#maybe I need to pull out that years playlist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 2 months ago

Text

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 14.6k summary: you and vi are both tired of complicated relationships so try the whole friends-with-benefits thing....and maybe forget the whole point of your arrangement in the first place. warning: lesbian situationships (there is so much angst and yearning), brief mention of (internalized) homophobia and struggles with addiction....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and smut [oral (vi receiving), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, slight bondage play, switch!vi has my heart] (18+) ! a/n: merry (belated oops) xmas girls and gays <33 i've probably spent way too much time on this but it's my BABY....kinda based on leighton and alicia's plotline in s1 of sex lives of college girls and ofc casual by chappell roan (there are many other chappell references throughout too hehe). also yes i made a mini playlist that consists of the songs that i think reflect this fic's sun, moon, and rising signs....pls enjoy and happy holidays !!!

♪: "angel baby" by troye sivan (sun); "pretty girl" by hayley kiyoko (moon); "casual" by chappell roan (rising)

“not even one week into the new academic year, violet rose atlas, captain of the varsity soccer team, has been suspended from gameplay due to recent unsportsman-like behavior, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and banned from the local lesbian bar.”

mel removes her eyes from the screen to raise an eyebrow at you. you just shrug and take a sip of your coffee. you glance over at the clock on the wall.

11:09am.

“to top it all off, she’s late,” you declare, trying your best to hide the anticipation simmering in your stomach.

“what’s your deal, anyways? you totally flirt with her whenever she’s at the bar. not even we get that good of service,” gert points out. they’re searching through a stack of cd’s and cassette tapes for something to play.

“that was before.”

you walk over to sit next to gert, taking it upon yourself to choose the music. you settle on jagged little pill; alanis morrissette’s lush voice is a welcomed addition to your conversation.

“our funding is at risk,” you explain. “it’s like the dean assigned her to us because she knew it would end terribly and the board would have an excuse to finally cut us loose.”

“if they need an excuse, they’ll find one,” gert grumbles.

you shrug. “i just think violet is bad news, which is something i’d prefer we avoid..”

“the article does say that she punched maddie nolan in the face during an exhibition game against the piltover knights.”

“see? bad news. literally.”

“well, i think we lucked out,” sky gushes, though her focus remains on finishing her current project. she’s crocheting so fast that you only catch glimpses of her sparkly pink fingernails. you’re sure she’ll be done with this blanket before violet shows up. if she even bothers to show up. “the yellowjackets might’ve lost their captain, but we get to spend quality time with the hottest butch on campus.”

“whatever,” you sigh, though you don’t disagree with that description. you check the clock again — 11:11am — and settle against the worn couch. “since we have the time — mel, why don’t you read our horoscopes? i’m itching to see what the universe has in store for us today.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi spent the better part of last night crying and getting wasted in her bathtub with cheap dye burning into her scalp.

she just couldn’t stand the memory of caitlyn kiramman’s perfectly manicured nails running through her formerly pink locks as they kissed, tugging on vi’s hair to bring her closer —

enough. fucking pull yourself together.

cait’s moved on, that much is clear, with someone more like her. someone whose last name is on buildings all around the university of piltover’s campus.

so far, no amount of bar fights or red cards or late nights in some random girl’s bed seem to mend the heart that caitlyn shattered to pieces, but vi doesn’t give up easy.

soon enough, she’ll be back on the field, leading the yellowjackets to victory at nationals; she’ll finish all her classes, graduate with honors and have a great plan for an even greater future; all while having amazing, mind-blowing sex that won’t lead to serious heartbreak.

relationships are overrated, anyways.

the first step in this plan: spending 100 hours with a bunch of angry, bra-burning lesbians.

maybe vi will fit right in.

so, vi walks into her community service assignment with a wicked migraine and hands that look like lady macbeth plotted to murder an oil spill, but with her usual confident swagger nonetheless, as conversation echoes down the hallway.

“according to your rising, there will be a much needed spark in your romantic life. my guess is a fire sign is gonna sweep you off your feet.”

another voice chimes in, a gentle rumble. “could that be your sweet jules?”

“i’ve never asked about her chart,” an achingly familiar voice replies. it brings back memories of dizzying lights and strong whiskey coursing through her blood, but something else, too. a sky full of stars and too-sweet alcohol on her tongue. “paula was a fire sign, though, and that blew up in my face.”

“paula was a walking red flag.”

“yeah, well, apparently red’s my favorite color.”

“maybe that was just the heartbreak you needed to bring passion back into your life. do you feel that with jules?”

“i don’t know — maybe? we haven’t had sex yet.”

“passion isn’t just about sex, you know —”

“gert, i love you, but i cannot handle a sex therapy session right now.”

someone else giggles, bright and bubbly. “hm, i wonder what sign our pink-haired hottie is.”

vi clears her throat to announce her arrival, leaning against the doorway.

everyone turns to look at her then, with varying degrees of shock, and vi feels like she’s just walked into an after midnight roommate vent session.

she isn’t sure what she expected the space to look like, but zaun university’s women’s centre is well-lived in, defined by a sort of organized chaos. each wall is covered in posters and collages, multicolored flags and fairy lights; there’s a shelf in the corner with assorted trinkets and books piled high, a table next to it with baskets of condoms, pads, and tampons and informational pamphlets, and a door in the opposite corner, slightly ajar. a vintage boombox placed on the coffee table plays 90s alt rock, circled by mismatched seating with patterned blankets and brightly colored pillows strewn about.

someone with dark lipstick and an eyebrow piercing is drawing on their converse; a dark brunette wearing glasses is draping a blanket over the arm of a couch; another person is scrolling on their laptop, a gold necklace glittering on their collarbones.

vi’s attention is stuck on you, though, the origin of the aforementioned familiar voice: the very hot bartender from sappho’s, where vi happened to be kicked out of not even 72 hours prior.

you’re wearing a vintage wonder woman t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans with a carabiner clipped to a belt loop. the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up, displaying your array of tattoos — vi’s already decided that her favorites are joan of arc holding her sword, a pomegranate that’s been cracked open, and lyrics from bikini kill’s ‘rebel girl’ (which admittedly, vi had to look up when she first saw). it’s everything vi’s booze-soaked brain had apparently memorized after many nights of staring at you across the bar counter, licking up whatever honeyed flirtations you’d spill from your lips. vi always noticed your hands, too: the many rings you’ve stacked on your fingers, the lavender sprig sprouting from your middle finger and venus symbol etched onto your wrist, the nails that are always clipped short and painted black.

one of those nails is tapping anxiously on your coffee mug, which has a picture of hayley kiyoko as lesbian jesus.

“pink-haired hottie, reporting for duty. though, i might need a new nickname.” vi grins; you roll your eyes. “i’m an aries, by the way.”

“good to know.” the brunette winks not-so-subtly in your direction before walking towards vi and extending a hand, gold bangles clinking together at the motion. “i’m sky, she/her. we had electromagnetic theory together last spring. it’s lovely to officially meet you.”

vi makes a big show of leaning down and kissing sky’s hand.

“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”

“such a gentleman,” sky giggles and leads vi to the patchwork couch. she curls up like a cat, and vi follows suit — the couch is cloud soft, and vi tries not to sink into the cushions. “i’m our supplies and communications coordinator.” she turns away from vi to look around the room. “okay, that’s my intro. who’s next?”

the person with an eyebrow piercing nods at vi, a sort of effortless greeting. “gert, they/them.” they snap the sharpie shut after writing ‘the future is intersectional’ on the tip of their toe. “i curate and design our newsletter, the black rose. i’m also in a band —”

“the sirens of zaun. yeah, i recognize you. you’ve played a few gigs at sappho’s.”

vi looks at you pointedly, and you take this as your cue to disappear behind the door, which appears to lead into some sort of office.

gert seems pleased, though. “then you might also recognize our lead singer….”

the person with the gold necklace, who vi does, in fact, vaguely recognize but can’t quite name, closes their laptop and waves at vi. “i’m mel. pronouns: she/her. i mostly deal with the finances around here. and, from what i understand, you’re already well acquainted with our fearless leader —”

mel is cut off by the sound of her phone alarm.

“shit — it’s already 11:30. our set at campus radio starts soon.” mel gestures at gert. gert picks up the bright red guitar case behind them and secures it around their shoulder as mel packs up her leather satchel.

“damn, i gotta get to class, too. the space-time continuum waits for no one.” sky gets up and gathers her things, too, stuffing yarn into a fruit-printed tote bag. “it was nice meeting you though.” she pats vi’s head affectionately before throwing out a loud: “see ya later, boss!”

mel and gert offer similar farewells, and you shout goodbye from the other room before the three of them are out the door. vi expects you to reappear a few moments later; when you don’t, she ventures into the office.

it’s smaller, but just as decorated as the lounge space. there’s a desk that seems to be more storage than actual use, littered with piles of books and old copies of the black rose. you’re sitting on a fluffy rainbow carpet that looks like every member of sesame street stitched together, writing something in a sticker-covered notebook.

“so, violet —”

“vi’s fine,” she tells you. she decides to sit on the floor next to you rather than the zebra striped chaise lounge.

you nod, rip a page out of your notebook, and hand it to vi. there’s something a bit too intimate about knowing what your handwriting looks like before even knowing your name.

“this is a run down of everything you’ll need to know, but real quick: we do feminist film fridays and trivia tuesdays on alternating weeks; our radical reads book club meets once a month, along with our slam poetry group, and we have a bunch of other events in between — workshops, art builds, discussion groups, and so on. sky keeps everything in the centre stocked, and occasionally the rest of us will pitch in when organizing a charity drive. our newsletter publishes the third wednesday of every month — gert puts it together, but we print in pairs since it could be a lot of work for one person. we have team meetings once a week to share updates, make sure we’re all on the same page, stuff like that. any questions?”

“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”

you smile. “i’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, varsity.”

“so….where do i fit in?”

“that depends on you, really,” you tap your glitter gel pen on your notebook, thinking. “like, i’m assuming you’re not well versed in feminist literature.”

vi puffs out her chest. “based on what assumptions? i’m not a dumb jock.”

“yeah, i know you’ve made the dean list ever since your freshman year.”

vi raises an eyebrow. “keeping tabs on me, wonder woman?” she teases.

you laugh. “don’t flatter yourself. sky’s the one who mentioned it to me. so, unless you mean your very large, unpaid tab at sappho’s...”

“the bar i was kicked out of, you mean.”

“well, yeah, because you —” you take a deep breath. “not the point. anyways, we don’t have a complete schedule for book club, so you can maybe take the lead on one of our meetings. do you have a favorite author?”

vi smiles at you sheepishly. “ah…..you got me there.”

“thought so,” you smirk and vi covers her blush. “if you’re curious, this bridge called my back is a good place to start. oh, and audre lorde is a classic and a personal favorite…..” you pause when you catch vi staring at you. she wants you to keep talking, to appreciate the way your eyes light up so enthusiastically, but you blink away, and a veil of professionalism falls back onto you. “sorry. anyways, we’re having trivia tomorrow — would you be able to help us out with that?

vi nods. “sure.”

“sweet.” you check your phone. “i’ve got a coffee date, so i should get going.”

“wait — you never told me your name, wonder woman.”

“well, it’s not diana prince,” you quip before finally introducing yourself.

“nice to finally put a name to the face.” vi winks at you, standing up. she extends a hand to guide you up. your hand is cold against her skin, your metal rings even colder.

“i’ll see you around, varsity.” before you’re out the door, you turn back around. “oh, and vi?”

“yeah?”

“don’t be late.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you had stepped away for a quick smoke break — a habit you knew you had to kick — but you’re so fucking drained and it’s only wednesday.

you were up all night bickering with your girlfriend. it started with her admitting that she really doesn’t want to meet your friends, which transitioned into her asking you to not talk to anyone about her or your relationship, which prompted you to make a (maybe slightly insensitive) comment about how she’s welcome to stay in the closet but has no right to push you back in.

needless to say, you did not get any sleep.

you’re about to walk outside, and finally get a moment of peace, when your phone rings. it’s your sibling, and the fact that they’re calling instead of texting tells you that this conversation is about to be (A) exhausting, (B) infuriating, or (C) both.

the correct answer is C.

it’s the same story over and over again: your dad drinks too much, your mom is absent. it hadn’t been this bad when you were growing up, but you suppose you’d been around to ease the damage, or at least step in and take care of your sibling as needed.

“just — take a deep breath. you can come stay with me for the weekend, okay? it’ll be good for you to get away from the chaos for a bit….we’ll go apple picking if the weather’s nice, maybe start working on your halloween costume — whatever you wanna do.”

“you know, i’m not five anymore,” they mumble, stifling a small laugh along with some tears. “but…okay. that sounds nice.”

you smile to yourself, shoulder pressing against the door. “it’s a plan then. we’ll sort out the details later. and, don’t worry about mom and dad — i’ll take care of it. love you.”

you hang up and exhale as you finally push the door open, happy to finally get one moment to breathe.

except, just as you’re greeted by a crisp breeze on this beautiful late september evening, you’re also greeted by the sight of vi pressing someone against the brick wall, their legs wrapped around her waist as she kisses their neck.

something ignites in your abdomen, familiar after many nights of seeing vi at the bar, charming her way into another woman’s bed. except, it’s definitely not jealousy, this time.

(okay, maybe it is; but only a bit.)

they spring apart upon hearing the door slam closed. you recognize who vi’s with — maya, a sophomore who’s frequently attended women’s centre events since last year. she’s always been friendly with the team, but never this friendly.

“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”

“you don’t have to apologize,” you tell her sincerely. her cheeks are flushed, and she’s busy smoothing down her skirt, clearly trying to distance herself from vi, who’s leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “i just need to talk to violet, so do you mind giving us a sec?”

you wait until maya disappears inside to cross your arms and glare at vi.

“so, it’s violet now, huh?” she teases, wiping red lipstick off her smirk.

“you were supposed to be helping facilitate this workshop,” you note.

