#it's much better to just. try your best to let it go
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gojoidyll · 3 days ago
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+18, smut, mdni, f!reader, etc.
pt 1
You weren’t used to the attention that John was giving you. Your past partners never caring or giving a damn. So to feel just how much careful attention he is giving your weeping pussy is making your core throb and ache. And when he started to pull his fingers out, it made you whine embarrassingly loud.
The sound made him chuckle as he got up and pulled you along.
“Where- where are we going?”
“To my bed.”
That was another thing that made you almost lose your footing. You were never important enough for a bed. The hard floor or the lumpy, uncomfortable couch was all your dates ever brought you to. In your mind, however, you wouldn’t have minded John’s couch as it was more comfortable than the others you had the displeasure of sitting on.
“Are you sure? What about the mess?”
You couldn’t hide the way your voice wobbled as he ushered you into his room, his foot kicking the door closed as his hands gently worked on your pants, helping you shrug them off along with your panties.
He quirked an eyebrow at you, amusement clear in his features. And when you felt your clothing start to pool at your feet, you found that you were only dressed in your shirt and bra. The cool air made your thighs clench together.
“If I’m going to fuck ya, sweet girl, then it’s going to be in my bed. But before that…,” his voice trailed off as he helped you out of your shirt and unclipped your bra, the articles of clothing joining your jeans and panties, “I said I was going to have you sit on my face next.”
Without getting undressed himself, he pulled you along towards his bed. His hand gently tugging you forward when he sat down on the edge of, you now wedged between his thighs as he rested his hands on your hips, his fingers tracing lazy circles as he kissed your stomach. The feeling of him peppering you with kisses made you squirm.
“Well?”
“H- huh?”
He chuckled at your cluelessness, but didn’t dare make fun of you for it, “though I said where I wanted you to sit, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
He leaned back, pushed himself to where he was laying face down whilst pulling you with. Your chest pressed hard against his as he let one of his hands trail and gently squeeze at the fat of your ass.
A part of you always wanted to try, but with your past partners hating the idea of giving you oral while also giving you a clear display of disgust, you sort of dropped the idea entirely.
But John is offering, isn’t he?
He isn’t the type of man to do something he doesn’t want to after all.
“Only if… you really want to,” you manage to say.
“That’s what I am asking you. Do you want to?”
You found yourself gripping at the front of his shirt, the way his fingers worked you open was still imprinted in your cunt, you really want to feel his tongue too.
“Yes, please.”
The moment the words left your mouth, he had you sit up so you were straddling his waist. You tried not to whine out too much when your wet cunt pressed down against his hardening bulge, and he didn’t give you enough time to feel him as he already got a strong hold of your hips again and gently dragging you up.
“You’re so nervous.”
You didn’t know where to put your hands as your bare pussy hovered just over his mouth. None of your previous partners ever really looked to hard at your slick, but John made a point to just analyze all of you.
“I- I can’t help it, I never did something like this before.”
He chuckled softly, his breath gently hitting your cunt making you squirm in his hold, “then I best ruin you for everyone else, huh?”
Not giving you any time to give back a retort, he planted you down, his grip strong as he easily held you in place as his tongue licked a long stripe between your folds. The sudden contact made you squeal as started to lap at you, his tongue not missing a single inch even as he toys with your fluttering hole. The tip of his tongue gently prodding before delving in.
The heat and feeling of his tongue was way different, and even better as he let one of his hands let go of your waist to trail downwards.
Your moans and gasps filled up the quiet bedroom accompanied by the wet sounds your pussy made against his tongue and fingers.
And you think between each flick of his tongue and pump of his fingers that he was right.
He was ruining you for everyone else… that is, if you even want anyone else after this.
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fqlling4it · 2 days ago
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we can’t be friends (wait for your love) | max verstappen x best friend! reader
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yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen, kellypiquet, and others
yourusername maxxie won in brazil! so so so proud of my best friend 💗
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user372 okay but compare y/n’s post to kelly’s and you can tell who actually is proud of him
↳ user33 one of them only posts when he wins and the other posts congratulating him no matter the results
maxverstappen ecstatic to have you in the paddock this past weekend! thanks for coming y/n/n
↳ yourusername i’m there whenever you want me to be maxxie!
kellypiquet so so proud of my boy!
↳ yourusername so proud of him too! 💗
user81 kelly staking her claim on max like y/n and max aren’t just friends 😭
↳ user44 you don’t know the lore??? go check user711’s pinned on twitter… rip y/nmax ☹️💔
francisca.cgomez great to see you around this weekend! missed you tons bbygirl 💗
↳ yourusername missed you tons kiks, so so grateful to have seen you this weekend 😘
user4 missed the ynmax content </3
↳ user71 when we went YEARS without ynmax content because kelly told y/n she didn’t like her relationship with max :(
twitter user771 pinned tweet!
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kellypiquet
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liked by maxverstappen, yourusername, and others
kellypiquet still riding the high ☄️
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yourusername so so proud of him! can’t believe it!
↳ kellypiquet p’s asking when auntie y/n can come over
↳ yourusername give me a date and a time and i’ll babysit for you!
user832 only posting when he wins is crazy 😭
user18 diabolical move telling y/n (the ultimate mom friend) that her daughter wants to see her auntie y/n
↳ user33 plotting how to get rid of y/n using P
maxverstappen ❤️
messages between Kelly and y/n
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kellypiquet and maxverstappen
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liked by landonorris, carlossainz, and others
kellypiquet and maxverstappen baby verstappen coming may 2025!
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user33 no y/n in the likes ???
↳ user72 ynmax drought again????
↳ user21 definitely something to do with max and kelly having a baby together ☹️💔
carlossainz congratulations to the two of you!
↳ maxverstappen thank you carlos!
landonorris that was.. unexpected. godfather lando 2025!
↳ maxverstappen and who said anything about you being godfather?
user91 the way y/n would’ve been the mother of max’s kid if they both stopped being delusional 💔
↳ user61 leave them alone my god, do you y/n fans ever stop being weird
↳ user91 nah this has gotta be kelly’s burner or something 😭
lewishamilton congrats man! happy for you!
↳ maxverstappen thank you! means a lot coming from you
yourusername
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liked by charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and others
yourusername while i am not officially a musician, i have dabbled in music before… here’s my first ever single, we can’t be friends, out friday! i hope you love it just as much as i do.. and a special thank you to charles_leclerc and lewishamilton for helping produce and cowrite this song!
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lewishamilton thank you for letting me help produce this song! so so proud of you and how far you’ve come from the little girl in the paddock chasing around her papa and his drivers to now being an official marketing and pr agent
↳ yourusername thanks lew! i appreciate you so so much! truly such a blessing for you to help me out with this!
user832 okay but album when?
↳ user1 CHILL she just released a single
user44 and when we get an album about what truly went down 2016-2020 then what
↳ user33 hey so actually let’s not because i’ll go insane
charles_leclerc thank you for letting me compose some of the piano parts! it was a blessing to be able to work with you
↳ yourusername no, thank you for helping me get the ideas out of my head! so honored to work with you on this piece
messages between max and y/n
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this was definitely not what was supposed to come out first, but i figured posting this which was sitting in my drafts was better than trying to write and add photos to a new smau! so hurt my feelings, which is max x ex! reader, will be out sometime by the end of the week (or beginning of next week at the latest)! this is very short, but i do really like this one and wanted to post it to garner feedback on what everyone seems to like seeing from me! likes and reblogs are appreciated.. (also i am working on a taglist and masterlist, so comment down below if you’re interested in being added to a taglist!)
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There’s a learning curve that comes with being married to someone who wasn’t human. Even more so when it was an arranged marriage and you were sort of just tossed into it.
Your husband was a good man though, a towering 8.5ft tall monster with elephant-like tusks and a whole culture you were still learning, be he took care of you well.
The first time you got your period living together he had no idea what was going on, but happily waiting on you hand and foot. Making sure he brought you pain medicine, snacks, and rubbed your aching joints.
The second time, he walked in on you desperately rubbing your clit to relax some of the cramps away. You were embarrassed beyond words, not that you hadn’t already slept together, but it was still quite the situation to be caught in.
“You know, I can help with that too” he shrugged and sat down the snacks he was bringing for you.
“It’s fine, it’s messy” you shrugged and stopped.
“I don’t care. You know I don’t mind blood” he responded.
“It’s fine”.
“Will it help you feel better?”
“Yeah”
“Then let me” he pushed.
You were not entirely sure what he had in mind, but he seemed pretty eager to help.
“Ok” you conceded.
He wasted no time helping you undress and peppering you with little kisses before settling down to kneel between your legs.
“Oh no no no, you really don’t have to” you began.
“I want to” he said as he lifted your hips up so he could tuck his tusks under you.
You felt his tongue immediately on your clit, the pressure and movements you liked, even better you felt the vibrations from his purring against your clit. He continued, working you over until you were a mewling mess. Once he was satisfied he slipped his tongue between your folds and then pressed into your entrance.
Within minutes you were already close. Between his large tongue giving you a pleasant stretch and the vibrations of his purring. You reached down to pull in his hair, needing to touch him any way you could reach, which only encouraged him more. His tongued was constantly against your g-spot and you enjoyed how every time he seemed to try to explore every inch of you.
He came from a species that did not normally go down, tusks got in the way too much, but once he learned it was an option he made sure to learn how to for you. It was always somewhat of an inelegant affair, his mouth open too far, drooling, no technique, but he did make up for it in sheer enthusiasm.
Your toes curled and you felt the familiar build and release as tingly waves of pleasure diffuse from head to toe. It was nothing intense this time, but he continued well after you finished, making sure beyond a doubt you were sleepy and satisfied.
He finally surfaced, leaning his head against your thigh and looking up at you with such a soft expression, “Feeling better?” he asked.
“For sure” you sighed and affectionately scratched his head.
He got up and went to go clean himself up and returned with clean sheets for the bed after everything. After settling down in bed with you he pulled you up against his chest, your back to him, and put his hands on your tummy, the best hot water bottle for cramps.
You fell asleep easily like that, feeling satisfied and cared for, and happy knowing you could probably swap a few doses of pain medicine for some time with your husband.
(Note: I kept it general, but the husband is from my ongoing Arranged Marriage series in my pinned post!)
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valenteal · 2 days ago
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Okay I actually really hate this take I’m sorry. Anakin was not possessive or selfish and that’s not what the Jedi taught him.
The way I think of it is that Jedi pursue inner peace by disconnecting themselves emotionally from situations, they feel empathy in a very detached way. That’s what having no attachments means. It’s in the word. The Jedi are Detached from reality as it is perceived by humans.
The Force gives Jedi a glimpse of what it is to be a 4th dimensional entity with consciousness no trapped in a single moment in time. So to a certain extent they don’t actually perceive time linearly and thus do not feel they’ve lost something because it still exists in the past.
So now that we’ve established that yes Jedi are detached from the present let’s move onto the more problematic statement about selfishness and possessiveness.
It is not selfish to want unconditional love. That’s basic human nature. Anakin, a person who clearly suffers from borderline personality disorder which comes with symptoms such as fear of abandonment, an unstable view of the self, devaluing or overvaluing relationships to the point placing of one’s self-worth entirely in another person’s hands, and more, literally needs unconditional love and support. And he developed this disorder in large part because of the Jedi order and the way they treated him. He was simultaneously considered the “chosen one” and considered a burden or a problem. He had to change everything about the way he thought to fit the prescribed mold of what a Jedi should be, and he was held to higher standards because of his perceived “chosen one” status and people were disappointed when he failed to meet them. I know from experience how truly awful it is to be told “i know you can do better” in a disappointed voice when you’re honestly trying your best.
And that’s not even touching on how in Phantom Menace he created strong bonds with both Qui-Gon and Padmé only to have both of the ripped away right after he’d left behind everything he knew and loved. After the movie he was around nothing familiar or comfortable. He didn’t know Obi-Wan and he knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually wanted him as an apprentice or even in the Jedi order. So he was surrounded by a bunch of people who all thought he didn’t belong and only let him stay because of a dead man’s wishes. He was NINE and being told that everything he ever learned was wrong and backwards and leads to being evil and that he needs to be perfect for anyone else to think he belonged because even the smallest mistake would just confirm their preconceived beliefs about him.
And that’s not even mention Sidious’s manipulation. Anakin never would have become anything like Vader without Sidious leading him.
Also! There is a difference between possessive and protective! Anakin is protective! He has lost so much he’s clinging desperately to what he has! He wants to protect the one good thing in his life. He doesn’t try to control Padmé, they actually have a very healthy relationship, it’s the situation that’s toxic. Anakin doesn’t view Padmé as a possession, I don’t know why anyone would think that. Oh wait the Clovis arcs. Right. Those exist and other people actually consider them canon. That’s a whole ‘nother rant about writing that I’m not going to get into here. But let’s make this one thing clear, Clone Wars Anakin and movie Anakin are 2 totally different characters psychologically because of the awful reception of the prequel trilogy when it came out.
