#it gets to me you know. it's the confidence and assurance

[schemmentigfs]

Sweetening The Deal. (part 2.)

Summary: Melissa finds out more about your tough reality and the deal between you continues, bringing the stability you needed. Meanwhile, she proposes something unexpected.

Tags: @italianaidiota @lisaannwaltersbra @greencurlyhair

Part 1. Part 3.

Two weeks had passed since that night at La Sirena, and things had fallen into a rhythm — or as close to a rhythm as you could get with Melissa Schemmenti calling the shots. You’d met her twice since then, at the same restaurant, each time sitting across from her as she set the terms of your arrangement with that same intensity in her eyes. True to her word, she’d sent over an envelope of cash every week, enough to cover your rent and leave you with some breathing room. But there was still a distance between the two of you, a formality that you held onto as a reminder to keep things strictly business.

Her texts came at unpredictable times, always short but direct, and she’d even called you once, her voice teasing yet unmistakably firm. You could tell she liked control and was meticulous in keeping things on her terms. She didn’t ask questions about your day-to-day life, but you had a feeling she saw more than you were letting on.

Then, one afternoon, her name lit up your screen again:

You’re home, right? Text me your address. I want to see where and in what conditions you live, darling.

You froze. Her messages always carried a certain finality, a tone that made it clear you weren’t to question her decisions. The text felt like a verdict, not a suggestion. You had no choice but to obey, but still you’d tired to stalled with vague excuses, insisting it wasn’t necessary, but she was having none of it.

Are you sure about this? My apartment complex is not in the best condition. Maybe we could meet another day? you quickly typed back, nerves prickling.

Honey, I’ll come by tonight after my meeting, she’d texted, with that self-assured tone that didn’t leave much room for debate. Just make sure the place is unlocked for me. Okay?

You swallowed hard. You couldn’t even remember the last time you felt so out of control. Fuck this situation, you were never out of control. Melissa Schemmenti was doing things to you that seemed to awaken a submissive side of yourself that you didn’t even know you had.

Reluctantly, you agreed. Understood. I’m waiting for you, just please don’t notice the mess in the apartment. It’s a little old.

The redhead’s response made you choke on your own saliva. Good girl, see? You can follow orders when you are supposed to. And about the mess, don’t you worry. I just want to see what I'm dealing with, Y/N.

Her words make your stomach flip, and your cheeks flush. She knows exactly the effect she has on you, even from behind a fucking screen. You’re not sure if it’s the blunt command or the way she casually assumes you’ll fall in line, but something about her confidence, her control, always leaves you breathless.

You tossed your phone on the bed and groaned, throwing yourself backward onto the mattress, the soft scent of stale air and clutter filling the room. It wasn’t much of a space, and you weren’t exactly proud of it, but it was yours. Still, it felt too small when you thought about her. When you thought about how she was used to finer things, and this place... well, this place felt like a damn joke.

Two weeks. Only two weeks have passed since that night, but already, she’s gotten under your skin in ways you can’t shake. Her presence in your life feels constant, grounding, and somehow.... electrifying. It’s like she’s rewired you to respond to her — one word from her and you’re falling into place, waiting for whatever she asks next.

Another text pops up. I’m arriving at five. You better be prepared, beautiful.

Great, you only got two hours left.

You spent hours trying to make your tiny apartment look presentable, straightening up, hiding the chipped paint on the walls with old posters, and dimming the lights to make it seem warmer. You stopped in front of the mirror checking if your appearance was alright. You’d tossed a pile of laundry into the closet, stacked dishes haphazardly, and even dabbed on a bit of makeup in a rush. But no matter what you did, there was no hiding the worn-out furniture.

And as you stood in your cramped kitchen, waiting for her to arrive, you couldn’t help feeling out of place, like this wasn’t where she belonged.

“Fuck, fuck,” you rubbed your eyes with your hands. “I’m fucked. What will she think of me?”

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and your stomach twisted with nerves and sicknesses. When you opened it, there she was—Melissa Schemmenti, cool and collected in an all-black outfit, and a ponytail, her sleek black sunglasses pushing her authority to another level. She took her giant and expensive sunglasses off as she surveyed the space, her gaze moving slowly over the cracked walls and mismatched furniture. Her expression barely shifted, but you could sense the judgment simmering beneath the surface.

The building smelled like old wood and dust, and the hallways felt narrower than they ever had before. You hated the way your surroundings felt — the peeling wallpaper, the noisy neighbors, the ever-present sense of grime that seemed to coat every surface. It was humiliating, honestly, but you couldn’t escape it.

Melissa didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she didn’t actually care. She walked past you, her red louboutin heels clicking against the wooden floor, and into your tiny apartment without hesitation.

“Well, this is…” the redhead paused, taking a long look around. “...quite the environment.” Her raspy voice was cold, but it wasn’t supposed to sound mean and teasing. It was just blunt, like she was simply stating a fact. You winced, standing awkwardly by the door as she took in the dismal conditions.

“I don’t usually bring people here,” you mumbled, feeling your face flush. “It’s just temporary. Until I find a new job that pays more. I’m looking for something better.”

Melissa ignored your excuse and walked further into the apartment, her green eyes scanning every inch of the cramped space with calculated precision. Her black sunglasses hung loosely from the collar of her shirt, disguising the cleavage that seemed to jump and have a life of its own. What? Focus, your asshole! It’s not appropriate to watch her boobs. Oh, boy, you felt like a child under her scrutiny.

“So,” she quips, knowing the answer is obvious, “This is where you live, pretty girl?”

You rubbed the back of your neck, touching the small amount of baby hair. Your cheeks were heating with embarrassment. “Mmm...it’s not exactly glamorous, but it’s affordable.”

“If you call this affordable...” She scrunches her nose, feeling the smell of something dirty.

You took a shaky breath, feeling the heaviness of her gaze, as she leaned back slightly, crossing her arms in that familiar way that told you she was completely in control. She hadn’t even removed her jacket, and already it felt like she had rearranged the whole atmosphere of the place. As if she were shifting you and your life by sheer will alone.

“This,” the older woman said, lifting one of the crumpled bills, her tone cool and unyielding, “is unacceptable. You’re moving out. And I don’t want to hear a single word against it.”

“Wait, what?” you widen your eyes.

“So here’s how it’s going to work. You’re moving. I’ve already picked out a place for you in a decent neighborhood, and you’ll have what you need there. None of this…” She gestured around your small apartment with a mild look of disdain. “…dumpster shit situation. You’ll have a clean space, safe, without worrying about rent or broken pipes. And I don’t want to hear a single word against it.”

You opened your mouth, heart racing, wanting to protest. “Ma’am, I don’t need—”

Before you could finish, she closed the space between you, her manicured hand gripping your chin in a way that was both commanding and unsettlingly gentle. Her thumb brushed your cheek as her eyes bored into yours, making your stomach flip. “I said no arguments. You’re better than this place, honey. Now call your boss.”

You blinked, flustered, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks as her fingers stayed firm on your chin. She tilted her head, her gaze unrelenting, and you found yourself swallowing hard, nerves prickling. A gush of wetness dripped into your underwear. That felt good. And for a split second, you imagined how her fingers would feel around your neck. Or maybe somewhere else..

The truth was that you weren’t used to someone like Melissa—someone who didn’t just ask but demanded, without hesitation, and with an absolute certainty that her wishes would be met.

“Go on,” the redhead prompted, pulling her phone from her bag and pressing it into your hand. “This ends now.”

“Schemmenti,” you sigh quietly. “I..can’t.”

“Call. Your. Fucking. Boss.” Her words came out slower this time, her voice both reassuring and intimidating, the kind of authority that was impossible to ignore.

Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone, scrolling to your boss’s number. She kept her hold on your chin for a moment longer before releasing you, her green eyes watching every movement with quiet satisfaction. The reality of what you were about to do started to sink in, and you felt like you were on the verge of spiraling, like you were teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

As the phone rang, you stole a glance at Melissa. She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, exuding a calm authority that both irritated and reassured you. You had to admit—no one had ever looked at you the way she did. Like she was willing to strip away everything if it meant giving you something better. But even as you stumbled through your brief conversation with your boss, quitting the job you’d held for far too long, a flicker of rebellion rose in you.

“What if I don’t want to move?” you managed once the call ended, a spark of defiance in your voice. You could see the hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

She lifted an eyebrow, that smirk intensifying. “You’re cute when you act tough,” she said, brushing past you to examine a stack of books on a rickety shelf. The dust covering her fingertips. “But I’m not interested in games. I’m giving you a choice. You can either stay here, or you can let me take care of you. But you can’t have it both ways.”

You wanted to argue, to fight her on it, but your lips trembled with uncertainty. “But, I... I can’t just leave. This place—it’s all I have. I—”

The redhead stepped closer, green eyes flashing with a rare, intense frustration. “You think this is optional?” she yelled sharply through the small space, leaving no room for doubt. “I’m doing this for you, and if you can’t accept that, maybe we’re done here. You either take my help, or this arrangement is over.”

Your heart dropped, and a pang of desperation flared up inside you. The last thing you wanted was for her to walk out and leave you standing there, with only the smell of her perfume lingering behind. You felt your knees buckle, and before you knew it, you were on the floor, clutching at her sleeve, gazing up at her in pleading silence.

“Please,” you whispered. “Don’t go. Don’t end this.”

Her lips quirked into a dark smile, her eyes traveling slowly down to where you knelt before her. “Already on your knees for mommy? Maybe you’re finally learning.”

The heat in her eyes made your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and yet, some part of you thrilled at her approval, that faint but undeniable satisfaction in her body language.

You swallowed hard, feeling her fingers brush over your cheek as if savoring your quiet submission, and your pulse raced. She stepped back and tilted her head toward the door, her expression softening just a little. “Now get up. You’re coming with me tonight.”

You blinked, surprised. “Where?”

“To my place,” she said, her tone decisive. “No sense in staying here another night. You’ll see what it’s like to live somewhere better.”

Nervously, you gathered your things, feeling a strange thrill at the idea of seeing her home, even as the reality of this shift in your life sunk in. In a blur, you found yourself in her sleek, black car, barely speaking as she drove. And when you finally stepped into the garage of her penthouse, it felt like you’d entered another world—one of order, elegance, and effortless luxury, all touched with her unmistakable presence.

You couldn’t believe this was where you were spending the night, and the thought made your heart pound with nervous excitement. Even in this new space, with her watching you, you still felt that familiar mix of shyness and thrill.

Melissa’s penthouse was everything your cramped apartment wasn’t: sleek, spacious, and expensive. The moment you stepped inside, you felt a little like you’d walked into a magazine spread, the kind of place you’d only ever imagined for people like her. Everything was polished marble and soft, warm lighting, a quiet sense of power and control in every line and surface. It was so distinctly her—refined, commanding, even a little intimidating. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place, no matter how much she’d insisted on bringing you here.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, dropping her keys onto a side table. She gestured to a hallway on your right. “The bathroom is down there. You can get cleaned up before dinner if you want.”

Grateful for a moment to compose yourself, you headed to the bathroom, which was easily twice the size of your entire apartment. After freshening up, you found an oversized shirt on your backpack that you had prepared for you earlier.

Dinner was surprisingly casual. She’d ordered from a high-end Chinese place nearby, and as you both sat at the table, she poured you a glass of wine, studying you with a cute smile that made your stomach flutter. She was still very much in control, still the same assertive woman who’d marched into your life two weeks ago and decided she was going to change it. And yet, tonight, there was a gentler side to her. She asked you about things you’d never thought she cared to know, small details about your life and tastes, and for once, you felt like she was letting you into her world.

After dinner, she led you to the guest bedroom where you’d be staying. It was just as lavish as the rest of her home, with an enormous bed, plush sheets, and a view of the city lights twinkling against the night sky. You took a moment to freshen up again, glancing at yourself in the mirror and smoothing down your hair, wondering if she’d think you looked good enough for her standards.

Then, on your way to find her again, you noticed the door to her room was ajar. You knew you shouldn’t, but curiosity got the best of you, and you peeked in. There she was, her back to you, undressing in the dim light. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, taking in the lean, defined muscles of her back, the soft curves that hinted at a life of both strength and indulgence. Her skin was pale, smooth, and there was something undeniably mesmerizing about the way she moved, graceful and unhurried, like she knew exactly who she was and didn’t care who saw it.

And then, there was her…you couldn’t help but notice it, a part of her you hadn’t seen before, and your cheeks warmed as you realized you were staring into her pale ass. You felt a pang of embarrassment, quickly averting your eyes and stepping away before she could catch you. You’d never imagined she’d have that kind of effect on you, making you feel like some bashful kid with just a glimpse of her body.

Even though you’d only seen her for a second, your mind replayed the image of her exposed skin—her back, her pale ass—again and again. You were flushed, still unsure of what it all meant, or why your heart raced at the thought of what you'd just witnessed. It was almost like you were crossing some invisible line in your head, and it scared you.

You quickly shook your head, clearing your thoughts, and made your way back toward the living room, trying to avoid thinking about what you’d just seen. Melissa, however, never knew. She didn’t even acknowledge it when you rejoined her in the main area, as if nothing had happened. The nonchalance with which she moved, made your thoughts scatter once more.

Later that night, she kissed you goodnight, but it wasn’t like the kisses before. This one, lingering, almost brushing your lips, made your heart jump in your chest. The redhead woman didn’t pull away immediately, letting the moment stretch just a little longer than usual. You stood there, stunned, your breath shaky as she pulled back, leaving you with an almost electric buzz in your body.

Green eyes met yours, cool but somehow warm at the same time. “Sleep well, sweetheart. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Melissa.”

You couldn’t quite breathe properly as she turned, walking back toward her room, leaving you alone to process what had just happened. Your brain was spinning, unsure of what you were getting yourself into, but you knew one thing for sure. You were already in too deep to turn back.

And as you lay down in the guest bedroom, your body still warm from the kiss, the image of her naked skin lingered in your mind, both haunting and thrilling you in equal measure.

[fioredeciliego]

No.1 Part Anthem - Winter x Fem!Reader

be warned, there is smut 13k words

Under the dim lights, Minjeong leaned over her guitar, running her fingers along the strings as she checked the sound for the third time. The low murmur of anticipation filled the bar as people drifted in, and she found herself absently watching the door.

This was another Wednesday night gig at The Velvet Den, a small but popular spot for indie bands in the city. It had a cozy stage with a few beaten-up stools and a dark red velvet backdrop, lending the place its grunge charm. Minjeong knew this bar well—she’d played here with Velvet Starlight almost every week for the past year. Though it was a solid routine, recently, it was starting to feel… flat.

Jimin glanced over with a knowing smirk, a hint of mischief in her eyes as she adjusted her bass strap. “Minjeong,” she started, clearly trying to hide a grin, “don’t tell me you haven’t written anything new yet.”

Minjeong scoffed, brushing her bangs back and giving her an exaggerated eye-roll. “Please, I barely have time for sleep these days. Let alone a muse.”

Yizhuo, who was busy restringing her guitar nearby, chimed in, leaning into the banter. “Or maybe you just haven’t found the right muse yet,” she teased, winking. “Someone to finally get past all those rumors.”

Aeri, ever the instigator, joined in, leaning over her drum kit with a laugh. “C’mon, Minjeong, you can’t pretend you don’t have options. Half the people who come here are just here for you.”

Minjeong waved them off, chuckling. “You’re all ridiculous. Seriously, life’s too boring right now. I wouldn’t even know what to write about.”

They laughed, sharing a look that made Minjeong groan inside. The girls knew her reputation wasn’t true, but they still loved to tease her for it. There was no denying that some fans tried to get close, even if her reserved demeanor was often mistaken for allure. Still, she wasn’t as wild as everyone assumed; if anything, her nights usually ended with late-night jam sessions or scrolling through music playlists until she fell asleep.

Soon, the doors opened, and people began filling in, leaning against the bar and claiming tables close to the stage. The pre-show atmosphere was settling in, a mix of dim lighting and murmured conversations. Minjeong checked her guitar one last time, letting herself sink into the warm familiarity of these moments before a show.

When it was finally time to start, they kicked off with a high-energy track, letting the beat and rhythm wash over the crowd. The girls were in their element, losing themselves in the synergy of their instruments and the hazy lights that moved with the music. Minjeong felt herself slipping into that comforting state where her fingers moved on their own, her focus narrowed to the music.

But as they transitioned to one of their slower songs, a haunting melody that filled the space with a quiet intensity, Minjeong’s gaze drifted past the crowd, scanning the bar.

And that’s when she saw you.

Sitting casually at the bar, framed by the warm glow of the dim lights, was a girl who seemed like she belonged there—yet somehow stood out entirely. She was leaning against the counter, her posture relaxed as she listened to her friends, one hand holding a drink with easy confidence. The soft, smudged eyeliner, dark lipstick, and tousled hair were a perfect combination of bold and effortless. She wore a leather jacket over a white top that hugged her frame, a couple of necklaces layered over her collarbone, glinting with every small movement. She wore a short black denim skirt, paired with boots that looked well-traveled, like they’d been to more places than most people had.

There was something magnetic about her, a calm self-assurance that felt out of reach, and Minjeong felt herself falter for the briefest moment. Her fingers stumbled over a chord, the soft slip almost imperceptible. She recovered quickly, her eyes darting back to her guitar as she forced herself to focus on the melody, even as her heart raced.

But the pull was impossible to ignore. Her gaze kept finding its way back to the girl at the bar. She’d occasionally laugh at something her friends said, her smile both warm and sharp, as if she knew the effect it had. She looked up, glancing around the room, and her gaze landed on Minjeong just for a heartbeat.

Minjeong’s breath caught, her fingers pressing down a bit too hard on the strings, making the note come out harsher than she intended. She softened her touch, mentally cursing herself. She’d performed a thousand times, yet somehow, this girl had her more flustered than she cared to admit.

As the song reached its crescendo, Minjeong chanced another glance, hoping the lights were dim enough to hide the fact that she was, for once, absolutely captivated. And when the girl lifted her drink to her lips, casting a side glance toward the stage, there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes, as if she too had noticed Minjeong’s lingering gaze.

The song came to an end, and the crowd erupted in applause. Minjeong barely registered it, feeling the adrenaline buzzing beneath her skin as they transitioned into their next song. But all she could think about was the girl at the bar—the one who had managed, in a single night, to make her life feel a little less ordinary.

--

Y/N had spent the day carefully cultivating a cocoon of quiet. Her tiny studio apartment was the perfect sanctuary—dim lights, a mountain of blankets, and a carefully curated lineup of comfort movies waiting for her. She’d kicked off her shoes, nestled herself into her coziest pajamas, and piled a ridiculous amount of snacks around her. A perfect night in, with no disruptions.

That was, until her phone buzzed insistently. She ignored it at first, but a second notification appeared, then a third, each accompanied by an enthusiastic vibration. She sighed, glancing at her phone to find her friends, Yunjin and Minji, launching an all-out text attack.

“Come on, you need to get out of that little cave of yours!”

“It’s a crime against girlhood to stay in every weekend, you know.”

Y/N stared at her phone, torn between the pull of her warm, safe cocoon and the lure of a night out that Yunjin and Minji clearly weren’t going to let her skip. She gave in with a groan, quickly typing back a begrudging “Fine, but I’m wearing the first thing I find,” before rolling off the couch and reluctantly swapping her pajamas for a skirt and a simple white tee. She pulled on a leather jacket for good measure and checked herself in the mirror, feeling more or less presentable.

Yunjin and Minji were waiting outside, beaming as if she’d just returned from the dead.

“Told you she’d come out eventually,” Yunjin teased, linking her arm through Y/N’s. Minji flashed a grin, grabbing her other arm as they pulled her into the lively city streets.

They arrived at The Velvet Den, a tucked-away bar with an eclectic crowd and a charmingly rugged vibe. The bar had old-school posters plastered on the walls, low lights casting an amber glow over everything, and the faint, comforting smell of old leather and wood. Y/N had to admit it was the kind of place she might like if she were in the right mood.

As they entered, the beat of a slow, steady song hit her. The music wasn’t just background noise here—it filled every corner, creating an atmosphere that felt almost alive. She glanced at the stage, and her eyes caught on a four-piece band, each member lost in the music. Yunjin led them over to the bar, where they ordered drinks and began shouting a conversation over the music, laughing as they tried to catch up with each other’s words.

But as Y/N settled in, she started to feel something strange—an odd sense of awareness, a prickling on the back of her neck, like she was being watched. The feeling was familiar yet unusual, pulling her from her chat with Minji as she turned, almost instinctively, toward the stage.

And there she was. The lead guitarist, her attention fixed on Y/N with a look that was intense and focused, like she was trying to see through the dim lights and smoke of the bar. She had a quiet but striking beauty—dark eyes under long lashes, loose hair falling just over her shoulders, and a posture that spoke of ease and confidence. She held the guitar like an extension of herself, her fingers moving over the strings in a way that made it seem almost effortless. She was magnetic, the kind of person who could draw attention without even trying, but somehow, her gaze felt direct, almost… searching.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, caught in that gaze like a moth to a flame. They locked eyes for what felt like an eternity before Y/N remembered herself and quickly looked away, hiding her blush behind her drink.

“Hello?” Yunjin waved a hand in front of Y/N’s face, a mischievous grin spreading as she realized what had caught her attention. “Y/N, don’t look now, but I think you’ve got an admirer.”

Minji leaned in, a smirk playing on her lips. “Looks like the guitarist has a thing for quiet girls. Guess you’re exactly her type.”