“well, it is a queer sex ed workshop.” vi rolls her eyes. “i was giving maya a hands-on experience.”

you grit your teeth together. “and you just had to do that now? like you just had to go down on that third year during trivia last week?”

“well, see, i don’t have a ton of free time, and since i’m not allowed at the local lesbian bar….” she trails off, looking at you pointedly. “i’ve had to resort to multi-tasking.”

“multi-tasking.” you let an exhausted, bitter laugh slip from your lips. “you’ve showed up late to every single event in the past few weeks, and once you’re there, you’re either on your laptop, getting drunk, or hooking up with someone. tell me, violet, as captain of the yellowjackets — if someone on your team was acting like this, what would you do?”

vi narrows her eyes at you, like she can’t believe what you’re asking, and admits, “i’d call them out, tell them to do better.”

“right. and if they kept giving you empty promise after empty promise? you’d have to do something more drastic, even if you didn’t want to, yeah?”

no response.

shaking your head, you take out a cigarette. there’s only silence when you flick the lighter open and light it between your lips. you inhale deeply, letting the smoke enter your lungs, exhale slowly, and decide: “i’m gonna ask the dean to reassign you.”

“fine by me,” vi scoffs, but you swear that something close to disappointment flashes across her face. “clearly, this isn’t working out.”

“clearly.” you take another drag of your cigarette, and as vi walks back inside, you can’t help but try to get under her skin. you’ve had a bad week, between family drama and turbulence in your relationship with jules, and you’re just sick of people not giving a shit. “the year’s already started, so i doubt there’s something available. which means you’ll remain on academic probation until spring.”

and, okay — you do get some twisted satisfaction in how that makes vi stop in her tracks. you’re leaning against the wall, and she strides over to stand in front of you, her jaw and fists clenched.

“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”

you shrug, and blow smoke in her face. “i’ve given you plenty of chances.”

“but the team needs me —”

“you should have thought of that before you fucked up, varsity,” you snap. vi’s eyes widen; you’re usually more level-headed. “you’re cocky, irresponsible — ”

“i lost my scholarship,” vi blurts out, prompting you to pause, the cigarette millimeters from your lips.

you blink at her, blood still roaring in your ears.

“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”

vi just sighs, so deeply that you feel it in your bones. you haven’t seen this side of her before — no flirtatious smile, no overconfident posture. instead, she slips to the ground, knees pressed to her chest. feeling a bit guilty for pushing her buttons, you slide down next to her. you offer her the cigarette, but she shakes her head.

“i…i’m going through a shitty breakup. i’ve been lashing out, and i lost my scholarship. i haven’t asked my parents for money, because the last thing i want is for them to worry about me. so, i started picking up these odd jobs to make ends meet, and the hours are a bit crazy so between school and practice and — fuck, there’s also shit going on with my sister that i won’t even get into now, but it’s a lot — and i also need to do this because i let my team down and i need to be there for them, whatever it takes, and i’m just so fucking —”

“exhausted, yeah.”

you can see more clearly now — the slump in her shoulders, the shadows underneath her eyes; you see her more clearly. you realize that you might have more in common with violet rose atlas than you initially thought.

“so the laptop —”

“finishing assignments.”

“the drinking?”

vi juts her chin out at your smouldering cigarette. “we all have our vices.”

“and the sex?”

her lips curl into a sheepish grin, and she shrugs. “we all need to relieve stress.”

you clear your throat, blinking away from her gaze and trying to ignore how you can feel warmth radiating from her body, so close to yours. “right.”

vi runs her hand through her tar-black hair. that should have been your first hint — nothing says lesbian breakup more than terribly dyed hair and questionable decisions.

“look, i know i can’t do everything, but i have to, and i’m still trying to figure out how.”

“well….as far as excuses go, it’s not the worst,” you admit. “thanks for telling me. i know that couldn’t have been easy.” you take a deep breath and get to your feet. “i stand by what i said earlier, though — this isn’t working out. you just can’t tell us that you’ll be helpful and not follow through. it means a lot, to a lot of people, that there’s a space like this on campus. mel, gert, sky— they all work so hard to make that happen, and that’s something i need to protect. i’m sorry.”

“wait.” vi grabs your wrist before you can leave. “i’m sorry. really, i am. i promise to do better.”

“you’ve made that promise before,” you point out. “why should i believe this time will be different?”

“because…you’re right. i’ve been too caught up in myself, in what i need, in what my team needs. i can see that you really care about your team, though, and i should have respected that. they’re — you’re — amazing, everything that you do to make people feel safe and heard and loved. i’m sorry for taking that for granted.”

wow. okay.

you did not expect that. you’re hoping that vi can’t feel your pulse quicken at her words, but you’re glad that she’s holding on to you, keeping you steady.

“yeah, well…flattery’s not gonna get you far.” you clear your throat. “but, you’re obviously going through a lot right now, and it can drive you crazy, feeling like you’re the one who —”

“has to keep everything together,” vi finishes, sliding to the ground once more. you follow. “seems like i’m cracking under pressure, this time. fucking everything up.”

“you’ve got a reckless streak.”

“must be the aries in me,” she laughs, softly. “apparently it’s my Ieast attractive quality. along with my stubbornness and selfishness.”

“well, i don’t think that’s the whole picture,” you assure her. vi looks at you incredulously. “i won’t lie and say that your actions aren’t….thoughtless sometimes. you’re more self-centred than selfish—”

“hey!”

“but you obviously feel some sense of responsibility, for your team, your family, for what you think is right. hell — the reason my boss asked me to kick you out is because you started a bar fight with that frat boy who was insisting he had the right dick to set lesbians straight.”

vi scoffs. “asshole.”

“i was about to throw him out, but you beat me to the punch. literally.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, and she chuckles. “and, yeah, you’re stubborn, which can be annoying, but it also means that you’d never give up, that you’re willing to keep trying despite the odds, so….”

“so….?”

vi’s looking at you with the widest, softest eyes. fuck, you never expected her to be this gentle, so much so that it you want to melt to her every need.

“i’m hoping third time’s the charm, varsity.”

vi smiles, the most sincere one she’s probably ever given you, and the scar on her lip stretches; for all your talk about responsibility, there’s a part of you who’d risk pushing your already tenuous relationship with your girlfriend to its breaking point just so you could kiss vi, guilt-free, just once. maybe you have a bit of a reckless streak, too.

“thanks, wonder woman. you won’t regret it.”

yeah. you kind of already do.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi would never admit it, but one reason she fought to keep her community service assignment here is because she wanted to keep seeing you.

she likes getting under your skin, seeing those pretty eyes roll whenever she strides in late for a meeting, that kissable jaw clench any time you catch her tangled up with someone else.

it almost makes up for all those nights at sappho’s you’d spent flirting back and forth, some sort of unspoken agreement between you to never go further.

sometimes, it’s just nice to have a crush in your back pocket, to know that they’ll always be there to admire and admire you back while others come and go.

the more time you spend together, though, the more vi realizes that you’re not just a fictional character in her head, in a fantasy she pictures before bed — no, you’re tangible.

vi watches as you bring special tea for gert when their period cramps are particularly painful; she listens to you console mel after another fight with her mother and offer advice to sky when she was hoping to ask out her lab partner. vi notices how you prefer your coffee with a dash of cinnamon; and she learns that you had your first kiss with a girl in your freshman year journalism class, and that your first tattoo was done by the same person. a stick-and-poke star on your ankle.

she can hear your laugh, feel the cool metal of your rings brush against her skin accidentally when you’re squeezing past her in a crowded room, smell your perfume when you hug her goodbye. you have stories and quirks and expectations and opinions that vi subconsciously files away as she gets to know you better.

you’re not just a crush, anymore.

you’re a friend.

vi likes having you as a friend. really — she does!

you’re a friend who makes vi’s heart jump at the sight of your name on her phone. a friend who smirks when vi blushes after you tell her she has the prettiest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. a friend who mentions this vibrator that gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so vi orders the same one and maybe still pictures you before bed, imagining that you’re using it at the same time. except someone else might be next to you.

yeah, vi’s pretty sure you’re dating someone, but that’s something she hasn’t gathered enough information on.

not that it matters. she wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, anyways, after the mindfuck that was her relationship with caitlyn, and the damage she’s still having to heal from.

though, if that hadn’t happened, vi would have never gotten into a fight with maddie nolan, the second striker for the piltover knights, who taunted her during an exhibition game about how caitlyn is so much happier now that she isn’t disgracing herself with a filthy zaunite. vi would have never been banned from the first half of the tournament and chewed out by coach sevika for fucking up the yellowjackets’ chance at nationals.

vi would have never been put on academic probation and assigned to 100 hours of community service, either.

she certainly wouldn’t have been here, now, in the women’s centre office close to midnight on a tuesday, folding the most recent issue of the black rose when you walk in.

“oh. hey, v.” you drop down on the zebra-striped couch, your tote bag falling to the ground. “i thought sky was gonna be here tonight.”

vi shakes her head, removing one earbud and letting it dangle from the cord. “she’s got this huge chem report due tomorrow, had to meet up with viktor to get it done.”

“right…” you sigh and lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. a few moments pass, and there’s only your steady breathing. “what are you listening to?”

your eyes are closed when vi settles in next to you. it’s a relatively tight fit, but it doesn’t seem like either of you particularly care. vi gently places an earbud in your ear.

you snort, opening your eyes. “you could have just said the cranberries.”

“i’m surprised you recognize them,” vi quips. “it’s not your usual angry girl music.”

“well, sometimes people surprise you. this is actually one of my favorite songs,” you explain. “it’s in one of my favorite movies, too.”

“you’ve got mail?”

you furrow your brows. “when harry met sally.”

vi shakes her head. “no, ‘dreams’ is definitely in you’ve got mail. but, i agree that when harry met sally is a better movie.”

“you’ve watched nora ephron movies and enjoyed them?”

“well, sometimes people surprise you,” vi teases. “i can appreciate a good love story as much as the next person.”

you let out a short, airy laugh. you tilt your head and you’re so close to vi that you’re practically exchanging the same breath. your eyes land on her lips for a millisecond, and vi starts to lean in before you sit up abruptly.

“i could use some alcohol.” you climb over vi and go to the desk, pull out a half empty bottle of fruit-flavored soju from a drawer. you grab two mugs — the hayley kiyoko one, and another with frida kahlo. you stop short of pouring, looking to vi. she nods.

soon enough, you’ve got your legs strewn along vi’s lap, sipping lychee infused alcohol.

“can i ask you something?”

“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.

“why’d you and caitlyn break up?” the question hangs in the air for a second before you add: “if you don’t wanna talk about it though, i understand.”

shit. it’s definitely not vi’s favorite topic of conversation, but….

“i think she thought that i was one of the good ones, that regardless of the way i grew up or the blood that coursed through my veins, i would be her perfect little charity case. people would be like: future president kiramman definitely cares about the poor — just look at the broke angry lesbian she’s turned into her docile wife!”

you suck in a sharp breath. “fuck that.”

“yeah,” vi laughs sadly. “the worst part is that she wanted me to be vulnerable with her, so i was, because i thought the more i opened up, the more she’d love me, but, in the end….i was too messy. i was too much.”

vi hates the lump that starts to build in her throat, the tears that threaten to spill. she cannot cry in front of you —

you grab her hand. your skin is cool against hers, and it eases her quickening heartbeat.

“you’re not too much, v.” your voice soothes her like honey, trickling down her throat. “it sucks, though, when they ask you to rip your heart out of your chest and get mad at you for bleeding out in front of them.”

“shit, i never thought of it so…viscerally, but that’s exactly what it feels like.”

“well you’re not a creative writing major,” you quip. “i know it still hurts — trust me, i know — but your heart was never hers if she treated you that badly. you deserve more.”

is it the alcohol messing with her brain, or does it look like you want to kiss her?

fuck.

vi clears her throat. “why’re you asking?”

you pull your hand away, take a sip of your drink. “jules broke up with me a few days ago.”

you’re single now. good to know.

“what happened?”

“i caught her kissing someone at a bar. a boy.” you roll your eyes. “maybe she just wasn’t ready, which is fine, but when we had it out, she told me that what we had isn’t what romance is supposed to feel or look like, which sucked. especially after being so….vulnerable with her.”

“you offered her that bleeding heart of yours, didn’t you?”

you click your tongue, pouring some more soju into each mug. “course i did, v. and it didn’t mean anything in the end. because relationships suck.”

“i’ll drink to that.”

you cheers, keeping eye contact.

“and you know what?” you take a big, long gulp. “i know that relationships aren’t just about sex, but i’ve been having to get myself off for months now and sometimes, i just want someone else to —”

“take care of you?”

vi sips her drink, watching you mull over her words.

“not sure if i’d put it like that,” you decide. “i just miss that excitement. when another person wants to discover what makes you feel good, and wanting to learn how to make them feel good, too. i miss having that connection with someone.”

“i’m guessing you didn’t have that with jules, then.”

“ha! no. and paula…the girl i dated before….let’s just say, she didn’t give a shit whether i felt good, in any sense.” you shift in your seat; vi senses there’s a story there, but she doesn’t push. “how about future president kiramman — she take care of you?”

vi can’t help but laugh. “nah. i mostly took care of her. she sure liked it when i got down on my knees for her.”

you hum.

“lucky her.”

you wink at vi, and she chokes on her drink.

i would gladly do it for you, if that’s something you want.

“is that a genuine offer? because, if you’re joking —”

shit. did vi say that out loud?

vi’s heart is beating out of her chest, but she sits up straighter to regain some level of composure. she nods.

no use in turning back now.

“i’m serious, wonder woman.”

you stare at her. “i really can’t have another relationship that’s just gonna crash and burn.”

“that’s not what i’m offering. i care about our - our friendship. i care about you.”

you swallow. “i care about you, too.”

“right, and when our friends need help with something….”

“we help them,” you finish. “so, you’re really just talking about casual sex. right now, on this couch?”