"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.
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pandapetals · 1 day ago
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You're Too Good for Me
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Logan has a nightmare which causes him to spiral thinking you deserve better. He hurts your feelings then tries to make up for it.
professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair
a/n: request from anon and i ran with it. I’m on my period so im emotional. also i think the song head over feet by alanis morissette describes their relationship perfectly.
read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here
Logan hadn’t had a nightmare like this in a long time—dark, violent, pulling him back to places he thought he’d managed to bury. He woke up gasping, drenched in cold sweat, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He barely registered your hands on his shoulders, your soft voice coaxing him back to reality.
"Logan," you whispered, brushing a hand gently through his hair. "It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here."
As he sat up, breathing ragged, he could feel the old shame tightening in his chest, coiling around his heart like a vise. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to be woken up in the middle of the night to deal with his demons, his scars that never truly healed.
In the dim light, he glanced at you, your concerned eyes, the gentle way you held him as though he were something fragile. Something that needed fixing. And it cut deeper than he expected.
"Go back to sleep," he mumbled, pulling away from your touch, trying to put space between you. "You don’t have to… just go back to bed."
You watched him, hurt flashing across your face before you masked it with understanding like you always did. But that only made it worse. Logan felt like a burden, an anchor holding you down when you could be with someone lighter, someone whole.
It was selfish, he realized bitterly, for him to have married you. To drag you into his darkness, to let you tether yourself to someone so broken. You could have had happiness with someone who didn’t carry the weight of a hundred lifetimes, someone who wouldn’t drag you into his nightmares.
The day that followed was unforgiving. The mansion was chaotic with the energy of kids excited for the upcoming weekend, their laughter and chatter echoing through the halls. Normally, Logan found a certain kind of peace in the routine, in the noise and laughter. He’d steal a moment to find you, just to see the way your eyes lit up when you spotted him across the room, the way you’d smile like he was the best part of your day.
But today, he couldn’t bring himself to look for you. Instead, he kept his distance, trying to hold onto the feeling of solitude he hadn’t felt in so long. He couldn’t shake the gnawing thought that he was ruining your life, that every day you stayed by his side, you were giving up a piece of yourself for someone who didn’t deserve it.
Still, avoiding you completely proved impossible. In the late afternoon, he wandered into the library to drop off a book one of the students had left in his class, and there you were, seated at one of the old wooden tables, a notebook open in front of you, scribbling something with that quiet intensity he loved so much.
As if sensing his presence, you looked up and caught his gaze, breaking into a warm smile. "There you are," you said, your voice light, teasing. "I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all day."
The words hung in the air, playful but carrying an undertone of uncertainty. When Logan didn’t respond, your smile faltered slightly, concern filling your eyes.
"Logan," you started, your tone softening, "what’s going on?"
Logan let out a long sigh, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice gruff, "don’t… don’t try to make me feel better, alright?"
You blinked, taken aback. "I’m not… I don’t even know what’s wrong. I’m just… trying to understand." Your voice wavered, the usual confidence slipping as you searched his face.
He looked down, feeling the weight of his own words pressing on him, but they spilled out anyway, rough and raw. "I don’t know why you stay with me. You’re too good for someone like me."
The hurt in your eyes was immediate and stark, cutting through him like a blade. Usually, you would have brushed off his self-deprecating comments with a witty remark, or maybe a kiss, but this time…the pain was visible.
"Wow, Logan." Your voice was quiet, almost disbelieving. "I guess if you say it enough, maybe I’ll start to believe it."
He felt his heart clench as he watched you, saw the way you pulled back as if shielding yourself from him. Before he could say anything, you’d gathered up your things and walked out, leaving him alone in the library, the silence heavier than any nightmare.
Later that evening, Logan sat in Xavier’s office, staring at the floor as the Professor studied him with quiet patience. Logan had come here for advice, though he hadn’t known how to ask for it. After a few minutes of silence, Xavier spoke.
"She loves you, Logan," Xavier said gently, his voice filled with the kind of understanding that only came with time. "And yet you push her away despite being married for years now. Why?"
Logan swallowed, struggling to put his feelings into words. "She… deserves better than me," he muttered. "I drag her into my mess. She’s always the one tryin’ to fix me, to hold me together. I don’t wanna keep holdin’ her back."
Xavier regarded him thoughtfully, folding his hands. "Perhaps," he said softly, "she doesn’t see it as a burden, Logan. Perhaps you’re the one who’s still carrying that weight." He paused, allowing the words to sink in. "But by constantly questioning her commitment, by doubting her love, you’re hurting her far more than any nightmare ever could."
Logan’s jaw tightened, shame flooding through him as Xavier’s words settled in. He’d spent so much time convinced he was protecting you by keeping you at arm’s length, he hadn’t realized he was driving a wedge between you. He was the one putting cracks in your relationship, making you question the very foundation of what you’d built together.
Determined to make it up to you, Logan planned a small, thoughtful evening, something that would remind you of the early days, back when things felt simple and uncomplicated. He knew he’d hurt you, and there was no grand gesture that could fix it. But maybe he could start by showing you what you meant to him.
He set up a cozy picnic under the stars in the mansion’s quiet garden, the same spot where he’d taken you for one of your dates. There were blankets laid out, soft lanterns casting a warm glow, and a small table with your favorite food—he’d even found the wine you’d both liked that night.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, you finally came outside, your expression wary but softened by curiosity. Logan’s heart thudded in his chest as he stood, waiting, feeling more vulnerable than he ever had on a battlefield.
"What’s all this?" you asked quietly, glancing around the setup with a mixture of surprise and hesitation.
Logan rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. "I… wanted to make it up to you. I know I’ve been a real jackass," he admitted, his voice gruff. "I’ve got this… damn habit of pushin’ people away. And I know I’ve hurt you by doin’ it. You didn’t deserve that."
Your expression softened, and you stepped closer, your eyes searching his face.
"There’s a… note," he mumbled, pointing to a folded piece of paper on the table. "I wrote it… y’know, in case I couldn’t say all of it right."
You picked up the note, unfolding it carefully. His handwriting was rough, scrawled across the page, and the words were raw, unpolished, but every line held the weight of his heart:
"I know I don’t say it enough, but you’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me. You’re my light, my peace, even when I don’t think I deserve it. I’d be lost without you, and it scares the hell outta me sometimes. I’m sorry for doubting what we have. I love you more than I know how to say, and I’m the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side."
You looked up at him, tears shimmering in your eyes, but there was a soft, unwavering smile tugging at your lips. "Logan… you don’t have to do all this to prove anything," you murmured, squeezing his hands. "I know how much you love me. I’ve always known."
Logan gave a half-shrug, but his expression softened as he took a tentative step closer, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "Maybe," he muttered, his voice rough, almost vulnerable. "But I’m a damn stubborn fool, and I know I don’t say it enough. Hell, I’m lucky you haven’t given up on me yet."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close until your foreheads were nearly touching. "Logan," you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotion welling up in your chest. "I knew exactly what I was getting myself into the moment I kissed you that first time. You seem to forget… this is a two-sided relationship. I chose this, and I chose you—all of you. The good, the bad, and even the ugly."
A small, wry smile crossed his face as he held you tighter, his hand splaying against the small of your back. "Guess there’s plenty of that last one," he murmured, his tone filled with self-deprecation.
You shook your head, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. "I don’t want some perfect, easy life. This marriage hasn’t been easy—no one ever promised it would be." Your voice softened, and a flicker of pain crossed your face as you thought back to the late nights, the nightmares, the moments of doubt. "But I wouldn’t trade a single second of it."
Logan’s eyes softened, the weight of your words sinking in as he searched your face. There was a flicker of something vulnerable, almost boyish as if he still couldn’t quite believe that someone like you would stay through it all. "Even with all the times I’ve messed up? Pushed you away?"
"Especially then," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I chose you, Logan, knowing every scar you carry. I chose you because you’re worth it. Because beneath all that gruff and growl, there’s a man with a heart bigger than he’ll ever admit."
Logan’s gaze softened, his usual guarded expression melting as he took in the honesty in your eyes. His fingers tightened around yours as if grounding himself in the warmth of your touch.
You swallowed, feeling your throat tighten as you searched for the right words. "Besides, you act like you haven’t been there for me—like I’m the only one giving in this marriage. But that’s not true. You’ve carried me, held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own." A tear slipped down your cheek, and you felt a tremble in your voice as you continued, more vulnerable than you’d ever allowed yourself to be. "I guess… I guess I need to tell you much you mean to me more, because if I ever lost you—"
Your voice broke, the unspoken thought hanging in the air between you. Logan’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently wiping away the tear that had escaped. He looked at you with a raw intensity, like he was seeing you for the first time and realizing just how deeply his presence affected you.
"I don’t know what I’d do," you whispered, voice barely holding together. "Without you, it’d be like… losing the part of me that makes sense of the world. You’re my safe place, Logan. I don’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it."
A faint tremor ran through Logan, and for a moment he just stood there, absorbing your words. Then, in a rare, unguarded gesture, he pulled you against him, burying his face in your hair, his arms wrapping around you as if he could shield you from everything—himself included.
"You won’t lose me," he murmured, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. "I’m here. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. Not ever."
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palms. "Promise me," you whispered, your voice filled with both a plea and a demand.
Logan’s hand came up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he met your gaze, raw and steady. "I promise, darlin’," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "As long as I’m breathin’, I’m yours."
You nodded, a soft smile breaking through the tears as you let out a shaky breath. "Good," you whispered, a hint of your usual fire returning. "Because I’m not letting you go. You’re stuck with me, tough guy."
A smile finally broke through Logan’s serious expression, a low, rough laugh rumbling from his chest. "Well, I guess I got the better end of that deal," he murmured, his thumb tracing softly over your lips, his gaze warm and unguarded. "Lucky me."
You let out a laugh, sniffing as you swatted his hand away playfully. "No, I’m the lucky one, and don’t go thinking otherwise." You shook your head, the emotions bubbling up as you looked up at him. "You’ve seen the darkest parts of me, Logan. You know it wasn’t always easy for me either."
Logan’s smile faded slightly, his hand still cupping your cheek as he looked down at you, his brow furrowing. "Yeah… I guess sometimes I forget that," he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "I… I let that damn nightmare get the best of me last night. Pulled me into my head, made me feel like I was poisonin’ your life somehow." He sighed, looking away for a moment. "I let it eat at me, let it convince me that I was only draggin’ you down."
He trailed off, his thumb idly brushing against your cheek, almost as if grounding himself in the warmth of your skin. "Guess I let that fear carry me away," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And I hurt you because of it."
Your hand found his, squeezing gently as you shook your head. "You don’t have to apologize for feeling like that. I know what those fears can do. I’ve had them too, remember?"
He frowned, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes. "You? I… I didn’t know you ever doubted us like that."
A soft smile played on your lips, tinged with a hint of sadness. "Oh, I’ve had my moments. There was a time, back when we were dating when I thought I wasn’t strong enough for all this." You looked down, your fingers tracing small patterns on his hand as you continued. "There were days I felt like I couldn’t handle the weight of what you carried… like maybe I wasn’t enough for you."
Logan’s hand tightened around yours, his gaze darkening as if the thought alone pained him. "I had no idea," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "Why didn’t you tell me?"
You gave him a soft, reassuring smile. "Because you already had so much on your shoulders. I didn’t want to add to it. But… there was one night that changed everything."
He tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing in curiosity. "Which night?"
You took a deep breath, a nostalgic smile crossing your face as you remembered. "It was that night when I got that phone call about my dad being in the hospital. You remember? I’d barely told you anything about him, about my family, because… well, I thought it was easier not to talk about it."
Logan nodded, his gaze intense, recalling the way you had looked that night—pale, shaken, trying to hold yourself together. "Yeah," he said softly. "You were tryin’ to act like you were fine, but I could see you were fallin’ apart inside."
You laughed lightly, nodding. "Exactly. I was a mess, trying so hard not to let it show. But then… you showed up. I was packing a bag, trying to figure out what to do, and suddenly, you were just there. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t push me to talk… you just held me." Your voice softened a hint of awe in it. "And then you drove me to the hospital and stayed with me all night, even though I told you it was fine and that you didn’t have to."
Logan looked down, a faint blush touching his cheeks, as if embarrassed by his own gentleness. "Didn’t seem like you should be alone," he muttered, almost to himself. "Couldn’t leave you to deal with that by yourself."
"Exactly," you whispered, lifting his hand to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. "That night, you made me feel like… like I was worth being cared for. Like I could fall apart, and you’d be there to catch me. That’s when I knew I loved you, Logan. Not because you’re some ‘tough guy’ who protects everyone around him, but because of the way you love—with everything you’ve got, even when it scares you."
He swallowed, visibly moved, his thumb still tracing your cheek as he looked down at you, the weight of your words settling over him. "You’re tellin’ me that one night… that’s what made you fall for me?"