Y/N laughed, trying to brush off the remark, though her cheeks felt warm. “Please, I’m sure she’s just scanning the crowd. It’s part of the whole mysterious rocker look.”

But her friends exchanged knowing looks, ignoring her attempt at nonchalance. “Uh-huh,” Yunjin said, smirking over the rim of her drink. “Pretty sure she was just looking at you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t shake the thought. The guitarist’s gaze had felt so direct, like she’d been picked out from the rest of the crowd on purpose. And even now, as she tried to brush it off, a flicker of curiosity was tugging at her. Who was this girl on stage, with her brooding look and intense presence? Y/N’s fingers drummed lightly on her glass as she tried to refocus on her friends’ conversation, but her gaze kept drifting back.

When she allowed herself another glance, her heart skipped again. The guitarist was still looking at her, her expression caught between a smile and a look of quiet intrigue, as if Y/N had pulled her attention just as much as she’d pulled Y/N’s.

This time, Y/N let herself look a little longer, taking in the way the guitarist moved with the music. Her focus seemed to sharpen whenever her eyes met Y/N��s, each glance filled with a subtle intensity that made it impossible to look away. It was the kind of stare that felt like it meant something, like an unspoken invitation that Y/N couldn’t quite decipher.

The music continued to flow, filling the space between them, and Y/N tried to keep up with the banter from her friends, though her mind kept wandering back to the girl on stage. The way her fingers slid along the guitar, her shoulders relaxed yet focused, the look in her eyes that seemed to promise more than just a passing glance—it was all a little intoxicating, like a faint, buzzing thrill she didn’t want to resist.

--

As the last chord of their closing song faded into the noise of the crowd’s applause, Minjeong felt a strange, urgent energy humming through her. She’d barely made it through the set with her usual focus—she’d messed up twice, fingers slipping on familiar notes, distracted by the image of a girl sitting near the bar with that easy, unbothered confidence.

When the band left the stage, she was practically vibrating with anticipation. She wanted—needed—to see her again, and every second that ticked by felt like forever. But before she could make her escape, the girls intercepted her backstage, each of them wearing expressions that were a mixture of curiosity and barely restrained laughter.

“Minjeong, what was up with those slip-ups tonight?” Jimin was the first to call her out, arms crossed, a playful eyebrow raised. “I thought we were supposed to be the pros around here.”

Minjeong groaned, torn between the thrill of getting out there to find that girl and the embarrassment of being caught so obviously off her game. “I know, I know,” she replied, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just—” She hesitated, feeling a bit ridiculous for what she was about to say. But, well, if anyone would understand, it’d be her bandmates.

Aeri looked her up and down, catching on to her hesitation. “Ooooh, did our Minjeong get distracted?” she teased, her voice light, but her smirk was sharper than ever.

Minjeong sighed, trying not to look as flushed as she felt. “I don’t know what to tell you guys. I think… I think I just met the love of my life.”

The room went silent for a second before it erupted into laughter. Yizhuo laughed so hard she almost fell backward, catching herself on Jimin’s shoulder. Minjeong bit her lip, feeling her cheeks heat up even more as the girls practically doubled over, throwing playful jabs her way.

“Love of your life, huh?” Jimin said, trying to catch her breath as she wiped away a stray tear from laughing. “Wow, you’re really going for the hopeless romantic vibe tonight, aren’t you?”

“Wait, wait,” Yizhuo gasped, grinning as she leaned in. “Tell us more. Who’s the lucky girl who stole the heart of the Kim Minjeong?”

“Not that it’s exactly hard to win your heart,” Aeri teased. “But this time sounds serious.”

Minjeong tried to laugh along, but she couldn’t shake the urgency pulling her toward the bar. “Look, I’d love to stay and let you guys roast me, but if I don’t go find her right now, I might actually lose my mind,” she said, a touch of impatience in her tone as she moved toward the door. “Let me go, and I’ll tell you everything later, promise.”

Jimin chuckled, finally letting her go with a pat on the back. “Alright, Romeo, go find your Juliet. Just don’t come crying to us if it’s another ‘tragic romance’ story.”

Minjeong flashed them a quick grin and slipped out of the room, her heart racing. As soon as she entered the main area of the bar, a small group of people noticed her, and almost immediately, she was surrounded. It happened a lot after shows, and usually, she didn’t mind. She’d smile, chat a bit, and enjoy the rush of attention. But tonight was different. Her mind was too busy, too focused on finding that one girl.

“Hey, Minjeong!” someone called, leaning a little too close, hand brushing her shoulder. Another girl wrapped her arm around her for a picture, and a few others were trying to get her attention, voices overlapping, laughter loud and bright.

She tried to be polite, flashing quick smiles, offering a few distracted words, but she couldn’t stay still. She gently brushed off the hands reaching for her, politely excusing herself as she scanned the bar, her eyes searching. She had no idea if the girl would even still be there, but the thought of missing her felt oddly unbearable.

Finally, she made it to the bar stools where she’d last seen her, only to feel her heart sink. There were two familiar faces there, but not the one she’d been hoping for. It was the girl’s friends, the ones who’d been laughing and chatting with her all night.

Yunjin, noticing her approach, raised an eyebrow and shot her a knowing look, her lips twitching into a sly grin. “Looking for someone?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

Minjeong froze for a split second, wondering if she should play it off or admit it, but she quickly decided there was no point in pretending. “Yeah, actually… I am,” she replied, trying to keep her voice casual, but her expression betrayed her eagerness. “Is she—uh, is your friend still here?”

Yunjin and Minji exchanged a glance before they burst into quiet laughter, clearly enjoying the moment a little too much. “She went outside to get some fresh air,” Minji said with a grin, nodding toward the bar’s exit. “Maybe she’s waiting for someone to come talk to her.”

Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she nodded gratefully. “Thanks,” she murmured, barely able to contain her excitement as she turned and practically bolted toward the door.

Stepping outside, she was immediately greeted by the crisp, cool air of the night. She slowed down, catching her breath, and looked around—and there she was. The girl she’d been searching for, leaning casually against the wall a few feet away, bathed in the soft, silvery light of the moon. She seemed lost in thought, her face illuminated by a gentle glow that made her look almost ethereal. Her dark hair caught the light, cascading over her shoulders, and her leather jacket looked even more striking in the dim night, lending her an air of effortless cool that took Minjeong’s breath away.

Minjeong stood frozen, just taking her in, feeling like an idiot for the way her heart raced. She had no idea what to say or how to start a conversation without stumbling over her words, but she couldn’t look away.

And then, as if sensing her gaze, the girl turned her head, her eyes meeting Minjeong’s in that same intense way they had during the performance. Time seemed to slow as they stared at each other, the distance between them feeling both unbearably close and impossibly far.

The girl’s lips curved into a small smile, one eyebrow raised in curiosity as if to say, Well, are you just going to stand there? Minjeong felt a rush of embarrassment and excitement crash over her, but she couldn’t help the goofy grin that tugged at her own lips.

She wanted to say something smooth, something charming, but the words were stuck somewhere between her mind and her mouth. So instead, she took a small, tentative step forward, feeling both exhilarated and terrified. The girl’s smile softened, her gaze warm and steady, and Minjeong felt like she was caught in some kind of spell, the world fading away until it was just the two of them under the stars.

Finally, she managed to find her voice, though it came out a little softer than she’d intended. “Hey,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

--

As the final applause died down and the band disappeared backstage, Y/N could still feel the lingering thrum of the music vibrating through her. She knew she probably looked distracted, but she couldn’t shake the feeling—the energy—of those glances Minjeong had thrown her way throughout the performance. It was as if every time Minjeong looked her way, Y/N could feel the intensity, the pull of it, right down to her bones.

“Hey,” Yunjin nudged her, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile. “You’re not thinking about anyone specific, are you?”

“Yeah,” Minji chimed in, flashing her a mischievous look. “Maybe someone with a guitar and a pretty face?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, waving them off with a huff. “I’m just going outside for a bit of air. Don’t wait up.” She shot them a playful glare before slipping through the crowd, ignoring their quiet laughter behind her.

Outside, the cool night air washed over her, calming the flurry of emotions she hadn’t expected to feel tonight. Leaning back against the wall, she took a deep breath, staring up at the stars and letting her thoughts wander back to Minjeong. There’d been something magnetic about the way she played, fingers gliding over the guitar, eyes finding Y/N in the crowd like she was the only one there. Y/N had felt those glances linger, like they’d been sharing some unspoken secret all night.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed the soft sound of footsteps approaching. It was that feeling again—eyes on her, that strange, invisible pull. She turned her head, and there she was. Minjeong stood just a few feet away, looking at her with wide, slightly nervous eyes, a shy smile tugging at her lips. The moonlight softened her features, casting a gentle glow over her flushed cheeks and messy hair, and Y/N felt her breath catch.

Unable to hide her amusement, Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving her a teasing look as if to say, Well, are you just going to stand there?

Minjeong blinked, caught off guard, before taking a small, hesitant step forward, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. “H-Hey,” she managed, her voice soft and a little shaky. She looked almost… bashful, her gaze darting between Y/N’s eyes and the ground.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in her chest growing at seeing Minjeong so adorably flustered. She’d expected a cool, confident rockstar, but this shy, slightly awkward girl was even more intriguing.

“H-Hey,” Minjeong repeated, laughing nervously as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Um, I don’t usually… do this, but I saw you, and…” She trailed off, cheeks turning even redder. “I just wanted to, you know, say hi.”

Y/N chuckled softly, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the wall. “Just ‘hi,’ huh? I got the impression you had a lot more to say when you were looking at me from the stage.”

Minjeong’s mouth opened, then closed, clearly at a loss for words. She laughed, embarrassed, as her eyes dropped to the ground. “Was it… that obvious?” she murmured, sneaking a glance up at her, looking both mortified and amused.

“Just a little.” Y/N’s teasing smile softened, her tone gentler now. “But I didn’t mind it. I mean, maybe I was looking back once or twice, too.”

Minjeong’s eyes brightened, and she bit her lip, that shy smile coming back as she looked at Y/N with a mix of relief and excitement. “Really?” she asked, voice filled with a kind of innocent disbelief that only made her more endearing.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I came out here to clear my head, actually. Because of you.”

Minjeong’s breath hitched, and she looked away for a moment, visibly gathering her courage. She took another small step forward, her eyes now steady on Y/N’s, and for a moment, the shy, uncertain expression melted away, replaced by something more confident, more daring.

“I’m really glad I came out here,” Minjeong said softly, her voice carrying an unexpected sincerity. “I was, uh… kind of hoping I might see you again. And, um, maybe… ask you something.”

“Oh?” Y/N felt her heart beat faster, her eyes never leaving Minjeong’s.

Minjeong took a breath, looking almost like she was bracing herself for a big moment. “I was wondering… if I could know your name. I didn’t get a chance to ask while I was… you know, staring at you.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling herself blush despite her best efforts. “Y/N,” she replied, letting the name settle between them like a promise. “It’s Y/N.”

Minjeong’s smile widened, and she repeated it softly, as if committing it to memory. “Y/N,” she murmured, her voice filled with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. Minjeong took another step closer, her gaze still warm and intent, a hint of mischief sparking in her eyes now. “You know, I don’t usually get this nervous,” she admitted with a small, sheepish laugh, “but… I guess you’re kind of intimidating.”

Y/N chuckled, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Intimidating? Me? I think that’s a first.”

Minjeong laughed, nodding as she looked at the ground, then back up at Y/N. “Yeah, well, you’ve got this… this thing. This presence.” She rubbed the back of her neck, then let her hand drop, finding her confidence again. “And… you’re really beautiful,” she added softly, the words almost a whisper, but filled with a sincerity that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know what to say. She felt the warmth spreading in her chest, and all the teasing words she might have said disappeared, replaced by something softer, something real.

“Well,” she said finally, her voice softening, “you’re not too bad yourself, Minjeong.”

The way Minjeong’s face lit up made Y/N’s smile grow. It was like she was seeing every side of her all at once—the confident performer, the nervous girl, and something more vulnerable underneath it all. It was that mix that made Y/N want to keep talking, keep learning about her.

“So,” Minjeong ventured, shifting from foot to foot, but her gaze steady now, “would you… maybe want to grab a drink sometime? Or… I don’t know, talk about all the things I was too nervous to say on stage?”

Y/N grinned, crossing her arms with an amused look. “Are you sure you can handle talking to me without losing your cool?”

Minjeong laughed, the sound soft and a little self-deprecating. “I can try. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a murmur, “something tells me you’re worth the effort.”

Y/N’s smile softened, and for a moment, she just looked at her, taking in the way Minjeong’s gaze never wavered, even if her cheeks were still a little pink. “Alright,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that.”

Minjeong’s face broke into the happiest, most relieved smile Y/N had ever seen.

--

Back inside, Minjeong and Y/N quickly found their way to Yunjin and Minji, who were laughing and chatting at the bar. Minjeong felt a little thrill when Y/N introduced her, and even more so when her own bandmates strolled out from backstage, the entire group merging into one.

Jimin leaned in with a smirk. “So, this is the girl who made our rockstar here forget her own chords?”

Minjeong flushed, shooting her bandmates a look that only made them laugh harder. But before she could sputter out a response, Yunjin piped up with a bright grin, “Why don’t we all head somewhere quieter? I know a bar nearby with a good vibe, and we can actually talk.”

The group agreed, and soon they were all spilling out onto the street, laughter echoing around them as they made their way down the road. Minjeong hung back with Y/N, a warm, comfortable silence falling between them before they started talking. It felt natural, easy, even as Minjeong's heart still raced from the kiss that lingered on her mind.

As they all headed down the street toward the quieter bar, Minjeong and Y/N fell into step just behind the group, comfortable in the hum of the night. Minjeong glanced over, her curiosity getting the best of her. “So… judging by your style, I’d guess you’re a fan of rock, too?”

Y/N grinned, nudging her shoulder playfully. “Is it that obvious? Yeah, guilty. I got into it pretty young. There’s just something about the raw energy, you know?”

“Totally,” Minjeong agreed, her excitement matching Y/N’s. “That’s why I wanted to start a band. The noise, the chaos—it’s addictive. Arctic Monkeys got me into it, actually,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I was obsessed.”

“Are you serious?” Y/N’s eyes widened. “I’m a huge Arctic Monkeys fan! ‘AM’ was like… a soundtrack for my teenage rebellion,” she joked.

Minjeong’s eyes lit up. “Same! ‘Do I Wanna Know?’ is practically burned into my brain at this point. It’s why I even started learning guitar. I wanted to play riffs like that.”

Y/N laughed, her gaze softening. “I knew you had good taste.” She shook her head, looking away for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. “There’s something about the way they capture that… I don’t know, that midnight, gritty feeling. It’s like you’re walking down an empty street with secrets.”

“Exactly!” Minjeong said, her face lighting up. “That’s what I love. It’s like they make you feel a whole mood, even without the lyrics. Just the sound.”

They continued talking about favorite songs and concert memories, swapping stories about late nights spent lost in the music. It felt easy, natural—like they were old friends reconnecting, not two people who’d just met. Their steps slowed, and soon they were trailing behind the others, wrapped in their own little world of laughter and shared nostalgia.

By the time they reached the bar, Minjeong felt more at ease than she had in ages. They ordered a round of drinks, everyone chatting animatedly in little clusters. Minjeong’s bandmates were quick to strike up conversations with Y/N’s friends, which left the two of them with the kind of stolen glances and low laughter that felt almost private in a room full of people.

Jimin, however, was still on a mission to tease her mercilessly. “So, Minjeong, think you’ll be writing a new song anytime soon?” she asked, her tone innocent but her grin anything but.

“Maybe a ballad,” Aeri added with a wink. “Or a love song for that ‘special someone.’”

Minjeong rolled her eyes, the teasing never-ending. “Maybe a metal anthem about having nosey friends,” she muttered, just loud enough to get a laugh from everyone.

Seeing her getting flustered, Y/N’s amused gaze softened. With a grin, Minjeong leaned close, asking, “Wanna get out of here? The dance floor’s calling.”

Y/N’s smile was immediate, and with a soft, “Lead the way, rockstar,” she took Minjeong’s hand. They wove through the crowd toward the dance floor, leaving the teasing glances of their friends behind.

They made their way to the dance floor, where the lights were dimmer, casting everyone in shades of deep red and blue. The music was slower, more sensual than the previous bar’s high-energy beats. As they started to move, Minjeong felt her nerves fall away, replaced by a growing confidence as she focused on Y/N, the rest of the room fading into the background.

They danced, letting the music guide them as they moved closer, their bodies almost touching. Minjeong felt her heart race as she gathered the courage to place her hands on Y/N’s hips, gently pulling her closer. Y/N didn’t resist; instead, she leaned into Minjeong, letting her hands rest on Minjeong’s shoulders, eyes glinting with amusement and something else Minjeong couldn’t quite place but wanted to drown in.

Feeling bolder, Minjeong spun Y/N around gently, her hands guiding her to dance even closer. Y/N tilted her head back to look at her, lips parted as she gazed up at Minjeong with an expression that sent a thrill through her. Time seemed to slow, the music fading into a heartbeat-like thrum in her ears.

They stood like that, breath mingling, eyes locked. Y/N’s gaze flicked down to Minjeong’s lips and back up, her own lips curving in the slightest hint of a smile, a silent invitation.

Not wanting to waste another second, Minjeong leaned down, closing the distance between them. Their lips met, soft at first, hesitant, and then deeper as the world around them disappeared completely. Y/N’s hands slid from Minjeong’s shoulders to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as she pulled her closer. 

Minjeong felt another surge of confidence go through her, so she deepened the kiss. The heat rose in her cheeks as her tongue touched the other girl’s, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined, more curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of them. They both pulled away for air with a small pop. 

When they pulled back, Minjeong was breathless, a dazed smile spreading across her face. Y/N looked up at her with a similar expression, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath.

“Well,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the music, “that was… unexpected.”

Minjeong chuckled, her hands still resting on Y/N’s waist, reluctant to let go. “Good unexpected?” she asked, her voice soft.

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile, and she nodded, eyes glinting. “Very good.”

“How about we get out of here?” Minjeong’s voice dropped an octave. Y/N bit her lips and nodded.

--

Minjeong and Y/N found themselves leaving the bar with the excuse of “fresh air.” The street was quiet, the city lights casting a soft glow as they walked side by side, shoulders brushing with each step. They hardly spoke now; there was an unspoken understanding that grew with every step that led them further into the night.

When they arrived at Minjeong’s apartment, Y/N felt her pulse quicken. The two entered quietly, as if unwilling to disturb the intimate quiet between them. Minjeong led her inside, their fingers brushing lightly, and it felt like a silent invitation. Y/N followed, her eyes tracing the faint outline of Minjeong’s figure in the dim apartment light, each detail accentuated by the calm atmosphere.

In the small, cozy bedroom, they turned to face each other. Minjeong found herself reaching out, her hand gentle as it grazed Y/N’s cheek. There was no need for words; the look in Y/N’s eyes was enough, a mixture of anticipation and something deeper. Slowly, their lips met, softer and slower than before, savoring each lingering touch and deepening the kiss as the seconds passed. It felt like an unraveling—each kiss exploring, tentative, and then firmer.

Their hands began to roam with more confidence. Y/N felt Minjeong’s fingers drift down her back, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. The taller helped Y/N strip off her clothes, being gentle and savoring the moment, until she was only in her underwear. Minjeong looked at Y/N and her breath hitched.

“You look beautiful.” She murmured, making the shorter blush.

“I bet you’d look just as good if you had less clothes on.” Y/N teased. Minjeong stripped off as well in a hurry, almost stumbling as she shook off her pants, making Y/N laugh. Once they were both only in their garments, Minjeong pushed the other lightly onto the bed, before she got on top of her.

Minjeong looked at Y/N’s eyes, both had excitement displayed on them. Leaning down, she captured Y/N lips once again in a passionate kiss. Their tongues grazed against each other, Minjeong’s hand caressing the other’s waist and hips, while Y/N was tangling her hands in her hair. 

Minjeong pulled away, earning a whine from Y/N. She let out a soft chuckle, while her hand went up to Y/N bra on her back. She looked at Y/N for confirmation, who only arched her back so that Minjeong could unfasten it. Minjeong struggled a bit, but managed to do it, tossing it to the side, she dipped her head, taking one of Y/N nipples into her mouth, while her hand groped her other boob, her fingers pinching and twisting her nipple. Y/N let out a loud moan, arching her back in appreciation. Her hands went to Minjeong’s back, unfastening the other’s bra, tossing it next to hers in the floor. Her nails left red, angry marks on Minjeong’s well defined back.

“Fuck.” Minjeong muttered, switching to the other breast.

“God, Minjeong. So good.” Y/N panted. Minjeong started to kiss downwards, leaving opened mouth kisses on Y/N stomach. Looking up, she asked for permission with her eyes. Y/N nodded her head.

Using her teeth, she took a hold of Y/N panties and slithered them down her legs. She went up again and kissed the shorter. This kiss was more sloppy, desperate, hands touching whatever part of skin they could reach. Y/N used her hands to slip off Minjeong’s final piece of underwear. The taller suddenly pulled up. Her lips were a bit swollen, and her pupils were dilated.

“Give me a second.” She pecked Y/N lips and stood up. Y/N looked at her leaving figure confused, but waited patiently. While Minjeong was away, she decided to look around the bedroom. 