“yes,” vi answers. maybe a bit too quickly. “if that’s what you want, too.”

“that’s what i want,” you reply. maybe a bit too quickly, too. “but none of this one sided bullshit: you do me, i do you.”

vi takes your mug, puts it next to hers on the floor, and repositions your bodies so that she’s hovering above you, hips set between yours.

“sounds perfect to me.”

you finally, finally kiss and it feels oddly…familiar. you taste like lychees and nicotine and cherries, burnt sweetness, and your skin is so fucking soft.

“wait.” you tug on vi’s hair and she has to bite back a moan at how fucked out you already look underneath her, all wide-eyed and desperate. “just so we’re 100% clear: just sex.”

vi nods once. “no strings attached.”

“it’ll be casual.”

“we’re not doing the whole relationship thing.”

“promise?”

vi sticks out her pinky, grinning at you sheepishly. you roll your eyes ever so slightly, but still wrap your pinky around hers.

“promise.”

so, you take care of each other. no strings attached.

because that’s what friends are for, right?

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽

are u busy rn? got out of my lab early and im bored

wndr wmn ☆

yeah, im at work

v ⚽️

leave early. im BORED and HORNY

wndr wmn ☆

ofc you are

v ⚽️

pls u love it

u know #6 isn’t just my jersey number ;))

i’m implying that i will give u 6 consecutive orgasms

wndr wmn ☆

yeah i got that

v ⚽️

so….

wndr wmn ☆

….

leaving now

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“you sure about this, v?”

vi hums, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “isn’t it every girl’s dream to get tied up by the lasso of truth, wonder woman?”

you’re straddling her, still wearing your red and gold bodysuit underneath blue shorts that you’ve decorated with silver stars. your makeshift lasso of truth — really, just some gold rope — sparkles, tying vi’s wrists together to the headboard.

the theme of the women’s centre halloween celebration is always the same — dress up at your favorite female icon — but you’d never seen someone look as good as vi does. she dressed as trinity from the matrix, all tight, black leather and vinyl, showcasing her defined muscles as the gods intended.

now, she’s left in a sleeveless cropped top and black boyshorts, with her pants and jacket thrown somewhere on your apartment floor.

you have a feeling she really liked your costume, too, because she practically begged you to take control tonight.

“if it gets too much, our safeword will be —”

“sappho.” the slight whine of impatience in her voice sends a jolt right to your core.

“perfect.”

you kiss her lips, her jaw, her neck, your lipstick leaving angry red marks. you lodge your bare thigh in between vi’s legs, biting your bottom lip when you feel her already warm and wet, when you hear her whimper as you apply more pressure to where she needs you most. you reach into your nightstand for your vibrator and switch it on, teasing vi’s nipples through her shirt.

vi moans, deep and loud. not even thirty seconds, and she’s already pulling at the restraints, the headboard creaking.

“are you gonna be a good girl for me, violet?” you coo, inching the vibrator lower and lower, feeling her shake underneath you. “because we’ve got all night, and you better not break my bed.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“hey, so — i found these in between one of the couch cushions, thought maybe they might be yours.”

you can only spare a glance at the item mel is holding up — you’re grading freshman papers, focused on this one student’s thesis about gender fluidity in shakespeare’s twelfth night.

“oh, those are vi’s.”

“hm. and just how is it that you know what her underwear looks like?”

you stop writing mid-sentence and look up at mel who’s giving you a pointed look.

you and vi had been the ones to clean up after feminist film friday last week, and one thing led to another….

in your defense: vi had been wearing these low cut jeans that showed off her v-line, and you could tell she didn’t have her usual sports bra on because you could see the outlines of her nipple rings through her tight, white tank top. it took everything in you to wait until people cleared out during the credits of the watermelon woman to pin her down and have her whimpering for you.

“i just…guessed.”

“right.” mel rolls her eyes. “so, you and violet are….what? fucking? dating?”

you clear your throat and take a sip of lukewarm coffee.

“we’re keeping it casual,” is all you say.

“are you sure that’s a good idea?”

you just shrug.

“just — be careful,” mel, always the diplomatic one, eases. she walks towards you, sits on the edge of the desk, and hands you the pair of black briefs. “i know we all teased you about it before, but i don’t want to see you get hurt. i’ve seen you get your heart broken one too many times.”

“it’s fine, mel,” you assure her, grabbing the piece of fabric and shoving it at the bottom of your bag. you’re visiting their owner after this, anyways. “vi and i are just friends helping each other out.”

mel raises an eyebrow. “well, you and i have been friends for years and we’ve never gotten that close.”

“that’s different.”

“how so?”

“i appreciate your concern,” you say, avoiding the question. “but it’s fine. nice, actually.”

“it’s your life,” mel sighs. “maybe don’t fuck on our couches anymore, though.”

your cheeks heat up. you turn your attention back to the essay in front of you.

“noted.”

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi starts showing up at your place after soccer.

she’s allowed back on the field during games now, so she appears with a winning grin, a grass-stained uniform and fresh bruises on her knees. one time, she had the remnants of a bloody nose after a header gone wrong, and you could taste copper when she pressed her lips against yours before she hopped in the shower.

you keep her go-to body wash stocked — bergamot and cedarwood scented old spice — but she always walks out of the bathroom smelling like your mango-vanilla shower gel. sometimes even your coconut shampoo. she slips on one of your oversized graphic tees, drapes a light purple towel around her shoulders to avoid staining your shirt with her cheaply dyed black hair, fading back to pink with each wash. she walks over to the fridge in her soft gray sweatpants rolled at the ankles and cracks open one of the spiced-pear red bulls as you pull ingredients out for dinner. usually something quick and simple, since it’s always a long week and neither of you have capacity for anything more.

vi chops garlic and tells you about her game; you boil water for pasta and tell her about the latest drama between students in your literature class.

you pretend you have all the time in the world.

because you both know that vi’s got the strap packed in her gym bag, that soon one thing will lead to another and she’ll be fucking you with it until you’re both sweaty and spent and exhausted in the best way possible.

you’ve established this routine together, agreed upon several unspoken rules: no pillow talk once it’s over; no actually falling asleep in the other’s bed; no crossing that thin sapphic line between friendship and romance.

no breaking that promise.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

wanna come over? i’m watching bend it like beckham

v ⚽️

MY FAVORITE!!

i would love 2

but lucky fell asleep on me

we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza

wndr wmn

remind me again why your one-eyed golden retriever likes pizza so much?

v ⚽️

come on it’s cute

[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]

wndr wmn

yeah, you’re cute

v ⚽️

come over here instead?

wndr wmn

omw

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“come on — hurry up.”

“you practically begged for this, v,” you chide.

“yeah, but you’re taking too long and your hands are fucking freezing.”

“it’s the irony deficiency, babe,” you quip. “now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me finish?”

“fine,” vi grumbles. she does stop squirming, though. you hum, pleased.

you certainly didn’t miss the way her breath hitches at the nickname. vi’s right hand, freshly polished, tightens on your thigh.

you’re not sure why she called you at 1:27am for your help with this, or why she couldn’t just do it herself, but you’re sitting on her lap, painting her nails the color of pomegranate juice, a color she had chosen from the options you brought.

sure, you were about to turn in for an early night, but the moment you heard her voice through the phone, you rushed over to her place wearing nothing but your pajamas — plaid boxer shorts and a spiderman shirt that vi wore last time she was at yours, and you haven’t washed since.

you stretch time out as much as you can, meticulous in every stroke, but painting her nails doesn’t take much longer. you start to move off her lap — it’s probably time for you to leave — but vi grabs your hips, a playful smirk on her lips.

oh, right. that’s the type of relationship — friendship — you and vi agreed upon.

shit. you’re pretty sure that you’re wearing your days of the week underwear. is it a turn-off that you’ve got on a saturday pair on a thursday?

it doesn’t really matter, anyways.

instead of initiating a kiss, vi takes the bottle of polish from you, swaps it for black, and gestures for your hand. you blink at her, until you realize what she’s asking.

“oh! you don’t have to —”

“you do me, i do you.” vi grins at you. “i thought that was our arrangement.”

you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.

it’s kind of….adorable, the furrow of her brow, the way she curses under her breath when a drop of nail polish falls onto your skin. she’s surprisingly gentle, too, one of her hands holding yours for support while the other paints.

while she focuses on getting the polish onto your nails in even layers, you busy yourself by counting vi’s freckles.

violet rose atlas has a constellation of freckles sparkling across her cheeks. you hope there’s enough time in the world for you to memorize every single one.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

v ⚽️

do u need more nicotine gum?

im at cvs rn

wndr wmn

yeah that’d be great!!

v ⚽️

i’ll get u the cinnamon one

that’s the one u like right?

wndr wmn

yep!!!

v ⚽️

okay cool

im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements

wndr wmn

my hero 🙏🏽

thank you sm

v ⚽️

ofc

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“that red head was trying to get your number.”

“are you jealous, v?”

vi scoffs, sipping her cherry coke. “of course not. i’m just observant.”

you’d convinced your manager to let vi back into sappho’s. it’s nice, really, to see her back here again.

nice, but different.

gone are the days of staring at her from across the room, where she would be charming someone else, and only flirting with you when she came over to get another whiskey for herself and vodka something for her date. instead, she jokes around with mel, sky, and gert if they’re around, and sometimes brings her teammates in as well to play a game of pool. she usually has one drink, and then switches to something non-alcoholic. sometimes, vi doesn’t even come in for a drink; she just stops by to say hi before a team dinner or a study session.

(it’s fine — never once have you gotten an overpriced coffee from the cafe she started working at mid-october, and you probably stop by once a week between errands. that’s your excuse, anyways.)

so. things are different, but nice.

you lean across the sticky counter. “you want me to get down on my knees for you right now to prove which girl here i’d like to go home with?”

“baby….” vi shifts on the bar stool. it’s hard to tell under the dim multicolored lights, but you’re pretty sure she’s blushing, too.

“i think we both know you’d draw a bit too much attention to yourself. especially when i use my tongue to —”

“my car’s outside.”

you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”

you used to spend your breaks in the alley outside sappho’s burning through a cigarette. now you find yourself knee-deep in the passenger seat, eating vi out like she’s the last thing you’ll ever taste.

“f-fuck,” vi groans.

“feels good, yeah?” you tease her clit with her tongue, sliding two fingers into her easily. you work fast, determined to let her finish before you run out of time.

“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”

she clenches around your fingers; you lap her up eagerly, let her writhe against your face until she’s had enough.

you sit back on your knees once her hips still, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crane your neck to check the time on the dashboard, when you notice something in the footwell.

“vi! i thought i lost this.”

vi grins at you sheepishly, chest still heaving as you hold up the complete works of audre lorde, a tattered book with a well-worn spine and dog-eared pages.

“sorry. i meant to put it back on your nightstand once i was finished.”

you open to where she’s placed a makeshift bookmark — the ticket from an underground sirens of zaun show you’d both gone to. you’ve had this copy since freshman year, the scribble of your handwriting in the margins of practically on every page.

“it’s okay,” you tell her. “you like it so far?”

“yeah.” she grabs the book from you gently, thumbing through the pages. you wonder if vi registers the curves of her own smile, tender and bashful. “honestly, i’m not usually a fan of poetry, but it’s really cool how lorde writes about desire between women in such a tangible way, you know? i really liked this one verse in ‘recreation:’ ‘touching you, i catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat.’ it’s just so - so beautiful, the idea of something so domestic and mundane being almost magical, because that’s what it’s really like when —”

you don’t even realize that you’re staring until vi looks up at you and freezes.

“sorry,” she clears her throat, closing the book and setting it aside. “did i say something wrong?”

you assure vi that she did nothing wrong.

you exit her car, the taste of her lingering on your tongue, the feeling of her keeping your body warm on this cold november night.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

wndr wmn

hey

are you in town during break?

v⚽️

having dinner at my dads’ on friday but otherwise im here

why? u gonna miss me??

wndr wmn

lol

im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday

if you wanna join

v ⚽️

hell yeah

can i bring anything?

wndr wmn

just your pretty face

i’ll take care of the rest

turkey, cranberry, sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie…

etc. etc.

v ⚽️

damn!!!!

full course meal

wndr wmn

yep

im basically wife material

v⚽️

pls we’re so over gender norms

but yeah

you are

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

vi has never been the type to wait by the phone for a girl to text, or to show up at her place after not hearing from her in a while, worried that she might have done something wrong.

yet here she is, standing outside your door.

it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.

she knocks.

there’s no answer.

she knocks again.

nothing.

vi waits another second, leaning her shoulder against the door.

“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries.

hope flutters in her chest as she hears you shuffle, unchain the lock. vi stumbles as you throw the door open, but she recovers quickly to find you: smudged black eyeliner enhancing the shadows underneath your eyes, hair in disarray, clothes disheveled.

“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”

vi can’t help but laugh, even though your comment feels like a punch to the face.

“wow. figured you would think more of me by now than just some horny teenage boy.”

“look, vi —”

vi?

since when do you call her that?

“i’m sorry i missed the meeting today. i texted mel —”

damn, so your phone does work.

you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.

“but i’m just… it’s not a good time, okay? i’ll see you around.”

ah.

the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.

you start to close the door on her before she even has a chance to get a word in.

the hits just keep coming.

thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.

“wait.” vi places her palm firmly on the door before you can fully shut her out. “i’m just here to check on you.”

your face remains unchanged.

“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.”

“yeah, i’ve checked on you. you look like shit.”

you glare at her. “well i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to get all prettied up for you. i know that you like me better that way.”