You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "It made me fall more for you and since then, every time you’ve shown up, every time you’ve let your guard down just enough to let me in… it only made me love you more."
Logan exhaled, his hand slipping down to rest over your heart as if feeling the steady beat under his palm reassured him of something he could never put into words. "I don’t deserve you," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "But… God, I’m gonna try like hell to be the man you see me as."
You leaned up, brushing your lips softly against his, pouring every bit of reassurance and love you had into that kiss. "You already are," you murmured against his lips. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I wouldn’t trade you, or this life, for anything."
A soft laugh escaped him, full of relief and something tender. “Well,” he whispered, pulling you close, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m done lettin’ my own damn fears get in the way of us."
“Good,” you whispered. “Because marrying you was the best thing I ever did.” 
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as if you might slip away. When you finally broke apart, he looked down at you with a gaze so soft, so full of unspoken devotion, it made your heart ache.
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Omg omg, can you please do a daddy!chan oneshot x babygirl!reader (pls make them married) based of when the reader cant take his cock(too big)😩
you can take it. can’t you baby?
pairing: daddy!husband!chan x babygirl!reader
genre: smuuuuuut, no plot. oh you guys.. this is filthy. we are so back.
word count: ~1.5k
warnings: daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, squirting, dirty talk, fluffy silly little bit of aftercare at the end
an: oh my gooooodddd i love requests like this. i love thinking about this. i love the opportunity to write shit like this. inject daddy!chan directly into my bloodstream atp. love love LOVE. need him asap. “big dick chan. big dick chan” we all chant in unison.
masterlist
‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼ adults only • mdni ‼ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⚠︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ‼
“it doesn’t fit again, baby?” he teased. “we just did this last night.” he’s slowly inching his cock inside you, but not having much luck. the stretch is too much for you. “baby’s pussy is just soo tight.. huh?”
you’re nodding, doing your best to answer his question, your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on your tongue. he’s already got you fucked out and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. “s’too much daddy..” you whined. “too— too much.”
“i know, baby. daddy knows.” he cooed, pulling out of you, though he was only head deep. “let’s prep you a little better, yeah?” he brings his hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers. your tongue lolls out of your mouth, spit dripping down to your chin. he takes his middle and ring finger and places them on your tongue. you immediately wrap your lips around the digits, swirling your tongue over his skin.
“there you go, baby. good girl. get em nice and wet.” you moaned around his fingers, the praise shooting right to your core, your pussy dripping onto the sheets. he shoves them deeper into your mouth, down your throat until his knuckles are hitting your teeth and you gag around him. his eyes roll slightly at the sound, struggling to keep his composure when you’re so pliant for him.
he pulls his fingers out, a trail of spit connecting them to your lips as he brings them to your pussy. “let’s try and stretch you out a little, yeah?” he rubs soft circles around your clit, teasing, before he travels lower and plays with your drippy hole. “it’s daddy’s fault for not prepping you better. i just get so excited, baby. i get so excited to feel your little cunt wrapped around me.” he slowly slides his fingers inside, pumping them a few times before spreading his fingers apart, doing his best to stretch your little hole.
“it’s hard for daddy to wait sometimes. i just need my baby so bad.” he speeds up his fingers, curving them to hit the spot he knows you like so much. the sounds coming from your sweet mouth make his cock ache. it’s red and leaking onto his tummy where it rests, not so patiently waiting for its turn. he can feel you starting to flutter around his fingers, your legs beginning to shake. he brings his free hand up to your tummy and gently presses down, making sure you feel everything.
“daddy..” you cry. “gonna cum..” your little fists grip at the sheets, then grip onto his firm bicep, your nails digging into the muscle that’s doing most of the work. “b-big one..” you whine.
big one. he knew what that meant and it only made his cock angrier. “big one, baby? fuck. you haven’t done that since our wedding night. mmm. daddy loves it when you do that. you gonna make a mess, sweet girl?”
you held onto him like he was the only thing left anchoring you to this world, rolling your hips up to meet his thrusting fingers. “fuck. that’s it baby. fuck daddy’s hand. such a perfect girl.”
and then it hit you. it comes in waves, the initial orgasm hitting you, the first little gush of liquid around his fingers and he knows that’s when to pull them out. and once they’re out, that’s when you squirt all over his thighs, his arm, his waiting cock. he’s lucky he doesn’t bust right then. he brings his fingers to your clit, quickly rubbing back and forth, coaxing out any little bit of cum that’s left in you.
you collapse on the bed, completely spent, but ready for more. your hole spasms around nothing, practically begging to be filled. chan hovers over you, placing sweet kisses along your jaw and neck. he lines himself up with your entrance, your warm cum coating his tip. he drags it up and down through your folds, slapping it on your clit a few times. you whimper under him, your body still recovering.
“i think you’re ready now, princess.” he says, the head of his cock poking your hole. “wanna see if you can take it now, baby. daddy knows you can. you can take it, can’t you baby?” he’s babbling as he slowly starts to push in. you still feel the stretch but not as much as last time. “that okay, pretty girl? how’re you doing?” he brushes his fingers across your cheek and your lips. “talk to me, baby. come back.”
you whimper as he sinks deeper and deeper, the stretch feeling so good, his words feeling even better. “s’good daddy.” you mumble. “i can do it. i’m— i’m a good girl, daddy. i can do it. promise.”
he bottoms out, his hips coming in contact with the back of your thighs and he stills, giving you time to adjust and drinking in the feeling of you squeezing him. “that’s right baby. you are a good girl. such a good girl taking all of daddy’s cock. fuck. letting me stretch out this little pussy.”
after a moment, he’s unable to wait any longer and he begins to rock back and forth, his cock dragging your walls in all the right ways. you can feel every inch, every vein, as he slowly pumps in and out of you. savoring the feeling. he looks down at where your bodies are connected (heh connected. get it? sorry.) and he groans at the sight of the creamy ring of cum that surrounds the base of his cock. he’s not going to last.
“fuck.. baby girl..” he throws his head back, his eyes closing as he focuses on the way you feel around him. and you’re focusing on the way he looks above you. his toned stomach flexes with every thrust he makes, sweat dripping down his chest, his black curls clinging to his forehead. his nose and his full parted lips are enough to bring you close to your high again. you tried to make a mental note in your foggy mind to ride his face next time, feel his nose bumping against your clit. maybe squirt in his mouth. you bet he would like that. you clenched around him at the thought, at the visual of his tiny trail of hair that runs from below his belly button to the base of his cock. “you’re squeezing me baby. fuck i’m gonna cum.”
he looks back down at you, dark eyes meeting yours as his thrusts become harsher. skin slapping against skin as he pounds into you. he leans down and wraps his arms around your head, protecting your skull from smacking the headboard as he fucks you. “gonna cum in this little pussy baby. gonna fill you up, yeah?”
you nodded, gripping onto his shoulders as you teetered on the edge of your own bliss. “yes daddy. yes please, cum in me.”
“such a sweet baby.” he grunted. “using words like please. begging for daddy.”
“want your cum. please. please can i have it?”
you were so close. you were sure you would cum with the next words out of his mouth. it didn’t matter what he said, as long as he was the one that said it, you were going to cum.
“can you take it all baby? daddy’s gonna cum but don’t- fuck.. don’t you let any of it escape.”
and you came, your release squirting around his cock, but he refused to pull out. he kept fucking into you, the wet noises loud as they echoed off the walls of your shared bedroom.
“gonna pump this pussy full of cum, baby.” he rasped into your ear, his breath warm, but your skin still breaking out in goosebumps. your nails dug into his back, your head empty, unable to beg him anymore. but that’s okay, he was already cumming in you. his twitching cock dumped his huge load into your aching pussy. and it just kept going and going. ��so much cum, baby. fuck. fuck.” he whimpered. “such a good girl. fuck. daddy’s perfect girl.”
his thrusts finally rolled to a stop, his body collapsing next to yours, his breathing heavy against your neck. he kissed your flushed skin. “are you okay, baby?” he asked quietly, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck with his words.
your answering contented sigh told him everything he needed to know. he giggled. “you feel good, princess?” his arm was around your middle, holding you closer to him in an awkward post coital embrace. “feeling a little spacey?”
“mhm.”
he kissed your jaw before pushing himself up on weakened arms and slowly pulling out of you. his cum spilled onto the sheets.
“baby!” he playfully scolded. “i said to not let any of this spill.” his fingers tickled your sides, causing you to squirm and giggle. your squirming caused more of his cum to leak out of you. “baby! you’re letting more out!” he teased as he continued his tickle attack. “oh my gosh and here i thought you were my good girl.”
“i am!” you fought back, pushing his tickling hands away. and he let you.
he looked down at you, his eyes sparkling, literal heart eyes as he stared at you. “i love you.” he said.
“i love you.” you answered.
he leaned forward and pecked your lips before retreating to the bathroom for a warm cloth.
ᯓᡣ𐭩
i really didn’t expect so many people to be so stoked about this post. it made me nervous! lol i hope it lived up to everyone’s expectations. pls let me know your thoughts.
♡ pls reblog if you liked it! it truly helps a lot and makes me smile :) ♡
©hyunjins-orange-slice-too i do not give permission for this work or any of my work to be translated, copied, or reposted.
@httpdwaekki @bangchansslut6 <33
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kaleidohscopic · 2 days ago
Text
TRY AGAIN — JJH
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PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx
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You should’ve brought an umbrella. 
The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 
A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.
“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”
You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.
“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.
She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”
“Yippee. How exciting.”
There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”
“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”
“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 
Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.
“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”
“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”
“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”
“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 
Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 
On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.
However, Joy was a meddler.
Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.
Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.
Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.
Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 
Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 
Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.
Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.
Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.
Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.
You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.
The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?
You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—
And froze.
“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 
You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.
This was not happening.
“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.
How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.
“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 
Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.
Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 
“Wait,” he pleaded. 
Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 
“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 
You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.
And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.
“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”
“Did you plan this?”
He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”
Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”
He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?
An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.
Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 
Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.
“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 
A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 
They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.
“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 
Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.
Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 
For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.
The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.
It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.
“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.
“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”
Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.
God, this was fucking awkward.
“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”
You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 
Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 
“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.
You were curt. “No.” 
He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 
A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.
“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.
“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.
You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.
“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.
Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”
You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 
“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”
“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 
Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.
“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 
How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 
A time rather distant from now.
You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”
Three seconds passed in silence. 
His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.
“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 
True? 
“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 
Or maybe you had. 
Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.
Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.
Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 
But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.
Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 
(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)
Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.
It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 
You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?
“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”
You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 
Please, let’s not talk about that.
A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 
And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 
“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 
Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 
You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 
The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 
“Do you want to try mine?”
Sneakiness had never been your forte.
Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 
“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.
Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?
But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 
A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.
The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 
For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.
A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.
“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.
“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”
Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 
So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 
Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.
You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)
He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.
Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.
There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 
“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.
“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.
“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 
There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.
“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”
It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.
Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 
The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.
“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 
You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?
“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.
He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 
But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 
First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.
And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.
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There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.
It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.
No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.
A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 
“You should have told me!”
You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”
“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”
“You said a total of three sentences about him.”
She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 
Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.
“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”
“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”
“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”
She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 
“You can what?”
This was new information.
“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.
“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”
Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 
“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”
“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.
However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.
Speaking of this morning…
“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”
“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”
You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 
Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  
“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 
“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.
The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.
Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”
Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 
Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 
“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 
A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.
The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 
“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.
“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”
You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 
“Who did?”
“The guy at the front.” 
Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 
The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—
“Jaehyun?”
His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.
Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.
You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?
I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.
“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”
You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.
“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.
“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 
There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.
Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.
Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.
“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”
“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 
Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.
The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 
“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 
Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 
“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.
“Are you still in the line?”
“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 
Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 
Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.
Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 
Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.
Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 
Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.
The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 
“Your cardigan,” he said.
“Huh?”
Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.
“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”
“You do?” 
“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.
You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 
Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.
“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”
The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.
Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 
“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 
Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 
Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.
The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 
“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.
“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.
The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.
Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.
“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.
He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 
Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.
The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 
“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 
You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 
“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.
“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.
You gave him a careful look. 
“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 
“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 
Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—
“Do you want my number?”
Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 
“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 
Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.
There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?
“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”
Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.
A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.
“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 
“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.
“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”
You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”
“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 
Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.
“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.
“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”
“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”
Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”
“So that’s a no to the coffee?”
“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”
“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.
And frowned.
You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.
That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.
On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.
Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.
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“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”
The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.
“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”
The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”
“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”
You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.
The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 
It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 
jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake
The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.
Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.
He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.
You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 
You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 
Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 
You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 
With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 
Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 
“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 
“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 
You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 
The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 
“Anyways, I think he left you something.”
You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.
It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 
There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 
saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^
Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.
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“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”
You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 
“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 
“It’s Jaehyun.” 
You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 
“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”
You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 
“Do you have plans later today?”
You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  
“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.
“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”
You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 
“Come with me?”