The walls were painted a muted shade of deep blue, making the room feel calm and peaceful, with a few framed black-and-white photographs of bands, abstract art, and scenic landscapes hanging in casual arrangement. There were no flashy decorations, but the minimalistic vibe allowed her personality to shine through in the details. A large window stretched along one side of the room, its sheer curtains slightly drawn, letting in the soft glow of the city lights that filtered through the night. The view was modest but serene.

Minjeong came back, she had a 7 inch black strapon fasted around her hips. Y/N breath hitched.

Holy fuck

Minjeong went on top of Y/N again.

“This is ok with you, right?” Minjeong asked, her hand caressing Y/N’s cheek. Y/N nodded, unable to let out any words.

Grabbing the base of the strap, Minjeong rubbed the tip on the slit a few times, using the wetness as a natural lube, she then pushed inside, inch by inch. Y/N gasped as she reached out to hold Minjeong, her nails once again scratching the taller’s back. She let out a pornographic moan, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Shit.” Minjeong groaned, feeling the blunt part of the strap hit against her clit. “You’re so tight, even with how wet you are.”

Y/N nodded, shutting her eyes, which were watery from the pleasure. “Just for you.”

Minjeong started thrusting slowly, wanting Y/N to get used to it. But once the shorter told her to speed up, she did. Her thrust were fast, but she got to a pace where she could hit Y/N spongy spot each time. The moans from the shorter were driving her crazy, she had found her new favorite sound. The room was filled with sounds of skin slapping against each other, Y/N’s moans and Minjeong’s groans of pleasure. The bed was creaking, the post hitting against the wall every time the taller thrusted forward. It smelled of sweat, sex, and perfume; and it was almost mouthwatering for the both of them.

Minjeong grabbed Y/N softly by the neck. “Look at me.” She panted.

The shorter opened her eyes, making eye contact with the other. “I’m coming.” She whined, her hands reaching out to grab Minjeong’s forearms, which were quite strong for her pretty petite form.

“Wait.” The taller groaned. “I want you to come with me.” Y/N nodded, struggling to keep her eyes open. “I’m so close, almost there baby.”

Y/N moaned, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on. Minjeong was fucking her so good, she felt on cloud 9. “Minjeong. Minjeong, please let me come.” She begged. Drops of sweat were dripping down her.

“Come. Come with me, baby.” The nickname was enough for Y/N to release. She screamed Minjeong’s name, seeing black for a few seconds. Minjeong was just behind her, groaning as she came too. She didn’t stop thrusting, wanting both of them to ride out their orgasm. “Stop. Too sensitive.” Y/N whimpered, making the taller stall her thrust.

Slowly, she pulled out, making both of them moan. Minjeong at the sight of a string of Y/N’s cum connected to the strap, and the shorter one because of the feeling. Minjeong reached down her two middle fingers, rubbing Y/N’s slit and gathering her cum, Y/N shuddered because of overstimulation.

Looking at the shorter in her eyes, Minjeong wrapped her lips around the fingers full of Y/N’s slick, moaning at the taste. Y/N whined at the sight, another shot of cum came out of her, making Minjeong let out a small chuckle. Leaning down, she brushed her lips against Y/N. “How do you feel?”

“Like I went to heaven.” Y/N murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. She cranked her neck up a bit, capturing Minjeong’s lips with her own.The kiss was short, but sweet. 

“Give me a second.” Minjeong pulled away and stood up. She walked to the bathroom, only to come out a few minutes later with a warm towel, the strap long gone. She wiped Y/N’s slick with the towel. “There.” She kissed her thighs. “All better.”

“Thanks.” Y/N yawned, feeling the adrenaline go down. With a kiss on the forehead, Minjeong draped the sheets over Y/N’s body and went to put the towel with the dirty clothes. Once she came back, a glass of water in hands for Y/N, she saw the shorter asleep, soft breath coming out in a  rhythmic pattern.

With a smile, Minjeong put the glass on top of the bedside table, and laid down next to Y/N, hugging her in a spooning position. “Good night.” She whispered, kissing her head.

--

Minjeong’s eyes opened slowly, taking in the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. A small weight on her chest made her look down, and she felt a warm sense of contentment as she saw Y/N still peacefully asleep on top of her, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The memories of the night before played softly in her mind, and Minjeong couldn’t help but smile, feeling the flutter of excitement as she replayed each moment.

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed, glancing back one last time to make sure Y/N was still asleep. Her gaze softened as she took in the calm, almost dreamlike scene, the sheets tangled gently around Y/N’s figure. Minjeong tiptoed to the door, an idea forming. She’d make breakfast—a small thank-you for the unforgettable night. It was a romantic idea, though she was slightly aware of her less-than-stellar kitchen skills. Still, how hard could eggs and toast be?

In the kitchen, Minjeong looked around for ingredients, picking up a carton of eggs, bread, and a small handful of strawberries she found in the fridge. She fumbled with the egg carton, trying to crack one egg carefully, but her inexperience showed as half the yolk splattered onto the counter. With a sigh, she attempted to salvage the rest, pouring the little that remained into a bowl and giving it an optimistic whisk.

“Alright, toast… easy,” she muttered, sliding a couple of slices into the toaster. But in her focus on the eggs, she quickly forgot about the toast, not noticing until the faint scent of burning bread hit her nose. “Oh no!” she whispered, pulling it out a second too late. She sighed, shaking her head, but before she could attempt another slice, she felt two warm arms wrap around her waist.

“Good morning,” Y/N mumbled sleepily into her shoulder, her face pressed against Minjeong’s back. “What’s going on in here?”

Startled, the taller yelped, the spatula slipping from her hand as she accidentally touched the edge of the hot pan. A small hiss escaped her lips as she recoiled, cradling her finger.

Y/N’s groggy concern immediately turned to worry. “Oh, Minjeong! Are you okay?” She turned her gently, reaching for her hand and inspecting the small burn with a soft frown. Y/N’s fingertips were gentle as they grazed the spot, her eyes filled with care.

Minjeong chuckled, feeling a little sheepish. “I’m fine. I just… well, I thought I’d make you breakfast.” She gestured to the burnt toast and slightly undercooked eggs. “Clearly, it’s going… fantastically.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her smile warm as she grabbed a washcloth, running it under cool water before gently pressing it to Minjeong’s fingers. “I appreciate the effort, but maybe I should take over before you accidentally set my kitchen on fire.”

Minjeong laughed, feeling a rush of warmth as Y/N continued to dab her hand with the cloth. “Good idea. My cooking skills are... a work in progress.”

Once the small burn was tended to, they moved back to the stove. Y/N gave Minjeong a playful nudge. “Here, watch and learn, rockstar,” she teased, sliding a fresh piece of bread into the toaster and cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl. She whisked them with a practiced ease that made Minjeong feel both impressed and slightly jealous.

Minjeong leaned against the counter, watching as Y/N took over with a calm confidence, every movement precise and efficient. They made small talk, Y/N occasionally handing her tasks she was certain Minjeong could manage, like slicing strawberries or sprinkling a pinch of salt over the eggs.

“So,” Y/N said, flipping a piece of toast with a grin, “do you have a favorite animal? Something I should know about you?”

Minjeong smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Dogs, definitely. They’re loyal, energetic, and you know, they just… get me. Plus, they’re adorable.”

“Ah, dogs are cute, but…” Y/N said, pausing for dramatic effect, “capybaras are obviously superior. They’re the most laid-back animals, super friendly. They get along with literally everyone. Have you seen a capybara with an enemy? Because I haven’t.”

Minjeong laughed, crossing her arms in playful defiance. “Okay, they’re cute, but come on—dogs have the whole ‘man’s best friend’ thing going on. They’ll stick by you through anything. And capybaras… can they fetch? Can they protect you from anything scarier than a blade of grass?”

Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe they can’t fetch, but they’ve got a whole ‘zen’ vibe going on. They’re the ultimate chill friend. Imagine just lounging around with a capybara, no stress, just good vibes.”

Minjeong put on a thoughtful expression, clearly playing along. “Hmm, I don’t know… I still think dogs win. They have that cute tail-wagging thing going for them, you know?”

Y/N shook her head, grinning. “Capybaras have their own charm. And they’re practically zen masters. How can you compete with that level of calm?”

“Fine,” Minjeong said with a smirk, “I’ll concede they’re cool. But dogs will always be number one in my heart.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing as she placed their finished breakfast on the table. “You’re biased, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

They sat down together, the lighthearted conversation flowing as they shared bites of eggs and strawberries, laughing between sips of coffee. The breakfast wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect in its simplicity—an unhurried morning in each other’s company, surrounded by the warm, cozy quiet of Y/N’s apartment. They debated everything from favorite movies to worst concert experiences, sharing stories that filled the space with easy laughter and growing familiarity.

After a while, Minjeong glanced up, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes filled with warmth. “For, you know, helping me avoid another cooking disaster.”

Y/N grinned, reaching across the table to give Minjeong’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime, rockstar. And for the record, I think you make a pretty great breakfast companion.”

They sat there, their hands resting together on the table, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence as they simply enjoyed the moment.

--

As the week unfolded, Y/N found herself spending more time with Minjeong than she had anticipated. It was as if they’d fallen into an unspoken rhythm: stolen moments after work, late-night drives, casual dinners where laughter spilled over plates of food, and quiet, cozy mornings. They were comfortable together, moving with an ease that made Y/N feel like they’d known each other for longer than just a few weeks.

So when Minjeong had invited her to another one of the band’s shows that weekend, Y/N had felt both excitement and a small pang of uncertainty. They hadn’t talked about what they were, or even if there was a “what” to define. Minjeong was still this untouchable, slightly mysterious rockstar to Y/N, someone who lived in a world she didn’t quite understand yet. But when she was with Minjeong, all that fell away, and she felt like she was simply with… Minjeong. Her Minjeong.

Now, it was Saturday night, and Y/N was back in her studio apartment, prepping with her friends Yunjin and Minji. The small space was alive with laughter and conversation as the girls sat cross-legged on Y/N’s bed, surrounded by a scattered pile of clothes, shoes, and beauty products.

“So,” Yunjin said with a knowing look, pausing as she put on her earrings, “are you ready to see your ‘mystery girlfriend’ perform again tonight?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she rolled her eyes. “You guys are too much. And I don’t even know if she’s my girlfriend…”

Minji tilted her head, giving her a skeptical look. “Y/N, please. You’ve practically been joined at the hip all week. If that’s not girlfriend material, I don’t know what is.”

Y/N looked down, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her anxiety. “I just… I don’t know. I mean, we haven’t had any kind of talk about it, you know? We’re acting like a couple, but she hasn’t really said what she wants, and I don’t want to push it if it’s not… that serious.”

Yunjin shook her head, putting a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Look, I don’t know Minjeong like you do, but from everything you’ve told us… She’s definitely into you. And, girl, if anyone’s lucky to be with someone, it’s her with you. But you’ll never really know until you ask, right?”

Minji nodded, leaning back against Y/N’s headboard. “Yeah, Y/N. You’re not asking for too much if you want a little clarity. It’s only fair. And look, you’re already putting yourself out there by going to her show tonight. Just enjoy it, and if you’re still feeling unsure, talk to her after.”

Y/N looked between her friends, feeling a wave of gratitude. “Thanks, guys. You’re right… I guess I just have to ask when the time’s right.”

“And in the meantime,” Yunjin said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she rummaged through Y/N’s wardrobe, “we’re going to make sure you look so good that Minjeong won’t be able to look anywhere else.”

With a shared laugh, they dove into picking out an outfit, discarding options with a mix of critiques and approving nods. After trying on a few combinations, they finally settled on a black mini dress that hugged Y/N’s curves in all the right ways. She paired it with a cropped leather jacket and heeled ankle boots that gave her just enough height and an extra edge. Yunjin added the finishing touches with smoky eye makeup, making her dark eyes stand out, while Minji worked on her hair, giving it loose, tousled waves that framed her face.

“Perfect,” Yunjin declared, admiring their handiwork with a satisfied smile. “There’s no way Minjeong’s eyes are straying from you tonight.”

Y/N felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she looked in the mirror. The outfit and makeup were a little bolder than her usual look, but she loved it. There was a quiet confidence that seemed to settle over her, like she could step into this role with all the daring it demanded. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

As they left the apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves mixed with excitement. They chatted and laughed as they made their way to the bar, their voices blending into the soft sounds of the city around them. When they finally arrived, they joined the steady stream of people entering the venue, Y/N’s anticipation growing with each step.

The bar was packed with people milling about, drinks in hand as they waited for the show to start. Y/N’s eyes immediately scanned the stage, where she spotted Minjeong and her bandmates tuning their instruments and chatting among themselves. Minjeong looked effortlessly cool, her dark hair falling over her eyes as she focused on her guitar, fingers moving deftly over the strings. Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, her lips curling into a small smile as she watched.

“Oh, she’s definitely noticed you,” Yunjin whispered, nudging Y/N with a grin as Minjeong’s eyes finally found her in the crowd. The look that passed between them was soft but charged, as if there was an unspoken understanding, a secret language they’d begun to share.

Minjeong’s gaze lingered, her lips curving into a barely-there smile before she turned back to her guitar, finishing up her pre-show preparations. Y/N felt a flutter of excitement, her friends giggling beside her as they settled into a spot near the stage.

As the lights dimmed and the band took their places, Y/N felt the pulse of anticipation building around her. The music started with a slow, captivating rhythm, the opening notes vibrating through the room, and Y/N felt her entire body respond to the sound. The crowd cheered, and Y/N joined in, her eyes locked on Minjeong as she played, her focus on the music but with occasional glances in Y/N’s direction.

--

The band finished their set to roaring applause, and Y/N clapped along with everyone else, though her heart was beating with a different kind of anticipation. The question that had been lingering all week—the one that haunted her whenever she was alone—was finally too heavy to ignore. Tonight, she was going to find out exactly what Minjeong wanted, no matter the answer.

As the crowd began to disperse and people headed to the bar, Y/N turned to her friends, her hands fidgeting slightly. “I think I’m going to go backstage, you know, to talk to her.”

Yunjin and Minji exchanged knowing glances before giving her reassuring smiles.

“Go for it,” Yunjin said, squeezing her arm. “We’ll be right here if you need us. You got this.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath as she maneuvered her way through the crowded room toward the backstage area. Her heart was pounding with each step, the noise from the bar fading into a soft hum as she neared the back of the venue. Finally, she slipped behind the door marked “Staff Only,” her resolve growing with every stride. This was it. She was going to get the answers she needed.

But as she turned the corner, her steps slowed. Her heart sank at the sight before her: Minjeong was leaning against the wall, laughing softly with another girl. Y/N couldn’t remember ever seeing her before, but she was gorgeous, her long hair falling in waves over her shoulders, and she had an easy, confident way of standing close to Minjeong that sent a strange chill through Y/N.

The girl’s hand was on Minjeong’s arm, her touch lingering a little too long, her body angled in a way that felt… intimate. Minjeong wasn’t exactly pulling away, either, and Y/N felt a painful twist in her chest. She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath as she willed herself to stay calm.

She was just about to step forward, determined to break up whatever was happening, when the girl leaned in and kissed Minjeong. It was brief, but enough—a soft, easy brush of lips that somehow felt like a punch to Y/N’s gut. Her chest tightened, her breaths shallow as the betrayal hit her full force. She hadn’t realized she was gripping her purse so tightly until her knuckles turned white.

A small gasp escaped her before she could stop it, and in that instant, Minjeong broke the kiss, her eyes flickering up. Her gaze locked with Y/N’s, her face shifting from surprise to something that looked a lot like panic.

The realization of what she’d seen—the kiss, the closeness—felt like it echoed through every part of Y/N. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t stand there, her heart breaking right in front of Minjeong, watching that guilt and regret take over her face.

Before Minjeong could say anything, Y/N turned on her heel, forcing herself to move, each step heavier than the last. She pushed past the door and back into the crowded bar, the lights blurring slightly as she blinked against the sting of tears. She caught sight of Yunjin and Minji by the bar, their smiles fading the moment they saw her face.

"Y/N, hey, what happened?" Minji’s voice was gentle, her hand reaching out to steady Y/N.

The words caught in her throat, and she forced out a bitter, trembling laugh. "Nothing, just… Minjeong kissing another girl," she managed, the words tasting sour. Her voice wavered, and she couldn’t bear the pitying look on her friends’ faces. She didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to relive that moment any more than she already was.

Her heart was racing as she pushed through the crowded bar toward the exit, desperate to be anywhere else. The cool air hit her face, grounding her slightly as she stepped onto the street. The sounds of the city buzzed around her, but it felt muffled, distant. All she could focus on was the ache in her chest, the betrayal that left her feeling hollow.

A cab slowed to a stop, and she climbed in, pulling the door shut behind her as though she could shut out everything she’d just seen. She was about to give the driver her address, but a familiar voice broke through the noise, catching her attention.

"Y/N!" Minjeong’s voice was urgent, laced with desperation, and it made Y/N’s heart ache even more. She turned her head, barely able to see Minjeong through the fogged-up window, but there she was, pushing through the crowd, her expression frantic, her eyes wide.

“Please, Y/N, just… let me explain,” Minjeong’s voice cracked, her hand pressed against the glass, her eyes searching for a sign that Y/N would stay.

Y/N swallowed, fighting the urge to listen, to believe whatever Minjeong would say. Part of her wanted to throw open the door, to demand answers, to let Minjeong explain everything away. But a stronger part of her, the part that felt the sting of betrayal and the bitterness of uncertainty, couldn’t bring herself to stay. She needed space, needed to figure out if any of this had been real at all.

“Please, drive,” she whispered to the cab driver, her voice barely audible.

As the car began to pull away, she looked back one last time, her eyes meeting Minjeong’s through the glass. The raw pain in Minjeong’s expression made Y/N’s heart twist painfully, but she forced herself to look away, gripping her purse tightly as the city lights blurred into streaks around her.

The ride home felt longer than usual, filled with too many thoughts, too many questions she didn’t want to ask. She rested her head against the cool window, letting the city pass by as she tried to hold herself together.

When she finally reached her apartment, she walked in on autopilot, her mind replaying the kiss, the look on Minjeong’s face, the panic in her voice. She sank onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, numbness washing over her. The memory of Minjeong’s laughter, the way her hand had fit perfectly in Y/N’s own, now felt painfully out of reach.

A part of her couldn’t believe it—that Minjeong, the girl who’d looked at her with such warmth, had let someone else kiss her. All those moments, all those glances, had they meant nothing?

She wanted to believe there was more to it, that maybe there was some explanation that could make it all make sense. But the image of Minjeong with that girl was seared into her mind, an unwelcome reminder that maybe she’d been naive to think she could have something real with someone who lived a life so different from her own.

--

Minjeong’s mind was racing as she followed her bandmates backstage, her excitement barely contained. She couldn’t wait to see Y/N’s face, to celebrate after another successful show and maybe—if she was lucky—steal a few more minutes alone with her. She smiled to herself, already anticipating Y/N’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when they talked about music.

As she was about to slip away to find her, a familiar voice called her name, and she turned to see Yeji, an old friend from way back. They’d always kept in touch, catching up whenever they crossed paths in the same city. Minjeong smiled, and they started talking, catching up on everything and reminiscing about old times. Minjeong tried to keep the conversation brief—her heart was practically pulling her toward Y/N—but Yeji was relentless, asking questions, laughing, holding her back just a bit longer.

Suddenly, without any warning, Yeji leaned in, her hands resting lightly on Minjeong’s shoulders as she pressed her lips softly against Minjeong’s. Minjeong froze, too stunned to move, her mind blank for a few seconds. The warmth and weight of Yeji’s lips jolted her, and she felt her pulse quicken—not out of excitement, but panic. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to give Yeji the wrong impression. She was about to pull back when a sharp, familiar sound—a gasp—pierced through her daze.

Her gaze shifted, and she saw her: Y/N standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, her face stricken, and in that single moment, Minjeong’s heart plummeted.

“Y/N—” she choked out, pushing Yeji away and taking a shaky step toward her, but Y/N was already turning, her face unreadable as she disappeared through the door.

She tried to follow, but Yeji caught her arm, her grip firm. “Minjeong, wait,” Yeji said softly, her expression shifting to something almost pleading. “I’ve had a crush on you for ages. I didn’t know you’d met someone.”

Minjeong took a breath, a pang of guilt and frustration flaring within her. This was the last thing she wanted. “Yeji, I’m sorry… I didn’t know. But I can’t… I don’t feel that way about you. I’m really sorry.” She gently pulled her arm free, her thoughts racing back to Y/N.

Ignoring Yeji’s disappointed look, she darted out, her heart pounding as she scanned the crowd for any sign of Y/N. Her chest tightened as she finally spotted her outside, getting into a cab. She ran, nearly tripping in her rush to reach her.

“Y/N!” she called out, the desperation in her voice startling even herself. She reached the cab just as Y/N closed the door, her eyes filled with pain, her cheeks streaked with tears. Minjeong pressed her hand to the window, her voice cracking as she begged, “Please, Y/N, just let me explain.”

But before she could say another word, the cab pulled away, and she watched helplessly as it disappeared down the street. She stood there, feeling a cold weight settle over her as the reality of what had just happened hit her. She’d lost her chance to explain, to tell Y/N that she hadn’t wanted that kiss, that it had meant nothing.

She stood there, feeling the emptiness stretch, gnawing at her heart, until she heard voices approaching—her bandmates and Y/N’s friends. Yunjin’s sharp gaze fell on her first, her voice laced with anger.