“that’s not what i —” vi inhales sharply. she’s a fighter, but she doesn’t want to fight you. “mel dropped the news — about admin officially cutting our funding. i knew how that would affect you, so….” vi lifts the bag of takeout. “i brought some thai food for us to share. a pomegranate, too, because i know you like seasonal fruit. it’s been a while and honestly, i just….i just wanted to spend time with you.”

you exhale, your eyes softening.

there.

a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.

there are clothes all over your floor and dishes piled high in the sink. your desk is littered with empty boxes of cereal and cans of an energy drink that normally you’d never touch. the blanket that sky had crocheted for you — lavender and pink checkered — is unfolded on your couch, your laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front next to two stacks of printed essays — ones marked with purple pen, the others untouched. in contrast, your bed is still perfectly made.

you take the blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, sitting at the kitchen table and curling into yourself. vi busies herself in cracking open the pomegranate, putting the seeds into the last clean bowl in your cupboard. the palms of her arm wraps are now stained a reddish-purple, but she doesn’t care.

vi manages to find two pairs of clean chopsticks for the thai food, and the two of you eat in silence.

“so….” vi starts, watching you stab a piece of chicken before popping it into your mouth. “you wanna talk about it, or….?”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“well, for starters, maybe tell me what’s been getting you into full hibernation mode? we haven’t seen each other in, like, a week.”

“six days,” you correct, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “last tuesday, we played pool during my closing shift at sappho’s. i lost. you made me down two shots of tequila because you’re a menace and you know i hate it.”

“yeah, but i drove you home and tucked you into bed with water and advil for later, so i’m also a gentleman. so, just tell me what’s been going on. we’ll figure it out, yeah?”

“it’s fine,” you grumble.

“clearly, it’s not. just tell me what you need.”

“what i need is to not be distracted,” you huff, avoiding eye contact. “i certainly don’t need you —”

“taking care of you, i know.” vi grabs your hand from across the table. she feels you stiffen on instinct, and then ease into the heat of her skin. “trust me, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be. so — humor me.”

vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you.

you sigh. “i’ve just — i’ve been spiralling trying to figure out how the centre can keep going with, like, half our required budget, trying to see if we can get some external donors and i still need to finalize the venue and equipment rentals for our last open mic….and….and my sibling called again to tell me that things haven’t been great at home, so i want to go down there this weekend to sort everything out, but my car hasn’t been starting….plus i’m behind on grading, and i told my supervisor i’d have a complete draft ready by thursday and i’m not even halfway done, and that’s the same day we’re having that art build for the climate rally on friday, and i’ve been having the worst cramps since this afternoon, and all i wanna do is pass out and sink into my duvet, but i need to keep going —”

vi squeezes your hand again, this time more firmly. “you need to slow down.”

“i can’t.” you huff. “i have to keep everything from falling apart, and if i don’t….”

vi shifts to the chair next to yours, still holding your hand.

“but you can’t do it all if you’re too exhausted to take care of yourself. from the looks of it, you’ve been living off of frosted flakes, red bull, and zero sleep.”

you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”

“if that’s what it takes, then maybe it’s not worth it.”

“don’t say that,” you tell her. “it’s all worth it. i just wish it wasn’t so…heavy.”

vi nods, because she really, truly understands. she gives you the advice she can see you giving her in another context.

“you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t feel as heavy if you…i don’t know…weren’t too stubborn to ask for help.”

“there are things that are my responsibility, violet,” you tell her, slipping your hand away. you reach for the bowl of pomegranate seeds, meticulously picking up one at a time with your chopsticks and crushing it in between your molars. “i can’t just pass those off to someone else.”

“fine. but what about other things? like the women’s centre stuff — we’re a team, right? so we’ll figure it out together, divide the labor so you’re not doing everything. and, maybe ask your supervisor for an extension, too? and, well, i don’t really need my car this weekend, so you’re welcome to borrow it.”

you pause, narrowing your eyes at her.

“you said…. ‘we.’”

“well, yeah. i’m part of the team, aren’t i?”

“but you’ll be finished with your hours in a week. there’s no reason for you to stay.”

“of course there is,” vi whispers, studying your face as it morphs from suspicious to something else, something gentler.

her heart is pounding as she waits for you to say something, so vi starts to dig into the pomegranate seeds, the juice surprisingly more sweet than sour. some dribbles out from the corner of her lips, and you reach over to wipe it away with your thumb.

“i’d love for you to stay,” you hum, smiling, and vi feels her chest glow with a brightness it seems only you can bring out. “turns out you give pretty good advice.”

“so…you’ll consider it.”

you shrug again. “maybe. i am very tempted to take you up on the car thing.”

“all yours, if you want it.”

“are you sure?”

“it’s fine, wonder woman. i’ll just carpool to practice — it’s better for the environment, anyways. can’t show up to the climate rally as a hypocrite, can i?” she jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “and, i’ll try to fix your car while you’re away.”

“wow. you are a gentleman.”

“gentleman? baby, i’m husband material.”

you actually laugh.

“i thought we were over gender norms,” you quip. “but yeah. you are.”

vi’s cheeks heat up at your statement. you most definitely notice her blushing because you break out into a toothy grin

“i missed you, v,” you admit. “any other words of wisdom?”

despite your tender smile, you look exhausted. vi just wants to hold you through it all, tell you it’s gonna be okay. instead, she settles for placing a gentle hand on your cheek, running her thumb over the deep shadow underneath your eye.

“get some rest, pretty girl.”

a few hours later, you wake up alone.

you have a vague memory of warm arms wrapped around you, a heart beating steadier than yours. your sheets smell like old spice, your apartment smells like fresh laundry. you get out of bed and notice that there are no more dishes in your sink, no more cans or containers on any surface. all the clothes you’d been meaning to wash are now carefully folded on your couch.

there’s a bright pink sticky note on your nightstand next to the keys to vi’s car.

you talk in your sleep. something about stargazing? maybe we can go when you get back.

drive safe. text me if you need anything.

xxx

- v

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights.

two minutes left in overtime.

one goal standing in the way of their trophy. one goal to end piltover’s monopoly over the title of national champions.

caitlyn probably told her knights to be extra aggressive — win by any means necessary — so it’s been a long game of dirty plays and intentional fouls.

vi always puts her heart into every single game, but this time —

this time, it’s personal.

zaun’s defense works to regain possession and prevent piltover’s attack. ashe manages to intercept a pass between two knights, and is quick in dribbling the ball until mid-field. she sends it over to vi with a swift kick. vi’s quick on her feet, catching piltover’s defense by surprise, sprinting closer and closer to the goal. she makes it to the penalty box.

this could be the winning point.

vi has it, too. she’s so fucking close, about to fake out the goalie and kick into that hard-to-defend sweet spot — until a sharp, pointy elbow collides with her ribs so abruptly, it knocks the wind out of her lungs. she stumbles forward over the ball, knees skidding onto the grass. whoever it is also steps on vi’s cleat for good measure.

“fuck!” she looks up to see who it is.

of course. it’s maddie fucking nolan, who doesn’t spare so much as a glance as the ref doles out a red card. she nods at caitlyn as she walks off the field, no doubt following her captain’s orders.

her teammates help vi to her feet, and the ref makes sure everyone is in position for the penalty kick.

this could be the winning point. vi just has to ignore caitlyn’s icy stare from a few feet away, and the heart threatening to beat out of her chest.

vi takes a deep breath.

she looks to the stands. among the crowd of screaming fans, zaunites and pilties alike, is vi’s family. they’re cheering.

you’re there too, sitting next to them.

everyone is staring at vi, waiting for the whistle, waiting for her to make the shot, but the only person she stares back at is you.

you’ve got this, v, you had whispered to her the night before. she couldn’t sleep, so she called you. vi wishes she was back there, now — tangled in flannel sheets, lucky snoring at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling until she finally fell asleep in your arms.

but, vi’s on the field.

and this is the winning point.

the whistle blows.

she makes the shot.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

“i told you i wasn’t a jinx!” powder sticks her tongue out at mylo.

she’s all sweat and dirt and adrenaline, but, fuck, if vi isn’t so, incredibly happy and proud of her team, of everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve accomplished.

it almost doesn’t feel real.

just like it doesn’t feel real, seeing you talk animatedly with her sister’s boyfriend, laughing along with her siblings, smiling as you watch her dads hug and praise her.

when it’s your turn to do the same, you practically leap into vi’s arms, gushing about how amazing she was, how proud you are of her.

“this looks good on you,” vi hums, as you pull away from another hug. her fingers play with the bottom of the jersey, and she bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself in the moment. you, with her family. you, in her jersey. “thinking of joining the yellowjackets?”

“i think i’ll leave the soccer to you,” you tell her. “you were amazing out there. guess i should be calling you wonder woman from now on, huh?”

“wonder woman! that’s where i remember you from!” vander suddenly exclaims, stepping closer to the pair of you. silco turns around, too. “you once tried to get into the last drop with a fake id, didn’t you? under the name diana prince?”

“shit,” you laugh nervously, eyes flickering between vander and the ground as if you’re once again a teenager caught in the act. “i….probably did.”

“i kicked you out, told you to go home to themyscira.”

“yeah…i….i remember that.” you nod slowly, furrowing your brows. “except, i didn’t want to go home that night, so i lingered outside,” you continue. you turn to vi, and your face softens. “which was when you —”

“brought two glasses of cherry coke and rum,” vi finishes; she sees flashes of that night as you gaze into her eyes. “we climbed onto the roof and —”

that was her first kiss. vi never even realized until now, but —

you were her first kiss.

“i can’t believe i forgot that.”

“weird, how memory works,” you agree, tilting your head curiously, looking at vi with a newfound interest, like a ghost from your past.

“well, isn’t this a story we’ll be sharing on your wedding day!” vander chuckles, ruffling vi’s hair.

“don’t pressure them, darling,” silco chides, but the smirk growing on his face gives him away. he’s loving this drama. “they’re barely 23 — i doubt they’ve discussed marriage.”

“oh, we’re not —”

“yeah, we’re just —”

“friends,” you say at the same time, careful to avoid eye contact.

vi feels like she might burst into flames at the knowing look vander and silco share.

“well, violet, would your friend like to join us for a celebratory dinner?” silco asks.

so that’s how you’re sitting between powder and claggor, listening to them talk your ear off about the young innovator’s competition. vi’s sitting across from you, next to ekko, who occasionally pipes in.

you’re here, sharing the tradition of a post-game meal with vi’s family at the local pizza parlour.

caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.

a few pizzas are ordered for the table, and you eat and laugh and sip your soda along with everyone else. you make a flower out of your paper napkin and hand it to isha, who’s on the other side of powder, and she gives you a toothy grin in return. you answer all the standard questions about your job and major and plans for the future.

“after graduation, i’m probably gonna take a break, get some work experience,” you explain. “maybe save up some money for law school a few years down the road.”

“you wanna be a lawyer, huh? you sure you wanna be friends with a felon, then?” powder asks, blowing bubbles into her soda through her straw.

vi coughs, choking on a mushroom.

“powder!”

“what! she never told you?”

you shake your head, glancing over at vi who suddenly finds it hard to look you in the eye. your foot has been pressed against hers underneath the table all night; you pull it away now. she takes a big gulp of water; vi looks over at vander and silco for help, but they seem to be caught up in their own conversation.

“oh, damn! ” mylo adds, leaning over. “it’s a great story!”

“guys, maybe don’t —”

“but it’s a great story!” mylo insists. “shows what a badass you are!”

“she didn’t do anything serious, like murder or anything,” powder clarifies. “it was really just her pissing off some enforcers —”

“rightfully so,” ekko adds.

claggor nods. “we were just kids. they were harassing us for some bullshit, disruption of property or whatever, so vi steps in and things get heated —”

“it takes three of enforcers to get her handcuffed, but she manages to get a few nasty hits in before they send her off to stillwater —”

“she spends three days there —”

“i thought it was two —”

“no, it was three —”

“needless to say, this isn’t the first time vi has been sentenced to community service, but it seems she’s really enjoying it this time, thanks to you,” powder finishes, winking at you.

“well that’s….quite the story,” you finally say, voice steady.

“oh! let’s tell her about the time she stole from some enforcers that were hoarding food —”

as powder continues the story, and you listen intently, it’s hard to read your expression.

are you ashamed of being friends with her? disgusted by her family, her past? regretful that you ever let her touch you, let her into your life?

vi’s stomach turns when your eyes collide; she’s been down this road before, and vi’s scared that she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

she pushes her chair back and disappears to the bathroom before she has to watch you walk away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

there’s a knock on the door.

“someone’s in here,” vi says. she grips the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white.

deep breaths.

this isn’t the same as before.

this isn’t caitlyn, who threw vi out like a piece of trash when something better came along.

then again, you never knew this much about vi’s past. you’re well within your right to —

there’s another knock.

“v? it’s me….i have to get going, but i wanted to check on you before i leave.”

“okay,” vi clips. she looks up at herself in the mirror; she had splashed her face with cold water to calm herself down. a drop falls from her chin. “bye.”

“are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine. see you around.”

you sigh, and vi hears you settle against the doorframe.

“violet, let me in,” you press. “please?”

“i’m fine. you can leave.”

“okay, well, i’m not leaving until i see that gorgeous face of yours one more time,” you whisper. “i got all dolled up just for you, and all i wanna do is give you a proper goodbye….”

well, when you put it like that….

vi grabs some paper towel to dry her face and fixes her hair before opening the door for you. you smile knowingly, enter and lock the door behind you.

you lean against the door as vi leans against the counter, the marble digging into her lower back.

“okay, i’ll start because, frankly, i don’t have time to waste,” you state after a few moments of silence. “nothing i’ve learned about you tonight has changed how i see you. it’s just confirmed some things.”

“right. like how impulsive and violent and reckless i’ve always been,” she lists glumly, unable to look you in the eye.

“maybe you are all those things,” you pause. “but, i don’t fucking care. i mean, i do, because it’s part of you and i like who you are. i like you.”

your words do wonders to ease the tension throughout vi’s body, and she feels like she can actually take a breath.

vi’s eyes lock onto yours.

“you do?”

“i like who you are, every part of it,” you tell her. “well, i don’t like that you’ve had to fight your way through an unbelievably fucked up system ever since you were a kid, but the bottom line is that you’re the strongest, most compassionate person i know.”

vi blinks at you.

