumultuous work life. beomgyu immediately wonders why you haven’t told soobin about your new relationship. are you embarrassed to be seen with him? it’s not like he doesn’t understand, what with him technically being made out of wires and machinery. of course a human like you wouldn’t want to be seen with a metal man like him. you could have the entire world in your hands if you wanted, so what’s the point of playing pretend with a fake like him? maybe, if he were you, he’d be embarrassed, too. he likes to think that maybe you aren’t like that, but at the end of the day, how could you not be? he’s nothing more than a robot masquerading as the real thing. 

his anxiety worsens the more in depth your conversation with soobin gets. you try to include him by briefly giving him context about the stories soobin tells, but he can’t stop himself from worrying. again, he feels like soobin is stealing you away from him, and his mood sours. 

your other friends try to talk to him, too, but he’s very obviously in a bad mood as he watches you two continue to laugh together. when you finally do turn to beomgyu, you immediately notice how awful he looks. 

“beoms? are you alright?” you ask gingerly, but beomgyu’s discomfort is not at all placated even at the term of endearment. 

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, and you’re genuinely in shock at his change of attitude. soobin looks very concerned, but he excuses himself to get a drink so you two can work it out, though he has an inkling of an idea of what’s triggering beomgyu. 

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask concernedly, but he shakes his head sulkily.

“do you wanna go home?” you offer, and he immediately nods. you look torn for a second, but when you see how sad he looks, you know you can’t deny him.

you say your goodbyes to your friends and apologize for leaving early, but everyone says they understand. soobin makes you promise to host the next get together, though, to which you happily agree. 

the ride home is mostly silent, but you look over to beomgyu in concern every so often. you grab his hand and squeeze it in a way you hope is comforting, but he doesn’t look any better at all.

when you enter your house, you immediately head to your bedroom, and he follows you in silence. you sit on the bed and pat the space next to you. 

“beoms, what’s the matter?” you ask pleadingly as you grab his hands, and his heart, which was previously aching, is (a little) soothed by your concern. 

“i-it’s nothing,” he answers, but you can tell that he’s lying because of the way he refuses to make eye contact with you. 

“baby, i can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong,” you say. you’re right, and he knows you’re right, but you’re already doing him the favor of a lifetime just by deigning to be with him. how could he dare to ask for more? he’s ashamed at the thought, but you look so sincere, and he knows in his metaphorical heart that he needs to be able to communicate with you if you two are going to have any shot at a lasting relationship.

“i-i’m just j-jealous,” he sputters. 

“oh, baby, why?” you ask. 

“because i’m not like you,” he admits after a pause. “i already feel like i’m not good enough for you, so seeing you with someone who actually is makes me feel awful.”

“who? soobin?” and you’re absolutely petrified when he sheepishly nods. 

“honey, it’s not like that at all,” you tell him. “we’re just friends, i promise.” 

“but it would be so much easier to be with him. you wouldn’t have to be ashamed about telling everyone you’re with an android,” he argues. 

“beomgyu, i am not ashamed of you. i just wasn’t sure if you felt comfortable with me telling everyone. if you want me to tell them, i’ll happily do it. you’re so good, how could i ever be embarrassed of you?” his eyes soften.

“do you mean it?” he asks, and you nod. 

“do i not show it enough? how much i love you, i mean.” he furiously shakes his head no, but you know it’s a lie. beomgyu himself will admit that he needs more validation than most people, and it’s going to take him a while to ever get over it because of his own issues. that doesn’t mean you can’t try to help him, though, so you brush his cheek with your hands before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“does this make you feel better?” you ask after you pull away, but he still looks somewhat depressed, so you pull him in again before pressing your lips against his. this time, you swipe your tongue on his pout, which makes him gasp. you tease your tongue against his and electricity thrums between you two when you do it. he reciprocates your enthusiasm immediately, and before long, you’re both sucking and teasing each other until you’re out of breath.

you pull away again and rest your forehead against his. 

“better?” you question.

“a little,” he says. “m-maybe a little more?” you grin at his coquettishness, and you go in for another kiss. your tongues tangle, but you don’t stop there. your mouth travels, peppering kisses down his jaw to his sensitive neck. he shivers at the contact when you swipe your tongue over his unmarred skin before lightly sucking. he lets out a broken moan when you do it, and it reverberates throughout your entire body and straight to your core. 

“better?” you ask again.

“m-more,” he pants. 

“anything you want, baby,” you tease before your lips hungrily capture his. one of your hands snakes its way up his shirt, and he gasps when you roll his hardened nipple between your fingers. beomgyu is more sensitive than most people, as is the nature of his model, so every little touch drives him crazy. 

you seem to have noticed this, so when your other hand palms his hardened length through his sweatpants and he almost screams, you have to bite back a giggle. 

“d-don’t tease,” he begs, and you’d do anything for beomgyu, really, but not this time.

you palm him even more harshly and his breath catches in his throat. 

“more?” you ask, and he fervently nods. you oblige, sliding your hand under his waistband and teasing the sensitive skin around his length. your fingers brush against it every so often, and he involuntarily bucks every time you do. 

“c-can i touch you?” he practically implores.

“of course, my love,” you tell him as you remove your devious hands and pull your top off before unclipping your bra. 

his mouth waters when he sees you, and you can see him gulp almost comically as his big hands meet your breasts. he copies your movement from earlier, rolling your sensitive buds between his very clearly experienced fingers. you let out a contented sigh at the action, but you won’t let this be all about you, so your hand sneaks it way back down his pants. this time, you grab his girthy cock and give it a harsh tug. his actions stutter, and you smirk devilishly at how fucked out he is when the fun part hasn’t even begun. 

you pull at his waistband, and he eagerly tugs his pants and boxers off as soon you do it. he even goes as far as to tear his t-shirt off over his head before he pulls your half-naked body flush against his, falling onto the bed as he desperately kisses you for everything that you’re worth. eventually, he situates himself on top of you, rutting his thick, long cock onto your still clothed thigh. you didn’t really get a chance to get a good look at him before, but you’re able to look down at him now, and you realize his dick is gorgeous. just like every other part of him. it stands tall, blushing profusely at the tip and practically weeping precum. it’s a bit hooked, too, no doubt to elicit the most pleasure out of his clients. your pussy is drenched just thinking about how it’ll feel when it’s inside of you.

he almost rips your bottoms off of you and his mouth waters even more at the sight of your pussy, all slick and glistening in anticipation for what’s to come. 

“so gorgeous,” he whispers as he prepares to lay himself between your legs, but you hook them around his waist before he can do so. tonight will be all about him, you’ve decided, so you tug him closer and put one of his pretty nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue on it and occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. your other hand continues to tweak the other one before you alternate between the two, causing him to let out a low, guttural groan. 

eventually, he goes in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth and saliva, and you take one of your hands and harshly clench around the base of his throbbing cock. 

“is this what you needed, beoms?” you tease, and he nods pathetically as you tug again, harder this time, and let your hands stroke all the way up to his reddened tip. your thumb glides over his slit, and he’s seeing stars. 

“i don’t know why you’re so jealous of someone else, my love. you’re so perfect,” you praise, and his ears get even redder, somehow, in spite of the situation you’re both in.

“i — nghh — i don’t like when you’re with him,” he pants, in spite of everything you're doing to him. “only want you with me.”

“oh, baby, you have me,” you coo. “always.” and with that, you begin to feverishly jerk him off with one hand while the other returns to his nipple. his hips buck with every movement, and his eyes are screwed shut. you can tell he’s about to come before you completely take your hands off of him. 

“n-no! w-why?” he asks with a crack in his voice, watery eyes shooting open at the sudden action.

“don’t you wanna come in my pussy, instead? it’s warmer and wetter than my hand,” you ask with faux innocence with a tilt of your head, and his previously aggrieved demeanor morphs back into pure lust. 

“that’s what i thought,” you giggle as you grab his length and rub it against your slickness. he groans at the feeling, but you don’t immediately take him in, opting to instead roll your hips up, just barely letting his flared head catch against your entrance. 

“baby, please,” he whines, and with a smirk, you finally wrap your legs around his waist and line him up with your entrance. you just barely take the tip in, easing it into your pussy, before you force him out again. he gasps raggedly at how tight you are, and he’s wound up so much, he feels like he’s on the brink of exploding. he’s about to take matters into his own hands before you guide him back inside of you, and he feels your walls struggling to accommodate him. 

“s-so tight! h-how are you so tight?” he hisses, eyes reddened and face strained, but you’re far too busy with the euphoric feeling of him finally inside of you to reply. he eases in inch after throbbing inch, and it is a snug fit, indeed. he almost wonders if he’ll even fit, but though the stretch burns you, the pleasure is too great to ignore. finally, your walls slightly relax, and he’s able to completely sheath himself in you. you both moan as his tip pulsates against your cervix, and he considerately gives you time to adjust, walls contracting wildly around him, before he attempts to pull out and really begin. 

“stop,” you command before he can do so, and his eyes fill with worry at your words. 

“w-what’s wrong?” he stutters. 

“oh, nothing,” you say between pants. “i just want to see how long you can last.” 

“w-what do you —”

and you interrupt him with a kiss. he ravenously reciprocates it, and he can’t help but unconsciously thrust his hips, tapping deliciously on the deepest parts of you, but you prevent him from ever fully pulling out. you tangle one of your hands through his hair and grip it — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him groan into your mouth. 

“c-can i move?” he pleads, but you shake your head no. 

“why?” he whimpers, but you just smirk as you kiss him again and bite his bottom lip. 

he doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, but it’s far too long for his liking. he feels his dick swell, and you still refuse to let him move, but you teasingly scrape your fingers against his balls and it’s all he can do not to come. 

“p-please let me move, it hurts,” he cries, tears now flowing from his eyes. for once, sex is all about beomgyu and what feels good to him. he could cry just from the sentiment alone, but his current tears are the direct result of how you’re teasing him.

“and where does it hurt, baby? use your words, i know you can.” 

“h-hurts, my c-cock hurts,” he sputters out. 

“and would pounding my pussy make you feel better?” you goad, and he whines even louder at the imagery. 

“y-yes,” he sobs, and you smile as you say your next words.

“such a good boy. you can move.” and that’s all it takes, really, before he’s pulling out despite your cunt’s attempts to suck him back in, and ramming himself back inside of you again and again.

the curve of his cock hits places previously untouched, and your walls spasm around him at the sensation.

“does it feel good, beoms?” 

“s-so good,” he mumbles as drool pools off of his tongue and out of his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “so warm and t-tight.” you clench against your will at his filthy words, and it makes a strangled cry leave his throat. 

“pussy so good, baby. your pussy is the b-best,” he babbles, and your lips meet his again before your mouth travels down, sucking a blooming hickey onto his neck. he trembles at the pain that comes with the pleasure, but somehow, he still has the presence of mind to roll his skilled fingers against your clit. just a few touches, and you already feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel every spasm of yours, and it makes his dick twitch inside of you as he wildly fucks you open. 

he’s drilling into you so hard, you have to dig your fingernails into the skin of his back to keep yourself grounded. with each thrust, you feel more and more like you’re about to burst. 

“gonna come!” you whine. 

“do it, baby. c-come all over my cock,” he pleads.

“come inside? want it so bad,” you mewl.

“of course, my angel. a-anything for you,” he tells you as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your sweaty face, and he hammers himself into you at an inhuman pace as you feel the pressure in you crescendo into a searing hot orgasm. you clench even tighter around him while you come, gripping him so forcefully he can barely pull out, so his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated before he rams himself into you one last time and paints your inner walls with his cum.

you two stay like that for a while, just panting and basking in the feeling of closeness you feel. he presses a kiss on your forehead as he relaxes his arms and lays on top of you. you giggle at the intimacy and he finds himself sharing your laughter, your joy. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he says between breaths, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, beoms,” you tell him, and you do love him. unconditionally.

notes pt. 3: :,) :,) :,)))))) i'm very sorry if this was disappointing but i hope it was worth it! i would love to hear your thoughts or answer any questions you may have about this fic/universe. feedback is needed to a disgusting degree bc i need validation to survive #sorry

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[postracehair]

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

__

You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

__

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.

[invincibledc]

ME WANT MORE JACK PLEASEEE 🙏🙏🙏🙏

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑶𝑼𝑪𝑯𝒀

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐁!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

── .✦synopsis: times Jack can not keep his hands off of you.

── .✦genre: fluff/slight suggestive

── .✦info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin sibling of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome. THESE ARE THEIR OLDER VERISONS

── .✦word count: 1,231

He can’t keep his hands off of you, even if his life depended on it.

FIRST TIME.

Jack is bruised and bloodied, but this crazed bastard is smiling as he stares at you patching him up. Have gotten into a fight, you scoffed as he kicked his feet back and forth childishly as he hummed.

“So, thanks for patching me up puddin’, I don't think I would survive that fight if you didn't knock that bitch out,” he says, his voice a little scratchy due to his yelling as he punched an employee in a store that had a bitchy attitude towards you all because you wanted to ask a question.

It happened so quickly! Next minute, you’re asking the employee if there were any vegan options, and they replied with, “Oh so you’re one of them?”

Immediately—Jack jumped over the counter, grabbed the poor person, and punched them.

And now here you are smacking Jack in the head as he frowns, “Ow!” you sighed as you walked away. Jack watched you closely, seeing how you walked back and forth, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Beloved. I swear, you are the most unpredictable person I've ever met. Even more unpredictable than my idiotic brothers.” as you admonished him, Jack could only watch how cute you looked. You looked so, beautiful/handsome. So majestic.

You finally stopped talking, feeling as if you were talking to a brick wall to see a bandaged blonde in front of you. His tall frame towering over you, his eyes look a little, almost halfway blown out of his pupils as he grins a wolfish grin.

“…Jack, no,” you said slowly, but as you moved back, a small squeak left your lips as Jack’s solemn hands had established themselves onto your hips.

“Jack, yes,” he says back, holding you tight to his body. Your face is placed against where you can hear his heart. His heart is racing like crazy. He’s losing himself, so easily. He’s losing himself, all cause of his obsession.

You sigh, looking up to cup his face as his blonde hair slips over to the left of his face. Seeing how he smiles so filled with love and fascination, it almost makes you feel flushed as he leans in—giving you a soft peck on your lips.

You gave in as quick as him, rubbing his slightly tanned face with the pads of your thumbs. He closed his eyes, letting out a soft breath when breaking the kiss.

“You’re insane,” you said softly, Jack opened his now calm blue eyes. Smiling as he gives your hips a momentary squeeze, he chuckles.

“Only for you.”

SECOND TIME.

“S-sto— oh god!” you exclaimed before Jack kissed you roughly. Jason was after him—after him due to catching him sneaking into the manor.

“Shut up,” he says in between kisses as he pinned you down to the bed. His hands engulfed yours, your eyes closed as he moved his legs in between yours. “Let me, just love you,” Jack says as he kisses your neck. You tried to pull from him, but Jack declined that advantage as he squeezed your hands, interlocking your fingers together.

You let out soft gasps as he started to get lower, kissing your collarbone. He sucks small marks on them, he moves back to smirk at how they started to bruise on your skin.

“Do you know… How long have I waited to see you?” you've been on a mission, a small little vacation mission with your family across the country due to some unnatural things. It was supposed to be quick work, only for it to be 2 weeks.

“You’re very impatient, beloved,” you said after catching your breath. Jack hummed lowly, agreeing without saying anything. He needed to rush this, he needed this, he needed you.

He lets you go, leaving you to raise a brow before your eyes widen to see him place your leg over his shoulder.

“I can't baby..” he whines lowly, he lets a pout hit his face while he gets more on top. You can feel your heartbeat through your ears. “I need you.”

Before he could try and do anything crazy, Jason bursts in with an RPG he did not just have in his room for time-making.

Jason’s eyes widened seeing how his baby sibling was staring back with the same wide eyes.

Jack groans annoyed, facing Jason with dark eyes as Jason aimed the RPG at the male. Jack drops your leg from his shoulder as he puts his hand up. “Damn, you caught me.”

“Yeah, caught you tryna fuck my little sibling.” Jason then, ready to blast him, not caring if it puts a hole into your bedroom wall or the manor.

Jack shrugs, still having his hands up. “I mean, would you like being an uncle?” he questions the male with the white strike.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Jason yells as Jack gives you a quick kiss and does his signature move.

Jumping out the window as Jason aims at him.

“THAT LITTLE SHIT!” Jason slams the RPG holder down as he points a finger at you who now is sitting up.

“I'm telling Bruce.” “you wouldn't.”

“Would.” Jason then runs out of your room as you chase after him.

“TODD! YOU BETTER NOT! سأقطع رأسك!” (I will cut off your head!)

THIRD TIME.

It was a calming Sunday, you were in his condo, the sun peacefully blazing onto your lap where Jack lay there with his head. His head had his disheveled blonde hair, and Jack was peacefully sleeping whilst you read a book. You then closed the book gently and quietly, placing it on the stand beside the couch.

You soon felt hungry, but with him, Jack was nuzzling into the inside of your thighs, you sighed and tried to move his head gently. Sadly, due to the traumas of being Joker’s son, Jack immediately woke up, alerted and awake.

“What ya doin' darlin'?” he questions with his deep raspy voice. He watches as you sit up, “I am receiving a snack.” you say simply, not bothering to turn around to see Jack get up, stumbling over his feet as he tries to get to you.

The poor male almost fell onto his face before flipping onto his feet and then rushing after you. He slides into the kitchen to see you reaching for your favorite chips.

“I got it baby!” he says excitedly, getting close behind you. You can feel his toned chest against your back, Jack then lends you the chips—not before kissing your cheek.

“Thanks, my beloved,” you said with a small smile. “No problem, cutie,” he says lowly, wrapping his arms around you.

You’d think this was over? Right? No. This was a lazy Sunday, so this man was all over you.

