#i kind of can’t stop thinking about this now

[wonustars]

In Front of Me (1)

cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me ₊˚

⊹ pairing: jeon wonwoo x f.reader ⊹ genre: bestfriends to (?), angst, smut (R: 18+ mdni) ⊹ wordcount: 40.6k (part 1) (part 2: here)

⊹ summary: jeon wonwoo has spent most of his adolesence and early adult hood unable to understand why he can't seem to stay in a relationship for more than a few months. as his best friend, you allowed him to vent about his worries without judgment. so what if you're in love with him? your friendship with wonwoo meant more to you than having your feelings reciprocated. that is until you hit your breaking point, while wonwoo finally realizes what has been in front of him this whole time.

⊹ tags: non-idol!au, uni!au, unrequited love (for the most part), pining, toxic!wonwoo, toxic!reader, both in wonwoo and readers pov, questionable protagonists, mentions of other svt members, happy ending (?), emotionally constipated characters (wonwoo), flashbacks, slight seokmin x reader, a lot of emotions thrown everywhere. (content warnings under the cut)

⊹ note: this story was meant to be posted for wonwoos bday, but if you know anything about me by now, i never really stick to my self made deadlines lol. thank you to my cutieful, big brained beta readers: ♡ @junkissed @chocosvt and @sunniques ♡ everyone in @svthub and @highvern and @gyuswhore who helped me w this fic as well ! if u look closely this is pretty much just a sugar coated version of real life events lol... anyways i hope u enjoy and lmk what u think thru the replies and reblogs :) !

⊹ masterlist, fic playlist.

⊹ smut tags: no smut in this part :p ⊹ warnings: alcohol, reader is downbad for wonwoo, stalking, slut-shaming, evasions of privacy, if i missed anything lmk! cuz ik i did i just can't think of what hehe :p

⊹ what i would like to note about this story before you read it: you're not meant to like these characters (for most of the story at least lol), they are flawed in many ways, thats the whole point of this story tbh. tmi--but this story is pretty much my free therapy lol. and i love a messy plot! wonwoo and reader are just two normal people in this story and i wanted to write something a little more raw than i'm used to. so just take what i say with a grain of salt before reading ♡ i still want you to enjoy this story because i poured my soul into it. so thank you for your support and kind asks and comments about the teaser!

prologue. 

Despite your age, you’ve never been in a serious relationship. There was always something holding you back, or rather, someone. 

In all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’ve always thought maybe one day, he would look at you in a different light. Hoping that he could reciprocate the feelings you’ve harboured for him since the eleventh grade. 

He was the one who constantly moved out of relationships. You couldn’t even count the amount of late-night calls where he asked you what his “next step” should be. The doting best friend that you are, you’d gladly stay up all night trying to help him fix his girl problems. 

“I just, I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Is that wrong?” he asked you over the phone. 

Tossing and turning in your bed you let out a deep sigh. One thing is always guaranteed with Wonwoo: in a relationship, he loses feelings quickly. No matter how much he likes the girl, no matter how obsessed or possessive he feels for them at the beginning of it all, it diminishes by the time the six-month mark hits. 

Although he may be a great friend to you, relationships were never his strong suit. 

“It’s not wrong to fall out of love, but how many times are you going to break up with someone before you decide to stay?” you ask him, and he pauses to think. 

“I don’t know, but I can’t stay, that would make things worse,” he sighs. “It’s better to just stop this whole thing now.” 

“I agree, but are you sure?” you continue to ask him the same questions you’ve been asking since you were sixteen. 

“I’m sure,” he replies with a heavy sigh. 

“Okay, then goodnight. It’s almost one in the morning,” you try to cut the call, but he continues to speak. 

“I’m not the bad guy, right?” he asks you for reassurance. 

“No, you’re just human Wonwoo. There’s nothing wrong with losing feelings for someone,” you affirmed. 

“Alright, thank you, good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers listlessly. 

“Good night, Wonwoo.” 

Your phone beeps indicating that he’s hung up and you can feel the heartstrings pull inside your chest. How many times will it take for Wonwoo to find someone he actually wants to be with? And why is it never you? 

act one, favorite crime.

chapter one. 

“Wait, what? You and Wonwoo aren’t dating?” Seungcheol asks you, forcing you into the hot seat. 

The rest of your friend group is boring holes into your face as they all sit around Jeonghan’s living room. The blood rises in your cheeks, but you shake your head anyway. 

It feels like every time you’re with your friends, they ask you the same set of questions. Constantly wondering why you and Wonwoo haven’t thought about dating, or why you two haven’t decided to take the chance and just be together. 

“You guys need to stop asking that. A guy can befriend someone of the opposite gender,” Wonwoo defends the two of you. 

“You’re telling me in all the years you’ve known her, you haven’t developed feelings for her once?” Cheol continues to instigate, and your eyes go wide. 

Looking over at Wonwoo, you anxiously wait for his answer, your chest blooming with hope, only for those buds to be washed away in a millisecond. 

“No, c’mon, we’re just friends. That’s it, right?” Wonwoo turns to you, trying to get you to back him up. 

Your mouth runs dry as he stares at you, his eyebrows rising in anticipation. 

“U-uh yeah, Wonwoo’s right, we’re just friends,” you blurt out, not being able to handle all the expectant eyes on you all at once. 

“See? Now can you all just get off our backs?” he chastises. 

The chatter starts up again, moving past the topic of you and Wonwoo’s friendship. But you sit there, with your heart crushed in your hands, lifeless and shrivelled. Like his words and actions had the power to tear the life out of you. The worst part was that he did all this without knowing. He’s completely oblivious to your feelings, and you only have yourself to blame.

You understand your relationship with Wonwoo is different from most people’s, but at the same time, it should be normal for a girl and a guy to just be friends. And at least you respect Wonwoo’s feelings, and you also respect that whenever he’s dating someone the dynamic between you two shifts. 

He becomes more detached when he’s in a relationship, and you’re okay with that. His priorities change and you’re okay with that. Despite your feelings for him, you know that you can’t force him to feel the same way. And you should be okay with that. 

You’ve never tried to get in the way of his love life, or purposefully give him bad advice to ruin what he has with someone else. Not since you were seventeen, and at that time in your life your frontal lobe was a measly speck of dust, but it's different now. Now, your morals don’t change just because you love him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less to see the person you’re in love with, fall in love with someone else. 

two. 

“Hey, you okay?” Seokmin approaches you, and you turn your head, acknowledging his presence. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m alright,” you mutter, but you know you don’t look that way. 

Seokmin has known you since high school and has seen you through everything, probably more than Wonwoo. He knows when you’re not feeling well. A sympathetic permanent on his lips as he continues to observe you play with the food on your plate, pushing around the food aimlessly but never taking a bite. 

The sounds of people conversing throughout the dining hall never die down. But luckily, the commotion keeps your thoughts of Wonwoo at bay, or at least that’s what you like to think. But your heart can’t seem to let go of that moment from the other day. Having Seungcheol confirm that Wonwoo has never felt anything romantically for you was like a stab in the stomach, and him getting you to back up his words was just him twisting the knife. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You can tell me,” he sighs, pushing the hair covering your face and placing it behind your ear. 

You can feel the tears start to pool, but you try your damndest not to let them spill—not like this, not in front of so many people. 

“It was just something Wonwoo said when we were all at Hannie’s house,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact with your friend. 

“What did he say?” 

“That he’s never liked me before,” you sigh, feeling a tear slip from your eye. 

Cursing yourself in your head, you hate how much your feelings for him affect you. You hate how he doesn’t have to even be in front of you, yet he can still cause your emotions to fluctuate. 

“It’s alright,” he coos, pulling you into his strong arms. 

It felt weird, to hug Seokmin so tightly in the middle of your university’s dining hall. But you’re thankful for how aware he is, how he actually cares about your feelings. You felt melodramatic sitting there crying in the fucking dining hall of all places, but you couldn’t help but let your tears flow as Seokmin comforts you with his soft voice. 

“You deserve more than this, I hope you know that,” he whispers in your ear.

three. 

Over the next few days, the words Seokmin had whispered to you kept replaying in your head. You did deserve better and looking at all of Wonwoo’s past relationships is the perfect example. He’s not exactly the ideal boyfriend, so why did you even have feelings for him in the first place?

You could feel a migraine coming on from how hard you were thinking, but Wonwoo still seems to be the only person you can’t let go of. No matter how many times you’ve tried. 

A knock on your door brings you out of your thoughts. It was late, and you don’t remember anyone messaging you saying that they were going to come over, but you open the door anyway. 

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text,” Wonwoo moves past you, takes his shoes off, and plops on your couch. 

“It’s okay, what’s up?” you move to sit beside him. 

“I broke up with her,” He says, shrugging. 

Taken aback by his nonchalance, your eyes widen. He seems calm for someone who has just broken up with his girlfriend. But you try not to think too hard about it, or you might just have to take another Advil to remedy your already growing headache. 

“Well, how did it go?” you ask with a bit of apprehension. 

Knowing Wonwoo, you knew that he probably just dumped her over the phone or something. He’s never been bothered to really break up with someone. 

You have all these examples of why he would probably be the worst boyfriend ever, yet your heart still belongs to him. It’s pitiful, to say the least, people probably would think that you’re a masochist because you subject yourself to staying by his side when he has feelings for another. 

“She was crying, but at least it’s over now,” Wonwoo informs you as he eats the snacks you had left on your coffee table. 

“Oh.” You could feel the guilt start to seep into your veins. 

It never felt good to hear Wonwoo talk about his breakups, but you’re not sure how to react. There’s a part of you that’s happy to know that he’s single again, but the majority of you pities the girl who had just gotten her heart broken. 

Wonwoo continues to munch on the snacks left on your table while your mind tries to process the information you’ve been given. Hearing him talk so casually about his breakup leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you decide to switch topics instead of asking any more questions. 

“Are you still going to Seokmin’s thing this weekend, though?” you ask him, trying to fill the air with something to drown out your rapid heartbeats. 

He shrugs his shoulders, “If I feel like it. Are you?” 

The bottom of your stomach tightens. You were hoping that he would go, even looking forward to it. Is that pathetic? To want to see him everywhere you go? Maybe you were pathetic to the point where you only felt like hanging out with your friends if he was there. 

“I mean, I don’t have a ride so…” you trail off, pretending to pay attention to whatever was playing on the T.V. screen. 

“I’ll go since you’re going, that way you have a ride,” he mumbles, adjusting his posture to lean back on your couch. 

He sighs as he sinks into the plush cushions, spreading his legs while he puts his arms up. You’re very aware of his proximity, and you try not to let it show. But the smell of his cologne invades your senses, knocking the breath out of your chest. 

Wonwoo’s arm circles your shoulder, pulling you closer to him and forcing your head to rest delicately on his broad shoulder. Exhaling, you let yourself enjoy his way of showing affection. Although to him it means nothing, and to you, quite literally everything. 

“Thank you for agreeing to go to Seokmin’s so I have a ride,” you whisper but still avoid eye contact so he doesn’t notice your flustered expression. 

“Thank you for letting me barge in here just so I can talk about my breakup,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head. 

“Of course, what are best friends for?” 

four. 

Most people fall in love gradually, slowly growing feelings for the person before they can even call it love. Like the way the seasons steadily turned from winter to spring. Green grass peeking from underneath the melting snow, or flowers gently blooming and unravelling their new set of stems and petals. For you, it was different.

 Falling in love with Wonwoo wasn’t gradual at all. 

If anything, falling in love with Wonwoo felt like a snowstorm in the middle of a sunny day. Your affection for him grew rapidly, and before you knew it, your mind was clouded with him and him only. It became hard to stay rational as if you were driving down a snow-filled road without any control over the steering wheel. Swerving into different lanes, your brakes malfunction, making it hard to bring your car to a full stop. Falling in love with Wonwoo was not gradual or easy.

When you met him on the first day of your junior year of high school, your sixteen-year-old brain couldn’t fully comprehend your crush on him. He was the shy, scrawny new kid in your class, and no one paid mind to him except you. But that didn’t stop you from liking him. Despite his interest in collecting pokémon cards and his crooked glasses that were too big for his face, you were in love. 

You were like two peas in a pod that whole year, and the only time you and Wonwoo spent time apart was when he had to leave during summer break to visit family in Korea. 

When he returned for your senior year, you could barely recognize him. Suddenly the nerdy Wonwoo you knew was gone. His glasses complimented his face, his hair was styled differently, and most of all, he got hot. A lot of your classmates must’ve seemed to agree because now your best friend and the man you’re in love with gained attention from people who didn’t even bat an eyelash at him last year. 

It annoyed you to see all these people suddenly interested in him. You were angry that just because he grew a few inches and learned to do his hair didn’t mean he was that much different from how he was last year. 

Even though Wonwoo was in a relationship, he still stayed true to your friendship. He still hung out with you, ate lunch with you, you even came over on weekends to have dinner with his family. Day by day, your love for him strengthened, and you ignored that his attention had been divided between you and his girlfriend at the time. 

When their relationship hit three months, it seemed your friendship had come to an abrupt halt. He didn’t invite you for dinner as often, you two didn’t talk on the phone every other night. He started to invest more of his time into her until he decided she wasn’t worth his energy anymore. Then the calls would come, his contact name flashing across your phone screen to ask you for advice. 

“I feel like I need to break up with Haein,” his deep voice flowed through your phone speaker. A sigh left his lips as he faced the truth. 

Haein was Wonwoo’s first girlfriend. She was nice, almost too nice. Wonwoo definitely had a type for girls with a bubbly personality. Ones that were effortlessly beautiful, reminiscent of a freshly made porcelain doll. That was Haein to you, unblemished in every way possible. Everything that you weren’t.

You couldn’t bring yourself to hate her. She was too nice to hate, but your younger self was so angry at how much of Wonwoo's time she took up that you envied her. Seokmin once jokingly mentioned that you looked especially green when she was around, and you remember how quickly you checked your appearance on the nearest reflective surface because of what he had said in passing. You remember vividly how nervous his words made you, was it that obvious?

Wonwoo’s first time calling you about his breakup plans was a delightful surprise, and you were too in shock to sputter out a proper response.

“Oh. Why?” was all you could say, still stunned that after a week of no contact, this was the first thing he said. 

“‘Dunno, I just don’t like her anymore,” he admitted effortlessly. 

You didn’t know how to respond. Your heart was screaming at you to encourage him to break up with his girlfriend at the time, while your brain was telling you to think logically. 

“Well, if that’s what you think is right,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you felt a sense of relief at Wonwoo potentially being single again. 

Others may have tried to rationalize with Wonwoo, but you didn’t care. You wanted your friendship with him to turn back to normal. Your adolescent brain ignored that it was wrong to encourage him, as long as he was fully yours again.

History repeated itself over and over, and the older you got, you learnt to not be so selfish with his attention. Mostly out of guilt for the person he was going to break up with, but also because you didn’t want Wonwoo to realize your true feelings. 

Although being in love with Wonwoo was brutal, you constantly wished that things were different between you two, but they weren’t. He’s never seen you as more than a friend, and as your friendship with him progressed, you had begun to learn to mask your romantic feelings for platonic ones. 

five. 

By the time you entered university, you had mastered the art of pretending. As if your feelings for Wonwoo didn’t exist. You are quite meticulous in ensuring that he never realizes that you are profoundly in love with him. The mere thought of him finding out how you truly felt frightened you. 

You’ve already envisioned countless scenarios on how it could go. The idea of being rejected by the one you love most. It would change everything about your friendship with him.  The look of pity in his eyes, the apologies that would spill out of his mouth. You can't bear even the thought of rejection. Not from him. 

Two voices are constantly at war inside your mind. Your brain, acting as the voice of reason, constantly reminds you that it’s better to preserve your friendship. To keep the dynamic you’ve always had with Wonwoo guarded where it could last, thrive. While your heart persuaded you with deluded, fake scenarios. 

‘What if he likes you back?’ 

‘You never know until you try.’ 

‘Take the risk or lose the chance.’ 

What if. 

Like a siren to a sailor, your heart sang with deep imagery. Filling your thoughts with illusions of you and Wonwoo finally together. But your mind doesn’t let you go without a fight. It knows that beyond the deep waters where your siren-voiced heart lies is nothing but a bottomless pit. 

The possibilities are endless, and you’d rather stay safely grounded in your boat of rationality. 

A notification brings you out of your thoughts. Although you already knew that it was Wonwoo, you scramble to pick up your phone. There’s excitement laced in your veins as you look down at the screen. 

7:06 p.m. [wons <3]: be there in 5. 

There was no reason for you to be so ecstatic but you couldn’t help it. He had already texted you prior, notifying you that he was leaving his place to come pick you up, and yet every time your phone buzzes, you still hope that it’s something completely different. But that was your heart talking; you knew that it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. 

Everyone had planned to meet at Seokmin’s place today, just to have one last celebration before midterms began again. You had happily agreed, enthusiastic that you could spend more time with Wonwoo, although it wouldn’t be a one-on-one thing. You were more than elated to see him while also being able to hang out with the rest of your friends. 

Throwing your phone back on the bed, you change into an outfit that is both cute and comfortable. There wasn’t a reason to dress up when the vibe at Seokmin’s was just going to be sitting around his living room, drinking cocktails and eating pizza. 

Wonwoo texts you once more to let you know he’s outside, causing you to race down to meet him. A lump in your throat arises, as he comes into your field of vision, appreciating how breathtakingly handsome he is. 

The chilled breeze brushes through the strands of his hair, glasses perched on his tall nose. He looked amazing, just like he always had, but you never get bored of admiring him. Even if it’s just from afar. 

“Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting,” your voice resounds into the night. 

“It's never a problem if it’s you,” he chuckles as you dawdle over to the passenger side of his car. 

Trying not to read too deep into his words, you snort at his cheesy line instead of giving a response. Watching Wonwoo move to the side as he opens the car door for you. His actions make you blush, and you know you’ll think about it for the rest of the night. 

“Are you ready to go?” he asks, smiling at you. 

The ride to Seokmin’s house is fairly quiet, the sounds of music filling the silence instead. Your thoughts are overflowing with scenarios once again, wondering how different the car ride would be if you and Wonwoo were in a relationship. His fingers would probably be laced with yours, or rubbing soothingly against your thigh while his other hand gripped the steering wheel. Planting kisses on your cheeks at every red light. It seemed like heaven on the other side. But you knew reality would crush your delusions soon enough. 

…

  The clock on Seokmin’s pale white wall is nearing midnight and you don’t want to be here anymore. Not when the only thing you could focus on was Wonwoo flirting with a girl whose name you didn’t catch. She’s Joshua’s childhood friend and he only brought her along because she’s visiting from out of town. Whoever she was, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that she was able to bring out Wonwoo’s deep laugh. The kind of laugh that only befalls upon your ears when he finds something genuinely funny.

The ugly swirl of jealousy sits in the pit of your stomach and you couldn't help but scoff at your wretched situation. It made you sick watching them, and you could throw up any minute now. At this point, you weren’t sure who to envy, Wonwoo or the girl he was flirting with. You find it unfair that he doesn’t realize how greatly he can impact your feelings. 

Just a few hours ago, you were in utter bliss. Sitting in the front seat of his car, listening to the music softly playing on the ride to Seokmin’s apartment. Making stupid jokes and pointing out the random sights that you had seen while driving down the bustling city streets. You envy how easy it is for Wonwoo to make all those feelings of delight vanish. And he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you, and that’s what hurts the most. 

“You doing okay?” Seokmin comes up to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. 

“Huh? Oh. Yeah I’m okay,” you chuckle, but there’s nothing humorous about your laugh at all. 

His eyes soften, he knows that you’re not okay. Seokmin always knew. After all these years, he can tell when you’re trying to save face. There’s a lump in your throat, and if you didn’t have a drink to sip on to distract you, you probably would’ve gone to the bathroom to cry. 

“You wanna talk in my room?” he offers, and you’re grateful. 

Seokmin knew he had to get you somewhere other than the living room. You were practically torturing yourself, sitting on the couch and watching Wonwoo talk to everyone but you. 

Instead of agreeing vocally, you nod your head before standing up to follow Seokmin to his room. The door shuts softly, muffling the sounds of laughter and allowing your uneasiness to finally subside. 

As you sit on Seokmin’s bed, you feel the tears starting to trickle down your cheeks. It feels pathetic, crying over something so trivial. Why does it have to be you who feels this way? Why can’t you just be a normal friend and see Wonwoo in a platonic light? The whole world could turn upside and he’d be the first person you search for. 

Everything just seemed so unfair, how could you possibly be happy if your feelings for Wonwoo were constantly in the way of it all? It’s tiring, worrying about him, yearning for him. You could do so many other things with your time, and when you look toward the future, you know that you’ll regret how much of your life you wasted loving someone who doesn’t love you back. 

“It’s okay, just let it out,” Seokmin whispers in your ear, embracing you in a tight hug. 

Crying felt good. You rarely cry over your situation despite how upsetting it is. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to finally indulge in your sadness and let go of everything you were too afraid to say or feel.  

“I know it sucks right now, but honestly, it might be time to get over him,” Seokmin continues to comfort you while trying to help you face the reality of your situation. “You’re so hurt, and it’s taking a toll on you. Please, I can’t bear to see you so sad.” 

His words hit you hard because you know it's true. But all you can do is apologize. Saying sorry for feeling this way, even though it’s not your fault, you cannot control your feelings, you still apologize. To Seokmin, to your friends, but also yourself. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you hiccup, tears staining Seokmin’s white shirt. 

“Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong,” he mutters, his large hand patting your head, trying to soothe your fit of emotions. 

“Because, if I was normal, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, about why I’m always upset, you and the others, my feelings are burdening all of you,” you continue to weep softly in his arms, gripping onto his shoulders as his hands encircle your waist. 

“Hey, look at me–” he grabs your face, gentle as a mouse, rubbing away the tears from your cheeks. “You are not a burden. We care, that’s why we worry, and I just want to be there for you.” 

“Thank you, Seokmin. I’m so happy that I have someone like you in my life,” you pull him into a hug again, knocking the air out of his chest, but he’s still somehow able to hug you even tighter. 

Seokmin is like your favourite childhood blanket, keeping you warm and away from everything that could possibly hurt you. He’s always willing to hear you rant about things that you know you could never tell Wonwoo. 

“I’m so tired, I’m tired of feeling like this,” you admit to him. 

Running his hands through your hair, he gives you a reassuring smile. 

“Maybe it’s time to distance yourself from him a bit, you two have been glued to the hip for so long. Maybe that distance can help organize your feelings better,” he mutters, catching the stray tears that pool at your chin, and wiping them away for you. 

“I want to feel better,” you agree with him, still trying to recover from how hard you were sobbing into his chest. 

“I care about you, okay? We all do. Wonwoo cares about you, too, but there’s a point where you’ll have to be okay with whatever outcome happens if you decide to tell him how you feel. Or you just have to find a way to get over him,” he speaks softly, trying not to crush your heart with reality, but you know he’s right. “In the Future, you will thank yourself for making whatever decision you have to make, but trust me, holding all these feelings in won’t do you any good.” He ends his pep talk there, and you sigh, trying to process everything he said. 

