#i just hope that at least one person reads it now lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jensthwa · 4 months ago

Text

i was made for lovin' you (PSH x reader)

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

In an attempt to grasp at his youth, Seonghwa buys a motorcycle despite not knowing the first thing about them. When it inevitably breaks down, he has no other option that to ride it to a mechanic shop and, after following a sweet hum, he’s faced with the life-changing (and predictable) fact that, maybe, what he needed after all was not a motorcycle. Maybe, just maybe, what he needed was you.

PAIRING: new bike owner!seonghwa x afab mechanic!reader.

GENRE: strangers to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 20k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both seonghwa's and reader's), wooyoung being a little shit for the umpteenth time + jongho, yeosang AND hongjoong (omg), that feeling you get when your youth is ending, midlife crisis! (or so yunho says), a loooot of work related/motorcycle plot, flirting, seonghwa losing his rizz, reader is adopted so that may count as a trigger warning for some of you, shitty exes, crying a bit but not really, pet and nicknames (ghost, dear), they almost get caught in a thunderstorm, lots of tension, making out, oral ( f & m reciving ), descriptions of the female anatomy, floor AND protected sex ( wrap it up pls ), the ending leads straight up to the next story on this universe so be aware of that.

NOTES: hello everyone! after almost a month in the making, here you have it! THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE but can be read as a stand alone, although there's some characters and scenarios you can understand better if you read the last three parts (you can find them in my masterlist). this really didn't need to be so lenghty but it turned out that way for some reason (i'm the mayor of yap town). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 02 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist.

Seonghwa is proud to be the type of person who can just tell what's going on after assessing a situation for a few seconds.

His intuition is something he can rely on and he almost never misses the mark when he makes predictions that he doesn't share with anyone else in case it brings anyone down.

As he watches San kissing his girlfriend's cheek and then stare at her like a lovestruck idiot, his mouth quirks up a bit and he quickly hides it behind the soda can he's been nursing for the past couple of minutes.

He's happy it finally happened.

He's also a little butthurt that he didn't get the chance to fully get to know her first.

They've been together for a few months now, maybe four if he recalls correctly. Back then, he danced with her at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment like he didn't know one of his closest friends had been in love with her since they both were in highschool.

He didn't tell anyone, but a part of him did it to see if it would prompt a reaction. And, from what he was told by Wooyoung, it did.

She is his type of person, though. And when he texted her a few days later and she sent in a non-detailed voice note briefly explaining what went down after they all left the party and she stayed behind to help her drunk best friend, he told her he understood and that he kind of already knew.

Or at least, he expected it.

He also explained to San that, although his intentions with his girlfriend (before she was his girlfriend) were mostly genuine, he’s obviously not in love with her.

After all, they only met that one time and now, back in San and Woo’s shared apartment for what feels like an overdue reunion after months of busy schedules and adult life, he can assure them both with a nod and smile that he is, indeed, happy for them.

He treasures admiration for those who are able to find love in this modern age, anyway.

Now there's two couples in the group. Seonghwa has never been the type of guy who chases relationships and has a goal set on when and how to get married. He simply exists and welcomes the opportunities life gives him as they come.

That's how he got his job at Room for More. His professor gave him a recommendation letter after finishing the last presentation of his career and suggested he try his luck at his colleague’s company.

And now he's actually doing what he studied to do and he's loving it. Working in interior design and fighting minimalism while he's at it?

Incredible. Life could not be better.

Kind of.

As rare as those types of opportunities are, he truly believes it is way easier to find a niche profession people are actually comfortable with than it is to find love in modern society.

Life might give you your dream job out of nowhere, but it can also take away the opportunity of finding a partner you can celebrate your success with.

He never even told his friends when he got the job. Only Hongjoong, who then passed on the word to the rest of the group and, after they all congratulated him for it, they quickly moved on to their thesis and focused on not letting their last year of university eat them up while they were at it.

Except for Jongho, he very much had a few months left to ignore the unavoidable adulthood period he was about to suddenly enter his senior year. The rest of them, minus Hongjoong, had the right to grasp as much as they could of the freedom of only being weighed down by exams and not by other obligations like rent and bills.

Wooyoung and San’s lease is being paid by their parents, so they don't really count.

And Hongjoong lives with his bandmates in a little apartment above the rehearsal space provided by a lovely grandma who treats them all like they are her sons, so he doesn't really count either.

Seonghwa feels like, in the span of a year, he took a whole step forward while everyone else is still enjoying their youth. Now, he has presentations and meetings with clients he needs to worry about.

Love is not his top priority, not that it ever was, but now it barely crosses his mind.

He just wants to stay cool and young for a few more years before giving in completely into feeling like an adult.

So, naturally, what's the first idea that popped in his mind a few weeks ago when thinking about the inescapable passage of time?

That he should definitely be a little more irresponsible with his finances. Why not? He's in the perfect period of his life where he's allowed to make a mistake without the fear of eternal judgment by a superior being.

The superior being happens to be his mother, of course. Who else would it be? The woman could make a God shake in their shiny boots and silence them with a single scowl.

She's all the way back in his hometown, though and she's really rooting for him to make it big in the city.

Surely, she wouldn't mind if he bought a motorcycle to help him commute faster to his appointments, right?

Well, he's about to find out any day now.

Looking out of the window that looks to the street, Seonghwa can see his new acquisition parked and sparkling under the streetlamp and the smile that it brings to his lips it's big enough for Yunho to bump him with his hip and lean against the window sill as well.

“Who's making you smile like that?” he asks, looking away from Seonghwa and following his line of sight till it reaches the beautiful Bonneville he just got on a great deal with a guy who wanted to get rid of it.

The auction post said that it was because it looked too vintage and the owner wanted to upgrade to something more ‘modern looking’.

A fool, he thought.

Because to him, this bike checks all his marks: it is modern enough that in case he needed to get any parts for it, it wouldn't make him lose his mind in the process. But also, it has that vintage, nostalgic, old film feel and look to it that is just right up his alley.

He loves it.

Huh, maybe he did find true love after all.

And after breaking open his savings, Seonghwa managed to get a hold of it without financially ruining himself. Only a bit.

He didn't tell any of his friends about it, maybe that's why Yunho whistles after he checks it out.

“Now who's riding that baby?”

“Me,” Seonghwa smiles, turning to his friend who, as the response dawns on him, drops his jaw and lets out an amused chuckle “What? That's my bike!”

“Are you being serious?”

“Why would I lie to you?” He returns, softly.

A bit passes and then Yunho turns to everyone else scattered around the living room.

“Guys, Seonghwa is having an early mid-life crisis and bought a motorcycle!”

Yeosang gasps “Ain't no way…”

“Hwa? A motorcycle?” Wooyoung hollers, louder than everyone else “What's next? Tattoos?!”

Oh, for the love of God.

Maybe there's a reason he didn't tell anyone until now. Everyone gathers around the window to look at it like children at a zoo and he takes a step back, sitting on the arm on the couch, a subtle smile on his lips.

The only person that turns to him is San’s girlfriend, smiling proudly like he just won the lottery or something.

Damn, she really is his type.

“Are you happy?” She asks and it tugs at his lonely heart strings like crazy.

He pushes through, nodding and shrugging a bit, dismissing his feelings for the final time. It's not really her, he reminds himself. It's the thought of having someone in his life that treats him the way she treats San.

“Sure am,” he murmurs “My bank account? Not so much.”

She laughs and Jongho turns to him at that “Are you an old man with debts now? Noooo,” he pouts “Who am I going to ask for bail money now?”

Gyuri, Wooyoung's ex-girlfriend who somehow manages to stay friends with him, scoffs “You've never been to jail, kid.”

“But he's the first person on my emergency contact list for that!”

And just like that, they all pull away from the window and back into their seats to discuss the reasons why Jongho would end up behind bars.

Being annoying seems to be winning.

Seonghwa is glad to take the attention off of him. This way, he can't be caught staring at the way Mingi’s girlfriend sits on his lap and nuzzles her nose against her boyfriend’s neck. This way, the sigh he lets out when he catches San whispering sweet things into his girl’s ear gets lost amidst pointless banter and giggling.

He shouldn't feel envious.

But somehow he ended up wearing a green short-sleeve today, so it checks out.

“Important client. Wants to renovate their whole space, his apartment and his office.”

His boss is excited. It makes him smile as he stares at her with his hands behind his back, like he usually does when he receives instructions.

“He loved your work, I showed him the photo studio you helped with last month and requested you specifically. He said that he feels trapped in a box every time he gets to work and everytime he returns home, so… He wants you to lead the project,” she smiles, tapping her manicured nails against her desk and cocking her head to the side “Congratulations, kid, you got your first big commission coming.”

“Thank you so much,” he bows, his body bending out of pure gratefulness and instinct “I'll make sure to run everything by you accordingly, boss.”

“Well, I'm expecting a report in two days.”

“Two days?”

“Mhm. He wants to meet with you this afternoon… In four hours, exactly. I already sent you an email with the details,” she gets up from her desk, extending her hand towards him and he rushes to shake it “You're doing the initial assessment today, alone. Everyone else has something going on.”

Fuck.

“Of course,” he's worried and anxious, but he makes sure none of it shows as he gives her hand a firmer shake before letting it go “I'll do my initial research in the meantime, then.”

She nods and dismisses him with her hand.

He stresses the whole time he looks up the name and company of this new client. It seems like a serious business, not the kind that wants to reject minimalism especially when the nation's professional aesthetic runs on it.

It’s a modern tech silicon valley run by, what he's able to gather, a very rich family his new client is part of. There's a picture of them, smiling at an event, looking like the nightmare of working class people.

He tends to keep his opinions on chaebol’s at bay (Yunho is his friend and he’s rich, so he can't really voice what he thinks so freely anyway) but the fact that they contacted his company, an interior design business with barely any recognition amongst their competitors, is both surprising and concerning.

He clicks an article where his new client is featured. He's the heir of his family's empire, a tech savvy himself and he can tell, from the way they framed his answers, that he is well media-trained.

Seonghwa has no name for himself. Why would he request him? He's not so sure the ambiance he helped to create in a mere photo studio is what is granting him this opportunity.

His intuition is telling him, as he clicks for his initial research to print, that there must be an ulterior motive.

But he's going to embrace the chance of securing his rent money either way.

He just hopes his hair is presentable enough when he gets there. The helmet he bought is really not helping, the wind that somehow gets into it as he cruises through the streets doesn't help either.

Wanna know what else adds up to his problems today? The engine sounds weird.

It sounds fucking weird.

At a red light, Seonghwa lifts up his visor and tries to figure out what the hell is going on as much as he can.

He's too green for this. Too new to this world.

Would his mother scold him if she finds out he lied about doing a thorough research about the bike world before investing in one?

He looks at his watch. He has time to spare, an hour and a half before the meeting takes place.

Before he can fully make a decision, his body weight is making him turn into a street he doesn't know that well. But he's sure he saw a repair shop on the way to work today.

Or was it just a body shop? Maybe he imagined it and the sudden panic he feels rising and darkening his cheeks under the visor is convincing him he's right.

When he sees the floatable mascot waving in the wind, he lets out a sigh of relief.

Pulling up, he sees a few cars with their hood open and a few new, modern bikes to the side, so he parks a few meters from them and when he turns off the engine and gets down from his -apparently- damaged new acquisition, he feels like he can finally breathe.

No, scratch that, he takes his helmet off and then he's able to breathe.

When he scans the place, there's not a soul in sight.

Until he hears someone humming. It's a song he heard before, he can't quite put it together by the melody but it sounds like something he used to enjoy when he entertained the idea of joining Hongjoong's band all the way back in first semester of college.

Something with heavy guitars, which kind of fits the place’s vibe. Looking around, he swears to himself he's trying to find the source of the humming.

After all, he doesn't have much time to take in the place.

But he does anyway.

When he steps deeper into the shop, he feels like he's been teletransported into a decade he never got to experience, into a culture that is not his to experience in the first place.

It's like a Sons of Anarchy set, something he would see in an indie two thousands movie, maybe. There's a lot of stuff laying around, an organized chaos he guesses he can attribute to the nature of this kind of job.

But there's also a lot on the walls, aside from the usual tools hanging from it that look worn out there's posters and the Harley Davidson logo plastered at least five times in shirts, hats and jacket applique patches.

He thinks the walls can be painted a new, muted color instead of the sort-of bright blue and beige they have going on.

Focus. What the hell.

Shaking his head, he follows the sound of the voice until he reaches the back of the shop. There's what it looks like an office, maybe a reception? With a door that's wide open and seems to lead to a storage he doesn't need to get in to.

There, on her knees, he sees the source of the sound: A girl.

A beautiful, beautiful girl.

With her hair out of her face and overalls that seem too loose on her frame.

Is his heart okay? It feels like it stopped beating.

And then the beating comes back in full blast, goosebumps on his skin reminding him to speak up. Clearing his throat softly, he does.

“Hello?”

“Oh, shit,” she drops whatever she's working on, stops writing something down on a notebook that looks like it's about to run out of space “You fucking scared me!”

“I can… see that. I'm sorry.”

“Did you float all the way down here? Fucking Christ,” she mumbles something under her breath, getting up from her position and leaning into the desk in a way Seonghwa will probably remember forever. He gulps “What can I help you with, Ghost?”

She's breathtakingly beautiful and he, who's usually smooth with words and random interactions, stammers out his response “H-hey, yes I… I'm Park Seonghwa,” he starts, smiling a bit “I was hoping there was someone here who can help me with my bike?”

She looks around and he assumes she's looking for someone until he sees the corner of her lip curving up a bit “As I said, what can I help you with?”

Did he already fuck this whole thing up?

“Oh! I wasn't suggesting that you couldn't— I mean that's not what I…” her smirks widens, he suddenly remembers he's running out of time so he gets it together “I just bought a motorcycle and I'm sure the engine is not supposed to sound the way it's sounding so I thought I could use someone taking a look?” He gets out as fast as he can and the stranger claps her hands in a way that makes him take a step back.

She intimidates him. Just a little bit.

“First time owner?” She asks but he's sure she already knows.

Chuckling nervously, Seonghwa nods “What gave it away?”

“Your gear,” she simply states, getting out from behind the desk and into the garage space, moving swiftly through it like she owns the place. Damn, does she own the place? “You're barely wearing any. I get it, it's stuffy,” she turns over her shoulder to smile at him “It'll grow on you.”

“More like I'll get used to it, I feel like.”

“Yeah,” she rounds a car, tapping the hood of it and taking a pause as she scans the front of the place “That's what I said.”

That's definitely not what she said.

He's not sure if she's being rude or merely sarcastic, but he shouldn't be enjoying it the way he is. What drags him out of it is the way laughs when she sees his bike “This one?”

Concerning. Danger. Why is she laughing?!

“Y-yeah.”

“I don't get to see this type of bike often. Damn, she's beautiful.”

He smiles, taking down his worries a notch “Yeah, I got a great deal for it. The guy said he wanted something like that instead,” he points at the one right next to his “Said he wanted something that looked out of Terminator. I didn't have the heart to tell him that they used a Harley Davidson for the movies.”

“I'm guessing he meant Robocop?”

“Maybe.”

“What an idiot,” she sighs, inspecting his bike closely “Not you, Park Seonghwa, the guy who sold you this. Key.”

Key? Oh, right, the key. He tosses it to her and she catches it with expertise.

“Well, thanks for clarifying that.”

She laughs again, taking his helmet that's resting on the seat and putting it down on the floor as she straddles the bike “You're welcome,” she starts it, revs the engine a few times and then grimaces in a way that makes Seonghwa’s heart drop to his ass “Okay, Ghost, please tell me you have time to spare today.”

“I actually don't,” he takes a few steps, worried frown on his face that prompts another sigh from her “I have a very, very important appointment in…” he checks his watch “In an hour that I really, really need to get to and— Is it that bad?”

“No! No, not at all, I'm just better with cars than with bikes but, uhm… My brother is coming back in around fifteen minutes?” She offers and with the scowl on his face, she seems to backtrack “Listen, Park Seonghwa, why don't you leave your number with me and we can get this fixed by the end of the day. You can come by to pick it up or we can drop it to you early, tomorrow.”

“Would you? Oh, my God,” he lets out another nervous laugh “That would be amazing, actually.”

“Yeah, it's probably just the chain tensioner that needs an adjustment. Nothing's wrong with the engine as far as I can tell but that's why I want the guy who specializes in this type of thing to check it out.”

“Your brother.”

“Exactly,” she nods, turning it off and getting off as quickly and if Seonghwa was a little less concerned that he might've waisted his money on an expensive motorcycle, he would've noticed the proximity and the way she looks him over with a curious glint on her eye “So, Park Seonghwa, what's your number?”

She takes a step to the side and offers him her phone after unlocking it. He reacts to that.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

He doesn't notice the big smile she offers him either. He doesn't have time. He enters the digits fast and checks over them two times before saving the contact information and returning the phone.

Checking his watch once again, he curses under his breath and looks at his baby with desperation, begging, praying that he doesn't have to spend a fortune on it.

“I really have to go.”

“I can see that,” she returns his words from before, smiling and leaning to rest her weight on the hood of the car she tapped earlier “Good luck with your, uh…” she looks him over one more than and this time he notices it, blushing like a teenager for some reason because of it “Business meeting?”

The crossbody bag he's wearing probably gave him away, huh?

“Yeah, yes. Thank you so much for all your help… Ian?” He reads the nametag on her overall and immediately thinks it is an unconventional name for a girl, but doesn't add anything about it “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“I get it, you're grateful, now leave.” He catches on that she's pretending like his presence bothers her so he can hurry, which he's actually grateful for.

It occurs to him that he could stare at her forever like an idiot if she didn't.

“Okay, bye. Please tell me if I have to, uh, rob a bank or something to cover the cost.”

She laughs again and it sounds pretty this time.

What the fuck.

“Sure,” she nods and he takes a few steps backwards until he's about to turn and then he hears her voice again, so he doesn't but he keeps walking “It's Y/N, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Y/N, Ian is my brother.”

His heart beats loudly and he can't help but smile as wide as he possibly can “Ah, that makes more sense.”

“Goodbye, Park Seonghwa!”

He finally turns and then screams back “Goodbye, Y/N!” as he's hurrying to raise his hand and call on a taxi who just passed the entrance like divine intervention, placed perfectly just for him.

He misses the sudden blush on your cheeks because he's already in the cab by the time you reach the garage’s door to glance at the beautiful man one last time.

Seonghwa is right on time. With a few minutes to spare, actually.

The building looks even more modernized than in pictures. He can even see some workers remodeling an office he passes on the way to the… third? Main desk he has to go to.

It's a very big company and he can see the silicon valley aspect of it all once he notices the few different uniforms everyone is wearing. It seems like the building is one big, creative space and he likes it, but it does feel a little cold in a sense.

“I'm looking for Mr. Kim? I have an appointment in… five minutes with him, I was sent from—”

“Room for More. Park Seonghwa is here.” The lady at the reception doesn't spare him a glance as she talks through her headset and he has to blink a few times, bowing briefly when she points towards the elevator to his right “Floor sixteen, the only big office on the floor.”

“Thank you—”

“Next!”

Turning back, he sees there's some people lined up behind him and he quickly moves out of the way and towards the elevator that drops him, two minutes later, into the sixteenth floor.

As he walks towards the big doors at the end of the hall, he feels so out of place his armpits start sweating even though it is a cold day and the heating is barely on.

There's a few cubicles, glass separating them from the hall and, in consequence, forcing him to glance a few times out of curiosity. The uniforms and creativity that he saw downstairs is lost and all he can see is the nightmare he had once, when he thought he would end up working in a similar space: men in suits and women in pencil skirts typing away and printing reports he is never going to understand.

Maybe that's why he's a bit surprised when he gets to Mr. Kim’s office and he's waiting by the door with a kind of ironed three piece suit and a few hairs out of place, toothy grin and open arms.

“Mr. Park Seonghwa, thank you so much for taking the job!”

He moves in to give him a brief hug he doesn't really get to reciprocate before he's moving away and into his office.

“It's, um, a pleasure,” he stammers out, following him “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr. Kim— Wow.”

“I know, I know,” his client sighs as he takes a box and throws it to the side of his desk. The space is a mess and both of them grimace at the sound of something breaking inside the cardboard “This is why I recruited you. I tried to do something myself and ended up with… Whatever this is.”

Looking around, Seonghwa is able to see what he means. The walls are mismatched and there's an unfinished design on the one to his left. Someone started painting a tree and gave up after sketching out a few branches.

“And please call me Soohyun. Everyone here already calls me Mr. Kim and it makes me feel like my father,” he adds, sitting down on his desk chair and pointing to the one in front of it “That's my sister’s work. She tried to help me but broke one of her nails trying to get the cap off a painting tube so… She left me with this mess.”

Seonghwa smiles, sitting down in front of him and getting his sketchbook out of his bag. Seemingly excited, his client rests his arms on the desk and grins at him, expectantly.

He seems a little childish, not like the guy he studied earlier today. He looks younger than what he actually is like this, in a space that mimics what Seonghwa picks up like impatience and boredom, maybe the desire of breaking free of a corporate jail.

Now, he understands why he contacted Room for More.

“So, Soohyun… What do you want me to do for this space?”

He spends the rest of the day in the middle of the mess, getting to know Soohyun’s vision and learning about the company as he helps to pile up the boxes laying around and drawing different ideas down. When he tries to talk about a possible budget, the man silences him and tells him not to worry about it.

The pretty girl he met earlier crosses his mind one time, when Soohyun asks him if he can stay later than anticipated to give him an excuse to get out of what he says it's about to be a very boring and pointless meeting.

Her image, your image makes him smile and he wonders, for a second, what the hell are you doing with his bike.

And if he gets to see you again.

Your brother comes back like a whole two hours later, so you're grateful you didn't push your new client to waste fifteen minutes of his, apparently, very busy day.

“He said he got a great deal for it?” you nod “This one is not even that old, I'm sure they still make them!”

You shrug and your brother sighs.

“Maybe he got scammed.”

“I didn't ask but I think it started making that noise today because he seemed… alarmed,” you tell him and Christian pushes his hair back before taking the key out of your open palm “He didn't stay because he had a business appointment or something. He looked very laid-back, though, not rich at all, so don't you dare overcharge him for this.”

“Oh, so you liked him.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to open the hood of the car you're supposed to be working on instead of giving away information he should've listened to if he didn't tend to walk out mid-shift “Yeah, we're actually getting married next week.”

“Well, that means I can dispute getting the whole garage once dad goes away.”

You let out a groan but you smile a little as you try and remember where you left off last night.

“The only way he can go away is if he's dead, Christian,” you remind him “And he's going to outlive both of us.”

“Of course he is.”

You're not sure if your dad has a will at all. You're not his real children after all, so If he does you're not sure you're included either.

It's not hard to tell you're adopted, but you've known Christian since before it was decided you two would share a family and even a last name.

You grew up together, the adoption home treated both of you decently enough so you two never struggled as much but the children your age were a different story entirely. They used to tug at your hair and push you to the ground during group activities and the only one who was brave enough to make them stop was Christian.

So, when your dad showed up at the adoption home and picked him out of the hundred children, he told him he didn't want to go anywhere without you.

Sure enough, your dad took one look at your frightened little face, hiding behind Christian like a coward, and filled out the paperwork twenty minutes later.

You remember gaping at the director, waiting for him to do something about this six feet tattooed guy in his late thirties wanting to take you both away from the only home you ever knew, but you're grateful the system didn't give two craps about children back in the day.

Not that it gives a crap about them now, but at least they're a little more careful with just handing out kids like that.

Because it could've gone terribly wrong. You were sure, at eight years old, your hand grasping the seatbelt on the back seat of your new dad’s car, that it was about to go terribly wrong.

But he turned out to be nothing but a kind, hardworking (with an amazing credit score, no criminal record and steady income), widowed man who was looking to fulfill his late wife’s dreams of having a family and someone to leave their business to.

After all, she was the one who built the shop from the ground up. You desperately needed to know more of her and your dad made sure to let you know how amazing she was in every aspect.

She became someone you looked up to, even if you never really knew her, maybe that's why you ended up working at the shop as well.

And yet, you still don't think it belongs to you. Ian is the one your dad wanted to begin with, you're just an added bonus.

You're not sure you want it, either.

But there's not much you know outside of it. Your time in school was great, no one bullied you anymore and the tough skin you developed out of nowhere cushioned the typical jokes that kids and teenagers are apparently programmed to make.

You never made fun of anyone with ill intentions, so you're not sure how true that statement is.

Either way, you kind of know where they were coming from. You weren't particularly exceptional at any subject but you never got in trouble for anything either, so you just kind of floated in everyone's orbit until you graduated, never belonging to any specific group of people or participating on any extracurriculars to help you maintain your barely there friendships after graduation.

This shop is truly all you got. And the family that comes with it, of course.

Your dad coughing in the back and the sound reaching your ears even when the sound of Park Seonghwa's damaged motorcycle is right next to you, reminds you that spending every second of your teenage years and early adult life learning all you could about how to fix a car was worth it.

“Fucking chain tensioners.”

Smiling, you turn your head to your brother and he's already working on it “So it was the chain tensioner?”

“Yeah,” he wipes the sweat off his forehead “it's always the fucking chain tensioner with these things.”

You don't tell him you already knew that.

“So you could get it fixed today?”

“Yeah, yeah. He said he's coming back tonight?”

“Oh, I kind of suggested dropping it off tomorrow so I'm not sure…”

“Y/N!” he scolds immediately and all you can give him in return is an innocent smile “I'm not dropping off shit tomorrow.”

Turning back to the car, your smile grows into a cheeky one.

“I never said you would do it.”

He scoffs “If this is your way of flirting with people, I can see why you never got far with anyone befo— What the fuck?”

Jaw slack, holding the greasy towel you sent flying into his direction a second ago, he throws it back and it lands by your feet.

“Did I lie?”

“Stop being an ass or the next thing I'm throwing your way are my bedazzled pliers.”

Your dad’s voice behind you puts a stop into the petty and pointless bickering “Well, don't, I worked hard on those,” you smile at him and Ian all but sulks before returning to the task at hand “I expect you both to be done on whatever you're working tomorrow, by eight. We have dinner with the Lee’s.”

Ah, dinner with your dad’s closest friends. Usual Tuesday shenanigans, of course, but it doesn't stop the nervous bubbling inside of you.

You pray Deokhee can't make it (he rarely shows up) but you mutter out an okay in response even if you don't feel like going anyway.

Nodding, he quickly looks over on what you're both doing before disappearing into the back of the shop again. You look down at your toolbox and find the bedazzled pliers your dad gave you as a part of your fourteen birthday gift with a tiny, grateful smile.

The eternal loop of working in the same usual five, fixable problems on the cars that people drop off at the shop sets in afterwards. And, for the rest of the afternoon, you keep stealing glances at the Bonneville and wondering what type of man its owner is.