From you trying to go to the bathroom, he sat on the bathroom counter yapping 'bout whatever as you stare at him with slight annoyance but yet surprise due to him just not caring that your whole private part is showing the world to him.

Next, Jack had his head over your shoulder when you started to knit, you like knitting due to Raven, but you like to call her Rae. Jack wanted to know how to knit, totally cause he’s not thinking of knitting you a sweet sweater or gloves.

But it only ended up with him knitting his hands together and you laughing at him.

Now that's the end of this.

Jack Quinn tag: @xxxryukifukuxxx @lockofspades @sramoonlight @darkfaethedestroyer @gayartisticandlonely @sleeping-l0s3rs @itsmossy @dead-ry-walking @fanaticf1fan @cxcilla @wolffrankie @jellystar-star @nayykura @nickithearticorn @deadwillow240 @nightblanc @winter-world @valyntime @luxylucylou @timeastronomerdrawer @piratedelusion @existingtoreadfanfics @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

[junebugsarchive]

Hi june, your written is amazing!

If it fine with you can you do jealous yamazaki shingen or jealous park jonggun?

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍 . yamazaki shingen x reader

summary: shingen and gun become jealous when a little boy musters the courage to ask you to marry him

pairing: yamazaki shingen x reader . platonic! gun park x reader

details: reader replaces somi park . ooc shingen . bro is whipped for you . gun's a little menace to society . reader gets a little suggestive . teensy subtle mention of amputation . anon ask . all banners used are from @cafekitsune . all pictures used are from pinterest

a/n: i've always wanted to write something for shingen there's just something ab tall, brooding men turning into putty just for you 😋 enjoy babes! did a mix of both for u anon, my pookies didn't deserve anything that happened to them. spoiler alert: i blame the midwife. i hate her. also sorry if u were expecting something more serious, i don't see shingen being the type to venture in public unless it's to stalk you

yamazaki shingen does not get jealous. or at least, that's what he tells himself. jealousy, like any other emotion, is considered a weakness, and a weakness is something his countless foes will immediately grab on to once they catch sight of it, his father always told him.

he had learned to shut off his emotions a long time ago, ever since his embarrassing defeat against the famed gapryong kim from south korea. however he allows himself to have one simple weakness, despite his father and brother's disagreements, and that was you.

his darling, most treasured wife out of the ten women chosen just for him. you beauty shone through the others, and your quick-witted mind and equally sharp tongue was a stark contrast to the other women that only wished to survive in this cold, unfamiliar place.

shingen adored you. he favoured you, and that much was shown when he allowed you to keep your pinky, much to the displeasure of his brother. he gave you a strong and healthy boy with odd eyes, whom you proudly named gun, and treasured with your life.

shingen cherished you, anybody could tell. but do you love him too? this was a six-year question he never got the courage to ask.

which is why he is unsure of what to feel when he secretly follows you and your five year old son out of the compound and to a nearby public playground, and he sees a young boy bashfully coming up to you and showing a bouquet of wildflowers he had collected.

an odd feeling bubbles in his gut as he watches you smile warmly at the boy, patting his head with a gloved hand, gently taking the bouquet, complimenting it as you admired the flowers. nonsense. even shingen could make a better bouquet than that little brat could (he's lying) to give to you.

"what are you doing here?" shingen pauses in his train of thoughts, looking down, only to see his five year old son standing beside him with a blank look on his face, hands in his pockets. he wasn't even looking at the clan leader, merely staring unblinkingly at you in the distance.

the yamazaki head merely grunts, turning back around to watch you interact with the young boy. the little brat was getting bolder and bolder, daring to grab your hands in his grubby little paws and dancing around with you.

the father and son stood by the side, unnervingly identical blank dark eyes glued onto you, watching you interact with the child, and any passerby walking past them would have had to blink and rub their eyes, wondering if they were seeing doubles.

shingen spares a glance down at gun, and feels somewhat amused by how entranced his son was with you. truly, he thinks to himself as he returns his gaze to you. he is truly too much like his father.

he feels that same, odd feeling fluttering in his stomach as he watches the little beast motion for you to lean down, and braves a small peck against your cheek. the kid's face explodes in a fine assortment of red colours as the other children laugh and cheer, clearly entertained by this boy's foolishness. shingen watches as you merely smile at him and ruffle his hair, not saying a word.

to anybody watching, shingen and gun looked the same as before, but if they looked closer – really looked closer, they would see the exact same crease in between their eyebrows as their gazes became sharper, trained onto the boy.

shingen feels disheartened. why was it so simple for a young child you barely knew to kiss you on the cheek? he had been watching you, waiting for the perfect moment to give you a lil smooch, but each time you seemed to read his intentions and kept your distance.

shingen was frustrated. what was he doing wrong?

"MARRY ME!" the impudent little boy suddenly shouts, with flushed cheeks and a makeshift ring, made out of a little daisy he'd found.

immediately, both shingen and gun's head snaps towards him, death threats running through their minds. oh hell no.

meanwhile, you gave the poor, oblivious boy an awkward smile, extremely floored by the situation. poor kid, did he even know what he was getting himself into? by the looks of his expectant expression and hopeful eyes, clearly not. you clear your throat and open your mouth, ready to spout some bullshit, but someone else beats you to it.

"there you are, dear." you jump slightly in surprise as a deep voice murmurs in your ear, thick, strong arms snaking around your waist as your husband magically appears by your side, resting his chin on your collarbone, letting his hot breath fan your skin.

the little boy stares at shingen with a mix of indignation and fear. "w-who are you?!" he stutters out, and you had to admire his courage.

"i'm her husband." was shingen's immediate reply, and your eyes widen slightly to here the subtle pride in his voice.

the boy frowns. "no you're not! i'm gonna marry her, not you!" you sweatdrop slightly as the two males exchange heated looks – well, at least the boy's was heated, shingen looked purely amused, though you swore there was a tinge of annoyance that flashed through his eyes, though you could never telk what was running through that man's mind.

but unfortunately for the boy, he forgot that there was another formidable enemy headed right for them.

"kaa-san, is this shrimp bothering you?" your son smoothly steps in, gaze calm yet predatory as he looks down upon the inferior boy before him.

the little boy's eyes widen in fear as he recognizes gun, as do the children watching them with bated breath. "it's the playground demon!" a girl shrieks, and all the children flee in different directions, screaming their heads off, even your ever-so-valiant pursuer.

you chuckle a little, and sinply offer a loving pat on gun's head, who looks up at you with the same blank look, though your smile widens as you notice a fervent and soft tinge in his eyes as he gazes up at you.

shingen watches the exchange, feeling strangely out of place. he stiffens a little as you turn towards him, a gentle, yet unreading smile on your face.

out of courtesy, shingen wordlessly offers his arm, to which you accept, your other hand holding on to gun's tinier palm as the three of you begin your walk home.

"i noticed you'd followed my son and i here, lord yamazaki." shingen shows no reaction as your clear voice cuts through the awkwardness. he remains quiet for a few seconds, before turning to look down at you straight in the eyes.

"yes," he replies bluntly, and watches as you blink up at him, taken aback, clearly expecting him to dodge the question. your walls quickly rise as they had fallen, and your smile is quickly plastered back on.

"oh my, whatever for?" you chuckle as you continue your journey, and your voice turns teasing. "were you jealous, then? watching that little boy ask for my hand in marriage?"

"yes."

"ah, i expected-" you pause, and turn to stare at him disbelievingly. "...pardon?"

you weren't sure what you were expecting, but it definitely was not for the man beside you to avert his dark eyes, almost in embarrassment, suddenly looking like a kicked puppy. "are you... upset i interrupted?"

"how could i ever be?" and it's shingen's turn to be taken aback at how soft and genuine you sounded, it almost made him flinch in shock. "you are... my husband." you say quietly, ears tinged red.

a few more seconds of awkward silence pass, before the little gremlin decided to interrupt. "kaa-san, can you carry me?" gun asks blankly, stopping to raise his arms in your direction.

you smile, immediately taking your hand out of shingen's grasp, and the yamazaki clan leader is left with an unexplicable void in his heart as he watches you lift your child in your arms, smiling fondly at him as you continued walking.

suddenly, you stop and whirl around, smiling at shingen. and he realizes, with a start, that this was the first genuine smile he has ever received from you. and he loved it.

"it seems i have been neglecting my marital duties as a wife to my lovely husband," you hum, almost teasingly, a suggestive glint in your eyes. "i shall be visiting your bedchambers tonight, lord yamazaki."

warmth spreads through shingen's chest, and he allows the slightest of smiles to creep onto his face.

"i would love that too... my wife." and he takes a step, then another, and another, until he was directly in front of you. you beam up at him, and your little family walks home together.

yamazaki shingen loves you, and he's willing to wait however long needs be and make a fool of himself as many times as he has to for you to smile like that at him once more.

extra:

"kaa-san, i was jealous that little imbecile asked to marry you just now. can you visit my bedchambers too?" gun suddenly questions, and you let out a small laugh at his funny request.

"silly boy, i do that every night." you hum in amusement, gently tapping his nose as you spoke.

"kaa-san, i meant you should visit my bedchambers and not my father's."

"..." you sweatdrop as the father and son exchange blank looks that conveyed malicious threats and murderous intent.

[causenessus]

ran out of tag space bc I yapped too much bc I love wdo too much but just know I'm the number one wdo fan

oh rjeisisjJEJWJWJ!!! WHITE DENIM OVERALLS THAT HE SO LOVES ON YOU I'M SHAKING I WANT TO MARRY HIM I LOVE HIM (I'll stop now sorry tumblr limited my tags BUT I WAS NOT DONE TALKING ABT THIS CHAPTER BUT I NEED TO SLEEP)

home┊006┊epilogue

007: blue door deja vu

© froyaoya all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

────────────────────────

[ SUNA POV ]

for the past month, he’s been flipping a coin heads and tails in his mind trying to figure you out. it’s like driving in circles.

what happened to the version of you at the bakery, and why are you two different people?

why are you shutting him out, when you really just let him in?

after matches, his routine is to fall asleep on the bus and forget. he’s good enough to play well — but not to make it pro. even if he was, he doesn’t have the passion for it like tsumu does. nor the heart samu does. his heart is kept elsewhere.

a few stop to high five him, one or two pats on the back, till he makes it to a hallway lined with doors.

locker room.. he repeats instructions to himself. folder, second shelf.

rin checks the doors, one by one, till he finds a pickle-green one, labelled “boys lockers” — colors really do stand out.

and just for a second

he let it slip

even if not aloud

he let himself

wish it was blue

& wish it was you

walking out of it

batter stained and lemon scented

wearing those white denim overalls

he so loves on you

────────────────────────

author’s note: I HAD TO DIG TO FIND THAT ATSUMU EDIT IT WAS STORED SO FAR BACK IN MY BRAIN I HAD A BIG DEJA VU MINDBLOWING MOMENT WHEN I THOUGHT OF IT

epilogue going up when I turn my phone off to go to bed 😋

@phoenix-eclipses @thechaosoflonging @yuminako @nbcvs @tenjikusstuff4 @intergalacticrory @sonicsolos @yenonnoff @wyrcan @cnnmairoll @causenessus @reads-stuff-quietly @giocriedpower @applepi25 @gra-eae @lilchubbyyy @thvvluvr @toges-cough-syrup @steiins @girlkissersco @wolffmaiden @iluvaquaphor @mfcherry @k0z3me @alienvarmint

[dailynnt]

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

⋆˙⟡ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

⋆˙⟡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

⋆˙⟡ Age restrictions: 18+

⋆˙⟡ Index of chapters: ≣

⋆˙⟡ Number of chapter: 14/?

⋆˙⟡ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning

⋆˙⟡ From author: Hey guys 😅 I wrote the longest chapter I've ever written for the series 🤭 About 11+ k words 😏 I tried really hard for you guys and spent SO MUCH TIME ON THIS CHAPTER 😂 But I did it 💪🏻 Chapter 14 is very (I'm serious when I say "very") eventful. And I can't wait to find out how you like it 🥺 Read this chapter to the end and I promise you you will be shocked 🤭☝🏻 In addition, this chapter is entirely written from Jungkook's point of view. Tell me what you think of his thoughts 😉🙃 I love all the army, you are extremely cool and the best in the world, that’s for sure 💗

⋆˙⟡ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much 🥺🤭💜🫶🏻

⋆˙⟡ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97, @taeloversblog, @songbyeonkim, @miniruuu, @hubbytaehyung, @queen1599, @goldenboysmuse , @nikkinikj, @kookiesncreamri, @guwol, @unholyforjk, @hisdecalcomania17 (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)

⋆˙⟡ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

Chapter 14. Past mistakes

Jungkook sat in his car, leaning back. His hand was on the steering wheel, his eyes were directed somewhere out the window, although he couldn't really see anything.

He had to concentrate - Lee's schedule was literally minute-by-minute: a meeting with the finance department, a short meeting with the PR department, checking investor reports. Everything was in preparation for the next stage of the "merger," which he hated.

But his thoughts kept coming back to you.

Jungkook sighed. He sighed heavily and long, trying to ease his condition. He replayed in his mind how you looked this morning. Your disheveled hair, your warm skin, the scratches on his back-your fingernails had left those marks. He remembered your voice, quiet, a little hoarse after the night.

"I liked... everything." you said, awkwardly.

Fuck. He liked everything, too. He liked it too much.

Your body, your movements, the way you reacted to him - honestly, without acting, without pretense. Jungkook was with different women. Beautiful, experienced, playful. But none of them caused him such... obsession.

He wanted you more. Much more.

But it wasn't just about sex, and that's what pissed him off.

Because he caught himself wanting to stay with you afterwards. Watching you fall asleep. Waiting for you to wake up. He wanted to know what you were thinking about when you were silent. Do you think about him? He wanted to see your eyes when you look at something with curiosity. He wanted to hear your laugh more often - real, not forced.

Your body was not enough for him. He wanted you. All of you.

"What the fuck, Jungkook..." he muttered to himself.

He wasn't used to reacting like this. He was drawn to you as if you were something he had no right to want-but he wanted you anyway. Even more than he should have.

And worst of all, you obeyed him. You responded to him in a way that was not allowed. You challenged him.

It turned him on more than any lace on your body.

"You must be a problem, kitten," he thought. "Because of all the women I've ever had, you're the only one who makes me want to do more than just take your clothes off."

And not just to have you, but to understand you. To touch not only your skin but your mind.

It scared him. It made him angry.

But, damn it... it was even more exciting.

When he first saw you, he knew you will be his. Maybe for one night, maybe for a few, but to want you all the time like crazy?

He didn't foresee that.

And now, sitting in the car, replaying in his head the way you looked, the way you breathed, the way you begged him, he realized that everything was getting out of control.

Jungkook stopped at a traffic light, and the name "Kang Sukhi" popped up on the Mercedes interactive panel. He looked at name indifferently, not wanting to talk with her. The call went on for a long time until it disconnected itself, and a second later she called again. Jungkook realized she had seen the articles about him and you. He wondered what she had to say.

He pressed almost the last dial tone.

"Yes, I'm listening," he said in a steady voice.

"How long do you plan to play with your new toy? I'm a little tired of watching you kiss," she said sharply, with a sweet smile in her voice.

"Don't look, no one is forcing you to," he said with a subtle smile. Sukhi laughed bitterly.

"You know perfectly well that this is all nonsense. Your fun will soon end, because we're getting married. It's a done deal. It's... beneficial. For everyone."

"You call to reassure yourself?" Jungkook asked ironically, but he felt slightly irritated by her self-assured tone.

"Don't mock me. Have you really started to think you can decide everything on your own?" Sukhi sounded tense.

"I always decide everything myself, in case you haven't noticed. That's why we never announced our engagement," Jungkook replied in an indifferent tone.

There was a short pause on the other end of the line. Then came a cold laugh.

"But you know perfectly well that our parents have already made a deal. You're just putting off the inevitable. And I'm wondering..." her voice became softer, more venomous, "Have you fallen in love with her? Why is she still with you?"

Jungkook was silent for a few seconds.

Your hair tousled after sex, your swollen lips after kissing, your shy smile flashed before his eyes.

"Yes," he finally said, quietly but firmly. "I'm in love."

He wasn't sure why he said it. Maybe to hear Sukhi's reaction. Maybe he wanted to hear himself say it out loud. He had to admit that he liked the way it sounded.

Sukhi laughed. Loudly and almost theatrically.

"Poor boy. So sorry your feelings don't mean anything. I'm going to be your wife. Whether you want me to or not. It's not about you, it's about families. Business. And power."

His jaw clenched. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

"I'll be a good wife to you," she added softly, with a venomous note.

Jungkook didn't answer. Because deep inside, he was seething with disgust at her words.

To the idea that his life was being decided without him.

"I have a lot of work to do," he cut off sharply, "don't waste my time," and pressed the end button.

Manager Lee was waiting for him at the entrance to the parking lot. This was atypical - Lee always stayed upstairs - so Jungkook was immediately on the lookout.

Once parked, he quickly got out of the car and confidently walked toward the man.

"Good morning," he nodded.

The manager bowed discreetly and greeted him back. As always, he was composed and emotionless, but Jungkook knew him well enough to notice that something was wrong. There was tension in Lee's eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you here?" he asked, stopping in front of him.

Lee cleared his throat.

"Your father is waiting for you in the study."

Jungkook pressed his lips into a straight line. He was sure his father would want to talk again when he saw the articles. But the thought of talking to him was still irritating.

"Did he say something?" Jungkook asked as he passed the manager and headed for the elevator. He followed.

"He just asked when you'd be here. And he told that he was waiting for you in the office," Lee replied evenly.

The elevator opened and they went inside. There was a short pause.

"Did you see the articles?" Jungkook asked, not taking his eyes off the door.