“Thank you, Minnie, I’m so thankful I have you,” you sniffled. 

“And I you.” 

…

Seokmin explained to Soonyoung and Jihoon that you needed to go home after your talk in his bedroom. They were more than happy to take you along with them before heading back to their place, not wanting to force you into a car with Wonwoo at the end of the night. 

“Of course, it’s really no trouble at all,” Soonyoung reassures you after you had asked about a million times if it was okay to ride home with them. 

The car ride is drastically different from the one you had taken on the way to Seokmin’s, Soonyoung being the number one reason why. He’s not the best at reading the room, although Jihoon is constantly telling him to shut up. He knows you are upset over something, but Soonyoung’s way of cheering you up is getting you to laugh. While Jihoon believed that you may want a more peaceful environment after everything that happened. 

As Jihoon drove, Soonyoung sang along with the lyrics of the current song playing. Loud enough for anyone outside the car to hear him. You could tell he was a bit tipsy after the few beers he had earlier, but you didn’t mind the noise. Jihoon begged to differ. 

“Soon, can you tone it down? Please. People are looking at us,” Jihoon grumbles, trying to focus on the road ahead. 

“But you love it when I sing,” Soonyoung whines, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“I do, but our friend has had a long night,” Jihoon counters. 

Soonyoung turns to face you from the passenger seat. “If you want me to be quiet, I will.” 

“No, it’s okay, I’m actually enjoying it, thank you very much,” you giggle, and that was all the confirmation he needed, going back to his antics. 

Jihoon groans as Soonyoung practically breaks out into full song and dance, causing you to sing along with him. This distraction from all the conflicting thoughts gives you a refuge from the war inside your mind.  

The whole way back to your place was filled with singing and laughter, allowing you to finally feel at ease for once. Albeit Jihoon pretended to act annoyed the whole time, you knew he secretly loved how Soonyoung tried to bring the mood back up to help you. 

Once you got home, you thanked the two before bidding them farewell. Apprehension flowed throughout you, and you didn't want to be alone with your thoughts after being around someone as cheerful as Soonyoung. But you didn’t know where else to go or what else to do.

Laying in your bed, you think about how today went from beginning to end, and you’re scared of what will happen in the future. Sighing to yourself, you allow yourself to at least get some rest instead of staying up all night thinking about the possibilities of tomorrow. Turning your phone on "do not disturb," the stillness in your apartment lulls you to sleep. 

1:09 a.m. [wons <3]: seokmin said u went home early? u ok? 

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?

chapter one. 

Wonwoo’s ride home was sombre, yet desolate. Your absence from his passenger seat irked him. Street lights whisk by his vision in a blur, but he’s too lost in his thoughts as he drives on autopilot, wondering why you went home so early. You didn’t even say goodbye. It’s the first time you went home from Seokmin’s place without him. 

By the time he got home, his curiosity had started to claw at him, but he didn’t want to be irrational and assume the worst. So he texted you, hoping that there would be an explanation awaiting him in the morning. 

Not a single notification from you came that very next morning. No matter how many times his phone went off, no matter how many notifications popped up from his screen. None of them were you. Morning turned to afternoon, and afternoon slowly turned into night. Still nothing. 

He feels dejected. Everything seemed to be going okay just last night. That was until you abruptly left without telling him you were going home. What changed? Why did it feel like there was a shift between you two? 

Rejection is foreign to Wonwoo. Most times, it’s him that’s doing the rejecting. He was the one to always initiate the breakup and lose feelings first; every decision he made was made by him. He has no control over whether you’re going to text him back or not, and to put it simply, he can’t stand that feeling. 

Wonwoo hates not being in control. Whether that be his future, his relationships, and especially his feelings. At least that’s what he forces himself to believe. That it’s not fair of you to ignore him when he’s worried about you, because he’s your best friend. You should answer him when he texts you. When he calls you, and especially when he shows up at your door, seeking your comfort. In his mind, that is what he believes the foundation of your friendship is. To comfort each other, just like it always has been. 

Sure, maybe Wonwoo is entitled, perhaps he’s conceited and selfish, but he doesn’t care. Because in his mind, you’re his best friend. There was no way in hell that you were ignoring him. His ego doesn’t even consider it a possibility. You were busy, that’s it. That has to be it. 

… 

Less than forty-eight hours in, Wonwoo couldn’t stop himself from texting you once more. Nimble fingers practically itching to open your contact to update you about the most mundane things. Maybe if he pretended that this moment of silence was perfectly normal, then maybe you would eventually end up answering him. 

12:36 p.m [wons <3]: class just finished. lunch at our usual place?

Nothing. Not even a thumb’s up reaction. Wonwoo had become antsy, guilt and slight annoyance gnawing at the pit of his stomach. Where the hell are you? What are you doing that’s so important that you couldn’t even open his message let alone read them? 

1:27 p.m.  [wons <3]: this random girl asked for my number after class lol. weird right? i didn’t give it to her though 😁

Cursing at himself, he regrets pressing the send button on that text. Double texting you is already out of the norm for him, but triple texting? He can’t believe how desperate he looks right now. He wishes he could bring himself to unsend it, but he just hopes it’ll be the text that finally gets you to respond. 

2:10 p.m. [wons <3]: saw a bunny running thru the oval today u should’ve seen it! reminded me of u.  [1 photo attachment] 

Absolute radio silence from your end. Wonwoo is starting to think that you had him blocked, but his messages are still delivering. Unsure of what’s worse, you ignoring him or blocking his number, Wonwoo still tries his best to remain calm.

4:00 p.m. [wons <3]: im about to head home soon. r u riding w me today? 

The sight of you getting into Seokmin’s car made Wonwoo scoff. Since when did you start getting rides home from Seokmin? And why was he the one opening the door for you? Buckling your seatbelt instead of his own? Wonwoo is completely dumbfounded at what he has witnessed. 

4:30 p.m.  [wons <3]: saw u get into seokmin’s car, lmk if u need a ride tmrw. 

Seeing you laugh and smile while walking to the student parking lot with Seokmin, of all people, solidified the fact that you are actively ignoring his texts. And he just can’t stand the thought of it. How dare he be ignored? Especially by his best friend, the one person who had always responded to him, no matter the time or how busy you were, you always texted him back. 

Wonwoo initially thought that even if the world ended, you would be there within arms reach, enough to hold you close, where he could keep you safe. You were predictable in that sense. But if the world decided to burst into flames, or swallow itself whole tomorrow, he’s unsure if you would be there right next to him by the time he woke up. 

two, wonwoo’s summer before senior year. 

The school year flew by with the speed of light. And before Wonwoo knew it, he was home back in Korea for the summer. The dreaded fifteen-hour plane ride over was excruciating. There was an ache in his lower back, and his knees felt like they were being struck by a hammer with every step he took. But at least the worst part was over. 

Sixteen-year-old Wonwoo was quite naive, thinking that he’d be welcomed into his home country with loving arms. That hadn’t been the case at all, and for the two months that he spent in Changwon, he couldn’t help but count the days till he could come back home. Where you had been patiently waiting for him. 

He despised being away from you, and he had yearned for you every moment he was gone. With you by his side, Wonwoo had finally understood the true meaning of solace, a peace of mind that couldn’t be replicated. Not even the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown could outweigh the feeling of tranquillity that he got when he was with you.

Every year that Wonwoo was dragged back to Korea by his parents was excruciating. Especially because he had a certain distaste for his relatives. Maybe it was disrespectful to loathe them the way he did, but he couldn’t care less. Their scathing comments would flow out of their mouths just to pierce daggers of judgement into his back. To insult Wonwoo was second nature to his aunts, and he couldn’t do much but sit back and listen.  

Much to his dismay, his parents hadn’t even bothered to book an Airbnb for their stay, informing him and his brother that they would be staying with his aunt. He couldn’t stand his aunt Seo-Ah in particular, and he swore the feeling was mutual. Unsure of why he had to withstand her crude remarks in front of his family without much protest, he forced himself not to dish out rude rebuttals to everything she had to say. 

There was a time when Wonwoo tried to reason with himself on why his aunt was filled with so much bitterness, but he gave up on that long ago. He was about to be seventeen now, and he couldn’t bring himself to empathize with the older lady anymore. 

“Wonwoo! You’re all grown up now, and I can’t believe it,” Seo-Ah forced him into a bone-crushing hug as he tried his best not to push her off of him. She pulled back to take a closer look at him and he could already see the scrutinizing gleam in her eyes, “You know, you’re still so skinny for your age. Do your parents not feed you enough?” 

Wonwoo wanted to scoff at her, but he kept a neutral expression. 

“No they do, I don’t know maybe it’s my fast metabolism or something,” he refuted her claims. He couldn’t wait to get out of her sight. 

“You know, maybe you should start going to the gym, get some muscle on you or something,” she patted his lanky arm and laughed that dreadful laugh. The ones that have no real humour behind it, just to cover up the obvious dig she took at his appearance. 

“Yeah maybe,” he dismisses her to head into the house. Setting his luggage down to check whether or not you’ve texted him yet. 

It was about five in the evening in Changwon, but he knew you wouldn’t be asleep. Faintly recalling how you were planning to stay up late every night to watch BuzzFeed unsolved videos, or until your mom yelled at you to go to bed. 

[4:15 p.m. kst]  [you: i stayed up all night watching buzzfeed unsolved]  [you: im going crazy i keep getting paranoid to the point i’ve turned all my mirrors backwards]  [you: hope ur flight was ok tho!!! 🫶]

He chuckled to himself, remembering your wide eyes and elaborate plan to sneak snacks into your room in the early hours of the morning behind your parents’ backs. Wonwoo missed you, and your stupid obsession with horror podcasts and YouTube shows. He missed the way your smile would shine so bright as you talked about all the haunted places the hosts would visit. 

Wonwoo did not care for horror or anything scary, but if you were to ask him to stay up all night on Facetime binge-watching your little Buzzfeed videos, he would do so in a heartbeat. 

Two days down, about another 89 to go, Wonwoo thought to himself as he looked through your messages with him. You had already spammed the chat mercilessly about your first two days of summer break, and your intricate mission to stay up without accidentally falling asleep in the middle of it all. 

[6:00 p.m. kst] [1 photo attachment]  [you: currently trying to sneak snacks into my room without my mom knowing]  [you: u better not snitch 😾]  [you: its so boring w out u here btw SO COME BACK SOON PLSS]  [you: ok thats enuff…txt me when u land!]

Wonwoo really missed you. 

…

One more week and Wonwoo would finally get to see you again. The ability to talk to you in person, hug you, and spend time with you gave him something to look forward to, and thankfully, summer break went by fast because of it. 

He had spent most of his time in Korea eating at local food spots, going to the gym, and trying a lot of new things with his brother, Seongho, giving them time to bond before he went off to University again. Wonwoo had missed his brother dearly during the school year, but at least they were able to pass the time together during summer break. 

It was initially his brother’s convincing that got him to go to the gym for the very first time. The idea of going to a place with a lot of sweaty, adrenaline-filled people kind of frightened him, but the more he went, the more he started to like what he saw in the mirror. Wonwoo’s shoulders had broadened, and his lanky arms finally started to show signs of muscles. He was satisfied in knowing that all of his hard work, and Seongho’s encouragement had finally paid off. 

Seongho told him he looked a lot more carefree now that he wasn’t so worried about his appearance all the time. And it was then that Wonwoo realized that he wasn’t all that bad-looking, after all. 

Wonwoo had begun to take pride in his vanity. He searched for different ways to style his hair, bought glasses that better suited his face shape, and, most of all, did his best to act more confidently. The sudden change made him wonder how you would react. He had been anticipating your reaction, wanting to see the look on your face once he returned home. 

“You got it. Just one more rep, and we can switch,” Seongho encouraged Wonwoo as he tried to push the bar up from his chest. 

His muscles were aching in the most addictive and satisfying way. He almost wished he had started working out earlier because only good things seemed to have come ever since he stepped foot into the gym. 

“Okay! You’re done, that was good,” his older brother high-fived him, a proud smile dancing along his lips. 

“Thanks, but my arms feel like jelly now,” he huffed a chuckle before gulping down the contents of his water bottle. 

Seongho chuckled along with him before setting himself down on the workout bench. His actions faltered, and he slowly observed the mirror in front of him, raising his eyebrows in amusement. 

“Uh, don’t look now, but I think that girl is staring at you,” Seongho tilted his head in the girl’s direction and Wonwoo couldn’t be more confused. 

“Huh? Are you sure it's me they’re looking at and not you?” 

“I’m serious! You should go talk to her,” Seongho grinned, pushing his younger brother in the direction of the girl who was supposedly eyeing Wonwoo. 

“Hyung!” Wonwoo calls out but it falls on deaf ears as his older brother begins his bench presses. 

Wonwoo turns towards the girl in the most awkward way humanly possible. He was completely dumbfounded and not sure what to do in the situation he’d been put in. The girl who was staring at him waved flirtatiously, and before he could even think about his next move, his feet had begun to move on their own accord. 

“Hi, I saw you working out over there, are you new here?” she asked him, batting her eyelashes. 

“Uhm, I guess? I’m only here for the summer though,” he spoke with apprehension, because what the hell was he even supposed to say? 

“Oh! Me too. My name is Haein, by the way.” Haein’s smile reached her eyes as she giggled, and her hand extended to shake Wonwoo’s. 

Wonwoo’s actions were practically robotic, rubbing his sweaty palms on his gym shorts before taking her hand in his. He remembers thinking about how soft her hands were, and how pretty she looked with her hair tied up in a messy bun. 

“I’m Wonwoo.” 

“Wonwoo, hmm, that’s a cute name. But I think I would like it more in my contacts,” she flirted shamelessly, her fingers squeezing his sweaty bicep. 

Wonwoo’s mind short-circuited, and he took out his phone from his pocket so fast it almost slipped out of his grasp. Haein found it endearing though, and happily gave him her phone number. 

They talked for the rest of Wonwoo's time at the gym and promised to hang out more before they both went home at the end of the summer. 

To put it simply, Wonwoo was on cloud nine for the first time since he’s been here. Suddenly his aunt Seo-Ah’s words weren’t so hurtful, his confidence had skyrocketed, plus he had a beautiful girl to talk to for the rest of his vacation. 

By the end of summer, Wonwoo started to miss you less and less. Even though he still saw you as his best friend, he began to find peace in other things, like the fresh air that breezed through his fingers or the scent of the salty water misting its way onto the shore of his hometown. Finally, for the first time in his life, Wonwoo felt serene, and that made him a little more whole than he was when he first landed in Changwon. 

…

The after-effects of Wonwoo’s surprisingly pleasant summer vacation hadn’t worn off just yet. The gift of Haein appearing in his life seemed to just keep on giving. Not only did she live overseas, she had told him that she was actually from the same city as him. It was a little hard to believe at first as if he was the main character in a cheesy rom-com, but he couldn’t find it in him to complain. Haein made him feel wanted, excited, and cared for. 

Wonwoo wasn’t entirely devoid of those feelings, especially with you as his best friend, but it was different coming from Haein. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was going to throw up, in a good way of course, but she also boosted his confidence. He liked that she made him feel like he was a man worth depending on. 

Haein was his first real relationship, and although he was still young, he could see himself being with her for a long time. 

…

Quite like the seasons, Wonwoo’s feelings for Haein changed drastically by the time school was back in session. Although he and Haein lived in the same city, there was a lot more than just distance that separated them. 

Six months into their relationship, Wonwoo began to doubt himself. He was less eager to meet her or even text her. He could only blame himself for how things turned out with Haein. Despite his adolescence, he believed he loved her; he just got tired and disinterested. 

On a subconscious level, Wonwoo could not stop comparing Haein to you, and as fucked up as that was, it was completely out of his control. Why didn’t Haein ever want to talk about what Wonwoo was interested in? Why did she seem bored out of her mind when he would delve into his theories about his favourite shows? Or anything about himself and what he liked. As though she didn’t see him for the Wonwoo he was, the personality he had behind his looks. 

“It all makes sense now! Eren had Zeke fooled!” Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement about the newest episode, but Haein didn’t seem interested in hearing her boyfriend geek out. 

“I'm sorry babe, but I gave up after the first episode,” Haein sighed into the phone, and if Wonwoo could guess, she was probably picking at her cuticles out of boredom. “I just didn’t get anything that was happening.” 

“Wait, really?” He was a little offended, how could she not be obsessing over the beautiful intricacies of his favourite anime? Wonwoo didn’t understand. 

He didn’t understand because when he introduced you to the show, you texted him the next day saying you were caught up to where he had left off. It amazed Wonwoo how fast you were at binge-watching shows, especially because he had told you about it on a weekday. 

You came into school the morning after with dark circles under your eyes, but even with that tired look on your face, you ran up to him with so much eagerness while thanking him for urging you to watch his favourite show. You two were obsessed and never missed out on watching the weekly episodes together.  It had become you and Wonwoo’s thing, and even though he wanted Haein to join in on the fun, he found himself more entertained by your theories than by talking on the phone with his girlfriend. 

It dawned on him that he wished that Haein acted a little more like you. And it made him feel guilty. He knew he should’ve loved Haein no matter her interests, but he wanted someone who could understand his nerdy side. And that was only something that you were able to do. 

“Honestly, I’m really tired, I’m gonna go to bed now okay?” Haein’s voice brought Wonwoo out of his thoughts. 

“Oh okay. Night.” He said before ending the call so quickly that Haein’s ‘I love you’ was cut off mid-sentence. 

Haein probably had thought he had forgotten, but Wonwoo just didn’t want to say those words if he didn’t mean it. He had grown annoyed, and a little bored of practically talking to a wall all night.  

Comparable to the light switching off in his bedroom, he decided to do the same thing with Haein. He pushed his guilt aside and decided it was probably best to leave Haein and Changwon in the past. The memories of his last week of summer with her would become something he would look back on in the future and smile. But he didn’t want to pretend any longer, it would’ve just hurt her more if he stayed, he couldn’t help that he fell out of love with her. The least he could do was not lead her on. 

Wonwoo’s relationship with Haein was merely a catalyst and a peek into what the rest of his relationships were going to look like in adulthood. He was never able to comprehend why he couldn’t keep feelings for anyone after the six-month mark, and it almost frustrated him. Something was missing in every single relationship he had been in, and he wasn’t sure what that was. But he was determined to find an answer. 

three, present time.

The answer was you. But of course, Wonwoo didn’t know that. 

“Are you gonna keep checking your phone every five minutes or are you gonna do your homework?” Mingyu lectures him. 

The two were studying in the library before their stats midterm, but Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wonder. He hasn’t been acting like himself since the night of Seokmin’s party. 

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo clears his throat, putting his phone face down on the table. 

Wonwoo drags his palms against his face, trying to not let sleep overtake him. It is not his fault that every time he tries to close his eyes, your face comes into his mind. The memory of you smiling with Seokmin made his insides twist. He hasn’t seen you smile that hard in a while, and he almost misses how your eyes crinkle whenever you do so. You were practically haunting him and he had no idea how to make it stop. 

“Not to be rude, but you’ve been looking like shit lately. What’s wrong?” Mingyu questions him with furrowed eyebrows. 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his friend, he didn’t have to be insulted to know how crappy he looked, but Mingyu seemed to only be telling the truth. Wonwoo did look and feel like shit. With the amount of near run-ins he’s had with you and Seokmin on campus, he’s begun to sense that it’s some sort of karma. Whatever that karma may be for, he fully believes that it’s completely unwarranted. 

Forcing a hand through his dark locks, Wonwoo contemplates whether or not he should just go up to you in person and demand answers. It’s uncommon for the two of you to fight, or ignore each other for that matter. But he can’t help but presume that if he were to confront you about your silence, there would be no rightful explanation. Or at least not the explanation that he wants from you. 

Every time he even fathoms the thought of barging into your apartment and asking what the hell is wrong, there’s a lingering nervousness that he wishes would dissipate, leading him to lay awake with his thoughts for hours on end. 

“Thanks for that, asshole, I just haven’t been getting much sleep,” Wonwoo huffs. 

“Okay, obviously. You practically look like a zombie with the way you’ve been moping around. What has been keeping you up?” Mingyu presses. 

It’s not every day that Wonwoo indulges in his problems with Mingyu, that’s what you were for. However, he can’t talk about his problems about you, to you, so he’ll have to settle for the next best thing.  

“Y/N has been ignoring me since the night we all hung out at Seokmin’s,” Wonwoo confesses, and it feels nice. 

For the past two weeks, he’s been keeping his frustrations to himself, and now that he can freely speak about it lifts the weight off his chest. 

Mingyu snorts, obviously finding his friend’s situation humorous. Wonwoo sneers at Mingyu’s reaction, clearly not finding anything about you ignoring him funny. 

“Serves you right, you’re a dick to her, man.” Mingyu shrugs without any remorse to spare. 

“What?” Wonwoo sputters, since when was he a dick to you? His best friend? 

“How blind are you? You have glasses and everything but you can’t see how mean you are to her sometimes? Really?” Mingyu almost sounds offended on your behalf as he stares at Wonwoo with an incredulous expression. 

“I am not a dick to her. She would definitely tell me if I’ve ever said something to hurt her feelings,” Wonwoo defends himself. 

Attempting to rack his brain of all your moments together, he can’t seem to pick out a memory where he has been especially rude to you. Of course, you two teased each other from time to time, but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He knew when to not take a joke too far or purposely try to upset you. 

“You’re a dumbass.” Mingyu lets out a frustrated sigh which only aggravates Wonwoo even more. 

“Could you stop with the insults for one second and just tell me what’s going on?” 

Shutting his laptop, Mingyu’s posture becomes serious, a deviation from his usual carefree and smiley self. He cares about you just as much as the next person, so if he had to reality-check his friend, then so be it. 

“She cares about you a lot. And you treat her like shit. It’s not about what you’ve said to her, it’s your actions. Ever since we were in high school all you’ve done is use her to solve your problems. I can’t even blame her for wanting to cut you off. I don’t know what happened at Seokmin’s place for her to realize that, but you don’t deserve her,” Mingyu confesses. 

Soaking up each word that left Mingyu’s mouth, Wonwoo sat in a pool of perplexity. There are so many questions flying through his mind, yet he can’t seem to utter a single word. Is that really how everyone perceives his friendship with you? 

Wonwoo is going to throw up. There's a tightness in his chest and a burning sensation behind his eyes. He wants nothing more than to hear all of this coming from you, not Mingyu. The frustration of wanting to talk to you about this is taking a toll on him, he doesn’t want to believe that Mingyu is telling the truth. 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Mingyu gets to know these things about you while Wonwoo is just left in the dark. Did he make you feel like you couldn’t tell him anything? 

Ever since Wonwoo met you, it was evident that he can be quite merciless when it comes to his relationships, but that’s romantic, not platonic. Wonwoo was convinced that he treated you equally because that’s how it's supposed to be. 