“Minjeong, what the hell were you thinking?” she snapped, her frustration clear.

“Did you seriously kiss someone else?” Minji’s voice was incredulous, laced with anger.

Minjeong shook her head quickly, her voice urgent. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t kiss her. She just… she kissed me, and I was in shock, and Y/N saw right before I could stop it.” She ran a hand through her hair, her frustration clear. “I tried to go after her, but Yeji held me back. I swear, I didn’t want it. I just… I just want to explain that to Y/N.”

Her bandmates and Y/N’s friends exchanged looks, the anger slowly fading from their expressions.

Minji sighed, crossing her arms. “Well, if that’s true, then you need to tell her. She’s probably at her apartment now. You need to fix this, Minjeong, because she looked heartbroken.”

Minjeong nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I know. And I’ll fix it. I’ll make her understand.”

Without another word, her bandmates gestured for her to follow them to their car. They drove in tense silence, the weight of what she had to do pressing down on her, each second feeling heavier than the last. Her mind raced with thoughts of Y/N—was she still upset? Did she still care? Minjeong’s chest tightened with guilt, and she couldn’t stop replaying the image of Y/N’s tear-streaked face in the taxi.

The drive seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually, they reached Y/N’s building. The bandmates offered a few reassuring words as they stopped outside, and Minjeong gave them a tight smile. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll be okay.”

“Good luck,” Jimin added. “And remember, just be honest.”

Minjeong nodded, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the car. The sound of the door shutting behind her felt final, but she couldn’t back down now. She had to fix this, whatever it took.

She made her way up to Y/N’s floor, each step heavy with the weight of what had happened. When she reached Y/N’s door, she hesitated for just a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her hand to knock, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

After what felt like an eternity, the door slowly opened, and there she was—Y/N, her eyes red and puffy, her face a mixture of anger, pain, and confusion. Minjeong’s heart shattered at the sight. Y/N looked… so distant, like a part of her had already started pulling away. Minjeong’s throat tightened, and she could barely whisper, “Hey.”

The word came out almost like a question, the same way it had the first time they’d met.

--

Minjeong lingered uncertainly in the entryway of Y/N’s apartment, every nerve ending buzzing with tension. She was here—finally here—but now that she was, she wasn’t sure where to begin. Y/N’s gaze was unreadable as she opened the door wider, the redness around her eyes still visible, stepping aside to let her in. Minjeong offered a tentative, grateful smile and slipped inside, her heart pounding, her hands slightly trembling as she followed Y/N to the couch. They sat down, a slight distance between them, and the silence that stretched between them was almost unbearable.

Minutes ticked by, the weight of the unspoken words growing heavier with each second. Minjeong swallowed, trying to summon the words she’d rehearsed on the drive here, but everything seemed to vanish. She could only manage short glances at Y/N, who sat beside her with her arms crossed, her expression still guarded.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally broke the silence, her voice quiet and tense. “If you have nothing to say, Minjeong, maybe you should go.”

The words hit Minjeong hard, spurring her out of her frozen state. She couldn’t leave it like this; she couldn’t lose Y/N. “Wait, Y/N—please, it’s not like that.” She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. “Please, let me explain what happened.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but she didn’t get up to leave either, and that was enough for Minjeong to press on. She took a deep breath, letting her words flow in a careful, deliberate way. She explained every detail—who Yeji was, how she had shown up backstage after the show, how they’d been talking and catching up, and how Yeji had leaned in to kiss her, leaving her frozen in shock until she’d heard Y/N’s gasp.

“I was so confused, and then I saw you there, watching, and everything hit me at once.” Minjeong’s voice cracked slightly, and she looked down, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “I should have pushed her away sooner. I should have known better. I… I’m so sorry, Y/N. You don’t know how badly I wish I’d done something different. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

For a long, silent moment, Minjeong could only stare down at her hands. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, waiting for Y/N’s response, but the longer the silence stretched, the more she worried she’d ruined everything. She was ready to give up and leave, then she heard a soft sniffle.

She looked up, her breath hitching at the sight of tears welling up in Y/N’s eyes. Guilt stabbed her all over again, and she scrambled for words, her hands reaching out as if they could erase the hurt she’d caused. “Oh god, Y/N… I’m so stupid for coming here. I shouldn’t have—”

“Minjeong,” Y/N interrupted, her hand reaching to cover Minjeong’s restless fingers. Her voice was soft, though still a little shaky. “It’s fine. I should apologize as well… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off like that without letting you explain.”

Minjeong shook her head, trying to keep herself from tearing up. “No, Y/N, it’s… it’s my fault. I don’t blame you for leaving. I should’ve—”

“No,” Y/N said more firmly, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I mean it. I’m the one who didn’t communicate. I was so scared. We had such an amazing week and I had never felt more alive, but I didn’t know where the thing we had going on stood. I kept thinking if we were dating, or perhaps we were friends with benefits, maybe I saw just a fling. It’s just, I kept imagining things, that maybe I was the only one feeling like this.” 

Hearing this, Minjeong’s heart squeezed painfully. She looked into Y/N’s eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and she finally felt a surge of courage. “Y/N… no. I admit, I didn’t know where we stood either,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But what I do is that you were never going to be a fling, or friends with benefits. I know exactly what I want us to be. I want… I want to be with you. For real. No misunderstandings. No more second-guessing.”

For a moment, they only stared at each other, a world of unspoken feelings hanging between them. Minjeong’s heart thudded as she searched Y/N’s face, praying she hadn’t completely blown her chance. Every nerve in her body was on edge, waiting for Y/N’s response.

Finally, she blurted out, breaking the silence with a surge of nervous boldness, “Do you… do you want to go on an actual date with me? Like, an official one. No ambiguity. Just us, out on a real date.”

A laugh bubbled out of Y/N’s lips, soft and warm, melting away the last traces of tension. Minjeong’s heart leaped at the sound, her nerves easing as Y/N leaned in close, her eyes softening as she brushed a gentle kiss across Minjeong’s lips. The kiss was passionate, you could tell they put their emotions into it.

“Of course, Rockstar,” Y/N whispered against her lips, her voice playful but full of warmth. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

They stayed close for a moment, their foreheads pressed together, smiling softly. Y/N felt a wave of relief, joy, and contentment washing over her. She finally felt steady, knowing exactly where she stood—and that they both wanted the same thing.

As they pulled back slightly, Y/N’s smile turned into a smirk. “Now, about that date… Better be the best one I’ve ever had.”

Minjeong grinned, her fingers lacing through Y/N’s as she lifted her palm up to the mouth, pressing her lips against it softly. “Don’t worry. You can count on it.”

--

The anticipation was electric as Y/N and her friends, first in line, waited outside the small, buzzing venue where Minjeong’s band was playing that night. Minjeong had been hinting at a “surprise” for days, and now Y/N could barely contain her excitement—or her nerves. It had been months since they’d started dating, each moment with Minjeong a blend of excitement and sweetness, wrapped up in laughter and stolen kisses. Tonight, though, felt different. There was something in the way Minjeong had looked at her earlier, a glint of mystery that sent Y/N’s mind spinning with curiosity.

Inside, the dim lights and pulsing bass amplified the thrill as Y/N’s group found a spot close to the stage. The energy in the bar was buzzing, everyone hyped up for another of the band’s electrifying performances. But Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off Minjeong, who was tuning her guitar, fingers moving with an effortless grace Y/N had grown to love. Even from a distance, she could see Minjeong’s usual confidence mixed with a touch of nerves—unusual for her rockstar girlfriend, and it only heightened the suspense.

The band launched into their set, and Y/N was mesmerized. Minjeong was magnetic, every note and strum pulling Y/N closer. Minjeong’s voice filled the bar, warm and rich, pouring emotion into each song. Y/N knew this band so well by now—the rhythms and riffs, the way Minjeong’s bandmates complemented her, each song a testament to how well they all fit together. Her friends were cheering, caught up in the music, but Y/N could only focus on Minjeong, who kept sneaking glances her way, eyes flickering with something unsaid.

As the band neared the end of their set, Minjeong glanced back at her bandmates, who each nodded with knowing smiles. She took a deep breath, stepping up to the microphone. Her voice was a little shaky, but her gaze was steady, locked on Y/N.

“So, uh, before we finish tonight… I wanted to share something special with you all,” she began, and there was a hush as the crowd quieted, leaning in to listen. “A few months ago I had no inspiration. I couldn’t write anything, and then I met my muse. Writing this song was like drinking water, or breathing air. That easy. This is for someone who means everything to me. She’s my inspiration… my best friend… the person who makes everything else just fade away.” Minjeong’s cheeks pinked a little under the lights, and Y/N felt her own face warm, her heart pounding.

“I wrote this song for the love of my life. It’s called No.1 Party Anthem.”

As the first chords filled the room, Minjeong’s voice softened, pouring out with a tenderness that caught Y/N off guard. The lyrics felt like a confession, each line weighted with meaning that reached out to her across the crowd. Y/N’s heart swelled with each word, and as the song progressed, Minjeong’s gaze never wavered—she sang to Y/N and Y/N alone, the entire bar falling away until it felt like just the two of them in a quiet, intimate moment.

Y/N’s friends glanced over with smiles, nudging each other knowingly as they watched her try to hold back tears. The raw honesty in Minjeong’s voice filled the room, carrying emotions that had only deepened over the months. Each word told a story, and Y/N could see herself reflected in the lyrics—the late-night laughter, the whispered confessions, the stolen moments that had come to mean everything.

The look of love, the rush of blood

The, 'She's-with-me's, the Gallic shrug

Y/N felt it then: the dizzying sensation of being seen and adored so purely. Her pulse quickened, and she could almost feel the warmth of Minjeong’s hands even from this distance. It was like the world had faded to black and white, the two of them in their own silent film, yet vibrant with color and meaning only they could see.

The shutterbugs, the Camera Plus The black and white and the color dodge

It was a feeling she hadn’t known before, the security of having Minjeong’s affections worn so openly in her words, in her melody, in every single note. Y/N knew then what her friends had always teased her about—that Minjeong would have eyes for no one else, that she belonged here, in this moment, by Minjeong’s side.

The good time girls, the cubicles

The house of fun

As the bridge filled the room, Minjeong’s voice grew stronger, emboldened, and Y/N couldn’t stop the rush of emotions. The energy was intense, so raw and unfiltered, like being caught up in a whirlwind that spun just for the two of them. It was exhilarating, dizzying, grounding—and yet, she felt like she could float away at any moment, lifted up by Minjeong’s words and the crowd’s rapt attention.

The weight of their love, the certainty of it, settled over her. Everything was crystallizing; all their shared laughter, late nights, and whispered secrets between songs. Minjeong wasn’t just singing for a crowd—she was singing for Y/N, for their memories, for their future.

The number one

Party anthem

The song was reaching its end, and Minjeong’s eyes softened as she held the final note, her expression open and vulnerable. Y/N’s heart felt like it was on fire. She hadn’t realized it until now, but this was exactly what she had needed: this quiet, beautiful assurance of how much she meant to Minjeong.

As the song faded, the room erupted in applause, but Minjeong’s gaze stayed locked on her, a private smile on her lips. Y/N could feel her own smile breaking free as tears blurred her vision, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if Minjeong had taken her heart and woven it into the song, showing Y/N that every note was a promise, every word a reassurance of what they had.

As the applause subsided, Minjeong slipped off the stage, making her way through the crowd toward Y/N. Her friends cheered her on as she moved closer, and Y/N’s heart raced as she finally stood face-to-face with Minjeong, who looked at her with a nervous, hopeful smile.

“Hey, rockstar,” Y/N whispered, unable to contain her grin.

Minjeong chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… what did you think?” she asked, a little shyly, her gaze unwavering.

Y/N’s voice was thick with emotion. “That was… perfect. I loved it.”

Minjeong’s eyes softened, and without a word, she pulled Y/N into her arms, holding her close. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, while the rest of the world buzzed around them. It was a quiet moment in the middle of the chaos, a moment just for them.

Y/N looked up, meeting Minjeong’s eyes. “I guess that makes me your No.1?”

Minjeong laughed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “You always were.” 

a/n: this is in my top 3 song from AM, so i thought it deserved a fanfic.

[rhiannonsknife]

thinking about sleepy cuddles w jackie :( she’s so clingy at the best of times but she’s even MORE clingy when she’s all sleepy and warm. burying her head in the crook of your neck and murmuring a soft ‘five more minutes’ against your skin, even though you know damn well she’ll stay there for hours if you let her <33 ugh shes so dreamy ❤️‍🩹

YES!! sleepy cuddles with jackie!! <33

i just know she would be so so sleepy every morning after you’ve slept over. and you haven’t even stayed up that long the night before. or maybe you have, but jackie instantly fell asleep on you the minute you curled up in bed together. “you’re so comfy” are the last words you hear before she drifts off with her cheek smudged against your chest.

you never mind it much though: she looks so dreamy when she sleeps on top of you!! literally the prettiest girl ever!! <3 guys i need to play with her hair or count her freckles until i fall asleep to the sound of her breathing too. i don’t know about you but i’d drift off so quickly if i was held by her!!

anyway, back to what you were saying anon: sleepy cuddles:

as you shift slightly, trying to stretch or maybe even contemplate getting out of bed, her arm tightens around you instantly, pulling you back before you can move another inch.

jackie stirs beside you, shifting until her head is nestled snugly against the crook of your neck. she's still half-asleep, her face buried against your skin when you hear her murmur: “just… five more minutes,” her voice is barely more than a whisper, still thick with drowsiness.

it’s a familiar routine now: jackie, the self-proclaimed morning person, who always has to be coaxed out of bed whenever you’re together. she’ll hold you like this, pressing against you with that sleepy clinginess, and even though she insists later that she’s such a go-getter in the mornings, you know better: ‘five more minutes’ with jackie usually means you’ll be here, just like this, until she’s completely satisfied.

her cheek is warm against your shoulder, and as she sinks back into you. her hand finds its way to your side, tracing little circles as if to keep herself anchored. “you’re warm,” she murmurs, her words muffled. it’s the opposite of the poised, confident jackie everyone else usually sees. right now, she’s just dreamy, contented jackie who’s in no rush to be anywhere but here.

her breathing slows, steadying into that soft, rhythmic calm that only comes when she’s fully relaxed. “you’d better not leave me…“ jackie whispers, her fingers tightening slightly around you, keeping you in place as she rests. “it’s way too early to move”

“it’s not early” you chuckle, your breath tickling her ear. “it’s-“ you have to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of her alarm clock on the bedside table. “almost 12”

“see?” jackie mutters, both eyes closed stubbornly. “early”

later, she’ll brush it off, insisting that she’s always the first one up. “you know me, i just jump out of bed!” she’ll say, smiling with that self-assured charm. but here, wrapped up in your arms, refusing to let you go, you can’t help but smile, knowing the truth.

[jakedustry]

𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇 - 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

drabble

wc 1k+

warnings f!reader, oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, marks/hickeys, mention of m! masturbation

↪ izzy adds... everyone say thank you to my best friend for sending me this idea one fine night so that I could wake up to a paragraph about how he'd eat me out because that's what made me write this

It wasn’t that long since you started dating Jake Sim. You started as friends – best friends even. When he first came into your math class, you weren’t paying much attention to him. Honestly, you were too busy trying to figure out where your other classes were to even notice him, but he caught your eyes a few weeks later when he decided to sit next to you. At first, you only exchanged a few smiles and short greetings, but after a while, he started asking you questions, trying to get to know you. 

After that, it only took a few more weeks for him to become your best friend. And now, just a month ago, he managed to gather all his courage and ask you out on a date, confessing he had those intentions from the moment he sat next to you. You couldn’t say no to him then, and that hasn’t changed since then. How could you when he was the one to show you what love feels like?

“What’s up?” You wonder, looking down at your lap where your boyfriend rests. He is lying on his stomach, his head on your belly, absolutely unfocused on the movie on your TV. “Nothing,” he mumbles but doesn’t look up to meet your eyes. “Jakey,” you say, cupping his cheeks and making him look up. “What’s on your mind?” 

“You are,” he answers, making you scoff. “I mean it,” he looks you straight in the eyes before looking down again, his fingers playing with the hem of your pants. He mutters something under his breath, but you don’t manage to catch it. “What was that?” You ask, your cheeks flushing red the moment he looks up, flashing you the cutest puppy eyes you’ve seen yet. “W-What?” 

“Do you think I could eat you out?” He repeats his question, this time louder, with more confidence. You could never say no to him, and he knew it. But honestly, you didn’t even want to tell him no. 

The excitement in his eyes as he sees you nod is unbelievable, and before you know it, he is pulling your pants and underwear down. You’re embarrassed. You try to hide your face behind your hands, but Jake is quicker, holding your hands in his to make sure you see him. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you shake your head. “We’ve never– you know, you haven’t– and–” you try to form a meaningful sentence, making your boyfriend laugh. He pulls himself up to face you, tugging your hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “I know, I know,” he whispers, his eyes full of assurance. “And we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. You can stop me whenever you want, and we can pretend nothing ever happened. I don’t want to rush you. I’ve just been wondering how you’d taste,” he caresses your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss to prove he means everything. 

You don’t want to see your face because you know you’re as red as ever. But Jake doesn’t seem to mind a bit, carefully moving down again and making himself comfortable between your legs. You watch him place your legs on his shoulders, smiling at you to assure you once more before his attention shifts to your lower lips. 

He starts carefully, his tongue making its way from your clit down to your needy entrance. He takes his time with everything, making sure every lick of his, every movement he does, is as perfect as ever. He can’t rush this; he keeps repeating to himself. 

Jake keeps glancing up at you at first, wanting to see your reactions, but he soon gives up on that, too, diving in completely and focusing on his movements instead. 

“So good,” Jake moans, tongue-fucking you. Your head is thrown back, your hand in his hair as you cum for the second time. At this point, you don’t even know what he’s saying. He started blabbing stuff when you came for the first time and haven’t stopped since. He moves slightly up, sucking on your clit while his fingers make their way to your hole. You gasp when he inserts his middle and ring finger, lazily fingering you. Your legs shake, but he doesn’t stop. It’s as if he was in his world, on cloud nine, just because he can eat you out. 

His free hand wraps around your thigh, still trusting his fingers into you as he looks up at you. “You’re the best,” he mumbles, placing kisses on your inner thigh. “So good, I could do you forever.” You don’t get a chance to answer. Before you can even think of a response, his tongue is sliding between your folds again, and you’re unable to speak. Forget a dessert, this was the whole meal for him. 

“Jake– Wait, I can’t– not anymore,” you cry out, letting go of his hair, and it’s like something in him switches, looking at you immediately, his eyes full of worry. “What is it, baby?” He asks, completely frozen. “‘S too much,” you admit. “I can’t anymore.” He sighs in relief, slowly moving his fingers again, as if he didn’t hear you at all. “Is that so?” He coos, sucking on your inner thigh this time, and you’re sure it will leave a mark. “One more, please. You’ve been so good,” he praises. “Please, pup.” 

“Last one, though,” you agree, giving him a warning look that, however, only makes him chuckle. Jake returns to his job within seconds, leaving hickeys and marks all over your inner thighs while he fingers you before going back to sucking on your clit again. This time alone, though, his free hand doesn’t end up anywhere on your body, but instead, he uses it to pull down his pants, freeing his aching cock. 

His moans get louder as he palms his cock, pulling his fingers out to focus better. The praises from before turn into incomprehensible whines of lust and groans of your name, driving you crazy. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to cum on his tongue again. Even though you thought you didn’t have another one in you, he managed to prove you otherwise, releasing all over your thighs soon after. His breath shakes as he falls on you, embracing you in a hug, as if this was just another one of your cuddling sessions. You’re both a mess, but you couldn’t have enjoyed this more. “So good,” he mumbles again before he sucks on your neck, leaving a hickey there too. “My girl tastes so good.”

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @adel222 @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @nxzz-skz✶⋆ want to get notified? join taglist here!

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 6 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The partnership was, for lack of a better word, complicated.

Jinwoo noticed it was a word often associated to you.

The more time Jinwoo spent with you only made things murkier. You were a puzzle wrapped in a riddle, and no matter how many pieces he tried to put together, he was always left with gaps. It was frustrating, but it also intrigued him in a way that nothing else had since he became the Player.

Jinwoo was suspicious—he couldn’t afford not to be. Jinwoo never imagined having someone like you beside him, much less allowing it. For the longest time, he had preferred working alone—solitude was safer, simpler. He didn’t have to worry about anyone getting in his way or betraying him. So, naturally, he had kept you under close observation, convinced that the cost of keeping you around would be more than just the unease gnawing at him.

From the start, Jinwoo had believed that taking you along would mean a decrease in his own growth. Experience was precious, and dividing it was a risk he was prepared to accept—but you had assured him that wouldn’t be necessary.

"I won’t take any exp from you,” you’d said with a quiet confidence that he hadn’t known how to trust. “I’ve got a feeling it doesn’t work like that for me anymore."

He’d been skeptical, of course. Experience was everything to a player, and he’d been prepared to lose some to keep you around. But as the weeks went by, he found your claim to be frustratingly true. No matter how many monsters you felled, it was only his system notifications that pinged, announcing increases in his experience points, his level bar that filled up, not yours, as though the system recognized you as an extension of him.

It was as if you just weren’t there.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or more suspicious. What kind of player didn’t gain EXP? It didn’t fit with the rules, and Jinwoo was nothing if not a careful observer of the patterns around him.

---

The material rewards, however, were a different story.