"Yes," Lee nodded briefly. "You and Ms. Han are all over the front page. The yellow press is thrilled. It's like they were given a gift." He was silent for a moment and asked, "Did you have a good time?"

Jungkook smiled, not even trying to hide it.

"Yes. I showed her the penthouse. She was... pleased."

Manager Lee didn't say anything, but Jungkook noticed that he looked down a little, obviously trying to remain professional.

The elevator opened, and Jungkook made his way to his office, mentally preparing himself for another conversational battle with his father.

He entered his office. His father, President Jeon, was sitting in his chair, sitting comfortably.

He was calmly staring at the screen of the tablet he was holding, reading a news article with the headline:

"’Jeon Group's’ heir sabotages engagement again. Date with the same mystery girl in the center of Seoul'" His voice was unpleasantly loud in Jungkook's ears. "That was a great performance. Especially the kissing. You know how to get the attention of the press," President Jeon sarcastically said.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Jungkook replied coldly as he closed the door.

President Jeon looked up and studied his son's face for a few seconds.

"You are going to marry Sukhi. This is no longer up for discussion. I give you one week to get rid of this girl, and we will announce your engagement to Kang Tehwon's daughter," he said seriously.

His father's behavior hasn't changed since Jungkook's childhood. He tells him what to do, and Jungkook must to do it without question. But he is no longer a child who had no choice. He is a grown man who decides what he can do and how he can do it.

Jungkook sighed skeptically and rolled his eyes defiantly.

"You don't seem to know how to listen. I'm not going to marry Sukhi. I'm tired of repeating the same thing. I've made my choice."

"You don't decide anything, Jungkook. Marriage is the key to the merger with ‘Kang Technology’. We're talking about prospects that have never been seen in the company's history: joint entry into the Singapore market, access to government projects, capital pooling..."

"Prospects?" interrupted Jungkook, taking a step forward. "Kang Tehwon can't be trusted. I warned you. But you just don't want to see it."

President Jeon smiled. It was almost a condescending smile, like for child.

"In business, trust is a conditional thing. It is not the honest who survives, but the one who knows how to play. And you're still acting like a boy who thinks his feelings will make a difference." He leaned forward, his voice darkening. "This isn't about girls who look good in bed and disappear as soon as you get bored. This is about power. It's about the future of the company you're responsible for. And stop playing around."

Jungkook moved closer to the table, his gaze darkening and his voice dropping to a threatening silence.

"Do you really want me to sign an alliance with someone I despise? And pretend like it's all normal? No. I will not allow this to happen. And I will do everything I can to stop this merger from happening."

The father slowly stood up, straightening to his full height.

"Son, I think you've forgotten who has the final say here. I can freeze your assets, remove you from the Board, and revoke the power of attorney that I gave you. Do you think your shares mean anything without my support?" he studied his son's expression carefully. "You will not do this. Otherwise, I will strip you of all power."

President Jeon was on his way out when he suddenly heard his son's cold voice behind him.

"Then do it," Jungkook said. The president turned around and stared at his son's back. "Do me a favor and deprive me of the role of your heir," he said coldly. "Then we can both finally be honest: you never saw me as a person. Only a tool."

Jungkook turned around. Their eyes met-cold, hard, unbending. In Jungkook's gaze was a challenge. In his father's gaze was a deep disappointment that bordered on contempt.

Jungkook knew this look so well. He often rewarded him with it when Jungkook said he didn't want to be the heir to a large corporation.

"I think I raised a weak boy," his father said quietly. "One who chews snot and plays at love." Jungkook could barely contain his anger. He clenched his fists harder so that it wouldn't be noticeable that he was shaking with anger. "Jungkook, finally realize who you are. And remember who you have to become. Get rid of the girl, or I will."

Something inside him clicked. No. God forbid he laid a finger on you...

"Don't even think about going near her," Jungkook said, his voice threatening. President Jeon frowned, but immediately hid his emotions under a mask of calm. He had not expected such a decisive response from his son, but he was not going to give in either.

"You crossed the line a long time ago, son," he said, his voice cold and distant. "Do you think your struggle for some illusion of love can change the reality of this world?" He paused, giving the words importance. "This is not a world where you can afford weakness."

Jungkook didn't answer right away, breathing heavily, feeling his every muscle tense with internal tension. It was hard to stay calm when the man he not only hated, but was forced to look up to, was standing in front of him.

"I'm not your reflection anymore," Jungkook finally said with a serious expression on his face. "And I won't follow your orders just because you want me to. If that makes me weak, then I will be weak. But at least I will be true to myself."

President Jeon's face darkened. He realized that his son had crossed the point of no return.

"Do you think your pride is bigger than yourself?" he said slowly, as if he wanted to swallow every word before releasing it. "When your ambition causes you to lose, you will realize that your ideals are just empty words for a child who has never been able to accept his responsibilities."

Jungkook did not flinch, even though every word hurt his heart. But it was his choice, and he had no intention of backing down.

"You can keep those responsibilities for yourself," he answered briefly. "I will not be your toy heir. I have other plans."

There was silence for a moment. The air between them literally crackled with tension. His father looked at him for a few more seconds, and then... turned and left the office, leaving behind the echo of heavy footsteps and the pressure of an unspoken threat.

Jungkook couldn't find his feet after talking to his father. He was sure that his fake relationship plan would work. He thought that the scandal he created and the ostentatious "love" would be enough to undermine his image so that President Jeon would change his mind. But he underestimated his stubbornness. His father seemed to become even more insistent.

Jungkook felt that time was running out. He needed proof-real, hard, irrefutable proof-that Kang Tehwon was not just seeking a merger, but was intent on taking over ‘Jeon Group’ completely.

The fact that he was buying up shares in the Busan branch was just the tip of the iceberg. After that conversation, Jungkook immediately instructed his manager to investigate: what shady schemes Kang Tehwon was running, what offshore accounts he was using, and who were the people behind him.

And yet, he had to continue this farce. To continue to be a couple with you, a pretend couple in love that everyone thinks is real.

While his manager was looking for evidence against Kang Tehwon, Jungkook decided to bet on Sukhi.

The idea was simple: if Sukhi sees that he is "unwaveringly" with you, maybe her pride will not stand. Perhaps she would give up the marriage herself. But how do you make her believe that? What does Sukhi have to see to break down? The answer never came.

And one more thing - now Jungkook has to make sure that his father doesn't get close to you. To know President Jeon is to realize that he never makes a threat in vain. And although Jungkook didn't want to think the worst, his fear for you was real. All of this is indeed chaos, but he will endure. Because there is no case that Jungkook can't handle.

That evening, when it was already dark, he drove home exhausted, morally depressed, with an obsessive feeling of anger settling deep inside. And only one thought kept him from completely giving up - you.

Thinking about you calmed him down. He wanted to see you, to touch you, just to forget about everything that was happening around him.

So, without thinking twice, he bought some fried chicken and beer and went to see you. He wasn't sure if you had already eaten dinner or if you would want to eat so late, but he just wanted to spend time with you. To see your eyes. To feel a little bit of your warmth.

He stopped in front of your door with a bag and bottles in his hands. He pressed the bell and looked at the clock - it was almost ten. Maybe you're already asleep. You might be angry that he was disturbing you so late.

You were in no hurry to open the door. And when Jungkook was about to turn around and leave, the door swung open.

You stood on the threshold in a light housecoat, your hair still a little damp. You smelled like something fruity. And Jungkook, despite his tiredness, suddenly felt his heart beat faster.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, glancing at the package in his hands.

"I... thought it would be nice to eat some chicken and drink beer..." he said, a little confused, picking up the package. "You haven't had dinner yet, have you?"

Your eyes met his again. You hesitated for a second, and then stepping aside.

"Who can say no to chicken and beer? You're lucky I didn't eat dinner."

Jungkook came inside, glad that you hadn't turned down dinner with him. He walked over to the table and put down a bag of chicken. You were shocked when he pulled out not only four servings of fried chicken, but also onigiri with tuna, and two servings of spicy tokpoki, which you loved with chajamyeon sauce.

"Oh my God, tteokbokki with chajamyeon is my favorite," you couldn't contain your joy when you saw them. Jungkook froze. He knows you love them, that's why he bought them. "How did you know?" you asked, opening the box of warm rice dumplings.

"Uh... I didn't know, I just got what I liked," he lied. You turned to Jungkook, narrowing your eyes.

"Do we have something in common now?" you sneered. Jungkook smiled and leaned toward you.

"We have a lot in common, kitten, and you know it's not just the tokkpoki." Jungkook looked at your lips, which were beckoning him like a magnet. He wanted to kiss you, but you seemed to notice and stood up abruptly, running away from him.

"I'll get the beer glasses and chopsticks. I'm not comfortable eating with wooden ones. Do you want me to get you some iron ones too?" you said quickly. Jungkook turned to look at your face.

"Yes, please give me the iron ones." he said, smiling slightly.

You went into the kitchen, and Jungkook stayed at the table, setting out the food. The wait became surprisingly long - a minute, two... He looked up and looked in the direction of the kitchen, and what he saw made you feel a wave of slight arousal.

You stood on tiptoe at the locker, trying to get the glasses off the top shelf. The robe rose with your every movement, barely covering your buttocks, and your naked legs looked dangerously attractive. Your hair, damp and uncombed, fell in waves over your shoulders, and the curve of your body simply called for sin.

Jungkook couldn't resist the temptation to approach you. His feet moved forward on their own.

"What are you doing there so helplessly?" he muttered above your head, coming close. His chest touched your back. Jungkook felt the warmth of your body as he raised his hand and easily removed the large beer glasses from the shelf.

You turned around, a little confused, looking at the glasses in his hands.

"Thank you..." you said tensely.

"I'm always ready to help," he smiled playfully, not moving away. His eyes were once again locked on your lips. And when you took a step to the side, he put the glasses on the countertop and pushed you gently but firmly against it.

"I want to kiss you," Jungkook whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, with a hint of seduction. You looked up, noticing that he was looking at your lips. You were silent, didn't answer, didn't look away. You did not push him away.

And that was enough for him to realize that you didn't mind.

His lips touched yours - at first cautiously, gently, as if he was asking for permission. Then - more decisively, more insistently. His hand found your waist, and the kiss gained strength. Jungkook felt how your breath catch in your throat.

He allowed himself to slip his tongue inside your welcoming mouth, and when his tongue met yours, he gave a little moan. His heavy thoughts left his head for a moment, and he loved the feel of your plump lips.

Jungkook felt his cock begin to throb. He has to stop, because otherwise he'll fuck you right here in this kitchen.

When he finally pulled back, you were left pinned to the countertop, just as confused and still wanting.

"You have no idea... how you just saved my day," Jungkook said quietly between you, looking at you.

He smiled, took the chopsticks from your hands, take a glasses and walked back to the table as if nothing had happened.

"Come here. The food is getting cold," Jungkook nodded.

He sat down on the couch, putting the chopsticks on the table and grabbing a bottle of beer. Your closeness was clouding his judgment, and he made a titanic effort to stop at just a kiss.

He would like to continue, but he has to give you some space. Because if he tries to fuck you every time you're around, you'll probably run away from him.

You sat down next to him. Silently. Jungkook handed you a glass of beer.

"Here's to running away from madness," Jungkook said with a smile and to you. You smiled and took a long gulp.

You started eating, and he really tried to focus on the food, on your presence, which was strangely calming him-but somewhere deep down, the wreckage of today was still fermenting. He took a bite of chicken and heard your soft voice.

"How was your day? I mean... did anyone say anything to you about the articles?"

His eyes rested on you for a moment. The hint was too obvious, you were wondering if there was any reaction to your performance yesterday. Jungkook sighed.

"Sukhi called in the morning. And then I had a nice conversation with my father," Jungkook said nonchalantly, hiding his irritation behind his glass. He didn't elaborate on what his father had said, and you didn't need to know.

"Did he tell you something this time?" you asked cautiously.

"He told something," Jungkook replied shortly, making it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it.

You nodded your head in silence and continued eating the hot tteokbokki, which you really liked.

"By the way," you broke the silence between you. Jungkook turned to you with interest, still gnawing on her chicken leg. "How long have you known Sukhi?" you asked. Sukhi was the last thing Jungkook wanted to talk about with you. He put the bone on his plate and licked his fingers.

"A long time ago. Our parents have been working together for about fifteen years, I guess," he answered without much enthusiasm.

"So you grew up with her?" you asked again.

"Well, you could say that, but I didn't spend much time with Sukhi. She usually came with her parents to events, to meetings, to some corporate vacation. I didn't like all these things, so I always ran away."

You pushed the plate of rice dumplings away and took a sip of your beer. A small smile appeared on your lips, and Jungkook couldn’t see what it meant.

He watched as you sat down further on the couch, your legs tucked up. You looked full, but you still had the beer glass in your hand.

"Sukhi is a beautiful woman. She knows exactly the world she lives in, and you grew up together. You've known each other for a long time…" you said slowly. Jungkook squinted his eyes, looking at your face. He wanted to know where you were going with this, that’s why he remained silent, letting you finish your thoughts. "Why don't you want to marry her? She's a good match for you."

Jungkook froze for a split second and then turned away from you. He picked up another chicken leg and took a bite.

"She's a good much for our fathers, as a way to merge our family companies without too much bureaucracy," Jungkook said ironically without turning around.

"Well, maybe. But I'm really interested to know the reason why you don't want this marriage?"

Jungkook held his breath, chewing his food slowly. He didn't like this question, and he didn't like that you were asking about she so insistently.

"Because I don't like her. Is that enough of an answer for you?" Jungkook asked, wiping his hands of grease and turning slightly to face you. You raised an eyebrow, not hiding your skepticism.

"You don't like her?" you repeated mockingly. "Really?"

Jungkook's brow furrowed slightly, trying to understand your behavior. He turned his body completely toward you.

"I don't like her," he repeated confidently and firmly, looking directly into your eyes. He noticed that you were nervous, or rather irritated. Can he really see your jealousy?

"What about the time you fucked her? Did you like her then?" you asked with a mocking smile on your lips. You took a sip of your beer, immediately hiding it.

Jungkook expected to hear anything but not that. He involuntarily recalled a situation from five years ago, when he had a big fight with his father and went drinking at a club with Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung.

He only remembers getting very drunk and that Sukhi was there too. She came in when he was already drinking heavily. Jungkook doesn't remember how she put him in a taxi or how she dragged him to the penthouse that night, he only remembers her kissing him and then starting to undress him. In fact, at that moment, Jungkook didn't fully realize what he was doing, but he accepted it.

It wasn't sex with feelings or long caresses. He doesn't remember very clearly how he unbuttoned his shirt. Her voice, suffocating, false.

How he ended up between her thighs-without even looking into her eyes. No hint of desire.

No pleasure.

In. Out. The end.

It was a one-time thing. One that Jungkook regrets, because it was after that night that Sukhi became obsessed with him. She stalked him and asked him to dating with her, and Jungkook was adamant. Because there was something about this girl that repelled him.

But no one knew about that night, not even his closest friends. So when he heard it from you, he was shocked, to say the least. How do you know something about him that no one else does?

"Why did you think I was fucked her?" Jungkook decided to ask instead of answering right away. You might not know the truth, but you might just checking he.

You pursed your lips and put the beer glass on the table. You sat back down on the couch and crossed your arms over your chest.

"I don't think so. I know." you said shortly.

"How?"

"Your fiancée invited me to a meeting, and she actually asked me to leave you alone." your voice was tense, even though you spoke with undisguised sarcasm. You got up and went to the window, opened it, wanting to let the warm night air into the room. Jungkook kept his eyes on you, feeling irritated.

So Sukhi was dating you. It was to be expected.

You stopped at the window, turned around, and crossed your arms over your chest again.

"She threatened to tell everyone about my past and about my alcoholic mother. That I was sleeping with you because you promised me position at the main company," you laughed. But it wasn't mocking or because you were funny. It was a hysterical laugh.

"Why did you go to her? Why didn't you tell me right away?" Jungkook was angry. You could have fallen under the media's scrutiny again. But what made him angry the most was the fact that Sukhi had threatened you. He had to fix it.

"I was curious to know what she was like. You know, it's easier to confront an enemy when you know more about them." You paused and continued. "We had a ‘nice’ chat and she told me a little secret, that you guys were fucked. Can you imagine my surprise?" a smile appeared on your lips.

Jungkook felt his heart start to beat fast again. He noticed something in your behavior that he liked for some reason.

You were jealous.

And this excited him. He leaned back further and threw his arm over the back of the couch. He could barely contain his smile.

"It was just once and a long time ago." Jungkook said casually, but following you closely. He was secretly enjoying your reaction.

You hummed. Your eyebrow shot up, showing mockery.

"Oh, so that really was. For some reason I thought she lied about it," you tilted your head slightly to the side, your eyes sparkling. "She assured me that you'll be hers under any circumstances. You must have fucked her well if she wants to marry you so desperately."

Jungkook spread his legs, swaying them. He bit down on his piercing and began to play with it with his tongue. An invisible tension filled the room.

"I don't know about her, but I didn't like it," Jungkook said sarcastically. The smile disappeared from your lips and you gave Jungkook a look he had known for a long time. Full of irritation and disdain. "You don't have to worry about her," he tried to reassure you, "I have no feelings for her, and she's overreacting. I will not be her husband under any circumstances. I will talk to her about your meeting."

"I don't care if you have feelings for anyone." you said sharply. "You just need to make sure she doesn't run her mouth about me and my family. I agreed to help you, so please safe my privacy," you said sharply, irritated, barely controlling your emotions. Jungkook got up from the couch and slowly approached you. You followed his every move and did not break eye contact.

Jungkook stopped a step away. He touched your cheek.

"Don't be so nervous, kitten. Sukhi won't say a word about you. I promise..." he wanted to stroke you, but you roughly batted his hand away.