You've always been drawn to pretty faces, even if it costed you your sanity only a few years back. Not that Christian or your dad or anyone else knew about it.

The little secrets you keep give you some sense of identity, it sets you apart from the oil changes and calluses on your hands and they remind you of the brief aspirations you once had outside of all of this.

When you dreamed of belonging to someone else and not just this family business, someone who you thought used to get you before he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

Deokhee thought cheating would not affect you.

Why? Oh, maybe because your edges were worn and rough and you've been through worse stuff before.

What's worse than getting abandoned and picked out as an afterthought later in life?

Being abandoned and treated like an afterthought by the guy you wasted your teen years obsessing over, probably.

Nothing breaks like a heart or whatever the song says.

And, to his advantage, he knew you'd keep calm and collected and accepting of his ways because he never promised you the life you imagined for the both of you, even after giving yourself to him multiple times.

Even after he told you how amazing you were.

Even after he whispered how lucky he was to have you, hushed and hurried at the backdoor of his house that last time before he broke it off.

Before he told you he found someone else.

So you know wondering is a bad idea. You should not wonder about a client, at that. How unprofessional of you, how immature.

But there was a spark this afternoon you never felt with anyone else. He was brave enough to joke around, even when you did try your best to intimidate him and lost tragically at one glimpse of his pretty smile.

What's so wrong in indulging in a fantasy no one will ever know about? Heavens know you need one to keep you from smashing the wrench on the windshield of this old, ungrateful, misbehaving Chevrolet that's proving to be more difficult than any other car you've ever worked on before.

It's only at ten after seven that you're allowed to think about Park Seonghwa without the guilt brought on by delusion.

“There, fixed,” your brother says and, after starting the bike again, the noise is gone “Call your future husband and tell him to pick it up, I want to meet him.”

Huffing, you reach for your phone and look at the recently added contact before shaking your head.

Indulging in a fantasy it's fine, as long as you keep it to yourself.

You get a chance to prove yourself wrong if you allow yourself to see him again.

“Not a chance in hell.”

Couple of minutes pass and you fidget the whole time. You're hoping for a yes, so it can all die down tonight. Seonghwa’s lack of transportation and your fantasy included.

He doesn't respond the way you need him to.

You hate that it makes you smile a bit.

You glance at your brother and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Would it be nice to not go wherever he is and have time to actually get ready for dinner tomorrow? Yes.

Do you want Christian to meet Seonghwa? No. That meeting would solidify everything else as a reality, it would pull you out of your little fantasy and you don't want that.

You want to keep it (Seonghwa) to yourself for a while longer.

You shouldn't be flirting, you really shouldn't.

His flirting back puts you in a dangerous zone, a territory you desperately want to explore but can't. Shouldn't.

Is it dumb of you to re-read the conversation at least eight times before going to bed?

Probably.

But you do anyway.

When Seonghwa is finally walked downstairs by his new client, he's promised a meal by Hongjoong, only if he buys some beer on the way to his apartment.

His roommates are apparently out and he didn't feel like going, although he didn't explain why. And when he gets there, Yeosang is also splayed out on the couch and with his laptop on his belly.

“Hwa’s here!”

“Oh, man, finally,” Hongjoong walks out of his room with wet hair and a towel around his neck “The takeout is getting cold. Come on!”

He seems… Off.

Seonghwa eyes Yeosang for an answer but the youngest just shrugs and sits straight on the couch as he closes his laptop.

“Is everything alrig—”

“I'll explain it to you when the time is right. Something's up with the band but it's nothing we can't fix.”

“Okay…” Seonghwa sits down on the tiny table that somehow fits the three of them, the beers and the takeout with a tiny smile, knowing not to intervene until he's told to.

Eating with his friends is like second nature to him. Everytime it happens, it's like a family dinner and everyone knows what to do and what to serve to everyone so, soon enough, they all have their chopsticks helping them get food into their mouths while they talk about their day.

Seonghwa is nodding along, not sharing a lot because, well, work is work and he just tells them how excited he is for the new project and what he's planning on doing, he even shows them the mockups and drawings he spent the whole afternoon making, gaining supportive praise for it a second later.

Yeosang looks up from his meal to him “So it's like a lot of little companies inside one company?”

“Sort of,” Seonghwa smiles “I don't really get it, either, but that's okay. It doesn't seem like I have to get the concept of the company to plan this whole thing out, only what my client wants and that's… Very different from the company image.”

He plans on saying something else but all train of thought gets interrupted when his phone dings right besides him.

And he almost spills his beer on his pretty mockups trying to get to it fast enough.

Only to end up disappointed, because it's not you but a discount notification from the food app he normally uses when he has the money to order in.

It had to show up in his face, because what he hears next has the color draining from it “Oh?”

Oh, God.

It's like Wooyoung's spirit possessing Hongjoong, he sees it happen in real time and the wicked smile his friend sends in his direction is enough to know where it's all going.

Yeosang sighs and eyes him with a tiny smile that says I'm on your side, but not really.

“Hwa… The motorcycle, the looking at your phone waiting for something or someone… Are you seeing anyone?”

“He obviously is!”

“Yeosang! Stop feeding his delusions!”

“So?” Hongjoong places his beer down, cocking his head to the side inquisitively and eyeing him up and down, like he can figure something out that way “Are you?”

“No! I just… I met this girl today and—”

“At the company?”

“No! No, uh… My bike broke down and—”

“Already?!”

“Let him talk, hyung!”

Letting out a sigh, Hongjoong sets his lips into a straight line that makes Seonghwa huff out a chuckle of disbelief “Thanks, Yeo. Anyway, my bike had a weird sound this morning and I took it to a shop, so the girl who's… In charge?” he frowns a little, because he's still not sure “Of the shop sent me a text a while ago saying that it's fixed, I was just checking if she sent anything else.”

“And you like her.”

It's more than that, really. He can't even explain it, the smile tugging at his lips a dead giveaway of the whirlwind going inside his head at the thought of you.

“Ye— No! No, I don't even know her.”

He shouldn't feel so flustered, really, but the things he felt while looking at you earlier were weird and confusing and he needs to think straight before he lets it consume him.

It felt a little too freeing for his liking.

Free from what? He's not really able to pinpoint it. But it looks like he's going to have to.

The way his friends are staring at him like they know something he doesn't it's annoying, but telling.

“Okay, maybe I do like her a little.”

Yeosang hums “Like her, like her or just… You know.”

“I'm not sure…”

“Well, figure it out!” Hongjoong is excited, almost jumping in his chair at the prospect of Seonghwa getting with someone “You have her number, ask her to… Meet you somewhere or whatever people do when they like someone.”

“Ask her on a date, hyung. That's what this idiot is trying to say.”

“Hey!”

Seonghwa closes his eyes because he can't believe his friends are entertaining the idea, feeding the growing feeling inside his chest “I just met her today, though.”

“And?” Hongjoong bites a piece of meat and shrugs, dismissively “Timing is never off when you like someone. Do something about it because I swear if I have to hear anyone else complaining about not getting with the girl they like because of timing I'll—”

“Wait, who complained?”

The table falls quiet as Seonghwa looks between his friends to find an answer but Yeosang just shakes his head and he gets it.

Not the time to talk about it.

Hongjoong points at him with his chopsticks, threateningly “Do. Something. About. It. Anyway!” He gets up from his seat, points at Yeosang this time “Guess who almost got kicked out of college for messing around with the wrong crowd today?”

“That's not what happened!”

And Seonghwa swears he's focusing on the story Hongjoong is so eager to tell, on Yeosang’s ears turning pink at the mention of a girl he's never heard before, too.

But all he can think about is you.

The next day, after briefly stopping by his office, Seonghwa is back with a few coworkers who help with measurements and put their input in the assessment. He spends all day with it, too and, once again, serves as an excuse for Soohyun to get out of some meetings he's not interested in attending.

As the day passes, he wonders how Soohyun maintains the important position he's in. Nepotism can't do everything for you, right?

Right?

But his new client seems down to earth enough to be aware of his advantages in an industry that's quick and cruel and doesn't hold too much space for laziness.

So he lets it go because, well, he tends to judge but he can't really do much for people who actually deserve to be in charge.

It's close to seven and Soohyun bidded him goodbye only a few minutes ago, saying sorry he can't walk him out because, at this time, he actually has an international call to make that can't be excused like the rest of his afternoon schedule.

Seonghwa doesn't make it out of the office before getting stopped by a manicured hand to his chest.

After the texts last night and Hongjoong's threats, he was practically ready to sprint downstairs to meet you (or whoever you sent) and get his bike back, maybe apologize for panicking and sending a whole ass sticker as a response instead of keeping the conversation going.

And to see you again. God, he wants to break his Bonneville one more time just to get to see your pretty face again.

He already idealized you in his head, which is bad and very amateur on his side, but no one needs to know that.

But now he might have to keep all of that waiting for a few more minutes because there's someone staring at him like just committed a crime. A crime he's unaware of.

“Who are you?”

Her scowl tells him she's trying to get a read on him and he thinks he's transparent enough for it to be easy. If he really thinks about it, though, it looks like she wants to scare him a little bit.

It doesn't work.

“Um, Park Seonghwa,” he says and then points over his shoulder, to Soohyun’s office “I’m working on renovating Mr. Kim’s office?”

“Oh, for fucks sake. Why can't no one in this family keep normal people around?” She peeks through his shoulder, the high heels she's wearing helping her with the task. Groaning, she turns around and starts heading for the elevator, mumbling something under her breath.

The only thing he can make out of it it's something about supermodels and a it's not fair.

She turns around briefly to look at him again and scoffs, clearly annoyed.

“I feel like I know your face from somewhere else.”

Seonghwa feels a little lost, but steps into the elevator when she does. Now he's afraid, maybe she's a crazy person but then it clicks.

Clearly, he knows her from somewhere else too.

“I'm sure the only place I've seen you before is on the news, Miss Kim,” he replies with a sheepish smile, shrugging a bit and hitting the main floor button on the panel “That's a nice tree, by the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“The one in Mr. Kim’s office?” he offers, turning to her “He told me his sister painted it and as far as I know, he only has one sister.”

That brings a smile to her face and Seonghwa counts it as a small victory, for some reason.

“Ah, so you did your research,” she nods “Please scrape it off the wall if needed. It made me bleed.”

“He omitted that part.”

“Of course he did, it was his fault. Anyway,” she shakes her head, stepping out of the elevator and walking ahead without waiting for him. She looks like the type of person who knows everyone else will follow and he does, but only out of curiosity “my brother has your number, yes, Mr. Park?”

“I'm assuming he does or, at least, my company's numb—”

“I'm not interested in your company, I'm interested in you.”

She's also very forward. How could he not guess that from the way she carries herself around?

“I don't usually do freelance work, Miss Kim.”

As they both reach the main entrance, she turns around gracefully and with a, for what he can tell, very rehearsed smile tugging at her lips.

“I'm not interested in your work either, Mr. Park.”

That, he did guess, but it's disappointing either way.

“Then what good am I to you?”

Her grin widens “You'll see.”

The sound of his Bonneville pulling up it's what gets him to turn away from the mischievous glint in the chaebol's eyes.

And when he sees you take off a helmet that's not his and wave your hand at him, she blends into the background completely.

You look good, hair down and probably freshly showered because there's a few droplets falling down from the ends of it to your shirt and leather jacket. Your hands are gloved up and all, like you've been riding bikes your whole life.

He wonders if that's the case. God, he wants to get to know you so bad.

“Oh God, not another one, I— Is she your girlfriend, Mr. Park?”

His head snaps back, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink “N-no, I just met her yesterday, she… That's my bike, I had to get it fixed.”

Pulling her bottom lip in with her teeth for a second, she nods and then takes two long strides into the direction of a car he didn't see until now “Perfect, then. She looks pretty cool,” she waves at you and he doesn't get to see if you wave back, too focused on getting the color out of his cheeks “Tell her I said that. Goodbye for now, Mr. Park.”

Seonghwa wants to ask a million questions. What does she want? What does she mean goodbye for now? But he doesn't get to. She gets into the car and drives off and that leaves space for you to drive his bike again and pull up right in front of him this time.

“Hope I didn't interrupt anything there, Ghost.”

A nervous chuckle abandons him and he manages to shake his head “No, no, she's… my client’s sister?” He offers and you smile, turning off the bike and getting off a second later “She said you're, um, cool.”

“And why would she say that?”

“Because you look cool? I don't really know, don't question me,” he's sure the efforts he put on making the blush disappear were pointless, cheeks burning when you laugh at him “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Don't thank me, Seonghwa, I didn't tell you how much it'll cost you yet.”

He gulps.

You take mercy on him and the way his eyes glisten with worry, laughing again “It's not too bad. It was the chain tensioner and my brother worked on it pretty fast, don't worry.”

Relaxing, he takes his helmet and key off your offering hands with a tiny smile, touch lingering on your skin for a second too long “Did you enjoy seeing me suffer just now?”

“A little bit,” you shrug and mutter your apologies although he can tell you're not sorry at all “I'll text you the invoice with the account you can send the money to?”

No.

He wants to say no and make you go with him to an ATM so he can pay in cash just to keep you around for a while longer, he doesn't want this interaction to be over.

And he's usually very good at communicating things of this nature but something about you makes him giddy and nervous and his charisma is not able to keep up.

It dawns on him that it's very weird to want to keep a stranger, someone he only met a day ago, in his life for as long as possible.

Do you feel the same way? He wants you to feel the same way.

The unexpected desire sits on his chest heavily, making him take in a breath more shakily than he intended to.

“Sure,” the words taste bitter on his tongue, his tone gives away that he doesn't really mean it and then said desire takes over, making him stammer the next words out “Do you want me to take you somewhere?”

Surprised, you blink a few times and then look down at your own helmet for a second. He feels like he screwed up by asking you that.

Of course, you don't feel the same way. Of course, you must have someone waiting for you already.

Of course, of course, of fucking course.

But just before he can backpedal on his offer, you're looking up, your mind made up and the same teasing smile you've been wearing ever since he saw you yesterday “It won't save you from the debt I'm about to put you through with that invoice but sure.”

Seonghwa lets out a huff and chuckle all in the same breath, straddling his bike a second later “Ha, ha. Count it as a tip, Y/N.”

“Oh, I'm so telling my brother that,” you beam when he returns the joke and he moves a little, making space for you at the back “Somehow, I don't feel safe with you riding this bike, Ghost.”

He ignites it and the whole thing shakes a bit before you can even put on the helmet, so he can't really refute that.

“Do you want to ride it?”

It's a second too late when he realizes the double meaning behind his own words, unintended, but there they are floating on the air around you both, electric and maybe one sided.

But you don't back down, taking a step into his space and crowding him, almost towering over him even if he's on the bike and even if that makes him taller than you. It feels that way, so he welcomes the sensation and the pang of his heart against his chest when you lean in just a little.

“Do you want me to ride it?”

Breath caught in his throat, Seonghwa takes in your smirk as a sign that, maybe, it's not one sided at all.

“The bike,” you clarify a second later, like it's necessary “It would be easier to get us to where I need to go, anyways.”

Planting his feet on the ground, he keeps the Bonneville stable enough to slide back to the space he created for you a minute ago, and if you can feel his heart beating with an unfamiliar, yet exciting song when you take a seat, put your helmet on and press your back against his chest, you sure cover it up when you turn to look at him.

“Does your fancy job provide you health insurance?”

He lets out an amused huff “Yours doesn't?”

“I never asked,” you shrug, taking the handles and looking forward again, leaning in slightly so now he's not that close to you but he feels you everywhere still “Just making sure in case I break you.”

When you start driving him, handling the Bonneville in a way he never would even with the years of experience ahead of him, he wants to tell you that he wouldn't mind that.

In fact, he finds himself wanting it.

As he holds tight to your waist, he finds himself on the verge of telling you to break him apart piece by piece so he can do the same with you. Explore you, not physically, but in the way it truly matters.

He wants to know your soul, he wants to understand the reason he feels attached to you after a brief meeting and little more.

You lean back to rest your back a little at a stop sign and he suddenly doesn't care if the way he squishes your waist for a few seconds gives his intentions away. He has your number, he's going to make a move eventually.

What he does care about is the way you don't tense up and just lean into his body a little more before resuming the task of getting both of you wherever you're going

This? The way he feels so free as you move through the highway, make your way in between the cars at stop signs and the wind hitting his arms? This is the grasp at his youth he's been waiting for. Even if it's just for the night.

Even if it's over too soon for his liking.

You stop in front of a house that looks empty. He wonders if it's yours for a second, but then again he's going to find out any minute soon.

“That wasn't too bad, was it?”

Getting down from his Bonneville, you take your helmet off and offer him your hand. He slides up his helmet so you can see his face, about to reply, but you beat him to it “Thank you so much for the ride that I technically gave myself, Park Seonghwa, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

Why are you saying goodbye like you're not planning on seeing him ever again?

Suddenly, he's planning on ways to mess up his bike again just to get an excuse to see you again.

No.

He has to be braver than that.

Taking your hand, he pulls you in a little bit and you let out a surprised noise that looks like it embarrasses you.

Your cheeks turn red under the streetlight and he thinks you look beautiful like that.

“Y/N,” he starts in a whisper, gathering his courage up “Would you like to—”

“Y/N.” A voice interrupts him and your eyes widen in panic while you look at him, slowly turning your head to the person as he does the same.

Not before he notices how the pretty blush and all colors drain from your face.

A guy, with blonde shaggy hair and tattoos covering his neck and hands is standing on the sidewalk with a grocery store bag and a weird look on his face. Beside him, a girl who’s smile fades away when she seems to recognize you scoffs.

The guy smiles and Seonghwa wonders why you don't say anything back, your grasp on his hand tightening before letting go.

“There you are, your dad said—”

“Ghost?”

Seonghwa doesn't like the way your voice shakes when you say the nickname he's grown used to in such a short amount of time.

“Yes?”

You don't bother putting the helmet back on, simply dropping it to the ground and turning back at him “I trust you to ride this bike now, yeah?”

He doesn't have to be told twice. Making space for you again, you hop on and hug his waste. He slides his helmet back on.

The guy takes a few steps but Seonghwa stops him with the sound of him revving his Bonneville “Come on, Y/N…” Is what he says when he starts to drive off, accelerating just a little bit before the houses start fading and the busy highway welcomes you both.

Deokhee has some nerve.

The fact that he does boils your bloodstream and you wish you could say that the warm sensation spreading through your body is caused by the guy who you're currently holding to.

Seonghwa has checked in with you once and, after confirming you were okay to keep going, he has held your gloved hands at every red light and stop sign.

You have no idea where you're going, but you're sure you can't go home and deal with this alone for now. He can't take you home, either (he doesn't know the address) but even if he could, you wouldn't let him.

The nameless girl that was with Deokhee is the same girl he cheated with. A girl who, by judging her expression, probably knew about you.

Mind going as fast as the Boneville, you ask yourself how many times she made fun of you for grasping a fantasy, a make-believe story with her now boyfriend.

What did you lack that she obviously has? What prompted him to hurt you this badly?

Is he stupid enough to not realize that the sight of them together would tear you apart all over again?

The scene replays in your head again, after all these years of trying to get over it: Him, holding your hand and telling you how amazing you were to him but that, in all honesty, he didn't see himself going out with someone like you.

You were too much, too proud, too loud.

Which doesn't make any fucking sense because although you never held back a jab or a sarcastic comment if needed, you knew the time and place to speak your mind.

It also didn't make any fucking sense because he knew you would keep his little secret from your father and your brother and, in consequence, keep the relationship you both had and the cowardly way it ended from his family as well.

You were too much, composed of many flaws and adorned with rough and burnt edges, but you would never in a million years tarnish the happiness of the people who love you because of a rookie mistake.

Falling in love with Deokhee was a rookie, horrible mistake.

Falling in love in general? You doubt it.

Because the way Seonghwa takes his time to slow down the bike on a lookout you were too distracted to notice you were climbing up to, pulls it to a full stop and then immediately reaches for your hands again, makes you believe there's good people out there after all.

He took you away without asking any questions and you're suddenly welcomed with the same grateful feeling you have towards your family.

Had you stayed there, you're not so sure you would've kept your words to yourself anymore. Your pain, your anger.

Getting down from the bike, Seonghwa takes his helmet off and drops it in front of you, on the seat, before leaning in searching for your glossy eyes.

You can see him hesitate through the fog your tears form and you don't let them drop just yet. You're angry, but there's no way you would let Deokhee make you cry again in this lifetime.

You should get down from the bike, but it doesn't move under your weight even if you readjust your position on the seat and you fear that, if you do, you would only plop down into the ground and let it swallow you whole.

You should say something, too. Thank him, probably, but the tall man lets out a breath before opening his arms and pointing at the view. Gladly, you take the opportunity to take in your surroundings and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Didn't know where else to take you, so I brought you to my breaking point.”

“Hm?” frowning a bit, you peel your eyes from the city lights to him “Your breaking point?”

“Yeah, that's what I call it,” he smiles and you do too, halfheartedly “Here's where I come to break down and let everything out. There's a playground back there too,” he points behind him and you scoff, amused “If you want to climb up somewhere and scream. The neighbors don't mind it.”

“I take that as a I've done it before.”

“Once or twice,” he shrugs “It's good for the soul.”

“God,” you cover your face with your hands “I'm so embarrassed you had to see me like that.”

“Like what? You didn't do anything.”

“Running away and acting all weak in front of…” you fake gag, but it's kind of real “Some guy.”

A bit of silence passes in between you and your savior.

And then Seonghwa laughs so hard you're forced to uncover your face and stare at him in disbelief “I'm serious! That's like… top one most embarrassing thing I've ever done.”

His laugh comes to a stop and he doesn't step closer even if you want him to, just puts his hands in the pockets of his pants and looks at you for what it feels like forever.

You don't mind it one bit.

“I've known you for a day, Y/N, but even I can tell that's not the most embarrassing thing you've done.”

Sulking, you turn to the beautiful view one more time and pout like a child. You want to tell him he's right, but your pride doesn't really allow it just yet.

It's quiet for a minute or two. You move around, throw your leg over the Bonneville and sit on top of it as you stare at the city. You feel Seonghwa move around, pace behind you until he finally reaches around and he takes a few steps before stopping on the railing separating the street from the hill.

He's looking in your direction instead of the view. You realize he's giving you space to sulk, to take in everything without pestering you with questions about why the hell you both just bolted instead of facing the situation.

Your gratitude towards him rises a bit more.

So your word vomit is justified, you think, because you don't want to leave him in the dark any longer.

The fantasy you indulged yourself in earlier might just grow into a reality you have to embrace, a reality you want to embrace.

“He's my ex-something and the girl he was with is the one he chose over me. I was supposed to have dinner with them— Well, no, not really,” you sigh, looking at Seonghwa who, in the deem light, just nods and waits for you to continue “He's my dad’s best friend's son and we have dinner with them every Tuesday. Their family, I mean. Deokhee… He never shows up,” you shrug “And when he does, he's alone and it's towards the end of it all so I never get to see him that long. But this?” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “I never thought he would do this to me.”

Finally getting off the bike, you walk slowly towards the railing as well and feel Seonghwa's eyes follow you as you do “He cheated on me with her, for Christ sake.” You whisper once the metal of the railing stops your step.

“How long ago?”

“Does it matter?”

“No,” from the corner of your eye, you see how he shakes his head and leans in slightly “I'm wondering because if I was your dad or your brother or your friend, I would've done something to, at least, ensure something like this never happens to you.”

“Yeah, about that…” A bitter chuckle abandons you and you shrug one more time “They don't really know what happened between us— They don't know something happened in the first place,” ashamed, once again, you turn to him “He asked me to not tell anyone when we started… Ack, whatever, it doesn't really matter.”

“It does if it's affecting you,” he insists “It does if you go pale at the sight of him, Y/N. Did he do—”

“No,” you cut him off, the corners of your lips lifting a bit “He didn't do anything weird besides breaking my heart.”

“Good.”

“I would've killed him if he did, by the way.”

“As you should,” he returns right away and finally, for the first time in the twenty minutes it took both of you to get there, you laugh sincerely. That prompts a smile on his lips “Good to know he's an idiot but not that type of idiot.”

Huffing, you turn to the city before you again “The only idiot in this situation is me.”

“For loving someone? Y/N,” his hand reaches your shoulder and you close your eyes in defeat, surrendering your heart to the weird emotion it brings you “He cheated on you. He's the idiot, the dumbass, the—”

Laughing again, his rant comes to an end and you open your eyes to find him staring at you in delight “Park Seonghwa,” you start, putting a hand over his on your shoulder “You, sir, don't know me.”

The reminder does nothing to stop him from looking at you with stars in his eyes “I'm a great judge of character, Y/N.”

“And if you're wrong?”

“Then let me be wrong,” he shortens the distance a bit, the warmth on your shoulder leaving as he lowers both of your hands, not letting go “But let me get to know you first.”

The emotion grows bigger, it swirls around your heart and spreads around your body in a way you never felt. It feels good and you hate to compare it to what you felt for Deokhee but where it once was filled with regrets and doubts and a need to hold on tight to whatever that guy made you feel now sits something that you can only describe as excitement and thrill.

Peaceful, too.

It steals your breath in a beautiful way.

Squeezing his hand a little, you inhale slowly and let go of the air when you speak “I don't really do dates, Ghost.”

“I didn't ask you on a date,” he counters immediately and your cheeks darken “I asked if I could get to know you. We don't have to go on dates, talking to you is enough.”

“O-oh, I… I thought—”

He seems to get it right away because he takes another step, your arm pressed to his by now, your hands still tangled in the middle “I one hundred percent meant it that way,” he assures you, chuckling a bit “But I don't really do dates either. Asking you out to a restaurant or a movie or whatever it is people do on dates doesn't really suit me.”

“How so?”

“There's this… Weird intention laced into it, into the prospect of a date that I don't particularly enjoy. I want to get to know people and see where it takes us without pressuring ourselves into anything romantic or sexual.” Your heart picks up at that. Not at the image it paints, but at his explanation as a whole.

It shows he might be interested in you beyond something physical and it's a beautiful thing to note when, all your life, you have felt like people only wanted you for one thing and one thing only.

You intend to tell him just that but the way he's looking at you makes you forget everything else. Brown eyes scan every inch of your face and stop at your lips for a second.

Now your heart beats for a different reason.

“No matter… How bad I want to kiss you, though.”

Words fall short. They do when for the first time in a long time you entertain the possibility of letting yourself want to kiss someone else, too.

Leaning in and straightening your back fully to give you the possibility of almost standing face to face with him, you silently communicate your desire.

It's not enough. He's too respectful.

Fuck, you like him a lot already.

“If you want to kiss me then just kiss me…” you whisper, teasing smile in full display “Dummy.”

He fakes a gasp at your jab as he leans in, his pretty nose bumping into yours for a second and making you giggle, part your lips and close your eyes while buzzing with expectation.