The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 
“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”
And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 
“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.
So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 
“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”
“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 
He laughed. “So is that a yes?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.
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It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 
Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 
The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 
“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 
“Different good or different bad?”
A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”
“So do you,” you replied. 
You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 
“Did you taxi?”
“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.
“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”
A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 
“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”
The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.
“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”
He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”
“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 
Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”
You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 
The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.
“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”
The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 
Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 
You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 
The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 
“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.
The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 
“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.
“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”
You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”
“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”
You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 
Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 
Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  
“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.
“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”
“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”
He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.
“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”
Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.
“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.
“Really? I don’t remember that.”
“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”
The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 
Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.
Or so you thought.
“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 
“What do you like about it?”
He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”
“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.
“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.
“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”
“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”
Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.
The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 
The feeling of coming home.
The shutter clicked.
“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”
You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”
He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 
The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.
He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 
“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.
If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 
The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.
Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 
“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.
“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.
“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”
“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”
“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”
“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.
Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.
“What do you say? Want to join us?”
Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.
So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.
Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 
After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”
The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.
“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.
To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”
“Oh, what?” 
You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.
“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”
You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”
“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”
“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”
The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”
His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 
“I wouldn’t leave you.”
The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 
“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”
He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”
To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.
And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?
No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 
As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.
“Walking down an empty street.”
A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 
Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 
Were you?
“Puddles underneath our feet.”
Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 
The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.
You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”
Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.
Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.
And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.
“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 
What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.
Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 
“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”
Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.
The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.
The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 
“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.
You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.
“How about the bus?”
“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”
You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.
“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.
You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.
“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”
“Okay,” you said.
His head shot back up. “Okay?”
You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”
“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”
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The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.
You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 
It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 
The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 
Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 
You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 
Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 
It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 
You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.
Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.
“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 
Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.
The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.
“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.
“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.
“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”
An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 
Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.
“Myself.” 
He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.
“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.
For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.
The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 
Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 
Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.
“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”
The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.
“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 
You exchanged a glance.
“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”
It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.
“Are we having ramen?”
His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.
“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”
It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.
“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 
Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.
“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”
And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.
The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.
Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 
“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”
He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.
You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 
Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?
You scoffed to yourself. As if.
A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 
Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 
The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.
However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.
You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 
“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 
He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.
“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 
You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”
“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 
“Was it really that bad?”
He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”
“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.
“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”
You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 
Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.
“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.
“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”
“And funnier,” he added.
“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 
“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”
You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 
“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 
Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”
“Come on, I’m being serious!”
His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 
“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”
Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 
I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.
Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 
Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.
“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.
If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 
“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”
You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”
“You’re her only daughter.”
“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”
The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 
You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.
Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?
“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.
He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.
Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.
Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.
Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.
“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 
Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”
“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”
Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.
This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.
You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 
“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”
The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 
Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.
Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.
Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 
How embarrassing.
One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.
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“Will you stop messing with that thing?”
Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 
“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.
“You’re so pedantic.”
“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.
You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”
“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 
You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 
How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 
“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.
“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”
You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”
It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 
You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 
“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 
“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”
He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”
“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”
“Shut up.”
The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 
“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.
“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”
“Maybe you should let me try.”
You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”
“Hello?” 
An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 
“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 
“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.
You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 
“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”
“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.
“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. ��I’m Doyoung, by the way.”
You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.
“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.
Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”
You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either. 
There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.
Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.
How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 
Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—
“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 
Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.
“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”
You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.
Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.
“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 
There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.
“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.
Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.
“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”
“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.
“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 
You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”
“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”
“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”
Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.
“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.
You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”
Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 
You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.
“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 
Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.
Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 
“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.
Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”
“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.
It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 
You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.
Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.
You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.
Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 
Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.
Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.
“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 
“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 
And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 
“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.
You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?
“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.
You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 
The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 
(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)
“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”
“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 
The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 
The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 
“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 
He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 
You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”
“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”
“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”
He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 
“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”
Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 
At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 
“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.
“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”
“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”
You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.
“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.
“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 
There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 
A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.
“Were you really upset to see me?”
Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.
“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”
A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 
Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.
There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.
If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.
Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 
“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.
You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.
Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 
“Me too,” he said softly.
Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 
Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”
“Hmm?”
He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.
“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”
Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 
Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 
“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”
He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.
“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”
“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”
At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?
“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 
Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.
“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”
Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.
You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 
Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.
Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.
“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.
The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 
By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 
Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 
“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.
“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.
The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 
Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.
“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”
You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 
Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.
“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”
“Mmffh.” 
Another brilliant and enlightening response.
The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 
Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.
“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 
You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 
“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”
He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 
The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.
“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.
“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.
The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.
Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 
“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.
Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”
“Still not a real word.”
You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.
“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”
Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.
The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.
“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 
Your footsteps faltered. 
“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 
He nodded. 
“When?”
“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”
You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 
“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 
Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?
It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 
Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 
You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”
The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 
Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.
It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 
“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”
You.
He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.
“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.
He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 
“But I have to,” he agreed. 
Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.
Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.
“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”
He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”
And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.
There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 
And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 
You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.
“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.
This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.
And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.
Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 
“What is it?” he asked.
There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 
Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.
To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 
They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 
“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 
What difference did it make?
It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.
The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 
You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 
How had you denied yourself of this for so long?
Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.
You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.
“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.
Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 
“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.
Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.
You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 
“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 
He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 
“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 
Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.
No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 
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“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”
You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.
“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 
Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”
“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”
“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”
The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.
“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”
“Someone should,” you agreed.
Neither of you made a move.
As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.
September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 
Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.
“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.
Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”
Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 
“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.
It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.
“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”
The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.
Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”
“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”
She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.
You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.
Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 
The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.
Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.
You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.
this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.
He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.
The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?
You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.
“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”
A soft gasp left your mouth.
“Jaehyun?”
He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.
“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”
“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”
Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”
“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”
He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 
“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”
“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”
You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 
With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.
“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.
Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.
He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”
“Oh, Jaehyun—”
“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”
Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.
“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”
It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.
“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”
“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”
You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 
There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.
Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 
“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”
I do, you wanted to say. 
You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.
“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”
Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.
You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.
“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”
A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.
“You… love me?”
“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”
One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.
“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 
Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 
Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.
“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 
His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 
“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 
“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”
You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”
Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 
“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 
“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”
“Do you want to go in now?”
You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”
He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 
“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 
“You kept this?” 
“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”
He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 
“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”
Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.
“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”
“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.
“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”
You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 
A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 
joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!
joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet
“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”
Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”
“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”
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Life was a funny thing. 
“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”
Roundabout. 
“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”
Unpredictable. 
“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”
He raised his glass. 
“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”
The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.
“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”
A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.
“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”
Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”
“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.
“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”
He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.
Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?
“Okay, that’s enough.”
Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.
“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”
A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”
“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.
“No! Why?”
He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 
Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.
“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.
“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”
His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”
“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”
Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.
“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.
He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.
“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.
“Or what?”
His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.
“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.
“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.
Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  
Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.
“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.
His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.
Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.
“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”
You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.
Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.
“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”
His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 
“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 
Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”
You nodded. 
A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 
“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 
There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 
“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.
He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”
A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 
You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.
“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 
You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 
“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 
“You’ll say it anyway.”
“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”
Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 
“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”
You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 
“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 
He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.
Maybe a little too much. 
You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 
“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 
“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 
He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”
You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  
“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 
You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.
214 notes · View notes
scuderiahalf · 17 hours ago
Text
(almost) one year with you — c.sainz
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pairing. carlos sainz x strategist!norris!fem!reader
summary. your boyfriend is usually so intelligent. when he makes one of the stupidest decisions of his life to break up with you, his best friend (and your idiot brother) decides to take matters into his own hands. 4.3k, 18+
warnings. breakups = makeup sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, reader is kind of a bitch but carlos is into it
masterlist.
.
"I'm going to kick the door open."
"Please, do not do that," Carlos says from behind you.
"You think I can't?"
Smartly, Carlos chooses not to voice any further opinions.
You kick the door, more out of frustration than an actual attempt to break it open.
"I'm going to murder you when I get out of here, Lando!" you shout against the door, not really caring if your idiot brother has hung around to hear the very real threat.
You may not actually kill him (you're still debating it) but you will definitely hit him. At least five times. Maybe more. And he's not getting any of your late-night stress-baked cookies for several months. Asshole.
You kick the door again, harder. The wood bends near the bottom from the impact, rattling in the doorframe but otherwise unmoving. Your groan turns into a yell of frustration, punctuated by you hitting the still closed door with both hands. You seriously cannot believe Lando would do this.
"Are you finished?"
Carlos sounds almost amused.
If he hadn't been literally thrown into the room by not just Lando but Max and Alex as well, you might think he's in on this whole scheme. Instead, you just glare at him, irritated that he's so calm while you're both being held against your will.
"Is being made to be near me that horrible?" Carlos says.
"Oh, fuck off."
"You are acting as if they will not have to let us out eventually."
"How long is that going to take? Huh? I don't want to be locked in here for hours. It's actually FUCKING RIDICULOUS!"
You're shouting at the door again, hoping your dumbass brother and his stupid fucking friends can hear.
They all better be prepared for the consequences. There's no one better at holding a grudge than you.
You never should have trusted Lando when he had insisted you come to Charles Leclerc’s dumb yacht party. He never wants to be seen in public with you much less all but beg you to attend a party with all his friends who are so much cooler than you because he's an F1 driver and all his friends are, too, and you're just a strategist.
(You never thought that being a trackside strategist at Scuderia Ferrari would be preceded by "just" as though it isn't an impressive feat but with a brother like Lando Norris, nothing you do ever really seems to measure up. You're the reason Lando ever got into racing or F1 in the first place. So really, this is your own fault.)
You give up harassing the door (it locks from the inside so there must be something blocking it in the hallway) and start searching the room for another way out. It's a bedroom, and you're choosing to assume that it just happened to be the easiest place to trap you both and not a purposeful nudge to something untoward. Lando isn't that crude. You think.
After this little stunt, you don't think he deserves the benefit of the doubt.
You start checking all the drawers to see if there's anything useful. You don't actually know what you're looking for. Maybe like a fire axe or a hand saw so you can brute force your way out of here.
"We could talk," Carlos proposes.
"And give Lando what he wants? No, thank you."
"You are so proud. Can we not talk this out?"
"What's there to talk out, Carlos? You dumped me, remember?"
That shuts him up.
You refuse to look at him. Even with your back to him as you search through a completely empty dresser, you can feel the look on his face. Full lips pouting, big brown cow eyes all sad and pitiful. You'd fold like a cheap suit if you saw his pretty eyes right now and you're trying really hard to stay strong and hang onto your anger so you won't give in.
There's nothing in any of the dresser drawers. The nightstands are fruitless, too. The wardrobe houses only empty hangers, and not even the cheap wire ones that could be bent into something useful like a weapon to kill yourself with if things get any more tense in this tiny room.
"I regret it," he says.
You close the wardrobe with a heavy breath.
"I regretted it as soon as I said we should end it."
"Cry me a river, Sainz. Build a bridge. Get over it. You don't get to call me ‘nothing but a distraction’ then tell me you regret it and expect me to forgive you just like that—fuck this. I'm going to swim to shore."
You yank the balcony door open and climb up onto one of the chairs so you can get over the railing.
"Y/N!" Carlos curses in Spanish, scrambles after you and gets an arm around you before you can actually step up onto the railing. "What are you doing?!"
"I just said! I'm going to swim to shore. Let me go!"
Carlos picks you up like a purse dog and carries you back into the room. He stands in front of the balcony door after setting you down, blocking your only escape route.
"You cannot swim to shore. We are miles out of sea!"
"If it gets me out of this room, I'd do it!"
"Can you not just talk to me?"
"No!"
"Why?!"
"Because I don't want to!"
"What are you afraid is to happen?"
"I don't have to explain myself. Especially not to you."
So, you don't explain yourself. You walk over to the couch and take a seat, arms and legs crossed, looking anywhere but at Carlos.
You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to that first date with Carlos last year. You know what you were signing up for. You knew all the judgement would be on you if/when you decided to go public. You knew Ferrari would have many things to say about your relationship, and they did, when you told them earlier in the season before it could potentially get ugly with a reveal from unsasvory sources.
You knew all of that and you went for it, anyway, because could you even call yourself a Norris if you didn't go after what you wanted? You knew what being with Carlos would bring but apparently, you were the only one.
After eleven amazing months together, Carlos got cold feet. You don't know how else to describe it. You had told your family after three months; he'd told his after just one. Everyone was happy for you. Your family loves Carlos, and the Sainz clan accepted you with open arms. You were so happy.
But as your relationship pushed a year, Carlos said you needed to talk, called you a distraction, subsequently hazardous for his line of work, and ended things.
Did you call him an emotionally stunted manchild before storming out of the cafe he asked to meet at? If you did, he surely deserved it.
A few weeks after that, you're where you are now, locked in a bedroom on a yacht while a party rages on several floors above. Carlos says he regrets breaking up with you, that he wanted to take back everything he said, but he already said it and that's how things are now.