"I hope so. Thank you for dinner, but I think you should go," you wanted to walk around Jungkook, but he wouldn't let that happen. He grabbed you and pushed you against the window sill. He was angry with your behavior. When you didn't let him touch you, something clicked inside him. He wanted to hold you even longer and closer.

"Why are you angry?" he asked softly, not giving in to emotion. You swallowed your saliva, your breathing rapid.

"I'm not angry," you said with indifference in your voice, but nothing could hide your jealousy. Jungkook smiled at hearing another lie from you. "Let go of me, I don't want you to touch me," you put your hands on his chest and tried to push.

"Since when don't you want me to touch you? Huh? Are you jealous of a night from five years ago?" Jungkook asked with a sly smile, not moving away from you a millimeter.

Your eyes rounded and you almost choked on your indignation.

"Me? You? Jealous you? You'd better tone down your arrogance. I don't care who you fucked." You let out an irritated puff of air, pushing him even harder into his chest, but he didn't budge. His arm wrapped around your waist, squeezing you so that your body was pressed against his.

Jungkook felt that your every word, your every nervous breath, your every movement against him was rekindling something primal in him. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest, but his face remained calm, even seductively defiant.

Your hands rested on his chest, and this excited him even more than any kiss. Because behind this desperate refusal was something more - a feeling. And Jungkook, although he didn't admit it, wanted to hear it from you.

Your anger, your words-they screamed about something completely different. He saw right through you. Your indifference? It was fake. And he knew it.

His voice remained quiet, but there was a hoarseness in it, deep and disturbing.

"If you really don't care..." he leaned closer, his breath sliding over your skin near your ear, "...then why did you arrange this interrogation?"

He could feel you trembling. Whether it was from anger or desire, it didn't matter now. Jungkook pressed you even harder against him, until your bodies merged into a single line. Your softness against his hardness - and this tension between you, burning like fire.

"I didn't arrange anything. I just was a little bit wondering what you had between you..."

"There's nothing," he assured you briefly, "Satisfied your interest?"

"Yes," you said and looked away.

Jungkook leaned in closer, eager to kiss you. But he touched your jaw with his nose and inhaled your pleasant scent, which made him want to eat you like a ripe fruit.

"I love how jealous you are, it's so hot, kitten," he murmured, nuzzling your soft skin with his nose.

You pulled away, increasing the distance between your faces.

"I wasn't jealous you, I'll say it again," you said firmly.

"Oh, com’n," Jungkook said playfully, "It's so obvious you're angry about what you found out."

"Let go of me," you ignored his words. To Jungkook, this meant nothing but confirmation of his words.

"I don't want to let you go, what are we going to do about it?"

You were confused for a moment and then rolled your eyes.

"God, how annoying," you muttered indignantly, but your voice trembled treacherously. Jungkook caught this tiny change, and his eyes narrowed with inner satisfaction. But you’re trying to pull away again. Jungkook saw it. And it touched his inner chords.

"Why you avoid me after every time we get closer?" he ask calmly, but his voice was tense. "Are you afraid that I'll become more than just a partner in agreement for you?"

You tried to pull away again, but he wrapped his arms around you tighter. His embrace was not aggressive, but rather stubborn. Like someone who wouldn't let go until he heard the truth.

"I'm not afraid," you answered through clenched teeth, "I just don't want to confuse work with personal. We made an agreement - no jealousy, no feelings. And I'm keeping my word. But why you want more is a mystery to me..."

Jungkook's embrace weakened, but he didn't let go. Your words cut his ears, and they were not what he wanted to hear. Jungkook looked at your face for a few long seconds and then gave a mocking laugh.

"You're such a proper girl, I keep forgetting all the time..." he finally let go of you. He took half a step back from you and put his hands in his pockets. "So maybe you're going to tell me that the 'no sex' rule is still in effect?"

You looked at him, full of anger and confusion. Your face looked darker than the clouds before the rain.

"I'm not going to say this..." you said in a half-hearted voice, "but we mustn't forget the boundaries. You are nothing to me. And I am nothing to you. No jealousy, no feelings. And then everything will work like needs..."

Jungkook clicked his tongue and shook his head. You're saying the same thing again. Everything was so good between you two. It seemed like after the trip to Busan and yesterday's date, you were only getting closer. But when it really happens, you constantly start to resist. And it got on Jungkook's nerves.

He wanted to have you not because of the deal, but because of the feelings that you could showed. But now you're pushing back again. It's fucking maddening. Did you really not feel anything for him during this time?

Jungkook laughed at himself inwardly. Is he really like that stupid boy who wants someone to have feelings for him? For someone to love him? No way. He doesn't need that. If he wants to, he'll have hundreds of women begging for his attention and give them a chance to be with him.

But why... why doesn't he want other women, but he wants you so desperately?

"Okay Y/N. Let's not forget the boundaries..." he said, almost mockingly. He was pissed as hell about the whole situation. The day had already sucked, and the ending turned into even worse. Jungkook was itching to hurt you, to make you feel that bitterness of loss and stupid limits. "But we're continue to fuck, right? How do we do it? Do we create a schedule or can we leave it like a spontaneous decision?..."

Your eyes flashed with evil.

"Get out..." you said threateningly.

"You must think, what's the right thing to do about it..." he said mocking of your constant words about following the rules. Jungkook took another step back, keeping his eyes on you, "Just think carefully kitten, because if you say no this time I won't actually touch you again..." with that he turned around and walked away, feeling angry and frustrated with everything around him.

The next day, Jungkook went about his usual routine. He woke up early as usual, focused and silent. A shower, black coffee without sugar, strict classics in his clothes - he looked impeccable as always. However, there was an anger in his eyes that he did not show to anyone but himself in the mirror.

It was hot in the office, despite the working air conditioners. Perhaps because of the accumulated fatigue or because of the internal tension that had not let go of him after yesterday's conversation with you. He deliberately did not write or call you.

For the third time for today, Jungkook picked up the phone, opened the messenger... and checked to see if you were online. Each time it said "online a minute ago." Jungkook exhaled heavily and put the phone away. He was angry. At you. At himself. At everything.

He spent the entire day in his office, immersed in documents, meetings with lawyers and the finance department. He spent several hours working with digital spreadsheets, analyzing the costs of foreign branches. Jungkook checked all the reports on partners. Anything to avoid thinking about you. It turns out that before that, he hadn't noticed how often you were in his head.

But there was something else that created additional tension. Kang Tehwon and his machinations. Jungkook instructed Manager Lee to investigate. But several days had passed and there were no results.

He didn't like to wait. And in the late afternoon, when Lee Ji-hyun still hadn't gotten in touch, Jungkook called him himself.

"I'm still waiting for information, what's taking so long?" he said shortly, sitting in a leather chair and looking at the city through the panoramic windows.

The manager sighed into the phone.

"Almost everything is ready, there is one important detail left. I don't want to give you anything until I check it for sure. That will be either late tonight or tomorrow."

"Okay. Send me the file via messenger." Jungkook threw the phone on the table without even saying goodbye.

He just sat there for a few seconds, staring at the dark screen. His fingers slowly slid across the display. A contact he had long wanted to erase. But he didn't. Not yet.

Sukhi. He remembered that he'd meant to call her this morning to talk about you, but he got distracted.

He pressed the call. The line was quiet, only short rings. She answered on the third ring.

"Jungkook?" her voice sounded soft, even a little surprised. "You first to call me? This is... unexpected. To be honest, I'm pleasantly surprised. Did you... miss me?"

He was silent for a few seconds, letting the silence hang between them like a shadow.

"No. I didn't miss you," his voice was even, calm. "I was wondering if you enjoyed talking to Y/N?"

Now Sukhi was the one who was silent for a few seconds. Then she answered.

"Oh, did she tell you about our meeting? Or are you already following me, honey?" she tried to sound confident, and affectionate, but Jungkook knew Sukhi well enough to understand the venom in her voice.

"Yes. She told me," Jungkook confirmed. "I don't suffer from such nonsense as stalking, especially not to you."

Sukhi was silent again and Jungkook could only imagine her face contorting with irritation. He didn't let her speak and continued.

"You managed to say a lot of stupid things to her, and you threatened her. That's so stupid of you," Jungkook said with a subtle smile on his lips.

"Did I really threaten her?" Suhie theatrically upset into the phone. "I just told her she should leave because I'm your fiancée. By the way, she's got a sharp tongue, did she tell you how she suspected me of having a relationship with Yoongi? That's ridiculous," she laughed just as fake and Jungkook felt disgusted.

"Wasn't she right? He's fucking you and everyone knows it." Jungkook said confidently. "I'm genuinely happy for you guys." he scoffed.

"Jungkook..." Sukhi sounded tense and probably wanted to make excuses, but he was tired of talking to her, let alone listening to excuses he wasn't interested in. He interrupted her.

"Listen, Sukhi. Stop calling yourself my fiancée. You will never be. I'm going to tell you just once and I hope you'll hear me: don't come near Y/N again. If I hear or see even a small news report about her or her family again... if I think it was you, you will regret it very much. You've known me for a long time, and you know I don't waste words."

Sukhi huffed into the phone.

"You threatening me?" her voice became familiar. No false affection or tenderness.

"I'm warning you. Don't make me lose my patience. Don't cross me. Because if you really decide to make a game out of this, you will lose."

And without waiting for an answer, he simply pressed the red button without even waiting for a response.

After that, he packed his things and drove home. The car was moving fast, almost like his thoughts. But he forced himself to stop thinking about you. When he arrived, he quickly went up to the apartment and went inside as if he was running away. He was running away from you, if to be honest.

Jungkook didn't want to see you now. Not because he wasn't grieving - quite the opposite. He waited for your decision and furiously warned himself: either you're his or you're not. It's as simple as that.

And if you don't see him as someone who deserves your feelings, then let him. He won't play your games.

The next day was Saturday.

Jungkook decided to completely disconnect from work. He was lying on the couch, wearing only sweatpants, with a joystick in his hands. He was playing fights, yelling at the monitor, switching between boxing and e-sports matches. He looked relaxed... but inside he felt empty again as soon as you flashed into his head.

Jungkook hadn't heard from Manager Lee yesterday, so today he was quick to pick up his phone whenever he heard a notification, but it wasn't what he needed. He also opened a chat with you over and over again. The last time he checked it said "online at 3.57 p.m"

Around eight in the evening, Jimin called.

"Jungkook-ah, what are you doing? Do you want to go to the club with me tonight, hang out a bit? It's been a while." His voice was as cheerful as ever.

"I can't, I have other plans," Jungkook lied as he got up from the couch to go take a shower.

"Like what? You're going to be with your girlfriend?" Jimin sounded sly. Jungkook hummed.

"Yeah, hyung. I'll be with her."

"Ooh, what are you going to do?"

"Something that's none of your business," Jungkook assuaged his curiosity. Jimin grunted in frustration into the phone.

"So that's how you talk?... You got a girlfriend, so now you can see your friends once a month?" complained Jimin.

"Well, I'm sorry, hyung, a girlfriend needs more attention than friends." Jungkook said with a smile.

"Listen, I'd like to meet her properly. Then at the afterparty, the introduction was kind of awkward. Let's go to Jeju, go on a yacht, swim in the water? You'll get some air. Take her, she'll have more fun than sitting in a stuffy apartment. And we'll all have a good time."

Jungkook thought about it. The idea sounded great to him. And what made it even better was the timing. It would be the perfect time to run away from the company, where the engagement and merger announcements were to be made on Friday morning. Jungkook found out about this from his secretary this morning.

"Who's going?" asked Jungkook.

"Who? Me, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Namjoon. Yoongi and Jin are busy as usual. And Taehyung promised to bring his girl."

"And you? Going without your girl?" said Jungkook, mockingly. Jimin laughed back and then said.

"If I need one, I'll find one on the spot." Jungkook chuckled.

"Shall we go on Thursday night?" he suggested, "I'll have all my business done by then."

"No problem," Jimin replied. "I'll make all the arrangements."

"Okay, Jimin-hyung. I'll see you then. Have a great time tonight," Jungkook wished.

"You have a good time too, try not to disappoint your girlfriend," Jimin joked.

"You know I never disappoint," Jungkook replied defiantly. Jimin laughed and said goodbye.

Jungkook hung up the phone. He wondered how to tell you about it. Should I text you or go to your place? He decided to go to your place. And while he was going to the bathroom, he reassured himself that it was only to tell you about your future trip to Jeju, not because he missed you.

Jungkook went into the bathroom. The warm water flowed over his body but did not wash away the tension. He rubbed his neck, still thinking of you.

When he got out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, he heard a loud knock on the door. Someone was pounding on the door.

"What the hell..." he muttered, and moved to the door.

He opened it. And froze.

You were standing on the threshold.

Drunk.

You were swaying, even though you were holding onto the doorjamb. Your eyes were half open, your top slipped down from one shoulder, and you were wearing black sweatpants, Fila brand, with stripes. The strands were gathered at the back of the head into a hairstyle, but it was already disheveled.

Jungkook's heart involuntarily beat fast. Even though you were a mess, why did he find you so damn attractive in his eyes?

You ran your eyes over his voice, his torso, and the towel that was wrapped around his hips. Jungkook saw you swallow nervously, and a moment later, a cheeky smile played on your lips.

"Hey," you said, widening your smile, and then brazenly walked inside without asking permission. Jungkook slowly turned around and saw how you walked and collapse on the couch. He closed the door and walked in your direction.

When Jungkook stopped a few steps away, you looked up at him with your shining eyes.

"Why did you come?" he asked in a low voice. Although inside he seemed to be torn to pieces.

"Oh, you don't know wh..y would I come to yo... you?" you stammered as you spoke. Jungkook wanted to smile. He was very amused by your condition. He had never seen you so drunk before.

"I have no idea. Surprise me," Jungkook said ironically.

You smiled again, but even wider and more slyly. You put your foot up, resting your ankle on your knee.

"I came for the money..."

Jungkook froze. He didn't fully understand what you were saying.

"What kind of money do you need?" he asked.

"My salary. It's the end of the month. *hic* You promised to pay me... I’m not working, and I'm playing your girlfriend," and in the end you hiccupped too.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. That's right. He promised to pay you. And he hasn't given me any money since then. The incident in Busan doesn't count, because that's different money.

Jungkook folded his arms across his chest, causing your gaze to run treacherously over his arms, lingering on the tattoo and continuing to walk over his bare chest and abs.

You leaned back on the couch, sighed theatrically and started counting with your fingers, very seriously.

"So... For the fake feelings... For the kisses I put up with... For having to smile at your friends... For the shame to your mother, and for your horrible fiancée I put up with..." you stand up but still held on. You walked over to him and tried not to close your eyes. "And then there's the compensation for moral damages. You're a... complicated person, you know?"

Jungkook couldn't stand it and laughed. His laugh was deep, genuine, but short.

"Okay. These are serious points. How much will it be in monetary terms?" he asked calmly, but with irony in his voice.

You pretended to think, and then held out your palm to him.

"5 million won, + for moral damages."

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. He looked at your beautiful face for a moment, then turned around and went to get his tablet. He came back to you a minute later and you were already sitting on the couch.

"I need your account number," he said without looking at you.

"Tell your manager to send you all my data from ‘EON Creative’. The account number will be there." You spoke casually, almost ordering him. Jungkook glared at you. He wanted to say something barbed, but held back. He put down the tablet and sat down not far from you.

"Okay. Is that all?" he asked.

"Yes," you said shortly. You continued to sit and didn't seem to be about to leave.

Jungkook turned his head away from you and smiled to himself.

"So you tolerated kissing,?" he asked again. You raised your eyebrows, threw a lazy glance at his lips, and grimaced.

"Yes. I put up with you and your kisses. Your self-assured behavior..." you sat up straight and then leaned toward him. Jungkook could smell alcohol mixed with perfume from you. "You're a big pain in my ass, Jeon..." and then you pulled away. You stood up and looked down at him. "And I've been thinking a lot about what you said the day before yesterday. I... I like having sex with you, so I'm not going to return that rule."

Jungkook's insides turned upside down. He froze, as if someone had paused all his thoughts.

You were standing in front of him-drunk, outspoken, bold, and yet so real. The words that had just come out of your mouth cut through his brain and heart at the same time. "I like having sex with you, so I'm not going to change that rule."

You've just said it - so brazenly, so sincerely... as if it were just a fact that you couldn't keep to yourself anymore.

But it didn't set Jungkook free; on the contrary, it squeezed him from the inside. He did not expect this. And this was not the reaction he wanted.

He wanted... he wanted you to say something else. That you miss having him around. That you miss him. That you feel good with him - not just in bed.

He tilted his head down a little, leaned back and smiled.

"Oh, shit..." he thought.

You were standing over him like a temptress from his deepest dreams. There was no shadow of doubt in your eyes. Only alcohol, a little bit of rebellion, and something dangerous.

Jungkook took a gulp of air.

He looked up at you again. His eyes were no longer laughing. They were catching yours intently.

"If you're not returning that rule..." he said slowly, "...then maybe we should use the opportunity right now."

His voice was deep, husky, almost hot. But inside he was cautious.

You didn't say anything. Shaking your head, you slowly sat down on the couch next to him. Jungkook felt the warmth of your thigh next to him. And in that moment... his whole game of indifference broke down.

"You want to fuck me so badly already, Jeon?" you sounded playful. He moved closer.

"Yes," he admitted immediately. There was no reason to hide it. He really wanted to fuck you. But you were drunk, and that worried him. He didn't want to take advantage of your weakness. "But you're drunk. I think some other time," he rushed back, leaving you disappointed. You sat still for a moment, and then stood up again, but this time to leave.

"Fine. If you don't want to fuck me tonight, call your fiancée. She's definitely sober."

Jungkook instantly felt a fire inside. What a provocateur you are.

You took a step and he grabbed your arm and you fell into his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close so that you wouldn't get out of his grip.

