#it was honestly a wonderful thing for a while but
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POLICEMAN INSTINCT
pairing: hwang inho x fem reader
summary: after moving into a new apartment, you realize you're being stalked. thankfully, the older neighbour you've developed a tiny crush on just so happened to be a retired police officer who is determined to protect you.
warnings: age gap (reader is early twenties, he's late forties) slow burn, strangers to lovers, dry humping, masturbation, attempted sa (not by him) really mid smut, face slapping, scent kink, oral fixation, him being fatherly, reader is a bit of a perv, stalking, yander-ish vibes, touch starved reader, masochism, fluff, angst
word count: 13.4k
[feedback and reblogs are a writer's biggest motivation.]
MASTERLIST
it was the cheapest apartment you could find online. while it looked a little shady on the outside, the inside looked comparatively pleasant and clean. the hallway was narrow, and the shoes were placed outside the respective rooms. you just hoped you would have your privacy, and the walls aren't too thin. you've watched enough thrillers to know nothing good comes out of thin walls.
"is this all the luggage you got?" the landlady asks you, eyeing your bag and a suitcase. you hadn't packed much— you'd figured you'd just buy things from stores instead of bringing them from home. you nod, and she hums before offering you the keys.
"pay rent on time, and don't make too much noise." she tells you kindly, and you give her a polite smile. honestly speaking, she was loud enough herself.
as you fumble with the lock, she turns to leave. faint footsteps can be heard before a man appears, and the landlady steps to the side to allow him room to move.
"oh, inho!" she announces albeit too cheerily— making you almost jump. you turn around to peek over her shoulder as she continues. "you haven't paid your rent yet, just wanted to remind you."
you spot him then— the handsome older man with soft, fluffy looking hair who happened to be carrying a plastic bag with two goldfish in it. the sight makes you smile, and he clenches his jaw as he ensures the landlady that he'll pay the rent soon enough.
she nods before gesturing towards you, "and this is your new neighbour! she came here to study, isn't that nice? don't be grumpy with her like you were with your last neighbours!"
ah. a beautiful older man as your neighbour. perhaps, life is worth living.
he looks up at you, and you freeze slightly, suddenly feeling self conscious that she put you on the spot. you give him a light wave, and he nods in acknowledgement before turning back to her. the lady pats his shoulder and leaves, and you go back to fumbling with the lock. he walks slowly to his own door, before turning to you— his expression slightly blank as he says something.
his voice is so quiet that you don't hear it at first. your eyebrows rise in question and you look at him, blinking.
"push the key in a little and then twist." he repeats, showing you the gesture with his own key. you look at him, a little confused before letting out an 'oh!' and following his steps— and as expected, the door opens. you turn to him and give him a sheepish smile, "thank you."
he doesn't return the smile but nods nonetheless. he opens his own door and steps inside, and then slams the door behind him, leaving you a little baffled.
you shrug the behaviour off and carry your bag to the bed. the room is clean, but you know exactly how you're going to personalize it so it looks more like you. you got your favourite bedsheets with you and everything, and the idea of decorating gives you a light sense of excitement.
it's when you decide to go to the bathroom that you realize you haven't gotten one of the most important things needed— hand soap. you wince to yourself as you look through your luggage, finding nothing. hesitantly, you look to the door, wondering if you should go out and buy some, or borrow some from your new neighbour, who although being incredibly handsome, also intimidates you slightly. you don't want to disturb him, but it's already late enough— you are too tired to go out.
you knock on his door, biting your lower lip in anticipation. you hope he's not asleep, you'd hate to be the one who wakes him up. he opens the door soon enough, looking you up and down, "can i help you?"
"i'm sorry, i hope you weren't asleep," you give him a polite smile, "i was wondering if i could borrow some handsoap? i forgot to buy some."
he frowns before nodding, closing the door. you fidget with your fingers while you wait, and he opens the door again before handing you a bottle.
you thank him, and he closes the door before you get to say goodnight. you don't allow yourself to think he's rude— you were the one disturbing him, afterall.
the next morning, you're up early. it's a new day of your independence and you want to explore the library before attending classes. you recheck if you have everything before exiting the room— only to be met with your neighbour.
"good morning!" you greet him cheerily, and he nods and replies with a quiet 'morning, kid.'
you figure he's just woken up, judging by the light rasp in his voice. it makes you feel flustered.
"wait— sir, hold on." you say quickly, and rush back inside your apartment. you deliver his handsoap back to him, and he rubs his eyes.
"thank you for this."
"going to college?" he asks, blinking a few times, and you nod. "is it far?"
"half an hour ride from the bus stop," you shift your weight on your feet. "not that far."
"that's good," he frowns, scratching his chin, "study well, kid."
you grin at him, perking up. you introduce yourself to him, and give a light bow. the corner of his mouth curls up slightly.
"i'm inho," he says, crossing his arms over his chest, "get going now, you don't wanna be late."
"oh yes, inho sir." you bow again and quickly rush down the stairs. you're pretty sure you hear him call out something like, 'drop the sir!' but you ignore it with a smile— your day already feeling brighter with the positive interaction, even if it was just polite small talk.
no matter how exhausting classes were, you were insistent on having a pleasant day. you knew the best way to survive any place was by making friends— and for now you didn't have many options other than your older neighbour.
at the bakery, as you eyed all the delicacies— you didn't know what to choose. you didn't know his preferences. does he like sweets? but what if he has diabetes? you immediately push the thought away, and simply stick to some nice bread that you could have with tea. and then while walking back to the bus stop, you buy some fishfood. a google search also lets you know that goldfish quite like frozen peas— so you buy a little of that too.
back in the apartment, you feel a little nervous as you knock on his door. there is no response, and you almost turn around and leave before a voice coming from behind you makes you jump.
"oh my god!" you shriek, twisting around, holding a hand to your chest. inho is standing behind you, looking tired as he gestures you to lower your voice. you immediately clasp a hand over your mouth and bow in apology before straightening up.
"you scared me!"
"forgive me," he blinks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "did you need something?"
a little distracted by his face, you almost forget what you had to say. but before you could embarrass yourself further, your mind brings you back to earth, "oh! yes— sorry."
"i wasn't sure if you liked sweets so i just got you bread. you know, as a thank you for helping me last night," you awkwardly push the bag towards him, "and uh— i saw you had goldfish so i got some fishfood for them. i also read they liked peas, so."
he looks down at the bag, then at you. you swallow hard, "i didn't poison it, i swear."
that elicits a chuckle out of him, and he gently takes the bag. your fingers brush together, and you try not to chase the warmth of his hand. perhaps, you're a little touch starved.
"there was no need for this," he says kindly. you step to the side to allow him to access his door. "but thank you."
"do you wanna eat together?" you blurt without thinking. "i mean, if you're not busy. no pressure, i'm sure you have things to do but—"
"relax," he gives you a light smile— it makes the cute little crinkles by his eyes more prominent. it's contagious and you smile back. he clears his throat, "there's a park not far from here. would you like to walk with me?"
"yes!" you say a little too excitedly before lowering your voice. "yes— absolutely. hold on."
you recklessly open your door and toss your bag inside. with a glance over your shoulder to ensure he's not looking, you quickly reapply your lipgloss before turning to him and locking the door behind you.
"ready?" he asks, a hint of a smile on his face. his voice is teasing, and you can't help but grin in return.
as the sun set, pink and orange hues danced across your skin like glitter. you could see people walking, chatting; couples holding hands and feeding each other cotton candy. it made your heart pang a little, so you redirected your attention to the sky, where birds seemed to be flocking back to their homes. you would've taken a picture, but you decided against it.
"have you been here long?" inho asks, and you turn to see his eyes looking at you intently. "liking it so far?"
"just a few months," you answer politely, walking with a skip in your step. he doesn't realize how grateful you are that he's talking to you— you've felt rather lonely these past few weeks. "i got a scholarship and the opportunity was too good to miss. it's really nice, much better than my hometown, i'd say. i'm relieved to be here, even though it's taking some time to adjust."
"you can come to me if you need anything," he says softly, and you give him a grateful nod, gaze full of barely disguised admiration.
"thank you, i appreciate it."
"and your family?" he asks again, his hands clasped behind his back. he looks so authoritative this way, you think, he's actually adorable. and kind.
"they're back home," you twist around and walk backwards, facing him as you mimic his stance. hands behind your back. he smiles at your antics and it makes your heart skip a beat. "i talk to them regularly."
"that's good." he hums, nodding, a glint in his eyes. "kids don't realize how much parents worry. make sure you don't mix with the wrong crowd."
"noted, sir." you tease, and he snorts.
"drop the 'sir,' will ya?"
"only if you drop the 'kid,' sir."
that makes him laugh, and you feel a strange sense of pride at your little achievement. the park is pleasant, and you're more amazed by how well maintained it is. he mindlessly guides you to a bench with a light touch on your waist, and your stomach feels tingly at the action.
he brings out the bag, tears the bread in half and gives you the bigger one, despite your protests.
"those flowers are so pretty," you point towards a flower bed, and he hums nonchalantly.
"never met a girl who doesn't like flowers."
"what's not to like?" you shift to face him properly, "they maintain this park really well. it's very clean."
"i suppose we do value cleanliness a lot," he looks around, his cheeks puffing up like a squirrel as he eats. it looks so utterly cute, you would have cooed if you had no social cues. "i remember seeing them plant those last year. some kids accidentally skated over the left side and had to pay a fine."
"ouch," you wince, eyebrows furrowing. "say, sir, what do you do for work, if you don't mind me asking?"
he stiffens slightly and stops chewing. you contemplate killing yourself right there out of sheer dramatics— you don't want to make him uncomfortable because this is your only chance at developing a relationship with someone that is not your pillow or your phone.
"i was a police officer," he answers, swallowing his food. he claps the dust off, wipes his hand on his pants after, "retired."
"retired?!" you gasp unintentionally, "you don't look that old."
he throws his head back and laughs— his eyes crinkling. you're mesmerized, the mere sound of it making your heart feel warm. which, you think, is not normal. not after interacting with someone who is still a stranger.
"how old do you think i am?" he asks between chuckles.
you give him a sheepish smile, delaying your response by choosing to finish the bread first. "i'd say.. late thirties or early forties."
he winces with a groan, dramatically clutching his heart, "try late forties. almost fifty."
it makes you fucking giggle— like some lovesick fool. a schoolgirl with a crush. it's so embarrassing, but you decide to let yourself have this one thing— to enjoy a conversation without thinking about how stupid or obvious you might look to the outsider.
"you don't look that old!" you protest, "seriously! plus, you're pretty fit for your age!"
the last comment was not something you had decided to say, but you're bad at thinking before speaking. you prefer to be just as shocked at your responses as the other person.
"you think i'm fit?" he asks a little teasingly— there's a smug smile on his face, and you feel idiotic. of course, a man like him would know he's fit. he's handsome, he must hear it everyday. he must be so amused that you decided to state the obvious. and you clear your throat, your cheeks suddenly feeling hot. you're sure you can hear your ears ringing— and you swallow the embarrassment.
"you know you're fit." you huff softly, and he shakes his head. his smile only grows bigger as he looks away, instead choosing to watch the sky darken.
you're glad he doesn't say much after, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. you hope it is comfortable for him, atleast, because there's a storm brewing in your head— berating you for being so obvious. perhaps, you need to find a boyfriend soon, or your little impulsive comments would get you in trouble. you don't even know if the man is single, for god's sake. your eyes drift down to his hands— no ring.
"you live alone?" you blurt out again, despite your better judgement. it's such a stupid question— the apartment rooms are tiny, of course he lives alone. are you stupid?!
he turns to look at you, eyebrow quirked. the air feels heavy now, because he looks tense again, almost thoughtful.
"yes," he nods, frowning slightly. his lips quirk down, and he swallows hard. "my wife passed away a few years back."
"oh." shit, you think to yourself. way to go, idiot. "i'm so sorry."
"it's fine," he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
you straighten up, "if there's anything i can do—"
he stands up abruptly, adjusts his pants. your eyes drift down a little before you physically force them to look up at him again.
"we should get going." he says, rolling his shoulders back. he gives you a hand, "it's getting late. you must have class tomorrow."
'it's sunday,' you almost mumble, but thankfully your mouth keeps shut this time. you shyly take his palm and stand up, and he pulls his hand back to run it through his hair almost awkwardly. you try not to miss the way it felt— which is insane. you shouldn't be thinking this way.
the walk back is relatively silent, and you internally beat yourself up about ruining the mood. you might be overthinking this, but this man genuinely seems nice, and you don't really have anyone else to rely on outside of university.
'if there's anything i can do,' you were saying. what could you have done, you idiot? what were you offering to a widowed man twice your age? fucking dummy.
lost in thoughts as you walk up the stairs, your foot misses a step and you trip. before you can fall, inho is stabilizing you with a swift grab, and you yelp as you crash into him, squeezing your eyes shut. instinctively, you grab his arms as tightly as you can.
"oh god," you take a sharp breath, your head falling forward onto his chest more out of shame than relief. "am i dead?"
"clumsy girl." he chuckles, and you open your eyes, hoping that once you do you'll wake up to your room; concluding this mess as a nightmare.
but no, your vision adjusts and is met with his beautiful face. and he looks amused. you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist— very respectfully even though you wouldn't mind it the opposite way. you feel warm all over and the way you've been acting since you met this man is driving you crazy. perhaps you might have to sleep the bad luck off. he gently lets go of you, and you pull away quickly, cheeks flushed. you lean against the wall, groaning.
"still alive," he remarks playfully. you tiredly run a hand down your face.
"i'll just take a nap." you mumble defeatedly, and he nods. you gesture towards the stairs. "thanks for that."
he steps aside and puts his hands in his pockets, and you fumble with your lock and go into your room as fast as possible— ready to bury your head in pillows and avoid this man as much as possible.
ᥫ᭡.
the first weird instance happened during work. you'd signed up for an internship after college hours— it was more of volunteer work. no actual pay other than some incentives based upon performance, which you were okay with. you just needed some experience for your portfolio. most of it included you getting your seniors coffee, designing posters and promoting new events for college.
you were giving some finishing touch ups for the newest poster for a debate competition when a package was placed before you. you looked up at your classmate, confused.
"these are for you." she said.
you frowned, looking at the package — a bouquet, to be specific. it was nothing too extravagant— but flowers all the same. white jasmines paired with some baby breaths, finished with a little bow.
"who sent these?" you asked, visibly baffled. she shrugged, took one look at your work before walking off. you sat straighter, checking the bouquet for any card— there was nothing.
you were confused as you walked back to the apartment. the flowers were a nice surprise— but they also had you worried. you couldn't help but wonder if it was some guy from work, but you don't remember getting close with anyone, atleast not enough for gifts. your confusion was evident on your face as you reached your door. holding the bouquet in one hand, you fumbled with the lock.
"those are nice," you heard a voice behind you. you turned, a smile appearing on your face at the sight of inho.
"hello!" you greeted, facing him. he glanced at the flowers, gaze unreadable, before turning to you.
"you came later than usual." he remarked casually.
"yeah, i've taken up this internship thing for college." you replied politely, leaning against your door. he nodded in understanding, tilting his head towards the bouquet.
"it's going well, i see."
you chuckled awkwardly, "i don't know where they came from." you glanced at the flowers, leaning in to inhale the scent. "my classmate said these were for me but there was no card. it's weird."
"perhaps it's a secret admirer," he joked dryly, unlocking his own door, "stay safe, kid."
you frowned at his words, nodding, before entering your own room.
the flowers didn't stop after. almost every two days, a new bouquet would appear. it was ridiculous. one day it would be just pretty tulips, the other it would be white clovers. it was driving you absolutely insane. and the worst part was, you had no idea who it was from.
you'd go to class, do your work, take the flowers, and go home. inho would make a joke about you being popular, and you would shrug it off and offer him some tea, and you'd pretend you didn't secretly hope he was the one sending them to you.
"maybe a guy has a crush on you," he'd said once. you were sitting at the stairs, analyzing the flowers as if your stare would prompt them to magically start speaking— these were camellias, as the google search suggested. pink. you'd glared at him tiredly, eyes begging for some answers. from anyone.
he'd raised his hands in defence, chuckling a little. he had taken a seat on the stairs beside you, looking at the flowers himself, eyebrows furrowed in focus and lips drawn into a thoughtful pout.
"did you know camellias express longing?" he stated casually.
you'd looked at him, quirking an eyebrow, "how'd you know that?"
he gave the flowers a somber smile, a dejected look in his eyes. "you learn certain things when you get married."
your curiosity had faded into sadness then. immense melancholy for the kind man sitting beside you.
and because of course, he was thinking of his wife. he'd probably given his wife flowers, adored her with everything he had. kissed her and made love to her, and then life took her from him.
you don't stand a chance. not even in your fantasies.
ᥫ᭡.
you were being watched.
you realized this not long after receiving your first bouquet. few days later, you'd seen a man wearing the same jacket everywhere you went. it was making you feel uneasy. you could never see his face— he would disappear almost instantly after you turned around.
first, you recognised the feeling while shopping for groceries. it made you feel so terrified, you ditched the milk and went straight home.
you'd had to borrow some milk from inho that day, and thankfully he had extra which he generously gave to you. even offered to make you some tea. you didn't know if he noticed your distress, but if he did, you were thankful he didn't ask you about it.
the next, it was during daytime. you were waiting for your bus when you saw the glimpse of that jacket— and once again, it disappeared almost as soon as you recognised it.
it was after the fourth day that you had decided that you'd had enough. you were violently knocking on inho's door— teary eyed and scared out of your mind.
he opened the door, his agitation blending into worry at the sight of your face. he utters your name so softly, and you hold back the urge to scream. "what's wrong?"
"you were a police officer, right?" you look at him, panic stricken. "i think i'm being watched. i don't think— i know i'm being watched. i swear, someone is stalking me, first the flowers—"
"hold on, take deep breaths," he puts his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to breathe along with him. you follow, and feel your heart rate calm down. he looks out into the hallway before stepping aside. "come inside."
reluctantly, you walk into his room. you realize then that it's the first time you've been in his apartment— and the idea, even in your moment of suffering, makes you feel warm. excited, even. there's a few books on his bed, and he puts them aside on his table and makes room for you to sit. you can see the goldfish in the tank, and the packet of fish food you bought for them sits by it.
"i like van gogh too." you mumble shakily, pointing at the book on his desk. he hums, guiding you to sit.
you take a seat on his bed, gaze lowered as you fidget with your hands. he grabs a chair and sits on it, facing you. he spreads his legs, and you have to take a deep breath to focus on the actual problem at hand.
"tell me everything," he says softly, crossing his arms over his chest. his shirt is folded up to his elbows, and you physically force yourself not to stare at the veins mapped across his arms.
"the flowers," you start, "they've gotten more frequent. i don't know who's sending them to me. i've asked everyone at work. i don't even talk to guys that much for any of them to be doing all that. and i've been seeing this guy follow me everywhere—"
"you've seen his face?" he asks, expression serious and focused. he looks even more handsome like this.
you pause, before shaking your head no.
"it's stupid, i know." you protest, leaning forward for emphasis, "it's like— a shadow. i haven't seen his face but i know he's following me. i think he might be behind the flowers too. but i'm just scared— i know i'm being stalked, you have to believe me."
"i do believe you," he shakes his head, leaning forward. his hand reaches out and grabs your own, "but you haven't seen his face, so it'll be hard to catch him. but trust me, i will not let anyone hurt you. do you understand?"
"i'm scared." you admit, voice small. you're a woman and you live alone— you don't have many friends and absolutely no family right now. you don't want to talk to your mother and worry her. you're terrified.
"hey, no tears," he whispers, thumb brushing across your cheek. you almost feel hypnotized at the action— you try not to lean into the comfort of his touch. "you'll be okay, i promise. you're safe with me."
you sniffle as you look at him, your hand limp in his hold. you tear your gaze away and nod, his words making you feel oddly at ease. you fidget with his hand before mindlessly holding his finger, and he smiles softly at that. with his free hand, he pats your head, "i have an idea."
you perk up slightly as you blink at him.
"why don't i pick you up from college?" he says softly, "it's not that far. it's hard to do anything during daytime, but in the evening i can come pick you up if you're scared. he'll see a man with you and back off himself."
you freeze, eyes widening. you can't ask him to do that. you chuckle awkwardly, face flushing as you look at your lap.
"i can't ask you to do that, it's fine."
"are you sure?" he asks, leaning down to make eye contact with you. it makes your heart flutter. "it's no issue for me. i think a walk everyday will keep me even more fit."
you can't help but giggle at that— and he smiles too. he grabs your chin and lifts your head up; and your breath hitches.
"come on, give me a real smile." he urges softly. it's so silly coming from him, that you can't help but grin— your fears temporarily forgotten. he pinches your cheek at that and nods in approval, "there she is."
"stop," you huff half heartedly, playfully slapping his hand away. you wish you could hide in your pillows— or dig a hole for yourself because of how flustered you feel. you can't believe how he could do this to you— it's strange how happy he can make you with just a few words. he tucks your hair behind your ear.
"why don't you have dinner and get some sleep? you must be tired."
you nod, blinking tiredly as you stand up. reluctantly, you let go of his finger, and he stands up as well as he guides you to the door. you look back at him, and he meets your gaze.
"thank you," you whisper softly, "you really made me feel so much better, you have no idea."
"i'm glad." he whispers back, and you just stare at him— at his sweet face and his kind eyes. you swallow hard, and you wonder if you hallucinated his eyes dart to your lips. either way, you push your thoughts aside.
he clears his throat and looks away, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "off you go."
"goodnight," you call back, and he nods with a smile before closing the door.
the next day after college— a miracle happened. a rather good looking classmate of yours approached you and praised you on your work. je-hyun, he introduced himself. he shared a few classes with you, and you remember him asking you for a pencil once. you two ended up bonding over liking the same shows, and he'd asked you if you were single. you two shared numbers, and you gave yourself an imaginary pat on the back.
apparently, the flowers had become a bit of a man repellent. he'd been wary of approaching you because he assumed you had a boyfriend, but you cleared the misunderstanding with a convincing explanation. you didn't want to take any chances.
this time, there were no flowers.
after work, the two of you walk out of the building. he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm, and you turn to him. he opens his mouth to speak before his gaze falls on something over your shoulder, and he freezes.
you frown, looking over your shoulder in return.
inho greets you, getting off the wall he was leaning against with a cheery smile. you look at him, baffled.
"hey! uh—" you look at your— date? coworker? before turning to inho, "inho sir! what are you doing here?"
inho glances at je-hyun as well, eyes darting up and down indifferently before he turns to you. he smiles, patting your shoulder. "i had some work nearby so i thought i'd pick you up. especially seeing how scared you were last night. is that okay?"
he was so considerate— it immediately made your heart melt. you almost forgot about your date by your side, and you turned to him apologetically. you could always meet with je-hyun, but you cannot ask inho to go home after he took some time out for you. your decision is immediate. "i'm sorry, i should get going. see you tomorrow?"
je-hyun gave you a tight lipped smile, nodding. "see you, goodnight." he looked at inho warily, giving him a slight bow out of respect. you didn't get to see inho's response before he was wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragging you away.
"i'm assuming that's the flower kid," he remarked casually, a small grin on his face as he walked straight ahead. you stumbled a little with his pace, but shook your head.
"no, i don't think that's him. he assumed i had a boyfriend because of the flowers," you smile slightly, thinking back to the conversation.
"you can't be sure with boys like him," he muttered, putting his hands in his pockets. you immediately started missing the feeling of his arm wrapped around you. you feel insane for even thinking this way. especially considering you have a potential? love interest— someone your age.
"i can't believe you really came to pick me up," you change the topic, looking up at him. he doesn't know if the stars in your eyes are a reflection of the lights or your admiration. "you didn't have to."
"i know i didn't have to," he smirked slightly, looking around. "but like i said, i was in the area. and i didn't feel right leaving you by yourself. who knows what could happen to a little girl like you?"
the last line was teasing, and you gave him a little push for that. of course, he was unphased. but for the sheer dramatics, he pretended to be hurt— clutching his side and groaning like he had been shot. it makes you giggle, and you hide your mouth behind your hand, internally berating yourself for acting like a fool again. he chuckles before stopping you and dragging you back, "let's have dinner before we get back. you must be hungry."
you blink, your heartbeat suddenly rising. like a date? you wanted to ask, but decided against it. of course it's not a date. he could be your father, for god's sake. he's old enough. and his heart belongs to someone else. you doubt he'd ever think about dating someone like you. it sounds like a far fetched dream.
you nodded, shaking your thoughts off. "yeah, that sounds good."
and that entire night, you didn't feel the eyes of the stalker, nor the fear, even once.
ᥫ᭡.
you got the flowers again. yellow hyacinths paired with deep red roses— the colors creating a striking contrast against each other. so bright, it almost blinded your eyes. salient as the emotions the flowers represent— you feel like whoever is sending you these, is not happy with you.
"who keeps sending these?" the voice makes you jump, and you turn to see je-hyun standing over you. he narrows his eyes playfully. "is there an obsessed ex i should be worried about?"
you wave his concerns off, chuckling awkwardly, "none." you bite your lower lip, looking at the object of your torment placed on the table. you bite down on the end of your pen, thinking. "i'm actually worried. i haven't even met anyone who would do this."
"what about that strange man who came to pick you up?" he remarks offhandedly— and you almost take offense to his words.
"that's inho-sir. and he's not strange," you say a little too sharply, surprising even yourself, "he's my neighbour and he used to be a police officer. he came to pick me up because i was scared. he's very kind and would never do something like this."
"got it." je-hyun could sense your sudden hostility, and he tries to lighten up. "so he's like your dad?" he jokes, and you chuckle at that, giving him a shove with a huffed 'shut up.'
he asks you out to a party after, and you tell him to pick you up at nine.
the journey back home was tantalizing once again— there was a seed of dread brewing inside you. you felt increasingly scared as you travelled, so you picked crowds in hopes of blending in. you wished you had inho with you right now.
you took a nap after work and immediately got ready. you didn't have a lot of party wear with you, you don't like the overwhelming crowds or noises. you're easy to overstimulate, so you tend to stay away from parties. they're always much more bearable with people you know better, anyway. but you make do with what you have, and your lip gloss saves the day as always. there's a knock on your door and you open it to je-hyun looking cute as ever— with his boyish, dimpled smile.
"i wanted to bring you flowers," he says innocently, holding out a box, "but i feel like you're traumatized by them so i got chocolate inst—"
he doesn't get to finish his sentence before you're letting out the most ridiculous laugh ever. he's adorable, and this alone has made you like him so much. you compose yourself, stand straighter and place a kiss upon his cheek— leaving an imprint of your lipgloss on his skin. he blushes, and you grin. "thank you—"
"date night?"
you both turn around to the voice— inho has stepped out of his room, looking cozy and fresh. wearing a sweater vest over a crisp white shirt, finishing with a large black coat. he looks so... soft and gentle. it almost distracts you.
you bite your lower lip, suddenly feeling flustered. his gaze is unreadable as it drags down your body— and out of respect, you adjust your dress a little.
"i'm je-hyun," your date takes the initiative to introduce himself, bowing deeply. there's slight humour in his voice, "you must be her father—"
you elbow him in the ribs, and he doubles over. inho lets out a snort, looking down. you notice he doesn't introduce himself in return. he clenches his jaw, tongues his cheek before looking at you with a glint in his eyes. you wonder if he looks angry, but you can't really tell. it wouldn't make sense anyway.
"going somewhere?" you ask, voice a little high pitched out of sheer nervousness. you don't know why, but you feel rather awkward. you don't understand why you feel like you're betraying him, in a way. perhaps it's because inho has quite literally been the only man you've been regularly interacting and engaging with so far. that's why standing with another guy in front of him feels so... strange. no other reason.
he clears his throat and nods, "out for drinks with an old colleague." he frowns after, cocks his head towards your legs. your dress is not really short, it comes to your knees. but you still feel exposed in front of him.
"don't you feel cold?"
"i'll wear a coat," you tell him, snatching your coat off from where it was hanging behind your door. "well— um. see you."
inho is the first to leave— after giving your date an up and down look of what you can only consider disgust or disapproval. je-hyun pouts a little as he straightens up, before grabbing your hand and dragging you down the stairs.
the party fucking sucks. the noises are too loud, the lights are too flashy, and everyone is drunk. you don't understand their drunken rambles, and you almost tripped twice. you've stumbled into atleast three couples making out, and you don't know how to dance without looking stupid.
je-hyun had kissed your cheek before going off to get drinks. a sprite for you, as you'd demanded. except he never returned. you know life isn't a movie, but at this moment, you'd rate yours a solid 1.5 stars.
a girl accidentally steps on your foot and you wince, hopping on one leg as you go out the back door. there, you put on your coat tighter around yourself, shaking as you glare at the wall in front of you.
you could really use a cigarette. and you don't even smoke.
you bring out your phone and shoot je-hyun a text. it is left on delivered, and you grunt in irritation before looking to the side.
defeated, angry and hurt at being abandoned, you immediately choose to leave. you hold back the urge to send je-hyun a text calling him an absolute dick, and try not to make eye contact with anyone as you walk down the road. it's late, the sky is dark and you have another fear on your mind right now. you look out for a taxi— but none come to your rescue. your luck has run out.
you mutter all sorts of curses to yourself on the way back— until you hear footsteps. you pause, suddenly feeling that same dread seize you again.
you're being followed.
you start walking quickly, and the prickling sensation of being watched doesn't leave. you turn around abruptly — and there's no one there, except from a few friend groups walking out of the club. you pick up your pace and start jogging back, looking around for taxis. you can see the park near your apartment in the distance — and you let out a breath of relief.
you hear a little 'meow,' and you immediately turn around. you love cats— you've been dying to have one. despite your better judgement, you walk closer to the dark alley the voice came from. a kitten is there, meowing at you. your heart melts into a puddle and you coo, instantly following it. you look around, there's no stores nearby, or you would've bought it some food. you gently pick it up, scratching it's ears.
"its my cat."
there's a shabby man standing in front of you— reeking of alcohol and trash. you freeze, looking at him awkwardly as you let go of the cat. his eyes trail down, settle on the silver of your skin peeking out from under the coat. instinctively, you wrap it tighter around yourself, and he steps forward, grinning.
"i have more! do you want to see?"
you give him an awkward, polite smile. in situations like these, its best to subtly pull yourself away. you take a step back and shake your head, "no, thank you."
"it won't take long," he convinces, a hand reaching out. "you could even take one with you—"
you're turning around to run, but his hand grabs your arm and drags you closer. you scream, but he shushes you, pinning you to the wall. you feel like throwing up. you raise your knee and kick him in the shin, and he lets go of you. you quickly start dashing off, but your heel oh so conveniently breaks and you trip. you fall face first onto the floor and his hand grabs your leg and starts dragging down.
you let out a shriek and kick at his arm, but he's lunging at you, trying to grab your face with his dirty hands. you take that moment to release your frustrations of the day upon him— with all the strength you can muster, you pull your head back before crashing it against his face.
"you bitch!" he screams and so do you— and he falls back, clutching his bleeding nose. he tries to lunge at you again, but you scream as loud as you can, trying to crawl away from him.
someone grabs you and starts pulling you up, and out of reflex you thrash and try to hit the other person. your wrist is clasped firmly in a bigger hand, and the sight of inho's face immediately fills you with relief. he helps you up, and before you can express gratitude, he's pushing you back and moving forward.
you flinch at the sound of the first kick. it happens so fast that you don't even realize it— your eyes widen as inho kicks the man over and over again. the sound of his bones cracking fills your ears, and you almost gag at the sight of the blood mixing with the dirty ground. inho looks unphased for the most part— except he's panting, and his hair is falling across his forehead. sweat runs down the side of his face, and he wordlessly turns around, eyes cold in a way that is foreign to you.
perhaps it's the shock of the sudden turn of events, but you can't speak. all you can think about is the rage that is so prominently etched onto his beautiful face, and how easily he stomped on that man like he was nothing. and how thankful you are that he showed up somehow when you needed him. after your date abandoned you. like magic.
he walks up to you, and you let out a shaky breath before allowing your head to fall onto his chest. he squeezes his eyes shut and pats your back, before cupping your cheeks and lifting your head up. he analyzes your face, gently caresses the new scratches on your chin before his gaze drops to your shoes— a broken heel and multiple scratches on your knees.
"are you okay?" he asks softly, and you hold his palm, ensuring it stays pressed against your cheek. you look at him like he's your only saviour— and you feel that way too. your lips wobble and he looks away.
"tired." you mumble— throat feeling dry. you feel dizzy, and your legs hurt. you're pretty sure you feel like throwing up too.
wordlessly, he bends down slightly, gestures towards his back with a tilt of his head. "come on."
you hesitate, looking at him with shock, before gently allowing your front to splay across his back. you link your arms around his shoulders, and he wraps his hands around your legs. he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you lean your weight into him, resting your head along his shoulder. he shifts slightly so you're more comfortable, his hold on you steady and confident. one of your shoes drop, and you don't look back at it. you don't care anyway.
you hear another faint meow before the kitten is out of earshot.
you resist the urge to cry as he carries you up the stairs. you sniffle, burying your head in his back, deeply inhaling the comforting smell of the man you've started associating with home. your legs dangle off his sides and your heart feels heavy. his silence makes you feel so eternally grateful.
you don't know how you got lucky enough to have someone like him by your side.
he doesn't even put you down when you reach your apartment— merely mumbles a soft, "keys?" and you straighten up slightly, shuffling in your coat pocket before leaning forward to open the lock— unable to resist the urge to chuckle just slightly at how endearing this whole situation is, despite everything.
he takes you inside, and your cheeks flush slightly. your clothes are all over the bed— thanks to your indecisiveness while getting ready for the date. he gently places you down on the floor, and you sniffle, quickly covering the clothes with a blanket— eliciting a snort out of him.
"why were you coming home alone?" is the first question he asks. "what happened to the kid you were with?"
"I don't know," you whisper, looking away. you suddenly feel embarrassed— how immature, how careless je-hyun looks in front of a man like inho. you never should've went on that date. "he just.. he disappeared at the party."
he clenches his jaw, his hands resting on his hips as he looks to the side. there's another vein popping in his neck— and if you had the guts, you'd lean up and kiss it.
"that little boy—" he spits with vitriol, the words coming from a deep place of resentment. he takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself, "he never should've left you alone. you should've never decided to walk home alone. why didn't you take a taxi?"
you swallow hard— he certainly doesn't make you miss your father. he's doing his job for him.
"there were no taxis."
"why didn't you just call me?" he asked again, stepping forward, eyebrows raising. "i could've come picked you up."
you pause. you didn't know that was an option. you really didn't think of it.
"I don't know." you replied lamely.
"didn't you say you have a stalker?" he snaps, "how can you be so careless?"
"i really don't want a lecture right now," you reply dejectedly, looking away. your voice lowers to a mumble as you rub your arm. "tonight has been harsh enough."
his face softens and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. he throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, squeezes his eyes shut before looking at you again.
"forgive me." he says earnestly, tilting his head, "i worry about you."
you nod, fidgeting with your coat. he watches you silently before stepping back.
"you should take a warm shower. i'll grab the first aid and take care of that." he gestures towards his chin, and the sting on your own chin starts to settle in.
this time, you don't argue. you toss your coat to the side, grab your toiletries, don't even bother asking him to leave before you go into the bathroom and wipe the memories of this night off you.
inho is waiting on your bed when you return. you hope he didn't hear the sound of you crying— it was rather pathetic. your skin is flushed with how much you scratched it, and worst of all, you ended up gently banging your forehead against the cold wall over how badly your date went. your fault for thinking you could have a positive experience with a man.
you clutch your bathrobe tightly, the water from your hair soaking through the towel. you put it down, and he gets up from the bed and pats down the empty space, telling you to sit down.
you notice your bed looks a little neater than you left it. your clothes are folded nicely by the corner and your bedsheet is straightened properly. it makes you blush, and you give him a sheepish look. he doesn't acknowledge it as he kneels before you.
"you don't have to—" you start, half heartedly.
"let me."
his voice is soft yet so firm, you end up following through. there is nothing wrong with wanting to be taken care of by a man like him. you shift slightly, hoping that he takes the flush of your cheeks as an effect of your warm shower.
he settles your leg on his thigh, and shifts your bathrobe just slightly so your knee is exposed. he examines it before applying some ointment on it. the touch of his gentle fingers almost has you whimpering— but you clear your throat and fidget nervously with your fingers. he grabs hold of your ankle, looking thoughtful as his thumb brushes across your skin.
the silence between you two feels heavy and suffocating. the tension could be cut with a knife— and the way he touches you is so intimate, it makes you want to climb into his arms and just cling to him till you fall asleep.
thankfully, he makes the decision for you. he places your feet back down and straightens slightly, wordlessly applies some cream on your chin too. it stings a little but it's bearable. he hums, closes the box and puts it aside.
as you open your mouth to speak, you can hear multiple notifications coming through your phone. his eyes snap up, and so do yours— you reach out and grab it out of your coat pocket, and he glares at it as you check.
"is it the boy?" he asks.
you bite your lip, glancing at the multiple texts of je-hyun apologizing through the notification panel. you're bitter, and you don't want to respond, not right now. inho grabs your hand, takes your phone away and places it by your side.
"you shouldn't go back to him," he advices quietly. there's an intensity in his eyes, an emotion that is hard to read. "after tonight, he's proven he's not worth your time. he abandoned you."
you bite your lower lip. he's right— but then again, a part of you wants to ask. so who should i go to? who is worth my time?
you clear your throat and shift on the bed.
"thank you for tonight," you whisper instead, allowing yourself more time to think about how to deal with je-hyun.
"thank you?" he chuckles, amused, "you'd taken care of that guy pretty well yourself. i just finished the job."
"but still," you protest, feeling a sense of pride at his comment. "he would've grabbed me again if you hadn't come."
he snorts, looking down at his lap. and your words remind you of an important question.