There was a strange way you treated the remains of the fallen monsters. At first, he hadn’t paid much attention to it; after all, every hunter had their quirks. But you would always linger after the fights, almost reverently inspecting the bodies, picking through the materials they left behind. When he finally asked you about it, you had given him that infuriatingly cryptic smile.

“Do you mind if I take whatever you don’t need?” you had politely asked one day, the first time out of the many in future raids to come. “I promise it won’t go to waste.”

“What do you even need them for?” he had asked, watching you examine the remains of a C-rank goblin with almost childlike fascination.

“Hmm…” You’d glanced up, meeting his gaze briefly before turning back to the material in your hand. “Think of it as... research.”

He’d agreed, more out of curiosity than generosity. And every time he did, he could have sworn he caught a glimmer of excitement in your eyes. It was an expression so genuine and bright that Jinwoo found himself taken aback. What exactly you were doing with those materials, he had no idea, but you seemed genuinely grateful, almost... happy. And Jinwoo found it oddly endearing every single time.

The guarded woman he fought beside every day for the past few weeks by now—the one who always hid herself behind walls of practiced calm—suddenly looked more humane. A person delighted over something so simple.

“Thank you, Jinwoo.” you said softly as you packed away pieces of monster hides, bones, and crystals with precision.  The way you spoke his name felt different than when others said it. Like it was laced with something unspoken, something almost... familiar.

For a moment, he’d thought he might be able to catch a sliver of truth from you. But then, as quickly as it appeared, your guard returned, and you slipped back into your composed, impenetrable self.

---

Yet, for every discovery he made about you, new questions took root. The way you spoke to the air when he couldn’t see your system window was one of the strangest things he’d observed. It wasn’t like how he interacted with his own system—a cold, mechanical guide that answered in emotionless text.

He had come to terms with it, which made it more puzzling when you, on the other hand, seemed to have a strangely conversational relationship with yours. It was as though you were talking to a real person rather than an AI. And there were times he swore he heard you bantering with it. The fact that he couldn’t see it, that he couldn’t know what it was telling you without you telling him, left him on edge.

While you could see the familiar blue screens of his own system at all times, yours sometimes seemed to exist in an entirely different realm. He didn’t have enough information to even confirm you had the same kind of system he did.

One evening after a raid, after you had muttered something to the empty air beside you, Jinwoo couldn’t hold back his curiosity any longer. The two of you were taking a break in the clearing of a forest-like dungeon, waiting for the mana in the air to settle. His shadows patrolled the perimeter, leaving the two of you in relative isolation.

“You’re… talking to it, aren’t you?” Jinwoo asked, as you finished your quiet exchange with your invisible companion. “The system, I mean.”

“Hmm? Oh.” You paused mid-motion, halfway through tucking away the latest monster core you’d collected, s if you hadn’t just spoken aloud to someone—or something—that only you could see. You glanced at him, something unreadable flickering behind your eyes before you looked back at the core in your hands.

“It’s not quite the same as your system,” you said finally, your voice almost too soft to hear over the rustling leaves. “Let’s just say we have a complicated relationship.” You paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Yours is… a guide, yes? Cold, instructive?”

He nodded, and you seemed to weigh your response.

“Mine is… let’s call it more opinionated.”

Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, clearly unsatisfied. “You mean to tell me that your system has a personality?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Something like that.”

He muttered, narrowing his eyes. “You know more about my system than I do, and yet I can’t even see yours most of the time. Feels like a rigged game.”

“You mean the same way my kills count towards yours instead?”

Fair point.

“You could say I know it pretty well. And… it knows me.” Your tone was careful, and he realized he’d learned something more about you in that one sentence than in all the raids you’d fought together.

It was almost as if you wanted to be honest—desperately so—but something stopped you every time you got close to revealing too much. It seemed less like a power play and more like you were protecting something—maybe even protecting him. But that didn’t make sense.

 Still, Jinwoo could see glimpses of genuine loyalty in your actions. The more he witnessed this, the more he felt torn, unable to decide if you were an ally bound by strange circumstances or a threat with motives he couldn’t yet see.

---

Sung Jinwoo didn't know what to expect from you. You were fascinating, more so than he would ever admit out loud. All the clues the system had fed him about your existence were vague at best, referring to you as only the "Trial Player." And while he couldn't yet piece together what that truly meant, he wasn’t going to let his guard down around you.

If you were planning something, he would figure it out eventually. For now, he would keep you close, both as an asset and as a potential threat.

He stole a glance at you now as you knelt by the remains of a fallen beast, checking to make sure its soul was vanishing, as it should. There was nothing particularly alarming about you outwardly. You were quiet, practical. But he noticed the way you watched the world—distant.

Despite his wariness, Jinwoo couldn't deny that you were useful. In raids, your healing abilities were top-notch, quick to mend injuries, faster than his own healing factor. Not to mention that you could directly heal his shadows, Jinwoo took note that the amount of mana he needed to regenerate them decreased when you were around.

Jinwoo had initially assumed that you were strictly a healer type. That’s what the Hunter’s Association records said, and your mana signature had a distinct, calming presence to it that he had only ever felt from skilled support-class hunters. Yet your mana felt… dense, almost limitless. If his own mana was a roiling river, yours was an ocean, calm on the surface but powerful beneath, which wasn’t too surprising, considering you'd been a part of the system before him. But a mere healer shouldn't have that much mana reserve.

Are you actually a mage class too?

 His suspicions were confirmed when he saw your summons.

---

The first time he’d seen them, Jinwoo had barely registered what he was seeing. An ethereal swarm fluttering around you like an aura. They were mesmerizing, each one a different color and size, their wings glittering with a soft, otherworldly light, brushing against your cheeks as you gently whisper to them.

Your mana poured out of you and into each butterfly, connecting you to them as though they were extensions of yourself.

Jinwoo couldn’t help but wonder: Were these creatures merely magical constructs? If they were—

“Why butterflies?” he had once asked, when you were both taking a rare break between raids. The delicate creatures flitted around you, glimmering faintly.

You glanced up at him, blinking as if surprised he’d asked. “Why shadows?

Another fair point.

He shrugged, accepting your answer—or lack thereof. Jinwoo didn’t miss the way your butterflies tended to hover near his shadows, seemingly fascinated by them. His shadows didn’t react aggressively, which surprised him. Normally, any foreign magic would cause a disturbance, but your butterflies were… different. It was odd, watching those bright, delicate wings fluttering around his pitch-black soldiers, but it was almost... cute, in a way. A contrast between darkness and light.

It wasn’t long before Jinwoo realized there was more to your butterflies than their strange, almost playful nature.

During one of their dungeons together, Jinwoo had summoned Igris to deal with a particularly tough group of orcs. He watched, mildly perplexed, as one of your butterflies—brilliant red with iridescent wings—flitted toward Igris. At first, the shadow knight seemed briefly stop, his glowing, empty eyes flickered to the butterfly perched on his shoulder.

The crimson light from its wings seemed to seep into Igris, and Jinwoo blinked in surprise when his loyal knight straightened, his movements becoming quicker, more precise.

Jinwoo couldn't deny the difference. Whenever your butterflies were around, his shadows seemed to grow stronger, faster, even more resilient. The boost was subtle, but for someone like him who had honed his skills through the system, it was noticeable. You hadn’t mentioned this, and he planned to ask you about it later—after all, he was in no hurry to reveal how closely he was watching you.

As the raid came to an end, Jinwoo glanced over at you, watching as your butterflies settled back around you. You smiled softly, looking at them with an expression so gentle it almost made him forget about his suspicions. Almost.

He learned early on that you treated them with unusual care, a gentle vigilance like a mother would her children. There was a fondness in your tone, a rare warmth that softened the careful detachment you usually kept.

That same red butterfly always seemed to stick closest to you, fluttering protectively by your side. Yet, every now and then, Jinwoo would catch it drifting toward Igris, as if drawn to the shadow knight’s presence.

One day, it had landed on Igris’ sharp armored finger when there were no more enemies around. The shadow knight had looked at his master with a flicker of—well, if shadows could be confused, Igris certainly looked it at that moment. Jinwoo gave him a shrug, watching with mild amusement as the red butterfly seemed to glow brighter, almost as if content.

He wasn’t sure if Igris understood, the knight merely tilted his head but remained still, allowing the butterfly to rest on him until it eventually fluttered back to you.

---

Jinwoo often found himself watching you as much as he knew you watched him. But even as he remained wary, he couldn’t deny his respect for your skill. You were no burden to him. You wielded primarily healing abilities, you also seemed to know when to boost his power or his shadow’s, almost anticipating his needs before he even voiced them.

As far as your own magic went, Jinwoo had seen enough to confirm his suspicions. You had offensive capabilities as well, striking enemies with long-range magic that was precise and deadly. You were a most versatile support type hunter.

Still, he assumed your strength was primarily in long-range magic. He’d noted your blind spots in close combat—standard for a healer type, though he didn’t miss the subtle, fluid way you adjusted your stance or deflected attacks from mid-range with your scepter-like staff. This led him to conclude that, for all your talent, you still had weaknesses in close range.

That was, at least, until today.

It was a sprawling forest dungeon, lit by beams of eerie green light filtering down from an unnatural, leafy canopy above. They were knee-deep in werewolves, snarling beasts that prowled out of the shadowy depths of a ruin. Jinwoo's shadows were handling most of the enemies, and you were providing your usual support from the backline, healing and boosting his soldiers while occasionally sending out a volley of offensive spells.

Jinwoo had been keeping an eye on you from the corner of his vision. After all, mages, more so healers, were supposed to be squishy, vulnerable when isolated. However, something had drawn Jinwoo’s attention, leaving him at a distance from you for just a moment too long.

Everything was going smoothly until Jinwoo sensed a surge of bloodlust behind you.

When he turned, he saw it—a massive, hulking werewolf, eyes glowing a sickly yellow, leaping at you from behind with razor-sharp claws extended, ready to tear you apart.

Jinwoo’s pulse spiked, the realization hitting him a heartbeat too late. He reached out instinctively, calling for a shadow to intercept, but then—

Shing! Slash!

In one fluid movement, you had twisted on your heel, a silver blur in your hand. The werewolf's momentum came to a sudden, brutal stop as its body split cleanly in two, blood spraying across the ground. You stood over the corpse, a rapier gleaming in your hand. The silver blade pulsed with magic before you flicked the blood off and sheathed it in one graceful motion, the weapon seamlessly retracting back into what looked like your scepter.

Jinwoo stopped in his tracks, your gaze meeting his for the briefest of moments, offering a nod, before you turned back to the shadows.

By then, more werewolves emerged from the trees. The rest of the pack howled, charging at you, and Jinwoo saw the faintest shift in your expression—a steely determination, and something almost akin to exhilaration.

As the next wave of beasts closed in, Jinwoo watched as your fingers danced over the length of your scepter, infusing it with your mana. The staff elongated, shifting its shape until it became a spear, the blade at its tip crackling with your signature silver magic.

You twirled it with practiced ease, thrusting it into the nearest enemy with deadly precision.

The scene was a blur of movement, each swing of your weapon releasing bursts of silver energy that cut through the werewolves like a hot knife through butter. You fought with a grace and precision that was almost hypnotic, your movements fluid and controlled.

When one of the beasts tried to flank you, you sent a wave of silver butterflies at it. They swarmed the creature, their wings fading in and out, and Jinwoo saw the werewolf's eyes glazed over right before you struck it down.

“Are you just going to watch, or are you planning on helping?” you called over to him as you pulled out the bloody spear from the beast’s corpse, not even turning to face him.

Grey eyes shifted to blue, Jinwoo couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle.

As the two of you fell into rhythm, your combined strength decimated the remaining enemies. His shadows worked in sync with your butterflies, an unspoken alliance that seemed more natural than either of you expected. He didn’t fully trust you, but standing here together, he felt a rare sense of ease, an almost enjoyable synergy he hadn’t experienced with anyone before.

Once the last beast fell, you took a breath, looking entirely unruffled as you dusted yourself off, letting your spear shift back into its scepter form with a wave of your hand.

Jinwoo watched as the butterflies gathered back around you, the red one taking its usual place by your ear.

“So, are you a healer? A mage? Or something else entirely?” he finally asked the question he probably already knew the answer to.

Your gaze flickered, “A little of both. The system assigned me as a hybrid after my job change quest.”

Ah, so you went through that too.

“Why’d you hide it?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Hide it? You never asked.”

Again, Jinwoo couldn’t deny that.

---

Your power was… formidable. Jinwoo was not the type to admit it easily, but you were undeniably stronger than him, at least for the time being. Every raid you participated in, every dungeon you cleared together, made that abundantly clear.

He could see it in the way you fought with lethal efficiency. You wielded your mana with a deftness he could only respect, if not quite trust. Your abilities, whether in healing or combat, suggested years—maybe decades—of experience. Yet, your gaze flicked to him every so often, as if gauging his reaction.

Despite that overwhelming power, you still played along with his orders, never challenging his authority. Here you were, guarding his back as if you had no greater ambition than to follow him. The thought of it unsettled him.

You were holding back.

If you were so powerful, why did you follow him? Why didn’t you resist more on this arrangement? Was it truly just because the system compelled you? And if that was the case, why didn’t you seem to resent it? Sure, you seem frustrated, but that was just about it.

“You’re… strong,” he admitted, watching you carefully. “Stronger than I am, for now. So why do you go along with all of this?”

Your eyes met his, surprise flickering in them before you looked away, staring off into the dimly lit cavern, adjusting your staff in your hands.

“I thought we’ve been over this. The system—”

“That’s just an excuse,” he pressed. “We both know how the system is. What I’m asking is why you follow my lead?”

For a moment, you didn’t respond. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, you turned to him, your expression serious, your eyes searching his as if you were weighing something crucial.

“It’s… complicated,” you murmured that word again, as if it could sum up everything left unsaid.

“Let’s just say,” There was a quiet edge to your tone, “that I believe in what you’re doing.”

You said them softly, almost wistfully. “Or just call it curiosity, if you want.”

Jinwoo didn’t know what to make of that answer, and it frustrated him to no end.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew more about him than you let on. That watchful gaze of yours wasn’t one of mere curiosity—it was the gaze of someone who was studying a well-worn book they had read countless times before. Jinwoo caught you doing it often enough to notice: the way you would follow his movements, anticipate his decisions, even predict his strategies as if you’d already seen it all play out before.

It was unnerving.

Jinwoo clenched his jaw, frustrated by the half-answers you always seemed to give. “You keep saying that. But, you’ve been watching me just as much as I’ve been watching you,” He said that while never taking his eyes off you.

“But I get the feeling you know a lot more about me than I do about you.”

Your gaze flickered, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flash of guilt. But you quickly masked it, a faint smile tugged at your lips, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I observe you because I… want to understand you better. Maybe it’s because, in some ways, you’re the first person I—”

You suddenly clammed up and then turned away. Jinwoo could tell that he wasn’t going to get any more out of you on that topic.

“Alright,” he said finally, voice dropping to a neutral tone. “But if you’re keeping secrets, just know—one day, I’ll find them out.”

You chuckled, the sound both warm and distant. “You wouldn’t be the Sung Jinwoo I know if you didn’t.”

---

Whatever your motives were, they weren’t as simple as he initially thought.

Why had you been helping him for all those years before he even knew you existed? What did you gain from it?

Maybe you really are just that kind.

It was a conclusion that didn’t sit well with him. Jinwoo had grown used to people having ulterior motives, but you seemed different. Your actions were selfless, almost to a fault. You cared, yet there was still more to your story.

There were days when he almost believed he’d solved the puzzle of who you were, pieced together from your silent gestures and guarded glances. And yet, the closer he got, the more he felt he was overlooking something vital, something you were desperate to tell him but couldn’t.

It gnawed at him in the quiet moments after a fight, and even more so as he lay awake at night, thinking back to those rare glimpses of a different you. For every truth you hinted at, there seemed to be a secret you swallowed, and the weight of it left him wondering if you were carrying a lot more than you should have.

As for your quiet knowledge, he’d caught on that it went beyond mere strategy or observation. You seemed to know his habits, his tendencies, even some things he himself hadn’t fully realized. He watched as you predicted his actions in battle, shifting to support him before he even had a chance to react, as if you knew what he’d do next.

But more than that, he could sense that you carried a strange sort of empathy for him—a sadness that didn’t quite make sense coming from a stranger. The feeling unsettled him, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ignore it. You weren’t just another faceless hunter to him now.

It wasn’t enough, not nearly Trust wasn’t something he could afford easily, not in this world, not after everything he’d been through. So, until he could figure you out, Jinwoo would keep you close.

Because, if there was one thing he had learned from years of surviving dungeons, it was that the most dangerous thing wasn’t always the monsters lurking in the shadows.

Sometimes, it was the ones standing right next to you.

And that, maddening as it was, was enough to keep him close for now.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [015/10/2024] -

First dive into Jinwoo's p.o.v. Let me know your thoughts! Is he too OOC? Constructive criticisms are appreciated! <3

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

sugar, spice and everything nice!

↖ navigation: ateez masterlist || main masterlist 

pairing: pining! barista wooyoung x gn! customer reader

tags: when i was writing this i was thinking to myself, "hear me out -wooyoung as the local cafe barista who has a massive crush on you, him being so so delusional about it", and then i decided to roll with because i can write about that so please enjoy! <3

summary: wooyoung's a barista, you're a (his) regular and he thinks this is his chance at a cafe slow-burn romance.

word count: 1.6k words

+ 1

"what can i get started for you today?" wooyoung monotonously greets like clockwork, fingers hovered over the touchscreen.

"what would you recommend?" he lifts his eyes to meet your inquisitive ones. pointing to the chalkboard, wooyoung replied flippantly, "these are our cafe's specialties." your eyebrows furrowed, repeating, "i know. what would you recommend?"

he paused in his tracks, much like a dear in headlights, "uh..." his face burns from the focused stare you had pinned on him. unsure, he rambles, "everything's...delicious! my favorite is the latte paired with the apple crumble pie." this time round, wooyoung takes a proper look at you.

you're pretty cute, he observed, hands idly fiddling with the cloth tucked in the pocket of his apron.

"okay. i'll have that." he enters your (his) order, and hands you a receipt, directing you to the pickup counter as he prepares your items.

when he finally hands over your items, you sheepishly apologized, "sorry if i had troubled you earlier. i didn't know what to get since it is my first time here." wooyoung found it difficult to be mad, "oh...it's no problem at all. i can assure you that everything here is good."

"thanks so much, uhm...wooyoung." you glanced down at his nametag and then back up to express your gratitude. as you picked up your items, he nods and responds out of habit, "come by again!"

+ 2

wooyoung leans his weight against the counter, phone in his hand as he goes on about his day, "—yeah and i was saying...oh! wait."

his voice dies down when he hears the bell ring, thinking it was another customer. but as soon as his gaze lands on you, a confident smile replaces the nonchalant expression he once had.

"catch you in a bit, my favorite person is here." he ends the call, not bothering to hear his friend's complaint. you were one of his frequent customers, and also someone he's taken interest in. a little bit too much interest in though, ever since his first chance meeting with you. you have been coming in at least once or twice a week, and each time his heart soars when you're around.

"hey sweetheart, anything i can get for ya?" he props his head up with his hand, eyes never leaving you as you scrutinize the chalkboard menu, "sweetheart...is that a new nickname? i bet you call everyone sweetheart, right wooyoung?"

"nah, only for you." he assures, and he jumps when he sees the sides of your mouth twitch upwards—no doubt holding back a grin. you rattle off your order, something he also knew by heart. this special order wasn't written on the menu, but something he had went out of his way to make for you, lying about a "secret" menu that only a few people (read: only you) knew.

"do you want anything else to go with that order? for you, it's on the house!" he gestured to the pastries at the display shelf and you teased, "are you sure about that? you're going to make a loss at this rate."

true, he was always offering to gift you a free pastry with your drink. not that it mattered because he'd gladly cover the cost with his salary just to see you smile.

"of course not. there wasn't much business today." a lie.

"and also, who else is going to taste my efforts?" partly the truth.

"i want to give one to you to cheer you on." absolute truth.

you relented, shaking your head, "okay, okay. you can pick one for me." he nearly swoons at the sight of you beaming at him, "of course." wooyoung prepares your order—making small talk with you—his silly smile never once disappeared in your presence.

"here you go." he hands them over to you, nearly dropping the items when your fingers brushed over his to collect your order. "thanks a bunch! i'll get going."

"bye...see you again!" he precariously leans over the counter, neck craning as you walked off. he sighs dreamily before having a "reality check" when another customer not-so-subtly coughs a distance away from him.

"sorry, what can i get for you today?"

+ 3

wooyoung checks his appearance against the reflection of the fridge by the back of the store, donning his apron on before stepping out. almost immediately, butterflies erupted in his chest when he spots you typing away on your laptop.

"hey." he smoothly greets you. you were seated at your usual space near the counter, a cup of tea beside you.

seems like today was a "no-procrastination day", judging from how your teapot was completely close to empty.

you raised your eyes to meet his, "hello! did you just start work?" he excitedly nods, then schools his expression not a second later, "yeah. need a refill?" he juts out his chin and you sighed, "yeah. your colleague had boiled the water a couple of times for me already."

so you've been here for a while now, wooyoung chews the inside of his cheeks to hide a triumphant smile. moving automatically, he grabs the hot kettle, "don't worry, i'll reheat your teabag as many times as you request me to." you beamed at him, "that would be nice."