"What a sharp tongue you have, kitten. Should I put something in your mouth so you can use your tongue for a better purpose?"

Your body was frozen in his arms, but he could already feel your heart pounding furiously. Jungkook looked into your eyes, challenging you, hinting at a game you had both already lost. Your breath hitched, and he... he could barely restrain himself from ripping off your clothes.

He leaned in closer, his lips touching your cheek. He breathed in your scent. He felt a hot wave run down his spine. Your skin is so close, so real. Your body on his lap. Your gaze burning from the inside out.

"Well?" he whispered, almost touching your lips. His hands acted on their own - one slid confidently down your back, the other stopped at your hip. The feel of your warmth... and the way you were sitting... Jungkook knew he couldn't take it much longer. His arousal spoke louder than words. "Do you still want me to call Sukhi?" his voice trembled, but not with irritation. No. It sounded like frank, defenseless, fierce sexual tension.

And when you swallowed your saliva and pressed even closer to him, Jungkook almost lost control. Your body pressed against him, the towel slipped off, and your breath became even hotter. You were like a magnet.

And when you whispered into his ear, barely touching your lips.

"Sukhi can go to hell..."

... Jungkook's mind went blank.

He gasped sharply, feeling his entire body shrink in one explosive gust. His hands tightened their grip, his eyes flashed.

"Say it again," he wheezed, almost growling, feeling every nerve pulsing. Jungkook had to make sure he heard all right. You broke free of his grip and mounted him placing a knees on either side of his thighs.. Your lips moved closer to his and you whispered, burning him with your breath.

"Fuck Sukhi," you repeated and kissed his jaw, you went down his neck line. "And all your rules too..."

Everything that had held him back before shattered.

Jungkook lifted you up. He looked at your face for a moment. And then his lips covered yours - greedily, with wild hunger. As if he had been waiting for this for years, not just a few days. He put everything into that kiss - all his incomprehensible feelings, all his pain, all his anger, everything he could never say. Your response broke him completely. It was no longer a desire-it was an explosion.

Jungkook intertwined your tongues and the kiss only awakened a stronger desire. You responded with no less passion and he realized that you wanted him just as much.

You wiggled on his hips, making his erection bigger. Jungkook's cock got hard enough for you to feel the pressure on your pussy. Jungkook pushed his hips to meet yours and felt the sensation in his lower abdomen that you had already given him once before. Arousal with inner trepidation. The same fucking butterflies.

"Are you falling in love?" he thought as he moved his lips against yours. He wanted to laugh at himself, but he doesn’t do it . Even if he really falling in love with you, he didn't mind at all.

You suddenly pulled away from his lips and stopped moving your hips. Jungkook saw your lips swell slightly from the long, hot kiss. Without looking away, you slid off his hips and shamelessly threw away the piece of cloth that still covered him.

Your eyes shone with a lustful gleam and you smiled at the corner of your lips. Jungkook's cock was hard and you appreciated it. You sank to your knees. Your movements weren't as clumsy as they had been a few minutes ago. You adjusted your hair, brushing it out of your face and tucking it behind your back. All the while, you were looking brazenly into his eyes, showing him your intentions.

When your hands touched his cock, he forgot how to breathe. You wanted to suck him off and he didn't mind. Jungkook opened his legs wider and moved his hips closer to make it easier for you to do what you wanted.

Your tongue touched the head of his cock, and he unconsciously closed his eyes. The head of his cock twitched, and he seemed to start releasing more semen.

You finally took his length into your mouth. The warm wetness of your mouth felt so good, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt so blissful. You moved back and forth a few times, smearing your saliva that had already mixed with his semen. He could feel your tongue and it made him moan.

He opened his eyes. You were on your knees in front of him, your lips so perfectly on his cock. Jungkook's hand reached for your hair, which had slipped down over your face and was in the way. He grabbed it in a tight knot and gently helped you move your head.

With each thrust, Jungkook plunged deeper into you. He reached the end of your tongue with the head of his cock and noticed tears forming in your eyes. Your mouth was open wide, and you worked hard to give him pleasure.

"What a good girl," he praised your efforts. "I loved, when you sucks my cock so well."

You moaned, vibrating around his length. Jungkook felt himself get as hard as he could. His balls tensed. Any more and he would come.

You continued to caress him with your skillful tongue. But at some point you started to breathe heavily, like you were tired, but he was already on the verge.

Jungkook stopped you. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and you took a deep breath. Saliva dripped down your chin and you quickly wiped it away with your hand. Jungkook leaned down and looked into your eyes.

"You need to give me blowjobs more often, they feel so damn good and your mouth is busy," Jungkook whispered, still breathing heavily. You raised an eyebrow defiantly, leaned closer, and touched his lips with your own, barely noticeable.

"You should deserve it more often, Mr. 'I don't hold back'..."

He laughed hoarsely and then straightened up, letting you finish what you started. You took him in your mouth again and this time deeper, your fingers touching his balls, stimulating him to come.

Jungkook groaned, throwing his head back against the back of the couch. The feelings from your mouth and caresses were driving him crazy. He felt his orgasm coming. His cock hardened and the next moment his warm cum spilled into your mouth. You held it open, swallowing everything he gave you.

Jungkook finally stopped spewing his cum. You let go of him and wiped the rest of his cum from your mouth. He was breathing heavily and could feel the orgasm still spreading pleasantly through his body.

Jungkook tried to even out his breathing, and his eyes - still blurry - locked onto your face as he lifted his head.

"Was it good?" you asked, licking your lip. A fiery sparkle played in your eyes. "Is my sharp tongue perfect on your cock?"

You tried to get up, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the couch. You squeaked, not expecting him to grab you, and in a moment you were pinned down by his completely naked body.

Jungkook made himself comfortable between your open legs. His smile spread slowly, as if a spring was unwinding inside him.

"You're... incredible, kitten," he whispered and reached for you. Your lips connected again in a hot kiss. Jungkook could feel his cum on your tongue. He pushed you, slowly feeling his cock harden again. He wanted to feel your wetness. To feel your velvety walls tightly enveloping his cock.

Jungkook broke your kiss, having enjoyed it enough. Now he dreams of tasting your skin. Your firm breasts, your sweet pussy.

He kissed your neck, leaving marks on it. He wanted to bite you, to taste every millimeter of your body.

Jungkook went lower, pulling up your top. There was nothing underneath, only your warm naked body. Your breasts were easily showed and the sight of your erect nipples made his cock harden more. Jungkook's hand grabbed your breast and squeezed it with a little force. He took your nipple in his mouth and played with it with his tongue.

Your flesh was delicious and he loved playing with your nipples so much. He couldn't resist the temptation to bite your tender bud when he heard you hiss. Jungkook looked up at you slyly, not taking off from your nipple. You raised your eyebrows, but your face showed no discomfort, it was pure pleasure.

He did the same thing with your other nipple, but he didn't bite it anymore. He sucked it hard, wanting to leave as many marks on your body as possible.

Jungkook got up and took off your sweatpants along with your thong. He immediately touched you, pushing your folds apart and you already were wet. You bit your lip, keeping moans from leaving your mouth. Jungkook could feel your wetness and it arousal him to hell. He smiled.

"So wet for me," he lowered himself to your hips, "this is what I've always missing."

His tongue touched your wet clit and its softness felt good on his tongue. Jungkook could smell you and taste your sweetness and couldn't stop thinking about how you make him go crazy. How you awakened something new and unknown in him, something which he felt dependent on.

Jungkook's tongue touched you with such tenderness, as if he adored you with every cell in his body. You hissed, grabbing the couch, trying not to lose control. But it was too late - your consciousness was already dissolving in this wave of pleasure that only he could give.

His fingers held your hips, not letting you slip or escape, as if it were something sacred that needed to be held tight. His every movement was precise, felt, almost slow. He wanted to enjoy you to the fullest. Your initially soft moans grew louder as Jungkook licked your folds. He felt his cock was ready to enter you. And he wanted it so badly.

He plunged two fingers into your passage, and that tightness made Jungkook almost wild. He sucked on your clit, making you scream. And it didn't take you long to come on his tongue.

Jungkook finally pulled away from your pussy, licking his lips and wiping his chin from your juices.

"I could stay here forever," he wheezed as he climbed up against you, his voice hoarse, full from the taste of you. "But, goddamn it, I want to be inside you." He kissed you, desperate to prove to you how much he needed you. When your lips parted, you trembled slightly.

"Come on Kook, come inside me please. I can't wait for you to fuck me so good."

Those were the most desirable words. That's all he needed to hear. He spread your legs and stopped at your entrance. He pressed down on your hole and began to sink into you slowly, pausing for a moment at the narrowest spot. He leaned down to you, wrapping his arms around you on either side of your torso. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing his biceps.

You raised your eyebrows, probably feeling the pain of his thrusting, but he slowly continued to push and when he was completely inside you, he froze.

His head fell on your shoulder and he forced himself don’t to come from the tightness of your pussy. His cock still twitched, but he was in no hurry to move so he wouldn't cum in you prematurely. He still wanted to enjoy you.

Jungkook looked up, he saw your eyes closed and your face full of pleasure. He kissed you again, but quickly and not as greedily as before. He just wanted to connect with you completely. And without taking his lips from yours, he began to move slowly.

The sensations were incredible as always, blissful, almost nirvana for him. But today they felt even more special to him than the last time. Jungkook didn't understand why, maybe it was because you had thrown all the rules out and given him full permission, or because of you that he seemed to be in love with you.

He moved slowly. Your wet, hot tenderness enveloped him, and Jungkook felt the line between desire and feeling disappear. It wasn't just a bodily merger - it was something deeper. Something he couldn't explain.

Your every moan was like a drug that inflamed him even more. But the most powerful thing was how you looked at that moment: with your hair down, a little sweaty, but so real... so close.

"She's mine..." this thought flashed through his mind. And this time it sounded decisive. For the first time, she did not frighten him, did not cause resistance. On the contrary, it warmed him, awakened the instinct of not just a lover, but a man who wants to be near you.

His sped up, feeling you shrinking around him. The tightness, the heat, your wetness-it all merged into one crazy cocktail of pleasure that made his mind go hazy.

"God..." he whispered, lowering his forehead to yours. "How do you do this to me, huh?"

"Kook..." you said, looking into his eyes.

Jungkook slowed down inside you, not wanting to cumming so quickly. He kissed your lips once again, which were already swollen from kissing you so often and he couldn't get enough.

"Please," Jungkook said, moving inside you when he stopped kissing you, "call me that always. Don't call me 'Jungkook,'" he asked. He liked the way you used the shortened version of his name so much. He wanted you to call him "Kook" so that he would feel like more than just an acquaintance to you. Something special.

He almost completely withdrew and then re-entered you deeply and gritted his teeth as your inner walls tightened around him.

"Kook..." came out of your mouth again, and his heart nearly flew out of his chest. That sound was like a prayer. Like a promise. Like proof that you accept him not only with your body but also with your heart.

Jungkook leaned closer, squeezing you harder. There was more than just desire in each of his thrusts now. It was... like an attempt to leave a piece of himself in you. For you to carry, to cherish. To remember.

He never wanted to be someone else's. But with you... he suddenly felt that this was not a weakness. It was a privilege. To be yours.

"I've never wanted anyone so much..." came out of his chest in a whisper that barely managed to keep from becoming hoarse. But he quickly fell silent, afraid to reveal his true feelings to you. He was afraid that you might be afraid of them and push them away as usual.

Jungkook froze looking into your eyes. You were both covered in sweat. The smell of sex mixed with the smell of your perfume and his shower gel. You darted your eyes between his, searching for something in them.

"I want you to sit on top of me," he said, and walked out. Jungkook sat down on the couch and grabbed your hand, helping you sit on his lap.

You made yourself comfortable, and Jungkook put his hard cock which was in your wetness against yours enter. You put your hands on his strong shoulders and almost instantly dug your nails into the hot skin. Jungkook put his hands on your hips, helping you to lower yourself onto his length.

This time he entered you painlessly and quickly. You both moaned as you felt each other from a new angle, and that angle drove Jungkook crazy. He felt you completely - every millimeter, every movement of your hips caused a wave of ecstasy that rolled in one after another, not giving him a chance to escape from this sweet captivity.

His fingers dug into your hips harder, but not painfully - he just couldn't do otherwise. He had to hold you, to feel that you were really with him, that this was not a dream. His eyes slid over your face, catching your half-open eyelids, your lips, from which soft moans flew, your neck, damp with sweat.

"You... are so beautiful on top..." he whispered, closing his eyes as you slowly rose and fell back down on him, deeply, all the way down. His cock was enveloped in your warmth, and it was do fucking good.

You slowly move, and he leaned his head on the back of the couch, just breathing heavily, squeezing you. Your every movement made his body tense and his heart beat in a frantic rhythm. He was no longer in control of himself - only you. Only this moment. Only what was between you.

"God, you're so... you're so tight..." he wheezed, his voice trembling with excitement and something more, deeper. He looked at you, and he loved having this sex so much. He fucking loved this passion.

"I... I can't hold back anymore..." he whispered, leaning down and resting his forehead against yours. "I want to come inside you," he said his desire.

"No..." you said, exhaling. You were against it, but Jungkook wanted to come in you, marking you as his.

"Yes," he said, almost imperiously, and tightened his grip on your hips. He leaned back and started pounding you mercilessly with his hips, driving his cock as deep as he could.

After a few more strokes, you came. Jungkook felt your walls against his cock. He tensed and spilled inside you.

You held his shoulders, and Jungkook leaned his head back against the back of the couch tiredly. His chest heaved heavily and deeply. He looked up at you when he shifted his gaze.

"Jungkook..." you began, still sitting on his cock. He moved sharply and pulled you closer to him, sitting up straight.

"Kook..." he corrected you. You raised your eyebrows, a little embarrassed, and then softened.

"Kook..., what's with the habit of coming inside? Don't you know how it ends?" you protested. Jungkook put his arm around your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. He knew that this way he could easily shut you up and to weaken your protest.

Jungkook gently brought his tongue out and ran it over your lower lip, as if he was tasting your taste. His breathing was still labored, his body tense after he all poured out of himself into you. But now that you were sitting on top of him, still so warm, so soft, so close, he didn't want to let go so quickly.

"A habit?" he whispered with a sly smile, kissing you again on the corner of your lips. "It's not a habit, it's more like an unrestrained desire. I know what in the ends being, but you're a responsible girl and you take birth control pills."

You shook your head, unable to contain your indignation.

"But you're irresponsible. Don't play with fate, because it likes to play tricks," you said, getting off his hips. You pulled down your top and found your thong. Jungkook shamelessly watched you put on the thong, admiring your naked ass.

You turned around, catching him in the act. You looked skeptical with one eyebrow raised.

"God, at least you covered yourself..." you said, picking up your pants.

"Why? You don't like it?" he saw you shy, even though you were sucking his cock half an hour ago. Jungkook put his hands behind his head and looked at you lazily.

"I like it, but cover yourself." you said and went over to throw a towel over him that was lying in the corner of the couch. You threw the wet towel on his crotch and tried to run away, but Jungkook grabbed you. "Hey let go, we're done for today." Jungkook squeezed you in his arms, and you covered your face with your hands to prevent him from kissing you.

"Are you sure? I think never too late for a second time," Jungkook joked, trying to remove your hands. He didn't use any force, just pretended to want to get to you.

"No!" you said desperately, "my lips are swelled up from kissing you so much and I'm tired, let me go, I want to take a shower!"

Jungkook laughed. He finally stopped touching you and grabbed your buttocks and lifted you up. He spanked your ass deliciously and gently pushed you.

"Go take a shower, kitten, and get some rest from me. You're staying with me today, and I won't let you run away."

You went and showered, muttering to yourself. Jungkook leaned back on the couch and sighed contentedly. But just then, he heard a notification on his tablet lying nearby on the table.

Jungkook reached over and saw a notification from Manager Lee.

📲 Manager Lee: "I'm sending you the results as for Kang Tehwon. You asked for details. Pay special attention to the biography. Check it out when you can."

Jungkook stood up and wrapped himself in a towel and sat deeper into the couch and opened the file. The report consisted of items that he had seen before: corporate connections, company reports, business trips...

But then his eyes came across the Personal Biography section.

Place of birth: Busan

Education: Pusan University, Faculty of Economics

Period of active residence in Busan: until 2002

Note: In 1997-1998, he was spotted in a relationship with a local model, Han Seo Ri, who was famous in Busan at the time.

Insider information: There are confirmed rumors that Kang Tehwon had a child out of wedlock as a result of this relationship.

Paternity has not been recognized.

Model's name: Han Seo Ri

Child's name: Han Y/N.

Jungkook froze.

He read the paragraph twice. Three times. And again. His palms grew cold. Han Y/N…He looked up from the screen towards the bathroom and the water was running in the shower.

"Is it really..."

His heart was beating fast.

"It can't be..."

Jungkook stood up. The towel slipped slightly from his hips, but he didn't even notice it.

"You're Kang Tehwon's illegitimate daughter...?!Damn it..." he exhaled, clutching the tablet in his hands.

He heard the water stop running from the bathroom. He stood there motionless, his mind racing with many thoughts.

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[daisymbin]

[19:51] - choi seungcheol

a/n: as you can tell by now, im down so bad for this man...the amount of fics I've written for him....sickening

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

"if you don't love me anymore, you can just tell me."

the words tumble out of seungcheol's mouth as if they’ve been sitting on his tongue for hours, maybe even days. his voice is quiet but firm, and it catches you completely off guard. the two of you are sitting together on the couch, the usual comfortable silence between you both now feeling...strained.

you turn to look at him, your eyes widening at the unexpected confession. "what?" you ask, the confusion evident in your voice. you’ve been in a relationship with him for so long that you never expected him to say something like that.

he doesn’t meet your gaze right away. instead, he stares ahead, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you can tell he’s trying to look calm, but there’s a tension in his shoulders and a flicker of doubt in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. it makes your heart twist, and you instinctively reach out to touch his arm.