"how'd you know i needed help?"
he tenses, his eyes snapping up to yours again. you can't tell what he's thinking, but he merely chuckles, "i was walking in the park when you screamed. immediately alerted me." he raises a finger to his ear. "policeman instinct."
you laugh at that. his explanation makes sense. of course he has a policeman instinct. you wouldn't expect anything else.
he stands up, groaning as he stretches a little. the action makes his sweater rise up, revealing a silver of his tummy— and your eyes dazedly drop down, glancing at it with barely disguised hunger, until he's relaxing again. you snap yourself out of your trance and cough, looking away.
he looks down at you, all tired eyes and soft hair. in moments like these, you think of how sweet he looks. so gentle, and kind, and caring. sweet mister inho, who has been so generous, protecting you, caring for you, wanting nothing in return. who gave you a piggyback ride home when you felt like you would pass out from terror, who put cream on your wounds with the tenderness of a parent or a lover.
perhaps it's that sentiment, your touch starved nature, or your horrible day that prompted you to do it. or lust from that little glimpse of his skin. either way, you're fucked. you lean forward and wrap your arms around his waist, immediately burying your head in his stomach as you whisper thank yous to him— clinging to him like a lifeline.
he stumbles back in shock, stiffens slightly before relaxing— awkwardly shifting to accommodate you. he laughs slightly, and the rumble sends happy vibrations through your whole body. his hand settles on your head, gently playing with your hair.
"i told ya," he said gently, an amused smile on his face. "i won't let anyone hurt you."
a little embarrassed, you let go of him, pulling away and tucking your hair behind your ear.
"sorry," you mumble sheepishly.
"it's fine," he nods, taking a deep breath. he adjusts his sweater, looks around before giving you another smile. he pats your head. "get some sleep, okay? it's late. i'll check on you tomorrow."
you nod, and he leaves. you bite your lower lip as you replay the hug, and don't find the effort to get up and dress yourself before you're squealing into your pillow— all thoughts of je-hyun forgotten temporarily.
you don't see je-hyun in classes the next day, but he comes to work after college. the first thing he does is approach you, even when you push your head into your tablet while trying to imply how you absolutely do not want to talk to him.
"i can explain," he says with worry, "someone drugged me. i didn't want to leave you alone. i swear, i woke up in the toilet hours after. first thing i did was text you."
you sigh, rolling your eyes as you looked at him boredly, "drugged? that's the excuse you're going with?"
"why would i ditch you on purpose!" he hisses, leaning down. your argument gathers the attention of a few of your coworkers, and your senior warns you to get back to work. you sigh and look away from him.
"whatever it is—" you begin as politely as you can, "I don't think i'm ready to date. so maybe you should just—"
he sighs your name in agitation, and you quirk your eyebrow at him.
"you're really giving up on me after one fuck up?" he asks, frowning, "which wasn't even my fault? i was drugged—"
"i almost got assaulted on the way back," you hiss, standing up abruptly. your noses press together, and you pull back the moment his eyes drift to your lips. you pinch the bridge of your nose, before tilting your chin up and pointing at the bandage. he blinks, gaze filled with guilt. you sigh.
"maybe we could give it a go after some time if you're still interested, but i don't think i have the patience for this right now. last night was really hard on me. can you respect that?"
he looks like a kicked puppy at your words, but he steps back nonetheless. he clenches his jaw as he nods— before leaving you alone for the rest of the day.
the feeling of being watched has numbed you. you try not to care on your way back home— you have too much to do to care about that anyway. your dress from last night and your coat got dirty, so it seems like the perfect time to have a laundry day.
it's only when you're gathering all your clothes that you realize what's wrong.
your clothes are missing.
a pair of panties and your favourite camisole top. it's pink and has a little bow in the middle and you remember bringing it very clearly because you have taken a billion pictures in it. you wore them two days back— and tossed them carelessly in the laundry basket. you check once, and twice.
they're missing.
your first thought immediately goes to the stalker. is there any way he found your home? came into your room? stole your undergarments like a fucking sicko?
your second thought feels a little.. illegal to say the least. but.. inho wouldn't do something like that, would he? no, he's a good guy. a kind, rule following member of society. he used to be a police officer, for fuck's sake. he wouldn't do something like that, would he?
you can't lie, the idea that he could makes something in your stomach flip.
you can't go and straight up ask him, 'hey mister, did you take my panties?' so you do the next best thing. you devise a plan to be alone in his room.
you put on your best panic stricken expression as you knock on his door, and he opens almost immediately. his face falls into one of concern as he looks you up and down, "what's wrong—"
"i need pads," you say sheepishly, biting your lower lip as you step into his room. he doesn't protest as he looks at you. "i got my period and i don't have any and it hurts to go to the store. inho sir, could you please go buy me some? please?"
for added effect you let out a groan, holding your stomach as you fall onto his bed. you lie in a fetus position, and the worry etched onto his face almost makes you laugh.
"do you need anything else?" he asks, grabbing his wallet. you shake your head no, release another groan before he's slamming the door behind him as he leaves.
you wait for a few minutes— until you can hear the sound of his footsteps going down the stairs and fading away. you get up quickly then, look around his room with your heart pounding against your chest.
the first place you look is his cupboards— only his clothes to be found. you rip off his blanket and look under the pillows, searching desperately. you almost feel bad— he seems like such a good man, and you're taking advantage of his kindness by doubting him like this. you almost stop and leave, before the sight of his laundry basket has you pausing.
you look at the door before turning back and approaching it. you sit on the floor and shuffle through it, but you can't find a glimpse of your undergarments anywhere. you can find his though— and it makes you blush slightly.
you find his shirt then— white and plain and you remember him wearing it under his sweater last night. with shaky hands, you bring it out. biting your lower lip, against your morals, you clutch it and bring it up to your nose, inhaling the scent of his collar. it smells of him— of sweat and his cologne and it almost makes you moan.
like the fucking sicko you were worried about, you bury your face in it, your legs shaking as you lean further into it. another whimper escapes you. your eyes squeeze shut, and your mind starts flashing images of him, of his arms, of the vein in his neck, of his hair, of his smile—
it's been established already that your luck is horrible. that's why you don't realize it when the door opens and inho stands there, frozen, watching you sniff his clothes like a junkie. he drops the bag, and you freeze, your eyes immediately snapping open.
the way dread settles in your stomach is comical. you don't want to turn around, more so because it would mean acknowledging what you've been doing. he takes your name, and you turn ever so slowly, his shirt still clutched in your hands, pressed against your nose. as reality sets in, you're quickly tossing it back in the laundry basket and standing up like you've been electrocuted.
"i-it's not what it looks like—"
he doesn't say a word as he slams the door shut, very pointedly locking it. it sends a shiver of thrill up your spine, and he closes in on you ever so slowly as you try to explain yourself.
"i was just—" you're stuttering, voice breathless out of shame. you take a step back. "i was looking for something and i thought you had it and—"
he's just nodding patiently as you speak, eyebrows furrowed with mock sympathy. his hand suddenly shoots up to grab your neck, and your breath hitches as he pushes you against the wall.
"i thought you took my panties," you explain quickly, visibly panicking. "i couldn't find them and you were the only one who came into my room—"
"that's why you were sniffing my shirt like a little pervert?" he asks calmly, voice hushed, his mouth curling into an amused smirk. "because you couldn't find your panties?"
"sir—" you gasp, eyes fluttering as his hand squeezes slightly. your legs tremble, and you grab his wrist. "i didn't mean to—"
"dirty girl," he chuckles. before you can speak further, he's grabbing your waist, twirling you around and shoving you onto his bed. you fall upon it with a surprised gasp, and he climbs onto you effortlessly, caging you between his arms. "you think i don't understand the way you look at me with those pretty little eyes? like you're begging me to fuck you into the mattress?"
"oh fuck," you moan, your back arching off the bed. his mere voice has you feeling stupid. your lips wobble as you look at him pleadingly— licking your lips. "please—"
"yeah— like this," he chuckles, giving your cheek a little slap. it barely registers. doesn't hurt at all, feels like a little tap. but the action enough elicits the most desperate moan out of you, and he squeezes your cheeks, leaning down dangerously. "like a little slut."
you whine, biting your lower lip as you try to catch his lips. he merely laughs mockingly, shakes his head as he pouts playfully, "what? you want a kiss?"
you try to nod as best as you can, and he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth teasingly before letting go. you whine again, your hands holding onto his back— clutching the material of his sweatshirt with a desperation you didn't know you could feel.
"i knew you were a little messed up," he grunts, prying your thighs apart with his knees, before settling his hips upon yours. you can feel the bulge in his pants so evidently, and it makes you moan. with a warning glare, he squeezes your cheeks harder, making your lips pucker up. it makes him chuckle, and he gives your head a little shake. "giving your little 'fuck me' eyes to a man my age. do you act like this with everyone? with that fucking boy from college?"
his voice gets louder, harsher with his words and you shake your head desperately. his hips press against yours, and he starts grinding them against your clothed pussy— making you whine.
"j-just you—" you mumble, but he doesn't let you finish. his mouth is crashing onto yours, one hand grabbing your neck again and the other going under your waist, holding you in place.
the kiss leaves you breathless. teeth and tongue slam together, and you moan needily as he grinds against you, the action making a damp patch appear on the front of your pyjamas. your legs wrap around his waist and he grunts, his hips faltering slightly from shock before he continues, cocking his head to the side to access your mouth better.
your hand comes up to his hair, feeling the softness of it. he grabs it, brings your other one up too and holds both of your wrists in a massive palm— before raising them over your head and keeping them in place. he rises over you, his hips thrusting against yours, and you look at him dazedly. strings of your combined saliva separate and drip down your chin, and you blink.
"please inho sir—" you whimper, your hands twisting in his hold. "slap me again, please."
there's a glimpse of shock in his eyes but it goes away just as quickly. you don't even get to expect how fast his hand pulls back and strikes against your face— but you moan at the contact. it's harder than before and it stings, and it leaves the most delicious pain in it's wake. you almost hope it leaves a little print for you to wake up to tomorrow.
"god, you're a mess," he laughs breathlessly, grabbing your hair. you give him an almost drunken smile— your lips puffy and swollen, hips rising up to press needily against his bulge.
"my little mess—" he groans before gently slapping you again, and you whine, chasing his mouth with your own. he leans forward and silences you with the kiss you were so desperately begging for.
he's pulling back suddenly, a hand digging into his pockets. your eyes flutter open and before you know what's happening— he's stuffing your missing panties in your mouth. it baffles you— and he laughs at the way your eyes widen. he doesn't allow you to move as his hand slips inside your pyjama, immediately rubbing your clit.
the sudden stimulation doesn't allow you to dwell on the matter for long. so he did steal your panties— and you cannot question him, because you quite literally did the same thing. how can you call him out, when you were sniffing his worn shirt like a fucking pervert, yourself? he knows that too, judging by the glint in his eyes— as if he's daring you to attack him. you barely get to protest as you writhe under him, and he rubs your clit till you cum all over his hand— your loud moans muffled by your panties.
he pulls his hand out and licks your juices off with the nastiest slurp, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. you tremble in his hold, before he's hovering over your chest, his thighs caging you in. he looks down at you smugly, pulling his leaking cock out of his pants. your mouth immediately waters— it's thick and darker than the rest of him, and the tip is flushed red. he doesn't allow you to sit up, keeps it conveniently out of your reach as he begins stroking it, hand moving up and down with a soft, wet shlick.
your pleading is silenced by your panties. you desperately try to push them out of your mouth, to reach up and touch him, but he's restrained you too efficiently. he throws his head back, lets out a soft, raspy moan. drops of his precum land on your face as he furiously jerks off over you, his movements getting faster. your eyes flutter, and he cums with a throaty groan, his entire body tensing— splatters of his cum falling upon your mess of a face.
there's tears in your eyes as you look up at him, and he chuckles. he lets go of your hands, and you immediately toss your panties out and cough. you glance at his softening cock with devastation etched onto your features— before glaring up at him, lips drawn into a sad pout. he laughs at your misery, holds his wet hand out, "come on."
like a fucking puppy, you grab his hand. you don't even understand where this degeneracy is coming from— you don't wish to. you don't care. all you know is you need this man carnally, and you're not going to say no when he's offering himself on a silver platter. with sheer enthusiasm, you start licking his palm, eyes fluttering closed. you lick between his fingers, take two of them in your mouth, making him moan; before he's physically pulling you off him.
you whine in protest, and he pats your cheek while tucking himself back into his pants. you pant heavily as you come down from your high, allowing yourself a moment to think about everything that just happened. your cheek still stings, and you've just experienced what you can only classify as the horniest, hottest moment of your life.
you're so lost in thought that you don't register the moment he pulls you into his bed with him, placing your limp body atop his chest. you were given twin beds in your tiny apartments, but you realize you fit in here pretty well. like a puzzle. he pats your hair and places a soft kiss to your temple. you have many questions, but you don't know where to start.
"so i'm guessing you weren't on your period," he jokes, and you groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you recall your little excuse. "i think that was smart. you'd make a pretty good investigator. as long as you don't go around sniffing their clothes—"
"shut up." you whine, glaring at him. he chuckles heartily, and your body feels warm. his hand goes down, slaps your ass teasingly.
"so you think i smell nice?"
"i said shut up."
"it's a yes or no question." he cooes, pinching your cheek. you whine, rubbing your cheek against his chest like a cat. yes, asshole. you wanted to say. you smell amazing.
in retaliation, you decide to ask your own question.
"were you jealous of je-hyun?"
he stiffens slightly, and you smirk. gotcha.
"that's a brave accusation." he retorts smoothly.
"it's a yes or no question," you shoot back teasingly, and he looks into your eyes.
"yes."
you pause then, a small smile appearing on your face. "yes? is that why you kept calling him a boy?"
he shrugs, looking up at the ceiling as his fingers run through your hair. "he is a boy. he couldn't take care of you like i could. and you already liked me before you started going out with him."
that punches the breath out of you.
"was i that obvious?" you ask dryly. he smiles, eyes darting down to you. he grabs your chin and tilts your head down, places a soft kiss upon your lips.
"policeman instinct."
ᥫ᭡.
it's a few weeks later that your entire world slips off it's axis. everything was fine with inho— he had taken you out multiple times. bought you cotton candy, kissed the remnants of it off your chin, and you two had walked hand in hand down the streets of seoul, much like the couples you envied on your first walk with him. you remember mostly going to eat spicy food with him because he was lactose intolerant and not a big fan of sweets. he'd even won you a plushie at an arcade that you now cuddle whenever you go to sleep without him. you remember not being scared anymore because you no longer felt the eyes of your stalker, and the only flowers you got were the ones inho would buy for you.
inho hadn't come home for two days and thirteen hours.
you know because you've been counting each hour. there's an unbearable itch in your stomach, and every door opening or closing in the hallway has you jumping and leaving to check. you'd met up with the landlady, insisted that she get someone to go look for him, but she'd merely brushed you off.
your days at work became gloomy and your classmates started to notice. je-hyun got a girlfriend too— one of your seniors. you were happy for him, honestly. but still fucking jealous. you missed your boyfriend, and worst of all, you were worried. he just went away without saying anything, and it filled you with a sense of betrayal.
you were in your own state of denial. no way he could do this to you— give you love and then snatch it away out of nowhere, leaving you empty and cold. you didn't want to believe it. absolutely not.
you were trying to sleep when you heard his name again. you sit up, quickly turning on the lights and jumping to the door.
"—he was supposed to pay his rent a week ago," your landlady says. you open the door and peek out, watch as she guides another man to his door. you wonder if he knows your inho. "i've stopped by everyday since then, but he hasn't come in or picked up his phone. by the way... about his rent... otherwise you'd have to move his stuff out right away—"
the younger guy ensures he'd pay the rent, and you watch curiously as she opens the door for him. "take your time!" she says.
so he definitely knows inho, you think.
you watch with bated breath, only his back being visible to you. you're not sure if you should approach him. suddenly, he's moving, turning around and leaving the apartment as if something came up. you open the door and watch him go— your voice stuck in your throat.
you don't see that guy again. you don't hear from inho again. you don't receive flowers, but the feeling of being watched still remains, although it's less frequent.
three days pass. you're gathering your belongings to leave when je-hyun places a bouquet in front of you. you look up at him, frowning.
"someone left this at the door," he says casually, rubbing the back of his neck. "for you. guess it didn't stop."
he leaves and you frown as you look at the flowers. you hadn't received these in a while. you analyse them— pink carnations paired with some white lilies and forget-me-nots. wrapped up in a white ribbon. you know carnations because they're infamous and can be seen in almost every flower shop. you also know carnations are usually used in weddings. they're a symbol of love and devotion. and forget me nots— there is no need for an explanation. the answer lies in its name. you're pulling your phone out to go through that website— the one that speaks the language of flowers.
perhaps it's your own stupidity for not having realized it before. you're quickly pulling the bouquet forward. no card. there are a myriad of emotions going through you— anger, hurt, and most of all— yearning. your heart yearns for him. it longs for him. your hands tremble as you clutch the edge of the table.
you look at the flowers almost bitterly. you grit your teeth, glaring down at your phone, the website open and displaying words that only evoke feelings of distress out of you. of course, it had to be him. there was no other explanation. flowers symbolizing jealousy right after je-hyun asked you out, you had mentioned how much you liked flowers the day you two went on a walk. them suddenly stopping the day you two started openly dating. you just feel stupid you didn't realize it sooner.
that manipulative prick.
you huff bitterly, your eye twitching as you read the damning text over and over again.
pink carnations — 'ill never forget you.'
inho watches your face through the screen with a glass of whiskey in hand; smiling slightly at the way you glare at him. him as in, the bouquet. he's testing a new thing, trying to see if you've figured it out yet. he's very conveniently placed a camera in this one. if you understand it's him who has been sending you flowers, he's a hundred percent sure you'll take it home and keep it. if you decide to throw it out, that's okay too. the teddy bear he won for you was easy to install a camera in. he gets to see you whenever he wants, even when he's away. watching your sleeping face is rather therapeutic amidst the brutal killings of the players in the games. whenever he starts to miss you, your face is a button away from him. he can't really keep an eye on you at work, but that's alright. he's paid someone to keep watch and make sure you don't find someone else.
it was fun to see the fear etched onto your face whenever you mentioned being stalked— he was the one carrying out the stalking himself, until other duties called. he had to take these measures to ensure he was the only source of your comfort, the only one to rely on. scaring you just a little so it would bring you closer to him. how else would you come to him? you needed a little push. and now he's got you wrapped around his finger, much like you've got him wrapped around yours.
the flowers were just fun. he liked messing with you. a little inside joke with himself— different flowers to express how he felt about you. he wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out. the way they worked to keep most men away was simply an added bonus.
you almost actually getting assaulted was not part of the plan. he'd spiked the kid's drink to make sure he could conveniently step in to save the day— to find you and bring you home. except that disgusting freak of nature decided to lay his dirty hands on you. you don't have to know that he went back to finish the job, that the man is six feet under the ground. much like your dear je-hyun would've been if he hadn't respectfully backed off and gotten himself a girlfriend.
he doesn't think he has anger or jealousy issues, no. he simply does not think that he can live without you anymore. anyone who comes between the two of you, has to go. you're a little naive and easy to manipulate, but it worked in his favour. you trusted him too easily, and he's gotten addicted to the way you make him feel like some hero. he gets to protect you and hold you and forget about everything that he's had to go through. it's a win.
he's seen how miserable you've been without him— the plushie he got you has been spending more time in your arms than your phone, which he thinks is a good development.
you miss him, and he misses you too.
he can judge by the clench of your jaw that you've figured out he was the one behind the flowers. the thought makes him snort slightly. he tilts the glass, glancing down at the clear fluid, before looking up at your face.
you've pulled back. you're picking the bouquet up, and carrying it out. you cross the trash can— and you don't throw it out.
you're taking it home.
a pleased smirk curls upon his face and he nods to himself, taking the remote and turning on his music box.
the notes of 'fly me to the moon' wraps around him like a comforting blanket. he's gonna take this as a hint. if you're taking this bouquet home even after realizing he's the one behind the flowers, it must mean you accept him. and he can make do with that.
you're young and impressionable, and you follow what he says. he could share his ideas with you, see how you react.
and perhaps the next time he sees you, he'll bring you to the games with him.
A/N: this was sooo fun to write!! it took me a few days to finish this and i got so unmotivated because i accidentally deleted a draft at first, but now it turned out so much better than before! i truly hope it doesn't feel rushed or bad, and i know the smut is mid at best but i really tried :( as always feedback is always appreciated, and thank you so much for the support on my fics so far! i love you guys!
tags: @movienerd3000 @testdrivethv @leebyunghunswifey @nerdybarbariancupcake @neganhore @k1ra-park3r @vivdolls @wab-i @stantwicr @creativerambling @yasmim-1007 @makethemgirlsgoloco @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @captaincarmel416 @warlabels @ferrarifinnick @smlbch @izzyyann @meheheasasa @poooopy @endlessfl4mes @selfishlittlebeing @pillowtalk6 @antiromanticbaby
#raven writes#hwang inho x reader#hwang inho x you#frontman x reader#the frontman x reader smut#lee byung hun#player 001 x reader#squid game#squid game fanfic#salesman x reader#frontman x reader angst
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he is never portrayed as an ACTIVE participant in murdering sticks. he attacks nonlethally (except for dark, because he knows that dark wouldn't die from it) when dark starts killing people on stickpage, cho does nothing. during the newgrounds attack, he does NOTHING. during Wanted? he doesn't kill ANY of the mercs. he easily could've, but he just ran.
Before this episode, it had always been my interpretation that Chosen had never killed any stickfigures directly. By this I mean, he never killed anyone from a position like he would've killed Dark if he'd gone through with it in AvA3. He never watched the light leave anyone's eyes. He never felt the ticks of an electrical pulse cease beneath his hands. It was always from a distance. It was always bright. It was always loud.
My evidence for this was always AvA3 itself (Chosen has killed before! He killed AIM in AvA2! He and Dark killed every icon that had sprung to life on the computer in AvA3!), as well as the two stills of StickPage and Newgrounds during The Flashback. From what we could see, Chosen's destructiveness always halted when it came to stickfigures, and sparing Dark was the first evidence of this.
(And there's also the fact that he freaks out when he thinks he realizes that Dark's viruses are gonna massacre stickfigures...even though all the evidence in Dark's workshop and the cliffside portals suggests that Dark was targeting computer IPs and user-aimed websites rather than animation-hosting sites. Interesting conclusion for Chosen to jump to.)
My belief was, that if Chosen had taken any stickfigure lives, they would've been collateral rather than targets.
And I've always been vocal about this belief that Chosen doesn't want to hurt stickfigures. I've gone on multiple tangents about it.
however
It's entirely possible that Mitsi was collateral rather than a target.
(Also I personally don't trust the fire animation to tell us because the series has a habit of changing how it's stylized multiple times within a single season. I have driven myself insane on multiple occasions over this.)
WITH THAT ALL SAID, my actual reason for not buying that Dark killed Mitsi has nothing to do with the fire or the attack-pattern or the camera work or the bizarre lengths this season has gone to ignore Dark’s existence or whatever, and everything to do with themes.
To the best of everyone’s knowledge, The Dark Lord is dead.
If Victim finds out that he was wrong to blame Chosen and the fault lies with Dark instead, what happens to his motivation?
He can’t get revenge on a dead person.
Is his anger and grief supposed to just quietly fizzle out because it no longer has a target?
(And who knows how this would complicate his efforts to get revenge on the animator, since that was something he was pursuing THROUGH his revenge on Mitsi’s killer.)
But even if Dark is still alive…
This season has set up to explore a theme of “just because you’re a better person now doesn’t mean you aren’t still responsible for the consequences of your past actions” with the characters of the animator and The Chosen One both.
If Chosen isn’t the one who killed Mitsi, then what action of his past is he meant to take responsibility for? Scaring unknown numbers of background cameos that don’t receive any narrative focus? Decimating a population that we only saw through the eyes of a few specific characters, who were all focused on Mitsi?
The decimation has the story impact that it does because Mitsi was our focal character while it happened, and she was one of the casualties. She represents that tragedy as a whole.
If Chosen isn’t the one who killed her, he may still be responsible for killing others but the story is gonna drop that thread because if he’s not responsible for killing Mitsi specifically then he has no responsibility for Victim’s grief.
I don’t think "surprise, Chosen killing Mitsi was a red herring, it was actually Dark" is where the story is headed, because it would leave Victim directionless and undermine the arc being set up for Chosen’s character.
in fact, TCO has never killed a stick figure directly. ever.
this post is pretty much a compilation and explanation of stuff that i think pretty clearly points to this FACT. i am EXTREMELY confident this is canon
the biggest indicator of this is that mitsi dies to a thrown fireball.
alan gives us a very clear set of abilities for each of the sticks, and although cho and dark both use fire, it’s clear they use it very differently
dark has these explosive fireballs that he throws that chosen NEVER uses. they share some powers as shown in The Flashback (fire breath, general pyrokinesis, flight using fire)
the fireballs are a power EXCLUSIVE to dark.
there’s examples of chosen throwing fire (like in this one above) but it looks entirely different. it’s lighter, airy, and doesn’t explode on impact. alan has made it so clear how different they are in the episodes leading up to AvA 11. the Box and Wanted was practically a showcase of all chosen’s abilities. ALAN IS TRYING TO TELL US SOMETHING HERE…
lets talk about the newgrounds attack.
during that whole sequence with mitsi when she first is teleported into the background, there’s two important details to notice.
dark is leading the way. chosen is trailing behind him IT’S ALL FIREBALLS. EVERY SINGLE ATTACK. EXPLOSIVE FIREBALLS.
when mitsi is trapped, it’s because of a fireball. when she dies, you’ll never believe this:
EXPLOSION. FIREBALL. no lightning, no light and airy pyrokinesis, no laser eyes. it’s all those damn fireballs
my boy got caught in the fray. all this pretty clearly shows us that dark is to blame for all of this. cho just got all the heat bc agent saw him above mitsi and tattled to his boyfriend who controls the media
i HONESTLY would go as far as to say that chosen was there because he was flying over to try and help mitsi. that one is just a theory though. the rest of this post i’m 100% certain about
he is never portrayed as an ACTIVE participant in murdering sticks. he attacks nonlethally (except for dark, because he knows that dark wouldn't die from it) when dark starts killing people on stickpage, cho does nothing. during the newgrounds attack, he does NOTHING. during Wanted? he doesn't kill ANY of the mercs. he easily could've, but he just ran.
let me be clear: chosen is not free from blame. he let a lot of this slide. he was still friends with dark after the newgrounds attack, even if it left an impact on their relationship. he let dark kill HUNDREDS without stopping him.
that being said, victim’s got the wrong guy. let’s bring dark back and kill him again please i miss him BAD
TL;DR: at the end of the day it’s always TDL’s fault and by extension alan’s for making him Like That. let’s just blow up his PC again and call it even
#animator vs animation#I still need to write out a full comprehensive breakdown of my thoughts on this episode and Chosen specifically#and also the fandom's reaction to him in this new episode#to some extent I do wonder if some folks are just determined to believe that Chosen couldn't have done this thing#and while it does disrupt my previous understanding of him#I'm honestly very intrigued by the change#the idea that he actually wasn't always like this makes me wonder what changed#I wanna see that nuance explored#let him have once been a bad person#that doesn't mean he's not a better person now#you can still want him to not be stuck in the box it's okay
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maybe maybe - jeon wonwoo imagine
hellooooo ~ i need to give myself a pat in the back for this bcs OH MY GOSH EVEN I WAS GIGGLING AND KICKING MY FEET WHILE WRITING THIS. the slooooow burn on this🫠 we love a nonchalant and oa combo (if u know u know)
also i was listening to maybe maybe by lola amour while writing this. give it a listen to get the maximum feels😅
for my other svt fics, check them here
All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.
(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)
You’ve liked Jeon Wonwoo for as long as you can remember. It’s not a fleeting crush or some shallow infatuation—it’s the kind of feeling that lingers, like a persistent shadow. He knows it; everyone does. But as much as your friends tease you about your obvious affection for him, Wonwoo has never acknowledged it.
Not once.
Wonwoo is the epitome of calm indifference. He’s polite, sure, but he never goes out of his way to engage with anyone outside of his tight-knit circle of friends, Vernon and Minghao. They’re always together, laughing at inside jokes and radiating an air of effortless cool that only makes him seem more unreachable.
And yet, you can’t help yourself. You’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame, even though he treats you no differently than anyone else.
Sometimes you wonder if he even notices the little things you do for him—the way you save him a seat in class when he’s running late, or how you always bring an extra drink to study group just in case he wants one. You tell yourself you’re just being nice, but Mimi, your best friend, sees right through you.
“This is ridiculous,” she tells you one afternoon, leaning back in her chair with an exasperated sigh.
The two of you are sitting outside on the campus lawn, the warm sunlight doing little to ease the frustration in her voice. “You’re bending over backward for a guy who can’t even spare you a second glance.”
“He’s not that bad,” you argue weakly, though even you know it’s a poor defense. Mimi raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.
“Not that bad? Y/N, he’s like a brick wall with glasses. Sure, he’s good-looking, but you can’t build a relationship on eye contact alone.”
“I’m not trying to build a relationship!” you protest, though your cheeks heat at the lie. “I just… I like being around him, that’s all.”
Mimi rolls her eyes. “You like torturing yourself, is what you mean. Honestly, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you enjoy the challenge.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe there’s a part of you that holds onto this unrequited crush because it’s safer than the alternative. If you never confess, you can never be rejected. And as much as Wonwoo’s aloofness stings, it’s still better than the thought of him outright telling you he doesn’t feel the same.
But then there are moments—rare, fleeting moments—when you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath his exterior. Like the time you lent him your notes for a class he missed, and he returned them with a quiet “Thanks” and a small, almost imperceptible smile. Or the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than usual when you bumped into him at the library last week.
It’s those moments that keep you hanging on, no matter how much Mimi scolds you for it.
“You’re hopeless,” she says with a shake of her head. But there’s no real malice in her words, just the weary affection of someone who’s watched you pine for too long. “I swear, one day you’re going to look back on this and laugh.”
You doubt it, but you don’t say that out loud. Instead, you change the subject, steering the conversation toward something less painful.
Later that day, you find yourself crossing paths with Wonwoo outside the campus café. He’s with Vernon and Minghao, as usual, but when he sees you, he slows his pace, letting his friends walk ahead without him.
“Hey,” he says, his voice as steady and unreadable as ever.
“Hi,” you manage, your heart doing its usual somersault at the sight of him.
For a moment, you stand there, unsure of what to say. But before the silence can stretch too long, Wonwoo speaks again.
“Thanks for the notes,” he says simply.
It’s not much, just two words, but the sincerity in his tone catches you off guard. For once, it feels like he’s really looking at you, not just through you. And in that moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, there’s hope after all.
It’s a small step, but it’s enough to keep you going.
Mimi is relentless, as she always is when it comes to your love life—or lack thereof. She’s leaning against your desk chair in your dorm room, scrolling through her phone with a dramatic sigh.
“I’m telling you, Y/N, this guy is perfect for you. He’s into photography, loves indie films, and he’s even in your lit class. Plus, he doesn’t act like he’s living in a perpetual state of indifference.” She shoves her phone in your face, showing you a photo of a guy you vaguely recognize from class. He’s cute, objectively speaking, with a kind smile and a soft, approachable vibe.
But you shake your head before Mimi can even finish her pitch. “I’m not interested.”
Mimi groans, tossing her phone onto your bed. “Why do you do this to yourself? It’s not like you’re dating Wonwoo, or that he’s even trying to date you. You’re wasting your time on a guy who can’t even bother to hold a real conversation with you.”
Her words hit harder than she probably intended, and for a moment, you feel the weight of the truth behind them. She’s right—nothing about your feelings for Wonwoo makes sense. You know it’s a losing game, but every time you even consider the idea of moving on, it feels wrong. Like you’d be betraying something you’ve held onto for so long.
“It’s not that simple,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you intended.
Mimi softens at your tone, sinking onto the edge of your bed. “Then make it simple, Y/N. I get it—you like him. But you can’t keep doing this to yourself. You deserve someone who actually sees you.”
“I don’t know if I want someone else to see me,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
It’s frustrating—you’re frustrated with yourself.
Every time you see Wonwoo, it’s like all the logic and advice you’ve been given evaporates into thin air. All you see is him: the way his glasses slide down his nose when he’s reading, or the rare laugh that lights up his face when Vernon says something ridiculous. It’s like he’s carved a permanent space in your mind, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make him leave.
Mimi looks at you like she’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re not even ready to like someone else, are you?”
You shake your head, a small, self-deprecating smile playing on your lips. “I don’t think so. It’s stupid, right? Holding onto feelings for someone who probably doesn’t even think about me.”
“It’s not stupid,” she says, surprising you. “It’s just… hard to watch. You’re one of the best people I know, Y/N, and it sucks to see you stuck on someone who doesn’t appreciate that.”
You’re about to respond when your phone buzzes on the desk. It’s a notification from the group chat for your literature project, and your heart skips a beat when you see Wonwoo’s name among the participants.
“Speak of the devil,” Mimi mutters when she notices your expression. She doesn’t need to ask who the message is from.
You open the chat to find a simple message from Wonwoo: I have some extra notes from class if anyone needs them. Just let me know.
It’s not directed at you specifically, but your heart still flutters at the thought of him offering to help. Mimi catches the way your lips twitch into a faint smile and groans dramatically, flopping back onto your bed.
“You’re hopeless,” she declares, though her tone is more resigned than annoyed.
You don’t argue with her this time. Maybe you are hopeless, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. Because even though it doesn’t make sense, even though it’s frustrating and irrational and probably a little pathetic, a part of you still believes there’s something worth holding onto.
The next day, you’re determined to take a small step forward.
Wonwoo’s message about the notes keeps replaying in your mind, like a sign you can’t ignore. It’s a flimsy excuse to talk to him, sure, but it’s enough to make you gather your courage and head toward the study hall where you know he likes to hang out.
You spot him right away, sitting at his usual corner table. His laptop is open, and a notebook lies beside it, his familiar neat handwriting filling the pages. But before you can take another step, you see her.
She’s sitting across from him, her dark hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. She’s gorgeous in a natural, effortless way that makes you want to disappear on the spot. And the way Wonwoo looks at her—it’s like someone punched you in the stomach. His smile is soft, easy, like he’s known her forever. He’s speaking to her with a comfort and warmth that he’s never shown you.
You freeze in place, your confidence evaporating in an instant. All the what-ifs and maybes that have kept you going suddenly feel childish and naive. You turn on your heel and leave before either of them can notice you.
The rest of the week feels like a blur. You don’t have the energy to pretend everything is fine, and Mimi is quick to notice.
“What’s wrong with you lately?” she asks on Thursday, her eyes narrowing in concern as she sits across from you in the campus café. “You’ve been moping around like someone stole your dog.”
You shrug, poking at your untouched sandwich. “It’s nothing.”
“Liar,” she says immediately. “Come on, spill.”
When you hesitate, she leans in closer, her voice softening. “Is it Wonwoo?”
The look on your face is answer enough.
Mimi lets out a groan, rubbing her temples. “Y/N, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. If he’s making you feel like this—”
“It’s not his fault,” you cut in quickly. “He doesn’t even know how I feel.”
“Exactly,” she says, exasperated. “You’re tearing yourself apart over a guy who doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you.”
You don’t respond, and Mimi sighs. After a moment of silence, she leans forward with a determined look in her eyes.
“Alright, that’s it. I’m not letting you mope around all weekend. There’s a party on Saturday, and you’re coming with me.”
You open your mouth to protest, but she holds up a hand to stop you.
“No excuses. You need a distraction, and I’m going to make sure you have fun whether you like it or not.”
True to her word, Saturday evening finds you standing in front of the mirror, dressed in an outfit Mimi picked out for you. It’s a little more daring than your usual style—an off-the-shoulder black dress that hugs your figure in all the right places—but Mimi insists it’s perfect.
“You look hot,” she declares, grinning as she adjusts the necklace around your neck. “Wonwoo who?”
You laugh despite yourself, though the sound feels hollow. Mimi doesn’t miss the way your smile falters, and she grabs your hands, forcing you to meet her gaze.
“Listen, Y/N. Tonight is about you. Forget about Wonwoo, forget about everything else, and just have fun. You deserve to feel good about yourself, okay?”
“Okay,” you murmur, even though you’re not sure you believe it.
But as Mimi drags you out the door and toward the party, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she’s right. Maybe it’s time to let go, even if just for one night.
The bass from the speakers reverberates through your chest the moment you step inside the party venue. It’s dimly lit, with neon lights flashing and a sea of people crowded around the dance floor and bar.
You feel out of place immediately, but Mimi, ever the extrovert, is in her element. She practically radiates confidence as she scans the room, her hand firmly gripping your wrist.
“This is going to be fun,” she says with a grin, already pulling you toward the bar.
“Mimi, wait—” you start to protest, but she’s not listening. Within moments, she’s ordering shots, her energy infectiously bold.
“Two tequila shots, please!” she calls out over the noise, turning to you with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Come on, Y/N. You said you’d let loose tonight!”
“I didn’t say I’d drink,” you mumble, eyeing the small glasses as they’re placed in front of you.
Mimi rolls her eyes. “One shot won’t kill you. It’s called liquid courage. You’ll thank me later.”
Before you can object again, she’s shoving one of the glasses into your hand. Everything feels like it’s happening too fast—the music, the lights, the crowd, and now this. You glance down at the clear liquid and then at Mimi, who’s already downed hers like a pro.
“Cheers to forgetting about all your worries!” she declares, clinking her empty glass against yours.
You sigh, realizing you have no way out, and tip the shot back. The alcohol burns as it goes down, and you cough slightly, grimacing at the taste. Mimi laughs and pats your back.
“There you go! See? That wasn’t so bad,” she says, already signaling for another round.
As Mimi orders more drinks, you glance around the room, trying to get your bearings.
You don’t notice the way heads turn in your direction, but Wonwoo does.
From his spot in the corner of the room, he’s watching you.
He’d seen you the moment you walked in, though he wasn’t the only one. It’s hard not to notice you tonight. You look stunning, completely different from your usual casual, understated style. The black dress you’re wearing accentuates your figure, and there’s a confidence in the way you carry yourself—even if you don’t feel it.
Vernon nudges him lightly, leaning in to murmur, “Isn’t that Y/N?”