You'll not be the girl he comes crawling back to whenever it's convenient for him. If going steady is a hazard for work, then an off again-on again situationship is definitely not OSHA-compliant. You refuse to lower yourself to being a doormat that Carlos wipes his feet on whenever he feels he has the time.
After a while of standing guard at the balcony door, Carlos makes a move to sit on the couch with you.
"No," you say.
He halts midstep.
"You can sit on the bed."
Slowly, as though giving you a chance to change your mind, Carlos sulks over to the bed and sits.
He's moving to Williams next year. He has only a handful of races left in rosso corsa. He doesn't know you're sitting on a job offer that could have you following him, a promotion to head strategist at the Oxfordshire team that you can't believe you're actually debating because of your standing with a man.
You've told no one of Williams's proposition. So, you really don't know why you open your mouth to tell Carlos of all people.
"Williams wants me as their head strategist."
He looks up, eyes bright, surprised but excited for you. "What? That is amazing."
"Yeah, I know it is," you say, glaring at him again. "I haven't accepted yet, though."
Carlos is quiet, then carefully says, "Because of me?"
"No," you say because it's just ridiculous for that to be the reason you're holding up contract negotiations, "Yes, because of you. Obviously. I don't want you thinking I'm following you. I'm not. I'm pursuing my career. So, I know that changes you being all regretful. I just want to clarify things before you hear about it from someone else.”
“Why would it change how I feel?”
“Because we’ll still be coworkers next season.”
“That changes it? What does it change?”
Carlos' accent (hot as fuck) and the way he doesn't always say things 100% correct (cute as fuck) are misleading for his actual understanding of the English language. So, you're really not sure what he's getting confused over.
He's leaving. You were supposed to be staying. No longer working together meant no distractions for him until you would meet up at a hotel after a shitty quali and he would fuck the shit out of you. Or something like that.
It'd feel good in the moment but you don't want him for just sex. You don't want casual. You don't want to be a convenient, low-maintenance, not-quite-official girlfriend. You won't do it. No matter how pretty he is.
And his plan to get you back was ruined now that you'd be moving to Williams for next season, anyway.
“I’d not be a distraction if I was staying at Ferrari. Now, we’ll both still be on the same team. Not convenient for you to still be in a toxic work environment, huh? So, you can cut the crap.”
“That has nothing to do with my regret."
"I won't be a casual fuck buddy who you can't stand to be around when it doesn't work for you."
"I never said that!"
He seems genuinely hurt by your implication but you won't fall for it, won't let it deter you.
"It's kind of implied. You know with the whole 'I have to focus on my driving' thing. Like, what the fuck were you doing for the rest of the time we were together? Nothing changed and you suddenly decided it was too much, then you want me back but I ruined that for you. You'll be seeing me next year, too, so don't even bother with the whole regret speech or whatever."
"I—," Carlos starts, then says nothing.
He can't seem to find the words.
"What? Nothing to say? You wanted to talk. Talk."
"If I am in a team with you or not," he says, slow, calculated, "It does not change that I regret what I said."
Carlos takes a second to think before continuing. That's where you two differ.
Carlos has always been incredibly intelligent. You knew he was gorgeous before you had ever met in person but his mind made him appeal even more to you when you first started working trackside last season. Long, intellectual conversations preceded him asking you out after his masterclass in Singapore.
You nearly started foaming at the mouth when he said "it's on purpose" to keeping your brother within DRS to hold off Mercedes. You were ready to jump his bones right then and there in the middle of the team celebration when he asked you to dinner before you flew back to England.
But he was a gentleman. (He didn't fuck you until after your second date, but it was a close thing that first night when you leaned over the center console to kiss him. You'd have ridden him right there in the front seat of that rental car if your idiot brother hadn't chosen then to walk by and make a scene. Kind of a mood killer.)
The two of you both found fascination in the other's way of thinking, Carlos' smooth logic and your chaotic brilliance. He is all thought and few words while you talk and talk until you find your solution.
You always found beauty in the contrast. You balance each other. Simultaneously alike and disimilar. He is someone you saw yourself building a life with. After nearly a year together, those are the kinds of thoughts you start to have about a partner.
"So, you regret it," you gather, "But do you still think I'm a distraction?"
"Of course, you are a distraction. I am in love with you. There is nothing more distracting than that."
You laugh, disbelieving. "You're in love with me but I'm distracting and you can't be with me? Why? Because you love racing more?"
"I was scared. I was stupid. I am stupid. I am."
"Self deprecation won't do you any favors. But, yeah, you are stupid. You're not making any sense."
"I was scared. You were everything I could think of. I thought I could not find a balance between you and racing. But without you, it is even worse. I want you as a distraction. I know that because I have lost you.”
“You haven’t,” you say before your brain even knows what you’re doing. “Not entirely, yet. Maybe… You’re not allowed to do this again. Ever.”
And you’re crying. Of course.
Carlos is at your side in record time, kneeling in front of you, taking immediate advantage of the crack in your defenses. “Never.”
“You can’t do shit like this. You can’t push me aside like I don’t matter. You can’t call me a distraction.”
“You are a distraction. In the best way.”
Unimpressed and wiping your tears, you say, “Wow. You’re such a poet.”
Carlos laughs thickly. “I love you.”
“Ugh, fuck off.”
You’re still wiping at your face. You didn’t cry when Carlos called it quits, refused to let him have any sort of hold over you when he pushed you aside but now, you’re crying. It’s in relief but you still feel your face getting hot from the embarrassment of it.
He knocks your hands aside to cup your cheeks. “You are the love of my life. I will do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.”
“S’not broken. Just bent. Or whatever the saying is. I don’t fucking care—just kiss me.”
Carlos’ “yes, ma’am” is muffled against your lips.
It’s only been three weeks (three and a half but who’s counting) since he last kissed you but it feels like an eternity.
It’s salty from your tears and wet, also from the tears but more from the way you let his tongue into your mouth after probably not enough time has passed. You don’t care. You just want him.
“I love you," you break the kiss to say. "Don't leave me."
"I won't."
"Say it back."
"I love you. I love you I love you I love you."
.
His words jumble between English and Spanish as he kisses down your body.
Your breath catches as he pulls your hips further down the cushion you're sat on. Stupid F1 driver muscles. You want to sink your teeth into his bicep, make him walk around with the bruise, a reminder of who he belongs to.
He slips his fingers into the waistband of your pants, looks up for permission. You lift your hips. You've missed what his big brown eyes look like when they're all dark with want.
He pulls your pants and underwear down and tosses them aside, tugging you even closer to the edge of the couch. Your legs part. He puts your knees on his shoulders then finally pushes his face between your thighs.
You let your head fall back as you sigh, probably sounding ridiculous but he's always been good at this.
He had you ride his face one time. He practically had to beg to get you to agree. There was a lot of him gripping onto you, arms wrapped around your thighs and hips to force you to stay in place. He'd kept you there until you couldn't stay upright or fight against his hold, coaxing multiple orgasms out of you with just his mouth.
Then, he'd fucked you until you came for a fifth time. (You tell a guy one time about how your last partner hadn't the patience to get more than one orgasm out of you, and he makes it his life's mission to get three or more every time you go at it. How terrible for you. Ha.)
He eats you out like a man starving, like he has something to prove. To be fair, he does but he's not going to be entirely back in your good graces just because he's helping you get off for the first time in three and a half weeks. This is just extra credit.
One of his hands finds yours. He tangles your fingers and holds your hand as he involves his free fingers in slipping past your entrance. You open up for him with obscene ease, legs falling apart even further.
He fucks you with a single finger slow, slow, slow while his tongue licks languidly at your clit.
"Carlos," you whine his name.
You don't need all the pleasure you already know he's more than capable of giving you. You just need to get off already.
"I will get you there, hermosa," he promises with a kiss to your inner thigh.
"Get there faster; I don't want my idiot brother thinking better of his insane plan and letting us out while you're nose-deep in my cunt."
Carlos huffs a laugh. You can feel the air against where you're wet. It makes you squirm.
Usually, Carlos would tell you to stay still and be patient but seems to think better of it this time. You would probably still do as he says, circumstance regardless, but he doesn't need to know that. He just presses his lips back to your pussy.
He sucks on the hardened little bundle of nerves at the joint of your labia just how he knows will make you go limp and needy. He pushes a second then a third finger into you, the stretch just that much more than you can manage with your own, smaller digits.
You could've gotten it with the neglected dildo that lives somewhere mostly forgotten in your closet. There was something that felt so final about bringing out the toy you haven't needed since that second date. Thankfully, you still don't need it. You should consider just pitching it, at this point.
You push your hand through Carlos' hair, brushing the ridiculously perfect locks off his forehead so you can watch his stupid, beautiful face as he goes down on you.
"You're so pretty like this, baby," you praise.
His dark eyes flicker up to you, exhaling against your exposed cunt and shifting his knees on the floor.
You're sure if he had a hand free, he'd be palming himself over his pants. He gets off on you getting off and praise goes straight to his dick. You've got this fantasy of making him come completely untouched but you might need to do actual research on that before it becomes a reality.
He sticks his tongue down with his fingers, lapping at your hole and spitting your wetness onto your clit just because it's hot. Like the way he's slobbering over you isn't enough to make the glide of his tongue over your clit smooth and delectable.
"Come on, baby. Don't tease. Not now."
Carlos makes this little displeased noise in the back on his throat.
Quickies aren't really in Carlos' sexual vocabulary. He occasionally likes it as rough and fast as the next dick-haver but he's more of a spread you open and make love to you for hours at a time kind of guy.
He took you to a secluded little cabana in Mallorca for a week during summer break specifically so you two could spend days on end doing nothing but loving on each other. Then, he took you to meet his family and you had to pretend like you hadn't spent the majority of the week prior with their golden child's dick or fingers or tongue inside of you.
Currently, you're just wanting to find relief without Lando or some other F1 driver walking in on you first.
"Carlos, baby—please."
Carlos likes when you play nice. When you're so desperate for it that your bossy exterior goes away. You tell yourself that you exploit this because your unending pride doesn't like the alternative that you really just are that desperate for it.
He finally starts to finger bang you properly. Combine that with the obscene slurping sounds he's making against your clit and the lack of action for nearly a month and no one could really blame you for not taking long to hit your high.
Heat curls and explodes in your gut and up your spine, back arching, lungs gasping, Carlos' name falling from your mouth as your thighs try to close around his head. He gets his elbows up to hold your legs open. His fingers keep fucking you through your orgasm. He pulls his other hand free of your grip to massage your clit with his thumb, kissing your thighs, pubes, stomach.
He captures your lips in a kiss while you're still riding it out. It's intense and leg-shaking after so long without, emotion-driven, which is the best kind but not worth it after knowing what the fear of losing him is like. You can hardly kiss him back, face pulled in pleausre, moans spilling past your lips that Carlos swallows unburdened.
You tuck your face into his shoulder as he drags it out just to the precipice of overstimulation. You tug him into you, arms around his shoulders, fingers tugging the hair at the base of his skull. He lets his fingers rest inside of you, rests that thumb against your clit so he can hold you back with one arm, at least.
You just breathe for a moment, composing yourself where he can't see your face. The worst may be over but the level of trust you'd built over months together would not be so easily reinstated. He'd have to work hard for that, much harder than a sinlge mind-blowing orgasm.
"Don't leave me," you say in a whisper. "You can't, okay?"
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise I will not leave you again. I am the most dumb man if I lose you another time. I will deserve it, then."
"Be smart, then. Like I know you have the capacity to be."
Carlos pulls his fingers out. He catches your shiver, still wrapped up in his one arm. He kisses your cheek before finding something to clean his hands with. You've pulled your pants back on when he's finished.
"Likelihood someone heard us?" you prompt.
"Heard you, you mean?"
You kick at him as he comes back over to you. "Watch it."
He tucks you against his side once he's sat. "Scale?"
"One to a hundred."
"90, at least."
You smack his chest. "Dick."
"You are very loud, mi amor. You talk so much, and you make such pretty noises."
"Don't insult me immediately after I've forgiven you."
You've not drawn away from him at all. In fact, you've tucked your feet up on the couch to curl into him fully.
Carlos knows this. He presses a kiss to your temple.
"I love you. I am sorry I am so stupid."
"I guess I've just got to have enough brains and beauty for the both of us."
"You have always."
You hide your smile in his chest. He holds your thigh when you put your legs across his lap. Now you've got him back, you want to be as close as physically possible. Whoever first said they want to be inside their partner's skin really gets it.
.
George Russell ends up getting sent to let you two out. Evidently, your brother fled the scene of the crime once the yacht returned to port in the early hours of the morning. He dumped the chore of opening Pandora's box on an innocnet bystander.
"I am so sorry—"
"Oh, clever," you say when you spot the poor Brit, "He sends an uninvolved party to let me out like I couldn't track him anywhere in the world. I've his trainer's phone number and Jon likes me more than him. I am going to beat his skinny little muppet ass. When I find him—"
You trip over the tangle of chairs that had been used to barricade the bedroom door from the outside.