The sky has other plans, though. It roars above you and you both look up.

It's been cloudy, a couple of days of unusual humidity throwing off everyone but you guess the steam gathered up in the clouds just in time to knock some sense of reality into you.

Or pushing you further into the craziness of this one day alone.

Seonghwa groans a little and then a phone starts ringing in someone's pocket.

Not yours, you made sure to hit the not disturb button as soon as you got ahold of it.

You should probably tell your brother you're okay.

But Seonghwa is still close to you, his lips a breath away from yours, so you put it aside when he shows no intention of picking up his call either.

The tension builds up again, both of you ignoring the thunderstorm approaching and everything else.

There's many things from today you're not going to be able to explain any time soon, the magnetic pull Seonghwa had on you the first time you laid eyes on him is one of them, the freedom you touch with your fingertips when your mind is finally off your duty, off your family…

It's so dangerous you quickly become addicted to the recklessness of it all.

And then his phone starts ringing again, so you welcome the reality that washes over you with a sour face and pout on your lips.

“The universe must be against us being a thing, huh?” You whisper and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, resting his forehead on yours for a second before pulling away completely, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

“I don't think the universe has much to do with this one, dear,” he frowns and misses the way you flush at the sudden nickname. You swear on your life, normally you would be pretty disgusted at the endearment. Now? You want him to call you that again “I should take this and we should probably go somewhere else. There's not much to cover us up if it starts raining.”

“Sure, uh…” You fish your phone from your pocket as well, grimacing when you look at the missed calls and texts “I have to make a call, too.”

He seems to understand immediately “Go right ahead.”

Putting even more distance in between both of you, you faintly hear a what's going on from Seonghwa and then tap your screen to return your brother's call.

He picks up right away.

“Are you okay?!”

His tone forces your eyes closed. Rushed, you picture him in the backyard with a cigarette in between his fingers, trying to get ahold of himself without worrying everyone else too much “Yeah, I'm okay. I'm with a friend and—”

“Then why don't you pick up the fucking phone?!”

“Calm down,” taking in a breath and letting it out, you hear him do the same before continuing “Is there a way I can explain all of this to you tomorrow? I'm fine, Deokhee is a dick and I don't ever want to see him so I ran away like a—”

“What did he do?”

“No, nothing now, it's just… Listen, I'll explain tomorrow, alright? I'm staying with my friend tonight and everything will make sense tomorrow. It's really dumb, like… Teenage drama dumb,” you sigh, hoping that the minimal information you're giving him can help him figure it out “Just tell dad that I'm fine and if he asks I'm with a friend who is a girl and she's staying over at my place because there was a… Boy emergency or whatever.”

“Are you with—” what seems to click is something else and your brother gasps “Y/N!”

“Can you help out this time?”

The silence on the line seems to extend forever and guilt licks your throat, giving you the feeling that it's about to close up.

You want to grasp what you felt a minute ago again, the freedom of this, of doing too much, of unnecessarily putting Christian through it because he already did so much for you growing up.

Just tonight, at least, you owe yourself the feeling of not proving your place in your own family.

But the silence hurts and you wonder if you could ever, truly, be free from it.

“You owe me an explanation. Take care and text me goodnight at least, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper back “Thank you, Ian.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, kid.”

His words fill your eyes with tears again and you don't get to reciprocate them before he hangs up. You know he knows, but it still hurts when you remember how unlovable you felt before you met him as a child.

It hurts when you remember that you allowed Deokhee to make that feeling return.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

And the more it hurts, the more the sky rumbles and you fear that, if you break down here and now, it would not only embarrass you in front of Seonghwa but also strand him on this hill with you.

It doesn't matter that he calls this his breaking point, it's not yours to use.

So again, your tears stay at bay and when you turn around you catch Seonghwa looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

He wants to hug you, his body language gives him away as soon as he steps closer to you but a storm is about to soak through your clothes any second, so you pass him and grab his hand to pull him to his bike in the process.

When his fingers intertwine with yours, you know he understands. He doesn't make any questions, he doesn't press any information out of you and just allows you to climb his motorcycle.

“We need to leave.”

“Where do you want to go?” he asks, getting on the bike as well and goes in for his helmet but your words stop him.

“Do you want to stay the night with me?”

Turning his head, he blinks at you a few times and you smile a little before the curve fades away.

“I have my own place, we can order something in and just talk. Seonghwa, you…” biting the inside of your cheek, you try to approach this the right way “I don't expect this to go anywhere but can't you… Do you feel it too?”

He stays silent and you fear you might've taken it too far. But it doesn't really matter. Willing to take the risk, you take his hand on yours again and hold it close to your heart.

The sky roars again in response.

And you catch when his breath hitches because of it, too.

“Do you feel it, Seonghwa?”

A bit passes and then some, his eyes searching for something in yours and then dropping to where your heart beats again.

“What's your address?”

It's already raining by the time you both get into your building’s garage and park his Bonneville.

The entire ride was a bit long. It had you resting your head on his back while his fingers tapped against yours with impatience.

But when you make it to the safe space that is the elevator, clothes showing the evidence of the droplets falling from the sky and all, you finally get to breathe.

Until Seonghwa steals that breath away again.

He stares at you through the mirror, steps closer until he can take your face with his hands and swipes under your eyes where the makeup has run a little.

“Ghost…”

‘I didn't answer before,” he murmurs and wet his lips with his tongue. You can't help but stare at them, the moment somehow more intimate now, under the fluorescent glow of the elevator, than with the city lights and lighting above you “But I do feel it. I stand on what I said before, though.”

“No dating?”

He chuckles “No, not that,” shaking his head, he steps away when the elevator gets to your floor “I want to get to know you either way.”

“Ah. That,” you feel silly for assuming he didn't want to date you, but given your history you're not sure you can blame yourself too much “Well, you're about to see my cave, so we're both halfway there.”

As soon as you open the door and turn on the light, you can see in his face that he sees what you mean.

It's a one bedroom apartment that doesn't leave too much to the imagination. Your bedroom’s door is opened, the bathroom door is closed and the kitchen is an American style one that's separated from the living space by a small counter you can barely fit your mail on.

There's a lot of old furniture that you remodeled, painted over the cracks and stuffed where you needed the most. Your fridge is also old, the couch is somehow the only modern looking item in the living room and it stands out a bit because its material is not as worn out as everything else.

There's posters on the walls, unframed and placed randomly because, here, you don't have to be put together. The only people who come over are your brother and your dad, so it's okay.

It's not even an old building, but your apartment makes it look like one.

“Hope you don't mind the mess, Grandpa.”

“Oh, I'm not Ghost anymore?” He asks with a breathy laugh, taking his shoes off as you place yours by the entrance and shrugging his jacket off too “It's not messy, it's… Kind of like the shop, really.”

Mirroring his actions, you take off the leather jacket and welcome the warmth of your apartment “Greasy?”

“Cool,” he corrects and you walk through your space picking up a few things from the floor and putting them by the living room table “Is it yours, by the way?”

“The shop?” he nods and you walk to your fridge to fetch you both some water bottles “It's my dads. Why do you ask?”

“You seemed to own the place, with the way you walked around it,” shrugging, he takes a seat on your couch as he takes in the space “I just wondered…”

Walking in front of him on purpose, because you could've easily rounded the table and sat at the opposite edge of the couch, you sit right beside him and offer him a water bottle that he takes with a whispered thanks “You wondered…”

“A lot of stuff, actually,” he admits and you smile “Like your age, for example. Your last name, how did you end up working as a mechanic, if you were studying something, if you…” he pauses and turns to the side, resting his shoulder on the couch “If you liked me the way I liked you.”

Choking on the water you're gulping down, it's very evident you didn't think he was about to go down that lane again.

So directly, too.

He laughs, leaning in and wiping your chin with a familiarity that has you even more breathless than his confession. No, scratch that, it's all of it. All of him.

“Don't make me get on that bike again tonight, dear.”

That goddamn endearment again. You might risk it all and kiss him, chin wet and all.

“Whatever for?”

“You clearly almost choked to death,” he exaggerates, probably an excuse to stay that close to you longer than he needs to “And it was my fault, too.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you push him a bit until he falls back into his previous position, smugness tugging at his lips in a way that has your insides jolting up with excitement “I do like you, Ghost.”

“I know that now, but earlier I did wonder.”

“Wondering is such a dangerous thing, isn't it?”

His smile settles with a softness that melts you, your hand back in his with ease “Not necessarily.”

Squeezing his hand in unspoken agreement, you nod and then try to remember the topic of conversation before… Well, before he distracted you.

“Well, you were kind of right with your assumptions then. It's not my shop, but I grew up in it,” you shrug, letting go of his hand to grab your phone “We should probably wait to order something.”

“Yeah, until the monsoon dies down,” he says, looking outside your window that does little to conceal the thunderstorm outside “You grew up fixing bikes?”

“Cars,” you correct with a nod, connecting your phone to the speaker that lies under your tv “Is my day to day playlist alright?”

“Yup,” he crosses his legs on the couch and you see from the corner of your eye how his follow your actions, heat rushing to your cheeks at how attentive he is “Did you always want to be a mechanic?”

The question takes you by surprise, but you cover it up as you set the volume to the perfect percentage to let you two have a proper conversation without raising your voices “Kind of. It's all I'm good at, really,” you shrug “Also, my dad’s wife looked very cool in pictures growing up and I wanted to be just like her, so.”

“Your mom?” you shake your head and he frowns “Your stepmom?”

“No, uh…” clearing your throat, you get ready to reveal a piece of you that you rarely share with other people, even if it's obvious to everyone else “I'm adopted. Me and my brother we, mmm, we used to live in this sort of… Group house, I guess, and dad just picked us one day,” word vomiting again, once that you open the dam you don't know how to stop “I mean, he's not… We're not blood related, either, he just brought me along like when you adopt a dog at a shelter and they give you their favorite blanket, you know?”

Seonghwa is full on frowning at that and you think that, for the sake of just agreeing with you, he's going to nod and let it go, but he doesn't “I don't think you're just something your brother brought along with him. Adopting two kids is a big decision, isn't it?”

Reluctantly, you nod.

“Well, there you go.”

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him, though,” you shrug and sip on your water bottle again, gulping the liquid to send that lump on your throat down “But it doesn't really matter because it was a long time ago and now they're both stuck with me.”

He shakes his head but laughs a little at your sudden shift and, this time, he does let it go.

But you don't.

“Thank you, by the way.”

He smiles, a little confused “For what?”

“Helping me when I needed you to. We don't really know each other and yet…”

“It feels like I know you, though.”

Sharing the sentiment, you nod “I know, it's weird but, uhm… You didn't need to do what you did for me tonight. You even took me to your breaking point!” you let out a puff of air, making it a bigger deal than what it sounds. It's a bigger deal for you, anyway “And then drove me all the way here. That's a lot.”

“It's not much. It was my fault, really,” he shrugs and shakes his head at the confused look you give him “I kind of… Asked the universe for an excuse to stay with you, so…”

“Ah, so it was your fault Deokhee showed up,” the lighthearted joke lands the way you intended because he laughs with a sound so beautiful it makes your heart pick up “Got it.”

“Do you feel better? I mean, after seeing him, are you feeling better?”

“Not really, it sucks,” you say with a bitter laugh “But I hold grudges like that. It's not…” you raise your hands in self defense suddenly “I don't want him like that anymore, it's just that I can't help but…”

“I understand,” he whispers and you let out a sigh again, grateful that he interrupted your rambling “People believe that forgive and forget is the way to go when you're resenting someone but human beings don't really work like that, hm?”

“Yeah…”

Staring at him, that weird emotion that you felt at the top of the hill comes back. That dangerous warmth that makes you want to take his hand in yours and place your lips at the back of it with a familiarity you haven't really earned yet.

So when you catch him staring at you the same way, you change the subject.

“What do you do?” eyebrow raising, you eye him suspiciously and that makes him giggle “Meetings all day, past normal shift hours…”

“I renovate spaces, Y/N,” he laughs again “You made it sound like I work with the mafia.”

“Do you?”

“No. I have a buddy that does, though.”

“Oh, so I was kind of right then?”

“Yeah, yeah…” you both laugh again and then he looks around your living space like he did when you two first got in “You were right about the whole getting to know you just by looking at your apartment.”

“I know, it says a lot about a person.”

“It does!” He's excited now, sitting straighter and turning ever so slightly, your knees bumping now “There's only a few people that I trust who have those… Beige, white and black houses or apartments and that's only because I got to know them before I saw where they live.”

“So, you have rich friends?”

He stops and thinks for a second “Yeah, they all have a lot of money. I mean, the people I'm talking about, not my friends,” you raise your eyebrow again and he chuckles “Alright, I only have one rich friend. The rest of them are broke musicians and college students. He was actually the one who called earlier and, uhm…”

“Interrupted us?” You offer, smiling.

His cheeks gain a little color, maybe from the memory “Y-yeah.”

“Everything's okay?”

“Yes! Yeah, he wanted me to go pick him up from something but I told him I couldn't because, well—”

“You were with me.”

“Mhm,” you see him gulp and the mood shifts a little bit again. His face falls down as he eyes your parted lips, leaning in again ever so slightly, like he's not really thinking it through “Couldn't leave you stranded and he has a chauffeur.”

Unconsciously, you start leaning in a bit too.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes… D-do I like what?”

You chuckle and he breathes out a laugh, too “Renovating spaces…”

Pressing his hands into the fabric on the couch, at your sides, he invades your space a little more now “I do… Do you like fixing cars?”

Nodding, your nose is a whisper away from his now “I do…”

He breathes and it lands right on your mouth, making you pant as well.

“That's good.”

“Mhm.”

Eyes closing, your lips tremble a little as you wait for him to close the distance.

“You're so fucking pretty—”

You close the distance instead, pressing your mouth into his and letting the tension deflate your posture because you're finally tasting him.

Your little fantasy is not a fantasy anymore.

And it feels so fucking good. It feels good to have someone you desire, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, reciprocate your emotions and pull you closer to make acquaintance with your taste as well.

Seonghwa makes a noise you want to engrave into your brain the second you grab his shirt and pull him to you as well. And then you move.

The couch is stuffy, your bed is a mess and the cold from the thunderstorm makes its way to your living room even if you feel your entire body lit up from the swipe of his tongue against yours.

So you stand up.

You give him a teasing smile when his mouth chases after yours once you pull away “Where are you going?”

“Another thing you should know about me,” you start, breathy, your thumb swiping your bottom lip on instinct and his eyes follow the motions “Is that I have very noisy neighbors. The woman in that apartment over there,” you point at the window right in front of yours, the building separated by the street but still close enough to tell everything that goes inside your neighbors apartment if you wanted to “Once made a complaint against me because I walked out in my underwear one time.”

“Is she blind or bitter or something?” he asks, amused by your sudden storytelling, chest heaving as you pull your curtains closed “Or both?”

“She's old,” you tell him, turning around “And you haven't seen me in my underwear to make that a point, Ghost.”

“Yet,” he smirks slyly and you blush at the implication. Seonghwa reaches for you as you pass in front of him again and slip right through his fingers a second time “Now where are you going?”

He sounds whiny.

You like that.

“Another thing you should know about me,” walking to the door and turning off the big light, the living room goes dark except for the lighting that illuminates it as you're making your way back to him, getting on your knees on the couch and reaching behind him to turn on a lamp that doesn't do much but, this way, at least you can see each other “Is that I don't invest in new shit. Can't afford it, so those curtains are useless during the day… And when the lights are turned on.”

“You don't want people to gossip about you kissing a hot guy?”

“Wow,” his cockiness is clearly a joke but you won't let the opportunity of making fun of him go “Is the hot guy in the room with us?”

He beams at you.

“Oh, shut up, Y/N.”

Humming and feeling a lot more comfortable now that you know that, in fact, the spotlight won't be on you when you keep kissing his lips raw as you intend to, you loop your index finger in the collar of his shirt and tug with minimal force at it.

He acts like you put a lot of strength while doing it, his lips a breath from yours again as a consequence.

You're about to let out a witty remark, something to keep the teasing and flirting going but then his eyes actually light up like the sky when the song playing on the speaker changes.

“That's what you were humming yesterday!” His hands fall to your waist and you all but get whiplashed at the quick change in attitude.

He looked like he was about to risk it all a second ago and now he's letting his back fall into the couch and taking you with him.

“Huh?”

“I didn't see anyone when I came into the shop yesterday and then I heard you humming this song.”

“Oh,” you laugh, braising yourself on your forearms as he moves his hands up your back “Is one of my favorite songs by them.”

“By who?”

Eyes wide as saucers, you gape at him in disbelief “Kiss?”

“I don't know them like that!”

“You don't know this?” he giggles under your scrutinizing gaze and you follow, still in disbelief. You don't really know what possesses you, but you start singing along to the lyrics “I was made for lovin’ you, baby. You were made for lovin’ me.”

Seonghwa's laughter dies down at that and you notice it too: How the words somehow seem fitting even though you is day two of knowing him.

The way his heart beats under the palm you place right above it, on his chest, feels intoxicating.

So you descend again, your front colliding with his and your mouth grazing his beautiful one as you sing the song to him.

“And I can't get enough of you baby, can you get enough of me?”

“Fuck…”

You laugh “That's not really how it goe—”

His tongue probing your lips open shuts you up for good.

Seonghwa's hands hold you close, tracing the curve on your back slowly with his thumbs until he finds that spot where your shirt rode up a little, goosebumps on your skin letting him know what he provokes on you.

There's never been a point in time where you let yourself wonder if you're moving too fast.

For you, someone who had to take every chance they got in life to get something, out of fear the opportunity wouldn't show up again, this thing you got with Seonghwa feels like it's going at the right pace.

You both like each other, that much is clear.

Nothing dramatic has really happened to bond you two together, but it feels like it has.

Like you're bonded.

Like it was fated, somehow.

Like his motorcycle had to break down and he had to walk into the shop when you were the only one there to assist him.

Like he had to see you breakdown, take you away from the despair Deokhee brings to your soul, in order for you to finally let go and move on to greater things.

And there's nothing greater than feeling his hand travel down and absentmindedly grab your ass, a noise of satisfaction slipping through your lips and landing on his at the feeling.

“I'm so—”

“I liked it,” your smile blends with his as you peck his lips and he does it again, gaining a pleased hum from you “Come here, Ghost.”

“Where?”

Disentangling your limbs from his, you follow your original plan and slip from the couch to the floor, your knees hitting the soft carpet you have under the coffee table you're grateful is not that in the way.

Seonghwa sits on the couch again, opening his legs to accommodate the new position you're in and you see the image get to him before the suggestion hits your head.

You see him gulp when you lick your lips and then it's your turn to gulp, trying to understand if this is something he wants as much as you want it.

Because suddenly you want it. You want it so much.

It doesn't take much to gather up the courage to touch him, his thighs inviting you to caress them with your nails, teasing, testing him “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, hooded eyes and a soft, whiny, trembling tone making fidget on your knees “More than okay.”

It makes you smile. But there's things to clear up before you go any further.

“I don't want you to think I brought you to my house just to get on my knees in front of you, Seonghwa.”

“I don't… I w-would never think that,” you nod and he releases a shuddering breath “I don't want you to think that this is all I want from you either, Y/N.”

“I don't think that,” you whisper “but thank you for making it clear.”

“Mhm, I… Oh.” He stops when your touch trails higher and you take your hands away.

“You wanted to say something else?”

“N-no.”

Squinting your eyes at him, you press “You sure?”

“I was going to say that I want you… S-so please touch me, please.”

Who would've thought that a man begging would turn you on so, so much?

You catch on to it immediately. Lowering your hands again, this time around his calves, you pull him a little so he can sit on the edge of the worn out couch.

He follows suit.

“You want me to touch you?” you murmur and he nods “Where?”

He closes his eyes, blush beautifully creeping up his neck “Y/N…”

“You asked me to touch you, but I already was…” you say, like it's the most obvious thing ever “So where do you want to be touched, hm?”

Straightening your spine and angling yourself upwards, your nose hovers just below his chin. Hands starting to go up again, you hear his breath hitched when your palm grabs into the fabric of his pants before letting it go, the sound of it hitting the skin under making you and him release a noise.

“How do you want to be touched?”

Looking down, Seonghwa's mouth barely brushes your nose when he says “So it's going to be like this?”

“It's working for you,” you whisper back, the pad of your fingers pressing on his inner thighs and, when you look down, the tent in his pants curves your lips with pride that shows when you turn to him again “Isn't it?”

Pupils blown, he bites down on his lip and you see, for a slight second, a switch in his demeanor that makes you want to drop the teasing just to ask him to take you right there, on the floor, on the couch, wherever he wants to.

But, as soon as your fingernails trace the outline of his cock, he switches back “P-please...”

He doesn't have to beg you anymore.

Desperate to have him squirming under your touch, you push a little with your thumbs and he whines, a sweet sound you can't treasure as long as you want to because hand grabs your neck and his mouth crushes yours in want.

In a few seconds, the button of his pants is off and the fabric is pooling at his ankles. You help him out of them, his mouth never leaving yours except when you two break apart to pass sweet moans in between kisses and barely there bites.

Boxers succumbing to the same fate as his pants, you get him needy and panting into your open mouth as you finally take him fully into your hand.

Pumping one and then twice, you finally pull away to look at him and the sight that welcomes you is beautiful, big and oozing at the tip.

Eyes connecting with Seonghwa’s again, you make sure he's looking at you before gathering spit and letting it fall into your hand.

He moans.

And then he moans a little more when you start working his length, butt connecting to the carpet once again to give him attention fully.

It feels invigorating, the control he gives you makes you float into an intimate space you never had the opportunity to explore before and that just adds up to the list of things you're grateful for.

You take in his reactions, the way he's having a hard time keeping his mouth shut when you get close to the tip and tease it before going back down, the way his breath catches in his throat when you lean in and blow some air on it before letting yourself have a taste of him.

Licking around the tip and eyeing him as you do so, you get to catch him throw his head back in bliss. Then, you indulge both of you a little bit more: hollowing your cheeks, you move forward to take him in your mouth.

And then you moan around him at the feeling and he shivers under the palm you placed on his knee to keep steady as you suck him off.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, dear,” he encourages and you bat your eyelashes at him teasingly, making him chuckle before whining again. Tangling his fingers on your head to guide you to the right speed, he closes his eyes and curses under his breath “So fucking good.”

It only makes you want to hear him again. So you do your best to stay on him, breathing through your nose and continuing your ministrations as he moans above you, filling your living room with sounds you want to plaster across the walls, encapsulate in a bottle to hear them again when he's not with you.

You take him deeper and his grasp on your head tenses before you release him with a lewd sound you didn't really intend to make.

Breathing hard, you let out a whine when he tilts your head back. He looks at you with indescribable desire, want and a little smile that prones yours.

“You have no idea,” he starts, leaning in to take you mouth with his again, tongue swiping at the saliva that gathered under your bottom lip “How bad I want to ruin you now.”

Oh, so maybe he's not as submissive as you thought. You should've guessed it, the slight switch and the little glint earlier would've hinted at his true intimate nature if you weren't so busy trying to get the act up.

“Only if you want to, of course.”

And yet, he's such a fucking gentleman. You can practically feel yourself getting wetter at his words.

Your whisper is sweet, a confirmation on what you want and what he obviously wants to hear “Come here, Ghost.”

You make space for him on the floor and he doesn't question why the both of you are not on the way to your bed right now.

He seems to like it, even, so you giggle into his mouth at his eagerness to lay you down on the soft carpet and hum appreciatively when his hands bypass your shirt and grab your bare waist to accommodate you both into a comfortable position.

With his leg in between yours and his chest pressed against you, he kisses you until you're pliant, needy and janking him down to earn some sort of friction.

Mouth descending down your cheek, into your jaw and then your neck, Seonghwa scatters kisses in the soft spots like he already mapped you out with his mouth.

His hands touch you where you like, his knee bumps into your core to keep you there as he works his way through you like he had you like this before and it's addicting.

It feels right.

He mouths at the valley of your breasts and softly sinks his teeth into the flesh through your shirt and it makes you dizzy, letting out a moan that makes him smile.

Touching him too, you give his back some attention before sinking your fingers on his silky hair and tugging at the strands.

He kisses down, down, down until he reaches your belly and then bites you the same way he did seconds ago “Ghost…”

“Say my name, Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“I love when you call me Ghost,” he starts, breathing hard and you watch his nose disappear under the fabric of your shirt, raising it a bit more when he moves to be eye to eye with you “but I want you to call my name if I'm making you feel good,” kissing the sense out of you for a few seconds, he talks against your mouth “Can you do that for me, dear?”

“Yes,” you barely nod, opening your eyes to find his “Seonghwa.”

The way you whisper his name, needy and teasingly at the same time, seems to wake something else in him.

Because in a second, he's asking you to raise your body a little so he can take your shirt off. You help him with his and he moves to undo the clasp on your bra after asking for permission one more time and you shouldn't really find his insistent questioning of consent so hot but you do.

He takes his time with you, exploring you with his mouth as you do your best to keep still under him. He kisses your chest, rounding your nipples with his tongue and taking them into his mouth after.

Lightning illuminates the room and electricity runs through you and settles into your core.

“Seonghwa…”

The sky roars when he gives your legs attention over the fabric of your pants, moans blending into the thunder and the sound of the raindrops against the window when he pulls back and raises your left leg to kiss a path from your ankle to your thigh.

You buck your hips at the feeling, asking for more without really saying anything and he smiles before moving to your right leg and giving it the same amount of attention.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks and you're about to call him out for being mean and clueless, but his smirk proves he's only teasing “Where do you want me to touch you, Y/N?” voice low and dripping in honey, he unbuttons your pants and you're not too fucked out yet to know he's returning the way you tortured him earlier “How do you want me to touch you?”

Your pants end up meeting with his somewhere under the coffee table and you smile when he zeroes on the wet patch your arousal has formed on your underwear.

And, unlike him, you're not actually humble in asking what you want “Don't you want to taste the mess you've made, Seonghwa?”

When he eats you out, he makes sure to taste it real good. Open you up with his fingers, learn the right pace and pressure until heat pools on your lower abdomen and you're incoherently babbling praises under your breath.

When you come undone on his tongue, you make sure to repeat his name like a mantra. Over and over again until he's sated with his meal and leaves the remnants of it in wet marks as he makes his way up to your mouth.

Tasting yourself on his tongue is heaven.

“Sound so pretty for me, you're so… Fuck, Y/N.”

Taking him into your hand again, his dick twitches at the sudden attention it's getting and you explore the skin on his neck, lap at his collarbone and nuzzle against it because you just can't get enough.

“I want you inside me, Seonghwa,” you whisper against his skin and you see him close his eyes when your other hand joins you on his chest, thumb against his nipple “Ruin me like you promised, hm?”

He grabs your chin, eyes dark with passion and affection in a way you never want to forget “Your filthy mouth might be the death of me.” He whispers and you giggle, bratty.