Wonwoo doesn’t reply, his gaze fixed on you as you stand at the bar with Mimi. He’s used to seeing you in hoodies and jeans, always looking comfortable and approachable. But tonight, you’re turning heads left and right, and it’s clear you’re out of your element.
“She cleans up well,” Minghao comments casually, sipping his drink.
Wonwoo doesn’t respond, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly. He watches as Mimi drags you further into the chaos of the party, her energy pulling you along like a whirlwind. You seem hesitant, your eyes wide as you take in the unfamiliar environment, but there’s something endearing about it.
For a moment, Wonwoo feels a strange pang in his chest, though he can’t quite place it. Maybe it’s because he’s not used to seeing you like this, so far removed from the quiet kindness you usually exude. Or maybe it’s the way other people are looking at you—the guys whose eyes linger a little too long, the girls whispering behind their hands.
“Dude,” Vernon says, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You good?”
Wonwoo blinks, finally tearing his gaze away. “Yeah,” he mutters, though his voice lacks conviction.
But even as his friends return to their conversation, Wonwoo can’t help but glance back at you. There’s something about tonight that feels different, and for the first time in a long time, he wonders if he’s the one being left behind.
The alcohol was starting to buzz in your veins, making the room feel warmer and the noise more distant. Mimi was in her element, laughing and chatting with a group of students you vaguely recognized from campus. Somehow, you’d gotten swept up in their drinking games, and before you knew it, one shot had turned into two, then three.
Now, you were standing in a loose circle, your nerves on edge as you watched the current game unfold. Someone had explained it a moment ago: take the shot, then grab the lemon wedge held between another person’s lips. It was bold, far outside your comfort zone, but you didn’t want to be the odd one out.
“Your turn, Y/N!” someone called, handing you a small shot glass filled with tequila.
Your hands felt clammy as you accepted it, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t even look at the person who was supposed to hold the lemon for you—your nerves wouldn’t let you. All you could think about was how awkward this was going to be, and how much you wished you could disappear into the floor.
You took a deep breath, closing your eyes briefly as you downed the shot in one go.
The burn of the alcohol hit first, followed by a rush of heat in your chest. When you opened your eyes and turned your head to face whoever had volunteered to hold the lemon, you froze.
Wonwoo didn’t expect it to happen so soon, but there you were, standing at the bar with a shot in hand, the challenge in your eyes as you glanced at the person next to you holding a lemon.
And then—before he even realized what he was doing—he found himself walking over.
You blinked, wondering if the tequila was playing tricks on you. But no—he was standing right in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face as if this was the most natural thing in the world. The room seemed to fall away, the noise and chaos fading into the background.
The lemon wedge was between his lips, his sharp gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.
Your heart felt like it might burst out of your chest as he leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. His touch was warm, steady, grounding you even as your mind spiraled.
Every nerve in your body was on high alert, the proximity making your head spin even more than the alcohol.
The way you looked at him when you saw him standing there, so close, made something stir in his chest. He was used to seeing you in passing, in casual greetings, but never like this.
Never with this... spark in your eyes, the nervous energy swirling between you two as if the whole room had faded into the background.
His hand found its way to your face without him thinking about it. It was like instinct, like he was meant to touch you, to make the moment real, to ground you in the present. He could feel your breath against his lips as he held the lemon between his teeth, his own heartbeat quickening as he leaned in. The closeness was intoxicating, and even though everything around you was chaotic, there was a stillness between you two—something unspoken that hummed in the air.
His lips brushed against yours, and for a split second, the world stopped moving. The taste of tequila, the sharpness of the lemon, it all blurred together, leaving just the feeling of your presence, warm and electric. It was over in an instant, but the memory lingered like an echo in his mind.
When he pulled away, he noticed the slight tremble in your breath, the flush creeping up your cheeks. His fingers lingered on your skin, just for a moment, before he let go and took a step back. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or something else that made him act on impulse, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
“Careful with those shots,” he said, his voice steady as he turned to leave, wanting to disappear into the crowd before he did something even more foolish.
And just like that, he was gone, disappearing back into the crowd.
You stood there, your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering if what had just happened was real—or if it was just another tequila-induced dream.
The morning light is harsh, seeping through the blinds and hitting you like a freight train.
Your head pounds, your mouth is dry, and you feel like your body is made of lead. Every movement feels like a chore, and the only thing you want is to pull the covers over your head and pretend like the world doesn't exist.
But then you remember last night. Bits and pieces of the party flash through your foggy mind—Mimi dragging you into the chaos, the shots, the people... and then, the moment with Wonwoo.
You sit up, your stomach flipping at the thought of it.
What had happened? Was it real? Or just a tequila-fueled dream? Your heart sinks into your stomach as the hangover makes itself known in full force. You groan, leaning back against your pillow.
Mimi, ever the morning person, bursts into your room without knocking, as if she doesn’t notice the state you’re in.
“Morning!” she says brightly, a little too brightly, given your current condition. She’s holding a water bottle and some aspirin in her hand. “Here, drink this. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“Thanks,” you mutter, taking the bottle gratefully, but your eyes are still squinting against the harsh light. “Mimi... what happened last night? What... what did I do?”
Mimi plops down on the edge of your bed, clearly already recovered from whatever wildness the night had thrown her way. She grins, almost too smugly for your current state.
“Let me think,” she says, tapping her chin like she’s in deep contemplation. “Well, first you got a little tipsy, then you got a lot tipsy... You were a little shy at first, but after a few shots, you really started to loosen up!”
You wince, already imagining how embarrassing you must have been. “And…?”
“Then,” she continues, barely able to contain her laughter, “you and Wonwoo had a moment.”
You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. “Wait, what?”
“Oh yeah,” Mimi says, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You two were definitely the talk of the night. You guys played that game, and then...” She pauses for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying every second of your discomfort. “...Well, let’s just say the lemon wedge wasn’t the only thing shared.”
Your brain stumbles over the words as the memory floods back. You and Wonwoo, so close, his hands on your face, the taste of tequila and lemon... And then the kiss, the soft brush of his lips against yours, lingering for just a heartbeat.
You feel your cheeks heat up, even as you cringe internally. “That wasn’t a kiss, was it?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh, it definitely was,” Mimi says with a teasing grin, clearly delighted by the reaction she’s getting from you. “A very brief one, but yeah. It happened.”
You bury your face in your hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Oh my god, I’m going to die.”
“No, no, no.” Mimi leans in, trying to comfort you—though her laughter is a little too apparent. “It wasn’t a big deal! You didn’t embarrass yourself too badly. Besides, from what I saw, he didn’t look like he minded.”
You look up at her, eyes wide. “What do you mean? Did he say anything?”
Mimi shrugs, her grin turning a little more thoughtful. “He didn’t say much”
Your heart skips a beat. You hadn’t even considered that. Did he... stay because he was just being polite? Or was there something else there?
"Did anything else happen after that?" you ask cautiously.
Mimi shakes her head. "No, you two went your separate ways pretty quickly after that. I mean, you were a little tipsy, so I didn't want to push you too much. But trust me, you're not imagining it. Something happened, even if you're too hungover to remember all the details.”
You lean back against the pillows, the weight of her words settling in your chest. Wonwoo. That moment. Had he really felt something too? Or was it just the alcohol making you think there was more to it than there actually was?
"Mimi..." you trail off, unsure how to even phrase your next question. "What do I do now?"
Mimi's expression softens slightly, though she still has that mischievous glint in her eye. "You let it play out. Don't overthink it. If something’s meant to happen, it will. If not, then at least you got a pretty wild story to tell."
You nod slowly, still unsure about everything. The hangover isn’t making things any easier, and your head feels like it’s full of unanswered questions.
But as you drink the water and swallow the aspirin she handed you, you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the beginning of something you’ve been waiting for. Even if you don’t have all the answers yet.
The next few days felt like an emotional rollercoaster, and you were stuck somewhere near the top, trying to keep your balance.
After last night’s chaos, you couldn’t bring yourself to face Wonwoo. You avoided him like the plague, keeping your distance whenever you saw him around campus. It wasn’t because you regretted what happened, but because... well, it felt like you were the only one who cared about it, and that made everything awkward.
Wonwoo didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge you or the kiss. He acted like it was nothing, like it was just some silly game, just like the other shots and the other people. But the longer you avoided him, the more you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was aware of it—aware of you. And that only made it worse.
His friends had caught on, too. Vernon had laughed it off, saying it was cute how you were avoiding Wonwoo. Minghao seemed amused. They didn’t think much of it, but you couldn’t ignore the tension that built up every time you crossed paths with them.
But it wasn’t just them noticing. Wonwoo was noticing too. You could feel his eyes on you whenever you went to class or sat in the library. His usual nonchalant demeanor didn’t give anything away, but there was something in the way he lingered a little longer, just enough to make you feel seen, even when you wanted to disappear.
Then, one afternoon, when you thought you were finally in the clear, it happened.
You were walking home, head down, lost in your thoughts as the weight of the last few days pressed heavily on your shoulders. You should’ve stayed in and avoided the outside world. But, no, you were out here, walking alone, hoping the fresh air would clear your head.
And then, you heard the familiar sound of an engine approaching. You looked up just in time to see Wonwoo’s car slowing beside you. Your heart skipped, and for a moment, everything inside you screamed to turn around and run. You were already panicking, your steps quickening, but before you could escape, the car came to a stop beside you.
Wonwoo rolled down the window, his expression as unreadable as ever, but his voice—his voice was what made you freeze.
“Y/N,” he called out, and your pulse quickened. You turn slowly to face him
"Hey, Wonwoo. Uh what's up?" you casually, trying to hide the fact that your face is burning because of him and not the cold winds
"Just got out of class, are you walking home?"
"Yea, on my way home too. Anyways, I better get going. See you... around" you wave goodbye and started to walk again.
You hear the car door open and steps behind you, "Are you avoiding me?" his question makes you stop on your tracks. Turning around to see him leaning against the passenger side of his car
“Uh... I... It’s just—” you stutter, and then you realize you can’t lie about it anymore. “It’s because of... the kiss.”
His face doesn’t shift, no surprise or confusion. He just looks at you, his dark eyes locking onto yours for a moment too long. And then, as if it’s nothing at all, he shrugs.
“It wasn’t even a kiss, Y/N,” he says coolly, as though it’s no big deal. “It was just... part of the game. Nothing to worry about.”
The words hit you like a bucket of ice water. You’re disappointed, though you try not to show it. You wanted something more. You wanted him to acknowledge the tension, the fact that there was something between you two, something real.
But of course, that was just how Wonwoo was—nonchalant, distant, and always acting like everything was just nothing.
You couldn’t help the slight sinking feeling in your chest. You forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Right. Of course,” you mutter, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the disappointment you feel.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. You feel awkward, standing there on the sidewalk, his car still idling beside you. But then he speaks again, his tone softening just slightly, though still with that signature aloofness.
“Get in. I’ll drive you home.” he opens the passenger door, waiting for you.
You hesitate. You should just say no, continue walking, put some distance between you. But you’re tired, emotionally drained, and there's something about his voice—something about the way he’s offering that makes it hard to refuse. You sigh, not knowing what to say but not wanting to make things worse. You step toward the car, sliding into the passenger seat without another word.
As he pulls away, the silence in the car is thick, and you can’t stop the thoughts that swirl in your head. You want to ask him, want to know if that kiss meant anything to him, or if he really did feel nothing about it.
But that’s just how Wonwoo was, wasn’t it? Always distant, always playing it cool, never letting anyone get too close.
The drive to your place feels like an eternity, but in the back of your mind, you know this silence between you two is only going to build the tension more. You just wish he would break it.
It wasn’t easy, but you were getting better at avoiding him. The subtle things you used to do for him—saving him a seat in the library, offering him drinks or homemade cookies—had all stopped. You still couldn’t bring yourself to fully confront your feelings for him, and honestly, it felt like the only way to protect yourself was to distance yourself from him as much as possible.
You told yourself it was for the best. You told yourself that the space you were creating would help you get over him. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much time passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching, always noticing.
And, of course, he noticed. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he was observant, maybe more so than he let on. He noticed that you stopped going out of your way to be kind to him. He noticed the absence of the small, thoughtful gestures you used to offer. At first, he didn’t say anything, uncertain of what was going on, or whether he even had the right to ask you about it.
But eventually, he couldn’t take the silence anymore.
It was late in the afternoon when you were walking alone on campus, heading toward the library to meet up with Mimi. The cool breeze made your hair dance around your face, and the noise of the campus life seemed distant, as if you were in your own little bubble.
As you passed by the gym, you saw him. Wonwoo. He had just finished his workout, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his T-shirt sticking to his body in that way it always did after a session. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, but you quickly turned your attention elsewhere, pretending you hadn’t seen him.
But he saw you. Of course, he did.
“Y/N,” Wonwoo called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise, his footsteps quickening to match yours. You tried not to flinch as you heard him approaching, but your pulse was racing.
You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him, hoping your expression didn’t betray the nervousness bubbling up inside you. “Wonwoo?” you said, keeping your voice steady even though it felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest.
He stopped in front of you, looking at you for a beat too long, like he was sizing you up. The look on his face was unreadable, but you could see the confusion in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed slightly as he took you in.
"Why did you stop?" he asked, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.
"Stop?" You repeated, confused by his question. What was he even talking about?
"Yeah," he continued, his voice casual, but there was something different in it now. Something that made you feel like you were under a microscope. "You stopped... saving me seats, or bringing me stuff. You used to do that all the time."
You didn’t know how to respond. A part of you wanted to lie, to say it was no big deal, that you were just too busy or distracted with school, but something in his eyes made you hesitate. The truth, the real reason you were avoiding him, was too complicated. You couldn’t say it outright.
“I just… I guess I’ve been busy,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “Things just… changed, I guess.”
Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, as though trying to understand, but he didn’t push. There was no challenge in his voice, no annoyance. It was just curiosity, genuine and unassuming.
"Okay," he said after a beat, his eyes still locked on you. “I just thought you were mad at me or something.”
You felt a pang of guilt at his words, but you brushed it aside. “I’m not mad, Wonwoo. I’m just... I don’t know." You shook your head, unsure of how to explain your feelings without making things even more awkward. “I guess I just needed space.”
There was a pause, and then, for the first time in a while, he looked almost... vulnerable. "Space? For what?"
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. You could hear the underlying question in his voice, even if he wasn’t asking it directly. Why had you pulled away from him? Why had you stopped the small things that used to come so naturally?
Before you could say anything else, Wonwoo let out a small sigh, and though his expression was still unreadable, there was something softer in his tone. “Alright. I just wanted to know.”
Without waiting for you to respond, he turned to leave, his steps slow but purposeful. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him walk away, the weight of his question lingering in the air between you.
You couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment, though you weren’t sure what exactly you were disappointed in. Was it because he hadn’t pushed you to explain? Or was it because, deep down, you were still waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel like your feelings weren’t so one-sided after all?
But that was just how Wonwoo was, wasn’t it? Detached, distant, and never quite giving you the answers you needed.
And yet, even as you watched him disappear into the distance, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder—maybe he did want to know.
The cool breeze of the evening felt nice against your skin as you walked through the quiet neighborhood, sipping on your banana milk. The streets were relatively empty, the soft hum of the evening a welcome relief after a busy week. You didn’t have a particular destination in mind—just wanted to clear your head and enjoy the peace for a while.
As you walked past the familiar basketball court, you spotted a figure out of the corner of your eye. At first, you didn’t think much of it, but then the silhouette registered in your mind. It was Wonwoo.
You stopped in your tracks, unsure whether to approach him or just keep walking. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, too focused on dribbling the ball and taking shots at the hoop. The setting sun cast a warm glow over the court, and for a moment, you found yourself just watching him. There was something about his movements that seemed different, something tight in the way he played—like he was working through something that was bothering him.
Maybe it was the way his jaw was clenched or the way his shoulders were hunched. He looked almost frustrated, the usual nonchalance replaced by something more intense. You stood there, quietly sipping your drink, lost in thought as you watched him.
You were so absorbed in the moment that you didn’t see the ball coming toward you. It hit you squarely on the head before you could react.
"Ouch!" you exclaimed, wincing as you staggered back a step.
Wonwoo’s head snapped toward you immediately, his eyes wide with concern. He jogged over, his long legs covering the distance quickly.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with worry. He stood in front of you, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of injury.
You rubbed your head, trying to play it off as no big deal. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t paying attention,” you muttered, but you could tell by the way Wonwoo was looking at you that he wasn’t convinced.
“Are you sure?” He reached up to gently touch the spot where the ball had hit you, his fingers lightly brushing the area. His touch was surprisingly soft, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest despite the situation.
“Really, I’m fine,” you said quickly, pulling back slightly. The last thing you needed was to be caught up in another one of these awkward moments with him.
But before you could brush it off entirely, something in you gave way. The distance you’d been trying to maintain, the walls you’d carefully built to protect yourself—suddenly, it felt so fragile. Maybe it was the way Wonwoo was looking at you so intently, or maybe it was the fact that it had been days since you last spoke. Whatever it was, the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop them.
"I just thought I was being too much," you murmured, your gaze dropping to the ground. "And it’s not like you liked it."
Wonwoo froze, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed your words.
The air between you seemed to thicken, the awkwardness of the situation now mixed with something more vulnerable. You could feel your heart beating faster, the confession hanging in the air like a weight.
You regretted saying it the moment it left your lips, but it felt like the truth—no matter how painful it was. You didn’t want to keep putting yourself out there, offering him small gestures and favors if he wasn’t interested in them, or in you.
For a long moment, Wonwoo didn’t say anything. His gaze softened, and he seemed to be carefully considering his next words. It wasn’t the detached, nonchalant Wonwoo you were used to.
This time, he seemed almost... human.
"You’re not being too much," he said quietly, his voice lacking its usual coldness. He met your eyes, and for the first time in a while, you saw something different in his gaze—something that wasn’t easy to define. "And I didn’t think it was annoying or anything."
You weren’t sure if you believed him, but the sincerity in his voice made you hesitate. Was he really saying that? Did he mean it?
“I thought you wouldn’t want me to keep doing those things for you if you didn’t care.”
Wonwoo’s expression softened even more, and he let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that was far more human than the usual composed Wonwoo you knew.
“You’re not being too much, and I guess I see why you think I didn't care. I never said I didn't” he says, this time with more conviction. “I just…” He trailed off, like he was searching for the right words. “I just didn’t know what to make of it. You were doing all these things, and I didn’t know how to react.”
There it was. The reason for his distance. The reason for his coldness. He hadn’t known how to handle your kindness. He hadn’t known what to do with the way you made him feel, and so he had kept his distance, just as you had.
“I’m sorry,” he added after a beat, looking slightly embarrassed, as though the admission was a little difficult for him.
You didn’t know what to say, your mind swirling with a mix of emotions. Had you really been wrong all along? Had he cared, but just not known how to show it?
You were so taken aback by his answer that your mind couldn't keep up. The words he had said, so simple, yet so unexpected, rattled your thoughts. I never said I didn’t care. Had you misread everything? Had all your attempts to keep your distance been for nothing?
"But then the kiss..."
"That was me being stupid, I should've apologized for invading your space like that and you look really bothered by it. I was being dumb"
"Well you did say it was just a game" you mumble
"Like I said, I was being dumb and I apologize" he shoots you a quick apologetic smile
Before you could process anything more, your face heated up with embarrassment. You felt suddenly shy, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe.
“I—” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You felt a nervous energy surge through you, a mix of confusion and the rush of emotions you were trying to keep hidden.
“I’m fine, really.” You managed to give him a small, flustered smile, hoping it would make him stop worrying about you.
But Wonwoo wasn’t convinced. He stepped a little closer, eyes scanning you with concern. “You don’t seem fine,” he said, his brow furrowing as he looked you over. “You sure you’re not concussed or something? You hit your head pretty hard.”
Your heart raced at the proximity, and you could feel the overwhelming urge to escape before you made a bigger fool of yourself. He was too close.
“No, really, I’m fine,” you said quickly, the words coming out in a rush as you took a step back. You were panicking, trying to make sense of everything, but all you wanted in that moment was to get away from him. To breathe. To process what had just happened.
Before you knew it, your feet were already moving, backing away from him at a faster pace. You didn’t even think about it—your body just reacted, the instinct to escape taking over.
“Y/N?” Wonwoo called after you, his voice filled with concern, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t deal with this right now. Not with him standing there, looking so sincere and worried, when you were still trying to understand everything that had just happened.
“I’m sorry, I really have to go!” you shouted over your shoulder, not daring to look back.
You could hear him calling your name again, but you didn’t stop. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you turned down the nearby street, running as fast as you could without looking back.
You kept running, trying to outrun the mess of emotions that swirled inside you. The awkwardness, the guilt, the confusion—it was all too much. And you couldn’t deal with it now.
As you finally slowed down, your breath coming in heavy gasps, you leaned against a nearby wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your heartbeat. You’d never done anything like that before—just ran away from a conversation like it was nothing. But in that moment, it felt like the only thing you could do.
What had just happened? Why did his words make you feel like everything inside you was unraveling?
You were doing well—at least, you thought you were.
For the past few days, you had managed to avoid any direct interaction with Wonwoo. You kept your distance, keeping your head down whenever he was around, avoiding his gaze, and hiding whenever you could. It was easier that way. You convinced yourself it was better this way.
But then, on this particular day, as you were gathering your things at the end of class, preparing to leave, you felt a tug on the hood of your jacket. You froze, instinctively jerking away from the sudden contact.
"Y/N," a calm voice spoke, and you looked up to find Wonwoo standing there, looking down at you with a slightly amused, yet nonchalant expression. He didn’t seem angry, just... observing.
You felt your heart skip a beat, and before you could stop yourself, your cheeks began to heat up. His gaze was steady, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as if he was asking you, Are you really doing this?
You didn’t know how to respond. Every part of you wanted to turn away and just leave before things got any worse, but your feet felt rooted to the spot.
“I... I wasn’t... trying to hide,” you stammered, but your voice came out weaker than you’d intended.
Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, not saying anything at first. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone spoke volumes. He was just waiting for you to admit what was going on.
You shifted uncomfortably, biting your lower lip as you awkwardly tried to avoid his gaze. “I... didn’t know how to talk to you,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been... confusing. And I thought... maybe it was better to just keep my distance.”
Wonwoo didn’t seem angry. In fact, the amused look on his face lingered, but there was something else there, something softer that you weren’t used to seeing from him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now,” he said in that same calm tone, his voice unbothered. “But running away won’t make this go away, you know.”
You winced at his words, feeling the weight of them more than you wanted to admit. But you couldn’t deny that he was right. It wasn’t going to disappear just because you ran away from it.
“I... I don’t know what to say to you,” you confessed, feeling all your anxiety bubbling up again. “I don’t want to make things awkward. I just...”
“Just what?” Wonwoo asked, his expression unreadable now, his voice still quiet but insistent. “You think I won’t understand?”
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t know if you will,” you murmured, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I thought maybe... maybe it was easier to just pretend it didn’t matter.”
Wonwoo studied you for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. “You think it doesn’t matter?” he asked, his voice low, almost thoughtful. “You’re the one who’s been giving me things, doing things for me. It matters.”
You felt your heart beat faster, unsure of how to handle this newfound vulnerability in his voice. It was unlike him, and it was making everything even more complicated.
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you said quietly, your hands still fidgeting with the sleeves of your jacket. “I thought... maybe I was just being annoying.”
Wonwoo let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Y/N... you weren’t being annoying. I just didn’t know how to respond to you, okay?” His voice softened further, a hint of frustration in it now, but not at you—at himself, maybe. "I didn't know what you wanted from me."
You stared at him, unsure what to say. His words were hitting you in a way you hadn’t expected, and the confusion that had been gnawing at you for so long started to ebb, replaced by a different kind of uncertainty.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.
He looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed by his own admission, but then his gaze returned to yours. “I didn’t know how to. It’s easier for me to just... not talk about these things." He paused, then gave you a small, almost hesitant smile. "But I’m trying, okay?”
The sincerity in his words made your chest ache, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, but at the same time, it was replaced by something new—something you weren’t sure you were ready for.
“So... what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, almost afraid of the answer.
Wonwoo stepped closer, a subtle movement that somehow felt like the most intimate thing. His expression was still calm, but there was a softness in it now that made your heart race. “Now, we talk. No more running away.”
You didn’t know what that would mean for you, for him, for whatever this was between you. But right now, it felt like you might finally be able to stop avoiding the truth.
You find yourself sitting across him at a diner outside campus. The booth was cozy, the dim lighting giving the place a warm, inviting atmosphere. But despite the warmth of the surroundings, you felt cold. The walls you’d carefully built around yourself seemed to be crumbling, and the closer you got to Wonwoo, the more vulnerable you felt.
You hadn’t said much since you’d arrived, your gaze bouncing around the diner, avoiding his eyes whenever they found yours.
Wonwoo, however, was watching you with quiet amusement, his gaze flickering between you and the menu in his hands. He could tell you were uncomfortable, restlessly fiddling with your hands, your eyes constantly darting away whenever he caught you looking at him.
"Hey," he finally said, his voice calm but carrying a teasing edge. "You seem a little... tense."
You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, but before you could say anything, you noticed your own body language—a slight fidget, your shoulders stiff, your legs crossed tightly. You shifted in your seat, trying to make yourself comfortable, but it wasn’t working. You couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze on you.
“I... I just don’t like sitting across from people,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze still averted. “It’s too much pressure, I guess.”
Wonwoo didn’t hesitate. Without saying a word, he slid out of the booth, shifting to the side next to you. The movement was casual, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. He wasn’t judging you for your discomfort. Instead, he was meeting you halfway, making you feel... seen.
He settled beside you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned back against the booth, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. He was so close now, and you felt a sudden rush of warmth flood your chest. Your heart skipped a beat, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. It was from the unexpected comfort of his presence.
“Better?” he asked, his voice low and surprisingly gentle, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of unease.
You nodded, but this time, you didn’t shy away from meeting his gaze. The proximity made everything feel a little more real, a little more grounded. And, for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel the need to run away.
“Yeah,” you murmured, still a little flustered, but this time, the smile on your lips was more genuine, more relaxed. “This feels better.”
Wonwoo smirked, clearly pleased with your response, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable around me.”
“So…” You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to navigate this new dynamic between you. “What now?”
Wonwoo’s gaze softened, and he shrugged casually, though his eyes held a certain sincerity. “Now, we eat, and we talk. You don’t have to worry about running away anymore.” He paused, then added with a small smile, “And no more avoiding me, okay?”
You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. This wasn’t going to be easy, but maybe, just maybe, you were ready to start figuring things out—with him, and with yourself.
You nodded slowly, the silence between you wasn’t exactly awkward, but it wasn’t easy, either. It felt like there were a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air, and neither of you knew how to address them.
Then, Wonwoo spoke, his voice calm and steady. “What’s your go-to drink order?”
You blinked, startled by the question. Out of all the things he could’ve asked, that wasn’t what you expected. “Uh…” You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back down at your hands. “Probably... iced vanilla latte. Or banana milk,” you added with a nervous laugh, gesturing to the nearly empty carton in front of you, you pulled it out of your bag a few minutes ago.
Wonwoo nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I figured you liked banana milk. I see you drinking it a lot.”
Your cheeks heated up at his observation, and you ducked your head, suddenly very aware of how closely he paid attention to you. “Yeah, it’s kind of a comfort drink,” you admitted softly. “What about you?”
“Americano,” he replied easily. “No sugar.”
You scrunched your nose at that, and Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle at your reaction. “What?” he teased. “Not a fan of bitter drinks?”
“Not really,” you admitted, daring a quick glance at him before looking away again. “I like sweet things.”
Wonwoo tilted his head slightly, his gaze never leaving you. “What’s your favorite dessert?”
You bit your lip, trying to think. The way he was watching you so intently made your brain feel foggy, and it was hard to focus. “Probably... cheesecake,” you finally said. “Strawberry cheesecake.”
He hummed thoughtfully, as if filing that piece of information away. “Strawberry cheesecake,” he repeated, his voice soft. “Noted.”
“Why are you asking me this?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.
Wonwoo shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just trying to get to know you better.”
That answer caught you off guard. You looked down at your lap, your hands twisting nervously. “But... why?”
He didn’t answer right away, and when you finally gathered the courage to look up at him, you found him watching you with a softness in his eyes that made your heart ache. “Because I want to,” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain.
Your breath caught in your throat, and you quickly looked away again, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
Wonwoo didn’t push you to say anything else. He let the silence settle again, but it didn’t feel as heavy this time. It felt... different. Like he was giving you space to process, to breathe.
And for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe he wasn’t as far out of reach as you’d always thought.
It's suppose to be another normal day. You're in class, sitting next to MImi still feeling sleepy but then something slides infront of you.
You stared at the banana milk on your desk like it had suddenly sprouted wings. Slowly, you turned back to look at Wonwoo, who was casually flipping through his notebook like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Mimi, sitting to your right, nudged your arm, her expression a mix of confusion and barely-contained glee. “What’s going on?” she whispered, her eyes darting between you and Wonwoo like she was trying to piece together a crime scene.
“I have no idea,” you whispered back
You leaned slightly toward Wonwoo, lowering your voice as much as possible. “What are you doing?”
“Attending class,” he replied, not even looking up from his notebook. His tone was so calm, so casual, that for a moment you thought you’d imagined him moving seats altogether.
“Here?” you pressed, glancing over your shoulder again to see his friends Vernon and Minghao, who were both watching the two of you with poorly hidden smirks. Minghao even gave you a small wave, which only made you more flustered.
Wonwoo finally looked at you, his expression as neutral as ever. “Why not?”
Before you could respond, he nudged the banana milk closer to you. “You like this, right?”
You blinked down at the carton, your brain short-circuiting. “I... yeah, but—”
“Then drink it.” His tone was soft but firm, leaving no room for argument.
Beside you, Mimi’s jaw was practically on the floor. “Okay, what is going on here?” she hissed under her breath, leaning closer to you. “Did you bribe him? Threaten him? Sell your soul to some matchmaking demon?”
“I don’t know!” you whispered back, your voice frantic as you stared at the banana milk like it held all the answers to life’s mysteries.
Wonwoo, clearly aware of the hushed conversation happening beside him, leaned back in his chair and glanced at Mimi. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his calm demeanor never faltering.
Mimi froze, her eyes wide as she realized he was addressing her directly. “Uh, no? Nothing’s wrong,” she stammered, clearly trying to play it cool. “Just... curious, that’s all.”
Wonwoo nodded, satisfied with her answer, and turned his attention back to his notebook, leaving you and Mimi to exchange bewildered looks.
The rest of the class passed in a blur. You were hyper-aware of Wonwoo’s presence beside you, the subtle sound of him turning pages, the occasional shift in his seat, even the faint scent of his cologne. You couldn’t focus on the lecture to save your life, and every time you caught Mimi looking at you, she wiggled her eyebrows in a way that made you want to crawl under the desk.
When the class finally ended, you quickly packed up your things, eager to escape before your brain completely melted. But as you stood up, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.
“Walk with me,” he said, his tone more of a statement than a question.
You glanced at Mimi, who was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes and a grin that was far too smug for your liking. “Go ahead,” she said, waving you off. “I’ll meet you later.”
Before you could argue, Wonwoo gently tugged your wrist, guiding you toward the door. You followed him, your heart racing as you wondered what on earth he was up to now.
You were half jogging to keep up with Wonwoo’s long strides, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist as he led you through the campus. It wasn’t like he was walking that fast—it was just that his legs were ridiculously long compared to yours.
Your steps were hurried, almost clumsy, as you tried to keep up. “Wonwoo,” you huffed, glancing at his back, “can you slow down? Not all of us have tree trunks for legs, you know.”
He glanced back at you, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “We’ll be late if I slow down,” he said simply, but his pace did ease up slightly.
It was almost cute—too cute, honestly. The height difference, the way you had to trudge along behind him like a kid trying to keep up. And then there was him: calm, composed, and acting like dragging you to your next class was just a normal, everyday occurrence.
By the time you reached the door of your classroom, you were slightly out of breath. Wonwoo, of course, looked as unbothered as ever. He gently let go of your wrist and gestured for you to go in.
“Go,” he said, his tone soft but firm.
You blinked up at him, confused. “Wait, where are you going?”
“To my class,” he replied, as though it was obvious.
You frowned, gesturing vaguely in the direction you had just come from. “Your class isn’t here?”
“Nope,” he said, already turning on his heel to walk away. “It’s on the other side of campus.”
You stared at him, your jaw dropping. “The opposite side?”
He paused, glancing over his shoulder to meet your incredulous gaze. “Yeah,” he said nonchalantly.
“Then why did you—” You cut yourself off, not even sure how to finish the sentence.
Wonwoo just shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Felt like walking you,” he said simply, as though it was no big deal.
And then, without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing at the door of your classroom, completely flustered and at a loss for words.
What is he doing to me? you thought, burying your face in your hands. Whatever game Wonwoo was playing, it was definitely working.
This new routine had become so normal that you almost stopped questioning it—not that you were any less flustered every time Wonwoo waited for you after class or walked you across campus. It was just easier to let it happen, even if your heart constantly felt like it was doing somersaults. Mimi teased you endlessly about it, of course, but you’d stopped trying to defend yourself. What could you even say?
One afternoon, just as class was ending, Wonwoo approached you while you were packing up your things. You were expecting him to grab his bag and lead you out of the room like usual, but instead, he hesitated.
“I have something to do after class today,” he said, his voice soft yet direct, his hands casually shoved into his pockets. “I can’t drive you home.”
You blinked up at him, surprised. “Oh, that’s okay. I can just—”
“Wait,” he interrupted, giving you a look that made you freeze. “Are you going to walk home alone?”
You faltered, unsure how to answer. “I mean, it’s not that far...”
He frowned at that, clearly not liking your response. “I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone.”
Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you quickly brushed it off, waving your hand dismissively. “It’s really fine, Wonwoo. I’ve walked home alone before.”
“Not anymore,” he said firmly, pulling out his phone.
You raised an eyebrow as he started dialing, wondering what on earth he was doing. “What are you—”
“Hey,” he said into the phone, cutting you off. “Where are you right now? Can you drive someone home for me?”
You stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he really calling someone just to make sure you didn’t walk home alone?
A few moments later, he hung up and turned back to you. “Vernon and Minghao are nearby. They’ll drive you home.”
“Wait, what?” you asked, your voice rising slightly in disbelief. “Wonwoo, you don’t have to—”
“I already did,” he said simply, grabbing his bag. “They’ll meet you outside in five minutes. Just wait for them, okay?”
You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t stern, exactly, but it was... serious. Protective. Like he genuinely wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you.
You sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. “Fine,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
He softened at that, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good. I’ll text you later.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind reeling.
When you made your way outside, Vernon and Minghao were waiting by Vernon’s car, both of them looking far too amused for your liking.
“So,” Vernon said, leaning casually against the hood of the car, “you’re the one Wonwoo’s been babying lately.”
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Can we not talk about this?”
Minghao chuckled, opening the passenger door for you. “Don’t worry, we won’t tease you too much. Wonwoo’s been... different lately, though. It’s kind of interesting to watch.”
“Different how?” you asked, sliding into the car and buckling your seatbelt.
Vernon smirked as he started the engine. “Let’s just say you bring out a side of him we didn’t know existed.”
You couldn’t decide if that made you feel flattered or even more flustered. Either way, as they drove you home, you couldn’t stop thinking about the lengths Wonwoo had gone to just to make sure you were safe. And even though it was embarrassing, a small, shy smile found its way to your lips.
Later that night, just as you were about to settle into bed, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You blinked at the screen, momentarily stunned when you saw the name.
Wonwoo.
Your heart immediately started racing. He had texted you before, sure, but calling? This was new. Hesitantly, you picked up, bringing the phone to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey.” His voice was deep and smooth, laced with a certain warmth that made you grip your phone a little tighter. “Did you get home okay?”
You felt your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself. “Yeah, Vernon and Minghao dropped me off. You really didn’t have to go that far, you know.”
“I did,” he said simply. “I told you, I don’t like you walking alone.”
There was something about the way he said it—calm, steady, certain—that made your chest feel warm. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the giddy feeling bubbling inside you.
Instead, you changed the subject. “How was your thing after class? You never said what it was.”
“Just something for a group project,” he answered. “It took longer than I expected.”
You hummed in understanding. “That sucks.”
He let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah. Anyway, how was your day?”
At that, you perked up, launching into a detailed retelling of everything that had happened since class. You told him about Mimi’s latest antics, how she nearly got into an argument with a professor because she was convinced she turned in her assignment when she actually hadn’t. You talked about how Vernon and Minghao teased you the whole car ride home, about the new café you wanted to try, and even the silly little things that made you laugh that day.
Somewhere along the way, you noticed he had gone quiet.
“Wonwoo?” you called, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Are you still there?”
There was a pause, then his voice came through the speaker—soft, almost gentle.
“Go on, I’m listening.”
Your breath caught in your throat.
There was something different about the way he said it. He wasn’t just saying it to fill the silence. He meant it. He liked listening to you.
You felt heat rush to your cheeks, but you pushed forward, finishing your story despite how shy you suddenly felt.
When you finally ran out of things to say, he let out a contented hum. “You should get some rest,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Your heart melted at how soft his voice was. “Okay,” you said quietly.
“Goodnight,” he added, and you swore you could hear the smallest smile in his voice.
“Goodnight, Wonwoo.”
The call ended, and for a moment, you just sat there, staring at your phone. Then, all at once, the emotions hit you like a tidal wave.
You let out a loud groan, grabbed your pillow, and screamed into it.
“What are you doing to me, Jeon Wonwoo?!”
Your pillow, of course, had no answers. But one thing was clear—you were so doomed.
It's a few weeks later, you're at the cafe you frequently hang out when you have free time. The usual, you're on your yapping mode while Wonwoo listens. But then you said something you didn't mean to tell him.
The moment the words left your mouth, you froze.
You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It was just one of those things you only ever admitted to Mimi—how you were so confused about what was going on between you and Wonwoo.
But now, you had just said it. Right in front of him.
Your heart stopped.