Carlos catches your elbow.
"Amor, it is late," he says. "Sleep, first, hm?"
You relax into his hold a bit, a silent concession. It'll be easier to murder your little brother after a good night's sleep, anyway.
"So, are you two...?" George trails off.
You cut him a glare.
"Nothing. Never mind. Apologies."
He speeds around the two of you and off the boat.
"The 2019 rookies are all terrified of you."
"Good."
Carlos laughs. "I am excited to see what Alex is like with you next year."
You smile.
Next year, you'll still be working with Carlos. It'll be at a different team, a midfielder at best but at least Carlos will still be on the grid. He'll still find increasingly laughable excuses to be in engineering just to see you. He'll still come home to you, the same that you'll come home to him.
A future with Carlos is still in the cards. He'll be damned if he messes it up again, you know that much.
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captainmera · 2 days ago
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In the modern au, what would Caleb's reaction be if Philip's father reached out to him about Philip?
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He does make contact!
Caleb is polite, if anything. But mostly overly compliant.
Philip's father didn't know he had a son. And very much want him. He's not a bad person, but both he and Caleb have been given different stories about the other. (they're being manipulated by Anthony Hopkins)
Pip's father has been told that Caleb isn't a great person, but comes across as pleasant and very polite. Meanwhile, Caleb had it pointed out to him that he's in a bad seat, legally.
He's just lost his job at the Roasted Robin's, he's mentally and emotionally unwell - and untreated! Their lives are their version of normal. But Caleb is growing increasingly aware of how not-normal it is.
Legally, Philip's dad has the rights to him. He gets the final say if Caleb is somebody who should be part of Philip's life or not. Caleb knows his record looks bad. But doesn't know Hopkins has set him up to failure.
Hopkins is pretending to help Caleb, in actuality he's just pushing Caleb's circumstances closer to an edge where Caleb will feel there's no better solution than suicide. Which would, in Hopkins world, leave nobody with the knowledge of the royalties.
He's trying to manipulate Caleb the way his mother was manipulated. She gave the church access to her money so she wouldn't spend it all. He's trying to do the same to Caleb, but gaslighting him into believing he's too broken to manage this himself, and needs Hopkins' guidance. Caleb does, after all, not know his way around legal things. And has no reason to disbelieve Hopkins.
Philip, in the case of Caleb dying, would be taken to his father. Leaving the Wittebane home vacant. And Hopkins could get access to any papers that'd be there, where he can sign over rights to himself. Why give it to the church??
Philip, in the meantime, isn't clued in on what's going on.
Caleb and the father discuss how to go forward, what's best for Philip. And Caleb is saying all the right things, which makes the father uncomfortable, because he's been told that Caleb is a good manipulator and mentally/emotionally abusive. So hearing him say very loving and thoughtful suggestions on how to move forward, puts him on edge.
Hopkins is, of course, banking on that the father is an idiot and will blindly trust him. But he keeps his cards close to himself. He lets Caleb's actions speak for him, and is wondering why Hopkins said Caleb was a bad person - sure, rough around the edges, but his heart is full of warmth, especially for his little brother.
Caleb's suggestion is that they move slowly. First, let him tell Philip he *has* a father that didn't know he existed, and now that he knows, wants to be part of his life.
Caleb is acutely aware that, in the end, he has no rights to Pip.
If his father wants it, social workers will get involved and they'll dig up everything that's wrong. If it gets to court, it'll traumatise Philip (mostly Caleb though) and in Caleb's world - he'll definitely lose Philip forever.
So, he's agreeing. And being friendly. And suggests that Philip and his dad hang out, maybe go on father-son dates, maybe start sleeping over on the weekends.. Y'know. Ease him into it.
Philip doesn't like this.
not. one. bit.
To him, it looks like Caleb doesn't want him anymore.
"Why don't you fight for me then?! If you want me, then take it to court!" "With what money?! Look at me, Philip! No authority would let me keep you, and honestly? Maybe they're right! Maybe I shouldn't!" "Caleb-" "No, Philip! Enough..! You know I love you, but maybe I'm.. not good for you? You know? He's not a bad man, for crying out loud, he's a dork! He has a what's cookin' good'lookin apron! I don't have that! I have... Powder-mix flapjacks!" "But I like that, it's home to me.." "Then.. I'll pack some down for you. And it'll help you make a home there too." "...." "..Pip, I don't stop being your home, just because you get a second one." "I don't need a dad. I never needed one, not a mum either. I just needed you, you've always been good enough." "you only think that because you don't know what- Philip, come back. We aren't done talking- okay."
That sorta thing! :D
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daisymbin · 2 days ago
Text
promise me ice cream! - jeon wonwoo
warnings: slightly insecure wonwoo?
pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader
genre: drunk confessions, friends to ???
wc: 1.3k
a/n: I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve 223 of yall following me but thank you 🥺
drunken confessions series
check out my masterlist!
your best friend, wonwoo is sprawled on the bed, looking more like a puddle of drunk affection than his usual composed self. he's clinging onto you, he wedges your leg in between his own; hugging it like it was a bolster as his head rests on your lap as if it were a pillow, his arms wrapped around your leg, not wanting to let go as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze is hazy, eyes blinking slowly as he stares up at you, his lips curving into a drunken smile, “you're so pretty.” he says as you chuckle while you run your hands through his hair; messaging his head a little to relieve the potential headache.
“why'd you drink so much tonight?” you asked, “its not like you, you're not usually like this.” wonwoo lets out a deep sigh at your question, “you were talking to jun all night and…i dont know, i just didn't like it. i got jealous. it's like…you’ll never pick me.” he says with a pout, eyes closing shut. “jealous? of jun?” you frown, trying to make sense of his words. if only he knew, “don't be silly, you know i talk to jun all the time but you'll always be my best friend. there's nothing to be jealous about.” you reassured. “& i’ll always pick you.”
“you're breaking my heart.” wonwoo mumbles so soft, you almost would have missed it if it weren't for a drunk wonwoo clinging onto you for dear life, heightening all your senses & leaving your heart beating so fast. “what do you mean, wonwoo?” 
"you’re my favorite person," he says, his voice soft and slow, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. "i don’t know if i’ll ever be your favorite, but... you're my favorite." his hand gently strokes the inside of your thigh, sending shiver down your spine. his fingers light against your skin as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this close.
you smile as you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. you’re a little amused yet also, a little taken aback by the way he’s acting; he's never been like this. you gently run your fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to sleep even though you're sure he’s already half asleep. & maybe you're also just taking advantage of the situation and being a little selfish; having him like this.
"i’m just me," he continues, voice drowsy and laced with alcohol. "i’m just wonwoo, you know? just regular, plain ol' wonwoo. but you're... you're perfect. sparkly. i don’t even know why you ever looked my way years ago, let alone be friends with me.”
you laugh softly, but it’s mixed with a hint of sadness, wondering how he could ever think that about himself. "you’re not just wonwoo, you know that, right? you’re more than that."
wonwoo shakes his head, but his grip on your leg tightens. "no, no, no. i’m just me. i’m just wonwoo, and you’re... you’re so pretty and you're so kind. you're such a good person...so much better than I'll ever be. that's why you would never like someone like me."
his words sting more than they should, but you can tell he's too drunk to mean them fully, right? that's what you hoped for at least. you want to tell him how wrong he is, how much you care for him, but instead, you sit in the quiet, letting him speak his mind as he clings onto you, his drunken ramblings the only thing filling the space between you two.
after a moment, he sits up a little, his gaze suddenly lighting up with a burst of energy. "ice cream," he says, as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now. "we should go on an ice cream date. right now. let’s go."
you glance at him, blinking in surprise at the sudden contrast. it’s already past 4AM and he’s drunk, this is not the time for an ice cream run date. "wonwoo," you say softly, trying to get him to focus. "it’s really late. we’re not going for ice cream right now, okay?"
he looks up at you with wide, sad, hopeful eyes, and you can’t help but find it endearing, even if it’s a little ridiculous. "why not?" he asks, his pout deepening, and his grip on your leg tightening again as he drags himself impossibly closer to you. "i want to go on an ice cream date with you, please?” 
you laugh, though it's full of affection and fondness. "wonwoo, you’re drunk & it’s really late. we’re not going anywhere. you can’t go out for ice cream right now, I don't think you can even walk straight, did you forget how I had to haul you back here?"
he pouts even harder, his lower lip trembling slightly & he almost look as if he’s about to start crying any time as he sits back and crosses his arms, looking like a grumpy child. "but i want ice cream. now. i’m hungry."
you can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. "we’ll go tomorrow, okay?" you promise. "i’ll take you out on an ice cream date tomorrow. I'll even let you pick all the flavours you want, even if its 5 of them."
wonwoo tilts his head to the side, staring at you with a suspicious frown. "tomorrow? don’t lie…i’m only asking you now because… this is a dream, you wouldnt reject me in my dream, would you?" he asks, his voice filled with doubt. "because i know you won’t really take me for ice cream tomorrow when I wake up. you don’t like me like that. you’re just humoring me."
"wonwoo, i promise, tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream," you reassure him, your voice gentle and warm as you stroke his hair again, trying to comfort him.
but wonwoo still looks disappointed and doubtful, his shoulders slump. "tomorrow will never come. this is all a dream. you’ll wake up, and i’ll be... i’ll be just me. plain wonwoo. i won’t be good enough for you. you will never pick me.”
your heart aches at the way he’s talking. he doesn’t believe that you like him, doesn’t believe in this moment, in the promise of tomorrow. "wonwoo, i’m not going anywhere," you say, taking his hand in yours. "i'll be right here when you open your eyes when the sun rises & i'll tell you all the reasons why you're more than enough. i really do like you, I love you, and tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream. i promise."
he looks down at your hand, still not fully convinced. "promise?" he asks, his voice small and fragile.
"promise," you say firmly, hands finding his as you lock your pinky around his.
wonwoo hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his expression softening. "okay...okay," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on your lap, your hands instinctively go back to playing with his hair, he's completely content now. "ice cream date tomorrow. i’ll wait for tomorrow...even if it doesn't happen it's okay..at least im laying on your lap now…at least you’re playing with my hair now…at least now i know what it's like to hear you say you like me too.”
you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, watching him drift off to sleep in your lap. even though he’s drunk and unsure, you know he believes you somewhere deep down. & tomorrow, you’ll take him for ice cream, just like you promised. and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, he’ll realize how much you really do care about him, & how much you really do love him.
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a-student-out-of-time · 2 days ago
Text
An Important Reminder In Trying Times
Hey everyone, Mod Bubbles here.
I know that I've said over and over that I don't like talking about politics on here, but I really feel the need to say this:
This Is Not The End.
I understand things probably seem really bleak right now. A lot of people are going to be hurt by this, and the sheer amount of fearmongering and worst case scenarios are inescapable. But the country and the world are not going to change overnight. To be honest, it may not change very much at all in the next four years. I'm not a political scientist, so I can't tell you that for sure. There's a lot to be concerned about.
What I can tell you, as a student of history, is this: not only have we survived this once, we have survived this every time.
Think about it this way: every single tyrant, every single right-wing representative, every single emperor and colonial power, every corporate scumbag and power-hungry lunatic. No matter how many of them have ever come to power, held onto power, and tried to make themselves seem invincible, not a single one has ever held back humanity's progress and not a single one has proven to be invincible.
There were countries throughout history, especially in the 20th century, that fell under brutal dictatorships and saw countless lives lost. Did the people just give up and accept it? Fuck no they didn't. They fought back. Many of them lived to see democracy restored to their lands in their lifetimes, or fought to see it restored in their children's.
From Europe to Latin America, while many countries still have their issues, they endured and their people have survived. Their governments were not invincible, just as none ever have been.
Regardless of the outcome of this election, the world will go on. People will not just roll over and accept whatever horrible things happen, the fight will continue and we will do everything in our power to carry on as we always have. We'll carry on to achieve bigger and better things.
Let me also be clear: if you feel the need to cry, please cry. If you're afraid, don't pretend you're not. If you're angry, allow yourself to feel that anger. But if you're seriously contemplating giving up or hurting yourself, please don't.
You may hear all this news and ask yourself, "Bubbles, what's the point? What can I do about all this?" I've felt that way too, I have for a long time. I understand completely. It's scary and overwhelming, but I'll tell you exactly what you can do to fight against that: you can be kind.
Do you want to know where the most tangible change in the world begins? It's never at the top. It begins with people like us on a communal level, where we reach out to help others. Whether that means we help our neighbors, our friends, or any strangers we can.
Going out of your way to start fights, looking for someone to blame based on the flimsiest justifications, and just being cruel because you're angry, those aren't how you change anything. Those just add to the problem.