"cheol..what are you talking about?" you ask softly, your fingers brushing his skin. "why would you even say that?"

he finally turns to face you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen. there’s a sadness there, like he’s been carrying something heavy for a while, unsure of whether he should put it down.

"i just... i don’t know," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "i feel like things have been... different between us lately. like maybe you’re not as into me anymore. and it’s been bothering me, but i didn’t know how to bring it up."

your heart drops at his words, and you immediately pull him closer, your hand on his cheek. "cheol-ah, that’s not true," you say urgently. "i’ve been distracted, busy with work, with life. but i still love you. nothing’s changed."

he sighs, his eyes softening as he leans into your touch. "i don’t know," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. "it just feels like we’ve been drifting apart. and i’m scared. scared that you don’t love me the way you used to."

you shake your head, a lump forming in your throat. how could he think that? how could he even question your feelings after all this time?

"choi seungcheol," you say, your voice firm now, trying to reassure him. "i’m not going anywhere. i love you more than anything. but i don’t always show it in the ways you expect, and maybe that’s where the disconnect is. but i love you. i always have & i always will."

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and hesitance. "you still love me?" he asks, as though he needs to hear it again.

"yes," you reply, your heart full of emotion. "i still love you. i always will."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his face slowly breaking into a smile. it’s a small, relieved smile, but it’s the most genuine one you’ve seen from him in days.

"okay," he says, his voice quiet but full of warmth. "i just needed to hear that."

you smile back at him, feeling the weight lift off your chest. "i’m sorry i made you worry," you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "but i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere."

seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you chuckle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "well, don't even think about that then, it won't ever happen."

seungcheol pulls you into a hug, holding you tight against him. "i love you," he whispers, his voice full of sincerity.

"i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling in your chest.

[rosenclaws]

obsessed with your ex || Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: In his world you were his wife and he loved you and then you died. In this world you're his girlfriend and he loves you. At least you think he does. Still you can't help the voice in the back of your head telling you that you're nothing but a sad replacement.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY. insecure + jealous!reader, a very very toxic mindset, the reader's mind is very mean to her, reader is a mutant that can make objects disappear, angst, happy ending, rough sex, riding, french kissing, oral (f!receiving), a slight breakdown, soft sex, missionary, Logan is kinda a softie, cockwarming, fingering.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: Okay so it's here!! I need to make this clear that the readers mindset is NOT healthy and that relationships need good communication. That being said here's my fic idea that I've been thinking about for a bit. I love Olivia Rodrigo sm (I even saw her in concert!!) and this song was just begging to be written into a fic. Anyways I really hope you like it and that it's not too insane lmao. Also i made the graphic but i kinda hate it but i dont wanna change it so here we are I know it's ugly but its FINE

How long have you been here? Staring. Observing every little thing about you. Your nose, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your chin. The way your arms fall by your sides. Every. Little. Detail.

Did she have the same colored eyes? Did she talk like you? Was she smart? Was she powerful? Did he look at her the same way? Did he fuck her like he fucks you?

You clench your fists as you stare angrily at the mirror. He loves you. He says he loves you and yet it feels like you can never compare to her. She was the love of his life. She was an X-Men. She died. She was you. You're his dead fucking wife in his universe while you were nothing to the Logan in this one. 

He looked at you like a kicked puppy that first day you met. A lost little pet that had been searching for its owner. Dragged through hell and back just to get to you. It was easy to fall for him. Handsome, a little rough around the edges. You hadn’t even been dating for that long but it didn’t matter right? He worshiped you. He loved you. He promised he loved you.

But sometimes in the back of your head you wonder if when he's kissing you, does he imagine her? Does he close his eyes while he's pounding into you and imagine it's her? How could you ever compete? She was perfect, she was kind, she was everything to him. Spiraling deeper and deeper into a whirlpool of doubt and envy. There's a heavy pounding on the door but you choose to ignore it. Too wrapped up in your twisted mind to care. 

"Sweetheart, let me in." Logan's gruff voice was slightly muffled by the door. 

You clench your jaw as you finally tear your eyes away from the mirror. You slam open the door taking Logan by surprise. His eyes scan yours for injury, a worried look in his face as he steps into the bathroom. 

"I got worried, you were in here a long time." His arms wrap around your waist. 

He's looking at you with pity. At least that's what your brain tells you. Was he worried that you were hurt because he loves you or because he was thinking of her death again? You know he still dreams of her. He can hide it when he's awake but the nightmares don't lie. It hurts so bad. Love me. Love me. You're jealous you know. She's dead, she's gone. So why can't he love you. You push him off and storm out the bathroom. Nothing makes sense anymore in your head. 

"What the fuck?" Logan follows you and you feel yourself tensing up. 

It's a miracle your powers haven't started to go haywire yet. So many different emotions swirl around in your head until it mixes together to form one single feeling.

Need.

You grab Logan's shirt and pull him into you. Smashing your lips onto his with a hunger that you've never felt before. Logan hisses as you bite his bottom lip harshly but you don't give him time to say anything as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he starts to take some control back. Hands slipping up your shirt and ripping to shreds with ease.

You pull back from his lips, chest heaving for air as you paw at his shirt. Silently demanding he take it off which he happily does. Your lips are back onto his in an instant. He slowly walks you back until you fall onto the bed. You fall onto the bed and lick your lips. The bugle in his pants is evident as you flick your hand and the belt disappears. 

"I liked that belt." You pay no mind to his comment as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down, leaving him in his boxers. 

"Easy there sweetheart," Logan pushes you back gently and crawls on top of you. Logan kisses down your chest, teasing each nipple with his tongue. 

"Let me take my time." He purrs.

His hands touch and squeeze your breasts roughly making you whine. You watch his arms move, god he's so hot. He's close to making you forget. He kisses down, down, all the way down. He sneaks out the tip of his claws to pop open the button of your pants and he yanks them down until they're all the way off.

"There she is, my perfect girl." His girl. That's right your his girl. No one else's.

Logan pulls your panties to the side as he situates himself between your legs. He stuffs his face without shame, licking hungrily and practically moaning at the taste. You arch your back as Logan devours you. Watching his back muscles move are mesmerizing. He's yours. He loves you. He promises he does.

You can't stop the thoughts that begin to invade you. Overwhelmed by pleasure from Logan and pain from the horrible ideas that pop into your head. Did he do this with her too? Did he worship her? Do you taste like her? Is that why he can't get enough? 

"Fuck!" You hiss as you sit up and tell Logan to stop. He does immediately, wondering what the hell is going on. 

"Can't fucking wait." You scratch down his chest with your nails. He groans and tries to crawl on top of you but you shake your head. 

"I'm going to ride you until you can't come anymore." You growl.

You bite his shoulder harshly making him hiss. It heals right up much to your dismay. How badly you wish you could mark him. You make his boxers disappear but before he can make a smart comment you sink down on him all the way. You whimper as you start to bounce on his cock. Loving how much he fills you.

You need to be fucked stupid. You're desperate for Logan to fuck every bad thought out of your head. To promise that he loves you so that you can believe him. You want to believe him. Please, you have to believe him. 

"Sweetheart." Logan's breath is labored as you relentlessly fuck yourself on his cock. You feel so damn good but fuck he can tell something is on your mind. 

"What do you need, let me help you." He sits up on his hands, placing one on your back as he tries to get you to slow down. His words make you want to scream. What do you need? You look at him and the only thing your rotten brain can tell you is that he is thinking of her. 

"I need you to fucking love me!" You yell.

The dam of built up feelings breaks down as tears pour out of your eyes. Ugly, horrible sobs that make your body shake. Logan watches with horror in his eyes as he stills your hips, using his strength to lift you off of him as you continue to cry. 

"I do love you." He says softly but you shake your head. 

"No!" You shout. You pound your fist against Logan's chest over and over again but he barely moves. 

"You love her! I know you do." Logan's heart breaks at the sound of your sobs. 

"I'm not your dead fucking wife Logan!" You should regret the words coming out of your mouth but you can't stop them. 

"You look at me and you see her. Like I'm just some fucking placeholder!" You let out an anguished scream as Logan captures your wrists in his hands. You know the stories. She was a hero, she was perfect in every single way. 

"How can I compete with, with her?" You say completely defeated.

Your head falls against his chest. There's a sense of relief that washes over you. Thoughts that have plagued you for months are finally out in the open. Yet the fear of what comes next overtakes any other feeling.

"Look at me." Logan tilts your head up but you push his hand away. 

"Sweetheart." He sighs and lets go of your face.

Logan's never been good at this. Talking. Being vulnerable. Then he lost everything and he hardened even more and he just. This was a new chance at life and even though it's hard he can't lose it all again. 

"I know you're not her. Of course I do." Logan presses his forehead against yours, trying to get you to look at him. 

"You loved her..." You croak out. 

"I did love her. She was my wife. But I love you too. In a different way." He's a different man. Having gone through tremendous loss. It shaped him into who he is now. 

"You're different people. Your powers act differently, you talk differently, you feel different. You are not a replacement." He says firmly. 

When you finally look at him he feels this horrible pit in his stomach. He wipes away your tears but doesn't make any other move. It's not the right time.

"Would you have even given me a second thought? If I didn't look like her?" You ask, that question has haunted you for a while now but you never asked, too afraid of the answer. Logan is silent, unsure of how to answer. 

"When I first saw you it was like a punch in the face." He starts. "For a moment I was 20 years in the past. Then I snapped out of it. You look like her, yes but you’re not her.” He gently traces a small scar on your jaw that you got when you were a child. 

“I’m not the same as your Logan right? He was a leader, a hero and I was an angry drunk murderer.” 

“I’m not gonna start listing all your fucking differences sweetheart, but I swear on my life that I love you for you.” He pulls you into a tight hug as you start to cry again. You cling onto him as tight as you can. The bad thoughts don’t just stop, even if you want them to but Logans whispering sweet words in your ear. Pushing out every bad thought for now.

“Logan,” You take a deep breath, letting Logan invade all your senses. Tobacco and whiskey. 

“I need you.” He’s hesitant, not sure if it’s the right time.

“Please, I just need you.”

“Okay sweetheart, you have me.” He slowly rolls you over and lays you on your back.

He captures your lips into a kiss. His hips rolling slowly making you moan softly. His lips drift from your lips to the corner of your mouth to your cheek, trailing down. Each one so gentle, so full of love.

“You have this spot, righttt here.” Logan nibbles on your neck and you gasp when bites right at this spot that drives you wild. You melt into the mattress as he kisses over it.

“Always makes you relax.” He crawls lower, kissing down your body. He sits up on his knees and grabs a pillow to place under your back.

“I know you like to be slightly elevated because it means I can go just a little deeper.” He purrs as he takes his cock in his hands and gently rubs the tip of it along your folds. He slides two fingers into your cunt slowly.

“Know that my fingers drive you absolutely wild, that you need me to go slow to start.” You nod absentmindedly.

You never realized he picked up on all these things. His fingers start to slide in smoother, your cunt getting wetter for him. He leans down and takes a deep breath, groaning at the scent. He slips them out and licks them clean.

“Relax sweetheart,” He spreads your thighs and slips in all the way. Going slow but unrelenting, stretching you just how you like.

“So impatient, you never let me take it easy on you right? Just wanna be full all the time.” He leans down on his elbows as he rolls his hips nice and slow.

There will be no rough sex this time, this is about love. To show you that he truly does love you for you.

“Look at me,” He tilts your head so that your eyes meet. He smiles at the desperate look on your face.

“You can pretend it makes you all embarrassed, but I know you like eye contact.” He hums as he angles his hips so that he hits that perfect spot.

You jolt as pleasure rocks through your whole body but he keeps you under him. He’s slowly and methodically tearing you apart. Every touch, every word out of his mouth just makes it better. He knows. Of course he does.

“I love you Logan.” Your hands cup his face as you stare into his hazel eyes.

This time not filled with lust, but with a true deep love. He looks at you like you’re everything.

“I love you too.” He kisses you as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He smirks as he feels you start to squirm under him. You could never help it when you were close.

“Come on sweetheart, just let go.” He whispers in your ear.

His deep voice paired with the unrelenting feeling of his cock is all it takes. He holds you in his firm arms as a warm and wonderful tingling sensation runs through your whole body. A blissful smile on your face as you tilt your head back.

You feel your whole body relax as your mind calms. Logan tries to hide his growls as he fucks into you a little faster, until he’s coming hard and deep inside of you. He sighs in contentment as he stays inside of you. He taps your cheek lightly and you look up at him.

“I love you. No one else. Just you.” He moves to pull out but you whine. You need to be close to him right now. He chuckles as he slowly moves to your side. Spooning you tightly with his cock still deep inside of you.

“Can we talk?” You ask shyly.

“About what?” Logan grunts as he pulls you as close as he can get you.

“Anything?” He’s not much of a talker so he asks the questions instead.

How did you discover your powers? How did you meet wade? Just anything and everything and you tell him.

You talk for who knows how long. Staying wrapped in each other's arms. It helps, it really does. Logan listens, he really does listen. He wants to get to know you. He loves you. You rest your head on his chest, tracing shapes into his palm as you talk.

For the first time in a while your mind seems to settle. Ignoring any thought that may try and ruin your mood. It’s just you and him right now. There’s no looming figure of your alternate selves, not anymore.

Just you and Logan. Forever.

[yearsbecomingcool]

nice guys finish last | daniel markowitz 18+

donate to gaza here | masterlist | part 1

pairing | daniel markowitz x f!reader

synopsis | you see how long danny can really last.

warnings | f!reader, sexual context, mentions of premature ejaculation, subby!danny, dom!reader, handjobs, degradation, titty worship, nipple play, & edging.

word count | 1.6k

a/n | if writing submissive men is wrong i don't want to be right. this was so fun to work on, it's been a long time since i've written any smut involving men so this was a bit of a challenge, but a fun one nonetheless. i'm trying to figure out which other character's of fred's i want to write for so if y'all have any requests pls share, i am a deeply indecisive person. also!! if you'd like to be on my taglist for future fics let me know!!

You’re sitting on Danny’s lap as he hangs his head in embarrassment. He can’t believe he just came in his pants from making out and grinding. He feels like a teenager again in the worst way possible. He gathers himself enough to speak, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off, cupping his face in your hands, “Hey. It’s okay, I’m not upset.”

“It’s just…it’s so fucking humiliating,” he whines. 

“Why? Danny…it was hot.”

He looks up at you, a bit confused. “What? I came in my fucking pants like- like a teenager. That’s embarrassing!”

“To you maybe. I don’t know…I liked it. It’s cute, I didn’t know I got you worked up like that,” you giggle, playing with his hair. 

“Cute? You’re messing with me, there’s no way you thought that was cute.”

You shake your head, “Some girls are into it y’know, I am at least. Makes me feel good to know that all I had to do was kiss you and dry hump you. Makes me think about how you’d react if I actually got my hands on you.”

“You want to touch me?” He asks it as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“Did you think I was grinding on you for shits and giggles?”

He blushes bright red, “I just…didn’t want to assume anything. I-I don’t know.”

“You’re fucking adorable, truly.” 

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “Danny, let me make this clear. I want to touch you, I think you’re attractive, I’ve been into you for years. Fuck whatever insecure thoughts are running through that head of yours, okay? It’s hot that you just came in your pants like that, I wanna see how long you’d last if I touched you for real if you’d let me.” 

He wets his lower lip with his tongue and nods his head. “Please…” It comes out small and pathetic. He winces as he hears it leave his lips. 

“Please what? Tell me what you want me to do, Danny.” You straddle his lap again, thighs on either side of him. Your hand goes down to his belt. “I can’t give you what you need if you don’t ask for it.” 

He throws his back against the couch, whining pathetically, his hips rolling up against yours. You reach down to pin his hips to the couch, “Be a good boy and use your words.” 

“God…you’re really gonna make me?” He asks breathlessly. 

“I mean unless you want to go off into my bathroom and try to get yourself off, then yeah, you’re gonna ask for it.” He’s only seen this side of you a couple times in his life and every single time he’s crumbled beneath your feet, ready to do whatever you ask of him. With other girls he’s been the one to take charge, but as you order him around he can’t help but melt and bend to your will. 

He closes his eyes and sighs, “Please…please touch me. I need it so bad.” 

His pleas are music to your ears. You smile down at his lap and start to undo his belt, pulling it off and throwing it to the side. You lean forward and start to kiss his neck while you undo his pants. You don’t pull his cock out immediately, you’re gonna tease him first.

“Let’s make a deal, yeah? You hold off on coming till I give you permission and I’ll let you suck my tits. How does that sound to you?” 

He opens his eyes, glancing down at you hungrily. “I-I just have to hold it till you say?”

“Mhm, that’s all I need from you, pretty boy.”

“Fuck it, yeah, deal.”

You chuckle against his neck, your hand trailing down to his crotch. You begin to palm him through his underwear, whimpers falling from his lips almost instantly. “I knew that would work, fucking perv. Did you think I’d forget every time you’d look at my tits in my bikinis? You looked at me like you wanted to eat me, just wanted to bury your face in ‘em, hm?”

“Oh fuck me…” He mutters, his hips bucking up towards your palm, desperate for something more. “You noticed?”

“Danny, you’re as subtle as a brick through a window. You could’ve burned holes through them if you tried hard enough,” you laugh. You squeeze him through his underwear and his eyes shoot open like he was just given a shot of adrenaline. He whines so pathetically that you can’t help but smirk, “So sensitive…” 

“I can’t help it…I haven’t been with anyone since Allie,” he mumbles. 

“Forget about her, okay? I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Promise.”