Slowly, hesitantly, you turned to look at him.
Wonwoo was already staring at you, that small, amused smile still lingering on his lips—but his eyes held something else. Something unreadable.
For the first time, he didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t tease you, didn’t brush it off. He just watched you, as if he was carefully thinking about what to say.
You scrambled to fix it. “I-I mean—” you let out a nervous laugh, waving your hands. “Forget I said that! It was just, um, something stupid I told Mimi—”
Wonwoo tilted his head, his gaze still locked on you. “You’re confused?” he asked, his voice calm.
You swallowed. “I mean... yeah?”
Silence.
The tension was unbearable. Your heart was practically screaming in your chest.
Finally, he leaned back, eyes flickering to the coffee in front of him. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again.
“What do you want us to be?”
Your breath hitched.
You stared at him, unsure if you heard him correctly. Your mind raced, completely unprepared for the question.
“I—” you fumbled, gripping the edge of your sleeves. “I don’t know...”
Another pause. Then, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Liar.”
Your head snapped up. “Excuse me?!”
Wonwoo met your gaze again, eyes knowing, almost too knowing. He didn’t look mad. If anything, he looked fond—like he had already figured out the answer before you even realized it yourself.
Your face burned. “I’m not lying—”
“You’ve liked me for a long time.” His voice was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it left you speechless.
Your entire body tensed.
Oh my god.
He knew.
Of course, he knew.
Everyone knew. You knew he knew. But hearing him say it so bluntly, with no hesitation—it made your stomach flip.
You wanted to disappear.
“I—” You swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him. “Okay, so maybe that’s true, but—”
“But?” He was still watching you, waiting.
“But I don’t know what you want.” The words came out smaller than you intended, but they were honest. “You... you’re always around now, Wonwoo. You drive me home, you wait for me after class, you listen to me ramble all the time. I just—” You bit your lip. “I don’t know what that means to you.”
Another silence.
Wonwoo didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he reached for his coffee, taking a slow sip. Then, with the same infuriatingly calm expression, he set it back down, resting his chin against his palm as he gazed at you.
And then—
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Your breath caught in your throat.
Your hands clenched under the table, heart pounding in your ears. You knew what he was implying, you felt what he was saying without words, but you still couldn’t believe it.
And Wonwoo—knowing you so well—could see that.
So, he leaned in slightly, his voice quieter this time.
“I wouldn’t do all of this if you weren’t special to me.”
Your brain short-circuited.
You felt like your heart had stopped entirely, like you had forgotten how to breathe.
Jeon Wonwoo—who had spent years acting nonchalant toward you—was now sitting here, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
You didn’t know what to say.
So, naturally, you panicked.
“I—um—I need to go to the bathroom!” you blurted out, shoving your chair back as you stood up abruptly.
Wonwoo blinked, a bit startled, before letting out a soft chuckle. “You’re running away?”
“I am not running away!”
“You’re literally running away.”
“I need to pee!” you lied, voice high-pitched as you quickly turned toward the restroom.
Behind you, you heard Wonwoo laugh—actually laugh—before calling out, “I’ll be here when you get back.”
You groaned, covering your face as you rushed away.
This was too much.
Jeon Wonwoo was too much.
When you finally gathered the courage to come back, your heart was still hammering in your chest. You had taken extra minutes in the restroom just to stare at yourself in the mirror, mentally screaming and trying to convince yourself to act normal.
Except—how could you act normal after what just happened?
You cautiously made your way back to the booth, and there he was—Wonwoo, sitting comfortably with one arm draped over the back of the seat, sipping his drink as if he hadn't just dropped that bomb on you.
And then, when he noticed you, his lips curled into that teasing smile.
“You good?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. “Took you a while.”
Your face heated.
“I had to—um, you know—actually pee.” You sat down stiffly, eyes fixed on the table.
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t look convinced at all.
You fidgeted, not knowing what to say. Now that you knew he felt something for you, you had no idea how to act around him. You weren’t prepared for this. You had spent so long assuming your feelings were one-sided that the moment he admitted otherwise, your brain completely shut down.
And Wonwoo—of course—noticed.
He watched you with that quiet amusement, letting the silence stretch between you. Then, after a beat, he spoke again.
“Are you still confused?”
Your breath caught.
You looked up at him—finally meeting his gaze—and you regretted it immediately because he was already staring at you.
His dark eyes, calm and steady, held a kind of certainty that made your stomach flip.
“I—” You swallowed. “I don’t know.”
Wonwoo hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly. “I see.”
You thought that would be the end of it, that he would back off and give you time to process—but no.
Instead, he leaned in.
Not dramatically, not forcefully. Just enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence, enough that your breath hitched and your hands curled into fists in your lap.
Then, in a voice so quiet that it sent a shiver down your spine, he whispered,
“Then tell me…”
His eyes flickered to your lips before locking back onto yours.
“What do you want me to be?”
Your brain short-circuited.
Your body went completely still.
The weight of the question—the meaning behind it—hit you all at once, and suddenly, everything felt too real.
Wonwoo was still watching you, waiting, his face unfairly close to yours. He wasn’t teasing anymore. He wasn’t joking. He was giving you the choice—asking you to decide what this was between you.
And you…
You had no idea how to answer.
Because for the first time ever—
You realized that your silly little crush wasn’t so one-sided after all.
Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.
What did you want him to be?
For so long, you had thought the answer was simple—you wanted him, you always had. But now that he was actually asking you, the words caught in your throat.
You were frozen, caught between the overwhelming weight of your long-time feelings and the terrifying reality of facing them head-on.
Wonwoo didn’t move. He was still leaning close, his dark eyes fixed on yours, waiting patiently. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing you to answer, but that only made it worse.
You wanted to say something, anything, but all that came out was a small, breathless,
“I—”
And then you panicked.
Your body moved before your brain could catch up—you quickly grabbed your drink and took the biggest gulp imaginable, as if that would somehow wash away the moment.
It didn’t.
Instead, Wonwoo let out a quiet chuckle, finally leaning back, giving you space.
“You’re cute when you panic.”
You almost choked.
“I’m not panicking,” you sputtered, setting your drink down with a little too much force.
His lips twitched, clearly not believing you. “So, what’s your answer?”
“I—” You exhaled, gripping the hem of your shirt. “This is a lot, okay? You just—you never made it seem like you liked me before, and now you’re—” You gestured vaguely at him. “—doing all this and it’s messing with my brain.”
Wonwoo tilted his head, looking at you with quiet curiosity. “I never made it seem like I liked you?”
You gave him a look.
He hummed, gaze flickering downward for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “That’s not true.”
Your brows furrowed. “What?”
“I just… don’t show it the way you do.” He said it so casually, so matter-of-fact, as if it was something you should’ve known all along.
You stared at him, your brain struggling to process his words.
And then, as if to prove his point, Wonwoo reached out—his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment before he grabbed your wrist, gently pulling your hand closer to him.
Your breath hitched.
“Do you really think I would’ve let just anyone take care of me the way you did?” His voice was lower now, softer, as his thumb absentmindedly traced slow circles against the back of your hand. “I noticed, you know. Every time you saved me a seat, every time you gave me something without expecting anything in return.”
You swallowed thickly.
Wonwoo glanced down at your intertwined hands, as if realizing he was still holding you. But instead of letting go, he gave your fingers a small, almost hesitant squeeze.
“I didn’t ignore it because I didn’t care,” he admitted. “I just… didn’t know how to respond.”
The confession made something in your chest tighten.
Wonwoo had always been unreadable to you—his quiet, nonchalant demeanor making it impossible to tell what he was thinking. But now, sitting here with him, listening to him actually talk about his feelings, you realized that he wasn’t cold at all. He was just careful.
He let out a quiet sigh. “But when you stopped…” His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “I didn’t like that.”
You blinked. “You didn’t?”
He shook his head. “No.”
It was such a simple response, yet it made your heart race all over again.
There was a small beat of silence before he spoke again, quieter this time.
“I missed you.”
Your chest ached.
All this time, you had thought your feelings were a burden to him—that he barely noticed you, let alone missed you. But here he was, telling you otherwise, proving you wrong in the gentlest way possible.
Your fingers curled around his, gripping back.
“…I missed you too.”
Wonwoo smiled, the kind of small, rare smile that made your stomach flip.
“So,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, “are you still confused?”
You hesitated, heat creeping up your neck. “…Maybe.”
He chuckled. “Then should I make it clearer?”
You sucked in a breath when he leaned in again, just close enough that you could see the soft curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes.
His gaze flickered to your mouth, then back to your eyes.
“What do you want me to be?” he asked again, voice barely above a whisper.
"Do I have to answer now?"
Wonwoo just smiled at your question. That soft, knowing kind of smile that made your stomach do flips.
“Take your time,” he said simply, "You waited for me, without expecting anything. It's my turn now" he tells you.
You could barely meet his eyes, your fingers twitching against his. “I just—this is a lot, okay?”
“I know.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles in a soothing motion. “That’s why I’m letting you decide.”
That didn’t help at all.
You groaned internally, dropping your forehead onto the table in defeat. “You’re making this so much worse, Jeon Wonwoo.”
He chuckled, and you could feel his amusement. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the one blushing like crazy.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed again, and you hated how much you loved the sound.
After a moment, you hesitantly lifted your head, still unable to look at him directly. “…So, you’re not gonna, like, be weird about this?”
“Nope.”
“You’re not gonna pressure me?”
“No.”
“You’re just gonna… wait?”
Wonwoo leaned back against the booth, his hand still comfortably wrapped around yours. “As long as you need me to, as long as you want me here”
Your breath hitched.
Oh.
You bit your lip, feeling your heart squeeze at his words.
“…Okay,” you mumbled.
“Okay?”
You nodded shyly, finally—finally—glancing up at him. “I’ll think about it.”
His lips twitched, amused. “Good.”
And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, Wonwoo lifted your hand to his lips and pressed the lightest, softest kiss against your knuckles.
Your brain completely shut down.
“You—” You squeaked, yanking your hand back as if you had just been electrocuted.
Wonwoo just smirked.
“Take your time,” he repeated, looking way too satisfied with himself. “I’ll wait.”
And you knew—you knew—that no matter how much you tried to think about it, your heart had already decided.
#fic#au#fluff#svt#seventeen#seventeen imagine#seventeen scenario#seventeen fluff#svt imagine#seventeen wonwoo#wonwoo#jeon wonwoo#svt fluff#svt slowburn#svt x readers#wonwoo imagine#wonwoo fluff#wonwoo scenario#wonwoo x reader
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જ⁀➴ FOR THE FAME. a violet modern musician au
punk rockstar!vi 𝑥 popstar!reader
summary. the music industry—known for its raw creativity, dazzling performances, and turning anyone into an overnight sensation. but what comes with newfound success is being able to maintain a steady stream of traction around your name (whether it's good or bad, because all press is good press. right?), for some artists it comes naturally, becoming chart climbers release after release, while for others they struggle falling down the charts and becoming known as just a one hit wonder. now when two artists under the same label are both getting sly criticism from blogs commenting on their declines, their managers have no other choice but to curate a classic pr stunt to regain their public appeal again, while creating buzz around their respective upcoming projects. what could happen when the industry's rebel and sweetheart become the unexpected pair of the year?
warnings. fluff, angst, and eventual smut. modern au. fake dating. enemies to friends to lovers. slow burn. reader's stage name is angel, you guys can honestly change it if you'd so like since it's rarely used. no use of "y/n". musicians: powder, ekko, claggor, and caitlyn. choreographer!mel. producer!jayce. homophobia and talk of internalized homophobia & comphet. addiction: alcohol & substance abuse, as well as talk of rehab. inaccurate knowledge of the music industry. social media extras & extended scene cuts. please check each individual chapter for appropriate warnings!
a/n. i'm am beyond excited to finally share this series with you all! this series started as a one off idea, and, well it turned into this. i know some have expected this, i've been throwing out teasers (more will still come) for some time. and to be honest i should not even be posting this series right now, but i cannot contain it for much longer, i'm just eager to get it out for people to enjoy! and is it hypocritical for me to be posting a series with the amount of drafts and request in my inbox? perhaps! but i promise that i will try my best to dually post between the series and other works! i'm still working on a posting schedule, so be on the look out for polls!
biggest thank you to @topimpabunny for dealing with my rants constantly, and bouncing ideas back and forth off of each other. truly, everyone thank her, because without her this series wouldn't even exist! another big big thank you to @veramores my wife, my best friend, for putting up with me yapping her ear away for like over an over. but nonetheless she is also apart of this series for giving me different perspectives on things. lots of love to the both of you <3
main masterlist ⋆ vi masterlist ⋆ read it on ao3
table of contents ◞ TRACKLIST
' 🅴 ' indicates smut
prelude ♪ popularity contest. ( releasing february 7th on all music platforms )
label mandated events. everyone dreads them, but social networking is a must; an art form managers have mastered and a sport to artists in order to thrive in the competitiveness that is the music industry. and it’s here where the two of you were closer than you had even thought.
track one ♪ sold your soul for . . . this? ( releasing february 14th on all music platforms )
with albums set to release during the summertime, meetings ensue to keep the artists on track. however, unpleasant news is shared that gives wake up calls when careers are on the line. oh, and a not-so-meet-cute happens between the bubbling popstar and spunky rocker.
track two ♪ the master plan.
uh, oh! looks like the track is still being produced!
extras ◞ DELUX EDITION
social media post
coming soon!
exposed ◞ BEHIND THE SCENES
discography ⋮ series playlist. reader's. vi's.
meet the artist ⋮ reader ꒱ vi ( tell all's coming soon! )
WANT A FEATURE?
comment on this post (and this post only) to be added to the 'for the fame' taglist! (i'm no longer responding to individually to each person who asks to be on the taglist, but i do see the comments and you are added!)
🎥 taglist. @sawaagyapong @baylegend6 @hauntedbydreams @sevisrealwife @dameacia @tdawg2012 @usuck @foralltheprettygirls @aphrodyk3 @ar1anw3n @jupitism @into-f0lkl0re @minaridior @sinsyster
#𓊆 𝓐 writes. 𓊇#𐔌 🎥 for the fame .ᐟ ꒱#vi arcane#vi fic#vi series#vi x reader#vi x fem reader#vi arcane x you#vi fluff#vi angst#vi smut#arcane#vi arcane x reader#league of legends#lesbian
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REVELLLLLLLL DROP ANOTHER MEGATRONUS FIC AND MY LIFE IS YOURRRRSSSSSS
honestly I’m such a big fan of your writing I’ve searched and searched for megatronus fics for so long and I have never found one but I checked your acc and I’ve never been so happy before like I’m addicted to your writing a lot of the time I look for transformers fanfics but I’ve never really liked them as much as yours and you also inspired me to start collecting transformers figures so I’m gonna start sooner or later cause things are expensive these days sadly 😔🤞🏽 but I don’t wanna start yapping so I’m gonna end it off here by revel have a beautiful weekend and week😋
I’m glad you like my nonsense! The figures are pretty fun to collect
Give It Up Pt 3
Megatronus Prime x Reader
• Venting in frustration when you swat his servos, chirping angrily, he just needs to see the little display on your arm long enough to figure out if he can pull your language from it. Something you’re absolutely not having. Studying your little suit more closely, he frowns. Maybe you’re breathing some exotic gas and need the suit to survive? “I don’t need your entire suit,” he says, holding a palm over his own arm and miming flipping up an invisible screen like you just did . Wishes he could get a better look at you, because your features are just an indistinct shadow through the tinted helmet. Staring up at him, you lay your own palm on your display and chirp softly. “On my honor, I’ll return your tech to you.”
• Grumbling, his awful language, he repeats the gesture. Why does he want your display? While you can detach it, you’re not sure you should. Though you doubt the super advanced living robot is the least bit interested in your tech. It’s probably the equivalent of a DOS computer to you. Or maybe a telegram. He’s defiantly not stealing secrets from it. And he’s not hurt you so far. Shook you until you nearly hurled, but you don’t think he was trying to harm you. If you’re trapped who knows where, you’re going to need someone to trust. You really hope that’s him.
• Chirping unhappily, you mess with the display until it detaches and hold the tiny thing out. And it’s such a shock that you’re willing to trust him. Extending a servo, he waits while you look at the display then at him before laying it on his servo. “Thank you, little one.” Lifting it, he squints at the tiny thing and shifts it to his datapad to try to sync the primitive technology. “You’re being very brave.”
• You really hope your GPS isn’t in the display. Really wish you’d paid more attention when the tech guys were explaining the minutiae of the suits instead of being terrified of what you were going to find on the other side of the portal. Giant, alien robots definitely hadn’t been on your bingo card, though. What can he even get off the thing, really? Nothing dangerous. Probably? Like coordinates to your world? “Please don’t be an evil, giant robot.”
• Waiting for the datapad to compile and create a language file for him, he studies you. Wonders what organics eat and how exactly you’d wound up on Cybertron. A peaceful explorer? You don’t seem to have any weapons. Can’t understand the language. And you’re so tiny as to be helpless. Probably not a warring species. Certainly don’t look at all intimidating in your puffy little suit. Moving closer, you rock up on tiptoe to try and see his datapad and chirp at him. Pointing with a finger and you’re just so adorable. “I’m going to give it back,” he reassures you, smiling behind his mask. Definitely not a warring species. You’re much too cute to be dangerous.
Previous
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"What are they talking about down there?" Moudo said.
"Got no idea...I'm kinda tipsy." Hayato said honestly. Oda remains quiet while Rioto hopes the battle will end in a draw or at least a win for Yuta without hurting Iku too much.
----
"I call BS. You know, I do believe him what he told us about you. You being strong. But honestly, I don't trust you one bit." Iku growls lowly. As for the other question, he glares, "Yeah..I'm a little pissed that you got away. Your answer confirms it. You said that we're not your target. So you're an assassin which makes me wonder...." Iku leads in, "Who the hell are you working for?"
"Because I'm going to say this, whoever you work for you is going to change things. So I'm going to ask you the real question here."
Iku starts to escape and starts to kick at his thigh and grabs onto his collar, "If the target is us, are you going to kill Rioto?" Iku asked him.
Yuta kept holding him but he sees the foot being put down only to quickly keep him down but didn't let him up yet.
. "What are you trying to pull here??" He whispers as he goes to turn his leg slowly in Yuta's hold. He didn't say anything but Yuta keeps him still not letting him move.
"What do you mean? I'm not trying to pull anything.." he whispered back.
"Are you really Rioto's friend or what? Are you blackmailing him? What are you really after?" Iku asked him, glaring at Yuta. "Are you some hired hitman?"
He didn't say anything but he sighed to look at him. "Of course I am. I'm a real close friend to him and wants to keep him safe and protect him. I wouldn't blackmail him or anything. I'm not a hitman for hire either......" He didn't do too much but eases up on his hold.
"Besides, I just wanted to keep things calm between everyone. Or are you still upset about what happened? I wasn't trying to do anything to him or the others as you. You guys were not my target. I already said sorry to Rioto..but I'm sorry if I made it seem like i was after you..I really wasn't." he whispered back.
#ic#rp#thesilverpeahenresidence#crime au#from cage to leash au#college au#the snow leopard and the kirin;#older rioto#dark!rioto#thesilverpeahenresidence ( the cursed snow leopard yuta okkotsu )
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The Jello Incident
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
Warnings: N/A
Summary: You come home from work and tell Quinn all about the jello incident at school and then fall asleep on him.
Notes: For the sake of my American audience I have changed Jelly to Jello...um, life imitates art or something like that?
Honestly this is a silly little fluffy fic because sometimes life throws you events that inspire you and sometimes (all the time) you just want to write cute shit.
Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)
Writing Masterlist
The only thing you want as you trail in from a long day of teaching is to take your shoes off and curl up on the couch next to your boyfriend. It's why you're so quick to drop your bag at the front door, very little consideration for the work laptop inside or your water bottle that gives a loud clank. You're practically kicking your shoes off half way down the hallway, one kicked off so hard it goes flying and hits the wall beside Quinn's stupid painting of a monkey with headphones on, before making your way to the couch where Quinn is watching a hockey game, what looks to be a rerun of his most recent game actually. Probably trying to figure out what went wrong and what went right.
"Hey, baby," He greets you as you press a kiss to the top of his hair on your way past the back of the couch, smiling at the familiar gesture, arms already open and ready for you to join him, the game far less interesting than you and your day. Especially after the third run through of it. He's watched it so many times he's not even sure he's comprehending what's happening anymore.
"Hi..." you sigh out, flopping down on top of Quinn on the couch, face pressing into the crook of his neck as his arms come to wrap around you, running over your back in soothing motions.
"Rough day?" He huffs out a laugh as you almost crush him into the couch, not that he'd ever complain about having you on top of him. An ideal way to die to be honest, being smothered by his girlfriend. At least he'd die happy.
"Nggghh," You groan out into his neck, wondering how on earth you were going to explain your day because, "There was a jello incident..." You lift your head to look at him and Quinn's look of confusion, one brow raised, green eyes a little wide says it all. It's how you felt at walking in to the situation itself. Baffled. How does one even begin to explain a jello incident, how on earth did you even get involved in a jello incident when you taught teenagers not toddlers...
"A...a jello incident?"
"Yeah...." You press your cheek against his chest, settling in to recount your day, "There was a sub next door and...I heard him screaming at the kids, so obviously I decided to go make sure everything was okay..." A stupid decision really...you should have remembered the age old adage of 'not my circus, not my monkeys' it would have saved you a ridiculous amount of stress.
"And jello factors into this how?" Quinn twists one of his legs with yours, locking you closer against him as his fingers start to scratch over your scalp in a soothing pattern.
"Would you believe me if I told you the grade 7s had decided to throw pots of jello at each other in Religious Studies? And some of it hit the sub...and I had to take 3 kids into my room as punishment and..." You can't help the way you snort and the thought of it because...fuck, it's ridiculous.
"And?"
"And one of them was sat there with jello on his shoulder the entire time!" You can still picture it, a 12 year old sat with bright pink jello blobs wobbling on his shoulder and cheek because he hadn't bothered to clear it up, proof of his guilt physically on him.
"And you didn't laugh?"
"No, I didn't laugh!" You laugh along with Quinn, mouth pressed into his hoodie while you look up at him from where you're lying on his chest. His own laugh has you bouncing slightly as his chest rises and falls and it doesn't help you to try to take the situation seriously.
"I'd have laughed, baby, sorry."
"That's why you're not a teacher, Quinn..." You roll your eyes even though you know he'd actually make an excellent teacher if he ever decided hockey wasn't for him anymore. He had the patience for it, the calm temperament and steadfast approach.
"Hey! I'd be a great teacher...maybe..."
"Keep telling yourself that." You sigh out, letting the silence fall over the two of you, just enjoying the sound of his heart beating steadily beneath your ear, the feel of his fingers running through your hair, trimmed nails scraping across your scalp and the back of your neck.
You hum as your eyes start to close, feeling like you might fall asleep right there like that with Quinn's warmth against you, the sound of a hockey game playing in the background, Shortie singing Quinn's praises again.
"You wanna watch a movie and cuddle?" He mumbles into your hair, snuggling you closer to him as he reaches for the remote.
"I might fall asleep, the jello incident has me wiped.." your eyes are barely open, feeling like you might drop off at any moment. Not helped by how warm Quinn is, how utterly comfortable it is to lie on him like this.
"That's okay, baby, you can fall asleep on me. I don't mind." He huffs out a laugh, watching the way your eyes blink open as if you're shocking yourself awake every few seconds. You're adorable as you try your best to refuse to nod off, determined to stay awake for Quinn.
"You sure?" You lift your head again with some effort, taking in the soft smile Quinn sends your way, the genuine affection in his eyes.
"Certain, baby..." You plop your head back down on his chest at the reassurance, snuggling closer and letting your eyes close properly this time, "Dune Part 1?"
"Dune Part 1." You mumble even though you both know you're going to be asleep in less than half an hour.
If he's being honest there are few things Quinn likes more than you falling asleep on him or around him. There's something about it, the complete display of trust and comfort, that you're so comfortable around him that you can just fall straight asleep, that fills him with a sense of masculine pride. It's what has him reaching for the blanket on the back of the couch, pulling it over your back so you don't get cold. It's what has him slipping his hand under your shirt, tracing small circles into the warmth of your skin, the sort of circles that always help you drift off. It's what has him keeping the volume of the movie low because he's not really watching it anyway, he's watching you.
He spends most of the movie just watching the way you breathe against him, slow and even, so deeply asleep that you start to drool a little on him. He knows you'd hate him to see that, but he finds it adorable, a compliment really that you can sleep that deeply around him.
Every now and then you shuffle and twist in your sleep, strands of hair falling into your face and each time he pushes them out of the way, tucking them behind your ears so that they don't annoy you in your sleep.
He wants this, he thinks, for the rest of his life. You coming home from a mad day of teaching, some ridiculous story on your lips, him holding you close while you drift off, being the comfort, the safety you deserve at the end of a long day. Maybe eventually a couple of kids, tucked in besides you, him shushing them so that mommy doesn't wake up. Maybe a dog, or a cat, you always said you wanted a cat...
Yeah, he thinks this might be the sort of normal that he wants for the rest of his life.
#teacher reader x quinn#huggy bear writes#quinn hughes/reader#quinn hughes x reader#nhl imagine#nhl x reader
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'MAY YOU NEVER FORGET ME
PAIRING: choi su-bong (thanos) x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: depression had always been a huge issue for you, covering it up with empty joy. so what would happen if you found someone just like you, who was willing to change for your sake?
WARNINGS: heavy angst, mature themes, mental health issues, implied self harm, depression, panic attacks, insecurities, guns, negative self talk, suicidal thoughts/actions!!!!!!, main character death
AUTHORS NOTE: spoiled y’all with tm fluff, gotta remind u shit ain’t sweet round here.
words: [25k]
YOU were never truly "okay". Even though you always claimed to be, faking a smile when on the inside your whole world felt like it was collapsing. The last thing you wanted was for people to worry about you. Because if they did, they might discover the tangled mess of emotions you kept hidden away. Instead, you committed to putting on a face of bravery, drowning your pain in corny jokes and soulless smiles. While your heart still ached with that same emptiness you'd been feeling for years on end, doing this was easier than trying to explain the darkness that lurked beneath your surface.
You dreaded that one day, your facade would crack and everything would come tumbling down, revealing the emotions you tried so hard to protect everyone from. So, you continued to mask your emotions and if you let your act slip, you’d brush it off and tell them you were just tired. Every lie felt like it was putting more weight on your shoulders, but it was weight you were used to carrying.
Deep down you longed for someone to notice that you weren’t okay, to see beyond the smile and recognize the pain. But you knew that you made it almost impossible for someone to notice that anything was wrong.
Or so you thought, until you stumbled across the explosive personality of a man by the name of Thanos. Honestly, you were jealous of how well he carried himself. He seemed to be one of the only people here that was carefree, even if he is pumped with drugs. Looking at him in awe, you wondered how he did it, staying okay in a place like this.
Even though your mind was hyper focused on the eccentric man, you were completely unaware of how you stood out to him almost immediately. It wasn’t because you were annoying and obnoxious like everyone else here, it was because you two were the same.
You had some major personality differences, as you were more on the quiet and bubbly side. But Thanos used to be just like you. So the smile fading when all eyes were off of you, random mood swings, nonstop jokes, constantly tugging your sleeves down the second they rolled up, tears swelling in your eyes when nobody was around. He noticed.
He never got better, though. Just found ways of dealing with it. Using drugs and music as outlets of his depression. Thanos could tell you didn’t have anything like that, just letting all the pain seep in and build up inside of you. He wanted to help you before it got too much, how it almost did for him.
As he approached you, a confused look formed on your face. You’d never said anything to him or saw him look your way, so why was he suddenly trying to talk to you?
“What’s got you in here, babydoll?” he pondered “you look too sweet to be in any debt.”
At first, the sudden interest in your background confused you. You stared blankly for a couple seconds before remembering that you knew nobody else here, so what was the harm in opening up to this complete stranger?
“Student loan debt. Guess that’s what I get for going to an ivy league with barely any money” You laugh. Even though this was sort of a sensitive topic for you, having got into your dream school still having things going wrong, you tried to laugh about it.
Thanos could tell though. He saw the way your smile faltered a bit, how you lost the shine in your eyes. “I like you, stay close to me okay?” He said, eyes focused on you with nothing but pure intentions.
Why did he choose you of all people? There wasn’t anything interesting about your appearance, or how you acted. In that moment, as Thanos leaned back against the wall and settled in beside you, something shifted inside of you.
It was like the burden that weighed you down for so long was briefly lifted to reveal a sliver of vulnerability you kept buried for years. Maybe this strange man, with his wild presence, could see something you had long hid within yourself; a yearning for connection, a wish for someone to see and understand your struggles.
Thanos had broken through the toughness of your spirit, offering warmth and an unexpected sense of safety. Yet, the fear of being vulnerable with anyone haunted over you like a storm cloud, ready to unleash the emotions and secrets you had kept buried.
“Okay then,” Thanos said, breaking the heavy silence, “What’s the full story? It can’t just be student loans and bad choices. You look like you're carrying a world on those shoulders. But hey, I’m no therapist, just an expert in not fitting in.” His laughter was contagious and the sincerity of his tone made you wonder about the details of his own struggles.
Still, despite how much you wanted to reach out, start crying and finally release the burden you'd been carrying so long, you clung to the familiar comfort of masking how you felt, shooting him a quick smile that fell just short of genuine. It was easier to laugh it off than to reveal the chaos waiting inside.
But Thanos wasn’t easily fooled. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and sympathy. “You know, I used to think if i pushed everything down and ignored it, nobody else would notice my problems, too.” he said with a hint of vulnerability, “So I can see right through your little act sweetheart.”
You wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname but found the corner of your mouth lifting in a slight smile. Maybe it was the way his sincerity cut through your heart, or how his presence somehow felt comforting, like a thick warm blanket swallowing your body on a chilly day.
Thanos noticed your slight grin and raised an eyebrow, his own growing wider. “See? That’s the smile I like to see, we’re making progress here.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his large ringed hand. “Come on I won’t bite, open up a little bit. Tell me about yourself like... what do like doing in your free time?”
You chuckled softly, caught off guard by his eagerness. “Um… I guess I like listening to music?” Music was one of the ways you ignored everything. As soon as you put your headphones in, it seemed like the world turned to a blur and your thoughts finally silence.
Thanos nodded, leaning back slightly, as if giving you the space to breathe yet still holding you in his gaze. “Music, huh? I get you. There’s something powerful about it. Like… a way we can hear what our voices can’t always express” he observed, seeming more immersed.
You could feel the walls you had carefully built around your emotions start to break, the cracks appearing as you considered sharing more. “Yeah, it’s like an escape” you admitted, voice softening “When everything else gets too loud, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”
He smiled gently, and you could tell he understood the depth of your words. “I get that,” he spoke gently, “It feels good to be able to… find the rhythm in chaos.” His eyes glazed over for a split second, lost in thought, before focusing back on you. “I used to write. Rhymes and lyrics, they were a way to process everything. Like my own therapy session, but with a beat.”
The way he spoke so passionately about making rhymes piqued your curiosity. You didn't take him as the creative type, definitely not poems or lyrics, but there was something about the way he mentioned it that made you want to know more. “You wrote music?” you asked, your tone neutral, but your interest piqued.
Thanos chuckled, low, and rumbling. “Still do, from time to time. Used to be big doing it but that got cut off pretty fast. Tried to let it go but… it's a part of me.” He leaned forward, his eyes taking on an intense glare. “There's something about putting words to a beat that just clicks. Like everything finally makes sense, y'know?”
You found yourself drawn into his passion, the way he spoke about music, it was infectious. And before you knew it, you were smiling again. Feeling a sense of connection with this stranger that you couldn't quite put your finger on.
You leaned in, curiosity taking control of you. “What do you mean it got cut off?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was something about how his voice sounded when he said it, as if it were hit with an ache of longing and nostalgia, that made you want to know more.
Thanos’ gaze drifted off, his eyes clouding over like he was remembering something stowed deep into his mind. “I was in a competition, a rap contest” he began, his voice low and cautious. “I made it to the finale, but I fucked up. Forgot my lyrics on live TV.” He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound that sent a wave of sympathy through you. “It was a pretty public embarrassment. After that, I just… lost my drive, I guess. Didn’t feel like I could face the music scene again.”
You tilt your head, your eyes brimming with compassion as imagine how bad Thanos must've felt. “I get why you’d feel that way,” you said gently, trying to offer some advice, “But if music clearly still means a lot to you, why did you stop doing it completely?” you asked with your eyes locked on his, searching for answers in his gaze.
Thanos’ gaze snapped back to yours, like a fire igniting within them. “It’s hard to explain,” he said with a hint of roughness in his voice, “When you're up on that stage, with all those people watching you, and you mess up… it feels like you’re failing in front of the whole world. And for me, it wasn’t just about the music. It was about the persona, the image. When I messed up, it felt like I was losing myself too.” He paused, taking a breath to calm his nerves down. “But even after all this time, I still find myself writing. Like my brain's hardwired to respond to music.”
You felt a connection deepening between you, an understanding that passed the surface-level. “So, do you think you’ll ever perform again?”
Thanos hesitated, his eyes washing over with uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice defeated. “Part of me misses it. The thrill of the stage, the energy of the crowd, it was amazing. But I'm also just scared. That failure keeps haunting over me, I don't wanna feel like that again.”
His honesty struck a chord within you. You could see the struggle all on his face, and it made you wish you could help him find that spark again. “It sounds like you're still searching for closure. Maybe you need to reconnect with it,” you suggested tentatively, hoping to encourage him. “Music doesn’t have to be about the fame or the competition. It can just be… for you.”
His eyes twinkled with hope, looking up at you with admiration. "Thank you, seriously," he spoke up, "Never had anyone look out for me like that." Suddenly he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer, his grip warm and reassuring.
From that moment on, you knew you'd made a friend for life. You went everywhere together, always grouping up during games and making sure each other were safe. The two of you were truly inseparable. That was, until the morning of the final game.
There were only 40 contestants left. Having lost many people close to you, shivers ran down your spine as you thought what the last mission would be. Almost every night, you had panic attacks and could barely sleep. After the 2nd game, you and Thanos moved your beds by each other in hopes of it helping the both of you calm down. Tonight, was one of the worst nights for you.
You laid in the dim scenery of the sleeping quarters, blue and red lights bouncing off of the bed frames. Your heart pounded like a drum with each beat echoing your unspoken fears. The weight of uncertainty felt as if it were crushing you, a terrible foreshadowing of the next game looming over your head.
Shadows deepened around you, contorting into horrifying shapes that mirrored the anxieties pounding at your mind. Your breaths came in quick gasps, each one capturing less air than the last. The suffocating fear of what was to come spun out of control.
You tried all the methods that helped in the past, but you couldn't focus on anything. Sweat drenched your body as the oxygen in the room seemed as it were running away from you. In your mind, all you could see were those bodies. All the blood and screams. Only one thought could form in your mind 'what if that were me?'
Beside you, Thanos stirred around, feeling the tension radiating from your body. He turned to face you, eyes flickering open, immediately aware that something was wrong. “Hey,” he murmured softly yet urgently, “what’s going on?”
You had felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you whispered, “I can’t… I can’t do this. I’m so scared, Thanos. What if something happens? What if I—what if you.. die?” The words stuttered out in a rush, drenched with panic, the thought of losing him cutting through your heart like a knife.
Thanos’ expression shifted from sleepy to one of deep concern as he moved closer, his presence a calming force against the storm inside you. He gently took your hands inside his, relaxed and cautiously, and held them tightly. “Listen to me,” he said, voice low and soothing, “You’re not alone in this. I promise I’m going to do everything I can to keep us safe, both of us.”
Your breath hitched, but his gaze stayed on yours. “Remember what we talked about? We’ve been through so much together already. We can get through this too. No game is going to take me from you, not now, not ever.”
His words had felt like a lifeline, restoring you back to the world as you clung to them. You searched his eyes, your heart aching at the truth of what was unspoken between you. “But w-what if I lose you?” you choked out, vulnerable and exposed.
“I’ll fight like hell to make sure that doesn’t happen” he replied, “We’re in this together. I’m not just fighting for myself, I’m fighting for you, for us.” He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I won’t let anything break us apart. I… I love you.”
His words floated in the air, a fragile yet meaningful phrase that cut through the thick tension of the moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest, caught off guard by the intensity and sincerity in Thanos’ voice.
You swore off of telling anybody that for a long time. But still, you couldn't help but feel the warmth radiating between you, a spark of connection glowing in the darkness. A wave of emotions crashed over you, joy and confusion mixing in a twister of emotions.
For a split second, all of your worries vanished. What laid ahead, the uncertainty of the games, the horrifying fear of loss. All of it faded away with just his 3 words. You swallowed hard, the weight of your anxiety lifting just enough to let something else in; love.
“Thanos…” you said softly, voice trembling as you searched his gaze. The reality of what he said sank in, wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. You took a breath, steadying your breath, and met his unwavering expression with your own. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words flowing from your heart as if they had always been there, waiting for the right moment to break free.
As soon as you had said it, a wave of relief washed over you. You could see the way his eyes lit up, reflecting authenticity and openness. In that moment, as he pulled you closer, the world outside felt a little less overwhelming. “Us against the world” he muttered into your neck, sealing the bond between you two.
In the safety of his embrace, you lifted your face, letting your forehead rest against his as the tension began to disperse. “No matter what happens, I'm gonna fight for us” you said, your voice steadier now, strengthened by the love that filled the space between you.
His smile widened, showing the strength of his determination in his eyes. “You’re my everything. I won’t let these stupid games take that away from us” he reassured, brushing his thumb along your cheek.
As you sat there, taking in his presence, you felt like it was the perfect time to ask him something that had been on your mind the last week or so. "Thanos," you spoke up, causing his eyes to meet yours again, "what made you come up to me that day?"
His gaze softened a bit, looking down as to avoid eye contact with you. "Well, to be honest, I'm just like you." He admitted. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what he was referring to.
"Y'know, I noticed it as soon as I saw you. I could tell you weren't okay up there, and this place isn't somewhere to be in that state" Oh. You thought you did a good job at hiding it, were you really letting your mask slip that much?