Here's just some ideas on what you can do instead:
Get away from the news, stop doomscrolling, mute doomers, and turn the TV and news apps off. This will get you out of a negative feedback loop that'll make you feel worse and more powerless, which is what they're designed to do in order to maximize traffic.
Remember to eat, sleep, brush your teeth, take a shower, take your meds, and do everything else you need to do to stay healthy.
If you or someone else really feel like leaving the country for your own safety is best, you can still work do so. But please don't convince yourself that if you can't, it's over.
Give back to people as much as you can. Show the people in your life who support you that you care, and that all that they do for you matters.
Donate to good causes you believe in.
Stand up to bullshit whenever you see it.
Do not give up on your dreams and ambitions. One bad leader does not mean your future automatically ends. Stop worrying about any potential apocalypse in the future, because you can do that even on the best days, and instead work toward a future that you CAN achieve.
There's this pervasive and very inaccurate idea that it's only the president who gets to enforce policies on the country. This ignores governors, the House of Representatives, Congress, mayors, and the countless other leaders involved. And it ignores you.
You do not have to spend the next 3 years and 364 days doing nothing but feeling miserable. In fact, that's the last thing you should do. Fear and despair are the weapons they wield, and they only have as much power as you allow them to have over you.
If your view of politics is that you just have to vote for the "right one" and then everything will be utopian, or that if people vote for the wrong one" then we're headed for a terrible dystopian nightmare, I have to tell you that that is incredibly reductionist and also very dumb. I can also tell you from personal experience that it's not them who make the real changes where it's needed.
A friend sent me a video that really opened my eyes on this situation: Adam Conover, the guy behind Adam Ruins Everything, said he's not worried about all this. Why? Because he and some friends were able, through their own power, to make real positive changes in their community. They were able to bring homelessness down in their district by over 38% through their own efforts.
And he's right that, as a silver lining to all this, it made more Americans than ever take a stand against all the horrible shit they were seeing and get involved with solutions.
Speaking from my own experiences as well, when Hurricane Helene devastated my area, it wasn't the politicians who came and repaired roads and power lines, it wasn't them who brought in food and supplies to everyone, and it wasn't them who worked tirelessly to save people still in need. It was everyone in our local communities.
The people at the top have never really cared about anything more than your money and your vote, but the people around you care more than you may believe they would. Hell, even strangers on the internet care more than you'd believe.
Now, even if you've made it this far, you may be wondering "What about when he starts outlawing and banning things?" To that, I say look at Prohibition and see how well that went. Politicians have only ever operated under the idea that banning something will make it go away, and it always does the exact opposite. And if you're still worried, you can get involved with organizations that fight to support these things being available and regulated.
But by now, you may also be wondering "What if I can't get involved? What if I'm too young or I don't have the money, or my parents won't let me?"
Then just be kind.
Stop looking for enemies to blame. Don't martyr yourself for some nebulous cause or the idea that your suffering increasing means the rest of the suffering in the world will go down. Don't torture yourself by telling yourself that you didn't do enough.
Show compassion, show support, show love and genuine care toward people who need it, including yourself.
"But there's so many shitty people in this country and the world, why should I-" Stop thinking that way. This isn't about them, this is about you and how you can make a difference. There will probably always be shitheads and power-hungry morons, but that does not negate the fact that you can choose to be different. You can choose to be kind.
Kindness is a sword that you have to learn how to wield. Wield it responsibly and use it to help others. No matter how small or insignificant it may be, YOU DO MAKE A DIFFERENCE.
I say all this as a 29-year-old who spent most of his life feeling scared and miserable about so many current events, convincing myself I'm useless and selfish because I was worried about so much and I hated myself for all of it. And I've decide I'm not going to do that anymore.
During the last right-wing era, I managed to help build a whole community out of my love for Danganronpa. I created friendships, relationships, and there are people alive right now because I chose to do so. Because I chose to use that community for kindness. I want to keep building from there by going into streaming and reaching out to more people.
I won't lie to you and say that I'm not scared, because I am. But I'm also not going to let fear change who I am. I want us all to be better to ourselves and others, because that is how you defeat hate. It starts with you.
And if you're still concerned, let me share with you a quote from The Great Dictator, a movie made in 1940, when World War II wasn't even at its height yet:
To those who can hear me, I say - do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed - the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish…
Please take care of yourselves out there, everyone. We'll get through this, just as we always have.
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hugthesquids · 1 day ago
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The whole interview for reference. It's got really nice characterisation!
Date of the interview: 07 January 2015 (This is when season 1 episode 35 "Lion 3: Straight to Video" was the latest episode out)
Newsarama: Hey Steven, thanks for talking to us!
Steven Universe: Happy to!
Nrama: Now, you're a little younger than who we usually talk to, so we wanted to make sure you had a parent or guardian present.
Steven:Yeah that’s cool! Here’s my dad!
Universe:Wow, I haven’t done an interview in ages! I’m Mr. Universe, uh, interstellar rock star! But it’s been a few decades since my last tour so I guess you can call me …Steven’s dad Greg!
Steven: Woo! Oh hey look, Pearl is coming over too. Hey Pearl!
Pearl of the Crystal Gems: Excuse me, excuse me, who are you and what exactly is going on here?
Greg: Newsarama’s doing an interview with us!
Pearl: I was asking this complete stranger, not you, Greg.
Nrama: …this is great! A rock star… and a rock from the stars!
Steven: Oh that's good!
Pearl: How much have you two told this human?
Greg: Don’t worry Pearl… this isn’t about Gems… it’s just about Steven.
Nrama: Okay, well, that brings me to my first question. Steven, you’re the first half human, half Crystal Gem, is that right?
Steven: Mmhm!
Pearl: Yes, he’s the son of the incomparable Rose Quartz! He’s inherited her Gem and her legacy.
Greg: …and I had a little to do with it! Uh… Steven… existing!
Nrama: Greg, I have to say, it's not every parent who'd let his son be trained by magical beings. Why do you feel it's important for Steven to live with the Gems?
Greg: I mean he’s got Rose’s Gem so… sooner or later we knew his powers might come out somehow, and I’m not much help in that department?
I mean, the Gems didn’t know much about raising a baby. That I get, I had that covered. But I don’t know much about being a Gem. They sure do, they’re really exceptional Gems. They’re really thoughtful, you know… they really try their best to understand people.
Pearl: Yes, people are wonderful.
Steven: Go people!
Nrama: And Pearl, I'm sure it must have been very unusual for you when you found out Rose Quartz had fallen in love with a human. What was what like for you?
Greg: Wow, you’re really zero to sixty with these questions, buddy.
Pearl: That is absolutely none of your business!
Nrama: Well, what about when you found out Rose Quartz was going to have a half-human child?        
Pearl: Brilliant leaders do brilliant things, that’s why you look to them for answers, answers no one else could have, that’s why you trust them, even when you can’t understand why they chose …Greg.
Greg: Well, ahh, we were so excited to see who Steven would be! When we… well, when we figured out that it might be possible!
And there’s never been anyone like him, and he really is a Gem and a human at the same time, it’s just incredible.
Steven: Yeah, I’ve been training and a lot of my powers are coming out! I can bubble up really easy these days, and I can warp on my own, and for a little bit I could even heal people and stuff.
Pearl: Yes! He’s been doing fantastic!
Greg: And he’s got my knack for music too! It’s really something, it’s unreal, you should hear him play!
Nrama: Wow that’s exciting! So Steven, you’re really talented.
Steven: Yeah! I can draw too! I drew last year's Beachapalooza flier! Guess what I figured out –  if you draw with a pencil but you draw really hard, you can smudge the line around with your finger and give everything really cool shading, and make shooting stars and comets… go look, the flier’s still up on the bulletin board at the Big Donut!
I want to get better at drawing… and I want to get better at my shield powers.
Nrama: You sound more excited about the flier than the shield powers!
Steven: Yeah, well, my flier came out really good and you can go see it! I’d show you my shield too, but I can’t make it come out whenever I want.
Pearl: Oh Steven, you’ll get it! You’ve manifested it twice!
Greg: Yeah I’ve seen him do it, it’s really something! He blocked this crazy water ball with it, and it gonged out all the water clones. It’s gorgeous, it’s Rose’s.
Steven: Thanks… yeah, I know I’ll get it… I’ve been practicing in the mornings! I just can’t seem to get it. Shield is harder than bubble I guess…
Nrama: Look, Steven, I didn't mean to make you self-conscious about your Gem abilities – besides, aside from all that, you seem like most other kids your age. Actually, it seems like you're pretty popular in Beach City!
Steven: Oh, I dunno about that! I just like talking to people, and then a lot of the time, they talk back! Ha!
Pearl: Human beings just adore each other, and Rose just adored human beings, so Steven is a real “people human,” as they say!
Greg: Heh… I think you mean “People person.”
Pearl: What? That can’t be right. That’s so redundant.
Nrama: So I have to ask – do you have any favorite comic books?
Steven: Oh man, me and Dad were going through all his old comics in the van! I got to keep a bunch of them, Casper, Richie Rich, Hot Stuff, Baby Huey, Spooky the Tuff Little Ghost… Wendy Witch…
Greg: I gave him lotsa Harvey Comics.
Steven: Dad says I can’t read his Heavy Metals till I’m older.
Greg: You can have those in a couple years!
Steven: Oh yeah and I just got the No Home Boys graphic novel adaptation! But I think it really missed the mark. And I like Sailor Moon. It’s really down to earth.
Nrama: And what's coming up for you?
Steven: I dunno, I guess anything could happen, that’s usually how it is! I met a new Gem recently, her name was Lapis Lazuli and she seemed really cool! She flew away to the Gem Homeworld!
Pearl: Steven, please. Look, stranger. There’s nothing to worry about. Earth is an independent planet, and Lapis Lazuli couldn��t possibly have made it all the way home.
Steven: What? Oh no, oh Pearl, you really think so?
Pearl: Or, well, Steven, I’m sure she did, yes, right, she definitely made it back, I’m sure she’s… having a really fun time… telling everyone… nothing!
Steven: … ok…
Greg: Hey! Hey, everything’s ok, whatever happens we can always roll with it, am I right?
Pearl: Yes, yes. We’ll roll! We are planning to roll.
Nrama: So, Steven – what is the best thing about being Steven Universe?
Steven: I get to be a Crystal Gem, and I learn a lot all the time, and hang out with Dad and with my friends …and everybody!
I’m changing a lot all the time, but that’s good, I think, since everybody changes all the time. I like it because even if you know somebody you can know them again, all the time, when they’re different, and what doesn’t change is how you feel, you know?
That can stay the same, which is really cool –  like if you love somebody, that’s the thing that can stay the same no matter what.
Greg: Ah boy, gosh Steven, what a really nice thought.
Pearl: Oh Greg, can you believe it, sometimes he sounds just like …well …just like Steven.
Greg: Yeah. He’s really somethin’ else.
Nrama: Thanks again for talking to me!
Steven: You’re welcome! Crystal Gems forever!
Greg: Hey yeah thanks! Keep watching the skies! Haha hahaha… heh!
Pearl: No ah, please don’t! We’ll take care of everything. Stay safe, human!
in-character interview with newsarama by rebecca sugar, 2015
this official steven universe interview is no longer available on the website, but it’s archived!
it’s canon & written by rebecca sugar, an interview of the characters pearl, greg, & steven.
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there’s some really sweet and subtle pearlrose moments, i particularly love this one:
steven: i'm changing a lot all the time, but that's good, i think, since everybody changes all the time. i like it because even if you know somebody, you can know them again, all the time, when they're different, & what doesn't change is how you feel, you know? that can stay the same, which is really cool. like if you love somebody, that's the thing that can stay the same no matter what.
greg: steven, what a really nice thought.
pearl: oh greg, can you believe it, sometimes he sounds just like—well, just like steven.
greg: yeah, he’s really something else.
pearl stops herself before she can say rose, because that would be quite awkward in the interview setting. she also says she trusts rose & calls her incomparable. there’s a bit of jealousy with greg, because the timeline is at around the beginning of the show, so pearl hasn’t really found closure yet & is questioning things. eventually she’ll understand that rose never chose a partner over her, but anyway! really cute & canon pearlrose here.
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yanderefarm · 2 days ago
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Currently caught up on your posts and saw what 🪐 anon said so to make this better lets break some more yanderes!!
We already got some Nephy content so let's step it up a notch..
How about making some of the yanderes totally codependent on us in order to even live?? Like we go really extreme and remove one of their limbs sort of things because if they're willing to do anything to keep us then we should return the favor to them
I have an issue...
-🐝
cw;; cannibalism, gore, amputation, violence, abuse, ableism (kind of?? this isn't meant to be realistic depictions to begin with so take it with a grain of salt), amputation kink, dehumanization, dumbification, pet play, dead dove don't eat
ohhhh the amputation ask was about us doing it. still. its an amputation kind of night so we're doing it.
i can only see this with a few of them so im just gonna write about them. tbh i could probably also do something with ajax but i don't know what.