“Good, I never want you to forget it,” you whisper back “I never want you to forget me.”

“Never in a million years, dear.”

Happy at his response, you kiss him and feel the warmth of his hand leaving you to try and grab his pants again. You giggle when he curses lowly, letting go of him so he can take a condom out of his wallet with a smile on his face.

He looks back at you in the process, shaking his head in amusement at the way you're taking the tender pause and he's smiling when he rolls on the condom as well as when he lowers himself so he can kiss you senseless again.

When Seonghwa enters you, the whiny mess he was when you first touched him makes its comeback and you welcome it as you sink your nails into the skin of his waist, accompanying his slow movements as he eases you open.

Soon, you're a whiny mess too. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear and kisses your shoulder while you hug him tight to you and let yourself get lost in the buck of his hips and the way he slows downs to make the moment last, like you're not planning on keeping him in your life and making him see stars whenever he wants.

When he picks up the pace, the living room is warmer than it was when you first came in and the cold from the storm outside it's forgotten as his sweaty forehead rests on yours and his hips snap into yours with vigor.

“That’s it, dear. God, you feel so good…”

Ruin you he does. Because this time, as he flicks your clit with his thumb and you come, it solidifies the fact that there's no one else you want.

Is it crazy and a little rushed because you just met him? Yes.

Do you give a damn? No. No you fucking dont.

He ruins you for good and for everyone else, as well.

“Seonghwa! Fuck, fuck, don't stop.” You beg, overstimulated and hips aching, but wanting him to reach his high so badly none of that matters.

When his hips stutter, you take his ass with your hands and keep him in place, buried deep inside of you and walls pulsing around him as he comes with a beautiful cry and a rasp of your name in his throat.

Panting, you take the opportunity to kiss his face as he comes down, nose slowly caressing his with affection and gratefulness and emotion you can't express because it's not the time yet.

“God, Y/N.” He breathes out with a chuckle and you reciprocate it, kissing his mouth once more before deflating against the soft carpet under you.

“I know,” you look at him, at his fucked out expression and the cute way he kisses the hand you use to wipe the sweat out of his face makes you feel giddy and in love, even if you know you're aren't in love with him yet “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.”

Laughing, he nods in agreement “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.”

He kisses you again and then pulls out, making a quick work on the condom and asking for the bathroom so he can dispose of it before making his way back to you.

When he does, you're already sitting down, still naked, but sipping at your forgotten water bottle. Sitting down next to you, he places a kiss on top of your head.

The carpet is definitely going to use some cleaning after tonight, but that's okay.

There's a bit of comfortable silence as you both recover from the amazing sex you just had. He takes a sip of your water bottle as well and then there's another thunder that shakes your window and all, making you both jump a little.

Seonghwa “Do you… Mind if I stay over?”

You snort “I wasn't planning on letting you go anywhere, Ghost.”

He smiles, getting close to your face again “Even if it stops raining?”

You nod, pecking his lips “Even if I have to go and clean up my room just for you.”

“Oh, wow,” he whistles loud and you push him in feign annoyance, looking around for your underwear “You like me, like me.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

He attempts to hug you but you push him away again and stand up, making a quick job of putting your panties back on “Say that you like me and I'll let you kidnap me if you want.”

“That's not how kidnapping works, idiot.”

He gets up as well, taking his underwear and putting it on as he follows you around your apartment.

You quicken your step, but he catches you right as you enter the mess in your bedroom. He hugs you tight, you back against his bare chest and his chin on your shoulder a second later “I'll honestly let you keep me even if you say you hate me, Y/N.”

Is sweet and it should make you cringe but you all but melt against his touch. There's no real need to tell him you like him when you place his hand on top of your chest so he can take in the way your heart beats for him for the second time tonight.

“Good,” you turn a little, smiling at him and then turning to your room again “Do you want to help me clean this up just to make it messy again?”

“Y/N!”

Seonghwa doesn't help you clean your room. He, in fact, makes it a lot messier as soon as you two get into bed and when he falls asleep he dreams of a life where he can be by your side every night.

The only thing that disturbs his sweet dreams is the way you squirm in his hold and he can't quite place the reason for it until he hears the loud, banging alarm ringtone he has set at six thirty so he can get ready for work.

Murmuring and still half asleep, you slap his chest so he can tend to it “Turn it off, Ghost.”

He does and he checks the time and the screen of his phone to find a message from his boss. It reads something about taking the opportunity to take the rainy day and work from home or something like that and Seonghwa can confirm, looking through your bedroom window, that the rain falls softly against it still.

He smiles, grateful to have his laptop with him so he can work on his report if you decide not to kick him out first thing in the morning, and then rolls back to you so he can cuddle you and sleep in for the first time in months of commuting to the office.

Then his phone rings again.

Both of you groan at the sound and you sit up, the big t-shirt you put on after taking a shower gathering messily around your waist and he almost forgets about the call at the sight of you.

You're so beautiful.

“Pick it up and tell them to go fuck themselves for calling you so early. What the fuck.”

He smiles “Bossy.”

“You like it.” You say, smiling back and falling on top of him as he answers the call from an unknown number, your cheek resting on his chest.

He makes sure his voice sounds extra sleepy when he does “Hello?”

“Good morning, mister Park!” It's a woman on the line, a voice he recognizes but can't quite place yet “I'm sorry to wake you up, but yesterday you asked me what good you're to me… Guess what? You can find out today!”

She sounds sarcastic and tired and like she drank seventy energy drinks to stay awake. Seonghwa scavenges his brain until the memory hits him “Miss Kim?”

You look up at that, curious.

“The one and only. Now, tonight you will accompany me to a party and—”

“Miss Kim—”

“I'm not finished,” you cuts him off, annoyed “At the party, I need you to pretend to be my boyfri—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.”

Now, you sit up on the bed again and frown at him. He shrugs and sits up as well.

“This could be a really great opportunity for you to gain connections and—”

“Miss Kim,” he starts and, after taking in the sudden desperation on her voice, he sighs “I'm flattered you have taken me into consideration for this… Particular, uhm, job?” He offers, feeling awkward as hell “But my day is taken and I'm not single anymore, so I can't do it.”

He watches you as you break into a little knowing smile and he smiles back, not even the disappointed sigh Miss Kim lets out on the other side of the line can break him away from the spell you so easily put him under.

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!” She sounds like she doesn't really mean the last part but it's trying hard to make it seem like she does “God… Ugh. Don't mention this to my brother and please cover that stupid tree up, okay? Goodbye.”

She hangs up before he even gets the chance of saying goodbye or asking if she'll be okay. He has friends who wouldn't pass the opportunity to fake a relationship and go to a party, anyway.

“So,” you start, getting on your knees and making your way back to him “What the fuck was that?”

He reaches for your waist without really thinking about it, like he's been doing it his whole life and you sit on his lap like this is a morning routine you two crafted with years of experience.

“I don't really know. Remember my client's sister?” you nod “She wanted me to be her fake boyfriend at a party tonight, I think.”

“And you told her you're not single anymore to save face because you didn't want to go?”

“I told her I wasn't single because I'm not,” he says, honestly “Even if you're not my girlfriend right now… I don't really want to see anyone else but you, so…”

You fake a gasp and he rolls his eyes, smiling like an idiot when you lean in to leave a peck on his lips “And I was about to kick you out ten minutes ago!”

Pouting, he holds you tighter “Why?”

“That stupid alarm almost made me.”

“I turned it off!”

You laugh at the way he pretends to be offended and you're about to say something else before his phone starts ringing like crazy.

It's not a call, it's a message notification.

He turns to it and sees that Yunho is spamming the group chat with emojis.

“Oh, God,” he sighs “What now?”

“Is that your friend from yesterday?”

“Mhm.”

When Seonghwa scrolls to the messages to find something that can indicate what the hell is going on, he reads something a little alarming.

Does anyone want to skip town tonight?

He blocks the phone and tosses it into the bed, turning to your worried form with a smile “Do you want to meet my friends tonight?”

You seem to get it immediately.

“I would love to, Ghost,” you lean in to kiss him again, softly “Only if you introduce me as your girlfriend and not your mechanic, though.”

Heart beating with a wonderful song, he agrees with soft yes and kisses you dumb for the first time today.

He almost misses the deadline for his report, too.

It's not really his fault that he can't get enough of you.

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

545 notes · View notes

smoft-demons · 7 months ago

Note

Hey, I've been reading your post for a while now andi absolutely love them. Before I got into OM I was already a big D&D person and love fantesty-romance novels. Although, that's besides the point. I was genuinely scared to ask this until I saw your headcanons, there so wholesome<3

But I was wondering if you could do a brothers + the others react to MC getting there period? I was planning on doing it on my own page but I'm a bit scared to publish my own stuff. Although, thank you if you do.

-H.M

Yeah, sure! As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I love writing all the comfort and fluff prompts. It’s like catnip to me lmao

This is gonna be pretty long, so I’m only gonna do the brothers.

Thanks for requesting!! I hope you like it :)

_______

MC is on their period

_______

You’ve been living in the House of Lamentation for a while now. You are, at this point, thoroughly and inextricably part of the family.

As a member of their family, your demons have no problem with helping you out. They can’t help but fawn over you a bit, as well—this wasn’t a familiar problem to them before meeting you, as none of them menstruate. Plus, any human condition of yours that highlights vulnerability and pain on your part makes them all get a tad protective.

In any case, they make sure to be helpful!

_______

Lucifer: responsibility -> rest

With your permission, Lucifer notes your cycle on the calendar he keeps on the kitchen wall. Tactfully, of course. It’s just a little red X in the corner of the box that marks the day you start until the day it ends. It ensures no one in the house forgets to be extra nice to you on those days. Plus, it serves as a way to remind you, in case it sneaks up on you.

In the week leading up to it, he checks up on your stock of human world products (and devildom ones too) for it. Painkillers, chocolate, tea, hygiene products, a heating pad, everything. If you’re running low, he will either take you to get more or take care of it himself, depending on how you’re feeling.

If you’re irregular, he takes extra care with tracking your cycle. Having records is important!

He takes you off the chore rotation while you’re bleeding. He wants you to rest. He will not make you expend your energy on chores while you’re in pain.

If you WANT to take some chores though, he understands and will let you, as long as you don’t make yourself suffer unnecessarily. He understands that some people cope worse with stress, illness, and/or pain when their routine is interrupted and they have no task to distract themself with. He would know! He’s one of them! So if you are too, he won’t force you to give up your tasks.

He does very strictly instruct you not to push yourself, however. You are to let him know immediately if you need to stop, so he or one of his brothers can help you out.

If you want somewhere quiet to hide, he’s got you. His study is a great spot for that! He won’t let anyone else in.

His room is another great spot for that, if you want a softer surface and dimmer lighting. You’re allowed to be in there without him if that ends up working out best (and he hopes you understand the level of trust in you he’s displaying by allowing that), but he has no problem with bringing his work out of the study and into his room if you want his company.

If he’s not on a time crunch, he won’t bother bringing any work with him though. Unless he has reason to expect you to feel guilty for taking up his time, in which case he will bring some and finish it in the room with you and then tell you he’s done for the day.

You end up lying on his bed with him, contorted in whatever weird position makes your cramps hurt the least. It’s the middle of the day, but for once Lucifer doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just lying next to you with his hand splayed over your uterus or lower back, applying light pressure and warmth to help the pain go away. Quietly talking to you about stuff that doesn’t matter.

There’s no concern for productivity. Nor for terrorizing his brothers into order. It seems the key for making Lucifer take a day to just relax is to request his company while you’re in pain.

See, Lucifer’s driving force is how much he loves his family. He will go to ANY lengths to keep them safe and happy. It’s his main priority. You’re part of his family now. You’re the youngest, even… and you’re in pain. So, he’s okay with pushing off the work Diavolo gives him for a day. For you, it’s worth it.

There’s no paperwork in any realm that he would prioritize over comforting you when you’re in pain. He hopes you feel all the love in that sentiment.

You know how huge a declaration that action is, because there is NO other way to get Lucifer to voluntarily lie around in the middle of the day.

_______

Mammon: devotion -> generosity

Mammon was the first one you went to for help during your very first period in the Devildom.

After a short, frantic conversation about what happened to you, why, and how you normally deal with this, he set you up in his room with some towels, a spare set of his own comfortably worn in clothes, and a movie as he rushed out to find some Devildom substitute for the hygiene products you’re used to. Just, SOMETHING to absorb the blood in the meantime before he can get you products from the human world!

He would have gone to the human world immediately, but he’s not allowed and he doesn’t have time to talk Lucifer into letting him up there yet!! You have NOTHING to work with right now, he’s gotta figure something out ASAP!

He didn’t even think about the amount of money he’s willing to spend, or how else he could be using it. He may not have been willing to tell you how much he cares for you at that point, but he has always come through for you when it matters. Even in the early days.

You find yourself contemplating Mammon’s contrasting demeanour while he’s out. This isn’t the first demonstration of his responsible mode that you’ve seen. It’s fascinating, the way he acts so careless and tsundere until someone needs him—at which point he drops that image like it’s nothing, revealing the softhearted and protective big brother he really is.

In those moments, you can see in his personality that he helped raise 5 little brothers (and one Lilith, though you don’t learn about her until later) and is actually pretty damn good at it. It’s clear that he loves you more than he’s willing to admit in those rare moments, when showing it genuinely matters.

Anyway. He came home with an assortment of items for you. No medicine yet because he doesn’t trust that Devildom painkillers won’t harm you, but he brought a BUNCH of snacks, and a collection of things that can be used to absorb the blood for now, until he can get Lucifer to let him go get the stuff you normally use from the human world. You can take your pick.

He even commissioned an enchanter to make you a custom heating pad, because he doesn’t trust the ones meant for demons to not burn your skin. He didn’t think about the price. Frankly, he doesn’t care. Maybe he’ll remember to complain about it to save face later. Maybe.

His main concern—making sure you’re okay—left no room to think of that in that moment. He waves off your concern about bloodstains on the stuff he lent you before he went out. Being reassuring in his usual irreverent way, saying something about how he’s a demon, and demons don’t tend to be squeamish about blood. Hell if he cares, he says.

While you’re in the bathroom washing up and dealing with the bleeding (with a SECOND set of Mammon’s worn-in, comfy clothes that he put in your hands before shoving you into the bathroom, not giving you a second to refuse), Mammon is texting Lucifer to find a way to get you proper period supplies from the human world.

When you come back to him, he tells you that you’ll have what you need before you go to bed, but in the meantime you should sit, because he’s putting on another movie.

He watches you shift around uncomfortably over the next few minutes. Cramps, you know. You’re not exactly comfortable sitting the way you are. Without a word, he pulls you to lie down with your head resting on his leg. He’s looking away from you, indistinctly mumbling something about “so lucky I’m lookin’ after ya” and “what would ya do without the great Mammon” and “MY human, damn it” as he carefully rubs tension out of your back.

“What was that?” You ask him.

“Shut up an’ watch the damn movie!” He splutters.

You stay like that until Lucifer shows up with your requested items. Pads, tampons, a menstrual cup, painkillers, whatever it is you asked for.

Later that night, as Mammon persists in rubbing your back as another movie plays, you find that your trust in him is stronger than it has ever been before. You understand exactly why Mammon is the best demon to be in charge of your well-being. Lucifer chose him for a reason, and it’s impossible to miss. Mammon is so damn caring under the tsundere façade.

You feel so loved. You ARE so loved. The pain fades away under the warmth of his hands. His lap makes a good pillow, and Mammon makes a great guardian.

(Every month after this, he leaves his door open for you in case you want a distraction from the pain. He’s ready with snacks and a movie. He’ll happily do this for you every time.)

_______

Levi: passion -> gentleness

Whatever it is that Levi notices first—be it the blood, the worse mood, the regular time spent with Mammon every month—he freaks out. He’s like “AAAAWTF WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING ARE YOU DYING???” Or like “oh noooo are you mad at me why are you randomly sad do you hate me now??” Or like “why can’t you reschedule with Mammon and do this time limited event with me, do you not wanna play with me anymore???”

Either way, bro is suffering.

Eventually, either you or one of his older brothers explains to him, and he feels bad. He didn’t mean to stress you out worse! Also, periods are real?? He thought it was just some creative plot point in the occasional anime! That’s crazy, why are humans built like that??

Anyway. Levi’s nothing if not passionate, and he’s gonna turn some of that passion towards finding ways to make you more comfortable.

He will find a way to order all the human world snacks you crave while you’re bleeding. He will be on the lookout for gifts, like games and merch and manga you’d want. He stockpiles them so he always has something ready to cheer you up when you need that.

He will even do his best to redirect the envy he feels towards Mammon and his established routine of movies and snacks in his room with you lying in his lap and getting free back rubs on the first day of your period each month. He wants that to be him, damn it! But he’s not gonna disrupt that for you.

He WILL claim hanging out with you on your day 2 though, AND will fill in every time if Mammon’s not available. The only thing that can beat out his shyness at the idea of having you using his lap as a pillow is the raging envy at knowing MAMMON gets to have that every month!

(Eventually, once you figure out that Levi wants to be invited so bad, you just invite him. It’s not like you don’t want him there! He’s very happy to sit next to you with your legs in his lap while he ignores Mammon’s stupid movie and plays a game on his phone. It’s nice to have two demon pillows. This one’s got built-in cooling!)

Levi understands not wanting to deal with lights and noise and craziness when you’re in pain. He will prevent any of his brothers from bringing any of that around you with all the determination and passion he brings to everything he cares about.

He is remarkably gentle, for someone who is usually so excitable. So considerate! You can see in the way he forces everyone to only argue over text, in the gentle movement of cool, nimble hands over sore calves and hips and ankles, in the presentation of snacks and gifts determinedly brought to you from the human world, how much he cares about you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

_______

Satan: research -> comfort

The first order of business for nerd boy here is, of course, research. He is gathering information from all his relevant contacts—every human sorcerer and witch he knows, every demon with a pact-bonded menstruating human they care about AND the aforementioned human, every healer, medical researcher, librarian…

Yeah, he’s gonna end up knowing more about it than you do.

He comes back home after a few days, mumbling about human endocrine systems and nutrition and medical malpractice of menstruating patients and the mechanics of blood production and every phase of a menstrual cycle and how pain works on a chemical level. He’s got notebooks and everything. He’s got the whole history of menstruation since the beginning of humanity summarized in one of those notebooks.

… Maybe it’s a bit overkill. But you know how he gets when he’s curious, especially about something that hurts you! He’s gotta know everything!

So now he’s infodumping to you about every symptom you mention. If you’re the sort of person who finds that interesting and helpful, perfect! If you’re not… well, he won’t be offended if you get mad at him for effectively mansplaining your own body to you. Demon-splaining? Whatever, either way he will take that correction with grace and only tell you information you directly ask for. He’s learned enough about menstruation to be very sympathetic and patient while you’re in the middle of it. It seems awful to him, and he’s not about to make it worse!

He’s wise enough to know that he should ask before ACTING on any of that information though. He won’t try to optimize your nutrition or your painkillers or anything unless you ask him to. He knows that would be too far. He’s not prideful enough to override you like that, he’s not Lucifer.

If you get really angry when you bleed, he’s got you! He understands, he encourages you to yell and rant in front of him all you want. Throw around some destructive spellwork or just break stuff if you need to, he’s got a room for that. It’s all good!

Satan is so good with practical comfort. He’s big on venting for your health and sanity. He knows what buttons not to push, they’re obvious to him as wrath incarnate.

Of course, he’ll also give you hugs and drive off his crazy brothers if you need peace. He’ll bring you to the cats when you get sick of people. He’ll find you any answer you need. If your cycle is irregular or in any way atypical, there’s no better demon to have searching for answers for you—and he’d NEVER let no medical malpractice happen to you. Doctors are GOING to take you seriously, damn it!

To him, there’s no such thing as too much hassle to help someone he loves so much as he loves you.

_______

Asmo: luxury -> selflessness

As the Avatar of Lust, there’s no way Asmo doesn’t know the basics of how menstrual cycles work. No way. Even if demons don’t get them, it’s relevant to his whole domain.

Asmo’s got you. He’s gonna spoil the hell out of you. Massages with fancy oils, hot baths with magic muscle relaxant products added, masks to prevent any skin issues from fluctuating hormones, everything he can think of.

If anyone even tries to make you do anything you don’t want to, he will destroy them. This is a time for rest, he insists!

He relishes any opportunity to relax with you, have a self-care day, just chill and recharge together… but he’s prioritizing you. You get to see the rare responsible Asmo during this time! If you have non-negotiable responsibilities, he’s helping you. He wants you to get done faster!

He’s actually got a pretty great strategic mind when he’s incentivized to use it! He’s so efficient! Only because he wants you to be in his room relaxing as fast as possible, but it’s totally there!

At the end of it all, it’s completely possible that he forgets about spoiling himself too, just because he got so focused on trying to take as much of your pain away as possible. It’s wild that he doesn’t think he has any capacity for selflessness. Good thing you know better.

_______

Beel: perceptiveness -> caring

Beel smells the blood. Immediately. At first he’s concerned but minds his own business, trusting that Mammon’s taking care of you. But after you’ve pacted with him? Not anymore.

Beel becomes your warning system. He will notify you as soon as the hormonal shift starts to happen. Days before you even start bleeding.

You know it’s because he cares, and that he can’t avoid noticing the change in your scent whether he wants to or not. You choose not to think it’s weird.

He gets worried once he learns about what happens to you every month. His first priority is making sure he doesn’t eat everything that’s high in iron, folic acid, vitamin C and D, and omega-3s. All very good for you when you’re on your period. He makes sure that stuff remains available to you.

He invites you to exercise with him too, because he heard that can be helpful. He won’t STOP you from lifting if that’s what you want to do, but HE is choosing to focus on stretching and moderate cardio for now (stuff that should be more helpful for you) and if you want to join him, well… that’s what he’s doing. What do you mean he changed it on purpose? He just felt like yoga and a nice jog today! Don’t think about it too hard!

Beel is actually the best one to go to for massages. Sure, Asmo knows what feels good and he’s phenomenal at that. True. But Beel is the one who understands every muscle and tendon in a body, so if you want a full, functional reset, in which all the tension and soreness in you gets methodically, optimally pressed out, you go to Beel. It might not feel quite as nice—in fact it might hurt a fair bit—but it’ll be so effective. You will have no pain at all after. Plus, he’ll teach you stretches to prevent some of that tension coming back later, too. He’s so helpful.

_______

Belphie: laziness -> service

We all know Belphie is the number one advocate for rest. He will encourage you to sleep through as much of it as possible. Why would you want to be awake to experience pain? Screw that. He will actively keep you asleep as long as possible—unless you tell him in advance that there has to be limits so you don’t bleed on everything you’re touching. Even so, he doesn’t quite see the problem. He’s a demon, he’s not squeamish about blood. What biohazard?

But no, he’ll respect that. If he’s a lil shit about it, all you have to do is pull the “remember that time you killed me” card and he’ll do whatever you want lol

In the biggest twist of irony since The Incident, Belphie actually finds himself serving as your alarm clock. It has to be him, you see, because he insists on sleeping next to you. He wants to be there to ensure you sleep through the night, and don’t ever get woken up by cramps. So it’s gotta be him to wake you up when it’s absolutely necessary. Because you see, he does not trust anyone else to understand what’s absolutely necessary. Only someone who loves sleep as much as him gets it, he insists.

Belphie is nothing if not lazy. Obviously. But… he’s actually voluntarily doing work on your behalf?? He’s concealing bloodstains on your sheets from you so you don’t feel uncomfortable, and washing them for you. He isn’t even telling you about that, so he isn’t even getting any thanks for it! How very kind and un-demonic of him!

(Of course, he’s mostly doing it because he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed and stop sleeping next to him while you’re on your period. He’s got selfish reasons. But… really, it’s not very selfish at all when you look at how that benefits you too. How could he be so surprised to hear that you think he can be kind and sweet when he wants to be? How’s he not seeing it??)

He may deny that he’s actually a sweetie, but you know the truth. When sloth incarnate is voluntarily doing secret chores for you, you KNOW he loves you. It might as well be spilling out of his soul, it’s so undeniable.

_______

You’re bleeding. It’s miserable. No one likes their period. It’s made much more bearable for you, however, now that you have this ridiculous family falling over themselves to make your life easier. All the pain, all the hormonal fuckery, all the bullshit your body puts you through is… well, actually quite tolerable when you’re loved this much.

805 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 3 months ago

Note

hi again! so I've been meaning to send a request, but before i go about it I wish to say it's completely okay if you're not inspired by this, or if you simply don't want to write it, i would hate myself if I made you overwhelmed or smth. love you anyways 💕 so for the request: reader who's autistic. she's not very talkative nor socially active, never had a boyfriend, has one or two friends, yet somehow rafe notices her and finds her endearing. she's okay being herself with her friends, like she's funny, kind and passionate about her interests (like geek stuff, fantasy books, animals and such). she has zero flirting experience and is always dismissive towards rafe bc she doesn't think someone could like her romantically, and she's always suspicious of people bc they've wronged her in the past (in my experience as an autistic person i tend to believe everything ppl say and am kinda naive, so ppl played me or said unrealistic things and I believed them, which then is a reason for laughter, now I'm always suspicious to ppl's intentions). I'm giving you creative freedom with this, just wanted an autistic reader for once :) if you feel like writing it but need to know more abt autism, you can just post question and I'll answer in your asks, if that's okay. Just a reminder again before I go: feel free to decline this request, I know it might not be something cool to write and that's okay ☺️ love you lots, thank you for your time!

i tried my best, hope you like it 🫶🏼 and if you don't lmk so i can do better!! this was really fun since it's a compeltely new topic of inspiration. kinda left an "open" ending bc i couldn't make my mind up lmao. thank you for the resquest and sorry it took me a while to finally do it 🫂

got dreams but i can't make myself believe them - r.c

paring: rafe x autistic!reader word count: 6.9k

The party was a mistake. You knew it the moment you walked in, the thumping music and crush of people making your skin crawl. Your friends had been relentless, insisting that you needed to “get out more” and “live a little,” despite your repeated attempts to explain that “getting out” meant something different to you.

But somehow, you’d caved, and now you were standing awkwardly in the corner of a stranger’s living room, clutching your book like it was a life vest. You needed to stop letting them drag you everywhere.

It was the typical college party scene, at least the one's you'd heard or read about before. Red solo cups everywhere, groups of people huddled on couches or pressed together on the so called dance floor, and a few already-drunk guys yelling loudly in the kitchen.

This was supposed to be fun?

“Just stay for an hour,” they said. “If it’s really that bad, you can leave.”

Right. Except an hour felt like an eternity when you were trapped in a sensory nightmare. You took a deep breath, scanning the crowded room. There were people everywhere—laughing, dancing, chattering loudly in clumps—and the noise was a constant, overwhelming buzz in your ears.

This was definitely a mistake.