Hearing Mingyu talk about his friendship with you in that way caused Wonwoo’s whole world to crash down. And the only thing he can do in moments like these is seek out your comfort, except he can’t anymore. Not only has he been a terrible friend without realizing it, but he’s pushed you so far to the brink that you’d rather ignore him than attempt to hash out what’s been troubling you.

“I-I didn’t know that's how you guys saw our friendship,” Wonwoo falters, clearly taken aback, and still attempting to fully comprehend what’s been said to him. 

“It’s not that we see your friendship with her that way, it is that way. If I was her, I would’ve cut you off a long time ago.” 

“Well, thanks, Gyu. I feel like this could’ve been said before she started ignoring me,” Wonwoo huffs, trying to come up with the words to explain his side.

“It was kinda obvious, man,” Mingyu shrugs. 

“Was it, though? If I had known, I would’ve at least tried to be better,” Wonwoo attests, tired of feeling like the bad guy. 

“How about you just talk to her about it instead of sulking,” Mingyu suggests. 

Desperation hijacked his rational thinking, making Mingyu’s advice sound plausible. Talking to you seemed out of the equation since you started ignoring him; he feared you wouldn’t even answer if he tried to call or show up at your door. But he can’t go on like this, especially now that he knows there is more to your friendship than he had initially thought. 

four. 

For the first time in Wonwoo’s life, he’s unsure about what decision to make. Although he wants nothing more than to knock on your door, his feet stop him from even entering your building. So instead of mucking up the courage to talk to you face to face, he waits inside his car. Without a solid plan, he continues to sit there, biding his time. 

Never has he acted so pathetic in his life, not even for the sake of his relationships. He knows that nothing will come from sitting there, just watching, but before he can even comprehend what he is doing and where he is going, he is already across the street from your place. 

Gripping on the leather of his steering wheel, he just couldn’t help himself. He can’t help but watch your silhouette from your window. The curtains are drawn, but there are glimpses of you walking around. He’s such a fucking loser. What type of person has Wonwoo become that he resorts to stalking you from the front of your building? 

After all that Mingyu has enlightened him on, Wonwoo’s attitude has become less angry and more apologetic. There was a line he pondered crossing, and it practically mocked him. Stepping over that line would mean getting answers from you, demanding to be brought into the light that you had snuffed out from under him. But his uncertainty of the outcome outweighed his decision to do so.

That same apologetic attitude died a fiery death after watching Seokmin leave your apartment. There you were in all your glory, the tiny sleep set clinging onto your body as the wind forced its way into the door of your building. Then there was Seokmin, grinning like a fucking idiot as he waved goodbye. 

“Shit!” Wonwoo grunts as he ducks down, not wanting to blow his cover. His car was visible from where the two of you stood, hoping that you weren’t able to recognize it in the dead of night.  

Boring holes into the back of Seokmin’s head, Wonwoo's guilt diminished, floating away with the cold night breeze. You were fine, and he should’ve known that the root of all his problems started with the name Lee Seokmin. 

The shape of your figure had faded into the confines of your building. Yet Wonwoo can still make out your body through the glass window of your door. He can’t help but gawk at your skimpy attire, your ass practically on display for the whole world to see. The deathly twist in his gut intensifies the more he ponders on what may have happened during Seokmin’s visit. Wonwoo desperately wants to stop thinking about the possibilities, especially because your lack of clothing only fueled that inferno inside his mind. 

He’s never been more annoyed at Seokmin in his entire life, not until today. 

Wonwoo allowed himself to ignore the signs, but only for a moment. But this, this he can’t ignore. Not after what he witnessed. He allowed himself to stay ignorant when it came to your silence because he had been so naive to think that it was your decision. Now that he knows Seokmin had somehow weaselled his way closer to you, Wonwoo had to make sure this plan of his didn’t go on any longer. 

…

There is a heat inside Wonwoo that, for some reason, he cannot extinguish. The curve and outlines of your body burn in the back of his retinas. No matter how many times he’s tried to put himself to sleep, the image of you is clear as day in his mind.  Sparks crawl their way up his spine, and he desperately wishes that it would just go away. 

There’s a point where Wonwoo gave up on trying to sleep altogether. Thoughts of you, your body, and the oh-so-painful reminder that you’re still ignoring him. How can he sleep with everything going on? What made things worse, was the fact that the one person he wanted to call most likely wouldn’t pick up.

Wonwoo wasn’t the type of person to let his emotions get the better of him, but this abrupt rift that has been torn between you two has him acting out in ways he’s never acted before. 

The urge to grab his phone, to text you, to give it one more try, grows perpetually every second he lies awake. 

One more time. One more attempt. What does he have to lose? 

Wonwoo stands up, pacing around nonsensically, trying to think of what to say. For all he knows, you may not even answer, but there is the urge to hear your voice one more time and see your name pop up on his screen. Wonwoo yearns for you so much so that it supersedes any part of common sense he has left in him. 

[12:52 a.m.]  [wons <3: darling. can we talk? please?]  [not delivered] 

The silence within the four walls of Wonwoo’s bedroom is harrowing. Out of all the outcomes he had considered before he texted you, the outcome of you blocking him was not even on the list. 

Before jumping to some sort of conclusion, Wonwoo’s finger hovers over the call button with skepticism. If you don’t pick up, then that’s it. That would be the definitive answer to all his qualms. 

“The number you have called is not available, please leave a message at the tone,” an automated voice affirmed his suspicions. 

The notification is gut-wrenching, but he can’t just sit here and pretend like it’s okay for you to do this. To decide without any of his input. What kind of friend were you to just drop him like he was nothing but an old toy? How unfair did you have to be to not even try to talk it out before you completely cut him off? 

five. 

Pacing outside the door of your apartment, Wonwoo hasn’t been this nervous in years. He has always been so sure of himself, but it’s almost two in the morning and he’s still continuing to weigh his options. 

It’s either you’ll let him in, and talk for the first time in almost two weeks, or you’ll kick him out before he can step a foot past the door. Desperately, he desires that it be the first option. Losing you over this would break him, and not in the way you would expect. 

He’s already lost his mind. This shouldn’t be the way you two break it off. It won’t be the way you two break it off. Not if Wonwoo has a say in the situation. 

Sweaty palms and white knuckles rasp against the dark oak that barricades himself from you. There’s nothing that Wonwoo wants more than to see your face glowing in front of him. And before he can even get a word out to you, the door whips open. The person on the other side is someone Wonwoo is starting to get really sick of seeing. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Both Wonwoo and Seokmin speak in unison. 

Scoffing, Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his so-called friend, “I think I should be asking you that. You clearly don’t live here.” 

“Minnie? Is someone at the door?” your voice is as sweet as a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. 

Minnie. Wonwoo almost threw up in his mouth. 

Minnie. The nickname is parallel to nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

“Yeah! Your neighbour just needed to borrow something,” Seokmin goads through a sickly sweet smile, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s. Without as much as a word of mockery, Seokmin’s expression had said more than his words ever could have. 

Despite his soft demeanour, Wonwoo knew there was something vile hiding under Seokmin’s thick skin. 

A rebuttal to his deception is on the tip of Wonwoo’s tongue, but your melodic voice echoes throughout your home once more. The refute dies within his throat, and he hopes you will come out and see what your “neighbour” is looking for. 

“Okay!” is the only response you give out. The reverberation of the water hitting the shower tiles causes Wonwoo’s stomach to practically lurch out his abdomen. 

“Whatever you’re doing, she’s not gonna fall for it,” Wonwoo jeered, staring at Seokmin with looks that should kill, if he could. 

Seokmin chuckles bitterly, “She already has.” 

There was no need for Wonwoo to put two and two together; he already knew what Seokmin was alluding to. It left a dreadful taste in his mouth. 

Puffing out his chest, Wonwoo takes a step closer towards the man he once considered a close friend. Sizing him up, he knew that Seokmin was the reason for the wedge in your friendship. And Wonwoo had no problem treating him as such. 

“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Wonwoo practically spits in his face. 

“I could say the same thing for you,” Seokmin mutters, unperturbed, “I didn’t have to do anything you know? Just a little push and she fell into my lap, voluntarily.” 

“I’m not just going to let you get away with something like this. She’s my best friend.” 

“I think the correct tense is was. She was your best friend,” Seokmin taunted. 

He was wrong about Seokmin. Even though he had known about his friend's crush on you for years, Wonwoo didn’t expect the lengths Seokmin would go to in order to cut him out of the picture. 

Before a breath could even escape his lips, Seokmin cuts him off, “I think it’s time for you to leave. She doesn’t want to see you.”

The last few words that he heard come out of Seokmin’s mouth nearly fell on deaf ears. It was practically a whisper, laced with enough malice to almost kill the fighting spirit inside him. Almost. 

“By the way, don’t text her anymore. I’ve made sure she won’t get any more notifications from you.” 

The realization had struck Wonwoo hard. He knew you well enough that you wouldn’t just block him so carelessly, without a word no less. Yet he was no match for Seokmin, not after the fact that you allowed him into your home, your heart, so willingly. 

…

Lying in wait, Wonwoo observes the door of your building once more. The distinct difference this time was that Wonwoo had no guilt left in him to care. Whether you see him or his car across the street didn’t matter to him anymore. The only thing Wonwoo wanted to make sure of was whether or not Seokmin would be leaving your place. 

After what had felt like hours, he watched the same scene from last night unfold in front of him once more. The abhorrent hug goodbye that is exchanged between you and Seokmin is nothing but a cue for Wonwoo to make his move.

With as much grace as a bull in a china shop, he slams the car door shut, not even bothering to lock it before he stalks his way to your apartment. The anticipation caused the hairs on his neck to stand straight up. As he presses the button to your floor, he can only deliberate whether any of Seokmin’s words hold any truth behind them.

 Certainly not, right? Not after all the years you spent together. His friendship with you couldn’t end on this vague note. You were always the sentimental type, holding onto trinkets, memories, and even people for far too long. It should be the same with Wonwoo; he believed it would be the same. 

If there is a chance, you should allow him to talk and voice his opinion. No, Wonwoo will voice his opinion; there has never been a time when you haven’t let him speak. 

As the elevator ascends to your floor, anxiety begins to weigh down his shoulders. The feeling is atypical and Wonwoo hates how his throat constricts. He hates how his clothes feel too tight and stuffy despite his casual attire. Is this how it feels? To actually care about someone and whether their decisions might affect him later on? 

Footsteps echo within the hallway, and with each step he takes, the illusion steadily becomes more vivid. Your front door almost looks like it’ll take a mile before Wonwoo can reach it, rather than a few feet away. 

After what felt like years, Wonwoo stands before the entrance of your home once more. The foreboding tension won’t vanish and it’s starting to make him itch. Without another thought, Wonwoo forces himself to knock on the door knowing it’ll be you who answers this time, not Seokmin. 

“Minnie? Did you leave something agai—,” Abrupt silence engulfs your words, leaving nothing but an echo to resonate within the expanse of your long hallway.

“Wonwoo…” your voice falters, like you genuinely didn’t expect to see him, let alone have him standing outside your door. 

“Did you fuck him?” Wonwoo cuts to the chase, not leaving any room for you to ask questions. 

His blunt words caused a frown to grace your soft pink lips, and Wonwoo almost felt bad for being so frank. But he doesn’t have time to beg for your forgiveness, the anger surmounting to nothing but harsh words and a push past you and into your home. 

“Did you fuck him? Yes or no?”  Wonwoo continues to press you for answers, agitated that you have the audacity to stand there dumbfounded. As if you don’t know who he's talking about. “C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” he can almost laugh at the situation in front of him. 

How is it that all the rage he built up for Seokmin is being taken out on you? Wonwoo had no clue, but the thought of his friend-now-enemy defiling you, tasting you, while Wonwoo desperately waited for your call caused him to direct all his anger to you. Perhaps it’s undeserving to do so, but Wonwoo’s frustration spoke for him before his brain could even register what he was saying. 

“The past two weeks you’ve been ignoring me, spending your time with him, do you know where his true intentions lie?” Wonwoo continues to rant with unpreparedness. 

He didn’t plan what he was going to say because there was a moment of doubt, he had expected you to open the door just to slam it right back in his face. The look you gave him almost brought him to his knees. Your doe-eyed expression could’ve broken down every wall he’s built if only he hadn’t let his anger proceed him. 

Wonwoo should’ve cried, to plead for you to take him back. To go back to the way things were. He knew he fucked up the moment he uttered a single word. The hurt flashed across your face as though Wonwoo turned your world upside down. 

“Seokmin doesn’t care about you, and I’ll tell you that now because you need to hear it. He just wants to fuck you! And you just gave that to him?” He can’t stop talking. 

“Stop. Just stop fucking talking Wonwoo. Do you hear yourself right now?” You cut off his rant. “Out of all people, who gave you the right to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Especially knowing the type of person that you are. It doesn’t matter if Seokmin and I had sex. What matters is the fact that you think you can barge in here at two-thirty in the morning interrogating me over a situation that doesn’t involve you.” 

“No. I’m just trying to help you. Seokmin isn’t the person that you think he is,” Wonwoo seethes, annoyed at how you’re twisting his words. 

The bile in his throat rose further, as you stood before him like he had just kicked your dog. Wonwoo’s extremely aware of the hole he had dug for himself, but he couldn’t stop. His urge to self-sabotage overrides his common sense. 

“That is exactly what we’re not going to do right now. Seokmin has been a better friend to me than you have been in all the years we’ve known each other. I have been by your side for years, bending over backwards. I was at your beck and call and I’m tired. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and warn myself about you. I fell in love with my best friend, and the worst part was that you didn’t care enough to notice. 

“I gave up so much for you, Wonwoo. I lost myself trying to please you. But I give up. I was drowning in my love for you. It consumed every part of me to the point I couldn’t even come up for air. And I’m just sick of it. I know there’s a part of you that cares about me too, but it’ll never be equal. I’ll always love you more than you love me, and I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” 

“What hurts me the most, is that you thought it would be okay to accuse me of things I didn’t even do. I did not sleep with Seokmin, but why is that what you care about?  He respects me and just wants to be there for me. And that’s a lot more than I could ever say about you.” 

Your voice was terrifyingly calm, with neither a lilt nor a hiccup during your speech. The heft of your declaration crashed back down onto Wonwoo, leaving him at a loss for words. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing to come out of his mouth after a long pause. 

“Please. It’s late, you should go home,” you sigh, but Wonwoo couldn’t move an inch. He refused. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats himself, looking into your eyes, searching for the look of endearment you had always given him. 

“Wonwoo…” there it is. Your voice had broken for the first time since Wonwoo stepped foot in the place. 

“Please. I’m so fucking sorry. For getting angry, for doubting you, for not realizing how badly you were hurting,” Wonwoo resorted to pleading. 

A look of desperation mixed with agony was the only thing you could exchange for his apologies.

The stare of grief you had given him caused a shooting pain to swell throughout his limbs. The one that begins at his fingertips, creeping up to tug at the strings that held his heart together. He wanted this nightmare to end, and he was sure you did too. 

“It’s time for you to go. I’m tired, Wonwoo.”  A single tear slips and trickles down your cheek. 

He regrets not wiping it away for you at that moment. It was the first time he had been so unsure of his actions. So, instead, he walked out of your apartment, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of his cologne and a piece of his heart. 

Wonwoo's world was crumbling underneath him, and there was only one person he refused to let go of. He should’ve known.

He should’ve known that you were in front of him this whole damn time.

end of act one.

⊹ a/n: if you liked this story pls dont be afraid to let me know thru a reblog, comment or ask! also a big ty to my beshies forever @vapidlynn and @bunnyjjongie who i've texted multiple times in the wee hours of the morning for reassurance abt this thing hehe.

[gojoest]

“I can’t believe you let that guy hold your hand”

Satoru was upset. Really upset. You could see it all over his face — jaw clenched, brows furrowed, the vein on his forehead so swollen it was threatening to pop any second now.

“You are being ridiculous”, you sigh. He’s been at it for 3 hours now and you no longer have the energy to try and beat some sense into him, he’s not listening to you anyway. “Please stop”, you ask for what probably is the hundredth time.

“Okay”, he audibly breathes under his nose, but surely doesn’t sound the least bit convincing, nor does he look like he’s given up, judging by the way he’s fervently searching up something on his phone, tapping left and right, downloading all kinds of social apps. “What’s his name?"

“You’re not going to look him up now, are you?”

He can’t be serious, you try to reason internally. He’s just being too silly right now pretending to throw another jealousy fit to show you just how much he loves you and how crazy he is about you, you try to convince yourself.

Yet, the look in his eyes refutes all of your hopes.

He has gone mad. He really is after that guy.

“Bingo. Name, please”

“I don’t remember it”, you let out an exasperated whine.

“Fine, I’ll just have Ijichi track that homewrecker down, then I’ll go deal with him personally myself”

“…”, you sigh once again. “And then what?”

“I’ll cut his hand and burn it”, he nonchalantly blurts out, his eyes focused on his phone as he types out instructions to Ijichi, along with a photo attached to the message.

3 hours ago, when things went terribly wrong

As promised, you were showing Satoru your childhood albums.

He was very eager to see how the mini you looked backed in the day. Basking in the sight of your adorable self from the photos, gushing over your chubby cheeks and cute outfits, he was asking about the story behind each shot and curiously listening to you go on and on about the old times and the little you he didn’t know about.

…that was until a certain group photo from kindergarten caught Satoru’s eyes.

“What’s this”, he pointed at it.

“It’s a group pic from kindergarten when I was four, I think? The teachers made us pair up and hold hands for the photo, and I ended up with this boy here”

Silence. Something was off.

Satoru wasn’t reacting the way he was to the other pictures. His smile was frozen on his lips but it was gone from his eyes, and he was unusually quiet too. The aura he was giving off was definitely eerie, and not the least bit loving.

“Yeah?”, Satoru spoke in a dull voice. “And you let him hold your hand?”

“What?”, you blinked twice. “I—, what?”

“You let another man touch you?”

“A man? He was four, and so was I — we were children, Satoru”, you, in complete disbelief, try to laugh it off. There was no way he could be actually upset about and jealous over something so ridiculous (he was in fact very upset and very jealous, and yes, over something so ridiculous).

“It doesn’t change the fact that this bastard touched what’s mine”, he was gritting his teeth.

“I wasn’t yours back then”, and you were pouring oil into the fire.

“Look, just because we didn’t know each other doesn’t mean you weren’t mine. You were always mine, you just didn’t know it. But that guy—”

You cut him off, “Alright”, and took the photo album from his lap, closing it shut and tucking it under your armpit. “We’re done looking at my childhood pictures”

“Why? Are there more guys holding your hand in there?”, he protested in a high-pitched voice.

“…”

“Oh my god?”, he cried out. “There are?”

Yes, there were. And if he kept looking, by the end of the day, he would turn into a mass murderer.

a/n: mind you, the rest of the pictures are all on friendly terms too, purely platonic. but better safe than sorry! AHAHAH

[rejectedbytheempty]

from the dirt we rise ch. 2

pairing: farmer!john price x reader, no use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

cw: your boyfriend is an asshole, again

synopsis: when your car breaks down in the middle of the english countryside, a tall, dark stranger comes to your rescue

prev

when nathan got out of the car, you realized that this was actually the second time today that you had forgotten about him, too busy talking with john to remember your literal boyfriend a couple of feet away.

“this is the place?” nathan asked incredulously, “looks kind of busted up.”

you stiffened at his rudeness and were about to apologize when you heard john laugh, “yeah, this is the place, i keep telling them it could do with a paint job.”

you all walked over to the open garage doors and john yelled out, “soap, ghost, get your asses out here. you have customers.”

you heard a dull thunk, a grunt of pain and then looked down to the ground to see a man with a mohawk roll out from underneath a car. he rubbed his head to soothe the angry red spot now forming on his forehead but there was still a lopsided grin on his face and mischief sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

“cap’n, bringin’ us guests? you shouldnae ‘ave” he looked over at you and nathan, his grin growing a bit wider when he spotted you. “och, and who’s the lass?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at john, who looked sternly at him, “soap, behave.”

soap just shrugged making john sigh, but he continued, “found her and her boyfriend on the side of the road, her car’s dead, told them you could fix it. oh, and that you’d give them a friends and family discount.”

he shook his head and you worried that he wouldn’t be willing to do the job, or that this apparent kinship to john didn’t extend to people he found on the side of the road. then he said, “wouldnae be right, makin’ a bonnie lass pay a cent.”

“johnny, you can’t give free repairs to every pretty girl that comes in, we’d go out of business,” said a man as he walked into the garage, wiping his hands with an oily cloth.

“simon, finally joining us, then?” john said. “had to order some parts,” simon shrugged. simon was huge, big muscles, even taller than john, he had close-cropped blonde hair and he wore a black surgical mask but it didn’t stop him from leaning over to kiss johnny on the head through the material. out of the corner of your eye, you saw nathan cringe slightly at this action, but maybe he just didn’t like pda, he had mentioned something a while ago about it grossing him out.

simon’s words broke you out of your thoughts and you turned back to him, he had asked something about if this had been a reoccurring issue.

“oh, no, this is the first time it’s done anything like this. sure, it’s not the best car, but it’s never up and gave up before.”

simon scratched his chin and nodded as you spoke, “you mind if i take a look then?” you shook your head, “go ahead,” and you handed him your keys.

“actually, i know some stuff about cars, think i could take a look with you?” nathan spoke up, making you raise an eyebrow.

“since when?” you said, making both johns laugh, and it even got a small chuckle out of simon.

nathan’s face went red, “i- i know plenty about cars, you don’t know everything i do.”

“come on then, maybe you can do my job for me” simon said, walking over and practically scruffing nathan, leading him towards your car.

“so you two were in the force with john?” i asked. the three of you had settled in the air-conditioned office of the repair shop and johnny had made you tea, despite your insistence on it being unnecessary.

“aye. me, lt, and cap’n were all on the same task force. until i almost got murked, that is.” soap emphasized this by pointing to the giant star-shaped scar that marked the side of his shaved head.

“lt retired then too, had to take care of my sorry ass for a long while. then cap’n retired too, moved here-“ “yeah, and you two followed me here, so you could keep being pains in my ass” john grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“he really does love us, ye ken?” johnny stage whispered to you. john just shook his head, his smile growing.

“so, that just leaves one o’ us still in the force, our boy gaz. he’s a lieutenant now, ugh, they grow up so fast” johnny wiped away a fake tear.

“he still visits us old folk from time to time,” john said to you which made soap practically squawk in protest.

“awa' an bile yer heid, i’m a spring chicken compared to you two old heads” he pointed at john and then outside the window where simon stood with nathan at the car, the latter looking very emasculated.

“john calls you soap, was that your nickname?” you asked, suddenly curious.

johnny grinned in response, his annoyance fading away, “aye, it’s an inside joke between us. sorry lass, i couldn’t tell you even under threat of torture.”

“hm, alright, well, do you all have nicknames? unless you’re not allowed to tell me that either” you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“och, ye found yourself a feisty bird, price,” soap laughed as he looked over at john.

“she’s not mine, remember?” he looked pointedly at johnny.