As soon as your mind started racing, Thanos placed his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, its okay. You didn't make it obvious or nothin'. I just didn't want you to get in a bad headspace and not give it your all. I could tell you're strong." He said, eyes flicking down to your wrists.
Quickly, you jerk your arms back. Shit, did they show? You looked back up at Thanos with tears in your eyes, terrified of what he'd think of you now that he saw who you really are. Weak and pathetic
"No no, Its okay. They're beautiful. Shows that you never give up, no matter what." Thanos comforted, face turning pale near the last part. "I'm jealous."
The tears started falling as you took in his words of validation. After years of trying to hide the scars, you finally felt like they were a declaration of your strength rather than a source of shame.
"I've never told anyone this, but now seems like the right time, yea?" He started, causing you to put your full attention on him "You saw my video, right? Of me playing ddakji?"
You chuckled for a bit, "Yea, it was pretty hard to miss"
"Right," he laughed, with a hint of pain. "Before that recruiter found me, I was on a bridge. I felt like I was at the end of my story, ready to let go. Nothing mattered anymore. I lost everything that made me happy. My job, my money, my sense of purpose. I thought I had tried everything else, and there was no other way out."
He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting out toward the blank room. “But then he came out of nowhere, with that stupid fancy suit. He asked if i wanted to play ddakji. Said if I won, he'd give me 100,000 won. It wasn't a lot but its better than nothing right?"
His eyes met yours, a flicker of resistance igniting within them. “I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? If I lost, I’d still be back where I started. But if I won… maybe there was hope after all.”
He ran a hand through his wild purple hair, a mix of relief and regret washing over him. “I never thought calling that number would lead me here, to this moment. It’s crazy how a simple choice can change everything. Y'know, it’s in our darkest moments that we find the light. I’m still scared, but I’m fighting now. For myself, and for those who can’t fight anymore.”
"But I saw you still had that fight in you, you just needed a push. And I wanted to be that for you" Thanos sighed.
Even more tears ran down your face but this time, the same went for him. You never thought that someone would actually take this much effort, especially in a situation like this, to look out for you. You didn't think you mattered that much to anyone.
The two of you laid down in your now shared bed, holding each other tight as to not lose one another, and slowly drifted into sleep.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅
As the lights slammed on and intercom went off, you felt a familiar void in your stomach. As if on cue, Thanos rubbed your hand gently, bringing you immediate comfort. "Im right here, baby. N' Im not goin anywhere." A slight warmth rushed to your face as his words replayed in your head, maybe everything was gonna be okay after all.
You waited for what seemed like hours for them to bring food out, but it never came. It seemed as if you were getting less and less food as time went on. Was this on purpose to make everyone weaker? You didn't know, but it was definitely taking a toll on you.
Both of you stayed within an arms length of eachother the whole time. Even until they announced everyone to line up to enter the final game.
Thanos walked directly infront of you, holding your hand as you made your way through the stairs splattered with an arrangement of colors. The first time you walked though them, it seemed so colorful and full of life. Now, it just seemed dull.
As you walked into the near pitch-black room with red led lights tracing the walls, you felt your heart drop. Something wasn't right. Your stomach turned in a terrifying way as you held onto Thanos, scared of what's to come.
He's learned your behavior and what your actions mean, causing him to pull you closer. Thanos was aware of how easy you get anxious, and how bad it can get. And he felt as if was his job to protect you from all your worries.
Unbeknownst to you, though, Thanos felt the exact same way. He didn't know exactly what it was, but something about this particular game felt uneasy. In an attempt to stay strong for you, he cleared his throat and spoke up.
"Don't let go of me okay? Its dark as shit in here I can barely see" He laughed, trying his best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Your palms got sweatier by the second as the both of you walked deeper into the room, occasionally bumping into people. Eventually, you heard the instructions come on the speaker.
"Please, split into 4 equal groups based off of your previous votes. Two "X" groups of 10, Two "O" groups of 10. You have 5 minutes" Immediately after, the red lights started blaring, just how they did during the mingle game. Your heart stopped as you heard that. Thanos hadn't gotten a chance to change his vote, were the two of you going to be separated during the final game?
“No!” you cried out, the word bursting from your lips like a desperate plea, hoping something, anything will change. “Thanos, we can't—”
“I know,” he interrupted, his eyes wide with fear, reflecting the same mix of urgency and determination as your own. “We got to find our groups before it’s too late.”
Why? Why was this happening now? Your mind raced as panic set in. The room felt stifling, the air thick with dread and uncertainty. You could feel the tension radiating off the players around you, their whispers and shuffling feet blending into a chaotic symphony of anxiety.
The chilling announcement echoed in your ears “4 minutes remain”
You could feel the pull of the frenzied crowd, the inevitable separation haunting you like a distant nightmare. You pushed through the horde, each step heavier than the last, your heart racing as you caught a glimpse of something, a cluster of players forming with that familiar 'X' patch on their chests.
“Thanos, look!” you shouted, your eyes locking onto the group that was gathered before you. “That’s my group!”
“Go, I’ll find mines.” Thanos urged, his grip on your hand loosening even though his eyes fought against losing you. “Just remember what we talked about. Keep pushing even if it seems impossible. Ill be waiting for you when we get out.”
Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you began to pull away from him. “I can’t believe this is happening...” you whispered to yourself as the despair finally settled in.
With a final hug, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, your hands slipped apart. The distance between you suddenly felt colossal, the amount of space between the both of you increasing with each passing player. Thanos was officially lost to the shadows.
Your heart pounded alarmingly in your chest as you joined the half of your “X” group, forcing yourself to focus despite the panic. You scanned the players, assessing the strength of the new faces around you. Were they reliable? Would they betray you?
A few familiar players joined the formation alongside you, Dae-ho and Jun-hee murmuring quiet reassurances to one another. “We can do this,” The taller man said, eyes darting around the group as the tension thickened.
But as more players continued to merge into smaller clusters, the reality set in, you had to push forward alone, even if your lover felt impossibly distant.
Just as you were being further swept into a crowd of new allies, the loudspeaker croaked out another instruction yet again. “Participants, please stick closely with your chosen group. As you do this, make your way towards the door ahead.”
You took a deep breath, shaky with uncertainty. The door ahead shone like a gateway to the unknown. The murmurs of strategizing and encouragement filled the air, a strange mix of comfort and anxiety filled your body as you tried to tune out everything around you.
Dae-ho nudged you gently, his voice steadying. “Stay focused. We’ll work together and beat this, okay?”
You nodded, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety overwhelming you. “Yeah” You muttered, hearing your heartbeat in your ears, a persistent reminder of the stakes. As each group stepped closer to the door, the pink soldier with a bold circle on it's mask stopped everyone.
"Which group will be going first?" The soldier spoke, in a slightly distorted voice.
After a couple seconds of quiet mutters between every team, the leader of the other X group, the man from the previous games, spoke up.
"We'll go. This might be similar to a game I've done" He announced. Your group swiftly moved out of the way to allow his team to go. One by one, they walked through the door. As soon as the final member made their way through, the mechanical door forced shut, cutting off any view of the inside.
Waiting felt like an eternity. The tension in the air grew thicker as each team member shifted nervously. You could sense the anxiety growing in them. Whispers arose among your group, forming predictions on what may be beyond that door, but none could compare to the despair of reality.
About 10 minutes after the first group entered, they began calling for the next one. As your team was next in line, the guard signaled you all to go inside the door. Your heart dropped as you gave Thanos a final look back, tears in your eyes as you dread what's to come.
The scene infront of you was immersive. The room was bright, like a carnival. There were big glowing lights everywhere. As you stepped through the door, a chilling rush of air slapped against your face, carrying with it an overwhelming sense of dread. Before you knew it, the line of people suddenly stopped, causing you to faceplant into the person before you.
"Wait!" Someone yelled, "We're on a platform.."
As you peaked around the group, you saw how high up you were. There were horizontal poles coming from the ceiling, resembling something that you knew all too well.
"Welcome players. Allow me to introduce you to the sixth and final game: Monkey Bars. The rules are simple. Every member of your team must traverse a series of monkey bars before the timer hits zero. But beware, missing a bar and falling will result in immediate elimination."
As murmurs of fear rippled through the group, you took a deep breath to steady yourself. Even though Thanos had been drawn away, you couldn’t afford to lose. You needed to use all of your strength to complete this game while holding onto hope that you would see him again.
But deep in your gut, you feared that fate had other plans.
You glanced down, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the distance to the ground. It felt like a dizzying drop, one wrong move could mean the end of everything you fought so hard for. Your teammates exchanged worried glances, each of them struggling with their own fears and doubts.
You could hear the faint beeping in the background, the sound growing louder with each passing second. The adrenaline rushed through your veins as you clenched your fists, surveying the area once more so you fully understand what you're getting yourself into.
As the countdown hit zero, the timer's blaring sound echoed through the venue like a gunshot, triggering a surge of chaos. One by one, players launched themselves onto the first bar, swinging forward with determination. They attempted to coordinate their movements, using a tactic similar to the one in the 6-legged race.
With the rhythm of jumping every two counts guiding them, you carefully watched as some moved gracefully while others struggled and faltered, their cries of panic bouncing off the walls. The sight of watching your peers slowly fall to their death put a sick feeling in your stomach, the mushy 'splat!' as they hit the floor making you want to throw up.
Before you knew it, it was your turn. The immense pit of fear in your stomach twisted tighter as you leapt forward, grasping the first bar with both hands. The initial swing was thrilling yet terrifying, anxiety clawing at you with the fear of falling. You forced yourself to stay focused. Inch by inch, you moved, feeling the strain in your muscles as you reached for the next bar.
“Come on, keep going!” someone shouted from behind you, their encouragement pushing you forward. Each bar you grabbed felt like a small victory, but you knew you still had much more to go, taking tiny glimpses at the amount of bars left. You could hear gasps from teammates behind you after slipping off a bar, causing them to fall and add to the pile of gruesome bodies gathering below you.
Seeing all those bodies at the bottom caused your overthinking to kick in at the absolute wrong time. What if you fell? What if you died? Desperation clawed at you as you reached the halfway point. The metal bars were slick with sweat and your palms felt numb, grip faltering. But the thought of Thanos pushed you onward, a reminder of everything you had to lose—and everything you were fighting for.
From then on, with every swing, hope swelled within you. This could be the moment that changed everything. That fleeting memory of Thanos pushed you further than you ever thought. You remembered his words "Keep pushing even if it seems impossible." and it fueled you like never before. Your heart raced, a mix of determination and dread flooding through you.
Taking a deep breath, you used every ounce of determination in you and pushed forward once more. With one final pull, you swung to the last bar, the end platform finally coming into view.
As you landed safely, a rush of euphoria washed over you. You’d made it! The cheers from your team resonated around you, but there was no time for celebration just yet. You turned back to the others, knowing that many were still grappling with their own struggles.
“Keep going!” you shouted, your voice hoarse but filled with fervor. “You can do this!”
With your encouragement, you watched as your teammates found the strength to push themselves forward, unified in the fight for survival in this relentless game. Hope flickered within you, a feeling you wished would carry all of you to victory.
As your team finished the challenge, you felt your nerves calm down. There were some that didn't make it, but the majority did and you were happy for that. The timer still had a minute and 20 seconds left, everyone spent their time talking and calming down. One thing that confused you, though, was that the other half of the 'X' group was still there from when they finished. If they completed the game, shouldn't they be able to go back to their own room?
Just as the thought started to worry you, the buzzer rang through the room, signaling that your remaining time was now up. You expected to be taken to the sleeping quarters, but there were no guards, not even a door on the side you stood on.
The first half of the 'O' group walked through the entrance, and your heart exploded as you saw a face you grew to love. It was Thanos. You could see a familiar intensity etched across his brow. He was in his element, ready to confront the challenge ahead.
The second you locked eyes, his face glowed in admiration. Time seemed to freeze as the noise around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that moment.
Your exchanged gazes were cut off by the blaring buzzer, signaling the start of his team’s round. He straightened his posture, expression changing swiftly from admiration to fierce determination. With a quick glance back at you, he locked eyes one last time. A silent promise passed between you, he would give his absolute all.
Soon enough, the familiar purple head of hair caught your attention. He was about to start. It felt like you were the one on the bars as you watched him make his way across. As he took a deep breath and launched himself into the challenge, it was like the ground beneath you shifted. You were completely focused, holding your breath with each swing he took.
Every struggle and grunt made you flinch. Watching the players make their way across the stage, you tried to distract yourself from the fact that your boyfriend was right behind them, fighting for his life.
Even though he seemed to be making it across fairly okay your heart still beat profusely. At some point, you decide to turn away altogether, saving yourself from the pain of watching. While you sat there with your eyes glued closed, trying to shield yourself from the people before you, you feel a tap on your shoulder.
Slowly, you pull your head up, not wanting to face reality. But the person you were stressing so much over was standing right infront of you. Thanos stood there, a mix of adoration and relief flooding his face.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, proving how much the previous game had tired him. You could see faint layer of sweat glistening against the harsh lights above, but none of that really mattered. What mattered was the warmth in his eyes as he leaned in closer, hugging you tightly as to calm himself down.
“You okay?” His voice was soft yet urgent, a contrast to the loudness of the everything around you. With this, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I was watching, It was..”
“I know,” he interrupted gently, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. “But I’m here now.”
Your heart swelled, despite the noise and yells from the crowds around you. It was such a relief to see him unharmed, standing tall and ready for anything. The moment slowed as you both just stared at each other, words slipping away.
Unfortunately, your moment got cut off, like always, by the instrusive 10 minute timer going off. While the next group made their way in, the two of you just laid there, taking in each others presence before the games ended, for good.
It felt like you were floating, like nothing around you mattered and the two of you were the only people on earth. As you drifted deeper into this peaceful haven you knew that nothing could ever break the bond that you shared with Thanos, a bond that was forged in tough times and deep emotions.
But as they say, there's always a calm before the storm.
The final team completed the challenge before you knew it, and the whole room erupted with cheers. We were finally able to go home. This whole time, all the tears and fighting was worth it. Thanos kissed you passionately as to celebrate the win, or what seemed like a win.
All of the applause were cut short by that nerve-wracking intercom coming back on. "Dear contestants, congratulations on completing the first part of the game! 24 players now remain."
Your heart stopped as you heard those words. First part..? Didn't we finish the games? You looked up at Thanos in disbelief, hoping to get some type of comfort. Instead, you were met with a face of pure terror.
All the color was drained from his cheeks as his mouth hung open out of shock, he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Panic surged through you, overpowering the joy of victory. You exchanged glances with the others in the room, confusion and dread painting their faces, mirroring your own fears.
The intercom continued, its voice cold and mechanical. “The rules for Phase 2 are the same as Phase 1: There is a time limit of 25 minutes for all remaining players to return to the opposite side of the room. Please proceed with caution.”
25 minutes? That isn't nearly enough time to get everyone across. Your uneasiness grew as players started to shuffle around in worry, adding onto your anxiety of already being high up. The timer blared through the room, signaling the start of phase 2.
Player 456 took initiative and stepped infront of everyone, coming up with a plan. "Everyone, follow my lead. A person will join in every 3 bars, be careful and don't panic. It will slow you down and cause everyone to mess up."
Soon after his speech, he took a leap onto the bar, causing the countdown to begin. Everyone followed his orders, joining in every 3 bars. It was all going smoothly up until it was nearing your turn.
You watched as the team excelled, most pushing though the dismay and making it to the end. Others weren't as lucky, losing their grip and falling to their deaths.
Thanos insisted on going after you, claiming it would help him stay focused and remember what he’s fighting for. You agreed quickly, finding his words endearing, completely oblivious to the true reason for his actions.
Unbeknownst to you, Thanos had gotten an arm injury in one of the previous games, which progressively worsened. He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to worry any more, but he could feel himself losing strength. Especially with this final game being physical, Thanos knew this was his last chance to be with you.
Instead of telling you his true feelings, that he was sure this would be his last time seeing you, he decided to protect your heart for now. After all, isn’t that what he approached you to do?
As the person before you made their way onto the bars, Thanos pulled you in for a tight, unknowingly final hug. You weren’t sure why he did this, or why it felt so much more different, but you appreciated it.
“Please, try your hardest okay? Don’t give up no matter what.” He muttered, face stuffed in the crook of your neck. Before waiting for a response, he gently grasped your face with both hands and pressed his lips against yours in a long, passionate kiss that left you breathless.
His mouth moved with a desperate urgency, as if savoring every second you had left together. The kiss was like a goodbye, a promise of forever that lingered even as it came to an end.
You jumped on the bar, full of life. All your strength kicked in at this moment as you used Thanos’ words to power you through. The muscles in your arms burned as you worked through the challenge, but his presence fueled your determination. You couldn’t let him down. Not now.
The crowd roared around you, their cheers blending into a rhythmic chant that kept pace with your heartbeat. Looking back at Thanos, you saw his face pale with anxiety. You wanted to assure him that everything would be alright, but you were too focused on pushing past your limits.
As the minutes ticked by and the final bar loomed ahead, you felt doubt creep in—what if you weren’t strong enough? What if all the fighting, all the trouble from the last games led to this moment and you were about to fail?
You took a final look back, wanting to see Thanos' face in hopes of it pushing you through the last half of the course, but instead get met with a face of sheer terror. Thanos' face was full of raw desperation, his eyes wide and glistening with an unsettling mix of fear and disbelief.
The usually relaxed lines of his jaw tightened, showing a weakness that sharply contrasted with his earlier mood. Unbeknownst to you, this was the moment he finally understood the weight of his looming defeat. He knew the end had come, but why did it have to be with you right in front of him?
Thanos' arms buckled as he attempted to push through, to use all his remaining energy to make it to the end. Each swing grew heavier as the bars beneath his hands grew slick with sweat. His heart raced, not just from the pressure but from the dread settling in his gut. A shadow of hopelessness flickered through his mind.
“This can’t be it,” he thought, clenching his jaw as he struggled to swing himself forward. Not like this. Not now. His gaze flickered to you, hanging off the bar 3 ahead of him, eyes wide with concern and shimmering with tears.
Memories of your laughter echoed through his mind, light and warm against the harsh reality of these games. He remembered those nights spent talking about dreams and futures, the plans you constructed together so effortlessly. All the times you had smiled at him, with that light in your eyes that made his heart swell, igniting a fire deep within him that he didn’t know he had left.
But now, did it even matter? The cruel thought twisted in his chest like a knife. He fought through so much, lost everything, only to get this close to the one thing he wanted most; true, undeniable love. And now it felt like sand slipping through his fingers, the more he struggled, the more he was losing.
As he swung on the next bar, his grip faltered for just a moment, and unlike every other time before, he felt fragility creep into his bones. The voice within him began to scream, demanding him to give up, that it was all over. Why keep fighting when the odds felt impossible?
But he had to move, for you. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body forward, fatigue clinging to him like a leech. With every swing, he felt a crack in his pride, a familiar emptiness growing in him as his thoughts flooded with anxieties.
He remembered the warmth of your hands in his, the gentle touch that made every battle feel worth it. Each moment spent with you had become a lifeline in this place, a source of hope he never thought he would have again.
As he took another swing, desperation fueled him, but quickly it faded. His muscles trembled, stabs of pain shooting through him. A vision of you, radiant and pure, tugged at his heart, and a sob caught in his throat. This was truly the end for him.
You tried not to turn back, hearing how much Thanos was struggling. You didn't want to see him like that. As the fight to the end continued you only had one thing on your mind; how happy the two of you would be after all this.
As you moved forward, a raspy voice came from behind you. "No…" Thanos murmured. Overcome by curiosity, you glanced back slightly. What you saw brought tears to your eyes.
You saw Thanos clutching the bar tightly with raw desperation, the last ounce of strength draining from him. He locked eyes with you, wanting nothing more but to keep going for you, his girl. But before he could think further, his body betrayed him. His fingertips slipped, a sudden loss of control, and time felt like it stretched endlessly.
Every memory, every smile, every hopeful dream flickered through your mind. The plans you had made, the laughter you shared, the quiet moments when everything else faded away and it was just the two of you.
But now, with horror pinching at your heart, you watched him fall. In that split second before he vanished from your sight, you saw the mix of fear and regret cross his face. It was a sight you would never forget, a moment where everything he had fought for clashed with the dreaded reality of loss.
As he disappeared from view, you felt your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. The warmth of your shared moments was replaced by an empty void, every hope for a future together gone in an instant. The world around you moved on, but you were frozen, trying to grasp the reality of what just happened.
You watched as Thanos, your first true love, fell to the ground becoming nothing more than another body added to the pile below. You faltered, unable to tear your gaze from the spot where he had been.
And in those final moments, as he hit the ground, with a pain that felt both devastating and liberating, he saw your face flash before him, etched forever in the depths of his heart. A love that would transcend even death. For a heartbeat more, he hoped that you would find your way through this cruel world, even if he could not be there to protect you.
A suffocating silence enveloped you, an immense contrast to the chaos that had erupted just moments before. The fight within you dispersed, replaced by a crushing sense of helplessness. Your only reason to keep going had just faded. You sloppily pushed your way to the end, fighting the urge to simply give up.
Finishing the challenge didn't excite you anymore. As you heard the announcement stating the end of the games, all you could think about was how you just lost the only person worth fighting for.
You could've did something, anything. Why him? Why couldn't it be you? The whole experience was bittersweet. As the screen displayed the amounts of money everyone would receive, there was no sense of happiness within you. Just a hole in your heart, one only Thanos could fill.
But now he's gone and you feel worse than ever. You didn't care about the money anymore. Sure, you were no longer in debt, but it wasn't worth losing your best friend. The money felt like an insult, a shallow victory overshadowed by the emptiness left in his death.
The days drag on. Every morning, you wake up hoping things will feel different, but the same sadness greets you like an unwanted shadow. You feel lost in a world that keeps moving forward while you’re frozen in the moment where you lost it all.
Eventually, the sadness becomes overwhelming, and you find yourself spiraling back into darker thoughts. Feelings of hopelessness creep in, and it’s hard to escape them. You start to think that maybe it would be easier if you just didn’t have to feel anything at all. That maybe not being here would take away the pain for good, and you catch yourself wondering if anyone would truly miss you.
Those thoughts frighten you, but they also exist in the quiet moments when everything else feels unbearable. In the times where there nothing to focus on but your thoughts and trauma, you wonder if it's worth it.
Nobody would care. Family hasn't called in months, friends cut you off. You were an embarrassment to be around. The thoughts kicked in harder, and you started to think of plans. Time, place, and opportunity; those were the 3 key things you needed to consider if you went trough with it.
But as you sit there, a small flicker of doubt creeps in. You remember how you used to laugh, how you once loved to share stories and connect with others. Remembering these times, your heart aches at how you took it for granted.
You would give anything to go back to those days. When you didn't have to worry about debt, being able to go out with friends everyday. Now the world seemed gray and lifeless. You felt like a ghost, simply floating through the stages of life, not truly taking in anything.
A week passes since you've been out the house, and you still haven't left your bed. The sheets cling to you like a magnet, but they suffocate you too. You haven’t showered in days, the thought of standing beneath the water feeling like an unruly task. Instead, you find comfort in the bundle of your blankets, where you can hide from the world and the relentless demands of life.
Your body feels sluggish as hunger pangs occasionally reminding you of your needs, but preparing food or even grabbing a snack seems overwhelming. It’s easier to ignore it, to push it aside and focus on trying to silence the chaos in your mind. You scroll endlessly through your phone, searching for distractions, but nothing holds your attention. You feel disconnected, like there's a glass wall between you and everything else.
Another week passes, the same exhausting loop continuing. Everything was genuinely draining, and you were tired of it. Breathing felt like a chore, and you could barely find the strength to get on your phone. So, you decided that it was time. Time for all your thoughts to silence and pain to finally stop.
You remembered the gun you kept in your bedside drawer, for "safety" reasons. It was never put to use, so maybe now was the time. Picking it up, you made sure it was fully loaded. You didn't want to regret this, not after everything that's happened.
Being your first time out the house in weeks, you drove to a faraway forest, making sure it was in a desolate place nobody would even think of visiting. The drive was about 2 hours long, causing it to be pitch black upon arrival. There hadn't been any cars for the past 45 minutes of driving, just how you wanted.
As you picked up your phone for the first time in almost a week, you noticed that there were hardly any notifications. It became clear that they really didn’t care. Looking up slightly, you noticed the time "11:38". Time, place, and opportunity.
All you could think about was Thanos. You'd promised him not to give up, but you had to. You thought back to his previous words, "it’s in our darkest moments that we find the light." Hearing his words repeat in your head made you realize, he was your light.
He'd came out of nowhere, sweet-talking you and washing all your worries away. For that week you'd known eachother, you were the happiest you'd been in a while. There wasn't a single time you considered doing something awful to yourself.
But now that he's gone, it seemed like you were in worse shape than before. You were bad, but not enough to be standing in the middle of the woods with nothing but your phone and a gun.
You shivered as the cool air from the wind hit your face. The dark, silent setting brought you uneasiness. You were finally alone. Raising the firearm to your head, your mind started racing. Was this really it? Is this how it ends?
The weight of the gun brought fatigue to your weak arm, being severely malnourished and exhausted. You felt horrible to break Thanos' promise, not being able to keep pushing anymore. The guilt hit you like a bus.
Suddenly, all your emotion intensified by a hundred. You felt a mix of anger and depression swirl though your body as you gripped the gun tighter. Every negative feeling abruptly switched onto you, leaving you with nothing but self-loathing.
Without thinking, you pulled the trigger. You felt a flash of agonizing pain as the thick bullet pierced through your skull. All of your pain was swiftly replaced with absolute serenity, as if the chaos of your life had finally unraveled.
As your awareness faded away, all you could think about was Thanos. How he held you when you started panicking, understood your body language, and connected with you like no one else did.
You'd reunite with him for good this time.
#choi su bong#thanos x reader#choi su bong x reader#thanos#player 230#player 230 x reader#t.o.p#t.o.p bigbang#choi seunghyun#squid game 2#squid game#squid game angst#thanos angst#choi su bong angst#kang dae ho#choi subong
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THE NEW WAG IN TOWN (chapter 1)──iamquaintrelle
# pairing: william saliba x black oc (☔️✨💕)
# wc: 11.2k
# tags: @formulafortyfour @kennasutopia @saleeba @anifffff @jessnotwiththemess @irishmanwhore @snowseasonmademe @oceanfanatic06 @ibouchouchou @haartemis @judectrl @peyiswriting @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @sucredreamer @eriks-girl
# summary: yasmin thought that dating wilo would stay private - until someone caught them at tesco and posted it online. now she's gone from quiet grad student to arsenal wag overnight, with thousands of new followers and wags begging her to join their brunches. all she wanted was to finish her degree and date her defender in peace, but as the spotlight grows brighter, she wonders if their private world can survive in this public circus. masterlist
Three days had passed since a Dairy Milk craving changed everything. Three days of Yas's phone vibrating itself into oblivion, of her twist-out staying in a messy pineapple because clinical rotations were kicking her ass, of trying to pretend she wasn't all over Arsenal Twitter because she'd dragged a sleepy Wilo to Tesco at midnight. The TikTok was everywhere now - her 5'5" frame drowning in his Arsenal hoodie while his 6'4" self reached for top-shelf chocolate, both of them clearly caught up in their own little world until a fan's "Can I get a picture?" turned into way more than they'd bargained for. The original tweet sharing the TikTok already had more than 50k likes: "SALIBA GOT A GIRL?? Caught at Tesco late night shopping 👀 Who is she??" and it was only getting worse.
At least she had Jamie, her clinical partner at King's College London's PT clinic, to keep her sane through it all. Jamie, who was currently failing to hide her grin while updating patient charts.
"Your boyfriend's coming in for his knee check today, right?"
"Stop calling him that at work," Yas hissed, but couldn't help smiling. The whole thing was still wild to her - meeting Wilo four months ago at Dishoom, that Indian spot all her classmates insisted she try when she first moved from Chicago. She'd been struggling with the menu (why were British-Indian portions so different from American ones?), and this tall guy with the deepest French accent she'd ever heard offered to help. She didn't even realize who he was until her friend kicked her under the table and frantically texted "THAT'S WILLIAM SALIBA" while Yas was busy trying to understand his accent.
She was checking her schedule when Wilo appeared in the doorway, and honestly, it should be illegal how he managed to make ducking through standard-sized doors look graceful. His training gear hung perfectly on his frame, and Yas had to remind herself that she was a professional who definitely wasn't thinking about how that same frame had been pressed against her in the Tesco snack aisle three nights ago.
"Bonjour," he said softly, his accent thick as honey as he sat on the treatment table, those long legs dangling. "Comment ça va?"
"English in the clinic, remember?" she teased, going through her standard range of motion checks. Her hands stayed steady even when his skin was warm under her touch. She'd practiced these movements hundreds of times, but somehow they felt different when it was Wilo watching her with those dark eyes. "How's the knee feeling after training?"
"Better with your exercises," he replied carefully, concentrating on each word in that way he did when he wanted to make sure she understood. His accent always got thicker when he was trying his hardest with English, and god help her, but it was adorable. "But you… are you okay? These past days…"
"I'm fine," she assured him, testing his knee stability and definitely not thinking about how her tiny hands looked against his leg. "Just focusing on my patients. And trying to keep up with your accent when you talk too fast."
"Me?" he laughed, the deep sound filling the small treatment room and making her fingers tingle where they pressed against his knee. "You are the one speaking like…" he paused, reaching for his phone to translate something, and she had to bite back a smile at how predictable he was.
"No phones during treatment," she reminded him, gently pushing his hand down. "Now tell me if you feel any discomfort here…"
Jamie wasn't even pretending not to watch them from the charting station anymore. Yas could feel her friend's amused gaze as she went through the motions - professional PT student Yasmin, definitely not thinking about how this same man had sleepily followed her to Tesco just because she'd played the girlfriend card. Her hands stayed clinical and precise while Wilo watched her with that soft look he got whenever she went into healthcare mode, the one that made her heart do stupid flips in her chest.
"Flex and extend for me," she instructed, her professional tone slipping when he purposely moved extra slow, those dark eyes twinkling. "Stop being difficult."
"I am following instructions," he protested, his accent getting thicker with amusement, wrapping around the words like warm chocolate. "You say slow and controlled, non?"
"I didn't say glacial," she muttered, but her hands were gentle as she checked his range of motion, careful with this man who could body strikers on the pitch but acted like her PT sessions were torture. "How was training this morning?"
"Arteta made us…" he paused, frowning as he searched for the words, and she had to resist the urge to smooth the crease between his brows. "Comment dit-on… extra drills? Because Luton Town this weekend."
"You better not be overworking this knee before a match," she warned, pressing slightly on a tender spot that made him wince. His leg was solid muscle under her hands, a reminder that for all their playful moments, he was still one of the Premier League's top defenders. "See? Still tight here."
Jamie's poorly hidden laugh echoed from the charting station. Everyone at the clinic had seen the TikTok by now but watching them here, you'd never guess they were trending. They were just... them. Yas with her clinical precision masking how her skin tingled wherever they touched, and Wilo with his accented teasing that got thicker whenever he was trying not to smile.
"Your stability's better," Yas noted, switching to her assessment voice even as his warmth seeped through her professional walls. "But you need to ice after training, I can tell you haven't been."
"Too cold," he complained, and the way his accent wrapped around those two simple words shouldn't make her stomach flip like that.
"Too bad. Doctor's orders."
"You're not doctor yet."
"Almost. Now do your hamstring stretches and stop arguing with your PT."
Jamie's pager went off like a lifeline through the tension that was building in the small room. She threw Yas a knowing look before heading out to help with exercises in the main room, leaving them alone with all their unspoken moments.
Wilo waited until the door closed, that heavy silence settling between them. "Gabriel keep asking about you. Want to know if you're coming to dinner at his place tomorrow."
"I have clinic notes to finish," Yas said, focusing on stretching his hamstring and not on how his muscles flexed under her touch. "And that thing with your knee isn't going to document itself."
"I tell him you're busy being smart," he smiled, then winced when she hit another tight spot. "Aïe! Doucement..."
"Baby," she teased, even as her hands gentled automatically. "And here I thought defenders were supposed to be tough."
"Only on pitch. Here?" He gestured to the treatment table, his dark eyes dancing. "I am delicate patient."
Before she could process it, his arm was around her waist, pulling her between his legs where he sat on the table. Even sitting, he was nearly at eye level with her standing. "You sure you okay though? No crazy people following you to work?"
"I'm fine," she said, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism even as his hands settled on her hips, warm through her scrubs. The clinic suddenly felt too small, too warm. "The school's pretty good about security."
"Mm," he hummed, accent getting thicker as he leaned closer, and god, he knew exactly what that did to her. "Maybe I should come to more... what you call them? Clinical hours?"
"Pretty sure that's not what you meant," Yas laughed, not needing any translation app to catch his tone. Her hands rested on his shoulders, forgetting all about PT protocols. "And you're supposed to be doing your exercises—"
Her words cut off in a yelp as he squeezed her ass, the sound hanging in the air just as Jamie walked back in.
"Dr. Morris wants us to– oh!" Jamie stopped short, fighting a grin as Yas jumped away from Wilo, her face burning. "She needs us to shadow her on a shoulder manipulation."
"Coming!" Yas said quickly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back, straightening her scrubs with as much dignity as she could muster. "Behave yourself and ice that knee."
Wilo just grinned, all innocent eyes and devastating smile as he slid off the table. "Bye Jamie," he called out, throwing Yas one last look that promised this wasn't over before ducking out the door, taking all her professional composure with him.
"So," Jamie drawled as they headed down the corridor, her voice dripping with amusement. "That's what professional PT looks like these days?"
"Shut up," Yas muttered, adjusting her scrubs and trying to will away the heat in her cheeks. "We were just–"
"Just doing some hands-on therapy?" Jamie wiggled her eyebrows. "Very hands-on from what I saw."
"I'm not above tripping you in front of Dr. Morris."
"Worth it. Also, you've got a little…" Jamie gestured to her own lips, and Yas quickly wiped away the ghost of her goodbye kiss, shooting her friend a death glare that only made Jamie grin wider.
The rest of her clinical hours dragged by in a blur of patient assessments and charting, her phone occasionally buzzing with texts from Wilo - mostly French words she had to Google Translate, each one making her bite back a smile. By the time she finally finished her notes, the London evening had turned that particular shade of grey that meant rain was coming.
Her phone lit up just as she was packing up.
"You still at clinic?" Wilo's accent was somehow even deeper over the phone.
"Just finished. Why?"
"Look outside."
She peaked through the clinic windows to find him leaning against his Range Rover in the parking lot. A few students were trying (and failing) to subtly take photos, but he seemed focused only on watching the clinic door.
"You're supposed to be icing that knee," she said as she walked out, trying to sound stern even as her heart did that stupid flutter thing once more.
"I did ice." He pushed off the car, closing the distance between them in those long strides of his. "For ten whole minutes."
"That's not–" but her professional PT lecture was cut off as he pulled her into him, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other settled on her waist. She had to tilt her head all the way back to look at him, and his eyes were soft as they traced over her tired features.
"You look exhausted, mon cœur."
"Clinical hours are no joke." She let herself lean into him just a bit. "Not all of us get to play football all day."
His laugh rumbled through his chest where she was pressed against him. "Non? You want to try defending for Saka this weekend?"
"I'd rather do another eight hours of charting."
That earned her another laugh, and then he was bending down to press his lips to her forehead. "Come, I take you home. Maybe stop for more chocolate?"
"Don't even joke about Tesco runs right now," she groaned, but let him guide her to the passenger side, his hand warm on her lower back. "I still can't believe that girl posted the video."
"Mm," he hummed, helping her up into the seat even though they both knew she didn't need it. "But now I can do this whenever I want, non?" And he leaned in to kiss her properly, slow and sweet, before pulling back with a grin. "No more hiding in snack aisle."
"You're impossible," she muttered, but she was smiling as he closed her door and rounded the car to the driver's side.
The Range Rover hummed quietly through London's evening traffic, some French rap playing softly through the speakers. Yas had gotten used to Wilo's driving habits by now - how his huge frame somehow managed to look graceful even behind the wheel, one hand on it while the other alternated between the gear shift and her thigh. He drove like he played, confident and smooth, those long fingers tapping against the leather steering wheel to the beat.
She was half-dozing, lulled by the warmth of the heated seats and the familiar mix of his cologne with that fancy car freshener he used, when she realized they weren't heading toward her flat and was rounding the corner to his building.
"What are you doing?" She turned to find him wearing that particular expression she knew too well - the one he got when he thought he was being slick, the one that usually preceded with her scrubs ending up on his floor.
"Taking you home," he said innocently, but his accent had that particular thickness to it that had nothing to do with language barriers.
"I don't live here, Will." But they both knew she had more clothes in his drawer than she'd admit to, and her favorite coffee mug had somehow migrated to his kitchen cabinet.
"Sometimes you do…" he smirked as he pulled into his private parking spot. "And I figured we could… finish from what happened at clinic?"
"I'm still on my period, or did you forget the main reason we even visited Tesco in the first place?" The same Tesco run that had blown their private bubble wide open, though looking at him now, with that glint in his eye, she could almost laugh about it.
"A little blood–"
"Don't you even dare," she threatened, pointing her finger at him which he playfully tried to bite, earning himself a smack on the chest. "You're gross."
"I'll just put down a towel. The least I could do since you got the period," he huffed, and she realized with a start that he wasn't entirely joking. Ever since they'd made things official, he'd been more… careless. Dropping comments about knocking her up - which, okay, was hot as hell in the moment, but outside the bedroom? Major yikes.
"William, no babies until a ring is on this finger and I'm finished with my program." She waggled her bare ring finger in front of his face for emphasis, trying not to think about how his eyes tracked the movement. "We're too young to even talk about babies anyways. Like what is the reason?"
"We'll make pretty babies," he said with that devastating smile of his, the one that made her forget she was supposed to be the responsible one here.
"No shit."
"But?" His eyes were twinkling now as he killed the engine, the sudden silence making everything feel more intimate.
"But you know the rules. No more talk about this please. You're giving me a migraine."