So, you did what you always did in these situations: you found a place to hide. After walking through the drunk college students, you eventually ended up on quiet nook near the back of the house. It was a small room, probably some sort of den or study. Blessedly, it was empty. With a sigh of relief, you settled into an oversized armchair, opened your book, and let the world outside your pages melt away.

Time slipped by as you read, the noise of the party changing into a distant hum. You were so engrossed that you didn’t even notice when someone stumbled into the room until a loud crash jolted you out of your fictional word. He nearly tripped over his own feet, catching himself at the last second with a slurred, “Shit.”

You looked up to find a guy standing unsteadily in the doorway, blinking blearily at you. He was tall, with tousled hair and a loose, easy grin that spoke of far too many drinks. His eyes were a striking blue even in the low light, and it took you a second to place him.

Rafe Cameron.

Oh, God. You knew him—well, of him, at least. He was in your sociology class, always sitting a few rows behind you with his gaggle of equally charming friends. He’d never spoken to you before, though, and you’d never had a reason to pay him much attention.

Until now.

Then his face split into a lazy grin, and he swaggered—no, stumbled—into the room, somehow managing to make even that look effortless.

“Heyyy,” he drawled, leaning heavily against the arm of the chair across from you. “It’s… it’s you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he slurred, squinting like he was trying to see you clearly. “T-The girl from my class. The quiet one.”

Your stomach did a weird flip, part confusion, part disbelief. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sagely, as if you’d just confirmed some great truth. “You’re the uh, the smart one. With the books.” He gestured vaguely at the one in your hands. “Always sittin’ up front, all… all cute n'shit.”

Your cheeks burned. Was he seriously calling you cute? No. He was drunk—really drunk. He probably didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Do you need help?” you asked cautiously. “You look—”

“I’m fine,” he cut you off, straightening up as if to prove it, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way he swayed on his feet. “Needed to get away from those idiots out there. Too many people.”

You almost laughed. Rafe Cameron, overwhelmed by people? The guy who was always surrounded by friends, girls practically draped over him like accessories? But he looked sincere—well, as sincere as a drunk person could look.

“Why don’t you sit down?” you suggested, gesturing to the empty chair. “You, um, might fall over if you don’t.”

“Pfft, I’m not gonna—” He paused mid-sentence, wobbling precariously. Then, as if he’d just made the smartest decision of his life, he plopped down in the chair, sprawling out like he owned the place.

“See? Told ya m'fine,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You couldn’t help but snort. “Right.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his gaze roaming over your face “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked abruptly.

You glanced at your book, then back at him. "Reading?”

“No, I mean… here,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely around the room. “At this shitty party.”

You shrugged, feeling awkward. “My friends dragged me. I didn’t really want to come.”

Rafe’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and for a moment, he looked almost sober. “Yeah, same.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He smirked, a flash of the cocky, arrogant guy you’d seen in class. “Yeah, well… they’re fucking assholes, but they’re my assholes, y'know?”

You didn’t, but you nodded anyway. “Sure.”

“So, what’s that book about?”

You hesitated. “Um… it’s a fantasy novel.”

“Fantasy, huh?” He tilted his head, eyeing the cover. “Like wizards and dragons n'shit?”

“Sort of,” you admitted. “It’s about a girl who finds out she has magic and goes on a quest to—”

“Save the world?” he finished with a mock-solemn expression.

“...Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “But it’s more complicated than that.”

“Bet it is,” he murmured, his gaze still fixed on you. “You’re really into that stuff, huh?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, his smirk softening into something that almost looked like genuine interest. “You looked happy, talkin’ about it.”

Your heart did another weird little flip, and you frowned, pushing the feeling down. He was drunk. This didn’t mean anything. He probably wouldn’t even remember it in the morning.

But then, his eyes drifted shut, his head lolling back against the chair. Within seconds, he was snoring. You sat there, stunned.

What the hell had just happened?

Three days later, you were sitting in your usual spot in the lecture hall, flipping through your notes. Class was about to start, and the room was filling up with the usual pre-lecture chatter. You were just getting settled when someone slid into the seat beside you.

You glanced up, expecting one of your friends. But it wasn’t.

It was Rafe.

“Hey, friend,” he said casually, like you hadn’t left him passed out at a party a few nights ago.

You stared at him, completely disoriented. “Hi?”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair like this was completely normal. “Didn’t think I’d forget about you, huh?”

Your eyes narrowed. “I… yeah, actually.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he leaned in closer, “See, that’s where you’re wrong, princess,” he murmured. “I remember everything.”

Did he just give you a nickname?

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “You, sitting there all cute with your book, talking about magic and shit. Thought I was too drunk to remember, huh?”

“I—” You stared at him, completely off balance. “Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be,” he said simply. “Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “No?”

“Good.” He flashed you a grin, all cocky charm. “So, you gonna tell me more about that book, or what?”

You gaped at him. “You actually want to hear about it?”

“Why not?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow. “It made you smile.”

And for some reason, that simple statement knocked the breath out of you.

“Okay,” you said, still unsure if this was some kind of elaborate prank.

But Rafe just leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ll stick around.”

The next few classes were…weird, to say the least. Ever since Rafe decided you were his new "friend," he’d taken to sitting beside you every lecture, plopping down in the empty seat as if he’d been there all along. It was confusing. Most of the time, he’d breeze in at the last possible minute, sauntering up to your row without so much as a greeting and settling into the chair with that infuriatingly self-assured smirk.

You were already seated, your notebook open and your pen poised to start taking notes when he dropped into the seat beside you with his usual nonchalance. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, casting you a sidelong look as if daring you to acknowledge him first.

“Hi,” you said quietly, eyes flicking back to the front of the room.

“Hey, princess,” he replied, voice low and teasing.

You kept your gaze firmly on your notebook. You’d quickly learned that the best way to deal with him was to pretend his presence didn’t affect you—no matter how much his proximity messed with you.

He’d spent the last three classes nudging your foot under the desk, passing snide comments under his breath, or leaning over just close enough to murmur sarcastic observations about whatever the professor was droning on about. And today was no different.

The lecture started, Professor Callahan launching into her usual detailed overview of sociological theory. You tried to focus, pen flying across your notebook as you jotted down her points.

“Is she always this boring?” he whispered, leaning in slightly so his arm brushed against yours.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your notes. “If you listened, it wouldn’t be so boring.”

He snorted. “Yeah, right. Like I’m gonna waste my time listening to her go on about… what is it today? Class structure?”

“Yes,” you hissed, refusing to look at him. “And if you don’t stop talking, I’m going to—”

“You’re going to what?” he challenged, his grin audible in his voice.

You snapped your mouth shut, trying to ignore the way his leg brushed against yours under the desk. He was doing it on purpose—nudging your knee every so often, shifting just a little closer until the faint scent of his cologne surrounded you. It was infuriating. And yet, when you glanced sideways at him, he was looking at you with that maddening, lazy grin that made your heart stutter.

“Just pay attention,” you mumbled, cheeks warm.

“Why would I do that when I have such a pretty view right here?”

Your head whipped around, eyes wide. “What?”

But Rafe just smirked, his gaze drifting lazily up and down your face before flicking back to the front of the room as if he hadn’t just made your brain short-circuit.

“Relax, princess. Just messin' with you.”

You swallowed, trying to refocus on the lecture. His attention was like a physical thing—intense and all-consuming. It made you uneasy.

Determined not to give him the satisfaction, you forced yourself to look at the professor, tuning out the heat of Rafe’s gaze. Professor Callahan was in the middle of explaining something about social hierarchies when she suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Mr. Cameron.”

The entire class fell silent.

You looked up, eyes widening in surprise as Professor Callahan fixed Rafe with a stern look. “I’m aware that I’m not as pretty as your classmate,” she said dryly, gesturing toward you, “but I would appreciate it if you could pay attention for at least ten minutes.”

A ripple of snickers spread through the room, and your cheeks flamed scarlet. Rafe, however, didn’t even blink, he was completely unruffled and offered the professor a lazy, arrogant smile. “Sorry, Professor. Just got a little distracted.”

Your stomach dropped. He was staring at you, unabashedly.

The professor raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure.” Her tone was dry, unimpressed. “Would you mind keeping your distractions to yourself until after class?”

Another murmur of laughter swept through the room, and you shrank in your seat, mortified. His smirk widened, but he leaned back in his chair, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Of course, ma’am,” he drawled. “No more distractions.”

Professor Callahan gave him a pointed look, then turned back to the board, resuming her lecture. You sat there, face burning, refusing to look anywhere near Rafe, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Guess I got you in trouble, huh?” he whispered, leaning closer.

You grit your teeth, still staring resolutely at the front of the room. “Stop talking.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, his voice teasing. “You’re way more interesting than this shit.”

“Rafe, I swear—”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” he said lightly, sitting back. But he didn’t take his eyes off you. You could feel him lingering, warm and intent, and you wanted to scream. How was he so calm? So unaffected, like getting called out by the professor was just a minor inconvenience?

You hated every second of it.

“Rafe,” you hissed under your breath, finally daring to glance at him. “Will you just—”

“What?” He leaned in again, eyes bright with mischief. “You want me to go back to ignoring you?”

“Stop staring.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Can’t promise that, princess.”

Your heart hammered, and you squeezed your pen so tightly it nearly snapped. “Why are you even here?”

He shrugged, his expression turning oddly serious. “I like sitting next to you.”

Rafe Cameron—the arrogant, cocky asshole you’d written off as nothing more than a nuisance—had just chosen to stay by your side.

As soon as class ended, you gathered your things in record time, heart still thumping wildly. The room buzzed with students shuffling out, but you kept your head down, hoping to slip away unnoticed.

Maybe if you were quick enough, you could escape before he decided to make good on his new, annoying habit of sticking to you like glue. But, of course, he was nothing if not persistent.

You’d barely slung your bag over your shoulder when he appeared at your side, his tall frame looming over you as he fell into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Heading to lunch?” he asked, all casual charm, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire class making you the center of unwanted attention.

“Yes?” You tried not to sound as thrown as you felt, but the way he looked at you—with that infuriatingly lazy grin—told you he could see right through you.

“Cool. I’m starving.” He said it like it was an invitation, like he was entitled to follow you, and before you could muster up a half-hearted protest, he was already steering you through the crowded hallway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you demanded, glancing around in panic. People were staring, eyes widening as they took in the sight of Rafe Cameron, of all people, trailing after you. Whispers flitted through the air, curious and disbelieving, and you shrank under the scrutiny, feeling painfully exposed.

“Uh, going to lunch with you?” He made it sound so obvious, his voice lilting with amusement.

“I didn’t invite you!” You glanced at him, trying to tamp down the fluttery, nervous feeling his presence always seemed to stir up. “What if I’m eating with someone else?”

He shrugged. “Then I’ll eat with them too.”

You gawked at him. “What?”

But Rafe just flashed you that cocky, confident grin. “Relax. It’s just lunch.”

Just lunch, he said, like this wasn’t completely absurd.

You narrowed your eyes, debating whether to make a break for it, but he was already steering you toward the main quad, his hand ghosting the small of your back in a way that made your skin tingle.

Your heart hammered as the familiar outdoor seating area came into view. Your friends were already there, sitting at your usual table—a small group of two girls and a guy, all talking animatedly. You hadn’t even sat down yet, and they still managed to look up as one, their expressions morphing from curious to shocked when they caught sight of you—and Rafe—heading straight toward them.

“Uh, hey,” you greeted awkwardly as you approached. They just stared, mouths agape.

Emily was the first to recover. “What the—since when do you two know each other?” she asked, eyes darting between you and Rafe like she was seeing some kind of glitch in the matrix.

“Yeah, what’s going on here?” Max, the guy in your small circle, chimed in, his gaze flicking to Rafe warily. “Is this, like… a project thing?”

“No, it’s not—” you started, but Rafe cut you off with a breezy smile.

“Can’t believe y’all kept her to yourselves this whole time,” he drawled, pulling out the chair beside yours and plopping down like he’d done it a thousand times before. “Thought you’d have the decency to introduce me to the most interesting girl on campus.”

Your friends gaped, eyes wide with shock. You could practically see their brains short-circuiting. Meanwhile, you were fighting the urge to smack him upside the head.

“Please shut up,” you muttered under your breath, cheeks burning.

But he just smirked, his gaze sliding over your stunned friends with lazy amusement. “What?” he said innocently. “It’s true.”

“What the hell is happening right now?” Emily demanded, still staring at you like you’d grown a second head. “You—you and Rafe Cameron?”

You sighed, already regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment. “There is no ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’ He just—he’s being annoying.”

“Annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “C’mon. I thought we were past that.”

“We are not past anything,” you snapped, shooting him a glare. But that only seemed to amuse him more.

“Okay, back up,” Max interjected, brow furrowed in confusion. “How do you guys even know each other?”

“Uh, sociology class?” you offered weakly, as if that explained anything. “He’s been sitting next to me.”

“Sitting next to you?” Emily repeated slowly, like she was trying to process a particularly difficult equation. “And now you’re… eating lunch together?”

“It’s not—” You looked helplessly at Rafe, who was watching the exchange with that insufferable smirk. “I didn’t ask him to.”

He looked completely unfazed by the mess he’d caused. “What can I say? I like the company.”

“Since when?” Emily shot back, clearly unconvinced.

Rafe shrugged, “Since she started talking to me.”

Your friends fell silent, eyes wide and suspicious as they turned to you, searching for answers. But you just sat there, feeling utterly, hopelessly lost. What were you supposed to say? That Rafe Cameron had decided, out of nowhere, to insert himself into your life? That he was following you to lunch like this was some sort of normal occurrence?

“Look,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s really not a big deal. He’s just—”

“Rafe Cameron is never ‘just’ anything,” Emily interrupted, folding her arms as she fixed Rafe with a suspicious look. “So what are you up to?"

“Nothing,” Rafe said easily, his smile all sharp edges. “Like I said, I’m just getting to know her.”

“Getting to know her,” Max echoed, clearly skeptical.

“Yeah.” Rafe’s eyes never left yours, his eyes gleaming with something that made your pulse flutter. “What’s so weird about that?”

Your friends exchanged looks. You didn’t blame them. This was weird. More than weird. You’d never been the kind of girl to attract attention—especially not from someone like Rafe. Popular, arrogant, and completely out of your league in every possible way. And yet, here he was, acting like sitting with you at lunch was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” He said suddenly, turning his attention back to the group, “Are you gonna sit here gaping all day, or are we gonna eat?”

Emily blinked, snapping out of her daze. “Uh, yeah, we’re… we’re eating.”

“Good.” Rafe turned to you, eyebrow raised. “You eating, princess?”

You stared at him, “I—yes?”

“Cool. Want me to grab you something?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re offering to get me lunch?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I am. Now, what do you want?”

“I—” You swallowed, glancing at your friends, who were watching the exchange like it was some sort of bizarre performance. “Um, a sandwich?”

“Got it.” Rafe pushed to his feet, his smile smug. “Be right back.”

And then, to your utter disbelief, he sauntered off toward the food line, leaving you and your friends staring after him.

“What,” Max said slowly, “the hell just happened?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

The awkward lunch with Rafe didn’t end as badly as you expected.

Your friends had spent the entire time shooting you confused, bewildered looks, while he seemed to thrive under their scrutiny, lounging beside you like he belonged. He didn’t flirt—thank God—but he didn’t exactly tone down his usual cocky self either. By the end of it, he’d somehow managed to charm your friends just enough to leave them confused rather than outright hostile. Still, after that lunch, you’d expected him to lose interest, to move on to his usual crowd and forget all about his bizarre little experiment. But of course, he wasn’t known for playing by the rules.

You learned that the hard way two days later.

It was late afternoon, and you were holed up in the campus library, buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes for an upcoming exam. The library was your sanctuary—quiet, calm, and blissfully free of distractions. At least, until Rafe sauntered in. You didn’t notice him at first, too absorbed in your notes. The library was busy, students murmuring as they worked, the rustle of pages and the faint clack of keyboards filling the air. You were hunched over a particularly dense passage in your sociology textbook when you felt it—

You stiffened, glancing up cautiously, and there he was.

He leaned against the bookshelf a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you with a lazy, assessing look. He didn’t move, just watched you, his lips quirking in that infuriating smirk when your eyes met.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around nervously. No one seemed to be paying attention, but you still felt like the entire room was suddenly staring.

“Studying,” he said, straight-faced.

“Since when do you study in the library?”

“Since now,” he said easily, pushing off the bookshelf and strolling over to your table. He pulled out the chair across from you, dropping into it like he had every right to be there. “What? Can’t a guy broaden his horizons?”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re joking.”

“Not today, princess.” He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he peered at your open book. “So, what’re we learning?”

“We are not learning anything,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m studying. You are… I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keeping you company,” he said simply. “You looked lonely.”

Your mouth fell open. “Lonely?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your face. “All holed up in here with your books. Thought I’d help.”

What was he even talking about? This was insane. He didn’t just hang out in the library, especially not to “keep someone company.” He was the kind of guy who spent his free time at parties, or on the field, or wherever people like him thrived. And yet, here he was, sitting across from you in the library like this was normal.

“Rafe,” you said slowly, “you don’t even know what I’m studying.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does if you’re trying to help,” you shot back, frustration seeping into your voice. “You’re—what are you even—”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Calm down. Just trying to see what’s got you all riled up.”

You bit back a groan, rubbing your temples. This was absurd. You didn’t need—didn’t want—his attention.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your textbook around so he could see the page. “I’m going over Durkheim’s theory of social integration.”

Rafe leaned in, squinting at the page. “Durkheim, huh?”

“Yes,” you said, a little impatiently. “He believed that society functions through a collective conscience—shared beliefs and values that bind people together.”

“Sounds boring as hell,” Rafe said bluntly.

“It’s not boring,” you retorted before you could stop yourself. “It’s actually really interesting—he argued that a lack of social integration could lead to anomie, a state of normlessness that causes people to feel disconnected and isolated.”

Rafe stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. At least it felt that way to you.

“What?” you demanded, suddenly self-conscious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shrugged, a strange, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Just… you get really into this stuff, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed. “It’s sociology. It’s important.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head, “It’s kinda cute.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting. “Cute?”

“Yeah.” He leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded you with a casual, easy confidence that made your heart flutter. “You get all intense when you talk about it. Like, you actually care.”

“I—I do care,” you stammered, “It’s my major.”

“I know,” he murmured. “I like that about you.”

What—what was that supposed to mean? Why was he looking at you like that, like he actually meant it?

Before you could even begin to untangle your thoughts, a shadow fell over the table, and you glanced up to see another student standing there—a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, probably from one of your classes.

“Uh, hey,” the guy said awkwardly, glancing between you and Rafe. “Are—are you using this seat?”

Rafe’s expression changed instantly, “Yeah,” he said flatly. “We are.”

The guy blinked, taken aback. “Oh, uh, sorry, I just—”

“You just can find another table,” Rafe cut in, “We’re a little busy here.”

You gaped at him, mortified. “Rafe, stop.”

But he didn’t even glance at you. He just kept staring down the poor guy, his posture tense and unyielding until, with a muttered apology, the student backed off, scurrying away like he’d just had a close encounter with a predator.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed as soon as the guy was out of earshot. “He just wanted to sit down!”

“Yeah, and we’re studying,” Rafe said dismissively. “No room for distractions.”

“We’re not studying anything!” you shot back, resisting the urge to smack him. “You’re just sitting here, being—being weird.”

“Not weird,” he corrected, leaning in again. “Protective.”

You froze, your mouth going dry. “Protective?”

“Yeah.” His eyes were dark, intense, locking onto yours. “Can’t have just anyone bothering you, can I?”

After the bizarre encounter in the library, you were convinced Rafe would drop this whole… whatever it was. Surely, following you to lunch and then “protecting” you in the library was enough.

So when you found yourself at another party two nights later—dragged along by Emily despite your vehement protests—you knew it was only a matter of time before he found you. Because somehow, no matter where you went, Rafe had made it his mission to seek you out.

“Come on, you need to have some fun,” Emily had insisted, half-pulling, half-dragging you through the front door of one of the fraternity houses on campus. The music was already blaring, the heavy bass vibrating through your body. People were packed in the main room, laughing, talking, drinking, the buzz of chatter filling the air.

“This isn’t my idea of fun,” you muttered, hugging your arms around yourself as you tried to avoid brushing against the partygoers. It wasn’t that you disliked parties, exactly—it was just that the noise, the sheer volume of people could get overwhelming quickly.

“Just stay for an hour,” Emily pleaded. “Please? I swear it’ll be more fun than you think. We can dance, have a few drinks—”

“I don’t dance,” you cut in flatly, giving her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, I’ll dance, and you… can hang out and people-watch,” she amended, undeterred. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You gave her a withering stare. “Yeah, because I’m such a social butterfly.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate, and began making your way through the press of bodies. After a few minutes you managed to find a relatively quiet corner in the back, near the stairs, and gratefully leaned against the wall. Maybe if you stayed out of sight long enough, Emily would give up on trying to get you to socialize and let you leave early. It was a long shot, but you could hope.

You hadn’t been there long when you felt it—the now-familiar prickling sensation of someone’s gaze lingering on you. Sure enough, when you glanced up, there he was.

Rafe, in all his infuriating glory, leaning against the wall a few feet away, his eyes locked on you with that lazy focus that made your heart stutter. He looked unfairly good, dressed in a dark button-up that clung to his frame in all the right ways, his hair tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool. And, as usual, he was watching you like you were the only person in the room.

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach twisting in irritation and something else. “Are you stalking me now?” you demanded, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

Rafe’s lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Would it be so bad if I was?”

“Yes,” you said flatly. “It would be very bad.”

He chuckled, the sound low, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “Relax, princess. I just saw you standing here all alone and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Hi,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now you can leave.”

But he didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between you in a few long strides until he was standing directly in front of you, his presence overwhelming.

You tried to step back, but the wall blocked your escape.

“Actually, I was thinking we could, I don’t know, hang out for a bit?” he suggested, tilting his head as he regarded you with a faux-innocent smile.

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Rafe blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“Yes,” you insisted, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Why do you keep… doing this? Showing up, sitting with me, following me to lunch, acting like—like we’re friends or something. What is your deal, Cameron?”

Slowly he reached up, bracing one hand on the wall beside your head, leaning in so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

“My deal,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, “is that I like you.”

No. No, no, no.

That couldn’t be right. People didn't just like you. They tolerated you, maybe, or found you useful sometimes, but they didn't like you. Not like that. Not in the way he was implying. You felt panic rising in your chest, like a wave that was too big to stop. You couldn’t stop it.

“You’re lying,” you said shakily, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re just—this is some kind of game, isn’t it? Some—some bet, or—”

Rafe’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching. “It’s not a game,” he ground out, his eyes flashing. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest aching. No, this couldn’t be happening. This didn’t make sense.

“I don’t believe you,” you shook your head stubbornly.

His eyes narrowed, “No?”

“No,” you repeated, crossing your arms defiantly. “You’re just… you. You can’t just decide you like me out of nowhere.”

“I didn’t decide,” he murmured, “It just happened.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. Why was he doing this to you? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I—” You broke off, struggling to find words, but before you could answer, a loud voice interrupted.

“Yo, Rafe! There you are, man!”

You both jerked back, startled, and you glanced over to see one of Rafe’s friends—Topper, if you remembered correctly—stumbling over, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“What are you doing back here?” Topper slurred, his gaze sliding to you. He blinked, “Who’s this?”

Rafe stepped in front of you slightly, his posture tense and protective. “Doesn’t matter,” he said curtly, “Go find someone else to bother.”

Topper blinked, taken aback. “Whoa, man, chill. I was just—”

“Go,” Rafe repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Topper stared at him for a long moment, then slowly backed off, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd. As soon as he was gone, Rafe turned back to you, his eyes softening again.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why did you do that?” you cut in, your heart still pounding.

Rafe frowned. “Do what?”

“Get rid of him,” you said, shaking your head in confusion. “He was your friend. Why would you—”

Maybe you’d misread him. Maybe he didn’t actually mean any of what he said. He was probably just bored, looking for some amusement—another toy to play with for a little while.

“I wanted to talk to you. Not him.”

You blinked, bewildered. “But he’s your friend.”

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “So? Doesn’t mean I want him interrupting us.”

Us. Like there was an “us.” Like there could ever be an “us.”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. “But I don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I don’t get it. You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough,” he said quietly, his eyes holding yours in a way that made it hard to breathe. “More than you think.”

You frowned. It was impossible to shake the nagging feeling that he was just… playing with you. That this was all some sick joke and at any moment, the punchline would hit, and you’d be the idiot.

“You’re just messing with me,” you muttered, taking a small step back to put some space between you. “You’re bored or something.”

“I’m not bored,” he said firmly, stepping forward to close the gap you’d just created. “I told you, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this. You’ve been following me around, showing up where I am, saying all these things like—like we’re something, but we’re not.”

Rafe stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What are you talking about? You really think I’m just messing around?”

“Yes!” you practically shouted, throwing your hands up. “Yes, I do! Why else would you be doing this? You’re Rafe Cameron, for god’s sake. You don’t even like me. This is just some twisted game to you, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, trying to read his face, trying to find any hint of dishonesty, any sign that this was all an act. But all you saw was that same intensity, that same focus, like you were the only person who mattered.

Your chest tightened, panic grazing at you. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. People didn’t just… like you. They didn’t seek you out at parties or show up in libraries to talk about sociology. Guys like Rafe didn’t choose people like you. There had to be some ulterior motive.

“You show up out of nowhere, act like I’m some project, some… someone who needs your protection—why, Rafe? Because I don’t fit into your world? Because I’m some joke to you and your friends?”

“That’s not it,” He growled, his voice defensive. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t know what I’m talking about?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You haven’t been honest about anything. You haven’t given me a reason to believe any of this.”

“You think I’m lying?

You moved your head again, harder this time. “That doesn’t make sense. You’re—you’re saying things that don’t make sense. I don’t understand.”

He took a slow, poising breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "What doesn't make sense to you?"

"All of this," you replied, your voice quivering with frustration, "You, acting like you—like you actually care. Like you see me. People don’t just do that, not for someone like me. I don’t—" You cut yourself off, not sure how to finish the sentence, your thoughts spiraling.

It wasn’t just that you couldn’t believe him; it was that you didn’t know how to believe him. Your experiences had taught you to be wary, to always look for the catch, because there always was one.

Always.

Rafe's brows drawn together in something that almost looked like concern. "Someone like you?" he repeated, "What does that even mean?"

You swallowed, feeling your insecurities gripping down on your chest. "It means I’m not… like you. I don’t know how to talk to people, I don’t get things right all the time. People don’t notice me, and when they do, it’s usually because I’ve done something wrong, or because they want something from me. That’s just how it is."

He shook his head slowly. "That’s not how I see you."

You opened your mouth to argue, to say something—anything—to dismiss what he was saying, to protect yourself from the disappointment that was sure to come. But Rafe didn’t give you the chance.