“aye, i do now. she’s with that weird looking fellow?” johnny said with such seriousness that it made you burst out into laughter, even if it was making fun of your boyfriend.

“oh god, i shouldn’t be laughing, that is so mean” you said between giggles which made soap smirk,

“he could do with being knocked down a peg or two. the bell above the door rung as nathan stepped inside, quickly followed by simon, “speaking of” soap murmured, his face shifting into a scowl.

“bad news, babe, he said it would take at least three days to fix the problem since we’d have to order a part from somewhere else,” nathan grumbled.

your face fell, “oh no, but what about the dinner with your parents?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know, i’m gonna have to call them or something.” you bit your lip, “right, okay. ugh, i’m sorry, i know you were looking forward to it.” “i knew we should’ve taken my car” he practically spat out, and you just barely stopped yourself from reminding him he insisted on taking your car.

“you could take my truck?” john offered and your gaze softened as you looked over at him, “that’s really nice of you-“ “we are not taking that thing to my parents’, it’s probably worse off than her car and we’ll be back to square one. let’s find a hotel or something and stay there until we figure something out.”

nathan apparently didn’t notice the cutting glares that both simon and johnny were giving him, not liking that someone was disrespecting their captain.

“you’re shit out of luck then, not gonna find a hotel anywhere around here” simon said, his voice had gotten lower, if that was possible, almost a growl. john looked between the two men, something in his eyes somehow conveying for them to back down because they settled slightly.

“you two can stay at my place until the car is fixed,” john turned to face nathan, “if that isn’t going to be a problem?” nathan glanced between the three men, who all stared patiently at him, almost like they were stalking their prey and waiting for the moment to strike.

“that would be fine” he said after a moment’s consideration, making john smile, his angry countenance fading away like clouds passing in front of the sun.

simon and johnny decided to close up shop early and drive with us to john’s house, figuring they could stay for dinner as well. plus, someone needed to drive nathan, otherwise he’d be stuck in the bed of the truck with all the other things simon had unloaded from your car. however, nathan did insist that you rode with him this time, him sitting in the front of simon’s car, you in the backseat and simon driving.

“so, what was your nickname on the force?” you broke the silence.

he eyed you through the rear view mirror, raising an eyebrow, “who said i had one?”

you fidgeted with your hands, worried you’d upset him, “well, i guess i shouldn’t have assumed but since johnny had one, i thought you all would.”

he just laughed, “sorry, love, just messing with you. i did have one, callsign was ghost.”

“ghost? hell kind of name is that?” nathan asked from the passenger seat.

“means you’d never see me coming” simon growled out, making nathan flinch slightly.

he laughed nervously, “that’s.. that’s a joke right?” simon just glanced at him, eyeing him up and down, and then turning back to the road. nathan didn’t say anything else for the rest of the ride.

when simon turned onto john’s property, your mouth practically hung open. it was beautiful, like out of a story book. a two story english farm house with aged bricks, half engulfed by vines and surrounded by lush gardens. simon chuckled and you realized in an embarrassing moment that he was laughing at you and your dazed, open expression.

quickly, you shut your mouth with your hand and cleared your throat, “it’s, um, it’s a beautiful place, is all.” you stepped out of the car, after simon opened the door for you (who knew he was such a gentleman) and watched as john did the same.

“it’s gorgeous” you remarked to him, fairly certain you still had a starry-eyed look to your face.

he just shrugged, “could do with some work, for sure” but even through the dismissive comment, you could tell he was proud of his home.

turning back, you saw nathan, sour-faced. you let out a small sigh, ‘can’t wait to find out what that’s about,’ you thought, grimly.

“i’ll get yer bags for ye” johnny said, an impish grin on his face, making you wonder if he was going to go snooping in your stuff but you just thanked him and watched as he disappeared into the house.

“i’ll go make sure he behaves” simon said gruffly, following after him. you did notice that johnny had specifically only grabbed your bags, leaving nathan to contend with his own, and in the deepest part of your mind, that made you just a little happy. you shook that thought away, ‘no, that’s your boyfriend, do not laugh at him.’

he pushed past you, grumbling something about these men all being assholes, pausing every so often to shift the bags in his grip.

“think he needs help?” john asked, startling you slightly. you didn’t even notice him walking up even though he was standing right next to you.

“oh! uh, maybe, but he’ll be fine. he can handle it” you said, and then flushed slightly, “i’m sorry, that was mean.”

john just chuckled, “sweetheart, i don’t think you have a mean bone in your body.”

that made you flush even more, hiding your face by turning your head slightly, “i wouldn’t say that, exactly, but thank you.”

you froze slightly when he put his hand on your waist, “ready to go inside? or you gonna keep staring at the outside for a couple more hours.”

“right, yeah, let’s go in, sorry.” you tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest as he used his arm behind your back to guide you towards the house. christ, this was looking to be a long day.

a/n: ok yay!!! pt. 2!! haven’t written this much in a long time ngl 😭 yet again, no beta reader, so this is very much unedited, sorry. really wish i could’ve put gaz in this but it didn’t really make sense that he would retire as well :/ but maybe he’ll make an appearance later!! i’ll think of smth..

tag list: @the-disaster-in-waiting

@night-girl-301

@darkangel4121

[hotshotsxyz]

living lies and compromise

(8b spec) (buddie) (879 words) spoilers for 8x08! set a few days after eddie returns from texas and i still managed to make it angsty :) i bet you'll never guess what band i stole the title from

The knock on Buck’s door isn’t entirely unexpected. He doesn’t know what to do with it, though, doesn’t know how to exist in this strange liminal space where Eddie’s back but everything is still different.

A few months ago, Eddie would’ve used his key and walked straight in. A few months ago, Buck would’ve welcomed him with open arms. As it stands, he hesitates. Just for a moment, but—

It’s been a long time since Buck was hesitant with Eddie. He hates it.

He opens the door, and the smile he greets Eddie with feels brittle and fake.

“Hey, man,” Buck says, trying trying trying to make it come out right. He hears it, though—it doesn’t sound the same.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. He hoists a six pack in the air, and if Buck squints he can almost pretend this is exactly what it used to be. That they’re what they used to be.

“Come—come in,” Buck invites. He can’t remember the last time either of them waited for permission like this.

Eddie swallows visibly and steps into the loft for the first time since—god, he’s not actually sure. Right after Halloween, maybe?

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He drops the beer on the counter but makes no move to grab one.

Silence stretches between them. It’s not uncomfortable, necessarily, but it’s also not the kind that falls when everything that needs to be said is out in the open and everything left can wait.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Eddie says finally, achingly quiet.

Buck shakes his head. “I am, of course I’m happy to see you,” he says.

“Please don’t do that.” Eddie’s eyes are wide and sincere, and if Buck’s not careful—

“Eddie,” he says, pleading, “I am, you have no idea.”

“Then why…” He gestures vaguely at the space between them. Why the distance? Why the reticence? Why aren’t they falling together the way they always have?

Buck bites his lip and steps into Eddie’s space to grab a beer for himself. He retreats, but he doesn’t go far.

He pops the cap off and sighs. “You left,” he says simply.

Eddie stumbles back against the counter. “But I came back,” he says. “And I thought you understood.”

Buck offers him a sad little smile. “I did. I do. But—coming back wasn’t the plan.”

“Did you… not want me to?” Eddie asks, small and a tiny bit incredulous.

“No,” Buck says, watching as Eddie’s disbelief turns to hurt. “I didn’t want you to come back. I needed you to.”

A wounded noise escapes Eddie’s lips. “I did,” he says.

“What about next time?” Buck asks. He wishes he didn’t sound so raw and ragged, but it hardly matters when Eddie’s the one listening.

“What?” He breathes, punched out like a cough.

Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder, out the window and into the vague glow of night in Los Angeles. He takes a swig of his beer.

“I need you, Eddie, I still—the whole time you were gone it felt like—like I was missing a limb. And I can’t—I can’t keep needing you like this, not if I don’t get to keep you,” Buck admits. “So I just… I have to figure out how to stop. But I can’t do that when you’re here.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says desperately. “Please don’t. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

“I’m not sure I know how to survive believing that again,” Buck replies.

Eddie takes a step forward, close enough now that Buck can feel his breath ghosting across his skin.

“Look at me?” he asks.

Buck’s never been able to deny him much of anything.

“I kept looking for you. I’d see something funny and I’d turn, because I wanted to see your reaction. The front door would open, and I kept thinking you were going to be the one to walk through it. Hell, every time I went to the grocery store I wanted to call you to make sure everything we needed was on the list.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

His hand drifts toward Buck’s shoulder, just like it always seems to, but this time it doesn’t stop. Eddie reaches until his fingers are resting against Buck’s neck and his thumb is slowly sweeping across his jaw.

“You need me?” he asks.

Buck nods.

“Good,” Eddie says in a rush of air. “Because I need you too, okay? So please don’t stop, please don’t pull away. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump. He takes the last step forward and pulls Buck into a tight hug.

There’s this thing Buck’s been trying not to look at. It’s been growing in size, taking up more and more of his field of vision since the moment Eddie left for Texas. It’s been fuzzy and hard to discern, difficult to ignore but easy to avoid putting a name to. As he melts into Eddie’s arms, though, everything comes into sharp relief.

It’s need. It’s want. It’s love.

And the thing is, Buck knows how this goes. But what the hell? It’ll be a privilege, getting his heart broken by Eddie Diaz.

He clings a little tighter.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[tokkiwrites]

"Summer nights like this had a way of unfolding secrets. The kind of nights when the air hung heavy with pine and smoke, the moon glinting like a shy voyeur against the rippling surface of the lake. This wasn’t your first time at the Washington family cabin, but it was the first time that everything felt different. No parents. No rules. And, worst of all, no escape from the fact that Josh Washington was here, and he wasn’t yours."

summary: Your best friend invites you to their annual summer trip to the family cabin in the mountains—something you've done before. But this year is different: no parents. After years of secretly harboring feelings for your best friend’s brother, Josh, you decide this is the perfect chance to finally confess.

tags: best friend's brother!joshua washington x f!reader, childhood crush, both josh and reader like each other but act oblivious (josh more than reader), reader is low key obsessed with josh, minor age gap, alternative universe where Hannah and Beth are still alive, some angst, p in v (protected), virginity loss (reader), kind of fluff, josh talks you through it (yummy!!), fingering (f receiving), idiots in love 🫶🏻

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ tokkis note 𑁯 ✿ hey... how yall doing... the rami malek fever is so real i had to write something. so i did. 6,45k words to be more exact, teehee! i dont quite know what this is, but i had fun writing it, like it got me giggling and shit so yeah 💀 if you see any typos close your eyes, forget you saw anything. enjoy!

7th grade. That was when you stopped thinking of Josh Washington as just Hannah’s annoying older brother. Between the way he stayed behind after soccer practice to teach you how to kick a penalty and the smirk he threw over his shoulder, like he knew you were watching him. The first time when you actually considered Josh not being a jerk like other boys. In 9th grade, he became the hottest guy you had ever met. or maybe you just got so used to his face that you didn't want to look at other boys. Fast forward to now, you're starting college in one month, and things have changed in a way. maybe for the worstㅡ because he's all you can think about.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah’s voice snaps you out of your daze. She’s grinning, nudging your ribs as the two of you sit on the couch in the cabin. “You’re so obvious.” You blink and turn toward her, cheeks heating. “I—I wasn’t staring!”

“Oh, you were,” she teases, popping a chip into her mouth. “What is it this time? The hair? The jawline? Or did you finally notice his arms? I mean, have you seen him chop firewood? That’s peak Josh.”

“Hannah!” You hiss, smacking her arm. She only laughs, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. But she’s not wrong. Somewhere between your senior year of high school and now, Josh had gone from the boy who made stupid puns to the man who could take your breath away just by walking into a room. Unfortunately, it seems like he doesn’t notice.

“Still no move, huh?” Hannah says, lowering her voice. “You’re not seriously going to spend another summer in silent agony, are you?” You sigh. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Josh, remember me? The girl who used to wear braces and cried when I lost my retainer? Cool. Wanna make out?’” Hannah snorts so loudly that Beth, sitting nearby with her book, looks over with a frown. “What are you two laughing about now?”

“Nothing,” you and Hannah say in unison, though she’s still stifling giggles. Beth looks at you both, arching a brow. “Sure,” she says, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. She returns to her book, leaving you free to squirm under Hannah’s knowing gaze.

Josh doesn’t stick around to witness your humiliation. He’s already disappeared into the kitchen, and the sound of the fridge opening and the clinking of bottles is the only thing tethering you to the moment. “Do something this trip,” Hannah murmurs, leaning close so Beth doesn’t overhear. “Seriously. You’ve been mooning over him since forever. And now—” she waves a hand at the open windows, the twilight stretching wide like a stage—“this is your moment.”

“Hannah, it’s not like that,” you say, but even you don’t believe it. Not when your heart skips every time Josh is within ten feet of you. “It’s exactly like that,” she shoots back, voice low but insistent. “He likes you, too, you know.” You look at her sharply. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that face,” Hannah says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just... Josh. Oblivious as hell.”

You’re about to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, that there’s no way Joshua Washington— carefree, clever, confident Josh, could ever see you like that. But before you can, his voice carries from the kitchen. “You two plotting something?” Your breath hitches, and Hannah, ever the instigator, grins. “Maybe,” she calls back. Josh reappears, beer in hand, and leans against the doorway. His green eyes flick between the two of you, and for a moment, you swear they linger on you. “Well, don’t blow up the cabin,” he says with a crooked smile before heading out onto the porch.

That night, the cabin settled into quiet. Beth retires early, Hannah tucked away in the room you’re sharing, and yet you can’t sleep. Your thoughts swirl—images of Josh’s hands, the way his eyes looked into yours, his voice, smooth and teasing, the way his smile felt like a hook tugging you somewhere you shouldn’t want to go.

The room feels suffocating, the summer heat pressing against your skin. You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, grabbing a towel and slipping into your swimsuit. The lake isn’t far. You’ve been there a hundred times before, but tonight, it feels like it’s waiting just for you. The water is cold when you first step in, but it’s a welcome relief, a shock that clears your head. You wade in deeper, letting the towel drop onto the shore, and soon, the swimsuit feels like too much. You hesitate, glancing back toward the cabin, but it’s silent and still. “Just you and the lake,” you whisper to yourself. The swimsuit peels away, and the water envelops you like a second skin. You float, staring up at the sky, letting the cool liquid carry the weight of your thoughts.

But then a voice shatters the stillness.

“Didn’t take you for a midnight swimmer.”

You jolt, water sloshing as you whirl toward the shore. Josh is standing there, hands in his pockets, his head cocked in that infuriatingly casual way he always manages. “Josh!” You shriek, sinking deeper into the water. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, stepping closer to the water’s edge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Something like that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning even as the water cools your skin. His eyes sweep over the lake, lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “You always were full of surprises,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me, or are you joining?” you ask before you can think better of it. The question hangs in the air, bold and daring, and for a moment, you think you’ve scared him off. But then he grins.

“Alright.”

You watch, half in awe, as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the toned lines of his chest and the faint trail of scars along his ribs. He doesn’t stop there, shucking off his jeans until he’s left in his boxers.

The water ripples as he drops in, and suddenly, he’s closer than you expected, the space between you charged with something you can’t quite name. “This is nice,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. You nod, the words caught in your throat. “Do you ever feel like...” He trails off, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Like there’s something just out of reach? Like you want to grab it, but you’re scared of what happens if you do?”

Your heart thuds. “All the time.” His gaze shifts to you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something—something that will change everything. Instead, he leans back, letting himself float. “Good thing we’ve got the whole summer,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or himself. But one thing is clear: you’ll spend every moment of this summer trying to pull him closer.

The next morning, the cabin feels alive with the quiet rustle of summer. Birds trill in the trees, and sunlight pours through the open windows, a golden invitation to start the day. Hannah is already on the deck with a cup of coffee, scrolling on her phone when you step out. “You’re up early,” she says, not looking up. You shrug, trying to hide how restless you’d been all night after what happened at the lake. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t press. “Josh is down at the dock,” she says, nodding toward the lake. “Probably sulking. You know how he gets.”

You hesitate. “Why’s he sulking?”

She snorts. “Because the rest of the group isn’t getting here until tomorrow. You’d think one day without his entourage wouldn’t kill him.” You glance toward the lake. the memory of last night. Josh’s quiet words, the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, it's still fresh in your mind. “You should go,” Hannah says, smirking now. “Cheer him up. Or stare at him some more. Whatever works.”

“Hannah!” But she’s already gone, slipping back into the cabin and leaving you with no choice but to head toward the dock.

Josh is sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, his feet dangling in the water. The air smells like cedar and the faint tang of sunscreen. for a moment, you almost turn back. But then he glances over his shoulder and sees you. “Morning,” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Hey,” you say, stepping onto the dock and sitting a few feet away. For a while, neither of you speak. The lake stretches out before you, endless and still, and it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you.

“Big day ahead of us,” Josh says eventually, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Yeah,” you reply, matching his smile. “So many exciting activities. Staring at trees. Staring at water. Staring at each other.” He laughs, and the sound is warm and unexpected. “Careful. I might think you’re obsessed with me.” Your stomach flips, but you keep your voice light. “Who says I’m not?”

Josh looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a second, you wonder if you’ve said too much. But instead of teasing, his expression softens. “I don’t get you sometimes,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” He shrugs, kicking at the water. “You’re just...different. Not like everyone else.” oh boy. “Good different or bad different?” you ask, your heart in your throat. Josh doesn’t answer right away. His gaze shifts to the endless forest, and when he finally speaks, his voice pangs through you.

“Good,” he says. "Definitely good.”

The rest of the day is a blur of lazy activities—helping Beth organize the kitchen, listening to Hannah’s playlist on the deck, and avoiding Josh just enough to keep your heart from imploding. By sunset, the air is thick with the anticipation of the group’s arrival tomorrow. Hannah flops onto the couch beside you, phone in hand. “Sam says they’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she says. “So, enjoy the quiet while it lasts.”

“Quiet?” Beth calls from the kitchen, laughing. “Have you met us?” Hannah rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Tomorrow it’s going to be chaos. Jess and Emily bickering, Chris and Ashley pretending they’re not totally in love, Matt trying to keep the peace...and then there’s Josh.”

“What about Josh?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Hannah gives you a look. “You tell me.”

That night, you find yourself back at the lake, drawn by the same restless energy that kept you up the night before. You don’t plan on skinny dipping again—it feels too risky with everyone around—but the water calls to you anyway, soothing and eternal.

And maybe, just maybe, Josh feels the same right now.

You’re sitting on the shore, toes dipping into the cool water when you hear footsteps behind you. “Couldn’t sleep again?” You don’t have to turn around to know it’s him. “I could say the same to you,” you reply, glancing back. Josh sits beside you, his shoulder brushing yours, and the warmth of him is enough to set your skin buzzing. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he says after a while.

“What is?”

“Being back here. Without... you know. Adults. Rules.” You nod, the weight of his words settling over you. “Feels different.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now. “Makes you think about stuff.”

“Like what?” you ask, heart pounding.

Josh doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he picks up a stone and skips it across the water. One, two, three perfect skips before it sinks. “Like what happens next,” he says finally. “For all of us. Feels like everything’s about to change.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So, instead, you reach for your own stone, throwing it as hard as you can. It skips once before plunking into the water. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and figure it out,” you say, keeping your voice light.

Josh looks at you, his eyes shadowed and searching, and for a moment, you think he’s going to say something. what you want to hear, maybe. something important. But instead, he smiles, that same lopsided grin that’s been haunting your dreams for years. “Good,” he says.

“I’d miss you otherwise.”

The cabin feels too small the moment the others arrive. It’s a blur of bodies, laughter, and chaos as the others spill into the space, dragging in bags, cooler boxes, and enough energy to wake the dead. It’s not that you mind them—you’ve known most of Josh’s friends for years, but something about the way the cabin hums now feels different. The tight, intimate bubble you’d shared with Josh, Hannah, and Beth is gone, replaced by noise and the easy rhythm of their group. You feel...adrift, to say the least. And watching Josh slip seamlessly back into his role as the charismatic center of attention only makes it worse.

By the time night falls, the cabin is alive with music, the sharp pop of bottle caps, and the low buzz of conversation. You find yourself perched in a corner of the living room, a half-empty drink in hand, watching the others like a ghost at your own party.

Josh is at the center of it all, as always. He’s standing near the couch, laughing at something Sam said, and the sound is enough to send your stomach twisting into knots. Sam, of course, is radiant—effortlessly pretty in her cropped sweatshirt, her hair catching the light like spun gold. She’s animated, gesturing with her hands, and every time Josh leans closer to hear her, you feel like the room tilts off its axis. “Hey,” Hannah says, sliding in next to you with a knowing look. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie, taking a sip of your drink. Hannah snorts. “Subtle.” You glance at her, frowning. “What?”

“You know what,” she says, tilting her head toward Josh and Sam. “Seriously, if you’re going to keep looking at him like that, you might as well do something about it.”

“I’m not looking at him,” you protest weakly. Hannah rolls her eyes. “Sure. And I’m not your best friend.” She pauses, watching you for a moment before her expression softens. “Look, you’re not exactly subtle when it comes to Josh. But for what it’s worth? I think he’s just as clueless about how he feels as you are.” Her words settle into your chest, a mix of hope and frustration, but before you can respond, Jess calls out from the other side of the room.

“Hey! Who’s up for Spin the Bottle?” You couldn’t escape it, let's be honest.

You don’t know how it happens, but somehow, you end up in the circle. Maybe it’s the drinking, or maybe it’s Hannah giving you a pointed nudge as everyone sits on the floor, but before you know it, you’re sandwiched between her and Ashley, your pulse pounding in your ears. Josh is directly across from you, his green eyes bright in the firelight. Sam is to his left, Jess to his right, and the knot in your stomach tightens. “Okay, ground rules,” Jess says, grinning wickedly. “No chickening out. You spin, you kiss. Period.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and a few groans, but no one protests. Chris goes first, spinning the bottle with dramatic flair. It lands on Ashley, who blushes furiously but leans in to kiss him. The group erupts in cheers and wolf whistles, and you can’t help but smile despite yourself.

One by one, the bottle makes its rounds. Jess and Emily kiss, Matt kisses Ashley despite him protesting, and eventually, it’s Josh’s turn. He spins the bottle with a lazy flick of his wrist, the glass neck twirling endlessly before it slows, stops, and lands on Sam.

Your stomach drops.

“Oh, come on,” Jess says, clapping her hands. “This is gonna be good.” Josh raises an eyebrow, glancing at Sam. She shrugs, smiling, and leans forward.

You can’t look away.

Their lips meet in a brief, playful kiss—nothing dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. but it’s enough. Enough to make your chest ache, your fingers tighten around the drink in your hand. When they pull apart, everyone cheers again, and Josh laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your turn,” he says, handing the bottle to Sam. But you don’t care. You’re too busy swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the way your vision blurs at the edges.

Later, when the game ends and the group begins to disperse, you slip outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating cabin. The lake stretches out before you, dark and endless, and for a moment, you let yourself breathe.