"You know what could help with migraine?" He was fully grinning now, one hand already reaching for her seatbelt while the other played with the ends of her twist-out.
She couldn't help but scoff at him, even as her body betrayed her by leaning into his touch. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Impossible? Non," he murmured, his accent getting impossibly thicker as he leaned across the console. "Just... what you say? Determined?"
"That's one word for it," Yas muttered, but didn't pull away when his fingers traced down her jaw. "Will..."
"We don't have to do anything," he said softly, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. "Just... stay. Watch a film. Let me make you dinner."
She raised an eyebrow. "You mean let me watch you struggle with UberEats for twenty minutes?"
"So mean to me," he pouted, but his eyes were dancing.
"No I’m not."
"Come on, mon coeur." His hand had moved to the back of her neck now, playing with the hairs that had escaped her pineapple. "Your flat is cold and empty."
"Because someone keeps stealing my hoodies."
"You steal mine first!"
"That's different," she protested, even as she was already reaching for her bag. "I look cute in yours. You stretch mine out with your giant... everything."
His laugh was deep and warm in the confined space. "Giant everything, eh?"
"Don't make me hurt your knee again," she threatened, but they both knew she was going to follow him upstairs. She always did, especially when he looked at her with those soft eyes that made her forget about clinical hours and Twitter drama and everything else.
"You wouldn't," he said confidently, finally pulling back to get out of the car. "Who else let you practice your PT stuff?"
"I have other patients, you know."
"Oui, but are they as pretty as me?" He was already at her door, opening it with that stupidly charming grin of his.
"You're so–" but her words cut off as he helped her down, using their height difference to pull her flush against him. Even after months, it still made her breath catch, how easily he could maneuver her smaller frame.
"So what?" he whispered, bending down so his lips brushed her ear. "Tell me, docteur."
Yas immediately stepped away. "Annoying."
The private elevator ride to his penthouse was torture - not because of the height (though Yas still wasn't used to the way London sprawled out below those floor-to-ceiling windows), but because Wilo had her pressed against the mirrored wall, one huge hand spanning her waist while the other played with her edges.
"You're messing up my hair," she complained halfheartedly, tilting her head back against his chest.
"It's already messy," he murmured, accent thick with suggestion. The elevator dinged open to his floor before she could reply, and he guided her out with that hand still firmly on her waist.
His penthouse was exactly what you'd expect from a 23-year-old footballer - all clean lines and modern furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city lights coming alive in the dusk.
"You really need to do your dishes," she said, trying to maintain some semblance of responsibility even as he walked her backward toward that ridiculous couch.
"Later," he promised, those dark eyes fixed on her in a way that made her forget about dirty dishes and clinical notes and everything that wasn't his hands sliding down to her hips. "First..."
"Will," she warned, but her body was already betraying her, melting into his touch. "I told you–"
"Just kissing," he assured her, but that smirk said otherwise. "Unless..."
"Don't even finish that sentence."
Her warning lost some of its effect when he stepped closer, backing her up against the back of that massive sectional. The city lights sparkled behind him through those floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows across his features that made him look unfairly gorgeous. Sometimes she still couldn't believe this was her life now - Arsenal's star defender looking at her like she hung the moon, all because she couldn't figure out Indian food portions four months ago.
His hands found her waist again, and the height difference meant she had to tilt her head all the way back to maintain eye contact. That soft smile he reserved just for her played at his lips, and really, clinical notes could wait, right?
"Fuck," Yas breathed as his lips found that spot behind her ear, his hands steady on her hips. "Will, I swear to god–"
"What?" he murmured against her skin, all fake innocence even as he guided them down onto the sectional. "I'm being good."
"You're being something," she managed, but then he was kissing her properly, and honestly, clinical notes could wait. Her fingers found their way into his hair as he settled over her, careful to keep most of his weight on his forearms.
"Still have headache?" he teased between kisses, and she could feel his smile against her lips.
"Shut up," she groaned, tugging his hair in retaliation. "You're so annoying."
"Mm, but you like it."
"Sometimes I don't know why."
His laugh rumbled through his chest where it pressed against hers. "Because I'm your favorite patient."
"You're my most difficult patient," she corrected, but then his mouth was back on her neck and she lost whatever else she was going to say. Her nails scraped lightly against his scalp, earning a low sound that she felt more than heard.
"Will," she warned as his hands started wandering. "I told you–"
"I know, I know," he sighed, pulling back just enough to look at her with those dark eyes. "Just kissing. But tomorrow..."
"You're impossible."
"You keep saying this word. I don't think it means what you think it means."
She blinked up at him. "Did you just quote Princess Bride at me?"
His grin was devastating. "Maybe I pay attention when you make me watch your American films."
"Oh my god," she laughed, shoving at his chest. "Get off me, I can't believe you just–"
But he was kissing her again, swallowing her laughter, until she finally pulled back with a sigh. The look in his eyes was nearly enough to make her forget about her cramps. Nearly.
"Fine. Go get the towel."
His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Really?"
"Before I change my mind." She could already feel herself blushing at how eager he was about this whole situation.
"I can't wait to cum inside you," he breathed against her neck, and she actually had to pause, her hands frozen where they'd been playing with his hair.
"What the fuck, bro?" She squinted at him, torn between laughing and being genuinely concerned about his sudden breeding kink. But he was already jumping up from the couch with entirely too much enthusiasm, nearly tripping over his own long legs in his haste.
She could hear him rummaging through his linen closet, muttering in rapid French that she was pretty sure she didn't want translated. This man really was going to be the death of her - all 6'4" of pure ridiculousness, Arsenal's fearsome defender reduced to excitedly hunting for towels.
"I'm ready, sweetheart!" his voice called from somewhere down the hallway a few seconds later, accent thick with anticipation.
Yas shook her head, fighting a smile as she got up to follow him. These football boys really were something else. She started undoing her scrub top as she walked toward his bedroom, wondering how exactly this had become her life - sneaking around with William Saliba, letting him convince her into period sex just because he looked at her with those puppy dog eyes.
"The things I do for you," she muttered under her breath, but she was smiling as she pushed open his bedroom door.
The morning sun filtering through Wilo's floor-to-ceiling windows was entirely too bright, and Yas's lower back was complaining about last night's activities. She could hear him in the kitchen, his deep voice rapping along to some French song while pots clanked suspiciously.
"Never again," she groaned into his ridiculous Egyptian cotton pillows. Her scrubs from yesterday were scattered somewhere on his bedroom floor, mixed with the towel that was definitely going straight into the wash.
"Mon coeur?" His voice carried from the kitchen. "You want eggs?"
"I want ibuprofen," she called back, finally dragging herself out of bed. She pulled on the pajamas she'd left here last time after their little fun - one of his old Arsenal training shirts that hit mid-thigh and some shorts she'd had to tie extra tight to stay up.
The shower in his ensuite was heaven, hot water beating away the soreness while she tried not to think too hard about last night. The sound of Wilo's terrible singing mixed with the smell of what she hoped was breakfast and not another kitchen disaster.
His expensive body wash made her skin smell like him, and she couldn't help but smile at his array of hair products. For someone who kept his hair cropped short, he sure had a lot of opinions about conditioning.
"Is something burning?" she called out as she wrapped her hair in one of his towels.
"Non! Maybe. Come see!"
God help her, she actually loved this ridiculous man.
Yas padded into the kitchen after pulling on another one of his t-shirts and a pair of leggings, finding Wilo attempted to flip an omelette, his large frame making the spacious kitchen somehow feel smaller. He was shirtless, just wearing low-hanging sweats, still rapping along to whatever French artist was playing through his expensive sound system.
"You better not mess up my eggs," she warned, leaning against the counter.
"Non, non. I am professional." He turned to grin at her, and her breath definitely didn't catch at how his eyes darkened seeing her in his shirt. "Sleep good?"
"You're not slick. And we're never doing that again."
"But–"
"Never. Again." But she was fighting a smile as she stole a piece of bacon from the plate next to him. "I can't believe you convinced me."
"I am very convincing," he smirked, then cursed as some egg stuck to the pan. "Merde–"
"Move," she hip-checked him away from the stove. "How are you this bad at cooking when you live alone?"
"I have you now," he said simply, but the way his hands settled on her waist from behind made it sound like so much more. "And UberEats."
"William."
"Mm?" His chin rested on top of her head, and she could feel his smile.
"You're distracting me from saving your breakfast."
"Good. Maybe we can–"
"If you suggest what I think you're about to suggest, I'm burning your omelette on purpose."
"I was just going to say maybe we can have breakfast in bed," he protested, but his hands were wandering again.
"You're the worst liar." She expertly flipped the omelette with one hand while swatting his wandering fingers with the other. "Don't you have training?"
"Later." His lips found that spot behind her ear. "Arteta won't mind if I'm little late."
"Arteta absolutely will mind." But she was already tilting her head to give him better access. "Will, the eggs–"
"Let them burn."
"I'm literally holding a hot pan right now."
He reached around her to turn off the stove, then spun her to face him in one smooth motion. Sometimes she forgot how strong he actually was until moments like this.
"No more period sex," she said firmly, even as her hands settled on his chest.
"But–"
"But nothing. My back is killing me."
His grin was absolutely wicked. "Worth it."
"I hate you."
"Non, you don't." He bent down to kiss her, morning breath and all, and okay, maybe she didn't hate him that much. "You love me."
"I love when you're not burning breakfast," she corrected, pushing him away. "You're going to be late." Yas plated the rescued eggs while Wilo scrolled through his phone, still pressed against her back.
"Bukayo just texted. Practice pushed thirty minutes." His accent was muffled against her neck. "More time for–"
"More time for you to actually eat breakfast." She twisted out of his grip, grabbing both plates. "And I need to go home and change before clinicals."
"Skip them."
"Some of us can't just tell our boss we're taking a personal day." She settled at his massive kitchen island, watching him pout as he finally let her go. "Besides, don't you have that big Luton Town match this weekend?"
"Oui, which means I need my PT check today too…"
"Your knee is fine. Jamie can do your check."
The look of betrayal on his face was almost comical. "You would let another woman touch me?"
"I would let another PT student assess your perfectly healthy knee, yes." She took a bite of eggs, raising an eyebrow at him. "Unless you're saying you only come to the clinic to see me?"
"Maybe."
"That's unprofessional."
"Says girl wearing my shirt."
"Speaking of which," she glanced at her phone, "I really need to go home and change."
"Stay," he said, suddenly serious. "Just… five more minutes."
"Five minutes won't get me to clinic on time," she said softly, but shared her eggs with him anyway when he opened his mouth expectantly. "You're like a baby bird."
"Your baby bird," he grinned, then disappeared down the hall to deal with their mess from last night. She could hear him humming as he tossed the towel and her scrubs in his washer.
The drive to her flat was quiet, London morning traffic crawling by while some French podcast played softly through the speakers. His hand found its way to her thigh, thumb rubbing absent circles.
"About Gabriel's dinner…" he started.
"Will–"
"Just think about it? And maybe…" he glanced at her quickly before focusing back on traffic. "Come to match this weekend?"
"They'll take pictures," she said quietly. "I'll be all over Twitter again."
"So? Let them." His accent got thicker, more urgent. "I want you there. Want to see you in stands."
She played with his fingers on her thigh, considering. "Maybe. If I finish my coursework."
His smile was brilliant. "A year left, non? Then you're properly doctor."
"Doctor of Physical Therapy," she corrected automatically, but she was smiling too.
"Still doctor. Still proud of you." He lifted their joined hands to kiss her knuckles. "My smart girl."
The Range Rover purred to a stop outside her building, morning sun catching on the tinted windows. Wilo killed the engine but kept his hand on her thigh.
"Give daddy kiss," he grinned, waggling his eyebrows in that ridiculous way that shouldn't be attractive but somehow was.
"Don't get punched in the face today," she said, gathering her bag from where it had fallen between her feet. Her scrubs from yesterday were safely in his washing machine, which meant she'd have to see him again soon. Not that either of them was complaining.
"Kinky," he smirked, and the way his accent wrapped around the word made her cheeks heat.
She rolled her eyes but leaned over anyway, meaning to give him a quick goodbye peck. His hand caught the back of her neck though, fingers tangling in her hair as he tried to deepen the kiss. She could feel his smile against her lips when she pulled away laughing.
"Go to work, you menace."
His eyes stayed on her as she climbed out, that dark gaze following her all the way to her building's entrance. She could hear his music start up again - more French rap that she'd probably find herself humming later during clinic hours. Her face hurt from smiling as she headed inside, already thinking about his match this weekend and how public their little bubble was about to become.
The doorman pretended not to notice her obvious walk of shame, but she caught his knowing look. At least she wasn't in yesterday's scrubs - small mercies. Her phone buzzed just as she reached the elevator:
"Miss you already x"
Impossible man.
Her flat felt extra quiet after the morning at Wilo's. She pulled on her dark blue scrub set, the material still crisp from its last wash. Her hair was a mess from last night, so she opted for a slick bun, carefully laying her baby hairs with edge control before grabbing her white clinic shoes.
The kitchen was looking sad. She'd been putting off grocery shopping, caught between clinicals and trying to keep her relationship private. Fat lot of good that did now.
Her phone buzzed while she was staring into her empty fridge:
"Check your Monzo x"
She clicked the notification to find £500 from 'william s.' had landed in her account. They'd fought about this before - she hated feeling like a WAG, and he hated seeing her struggle when he could help. But right now, with three weeks until her next stipend…
"You don't have to do that," she texted back.
"Buy food. Doctor needs eat."
"*future doctor"
"Same thing. Get snacks too."
Her tube ride to the clinic was crowded as usual, London's morning rush pressing in. A teenager across the car was watching Arsenal highlights on his phone - there was Wilo, all graceful power as he tackled some striker. Hard to believe that was the same man who'd been whining about eggs this morning.
Another text:
"Think you wearing my shirt to clinic?"
"Think you should focus on training."
"Think about you instead."
Impossible man. But she was smiling as she swiped through to her grocery delivery app. Maybe she'd order something nice for dinner - she had the money now, after all.
The clinic was already buzzing when she arrived, her ID badge swinging against her dark blue scrubs as she made her way to the staff room. The dual-degree PT program at Northwestern University and King's College London was no joke - three years of intense study, clinical rotations, and practical exams. Sometimes she still couldn't believe how perfectly everything had aligned. A PT student specializing in sports medicine dating a Premier League defender? It was practically cheating when it came to understanding athletic performance and injury prevention.
Wilo's knee might be technically fine, but having access to an elite athlete's biomechanics was invaluable for her studies. She'd basically written her last case study about his post-match recovery routine (anonymized, of course). Her professors had been impressed with her detailed analysis of high-level football injuries - if only they knew she'd gathered that data between kisses and training sessions.
Her phone kept lighting up with Instagram notifications. She'd always kept her account private, just study updates and occasional selfies documenting her natural hair journey. The few photos she had with Wilo were deliberately subtle - his hand in frame during dinner, maybe, or just their shadows on a walk. Most of her posts were about PT school: her notes laid out perfectly, advocacy for more Black women in sports medicine, the occasional stress-relief dance video in her scrubs. But now everyone wanted in, wanted to see Saliba's girl, wanted to analyze every post for hints about their relationship.
"Ready for rounds?" Jamie appeared at her elbow, already pulling up their patient list on the clinic's tablet. "You look tired. Late night with tall, dark, and French?"
"Long night of studying," Yas lied, ignoring another wave of follow requests. An Arsenal fan account had somehow found her private profile and shared her handle. Her follower count was still at 900 but there was nearly 15,000 pending requests in just three days.
The Luton Town match loomed in her mind as she checked their first patient's chart. Wilo wanted her there, and part of her wanted to go - wanted to support him properly, not just catch highlights on her phone between patients. But the cameras, the attention, the scrutiny… she hadn't signed up for that part. Being a WAG meant being perceived, being judged. Her entire career could get overshadowed by who she was dating. One wrong outfit choice and she'd end up on some Daily Mail sidebar.
Her phone buzzed again - another text from Wilo, this time a photo of him pouting at training. Arteta's tactics board was visible in the background, and she quickly typed back: "Delete that before you leak the whole game plan."
His response was immediate: "Only leaking my heart to you x"
God, this man was going to be the death of her professional reputation, but as she slipped her phone away and grabbed her first patient's file, she couldn't help but smile. Let them talk - she had clinicals to focus on and a doctorate to finish.
Her first patient was an elderly man recovering from hip replacement. As Yas guided him through his exercises, she caught glimpses of people walking past the clinic windows, phones raised. Word must have gotten out about where Arsenal's new WAG worked.
"My granddaughter says you're dating that French boy," Mr. Peters said as she supported his weight during gait training. His knowing smile reminded her of her grandfather back in Chicago. "The tall one who plays defense?"
"Focus on your steps, Mr. Peters," she managed, grateful her dark skin hid most of her blush. The last thing she needed was her patients gossiping about her love life.
Jamie appeared like an angel in blue scrubs, tablet in hand. "Dr. Morris wants us in Room 3. ACL reconstruction needs assessment."
In the quiet of the hallway, her phone lit up with Wilo's name:
"Gabriel asking if you vegetarian. For dinner."
"Focus on training," she typed back, trying to ignore how her stomach flipped at the thought of meeting his teammates properly.
"Focus on answering question. He cooking."
She paused at the supply cabinet, fingers hovering over her phone. Going to Gabriel's meant officially entering the WAG circle. Dinner parties, couple photos, Sunday brunches - the whole circus she'd been avoiding. No more hiding in Wilo's kitchen or sneaking kisses in PT rooms.
"Tell him I eat anything," she finally replied, then added, "But I haven't said yes yet."
"But you will," came his immediate response, followed by that damn smirking emoji that she could picture perfectly on his actual face.
Room 3's patient was already waiting, and she tucked her phone away with a sigh. Time to be Dr. Robinson (almost), even if her Instagram kept lighting up with notification after notification.
The ACL patient turned out to be a Chelsea fan, which was almost a relief. He was more focused on his knee than trying to get Arsenal gossip, and Yas lost herself in the familiar rhythm of assessment and treatment. This was her world - proper form, careful touches, the satisfaction of watching someone heal under her guidance.
Her phone stayed quiet through lunch, which meant Wilo was probably actually focusing on training for once. She picked at her sad vending machine snacks in the break room while Jamie scrolled through Twitter.
"Oh my god," Jamie snorted, turning her phone screen. "They're trying to figure out where you got your scrubs from. Apparently you're starting a WAG fashion revolution."
"They're literally standard issue scrubs."
"Tell that to ArsenalWAGStyle. They want to know if the color is 'midnight navy' or 'classical blue'."
Yas dropped her head onto the break room table with a groan. "I have three more sets exactly like this one. They're just… blue."
"Wait till they see you at the Luton Town match."
"Who says I'm going?"
Jamie just looked at her. "Girl, your man just got exposed. You really think you can keep hiding?"
Her phone chose that moment to light up again:
"Miss your hands on my knee x"
"That's so unprofessional," she typed back, but she was smiling.
"Come inspect it at Gabriel's tonight?"
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Jamie was right - she couldn't keep hiding. And maybe… maybe it wouldn't be so bad, being properly part of his world.
******************************************************
Gabriel Magalhães' townhouse sat in one of those stupidly expensive London neighborhoods where every building looked like it belonged in a period drama. Yas had done her best with what she had - her curls were actually cooperating for once, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, and the Meshki jumpsuit she'd scored on sale hugged her curves in all the right places. The square neckline showed just enough skin to be dinner-appropriate while still letting her feel like herself.
Clearly Wilo approved, given how his hand hadn't left her ass since they'd stepped out of his car. His fingers kneaded appreciatively as they waited at Gabriel's door.
"Mon coeur, tu es si belle ce soir," he murmured in her ear, voice dropping low. "Je veux te baiser… si serrée pour moi… faire te jouir…"
She only caught 'fuck', 'cum', and 'tight' in that string of French, and honestly, she was grateful her language skills weren't better. But before he could get any filthier, the door swung open.
Gabriel stood there grinning, all six foot three of him making Yas feel even tinier than usual. The boys did that complicated handshake thing all footballers seemed to know instinctively.
"Ayy, my brother!" Gabriel pulled Wilo in for a quick hug before his eyes landed on Yas. "She's so short!"
Yas frowned. Of course, that would be the first thing another giant footballer noticed.
"But good job Wilo, she's pretty," Gabriel continued with a wide smile. "Nice to meet you, Yasmin." He extended his hand.
"Yas is fine," she said, shaking it and trying not to feel like she was being assessed.
The living room was filled with the sound of multiple conversations in various accents - Portuguese, French, English all mixing together. Bukayo was sprawled on one of Gabriel's expensive armchairs, his girlfriend Tolami perched comfortably in his lap. She brightened when she saw Yas.
"Finally! Another normal-sized person," Tolami called out, extracting herself from Bukayo to come say hi. She was wearing the kind of outfit that probably cost more than Yas's rent, but her smile was genuine. "I'm Tolami. Please tell me you're as tired of looking up at these giants as I am."
"God, yes," Yas laughed, instantly warming to her. "My neck hurts half the time."
"You get used to it," Tolami grinned, then dropped her voice. "Saw that Tesco video. Welcome to the madness."
Wilo's hand was still possessively on her lower back as more introductions were made. Gabriel's wife kissed both her cheeks, speaking rapid Portuguese that Gabriel had to translate. Ben White's wife, Milly, gave her a knowing look that said 'we'll talk later.'
It was surreal, standing here in her sale-rack jumpsuit while these women wore designer everything. But Tolami grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen.
"Come on, help me get drinks. These boys can entertain themselves for five minutes."
Wilo's protests were drowned out by Bukayo's laugh. "Let them bond, bro. You can survive without touching her for two seconds."
Gabriel's kitchen was all sleek marble and stainless steel. Tolami hopped onto the counter like she'd done it a hundred times before, watching Yas look for wine glasses.
"Other cabinet," she pointed. "So, PT student? That's different. Most WAGs are like… influencers or something."
"I'm not a WAG," Yas said automatically, then caught Tolami's raised eyebrow. "I mean–"
"Girl, your man's hand hasn't left your ass at all. You're a WAG." She grinned. "But like, a cool one. With an actual career."
"Trying to have one, anyway." Yas found the glasses. "How do you deal with all the attention? The Tesco thing is driving me crazy."
"You get used to it. Plus, Bukayo's worth it." Her smile went soft. "Like how Wilo looks at you when you're not watching. Man's got it bad."
"We've only been together four months–"
"Please. I saw him checking his phone all through training today. Saka says he won't shut up about you."
From the living room, they could hear the boys arguing about the Luton Town match. Wilo's deep laugh carried through, followed by what sounded like Bukayo doing an impression of him.
"They're like children," Tolami rolled her eyes fondly. "But they're our children. Speaking of…" She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Heard Wilo's got baby fever?"
Yas nearly dropped the wine bottle. "How do you know about that?"
"Bukayo says Wilo's been googling baby names during team lunch." Tolami swung her legs, designer heels clicking against the cabinets. "Like, French-American baby names specifically."
"I'm going to kill him."
"It's cute! Saka's the same way sometimes. Think it's the age - they're all getting to that settling down phase."
"We've barely settled into dating publicly," Yas muttered, pouring the wine maybe a little too generously. "I've got a year left of my program, I can't be thinking about–"
"Ma chérie!" Wilo's voice carried from the living room. "You get lost?"
"Your man's getting separation anxiety," Tolami grinned. "But seriously, stick with me. These WAG events can get intense, but we normal girls have to stick together."
"I heard there's like… brunches? And stuff?"
"Oh honey." Tolami hopped down, grabbing the other wine glasses. "Wait till you see the group chat. But don't worry - I'll help you navigate. Just… maybe wear something Arsenal-colored to the Luton match? The fans eat that shit up."
"I haven't said I'm going yet–"
"Your man's starting defender and you just got exposed. Trust me, you're going." She started toward the door, then paused. "Oh, and heads up - some of the other WAGs might be a bit… much. But they mean well. Usually."
They walked back into a heated debate about the Luton Town lineup, Wilo and Bukayo arguing in that mix of English and French they seemed to slip into during training. His eyes found her immediately though, that soft look crossing his face before he made grabby hands for both her and the wine.
"Come, mon coeur," he said, pulling her down next to him on the couch. She ended up practically in his lap, his arm curling possessively around her waist while Tolami resumed her position with Bukayo.
"You good?" Wilo murmured against her hair, somehow making those two words sound filthy in his accent.
"Behave," she whispered back, very aware of how his fingers were playing with the hem of her jumpsuit.
"Never."
Gabriel emerged from somewhere with plates of food that actually looked edible, his wife trailing behind him with more wine. Ben White was telling some story about training that had everyone laughing, but Yas was distracted by the way Wilo's thumb was drawing circles on her hip.
"You're not subtle," she muttered as everyone else focused on serving food.
"Don't want to be," he replied, pressing a kiss below her ear that definitely wasn't dinner-appropriate. "Want everyone to know–"
"If you two are done being horny in my living room," Gabriel called out, "food's getting cold."
Yas felt her face heat as everyone laughed, but Wilo just grinned, completely unashamed. "Can you blame me? Look at her."
"Oh my god," she groaned, hiding her face in his shoulder while Bukayo made gagging noises.
"Young love," Milly sighed dramatically. "Remember when we were that bad?"
"We still are," Ben winked, and everyone groaned.
Dinner with footballers was apparently a loud affair. Gabriel's food was surprisingly good - some Brazilian dish he'd learned from his mom - and the conversation flowed easily between match tactics and relationship gossip. Yas found herself relaxing despite Wilo's wandering hands.
"Yo Yas," Gabriel grinned over his wine glass, "did Wilo tell you how hard he was stalking your Instagram after you accepted his follow request?"
Wilo stopped mid-bite, shooting his friend a betrayed look.
"We caught him during training," Saka added. "Looking at videos of you bending people at the clinic."
"I was... researching," Wilo defended, accent thicker with embarrassment.
"Researching for what?" Tolami teased.
"For... football reasons," he muttered.
Yas raised an eyebrow at him. "Football reasons?"
"Your form is very... professional," he tried, but his hand was creeping up her thigh under the table.
"You're such a stalker," she said, but she was fighting a smile.
"Only for you, mon coeur."
"If you two start making out at my dinner table," Gabriel warned, "I'm spraying you with water like cats."
"Speaking of clinic videos," Tolami smirked, "there's a new one of you circulating."
Yas froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. "What?"
"Some patient recorded you doing his knee assessment," Bukayo explained, scrolling through his phone. "Got like fifty thousand views already."
"That's literally against HIPAA," Yas groaned, but Wilo was already leaning over to look at Bukayo's screen.
"You look cute in this one," he said, then pouted. "But why you never touch my knee like that?"
"Because you're not actually injured."
"Could get injured. Just for you."
"William Saliba, if you deliberately hurt yourself–"
"There they go again," Gabriel sighed dramatically to his wife. "This is why I seated them at the end of the table."
"It's sweet," Milly argued. "Remember when you used to get all possessive like that?"
"I still am," Ben protested. "Just last week–"
"No sex stories at dinner!" Gabriel threw a napkin at him. "We have rules!"
"Rich coming from Mr. 'Let Me Show Everyone My New Hickey' last season," Bukayo called out.
"That was different–"
"How many strikes is that for the swear jar?" Tolami asked innocently. "Because I'm pretty sure talking about hickeys counts."
"There's a swear jar?" Yas whispered to Wilo.
"Oui. Gabriel's wife’s idea. I owe…" he paused, counting in French under his breath. "Maybe two hundred pounds?"
"How–"
"You make me curse a lot, mon coeur."
By the time they said their goodbyes, Yas had three new numbers in her phone and an invite to the WAG group chat. Tolami hugged her tight, whispering something about shopping for the next match that made Wilo's wallet probably cry in advance.
"That wasn't so bad," she admitted as they walked to his car, his hand somehow finding its way back to her ass.
"Non? Ready for more then?" His voice had that dangerous edge to it. "Starting with getting you out of this jumpsuit..."
"Will, I told you - no more period sex."
The look he gave her screamed 'challenge accepted' more than any words could, and she knew she was in trouble.
*******************************************************
Saturday felt surreal. Yas stood in front of her mirror, heart racing as she adjusted the Arsenal jersey with SALIBA stretched across her shoulders. The black jeans hugged her curves perfectly, and the heeled boots added enough height that maybe she wouldn't feel completely tiny next to the other WAGs. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking as she touched up her edges, making sure they laid just right.
Being at the Luton Town match meant no more hiding. No more pretending she was just another PT student. Everyone would know exactly who she was - William Saliba's girl. The thought made her stomach lurch. Her phone had been blowing up since she posted a mirror selfie that morning - her first public acknowledgment of dating Wilo. The comments were mostly supportive, but she'd already muted her notifications twice.
A knock at her door made her jump. "Ready babe?" Tolami's voice called through. "Car's waiting!"
Just seeing Tolami's familiar face helped settle her nerves. She looked effortlessly gorgeous in her own Saka jersey, designer bag hanging from her arm.
"The first match is always the scariest," Tolami assured her, linking their arms together as they headed toward the car. "Wait till you see how many blogs analyze your outfit tomorrow."
"That's not helping."
"Just wait - you'll be getting free clothes offers by Monday. Though that jersey..." Tolami grinned wickedly. "Wilo's definitely going to lose focus during warm-ups when he sees you in that."
They made their way through the VIP entrance at Emirates Stadium, past security and up to the family section. Phones turned their way, whispers following their path. Yas caught fragments of conversation - "Saliba's girlfriend" and "the one from the Tesco video" - but Tolami kept her moving, chattering about some drama with another WAG's Instagram story.
The family box was intimidatingly posh, all plush seats and champagne service. But as they found their spots, Yas couldn't help but smile at the mix of accents around them - Portuguese, French, English all blending together just like at Gabriel's dinner.
"Think it's too much?" Yas tugged at the jersey hem nervously. "The whole... branded girlfriend thing?"
"Girl, please. Watch - he's going to spot you during warm-up and completely forget about football. Plus," Tolami lowered her voice conspiratorially, "Saka says he's been insufferable all morning, checking his phone to see if you'd posted any hints about coming."
Below them, the players were starting to file out for warm-ups. Yas's heart definitely didn't skip when she spotted number 2 jogging onto the pitch, his tall frame unmistakable even from this distance.
It happened during stretches. Wilo's head turned toward the family section like he could sense her presence, and even from this distance, she could see the moment he spotted her. His whole body froze mid-stretch, those dark eyes locked on her in his jersey.
"Told you," Tolami whispered, nudging her ribs. "Look at his face."
Wilo had completely forgotten about his warm-up routine, earning a shove from Gabriel to keep moving. But his eyes kept finding her between drills, that devastating smile making her cheeks heat even from fifty yards away.
Her phone buzzed:
"You wearing my name."
"Focus on your warm-up."
"Can't. Too busy thinking about taking that jersey off later."
"Saliba!" They could hear Arteta's voice carrying across the pitch. "Less texting, more running!"
But Wilo was still grinning, jogging backward so he could keep looking up at her. He pressed his hand to his heart, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like 'mon coeur' before Gabriel physically turned him around.
"God, you two are disgusting," Tolami laughed. "I love it."
The stadium hummed with energy as Yas tried to focus on breathing. From the family section, everything felt more immediate - each tackle, each sprint, each time Wilo went up for a header. She'd watched plenty of matches on her phone between patients, but this was different. This was real.
Ben White's wife - Milly, she'd learned at dinner - leaned over during a water break. "The first match is the worst. I threw up before mine."
"I almost did," Tolami agreed, squeezing Yas's hand. "But look at our boys now."
Ødegaard broke through in the thirty-fifth minute, a beautiful shot that had the stadium exploding. She spotted Wilo lifting their captain in celebration, his smile brighter than the stadium lights.
During halftime, she checked her phone to find she'd gained another ten thousand follow requests. The camera had caught her a few times, apparently - her in Wilo's jersey, cheering with Tolami. Twitter was already analyzing her outfit, her hair, her friendship with Saka's girlfriend.
"Ignore it," Tolami advised, passing her a water bottle. "Focus on the match. Though that clip of Wilo staring at you during warm-ups is kind of cute."
When Daiki slotted in the second goal after halftime, Yas was ready for it. She screamed with Tolami as the Japanese midfielder was swarmed by his teammates. The rest of the match was a defensive masterclass - Wilo and Gabriel keeping Luton from any real chances. Her PT brain couldn't help but admire his form, the way he used his height to his advantage.
2-0. Her first match as an official WAG, and they'd won. The final whistle had barely blown before her phone started buzzing with notifications.
"He's looking for you," Tolami nudged her, and sure enough, Wilo's eyes were already on their section. That soft smile spread across his face as he tapped his heart.
Milly was saying something about celebration dinner plans, but Yas was distracted by her phone lighting up:
"Dinner to celebrate? Or straight home to take that jersey off?"
"Behave," she typed back. "You have press duties."
"Worth being late to see you in my name."
"Your man's whipped," Tolami laughed, reading over her shoulder. "But seriously, you coming to dinner? Traditional after home wins."
Before Yas could answer, another text:
"Please come? Want to show you off properly. My girl in my jersey x"
*******************************************************
The restaurant in Mayfair screamed old money, all crystal chandeliers and waiters. She felt slightly underdressed in Wilo's jersey, even after tucking it into her jeans, but the team had a regular private room here after home wins, somewhere they could be loud without bothering other diners.
Wilo hadn't stopped touching her since they sat down - hand on her thigh, playing with her curls, finding any excuse to lean into her space. The win had him buzzing with energy, though his eyes kept dropping to his name stretched across her chest.
"To clean sheets!" Gabriel raised his champagne glass, and everyone cheered. The conversation flowed between match analysis and relationship gossip, but Yas noticed Wilo getting more restless with each passing minute.
His hand crept higher on her thigh under the table. "You look so good in my jersey," he murmured in her ear, low enough that only she could hear. "Can't stop thinking about–"
"If you finish that sentence in public, I'm never wearing it again."
Across the table, Bukayo was telling some story about training, but Wilo wasn't even pretending to listen anymore. His fingers traced patterns on her leg that made it hard to focus on her own food.
"You're not even listening," Bukayo laughed, throwing a napkin at him. "Bro's too busy staring at his jersey."
"Can you blame me?" Wilo didn't even look away from Yas, his accent getting thicker the way it did when he was worked up. "Think we'll skip dessert. Need to see how that jersey looks on my floor."
The boys erupted in whistles and catcalls, Gabriel yelling something in Portuguese that made his wife laugh. Even the other WAGs were giggling now, used to these displays of footballer dramatics.
"William," Yas hissed, mortified but also fighting a smile. "I swear to god–"
But before she could finish, he'd scooped her up and thrown her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, one hand firmly on her calf to keep her steady. The champagne was definitely hitting her now, blood rushing to her head as she dangled over his shoulder.
"Put me down!"
"Non." His satisfaction was clear in his voice as the team hooted louder. She could feel his laugh rumbling through his chest where she was pressed against him.
"Go make that baby, Wilo!" Saka called out, earning himself a smack in the arm from Tolami.
"I hate all of you," Yas declared to the upside-down crowd, catching glimpses of amused faces and raised champagne glasses as Wilo headed for the exit.
"No you don't," he said cheerfully, not even slightly winded from carrying her. "You're wearing my name."
The last thing she heard before they left the private room was Tolami's voice: "Twenty pounds says she's pregnant by Christmas."
Wilo finally put her down when they reached his car, but kept her pressed against the passenger door. The London night was cool against her flushed skin, his jersey riding up where his hands gripped her waist.
"You're impossible," she breathed, but tilted her face up to his anyway.
"Says girl wearing my name." His accent was thick, wrapping around the words like honey. "Know what that does to me?"
"The whole restaurant knows what it does to you."
His laugh was warm against her neck. "Don't care. Want everyone to see."
The drive back to his place was torture - his free hand on her thigh, her body still buzzing from champagne and victory celebrations. London streets blurred past as he took corners maybe a little faster than usual.
"Careful," she warned when he nearly missed a light. "I need you in one piece for your next match."
"Then stop looking like that in my jersey."
"It's just a shirt, Will."
The look he gave her clearly said it wasn't just a shirt, but he managed to get them back to his building without breaking any traffic laws. Barely.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, he had her backed against the mirrored wall, hands reverent on the number 2 stretched across her chest.
"My girl," he murmured. "In my name."
"Your girl needs to breathe," she laughed, pushing him back slightly. "And a shower."
His grin was devastating. "Can I shower with you?"
"Impossible man."
Wilo just smirked, because they both knew the answer. The elevator dinged when they got to his floor and when he unlocked his front door, he didn’t even let her step away, hands already slipping beneath the hem of his jersey to help her out of it. She let him, raising her arms so he could strip it off, leaving her in just her underwear. His fingers traced over her skin, his gaze darkening as he drank her in.
"You gonna stare all night or actually help me get clean?" she teased, though the way her breath hitched betrayed her.
"Can’t help it," he murmured, tossing the shirt aside before unclasping her bra. "You’re too damn pretty."
Her stomach fluttered at the way he said it, so effortlessly, like it was just a fact. His hands were warm as they skimmed her sides, down to her hips to pull off her underwear before he guided her toward the bathroom.
"Still on your period?" he asked, voice casual as he reached for the light.
She hummed. "Barely. It’s light."
"Great." His eyes flashed as he grinned.
The way he said it sent a rush of heat through her, but before she could respond, he was already reaching for his own clothes, stripping off his hoodie and t-shirt in one smooth motion. She had to take a second to just… appreciate.
Because, damn.
She would never get used to how fine her man was. The way his muscles flexed as he unbuckled his jeans, the sharp cut of his abs — it was almost unfair.
He caught her staring as he stepped out of his boxers, smirking as he grabbed a shower cap and pulled it over her head with practiced ease. "Like what you see?"
"Obviously," she shot back, rolling her eyes but smiling.
The shower steamed up around them as he turned on the water, the low hum of the spray filling the space. He kissed her then, slow and deep, his hands coming up to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. A quiet moan slipped past her lips as he squeezed, kneading them like he had all the time in the world.
"Come on," he murmured, guiding her under the stream. "Let me take care of you."