"You think I’m messing with you because you’re not like everyone else? Is that it? You think I’m playing some kind of game because you don’t fit into some stupid idea of who’s supposed to matter?"

You wanted to pull away, to recoil into the safety of your doubts, but something in his voice, in the way he was looking at you, made you stop.

"I’m not going to pretend like I know everything about you," Rafe continued, no less serious. "But I know enough to know that I’m not bored. I don’t care if you don’t fit in with my world, or whatever you think that means. I like that you’re passionate about the things you care about. I like that you don’t put up with anyone’s shit—not even mine." A small, almost self-deprecating smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ve spent enough time around fake people to know the difference."

You weren’t used to this—this kind of sincerity. It felt too real. And part of you still wanted to push it away, to reject it before it had a chance to hurt you. But another part of you—a much smaller, quieter part—was whispering that maybe he meant it.

"Why me?"

"Because you're you," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

For a long, breathless moment, the two of you just stood there, the noise of the party fading into the background. Your mind was still processing everything, but there was something in the way he was looking at you, something that made you feel—just for a second—like maybe you could trust this.

You shook your head, "I’m not… I’m not good at this," you admitted, your voice uncertain. "At understanding what people mean, or knowing if they’re being serious or not. I don’t know how to read you."

Rafe’s eyes softened even more at your confession, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to figure out how to make you believe him. "I get that," he said quietly. "And I’m not always great at this either. But I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you, especially not about this."

You wanted to believe him. More than anything, you wanted to believe him. But there was still that tiny voice of doubt in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the times you’d been wrong before, of all the times you’d trusted someone only to be let down.

You hesitated, your throat tight. "I don’t know if I can."

He didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from you. Instead, he just nodded slowly.

"That’s okay. You don’t have to believe me right now. But I’ll be here when you’re ready."

And with that, he stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed. He didn’t try to force anything, didn’t press for more. Instead, he just gave you a small, almost hopeful smile and turned, disappearing back into the crowd.

And as you stood there, your heart still pummeling into your ribs, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong about him after all.

332 notes · View notes

deathbxnny · 12 days ago

Note

Currently in a cfs/me flare up after losing my mind over the Arcane finale (lmao), and it’s been making me think about the characters keeping company to an exhausted & feverish reader. You can choose if you want to make it chronic illness related or more general, I’m just interested how you’d write them in a situation like that 🐁💖 Would love to see Vi, Caitlyn, and Viktor (pre-robojesus) if that’s okay :)) Both platonic and romantic are fine to me too!

Just wanted to add to the end that I loved your Timekeeper fic so much <3 Thank you for writing my request, it actually made me roll around my bed in joy :”D I hope days start getting better for you soon, stay safe 💖💖

Arcane characters with a chronically ill s/o. | Viktor, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

Hey there, Anon! Sorry that it took so long to get to your request, but I hope you're doing better now! Im so glad to hear that you liked my last post too!<3

Content: Vague chronical illness, slight angst, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic tbh, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He knows what it's like to deal with a chronical illness and, therefore, is the best prepared out of the three.

Viktor always has an eye on you and practically studied what makes your sickness get worse. He sees the patterns and tries his best to quickly get you out of situations that could provoke them.

Sometimes, he feels guilty that he isn't able to do more to help you, especially when he, too, is suffering. He appreciates your presence because of that, since you're a comfort to him and someone who understands how he feels. You spend a lot of time together, perhaps even cuddled up during darker days, just not to not feel alone.

He definitely makes your room extra comfortable whenever your flare-ups return. Viktor will get you your favorite food or drink and just sit by your bed until you feel a bit better.

Absolutely works in your room whilst you're laying sick in bed, as he's worried you may get worse in his absence. This indirectly also gets him out of the laboratory often, which does him way more good than he may realise.

All in all, he's the best person to have around when dealing with a difficult chronical illness.

》CAITLYN

She's hellbent on finding a cure one way or another. Cait is stubborn and doesn't take no for an answer. To her, even the impossible may become possible if she works hard enough. So expect the best doctors in Piltover to fuss over you at all times.

She might come off as overbearing at times, mainly because she's extremely worried about your health. Seeing you sick and exhausted all the time hurt her.

Definitely spoils you with anything and everything you want in hopes of distracting you from the pain you were in, even if it's just momentarily.

Tries taking walks with you at times, even if they are short and quick. She thinks that fresh air is good for your health and that you appreciate the time you spend together that way.

If you're feeling lonely, she'll lay in bed with you and speak with you about random topics, anything that comes to mind. She'll definitely also talk about work and the missions she went on.

She may not be able to relate to you, but she'll educate herself on everything regarding your health and illness in the hope of making life easier for you.

》VI

She feels helpless at times. She really does, and it hurts to see you hurt. Unable to really help or find a potential cure/doctor to make things easier, she becomes a little creative with the way she deals with it.

Vi is extremely overprotective and doesn't let you do much on your own. Expect her to do absolutely all the heavy lifting and some of the harder household chores, just so that you don't have to exhaust yourself even more.

Tries making your days better by thinking of fun and accessible things to do. She wants to distract you from the pain and give you a semi-normal life, as she believes you deserve at least that.

Longgg cuddle sessions in which you just talk and laugh. It's the best way to wind down during a flare-up. It also helps with any loneliness you may feel.

She tries using her connections with Cait and so on to get you some help when things get seriously bad. She's terrified of losing you and can't bear the thought of it. It keeps her up at night.

Every day may be a new challenge, but she'll never give up on you, that's for sure.

247 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 1 year ago

Text

Emotions of the Soul | knj

☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think

☆word count: 36.3k

☆a/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeai for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆☆☆☆☆

The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.

You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.

At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attention…

Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.

You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you weren’t going to risk being recognized – no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.

No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.

You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.

Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didn’t pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.

It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.

Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldn’t wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.

Which wasn’t going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.

Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.

“The celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,” Na Sooah said. “Most of those invited showed up.”

“I still can’t believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Most of them know nothing about art.”

Sooah laughed. “Not all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.”

Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoon’s name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time… and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.

Namjoon’s love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.

Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadn’t even joined Big Hit yet.

“Kim Namjoon,” you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.

You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.

Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.

“Yeah, he’s created quite a commotion outside,” Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.

Could that have been Namjoon?

“And when he RSVP’ed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope you’re ready,” Sooah added, teasingly.

You glared at her through your mask. “You couldn’t have told me before?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.”

At that, Sooah laughed out loud. “Got a little crush?”

“Quite the opposite,” you said through gritted teeth.

You hated Kim Namjoon.

You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.

Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didn’t look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.

When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.

You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.

One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.

He wouldn’t recognize you. You were positive he wasn’t going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to – matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.

After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.

Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasn’t in your vicinity yet.

He wasn’t. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you weren’t even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe you’d make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.

You could leave immediately after your speech, right?

“And what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?” the older man in front of you asked.

You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. “If you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?” you asked.

It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. “The end carries weight,” the wife said pensively. “It carries age and wisdom.”

You offered her a polite nod. “Exactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.”

“Fall is beautiful,” the man agreed. “But wouldn’t you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.”

“A different kind of beauty. Which, maybe it’s going to inspire my next exhibit,” you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.

You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didn’t want it to come back.

Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.

Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.

The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.

You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.

“If you could choose,” you started, voice steadier than you expected it’d be. “Would you choose the end or the beginning?”

The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.

“There is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing you’ve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,” you continued. “There’s beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.” You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. “My exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.” You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. “When the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, ‘Have I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?’”

The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.

You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened – if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didn’t look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.

Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.

While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.

It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.

All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.

Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.

You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.

“Hi,” Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didn’t want to miss you.”

Sooah could go to hell.

You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. “I do usually slip away in the night,” you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. “You caught me right before I was to leave.”

When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.

At least when he was a teen, he could.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Namjoon admitted. “Your manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?

“I’ve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,” he added to your stunned silence.

“You didn’t have to talk to me to ask for that,” you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.

“I wanted to have the artist’s insight on which piece she’d believe would fit best for me,” he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Or maybe even have one made personally?”

Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. “I do not take commissions,” you flatly replied. “If you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon quickly said. “I didn’t want to sound rude. Like at all. It’s just… there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldn’t buy it in time.”

“I do not remake pieces.”

Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?

“Right,” he eventually said. “How unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.”

It was said like a joke, but you didn’t bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didn’t seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.

“Might as well,” you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.

It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, “Guess I’ll let you escape through the night.”

You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, “Good luck with getting the piece.”

At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.

You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.

“Thank you, Maehwa,” he gently said.

Hearing him say your artist’s name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didn’t see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.

Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door you’d just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.

Maehwa had been Namjoon’s nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didn’t seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you he’d kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.

Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoung’s wedding next summer.

She wasn’t even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and you’d rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.

Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldn’t see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? It couldn’t.

Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?

*****

December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoung’s engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.

Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.

Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singer’s stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.

The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.

You hadn’t slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadn’t worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.

You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.

“Please tell me you haven’t been up all night,” Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.

She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. “I was almost done.”

Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.

“Clearly,” Sooah sarcastically said.

Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.

“I meant I’m almost done with what I wanted to finish,” you specified.

Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.

“Why did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?” she asked, with the most innocent voice.

Your mouth fell open. “What? It was all over the news.”

“You know I don’t watch the news!” Miyoung exclaimed. “Sooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.”

“I-“

“And why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?” Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.

“Mimi!” you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.

“The art!” Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. “Be careful with your art!”

You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. “Why did you tell her? I was fifteen!”

“Still counts,” Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.

But you wouldn’t be fooled. “It clearly doesn’t.” You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. “Right? Who cares about a teenage ex?”

She laughed. “Clearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?”

You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.

“I don’t care,” you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldn’t really wait anymore.

Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

“Well then,” she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. “You won’t care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.”

You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.

“What the fuck?”

Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didn’t just announce the worst news of your life to you. “Yeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and it’s going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.”

“But Kim Namjoon?” you complained. “Couldn’t you have chosen… I don’t know, some cool indie artist?”

“He’s a cool artist,” Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is he really?”

“His music is good,” Miyoung cut in innocently.

Your head snapped towards her. “You listen to his music?”

“Yeah, the album he released in December is good.”

And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldn’t really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.

Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her – or worse, to murder her – and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didn’t think Namjoon’s music was good.

It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didn’t mean you had to be present, right?

*****

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.

You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didn’t really have a say in this – what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.

Still, you were given a reprieve – the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.

You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didn’t dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.

You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.

Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.

“Are you Maehwa?” he asked.

You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. “You can’t just sneak on people like this,” you grumbled.

Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.

“It really is you.”

You gulped. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldn’t know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasn’t your ex from so many years ago.

“Y/n, don’t play this game with me,” Namjoon said, teasingly. “I was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.”

You scoffed. “What do you want?”

This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. “Your manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.”

You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldn’t you?

You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.

“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “What do you need to prepare?”

He tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and that’s how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.”

The nerves on this man…

“It’s been over ten years, I’ve changed.” You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. “What do you need to prepare?”

He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. “Do you have an office somewhere around here?”

You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. “I have my studio downstairs,” you grumbled. “Follow me.”

He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.

Namjoon’s heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.

No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didn’t they?

You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. “Have a seat.”

You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.

Namjoon’s gaze trailed to you. “Sorry.”

He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. “Your art has improved a lot through the years.”

You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. “Do you want coffee? Or a tea?”

“Just water would be fine,” he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.

You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.

You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.

“You’ve changed,” he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” you drawled. “I would expect someone to change after thirteen years.”

Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. “Yet you haven’t changed at all.” At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, “You’re still just as petty as I remember you to be.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?”

He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, “I don’t mean to insult you at all”.

Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just weird to see you again,” he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. “You look… good.”

Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. “It is weird, right?”

He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. “I’m happy your dreams worked out.”

Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.

“I worked hard,” you replied carefully. “As you have, I presume.”

At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I sure have.”

Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.

“So, what did you want to prepare?” you asked once you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Oh,” he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. “I wanted to give you the list of questions that I’m going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,” he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have shared them by email?”

Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.

“I could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,” he explained. “Before the day of shooting, that is.”

You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.

Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Was there anything else you needed?”

He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. “Not… really.” He wet his lips, watching you carefully. “I just thought it’d be great to catch up.” His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. “To get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I haven’t heard about you since we broke up.”

“Because I wanted it to be this way,” you replied. “And why do you have to say it like you didn’t believe I’d make it?”

“Wait, no,” he quickly said. “That’s not what I meant.”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Of course not.”

He laughed. “Really? After all these years, you’re still mad at me?”

“You did tell me you wanted to kill me,” you reminded him in a grumble.

He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. “Did I?”

“You don’t remember?”

At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just… I guess I forgot.”

“Oh,” you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.

Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, “I was intense, wasn’t I?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”

You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldn’t look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.

“I…” he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. “You can send it to my manager, she’ll have it sent to me.”

If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”

You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?

“Did you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.”

He looked almost startled by your invitation. “I… have eaten, actually,” he replied truthfully, never one to lie. “But if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.”

You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.”

He didn’t call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Then I guess I’ll see you next week.”

You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.

You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.

What the hell had just happened?

*****

Namjoon’s list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.

Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didn’t help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.

This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoon’s company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didn’t say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.

And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.

The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoul’s painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.

They were the easiest ones, after all.

“At what age did you start painting?” Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.

Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. “I started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.”

Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.

You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.

“What do you like so much about painting?”

You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, “It allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.”

You weren’t sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.

You hoped the camera didn’t catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.

“I think that’s understandable,” he replied truthfully. “Creating music feels a little like that, at least for me.”

You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.

And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didn’t see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.

To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.

“As we bring this interview to an end,” Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, “I have one last question for our artist.” He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, “Why did you choose the name Maehwa?”

You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Uh,” you let out, coughing a little. “When I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?”

‘A friend of mine translated’ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.

“It’s a pretty name,” Namjoon reflected.

His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.

He had been there after all.

“Thank you,” you replied, a little breathlessly.

After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.

“Everything okay?”

You offered him a no-bullshit look. “You didn’t tell me about that last question.”

It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.

“I honestly thought it up during the interview,” he admitted. “I should have warned you.”

You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. “It’s whatever. Why did you even want to know that?”

“Because I gave you that nickname…” he said, looking suddenly ashamed.

As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didn’t like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, “You did.”

He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.

Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.

“Do you…” you started, not knowing where you were headed.

Yet it was like he knew. “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?” he asked, finishing your sentence.

You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. “Only if you take me somewhere nice.”

“You deserve the best,” he said, nodding once. “I know just the place.”

You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. “Then yes, I’d like to grab dinner with you.”

At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. “For a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.”

The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, “Why?”

“You haven’t been…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. “You haven’t been very warm,” he finished as his eyes settled back on you.

You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. “Right.” You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. “We didn’t part on exactly good terms, you know?”

“Yeah.” He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, “I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you”, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the hand.

He stubbornly kept it there. “Pretending that this is my first time meeting you,” he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, “So that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.”

It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. “I already agreed to grab dinner with you, but…” you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. “Nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. I’m Y/n.”

He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.

“You come here often?” he asked, adding your name at the end. “I’ve never seen you around.”

You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.

“You’re bad at this,” you teased him. “We’re in my studio, of course, I come here often.”

He nodded. “Ah, I apologize. It’s my first time around, after all.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.

“I’m serious,” he told you. “It’d be great to start on new grounds.”

“I know. I fully agree,” you said. “It’s just… who would have thought I’d accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.”

He didn’t reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you weren’t sure you really recognized him.

Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.

“So,” he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. “This time, I assume you’ll allow me to write down your number?”

You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. “Sure, I’ll put it in your phone.”

He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. “I lost my phone.”

“What?”

He repeated sheepishly. “I think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.”

That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. “Okay then, I’ll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?”

The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. “That works for me.”

You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.

“There you go,” you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. “Text me when you can.”

“I will,” he said.

It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.

*****

“You are shitting me,” Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.

Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. “No…”

“You’re grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?” she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.

“Huh,” you let out. “Yeah, seems like I am.”

She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe him. You’re supposed to hate him. You didn’t even want to listen to his music, and now you’re going out with him?” She paused to laugh again. “Sooah won’t believe this.”

“Come on,” you whined. “It’s nothing.”

“Shut up,” Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m texting Sooah right now to let her know.”

You tried to steal your friend’s phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.

“It’s just dinner,” you pointed out. “Nothing to freak out about.”

Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?” Her gaze widened before you could even speak. “Are you only going because he’s RM of BTS?”

You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.

“No?” you said. “I don’t care that he’s RM. I accepted the offer because… I don’t know, at the end of the day, he’s a childhood friend.”

“A childhood friend? He was your first everything.”

Touché. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldn’t even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after – mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “I only told you because I don’t know how to date. I never really go on dates.”

She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh my God, it is a date, right?”

You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. “I mean, I think so? Don’t you?”

“I thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,” she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. “Alright, alright,” she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. “First, we’ll need to figure out what you need to wear.”

You nodded, nibbling at your lips. “He mentioned dinner at a restaurant.”

He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.

“So then you want to dress nicely,” Miyoung said, nodding once. “A nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it with…”

“Y/n!” Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. “How dare you not tell me you’re getting dinner with a celebrity?”

Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.

You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.

She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. “This is manager business. You can’t just decide…”

“Cut it,” Miyoung interrupted. “You literally bet with me last week that it would happen.”

Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. “I sure did, and I won.” She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoung’s hand. “Thank you,” your manager said. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“They’re getting dinner at a restaurant,” Miyoung declared before you could speak. “What’s the name again?”

You didn’t remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. “Huh…” you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. “Seasons of Seoul.”

Sooah’s mouth fell open. “The Seasons of Seoul? That’s one fancy-ass restaurant.”

You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooah’s voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. “It is,” you said, voice lilting into a whine. “It’s definitely above my budget.”

“Namjoon seems like a gentleman,” Miyoung pointed out “I’m pretty sure he’ll pay.”

“For sure,” Sooah agreed. “When’s the date?”

You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. “We haven’t decided on a day yet.”

“Just tell me when and I’ll clear your schedule,” Sooah said. “I don’t care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.”

You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Yah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!” Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you weren’t at home and couldn’t rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.

You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.

You said no to all of your friends’ suggestions, mostly because it didn’t feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.

“Yes, please, please, please!” Miyoung exclaimed. “We haven’t gone in forever. It’ll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.”

You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. “As long as you don’t bring me to those fancy stores,” you said. “I hate when people talk to me while I’m shopping for clothes.”

Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.

“Come on,” Sooah let out. “Maybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.”

“I’ve barely even started working on it, it’s not going to be for another full year, at least,” you pointed out. “No need to shop for an outfit now.”

“Pleaseeee,” Miyoung begged. “It’s going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed café you like so much.”

The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. “Mmh,” you hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“Bitch!” Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “We’re going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.”

You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll go. As long as you don’t make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.”

“Your entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,” Miyoung pointed out.

“You did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,” Sooah reminded you.

They had allied against you, hadn’t they?

“Right,” you let out.

“So you have nothing to say for your defense,” Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. “We’re going tomorrow, and you’re coming with us. And,” she added, nodding forcefully, “And you will enjoy yourself.”

You laughed at how dumb she looked. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didn’t really care.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.

It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.

“Oh my God,” you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the café. “He texted me,” you whispered then for only your friends to hear.

Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.

“What did he say?” she asked.

You didn’t answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. “Looks like you’re going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.”

Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.

“Consider it done!”

*****

You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.

Gosh.

You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you weren’t sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.

Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.

You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.

But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.

Namjoon looked … incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.

He was an artist, too, after all.

Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers – rose and white and lilac – and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.

Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. “You as well,” you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. “You can come in, I’ll just go put these in water.”

He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.

Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. Let’s go.”

He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didn’t drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.

You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.

Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoon’s gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.

He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.

You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you weren’t sure you belonged in such a place.

“Sit!” Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.

“You don’t…” you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.

A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldn’t tell why you hadn’t smelled it before – maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.

“What?” he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.

You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, “Since when are you such a gentleman?”

That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. “Wasn’t I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?”

Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.

“Were you?”

He winced, chuckling again. “Not at all. But I grew out of it.”

He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.

“Bangtan changed you, didn’t it?”

He nodded pensively. “I think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.”

You furrowed your brows in question. “I don’t know a lot about Bangtan but… isn’t Seokjin older than you?”

Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, ‘I’ll have whatever you have’.

“This Cabernet is actually my favourite. So we’ll take this one, please,” you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.

You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan – she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.

It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadn’t noticed it before – had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?

When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Does this happen often?”

He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. “More than you can imagine.” He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. “But you don’t have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind, but you weren’t surprised that he had thought of it.

“That’s more of a relief for you than it is for me,” you pointed out.

He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “You have a reputation too! You’re an artist, just like me.”

That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. “I don’t think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. I’m just a painter.”

“You’re much more than just a painter, Maehwa.”

Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldn’t be surprised if they did – Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.

“I’m not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,” you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.

“Evidently not.”

A comfortable silence moved between you – the first of the evening, you reckoned – and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.

“Want to taste?” you asked him, motioning to his own glass.

He picked it up, nodding his head. “Please. I’m surprised to know you have a favourite wine.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.

A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.

Not that you were a snobby artist – you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.

“I like it,” Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. “Nice choice.”

You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.

As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.

Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.

“No, but,” he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. “To be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasn’t even my fault.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “You were the one holding it,” you reminded him.

You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldn’t understand how he had broken it.

“You tickled me!” he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. “It was entirely your fault.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. “I barely even touched you.”

He glared at you, though it didn’t last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.

Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chef’s outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.

Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. “This is the friend I told you about.”

She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.

You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoon’s friends’ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.

She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.

“Have a good evening,” she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.

You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.

“She’s Seokjin’s ex,” Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.

Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. “Your bandmate?”

He nodded. “They broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,” he explained. “They were engaged.”

You weren’t sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.

“Anyway,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Shall we eat?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied, a little too quickly.

It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjin’s ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.

When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.

The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoon’s eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.

No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.

“So,” Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. “I…” He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. “Thank you for tonight.”

You couldn’t help your own blush as you replied, “I’m glad I said yes.”

He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.

“We should…” he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. “We should do this again.”

The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. “I would love to.”

“What about on Sunday? There’s this exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?”

“You want to bring an artist to another artist’s exhibit?”

He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, who’d offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.

So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, “I’m kidding, yes, I’d love to accompany you.”

He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.

“Well then,” he said, smiling that dimpled smile. “I should get you home, it’s getting late.”

The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. “Right,” you agreed.

It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoon’s hand accidentally grazed yours – or perhaps it was on purpose – you hooked a finger around his pinky.

Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.

By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.

You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.

Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.

“The car is here,” Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.

You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.

He really wasn’t a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.

You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoon’s thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.

You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.

He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.

And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.

Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.

As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoon’s soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.

As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you weren’t alone in the car.

You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. “I don’t know if it’s the wine,” you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, “but I really want to kiss you more.”

That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. “Not here,” he said, head motioning to the driver. “You’ll have to wait until Sunday.”

You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, “Do you want to sleep over tonight?”

His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. “You’d like that?”

You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. “Yes.”

It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.

The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.

You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.

The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.

“Oh no,” he let out.

You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. “Don’t worry, it was just a cheap vase.”

He looked down at the mess, nodding once. “I’ll buy you another one.”

And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasn’t budging.

“Hold on,” you said, putting your hands above his.

Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldn’t resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.

The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.

“You think we can make it to my room,” you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.

“You’ll have to show me the way.”

You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.

You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoon’s lips were carving against you.

You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldn’t get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.

It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.

You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didn’t quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.

“I want you too,” you replied breathily.

You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, “Take that skirt off”.

Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.

“You should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip them”, he added.

You didn’t doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.

This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.

He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.

“Get on the bed,” he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.

He didn’t say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.

His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.

Needless to say, he didn’t look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.

He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.

The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly – he looked far bigger than you had initially thought he’d be, though you weren’t all that surprised with his large frame.

“Take off your bra,” he said next. “I want to see your breasts.”

You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, “Beautiful” as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.

And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.

He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. “Not tonight,” he told you. “Tonight is about feeling, not about seeing.”

For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you weren’t mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people – the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.

If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didn’t see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didn’t argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.

He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.

“You’re going to feel good for me, mmh?”

You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.

The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.

“You think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?” he asked.

For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, “Namjoon.”

“Yes, baby?”

You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didn’t watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didn’t budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Couldn’t bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.

“What is it?” he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.

He wasn’t one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.

“You want me to suck your dick?” you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.

His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didn’t expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.

“Want me to suck you dry?” you added. “Want to come down my throat?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. “Better get to work, baby. You’re a lot of talk for someone that hasn’t touched me yet.”

“Say please,” you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.

“Fuck,” he repeated, adding your name at the end. “Who would have thought you had this in you?”

Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. “That wasn’t please.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, “Please, baby. Please suck my dick.”

You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. “Good boy.”

That was Namjoon’s undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.

Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.

You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.

Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didn’t really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You’re so big,” you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.

“Why don’t you sit?” you told him, letting go of his dick.

He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.

“Suck me, baby,” he said, still sounding just as whiny.

Feeling like a brat, you replied, “What do I get in exchange?”

His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.

“I’ll fuck you good,” he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I’ll fuck you good until your legs shake and you can’t walk anymore. Is that a good deal?”

You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.

“Careful with the balls,” he warned you.

You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.

“My bad,” you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. “Let me make it up to you.”

He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.

As big as he was, you found you couldn’t keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in – or as much of him as you could – you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.

Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.

You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.

“So big I can’t even suck you properly,” you commented.

“I’ll stretch you wide open, baby,” he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. “I’ll stretch you so wide you’ll cry my name.”

It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. “Fuck, Namjoon.”

He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.

“Should I ride you?” you asked him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“You’ll need me to get you ready,” he answered once he was able to look at you again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasn’t wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.

“Ride my face?” he suggested as you debated what to do.

You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, “Lie down.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.

You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.

When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.

“Fuck,” you told him. “Right there.”

He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.

You wouldn’t be surprised – he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.

As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.

Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.

You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoon’s tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didn’t move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.

“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Namjoon promised.

All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.

“You’re going to take all of me, mmh?” he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Yes,” you answered.

He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, “Get on all fours. I want to look at your ass while I’m fucking you.”

“You’d like that?” you teased him. “You want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?”

Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.

“Put this on,” you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.

He looked down at your hand. “What size is that?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Regular.”

He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. “I need bigger than that, baby,” he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.

Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.

“Gosh, you’re so sexy like this,” he praised you. “Ever since he saw you again, I’ve been wanting to see you like this.”

A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.

“Fuck me,” you told him. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”

He slapped your ass. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.

He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.

It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “You take me so well.”

He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.

He didn’t pull on your hair harder than that, didn’t force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment – you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.

When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. “Do you want to switch position?” he asked.

As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.

“Lean back on your hands,” you ordered.

He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.

“Shit,” you cursed.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “You’re so fucking deep.” And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. “So fucking big we can see you in me.”

He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.