“You okay?” The voice startles you, and you turn to see Josh standing there, hands in his pockets. “I’m fine,” you say quickly, brushing at your eyes. He frowns, stepping closer. “You sure? You looked kind of...I don’t know, off.” You force a laugh, crossing your arms. “I’m fine, Josh. Really.” For a moment, he just looks at you, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says softly. The words hit harder than they should, and before you can stop yourself, you snap. “What do you want me to say, Josh? That I didn’t love watching you kiss Sam? That it didn’t suck seeing you two all cozy earlier?” His eyes widen, caught off guard, and for a second, you regret everything. But then his expression shifts—something softer, something almost...guilty.

“I didn’t...” He trails off, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to...” You shake your head, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “Forget it. It’s not your fault.” Josh hesitates, like he’s weighing his next words carefully. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the look in his eyes—conflicted, searching. “I know,” you say quietly. “It’s fine. Really.” But it’s not fine. And as you turn back toward the cabin, leaving Josh standing by the lake, you can’t help but wonder if this summer is going to break you before it’s over.

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the cabin in hues of orange and gold. The group was scattered—Jess and Emily were bickering over sunscreen, Chris and Ashley were curled up on the deck talking in low tones, and Sam was by the lake with Hannah, skipping stones. It was all too perfect, too idyllic, except for the hollow ache in your chest.

Josh had been avoiding you all day.

It wasn’t like he was being obvious about it—Josh had a knack for slipping into conversations, filling the room with his sharp wit and charm like nothing was wrong. But you felt it. In the way his eyes would dart past you when you entered a room, the way his laugh seemed just a little louder when you weren’t around.

And maybe you were just as bad, lurking in the corners, pretending not to notice how often he touched Sam’s arm when they talked.

Written across your heart was all of your will to make him see—make him realize there was no in-between. There was either you and him, or the hollow echo of “I’m so sorry for your loss.” And wasn’t that what it felt like already? Like mourning something that never got the chance to live?

But it was his fault, wasn’t it?

For making you want him so much that your heart bled angel tears. For teaching your lips to sing sweet once-upon-a-times about a boy who was all sharp edges and hidden softness, who didn’t realize how much space he took up in your world.

By late afternoon, you found yourself back at the lake. It had become your refuge, the only place where you could breathe without the weight of Josh’s absence pressing against your ribs. Your toes skimmed the water’s edge, the cool ripples kissing your skin. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular—just the endless horizon, the way the light danced on the surface of the lake. But then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“You hiding out here now?” You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Again.

“Maybe I am,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. Josh sighed, stepping closer. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the way his presence wrapped around you even when you didn’t want it to. “Look,” he said finally, his voice softer. “About the other night...” You turned to face him, cutting him off. “It’s fine, Josh. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes—those endless green eyes—searched yours, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “No, you don’t,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’re friends. That’s all we’ve ever been, right?”

Josh flinched, like the word “friends” was a physical blow. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. For a moment, you believed. But then you shook your head, stepping away. “You didn’t, Josh,” you said. “I’m fine.”

That night, the group decided to make a bonfire by the lake. The air was thick with laughter, the sharp scent of burning wood mingling with the sweetness of roasted marshmallows.

You sat with Hannah and Beth, listening as Chris tried to tell a ghost story that kept getting interrupted by Jess’s sarcastic commentary. Josh was across the fire, sitting next to Sam. He wasn’t touching her, wasn’t even looking at her, but it didn’t matter.

Your hair cascaded like Niagara under the firelight, your lips so soft—even if he had never felt them under his. Josh couldn’t stop looking at you. Your eyes glowed like an eternity, and your voice—when you laughed at something - it was the only antidote he’d ever had for all those sleepless nights.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

Didn’t know how to reach across the chasm that had opened between you since that stupid game of Spin the Bottle. And maybe it was selfish—maybe it was cruel—but he wanted you to look at him the way you used to. Like he was something worth believing in.

The fire burned low as the group began to drift off, one by one. Eventually, it was just you and Josh, the silence between you heavy and unspoken. “Shouldn’t you be with Sam?” you asked, your tone biting. Josh frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, standing. “I’m going to bed.” But before you could leave, his hand shot out, catching your wrist. “Wait,” he said, his voice urgent. You froze, refusing to look at him. “Can we just—” He hesitated, his grip loosening. “Can we talk?” You pulled away, your chest tightening. “Not tonight, Josh.” He didn’t stop you this time, and as you walked back to the cabin, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back.

Neither of you slept that night.

The stars were muted behind a veil of clouds, the air heavy with the promise of rain. The cabin was quieter now. Days of forced smiles and lingering silences had worn you thin, and tonight, you found yourself outside again, pacing the gravel path that led to the lake.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It started as an ache in your chest, spreading to your throat until the tears came unbidden, hot, and relentless. You wiped at them furiously, hating the way they betrayed you, but the anger only made it worse.

How could he be so blind?

You heard footsteps behind you, familiar and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Josh. “Go away,” you said, your voice raw.

He didn’t.

“Hey,” he said softly, his tone careful, like he was afraid you’d shatter if he spoke too loud. “What’s wrong?” You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the stillness. “You really have to ask?” Josh shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Look, if this is about—”

“It’s not about Sam!” you snapped, whirling to face him. “It’s about you, Josh. It’s always about you.” His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his green eyes. “What are you talking about?” You threw your hands up, frustration spilling over. “Do you know what it’s like? To feel like you’re screaming into the void, hoping, praying, that someone will hear you? To love someone so much that it hurts, only for them to act like you don’t even exist?” Josh’s expression shifted, the confusion replaced by something deeper, something raw.

“I—”

“You don’t get it,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You never have. And maybe that’s my fault. Maybe I should’ve said something years ago, but I didn’t, and now... now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’m suffocating.” The tears came harder now, and you didn’t bother to stop them. Josh took a step closer, his jaw tight, but he didn’t speak. “Say something,” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Anything.”

He didn’t.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until you shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Of course,” you said, turning away. “Why did I even expect—” But before you could take another step, his hand caught your arm, spinning you back toward him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate, messy, like he was trying to say all the words he couldn’t find through the press of his lips. His hands cradled your face, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath your feet. For a moment, you froze, too stunned to move. But then your hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I’m sorry I made you feel like this.” Your chest ached, the anger draining from your body as quickly as it had come. “Josh,” you started, but he cut you off, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I don’t. But you’re all I think about. You always have been.” The words broke something in you, and the tears came again, but this time, they weren’t born of anger or frustration. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Because I’m a coward,” he admitted, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because I’m an idiot who didn’t realize what he had until he almost lost it.” You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his hands still framing your face. “I can’t.” You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you did the only thing you could: you kissed him.

This time, it was softer, slower, filled with all the things you couldn’t put into words. And when you pulled back, his lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. “Does this mean you’ll stop avoiding me?” you asked, your voice shaking with a mix of laughter and tears. Josh chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You'll start wishing I would."

The first low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky as you and Josh lingered, the sound so faint at first that you barely noticed it. But then it came again, louder this time, accompanied by a flash of light on the horizon, pulling you both from your kiss. You glanced up at the clouds gathering above, your chest tightening. Josh followed your gaze, a grin tugging at his lips. “You afraid of a little rain?” Before you could respond, the heavens opened up. The rain came in a sudden, torrential downpour, drenching you both in seconds. You yelped, the cold droplets soaking through your clothes as Josh let out a startled laugh. “Come on!” he shouted over the sound of the rain, grabbing your hand.

He led you up the path, past the cabin and deeper into the woods where a small gazebo stood, tucked beneath a canopy of trees. The structure was simple but charming, with its whitewashed beams and ivy creeping up the sides. Inside was a weathered but cozy couch, draped with soft blankets that someone—Hannah, probably—had left there.

You stumbled under the shelter just as another crack of thunder split the sky. The sound was deafening, but you couldn’t help laughing as you leaned against one of the beams, rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes. Josh stood across from you, his hands on his hips, his shirt clinging to his chest in a way that made your heart race all over again. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead, and yet he looked unfairly good—smiling at you like this was the best night of his life.

“Well,” he said, shaking water from his hair, “so much for staying dry.” You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You think?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something warmer. “Here.” He reached for one of the blankets on the couch, shaking it out before draping it over your shoulders. His fingers brushed your arms as he adjusted it, and you shivered, though it wasn’t from the rain. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice quieter now.

Josh sat beside you on the couch, his arm resting along the back as he leaned into the cushions. The rain pattered against the roof of the gazebo, a rhythmic hum that filled the silence between you. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “I kind of like this.” You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Getting caught in a thunderstorm?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Being here. With you.” You looked away, focusing on the rain streaking down the gazebo’s wooden beams. “Josh...” “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. You felt his hand brush against yours, tentative, like he was testing the waters. “Look at me.” You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. The rain softened the world around you, muting everything except the warmth in his gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the two of you, sitting close on that old couch, the rain falling like a curtain around the gazebo. You could feel it, that familiar warmth creeping up within you, curling in your stomach every time Josh was near. Your heart thuds as his rough palm drags itself up your exposed thigh. Before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out of your mouth. “I’m a virgin!” Your face flushed a deep crimson as soon as the words left your lips, and you immediately covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Josh froze for a beat, his hand still resting on your thigh. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare look up. And then, to your surprise, you heard him laugh softly, the sound low and warm. “Wait... really?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement but also something softer, something affectionate.

You peeked up at him, still hiding half of your face behind your hands, the flush on your cheeks deepening. “Yeah, really,” you mumbled, not sure whether you were embarrassed or relieved to finally say it out loud. Josh’s grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned a little closer. “I gotta admit, that’s a little... surprising.” He paused, his tone teasing but gentle. “But, hey, no rushing." Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of him being your first. You nodded, your eyes searching his face, still unsure whether to be embarrassed or... maybe a little proud?

His hand gently moved from your thigh to rest on your knee, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, reassuring circles. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said quietly, his voice soft. “I'm not trying anything unless you want to.” You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and found only kindness there— no teasing, no judgment, just understanding. And somehow, that made everything feel a little easier. "I do want to... you know.." The words won't come out. “Still,” you muttered, “it’s... kind of awkward, don’t you think?” Josh chuckled, that warm smile never leaving his face. “Don't think so” he said, his voice low and serious now, “if you’re gonna share something like that with anyone, I’m glad it could be me."

You nod, scooting closer to him, palms now flush on his chest. his eyes scan your every inch, and you try to look away, but he captures your lips into another kiss. his lips trail down to your neck with a low "can I?" And you hum, trying your best to stay quiet as you get used to the feeling.

in no time, you're under him, both entangled, half naked and out of breath. he finally pulls off your panties, tossing them to the floor as he spreads your cunt wide open with two of his fingers, and god, you looked so erotic, all shying away as he loomed over, fingers playing with your pussy. "You ever touched yourself like this before?" You nod, bottom lip captive between your teeth. "J-just a little..." Oh, god. "You're so beautiful, fuckㅡ" And he's already losing his mind. Nights of fantasizing couldn’t have prepared him for this.

placing his palm behind your knee, he lifts up your legs, laying light pecks onto the plush of your thighs, thumb now tracing down to your puffy clit. Josh starts slowly, swirling his finger and still kissing your soft flesh. "Thank you for letting me do this." tracing the entrace with his index, he pushes his finger slow and deep inside, and you arch against him. this was it. he was where all of his dreams led him to. you looked like something straight out of a 80's porno. cunningly, josh moved his finger, and before you knew it he added another one. you squeezed perfectly around his digits, the sounds you and your pussy made driving him to the brink. "You hear that?" he asks, curling up his fingers, the wet sounds amplifying. "don't think I've ever had a pussy this wet before..." you whimper ans wrigle under his hold. "Josh.."

"What? It's the truth." he chuckles, speed picking up, his other hand now flush to your lower belly. "Want you to come. Can you do that for me?" he looks up, doe eyes searching for yours, and you can already feel your body convulsing. it didn't take long for you to finally give in and gift him what he asked for, coming just from his fingers. the way you thighs squeezed together, trapping his hand between them, soft pleads dripping from your lips like honeyㅡ he was done for. you were embarrassed, to say the least, hiding your face into his shirt he had taken off long ago. "Stop that, heyㅡ look at me, baby." Baby. did you just come again? "You did great. so good." he leans in over you, pressing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "Do you wanna keep going?" and you say the most eager 'yes' known to man. "i got you." he smiles, eyes tracing every curve of your body. he takes off his pants along with hus briefs, letting his shaft spring free, small pearls of precum already gathered at the tip.

your eyes opened. what the fuck? is that normal? you knew your first would hurt, but seeing what Josh had going on for him you knew it would be the most painful experience for you yet. "Don't worry. I'll go slow." he stumbles a bit back, grabbing a hold of his trousers, palming his pockets before he mutters a soft 'there we go.' and takes out a shiny wrapperㅡ a condom. the opens it and carefully takes it out, lining it with the tip of his aching cock. "If you ever wanna stopㅡ" he start, whilst rolling the condom down his length. "Tell me. Yeah?" you nod.

taking his length into his fist, Josh pumps it a few times before he aligns it with your entrance that trickled with juices. he lets it slip in, and your eyes close as tears threaten to fall. you claw at his back, but Josh kisses you as he slides in some more, your walla wrapping perfectly around himㅡ just like it was meant to be. "It's okay, you're okay, baby."

after going in the last couple of inches, he starts to move, gently holding down onto your waist as he lets you adjust. "Doing so food for me."

just a few strokes after he feels you wrapping your legs around his hips, urging him deeper. "Please.." You plead, the sweetest sounds escaping your plump and swollen lips, and he swears he could come just by that. "Fuck, yeah, okayㅡ" he groans, with the way your teary eyes stared up at him. He starts to move his hips, harder, deeper, each sound you made an encouragement. His palms make his way under your back, pulling you up, almost to sit on his lap. He fucks up into you, your arms lazily draped over his flexed shoulders whilst his lips kiss soft blooms onto your chest. you clench around him. "J-Josh..." he shakes his head, laughing as his fingers dig deep into your flesh where you know bruises will appear later. "Don'tㅡ ha, I'm gonna come if you keep doing that." whines slip past your lips as his speed picks up. "Shit, shitㅡ" he pulls you closer, lips now stuck to your neck like a locket. "Y-you gonna come?" he prys. "Mhm.." you squeal as your eyes roll back. "Go ahead, for me." that's all it took. you come once again, nimbly wrapping around josh like a vine, walls squeezing him so tight. your mind goes blank, only soft moans gripping your throat as Josh pumps into you, finally releasing inside of the condom with a few thrusts.

you both breathe heavily, hearts beating in a sing-song, as you come down from your high. realization sets in as you meet each other's gaze. it was real. it really just happened.

"You okay?" he leans in, pressing a lazy kiss onto your lips. "Yeah... How okay can one be after having sex for the first time..?" and he laughs, playing with the strands of your hair. "Thank god for the rain covering the sound. You were super loud just thenㅡ"

"Josh!"

[littlelamy]

Request hehe: Maybe Reader has some trust issues due to past cheating etc. So she is constantly doubting If Rafe is doing something behind her back and it’s damaging their relationship/Rafe is feeling very offended that she could ever think that and leaves very upset. So some self-sabotage on her part.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! 💗 pngs from @saizun

the tension in the room was as palpable as the crisp autumn air seeping through the edges of rafe's window. you stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, while rafe paced near the door, his brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. it wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself in this situation—accusations hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“i just don’t get why you think i’m lying to you,” rafe finally said, running a hand through his messy blond hair. his voice was raw, teetering between frustration and sadness. “what did i do this time?”

the pang of guilt that shot through you was immediate, but it was quickly overshadowed by the relentless doubt that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“i don’t know, rafe,” you muttered, staring down at your hands. “you’re just… too good to be true sometimes. i mean, look at you.” you gestured vaguely at his tall, athletic frame, the way he looked even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. “how do i know you’re not out there talking to someone else? everyone likes you.”

he stopped pacing, standing still for a moment as your words sank in.

“you think just because people like me, i’d cheat on you?” his voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made you wince.

“it’s not like that—”

“then what is it like, y/n?” he interrupted, his tone sharp now. he stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. you keep accusing me of something i’m not doing, and it’s…” he exhaled shakily, taking a step back. “it’s killing me, honestly.”

the tears you’d been holding back began to sting your eyes. you hated how this always ended—with you feeling like the villain and rafe looking at you like you’d just run over his dog.

“it’s not about you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “it’s about me. i’ve been through this before, rafe. i’ve trusted someone before, and they… they betrayed me.”

“and i’m paying for what someone else did?” his voice cracked, and he shook his head in disbelief. “do you even hear yourself?”

you stayed silent, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

rafe let out a bitter laugh, running his hands over his face. “do you really think i’m that kind of person? that after everything we’ve been through, i’d just—what? throw it all away for someone else?”

“i don’t know!” you blurted out, tears finally spilling over. “i don’t know what to believe anymore. i want to trust you, rafe, but it’s so hard. every time you’re late, every time you get a text and don’t tell me who it’s from, my mind goes to the worst place.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “you don’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. you don’t even try to trust me.”

you wiped at your tears angrily, hating how vulnerable you felt. “maybe i don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

rafe stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his composure.

“i can’t do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. “what do you mean?”

“i can’t keep proving myself to you when i’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i love you, y/n. i love you so much it hurts, but this?” he gestured between the two of you. “this is tearing me apart.”

you took a step toward him, panic rising in your chest. “rafe, please. i’m sorry. i’ll work on it, i promise. just don’t… don’t leave.”

but he shook his head, his expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. “i need some time to think,” he said, his voice trembling. “i can’t keep feeling like i’m not enough for you when i’ve given you everything i have.”

he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, and you collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into your hands.

you had pushed him away. the one person who had always been there for you, who had loved you despite your flaws, was gone—and it was your fault.

the days that followed were a blur. you went through the motions of life, but everything felt hollow without rafe. he didn’t call, didn’t text, and the silence was deafening. you wanted to reach out, to beg for his forgiveness, but every time you picked up your phone, the shame stopped you.

instead, you spent your time reflecting on the mess you’d made. you thought about the way you’d let your past dictate your present, how you’d let your insecurities poison something good.

you thought about rafe’s face the last time you saw him—the hurt in his eyes, the way his voice broke when he said he loved you.

you loved him too. you always had. but you’d let your fear overshadow that love, and now you were paying the price.

a week later, you found yourself standing outside rafe’s house, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d rehearsed what you wanted to say a million times, but now that you were here, your mind was blank.

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

it opened a moment later, and there he was—rafe, looking as handsome as ever despite the tiredness in his eyes.

“y/n,” he said, his voice soft but guarded.

“hi,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “can i come in?”

he hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let you in. you walked into the living room, the familiar space feeling foreign without the warmth you were used to.

“i’m sorry for just showing up,” you said, turning to face him. “i just… i needed to see you.”

he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “what do you want, y/n?”

“i want to fix this,” you said, your voice trembling. “i want to fix us.”

rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“i know,” you said quickly. “i know i’ve hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i’ve spent the last week thinking about everything, and i realized… i’ve been so unfair to you, rafe. i let my past ruin what we had, and i’m so sorry.”

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. “do you even trust me?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation. “or… i want to. i know i’ve given you every reason to think i don’t, but i do, rafe. i trust you more than anyone. i’m just scared. scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt again.”

“you’re not the only one who’s scared,” he said, his voice softening. “do you know how it feels to love someone who’s always waiting for you to screw up? to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped closer to him. “i’m so sorry, rafe,” you whispered. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you are enough—more than enough. and i don’t want to lose you because i couldn’t get out of my own head.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know, y/n. i don’t know if i can keep doing this.”

“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll prove to you that i can be better, that i can trust you the way you deserve to be trusted.”

he studied your face, his blue eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“i love you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “but this has to change. i can’t keep living like this.”

“it will,” you promised, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “i’ll change. i’ll prove to you that i can be better.”

he sighed but didn’t pull away from you. “this is your last chance, y/n,” he said quietly. “i mean it.”

“i won’t waste it,” you promised, looking up at him.

for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you, the tension thick and heavy. then, slowly, rafe’s hands moved to cup your face.

“don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw.

“i won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned down.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and hope. you clung to him, pouring every ounce of your love and regret into the kiss, vowing to yourself that this time, you would get it right.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed.

“i love you, baby,” he said again, his voice steady this time.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your heart swelling with both relief and determination.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[lucygraysboy]

“you’re somethin’ else, lucy gray,” billy just laughs, very much unsure whether he should believe her or not about this sudden need for sexual exploration. “hell, i’ve been robbed then. i really wanted those peter pan undies.” but now that he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t see the reason why all the other disney characters can be on kids’ underwear and peter pan can’t. his ma probably wasn’t looking for them. he can’t really blame her, though. she had more important matters to tend to. “of course,” growing serious for a moment, he offers her a smile and allows his fingers to linger on her wrist a minute longer, “i’ll always take care of you, lucy gray. it’s what we do.” other people won’t understand what they’ve been through, why they’re still so close, why one can’t live without the other. funny how he was naive enough to think that blair would be able to give him this. “no, it’s good, but i’m full.” following her gaze, he analyzes the contents of his plate and then glances over at hers. “how was yours?” his fingers eventually let go of her wrist, but not without reluctance. it’s muscle memory at this point — holding her hand. “i’ve always been so disappointed that there’s no disney princess who looks exactly like you. i mean, belle has similar hair, jasmine has your olive skin, rapunzel is fun and spontaneous like you, snow white loves animals and aurora sings so beautifully, but… you’re one of a kind. my rainbow princess.” god, why is he saying these things? he wants to scold himself but can’t, pale blue eyes gazing lovingly across the table at the one girl whose name is tattooed on his heart. “you’re very welcome, birdie.” laughing even though he can barely breathe, he watches her enjoy a piece of baked alaska and thinks to himself that she’s as cute as a button. for a second, as she leans in, his hearts stops completely and he’s certain she’s about to kiss him on the lips. even the tips of his ears turn red and he can hear the blood buzzing in his veins. swallowing harshly, he’s frozen in place, anticipating and fearing her next move. her lips miss his by an inch, planting a sweet, sticky kiss to his cheek, and still, his heart refuses to recover. his eyes flicker to her lips, so plump and soft and sweet. he’s tempted to cup her face and pull her in for yet another, this time proper kiss, but his conscience stops him from doing that. instead, he lets out a sheepish chuckle, taking his napkin, folding it over his fingertip and wiping her mouth clean before doing the same thing to his own face. “mm, what a sweet surprise that was.” 