“funny, i was just thinking the same thing about you the other day.”

neither of you say anything for a minute or so, letting the sentiment linger in the small space between you. once more, you’re the one to break the ice.

“well, you know what they say about great minds….” you step closer to vi. you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger. "can you guess what i’m thinking now?"

vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.

“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“what’s stopped you?”

you grin. “i didn’t want to make a fuss in front of your family, but now that we’re alone….”

vi doesn't say anything, but instead closes the gap between your lips.

you kiss her, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing her moans as your fingers snake down the waistband of her pants. you pull vi’s bottom lip with your teeth before moving to her neck, nipping along the outline of her tattoo. you bite down harder on her skin, right at her pulse point.

"what’s that you said earlier —” a low groan tumbles from vi’s lips when you start to suck just above her collarbones. another when your tongue soothes over the sting. “about a proper goodbye…?” she tugs your hair so that you’re looking right at her.

it’s quite the sight — your lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes curious and lustful.

“anything you want,” you whisper, all breathless.

vi hums. she slips a hand underneath the frayed hem of your denim skirt, and you gasp as her nails scrape against your inner thigh.

she likes that you’re here. here for her.

"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”

she pulls down her pants along with her briefs, as you kneel before her without hesitation.

you drape one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access to her cunt. vi grips your hair tighter, bringing you in closer, and you moan, sending vibrations up her body.

"fuck," vi hisses. you add a finger, while your tongue works her clit.

you bring her to the edge, stay with her even as her thighs clench around your skull. she expects you to get back on your feet right away, but you stay, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moans your name.

you pull away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promise. your chin glistens with vi’s release; you lick your lips as you gaze up at her through thick eyelashes. "can you do that for me?" she nods furiously, and you get back to work.

after letting her ride your tongue and fingers through another orgasm, you kiss her ankle before releasing her leg. vi pulls you up to your feet, sucks the taste of herself off your tongue.

you pull away slightly, heart racing against vi’s chest.

vi swipes her thumb over the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studies you, admires you, like you’re a fucking work of art that belongs in a gallery, like you didn’t just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a pizza parlour while wham's "last christmas" plays through shitty speakers.

"take these off." vi tugs at your tights. you do as instructed, slipping off your underwear as well. she pulls you towards her, and lodges a leg in between yours. your bare cunt brushes against her thigh, back and forth as she guides your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up…. wearing my jersey, and this pretty little skirt even though it’s so cold outside. all for me?"

vi flexes her thigh muscles, pushing you down faster and harder. you whimper.

"all – all for you.”

vi feels her pussy clench, with the desperation in your voice, the stickiness of your heat against her skin, the smell of the two of you intertwining. your orgasm crashes into you, and vi holds you through it.

you kiss her ever so sweetly before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...."

you look over as vi tucks your fuschia thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for christmas."

vi flashes you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulls up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. she likes the idea of walking around with you seeped into her skin.

when vi looks over at you, you’re as fully dressed as you can be and busy checking something on your phone. she only sees a flash of your lock screen, but it’s her. a photo of her and lucky playing at the park; there’s snow, so it had to have been a few days ago.

that doesn’t mean anything, right? people use photos of their friends for their wallpaper all the time.

“i really have to go,” you sigh. you pull a tube of lipstick from your pocket and step closer to the mirror. “hey — do you think we could switch shirts? not sure i should wear this to my next dinner.”

vi nods and you remove her jersey, revealing a matching fuschia bralette. she wonders what’s got you all coordinated — who else you’ve clearly dressed up for.

“so, you’ve got a hot date?” vi tries to act casual as she takes off her jacket, pulls off her shirt, and waits for you to answer. you take your time, fixing yourself in the mirror.

“something like that,” you finally say with a shy smile.

later, when isha’s asleep on powder’s lap in the backseat, vi thinks about how your date might have gone, if you’re taking them home to the same bed vi has fucked you in throughout these past few months.

where do you get off, fucking vi in the bathroom during dinner while her parents are at the table, only to leave for another date, wearing vi’s shirt, too?

“hey, can i ask you something?” ekko asks from beside her, cutting off the angry monologue in her head.

vi reaches over to turn down the music.

“sure, little man. what’s up?”

“what’s the deal between you and wonder woman?”

vi clears her throat, gripping the steering wheel. “what makes you think there’s a deal?”

“oh, please, we all noticed that hickey on your neck after she visited you in the bathroom.”

the car crawls to a stop as the light turns red, and vi adjusts the collar of her shirt.

“we’re just friends.”

“well, powder and i were just friends for ages,” ekko points out.

vi doesn’t notice that the light’s turned green until someone behind her honks. she steps on the gas, but the idiot behind her still cuts in front of her.

“asshole,” she grumbles, throwing them a middle finger for good measure. vi glances to her right at ekko, who’s scribbling something in his sketchbook despite only the streetlamps outside providing light. “so, what made you….realize that you wanted something more?”

ekko closes his book, smiling to himself.

“honestly? it was kinda a million little things, but what it really comes down to is that she’s the only person i could spend every second of my life with, and i’d still want more time. and, in my experience….it’s better to tell someone how you feel sooner rather than later.”

“or, some people prefer to wait a few weeks,” powder mumbles, stirring awake. “nice try, mister, but no interfering. i’m not losing 20 bucks.”

“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”

ekko smirks. “so it is love.”

vi shrugs, pretends that she doesn’t immediately picture you in your kitchen, making her banana pancakes at 2am when she hears the word love.

“it doesn’t matter.”

because, it really doesn’t matter.

you’re out with someone else right now.

it’s over before it really had a chance to begin.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

cupcake

Hey, Vi

Just wanted to say good game today

You played brilliantly

Violet

cupcake

No need for the attitude

I was just trying to be nice

Violet

my apologies!!!

thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman

i feel like i’m actually worth something now!!!

cupcake

Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling

Violet

im NOT your darling

cupcake

I’m aware

I saw you earlier with that girl

Are you together?

Violet

idk

are you still with maddie?

cupcake

Actually, we broke up

I was hoping you and I could chat

Violet

what’s in it for me?

cupcake

The chance to reconnect with an old friend

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

you can excuse vi no longer attending the weekly team meeting. she finished her 100 hours around thanksgiving, so technically she didn’t need to be there anymore.

maybe you could excuse her ignoring your calls, or leaving your texts on read. it’s finals season, and she did mention picking up a few extra shifts to save up for christmas presents.

but you simply can’t excuse vi walking into sappho’s with caitlyn fucking kiramman, ordering drinks from you like you’re absolute strangers.

“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe.

vi glances at her date. caitlyn’s waiting for her back at a table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her pretty face.

“what, should i have ordered something else? not every girl likes cherry coke and rum.”

you glare at her from across the counter, but start preparing their drinks nonetheless.

“why are you with her?” you throw some ice in a glass, the cubes clinking aggressively against the crystal. “are you back together?”

vi has the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “why’d you care?”

you catch yourself before saying something you’ll regret, something about liking her more than you definitely should considering the agreement the two of you had made.

clearly, vi doesn’t feel the same way; it’s not worth spilling your guts to her at your place of work.

“because we’re friends.”

“yeah, right,” vi scoffs. “you’re jealous, which you have no right to be because you’re seeing someone, too.”

you accidentally pour a double shot of vodka. you don’t really care, and mix the drink anyways.

“what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i’m talking about the date you went on the night of my championship game.”

“what date?” you slam the glasses in front of vi, so hard that you’re lucky they didn’t break.

“oh, don’t play dumb.” vi spits your name like it’s poison. “this whole thing started because you said you didn’t want a relationship, when really you just didn’t want a relationship with me. you used me until someone better came along. you lied to me.”

her eyes are glazed over, her voice shaking ever so slightly. you’re not sure if you’re more hurt or angry by what she’s saying, but it cuts deep; you continue as though you aren’t bleeding out in front of her.

“i don’t want a relationship with anyone and certainly not with you —”

“excuse me! are we able to order something?” someone with bright green hair and a septum piercing waves their hand in front of your face.

“yeah, just give us a second —”

“look, you and your girlfriend can fight on your own time.”

“she’s not my girlfriend!” you and vi snap simultaneously.

you glare at each other.

vi grabs the glasses from the counter, and walks away.

───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

it took many brainstorming sessions, many boring conversations with potential donors, and many, many tears, but you managed to secure enough funding to keep the women’s centre going for the foreseeable future.

it was a team effort, of course, so you just want everyone to enjoy this open mic night, the last event of the semester — even though you are weighed down by the absence of a certain someone.

the gallery space on campus that you rented out is both cozy and electric, decorated with fairy lights on the walls, with pillows and blankets on the floor for people to sit and watch performances. there’s a table with drinks and snacks, a corner for people to make art if they’re inspired.

you’re rearranging the food, watching gert perform an original song when mel slides in next to you, wearing a gorgeous white dress with gold accents.

“do you mind running to the office? we’re out of paint.”

“really? people don’t usually use the paint.”

“well, it seems to be quite popular tonight.”

“it’s fine. we still have lots of other stuff. they can just collage or something.”

mel shakes her head. “i really think you should go get more paint.”

“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”

“you could use a break, too,” mel cuts you off, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve been nonstop all day; the rest of us can hold down the fort for a little while.”

you concede, mostly because she’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue.

when you get to the office, you’re surprised to find the lights on. even more surprised that someone’s already there, sitting on the zebra-striped couch.

“vi?”

she jumps slightly when you say her name.

“mel texted me,” she rushes out like she’s been caught red-handed. “said she needed help with something she’d been planning.”

you frown, until you realize why mel must have sent you here, specifically.

you haven’t seen vi since that night at sappho’s; you’d been quite a mess after your shift, ranting to mel on the phone about how she’d been right and you should have been more careful, how you don’t know what you did that ruined whatever you and vi had, and you really don’t know what you can do to fix it.

you’re both too stubborn to reach out to the other, so it seems like mel decided to take matters into her own hands.

“yeah, i doubt she’s coming,” you tell vi.

“okay,” vi says, but she doesn’t move. “i, uh, i was hoping i’d run into you, though.”

“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at vi, crossing your arms. “needed another vodka martini for your piltover princess.”

“she’s not — we’re not together.”

“oh,” you exhale. the animosity you were holding towards her evaporates, but doesn’t completely disappear. you watch her, watching you stand by the doorway.

there are so many things you want to tell her, but you don’t even know where to start. you know that you’ve hurt her. she hurt you, too.

but, also:

you miss the cloudy blue-gray of her eyes, the scar on her upper lip.

you miss her.

“do you wanna come sit?”

after being so far away from vi, for what feels like forever, you don’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. your knees brush together as you settle next to her on the couch, a jolt of electricity passing through your body at the contact.

“so, i admit that —”

“vi, you were right —”

both of you stop your sentences short, chuckling nervously. you each urge the other to continue, and only get caught in a similar mess:

“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.

“i lied to you,” you confess at the same time.

an awkward, unfamiliar silence hangs above you; you’re not sure what to do next.

vi takes the leap. she tells you that mel explained everything: that you had to attend a dinner with alumni and potential donors on the same night of her championship game, but you kept it from vi since it was already a big moment for her; that you haven’t been on a real date with anyone else since september. vi apologizes for jumping to conclusions and falling back into caitlyn’s arms, shutting you out when she should have just talked to you.

you’re the girl who was her first kiss, she says. the girl who lingered in a vague memory, appeared in the fiction of her daydreams, and then suddenly became too real.

“i like you. i really fucking like you. and if it has to be as a friend, that’s fine because i don’t want to lose you.” vi takes a shattered breath, blinking back tears. she fiddles with the ring on her index finger, anxiously bouncing her knee. you place your hand there to steady her, and she exhales. “i guess i’m just not sure….when you said you liked me that night at the restaurant….is that what you lied about?”

vi’s practically doe-eyed, waiting for you to respond.

you shake your head.

“i lied when i said that i didn’t want a relationship with you,” you admit, and the hint of a smile dances across her lips. “i had this major crush on you, you know? every time you came into sappho’s….i couldn’t help it. and then you showed up here and we became friends, and then we started….well, you know the rest.”

“duh. i was there,” vi jokes, easing into her usual, playful self.

“i can’t do the whole casual thing,” you continue, rubbing circles into her knee with your thumb. “i know we made a promise, but i just can’t, not with you. it’s like…in every other relationship i’ve been in, i was trying to run out the clock. with you, though, with us, i feel like there’s never enough time —”

vi grabs your neck and crashes her mouth onto yours before you can finish your sentence.

you’ve kissed each other many times, in many different places, in many different ways, but never like this: like you’re both willing to break one promise if it means forging a new one.

“will you be my girlfriend, violet rose atlas?” you whisper as you pull away, lips brushing against hers.

you start to count the freckles on her cheeks as she beams at you, pulls you into her lap.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

2K notes · View notes

winwintea · 3 months ago

Text

inyun

PAIRING ↬ next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”

SUMMARY ↬ when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 인연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?

WORD COUNT ↬ 3.7k+

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in… thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33

PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver

THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:

"인연"

it means providence or fate.

but it's specifically about the relationships between people.

it's an "인연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.

Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.

You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.

“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”

Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Are… are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”

“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”

“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”

“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”

“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.

“This is your first day here?”

“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”

Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”

“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.

When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”

Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.

“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.

“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.

“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.

You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.

Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have… instant ramen?”

Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”

After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.

On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon.

Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on.

That’s when you spot him.

Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.

“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”

You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”

“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”

You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.

“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”

“Basically. Or… get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like… how many candles do you keep at home?”

“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”

“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”

The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months.

Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.

—

A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.

“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”

“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.

Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”

That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”

“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”

“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”

“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”

A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.

“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.

Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”

You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”

He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”

“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”

You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.

By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.

—

Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.

“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.

You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”

“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”

You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.

“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”

You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”

Later, you text him a picture of your pantry.