You tug his briefs down, his cock springing free. “You were hiding this from me this whole time? Allie was a lucky girl,” you chuckle, biting your lip as you look down at it. You hold your palm up to his mouth, “Spit.” 

“You want me to spit on it, shouldn’t you do that?”

“Sorry, should I just dip your dick in your Dr. Pepper?” You ask sarcastically.

“Please don’t.” He leans forward and spits into your palm obediently. 

“Atta boy.” You wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it at a slow teasing pace.

He mewls at your touch, his head falling forward against your neck. He places soft kisses starting at your ear, trailing down to your collarbone. He keeps his hands to himself as best he can, gripping your waist. “Can’t believe this is real…” He mumbles against your skin. 

“How many times did you touch yourself thinking of me, Danny?” 

He whines, “So many times. I felt so guilty every time, just couldn’t get you out of my head. Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He begins suckling marks into your delicate skin, you whine as you get him off. 

You pick up the pace, watching how his body reacts to your touch. Part of you is shocked he’s held it this long after how quickly he came before. “Pervy boy…getting off to your best friend like that, should fucking punish you for it. Do you even deserve to cum again tonight?” You’re teasing, of course you’ll let him cum, you’re not cruel. It’s just way more fun to watch him squirm. 

“Please, please, I’m sorry! I-I just…you-”

“Hm, shut up. Fuck the deal, gonna give you what you need.” You tug your shirt down with one hand, your bra exposed. “Don’t make me do all the work here, it’s not gonna suck itself.”

He reaches forward to tug your bra down as well, he starts to kiss down from your collarbone to your breasts. He leaves marks every now and then, leaving a dark trail you know will leave you wearing turtlenecks for at least a week. He spends his time marking you up, he’s wanted to do it for years. He reaches up for your nipple, rolling it between his fingers, eliciting a whine from you. He smirks as if he’s won, you squeeze his cock softly to remind him who’s in charge. He lets out a strangled yelp and bucks up into your hand. He takes your nipple into his mouth, suckling at it as he moves his hand to tweak the other. You pick up your pace, muttering a mix of praise and degradation.

“Pretty fucking boy, you’re so good for me. Bet you spent so much time fucking your hand imagining doing this to me, hm? Bet you felt so guilty seeing me after, poor baby couldn’t get me out of his head. You’re doing better than I thought, didn’t know you could handle a pretty girl's hand around your cock. Could barely handle a kiss before.” You laugh as he suckles at you.

He’s practically fucking your hand at this point, bucking his hips pathetically. You squeeze your hand around his cock, stroking him and keeping the pace of his thrusts. His eyes squeeze shut and he moves his mouth to your other nipple, whining against your skin as he feels himself getting closer. He suckles harder, causing you to wince at the slight pain. You tangle a hand in his hair, pulling his face flush against your breast. He lets out a strangle moan and spills his seed against your lap and into your palm. As he comes down he suckles at your breast as if he’s soothing himself. 

He finally pulls away, breathing heavily. You bring your fingers to his mouth, “Clean ‘em up for me?” I ask. He brings your fingers into his mouth, sucking till they’re clean. You pull them from his mouth, wiping them against his t-shirt. You grab his chin and lift his head, you smile at the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair. “You’re so fucking hot.”

He grins bashfully, leaning his head back against the couch. “I didn’t know you could be so mean…or that I’d like it so much.” He lifts his hand, trailing his fingers over the marks he left on you. He looks proud of them.

“You owe me a turtleneck for these y’know, we’re lucky it’s winter.” 

“Hm you could just show ‘em off instead. Let everyone know I left ‘em there,” he numbles.

“Who knew you could be so possessive,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“Look at you, if I don’t leave a mark I’ll never get another chance.” He sounds sad.

“You’re going to get many other chances, the night’s still young, I haven’t come yet…and tomorrow I might wanna wake up with a pretty boy between my thighs,” you tease, stroking his hair gently. 

“Fuck…I feel like I need to clean you up instead. Another round in the bath maybe? Your hot water got fixed, right?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, fucking finally. C’mon, I think you owe me an orgasm or two.”

[wishyoudwell]

Theres often talk about Legends trauma and how he tries to distance from his emotions, how his experiences have affected him, and in turn I also like to think about how Ravio operates with his own trauma. This might sound pretty silly but I think both of them are equally as terrible at dealing with their issues. Ravio is still Links counterpart after all, and I'm more than sure he's gone through a fair share of things, especially hailing from Lorule. There's just differences in how they handle it. While Legend is often written to be repressing his trauma and keeping himself tight under lock and key, Ravio seems to be pretty casual about mentioning bad happenings. It kinda feels as if Ravio would make light of his own trauma, hardships or bad experiences before quickly brushing them off/playing them off as jokes. He sort of does this ingame, after all? The way he says it makes you unable to take him seriously, but when you really think about what he's saying...

"Finally, no more sleeping in the wild. Tough world out there, you know?" "But—! But—! But aren't we buddies? You'd kick me out? Into that cruel, cruel world out there? Please? You don't know what it's like trying to get some shut-eye with all those creepy-crawlies!"

You could argue that he's only saying this to garner sympathy and pity from Link. But since he escaped Lorule without knowing if he could ever even return....yeahhh, I think there's a lot of truth here. Casually hinting at how he he had to sleep outside while worrying about being left defenseless to monsters... I don't think Ravio really lies (much). He's just pretty good at omitting information. He's also really good at playing a character. Ravio also says some pretty weird and mildly concerning stuff once he's "in retirement" and being all philosophical on Links floor.

"I always thought sleeping all day would be fun. But now I think I'd miss breakfast and lunch, right? Yeah, I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"For a long time, I believed that if you put your ear to the ground, you'd hear the world's heart beating. That the world just goes on living, whether you were there or not. Weird, right? And sorta sad. So I've been listening here for a while, and you know the only heart I've heard? Mine! I couldn't be happier. Ha! I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"You know, whenever I used to just lounge around... I would think how I'm just a tiny speck in a great, big world. And I still believe that I'm a teeny, tiny, little speck in a world that's SO much bigger than I ever thought! But even a speck can change the world if he puts his heart into it. I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"I've never really had the time to take a lot of naps before. The world looks so different from here! Sometimes just changing your perspective is the key to... well, to everything! I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!"

"When I look at you, Mr. Hero, I now realize that just about anything is possible if you put heart into it. Ha! Seems like it's about time for me to decide where to put MY heart!"

It's a lot of fun, trying to imagine what the future holds. Ha! I've got a new outlook on life, and it's all thanks to you, Mr. Hero!

One thing that does become pretty evident though is how Links presence and the land of Hyrule itself seems to have had a really positive and healthy influence on Ravio and his psyche. He appears to have been a lot more somber before, but meeting Link and experiencing his courage firsthand has helped Ravio grow too, to the point he was able to develop a happier, positive outlook on life. Meanwhile you could argue that Legends become more bitter overtime on his outlook on life the more adventures he has to go through (lol). Hmm...yeah, I didn't really have anywhere specific I was going with this. It's just another interesting parallel to me how Legends personality and portrayal would clash with his counterparts. They're interesting to me, they compliment and play off each other well...they process and experience life so similarly yet differently...

[dorkshadows]

The Writeup (Part 2!)

(From Jiaozi's Nezha doodle celebrating the 2.6 billion record on 2/2.) *In CN, it's common to say "my tendon pulled!" when you get a cramp in your limbs.

Translation:

Ao Bing: My leg cramped! [literal translation: My leg pulled (its) tendon!] Fish Demon: NEZHA PULLED OUT THE THIRD PRINCE'S TENDONS!!!!!!!!

Literally the day after I published this post, new developments cropped up in the Nezha 2 fandom :D I thought it best to wait and see if anything ELSE could happen before updating this. Thankfully, I waited because things did happen. They sure did happen! So I'm popping in out of retirement (again) for one (1) day (again) to update this before the first fandom writeup becomes completely out of date. I appreciate all the interest given to the previous writeup and I'd feel bad for leaving it outdated for everyone that supported it! So here's part 2 to catch you up on what's happening deep in Nezha 2 fandom.

4-5 weeks in, and we have already have new shipping lore, shipping stat updates, and new fuel for the Ao Guang discourse battles. And it's somehow just as long as writeup part 1 🤣

Guangying shippers have apologized to everyone they harassed, acknowledged the error of their ways, and now get along well with fans of other ships...NOT. Click below to see updates on fandom lore, Ao Guang discourse, doubling down, conspiracy theories, drama in the Nezha cosplay world, and a total lack of self reflection from guangying fans ft. more images and links than last time

Obligatory disclaimers again:

This is NOT about the people who happened to watch the movie, the people who are just interested in box office stats, the people who really enjoyed the movie, or the people who just really admire Nezha. This will be about the fandom fandom, the truly invested, the brainrot (affectionate) in its purest unfiltered form. This is a post about brainrot for those also suffering from brainrot.

This is a collection of patterns mainly from lofter, but also from douyin, weibo, bilibili, and xhs. I don't know how to warn for some of the things mentioned here, so just a blanket note of caution- if you read on, you are prepared to see anything and everything. If you are OK with all this, then- let’s go! 

PART 2 HERE WE GO:

Firstly, the general fandom is as creative as ever, and everything you can think of (and more!) has been written/drawn/discussed by somebody somewhere. I've seen Shiji Niang Niang bring Shen Xiaobao back to life, I've seen Ao Bing studying for the TOEFL, I've seen a Jane Eyre AU fanfic for Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao, I've seen Taiyi go on a diet, I've seen 1979 Nezha transmigrating into the 2019/2025 world, etc. etc.

The Lu Tong meme is also not even a meme anymore- lots of people seem to genuinely believe that randomly spamming any and all content featuring Lu Tong/He Tong with paragraphs of praise will result in them granting their wishes. So that's why you'll come across lots of comments with phrases like: "Lu Tong is the manliest of all men, the most powerful of all celestials, the strongest deer... please Master Lu Tong, grant me a raise from my boss."

Also, I didn't include these extremely cursed memes last time because I felt that they might cause people to die. BUT since everyone was strong enough to survive writeup part 1, I think you've proven yourselves strong enough to see these in writeup part 2--behold! Popular FAMILY GUY NEZHA edits:

These cursed images are popular enough that multiple people have made them their profile pics. That's not even the end of it...

Not only that, the fandom has also made "fusion" edits of the characters in the vein of the Nezha/Ao Bing fusion we saw in canon (as in, a Taiyi/Nezha fusion exists). If you wondered what things would be like if 1) Nezha possessed Ao Bing instead or 2) Shen Gongbao never stole the spirit pearl, wonder no further! Here is the answer:

Next, congratulations to lubao for completing the transformation from surprise crack ship to third most popular pairing in the fandom (4 and 5 probably go to Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao [longwangbao] or lutong/hetong [luhe] depending on the platform). Coincidentally, lubao is now no. 3 trending on weibo, beating out dilong. Professional cosplayers are also doing lubao cosplays for clout (to 10K+ likes on bilibili and even 100K+ likes across douyin, etc.). They even have their own animatics now. -> Every individual (main) character and ship has plenty of animatics; if you want to see them, just add the word "手书" (hand book) after whatever subject you're searching for. EX. For oubing animatics, just search for 藕饼手书, and many many will come up.

The lubao lore has also expanded since Feb.:

In Nezha 1, Shen Gongbao told Ao Bing he can teach him how to hide his horns in public. Lu Tong, as a deer, should also have antlers (as shown by his demon/animal form), but doesn't! This clearly means that Shen Gongbao taught Lu Tong how to hide his antlers with the same method he offered for Ao Bing.

Fans noticed that Lu Tong's eyes are brown in deer form, but as a human, his eyes are green- specifically, the exact same shade of green as Shen Gongbao's. They believe it means Lu Tong purposely turned them green because he took inspiration from Shen Gongbao's appearance.

They also noticed that in the post-credits, Wuliang and He Tong didn't seem to know where the underground prison was. Lu Tong guided them over. They believe this means Lu Tong was the one who brought Shen Gongbao into the prison and tied him up in the first place.

You can make the assumption that Shen Gongbao, Ao Bing, and Lu Tong all have the same hairstyle. Why? Because Shen Gongbao combed Ao Bing's hair (with the approval of Lu Tong's #2 enemy, Ao Guang), and he previously combed Lu Tong's hair. Out of love/obsession for him, Lu Tong has kept that same style. And now this is yet another thing Ao Bing STOLE from Lu Tong!

As of 3/9, Jiaozi put out this drawing of Shen Gongbao riding a leopard while acting as captain of the demon hunting team (to celebrate Nezha breaking the 14.6 billion record at the box office):

Since Lu Tong had that exact same pose, while also riding an animal from the same species, lubao fans took this to mean Lu Tong was again trying to copy everything Shen Gongbao did because he's just that obsessed with him.

As for fanon expansion, there is now a version of He Tong who is not only aware of Lu Tong's obsession, but also supports, abets, and contributes to his actions because she too felt abandoned by their shi shu. Now Shen Gongbao can never leave them again! Theirs forever! Too bad that pesky Ao Bing keeps getting in the way and doing annoying things like "saving his master" and "having morals."

And a little round of applause for Shen gonggong too for going from cartoon villain barely anyone cared about to earning the highest honor in fandom--becoming the resident whump angst pain machine. This was unofficial in the previous writeup, but now it's safe to call it official! You know his poor meow meow status is cemented when the average SGB-centric fsyy crossover is now, "Wuliang and his disciples torture the cultivation out of Shen Gongbao, seal his powers, and give him to King Zhou to do as he pleases. The royal court proceeds to treat him as some kind of party animal, all while using and abusing whatever's left of him-" (paragraph 1 of 100)

The average pre-canon story is also, "everyone except Taiyi tortures and mistreats Shen Gongbao at Yuxu Gong-" He's an alcoholic in these too, and he hates himself, and he's depressed and (insert any form of trauma here, he has it)- Someone said that they knew Shen gongong was doomed (by the fandom) the moment he showed up like That in the easter egg scene, and I think that person had the gift of prophecy.

Now for the main event! Dilong, Aobing Zhuan, and the reaction (or lack thereof) of Guangying shippers:

Yes, that's Jim from The Office. The above is a circulating meme made by disgruntled dilong shippers.

Translation:

If you look like this

("Nezha 2" Ao Guang) Your husband doesn't look like this

("The Sons of the Dragon" Ao Guang) Your husband looks like this

*The Sons of the Dragon is a nickname (derogatory) for Ao Bing Zhuan because detractors think it focuses on all of Ao Guang's sons except Ao Bing

I'm not too familiar with Aobing Zhuan itself, so if you or your loved ones know more about the storyline or drama, please feel free to tack onto this post with your own links, writeups, and/or input!

Dilong fans finally had Enough of the nonstop harassment and put together gigantic takedown posts on why Aobing Zhuan sucks, featuring citations, side by side images, and so on.

In addition to accusing the author of using Yinglong as a self insert, they also accused Yinglong of being a genderbent version of Ao Guang (as he used to be drawn in Dilong fanart back in 2019). They pointed out that the author modeled toddler Ao Bing after her own goddaughter instead of his image in the movie. Said author has also gone on record saying Ao Bing is the "least charming" of Ao Guang's sons. Aobing Zhuan gave Ao Bing a healthy number of friends as part of the supporting cast too; when readers asked how this is possible if his first and only friend is Nezha, the author said "The friends are dead, so they don't count!"

The receipts also tell us that even though Ao Guang (and his siblings) made Ao Bing's coat in canon, Aobing Zhuan credited that to Yinglong. His martial arts also came from Yinglong, even though everyone knows it came from Shen Gongbao. And it gets deeper-- as the story goes on, Ao Bing has less and less screentime and barely any "cool" moments. The story becomes completely about his older brothers (specifically his second eldest brother, Ao Yi), while all canon characters are ignored or shafted. It also goes wild with epic wars, battles, and subplots that the movie never even mentioned.

This leads to the fandom nicknaming Aobing Zhuan "OC Zhuan" (and yes, they are using OC the English way. This is not the Tale of Aobing, this is the Tale of Original Characters not even made by Jiaozi). Another nickname is "The Tale of Ying" not because Yinglong herself has that much screentime, but because ABZ fans have spent so long harassing literally everybody else in the fandom while using her as an icon and constantly saying "look, you've made yinglong sad" "how disgusting of you to split up such a loving couple" "you're not allowed to ship anything besides the canon couple" etc. etc.. while spamming fans of literally every other Ao Guang ship with pictures of Yinglong.

Even in non-shipping content involving Ao Guang and Ao Bing, they'll constantly talk about Ao Guang's wife and Ao Bing's mother and how totally important she is to them + the story. Guangying shippers have also constantly used a mother's day screenshot (of the official Nezha account wishing Yinglong happy mother's day with an image of her and Ao Bing in ABZ) as proof that she's officially married to Ao Guang, and you are therefore NOT allowed to ship him with anyone else, including yourself. It turns out that screenshot doesn't exist- the Nezha weibo never posted it. Guangying shippers faked the image.

Someone even asked deepseek (or baidu?) who Yinglong is and it said, "Yinglong is Ao Guang's father!" (incorrect btw, but this is proof that yinglong has no mythological connection to Ao Guang anyway). Fans also noticed that Aobing Zhuan- despite having a physical publication- wasn't featured at all in Nezha 2 merchandise. Instead, there's a cute picture book featuring parts of little Ao Bing's childhood (with NONE of ABZ's events).

The book is called "Memories of the Three Realms" 《哪吒·三界往事》and contains little stories about the entire cast before the events of the movies. This book was promoted as part of Nezha 2's merchandise, so it's safe to consider it a direct tie-in with the franchise. Noticeably, Ao Bing's family in the book consists of only himself, his father, his master, his aunt, and uncles. No brothers, no mother.