"anything for you."

the next few hours passed by in a flash, yet the constant reminder that you were still sat there a great encouragement for wooyoung as he pushes through the dinner rush. as the last bit of the dinner crowd titters away, wooyoung makes his way to stand behind the counter to rest, standing opposite you. the empty dinner plate on your left made him smile knowing you were being fed well by him.

"how's it going?"

you hummed, "not bad! i think i'll go home and rest for a bit before i pull an all-nighter to complete this manuscript." wooyoung makes a face, "again?" you hid your chuckles behind your palm, "what do you mean 'again'? i swear i don't stay up late often."

"everytime you come here and stay here for nearly the whole day, you're most definitely pulling an all-nighter." he holds up a finger, as if to prove a point. "and secondly, you're drinking tea. because if you chugged coffee the whole day you'd be holed up in the toilet instead of doing your work." flabbergast at his statement, you reached over to playfully whack him, "wooyoung! how could you!"

he laughs, shoulders shaking and hands clutched over his stomach, "it's the truth!" you pouted, "you're too much...you didn't have to announce it to the world!"

wooyoung easily balances your plate and teapot on one hand, "i'm gonna be closing up soon, in about 30 minutes. will you be...making a move?"

your eyes comically widened, "it's that late?" a flick of your wrist shows the time on your watch, an amused wooyoung watching you.

"yeah, it is. you might as well wait till i finish clearing up and i'll send you to a bus stop or subway station," he offered, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "oh! that would be nice of you actually. is it alright?" you clasped your hands in front of you, a sparkle lighting up your eyes.

"of course."

+ 4

"are you closing?"

wooyoung had his back facing the door and he holds back a groan from the question. of course we're closing, he grumbles, the neon sign is already switched off and...

his thoughts trailed off when he spots you sheepishly standing by the door.

"what are you doing here this late?" wooyoung blurts out and you rubbed your neck nervously, "i was...craving an ice americano and also a..."

"let me guess. an apple crumble pie?" he teases, pretending to think hard about it. "exactly that." you levelled your gaze to meet his, eyes twinkling. but not a moment later you shook your head, "but if you're closing i'll go—"

"how about i see what i can do for you?" the moment the sparkle in your eyes seemed to light up brighter, wooyoung thinks he'd better remember this moment for the rest of his life. he ushers you in, "you know, i realized you haven't been passing by here lately. i'm going to have to extend my working hours if you only appear at this time of the day. it's not good for my business."

"hey...! i've been busy, okay?" you huffed and wooyoung just laughs, "i'm kidding. business has been great too, since it's the holiday season more people have been coming in to try our limited time menu." he bustles around the counters, making your request all while you peered over to state at him.

you mused, "you don't sound happy about this good news." he smirked, playful tone lacing his words, "clearly, because i haven't been seeing you around." the oven dings behind him and he pulls out the tray.

"that doesn't look like an apple crumble." setting down the tray before you, he slides your drink up next to it as your confusion settled in.

"ice americano this late isn't good for your stomach. and we also ran out of apple pies so, i made you hot cocoa and reheated some of the milk bread i made just now."

a second passed and wooyoung was afraid he did something wrong. "is...it not to your liking? i should have—" "—no! no, i'm just touched that you'd go out of your way to do something like that."

wooyoung's triumphant smile stretched wide on his face, "then, please enjoy while i clean up the store."

in comfortable silence, you had your supper while he tidied up like clockwork: mopping the floors, putting away utensils, straightening tables and chairs and not to forget, glancing at you as you happily ate.

"how much is this?" you fished out your wallet and wooyoung was quick to grab it from you, "nuh uh. this one's on me. you don't owe me anything." arms coming to cross in front of you, you pouted, "fine, then how can i repay you?"

"let's go on a date. you can pay me back then."

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[ryllen]

So what made you go for the green haired shouty bitey boi? 😆

Not that I’m complaining! I just never knew there was even a Yuu x Sebek pairing among all the more common ships in this fandom, so I was pleasantly surprised stumbling upon your content.

honestly i don't consider myself a true lover of sebek that i probably wouldn't give u reasons u want to hear fhsdh

i just like him in the way that he fits my yuu dynamic, but he is not exactly the type i personally go crazy for lmao i feel like, i am more of a mother-in-law that would always find something to criticize him about so when u see actual sebek lovers go kyaaaaaaaaaa waahhhhh criesssss diessssssss on sebek new cards, i'm like, lmao yea okay boi

my true babies are jade and trey lmao 🤣 jade tbh, trey comes after bcs i started to consider him after seeing him being shipped with jade notinmyrightmindiwouldeventhinkicouldcreateayuuthatcouldhandlejadesojadeyuuisneveranoptiontome

do u still even want to hear my lore ? l m a o.

i always thought sebek was the most unlikeable one on twst bcs i hardly ever saw the fanarts of him on my twitter tl, (honestly it was like the entire diasomnias, bcs to be fair their main story line had not come out, but i still saw sebek the least of them all) and i heard a bit about how he only ever talk about malleus, so lmao who can even get between that

but then my very first story interaction with him was the masquerade, and the lap incident was so funny, i don't know lmao, after that i was thinking how annoying sebek was with his yelling human this human that on daily lesson and this very first post between them happened

if u just read my tags under that post u see my struggle of suddenly considering him at all fhsdh

tho i read on his halloween vignette that deuce said he never rly yells in a way that caught him in trouble with the teachers so i don't think my thought of him rly matches him canonly

but yea i like tsun elements in my ships, and i find it fun when they bicker too

tho i just pretend yuu has the magical ability to ignore his volume of shouting bcs lmao even i still can't stand his yelling when i put him at homescreen u can actually find me going "shhhh...!!! sebekkk......." in real life when he yelled on my screen it usually ended up with me having to omit him & exchange with the others bcs he nearly gives me headache

do u regret reading until this far? lmao, this is mostly just me ranting about him rather than me gushing about him bcs lmao this is just how i am with sebek

anyhow, it feels like everyone is gushing about sebek from the halloween event but i am too lazy to read everything from the event from fan translation right now so lmao, who knows, either i will like him a bit more, or i just want to noogies him further once the next year halloween come on ENG server.

if we want to talk a bit of the good side of sebek, i think it is good that he is hardworking i love when he puts his hand on his chest during battle as if he is taking a deep breathe and letting it out to calm and assure himself that he'll do just fine

i think it's very humane of him to have insecurities even tho it's not super explored in canon, bcs he is too busy assuring himself with boastful confidence *like someone i knew, alex sdv i was talking about u and ur initial stage

but that's where the fandom power comes in exploring the unexplored, here is a writing i love about sebek who tries hard everyday

i just wish i can actually ease him up a little bit and that's how my sebek comes to be i love to explore more on his childish side, his teenage boy side that appears in the game sometimes, but is still far too drowned with the race he set for himself to achieve the kind of power he dream of, as fast as he could be and the side where he is not purely drowned with the thought of malleus sama fshdh

the problem with me, i think i always butchered a good amount of unwanted traits of a character, to make them more likeable but does that makes the character still them enough ?

anyhow we are digging at the end of the well here i am not even sure if it's relevant to ur question anymore but i am glad and thankful that u found me

ciao maybe, or i'll see u around 👋👋 good day

[infinite--92]

It's Gym Day

The next day, Emily decided it was time to challenge herself and head to the gym. It had been a while since she’d felt confident enough to go, given the dramatic change in her body. But after the empowering gathering with the Infinite 92 women, she felt a newfound sense of courage. She chose her outfit carefully—a pair of stretchy black leggings and a blue sports bra that hugged her figure, with her massive, round belly proudly exposed. She glanced at herself in the mirror before leaving, feeling a blend of nerves and excitement.

Stepping into the Gym

As Emily entered the gym, she noticed a few heads turning in her direction. There were looks of surprise, but not in the way she had feared. Instead, she saw curiosity and admiration. Some people gave her warm smiles, while others glanced at her belly with fascination. It wasn’t long before she realised that she wasn’t being judged. In fact, it seemed like her confidence and unique appearance were drawing people in rather than pushing them away.

Emily took a deep breath and headed towards the treadmill, deciding to start with some light cardio. She was still getting used to the extra weight and balance of her new body, but as she got into her rhythm, she felt a rush of satisfaction. She wasn’t hiding anymore. She was here, unapologetically herself.

Admiration and Connection

As she continued her workout, Emily noticed a few men watching her, not with disdain but with genuine interest. She could feel their admiration, their curiosity. It was an unexpected but empowering sensation. For so long, she had worried about what people might think of her changing body, but here she was, receiving positive attention she hadn’t anticipated.

One man in particular caught her eye. He was tall, fit, and seemed to be around her age. He was lifting weights across the room but kept glancing over at her with a smile. After a while, he finished his set and made his way over to her, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.

“Hey, I just wanted to say you’re doing great,” he said with a friendly grin. “I’ve never seen anyone with your confidence and strength. It’s really inspiring.”

Emily felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. “Thank you,” she replied, a bit shy but pleased. “It took me a while to get here, but I’m finally starting to feel comfortable in my own skin.”

The man nodded. “I can tell. I’m Jim, by the way.”

“Emily,” she said, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

A Friendly Connection

They continued talking as Emily switched to some light weightlifting. Jim was genuinely interested in her, asking her about her fitness journey and what brought her to the gym today. He listened intently as she shared a little about her story—leaving out the more unusual details for now—and instead focusing on how she was learning to embrace her body and feel strong again.

“You know,” Jim said thoughtfully, “I see a lot of people here every day. But it’s rare to see someone who carries themselves with such self-assurance, especially when they’re dealing with changes. You’ve got a great energy about you.”

Emily couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since someone had made her feel this seen and appreciated. The conversation flowed naturally, and she found herself laughing and joking with Jim as they moved through different exercises together. It was the first time in a long time that she felt like her body was a source of attraction and positivity rather than something to hide or be ashamed of.

A Growing Confidence

As the workout went on, Emily noticed that her earlier doubts had disappeared. She felt strong, confident, and attractive. The looks from other gym-goers were no longer intimidating; instead, they felt like a form of validation. She had come here to face her fears, and instead, she found admiration and connection.

Jim seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better, and as they finished up their workout, he hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Would you like to grab a smoothie or something sometime? I’d love to continue our conversation.”

Emily’s heart skipped a beat. It was the first time someone had asked her out since her condition had changed her appearance, and she felt a surge of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. But looking at Jim’s warm, open expression, she realized she wanted to take the chance.

“Sure, I’d like that,” she said with a smile. “How about this weekend?”

“It’s a date,” Jim replied with a grin.

As they exchanged numbers, Emily felt a wave of happiness wash over her. This wasn’t just about finding someone who appreciated her appearance; it was about finding someone who appreciated her confidence, her journey, and her spirit. She realized that the admiration she was receiving was not just for her physical changes but for the strength and resilience she had developed along the way.

Leaving the Gym

As Emily left the gym that day, she felt lighter than she had in a long time, despite the weight she carried in her belly. The experience had been transformative. She had come in with doubts, worried about how she would be perceived, but left feeling validated and admired. She knew there were still challenges ahead, and she was still navigating her unique condition, but she was starting to see herself in a new light.

The admiration from others, especially from someone like Jim, was just the beginning. She was learning to love herself, to embrace her body fully, and to realise that beauty came in many forms. As she walked home, she felt hopeful about the future. The unexpected admiration had boosted her confidence, and the connection she felt with Jim hinted at possibilities she hadn’t dared to imagine before.

Emily was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that she had the support of her friends in Infinite 92 and a growing confidence in herself. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[discordiansamba]

avatar aang and katara are waiting for him outside the lotus blossom.

lee hangs up his apron and says goodnight to the owner. it will be sad to leave the lotus blossom behind when he moves to yu dao, but he's sure he'll love his new tea shop just as much. there's not really much more he wants from life other than serving tea. he thinks about how much more complicated his life would become if he became a prince, and is confident he's made the right choice.

"avatar aang," lee bows in greeting, "-it is good to see you again."

avatar aang smiles at him. good to see you again too. also you really don't have to bow to me, lee. you're a prince, you know?

"actually," lee says, "-i've given it a lot of thought. i'm staying like this."

avatar aang and katara exchange a glance. you're... sure?

lee nods. he's never been more sure of anything in his life. you'll have to apologize to fire lord iroh for him. he loves who he is too much to go back to someone who didn't feel the same way about himself. he knows they probably won't understand, but being brainwashed is probably the best thing that's ever happened to him.

"i think," lee smiles, "-that prince zuko is happy being me too."

katara frowns. well... if you're certain. we did promise to let you choose, and we can't go back on our word. lee bows to them both, and thanks them for letting him choose. he apologizes for all the trouble he caused them when he was prince zuko. they won't need to worry about it again. his loyalties lie with the earth kingdom now.

"i mean," avatar aang chuckles, "-you are still fire nation."

"i was fire nation," lee corrects with a smile, "-but i'm earth kingdom now. i'm going to fully become lee one day, after all. there's no need to think about who i used to be before."

avatar aang and katara exchange a look. katara frowns at him, asking him if he's feeling okay. he's acting a little... strange. lee tilts his head. no, he feels fine. he's just happy to have the weight of this decision off of his shoulders. he bows to them one more time, offers them his thanks again, and heads home.

his father is waiting for him at his apartment. lee smiles at him and gets started on dinner for them both. he tells his father that he told the avatar his choice, and they'd accepted it. his father ruffles his hair and tells him that he's proud of him.

lee asks when they can leave for the fire nation. he can't wait to have his own face. his father laughs and tells him they can leave as early as tomorrow, if that's what he wants. lee nods- then frowns. it feels like there's something he's forgotten in his excitement.

oh. jin.

"what about jin?" lee asks. "is she coming with us? what if she doesn't like me with a new face?"

"don't worry," his father assures him, "-once you get your new face, i can make her think you've always had it."

lee... pauses. he looks at his father. the man is smiling at him. lee has missed him so much. everything was so confusing when he he was gone, but since his visit this afternoon, he's felt more certain of himself than ever. it's like he was never troubled at all.

...it's like he was never troubled at all.

lee swallows the odd feeling back, and finishes making dinner. they eat together and chat like old times. he tells him about his friend's tea shop. it sounds like a great place, and lee's looking forward to working there. his cleans up, and bids his father goodnight. he'll come see him again tomorrow morning.

lee starts packing.

his hands hover over the fire nation clothing, hesitating. he doesn't need them anymore, he guesses. it never looked right on him anyways. once he got an earth kingdom face, it would look even less so. lee holds up the red and gold tunic and stares at himself in the mirror.

he sees himself reflected back.

...that's strange. he likes his reflection. he's never had trouble seeing himself in the mirror. but that can't be right. isn't he getting a new face because he doesn't like having prince zuko's? he'd spent the rest of his shift this afternoon imagining what his new face would look like. he'd finally complete his father's experiment.

he'd be a new person.

...he should be happy, right? he should be- and yet there's tears welling up in his good eye. he doesn't understand. hadn't he wanted this?

he steps back from the mirror, and with a dawning sense of horror, he realizes that he doesn't. he'd only decided to change his face after speaking with his father, and he doesn't... he doesn't even remember that conversation. that's not right. he should remember it. but if he can't...

...spirits. he'd almost- he needed to leave. he needed to get out of here right now. he takes the fire nation tunic and the rest of his belongings, and crams them into his pack. his father might be watching the front door. he leaves through the window. he has to get to avatar aang and katara. they can't have left the city yet.

he's been brainwashed again.

jin's waiting for him after work the next day.

lee hangs up his apron, says goodnight to the owner, and goes to meet her. she meets his eyes, but her expression is unreadable as she asks if she can talk to him. he takes her back to his apartment so they can have some privacy, and makes her some tea.

she asks what she should call him.

"lee," he says after a moment, "-it's still who I think of myself as."

jin hums, taking a sip of tea. lee does the same. they sit in tense, awkward silence for a long moment before jin sighs, setting her teacup down with a loud thud. she asks him if he meant what he said. that he really does love her. that it's not just... something he was manipulated into thinking he did.

lee tells her he does.

he also admits he may only love her because of who he is now. but who he is now made that choice on his own. she makes him happy, and he can't think of a life without her... but if she wants to break up with him, he'll understand. he just hopes she doesn't regret dating him entirely.

jin just huffs. she points out that when she'd first caught his interest, he'd still been zuko. she says in hindsight him being a firebender makes so much sense. she'd always wondered how he'd lit the lanterns so quickly during their first date. lee blinks, because he doesn't remember that at all-

-it must show on his face, because jin's face falls.

"you don't remember that, do you?"

"i remember our date," lee tells her, "-i just... remember the lanterns being lit when we got there."

she's silent for awhile, then asks him if he can show her. lee breathes in and breathes out, holding his hands out in front of him like lady mai had shown him. it takes a bit of concentration, but a tiny flame eventually flickers to life in his hands. jin stares at it, transfixed and-

-calls it cute. it's so tiny.

lee flushes. it's the best he can do! he doesn't remember how to firebend. up until a month ago, he really did think he was a nonbender. she looks up at him and asks him that if he knows all this, why was he still brainwashed? you something about it being possible to reverse it. lee shakes his head and says he just... hasn't made up his mind yet.

"i didn't choose to become lee," he says, "-but i'd like to be the one to choose if I stay as him or not."

jin frowns, and admits she has trouble wrapping her head around the idea of wanting to stay brainwashed. lee laughs. yeah. he can see how from the outside looking in, his situation is terrifying. he can't even fully deny that it is. but he's had a lot of happiness as lee, that he doesn't think he ever had as zuko. so they idea of going back...

...it's scary. he doesn't know zuko. lee is comfortable. familiar.

jin holds his hands. she tells him that whatever he chooses, she'll support him. her lips twitch in a playful grin as she jokes about having the chance to brag about dating a prince. she wonders if she'd look any good in fire nation red. lee laughs and tells her he's pretty sure she'd look good in anything.

lee's face falls. he tells her that if he decides to go back to being zuko, there's a good chance he might fall out of love with her in the process. she looks hurt by that- but then makes him promise that if he does, he'll at least let her break up with him. after all, how many girls from the middle ring can say with their whole chest that they broke up with a prince?

"whatever you do," jin says, "-don't let that decide for you what you want. you make me happy, lee. I want you to be happy too."

lee nods. jin asks him how long he has to make up his mind... and stares at him when he confesses he only has until the end of the week- and that he still has no idea who he wants to be.

cutting it a little close there, aren't you?

...yeah. he can't deny that.

(he ends up making dinner for himself and jin. they sit next to each other. he tells her about the beach on ember island, and she listens with wide-eyed fascination. there were no beaches in ba sing se. she makes him promise to take her there one day- and you're not getting out of it if zuko falls out of love with me.

okay, he says, we promise.)

[tytangfei]

hello I finally have good internet and watched first episode of choice husband and it's a little boring with the cinematography and directing and OST but it looks like it might be pretty cute ☺️

[redflannelsheets]

.

[cinaminrolll]

me @ johanna mason

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

the fucking audacity of this dickhead to try and scold me on being out at night like for five months straight he wouldn’t get in two-three hours past the the time he said he would come home. and tryijg to make me feel bad by saying mom fell asleep waiting for me like she didn’t walk out 15 minutes to the bus stop AT FUCKING MIDNIGHT TO WAIT FOR HIM THERE WHEN HE SAID HE WOULD BE HOME AT 9 PM AND THEN HE SAID HE DIDN’T ASK HER TO DO THAT LIKE SHE’S NOT YOUR FUCKING MOTHER. trying to scold me for staying AT A SCHOOL EVENT to help them pack up after and claiming i was giving excuses cuz there would be other students there like HE WASN’T THE REASON I COULDN’T GO TO MY GRADE 10 SEMI-FORMAL CUZ HE WAS LATE TO CLASS AGAIN, AND GAVE THE SAME DAMN OF EXCUSE OF HELPNG TO PACK UP AFTER THE LIBRARY POTLUCK. fuck you

[monstermp3]

☀️

[gojoscloset]

NSFW but the boys cumming prematurely simply by kissing has been on my mind heavy lately like—

I know I need to stop but I can’t stop thinking about getting hot and heavy with them and apparently it gets too hot too fast and they’re so embarrassed but you’re chill about it you actually find it hot endearing.

Satoru whose body stiffened as he pulled his lips away from yours. You could feel his body slightly shake and twitch beneath you, and he's looking at you with a sheepish expression, widened eyes and his lips slowly curled into an embarrassed grin. He makes jokes of the situation to ease his embarrassment and he explains how it wouldn’t affect his performance, confidence wavering in the slightest but you simply laugh at his jokes and assure him that it was okay and you actually found it cute.

Ooof or how Suguru is probably the one who is most embarrassed, pushing his body off of yours interrupting the steamy make out session. You wondered if you did something wrong but you knew that wasn’t the case when you looked at his expression. Head hung low and you both watched as the bulge in his sweats twitched, staining the gray with milky white drops that pushed past the fabrics. He facepalmed to cover his reddening face and apologized profusely. You didn’t mean to laugh but you did, giggles escaping your lips and you cupped his face that was hot to the touch, to let him know it was nothing to be embarrassed about.

Or Nanami who groaned into your lips, roughly grabbing your hips to stop from grinding on his. He looked down and you followed suit, eyeing how his legs flexed while his dick twitched some, a growing wet spot now visible on his slacks. He looked up at you, panting and speechless, confused expression on his face because this has never happened to him and he didn’t even know it was possible. He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t know what to say. You gave him a smile and guided your hips back on his, you didn’t need an explanation, you just needed him.