“that is true, i do get the best of both worlds now.” lucy gray winks, dying to laugh at this reaction. it’s better than she expected. “well maybe they do make peter pan, darlin’. they make mickey and he’s a disney character so why not?” maybe his mom just didn’t look in the right places. “that’s sweet of you.” voice coos, holding her fork and head tilting in affection as a loving look fills her eyes. she wants to kiss him for it, but can’t and scolds herself for even having those thoughts. but… why not think about it? it’s so kind of him to take care of her like that and she treasures honest, kind actions like that out of people. and then… he looks so handsome. her body wanting to attack him in kisses, studying his mouth again, has her annoyed she keeps doing this. IT keeps doing this. “you don’t like your salad?” she concernedly wonders, gaze falling down on his food. “oh, of course not.” voice drops in a disappointed tone, brows scrunching together because she’d never say her sweet little billy she met that day was beast. his outfit didn’t mean a thing to her. “for you, for takin’ care of me and ridiculously havin’ to brush my teeth, take my makeup off, give me a bath and put my jammas on,” she laughs affectionately, but somewhat feeling embarrassed. letting him have his bite, she grins once he takes it then eyes fall on his incoming fork with his dessert. curiously, she leans it and quickly steals the bite to see what it tastes like. confusion knits her brows then the second she tastes ice cream, eyes light up, being vocal about her love for the flavor once she swallows, “oh, that one’s delicious. i LOVE that one.” meringue stuck to her lip, she giggles and uses it an excuse to kiss him on the cheek to leave a sticky kiss.

[dissapointu]

may i pretty pretty please request a healer!reader with ekko? like as the few traine medic in the hideout she's well versed in most kinds of injuries amd illnesses and ekko would just be in awe of them (lowk distractin her the fact he's wounded) but reader clocks that a mile away but plays along the bit anyways 🥺🥺🥺

(i need more love for my boy 🥺🫶🥺🫶)

healer!reader interacts with Ekko, and he tries to distract them despite being injured:

He needs more love. I agree 100%

————————————————————————

“Don’t worry, Ekko. I’ve got this.”

You said it with a steady confidence, your hands moving effortlessly over the medical supplies in front of you. You were one of the few trained medics in the hideout, and while most of the others could get by with basic first aid, you had seen your fair share of injuries—enough to know exactly what you were doing.

But of course, Ekko wasn’t making it easy. As you bandaged up his side, where a deep gash had appeared after a particularly rough skirmish, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flicking to your hands, the way he’d casually nudge his body closer to yours despite you having plenty of space. He was clearly trying to distract you.

“So, uh… you’re, like, really good at this,” Ekko said, his voice uncharacteristically light and teasing. His tone carried that playful edge that always seemed to slip in when he was trying to sidestep something.

You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow as you continued working. “I’m not new to this, Ekko. You’re not the first person I’ve patched up.”

His lips curled into a small grin, and he shifted on the table, deliberately stretching his arms out as though to demonstrate how ‘comfortable’ he was. “Yeah, but you make it look so easy. Like… it’s just natural for you, huh?”

You barely suppressed a smirk. “Well, it’s my job, Ekko. It’s what I do.”

But you knew the game he was playing. The way his eyes lingered on you, the way he made small talk when you were trying to focus—he was stalling, trying to make this moment last longer. His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a vulnerability he didn’t often show.

“I mean, you are amazing at this,” he continued, leaning back a little and looking up at the ceiling with a somewhat exaggerated sigh. “Like, not only are you super smart and capable, but you’ve got the whole… healer vibe. You know? Very soothing.”

You paused, your hands on the bandages, and narrowed your eyes. “Are you really trying to distract me right now, Ekko?”

His face turned a shade of red that you had to suppress a chuckle at. “What? No! I just… I’m just… you know… appreciating how good you are at this. It’s impressive.”

You smirked, catching his playful, slightly flustered expression. “Yeah, well, I can’t finish until I make sure this is all done right.” You applied a final wrap to his injury, pressing gently and ensuring everything was secure before giving him a pointed look. “Now, stop trying to distract me and let me finish.”

Ekko leaned in closer, his gaze softening despite the playful tone he’d been trying to keep up. “You know, I think I could just lie here all day if it meant I get to listen to you talk,” he admitted quietly, his earlier teasing tone slipping away.

You chuckled, carefully adjusting the bandages and checking for any signs of further injury. “You’re lucky I care about you, Ekko. Otherwise, I might just leave you here to suffer through your own flustered rambling.”

Ekko raised an eyebrow, leaning into your touch as you finished. “Hey, I’m not rambling. I’m just… appreciating the person who’s keeping me from bleeding out, that’s all.”

You met his gaze, your fingers brushing against his skin as you applied the final layer of bandages, ensuring his wound was properly treated. “Well, if you keep distracting me like this, I might start charging you extra for the therapy session.”

He chuckled, the familiar mischievous gleam returning to his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to keep distracting you, then. Can’t let you have all the fun.”

As you finished the last few touches, you stepped back, looking at him with a small smile. “All done. You’re lucky I’m here, you know?”

Ekko sat up, his movements now much more fluid than they had been before. He gave you a genuine, soft smile that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m the lucky one, (Y/N). Thanks.”

And for a moment, despite his usual cocky charm, you could see it in his eyes: the deep admiration, the unspoken gratitude, the way he truly felt safe in your hands.

I hope this gave you the fluff and love for Ekko you were craving! 🫶💖

[aedearly]

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑫𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of loose quotes taken from various characters from hades (supergiant games). these quotes are from the first game of the series. writing/roleplaying prompts. from fluff to angst! feel free to edit as you see fit, especially since some are gendered.

❝ i’m leaving. try and stop me. ❞ ❝ that could have gone better. ❞ ❝ why can’t you just stay? ❞ ❝ i wish you could come with me. ❞ ❝ you’re coming with me. ❞ ❝ i have to take you back. ❞ ❝ but for you, i will be making an exception. ❞ ❝ whew… they’re gone. ❞ ❝ now, come on, we got places to be! ❞ ❝ may the fates favour your journey. ❞ ❝ oh you know, i’d rather have my eyes put out, but thanks for offering! ❞ ❝ if only… ❞ ❝ you should be ashamed of yourself, and learn your place. ❞ ❝ ahh, so you are taking pity on me, then? ❞ ❝ i’m sorry that it has to be this way. ❞ ❝ you’re late. ❞ ❝ will i see you soon? ❞ ❝ did you miss me? ❞ ❝ i’m home. ❞ ❝ we’re heading home. ❞ ❝ you… came back? ❞ ❝ i hope i didn’t keep you waiting very long, did i? ❞ ❝ is something wrong? ❞ ❝ i can’t believe this. ❞ ❝ i’m in your debt. ❞ ❝ there’s going to be payback, you know. ❞ ❝ … damn you. ❞ ❝ this is for you. ❞ ❝ do you remember me? my name is—ah, nevermind. ❞ ❝ i’m not who you think i am. ❞ ❝ keep following that heart of yours. ❞ ❝ to hell with this place! ❞ ❝ fear is for the weak. ❞ ❝ oh, look at you, you poor, poor thing, you’re hurt! ❞ ❝ you’re such a sweetheart. ❞ ❝ you brought this on yourself. ❞ ❝ no need to thank me, mate. ❞ ❝ please, i don’t want to do this… ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do this… ❞ ❝ only the best for you. ❞ ❝ i hope you’re right. ❞ ❝ gods grant me strength… ❞ ❝ that is the worst idea i think i’ve ever heard. ❞ ❝ do you understand how little sense that makes? ❞ ❝ look what i found! ❞ ❝ something’s changed about the beating of your heart. ❞ ❝ no wonder they don’t like you. ❞ ❝ wish i could be there to see your face. ❞ ❝ i’ll earn your favour yet. ❞ ❝ how bad could it be? ❞ ❝ hello there, handsome. ❞ ❝ … this is the cheesiest thing i’ve heard from you. ❞ ❝ what has gotten into you? ❞ ❝ blood and darkness! ❞ ❝ lucky for you, i’ve no pride like many others here. ❞ ❝ it’s over. i’m sorry. ❞ ❝ go. away. i won’t repeat myself. ❞ ❝ i knew your heart was true. ❞ ❝ let’s kiss and make up! ❞ ❝ mischief, me? oh please! ❞ ❝ i don’t know how you can stand this kind of thing… ❞ ❝ you tried. that’s what matters. ❞ ❝ a man after my own heart… ❞ ❝ why won’t you give up? ❞ ❝ ever so stubborn, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ life and death, one and the same. ❞ ❝ you’re running from yourself. again. ❞ ❝ what do you want from me? leave me alone. we’ve nothing to discuss anymore. ❞ ❝ i cannot bring myself to stay upset with you forever. ❞ ❝ the truth is i’m a lover, not a fighter. ❞ ❝ i have to see her! ❞ ❝ so how goes wilful disobedience of late? ❞ ❝ you think all these gifts will make things go back to the way they were? ❞ ❝ we’re older now—i’d hope we’re wiser, too. ❞ ❝ i have to go. ❞ ❝ we were having such a good time! ❞ ❝ time is up. ❞ ❝ you’re so reckless. ❞ ❝ thank you for always keeping me on my toes. ❞ ❝ your luck’s run out. ❞ ❝ i don’t know why i bother with you, honestly. ❞ ❝ may i call you my friend? ❞ ❝ i’d like to make a toast, to you! ❞ ❝ no need for special thanks. ❞ ❝ i’ve some memories i’m not quite ready to give up on yet. ❞ ❝ i’ll break your heart. ❞

[daisymbin]

Hi, belle! I love your writing 🤍

Can I ask for suggestive prompt 15? w/ jeonghan + fem reader

him being the person to say this in the middle of a fight while the reader wants to fight and he's clearly thinking about something more interesting

hi anon!! such an interesting take omg yes!! thank you for requesting 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

suggestive prompt #15: "if you keep talking like that, I won't be able to hold back."

“you’re so stubborn, jeonghan,” you snap, pacing back and forth across the living room. your voice is sharp, cutting through the otherwise quiet apartment. “do you even realize how frustrating you are?”

jeonghan watches you from where he’s sprawled on the couch, his head tilted lazily against the cushion. his dark eyes follow your every movement, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the irritation etched into your face.

“i think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” he says, his tone light and teasing, as though your anger is nothing more than a passing breeze.

you stop pacing and whirl to face him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “this isn’t a joke, jeonghan. i’m being serious.”

he sits up slightly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “oh, i know you’re serious,” he murmurs, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “you always get this cute little crease between your brows when you’re mad.”

you glare at him, heat rising to your cheeks at his words. “stop trying to distract me. you can’t just—”

“can’t just what?” he interrupts smoothly, standing up in one fluid motion. he’s in front of you in an instant, his gaze piercing as he looks down at you. “can’t just call out the fact that you’re practically glowing right now? that you’re so worked up it’s actually kind of... hot?”

your breath catches, your resolve faltering as his words sink in. but you shake your head, trying to regain your footing. “you think you can just... sweet-talk your way out of everything, don’t you?” frustration still bubbling within you.

his smirk widens, and he steps closer, the heat of his presence overwhelming. “and what if i do? is it working?”

“no,” you snap, though the slight waver in your voice betrays you. “we’re supposed to be having a serious conversation right now, jeonghan. you can’t just... just flirt your way through it!”

he hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as if considering your words. “maybe i’m not flirting,” he says softly, his voice low and velvety. “maybe i’m just trying to remind you of something more important.”

“and what’s that?” you ask, your frustration boiling over.

his lips ghost over yours, the slightest hint of contact that makes your knees weak. “i think we both know who’s really in control here.”

his gaze darkens, his smirk fading into something more intense. he reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long.

“if you keep talking like that,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “i won’t be able to hold back.”

your heart stops, your breath hitching as his words hang in the air. his fingers trail down to your jaw, tilting your face up so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“jeonghan,” you say, your voice trembling. “don’t change the subject. we were—”

“were we?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “because all i can think about right now is how hot you look when you’re this fired up.”

your mouth opens to respond, but his hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “you don’t even realize what you do to me, do you?” he whispers, his lips so close you can feel the warmth of his breath.

your hands rise instinctively to press against his chest, but instead of pushing him away, your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. “hannie,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a plea than a protest.

“tell me to stop,” he says, his voice rough, his forehead resting against yours. “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop right now.”

but you don’t.

instead, you tilt your head up, closing the small distance between you as your lips meet his.

the kiss is electric, sending a jolt down your spine as his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his lips are soft yet insistent, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, grounding you even as your knees threaten to buckle.

“you drive me crazy,” he mutters against your lips, his voice low and full of heat.

“good,” you manage to breathe, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

he chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he trails kisses down your jaw and to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “you’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving you gasping.

“maybe i like the risk,” you whisper, emboldened by the way his hands grip you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“careful,” he warns, his voice dripping with both amusement and desire. “if you keep talking like that, i’ll show you exactly what you’ve started.”

so you try again, because if anything, jeonghan looks a thousand times just as hot when he's all worked up, "hannie,"

"yes, love?"

"you're so stubborn and it's annoying," your voice dips, and jeonghan knows you half mean it, & somehow, it turns him on even more.

the look in his eyes is all the warning you need—and yet, you find yourself leaning into him, daring him to follow through.

[wonyowonyo]

Whispers Through Time (P. Hanni X M! Reader)

Guess who's back, it's none other than your ghosting author wonyo! Firstly, I'd like to apologize for my very long absence as life have just been too much of a bitch for me to have the time write. I can't certainly promise to update more in the future as I only have a week break right now, which is why I was able to write a new fic. This one's about 9k words, my longest? yet, so as always I hope you all enjoy this one and I'll see yall when I see ya.

The day had started like any other. Hanni strolled through the historic district, earbuds in, a soft breeze carrying the scent of aged stone and street vendors' offerings. She wasn’t quite sure what drew her into the small, dusty museum on the corner. Something about the old sign, its letters faded with time, beckoned her inside.

As she wandered past glass cases filled with relics—muskets, uniforms, yellowed parchments—her eyes landed on an antique pendant, its silver surface engraved with intricate symbols. She leaned closer, feeling an inexplicable pull.

“That belonged to an unknown revolutionary,” said an elderly curator, appearing beside her. His voice was soft, almost reverent. “No one knows his name, but legend has it he wore this during the final days of the rebellion.”

Hanni reached out, almost without thinking. Her fingertips brushed the glass, and a sudden rush of energy surged through her. The room seemed to spin, the walls melting into a blur of light and shadow. She gasped, stumbling backward—

And then, everything went dark.

————————————————————

When Hanni’s eyes fluttered open, the air was thick with smoke. Shouts echoed around her, mingling with the sharp crack of musket fire. She coughed, struggling to her feet, her heart pounding.

She wasn’t in the museum anymore.

Cobblestone streets stretched before her, lined with ramshackle buildings. People in period clothing—mud-smeared skirts, patched waistcoats—ran past, their faces twisted in fear or fury.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered, but the acrid sting of gunpowder in her nostrils said otherwise.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed her arm. She spun around to find a young man, his dark eyes fierce beneath a tricorn hat. “You there! What are you doing out in the open?” he hissed, pulling her into a shadowy alley.

“I—I don’t know,” Hanni stammered, heart racing. “Where am I?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not from around here, are you? This is no place for a lost soul.” His voice softened slightly, though the urgency remained. “Come. We need to get off the streets. The Redcoats are out in force.”

Hanni followed him deeper into the alley, her mind a whirlwind. The dim passage was narrow, the sounds of chaos fading as they moved.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced back, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can call me Y/n.”

————————————————————

Hanni followed Y/n through a maze of twisting alleys, her heart hammering in her chest. Every echo of musket fire or distant shout sent shivers down her spine. The air was thick with tension, the kind of fear and resolve that seemed to hang over the entire city.

Finally, Y/n stopped in front of a nondescript wooden door, its surface worn and weathered. He knocked three times in a specific rhythm. After a moment, the door creaked open, and a pair of wary eyes peered out.

"Another stray?" the man behind the door muttered, his voice gruff. He was older, with a scar running down one side of his face.

"She was wandering in the streets," Y/n replied, pushing the door open further. "We couldn't leave her out there."

The man sighed but stepped aside, letting them in. Hanni followed Y/n into the dimly lit room. It was small and crowded, with a handful of people huddled around a makeshift table, their faces lined with exhaustion. Maps and documents were spread out before them, illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle.

"Stay here," Y/n whispered, guiding her to a corner. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

Hanni nodded, sinking onto a tattered blanket. The reality of her situation was starting to sink in. This wasn't a dream. She had somehow been transported back in time, into the heart of a revolution. She watched as Y/n joined the others at the table, his expression serious as they spoke in hushed tones.

For a moment, she just observed him. There was a quiet intensity about him, a determination that seemed to burn beneath the surface. His clothes were worn, his face smudged with dirt, but his eyes—deep and fierce—were filled with a kind of resolve she'd never seen before.

————————————————————

After what felt like hours, Y/n returned to her corner, sinking down beside her. His shoulders sagged with exhaustion, but his eyes were sharp and watchful.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice soft but edged with tension.

Hanni nodded. "I... think so. I still don't understand how I got here."

Y/n studied her for a long moment, his gaze narrowing. "You keep saying that. What do you mean you don't know?" His tone was laced with suspicion now.

She hesitated. "It's... complicated. I come from a different time. A different world."

His eyes widened, and he leaned back slightly, as if she might be dangerous. "What are you talking about? Is this some kind of trick?" His voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of a few others in the room.

"No!" she whispered urgently, glancing around. "I know it sounds impossible, but it’s the truth. I was... in a museum, looking at an old artifact, and then... I woke up here."

Y/n's brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. "A museum? What kind of nonsense is that? You expect me to believe you came from... the future?"

Hanni swallowed hard. "Yes. I know how it sounds, but I swear, it’s true."

For a moment, he just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed bitterly. "People are risking their lives out there, and you think this is a game? Some story to entertain us?"

"It’s not a story!" Hanni insisted, her voice breaking. "I don’t know how or why, but I was pulled here. Into your time. I don’t belong here."

Y/n shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. "I’ve seen men lose their minds in this war. Desperation makes people say all kinds of things. But this...?" He stood abruptly, pacing. "You expect me to believe you’re some kind of... time traveler?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. "I don’t know why I’m here, but... I think maybe it’s to help. To change something. Maybe even to help you."

He stopped, his gaze fixed on her. "Help me? How could you possibly help?" His voice was low, almost a whisper now, but the doubt was clear.

"Because I’ve seen how history unfolds," she said, her voice trembling. "I know what revolutions can become. What people like you can achieve."

For a moment, Y/n just stared at her, his eyes searching hers. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft. "If you’re lying... it could cost lives."

"I’m not," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Please. Just trust me."

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging between them. Y/n's expression was still guarded, but there was something else now—a flicker of uncertainty, of hope.

"Then prove it," he said finally. "Show me something. Anything that could make me believe you."

Hanni’s heart raced. She had no idea how to prove what she was saying. But she knew one thing for certain: she had to make him believe.

————————————————————

Hanni’s mind raced, searching for something—anything—that would convince Y/n she was telling the truth. She opened her bag, still miraculously slung across her shoulder, and rifled through its contents. Amidst old receipts and a water bottle, she pulled out her smartphone.

Y/n's eyes narrowed. "What's that?" His voice was tight, wary.

"It’s… a device from my time," Hanni said, holding it out cautiously. She pressed the power button, but nothing happened—the battery had died. Her heart sank.

"It doesn’t even work," Y/n muttered, his voice dripping with skepticism. He turned away, his shoulders rigid with frustration. "You’re wasting our time."

"Wait!" Hanni pleaded. "Even if it doesn’t work now, it’s real. Look at it—it’s made of materials you don’t have here. It has no seams, no screws. I can’t explain everything, but… you have to believe me."

Y/n hesitated, reaching out to touch the device. His fingers traced the smooth glass screen, his brow furrowing. "It’s… unlike anything I’ve seen," he admitted, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity. "But that doesn’t mean you’re from another time."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "What will it take, Y/n? I didn’t choose this. I’m scared, just like you."

The raw emotion in her voice seemed to reach him. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, the doubt wavered. "If what you say is true," he said slowly, "then why are you here? Why now?"

Hanni shook her head. "I don’t know. Maybe… maybe to help you. Maybe to change something."

Y/n’s eyes darkened. "Change what? We’re fighting a losing battle, Hanni. Every day, we lose more people. Hope is a dangerous thing here."

"But it’s all you have," she whispered, stepping closer. "You have to believe there’s a future worth fighting for."

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the tension between them shifted. The room seemed to shrink around them, the sounds of the rebellion fading into the background.

"You speak like someone who knows what we’re fighting for," Y/n said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you don't know our pain."

"I know courage," Hanni replied, her voice steady. "I see it in you. In all of you. And I know that what you’re doing matters."

Y/n’s expression softened, the walls he had built around himself beginning to crack. "You really believe that?"

"I do," she whispered.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Y/n nodded, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. "I don’t know if I believe your story," he said finally, his voice low. "But I believe in you."

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them—a fragile connection forged in the chaos of war.

————————————————————

The days passed like they were suspended in time, quiet moments broken only by the distant sounds of musket fire or the hushed whispers of rebels making plans. Hanni found herself swept deeper into the daily life of the revolution, but it wasn’t just the work that kept her there. It was the people. The people, and him—Y/n.

At first, it was the small things. He would catch her eye across the room and offer a slight nod of acknowledgment. There were moments when he would pause, as if considering saying something, but would always retreat back into himself, slipping into the shadows like he had before.

But each time, Hanni noticed. And slowly, his distant manner softened, though she could never quite understand why.

Her days were spent helping wherever she could. She learned how to prepare simple meals with the limited supplies they had—using techniques she never thought she’d need to know. When rebels returned from the front lines, bloodied and tired, she assisted in patching wounds and soothing the pain as best as she could with the little medicine they had. The acts were small, but the trust the rebels placed in her gave her a sense of purpose she hadn't expected.

Y/n, too, would linger on the outskirts, watching her in quiet contemplation. He would never ask her to do anything, but there was a silent appreciation in the way he observed her, a sense of something building just beneath the surface. Sometimes, he would glance her way, his expression unreadable, as though he was trying to piece something together.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her, not just with his eyes but with something deeper, something more searching.

And yet, every time she saw him, Hanni was reminded of the truth she had buried deep in her mind. This wasn’t her world. These weren’t her people. And no matter how strong her connection with Y/n felt in the moment, it was all doomed to end the second she returned to her time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for him—it was the opposite. The more she saw of him, the more she understood his burdens, the more she felt for him, the more she realized how dangerous it was to get involved with someone in this time. How could she love someone who would never truly know her, who would never understand the world she came from?

Y/n’s life was a war. His fight was for something that might never be realized, something that could be extinguished by the very forces he fought against. What could she give him, knowing she didn’t belong here, knowing that every action she took would only alter their fate?

Her thoughts were spiraling when she found herself once again standing alone by the window of the safe house, staring out into the dark, wondering about the future.

She wasn’t even sure if she could call it "home" anymore. The longer she stayed, the more she learned, and the more she felt like she was betraying the very people who had taken her in. And Y/n—Y/n made everything feel more complicated.

It wasn’t fair to him. She was a ghost in his world, and she couldn’t even promise him a future. She’d always known she’d have to leave—whether she figured out how to go home or simply faded out of their history entirely. But the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave. It was only a matter of time.