You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, and he looked at you.

The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.

When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.

“Lie down for me,” he gently said.

You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasn’t out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.

When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.

Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didn’t move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.

“You made quite a mess,” you teased him.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly said. “Was that okay?”

You nodded. “As long as you clean it up, yes.”

He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.

You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoon’s cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.

“Can you pass me the shampoo?”

He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. “I’ll wash your hair.”

The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didn’t get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoon’s lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.

Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.

That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after you’d disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.

After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.

Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.

*****

You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadn’t been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride – a company official ride, considering he couldn’t drive – you hadn’t been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parents’ kitchen, remembering growing up.

Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.

You hadn’t told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadn’t pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.

Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasn’t only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted – complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.

But your worries were still haunting you. Hadn’t stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You weren’t able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.

That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadn’t come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.

Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted you’d ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.

So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.

You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.

You weren’t sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.

It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldn’t shake what he had said out of your mind.

Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?

The answer was easy. No, you didn’t wish to be just that. You’d never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.

Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.

Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t sleep over, or ask you to stay.

Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.

You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.

You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped you’d find inspiration by the time you were back home.

Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.

The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.

You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didn’t pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.

Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.

It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.

You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.

You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you told him, hand on your racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just out on a walk,” he informed you. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”

He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. “Your parents are bothering you?” you teased, gently nudging him.

“Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been songwriting since I got here? Can’t get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought it’d help clear my mind.”

Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.

“Couldn’t paint,” you admitted.

“Your parents are bothering you?” he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.

This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.

“You know,” he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. “I was hoping we could hang out, while we’re here?”

He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of your parents asking questions?”

“Not really,” he answered. “They know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.”

Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Is that something that we’re supposed to be doing?” you enquired.

It seemed to take him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldn’t deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.

“What are we, exactly?” you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.

Namjoon’s eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. “What?”

The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. “It’s just… we’ve only been hanging out for sex, correct?”

“Is that what it is for you?” he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.

You chuckled awkwardly. “To be entirely honest, I don’t do this. So no, I’d hope it’s not that, but…” you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. “You haven’t really made me feel like you’re in this for more than just sex.”

He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.

“I thought we were… dating?” he admitted. “I… I’m sorry if I just… assumed?”

It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldn’t even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. “Oh?”

As you didn’t say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.

“I mean…” You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. “Good. So you’ll come over for dinner?”

This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. “With just a few hours notice?”

“Yeah?” He shrugged. “My parents already know you, what does it change?”

And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?

You doubted there’d be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoon’s parents. And turned out you were right – both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoon’s mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoon’s dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didn’t scold his mother, didn’t tell her to stop.

And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after you’d eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.

Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologized.

You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. “About what?”

He shrugged. “The dinner. I didn’t expect my parents to be weird about it.”

“They weren’t,” you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasn’t particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, “I’m really happy I said yes. I missed them.”

He smiled, softly. “They missed you too.”

A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.

“The night is beautiful,” Namjoon said softly. “Makes it feel like we never left, you know?”

“Like it hasn’t been thirteen years, right?”

He nodded. “The weight of the years does feel lesser since we’ve reconnected.”

His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.

“Do you think we were just right people, wrong time?” you asked. “I’ve been thinking… it’s been so easy with you, since our date. It’s strange to believe that it would be, no?”

“The years haven’t changed us as much as you’d imagined they would,” he agreed. “Like…” he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. “BTS came into my life after you. I’d say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?”

You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the leader,” he continued, revealing something you weren’t sure he had said out loud to anyone before. “I wish I didn’t have this weight on me and… in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didn’t entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and… I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.”

His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.

“I felt lighter with you than I’d felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think you’re right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.”

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.

Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.

Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.

“Had I known that you were worried I wasn’t into you like this, I wouldn’t have had sex with you every time we hung out,” he admitted, softly.

That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.

“Hey,” you let out. “It’s okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.”

He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.

He shrugged. “They are still your parents; they’ll always worry for you.”

His words held truth, so you didn’t resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didn’t have to part with him for the night.

One day, you liked to believe you wouldn’t have to part at all.

*****

Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasn’t like he had to keep them in check in private.

You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasn’t all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasn’t one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.

To your surprise, Sooah wasn’t alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.

“Hi,” the man politely said. “I’m glad you’ve finally showed up.”

He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am Jo Jonghyuk,” he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hybe representative.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s bringing you here?

Sooah was the one to answer. “There’s been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,” she informed you carefully. “They are… all over the media this morning.”

A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. “Excuse me?”

You hadn’t noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.

And your face was far too recognizable. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t you, couldn’t pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest.

“So,” the man said. “We’re aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.” He paused, watching you carefully. “But we need to preserve their image. I’m sure you can understand?”

Sooah saved you by replying. “What is that supposed to mean for Y/n?”

“Namjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,” the man offered as an explanation.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that I’m going to be asked?”

“Keep the relationship behind closed doors.” The man motioned around you. “As an artist, I’m sure you understand how one’s image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.”

It wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. “And this needed an early morning meeting?”

You’d like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.

The man offered you a polite smile. “No. I’m here to have you sign an NDA.”

That made more sense. And still, it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be – it wasn’t like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.

In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.

Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.

You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.

“I’m fucked,” you said.

She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. “You are not. There’s no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I don’t think this will affect the gallery.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand.” You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didn’t think you were ready to gaze at. “It’s just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know it’s me.”

“Then we’ll use it as publicity.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. “You can’t be serious.”

“Your art is beautiful,” she reminded you. “You’ve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?” She paused as if to give weight to her question. “It’s just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People won’t see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.”

You didn’t want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldn’t bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.

No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.

“Deep breaths,” Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

“What if it’s not?” you asked. “What if I can’t paint anymore?”

“You’ve been painting your whole life,” she reminded you. “You won’t suddenly stop because of rumours about you.”

See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.

“Shit.”

Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didn’t say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?”

She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadn’t told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadn’t changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.

And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.

Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.

And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alright…

Almost.

*****

“Thank you,” you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.

It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.

Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people weren’t here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.

Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.

The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.

Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that – young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.

As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.

Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoon’s next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.

How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.

You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldn’t wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.

It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.

Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.

“Yes,” you answered them politely. “It’s currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if you’d like.”

The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “How expensive was the last bid?”

Even though this was supposed to be Sooah’s job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.

As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. “Just a moment.”

They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasn’t like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.

You hadn’t checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didn’t even make any sense.

“Huh,” you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. “It seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.”

That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.

The smaller woman winced. “How high?”

“1.2 billion won,” you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.

“Oh,” she said. “We can’t afford that.”

You offered them an apologetic smile. “I have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.”

The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. “Oh, that would be lovely.”

They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that it’d soon burst. Evidently, you couldn’t tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped they’d hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.

When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, it’d leave you with much more money than you ever thought you’d own.

You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didn’t expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didn’t. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you weren’t worth it.

It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.

I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, I’ll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, I’m going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out

For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.

You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Busy night,” Namjoon said as a greeting.

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re on your way?”

“I’m outside,” he admitted. “Just waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume it’s locked?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll come open for you.”

There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didn’t, he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, and cringed at yourself. You weren’t a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. “Just tired.”

“Well, I hope you’re excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.”

Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didn’t deserve it.

And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?

You highly doubted so.

Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldn’t listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.

The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasn’t a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.

You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved – could he still really just be that today?

Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.

“Hi,” you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.

“You’ve been busy?” he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.

But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldn’t quite tell if it was still beating?

“Yeah,” you answered. “I’ve been working on a piece and… didn’t see the time fly.”

He nodded understandingly. “Of course. That’s why I brought food.”

And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?

Could he be the solution?

“I think my album is going to be good,” he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. “You’re going to love it.”

You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that you’d always loved whatever he made, even back then. “Of course.”

He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.

Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?

A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?

“A lot,” you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. “Quite a lot.”

You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.

“You know you can talk to me,” he gently said.

“I know.”

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.

“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.

“What for?” you asked, genuinely wondering.

He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. “We haven’t really talked about the rumours.”

You hadn’t. Hadn’t even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, you’d hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after you’d seen articles about you in the press.

“Yeah.”

“Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked, and he turned his head towards you.

From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.

“It might be,” you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, “It is.”

“How have you been feeling?”

You weren’t sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didn’t want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didn’t want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.

“Stressed,” you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldn’t hurt him too much. “Especially now that the anonymity is gone.”

He nodded. “I was expecting that to happen.”

You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.

“I’m sorry I took that away from you,” he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.

That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.

“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him. Because it was the truth – you couldn’t be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.

“But it’s still my fault,” he added. “It’s because of me if the media has been after you.”

“It’s not because of you.” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. “It’s not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.”

You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.

“Possibly,” he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.

To touch you, you assumed.

“Possibly,” he repeated. “But it’s hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, it’s just me, both of these.”

You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words – he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.

Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.

“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I don’t believe it’s your fault. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.”

“Still sucks that it did.”

You’d never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didn’t mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity – was it going to form a black hole between you and him?

“What’s that painting you’ve been working on?” he asked.

You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that you’d never really visited in your art before.

“Something to get my mind off the edge,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.”

Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, you’d look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldn’t even think past the words.

“To escape?” he prodded.

You nodded. “Don’t you use music as an escape?”

“Yeah,” he said, but somehow his voice was flat.

It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.

“So I assume you must understand.”

He didn’t answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.

“If you need an escape from this,” he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, “maybe we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if you’d gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.

“I never said I needed an escape from us,” you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.

“Are you happy right now?” he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud – wouldn’t they just break everything in their wake?

“I’m not sure.” You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, “I’m just so anxious.”

“I’ve been making you feel anxious?”

You shook your head. “No. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. It’s so sudden.”

Namjoon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding – because of course he’d understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though he’d known this life for years now.

“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and you’d explode into a million tiny little shards. “I can take it away easily,” he claimed.

You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.

“How?”

He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. “We break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No one’s going to be after you anymore if they think I’m with someone else.”

The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.

“What?”

He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if he’d given up even before he’d gotten here. “If being with me makes you so anxious,” he started. “And by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, I’m just going to remove myself from the situation.”

Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than ‘what?’ again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.

“I think it’s better for you if we break up,” Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. “I don’t think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.”

Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.

“I don’t want us to break up,” you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.

“I can’t date someone that gets so anxious just because they’re with me,” he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.

And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.

It felt unlike Namjoon. You’d gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed who’d be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldn’t afford to put himself in a situation where he’d only get bad again.

The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew it’d be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldn’t be as troubled, knew you’d be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.

You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone who’d be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasn’t you.

“Namjoon…”

“It’s hard for me too, you know?” he added. “To watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that I’m the cause of it. Y/n…” he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. “I haven’t even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.” He shook his head. “Even before that. I’m not sure you’ve been happy since we started dating.”

“That’s not true,” you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. “I was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame that’s been throwing me off.”

You were relieved you’d finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.

But you knew you were going to let him go.

“Then we take a break,” he continued. “I don’t want to be the source of something negative in someone’s life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when it’s safe, we can try again.”

Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.

“If that is what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay with me,” you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.

He scoffed. “What I want is just impossible. This is just second best.”

“Breaking up with me is second best?” you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. “It’s that easy for you?”

He frowned, meeting your gaze again. “Who said it was easy?”

“You’re the one that claims it’s a good thing. Second best.”

At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. “This is not what I meant.”

Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldn’t watch him anymore. Couldn’t gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that they’d become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.

A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.

“Then leave, Joon,” you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. “Let’s take this break, let’s see if it’s better for both of us.”

The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didn’t fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.

But weren’t you giving up on him just as much?

That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.

Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.

*****

Thirteen years ago

You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.

You’d heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable – everyone loved Yuri.

Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her – you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.

To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? You’d kill him for it.

So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already – partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parents’ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.

Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.

Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if they’d get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.

“What’s wrong?” he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, before scoffing. “Why did I have to hear from Kim Haru that you’re hanging out with Jeon Yuri?”

His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with hanging out with her?”

Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. “Everything? She’s just a bitch.”

“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. “You told me to never call a girl a bitch and now you’re doing it?”

You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. “It’s not the same thing.”

He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.

“Don’t you fucking condescend me right now.”

“Don’t you fucking curse at me.”

“No seriously,” you continued. “I don’t want a guy who’s only after popular girls.”

“I am not,” Namjoon drawled. “I’m tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.”

As a matter of fact, you did not. “You never told me.”

“Because you never listen to me,” he spat. “You’re always just drawing your fucking drawings as if that’ll lead you anywhere in life.”

“Kim Namjoon!” you burst. “And you’re always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. You’re a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.”

He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. “You’ll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, you’ll be so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t think I will. I don’t even think I’ll remember you.”

It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. “You’re breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?”

“I’m breaking up with you because you’re a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?”

He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe there’s a reason why I didn’t want to tell you I was tutoring her.”

You scowled. “Why?”

“Because I knew you’d throw a jealousy fit. You think you’re entitled all of my time.”

“Fuck you,” you growled. “Fuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.”

“Boyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.”

Your gaze slightly widened. “What?”

“I’m not your boyfriend anymore,” he said, adding your name like it was an insult. “Get over me already.”

“Do you even love me?” you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.

But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.

“Not when you get mad at me for no valid reason.”

His words hit like a slap to the face. “I just don’t like her. Can’t you tutor someone else?”

“No.”

The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, “Then perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.”

“Because I don’t respect you?” he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.

“Clearly not.”

“You’re right then,” he continued. “I don’t respect you. I don’t love you either, apparently, so I’m done.”

“Joon…”

“No, Maehwa,” he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. “You don’t say my name like that.” He slowly shook his head, seething. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I don’t want someone that acts like a fucking child.”

“You act like a child all the time,” you interrupted, but he ignored you.

He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he said, “I’ll kill you if you follow me.”

You scoffed. “Oh please, as if you’d ever hurt me.”

“I’m serious, I’ll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.”

It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that – enormous in its drama. So you replied, “I hate you more than I hate anything in this world.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.

He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks

1K notes · View notes

cassiesc0rner · 6 months ago

Text

Impurities III

Synopsis: You’re the new girl at East Highland High, your only goal is to get through school. Until you come across Nate Jacobs

Genre: smut, fluff, slight angst

Pairing: Nate Jacobs x fem!reader

Warnings: manipulation, lying, dark themes

smut, lingerie, pet names, fingering, protected sex, p in v, slight size/strength kink, corruption kink, lmk if I missed something :3

Song rec: speed - kali uchis | oxytocin - billie eilish | altitude - montell fish

WC: +9k

Other parts: previous part, next part

A/N: So sorry for the late upload, the smut part took me way too long lmao I hope that it’s good at least💀 It’s also marked in case some of you don’t want to read it!! I genuinely hope you guys enjoy this part (also yes, I got carried away with the perfume part because I love perfume) ᥫ᭡

"Nate, I'm not sure if that's a good idea.." You said as you two sat in his truck. You were currently on the way to school and it was the first time since you became his girlfriend.

He already planned everything for the perfect entrance. He texted you the night before to wear the dress he bought you recently and of course you complied.

It was a pink mini dress with short sleeves, a built in corset and a sweetheart neckline. On the back was a bow which made the dress perfect in Nate's eyes.

He wanted you to enter the school hand in hand with him, but you were scared that the students would react badly upon seeing you two together like this.

You usually always kept your distance when you walked down the halls with Nate, so that no one would even consider you two are together or that you like him.

Mostly because you were sure they would talk about you and make fun of you since you weren’t the type of girl a quarterback would date.

"Why not? Are you still scared of Cassie?" Nate asked as he focused on the road. Right.. Cassie

You totally forgot about Cassie "Oh my god, you're right, Cassie might see us together." Nate sighed as the car in front of him drove too slow which resulted in Nate reaching the red traffic lights.

But you felt like his sigh was directed towards you.

Nate placed his hand onto your thigh "Y/n... stop worrying about Cassie, I already told you that you don't need to be scared of her." he reminded you in the calmest way possible.

You smiled at him in an attempt to not anger or annoy him any further "Okay." you responded as you placed your hand on top of his. Once he started the car again, his eyes moved back to the road.

You couldn't believe how attractive Nate was.

Whether he was driving his car, playing football, or just simply sitting casually he always looked so good, you couldn't wrap your head around the fact that that was even possible. Just like right now, when he was sitting casually in his truck only wearing a simple black shirt and jeans.

Before you became Nate's girlfriend, you tried to subtly look at him whenever he did something attractive. But now you just stared at him whenever you felt like it, just like right now.

Nate looked towards you once he noticed, and smirked "What?" he asked as he stroked your thigh. "Nothing, I'm just looking at you." You admitted shyly. Nate chuckled before he looked at the road again, and even that was attractive.

"You're not looking, you're staring." he corrected you "I'm sorry, I'm just glad I can finally admire you." you explained as you smiled. "You were always allowed to admire me." Nate replied.

"It would've been weird back then though." You pouted "I've always admired you." Nate confessed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world "Ever since you first walked into the classroom that day." he added nonchalantly.

You mouth flew open in surprise. "Wait, seriously?" you asked. Nate nodded "I thought you were cute."

Obviously an understatement

Nate literally thought about turning you into his perfect little housewife the moment he talked to you in person. But he obviously couldn't tell you that.

"Aww, really?" You smiled shyly as you played with his fingers on your thigh. You couldn't believe Nate genuinely liked you from the start. Especially with the way you dressed back then, since he mentioned that your current style is way better than your previous one multiple times.

"And what do you think about me now? Am I still cute in your eyes?" you asked, genuinely curious if and how his opinion towards you changed.

"I still think you're cute, and you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." he said in that serious tone he sometimes used as he squeezed your thigh.

And he was dead serious.

You were his everything, his beautiful girl. Even when he sometimes raised his voice at you because he got really pissed during his football training, or because his dad was acting like an ass again.

He knew you wouldn't leave him. Simply because he gave you everything you didn't receive from your dad. Attention and mostly love. And even if you would leave him, you wouldn't be gone for long, because he was the only one who could make you happy.

And he loved it, he loved that you needed him, and that you did whatever he said, even if you sometimes didn't want to or felt uncomfortable. He felt bad sometimes, but shook the feeling off rather quickly.

And you'd always assure him that it's fine and that you weren't uncomfortable. Your face or body language said something else, but you agreed to everything to keep him happy. Sometimes he wanted to push you away just so that you'd cling onto him even more once he'd come back to you.

He wanted you to be as obsessed with him as he was with you, because that way you'd always stay with him, and leaving him wouldn't even be a possibility in the first place.

Once you and Nate entered the school hand in hand, like he wanted to, you tried to look ahead and not at the floor just like he told you to.

But that wasn't an easy task, when it seemed like all eyes were on you. The only thing that seemed to comfort you was that you had Nate by your side.

You couldn't get over the fact that he was so tall, and strong. Especially when he leaned down towards you when he spoke to you sometimes, or when he would laugh at silly things with you.

It made you forget that he was a scary jock in front of everyone else at school.

Nonetheless it definitely did some things to you whenever you realized how much bigger he was than you. But you'd never admit that out loud.

Once you reached your locker to get your book for chemistry, Nate looked around the two of you, he couldn't afford to let you bump into Cassie, not with how scared you were of her already.

And also not on your first day at school as his girlfriend. You were stressed enough already. He already considered talking to Cassie and warning her to stay away from the two of you.

While he looked around, his eyes landed on Lexi. She was walking towards your direction.

Once you closed the locker and looked at Nate, you saw him staring at someone passing by and looked into the direction he was looking at. The girl Nate was staring at seemed to stare back at him.

"Is that.. Cassie?" you asked carefully once she passed the two of you. You noticed how Nate clenched his jaw, when he stared at her so you figured he must know her.

"No, that's her fucking sister..." he mumbled before taking your hand back in his and walking towards your classroom.

After you finally made it to your classroom, Nate leaned down and grinned at you. "I'll see you later, yeah?" you nodded before he suddenly pressed a quick kiss onto your lips, without any warning.

"If anyone causes you any trouble, tell me." He added before he left the room. You were even more embarrassed now that probably everyone in your chemistry class saw you and Nate kiss.

But you figured you just had to get used to that now.

Aside from a few stares from the students, nothing spectacular happened, luckily. During lunch you and Nate sat with some of Nate’s ‘friends’, since he wanted to tell them about you two dating.

And after school you found yourself back in Nate's car, ready to drive home. "Don't be mad at me, but I bought you something." Nate randomly announced once he was on the road.

You sighed before throwing your head back. "Nate, we talked about this, I don't feel good when you spend so much money on me." Nate shook his head "Stop thinking of it that way, I like buying you things it makes me really happy, alright? I'm just glad I can spoil my favourite girl."

You smiled shyly as you looked out of the window, before you thought about what Maddy told you when she confronted you. And it wiped the smile off your face.

"All those things he does for you, are just another way for him to feel good about himself in some sick and twisted way. Why would he buy all these things for you?"

Even if that was true, what's so sick about it? Some men just are like that, it gives them some sort of validation when they are wealthy and can show off.

But if Maddy told you the truth about that, what else was true?

"Hey, did you listen to me?"

You flinched slightly as Nate placed his hand on your thigh again in an attempt to bring you back to reality. You slowly looked back at him.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his expression showing signs of worry and confusion. "Yeah.. sure I just got lost in thoughts. I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Nate looked ahead of the road as he repeated what he said "I said I'll give you your present tomorrow when you come over after school." You furrowed your brows for a moment, since you were pretty sure he didn't ask you if you'd come over.

"When did you ask me if I wanna come over?" you asked confused. Nate chuckled "I didn't, I just figured you would."

Your frown disappeared and you nodded "Well, I would but you know how my mom is... I already went to your place last Friday and even slept over. I don't think she's going to allow me to do that again."

Nate's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he remembered your mom. God, if she knew you two are in a relationship she’d probably get a fucking heartattack.

"What if I ask your dad again?" he asked genuinely considering it, even though he wanted to kill the man whenever he just looked at him. "I don't think that's a good idea. He forgot to tell my mom about your 'party' until she complained to him about me not responding to her. She literally almost drove to your place because of that."

Nate let out an exasperated sigh when he heard that. That man really was good for nothing.

"And also, I don't even think he's home today, he's on some business trip until Wednesday." you shrugged. Nate tried to think of a solution, but the only thing he could think of was asking his mom to talk to yours, and convince her that her son isn't a serial killer or a threat to her precious daughter.

Or he could talk to her himself but he was pretty sure it wouldn't change anything. "That sucks... You think my mom could change her mind? Maybe talk to her and tell her that I'm just a normal teenager?"

You thought for a moment before you shrugged again. "Maybe.. that actually sounds like a good idea, maybe if your mom meets mine she becomes more like yours.. That would be awesome." you sighed.

"How about... you and your mom come over tomorrow? And we just let them talk for a bit while we go up to my room?" he offered.

You thought for a moment before you smiled back at him "That’s also a good idea, but I'm feeling adventurous today." you announced sarcastically as you placed your hand on his thigh this time.

Nate chuckled as he looked down at his thigh, not used to you touching him there "What do you mean by that?" he asked sheepishly. "Don't drive me home just yet... drive to yours first. I want to stay at yours for a bit. I'll just tell my mom I'm at yours to study."

Nate was surprised but he loved how you'd lie to your mother just to spend time with him. And of course he wouldn't turn you down. "Alright, Princess." He smiled before he switched lanes to drive to his place.

After you arrived at his place, he parked his car and told you to go ahead to his door, since he still had to get your presents out of his truck.

Once he grabbed the bags and locked the doors, he walked towards the door with two bags in his hands and a smile on his face when he saw the surprise on your face.

When Nate said that he bought you a 'present', singular, you expected only one present. So him suddenly carrying two medium sized shopping bags made you hope that at last one of the bags was for his mother.

"That isn't all for me.. right?" you chuckled nervously. Nate smirked and placed the shopping bags down before fetching his key and unlocking the door.

His silence was answer enough though.

Once you walked inside and took your shoes off, you turned towards Nate "Are your parents home?" You whispered. Nate shrugged "I don't think so... maybe my mom." he said before walking into the living room to check if anyone was home.

You took the time to text your mom that you'd be 'studying at Nate's'.

you: I'm staying at Nate's after school. We need to study for our maths exam on Thursday. 2:48 pm

He came back eventually and shook his head "Seems like we're alone." he smirked before he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned down.

You giggled before your hands moved to his shoulder "Yeah seems like it.." you trailed off as you stared at his lips and Nate asked himself why couldn't it always be like this?

You two, alone, at peace in his house.

He leaned down further and rested his head into the crook of your neck. "You're not gonna fall asleep now, are you?" you joked.

He hummed before he pressed soft kisses onto your neck. You smiled and chuckled at the tingly feeling before he raised his head just lightly to kiss you on the lips as well, and you kissed him back this time.

You wanted to kiss him sooner, but you didn't have the courage to initiate it. Once he broke the kiss he smiled down at you "Let's go upstairs, you need to unpack your presents." He smirked, before he picked up the two bags, and walked upstairs with you.

After you entered his room and plopped down on his bed sitting cross legged, Nate closed the door behind him, before joining you. Without a word he handed you one of the shopping bags and propped himself up on one arm, watching your reaction intently.

You looked at him "Thank you... A lot, but slow down with the gifts, alright? I don't want you to get into trouble because you keep making impulsive purchases." He smiled at you knowing that they weren't impulsive at all.

He planned everything he bought you thoroughly. Everything he gifted you, was given to you at the right moment. The clothes, the shoes, the jewelry, everything.

He made a mental checklist to buy you everything you needed to be his perfect girlfriend.

"I won't get in trouble don't worry, I know what I'm doing." he assured you. You finally sighed before you opened the shopping bag already expecting way too expensive gifts.

The first thing you saw was a piece of clothing in pastel pink. You pulled it out and revealed a beautiful rose coloured satin night gown with a black lace trim at the bottom. Your eyes lit up as you touched the material "Oh my god that's so beautiful! It's way too pretty to sleep in it." You remarked.

Nate smiled "I bought it for you to wear when you sleep over, in case you don’t have anything to sleep in like last time." he explained "I saw it when I walked through the mall on Saturday and thought you'd look beautiful in it." he added as his hand rested on your thigh again.

"Thank you... that's so sweet.." You smiled as you leaned down to kiss him. Then you moved your attention back to the bag, grabbing the next item that fell into your hands.

You were confused at first, because you held onto a golden chain but you soon realized the chain was connected to a bag. It was a black small sized leather bag with a v shaped pattern and you swallowed harshly when you noticed the golden YSL logo on the front of it.

You slowly looked towards Nate who's thumb was stroking along your thigh "You're joking..." you said nervously. Nate shook his head, his brows furrowed as he looked towards the bag and then back at you "What's wrong? You don't like it?" he asked.

You shook your head "No, Nate it's just.. do you still have the receipt?" Nate suddenly sat up as he inspected the bag "What is it, is it broken or something?" he asked as he turned the bag and looked at each angle. "Nate, look at me."