Gosh I’m a slut for tropes like these. Like yes love me love me love me love me.

[seospicybin]

THE FUCKBOY NEXT DOOR.

PART I

Bangchan x reader. (s,a)

Chapters: Part II / Part III

Synopsis: Having issues to break up with your boyfriend, you seek help from the boy next door and the number one fuckboy in the area, Chan. (10k words)

Author's note: I went through a nasty break up a few weeks ago and this is basically just me trying to cope by being delulu about having a fuckboy Chan as a neighbor. Enjoy x

It becomes a habit now that Chan doesn't know where he is when he wakes up in the morning.

The first thing that he'll do is retrace everything to last night. He was DJ-ing at a club, had a few drinks in between, met a girl who was eyeing him the whole night, had a few more drinks, there was a little touching and a quick makeout session in the dark alley and people can guess what happens after that

So this is where he is right now, the girl's bedroom and he can recall everything that happened last night except the girl's name.

"Fuck!" Chan mutters under his breath.

Judging from how bright the sun is outside, he knows he only has a little window to make his escape so he quickly gets off the bed as calmly as possible. He then tiptoes around to gather his clothes and put them on without making any noise.

However, he fails at it as the head from his belt hits the bed frame and the clanging of metal meets metal echoing in the room.

The girl steers on her sleep and rolls over to the side, she brushes her hair away from her face, catching Chan putting his belt on.

The plan to make a quick getaway has come to a failure but he keeps his cool, continuing to buckle his belt and then plants his hands on each side of his waist.

"Morning," He awkwardly says with a forced smile.

"Morning," the girl replies with a smile then props an elbow against the mattress, sending the duvet sliding down her body and exposing her bare chest to him.

Chan might have been a little drunk when he met her but damn, his fuckboy radar works well even under the influence of alcohol.

"You're leaving already?" She asks, flipping her hair to the back to expose more of those beautiful mounds to him.

Chan has to tell his pervy brain to focus actively, he looks away and picks up his jacket from the floor.

"I promised a friend to help him move out today," He lies, then pretends to check the time on his phone, "And I'm kind of late."

The girl nods then twirls her hair around her finger, "Well then... when can I see you again?"

"I hope soon," Chan says with his charming grin that disguises the insincerity in his answer.

The girl smiles at that which confirms that the grin works, "But seriously, I can't wait to see you again," she says.

"I'll call you," he says because that's what he can promise her at the moment but whether he'll do it or not is uncertain.

"But you don't have my numbers yet," she says with her eyebrows wrinkled in suspicion.

"No, I'm sure you already did," he says, convincing her by scrolling the contacts on his phone.

"Yup. I have your numbers already," he lies again, showing her a random contact on his phone for a quick second.

"But my name is Thalia," she says, cleverly catching the name on the contact.

"Yes, of course, you're Thalia," he says with utmost confidence and his ultimate weapon of a dimpled smile.

The girl seems alarmed though. She sits up on the bed and clutches the duvet close to her chest, "We're going to see each other again, right Chris?"

"Yes," he answers without a beat, and at this point, lying is as easy as breathing to him.

"Can I get a kiss before you leave?"

"Sure," he says, coming around the bed to give her a quick peck on the lips.

The girl smiles when he lets go and watches as he walks to the doorway, "I'll call you, Tanya."

"It's Thalia," she corrects him with an apparent displeasure on her face.

Chan shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans and takes the time to properly bid her goodbye. Nothing a girl likes more than a sweet mouth and a little assurance, he'll give her exactly that.

"I'll see you soon, Thalia," Chan says with a smile.

"See you soon, Chris," and the girl naively believes him, if only she knew that this will be the last time they're seeing each other.

Yet again, Chan makes another successful getaway.

-

The warm weather of spring makes it a pleasant walk from the bus stop to his apartment building. He wants to stop somewhere for breakfast but his head feels heavy from the hangover, he just wants to go home as soon as possible, have a bowl of cereal then take an aspirin for the pounding headache.

In the lobby, he makes a quick stop to collect his mail and takes a quick check at it, sorting them out on the spot so he knows which ones he should bring upstairs.

From the corner of his eyes, Chan catches his neighbor, you with your boyfriend chatting by the elevator. He notices the gestures, the expression, and the whole interaction, it doesn't take a genius to know that something is going on there that the naked eyes can't see.

Chan throws the unnecessary mail into the trash bin nearby and walks to the elevator, hearing the little conversation going on between you and your boyfriend.

"...the waffles were delicious. We should have breakfast there again," the boyfriend says as he looks at you, "What do you think?"

"Yeah," you meekly answer while looking at the little screen that shows the floor the elevator is stopping in.

Chan tries to remain invisible but his eyes accidentally make contact with your boyfriend so he may as well make his presence known.

"Hi, neighbor," he greets, he knows your name but you seem to prefer to be called that way.

You do what you always do whenever you meet each other in the building, give him a quick judging look and a courteous smile.

"And hi neighbor's boyfriend," he greets your boyfriend next.

"Hi," your boyfriend greets back, "Chris, isn't it?"

"Yes and you are Lee," Chan responds.

"Right. So how was your Friday night?" Lee initiates a small talk.

"I believe it wasn't as good as yours," Chan playfully answers.

"Oh, we just stayed in and watched a movie, right baby?" Lee says, putting his arm around your shoulder.

All of a sudden, you take a step forward and say, "It's here."

The elevator doesn't chime until a moment later but you seem to be more than eager to get in. You turn around to give your boyfriend a quick hug.

"I'll try to leave early so we can have dinner together," Lee says with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"It's okay. Take your time," you say with a faint smile.

Chan quietly gets into the elevator and holds the door open for you, he tries not to look at what's happening in front of him not out of politeness but it's just painful to watch.

"I'll call you," Lee adds, catching your hand as you enter the elevator and kissing it.

"Okay," you say then wave your hand at him.

To help you get out of it, Chan releases his finger off the buttons and sends the doors sliding shut.

"Bye, baby," Lee says for the last time before the doors completely close.

It's just another awkward elevator ride with you and he'll usually try to endure it but after watching all that and trying not to say anything is hard, he can't help but impose.

He glances at you to check whether you're ready to hear about what he has to say but you always have the same stoic expression. Then it occurs to him that he has never seen you smile impolitely or out of joy, or even hear your laugh, but maybe after you hear what he's about to say, he'll get to see a different facial expression on you.

"Oh, man! That was painful to watch," he sighs as he keeps looking straight ahead at his reflection in the shiny furnace of the elevator.

There's no one else in the elevator so you're fully aware that he's talking to you but you don't respond until a while later.

There you go, with your judging look and stoic expression, looking at him as you say, "Excuse me?"

Chan doesn't want to sound rude but beating around the bush isn't his thing, he prefers to be straightforward. He knows it's all based on assumptions but he's pretty sure his judgements are pretty accurate.

He's going to just do it and lay out the facts, he turns to the side, then leans his back against the cold surface of the elevator.

"Your shoulder tightens when he called you baby and the fact you lied about the breakfast tells me that you didn't actually like his choice of restaurant," he pauses to let out a cynical chuckle, "the waffles weren't that good, I guess?"

When he wants to see a different facial expression on you, he doesn't mean seeing your angry one, but oh well, the damage has been done.

"Because I'm a good girlfriend that's why I let him choose the restaurant," you become defensive all of a sudden but that's an unconvincing answer.

"No, you let him choose out of pity," he simply remarks, "And just now, your nostrils flared when I pointed it out."

With all of these signs combined with his personal experiences, Chan narrows it out to one conclusion. He looks at you in the eyes and says, "You're about to break up with him, don't you?"

It looks like you've been slapped right on the face except that the slap doesn't come from someone, it's from the truth that comes out of Chan's unfiltered mouth and he instantly regrets it for meddling in in someone else's business.

"I'm sorry, but why are we having this conversation?" You ask, crossing your arms together in front of you.

"It's not like you're any better. You slept around, you're scared of commitment and now, sticking your nose at my business. You are the kind of person that I deeply despise!" You angrily say with your chest heaving.

It seems like you're saying all of those things about him out of anger because he sees right through you but now he knows why you always give him that judging look. He's the one who started it so yeah, okay, maybe he deserves that but that doesn't change the truth. The problem is what he said and your response, they're heading in the opposite direction.

"I think someone has her panties in a twist," Chan coyly responds.

"Look, there's nothing wrong with wanting to break up. That doesn't make you a bad person," he adds and decides to end the talk right there.

It gets quiet in this enclosed space and it's already suffocating as it is but how lucky that he has to patiently wait for the elevator to ride through three more floors to get out of here.

When the elevator finally dings open, Chan lets out a breath he doesn't know he's been holding but he's not the one in a hurry to exit both this space and the situation. He stays where he is and lets you out first.

When he thinks you don't have anything else to say, you stop right outside the elevator and look at him with a piercing gaze.

"Don't, for one second, think that you had any effect whatsoever on my panties!" You emphasize every word in anger, then storm off.

Know what? Maybe Chan should skip the bowl of cereal and take two aspirin instead. As for you, maybe you need to chill the fuck out.

-

Just because you've been neighbors with Chan for the past three years doesn't mean that you know each other on a personal level.

All you know about him is that he's a DJ which explains why there's always music playing in his apartment, he always wears a sleeveless top to showcase his muscles, and he always has a stupid grin on to show off the stupid dimples on his stupid face, an annoying Australian accent and from how many times you caught different girls taking a walk of shame out of his apartment, it's safe to say that he's the number one fuckboy in the area

So how dare he say all of that stuff in the elevator when he doesn't know anything about you at all? Moreover, what does a fuckboy like him know about relationships?

It shouldn't be hard to ignore because it's something you usually do but gosh, the memory of the conversation still vexed you a few days later.

Then it hits you that it bothers you so much because deep down, you know what he said is true. You've been wanting to break up with your boyfriend and hearing that comes from someone outside that relationship only solidified that thought.

There's nothing wrong with your boyfriend, Lee is nice, too nice even, and when you think about it, maybe that is the problem, he is too nice and that leads you to another problem, you don't know how to break up with him without hurting his feelings.

But you know who can help you with that? Someone who has a lot of experience in breaking up with people.

Oh, what a joy that you find the answer right across your door!

Before you get to ask for his help though, you're fully aware that there's another thing to do and there's no other way to do it but walk up to his apartment, knock on his door, and apologize.

As you're standing there in front of his apartment door, you're dreading it. All sorts of thoughts crossed your head like why did you have to be so riled up that time in the elevator? Why did you have to say that thing about the panties? Just why? Ugh!

Let's just get it over with, you mutter inside your head.

With hesitant hand, you knock on his door and then hold the urge to turn around and run back to your apartment. You let yourself take a step back as you wait for him to come for the door.

Do not open the door, do not open the door, you chant inside your head while tapping your foot against the floor. However, things are not always going the way you want.

The door swings inward and a second later, Chan appears with disheveled hair and he only has one arm in the sleeve of his t-shirt, then you spot a girl's shoes next to his feet.

Oh no, please don't say you're coming at the wrong time.

You reflexively take another step back but he grabs your forearm and then opens the door wider, showing you that there's a girl there.

"It's my neighbor, she's here to remind me about the tenant meeting," he says to her.

The girl looks at you rather suspiciously and crosses her arms together in front of her as she glares at Chan.

"No. Don't you dare try to get out of this, Chris!"

"But it's true. We have to leave now," Chan says, then gives you a look that tells you to lie along with him, "Right?"

Running a quick assessment of the situation, you're certain that Chan is trying to get himself out of it to avoid having a difficult conversation with the beautiful lady. You hate to be the accessory to his crime but if this means that it would help you earn his forgiveness...

"The pigeons!" You make up a lie on the spot.

"The pigeons are ruining our rooftop garden so we held this urgent tenant meeting," you add with what you hope is a convincing smile.

"Oh, those damn pigeons!" Chan heavily sighs with a phony expression.

The lie makes your throat dry and your cheeks hurt from forcing a smile, you have to keep it going as the lady considers whether to believe that the tenant meeting is true or not.

Chan grabs his jacket from the clothes hook and puts it on, "We'll continue this later, okay?" He says to her.

Without waiting for her answer, he gets out of the door and drags you with him to go to your apartment. Once both of you get inside, he immediately closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims once he realizes that he's inside your apartment.

He allows himself further inside and leisurely walks around your apartment, checking your kitchen, trailing his fingers on your book collection on the shelf, and observing the potted plants lining up on the window sill.

He walks back to the middle of the room and takes another 360-degree look around the apartment, then nods in approval.

"So, this is what the inside of your apartment looks like," he says in a cryptic tone.

Not sure if he wants you to respond to that or if should respond at all. You choose to remain silent and only respond when his intentions are intelligible.

Chan then sits on the sofa, making himself comfortable, and looks at you, then at what you're holding in both hands.

"Is that for me?"

The jar of cookies you've been unknowingly holding in your hands is a token of apology and it is for him.

"Yes, it is for you," you say, handing it to him with both hands.

"I'm sorry about the other day," you sincerely apologize, but you know you have to let him know what you're apologizing for, "for what I've said to you. I'm terribly sorry."

"Well, since you're helping me with the uh... situation," he coyly says as he scratches his eyebrow, "consider us even."

See? That wasn't so hard. You feel bad for lying to the girl but at least, you've been forgiven.

"Thank you," you add with a smile.

Chan doesn't say anything else but opens the lid and takes a cookie out of the jar. He gets comfortable on the sofa, sitting slumped with his legs spreading wide, and then he takes a big bite of the cookie.

It doesn't take long for him to notice that you have something else to say to him other than an apology.

Before he gets to it, you force yourself to start speaking.

"So, Chris..." you call, then abruptly stop talking. You suddenly have a second thought about asking for his help.

"What's up?" He asks while chewing on his cookie.

It's at the tip of your tongue but your mouth feels like they're sewn shut. You clasp your hands together and muster up the courage to just blurt it out.

"Do you want something to have with the cookies?"

You swear you plan on asking for his help but somehow, your mouth saying a different thing.

"Milk would be nice," he answers.

"Milk. Yes, I have milk," you awkwardly say, slowly making your way to the kitchen like a walking dead.

You take a carton of milk from the fridge and while pouring it into a glass, you're scolding yourself for being so cowardly.

After taking a moment to take a deep breath and muster up the courage to ask, you walk back to the sofa with the glass of milk in hand. With a smile, you hand it to him.

"Thank you," he says, his eyes catching something in your eyes.

You immediately break the eye contact and take another step back, standing and watching him finish his third cookie then wash it down with a sip of milk.

"I hope you don't mind that I'm going to stay here until the girl leaves my apartment," he informs.

"Oh?" You meekly gasp.

"But I can leave if you're uncomfortable," he says as he sits straight on the sofa.

"No, it's fine," you shortly reply, "Take your time."

"Okay, thanks," he says, reclining back on the sofa and continues munching on the cookies.

You can't decide if he stays longer than you expected is a good thing or not. You use the opportunity to reconsider it and walk to the kitchen to get out of his sight.

"Do you need help or not?" You quietly ask yourself as you pour yourself a glass of water.

Why is it so hard? He's right there. All you need is to go and ask for his help.

The water sloshes out of the glass as you fill it too full and you reflexively back away to avoid getting water all over the front of your dress.

"Everything good there?" Chan asks in a slight panic.

That's it! Enough time has passed from overthinking it! You walk up to him and just do it.

"You're right," you blurt out, "I've been wanting to break up with my boyfriend."

Sensing that it turns serious, Chan slows down his chewing and puts away the cookie jar. You expect the I-told-you-so grin on his face but no, he looks saddened instead.

"Things aren't working out," you openly share with a sad sigh.

You take a seat on the ottoman facing the sofa and sadly sigh, "I've been wanting to break up with him for a week now but I just don't know how."

"How long you've been dating each other?"

"Three years," you answer.

"Wow," Chan lowly gasps in awe.

Three years is not a short time, he understands why you hesitate to break up and it isn't an easy decision either.

"I need your help," you hopelessly say, unintentionally becoming vulnerable in front of him.

"My help?"

"Help me how to break up with him," you further explain.

"Of all people, why me?" He asks in utter confusion.

It's hard to answer that without being rude, you decide to let him process the question until it leads him to the answer. After a while, he lets out a dry chuckle and nods, "Okay, yeah. Make sense."

Chan takes another minute to accept the fact that his help is needed because he knows how to break up with someone without feeling awful about it afterward.

"I guess you want to let him down gently?"

"Yes," you answer.

"Well..." he inflates his cheeks then lets the air out through his pursed lips, "You can break up with him through a text."

Which part of 'let him down gently' did he not understand? How is it a good idea to break up through a text? But okay, it's just one suggestion, you give him the benefit of the doubt for now. Who knows he'll come up with better suggestions.

"I'm sorry. No, I can't do that," you kindly refuse his suggestion.

"You can send it when he's sleeping," he adds.

Oh, God! He gives you an even worse suggestion instead of better ones. You know what? This is a bad idea and you regret asking for his help.

"I don't—" You stop yourself from talking and get up from your seat.

"I'll just check if the lady is still..." Your words trail off as you walk towards the door and check through the peephole first, then you get out of the door to check his apartment next.

"Hello? Excuse me?" You shout from the doorway but no one is answering you.

You take it the lady has left and walk back to your apartment to deliver the news to the rightful owner of the apartment.

"She already left," you tell him.

Chan lets out a sigh and closes the cookie jar, he finishes the milk to its last drop and then gets up from the sofa.

"Thank you for the cookies and the milk," he says with his signature grin.

"No worries," you reply, trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Chan holds the cookie jar in one arm and takes a step closer to you, "if you need help on how to write breakup texts, I'm just across the hall," he says.

You don't respond to that but keep a smile on for him as to seem polite.

"And good luck!" He says with gentle pats on your shoulder.

The second he walks out the door, you collapse onto the sofa and dread it even more than before. Turns out, asking for his help is not helping at all.

The next day, you meet him as you collect your mail in the lobby and it's hard to ignore him when his mailbox is next to yours.

"G'day!" Chan greets you as he leans the side of his body against the wall while sorting his mail.

"Good day!" You respond and hurriedly walk toward the elevator. You push the button to summon it to the lobby and hope it comes soon enough for you to avoid talking to Chan.

Of course, things don't go as you want it. He comes just in time for the elevator about to arrive, he crumples a few letters in his hand into a ball and then tosses it into the trash bin.

"How did it go?" He asks.

"Pardon?" You nonchalantly respond.

Good thing that the elevator chimes open and you can pretend to forget about what he asked you a while ago. You get inside while clutching your mails in hands in front of you but it's not safe yet as you have to share the elevator ride with him.

"So... the break-up texts? Did you do it?" He asks again, going to the corner of the elevator and leaning his back against it.

"Chris, I think you can't just end a three-year relationship with a text," you put it as nicely as you can.

"Yeah, I reckon," he innocently answers.

It seems like Chan can't tell the difference between what is easy and what is right. It isn't a good idea in the first place to ask for help from someone like him who doesn't consider other people's feelings except his own.

"What are you going to do then?" He asks, shifting his weight on one leg.

Since his help is not helping at all, you have no answer to that yet. This should be something you have to figure out on your own in the first place.

"I'll figure it out," you not-very-convincingly answer.

Chan crosses his arms in front of him, making the muscles and veins on his arms more evident under the fluorescent light of the elevator.

"Lee seems like a nice guy," he remarks with a deep inhale of air.

Well, if you have to compare your boyfriend to Chan, then yes, Lee is a really nice guy. Lee excels in a lot of things, including how to treat a person with feelings.

"Yes," you settle with a simple answer.

"A drawn-out break up is only going to end in a big scene," he says, "Just saying."

Chan has a point. It's worse to prolong the pain for both you and Lee, you can't keep pretending that the relationship works and it's unfair that you keep Lee oblivious about all this.

"We can practice, you know," he offers.

"Practice?"

"On how you're going to break up with him," he explains.

He comes up with a better suggestion this time and is almost endearing even but again, he wouldn't know how a person with real feelings reacts to a break-up which makes you unsure if the practice would be any help.

The elevator is about to arrive anyway so you decide to skip on responding to his offer. Once it chimes, the doors part open and you take the first turn to get out with Chan getting off after you. You turn to the left to your apartment while he turns right. You take the key out of your pocket to unlock the door and push your way in while clutching your mail close to your chest.

"You know where to find me if you need help," Chan says just before you close the door to your apartment.

Hard pass, you answer in your head but you put on a smile for his kind offer, then close the door

-

Okay, you admit it. You were too haste when you said that you didn't need his help. You were doing fine for these past few days, you've been avoiding meeting your boyfriend to give you some more time to think of the best way to break the news to him until he calls you.

The phone rings and you just stare at it, considering whether to pick it up or not. If you pick it up, that means you have to lie to him and if you don't, it'll alert him that things are, in fact, not okay.

The latter seems like a better idea so you pick it up after taking a long, deep breath.

"Hi, baby. Am I calling you at the wrong time?"

Not entirely wrong but it would be nice if he didn't call you, you answer in your head.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the bathroom," you lie.

"Coconut shrimp for dinner. What do you think?" he asks out of the blue.

"That sounds nice," you easily respond.

"I know you'll like it but, babe, do you mind getting us a bottle of wine on the way?

"I'm sorry?" You ask in confusion.

"For our dinner, remember?" he answers, "I'll cook tonight we'll be having dinner at mine."