YOU: Your VIP pass is ready

MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂

The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din.

You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.

When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.

A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.

“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.

Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”

“Like…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”

You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then…” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush…”

Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”

“Yeah.”

“And… hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but… I’ve had the exact same dream.”

For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”

“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”

“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”

The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.

“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.

Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 인연—fate, you know? Like… maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”

You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”

He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true…” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”

Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense.

You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.

Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.

“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.

For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.

It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.

You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange… and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.

“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”

Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”

“Uh... The dog?”

“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.

But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.

“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”

You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”

He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”

You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.

“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”

“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”

You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.

—

It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.

You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.

For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city.

Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 인연.”

You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”

He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But… I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”

Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like… we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”

Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to… I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”

The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”

Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So… what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not… then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”

“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard.

You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”

The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say.

Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”

Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.

“So… if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go… it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.

“Not really. I’m just winging it.”

You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.

As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania

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propertyofwicked · 9 months ago

Text

WANTED - LN

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open for requests (or if u just want a chat!) ✧

warnings - smut! MDNI!! jealous!lando, fingering + oral (fem receiving), possessive!! unprotected (stay safe yall), spitting, light slapping (u have been warned) not proofread

ur girl has finally officially finished first year!! i have never felt so freeee (im ignoring the fact i now have to move out rip) (also osc p2 monaco lets gooooo)

masterlist the playlist

lando had been busy lately, too busy. between races, training, and quadrant, it seemed like he barely had any time to himself, or to spend with y/n. she understood, of course, she knew how demanding his career was - but understanding didn't make the loneliness any easier to bear.

and even when he was around, it’s like he wasn’t there at all, not for her at least.

everyone was stood around at the end of a quadrant shoot - it had only been filmed at max’s house so the group settled into the living room easily. y/n there to accompany lando since she had little else to do, desperate to spend any time she could with her boyfriend before he flew off to the next race - even if it did mean sleeping in max’s spare room.

lando stood on the opposite side of the room, talking almost exclusively to max, whilst she sat on the sofa, alone.

y/n didn’t think anything of it when will came and sat next to her, showing her a meme on his phone that she laughed at. and she didn’t think anything of it when they continued the friendly conversation. it felt good to be noticed, to have someone ask her how she’d been - maybe she laughed a little too much at a joke that wasn’t funny, maybe it was just the first time anyone had shown her any attention in a while.

across the room, lando watched the interaction with a frown. he saw the way y/n laughed, the way she leaned in a little too close to his friend. he knew he had been neglecting her, but seeing her with someone else made his blood boil. he wasn’t possessive, no, and usually the sight of his girlfriend laughing with their friends didn’t strike any anger in him. but this was different.

“— we can post that next week sometime?” max said, interrupting his thoughts.

“yeah, yeah - sounds good,” lando replied, not really listening, “i’ll be back in a minute, just need to do something,” he added before striding across the room, leaving max stood alone, his face contorting into slight confusion.

“hey," lando said to the two, his voice low, "mind if i steal her for a minute?"

will looked somewhat confused, but nodded. lando reached out, taking y/n wrist before yanking her from the sofa, pulling them into the hallway. the door shut behind them, y/n’s mouth opened, ready to ask him what was so urgent.

"lando, what are you—"

but he didn't let her finish, pushing her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head, caging her in.

"what the hell were you doing?" he demanded, his eyes sharpening with jealousy. he was met with her eyes glaring up at him in defiance.

"i was having a conversation, lando. something i rarely do with you because you're always so busy."

"so your idea of fun is flirting with my friends?" his jaw clenching.

"flirting?" she shot back, shocked, “he was asking me how i was?”

“and that’s why you were two seconds away from giggling and twirling you hair for him, no?” lando continued to argue, anger still bubbling in him as one hand dropped to her hip, gripping tightly.

“ok, i was flirting with him and now, we’re going to run away and live a long and happy life together - is that what you wanna hear?” she continued, shrugging slightly as she sighed at the ridiculousness.

he stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving. without warning, he crashed his lips onto hers roughly, his possessiveness filled with pent-up frustration and desire he'd been ignoring for weeks. y/n responded instantly, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping her bottom lip, begging for more.

"lan," she breathed out as he broke the kiss, whining slightly as his mouth moved to press kisses down her neck, nipping at the flesh harshly, "there’s people here."

"’don't care," he growled against her skin. "you're mine, and im going to remind you of that."

he kissed her again, his hands roaming over her body, gripping at her hips. she moaned into his mouth, her resistance melting away. she was engulfed in him, the way he touched her, the way he pushed her further into the wall as his hips rolled into hers.

"need you," she breathed when he pulled back for air, his forehead resting against hers.

he nodded, his pupils blown with his own need.

"come on," he told her, taking her hand to guide them up the stairs to max’s spare room.

stumbling through the door, clothes already being discarded, lando pushed her onto the bed, his eyes raking over her body.

"you're so beautiful," he murmured, crawling over her. "and mine. only mine."

"only yours," she whispered, pulling him down to kiss him again.

“gonna need you to be quiet f’me, ok?” he told her as his lips trailed her body, his body sliding down the bed till he was resting on his knees. he pulled her legs closer to him so his face was level with her heat, her hips moved upwards, desperate for anything after weeks of nothing.

“patience, angel,” lando breathed out, moving his finger to toy with her clit slowly. he wrapped an arm around her leg, pulling it over his shoulder as he rests his forearm over her stomach, stopping her wriggling. his finger returns to her folds, slowly he pushing a digit inside her, feeling the stretch around him. his lips joined onto her clit, sucking harshly as he added a second finger, curling them up into her.

“please lan,” she moaned out, unsure of what she was even asking for.

his fingers never faltered, continuing their assault as they hit that spot that had her pushing her hips up, his tongue circling her clit once more before he pulled his face away from her heat. his eyes flittered from looking up at her before moving back to watch as his fingers disappeared inside her. she tightened around him, her breathing heavier as she began to fall apart for him. she was getting fidgety, her moans gaining in volume as his thumb returned to her clit, rubbing deep circles, his other hand still pushing two fingers into her at an alarming rate.

“shush angel,” lando told her, before trailing his spare hand up her body and pushing his thumb into her mouth slowly. her hand moved to grip his arm as her tongue glided along his thumb. as much as he wanted to hear her, as much as he wanted everyone to know who she belonged to, he also wanted her all to himself - no one else deserved to hear her fall apart for him.

his mouth barely had time to return to her clit before her legs were shaking around him, clamping around his head periodically as she came around his fingers.

“good girl,” lando mumbled against her thigh, his fingers slowing inside her as she rode out her high.

“need more lan, please,” y/n begged, pulling at his arm to bring his body back to hover over hers.

“so needy,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her lips, allowing her to taste herself.

“been too long,” she told him, a hand reaching down to tug at his hardened length a few times.

he would’ve felt guilty about neglecting her needs for so long, if it wasn’t for the feeling of her fingers wrapping around him, her thumb circling his tip before spreading pre cum down his cock.

“let me make it up to you,” lando told her, pressing a kiss to her jaw, before taking himself in his hands and running his tip through her slick folds. he pushed into her roughly, finding himself desperate to feel her after so long.

“breathe for me angel,” he told her, pulling out slightly as he felt the way her body tense,, “feel so good.”

his cock pushed into her again, setting a steady pace as he leant back over to kiss her harshly.

“feels good,” she told him, eyes looking into his. his necklace dangled from his neck, the cool metal settling on her skin.

“yeah? ‘my the only person who makes you feel like this?” he asked bitingly.

“you snatched me away before will had the chance to do a better job,” she teased cautiously.

lando pushed himself back, rising to stand at the end of the bed, his cock never leaving her. he pulled her legs again, yanking her roughly to the edge of the bed before pulling one of her legs over his shoulder. her eyes began to glaze over from the new position, his length thrusting into her tightening walls at a relentless pace. however, a sharp sting on her cheek brought her back to reality, sending shots of pleasure to her core whilst tears pricked her eyes. lando’s had slapped at her face lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to tell her that she had pissed him off a little too much.

“you wanna say that shit again?” he grunted, slowing his pace to roll his hips into hers tauntingly.

she genuinely considered it for a moment, contemplating how possessive he could get if she teased him further, but his fingers dipped into her cheek, holding her jaw tight.

she shook her head quickly as if to say no, refraining from flinching as his hand moved, but this time it fell gently, stroking her cheek where it stung.

“good answer,” lando added, returning to a regular pace, “you gonna behave now?”

“i wi- will,” she choked out, nodding despite his grip on her face, “i promise.”

satisfied with her answer, his fingers moved to toy with her clit. using the leg over his shoulder and her other leg wrapped around his waist as an anchor, her hips rose from the bed, moving in circular motions to match the pattern his fingers drew on her heat. lando’s free hand gripped at her calf, pulling her closer to him, deepening his thrusts. the tip of his cock pressing desperately into her as she whimpered and moaned his name.

lando leaned forward to kiss her, letting her leg over his shoulder drop to his waist so that she wasn’t folded literally in half. y/n wrapped around him tightly, pulling him in to kiss her deeper, tongues clashing as his thrusts faltered slightly. he balanced on his arm as his head dropped from her lips, his teeth nipping at the skin of her breast before his lips wrapped around her nipple, his free hand moved to grip tightly onto her other breast, fingers toying with her.

y/n whimpered, trying to keep quiet as she remembered how many people were also in the house. lando smirked to himself, loving the way she sounded, the way her heat gripped around his length as he moved inside her. his teeth pulled at the skin of her breast again, the flesh moving with him as he pulled away before dropping, bouncing slightly as it landed.

“so pathetic,” he grunted, feeling his high coming rapidly as he looked at her head thrown back. her mouth hung open, heavy breaths escaping, and her nails gripped tightly into the skin of his bicep. his other hand moved to settle lightly on her neck, thumb and index finger holding her jaw open for him. lando’s face hovered above hers, their eyes locking as a trail of spit fell from his mouth, landing on her tongue. he watched as she swallowed it, before re-joining their lips in a messy kiss.

“look at you, taking me so well,” he cooed, “’m so stupid for neglecting you,” he added, his tone softening from his previous frustration.

“not stupid,” she reassured, kissing his jaw.

“i love you,” he told her softly, despite his hips quickening in their movement, feeling the way her legs tightened as she got closer to her climax. his lips returned to her neck, sucking softly at the flesh, blood running cold as his ears picked up on the way she panted out his name.

“lan, baby, im go-”

“i know,” he told her, eyes squeezing shut, “let go baby, i got you.”

she came hard and fast around him, the tightening of her walls bringing him to his own climax.

“can i come inside?” he asked her, almost begging. she nodded rapidly, unable to talk as her mind became fuzzy.

“fuck,” he grunted, hips snapping into hers desperately before shooting ropes of warm cum into her, filling her completely, “all mine,” he said, more to himself than her.

lando pulled out slowly, careful of the way her eyes screwed up from the sting before rolling to lay next to her, chests heaving in unison. he turned his head to face her, noting the bruises forming on her neck and her chest, till his eyes settled on the red flush of her cheek.

“i didn’t hurt you did i?” he asked softly, hand reaching up to stroke at the redness.

“not really, it was hot,” she said with a shrug, smirking as she turned her head to face him.

“noted,” lando replied, laughing lightly.

“love it when you get possessive,” y/n added, cautious with her next statement, “makes me feel wanted.”

“im sorry i ever made you feel unwanted, angel. i never meant to,” he sighed, pulling her body close to his so that her head rested on his bare chest, “ill do better i promise.”

“i know you will, lan - i just wish i didn’t have to ask to be wanted, you know?” she told him, her fingers stroking lightly at his shoulder.

“you are wanted, y/n,” he repeated fiercely, “you are everything to me. i think i just got too comfortable with how things were, i jus- it took the thought of you leaving, the thought of you with someone else to bring me back to reality.”

“i am yours lando, forever,” she assured him, holding out her pinky to join his, “i promise. besides, if you keep fucking me like that i don’t think i could ever leave,” she joked.

“yeah?”

“but if you keep spitting in my mouth i may go completely feral, you won’t be able to get rid of me,” she said, smirking up at him, “do that again and you’re actually having my children.”

“that’s…not possible?” he questioned, smiling at her.

“so you don’t love me? is what you’re saying?” she asked, pushing herself up to look in dead in the eyes, her mouth straining to stay clamped shut in fear of laughing.

“i fear for what i have started,” lando laughed, pulling her back tightly into his chest.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked

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satellitespinner · 2 months ago

Text

⁺₊❆⋆ ୨⎯ merry christmas, im not yours at all. merry christmas, please dont call. ⎯୧ ⁺₊❆⋆

pairings: ex!ellie x ex!oc/reader

synopsis: an involuntary trip back to your hometown brings back unwanted memories of the girl who broke your heart years before. when youre met with her unexpectedly, you have to decide wether or not to pursue her, or give her a taste of her own medicine. or maybe both.

wc: 6.7k (SMUT; ellie eats pussy then yall ✂️✂️.. angst, cheating, crying, slight comfort but no happy ending, reader is an offputting bitch who cries alot. joel and DINA mention!!!!!! the words and and you are used alot.. oc is shorter than ellie & has hair.)

MERRY CHRISTMAS DYKES IN MY PHONEEE !!! ilysm! im so excited to post this holy fucking shit shyt. interact i beg u. reblogs and comments are encouraged i loveee talking to you guys sm!!! 🫵🏼 come ttm and ill talk back! heavily inspired by my twin @coeurify !! i suggest you go read ttds 1 before reading this!

Christmas of freshman year Ellie bought you a bouquet of red and yellow flowers, you cried.

Christmas of sophomore year she burned you a cd with your shared playlist on it. She titled it ‘our songs” and you cried.

The next year she wrote you a song, it was truly beautiful. it made you cry.

Christmas of senior year was different. That year, your parents decided to use the break to visit universities and then stay at a nearby family member's house for the holiday. Before you left Ellie managed to gift you a shiny heart pendant with her initial carved onto the front and a picture of you two glued to the inside. you cried, hugged her, and told her you loved her.