He quickly averted his gaze from the bag and looked at you "That's literally way too expensive. You know, making gifts for each other is one thing but that bag probably cost way too much." Nate frowned "If you don't think it's pretty you can tell me, you know?"

You groaned before responding "This isn't what it's about I think the bag is really pretty, but-" "Alright then, do me a favour and just wear it. It's totally normal for a boyfriend to gift his girlfriend expensive things, okay? I know it might be depicted differently in the movies you watch or whatever, but if a guy has enough money he does that for his girlfriend."

You thought for a moment, maybe he was right. How would you know? You haven't been in a relationship so far. But nonetheless, that bag must've been expensive enough and you haven't even unpacked all of your presents.

"Alright... I'm sorry I've never been in a relationship so this seems like... a lot..." you stroked his cheek softly before you added "I'll accept your gifts, but promise me that you'll tone it down a bit.. alright?" You asked gently, as to not upset him in any way. He nodded slowly as he smiled sadly in response "Alright, I get it..."

He didn't, not really.

He thought women loved gifts, especially expensive bags, perfume and jewelry. He knew that he didn't do it to make you happy, it was easy to make you happy, just by spending time with you, listening to you and making you laugh.

He obviously did it for himself. He was the one who could afford to buy his girl all the pretty things, and you'd wear them in return, enhancing your femininity.

But he also kinda expected you to simply accept his gifts without a second thought, and fall into his arms and squeal about how you love him.

"I'm absolutely grateful for your gifts don't get me wrong, but no matter what you tell me.. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing you spend so much money on me all the time." you reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense, I'm sorry.." he said as he sighed dramatically. "It's fine, we're in a relationship. We should talk about what's bothering us... I think that's where many people fail.."

Why were you more mature than both of your parents?

You sat up straight again and continued to unpack your presents. The next thing you pulled out was a small box. Upon further inspection you noticed that it's perfume.

Your eyes lit up as you squeaked. This was the reaction Nate was talking about, he was glad you didn't disappoint him after all.

"Oh my god, you didn't!" you exclaimed as you read 'Daisy Marc Jacobs Ever So Fresh' quickly discarding the plastic wrapper before opening the packaging. You loved perfume, you had a shelf in your room which contained everything you collected. From movies, to albums and vinyls to perfume.

You had at least 15 flacons in your shelf ranging from pricey to not so expensive. Some of them completely empty, some only half, so your knowledge regarding perfume was pretty comprehensive.

You contemplated buying the exact same scent a few weeks ago but you decided not to because you wanted to safe your money for more important things.

You fell into Nate's arms just like he anticipated before you pressed several kisses onto his cheek. Then you opened the flacon before spraying the scent onto your wrists and your neck, smiling as you took in the scent.

It smelled so sweet and mostly fruity, you loved it. "I was about to buy this a few weeks ago when we went shopping!" You exclaimed.

Nate knew that, of course.

He always had his eyes on you when you two went to the mall, taking notes of things you seemed to show interest in. And when he went alone and tested the scent, he just knew he had to buy it for you. He loved fruity, flowery, feminine scents on girls so this one was just perfect.

And he remembered how you once talked five minutes about all sorts of perfumes and fragrances with him in his truck on your way home from the mall.

"Wait, really? That's an insane coincidence.. I just randomly saw it and remembered how you talked about that one scent you loved from Marc Jacobs so I figured I couldn't go wrong with that one." he lied shamelessly.

Well, to be fair it did happen.

You told him how much you love Carolina Herrera's scents and that you absolutely love the 'perfect intense' by Marc Jacobs, before jokingly asking him if they were related because of the same surname.

But that didn't change the fact that he only bought it because he liked it and wanted you to wear it. Not because you liked it.

You squeaked once more, still not over the fact that Nate actually got you that perfume. You looked at Nate, your eyes full of adoration as you once again leaned in to press a passionate kiss onto his lips.

The fact that he bought it because he remembered you liked Marc Jacobs seemed so romantic to you.

Once you broke the kiss, Nate smiled before gesturing towards the other shopping bag "One more to go." he said.

You put your presents back into the bag and placed it down before you picked up the second one, noting that it wasn't as heavy as the other one, so you assumed it must be clothing. You excitedly pulled out the next item, confirming your assumption.

A white lace trim minidress with a built in corset rests in your hands, similar to the one you were currently wearing. "Aw, how pretty... I love it." You exclaimed as you placed it next to you, before pressing another kiss to his cheek.

You put your hand back into the bag but Nate stopped you. You turned to him with a puzzled expression "Before you take out the next thing, I have to tell you something." You pulled your hand out and turned towards him.

He seemed more serious now as he continued "It's... lingerie..." your eyes widened "They sold it along with the nightgown as a set. I could've left it there but I would've paid the same price so I thought I'd just take it and ask you if you want it.." he explained.

He might’ve manipulated the truth a little bit, because the woman at the shop told him he didn’t have to buy it along with the nightgown and that it’s just from the same collection.

But a little lie wouldn’t hurt and besides, he couldn’t just buy you lingerie so early into the relationship and expect you to think it’s normal.

You’d think it would be weird and he’d have to pull the ‘This is completely normal, it’s just your first relationship’ card again and lie anyways.

You nodded, while avoiding eye contact. Who knows maybe it wasn't that bad. Your hand wandered back into the back as you braced yourself for what was coming.

You pulled out a rose bra with black embroidery around the cups and a small bow in the middle, and matching panties in the same colour with a lace trim on top.

Nate swallowed harshly as he imagined you inside it sprawled out on his bed while you- "It's really pretty actually.." you stated quietly.

Nate pushed his thoughts aside as he searched your face for any signs of discomfort. You also imagined yourself wearing it but you couldn't tell if it would look pretty on you. "I just don't know... if it would suit me." you chuckled nervously

"Then try it on and I'll tell you." Nate blurted out. You blinked at him with widened eyes. He cursed himself for being so straight forward but God, he really wanted to see you in that set.

You knew what you looked like in underwear, and you were absolutely insecure about being this exposed in front of someone like Nate.

Someone who always seemed so perfect in each and every angle, and paid so much attention to the way his body looked, wanted to see you in underwear?

"I mean.. sorry... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable... You don't have to of course." Nate quickly dismissed. You immediately shook your head "No, no.. I want to but... I'm scared you won't like what you'll see..."

Nate shook his head "You're beautiful, there's no way that's gonna happen. I already told you, you're the most beautiful girl to me." he said as he softly stroked your cheek.

You sighed before nodding your head "Alright... I'll go and try it on for you, yeah?" Nate nodded as a smile made its way onto his face. You grabbed the two items and made your way into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

'I'll go and try it on for you'

'for you'

Fuck he was head over heels for you.

Nate had to process the fact that his pretty girl was about to be in front of him half naked only for him. He knew you were a keeper.

You slowly undressed as you stood in front the big mirror above his sink. You tried to push the negative thoughts away as you stood there still in your own underwear, but it was so hard.

What if you'd just get dressed again and tell Nate you couldn't do it? He wouldn't be mad right? But you didn't want to disappoint him, he seemed genuinely excited and you also felt somewhat excited to show up in front of him only wearing lingerie.

After contemplating for nearly 5 minutes, and Nate already asking if you were fine, you finally put on the lingerie. You couldn't lie, it really suited you well. You weren't sure how Nate was always able to get your size right all the time.

It already surprised you when he bought you dresses and skirts, but the fact that he even got you underwear in your size was astonishing to you.

You walked over to the door before your fingers shakily reached over to the doorknob. You took one finally breath before opening the door as quietly as you could, hoping deep down he wouldn't notice and you could miraculously escape the situation.

But as if he sensed your presence his head immediately shot up. His mouth was slightly agape as his eyes seemed to undress you even further. He was now sitting on the edge of his bed.

You just stood there, fidgeting with your hands as you looked to the ground, while Nate tried to come up with literally anything to say other than I wanna fuck you so bad right now, please have my babies.

And the throbbing in his pants didn't make it any easier for him.

He inhaled sharply before finally breaking the silence. "Thank God I brought it along... I mean, fuck just look at you... it was literally made for you... You're so beautiful I... I can't even- I don't even know what to say..." he chuckled as he rambled.

You chuckled shyly, before Nate added "Come here, Sweetheart.." his hand was itching to touch you so bad that he had to grip his knee to steady himself.

He wasn't used to being so desperate for someone, it made him feel like he lost control. And he couldn't even be mad at you because you had no idea what you did to him.

You on the other hand felt way better than you thought you would. The way Nate looked at you right now, was different than his usual loving gaze. He looked like he wanted to devour you and it made you feel both scared and excited.

Nate finally spoke up again "Is it okay if I touch you?" he sounded so gentle and desperate as if he'd lose it if you say no.

He'd never admit it but in moments like these where he had to ask you for permission, he was at your mercy whether he liked it or not.

You nodded, not even asking where he wanted to touch you, because you definitely wanted him to touch you.

He sighed in relief before placing his hands on your waist. You inhaled sharply when you felt his big hands on you, not used to anyone touching your bare skin. Especially not while you're in lingerie.

The moment he felt how unbelievably soft your skin was, he was sure he wouldn't survive a day without touching you.

He looked up at you, in order to see if he's gone too far. But when he saw the way you looked at him, he was sure that he did everything right.

His hands wandered south, down your hips until they stopped at your thighs, squeezing the flesh gently. "If you want me to stop, or if you feel uncomfortable tell me, yeah?" he said, his tone more serious.

You nodded "It... feels good." you whispered, more to yourself than to him "What feels good?" he asked just as quiet "The way you touch me.. and everything..." you trailed off.

So fucking cute again...

He just wanted to lift you onto his lap and make out with you until both of you are out of breath, but he was sure you'd feel how bricked up he was right now and get scared.

"Do you want me to make you feel even better?" he smirked and your eyes widened since you could only assume what he meant by that and the thought scared you.

The ache between your thighs told you to say yes and allow him to make you feel even better, and you were so curious to see how'd it feel to have him explore your body.

But it scared you because you literally just had your first kiss not even a week ago. You figured however that Nate was used to having sex regularly, and he might've repressed his urges for a long time now because he never mentioned hooking up with anyone.

Not like you wouldn't have noticed with how much time you two spent together.

Nate's smirk slowly faded when you didn't show any reaction. He knew how inexperienced and nervous you were, so why did he ask you that? He was sure that he's gone too far this time.

That was until you leaned down and pulled him into a passionate kiss. It caught him off guard since he thought you'd go back to the bathroom, get dressed again and leave instantly.

He quickly recovered though, and wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you closer. He smoothly nudged his tongue against your lips, asking for entrance.

Once you opened your mouth your tongues were tangling almost right away. Your arms were wrapped around Nate's neck as you made out, and you didn't even notice how heavy you were breathing.

Nate pulled away first before he hooked his arm behind one of your knees to pull you onto the bed, laying you flat onto your back before he hovered over you. "Can I.. take your shirt off?" he nodded.

He loved how submissive you were and how polite you remained even in the current situation, still asking him for permission.

You softly tugged on his shirt too shy to remove it quickly, until he grew too impatient and helped you, he pulled it off before tossing it on the ground somewhere behind him.

All you could think when you saw his muscular torso was Wow... what did I do to get this lucky? as you gawked shamelessly at him.

"You're staring again, Baby..." he smirked before leaning down to kiss and suck on your neck, making you whine in the process and he absolutely loved the sound.

"What do you expect me... to do when you look like this?" You tried to defend yourself. When Nate took notice of how much you were squirming below him, he slid his hand from your cheek over the valley of your breasts down to the waistband of your panties.

His eyes left yours as he slipped his hand into your panties. You gasped as you instinctively gripped his arm. Nate frowned before he halted his actions "Are you okay?" you nodded slowly "I just... I got scared for a second, I'm sorry."

Nate pressed a kiss to your lips before he tried to calm you down again "I'll be gentle, it'll feel good I promise... Have you ever touched yourself?" You did not expect him to ask that right before he was about to touch you.

You nodded "Yes.. but not often... It didn't feel that good.." You hoped that Nate didn't think you were weird for thinking it didn't feel good.

It wasn't like you didn't try to enjoy it, but you couldn't even relax when you tried it, because your mom would just burst into your room without knocking sometimes, even when Nate wasn't at your place.

"Do you trust me?" He asked as he searched for your eyes. "Yes, sure... I'm just not sure if I'll be able to relax.." You frowned.

"What if someone comes in?" you added, getting flashbacks from the time your mom almost caught you with your hand inside your panties.

Nate shook his head "I locked the door when you went to the bathroom earlier. I didn't want anyone else to see how pretty you looked in your lingerie." he assured you with a smirk.

You nodded understandingly. "We'll just try and if it doesn't work today, we'll try again." he reassured you, before kissing that special spot on your neck again, taking in the scent of the perfume he got you.

When he was sure you felt comfortable enough he whispered into your ear "Spread your legs for me, Baby." Just like on command your shaky legs parted for him.

He couldn't believe how good you were for him, despite being nervous and scared you trusted him so much.

And when he finally moved his hand further into your panties he also noticed that you were in fact shaved. And he sighed in relief.

There was nothing he hated more than body hair on girls.

He remembered dropping subtle hints or jokes about it, and asking you if you didn't wear dresses and skirts because it meant you had to shave your legs, in order to find out if you did shave or if you were absolutely opposed to it.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was so proud when you wore a skirt for the first time and your legs were shaved.

And he was even more proud right now.

It didn't take long until he felt how wet you were for him, he barely did anything yet you were so desperate for him. "Fuck, you're so wet already." he cursed, and you weren't sure whether that's a good thing or not. What if he thought you’re too desperate? "I'm sorry.."

Nate chuckled, amused by your reaction "Don't be, it's a good thing... just shows me how much you want me."

He slid his finger up and down your slit, collecting your wetness on his fingers as you released breathy quiet moans.

You had to fight the urge to clamp your legs around his hand once he toyed with your clit, and he was so right. It did feel amazing.

You continued to squirm as you desperately searched for more, and it drove Nate crazy how needy you were for him and how much he was in control of your body.

He knew you wouldn't last long with the way your breathing picked up more and more. He considered teasing and edging you for a moment, just to see how you'd react.

Especially because you looked so pretty when you held onto his shoulder for dear life as you whined.

He was sure you’d look just as pretty with tears streaming down your face caused by your desperation for him.

But he decided to insert his finger into your fluttering hole, just to see if he could get you to moan his name. Once he was inside, he saw how your eyes widened and you stiffened for a moment "Relax.. Everything is alright." he cooed.

It felt like he was hypnotizing you, with each word, each touch and each slip of his finger as he searched for your sweet spot.

"How's it feel?" he asked as he felt how you clenched around his finger. You tried to find the right words but your thoughts were clouded with how good you felt right now "So good... I never... felt like this." you mumbled.

Nate smirked as he slowly inserted a second finger “I told you it’d feel good.” he retorted.

When you moaned all of a sudden he was sure he found it, angling his fingers so that he would push against it with each thrust "Oh fuck... Nate!" You moaned as you tried to stay sane.

Nate also almost moaned along with you when he heard how desperately you moaned his name. Now he knew that you sounded even better than he imagined. He wasn't sure how much longer he could wait until he'd lose it.

you were on the verge of tears as you felt your orgasm approaching. You involuntarily clutched harder on his shoulder "Nate.. Nate!" you tried to warn him but he already knew you were close.

"Look at me... I want you to look at me when you cum." He groaned, and that was all it took to push you over the edge, as you desperately tried to keep your glossy eyes open.

You were shaking violently, falling apart because of how intense your orgasm was. Nate helped you ride out your orgasm as you still clutched onto his shoulder for dear life, unable to suppress your moans.

He slowly removed his coated fingers from you before leaning down towards your ear “How’re you feeling?” He whispered into your ear before kissing your neck once again.

You were so sensitive from your orgasm that that was enough to rip a moan from you “Amazing…” you panted as you tried to breathe normally again.

Nate really wanted to go all the way, especially because he felt like he’d explode if he didn’t get any action on his behalf soon.

“Do you.. want me to continue?” he looked at you, silently begging you to say yes. And you really couldn’t deny him that, especially not when you looked down and noticed how big the bulge in his pants seemed to be.

He obviously saw the way you nervously eyed his crotch, and he was quick to reassure you as well “I know you’re scared and that’s totally normal, yeah?” but please let me fuck you already was what he wanted to say but couldn’t.

The view was driving him absolutely insane. You looked so small below him, so fragile. He knew he could absolutely break you right now if he wanted to, he was in control of you and you didn’t even realize it.

“I-it’s fine… I trust you after all..” you softly responded, as you weakly smiled up at him.

Maybe it was the fact that you just had the best orgasm ever and wanted to know what it would feel like to have him inside of you, or the fact that Nate would be so proud of you if you’d let him take your virginity, but you wanted it nonetheless.

Nate smiled back at you as he stroked his thumb over your cheek, resulting in your closing your eyes as you relaxed into his touch.

Fuck, he didn’t deserve you, deep down he knew that. But he spoiled you so much, it had to make up for all the bad things, right?

When you suddenly didn't feel him near you anymore, you opened your eyes again. He was climbing off the bed before he undid the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper.

You gulped when he stepped out of his jeans and was about to remove his boxers, which already gave you a preview of how big he was. You quickly looked to the other side as he groaned once his boxers came off.

Nate smirked at your shy reaction "Y/n..?" he asked playfully "Yeah..?" you said as you kept your gaze locked to the wall. "Look at me." he commanded, and for the first time you considered disobeying him.

It seemed to hit you just now, that you were laying inside Nate Jacob's bed, and he was about to take your virginity. Not to mention that you've never seen a dick in real life and the outline of it was already enough to scare you.

After you finally looked over at Nate you tried to focus on his face, not daring to look down. And Nate loved how absolutely terrified you looked just because he was naked in front of you.

He was sure you never tried to maintain eye contact as much as you were in this moment.

"You're not scared of me, right?" he chuckled darkly as he walked closer to the bed and you immediately shook your head. But your eyes couldn't hide the fact that you were freaking out internally.

"Give me your hand."

You slowly extended your shaky hand towards him, until he reached for it and without any warning, wrapped it around his length before hissing. "Fuck.. do you feel that?"

He threw his head back as you tried to get used to the feeling, he felt heavy in your hand and you were almost 100% sure that he would never fit inside you. Not when you already felt full when he pushed two fingers inside.

"Y-yes.." You stuttered "That's all because of you... You did this to me, sweetheart." he rasped "I'm sorry.." you whispered meekly.

Nate couldn't believe that you were apologizing for that as well, but he definitely had nothing against it.

"Why aren't you looking at me?" he asked as he looked down at your hand wrapped around his length. "I am looking at you.." you smiled nervously. "No... not really." he smirked down at you. "Look at the problem you caused." he added.

You slowly averted your gaze down until it landed on said problem. You had seen it in your peripheral vision already but seeing it in its full glory was something you weren't prepared for.

The way you fell completely silent and just stared at it in awe had him contemplating whether he should ask you to suck him off or not.

But he decided it'd be best to do that another time.

"I... don't think that'll fit inside me to be honest.." you chuckled nervously as you started to stroke him. Nate chuckled softly "Yeah don't worry about that, I'll make it fit."

Your shy and somewhat scared reaction towards how big he was boosted his ego so much. Nate knew he was big but to see the fear on your features really set something in him off.

He slowly made his way back into his bed, before kneeling between your legs and finally removing your new but already soiled panties. Before you could react to that however, he bent down slightly just to pull you flush against him.

You were confused at first until you felt his hands on your back near your bra strap. You inhaled sharply when you felt his hands unhooking your bra, and once he removed the bra you quickly covered yourself with your arms.

Sure, he's done far 'worse' stuff with you until now, but you were still insecure and now fully naked in front of him, unable to hide behind any piece of clothing.

Nate frowned when he noticed how uncomfortable you were again. "Y/n... What's wrong? Do I make you uncomfortable?" he sighed.

And you hated that damn sigh so much, because whenever he sighed like that it meant he's disappointed or frustrated or even annoyed.

And you didn't want to be the reason he's disappointed or annoyed, you didn't want him to think you're annoying. "No! That's not it.. I just... I've never been naked in front of anyone, I'm sorry.."

You nervously chewed on your bottom lip as you waited for Nate to say something, anything.

And after a seemingly never ending moment of silence, he asked another question "Do you trust me?" he had asked you that before, but in the current situation it carried even more weight than it did earlier.

And you had to think for a moment.

Sure you trusted Nate, but why did you feel so weird under his gaze? Why were you scared that he'd judge you based on what your boobs looked like? Has he ever judged you for your body before?

Nate never made any negative remarks towards your appearance, except the way you used to dress of course, but other than that it was the opposite actually. He told you you were pretty so many times and you just dismissed it in your head.

But what if he actually thought you're pretty? It would frustrate you too if Nate, who you think is perfect, would criticize his appearance all the time.

Maybe it was time to finally enjoy yourself for once and push your insecurities to the side, just this one time.

You smiled at him as you removed your arms from your breasts and cupped his cheeks. "Yes, I trust you." Nate loved how confidently you said that, he knew you truly meant it, even though your response took you a little too long for him.

He crashed his lips against yours for a quick kiss before he softly laid you down again, as he admired your body. He was finally about to make you his, about to take your purity away from you.

He reached over to his bedside table and pulled the drawer open to retrieve a condom, before ripping the packaging open and tossing it onto the bedside table. Then he rolled the condom on as he looked at you with hooded eyes.

You gulped at the intensity of his gaze as you waited for him to do or say anything. Nate leaned down, as he hovered over you with his tall figure, before he grabbed both of your thighs and spread them further apart.

He cursed under his breath as he noticed you were even wetter than before. "Are you ready?" he asked lowly before moving even closer, as the head of his cock teased your clit.

You whined as you nodded, not sure if you were actually ready or just unbelievably needy. "I need you to tell me that you're ready." he said as he kissed along your collarbone and your chest.

"Yeah... 'm ready." you quietly confirmed as your hand found its place on Nate's shoulder once again. "Listen... it's probably gonna hurt a little bit at first." you nodded as you took a deep breath "It's okay.. I'll try to stay strong." you reassured him.

Of course you would, you were his good girl after all.

He nodded as he wrapped his hand around his length, before he finally tried to enter you. Emphasis on 'tried' because, fuck your were so tight. He tried to spread your legs a little further apart, but not enough to hurt you.

"Sweetheart, you need to relax for me, okay? It's not gonna work otherwise." You took another deep breath, trying to relax your muscles. Then he tried again and he was finally able to push into you.

You instantly whimpered at the seemingly never ending stretch. Nate hissed before he looked back at your face, taking in the way you tried to stay strong for him. Just as much as he tried to stay strong because, again, you were so fucking tight.

"Fuck..." he cursed as he stilled for a moment. "Are you okay?" he asked as he looked into your teary eyes. You nodded silently as you tried to smile up at him.

He wasn't even fully inside yet, and you were already on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry it hurts so much..." he whispered as he kissed your cheek "If it's too much then tell me, yeah?" you nodded once again.

After you assured him that you're fine, he continued pushing into you, until you whimpered again. He was almost fully inside but he knew better than to ignore your discomfort. He saw how a single tear rolled down the side of your face.

You hated how sensitive you were, and how much it hurt. You wondered if Nate was annoyed as well, if he'd prefer someone who was more experienced?

But Nate was more than happy that you weren’t experienced and still pure, and not just acting like you were, like Maddy did when she lied about being a virgin for example.

Nate could see the frustration in your eyes. You nodded at him again, telling him to continue as you tried to ignore the pain. He continued until he was finally fully inside you.

He kissed your forehead before he kissed your lips passionately, and you felt so full at the moment you weren't even sure how to comprehend that.

It felt really unusual and you had to get used to the feeling, but you were so glad when it didn't hurt as much as it did in the beginning. Once Nate felt you relax against him some more, he started moving.

Pulling out of you just a little bit before pushing into you again. He repeated that motion until broken moans left your lips. He knew that you felt better so he went slightly faster “Feel good?” he asked, despite knowing the answer “Mhm.” you hummed before moaning when Nate delivered a particularly hard thrust.

He lifted your legs higher in order to push even deeper into you and you moaned at how good he made you feel. “Nate.. please go faster.” You mewled.

Nate complied, it was his mission to get you to cum again before he did. His thumb flew to your clit, rubbing circles against it. You were sure you never moaned this loud in your life, and you were also sure that you never felt like this before.

Nate loved how loud you got, secretly hoping that his brother was home and heard you. “Fuck… Nate!” you nearly cried as you felt yourself getting close to your second orgasm.

Nate breathed heavily as he gripped your thighs so harshly that he was sure he’d leave bruises, but you were too far gone to even think about that.

When he felt your walls pulsating around him, he knew you were close, and so was he but he wouldn’t be a real man if he’d finish before you. He groaned as he picked up the pace once more, pushing you into your second orgasm, groaning when you clenched down on him as you came.

Your eyes rolled back as you moaned while Nate grunted, his pace not faltering as he was chasing his own release. Shortly after he was twitching inside of you, and after one last harsh thrust he hid his face in the crook of your neck and groaned while he spurted his release into the condom.

“Fuck…” Nate groaned once he was finally done. He was absolutely sure he never came this much because of anyone else before.

He slowly pulled out of you, before removing the condom and getting up to dispose it in the trash bin. When he turned around, you were still laying in the same position he left you in with your eyes closed.

To say that you felt sore and absolutely tired would be an understatement, you felt so worn out but in the best way possible.

Nate however felt absolutely energetic, he achieved so much today that he wasn’t sure how to contain his happiness. He corrupted you, stole your purity and your innocence and he knew that you enjoyed it. He walked back to his bed and leaned down to stroke your cheek “Are you alright?”

You grinned up at him and nodded slowly, not bothering to open your eyes. He knew you were still on cloud 9 with the way you grinned at him, so he decided to go downstairs to get you a glass of water. He gently covered you with his blanket when he noticed how you shivered, before picking his shirt up and putting it back on.

Then he made his way to his closet and took out a pair of grey sweats. Once he put them on, he walked towards his door “I’ll be right back, okay?” you hummed in response before he left.

You tried to fight the urge to just fall asleep on his bed, but it was pretty much useless with how tired you were. Your eyes felt so heavy that you just couldn’t open them, and you also had no strength left to move.

Not to mention that you weren’t able to form a single coherent thought at the moment.

You sighed as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

✎ Thank you guys so much for reading this part, as always feedback is gladly appreciated (and needed because I feel like the smut part was weird hhh) ♡

- Cassandra

Taglist:

@lilyrachelcassidy, @endless----love, @sophsss867, @jennnsthings, @digitalpup444, @ves3n, @tsofo26, @lunalvrsblog, @sunshinedaisy21

#div.creds:anitalenia #euphoria #euphoria imagine #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x y/n #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi x you #nate euphoria #nate jacobs #nate jacobs imagine #nate jacobs scenario #nate jacobs smut

466 notes · View notes