The warm spray cascaded down their bodies, steam curling around them as Wilo ran his hands down her back, over the curve of her hips, before gripping her ass. He pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her neck, his breath hot against her damp skin.
"Been thinking about this all night," he murmured, voice thick with want.
She shivered as his hands spread her apart, his fingers trailing between her thighs, teasing her entrance. Even with the shower running, she could hear how wet she was for him.
"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his other hand coming up to grip her waist.
"Yes," she breathed, pushing back against him, her body aching for more.
A low groan rumbled from his chest. "Yeah? Then bend over for me."
She let him guide her, turning her around, her hands pressing against the cool tile wall as he nudged her legs wider. The marble bench was just the right height, and when he ran his fingers through her folds, she gasped, arching into his touch.
"Still so tight," he muttered, positioning himself at her entrance. He dragged the tip along her slit, teasing, making her squirm. "Always so good for me."
"Will," she whined, trying to push back onto him.
"Patience, love." His voice was deep, teasing, but when he finally pushed in, it was anything but gentle.
The stretch of him burned in the best way, and her mouth fell open on a moan as he bottomed out, filling her completely. He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her flesh, holding her in place as he pulled back just enough before slamming back in.
"Fuck," he groaned. "You feel perfect, always so perfect for me."
Her nails scraped against the wall as he set a relentless pace, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through her spine. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the shower, mixing with their heavy breathing, her soft cries, his low grunts.
"Regarde-toi, bébé," he rasped, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. "Tu aimes ça, hein? You love it when I fuck you like this?"
"Yes — fuck, yes," she gasped, her thighs shaking, struggling to keep herself up as the pleasure built inside her.
Wilo let out a low, dark chuckle, his large hands gripping her hips before delivering a sharp slap to her ass. The sting sent a shudder through her, making her clench around him.
"Merde," he groaned, squeezing the flesh before giving it another slap. "Throw that ass back on me, bébé. Show me how bad you want it."
She obeyed, pressing back against him, meeting each of his thrusts with desperation. His grip tightened, one hand slipping up to wrap lightly around her throat, tilting her head back so he could press a messy kiss to her cheek.
"Look at you," he murmured, his breath ragged. "Taking all of me, like a good girl, like this pussy was made for me."
Her walls fluttered around him, and he hissed through his teeth. "Fuck — you gonna cum for me?"
She nodded frantically, moaning as he reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing tight circles that sent her spiraling.
"Come on," he urged, his thrusts turning erratic. "Cum for me."
With a sharp cry, she shattered, her body clenching around him, dragging him into his own release. He groaned, spilling into her, his forehead pressing against the back of her shoulder as he shuddered through the aftershocks.
For a moment, the only sound was the steady stream of the shower and their ragged breathing.
Then, Wilo chuckled, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. "Tolami might be onto something, you know."
She let out a breathless laugh, still coming down from the high as Wilo slipped out of her, his hands smoothing over her hips before giving her ass a playful squeeze.
"And what exactly is she onto?" she asked, turning her head slightly to look at him.
His grin was all mischief as he spun her around, pulling her into his arms. "That you might be carrying my baby by Christmas."
She rolled her eyes, resting her palms against his chest. "You really think you're that good?"
He smirked, pressing a kiss to her temple before trailing his lips down to her neck. "Babe, I just fucked you so good you didn't even care if I had a condom on."
Her breath caught. He was right.
"We need—"
"Relax," he murmured, nipping at her jawline. "I'll get you Plan B later tonight."
That didn’t stop the tiny flare of panic from creeping up her spine, but when his lips found hers, soft and slow this time, it melted away just as quickly.
"I wouldn’t mind it though," he admitted against her lips. "Getting you pregnant."
Her heart stuttered at the confession, at the way he was looking at her — like he could already see it.
"Wilo, we cannot—" she started, but he just kissed her again, deep and lingering, as if sealing the thought between them.
"We can talk about it later," he said, reaching for the body wash. "For now, let me clean my girl up."
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully but let him lather her up anyway, his hands gentle as they roamed her body. His fingers traced over the bite marks on her shoulder, the bruises forming on her hips from his grip.
"Did I go too hard?" he asked, voice softer now, more careful.
She shook her head. "No. It was perfect."
His smirk returned, a little smug, a lot satisfied. "Damn right it was."
She swatted at his chest, and he just laughed, wrapping her up in his arms again as the hot water cascaded over them.
..................tbd
#quainwritings#quain’s masterlist#william saliba x black oc#william saliba fanfic#william saliba x reader#william saliba#footballer x oc#footballer x reader#arsenal x reader#arsenal fanfic
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Hey, you, the trans man reading this - I love you. I know there's posts like this, but I got down a bad rabbit hole last night and I think there's not enough nice posts towards trans men (:
I don't care if you've finished you transition, on won't be ever able to reach the changes you would like. I don't care if you've been on T for years, or just started, or won't be for some years, or can't or don't want to be. I do not care how you dress. I don't care if you want to be pregnant and have children one day. I don't care if you want hysterectomy and don't even want to freeze your eggs (Hell knows I am not freezing anything). I do not care if you want bottom surgery or if you love what you were born with. Because it doesn't matter and doesn't take away from your identity.
Gay trans men? You aren't just confused straight girls. You are valid in your gender AND sexuality. Straight trans men? You aren't a betrayal the moment you are no longer misgendered. You're still welcome in lgbtqia+ spaces. Because you're a part of our community. One does not lose their place the moment they are perceived and cis or cishet.
Cis men have heard it before, but they won't admit it. All this "if you like x you must be a girl" really just feels like repackaged "if you like x you must be gay". Wanna hear a secret?
HOBBIES, JOBS AND FAVORITE THINGS DO NOT HAVE GENDER.
I like botanical gardens. I love plants. I like looking at clothing, room decor, fabric stores sometimes catch my eye. Because I am am artist, and I take inspiration from these and many more things. Plant care and gardening is not a "red flag" for a trans man in my humble and trans opinion, but it's a sign that you have love to give. And that's beautiful. Just like liking these things does not indicate that a man is gay, it does not mean that your internal identity is any different.
Do not let the world put rails on your patch to your own masculinity. And if you have to hide, that's okay. If you can only be yourself online, that's okay. Trans people will always be here. Trans men will always be here. The best thing you can do is to live as safely as you can. I know this can come off as condescending from a European who has nothing to fear personally, except violence for one month in the year, because my way of being trans isn't "obvious", but I try to take it that my safety means I can try to reassure the rest of you, while you can just focus on your own misery and don't have to be strong for anyone but yourself.
If you need a safe place to went, come to my asks. If you don't want me to post them and just read them, that's ok. You can be angry, you can vent, you can cry, do whatever you need, but, obviously, no transphobia or anything (: Special love goes out to trans men who are of the aroace spectrum, because honestly, the aroace discourse never seems to die, it's just dismissed. Reminds me of something. Hm (: I wonder.
Anyhow. Come to me to cry, for a virtual hug, for a distraction, if you'd like. Feel free to ask for art. Want me to draw your trans characters with flags? I can do that, for free, for you. Ask or dm is enough (: Art and listening is the best I can do, but I'll do my best to do it well.
I love you. You deserve to live, you deserve to be happy, and you also are wholly entitled to cry, to complain, to be sad, angry, loud, afraid. You are a human being with emotions, you deserve to feel them. Nobody can tell you what your internal identity, what your gender is. Because nobody else can know that. Only you can.
So let me repeat: It does not matter how you dress, whether you are on T, whether you want surgeries or love your body as is, whether you are skinny, fat, or muscular, what accessories and clothes you wear, how your voice sounds, how you act, how you carry yourself and what you like. The only thing that matters is how you feel. And while we're at it, yes, you may change your mind, but it still doesn't invalidate your identity in the moment. There was a time where I thought I was biromantic, but I dropped that because I wasn't, and nobody gave me shit for it. Because nobody should. Whatever you feel right now? Valid. Do you identify at a trans man but don't use he/him? Valid. Do you identify with more genders? Are you maybe a man only sometimes? Or are you more at the same time? All of that is valid, if you feel like a man in some aspect or on some part, you are one, if that's a label you want. If your gender makes more sense as a man, then yeah, you are one. Nothing else but how you feel matters.
I love you, and again, I'm here for you if you need that. I can only listen and draw a little something for you, but maybe that's enough for some. If it can help a bit, I can do it for you.
Anyone derailing this post will be blocked. I have no patience for derailers.
#trans men positivity#ftm positivity#trans men#trans guy#trans guy positivity#blocking any discourse on SIGHT#do not derail this is for trans men (:#applies to transmascs if you guys id with this yap but I wanted to make something more specific for trans men#you can always make your own post#transandrophobes have NO PLACE ON MY BLOG. leave. now. do not talk to me. just block me. i do not like you#love you trans men <3#all of you <3#sorry if it's a little disjointed. just a bit of a yap .#transandrophobia is real
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i just called to say i love you
"…To say that the events of tonight were unexpected would be an understatement, and a large one at that."
notes: first oneshot & fic i've written in a while.. i didn't really proofread it all that much so forgive me if it's a bit messy. also, the reader is intended to be a content creator but i wasn't quite sure how to flesh that out + schlatt is older than the reader. this has like 1,028 words & is gender neutral
As you were getting ready for bed, having just hopped out of the shower, your phone had begun to ring. You honestly had no idea why you had brought it into the bathroom with you in the first place, you hadn’t been expecting anyone to reach out during your nightly routine. Letting a drawn out sigh slip from your lips, you wrap your towel around you and pick up the phone, checking to see who was calling. To your further surprise, it was John.. Or, Schlatt, as everyone knew him. You’d known him for a little while now, and you two had gotten quite close, but he rarely ever contacted you in any way other than messaging… Admittedly, you were concerned at the fact he had decided not to just text.
“John? Why are you calling me at this hour, did something happen?” You ask with worry lacing your words as they escape your mouth. Unsurprisingly, John snaps back with his usual snarky attitude. You knew he wasn’t really like that, he just liked to try and seem intimidating.
“What? Pff, no. Nothing happened, I just wanted to see if you were awake. Got somethin’ to say to ya.” You could practically hear the rolling of his eyes over the phone. You decide the best thing to do in this situation is to try and match his energy as if you two were recording a video. After all, he might actually be calling you for the purposes of a video, he has done that in the past, so you really can’t be sure.
“What, you gonna ask me your dumb bacon question again?” You shoot back at him, a playful tone dripping from your voice, a tone that you hope translates well over the phone. “Because we’ve already established that I’m taking the bacon.” You’d barely given him a chance to even answer your rebuttal before you had spoken again, but after you were done, you could hear him sigh. “No, that’s… Hey, wait, why are you in content mode now?” John seemed a bit confused now, clearly not realizing you assumed he was calling you for a video. You were both quiet for a moment or two, though it wasn’t really an uncomfortable silence.
Eventually, you decide to speak up. “Hold on, were you not calling me for something related to your channel?” After you finished your sentence, you heard him let out a laugh from the other end of the line. In your defense, though, you genuinely couldn’t tell when the older man wanted to have a genuine conversation, since almost every time you two had spoken, he was usually in content mode himself. “Ha! No! I wanna talk to ya about somethin’, honest!” He forced his words through his laughter. “Seriously though, and this might be a bit.. odd, comin’ from me, but I just gotta tell you, I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the act.”
You raise a brow at this, though he can’t see it. Keep up the act? What was this about? “..What do you mean by that, J? You’re okay, right?” The worry returned to your words, betraying you as you tried to keep yourself in check. Picking up on this, John was quick to respond. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine, just…” He sighs heavily. You’re sure he’s running his hand through that slightly curly hair of his. “Look, man, the more we hang out the more I realize that I… think I like you? Maybe?” You can hear him let out a groan, almost as if he’s embarrassed. You let out a soft chuckle and shake your head. “Seriously? That’s all this was about? You’re such a dork.” You respond with nothing but playful intent. In response to that, he huffs. “I’m not a dork, I’m… Okay, maybe I am a dork, but that’s besides the point. I think I like you and I was wondering if you felt the same..?” John got quieter as he spoke as he let his guard down and dropped the persona as a result of that.
Thinking about it, you had honestly had quite the crush on the older content creator for a good bit now. Not wanting the air to stay still for too long, you respond. “What if I do? Are you going to take me out to dinner first or what?” You laugh softly as you hear John practically choke on whatever he was drinking at your response, like he hadn’t been expecting you to even consider him at all. After recovering from his shock, he speaks up, quiet as ever. “I mean… uh.. I could? If you’d… actually want that, anyways.”
A smile creeps onto your face. How could such a big guy be so shy? You didn’t get it, but you did like it. “Of course I would, J.. I’m free whenever.” You then realize you’re still standing in the bathroom with nothing but a towel. “..Except for tonight. You caught me in the middle of my bedtime routine.” Like clockwork, John turns on his ‘charm’, as he calls it, which is really just the persona he uses. “Oh please, you would come outside and meet me at the flip of a dime, let’s be real here, toots.” You can hear him grin. This whole conversation suddenly feels like one of his Youtube ad reads. “No I wouldn’t, nice try. I’m freshly clean and about to get in bed.”
John looks at the clock on his computer. He realizes it is, in fact, late at night. “Tomorrow night, then?” He mumbles, somewhat defeated. He had really wanted to take you out to eat right then and there. He could only hope that tomorrow worked for you. Thankfully, his wish was granted as you responded to him. “Sure, just let me know when you’re on your way to get me?” He smiles to himself. “Yeah, sure thing.”
You two said goodnight and got off the phone. You let out a soft, content sigh as you set your phone down on the sink counter and get yourself dressed. You realized this could be the start of something great.
#jschlatt#schlatt#chuckle sandwich#sleep deprived podcast#jschlatt x reader#jschlatt x y/n#jschlatt x you#x reader#fluff#jj fics#jschlatt fluff
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Just You and Me: Part One
Hello, everyone! I was reading this series by @the-witty-pen-name and was inspired to make a fic where y’all chose who reader ends up with! On every part of this series this one, there will be a poll where you can vote whether you want reader to end up with Steve or Eddie! This has been so much fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!
Summary: You convince Steve to fake date you in order to get Eddie's attention, unbeknownst to you that Steve is actually very much in love with you.
Part One: The Agreement
The diner is packed as you sit at a booth, your best friend across from you, eating his stack of pancakes while you've barely even touched yours. You're too nervous to eat, and honestly, watching Steve chow down is making you feel sick. there's just a lot of riding on the whole thing and you know you're going to sound crazy for asking him in the first place, but you still want to at least try.
Steve would do anything for you, you know that, but you're wondering if maybe this is crossing a line. You push your plate to the center of the table and sip on your soda, still trying to get the courage to tell him why you really wanted to meet him there. It definitely wasn't just for pancakes.
Steve isn't stupid. He knows something's going on that you're not telling him. You look sick, nervous and he hates seeing you like that. He just wants you to say what you need to say so you'll feel better again. He knows you're only chugging down your soda so you don't have to speak and he hates that for you, trying his best to not seem concerned because for whatever reason, that always somehow makes it all worse.
You finally get the courage to look up at him and hate that he's put on that dopey smile that always seems to be reserved for you. He's finished his pancakes so now he's just staring at you, waiting for you to just get on with it, politely, though, because he's Steve.
"What I'm about to ask of you is crazy and I know that. You are more than welcome to say no and I won't be offended if you do," you finally say before taking a deep breath.
"Are you asking me to bury a dead body? Did you kill them? No, I actually don't want to know. Wait, yeah I do. I should know if my best friend has committed murder." He's speaking so quickly that you can barely even understand what he's saying.
"I don't need help burying a body and I didn't murder anyone. I'm not asking you to do anything illegal, Steve. I would never ask you to do that. That's why we have Eddie, right?" Steve knows that Eddie would be the one to help you out with that kind of thing and that pisses him off. Fucking Eddie. It's just been the two of you your whole lives and then this fucker comes in and ruins Steve's whole plan. Well, he would have if Steve would have just stopped being a pussy and asked you out already.
Truth be told, the man has been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you. All you've ever been is friends, but he wants to be more. And he wants it so badly that the whole thing makes his chest ache. The only reason why he hasn't made a move in the almost fifteen years you've been friends is because as much as he loves you romantically, he doesn't want your relationship to change. He's afraid that if the two of you got together, you'd eventually break up and then he'd lose you for good.
"Right, so what's this about?" He asks before taking a sip from his own glass. For once, he's unable to read the situation. He almost always knows what's going on with you, but right now, he's got nothing.
"Well, speaking of Eddie, well, I sort of have a huge crush on him." Steve doesn't know why you're telling him this. He's known for a while. You're so obvious about it that it sometimes makes him cringe. He wishes he could give you some of his subtlety so you’d look a little more cool around Eddie.
"Duh." He's laughing now and for once, it's a joke you don't get, like it's something just for Steve and Steve alone.
"You know?"
"Y/n, all of Hawkins knows. You're not exactly subtle. But what does this have to do with me?"
"I was wondering if you maybe...would be willing to fake date me in order to get his attention." His eyes widen at your request. Whatever he thought you were going to say, it defintely wasn't that.
"Yeah, nice try. Not happening." He can't do it. He won't. He would do just about anything for you, but not this. This is where he’s drawing the line.
"You're not even going to consider it?" You're pouting now and if things were different, he'd kiss it away, or maybe he'd just give in because he almost always does when it comes to your silly ideas. This one, though, has got to be the silliest of them all.
"You said I could say no so this is me saying no." He crosses his arms over his chest in a sort of "that's final" manner and you know you should just forget the whole thing. It was all just a pipe dream anyway.
It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to help, it’s that he can’t. He would actually love to pretend to be your boyfriend and act all mushy with you like he’s wanted for years, but none of it will be real. It’s just going to be a fake relationship with fake feelings and fake kisses and he just can’t take that. It will all just hurt too much when he watches you running into Eddie’s arms when the thing is all over.
He already feels like a dick and seeing the dejected look on your face as you stir your soda with your straw is starting to feel like you stabbed him in the chest. And you might as well have. It would hurt much less.
Guilt is beginning to eat at him as he looks at you. That sad look on your face is making him reconsider. You do so much for him so he doesn’t know why he can’t do this little thing for you. It’ll be maybe a couple weeks tops, right? That wouldn’t be too bad. And not to toot his own horn or anything, but he’s a great actor. Well, he only thinks so because The Hawkins Post article that covered his fourth grade class’s performance of The Wizard of Oz applauded his role as Toto.
Maybe he can fake date you. Maybe it could be fun and he’s just overthinking it. He just wants you to be happy, and the thought of you possibly asking someone else is starting to make him feel sick.
“I guess I could just ask Robin,” you mumble, more to yourself than him, but he can still very much hear you. He can’t believe how quick you’re switching up on him, how quickly you’re able to find an alternate now that he’s said no. He’s usually your first and only option for things so now that you’re even considering asking anyone else-well, the knife has been twisted.
“I see how quick you are to replace me,” he grumbles. “And with Robin?”
“Well, who else am I going to ask? My first choice said no.”
“Or maybe you could cut the shit and just tell him how you feel. Eddie likes it when people are straight up with him.”
You know he’s right, but actually putting your feelings out there is terrifying, especially to one of your friends. You feel sick even thinking about it, the worst possible outcome playing in your head. You can vividly see Eddie laughing at you, the sounds echoing, sounding distorted, making you feel small and scared.
Yeah, there’s no chance that you’re letting that happen even though Eddie would never laugh at you because of something like that. If he were going to reject you, he’d let you down easy and be nothing but a gentleman about it.
“Alright, fine, fine,” Steve pulls you out of your thoughts. “Jesus, you’re lucky I love you.”
“Aww, I love you too, Stevie.” You’ve got on a smug smirk and he’s prepared to shut that shit down. As much as he loves you, he’s not doing this without something in return.
“Not so fast.”
“What?” You’re genuinely confused, convinced that it was a done deal and now you’re unsure if he’s actually going to go through with it or not.
“I mean, what do I get out of this? What’s in it for Steve?” He leans back against the booth, crossing his arms over his chest.
“The satisfaction of a job well done?” You ask with a shrug and he just shakes his head, unimpressed.
“If it works,” he scoffs. “What else?”
“My love and affection?” That should be a given.
“Boring,” he yawns. “You have to cover any family video shift I ask of you and you have to do my laundry for a month.”
“You’re kidding.” Your shoulders slump as you realize that you’re actually going to have to agree to his terms if you ever want to have a chance with Eddie.
“Afraid not. You didn’t seriously think I’d do it for free, did you?” You sort of did because he always does, but you suppose that this is much bigger than his other favors.
“I don’t know, maybe. But you’ve got a deal.” You reach across the table and put your hand out for him to shake.
“Really? That easily. Shit, you must be desperate.” He shakes your hand and that’s that. Steve is now officially your fake boyfriend.
“I am.”
“This better be worth it.” God, this is going to kill him, but anything for his best friend, right?
“Oh, it will be,” you tell him as you down the rest of your soda as you grab your purse that’s sitting next to you before you and Steve stand from your table and you walk side by side to the front where you pay for the meal. It’s the least you can do for Steve helping you out like this, right?
-
“You are such a dingus,” Robin tells Steve. He’s over at her apartment, the two of them talking over mugs of coffee at her kitchen table. He raced right over after breakfast with you to discuss the colossal mistake he just made, desperately wanting his other best friend’s advice.
“What the hell else was I supposed to do, Rob? She was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes.” He’s saying it like that was the only option he had when he could have easily said no and you would have dropped it.
“Jesus Christ, Harrington. Why can’t you just tell her that you love her?”
“And risk ruining one of the best friendship I’ve ever had? No thanks.”
“I can’t but also can believe you’ve gotten yourself into this. It’s just like you to help the woman you love get another man. Just so you know, I don’t support this.”
Robin loves you, you’re one of her best friends, and while she doesn’t think you ever ask too much of Steve, she does think that he tends to overlook his feelings to spare yours a lot of the time. He’d much rather risk his own happiness if it means he’s helping you in some sort of way.
While she loves that he’s willing to go above and beyond for you, she still thinks that’s it’s important that he takes care of himself. She just wants what’s best for him and hates that he’ll spread himself way too thin just to see a smile on your face.
“No one was asking you to,” he glares and she just mimics his facial expression. “I wasn’t asking for advice, I was just telling you what’s going on so you wouldn’t think it was real and blow my secret.”
“You’re pathetic,” she shakes her head. She honestly doesn’t know Steve still hasn’t told you the truth. The two of you could be married or at least engaged by now, but he’s too much of a chicken to just admit his feelings for you.
He’ll claim it’s because he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship, but Robin knows the truth. She knows that he’s just afraid of putting himself out there. She’s seen the women zipping in and out of his life and not one of them has stuck. As much as he claims he wants to love and be loved, he’s scared. Terrified, even. He’s convinced it will all just crash and burn and he’ll be all alone. Again.
“I know,” he whines, resting his head onto the table before quickly leaning back up and running a hand through his hair. “But hey, if said no, she was going to ask you.”
“Me?” She asks, her eyebrows shooting up as her big eyes widen. “I could have been her fake significant other? Shit, I would have done it for free.” Robin has always thought you were pretty and shit, having everyone think that you were her girlfriend would have been a goddamn honor.
“You’re not her type.” She knows exactly what he means by that, but she just feels like messing with him.
“Oh, and you are?” That’s salt in the wound and she knows it. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to take it back.
“You know what I mean,” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “And besides, you’re a terrible liar so it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.
“Well, I would have sold it much better than you,” she scoffs. “But maybe not since you always look at her with the longing stares. How she doesn’t know is beyond me. Anyway, I have to get to work. I’ll see you later, lover boy.”
As Robin leaves, Steve’s not so quick to get up. He just stares down into his coffee mug, gathering his thought about the whole thing. One the one hand, he wants to help you, but one the other, he’s already starting to feel hurt about deceiving his friend. Eddie’s someone he’s gotten really close to over the years and he’d hate to lose someone so special to him just because of something like that.
And what happens if you actually do end up with Eddie? Will Steve resent him for it? It wouldn’t exactly be fair since Eddie has no idea that Steve is in love with you, but he just doesn’t think he’d be able to stand by and watch the two of you behave like a couple when that’s all he’s wanted pretty much his whole life.
But there’s no turning back now. He’s going to stick it out because he doesn’t want to let you down. He’s going to have to see this through, watching you use him to get another man while having no idea that’s he’s fallen madly and deeply in love with you.
He drains the last few sips of his coffee then puts the mug in the dishwasher before heading out, making sure to lock Robin’s door behind him. He gets into his car and sits for a second, thinking to himself that he’s about to be in for one hell of a ride.
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader
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SPIDER! SHIDOU RYUSEI x READER
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
Another shidou fic because I feel we need more!! I’m obsessed with spiderman aus
What you need to know: spiderman au, best friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, injuries and slight blood mentions, mention of assault (not graphic, just a mention that happened) swearing, suggestive, lmk if there’s something else I didn’t include!
“You think spiderman is hot?” You smirked, chuckling slightly as you asked Shidou. You were both in your room, doing some school project and gossiping as you often do.
Shidou chuckled and shook his head. “You have a thing for masked men or what?” He tilted his head as he fiddled with his pen. He got slightly nervous everytime you asked something about the city’s hero, you didn’t know he was spiderman, not yet.
“Okay maybe I do… but that’s not the point! I mean like, is he hot behind his mask?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering what spiderman looked.
To be honest you had a small crush on spidey, you’ve interacted a few times with him and he was very charming, very flirtatious. He somehow reminded you of Shidou a little that’s why Shidou is a fan of him too, at least that’s what you thought. More than just a crush, you were deeply thankful, you always shared your gratitude towards him and your story of how he saved you some time back when a creep follow you and tried to assault you or when you were caught in the middle of a fight with some other villain and him taking you to safety without forgetting to say some flirtatious comment or a compliment.
You liked his style, it looked like he really was into fashion. His suit was pink and black with some pretty small horns on top of his mask. You had several drawings and posters of him drawn and gifted to you by Shidou who knew you liked him a lot.
“Well… I think he might be pretty hot, handsome, stunning even” he chuckled as he tried to calm down his nerves by writing something for the project. He didn’t know how to feel knowing his best friend had a crush on spiderman (him) while at the same time he was in love with you.
He wanted to tell you his secret, but was scared, Shidou Ryusei, THE spiderman, was scared. Would you hate him for not telling you before? Would you still like him? Would you want to date him? Would that put you in potencial danger? He had many questions and didn’t know how to fix this issue.
“Ha! Bet, he can do whatever he wants with me honestly…” you giggled slightly and bit your lip as you imagined sceneries with spidey.
Shidou blushed subtly at your words and was lost in thought, feeling slightly jealous even tho… he was the same person, but you didn’t know it.
“Hey… are you there Ryu?” You waved your hand near his eyes, snapping him out of his thoughts. To you, he was acting weird, you never see him this lost in thought.
“Huh… yeah, yeah, I was just thinking…” he mumbled, shaking his head. He wanted to tell you the truth and kiss you senseless, imagining some sceneries of his own.
“What? You jealous or sum?” You teased him, ruffling his hair playfully.
“No, it’s just- forget it…” he sighed and checked his phone, a notification of a villain causing trouble popping on his feed alarming him. “Can you continue the project without me? Something came up”
“Huh? I mean sure I can but, is everything okay?” You tilted your head, confused with his sudden change of demeanor.
“Yeah, it’s nothing bad, just Aiku asking for something” he lied, he felt bad he had to lie to you. He would see how to tell you his identity later, he needed to save the city now, he couldn’t ignore his duty.
You nodded, still feeling somewhat confused, but you didn’t pushed further, maybe he would tell you later what happened, right?
┈┈・୨ 🕸️ ୧・┈┈
The days passed and Shidou was acting weirder and weirder, he was distant and every time you asked him to hang out or ask if he was okay he would dismiss you, tell you he was just “busy” or that he already had plans with Aiku.
You were worried, you didn’t want to pressure him into telling something maybe he wasn’t ready to tell you, but you couldn’t help but overthink what was going on. If he had plans with Aiku and Aiku was a well known player, did he introduce Shidou to someone else? Was he seeing someone? Your heart ached, but why? He was just your friend or did you have some feelings you didn’t even were aware of them?
You were even more concerned when you decided to ask Aiku if Shido had a partner and what did they do on their “plans” only to find out Aiku didn’t know about this.
“Nah pretty face, I haven’t been out with him for a while now, he always says he’s busy…” Aiku told you as he leaned on the wall, smirking at you.
“That’s weird… i’m worried for him, you know?” You sighed and looked away, thoughtful.
“Yeah i’m kinda worried to… but anyway, i’m still free for you, ya know?” He grinned and moved a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Don’t start Aiku, you know I would never go out with you” you sighed and began to walk away, leaving Aiku with an unsatisfied pout as your thoughts lingered on Shidou.
┈┈・୨ 🕸️ ୧・┈┈
Later one night as you couldn’t sleep from all the turmoil and encountered feelings, laying down on your bed and staring at the roof something made you snap out of your thoughts, a loud thud in your window. You jumped and walked to the window, your heart racing as you opened the window trying to see what was that sound when a figure bursted into you room and collapsing to the floor, you gasped and looked down only to see spiderman.
He was laying on the floor slightly groaning in pain as his body was covered in blood, scratches and injuries, some parts of his suit even were ripped off.
“What the fuck?! W-wha… what happened? How do you know this was my house?” Your heart sank at the sight of spiderman injured, but why did he come to you?
“D-don’t worry about it pretty… can you maybe help me?” He panted slightly, you helped him stood up and guided him to you bed, he sat and leaned on your wall, his body tensing from the pain.
“I’ll get the med kit, just stay with me!” You ran through your closet, desperately searching for the med kit, once you found it you sat next to him and checked his injuries. “I… I need you take of your shirt… is that okay?” You blushed slightly.
He just nodded and you took out his shirt, leaving his mask on. You ran your fingers through his injuries as he flinched slightly from the pain, they looked like burns from friction, though they didn’t seem to need stitches or something more serious. You stared at his shirtless body, he was very muscular, even with all the injuries he looked hot.
You snapped out of your thoughts and shook your head as you started cleaning his wounds, he looked like he was struggling to breathe through the mask, your lips trembled as you opened your mouth. “I think… you need to take off the mask…” you suggested, expecting a deny from his part thinking he won’t reveal his identity to a random person he barely knows.
He sighed and slowly started to take off his mask, your eyes widening at every inch of face he was revealing until he took it off completely and you were met with….
“Ryu?!” You tensed, your lower lip shaking not knowing what to say or do. You expected his secret to be everything but this. “Y-you are-“
You were caught off when he gathered all his force and pulled you closer, making you straddle his lap and crashing his lips with yours in a needy and desperate kiss. You froze in place but quickly composed yourself to kissed him back, your heart hammering your chest and your face reddening at the situation. In that moment all your worries seemed to fade as you let out all your feelings in that kiss.
“Am I hot then?” He smirked, pulling away from the kiss as he panted softly.
You let out a chuckle and playfully slapped his shoulder, causing him to groan in pain. “Idiot… you should’ve told me before”
He chuckled and rubbed his shoulder. “Hey! I’m injured be careful pretty…” he remained silent for about five seconds, just staring at you with a stupid grin. “I’m sorry… I guess I didn’t want to put you in danger and… i was… scared” he mumbled the last part, slightly embarrassed to admit his feelings.
You sighed and ruffled his hair. “Your secret stays with me, i’ll be fine Ryu” you smiled as your heart fluttered from all the feelings you experienced. That kiss felt nice, it was very freeing.
You blushed suddenly, remembering all the things you said to Shidou about spiderman. “Uh… does that mean… you knew all this time about my feelings about you… well, spidey”
His smirk widened as he looked at you with an amusing look. “Are you still down for that or…?”
You widened your eyes and blushed even harder as the realization was starting to sink.
He placed his hands on your waist, going down to your hips and sliding to your rear “So… can I do anything I want with you? Maybe we can-“ he groaned in pain as you hit him again.
“R-ryu!” Your face reddened at his suggestion, the embarrassment from all your dirty confessions was still there but, it didn’t sound that bad since you now realize you really liked Shidou maybe you could try… No! He was still injured and you needed to keep tending his wounds, but definitely will do something when he felt better. “J-just let me take care of your wounds and we’ll see later…” you huffed as you went back to cleaning his wounds.
He chuckled as he caressed your sides. “Fine, fine… I don’t mind a sexy nurse taking care of me now~”
“Shut. Up.” You gritted your teeth as you tried to dismiss your blush, he got to your skin so easy, you tried to stay mad but you couldn’t help but let a small smirk escape from your lips.
Maybe this wasn’t too bad, being with spiderman that at the same time was your long time best friend.
The end!! I had so much fun writing this short fic fr, sorry if there’s some mistakes english is not my first language.
Also I tried to make this very gender neutral so pointing out any mistakes i did, tips, etc are highly appreciated ^^
Im trying to make a lot of shidou fics bc i think they aren’t enough, i mean, i swear every time i say i like shidou i feel like crazy because no one gets it 😭 they don’t understand how much i love this man fr…
Lmao anyway i hope you like it and stay tuned for more fics, feel free to give me some ideas or suggestions!
#blue lock x reader#blue lock#spiderman au#bllk x y/n#bllk x reader#blue lock shidou#blue lock x you#ryusei shido x reader#shidou ryusei x reader#ryusei shidou#shidou ryuusei x reader#blue lock x gender neutral reader#shidou ryusei x you#ryusei x reader
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Edging König for a week
You randomly mentioned it to konig one evening.
“So you think you could last being edged for a week?”
“Pff, of course! Do you know all the things i’ve seen and been through? Edging wouldn’t even be a challenge for me”
warning: edging, sub konig, soft dom reader, chubby/fat reader, denial, public masturbation, dramatic description of everything, unprotected penetration, unchecked for spelling mistakes don’t come for me
Day 1
You were seated on his lap on the couch. The tv being long forgotten, it’s only purpose now playing some faint background noise.
You’re now making out with konig and already feeling a bit fuzzy.
Your tongues are softly rubbing against each other, yours and his saliva becoming one as you both breathe heavy.
“My love aren’t i meant to be edged?” He asks when you break the kiss and target his sensitive neck.
“You are yes and this is part of it”
You suck on a specific area on his neck making his hips jolt up, applying pressure on both your covered private parts.
“König! Stay still” You scold him not expecting your needy pussy to be stimulated so suddenly.
“Can’t help it love” He smirks.
You quickly decide to get rid of his annoying smirk by humping down on him. Your pussy perfectly aligned on his stiffness.
“Fuck” He hisses, smirk now completely gone.
And that’s all you need to continue. You pick up the pace, making you both groan in pleasure. The pressure on your clit making your eyes roll.
König head is rolled back enjoying the feeling of you humping on him.
“Just like that, doing so well” He mumbles softly.
You’re both panting and konig starts to get louder. His groans turn into soft whimpers and his eyes are glued to your clothed parts rubbing on each other.
“Love i don’t think i’ll last” He whimpers ready to cum in his pants for you but before he realizes, the oh so delicious building pressure is gone.
He quickly looks up at you, confused and dazed.
“Good luck lasting the entire week” And you get off of him.
He looks at you wide eyed, desperate for more. The wet patch on his sweatpants of where his tip is indicating his precum leaked everywhere.
Day 2
He couldn’t sleep. Not with you laying besides him. He wonders how he’s supposed to last the entire week like that. Maybe he underestimated it all but it’s only the second day no way he can give up now or even admit it.
Youre getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends to celebrate one of their birthdays. König is laying on the bed while you try on some clothes to show him. You come out of the walk in closet with a dress showing all your pretty curves he loves so much.
“Does it look good?” You ask while looking at yourself in the mirror
He walks up to you and stands behind you grabbing your body from behind.
“You look delicious my love” He spins you around and tries to kiss you before you stop him.
“My makeup! You’ll ruin it” You protest and get out of his grasp.
You eventually go out and come back home around 1am. Your feet and head are throbbing and the only thing you want is to get in bed and sleep.
You enter your shared room and your precious man is stroking himself.
“Can you give me hand please” He says not even surprised you caught him.
“I’m sure you can take care of it yourself” You reply back and lean against the doorframe
His hands falters a bit but he just keeps going. He rubs his oozing tip and maintains eye contact with you.
“Don’t you want to help your desperate man?” He asks between groans
“You’re a big boy aren’t you?” You say back earning a whimper from him.
He starts stroking himself at a faster pace. His eyes never looking away from you. To tease him you slowly strip out of your dress. That has an effect on him as he whimpers louder.
“Love, touch me please” He pleads, honestly he looks great like this, a bit of sweat coating his forehead, his hand going up and down his precum coated dick.
You don’t reply but get on the bed. Laying your head on his thigh close to his stroking hand.
“Ah, ah i’m close” He says, eyes closing on their own
“Don’t you dare” you say firmly and he halts his movements
Panting he plops down on the bed and you caress his thigh.
Day 3
He’s already at his limit. How is it possible that his dick and balls have been throbbing nonstop since yesterday?
He wakes up hard, walks around hard. All he can think about is cumming. His mind flooded with the thought of being inside you and spilling his warm seeds.
You’re currently making dinner, you’ve seen a recipe you wanted to try and have been cooking away for an hour now.
König is desperate but he can’t admit defeat yet. His ego far too big. He walks up to you in the kitchen and immediately he’s twitching. The sight of you so domestic. Wearing a cute apron around your soft body clinging to your stomach.
He walks up behind you pressing himself to your behind.
You feel his hand on against you and decide to let him be. Noticing you don’t react to his presence he starts humping your ass.
It turns you on how desperate he seems to be. One arm around you he holds your shoulders and pants in your ear.
“Let me fuck you please, i need to feel her around me”
You just lift up your skirt exposing your soaked and naked pussy. He looks down at your naked body and removes his pants at the speed of light. Before he can do anything you stop him.
“You only get to fuck my thighs, understood?”
He groans dissatisfied but still listens. He guides his tip between your soft thighs pressed against each other, softly wetted by your slick running down
“Fucking hell” He moans and fucks your thighs at a quick pace.
“Baby let me fuck you properly, you’re being edged too here aren’t you? Let me pleasure her she’s so wet” He moans out in your ear.
As tempting as it all sounds you don’t give in.