The Christmas before you left for university Ellie broke up with you. This was the hardest you cried in five years.

So much for a Merry Christmas.

That was two years ago. you haven’t been back to your hometown since then, simply because you knew you couldn’t bear to face her. Going back to Jackson meant running into Ellie, and you weren’t ready for that.

until now, apparently.

your dearest mother had called you and told you that if you didn’t come back this year all your shit was going to the goodwill. Maybe Ellie wasn’t the only reason you avoided your hometown.

So here you were, driving the sickly long drive to the closest place to hell on earth. you had to stop four times because your tears were blurring your vision. when you were finally met with the “Welcome to Jackson” sign, you threw up in your mouth. your driveway mocked you as you sat in your car attempting to collect yourself. you contemplated turning around, driving back to campus and telling your mom to burn your stuff for all you care. But, you didn’t. it was late and you needed sleep. so you pulled your keys out of the ignition, grabbed your belongings and made your way to the front door. your parents greeted you with tights hugs and uncomfortable small talk.

“How’s school, sweetheart?” your mom asked, your dad sneaking off to bring your bags to your old bedroom. “its school.” you kept you answers curt. not trying to engage in useless conversation at this hour. your mom picked up on your exhaustion and excused you with a tight lipped smile. the second you entered your room you regretted the entire trip. she was everywhere. pictures of you kissing on your dresser, her hoodies in your closet and of course, her initial still around your neck, above your heart.

you walked around the room, your cheeks already wet with tears. you picked up a photo that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw out when it ended. it was you and ellie snuggled up on dina’s couch, taken by her of course. you both looked so peaceful. the photo began to blur as the tears really started to fall. your legs gave out underneath you, causing you to fall against the wall. it was like a scene from a movie, a pathetic one at that.

You couldn’t remember exactly when you had fallen asleep, but it was late. you woke up in a fetal position on the floor, with an old picture of you and Ellie held tightly to your chest. your poor back..

the morning was still, your parents were still sleeping when you woke up, something you were very much grateful for considering the amount of questions you knew were to come your way when they did finally wake up. you set the picture back in its place hesitantly.

the lower level of your house was cold, the cold floors hitting your feet woke you up as you made your way to the kitchen. almost immediately upon arrival you decided that your mothers coffee brand wouldn’t do. she always bought the gross nutmeg flavoured creamer.

coffee shop in town it is!

you always hated ben’s, the coffee was mediocre at best and priced at a whopping seven dollars, but it would suffice for today. at least until you could get to the grocery store. the walk was short, thank god. you grabbed your jacket and scarf from the hook and made your way out the door. you were surprised, but relieved that you hadn’t had the misfortune of running into anyone you used to know.

The cafe had a welcoming atmosphere that you knew all too well, yet grew to despise. you ended up hating most parts of this town, the tight knit community, the overpriced coffee, everything. then you left. in your final days of staying in jackson, it was like you were gasping for air. then finally after you had gone to university, you could breathe again.

“Is that who I think it is?!” the cashier beamed from their place behind the counter. you could recognize that voice anywhere. the voice of riley abel, a girl you had gone to school with. she was voted most likely to move far away after grad, how ironic.

‘Hey, riley. how are you?” you asked as you walked up to the counter, trying your absolute best to sound interested. you zoned out as she rambled on about her life.

you picked at your fingernails while she spoke, her voice a distant muffle. you didn’t want to be rude and tell her to shut up, but damn this girl couldn’t talk.

“Anyways, how are you? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!” she smiled and you couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m doing fine.” she took your awkward answer as a hint and switched the subject. small talk should be banned.

“So what can i get for you?” she asks, typing away at the ipad on the counter. you contemplated for a moment before answering. you skimmed the menu for the cheapest option that didn’t taste like shit.

“I’ll get a medium french vanilla, please.” you grab your phone from your pocket, opting for apple pay instead of cash. she gives you a small, forced smile. “your total is eight dollars and twenty-five cents. cash or card?” your eyes widen at the price. “card, please.” she nods and passes you the pin pad. you gently tap your phone on the top of it as she begins to make your coffee.

A few minutes pass before riley calls you back up to the counter. she handed you a small cup with your name written on the side, along with a small smiley face. you thanked her and smiled at her small act of kindness.

your walk home is longer, many of the places you used to frequent, bustling with people that you could recognize by face. you almost stopped a few times, pausing and staring into oblivion. you never had the guts to actually enter though.

when you arrived back home you parents were sitting around the dining table, your dad, fairly engaged in the newspaper greets you with a smile. your mother doesnt look up from her phone until you speak. “Saw riley at bennys.” she hums and looks you up and down, it was like no matter where you went there was some weird tension in the air.

“You couldn’t have made coffee at home?” she snarks, tipping her glasses off her nose. “Just wanted some fresh air.” you reply nervously, not wanting to be fighting with her already. clearly your attempts worked because she stopped there. you swallowed the lump in your throat and retreated to your room.

you weren't sure what you were going to occupy yourself for these two weeks, packing up all the shit you wanted wouldn't take more than a few hours. you contemplated just taking your belongings and going back but you knew your mom would disapprove with that idea.

you decided that the most worthwhile decision for now would be to resume your place in a current book you were reading, a silly romcom you were gifted by your roommate before you came home. at least until your mother asked you to help her bake some cookies, or run to target for some last minute christmas gifts.

six chapters in and you were finally starting to get into it when you get a text. a text from Dina, a close highschool friend. you tried to stay in contact after you left, but the relationship fizzled out into short happy birthdays, and merry christmases.

D-Dawg💘

Hey! i heard from riley that you're back for break, we all miss you.

You laugh at the corny name you assigned to her contact in high school, the name had blossomed after a drunk comment from jesse, comparing her to a dog simply because of her big brown eyes.

D-Dawg💘

were having a little get together tonight, if you’re up to it you should come by. you're always welcome.

you decided to ignore the message for now, you weren't really up for the whole forced small talk that came with seeing all your old friends again. as far as you knew they were all still hanging out, everyday, without you. instead you decided to resume your place in your book, hoping to find some sort of entertainment in it.

you’re in the middle of chapter twelve of your book, Wes and Liz had just gotten into an accident in the rain when your mom calls you down stairs. you trot down the stairs, phone in hand. when you arrive, you stick on the last step, the wooden floors still cold. you're greeted with your mother in her signature bird print apron.

“Did you wanna help me with the baking, or were you just gonna sulk in your room all break?” she asks. you clear your throat and step down the last step. you shove your phone into your hoodie pocket, “Yeah ill help, i’d love to.”

“Babe, get your damn fingers outa the cookie dough!” ellie laughs as she grabs your wrist, pulling you out of the batter. you had forced her into baking with you after you saw a stupid couples tiktok. “Relax, its just us eating them anyway.” you defend, you even noticed your precious girlfriend sneaking chocolate chips from the bowl once in a while.

“Yeah, well i don't play about my christmas cookies.” she puts her hands on her hips and glares at you jokingly. you giggle at her actions. “We can tell, fatty.” you joke, her eyes widen and her jaw drops. “What did you just say!?” her slack jaw turning into a toothy smile quickly.

“Nothin’ i didn't say nothin’” you laugh and turn back to shaping the cookies. she steps closer to you and places her hands on either sides of your hips. “Well, thats weird. cause’ I definitely heard something.” she starts moving her fingers in slow circles over your pj pants, her lips meeting your neck slowly.

“hell, ellie. why are you the horniest woman on the planet.” you drop your final cookie onto the tray and turn around to face her, her hands now moving to the sides of your face. “Not my fault I have the prettiest girlfriend ever.” she states, matter of factly. her lips now kissing your own, causing you to smile against her. you move your hands to the back of her neck, slowly twirling with the back of her hair. you both giggle against each others lips, “I love you” you whispered against her. “i love you too, baby.”

the soft moment was interrupted by the oven beeping, signaling it was time to finally bake the cookies. she pulls her hands off of your hips and reaches for the pan, nodding at you to open the oven. “Careful, don't burn yourself.” you open the oven door enough for her to slip the tray in without accidentally knocking her hand against the wall and giving herself third degree burns (again)

you both high five once the cookies were in the oven baking. “i think we make a pretty good team!” you say as you turn the tap on to wash the dough off your hands. “Hell yeah we do, baby!” ellie shouts, smacking your ass. you laugh loudly at her antics. “Ouch ellie!” you cry, pulling a towel off the counter to dry off your hands. she rolls her eyes at your exaggeration.

“Sorry, babe. want me to kiss it better?”

“Will you shut up?”

Baking cookies with your mother was a stressful, if not brutal experience. she was a bossy, nitpicky perfectionist. it was like you could never do anything right with her, everything had to be 100% perfect. she would argue that you weren't trying or you didn't care, but you did. if anything you cared too much.

“I told you to do it like this! not whatever you're doing.” she scolded and nearly ripped the bowl from your hands, demonstrating how she really wanted it done. you throw your hands in the air, “I am, fuck!” you whisper yelled in frustration. your mother abruptly dropped the bowl onto the counter. “Don't you swear at me!” she pointed her pointer finger in your face.

“Oh my god.” you mumbled under your breath. you brought two of your fingers to your temples and squeezed tightly, trying to calm yourself down. “What is your problem?!” your mother crossed her arms as she yelled. “I cant fucking- I cant do this! this is exhausting!” you quickly untied your apron and tossed it on the counter. throwing yourself up the stairs. your mother followed behind you.

“If I'm so exhausting then why don't you pack your shit and get out of my house, huh?!” she shouted, grabbing onto your arm, you pulled it away from her. “Because! you asked me to come! i thought we could've had a normal christmas for once!” by now you had salty tear drops racing down your cheeks, it wasn't pretty.

“well i shouldn't have. so that was my mistake.” she stops on the stairs when she says this. your heart stops for a moment when she says this. the tears come harder when you slam your door shut and lock it.

right now you felt like you were a teenager again, petty arguments with your mom is when you needed ellie the most, you would hop out your window and run to her house. she welcomed you with open arms and told you how much she loved you. she would hold you for hours and whisper praises into your ears while you cried.

But right now, at this moment you couldn't do that, because there was no more ellie.

After scream sobbing into your pillow like an angry child, you fell asleep.

you woke up with a throbbing headache and the need for water. you also woke up to a few unread messages from a few of your friends from highschool.

Jesseee

Hey, r u coming tn? dina said she invited u but u didn’t answer. We miss U

smartass (derogatory)

hi its abby! heard ur in town

smartass (derogatory)

we should hangout before you leave!

you sighed and glanced up at the time. 8:04pm. you had two options, go pack to sleep, or stay up and wallow in self pity. or-

D-Dawg💘

were having a little get together tonight, if you’re up to it you should come by. you're always welcome

hii dina, i’d love to see you! what time does it start? :)

D-Dawg💘

8! didnt think u were gonna reply! but def come by!

her reply came fairly quick. you glanced up at the time on your phone, 6;00. you could work with that. two hours to make sure you look good, just in case you see.. she who shall not be named. you pulled your suitcase out from under your bed. you rummaged for a few minutes until you were met with the one dress you brought with you because you knew your parents had some stupid family dinner planned for christmas day. the dress was modest, classy but not too fancy. next was your makeup makeup bag. you decided to keep your makeup simple too, so you looked good, but not like you were trying to look good.

you brought your makeup bag to the bathroom and started the shower. you usually tried to be quick with your showers considering you were using the only bathroom in the house. you let the warm water hit the back of your neck. for a while, you just sat. sat and stared at the wall. the longer you did this though, the higher your anxieties got. finally, after your neck started to burn from the water, you got on with your business, scrubbing your skin raw and washing your hair as quick as you could. you might be a little late..

after an hour and four almost-breakdowns you had gotten your hair to cooperate. you knew your makeup wouldn’t take long to get done so you before you started you checked your phone. no new notifications from anyone except dina, a simple follow up text of “it will be fun, i promise.” you debated asking her to confirm your fears of ellie’s attendance. maybe knowing would calm you just a bit.

Is she gonna be there?

please be honest.

D-Dawg 💘

she was invited, im not sure if she’ll show up though.

D-Dawg💘

Please don’t stress over this though. its been so long.

im aware, but its still scary

plus you’re all still friends. im not really part of

that anymore.

D-Dawg💘

maybe you guys could talk about it?

i can’t do that. you know i can’t

i will literally die.

likr

my life will end.

D-Dawg💘

sighs loudly…..

fine. but if she comes you

aren’t irish goodbying out my back door.

…

MAYBE.

see u soon -_-

you turned up your music and then shut off your phone, leaving it face down on the counter as you began your makeup. you gently hummed along with the lyrics as the soft brushes worked over your skin. the delicate touches reminding you of ellie’s gentle fingers tracing soft shapes into your cheeks as you slept in her arms. she was never scared to hold you, to tightly pull you into her body and keep you warm.

by the time you had finished your makeup and wiggled into your dress, it was 7:45. the drive to dinas wasn’t long and you didn't want to get there early and be left to awkwardly wait around for everyone else to arrive. so you decided to scroll on your phone to pass the time.

at 8:12 you pulled into dina’s driveway and immediately noticed the differences in her home. the christmas decorations were no longer over the top, and the driveway was shoveled neatly. dina had told you to just let yourself in when you arrived. your hand shook with anxiety as you reached the doorknob. you took one last deep breath and entered the house.

“Bitch, you’re unseasoned chicken.” are the first words you hear as you shut dinas door. you easily recognize jesses voice, throwing insults at abby over a heated card game.