Y/n found her there, his footsteps quiet on the stone floor. He said nothing at first, simply stood beside her, gazing out at the same starry sky that stretched endlessly above them.

Finally, it was Hanni who broke the silence. "You’re always so quiet," she said, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the question. "Don’t you ever get tired of keeping everything inside?"

Y/n’s eyes shifted to her, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he masked it with that same distant expression. He didn’t speak at first. Instead, he looked down at his hands, turning them over in his lap, as if weighing her words carefully.

"It’s easier that way," he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. "If you don’t say anything, they can’t use it against you. If you don’t let anyone in..." His words trailed off, and he fell into silence again.

Hanni wanted to say something, to offer some comfort, but she found herself too tangled in her own thoughts. There was something about him, something in his sadness that mirrored her own confusion. She wanted to understand him, to help him bear his burden, but the more she understood, the more complicated it became.

"Is it... that bad?" she asked softly, stepping closer to him. "The fighting, I mean. The way you’re always running, always looking over your shoulder?"

Y/n’s jaw clenched at her question, and for a moment, it seemed like he might shut down completely. But instead, he spoke again, though it was with a far-off look in his eyes—a look that seemed to carry years of loss, of moments he couldn’t forget.

"It’s not just the fighting," he said, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow. "It’s the loss. It’s losing people, watching them fall one by one and knowing you couldn’t do enough. And it’s the guilt." His eyes met hers for the first time in what felt like forever, and there was a vulnerability there, raw and painful. "That’s what it is. The guilt. Because you can never do enough."

The weight of his words hit Hanni harder than she anticipated. She hadn’t been prepared for this side of him, the one he kept hidden beneath the steely resolve. There was so much pain, so much history she could never fully understand, no matter how hard she tried.

Her heart ached at the thought of the sacrifices he’d made, the endless battles he fought, and the people he had lost. But it wasn’t just sympathy she felt. It was a connection—a longing to help him, to take away some of that burden.

She stepped closer to him, her hand gently resting on his arm. "You don’t have to carry all of this alone," she murmured, her voice tender. "I’m here. I know it’s not much, but I’ll be here for you. If you need to talk, or just... have someone listen."

Y/n looked at her, his eyes softening for a brief moment. She could see the hesitation in him, as if he were unsure whether to accept her offer or push her away. But in the end, he didn’t pull back. He let her hand stay there.

Hanni didn’t know what else to say, so she simply stood there with him, offering him the silent support he didn’t know he needed. She wasn’t sure what would come next—whether he would open up or retreat even further into himself—but for now, she was content to simply be there, offering whatever comfort she could.

After a long pause, Y/n finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Hanni. I... I didn’t expect this. But it means more than I can say."

She gave him a small smile, her heart feeling lighter. "It’s nothing. You’ve been through so much, and I... I don’t know how to help, but I want to try."

For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of the night around them. And in that silence, they shared something unspoken—a brief moment of understanding, of connection, where the world outside seemed to fade away.

Y/n stood up slowly, as if considering his next words carefully. He didn’t speak, but there was a softness in his gaze as he looked down at her. Without saying anything more, he reached out, giving her a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder before turning back toward the door.

"Rest," he said quietly. "We have a long road ahead."

As he left, Hanni lingered by the window, looking out at the stars, a quiet ache in her chest. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her, for them, but in that moment, she knew one thing—she would stand by him, no matter what came next.

————————————————————

The safe house was quiet, save for the soft rustling of fabric as rebels settled in for the night. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls, the warm glow offering a sense of fragile peace in a world that had long forgotten calm.

Hanni sat alone in the corner, her knees tucked up to her chest, gazing into the dying flames of the hearth. Thoughts swirled in her mind, all tangled up in the confusing mess of her emotions. The more time she spent with Y/n, the harder it became to ignore the deepening bond between them.

She couldn’t lie to herself. She cared for him—perhaps more than she was willing to admit. But that didn’t change the fact that she was from the future, a stranger in this time. How could she possibly belong here, in a world she didn’t understand, with someone who could never understand her?

And yet, in moments like these—when the world outside was chaos and the people around her were fighting for survival—Hanni found herself leaning into something she hadn’t expected: connection.

Y/n had become something more than just a revolutionary leader to her. He was a person—a person with fears and dreams, someone who wore his pain on his sleeve when no one was looking. There was so much she wanted to ask him, to know about his past, his life before the rebellion. But she also understood that there were things he could never say. Some scars went too deep to be shared so easily.

The sound of soft footsteps broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to find Y/n standing in the doorway, his figure silhouetted against the darkness beyond.

"You’re still awake," he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

Hanni nodded, offering him a small, uncertain smile. "Just thinking," she said quietly. "It’s hard to sleep sometimes, with everything that’s going on."

Y/n didn’t reply immediately, stepping further into the room and sitting across from her. His gaze was soft but intense, studying her as though trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression.

"You’re still thinking about everything, aren’t you?" His words weren’t accusatory. They were simply a statement of fact.

Hanni hesitated, then sighed, pulling her knees closer. "I don’t know how to stop. This place, this time... it feels like I’m caught between two worlds. One that I don’t belong to anymore, and one that I can’t quite seem to find my way into."

There was a long pause before Y/n spoke again, his voice quiet but warm, as if he understood the weight of her words in a way that no one else could. "I know how you feel. Being stuck between two places. Torn between your past and your future."

Hanni’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure if he meant it in the way she thought, or if it was just a way to connect. Either way, it felt like an opening—an invitation to say more, to let him in.

"I didn’t think it would be like this," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t think I’d get attached. To you, to all of this. But I have. I’ve seen how you lead, how you fight. How much you care. And I’ve started caring, too. But I can’t..." She faltered, shaking her head, as if the words weren’t enough to express the conflicting emotions inside of her. "I can’t be the person you need, not when I’m from a world you can never know."

Y/n’s expression shifted then, his gaze softening with understanding. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes not leaving hers. "I don’t need you to be anything but yourself," he said, his voice sincere, as if the weight of his words carried more than just a comforting gesture. "I’ve been through a lot, Hanni. And I know what it’s like to feel like you're an outsider. But here, with us... you’ve already become part of something bigger. Part of the fight. And no matter where you came from, that means something."

Hanni’s chest tightened at his words. The weight of them settled over her like a warm blanket, but it also felt heavy, because she knew that soon, she would have to leave. Her time here, however much it felt like home, was not real. It couldn’t be real. Not in the way she wanted it to be.

And yet, she couldn’t help but feel an undeniable pull toward him. Y/n had been her anchor in this strange world, offering her moments of comfort when all she could do was stand on the sidelines and watch as history unfolded around her.

"Thank you," Hanni said softly, her voice almost cracking. "For saying that. It means more than you know."

Y/n’s eyes met hers, and for the briefest of moments, the room seemed to fall away. There were no sounds of rebellion, no distant gunshots, no whispering fears about the future. There was only this—this quiet moment where they both understood what was unsaid.

Y/n’s hand reached out then, resting lightly on hers. It was a simple gesture, but to Hanni, it felt like an unspoken promise. She didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if she’d ever see him again once she left, but in that moment, with the quiet hum of the world around them, she allowed herself to be present. To be there for him. And to let him be there for her.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them slowly easing. As the night deepened, Y/n stood up and extended his hand toward her, a small, wry smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"You’ve been working hard. You deserve a rest."

Hanni looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with unspoken words. But she nodded, accepting his gesture without hesitation. She didn’t need to say anything. They didn’t need words to understand each other right now.

Instead, they stepped outside into the cool night air, where the stars hung like tiny pinpricks of light in the vast expanse of the sky. The quiet of the world felt different here—softer, as if the very earth itself was holding its breath.

Y/n’s hand brushed against hers as they walked side by side, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They stopped for a moment, standing under the canopy of stars, each of them lost in their thoughts, but also somehow connected in that quiet solitude.

"This is freedom, isn’t it?" Hanni asked, her voice barely audible, but steady. "The kind you’re fighting for."

Y/n looked up at the stars for a long moment, his eyes reflecting the distant light. "Maybe," he murmured. "Freedom isn’t always about what’s out there—it’s about what we can hold onto, what we believe in, even when everything seems impossible."

Hanni nodded, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest. It was something she had been struggling to understand for days, ever since she arrived. Freedom wasn’t just about returning to her time, to her world—it was about what she could give in the here and now, even if it meant staying with him, with them, for as long as she could.

Y/n turned to her then, his eyes softer than they had been before. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time since arriving in this strange, violent era, Hanni allowed herself to believe him. Not because she was sure of the outcome—but because, right then, in that moment, it felt true.

They stood there for a while longer, side by side, under the vast, starry sky. The night was still, but the air between them was charged—full of the unspoken things they both needed but hadn’t yet found the words to express.

For a moment, Hanni forgot the distance between their worlds. She only knew the quiet comfort of his presence, and the strange but undeniable peace of the moment they were sharing.

————————————————————

The days seemed to stretch into one another, a mix of quiet moments and heavy responsibilities. Time, it seemed, was a constant weight pressing down on Hanni. Each passing day brought them closer to an inevitable confrontation with the colonial authorities, and Y/n’s position within the movement was more precarious than ever.

Hanni had long known that Y/n was a target for the regime. His intellect, his strategies, his speeches—everything about him made him a threat. The more she became involved with the rebels, the more she realized just how dangerous it was for him. But she never anticipated how deeply his fate would intertwine with her own, nor how much she would come to care for him.

Still, she couldn’t allow herself to be consumed by these feelings—not when she was from the future. She had seen the records, she had lived with the knowledge of how it all played out. Y/n’s rebellion, the bloodshed, the eventual collapse—she had witnessed it from afar in her own time. She knew his future in a way that no one else could.

And the thing was, she wasn’t sure how much of it she could change.

It was late one evening, after a long day of tending to the wounded and helping prepare supplies for the next battle, that Y/n found her alone in the corner of the safe house. She had been trying to make sense of everything—the war, the lives at stake, and her own internal conflict.

He stood silently for a moment before speaking, his voice low but clear. "We’re running out of time, Hanni."

Her heart sank. She had known this conversation was coming. She had felt it in the air, in the way everyone seemed to move more urgently, more carefully, as if aware that danger was circling them.

"I know," she said, looking up at him. She forced a calmness into her voice, but inside, her heart was beating faster than ever. "What are you planning?"

Y/n sat down across from her, his expression hard, but with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "We can’t wait any longer. The authorities are closing in. The others are preparing to flee the city, but I can’t just leave the cause behind." His words were filled with resolve, but Hanni could hear the strain in his voice. He was worn down, his mind heavy with the weight of leadership and the knowledge that his own death was becoming inevitable.

Her throat tightened. She already knew what he was planning—he was going to make himself a target, sacrifice himself for the cause. He had been so sure of it, even before she’d come into his life, even before they’d shared the quiet moments they now had. He had already made peace with the idea of dying for freedom, for the revolution.

And that was the problem.

Hanni had spent days, weeks, torn between what she knew of the future and what she wanted to do to save him. She couldn’t let him die. She couldn’t. Not when she knew the kind of impact he would have, the hope he would inspire, the lives that could be changed if he just survived a little longer.

But changing history wasn’t as simple as saving one person. The future—her future—was fragile. She had seen what happened when people interfered with time. The consequences were often unpredictable, violent. What if changing Y/n’s fate meant altering everything she knew, everything that had shaped the future she came from?

She struggled to keep the doubt out of her voice. "You’re not making this decision alone, Y/n. If you leave now, if you go alone, you’re not just risking your life—you’re risking everything we’ve fought for."

"I know," he said quietly. "But I don’t have a choice anymore. If we keep waiting, they’ll find us. We’ll all be dead."

Hanni’s heart twisted. She wanted to say something, to convince him to reconsider, but she couldn’t find the words. She couldn’t even tell him the truth—she couldn’t tell him that she knew how it would end. How he would end.

She had known for a long time now, ever since she’d arrived in this time and begun piecing together the fragments of history, that Y/n was going to die in a few months. The specifics were unclear—there were no exact dates in the records—but there were enough details to know his fate was sealed. His death would be a turning point for the revolution, a martyrdom that would galvanize the people and push them toward victory. But for all her knowledge, for all her understanding of the future, it felt cruel to just stand by and let him die.

He looked at her then, his gaze steady, as if he could read her conflicted thoughts. "I know you’re struggling with this, Hanni," he said softly. "I know you want to change things. You’ve always had that look in your eyes, like you’re waiting for the right moment to fix it all."

Hanni felt her breath catch in her throat. It was true—she had never fully accepted her place in the timeline. She had always wondered if there was something she could do, some way she could alter the future to save the people she had come to care for. But this was different. Y/n was different.

"I can’t just let you die," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I know it’s supposed to happen—I know it’s part of the history, part of the plan—but I can’t stand by and watch it happen. I’ve seen what you’ll do for this cause, Y/n. I’ve seen how much you’ll give. But you can’t die. You can’t—"

"Hanni," Y/n cut her off gently, his hand reaching across the table to grasp hers. His touch was warm, grounding her. "You’ve seen the future. You know that nothing stays the same. But what I do—what we do—still matters. Whether I’m here or not, we have to keep fighting. I’ve made my peace with this. But you have to make your peace, too."

Hanni’s eyes filled with tears, though she struggled to keep them back. She had never wanted to hurt him. She didn’t want to change everything. But how could she let him die, knowing there was still time to save him? Could she really live with that choice?

"I don’t want to lose you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I don’t know if I can change things. I don’t know if it’s right to change anything at all."

Y/n squeezed her hand, his gaze softening. "Hanni, no matter what happens, we’ve done something. We’ve given everything for this cause. The people will carry it forward. You’ve already changed the future in ways you don’t even realize. Just by being here, just by standing with us, you’ve already made a difference."

Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words. It wasn’t just about saving him, it was about the bigger picture—the revolution, the fight for freedom, the lives of countless others. But how could she stand by and let him die?

A painful silence stretched between them, heavy with the impossible decision she had to make. Would she try to change history? Could she? Or would she accept that some things were beyond her control, that sometimes the greatest acts of love were letting go?

She didn’t have an answer yet. Not right then.

But one thing was clear—she couldn’t keep running from the future forever.

————————————————————

The days that followed were tense, as the weight of Hanni's decision pressed heavily on her chest. Each conversation she had with Y/n seemed to deepen the growing conflict inside her. She wanted to believe in the cause, to stand by him, and yet, every time she looked into his eyes, the same thought haunted her: What if I could save him?

The safe house, once a refuge, had become a place of quiet desperation. The others were preparing to leave the city, to scatter and take their fight to the countryside, where they hoped to continue their struggle in the shadows. But Y/n refused to run—not when he was the beating heart of their movement, not when he had come so far.

Hanni spent her days helping with preparations, cooking, tending to the wounded, and even assisting with organizing supplies. But at night, when the others went to sleep, she would sit in the corner, staring at the wall, her mind racing. The future was so clear in her mind—his future—and yet she felt powerless to change it. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to save him. But the question still lingered: Should she?

It was late one evening when Y/n found her again, standing alone in the dim-lit courtyard of the safe house. The sky was dark, the stars hidden behind a blanket of clouds. A cold breeze swept through the alley, making her shiver as she pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Y/n said, his voice low and careful, as if sensing the heavy burden she was carrying.

Hanni turned to face him, offering a weak smile. “I’m not avoiding you. I’ve just been... thinking.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “About everything. About what comes next. About the choices I’ve made—and the ones I still have to make.”

The tension between them grew, thick and palpable. Y/n moved closer, his presence both comforting and overwhelming. His gaze softened as he spoke, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re not the only one carrying a heavy load, you know.”

Hanni looked up at him, her heart aching at the raw honesty in his voice. “I know. I’ve seen the way you’re torn, Y/n. I know you’ve accepted what’s coming, but... it’s hard for me to do the same.”

He took a step closer, now just inches away from her, his hand reaching out to rest gently on her arm. “I know you care about me, Hanni. And I care about you, too. But you can’t carry this burden alone.”

A flicker of warmth spread through her chest at his words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the heavy weight of the decision she still had to make. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. How could she explain everything to him without revealing the truth of where she came from? How could she admit that she knew his future, his sacrifice, and yet still felt torn between letting history unfold as it was meant to—or changing it?

Y/n seemed to sense her internal struggle. “I’ve made peace with it, Hanni. I’ve fought for this cause, and I will die for it if I must. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave this world without knowing that you understand... what this all means. What it means to truly fight for something.”

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to scream that she couldn’t let him die, that she couldn’t just stand by and watch it happen. But that would change everything—everything she had come to know. The future, the world she knew, depended on certain things remaining in place.

“I do understand,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But... I don’t want you to die.”

Y/n’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “I know you don’t. But sometimes, we don’t get to choose our fate. Sometimes, the fight for freedom demands sacrifices we’re not ready to make. And when it comes down to it, I can’t regret that choice.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his conviction. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the heat of his touch on her skin, grounding her in the present moment. His hand lingered there, warm and steady.

“I’m not asking you to accept it,” he continued. “I’m just asking you to be here. With me. Until the end.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she met his eyes, her own filled with unshed tears. She wanted to argue, to beg him to leave, to fight another day. But the reality was clear. He was already committed. The revolution needed him. And she couldn’t change his path, no matter how much she wanted to.

The moment hung between them, fragile and delicate. Then, as if to break the silence, Y/n spoke again. “I know you want to change things, Hanni. But some things are bigger than us. The revolution... it will live on, with or without me.”

Hanni felt a surge of emotion at his words. She wanted to deny them, to argue that there was still time, that she could still save him. But the truth was, she didn’t know how to change what was already set in motion.

They stood there for a long time, neither of them speaking, just existing in the silence, sharing the weight of the future between them. Eventually, Hanni spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

“What if I can’t let you go?”

Y/n’s hand slid down to hers, and he squeezed it gently. “You don’t have to. Just promise me that you’ll remember what we’re fighting for, Hanni. Not just the cause, but the people—the ones who will carry this fight forward. They’ll need you. The world will need you.”

The finality in his voice made her heart ache. But she nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I promise.”

Y/n gave her a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as if he knew the weight of the promise she had just made. “Then, let’s make the most of the time we have left.”

With that, he pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly as if the moment could last forever. Hanni closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, the steady beat of his heart that she had come to depend on. She didn’t know what the future held. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do, but for now, all that mattered was the present.

————————————————————

The night was quiet, but it carried an electric tension, like the calm before a storm. Hanni and Y/n spent the evening together, talking in the soft light of the safe house, sharing stories of their lives, of the world they came from. For a brief moment, the war seemed distant. For just a little while, they were not enemies, rebels, or future and past—they were simply two people, trying to hold on to something real.

Y/n took Hanni’s hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that you’ve made a difference in my life. And in the lives of the others. You’ve given us hope."

Hanni’s eyes shimmered with emotion, but she nodded, unable to speak the words she wanted to. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder, content in the moment. She wasn’t sure what the future would bring, but for tonight, she was with him—and that, for now, was enough.

————————————————————

The early morning light crept through the cracks in the safe house walls, casting long shadows across the floor. Hanni had hardly slept, her mind a tangled mess of regrets and what-ifs. She watched as the rebels moved quickly, preparing for their final stand. It was no surprise that the colonial forces were on their way—she had known it was coming, but knowing something in advance didn’t make it any easier.

Y/n moved among the rebels, his presence as steady and commanding as ever. He issued orders, encouraging those around him, all while maintaining a calm demeanor that belied the tension thick in the air. Hanni watched him closely from across the room. In his every movement, she saw the gravity of the choices they were all facing. And, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met.

A fleeting glance. But in it, Hanni saw everything that had brought them together, everything that would be lost, and everything she had yet to say. The things she should have said long before this moment.

Suddenly, the sound of distant explosions broke the morning silence, followed by a sharp, nerve-wracking crackle of gunfire. The colonial forces were moving in earlier than anticipated. Panic erupted in the safe house. The rebels scrambled, gathering their weapons and preparing to defend the position.

But Y/n was steady in the chaos. His voice was firm and unshaken as he directed everyone to their positions.

"Hanni," he called, motioning her over. His tone was different now, focused, but still carrying the same warmth that had drawn her to him since the beginning. When she approached him, he pressed something into her hand—a small, leather-bound journal, its edges worn from years of use.

"Keep this safe," he said, his voice low. "It contains everything—our plans, our hopes, our dreams for the future. Make sure it reaches the right people. They’ll need it when the time comes."

Hanni’s breath caught in her throat as she held the journal. It wasn’t just a record of their efforts; it was his legacy, a testament to everything he had fought for. Her fingers closed around it, but the weight of it felt like a burden, heavier than she ever imagined.

“Y/n,” she whispered, almost desperate. “Please, there has to be another way. This doesn’t have to happen.”

He met her gaze with an almost imperceptible smile, but it was tinged with sadness. The flicker of pain in his eyes only made her heart ache more.

"You know there isn't," he said softly, the finality in his voice cutting through her protests. "But you've given me something I never expected to find in all of this chaos. A reason to believe that the future will be better than the present."

The sounds of fighting grew closer, the outside world closing in on them. The air was thick with urgency.

"You need to go," Y/n said firmly, pushing her gently toward the back exit. “The others will make sure you get to safety.”

Hanni froze. Every part of her screamed to stay. To fight alongside him. To change the course of history. She had always thought she could do that, thought she could somehow fix it all. But now, in this moment, she knew the truth. This was how history had to unfold.

“I won’t forget,” she said, her voice trembling as tears filled her eyes. “I won’t let anyone forget what you fought for.”

Y/n stepped closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. His arms were warm, protective, but in that moment, it felt like he was offering her his last piece of peace. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

But then, almost instinctively, Hanni tilted her head upward, and Y/n's lips met hers in a kiss that was both gentle and desperate. It was a kiss filled with the weight of everything they had been through, everything they would never have, and everything they could never say aloud.

For that brief moment, the chaos of the world around them faded. The sound of explosions, the gunfire, the inevitable future—all of it disappeared as they held on to one another. The kiss was their way of defying fate, of letting the world know that, despite everything, they had each other for just a few seconds longer.

When they finally pulled apart, the sadness in their eyes spoke volumes. There were no words left between them. Just the quiet understanding that this was it.

“Live, Hanni,” Y/n whispered, his breath warm against her cheek. “Live and make sure our fight wasn’t in vain.”

The door burst open then, rebels rushing in with news of the advancing enemy forces. Y/n’s expression hardened, and he turned to face his destiny, his posture resolute.

Hanni’s heart shattered as she was pulled away by another rebel, her eyes never leaving Y/n until the very last moment. She wanted to scream, to rush back to him, but she knew it was too late.

She fled through the dark alleys, clutching the journal to her chest, her mind a blur of grief and guilt. The sound of gunfire echoed in the distance, growing louder. She could already see the outcome, hear the cries of victory and defeat. She had read about this moment in history—she knew what would happen.

And, sure enough, it was only hours later that the news reached her. Y/n had made his last stand against the colonial authorities. He had fought with everything he had, holding the line long enough for others to escape. But he was gone now. A martyr. A hero. And yet, to Hanni, it felt like the world had just lost someone who still had so much more to give.