So TLDR, Aobing Zhuan "fell apart" in the fandom's eyes because:

It directly defies canon ideas and events

Guangying shippers faked screenshots to make it look like the Nezha team acknowledged ABZ more than it actually did

The art style is "ugly" (imho, it's less that it's ugly and more that it's very off model when it comes to canon characters and just doesn't fit Nezha's art style)

ABZ constantly puts down Ao Bing/Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao in order to elevate its OCs

Ao Guang doesn't like Ao Bing very much in ABZ

The author doesn't care about Ao Bing and was only using his name for clout; the author exclusively only loves Ao Yi

Yinglong is the author's self insert and arguably a plagiarized version of dilong!Ao Guang. Ao Yi has also been accused of being a plagiarized design of dilong!Ao Guang. (imo, not so sure about how valid these particular accusations are because all three designs are commonplace throughout all xianxia art)

Ao Yi, Ao Jia, and Yinglong (Ao Bing's brothers and mother) are fanmade OCs and might not even have those same names if they appear or come up in the movies

ABZ attempted to make a love interest for Ao Bing, but backtracked after backlash from oubing fans

The Nezha team seems to want nothing to do with it

The takedown was brutal. The rest of the fandom, specifically the confused people who had no idea why other fans were going on and on about Ao Guang's wife (who does not appear in the films) and closet dilong shippers, went, "Hey, ABZ does suck!" Why did it take so long for them to notice it sucked? General consensus is that because the comic was not very good in the first place so nobody talked about it or noticed it. Now they notice because 1) guangying shippers shoved it in everyone's face 2) guangying shippers/ABZ fans bullied literally Everybody else in the fandom

Then overnight, the fandom turned on ABZ and all its OCs. Now it's considered #cringe to like Yinglong, Ao Yi, and Ao Jia. People regretted paying for the comics, people tried get it refunded, and people apologized to dilong fans for hating on them based on falsely believing they were "splitting" a canon couple (and not because idk, harassing strangers over cartoons is rude??).

Regardless, everyone who secretly enjoyed dilong now came out to openly enjoy it. Dilong rose to #3 trending on several platforms, and dilong shippers rejoiced for finally being vindicated after literally 5 years of harassment. I mean pretty offensive and terrible harassment (CW terminally online fandom harassment methods): mass reporting, being accused of being degenerates, being accused of being uNpAtriOtIC, being accused of TrEAson, being told they should have died in their mothers' wombs, getting doxxed and suicide baited. Multiple dilong authors and artists were bullied into deactivating. The harassment got especially bad after Nezha 2 came out, so-

The tables turning on Guangying shippers can only be divine karma at work. Now in videos of people bashing dilong shippers, you can see comments saying, "hey op you dropped your clown nose!" and "get with the times, OC Zhuan fell from grace." Unfortunately, this drama has led to collateral damage in the form of-

Drama in the cosplay world:

However, there are lots of big name cosplayers doing Yinglong and Guangying cosplays. These people spent Big Money on their costumes. Now they're being told that ABZ has "fallen apart" and Yinglong was just somebody else's OC this entire time. Yinglong cosplayers feel personally victimized and don't know what to do with their costumes now.

To add fuel to the fire, fans have been insulting Yinglong cosplayers in the comment sections of their videos. Ao Yi cosplayers are facing a similar dilemma. Which leads to-

Yinglong fans react + Dilong fan conspiracies:

You'd think this would lead to some self reflection on the part of Guangying fans or an apology to their victims or maybe some attempt to be on better behavior. But why do that when it's easier to double down and play victim!

ABZ fans and Guangying shippers now believe themselves to be the biggest victims in the fandom. They feel that the takedown was made in bad faith and several points don't even line up-- Yinglong doesn't resemble dilong!Ao Guang that much, Yinglong is not the author's literal self insert, the spinoff is still canon, Ao Guang loves his son very much in ABZ too and those calling him a cold father in ABZ are pulling panels out of context, etc. They think they shouldn't be judged just for enjoying a comic and multiple people have called on Jiaozi to step in and acknowledge the Drama. Indeed, they shouldn't be judged or harassed for liking Yinglong or ABZ.

But I'd feel more sorry for them if they didn't spend the past month bullying and lying to literally everybody in the fandom, ranging from spamming all Ao Bing content with guangying comments to threatening Ao Guang x anyone else shippers with physical violence. Even on the notes of the last writeup, we have firsthand accounts of their cyberbullying:

^This is the kind of thing guangying fans do on a regular basis. (I'm so sorry they harassed you over something so stupid! All 6 of them owe you a kowtow and apology.)

The Drama continues:

According to dilong fans, ABZ and guangying fans have gone quiet but not gone away. They've changed tactics and can now be spotted on random Ao Guang content commenting, "I wonder who Ao Guang's wife is! I'm so curious!" and on Ao Bing content saying, "Oh I bet Ao Bing misses his mother and brothers so much." This is allegedly an attempt to get new fans to ask them about Ao Guang's wife and Ao Bing's mother/brothers + an attempt to do damage control for ABZ now that it's uncool to mention it publicly. Personally, I think the dilong fans are right about this theory. Makes perfect sense to me, especially given everything else ABZ fans have done so far.

Next, tying back to the cosplay drama, dilong fans believe the people attacking Yinglong cosplayers are guangying fans masquerading as dilong fans. These guangying fans are hoping to harass enough people for something major to happen (conveniently taking the heat off of ABZ). Then the wider media will report on cosplayers being harassed by dilong fans, resulting in the wider public going "Nezha fangirls are so scary!" resulting in cancellation of Nezha ships (specifically dilong) altogther in a complete repeat of 227 (the date in which Xiao Zhan fans mass reported AO3 over a real person fic, resulting in the AO3 ban in China and the ensuing backlash that caused the absolutely most nightmarish time of poor Xiao Zhan's life). Is this there truth to this theory? I have no idea, but wilder things have happened.

And lastly, no, Fei Wo Si Cun (established web novelist that published a dilong mpreg fanfic on main, as mentioned in the previous writeup) has not acknowledged the Ao Guang discourse drama at all. Jiaozi and the rest of the Nezha team have also not said a peep despite guangying shippers' desperate attempts to reach them.

Update to add: there was ALSO some fight between solo!Nezha stans and solo!Ao Bing stans on weibo. It didn't have that big of an influence, but was certainly an Online event.

And that's the end of the ride for now. Nezha 2 is still playing in theaters. Nobody knows what will happen once it hits STREAMING :D after all, 命由我不由天!

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris, new partners in crime, start moving your product along.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

dividers by @/kimjiho1

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

"Hey, ma. You ready to move this shit or what?" Chris asked, his voice low and rapsy like he'd just woken up.

It was the next afternoon, and you had just pulled up to Daisy's house to pick up your new business partner, who looked like he had just rolled out of bed. He was leaned up against the open window of your passenger side door, a joint tucked between his lips and his grey hoodie pulled over his head.

"Hey, Chris. I was born ready. Get in. You're not bringing that shit in my car, though," you responded, motioning towards his joint. He rolled his eyes and gave you a playful smile. He took a final drag, blew it out the side of his mouth, and dropped the roach onto the ground, snuffing it out under his black Converse shoe and crushing it against the pavement.

He got into the passenger seat, and when he glanced back over at you, his mind flooded with the thoughts he'd had about you the night before. He was afraid he'd crossed a line with you, but it was complicated because it was only in his mind. He quickly pulled his guilty blue eyes off of you, worried that you'd see his fantasies written on his face if he stared at you for too much longer.

"We've got a few of my regulars we're meeting with today. I've already told them all that I'm bringing a colleague. Don't expect to be back home until dark. We have a lot of shit to move, and it isn't going to move itself," you relayed to him as you pulled away from the curb.

"Whatever you say, ma. It's your world, I'm just living in it," Chris replied, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "We've got a cake to deliver," You pointed out the bakery box in the back seat. "Deliver a cake?" Chris asked, pinching his eyebrows together in a confused expression as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.

"It's not really a cake, Chris," you replied, laughing at his naivety. "Here. You look like you're still half-asleep. I got you something to wake you up," you told him, gesturing towards the two coffees in your cup holder.

"Thanks, ma. I love it when you think about me when I'm not around," Chris flirted, playfully winking at you as he reached for his drink. You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Just drink your coffee," you responded in an unamused tone as you found your way out of the neighborhood.

The weather was cloudy and grey like the day before, but no rain yet, just a humidity that hung in the air and clung to your skin as you drove with the windows down. The two of you made your way through Long Beach traffic, hitting all the green lights until you pulled up in front of a seafood restaurant.

"What are we doing here, ma?" Chris wondered aloud, looking up from his phone as you threw your transmission into park. "Grabbing lunch," you casually stated, cutting the engine and unbuckling your seatbelt. "Hope you like fish."

"I mean, it's alright. You think we could go somewhere else to eat?" He politely asked. "No," you dryly responded, getting out of the driver's side of your Honda Accord. He sighed but trailed behind you.

The two of you waltzed into the restaurant, the smell of lobster and shrimp drifting through the air as you scanned the place. You locked eyes with a cook who acknowledged you with a nod. You elbowed Chris in the side to get his attention.

"That's our guy. His name is Joe. He's going on lunch in about forty-five minutes. We're gonna sit down, have a nice meal, and after we pay the tab, we're gonna meet him in the parking lot," you whispered to Chris.

"How much is he buying? A couple grams?" Chris assumed. "Are you kidding, Chris? Do I look like the kind of person who wastes my own time? I don't sell anything to anyone if it's less than a pound," you quietly snorted.

Chris widened his eyes at you. This whole time he'd been under the impression that the two of you were going to be moving cocaine the same way he moved weed - gram by gram, eighth by eighth, and sometimes when he got lucky, he'd sell an ounce.

"Holy shit, ma. We're gonna make that money back in no time," he mumbled to you with dollar signs in his eyes. "Our guy is buying two kilos today. It's the same order every time I re-up. He's more of a street dealer, so it takes him a little longer to sell the product," you explained.

"Aren't you nervous about doing a deal in such a public place?" Chris murmured, his gaze darting around the restaurant and noting how many people were around. "No. Deals done in secret are more dangerous than the ones done out in the open. People are always expecting drug deals to be happening at night, in dark alleys, at sketchy gas stations. People don't look at you twice in settings like this," you shrugged.

"Table for two?" The hostess inquired as she approached you with menus in hand, and you each smiled and nodded. She led you to a booth in the back near a window that gave you a view of the block that was bustling with life. The waitress stopped by, brought the two of you some waters, and told you she'd be back to take your order before floating off to another table, leaving the two of you alone.

"So, how'd you get into this business? What's your story?" Chris wondered, his gaze glued to the menu in front of him, scanning the various pictures of crab cakes and seafood medley. "You first," you shot back, laying your menu flat on the table and raising an eyebrow.

"Simple. Money," Chris shrugged without looking up. "We all got into it for money, Chris. What was the turning point that finally made you say, 'Okay, I'm doing this'?" You asked, propping your hand up on your elbow. He leaned in and lowered his voice, setting down his menu.

"Look, my mom and I grew up kinda broke, and she was in a bad situation with this abusive, piss poor excuse of a boyfriend she had. She was working three jobs and still couldn't scrape up enough cash to leave him, so I started moving some weed around, just enough to afford us a new place," Chris relayed to you in a serious voice, his piercing blue eyes locked on yours.

"Chris, I'm sorry.." you softly mumbled, reaching for his hand and brushing your thumb against his knuckles. For the first time, you felt some compassion for him. He'd always struck you as your average cocky and shallow weed dealer, but maybe there was some depth to him after all.

"I got us out of that situation. But even when you don't need dealing anymore, the thrill of making all that money, it gets comfortable. Then you want more," he admitted. In that moment, talking to Chris felt like having a conversation with yourself.

You knew exactly what he meant. You'd had that talk with yourself many times before, always saying you'd be satisfied next deal. You just needed a little more, and then you'd be pleased with it. Deep down, you knew no matter how much money you made, it would never truly be enough. You would always crave more.

However, it didn't keep you from hoping that every time, this would finally be the final time, and then you'd finally have enough to retire from this life go back to living a normal one.

"Do you guys still need time to decide?" The waitress asked, appearing out of nowhere and breaking you out of your thoughts. You quickly pulled away and cleared your throat when you realized you were still holding Chris' hand.

"I'm ready if you are," you told Chris, and he nodded, a sly smile lingering on his lips as he watched how quickly you'd snapped your hand back. You ordered the shrimp scampi, and Chris ordered fish tacos. When the waitress sauntered off to put your food in, Chris directed the conversation back to the question he'd originally asked.

"Alright, ma. I told you my story. You tell me yours. What got you into this business?" Chris asked, leaning back in his booth and giving you his full, undivided attention. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to share with him.

"I grew up watching my parents struggle with money. Crunching numbers just so we could afford to keep a roof over our heads and keep the lights on and water running. I swore that I was never going to live like that. I wanted the generational poverty in my family to end with me," you admitted.

"So, when I had a friend who sold weed, and his clientele started growing faster than he could keep up with, I offered to move some shit around for him. A one-time thing became a regular thing. Then he got busted, and I took over the business for him," you shrugged.

"I get that, ma. Nothing lights a fire under you faster than fighting for your survival and sense of security," Chris responded. This time he reached out and grabbed your hand, softly running his thumb along the back of it, a soothing gesture that you secretly liked but would never admit to him.

"How'd you get into selling coke?" Chris wondered. Your body language immediately shifted. You pulled your hand away, leaned back into the booth, and crossed your arms, diverting your eyes to anything else.

"You ask too many fucking questions. You know that, Sturniolo?" You snapped at him with an edge to your voice. "What? So you're not gonna tell me?" Chris wondered, sitting on the edge of his seat.

"Slow down, Chris. If we get to know every little thing about each other now, what will we talk about on the drive to the next deal?" You joked. "Whatever, ma. Keep your secrets. I didn't care anyway," Chris replied, pulling out his phone to respond to a text.

Just like that, the hand-holding, the intense eye contact, and the vulnerable conversation, it was all over. Back to business as usual, like you always were.

It only took a few minutes after ordering for the waitress to bring out your food. "Damn, that was fast. How'd we get our food before half these people that were here before us?" Chris wondered out loud as the waitress set his steaming plate down in front of him.

You flicked your eyes up to Joe, who was still visible from the front of the restaurant, and he gave you a subtle wink. "Joe's going on lunch early. Eat up," you said, lightly kicking Chris under the table as you placed your napkin across your lap.

The sounds of the restaurant echoed around you, silverware clanking against dishes, the many conversations happening all at once, and the unwavering sound of the sizzling grill in the back.

"Mmm. You know, I'm not usually crazy about seafood, but this is amazing," Chris commented, his mouth still full of his lunch as he spoke. "Just because I took you out for seafood doesn't mean I want to see your food," you teased him, but the smile that followed your comment was warm.

Your gaze flickered up, and you locked eyes with the cook who was making his way out the backdoor. "C'mon, Chris. Let's get the check and go," you demanded. "But I'm not done," Chris interjected, giving you a perplexed look.

"We'll get you a doggy bag, and you can eat in the car," you offered him with a smug smirk. "Yeah, you're real funny," Chris snarked back in a dry manner. The waitress came back around with a couple of Styrofoam boxes and the bill, and you handed the waitress $50 and told her to keep the change.

The three you met up in the parking lot shortly after. "This is Chris," you introduced him to your customer. "It's about time you get yourself a boyfriend," Joe chuckled. "She wishes," Chris muttered, cracking a smile. "No, it's nothing like that. We're just doing business together," you said, rolling your eyes and feeling your face grow warm.

"I mean, it's been, what, almost a year since everything with Alex? It's about time you get back out there," he started to say, but you cut him off. "You got my money?" You interrupted, changing the subject, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow.

Chris' gaze burned into you out of the corner of your eye. You could tell he had questions for you. What's he talking about? Who's Alex? What happened a year ago? However, this wasn't the time or place to answer them.

"Yeah, got it right here," Joe replied, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket. You took it from him and wandered over to your car, popping open the back door and reaching inside to grab the "cake" you were delivering.

"Pleasure doing business," you nodded at Joe as you passed it off to him. He accepted it, and the two of you were back on the road in no time.

"That was pretty slick, actually," Chris told you, surprised by how quickly the deal went down and how nonchalant it looked to the people in the vicinity. He sat hunched over in his seat, eating his fish tacos out of the Styrofoam box with his hoodie pulled over his head.

"Told you," you answered, checking your rearview mirror just to make sure you weren't being followed, a nervous habit you'd acquired in this business. "Who's Alex?" Chris piped up. "Chris, not right now," you said in a more serious tone than normal, giving him a long, hard stare that begged him not to press you for information on the subject. He got the hint.

"Okay, fine. What's the next place we're hitting? Is there going to be dessert included?" He inquired, changing the subject and smirking over at you. "No. You'll find out," you responded, cranking the wheel and turning down a street Chris didn't recognize.

"So, what are your goals, ma? You trying to become a sexy queenpin? Where do you see yourself in the industry in five years?" He asked, rolling down his window and sticking his hand out to feel the humid breeze. "Out," you responded without hesitation. "Out?" Chris asked, wrinkling his eyebrows and glancing over in your direction.

"Out of the game, Chris. Not doing this shit anymore," you reiterated. He gave you a perplexed look, like he wasn't expecting that. He was expecting you to give him a dollar amount you wanted to be making or a number of kilos you'd like to be moving at one time.

"I mean, think about it, Chris. If you go walk into a casino to gamble and you stay long enough, house is always gonna win. The trick is to make your profit and then pull out before you lose it all. That's what it is. It's a gamble. You just play your cards right, you take your money, and you get out. I wanna get out while I'm still up."

You remained pretty tight-lipped the rest of the day, hesitant to share much more with Chris than you already had. You were beginning to feel safe around him, but you didn't fully trust him just yet.

click to read chapter 5 ✨️

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