His movements start to get more aggressive but also sloppy. His voice a pitch higher and you know that means he’s close.
“König don’t cum!” You warm him reminding him he has to stay on edge. Not long after he slips himself out of your pudgy thighs letting out a disappointed groan.
Day 4
He wakes up in the middle of the night sweaty and hard. All he can think about is your warmth enveloping his dick.
You’re sound asleep next to him and it takes everything inside of him not to wake you up. He grabs his dick and starts pumping it while looking at you.
A few pumps won’t matter right?
He’s staring at your pretty lips he’s used to have around him, your body he hasn’t properly grabbed in god knows how long, your beautiful tits he can stay between for days.
He gets closer to you and starts sniffing you. He doesn’t know why or what he’s trying to smell but he just wants more of you.
His lust filled mind can’t think straight now. He’s trying his best to stay quiet but his mouth isn’t obeying his orders.
Quickly he’s close to the edge. He doesn’t want to disappoint you but he’s also so desperate for that sweet release.
But as the good desperate boyfriend he is he slowly comes to a halt and stays up all night, dick reaching for the ceiling.
Day 5
Today you were both away busy taking care of your personal schedules.
His body is on autopilot, no external information is processed by his brain. Once again all he can think about is your hands and body all over him. He wants to taste you, touch you, fuck you. He’s losing his mind for real.
His phone buzzes while he’s having a conversation with someone about whatever, he doesn’t even know himself. And he nearly cums in his pants looking at the content of your message.
It’s a picture of your pussy, well not really. You’re wearing panties but the evident wet spot on them nearly makes him pass out.
You add a text.
“Go to a bathroom, fuck yourself for five minutes to this”
And he obeys right away. Rudely excuses himself from the conversation and almost trips into the empty bathroom.
His pants are down in a heartbeat and he’s stroking himself. The pretty outline of your pussy in the image making it hard for him to not spill right away. He looks at the time, only one minute went by and he’s already so close.
He slows down his movements. He can practically taste and smell you through the screen. He remembers all the times he’s been between those juicy legs lapping at your folds. He’s hungy, he’s thirsty, he needs you NOW.
And once again before he cums he stops and exactly 5 minutes have passed.
Day 6
Only one more day, only one more day, only one more day, only one more day.
His body is reacting to everything you do. If you’re just talking, hes foaming at the mouth looking at all the shapes your mouth makes. If youre walking around the place, hes admiring the movement of your hips and all the jiggle of your body.
He’s losing his fucking mind.
Today you want to get him to admit it’s difficult. So for that you bring out the big guns. Them being your mouth and hand.
You pushed him against the wall after what started as a few innocent kisses. His dick already forming a prominent dent in his pants.
“Please i need you so bad” He whimpers. You are so happy he’s so desperate and needy it’s such a good look on him you’re thinking about going for longer next time.
But right now you pull down his pants and grab him. He hisses between his teeth and his knees already want to give in.
You look up at him before giving a small lick at his tip.
“Fuck! I’m close” He moans grabbing your face.
You only smirk at him before fully taking in his dick. The warmth of your mouth nearly makes him die. He’s never had his senses enhanced so much. He’s floating on a cloud.
You slowly suck him off. His moans are stuck in his throat all he does is thrust forward into your throat.
His eyes are closed but you are sure they are rolled back as far as possible.
His dick and balls start to throb indicators of how close he is. And you let go with a pop.
He doesn’t even react. His body weak, his mind blank. All he does is stay put trying to control his breathing. And remembers he gets to cum tomorrow.
Day 7
Today is the day. He made it.
Currently you’re making out in your bed. He’s touching you, hungrily.
His body is so weak though, the entire week took a toll on him but still he wants this to be great because you basically edged yourself for as long as he did too.
“Let me taste you yeah?” He whimpers between kisses. And he leaves a trail of kisses down you body until your bare cunt.
She’s so pretty and delicious, he missed her so much.
He dives in not giving you any time to adjust to the pleasures. He sucks on your clit getting all sorts of moans and groans out of you.
He humps his dick into the bed, precum leaking so much it looks like he came already.
One finger of his rubs your entrance making you spread your legs even wider. He starts finger fucking you. His lips still sucking at your clit, you’re seeing stars.
“König fuck!” You moan his name and hump his face.
Suddenly you pull him up.
“Put it in, now” You order him and he gladly obeys.
“I won’t last” He enters your warm and wet folds.
His ears buzz, the world around him disappears. It’s just him and you. The pleasure he feels is otherworldly. And just like that, he cums.
He shoots ropes of cum inside of you, coating your delicate walls white. His body is shaking and his moans are loud.
He collapses on top of you.
You rub his back and give him many kisses all over his face.
He is spent.
“Never again” He says still inside of you.
“I was thinking about doing it for two weeks next time?” You say and he looks at you with horror.
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CHAPTER 04 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)
>> MASTERLIST
previous chapter | next chapter
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"You have one last chance to decide. Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors?" The masked manager said. "Or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?" Then, the manager clicked on the remote, pointing at the piggy bank you saw earlier. It slowly went down for everyone to see, the lights dimming. "What you see now is the piggy bank where your valuable prize money will be stored. After each of the six games you will play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank."
"How much is the prize money?" You heard a player ask through the crowd, your eyes still focused on the piggy bank.
"The prize money for the games is 45.6 billion won in total."
Murmurs spread across the room with gasps. You observe the faces of each player, seeing as some of them counted on their fingers, probably listing their debts to pay one by one. 45.6 billion won was no joke - anyone could live and have the worlds on their hands, if possible. Honestly, you really didn't need the money. If you wanted to be out in this place, you could and it wouldn't be a problem to you at all. You have a good life waiting for you outside, the billions wouldn't affect you whether you stayed or not.
"45.6 billion won? And one of us will get it?" The same player asked, his voice starting to get excited. You sensed that he was in it for the money, the glow in his eyes evident.
"We will give you the details about the distribution of the prize money after the first game," the masked manager said. "For these games, you will be given a special new advantage."
New? That meant the games have been going on for a while, you thought. You were curious how the system of this place worked, trying to come up with theories on the possible advantages. Will the games be easier? Will there be new games introduced? If so, what kind? Do kids play different games nowadays?
"After each game, you will be given a chance to vote on whether to continue the games or not. If the majority votes to stop the games, you can leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point."
You furrowed your eyebrows as you stared at the masked men, trying to absorb their words. The games must've been played by the past players where they wouldn't be allowed to quit at all, having to finish all the games. If so, what happened to the players who refused to play? Or was there such a thing where players can just quit and go? You try to understand the system, as you intently listen more to the guards.
You snapped away from your thoughts as you heard a man call out, looking at his way as he moved up front. "Are you saying we'll still receive the money, even if we leave after the first game?"
You squinted your eyes, trying to study the man who just spoke. His face was familiar as if you met him before. He seemed like he was in his 40s, his eyes dark and kept his eyebrows furrowed. He glared at the guards, the tension rising.
You realized he was the man who approached you in the club, who seemed to mistake you for someone else. If he's in here, then he must've been in debt. Or he could be in the same situation as you. Yet if he was in the same situation as you, then he would've had a lighter mood. You knew how money can change people, observing the everyday lives of people on the street back in California.
The masked manager seemed to pause before speaking, which was weird. All the questions from the other players were answered by them in just a beat, but with this player, who you noticed had the "456" number, held a tension as he spoke. "That's correct."
You studied Player 456 who seemed to be surprised with the so-called new advantage they were saying. As if he was calculating his next move. You wondered why he had that deep, dark aura around him, as if he knew this place. Your gaze stayed on him, even hearing the dispute between an elderly woman and a young man. Turns out a mother and her son were playing together.
So, they were recruited together. How come they were surprised to see each other though? It was nice to have someone familiar to you in this place, you thought. You didn't listen much to their banter, trying to observe the place more to make it through your senses more. You knew there was something more to this place. Someone was overseeing this.
"If you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form," the masked manager said as the circle-masked men placed podiums in front, with papers and pen ready for anyone to sign. Sighing, you climbed down your bed, making your way to the crowd but still staying aside, trying to not draw any possible attention. "Those who do not wish to participate, please speak up now. We always give you a chance to leave the games."
You lined up with the crowd, awaiting for your turn to sign. You could hear a commotion behind you, only watching it briefly as you see the purple-haired player harass Myung-gi, who you known as the MG Coin. You remember reading an article about the scam, and it seemed like player 230 fell into the scam.
You averted your gaze when you saw 230 and 124 ganging up on Myung-gi. You focused on the line ahead of you, waiting patiently for your turn to sign the consent form.
You reached your turn, reading the consent form's terms & conditions. You read each clause carefully, mentally taking note of each condition.
A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit.
A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.
The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie, players will vote again.
If the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally.
You signed the paper, though you gave a disgusting look at the guard in front of you, feeling his gaze behind his mask. You didn't like the unwanted attention while you signed the papers, making you conscious.
You turned away, not knowing where to go. Your instinct tells you to approach Player 456 to ask if he knew you in some way, given that he suddenly approached you in the club last time. You debated, staying still on the ground as you see him finishing to sign the form. You gathered the courage to walk up to him, only to be stopped by the guard announcing for all players to line up again, making their way through the doors.
You observed the environment around you, its colorful and vibrant walls and stairs catching your attention. Despite its vibrant colors radiating around the area, you can't help but feel the eerie-ness of the place, seeing as the guards were placed in different platforms, as if watching each of you. You notice six columns placed in the middle of the room you entered, seeing the players smile on it. There, you see a photobooth being used by the players, as if you were applying for a passport.
"The first game will begin momentarily," you held on to your chest, your body jolting in surprise with a woman's voice on the speakers. Its voice sounded jolly but something scary deep within. "After having your picture taken, follow the staff's instructions and proceed to the game site."
You reached your turn for the photobooth, only giving a small smile but your expression fierce. From what seemed like forever, you advanced to their staircase, following the flow of players to where you were heading.
Your legs start to shake as the stairs felt as if there were endless of steps ahead. There, you reached a huge gate, entering the premises as you noticed a play area with a huge doll on the other side of it, to which you recognized as Young-hee, one that you saw in your old textbooks in school. You looked up as you noticed the ceiling opening, revealing the clouds as birds start to flew over it. From the looks of it, you were in the middle of nowhere, maybe on an island.
"Welcome to the first game," the voice echoed through the room. "All players, please wait a moment in the field."
You glanced around everyone and noticed Player 222, clutching her stomach as if she was... pregnant? You wondered how a pregnant woman end up in this place, if ever, was she slapped by the salesman? That would be cruel. And if he did, that would be a clear sign how this place can be so wicked.
The doors behind you clanked loudly, jolting your body a bit as you noticed it already closed. There was no way out. For a children's game, they knew how to make it creepy.
"We're playing Red Light, Green Light," the voice announced. You remembered how you played this game with In-ho, as he always beat you to it given his longer legs. Still, you had the strength of a man, knowing how you and In-ho always used to play outside, as if he was training you to be an olympic player.
You didn't notice Player 456 near you, who seemed to be with Player 390 this time. You watched them as they interacted, only giving 456 a disgusted look as he seemed to extract his tooth right here, right now. From the looks of it, he seemed to successfully extract it out and flipped it, only for his face to drop.
You turned your attention away from him, wondering what the hell he was doing. You heard the voice again. "Cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. If you do, you pass."
You felt 456 run in front, shouting for everyone to hear, trying to make everyone pay attention to him. The crowd stopped chattering as he mentioned about the games not just being a game, but we could die from it. It seemed weird for you, because who would die playing children's games? But then again, a part of you knew it made sense.
The eerie feeling of the guards watching you, the passive aggressive closing of doors, the creepy voice from the speakers - this was all good to be true. Besides, why would they send you in the middle of nowhere to play children's games and earn 45.6 billion won just for the sake of it? Something was wrong, and you couldn't help but feel your stomach churned.
"If they catch you moving, they will kill you!" 456 shouted. "They will shoot you from somewhere. Stay on your toes!"
That was the point of the game, isn't it? You stop when the doll says red light, then go if it says green light. It was a simple instruction, anyone could follow it.
"If you get caught, you die! That doll's eyes are motion detectors!"
You looked at the doll, seeing its innocence on the other side. If there were really motion detectors, then they must've made this game more... interesting. This game isn't for children anymore. The players are adults, so might as well do something "adult" with it.
456 kept repeating his words, as if he was trying to save everyone. You tried to calculate your next steps, was he just trying to scare everyone so he can win the prize money? If that's the case, then maybe the killings would be true.
That meant only one person can win 45.6 billion won, each player's life valued at 100 million won each.
"Do not be alarmed or panic! No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!" 456 stayed in front as the doll whirred, facing the wall.
"Let the game begin," the voice announced. The time started ticking - only five minutes is allotted until you reach the end of the room.
Mugunghwa kkoci Pieot seumnida
You moved forward, stopping as the doll faced in front of you. You heard 456 scream, "Freeze!" As you all did so, terrified of the possible outcome there may be if one moves. For the first time in your life, you didn't want to be curious if you lost the game.
The players were making progress, no one being eliminated yet. A relief washed over you as you realize this. Though you were still alert, in case the system tries anything to spice up the games. It's all in the point of algorithm, if everyone's successful in completing the game, then the next levels would be harder.
Just as you thought, you heard a scream from the right side of the room, a movement flickering on your peripheral vision. You felt your heart pump hard to your chest as if it was about to burst. You restrained yourself from looking.
The loud sound of a gunshot sent shivers down your spine. You restrained yourself more to look, curious if the player who screamed was dead. You remained still, looking in front of you hardly.
You were right. This wasn't just some children's game. To the hell of it all, you were fucked.
----
In-ho watched intently to the screen, his gaze cold enough to bring some ice. He sat back on his chair, folding his hands together. His eyes fixed on Gi-hun, who continuously tries to guide the other players to success. He shook his head in disbelief, forming a small smirk thinking how foolish it was for Gi-hun to think as if he could stop the games.
His eyes then fixed on Player 002, who seemed familiar to him. He didn't know what came to her mind to join, and even offering such a crazy deal with the salesman. Though he would commend her for being bold to do so, but what was she thinking bringing herself into this mess? She didn't even speak when she entered the limousine - her silent intrigued him so much. Yet, she was oddly familiar to him when he saw her get inside.
He reached for the telephone, fixing his eyes on Player 002. "What's the deal with Player 002?"
"Y/N. Age 30. She's the one who offered to pay 100,000 won to the salesman in the subway," the voice on the other line said. "No debts. Financially stable. She just wanted to play for the thrill."
Y/N.
In-ho only knew one person with that name. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember a person from his former life. He tried to piece it together, though he felt his heart bursting as if the name rung on his memories, only suppressed with all that he had to overcome.
"Sir?" The voice asked, only for In-ho to snap away from his thoughts.
He took a deep breath and sighed. "Tell me more."
"Y/N used to live in Corona, California with her parents. She came back to Seoul and planned to stay for good. If you ask me, I have no idea how she wanted to join here."
"Where in Seoul?" In-ho asked, gripping the phone more as the memories slowly came to him.
"Chunghyeon-dong."
Bingo.
In-ho placed the phone back, ending the call. The memories of him with her start to cloud his mind. He couldn't deny that a bright feeling of happiness could be felt in his heart, but as an instinct, it continued to suppress. It has been a long time since he felt this way, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of his wife.
But still, what was she doing here? In-ho remembered how Y/N became curious of everything, no matter the consequences. He was curious as to how she would handle the truth, on how he turned out. The thing is, does she even still remember him?
In-ho shook his head. There was no way that it could be Y/N. The thought of stopping Gi-hun has been running in his mind lately, thinking he was probably being paranoid about it, even in the slightest. In-ho was in no place to question everything at the moment, to be distracted. The games must continue, at all cost. With Gi-hun back in the games, In-ho knew that the former would be planning something to stop the games. However, this time, things have changed.
In-ho gathered his track suit, labeled with "001". Not only he was there to stop whatever Gi-hun was planning, but at least to confirm whether it was the Y/N he knew.
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A/N: Okay so, I'm really not familiar with the places in Seoul so if Chunghyeong-dong is wrong, please let me know in the comments below. I've never been out of the country so I'm sorry if there are mistakes with the places. I'm also really excited with each chapter I write since I'm so happy to be back in writing fics again! 🥰 I'll continue to try my best and upload the next chapters faster so everyone could enjoy this. 🤍 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶
Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨
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#hwang in ho#lee byung hun#player 001#squid game#the front man#oh young il#squid game netflix#001 squid game#001#squid game season 2#in ho x reader#hwang inho#in ho#frontman x reader#frontman x you#inho x reader#inho x you#hwang inho x reader
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Part Four - John Price x reader
Masterlist
Summary: When John gets an unexpected invite to his ex-wife's wedding, he scrambles to find a suitable date to take with him to ward off old ghosts from his past.
Notes: trans John, fat reader, angst
The pair of you stayed quiet in the taxi and then on the short walk to your hotel room. John broke the silence finally when the door closed behind you and you were faced with the double bed and your bags, presumably dealt with by John’s family earlier in the evening when they found out you’d not had chance to stop at the hotel beforehand. You’d wondered where Richard had disappeared to for half the evening.
“Thank you,” John said heartfelt, ducking his chin to meet your eyes. “For coming here, being there for me and—“
“And for not being a raging bigot?” You blurted out, biting your cheek immediately after. You looked up at John’s shocked silence and backtracked. “I’m sorry, that was blunt and- <em>rude</em>. I got pulled aside, figured it out from what they were saying.” You winced, and rubbed at your forehead when a headache made itself known.
“Where they saying anything good?” John asked calmly, jokingly even.
You sighed. “Honestly I think I should be commended for my patience with them but then you’d need about a hundred more accolades than me, I’d assume,” you said tiredly.
“It’s just small town bullshit. Used to bother me, but I’ve found people since that don’t care.”
“Mm. And just one more day of it, at least?” You asked rhetorically.
“Made all the more easy with you here,” he soothed.
You smiled thinly, his words causing an ache, before heaving a heavy sigh and rubbing at your tense shoulders and neck. “I’m tired, I need some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, ‘course.” He nodded and moved to give you space to reach for your bag. He left you to it in the bathroom and once the door was closed you let your face crumple just a little and your shoulders sag. What a mess, and he likely thought you were mad at him now for not telling you about it, leaving you in the dark with his family when that wasn’t the case at all.
You opened the door again and caught him with his shirt halfway unbuttoned.
“S-sorry,” you stuttered as he continued to get undressed. “Uhm, I just wanted to say that I understand why you didn’t tell me, when we first met. I mean given how everyone was there and you didn’t know me, not that you seem worried that I was upset about it, but I’m not. Just to confirm.”
Christ, dig yourself deeper.
John huffed a soft laugh and nodded. “Good to know, Sunshine.”
You nodded and closed the door again, leaving him to continue getting changed while you did the same, washing your face clean and brushing your teeth and feeling ten times lighter.
The ache you felt when you saw him with Charlotte hadn’t gone away, but you could put that on the back burner.
When you stepped back through, a little more hesitantly this time in case he was slow to change, you smiled when you saw he’d purposely left his sleep shirt off. His surgery scars were hardly visible beneath his dark chest hair and he’d clearly taken care of them to ease the healing and provide as much stretch in the skin and across his chest for movement.
You stayed quiet however and didn’t draw attention to his decision; instead you smiled at him a little less forced and joined him in bed.
“You better not snore,” you warned as you turned onto your side away from him, snuggling down into the blankets. You wanted him to know nothing had changed since you’d found out, but you needed to get a hold of your feelings now before you got hurt even worse. The last thing you wanted was to act cold to him, but if you saw his tired eyes crinkle in a fond smile from across a shared pillow you might do something drastic like confess your feelings or suck his cock ‘til your jaw went numb.
You clenched your thighs and shuffled to get comfortable as you felt the mattress dip behind you. It was time to sleep, not time to think about your kiss and the rumbling moan he’d let slip, mouth to mouth with a direct line to your—
“Good night!” You said overly chirpily before yanking the covers up to your hot cheeks, not daring to look over your shoulder.
“G’night, Sunshine,” you heard him say quietly before he switched off the lamp on the bedside table.
——
The celebrations were continued the next day of course. Though this time it was for their closest friends and family only, John had assured you when you’d asked if the crowd was going to be as big as it had been the night before.
Charlotte’s family had wanted to give the couple one last send off before their honeymoon, which came in the form of a garden party in the afternoon.
“Need to give the guests enough time to recover from their hangovers, save face,” John had joked.
“It’ll be hair of the dog, more like,” you’d snorted.
You and John had woken up early enough to spend the free morning together, deciding to grab breakfast nearby before heading into the viper’s nest again.
You spent the time waiting for your orders to arrive convincing yourself you could get over John once you were back home and able to gain a bit of space – and maybe a distraction. You just needed to get it together, to not fuck up the great friendship you’d made with John over the next twelve hours. Easy.
Never mind the few minutes you’d spent in the middle of the night looking over at his side of the bed, tracing the outline of his shoulders in the dark with your eyes. You’d yearned to reach out and touch, to huddle close for warmth and comfort and to breathe in a lungful of his scent, but you’d refrained. You’d jumped out of bed in the morning when you heard the shower going and took the chance to breathe while you were alone.
You’d waited your turn to tidy up and get ready, saying a quiet hello when you passed each other and doing your best to act like you weren’t gagging for his touch. It was the least you could to to calm yourself in the cold shower until you were able to make eye contact and hold his hand to the nearby café without sweating.
John however was struggling not to do something stupid while sat opposite you across the little café table, his eyes glued to your form, exactly where they’d been glued since you’d first stepped out in your cute sundress.
“Figured there was no point in bringing extra clothes just so I could get changed after brekkie, so I put it on now,” you’d said that morning. “Might’ve gotten away with keeping my pyjamas on if we were eating at the hotel but I wouldn’t want to give your old neighbours anything else to gossip about if they saw us.”
You’d winked playfully and John had swallowed his tongue, nodding like a bobblehead when the words stayed stuck.
And now, with your elbows leant on the table as you tapped away on your phone with both hands, your arms pushed at either side of your chest and made John’s life harder as your cleavagee became so distracting that he’d burnt his tongue and choked on his coffee, twice. He’d managed to swallow back his hiss of pain but felt his cheeks flush red when he realised how ridiculous he was acting.
He was grateful that you’d not noticed his staring and even more so when the waiter brought over your orders with a knowing smirk, grateful to have food to concentrate on and for you to have a reason to move your arms and give your tits a rest from driving him crazy.
Breakfast together was otherwise uneventful, conversation easy as always, and once you’d finished your own strong coffee, the pair of you made you way over to Charlotte and Tom’s new home for their ‘intimate garden party’.
Again you wondered why the pair of you had managed to get invited, but the image of John and Charlotte laughing in the low light the evening before answered that question for you. Whether she was still interested like John or not, it was clear their history together meant something to Charlotte and would continue to do so.
With your mood already on edge, it didn’t take much from the other guests to set you off, though with considerably less alcohol served at brunch, both they and you were more subtle with the intrusive questions and returned biting answers.
“Look at you John, doing well since it all went downhill with Charlotte then? Found someone else that likes you for… you?” An old classmate asked as she leant into her husbands snickering side.
“What’s not to like?” You asked bluntly, staring her down until she cleared her throat and looked awkwardly to her partner. “Oh, I see. Jealous some of us didn’t have to settle,” you hummed knowingly as you looked her partner up and down. You’d have felt bad any other day, not one to judge quickly, but it turned out John was a sore spot for your usually light temper and your patience wore thin at his expense. Ignoring her offended scoff, you visibly brightened as trays of food began to be set out on a nearby table. “Oh John, look. They finally brought out the snacks.”
“What are we waiting for then?” He encouraged with a teasing nudge and the pair of you walked away from his old classmate without a further word.
You continued your sarcastic and caustic approach to the other guests for the next hour, only easing up politely if John didn’t immediately stiffen at the sight or sound of them.
Maybe John wasn’t yours, but you still felt a duty to be protective of him, as a friend and his current fake girlfriend. No one else seemed to step in when given the chance, and your role meant you could be as catty as you wanted without raising suspicion. So you took advantage and let out your frustration.
John couldn’t have complained, happy enough to watch you; the sharp smile you sent to the prying guests so different to the soft one you’d share with him a moment later. He was happy to see someone stand up for him without fail and brag about him as if the last six years hadn’t been a complete waste.
Even if you’d gotten a little creative with your bragging as the party went on.
“We were visiting Scarborough for the day,” you said to his aunt and two other older ladies that had been sucked in to your stories. You’d started lying halfway through the gathering just to see if anyone would call you out, to see just how far you could go that they’d still believe you. It had been tricky keeping his face straight as he listened but you were clearly having fun with it, so he wasn’t going to stop you, especially when it painted him in a flattering light. Most of the time. “We were walking along the cliff edge when we heard a shout from up ahead, and John being John had to go investigate.”
The ladies cooed.
“Someone had fallen over the wall trying to take a photo of the dolphins,” you said dramatically, wide eyed and pausing to let your small audience gasp. “John didn’t even hesitate to jump in himself to help. Think he shaved ten years off of my life that day,” you said and lightly slapped his chest with the back of your hand.
“Couldn’t let the bloke drown,” John said humbly.
“The pair of you were left bobbing in the bloody water until they could fish you out!” You laughed, only encouraged when his aunt laughed along. John shook his head at you with a hidden smile, this one teasing him more than anything. “You were freezing by time they got you back on land.”
“What were you thinking?” His aunt asked with worry.
“Didn’t have time to think of how I was getting back up, did I?” He asked you with a fake pout.
You squeezed his cheeks and cooed. “You were a hero in my eyes, resemblance to a wet cat or not,” you snickered.
John felt his chest ache with the idea of having this with you all the time; not just for his family and Charlotte’s benefit, not just for a long weekend.
Christ, when he thought back to how much he’d been enjoying his time away from work this last month with you, how easy it was to push the important things aside for you, to prioritise the fun stuff or just the simple domestic things that made your life a little easier… He felt a pang of guilt that he wasn’t able to do that sooner for Charlotte, not because he wanted it with her, but because he’d put her through years or waiting for it to never come. It wasn’t her, and it wasn’t anything you’d done either.
It was simply that he’d finally been able to do it, years too late and yet just in time.
And thinking of Charlotte moving on with Tom, finally getting what she deserved; the attention, the love, and the possible family. None of that brought hurt with it like it would have when he first received the invitation. It didn’t bring jealousy or seething regret, just happiness for his ex-wife and her new life. A life he’d have never fitted into.
But this one you were making, fabricating? He could gladly settle in and make home there. You made things easy in a way he couldn’t fathom.
But telling you this seemed impossible.
How could he tell you he was no longer mourning his past life, instead looking towards a brighter future now that he’d come to terms with how he and Charlotte weren’t meant to be. Seeing her face to face had been the splash of ice cold water needed for him to see clearly. And maybe you and him weren’t meant to be either, but god did he just want to try for the first time in years.
He swallowed thickly as you brought your story to an end, rubbing his arm and looking at him too adoringly, it felt undeserved.
“I’m not the one that saved that baby rabbit though, am I?” he said, starting his own story. Though this one was real, and something you’d mentioned to him once in passing, something he knew you’d never have expected him to remember. “Found it in your garden injured so you nursed it back to health for a week, took time off work to do it even, and then let it go in the nearby park.”
“You remember that?” you asked, disbelief written clear as day over your face. You stared at him without blinking, a smile wanting to pull at your lips.
“‘Course I do,” he said simply. “Remember everything you tell me.”
You let the smile break then, ducking your head bashfully and leaning heavily into his arm. He leant in to kiss the crown of your head, glad that his impulses only helped to sell the lie.
“I’m going to go grab a snack,” you said and cleared your throat. You tried to avoid John’s eyes but they flickered up without permission, a magnet to his own. “I’ll get you your favourites,” you promised.
“Thanks, Sunshine,” he said softly.
You bit the inside of your cheek as you got to the canapés table. You needed to reign it in, stop getting sucked in by blue eyes and rich voice.
“Never bloody filling enough,” you outwardly complained as you piled the snacks high on your plate. “Smaller than baby bites,” you huffed under your breath as you picked up a cube of cheese and ate it as you went along.
You heard a small laugh and turned to your right, eyes widening when you saw Shirl, John’s mum.
��They are quite silly in practice,” she admitted, gesturing to the small portions. She looked over her shoulder. “Though they look very nice plated like this.”
You snorted and moved to join her further up the table.
“Don’t tell anyone but we’re on our third plate,” you stage whispered, hooking a thumb back at John.
Shirley smiled indulgently. “Rich is on his third serving by himself. I wouldn’t worry.”
You laughed and looked back at John’s dad as he stood with John, slapping his son’s shoulder and nodding along as he spoke.
“You’re lovely together,” Shirley suddenly said. “I wasn’t sure at first. But you both seem good for one another, or at least you seem good for him.”
You watched her for a moment, how her gaze fluttered over the crowd as she sipped at her drink. Hair of the dog for Shirl too it seemed.
“Thank you.” You smiled genuinely when she looked at you out of the corner of her eye. “Lizzy not attending?”
Shirley sighed, happy for the topic change. She leant close and kept her gaze shrewd for any listening ears. “Too hung over to even get out of bed. God knows what people will think tomorrow.”
“Oh I simply couldn’t imagine,” you simpered along with a smirk.
——
“Quite the woman you’ve managed to catch for yourself,” Richard said as he came to stand by his son’s side.
“Yeah, she’s great,” John said as he watched you. He shifted with the weight of his father’s palm slapping his shoulder.
“‘Great’ he says,” his dad huffed with humour. “She’s a keeper, John.”
John shifted uneasily and nodded. Suddenly the weight of the lie settled heavily and uncomfortably over him, more prevalent now than all weekend and it dried his throat. He checked his watch and cleared his throat.
“Think we’ll need to be off soon,” he said. “To beat the traffic and all that.”
“You’ll be wanting a good night’s sleep for work tomorrow, I assume,” his dad agreed. “It was nice seeing you, son.”
John looked to his dad and took a deep breath. He spoke as he shook his dads hand tightly. “You too, dad.”
——
You turned at the tap on your arm and smiled when John was at your side once more.
“Got you the last of the little sausage rolls,” you said cheerily and he kissed your temple in thanks.
“We’ve got to get going, didn’t realise the time,” John said apologetically and turned to his mum with a close lipped smile.
“Oh, shame,” she hummed. She put her drink on the table and pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t leave it so long between visits next time. I’d like to see her again some time soon.”
She nodded to you over his shoulder and John swallowed past the guilt for a second time.
“I promise,” he lied.
“Come on, let’s scoff these as we say a quick good bye to everyone, John,” you suggested and let him lead you around the guests.
By time the pair of you got to Charlotte and Tom you’d finished your plate, but you were remiss for not having anything in your hands to keep them busy. Instead you had to try and keep them still as you watched with a little anxiety as John shook Tom’s hand and gave Charlotte a hug, wishing them well with what you could almost believe was a real smile on his face if you didn’t know better.
“It was great catching up, Lottie,” John said as he hooked his arm back around your waist. “Lovely party.”
“I’m so glad you both came,” Charlotte said, looking between the pair of you.
“Thanks for inviting us,” you added.
John didn’t linger; with a wave, he led you away and you felt him squeeze your hip as if to comfort himself.
With one last goodbye to his family, including Lizzy who had finally managed to fight past her hangover to turn up fashionably late, you climbed into his car with your bags in the boot.
You were uncharacteristically silent for the first part of the drive and it had the journey feeling a little melancholic, something John picked up on immediately.
His eyes cut across to you gazing out of the window, your hands folded in your lap, legs turned towards the door. His lips pursed at the shut off body language and he switched on the radio, skipping stations until he found an old rock song. Feeling his lips twitch he turned it up with another scant look your way to gauge your reaction and started singing along out of tune.
Your eyebrows rose at the sudden burst from his speakers and the sound of his scratchy singing voice, and you bit back a surprised smile as you turned to watch him. You snorted but joined in as soon as it hit the more familiar chorus, falling into his contagious spirit easily and drumming your hands on the dashboard when the heavy drum solo hit.
You couldn’t help but laugh when John took the chance at a red light to play the air guitar, head banging in time and biting his lip in concentration as if actually playing the tricky chords. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness however that all of this was temporary; coming to an end as soon as you reached home in a few hours.
You turned your sad eyes down and played the air keyboard dramatically to keep his suspicion waylaid; stating the instrument was your specialty when John commented on your questionable finger technique.
——
When he finally pulled up in front of your house several hours and a few stops later, you both sat there and looked at your front door in silence without moving.
He saw you fiddle with the strap of your handbag nervously, picking and scratching with your thumb nail.
He cleared his throat softly before breaking the silence. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
You took a moment before giving him a weak smile. “Just know how shit it is to watch someone you care about be in love with someone else,” you settled on with a shrug. You felt pathetic about your month-old crush, especially in comparison to the hurt John was guaranteed to have been feeling at that moment.
He frowned and nodded slowly, trying to piece together what you may have meant. He opened his mouth, wanting to tell you that he didn’t feel that way about Charlotte anymore. That he’d realised he was over her this weekend while with you; but he hesitated, closed his mouth with a clack. Because this was just a favour to you wasn’t it? There were no real feelings on your end, right? It’d be wrong of him to put that on you now after the emotional exhaustion of lying to his family and supporting him through it. Selfish of him even.
But what did you mean you knew how it felt?
You watched him struggle for a moment and felt your heart ache when he said nothing; entirely unsurprised, and yet knowing he didn’t feel the same didn’t change how much it hurt to have it confirmed.
“Thanks for inviting me, John,” you said as sweet as you could manage. “I had a really good time.”
“Despite my family’s best efforts,” he joked weakly.
You rolled your eyes playfully. In a moment of weakness you reached out for his hand and squeezed it where it rested on his thigh.
“You know, I’m going to miss hanging out, just me and you,” you admitted, regretting it when John’s eyes turned sad. You spoke before he could have to chance to share false platitudes with you that maybe you’ll stay in touch; this was a favour, no more no less. You’d completed your end, there was no reason to drag out the inevitable, not when he didn’t need the fake dates as ‘proof’ anymore. “You’re a great guy, she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
He blinked and in a flash you were out of the car, door slamming with finality behind you as you jogged across the clear road.
Seeing you slip through his fingers in real time brought that feeling of an empty pit back in his stomach, but this time it wasn’t regret for something he couldn’t change or yearning for someone already out of reach.
“Chris’sake, I’m a grown fucking man,” he cursed himself out as he shouldered his way out of the car. He owed you the effort of trying at least.
John called after you, a shout of your name he didn’t often use, and you turned in surprise before you opened your front door. He saw the glassy tint to your eyes and felt his heart clench. Without thinking he blurted out the first thing that came to mind that might stop you for just a moment longer, “I still owe you the money we agreed on.” Your expression shuttered, shoulders stiffening, and he rounded his car quickly, needing to be closer with no barriers. “Fuck, no, that’s not what I meant to say, love. Wait.”
You stayed silent as you watched him on the other side of the dead road.
He paused to gather his racing thoughts.
“I don’t love my ex-wife anymore, or not how I did. Haven’t for a while I think, just loved the idea of her, the memory of what we had, the familiarity of it.” He swallowed thickly. “Think I loved fucking wallowing because I was used to it, ‘nd it was easier than admitting I’d been wrong and putting myself out there again to get hurt a second time ‘round.”
He checked the road before making his way closer as you wrapped your arms around yourself, tight and self-comforting.
“But these last couple of days… This last month; Sunshine, I got closure I didn’t know I needed but more than that I realised I want more than what I’ve been letting myself have. I want you.”
“John,” you finally spoke hoarsely. You shook your head.
“The time we’ve spent together recently… They’ve been some of the best days I’ve had in a long time.” He stepped forward and reached for your hands but you kept them folded away. “I want to feel that way again, every day that I can, with you.”
“I saw the way you looked at her,” you said gently, as if breaking to him that he still loved Charlotte. “You were laughing together at the end of the reception like it was your wedding.”
John huffed in disbelief. The fucking irony.
“Yeah because she told me how lucky I was to have a firecracker like you by my side,” he said with a laugh. “Not because I was trying to get her back. She’s pregnant, Sunshine, that ship has sailed.”
You felt your heart drop when realisation set in. “So I’m a consolation prize.”
“No,” he denied vehemently, eyes wide and horrified. “No, that’s not what I meant, bloody hell.”
He wiped a hand over his beard roughly, feeling you drift away word by word. He was fucking this up.
“Seeing her like that,” he started carefully. “I understand now that I didn’t want her back in the first place, not really.” At your doubtful look he continued on. “I don’t feel any jealousy or regret and not being the one starting a family with her; I just want to be happy like she is. And, Sunshine, it’s you that makes me happy like that.”
You looked at him with watery eyes, hope glistening in his own as his hand hovered by your hip.
You were quiet for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. John had flipped everything you’d felt, everything you’d thought you’d known about the last few days on its head and now you were stuck outside your house in the cold as the sun set, his confession heavy and waiting.
You felt cornered. It didn’t feel genuine, you still thought he was doing this out of some delayed sense of desperation and rejection. Clinging onto the first available woman after seeing Charlotte move on completely.
You liked John, a lot, and at any other time you’d have likely been jumping for joy hearing him say all of this. But you thought you knew him pretty well by now, and you weren’t going to make yourself unhappy by being second choice to help ease his bruised ego.
“I’m not looking for anything right now, John. Sworn off dating, remember?” You reminded him of your first conversation in that café, something that felt so long ago.
John became quiet for a moment, considering your soft rejection and trying to come to terms with it. He nodded and took a step back, his hand dropped back to his side.
“If you do start looking again, you’ve got my number,” he offered softly.
Your breath hitched and you nodded. You looked away and wiped at your face roughly when a tear fell. In a split decision you leant up and kissed his cheek before turning back and closing the door behind you.
did a little moodboard for this fic when i was stuck,, kept reader off it, the people in it are optional oc representation
#part 5 is majority done so i should’ve get that out in feb#not sure how happy i am with this chapter butttttt it might just be bc i thought it was a little boring ?? :// idk idk#fun stuff next chapter tho tee hee#john price x reader#price x reader#fat reader#trans john price
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