You hardly paid attention to him because your mind was always elsewhere, you couldn't remember saying yes to the dinner but you did and it must be out of pity.

"No, of course, I remember, I'm just..." you rake your brain to think of something to say.

"I thought it was next week," you lie again with an awkward chuckle.

"You silly!" Lee says, "Aren't you glad that I called, huh?"

"So glad," you lie, again and again.

"I should start prepping the ingredients so they'll be ready when you get here," he says, his voice exuding enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Don't forget the wine!"

"I won't."

"I can't wait to see you, baby," he sweetly says.

The lies are piling up so may as well add another one to the pile, "Me too."

"I love you, bye."

Don't think you can lie your answer to that, you gulp air, "Bye," you say to the phone, then quickly hang up.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and you don't know your desperate measure means knocking on your neighbor's door. Probably because you hate to admit that you need his help.

Not long after, Chan opens the door and his head pops out from the gap, "What's up?"

"My boyfriend just called and tonight, we'll be having dinner in his place," you blabber in panic.

It takes a second for him to process it then his face turns a little surprised, "What are we going to do then?" He asks in confusion.

You may be in dread but you catch the error in his question, "We? Now, you got your panties in a twist," you tell him.

"Shame on you!" He responds with a sly grin then opens the door wider and shows himself dressed in nothing but a white towel hanging low around his hips.

He puts one arm against the doorframe and leans close to you as he says, "Cause I'm not wearing any panties right now."

You should have noticed it from his wet hair and the beads of water rolling down his neck, and now that you're seeing the whole of it, your eyes immediately following where the beads of water going, they're going down the outline of his abs and eventually, to where they're all gathered as his pelvic bones leading down to one way: down south.

However, your instinctive reaction goes against what you're actually feeling inside.

"Ugh!" You groan and turn to the side, "Put some clothes on and I'll see you at my place!"

Without waiting for his answer, you rush back to your apartment and close the door behind you as fast as possible, then you rest your back against it.

The images of his naked body flashing through your head, his glistening wet pale skin, and how some parts of his body are blotchy red around the neck and chest. You get flustered all of a sudden, you immediately press the back of your hand to your cheek and you can feel them heating.

"Get it together!" You scold yourself.

After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, Chan finally comes knocking on your door like it's a musical instrument.

"Are you dressed?" You ask with your hand on the doorknob.

"Hardly," he jokes.

You peek through the peephole and see that he's already dressed to what you can say is his usual attire of dark short pants with a matching sleeveless top, showing off his bulging biceps. You open the door to let him in and he coyly walks in, treating your place like it's his own, sitting on your sofa with his legs spreading wide.

"Okay, so, why am I here?"

You stand in front of him with your hands clasped in front of you, "I've been lying to him the whole phone call and honestly, I've been doing it since the moment I decided that I want to break up with him, and I... I don't think I can lie to him again."

It's easy to admit your mistakes to him because he barely knows you and his opinions about you won't matter that much to you.

"I need to do it tonight," you hopelessly say.

"I take it you need my help to practice your break-up speech?"

You hate that he guesses it right but it's also convenient that you don't have to beat around the bush to ask for it. But first, you try to explain the situation as much as possible so he has ideas on what you're facing here.

"Lee is a man of many emotions and I'm not exaggerating when I say he'll likely cry," you inform.

Chan's forehead wrinkles as he processes this piece of information then stifles a nod. It seems like he still has no idea what you want him to do about it.

"I think it's less painful if you acknowledge the dumpee feelings," you blatantly explain.

"Okay, I got you. Let's practice!' He says, sitting up straighter on the sofa and then putting his hands on his knees.

It's just a practice but your anxiety takes over you not just mentally but also physically as your palms get sweaty. You wipe them down your jeans and take a breath.

"Lee," you call him by your boyfriend's name, and even though it's weird that you're roleplaying, you continue, "I want to break up with you."

Chan looks at you and gets quiet for a moment, "Wow. I'm in utter shock and it makes me very sad to hear that," he says with a rather serious tone.

Not the kind of reaction Lee would likely pull off but that will do if you decide to continue with it.

"I'm fully aware that this is so sudden but I've been thinking hard about it for some time and I think this is a decision that I should take," you say and you know it's a practice but you feel something caught in your throat.

"I'm sad and I need time to process it, but I'll be okay," he calmly says.

Chan gets the tone right but you believe breaking up wouldn't be this easy in real life, especially when there are real feelings to protect. To be honest, you're not ready to face the truth that you may hurt those feelings tonight.

"I think that went very well," Chan says, returning to his default settings.

"Yeah, I think that's it," you meekly say.

The worries and sadness are drawn on your face that Chan can easily see through your veiled expression, "If Lee is as nice as you said he is, then you shouldn't worry much," he says.

He waits until your eyes meet his to continue, "He may get surprised or shocked even, but he'll come around and respect your decision."

You can't believe that those words are coming out of his mouth or that he even tries to comfort you, but you appreciate it. Maybe his heart is still there, he just doesn't let it control him most of the time.

He gets up from the sofa and walks up to you, he takes your hands, ignoring how cold and sweaty they feel in his, "You got this," he assures you.

"Thank you, Chris," you sincerely say with a sad smile.

It is time to stop torturing both you and Lee with lies and forcing yourself to believe that the love is still there. It's time to accept the truth that if you can fall in love, you can also fall out of love.

-

It's a surprise that Chan worries about things that aren't his business. He's been playing some music to distract him from his head but he keeps the volume low because he doesn't want to miss hearing the sound of the elevator that will tell him any signs that you're back from the dinner.

Eventually, he tires himself out from worrying and falls asleep on the sofa. He startles always close to midnight after hearing the knocking on his doors.

Half disoriented, he trudges his way to open the door and finds you there, surprisingly, looking nice in a white cotton dress and your eyes dry.

But from the way you let yourself into his apartment, forgetting your impeccable manners and walking with shoulders slumped and carrying your shoes in your hands, he takes it that you did it.

"So... how did it go?" He carefully asks, following you as you're making your way to the sofa and then sitting on it.

You let a heavy sigh and your shoulders slumped even more, "At least, there's no crying," you answer with a sad smile.

Chan is unsure of how to react to that, is that a good thing or a bad thing? He just stands there with his arms crossed on his chest, thinking out loud.

"And even though it was ending... it was incredibly meaningful to me and I'm going to miss him," you say with your lips trembling.

Oh, no, Chan knows when a girl is about to cry, he quickly finds a remedy to it, one that he knows always works wonders for him. He runs to the kitchen and brings a bottle out of his alcohol stash, then hands it to you.

"Let's have a drink!" He says, realizing that he forgot the glass.

"Wait another second, I'll get the glass," he says, sprinting to retrieve two glasses from his kitchen cabinet.

When he returns, he sees that you're chugging the alcohol straight from the bottle. You gasp and then wince from the bitter aftertaste of it.

"Okay, straight from the bottle it is," he says, popping onto the sofa next to you.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and then hand the bottle to him in which he wastes not another second to take a sip of it.

"The thing is... I really care about him but he wanted to get married, and I'm just not ready for that," you share with your eyes blank and looking at the void.

You take a deep breath but it seems like it only sends your heart sinking deeper and deeper, and making it harder for you to breathe.

"And if I'm not ready with a guy as great as him then what if I'm never ready?" You say, turning your head his way with your eyes glassy, pooling with tears.

"What if that was it..." you lift your shoulders then drop them as you let out a low sigh, "my one chance at love?"

The tears start streaming down your face like a bursting dam and Chan knows he can't do anything about it but let them out.

Hearing your words makes him think about what his idea of love is. He used to think that it was something he could get whenever he wanted it but now he knows that he's wrong, because that's just a short-lived infatuation, just some sort of meaningless connection.

From you, he learns that love is a privilege that not everyone can experience.

"What if I never get a second chance?" You ask him the question that he doesn't know the answer to.

"I don't know. I'm just sad," your voice cracks, then you break into tears.

Chan is quick to catch you into his arms and offers you his embrace. He knows he can't do anything about this sadness but he can try to soothe the pain, he's placing gentle rubs on your back as you cry into his chest.

The cry is resounding in this space, echoing the sadness back to you and it makes him inexplicably sad too, and he gets the urge to make it stop.

"It's going to be alright," he murmurs at the top of your head.

You look up with your eyes wet and red with tears caught in your lashes, "Is it?" You croak.

He doesn't know when but he knows for sure that time heals everything.

"It will be," he answers with a gentle caress of his knuckle on your wet cheek, "eventually."

Your eyes tell some more assurance for him and he doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he leans in, then kisses you.

To his surprise, you kiss him back and he knows you're doing it because you seek his comfort and he wants to give you exactly that. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, giving you that closeness you seek. He kisses you ever so softly because he knows he's kissing a broken heart and he wants to mend it. He can taste your sadness and the bitterness of it, and also the relief underlying all of it. As he kisses you, he lets his heart open just enough to take some of that sadness away from yours.

As the kiss deepens, the sadness withers, and something else emerges. Chan loses in it for a bit until he realizes what you're trying to do with your hand that reaches for the front of his jeans.

He abruptly detaches his lips from yours and shakes his head, "No, we can't do this," he says.

As much as he fancies you enough to have sex with you, he knows better not to do it when you're not in your right mind and your judgments are clouded with sadness. The last thing he wants is you waking up in the morning full of regrets.

"I want this, Chris," you croak.

"No, we can't," he adamantly says and takes your hand away from him.

"You're sad. You do want this," he says in an effort to put some sense into you.

You roughly crumple the front of his t-shirt and pull him close, "I want– No, I need this, Chris," you say to him with your eyes dark like two bottomless pits.

"Please?" You plead as a tear rolls down from the corner of your eye.

This is the most hopeless he ever heard of you and it breaks his heart. You said it yourself, you need this and he knows what you mean by that. You need the distraction, you need him to take this pain away even just for a fleeting moment, moreover, he can't break what's already broken.

He takes your hand off of his clothes and puts it in his, he leans in until his forehead is pressed against yours.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks once again.

"Yes," you answer without a beat.

That's all Chan needed to hear, he inhales air and puts an inch between your faces. He then tenderly holds your face with both hands and looks at you, unsure where to start but maybe, he can start by making those tears coming out of your eyes.

Chan dabs the tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with his knuckle and without the slightest of hesitancy, he places a gentle kiss on each of your closed eyelids and before you can open them, he captures your lips in a kiss.

Sex is not something new to him but Chan knows that this time is not about physical fulfillment, but a way to offer comfort and hopefully, to also mend your broken heart.

He takes his time to strip away every piece of clothing on you until you're bare, lying on the bed with nothing but sadness that fills your heart.

He touches you with utmost gentleness, using just his fingertips to feel the softness of your skin and you're so pliant, sensitive to his touch.

To make it fair, Chan takes his clothes off as well before joining you on the bed, caging you in between his arms and hovering only inches away above you.

"Touch me," he says to you, taking your hand and placing it on his shoulder.

He then glides your hand down his neck and chest, he makes you feel every inch of his pale skin with him. However, when he looks at you, your eyes remain on his.

"You feel so warm, Chris," you lowly mutter.

He brings your hand close to his mouth and kisses it, then crashes his lips on yours.

The gap between your bodies becomes non-existent as you keep pulling him close, he relents by lowering himself on top of you and props an elbow against the mattress to not put his whole weight on you.

Lips locked, hands around each other, bodies pressed together and the temperature keeps on rising in the room. Chan makes you feel every part of his lips brushing and gliding over yours. He skillfully parts your mouth open with his tongue so he can kiss you deep and hard, yet slow until you run out of breath.

At the same time, his hand makes its way down until his fingers land on your delicate flesh. He touches it tenderly, running his fingers between the folds, and drags them upward to rub on your bundle of nerves.

"Ah..." you moan against his lips as you curve your hand around his neck and pull him incredibly closer.

Judging from it, he knows he's doing it right and he should continue, he applies gentle pressures on your clit, making you drenched and that way, he can slowly put a digit inside of you.

You let go of his kiss to let out a moan and your head falls onto the pillow as he puts another digit into you, two fingers pumping in and out of you.

Chan intently watches as your face contorted along to the pleasure, how your jaws slack open and breathless moans keep spilling out of your parted mouth.

The way you clench around his fingers makes him impatient to feel you and how tight you feel around him, and the noises you make oh, they're his new favorite tune that he wants to keep listening to until his eardrums burst.

He glances down as he pulls his fingers out of you and finds them thickly coated with your essence, it doesn't stop him from shoving them into his mouth and lick them clean.

Chan holds you by the chin to keep you still as he kisses you, "Give me a second to get a condom, yeah?" He says to you and you nod in answer.

He makes his to the bathroom and pulls the drawer open to take a condom. To save time, he decides to put it on right away, he tears through the foil packet with his teeth and rolls the rubber down his hard length.

On the way out, he catches his reflection in the mirror and gets reminded that this is not about him. Tonight, it's all about you.

He returns to the bedroom, finding you still lying in bed naked and hugging yourself. He climbs onto the bed and lowers himself on you, letting you absorb his body heat to warm you.

Craving for another taste of it, he goes down and plants his mouth on your cunt next, tasting you right on his tongue.

You're squirming as his tongue laps over your wetness, drinking in on your essence and then using it to circle on your clit.

He's not the only one getting impatient and asking more of it, you both want it and there's no wasting time anymore. Just before he takes it to the next part, he places a long, tender kiss on your clit and immediately brings his mouth to yours again so you can taste yourself on him.

"I'm going in, mmh?" He says as he endearingly brushes your hair away from your face.

You hold on to his shoulder as he settles himself between your legs, aligning his cock with your entrance but before that, he rubs his length between your folds, lubricating it with your essence.

Your hands fly to your chest, hugging yourself again as you lowly moan to his hard length rubbing over your clit and then, pushing its way into you.

"Goodness fu—" he can't even finish his sentence without breaking into a satisfied groan.

It's just the tip but he can already feel how tight you are around him, he's scared yet excited to push more of him into you. He reorganizes his breathing and rests his hand on your abdomen to do it.

Chan looks down to check and he still has a little more of him that needs to be inside you, he sharply inhales air through his nostrils and pushes the remaining length in one quick push.

"Oh..." you breathlessly moan as you're squeezing on your breasts.

Chan allows himself to take a moment to adjust himself to being inside you and you seem to also need time to adjust to his size because you feel so incredibly tight around him. It makes him wonder how this little thing can take him so well.

He takes your hands away from your chest and puts them around his shoulders, that way he can put his body on top of you, lips locked with yours again in no time as you wrap your legs around his waist, sending him deeper inside you.

As he takes a breath in between kisses, you hold his face and look at him with a different kind of sadness in your eyes which only reminds him that his initial plan is to make it go away.

He starts thrusting into you, wanting to fuck this sadness out of you. He wants to make you think of nothing but how his cock fills you full and how good he is fucking you right now, and soon, he's going to make you feel nothing but immense pleasure.

"Ah... ah... ah..." you moan for every thrust going into you and the skin-slapping sounds echo along with it in the room.

Chan plants his mouth on your breasts to contain his grunts and groans while keeping the steady motion of his hips pulsating against you.

A hand reaches for his chin and forces him to look at you, instantly engaged in eye contact with you. He continues thrusting into you with eyes looking deep into you, they're no longer looking like bottomless pits, they look like deep oases that he wants to dive into.

The next thing he knows, Chan finds himself deep in you, not just physically but also connected with you in a way that he's never experienced with anyone else until now. He feels barer than he already is and instead of shutting himself off, he embraces it and lets you in.

Soon enough, he finds himself lost in it and fully connects himself to you in a way that lets him know how it feels to love without fears or insecurities holding him back, without worrying if it's being reciprocated or not, to love wholly and completely.

"Oh," you let out a broken moan and that's when he notices that you break into tears again.

Chan abruptly stops moving, afraid that something he does is hurting you without realizing it.

"No, keep going, keep going," you tell him with your voice hoarse.

He needs to make sure to continue, he cups your jaw and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, please, keep going, please," You repeatedly nod and plead with your teary eyes.

He wants you to stop crying, he wants you to stop thinking about what hurts you and start to see him as he tries to take this pain away from you. His body picks up the pace, going impossibly fast and also taking himself close to his high.

Your eyes are screwed shut, your breath is ragged and your hands are gripping onto his shoulders, overwhelmed by the pleasure that he brought on you.

The moment he's sure that you already come to your climax, he allows himself to let go and uses all of his strength to give you a few more thrusts until there's nothing left in him but waves of pleasure that wash over him.

"Chris..." you softly call and then pull him for a chaste kiss on his lips, "Thank you."

Chan's face hovers only inches above you as he softly gazes into your eyes, you look so fragile and open like a wound and he's just glad that he can make your heartache gone even just for a while.

"Shh..." he stops you from talking by running his thumb over your lips and then kisses you with his heart wide open. He lets this beautiful feeling pour out of him and into you.

"No, thank you," he mutters his gratitude between kisses.

Thanks to you, he experiences something he's never felt before with someone else, something new, something pure and real, something that feels a lot like love.

When he wakes up in the morning and finds you're not there, it hits him that maybe it is love but Chan is not ready to admit it yet.

-

A week passes and Chan hasn't seen you ever since that night.

He can't tell if you're avoiding him or needing the space and time to piece yourself back from the break-up, he hopes it's the latter. Gosh! Let him be right.

Regardless of what happened, he can live with the fact that you despise him but it would be sad to know if you choose to go down the path of believing that you're not going to find love again.

Chan just needs to know if you're doing okay, that's what matters for now.

Fortunately, the two of you have been neighbors for quite a long time to learn your routine and knockabouts. He knows what you like to do on a Saturday morning, he goes to the lobby and chats with the concierge as he waits.

At the first sight of you entering the apartment building, his heart palpation, and in all honesty, he's just so happy to finally see you after a while.

Are you not seeing him there? Or you're just pretending which only confirms his initial thought that you've been, in fact, avoiding him.

You're walking through the lobby carrying a bag of groceries in your arm, you skip checking on the mailbox and go straight to the elevator. It just happens that the elevator is vacant and the doors slide open after you push the button.

Chan decides to take the risk, sprinting to get into the elevator before the doors close. You already despise him so a little more hate shouldn't be a problem to him.

"Morning, sunshine," He greets you with his dimpled grin.

"Good morning," you politely reply without looking at him.

Things are going back to normal and he should be glad, right? At least, you're back to your usual settings of looking stoic and acting polite, and the best thing about it is you're still talking to him.

"I should learn to avoid people from you. You're good at it," he pushes it a bit just to see if he can crack through this facade.

"Excuse me?" Your head turns his way and with your eyes widen, "I have not been avoiding anyone."

Chan holds the urge to smile for successfully getting your attention and rests his back against the cold, metal furnace of the elevator, "Are you sure?"

"Well, we're seeing each other now," you tell him.

"That's because I know you like to go to the farmer's market every Saturday morning," he says at the same time, admitting that he knows about your routine.

You slowly turn your body facing him and squint your eyes at him, "You've been keeping tabs on me?"

"It's my favorite pastime activity," he shamelessly answers then pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"It's better than watching porn," he playfully adds, something that he knows will annoy you the right way.

"Ugh!" You groan as you look straight ahead.

Oddly enough, that's what he misses the most about it, interacting with you and seeing your reaction to his antics, but you, especially.

"Don't be so uptight," he coyly says.

He takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on the handlebar, "it's not like we haven't slept together or anything."

You let out a scoff and hoist the strap of your grocery bag higher on your shoulder, "I'm shocked you even remember," you say.

You turn your head next and your eyes immediately lock in a gaze with him, "I figure I'm just a low notch on a very long bedpost," you add.

"Are you calling me a man whore?" Chan says, feeling offended.

You take a step closer to him and daringly stare back into his eyes, "I didn't call you a man," you answer with a sly smirk.

There's a few seconds of silence until Chan realizes what you just said to him but you know what? He's going to give it to you, for now.

He looks at you and smiles, "Touche!"

You both look at each other and at the same time, burst into laughter, and it keeps going until the hilarity subsides with each passing second.

Is this real? Did you just poke fun at him with a beautiful smile on your face? Did you really laugh and the sound of not only echoing in this enclosed space but also in the back of his mind? Did he just see a different facial expression on you? Either way, he likes it and he likes how it makes him feel.

The elevator chimes open and soon, the doors part open. He lets you get off first and then takes his turn after, he gets a little disappointed as you both are going in the opposite direction.

"Hey, Chris," you call as he's only a couple of steps away from the door of his apartment.

His heart palpation again but he keeps his calm and then slowly, turns on his feet to face you, "Yes?"

"I'm cooking curry for dinner and I know it'll be not as good as the one you always ordered but you can come and..." your hand is fiddling with the strap of your grocery bag as you speak but your eyes remain steady on him, "see if it suits your taste."

And did you just invite him for dinner? Him, the neighbor you despise so much?

Chan acts coy and scratches the back of his head, he holds the urge to answer right away. He has a reputation to uphold and he reckons, you have to at least wait a minute for his answer.

"Yeah, okay, let's see," he nonchalantly answers but his smile tells otherwise.

You crack a laugh and nod, walking to your door with the keys jangling as you're unlocking it.

Chan thinks that's the end of it until you call his name again, his heart leaps this time and he almost flies his way to you.

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you what are we," you say with a smile then get inside of your apartment.

That's funny because, after that night, he was hoping that you would ask him that as most girls do but that's where he is wrong, you're not most girls, you are his neighbor whom Chan is secretly in love with.

-

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