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silvan;; he can't hurt himself anymore if he doesn't have arms. after being particularly bad and hurting himself enough to leave an ugly scar you decided to go through the process of having his limbs removed. it's usually reserved for cruel pet owners but in your case it's necessary for his own well being. well removing his legs wasn't necessary but you thought it would be better that way. he's completely dependent on you, he has no choice but to spend his days being carried by you or his maid because you refuse to give him any mobility aids. the only time he gets a taste of freedom again is during parties where you outfit him in beautiful but barely functional porcelain prosthetics. he can't move his hands and he can just barely walk so he still has to rely on you.
imagine him cutely waking you up by crawling over top of you. you open your eyes and look up to see his cheeks red and tears in his eyes. poor thing needs you to carry him to the bathroom, you give him a little kiss before you put him on the bed. you watch him squirm and try to sit up before you finally pick him up like a child. his tears soak your nightshirt as you carry him to the bathroom. he's so pathetic.
achilles;; the ultimate punishment. one of your regulars in your streams and as a customer asked you one night how much for a leg, normal question for you. except he meant achilles leg. and he was willing to pay millions for it. achilles and you spend a long time talking it over. it's not that you don't love the idea of taking away his life and making him solely dependent on you but you're worried about him waking up one day hating you for doing this to him. he assures you that's impossible and even if he did wake up one day hating you he would want you to break him back into place. he asserts over and over that his life, his body, his mind are all yours to break as you will. so he loses a leg. and then an arm. and soon enough your cute toy is just a sweet little thing that needs you for everything.
imagine him crawling as best he can over to you whining the whole way. you take pity on him and pick him up, sitting him in your lap while you play games. everyone in the stream says hi to him so excited to see him and his face that was once the picture of stoicism lights up with glee. he waves a nubby arm at them and almost falls off your lap. you give him a gentle kiss as you fix him between your legs. you have to remind him again to use his words and he struggles to think like he has every day since he became a happy little toy. "fhank you!!" so cute.
noemie;; he's premium meat and you've always found it a waste not to eat him no matter how much you like him. so when he gets on your last nerve you decide you've had enough. he screams and cries like a proper pig but you can tell even through his tears he's so happy. you only take his limbs and let him keep the rest because that's how much you like him. he is so grateful when he watches you eating one of his legs and you're kind enough to feed him some as well!! and now, you take your four legged piggy and you put him in your bedroom, metal on his nubs, hook in his nose, a little fake pig tail in his ass. he's a reward for you after a long day of work. sometimes you take him out and carry him around for some fresh air and to see everything you've been working on.
imagine opening the door to your bedroom to see your little piggy sitting in his bed on the floor looking excited to see you and immediately oinking. you pick him up and carefully remove his nose hook before you start to head to the bath. you're covered in blood and grime from work and he smells sweaty. he'll cuddle against your chest while he talks about what he thought about all day and how much he missed you. in the bath he'll splash and blow bubbles and be all excited you have to take him out and wrap him tightly in his towel so you can actually clean yourself. but he'll never stop talking and praising and smiling at you.
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tkwrites · 2 days ago
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A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride - Quinn Hughes x ofc
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Title: A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride 
Author: Tory / @tkwrites 
Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts
Summary: Due to circumstances outside of his control, Quinn finds himself late to a FaceTime date with Sarah. When she starts some fun by herself, Quinn can’t help but join in, even if he can’t see her. 
Warnings: Smut (18+ only!) - masturbation, vibrator use, phone sex (sort of), long distance relationships, a bit voyeuristic? 
Word Count: 973
Comments: In an effort to provide my fellow Americans some distraction on this very stressful election day, I present to you Quinn getting Sarah off with the vibrator she gifted him for his birthday - with a twist.
The idea of this came into my mind, and I just had to write it down. It also happened to be the piece that was closest to being finished. 
I hope you enjoy! If you did, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 
Also, let me know if you’d like to see a part two!
Anonymous asked: Can we expect to see Quinn putting that new vibrator to use with Sarah in the near future? 😍
Anonymous asked: Any change we could also get a little something of Quinn and Sarah for the election stress 👀 
A Surprisingly Fortuitous Bus Ride 
A  Quinn & Sarah Snapshot
Even though they were coming off a matinee win over the Penguins, this wasn’t the way Quinn would have chosen to end his day. 
Their plane broke down in Pittsburgh, so what should have been a two hour flight turned into a three and a half hour bus ride. He knew things had to be done, and they had to get to Ohio to get in some solid sleep before the game tomorrow, but bus travel was his least favorite. It was crammed and smelly, and the bus rocked in a disconcerting way the plane never did. 
He couldn’t fall asleep and on top of everything else, now he was late for a FaceTime date with Sarah. 
She’d messaged they day before, wondering if he had a room to himself in Columbus. 
When he confirmed that he was indeed roommateless the next evening, she responded, Oh, thank God. I’m so horny, I’m going insane. 
Can’t you get yourself off? 
Yeah, but it’s better when I can hear you. 
That message had made him blush, but also filled his chest with so much pride, he felt like he could have single handedly taken down Crosby. 
And now, he was stuck on this fucking bus. It definitely wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his evening. Especially not when Sarah was relying on him. 
Trying to distract himself with the book he was reading, he almost didn’t look at his phone when it buzzed in his pocket. 
Eventually, his curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled it out, wondering if he’d find another message like the ones from yesterday. Instead, the notification read: Lush: engaged
This bus ride was about to get a lot more interesting. 
Anytime this notification came through, Quinn always felt a heady rush of euphoria. Sometimes, he didn’t even join in on the fun. Just knowing Sarah was pleasuring herself never failed to make his mouth water and his pants a little tighter. 
She’d confessed a while ago that the toy she’d given him for his birthday was her favorite, even if she was controlling it herself. 
The first few times they’d used it, he watched her get herself off with it before taking over so he could learn her limits. 
Now, he opened the app and watched the slider for the internal motor tick up. The external motor stayed low and steady. He hardly ever saw it move. Occasionally, she turned it off altogether.
Watching the levels increase and decrease a few times, he knew she was working herself up — easing in, so the intensity the toy could bring on didn’t become too much.  
He never thought he could get so breathlessly turned on from watching a slider move on his phone. After a few more minutes, he couldn’t stand it anymore. His fingers were itching to take control. 
Finally giving himself permission, he switched the vibration pattern of the internal motor from the steady buzz to the thump-thump-thump. He liked to watch her fall apart around this particular pattern as it often caused her to breathe, moan, and clench down in rhythm. Watching her body sync up with it never failed to make him breathless. 
Quinn Hughes! Her text popped up at the top of his screen. What the fuck! You can’t even see me. 
In response, he turned the vibration up a tick. In case she decided to call, he put his AirPods in, though he hoped she wouldn’t. He was sure he’d start moaning if he had to listen to her orgasm, knowing he was controlling the pace. He was practically panting just imagining it.  
I know what you look like, he shot back. I’m getting through this damned bus ride imagining how you sound. 
The fact that Quinn was still making her feel this way when they weren’t even on the phone — that he was just watching the levels on his screen, relying on his memories to guide him — was incredibly hot. The fact that he knew her well enough to get her off without any visual or verbal cues made her feel cared for and loved on top of outrageously turned on. 
It wasn’t as fun when he couldn’t hear or see her, but he still knew what she liked. After a few more minutes, he changed the pattern again to one that slid from low to high and back again. 
Although she was alone in the house, Sarah still cried out, clutching at the sheets as pleasure rocked through her. 
He let that one tease her for a while before switching back to the thumping and turning it up two ticks. 
Before her first high had a chance to edge off, he switched the vibration pattern back to the thump-thump-thump he liked so much, and it sent her careening into another orgasm. 
She wished he could hear her. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck! Quinn!” 
The vibration stayed true and strong as the pleasure eased off. Before he could switch it again and send her into another overstimulating orgasm, she groped for her phone and turned the toy low enough that she could pull it out. Slick with lube and her release, it jumped out of her hand as it buzzed back to life. She had to wrestle it still until she could turn it off. 
While she liked the orgasms as much as the next girl, she knew it would be even better when he was listening or watching, and if they kept going now, she wouldn’t have the energy to play once he was on his own. 
She hadn’t expected Quinn to join in at all. He was on the bus, for god’s sake. She just needed something to tide her over until that evening.
She sent Quinn a melted emoji along with the message, You better be getting there soon so you can finish what you just started. 
A smile beamed over his face. 
Just an hour longer. 
Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 
To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist
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demonic0angel · 2 days ago
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(My last ask until Friday at least)
DC x DP prompt: Bruce/Batman let all the good advice come directly from his sons and the Fenton siblings, so at the good moment, he wants to say something from himself. 
(I'm ngl, I'm a little confused by this ask but I'll try my best)
Everyone knew that the Batfamily, lead by Batman, was one of the most efficient and effective teams on the hero scene. After many of them were married to or became friends with the Phantoms, their power and infamy rose exponentially with the addition of otherworldly royal gods.
That was why everyone desperately listened to their words like they were gold, especially because they were heroes for so long.
"Use baby powder when you're wearing your suits," Nightwing said, "It prevents chafing."
"Always start your report before you patrol and then finish it later so you don't spend so much time trying to begin your words," Spirit said.
"Wait for everyone to debrief before making a plan or going out on your own to solve the problem," said Spoiler.
"Don't be afraid to ask for help," Phantom said, "Better for your pride to be hurt than you."
"Buy ready-made meals if you can't cook. Hero business means that you can't always have homemade food, but you still need something if you want to be able to help," said Red Hood.
Batman, however, only had one thing to say.
His expression was particularly grim as he gave his advice.
"Don't ever. EVER. Adopt kids who want to become heroes."
Batman looked like the life was being sucked out of him.
He looked particularly haunted as he stared at all of his kids and his in-laws, all noisily discussing a way on how to steal the Batmobile.
The hero who had just wanted some advice from the infamous Dark Knight gave him a pat on the arm.
The man clearly needed it.
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servicpop · 2 days ago
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Which one of your oc reacts from the worst to the better one when s/o actually break up with them?
Make it nsfw? I wanna see some s/o getting pinned down and got punish lol
cw : slight non-con(?) and my ocs might be a bit toxic . . .
Adrien definitely acts the worst. He's obsessed with you remember ? The moment you go to him and tell him that you don't want to continue this little game of yours and you want him to leave you alone . . . sure , he'll respect you for a bit. But after a day or so and you're not texting him , not even looking at him , he'll go back to his old ways. Skipping classes , getting into fights and he swears he's going to crack the guy you smiled at's skull apart. He fully goes insane and after a week , he's blowing up your phone , chasing down your friends who are honestly surprised that he even knew of your existence. And when you finally agree to see him again , he's tearing off his clothing and pushing you up against the wall not even a foot away from the front door , groping at that soft flesh he missed so much. His words are an unintelligible mess of 'please take me back' and 'I'll fucking kill anyone you talk to.' Man is crazy about you !! He'll fuck you right outside the bedroom , pushing you up against the wall and pound into you because he's missed you way too much to wait any longer !
Vallen simply doesn't let it happen. You come up to his office with a nervous look on your face and when you spill the news he glances up through his reading glasses ( his eyes are getting sore from looking over so many documents >< ) and simply hums, curling his finger at you, instructing you to walk over to him. The moment you do , he pulls you onto his lap, gripping at your thighs as he stands up , letting your back fall across his desk. He's cruelly slow, pulling out all the way before slamming his hips against yours so hard that his pens rattle on his desk. "Found someone better than me?" He'd mutter before slowly pulling out just to ram himself back in. "I doubt it." He's too mean about it, slapping your thighs everytime you try and justify your reasons why you'd break up with him ! He's rich, gives you everything, loves and cares for you, why would you want to break up with him ?
Cole accepts it fully. He acts like a kicked puppy when you break the news to him. At first he'll ask you what he did wrong , if you weren't happy with him , if it was your job that make you break up with him. He tries his best to understand , especially since you're his first ever relationship with a man ! He won't stop going to your shows , won't stop sending you letters and flowers , but he does it all without showing his face ! He thinks you wouldn't want to see his face so he still shows his love through gifts and notes. It's not long before you cave in , all the gifts and letters still marked with paw prints and his signature at the bottom just pile up in your room and you miss him. Miss his caramel smile too much. Unlike the others , Cole doesn't jump to sex , he takes it slow by cuddling you , the limit of intimacy being kisses on your stomach ( he'll still believe you hate him until you reassure him 200x )
Callahan is exempt from this since he was never really in a relationship with you , but ! If he doesn't see you for an extended period of time ( basically breaking up ) he'll work even harder to track you down , asking for leads , retracing steps and finding you back at that motel where you two always seem to end up after every confrontation. He'll put you in cuffs , blabbering on some lie about how he'll put you in jail but just ends up stuffing your head in the pillow and pounding into your ass like he missed you ( which he did )
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