————————————————————

Hours passed. The safe house she had been led to was empty, save for a few other survivors. But Hanni couldn’t rest. Her fingers trembled as she opened Y/n’s journal, her heart racing as she began to read.

The pages were filled with his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams for the future. The pages chronicled not just the rebellion but the man he had been. He spoke of the reasons he fought—of his memories of his family, his longing for justice. He had written about her, too, about the unexpected presence she had brought into his life. Hanni’s heart stuttered as she read his words, feeling the weight of what he had shared with her.

“I never thought I would find someone like you in the midst of all this,” one line read. “But now, in these final moments, I know I’m not fighting just for the cause. I’m fighting for something more. For the people I care about. For the future we dream of.”

The realization hit Hanni with the force of a tidal wave. Despite everything, despite her best efforts, she had failed to save him. And yet—she was determined now. Y/n’s memory, his fight, would not be lost.

Hanni wiped her tears away and stood, holding the journal close. The mission wasn’t over. The cause wasn’t over. She would make sure of that.

————————————————————

Hanni’s resolve only grew stronger as she helped the remaining rebels organize. She used the knowledge from the future to guide them, helping them evade capture and stay one step ahead of the colonial forces. The sense of urgency never left her. Each day, the walls seemed to close in tighter. But the more she worked with the rebels, the more she saw the spark of something she hadn’t expected to find—hope. She saw the people who had once been fractured, now united, pushing forward toward freedom.

Despite the growing danger, Hanni remained close to Y/n’s former comrades, trying to ensure that his memory lived on in every small victory they achieved.

But eventually, it was clear that history would not be denied. Y/n’s death had set a course that Hanni couldn’t alter. No matter how many lives she saved, no matter how much she fought to change the outcome, there was no escaping the truth.

Y/n’s last stand had come. It had been brutal and tragic, but it had been the catalyst for the revolution to ignite across the country. Though Hanni’s heart shattered, she came to understand that some events, no matter how much we want to change them, were simply meant to unfold as they did. She had tried to rewrite history, but there were forces beyond her control—forces of sacrifice, of fate—that could not be avoided.

————————————————————

In the end, the country achieved its independence, though it came at an unimaginable cost. Hanni returned to her own time, forever altered by the journey she had taken. She had seen the complexities of history, felt the weight of decisions that shaped the future, and understood the sacrifices made by those who fought for freedom.

As she reflected on everything that had happened, Hanni realized that she had learned one of the most difficult lessons of all. The past, for all its tragedy, could never be fully rewritten. And yet, it had taught her something about the power of memory and legacy. Y/n’s fight had not been in vain. His ideals, his vision for a better world, would live on, even if he was gone.

The revolution had succeeded. And in the end, that was all he had ever wanted.

 The country, though scarred, had risen from the ashes of conflict to begin anew. It was a fragile peace, but a peace nonetheless. Hanni, now back in her own time, stood at the edge of a quiet city park, gazing at the horizon as the sun dipped below the skyline.

In her hands, she still held Y/n's journal, worn and weathered by the years, but treasured more than any other possession she had. The ink had faded in places, but the words—the hope, the passion, the love for a future he would never see—remained vibrant, echoing in her heart like the pulse of a song she couldn’t forget.

Her eyes wandered to a statue in the distance, a figure standing tall, gazing forward as if daring the world to challenge it. It was a monument dedicated to the revolutionary leader who had sparked a movement that changed everything. His name was etched into the base, and while she knew it was not her place to add her own, she thought of Y/n every time she passed it.

She remembered the kiss they had shared in those final moments, the quiet promise she made to him—to live, to fight for the future he had dreamed of. She hadn’t been able to change history, but she had witnessed the change he had ignited, and that, in its own way, had been enough.

As Hanni turned to leave, the faintest sound of a melody reached her ears. It was soft, carried by the breeze—an old song, one she had heard countless times in the rebellion’s safe houses. She smiled softly to herself, knowing the song was still alive, still being sung by those who had inherited the dream Y/n and so many others had fought for.

She walked towards the source of the music, finding a small group of people gathered near the park’s center. There, under the shade of an ancient oak tree, a young couple danced. Their movements were slow and tender, as if the world had slowed just for them. A feeling of nostalgia tugged at Hanni's heart.

One of the dancers caught her eye, and the smile that spread across his face brought a lump to her throat. He was holding a violin, playing the melody that had so often comforted them in their darkest days. And there, standing beside him, was a woman who resembled someone she had once known. The woman’s eyes, shining with tears and joy, were filled with the same hopeful spirit that had driven Y/n all those years ago.

The music swelled, and the couple danced with abandon, as if the past had finally given them room to breathe. Hanni closed her eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the violin and the warmth of the evening wrap around her like a blanket.

In that moment, everything felt right. Her journey had not been in vain. She had seen the ripples of history that were shaped by the sacrifices of those who had gone before. And while she could never undo the pain of Y/n’s loss, she knew that his fight had planted the seeds for something greater than himself.

The world had continued. His world had continued. And with that thought, Hanni finally felt a peace she hadn’t known she was capable of.

As the dance finished, the couple shared a soft, lingering kiss, and Hanni found herself smiling through her tears, knowing that Y/n’s legacy was alive in every new life, every small victory, and every dream that carried the flame of freedom forward.

She stood for a moment longer, watching the stars begin to twinkle overhead. She couldn’t change the past. She couldn’t bring Y/n back. But in this moment, she was sure of one thing:

The fight he had started was far from over.

And it would live on, in every heart that remembered the cost of freedom.

[chkrschss]

SQH Fanfic Concept

SQH kinda angst fanfic where he feels completely out of place with the Peak Lords. Then he goes to the Demon Realm and feels additionally out of place. Especially with LBH, MBJ, and Sha Hualing.

So he decides to start periodically fucking off to different places in small outings. Just little few day trips. And he begins building it into his schedule. So people think he’s somewhere else. And NO ONE CATCHES ON. For months, even maybe a few years. He’d disappear on an excursion once every other month, then every month, then every week. He ends up developing a pseudo-identity. He’s actually enjoying it. And visits different people in smaller villages. And at some point, he decides to maybe leave for longer.

The person who actually notices after a long time is Mobei Jun. SQH had enlisted some demons and disciples to shoulder his responsibilities while he’s gone and finally MBJ noticed a small error/tick or whatever that SQH would never do. And he raises the alarm. Even the Peak Lords panic. They begin searching for SQH but home dawg is currently starting on a 2 week adventure.

SQH is eventually found after people who met SQH’s pseudo-identity point MBJ and the others to him. He’s prolly like vibing in a lovely little cottage that he’s renovated as homebase. Maybe even developed some talismans or smthing to teleport there. MBJ finds him like…. Idk watering w garden or smthing. He’s outside. And SQH is so at peace and is smiling n shit m. MBJ is shocked. He never thought SQH could even make a face like that.

Maybe SQH finds a kid who is a lil rascal but is overprotective of him. Maybe jokingly calls him A-Niang. People kind of know that SQH is lying about who he is but they’ve been assuming it’s because of some shit. They want to protective SQH. An elderly woman berated MBJ “for scaring his husband away”. She rants about SQH being a catch and MBJ is a fool for not paying attention. “Happy wife. Happy life. Yknow?” MBJ is confused but it turns out that SQH starts gushing about him whenever he’s too tired or drunk. So everyone can tell who he is in the village. The old woman demands that he woos SQH back.

Cue a whole redemption arc of MBJ paying attention to him. MBJ actually writes a letter formally berating the Peak Lords and especially SQQ who was suppose to be SQH bff. He starts defending SQH as SQH remains oblivious.

On SQH’s side, he was fuming. He just wanted peace. He wanted to be left alone. The kid he’s been watching over is asking about MBJ. He tells the kids that MBJ is his boss that he thought wouldn’t notice him gone. The kid hugs and says something along the lines of “Well SQH is so cool he can’t be forgettable and those who forget him as dumbasses” which makes SQH laugh.

Timeskip occurs and SQH’s two week trip has now lasted three. He’s kind of gotten used to MBJ helping him. At one emotionally charged moment, he cups MBJ’s face in his hands and has the urge to just kiss his king for being so silly. The kid noticed how MBJ’s actions mirror someone courting another. The old lady tells tum it’s because MBJ is courting SQH. The kid snarks about how SQH doesn’t even reciprocate but the old lady misses that he doesn’t even realize what MBJ is doing.

(Note: this is where I stopped rambling but indulgent concept for myself lol)

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Ateez when you simp for them

Genre: fluff

Requested? No!

A/N: inspired by literally every ateez video I’ve ever seen because it’s just not possible to pick a bias sometimes.

Hongjoong

Does not know how to accept this. Will give you a blank stare and ask ‘what is happening right now’ because he’s confused. You could squish his face and demand that he accept your love, and he’ll give you wide eyes while saying ‘… okay.’ Really touched if he thinks about it later but it’s overwhelming in the moment.

Seonghwa

A shy baby that will fold into himself at the slightest compliment. Don’t get me wrong, he knows he’s attractive. He just strikes me as the kind of person that doesn’t take compliments well. Still, he enjoys it when you get on a roll about how good he looked in something.

Yunho

Tells you all the time in a way that you should be simping. He’ll get something down for you from a high shelf or lift something heavy for you and will say something like ’Don’t worry, you’re big, strong, attractive boyfriend will take care of it’. He’s joking most of the time, but heaven forbid you ‘yes and’ him. He might faint actually.

Yeosang

Smug pt 1. Will smile and nod, accepting anything you have to say. Won’t fish for compliments because he knows he’s hot, but will let you go on for as long as you want, getting a bit of an ego boost from it.

San

Smug pt 2. BUT will absolutely fish for compliments. Will ‘yes and’ you to hear what else you have to say, all while giving you a smug smile. I think he knows he’s attractive, but really loves to hear it from you until you’re blue in the face. It soothes any doubts that might crop up from time to time.

Mingi

Another shy baby, but prepare for the whining. Will flush and beg you to stop. He doesn’t mean it deep down, but his heart can’t take it!! Because what do you mean you simp for him the way he does for you? Cannot make sense of that so he tries to get you to stop to avoid being confused.

Wooyoung

He knows he’s hot. He tells you all the time. If you even remotely simp in front of him, he’ll ‘yes and’ you until your lungs give out. Will do it with a sly smile, head propped up in his hand, nodding at anything you say. “Yes, baby. You’re so right. I did look good in that video.” Can you even be mad at him when he’s right?

Jongho

Will scoff and tell you to get it together like he’s so over it. But really, he’s soaking up any and all compliments you have for him and kind of prays you don’t actually get it together. But you will never hear him admit to that!! Will do things on purpose to try to get you to simp a little every now and then.

[muffinsin]

Hey, it's platonic anon again, I hope you don't mind me asking, as I have been feeling a little bit insecure lately, if you do one with alcina + daughters separate reactions to a fem head maid reader slowly getting deeper in depression because she has a little pudge that she doesn't like, but it just makes he look like a teddybear, and the maids have been making fun of her recently, and then she stops showing up to work all together, staying in her room and only eating one meal a day?

-platonic anon

Awhh, this is hella adorable, absolutely! :) Imma have to remove Alci though, hunny, I don't write for her though might occaisonally include her in pieces when I feel like it

Also oops, this got way longer than I thought it would, so imma have to split it into 3 parts. This one’s Bela’s

Let's get into it! :)

Masterlists found at pinned; rip, my linking is busted

Bela

Being involved with the maidens by far more than her sisters, professionally so even, Bela notices when you don't show up for work immediately

And at first, she's willing to turn a blind eye to it, thinking that maybe you're simply too tired too work, or in need of a vacation

She does admit, there isn't all that much of that at the castle

But, she likes you

And as such, she's willing to ignore that you aren't working as you should be

That is, for the first two days, at least

She is sure: you know to come to her when in need of a break

It's not like she won't grant you one, so long as it isn't harvesting season or the beginning of winter and all staff members are needed

But it isn't, and your disappearance starts to feel a little...odd

Now, she wouldn't describe herself as someone caring for the maids, head maiden or not

But, she likes you

A kind, loving, hard working woman

Someone she finds: she enjoys spending her time with, and someone she has enjoyed getting to know

Not showing up to work is so...unusual for you. So out of character

And as such, despite what she's sure her sisters would say, she seeks you out

Knocking on the door to your room- despite not having to knock at pretty much any door in the castle due to her status- she waits patiently until you open the door for her

What she takes in has her gasp in surprise and take a step back momentarily

Your room is warm, yes, but the air has adapted a strange scent that has her scrunch up her nose. She never thought she’d want to open a window

You’re curled in bed, underneath the blankets, but she still sees the thick clothing covering you

Briefly, she worries this might be too warm for a little human, but drops the thought again

- temperature wise, you seem well and healthy enough

She takes a step closer again, her golden eyes finding yours at last

You seem…off

Yet now that she stands in front of you, she seems at a loss for words, unsure what to say

It’s not like she’s used to cheering up anyone but her sisters

Glancing to the side, she sees multiple plates by your nightstand

One for each day you spent in your room

Is that all you’ve eaten?

In her mind, she recalls: humans are supposed to eat three days a meal. Especially those hard at work

You don’t speak, only stare at her, as if too tired and drained to do much

For once, she doesn’t mind the lack of respectful bows and what not

For once, she supposes she can let this be a casual, friendly conversation

Still unsure of what to say, she sits by your bed, her flies buzzing anxiously

You look up for a moment, your eyes trailing across her face, down her neck and to her exposed collarbone, her chest and slim hips and waist

You can’t help but fiddle with the blankets, can’t help but compare her build to yours

Normally, you don’t care

But the words from the maidens, the mockery aimed at you, hurt recently

You almost wish you could be like Bela, so confident, so strong, so strikingly beaufiful

You only ever want to be that, you think

“Did…something happen?”, she asks eventually, frowning slightly, as if unsure about her words

She really isn’t sure about this, or how to go about this, and just hopes her awkward words come out right

For once, she wishes she was a little more like Daniela and could effortlessly keep this conversation up and ask whether you’re alright without this awkwardness

You gulp, pulled from your thoughts

It’s a little unusual to see her like this- so…out of her element, almost

Still, you treasure her company, and see what she’s doing

“I’m fine”, you lie, pressing your eyes shut and refusing to whimper

You don’t want to lie to her

You want to tell her all about it, want to even throw your arms around her and cry

Bela’s just always had this aura about her that made you seek her favor and praise

At the same time, you don’t want to drive her away now, don’t want to “bother” her with your problems

She frowns, confused. Hearing your heart quickening and picking up the scent of your sweat, she’s hardly fooled by your answer

Only does she not quite understand why you’d lie. Especially to her

Instead, she does what she often does when her sisters lie to her and she sees through it. She stays quiet

You whimper as her golden eyes stay on you, a gentle gaze, but one that tells you she’s awaiting your response and giving you the opportunity to correct yourself

And, wise enough, you do so

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you pull away the blankets and pull the hoodie covering you up just slightly, just enough to show her the small pouch at your belly from under your top

Alas, she doesn’t react, unsure what this means

While having been taught to express herself always, Bela is almost a stranger to insecurity- at the very least as it comes to her body

She’s never felt worried about the way she looks, paying little mind to it

You envy her

Then, just when you cover yourself up again, she asks again;

“Did something happen, little one?”

You crack

The nickname is enough for tears to run down your cheeks and- to your surprise- you feel her arm wrap around you

You’re pulled to her, sniffling

You pick up her scent, her elegant perfume and the metallic scent of blood lying underneath, only picked up this close to her

And briefly, just briefly, you have a dark thought, wishing she could just kill those that treated you so unfairly

With her arm around you, you feel impossibly safe- likely unlike most others that are this close to her

You begin to talk, begin to tell her of everything

Of the mockery, of the laughter

Of the little, stabbing comments made here and there

Of the looks

Of the mean glances and words

Of your insecurities and the growing feeling of anxiety and emptiness in you

And Bela?

She doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t talk. She only listens to you, humming occasionally to let you know you have her full attention

It’s a wonderful feeling

As you elaborate and cry a little more, she holds you tighter

She seems a little less awkward now, as if used to hold someone when they cry, and briefly you feel a strike of envy, wondering if there’s other maidens held by her and comforted like this. Then, the feeling fades when you figure; it must be Daniela, her younger sister, who you know cries easily from own experiences of holding and comforting the young woman after one of her episodes

You find, Bela offers the best hugs, though, and likely quite the rare ones

You stay close to her, breathing out a sigh of relief when you finish talking

It’s almost like speaking about it helped

She doesn’t quite understand their behavior, writes it off to the general behavior of scum

She finds, as such, they deserve to be treated just as certain way, too

You’re granted another day of staying in your room until Bela insists you return to work

More surprisingly, though, you find a maid, one of the newer ones, a little shy, but friendly, bring you a meal three times a day that day

She doesn’t say a thing, too nervous in the castle still, but you’re certain she was tasked to do so by Bela

And when you do return to work, anxious and dressed in slightly bigger clothes than normal, as if you could hide away, you find no trace of those who mocked you

Perhaps wickedly, you wonder what happened to them, whether they’ve been dragged away, killed, mauled, toyed with my the sadistic Dimitrescu sisters

Whether Bela in particular killed them. Is killing them. Is hurting them

But it’s like they never even existed, instead

You hear no screams at night. No whispers of what might have happened at all

It’s almost like your problems dissolved into thin air…

And you know you have none other than Bela Dimitrescu to thank for it

[kathlare]

out off the bag

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the midst of the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix weekend, Lando Norris faces the unexpected challenge of discussing his relationship with Amelie, now very public after their kiss in Miami. As the media and fellow drivers tease him about the newfound attention, Lando navigates the awkwardness with a mix of humor and genuine sentiment for his girlfriend.

Wordcount: 0.7 k

Warnings: just fluff

May 17th, 2024 - Imola, Italy

The Emilia Romagna Grand Prix weekend had officially begun, and Lando Norris stood on the fan stage in front of a cheering crowd of fans, most of whom were eagerly awaiting to hear about the upcoming race. His usual confidence in front of the fans was there, but there was an unmistakable unease in his posture. It had only been a couple of weeks since the race in Miami, where the whole world had found out about his relationship with Amelie—his beautiful, talented, and slightly chaotic girlfriend.

The kiss they shared at the Miami Grand Prix had gone viral almost immediately, sending social media into a frenzy. And now, just thirteen days later, he was standing on stage, trying to answer questions while also processing the fact that this was no longer a secret. Amelie was a part of his life, a very public part of his life.

Lando took a deep breath and looked at the interviewer, who was smiling a bit too mischievously for his liking. The interviewer, a young man with a sharp wit, wasn’t going to let Lando off easy.

—So, Lando,— the interviewer started, drawing the crowd’s attention with his exaggerated enthusiasm, —I think we need to talk about your… new relationship status. It’s been all over the news after Miami. Can you tell us a bit more about how things are going with Amelie?—

Lando’s stomach did a flip. It was only natural that people would ask about it, but now that it was out there, he wasn’t sure how to talk about it publicly. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He was so used to talking about racing, strategy, and the latest car developments—this felt... different.

—Uh, yeah, it’s, uh… going great,— Lando began, shifting on his feet. —We’ve known each other for a while now. Been good friends for a long time, and, uh, things just kind of happened after we started spending more time together last year. But, yeah, Miami definitely… well, I guess it made everything a bit more public.— He chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood, but the crowd was already roaring with excitement, some fans cheering, others shouting his and Amelie’s names.

As soon as Lando mentioned Miami, the teasing began. Oscar Piastri, who had been standing next to Lando on the stage, smirked and leaned in, nudging him with his elbow.

—Oh, come on, Lando,— Oscar said with a grin, —you can’t just brush off that moment. The whole world watched you two kiss. You really didn’t think you were getting away with keeping it private, did you?—

Lando’s face flushed even more, and he shot Oscar a glare, but it didn’t do much to stop the teasing.

—Yeah, mate,— Alex Albon chimed in from the other side of Lando, his tone dripping with mock sympathy, —you looked like a man in love. Pretty sure I’m still getting tagged in memes about it.—

Logan Sargeant, standing just behind them, couldn’t help but add his two cents.

—You two were basically a real-life rom-com moment. Can you at least admit that?—

Lando groaned, his hands finding their way into his pockets as he tried to steady his racing thoughts. This wasn’t how he expected this whole thing to go.

—Alright, alright, I get it, okay?— Lando said, a nervous laugh escaping him. —But seriously, I’m just trying to talk about the race, yeah?—

The interviewer was clearly enjoying himself, leaning into the banter. He gestured toward Lando and the teasing trio.

—Well, it looks like we’ve got some new fans for Team Lando & Amelie here! But tell me, Lando, what’s it like having your relationship out there for everyone to see now? I mean, Miami was a big deal. There’s been a lot of attention. How are you handling it?—

Lando hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting down for a brief second before he met the crowd’s eyes again.

—Honestly, it’s… it’s weird at first. I’ve been in the spotlight for a long time, but this feels different, you know?— Lando began, trying to find the right words. —Amelie and I, we’ve always been really close. I’ve always admired her, and now that we’re… together, it’s just natural. But yeah, having it all out there for everyone to see is a little overwhelming. It’s not something I ever thought I’d have to talk about so publicly.—

—So what’s the deal with the kiss in Miami, Lando?— the interviewer pressed, smirking.

Lando’s hand shot up in the air in mock surrender.

—It was a spontaneous thing! I mean, we were celebrating, and...uh, well, it just happened! Not everything needs an explanation, right?—

Oscar snorted, shaking his head.

—It’s fine, mate, we’ve all seen it. You looked pretty happy. And I’m sure you didn’t mind the attention. We’ve been getting tagged in Amelie’s posts too, haven’t we? She has a bit of a following herself.—

Alex jumped in with a sly grin.

—Yeah, and don’t forget the constant memes and the romantic captions she puts up. I’m sure she’s loving it just as much as you are, Lando.—

Lando groaned, trying to hide his face behind his hand.

—Alright, alright, you lot are too much right now. Just let me get through this, please? I’ve already said enough about my love life for one day.—

The crowd was absolutely loving the banter, and Lando had to admit, it did make things feel a bit easier. He caught a glimpse of his phone, and for a moment, his thoughts drifted to Amelie. He hadn’t spoken to her in hours, as she was on her way to New York for her Saturday Night Live appearance, but just thinking about her put a smile on his face.

—It’s great though,— Lando added, his voice softening a little. —She’s amazing, and I’m lucky to have her. But we’re both just taking things one day at a time. For now, though, I’ll just stick to racing.— He cleared his throat, trying to shift the conversation back to something more comfortable for him. —Speaking of which, let’s talk about the race weekend. How are you lot feeling about the track?—

The crowd cheered, and just like that, the conversation shifted back to racing, but Lando could still feel the playful teasing hanging in the air. He knew that he couldn’t avoid the subject forever, especially now that Amelie was a part of his world in such a public way.

But at least for now, it was done. And for a brief moment, he could just focus on the race, on the adrenaline of the track. He couldn’t wait for what the weekend would bring.