“yikes.” you say, heads turn in your direction. you awkwardly laugh at the group reaction. “I told you she was coming, you dummies.” Dina shouted, her voice booming from the kitchen as she walked over to you, pulling you into a firm embrace.

you scanned the room for any sign of ellie. well, there were many things that could be considered signs of ellie around the house. like the homemade ornaments on dina’s tree. you had all had a sleepover one night in sophomore year and decided to create little hand painted ornaments for fun. ellie’s was a painting of the four of you as stick figures, yours and ellie’s had a big red heart painted over the top of their heads.

the memories flooded in as you stared down the tree, to anyone else this probably would’ve looked really weird, but your friends new. jesses voice interrupts your thoughts, you tore your eyes from the tree to look at him.

“she hasn’t shown up yet.”

and she never did.

Ellies absence didn't make the night any better, however. you hoped it would but it didn't. you were still bombarded with questions that you weren’t quite sure how to answer. dina had probably asked you about a thousand times to just talk to her! but you refused. you were not about to start up a conversation with your ex like nothing had happened between you two. especially when it was her shitty actions, not yours.

you didn't regret going but by the time it was time for you to leave you were happy to do so, your friends bargained with you to stay the night like the rest of them but you politely declined. you did promise to see then all properly before you headed back to campus, though. stating that a proper hangout was long overdue.

after you had said your goodbyes dina had offered to walk you out to your car, you told her you would be fine but she persisted.

“So, ellie texted me.” she slowed to a stop with her arms crossed. you sighed and turned around to face her, leaning your body against your car. “Do i even wanna know?” you roll your eyes. dina steps closer to you, joining you against the hood of your car. dina chuckles, trying to recall ellie’s exact words. “said she wanted to talk, she sounded apologetic” she looks up at you. scanning your face for any emotions.

“Dina-“

“Please, just listen.” she interrupts, “i miss my best friends, everyone misses you guys. nothings been the same since.” her voice going from firm and loud, to a shaky whisper. you sighed.

“I know, D. this is hard for me too. you’d think it would've gotten easier to be here, in this town but its not. i feel like i can’t breathe.” dina nods in understanding. you softly sniffle, the cold air makes your face tighten. the both of you stay silent for a while. dina knew there was more to be said, but she didn’t want to push you.

“I’m sorry.” dina looks back up at your face, her voice now held a panicked tone. you close your eyes, throwing up your hand in a worn out manner, “It’s fine-

“But its not! you’re my best fucking friend. and even though it felt like shit when you just- up and ghosted us, i understand why.” she she paused for a moment, moving her body from beside you to standing in front of you, mirroring you. “And i understand if you never wanna see ellie again, but i missed you so bad, so fucking bad.” at this point shes crying, fat tears run down her cheeks. you coo and bring her into your arms.

”oh dina, if anything i should be the one apologizing.” the shorter woman sobs into your shoulder. you both cried into each other like a cheesy soap opera. this was the one thing you missed about being in jackson. “i missed you so much”

The sound of your doorbell reverberated across your house, “ill get it!” you ran so fast to the door that you had tripped over your own feet a few times. you opened the door to reveal ellie and joel behind it. a small smile growing on her face when it was in fact you who opened the door and not your mother.

“You look pretty” she says as she walks in,you thank her with a small kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas!” you greet joel quickly before he retreats to the kitchen, probably to drink wine and gossip with your parents. “I like your sweater.” you look her up and down, gesturing to the wool sweater that adorned her figure.

“Oh thanks, My girlfriend got it for me!” she says sarcastically, you roll your eyes at her stupid joke. “Yeah, I know.” you grab her by the wrist and tug her up the stairs to your bedroom. you shuffled her into your room and quickly shut the door behind you.

“Would you care to see your gift?” you asked, in a pretend seductive voice. she nodded persistently and shot you a toothy grin. “Perfect!” you clap your hands together and open up your closet, retrieving a small red box with a big green ribbon wrapped around the top.

you couldn’t contain your excitement when you handed her the gift, your body was seen to be vibrating in its place. “C’mon, ellie! openitopenitopeni-“ you ramble, basically throwing the box at her. “Okay! Okay! Slow down, babe.” you both sit down on the bed, you place your arms on her shoulders. at this point you were seething in excitement.

“Holy fuck.. you didnt.” her eyes practically shoot out of her head, staring at the object in the box, a white envelope sticking out from underneath. she turns to you shocked.

“How did you even-” she grabs the walkman and few tapes out of the box. you shrug, “Antique stores are great places.” she puts the cassette into the device, the one that you were able to get your dad to burn your playlist into. the others being the smashing pumpkins and nirvana.

“Do you love it?” she doesnt answer, instead throwing herself onto you, holding you tightly. holding fistfuls of your sweater, your wrap your arms around her and kiss her forehead. “I knew you would!”

after fiddling with the foreign object for a few minutes ellie figures out how to turn it on and off, she passes you one of the wired headphones and slips the other into her own ear. The polices ‘Every breath you take’ begins playing into your singular headphone. ellie added it to your joined playlist because she swears its the song that plays every time she looks at you. How corny.

You two sit for a few moments, just listening to the lyrics.

I’ll be watching you

(every breath you take)

(every move you make)

you suddenly feel her looking at you, you turn your head to meet her gaze. her eyes were practically hearts, she looked so smitten. you smile at her and lay your head completely onto the bed and ellie sits up, careful to not disconnect the headphones from your ears. “what’re you doing?” you asked in a hushed tone. she shakes her head, “Just looking at you.” her face shifts from soft admiration to something different. then suddenly, her lips are slotted in between your own.

(every single day)

(every word you say)

she gently rubs her hand up and down your side as she moves her lips against yours, your hand making its way to the side of her face. you sighed into her mouth and gently moved your arm around to the back of her neck. your legs tangled together effortlessly when she pulls away from you. “I love you.” she whispers, you look up at her, your faces almost touching. “I love you too.” you almost moan when she dips her head back down to continue kissing you.

I’ll be watching you

That Christmas ended up being the night that you took each others virginity and tried to hide it from your nosy parents, who of course, noticed right away but didn't say anything.

Your mother and father left early in the morning to go see some of your extended family, you planned to go meet them later in the day so for now you were left by yourself to wait. you anxiety was high, but the hard part was almost over. after your dinner with your family you could shove all your things into your trunk and leave. you'd be back in the comfort of your apartment before December 26th.

For most of the afternoon you found yourself lazing around, watching movies that you've seen a thousand times before. you sigh to yourself, glancing over at the clock which reads 5:00. you decide to start getting ready.

you had just finished your makeup, your hair still tied up and your body clad in pajama when the doorbell rings. How strange you thought to yourself. who could possibly be showing up for your parents at 5pm on christmas day.

“I’m coming!” you shouted from the stairs, feet quickly moving down the steps. you probably should’ve looked through the peephole before ripping the door open because to your unpleasant surprise you were met with-

“Ellie?” your eyes widen at the sight before you. your ex girlfriend was outside your door with a bouquet of flowers and tears in her eyes.

“Hi- Hey.” she looks just as surprised as you. her green eyes wider than ever. she looked different, her usually half up, half down was now cut into a thinner mullet like haircut. you had tried avoiding any news of ellie since you moved, so her look was entirely new to you.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” you asked, your voice harsh but quiet. she looks at you in disbelief, “I- Dina told me to come see you.” she whispers. Of course she did.

“Why, Ellie.” you pause, crossing your arms. “I haven't spoken to you in almost three years, and now you're outside my door. Why?” she now looks disappointed with your reaction. she had partially hoped that you would throw yourself into her arms and tell her you missed her. but she knew that would never be.

“I messed up,” she looks down at her shoes, you clearly weren't having her half asses words. you sigh loudly. before you could shoo her away dhe interrupts you.

“I did you so dirty, and- i cant forgive myself for it. but youre the only person i've ever loved, truly.” she pleads with you unbeknownst to you, as your eyes stayed glued to the ground. “Would you please look at me-”

“I don't owe you anything ellie.” you snap, you did fulfill her request however, your eyes meeting her frantic ones. “i dont have to accept your stupid apology, why the fuck would i, ellie? what you did- what you did was so wrong. and i should hate you for it.” you slowly step out of the house, your angry pointer finger meeting her chest. tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“and im sorry, im so fucking sorry, baby. i couldn't even live with myself after what happened.” her final words making the tears finally start to stream down your face. you hadn't expected her to admit that, especially not with you practically beating your fist into her chest. but she did.

she notices your tears and grabs you by your face, she holds you as your legs buckle beneath you, something she didn't do years prior on this exact day. something she shouldn't have had to do. “Im sorry.” she whispered into your hair. her flowers now long discarded, and you crying into her arms on your parents front porch.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Ellie?” you cried, your body tensing up after her heartbreaking confession, you peered at her through wet eyelashes. and she couldn't even look at you.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, fingers fiddling with the rings adorning her hands, the hands that held you whenever you cried, the hands that had made you see heaven just nights prior.

“You're breaking up with me cause why? ellie. im still confused as to what the fuck is happening right now.” your expression is one of incredulity.

“baby, don't do this.” your eyes widen, you couldnt fucking believe her. “Do not baby me, ellie. you’re fucking breaking up with me right now because what? did you fuck her?” her head shoots up from her lap, her bottom lip wabbling between her teeth.

“No! i- we didn't, i would never-” you scoff, rolling your eyes at her actions. trying desperately to hide the fact that she had just broke your heart into a million pieces. “Do you love her?” you ask quietly, the question you had been avoiding since the beginning in fear of its answer.

“I dunno. i just-”

“youre breaking up with me to be with her ellie so you better know if you fuckin’ love her or not.” you spit, your words harsh, but in reality you were about to have a full blown panic attack.

“I do.” she admits. and suddenly your whole world comes crashing down, four years you had wasted just for her to leave you for a girl she met two weeks ago.

your tears became heavy and all of a sudden it was hard to breathe. your vision quickly blurred, your hands shook as you lifted your glass to your lips. and your headache was hard to deny, you needed to lay down.

Your ears rung, ellie still trying to justify her unlawful acts. all you could really hear were clusters of “im sorry, Not your fault-” you sobbed uncontrollably.

Fuck you, Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou-

“are you two ready for your menus yet?” the waitress had came out of nowhere, a sweet girl who clearly had accidentally walked in to something she couldn't just ignore.

ellie kept her head down and you made eye contact with the waitress Ruth her name tag read, “No, actually. we’re done here. Well- I am. she might be waiting for someone else.” you point at ellie, and her head raises. you quickly stand up and begin to quickly shuffle your belongings into your purse.

you wished she at least had the decency to do this in the comfort of your own home, where you could kick her out if need be, but now the entire restaurant was watching as you ran out the door with snot dripping down your nose and mascara running from your eyes to your chest. You tuned out her inescapable voice and walked all the way home.

After a long, exhausting five minutes, ellie convinced you to let her take you inside and clean you up. she wiped the mascara off of your under eyes and kissed your forehead.

“Thanks.” you muttered. “Don't mention it.” she smiled, she placed the flowers on the counter beside where you sat. you examined them, a beautiful bouquet of red and yellow flowers, like the ones she had gotten you your first christmas together. you smile at the thought. remembering your innocent love.

“what are you smiling about? hm?” she asks, you look up at her, “just thinking, about us.” she inhales a sharp breath at that. “what could've been.” you finish, reaching for the flowers, holding them in your lap.

she walks over to you, your knees now touching the front of her jean thighs thighs. “or.. what can be?” she looks down at you, an overly hopeful look on her face.

“Ellie,” you sigh, you seemed to be doing that a lot today. “I cant just let you back in like that. i mean- when did you and Cat even break up?”

“last year, october.” you nod, swallowing whatever was in your throat. “i see.” the room filling with a heavy tension. your intense eye contact has you shifting on the counter.

“Will you kiss me?” you whisper, what the fuck were you doing? she opens her mouth slightly, before grabbing you by your waist. kissing you softly, before she realized what you wanted. you moaned at the contact, and she kissed you harder.

“fuck, okay, okayokay.” she stops for a moment, you look at her confused. “are you sure you wanna do this right now?.” you nod, profusely.

she moves her hands under your shirt, quickly lifting it off your body. “No bra?” she smirks, you roll your eyes. and reach for her own T-Shirt. you slipped it off with ease, unknowingly biting your lip at the sight before you.

she grabs you again, slotting her lips between your own, you wrap your legs around her waist.

“your room?” she whispers against you, “couch.” you confirm. Ellie drops you onto the cushions, you grab at your sweats, quickly lifting your hips to get them off. ellie, preoccupied with taking her own pants off.

“fuck, you’re beautiful.” she positions her body against yours, her lips trailing from behind your esr, all the way down to your lower stomach. small praises leaving your lips at her wet kisses.

she begins to move her lips towards your clit, sticking her tongue out and licking a dtrip over your underwear. “Ellie, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up into her face. she looks up at you and begins to slip your underwear off your body.

“Fuck, youre so wet.” she observed, moving her finger to play in between your folds. you eagerly bite your lip, her face admiring you from her position between your legs. you moan softly as she begins to eat you out, swirling small circles on your soft button. “Oh, ellie!” you whimpered, your body twitching against her mouth.

“ohmygod, baby.” she moans into you, slowly slipping s single finger in and out of your sopping hole, your moans growing increasingly loud, your eyes meet her own when you entangle your hand into her hair, pulling fightly at the back if her neck.

your back arches as she adds another finger, your release so close you can feel the sweat dripping down your back. “Im cuming! ellie, ellieellie!” you scream as she fucks you through your orgasm, her fingers slightly slowing down before she pulls them out.

you beckon her between your legs again when she lift your head from between your legs, she slots her legs between yours, slowly starting ti grind into you. “missed this pussy s’bad baby.” she groans as she continues to move her hips, speeding up as she pleases. “mhm,” you moan, greedily grinding back up into her, small whimpers starting to leave her throat at the feeling of your pussy on hers.

“Tell me you love me, ellie” you ask, your voice breathy. her head snaps down, looking down at you. her movements speed up as she looos at you.

“W-What?”

“Tell me you love me.” you bump your clit against her sweet spot and she moans. “I love you, fuck! so much, i love you soso much.” she could feel her orgasm creeping up on her, she speeds up her movements between your legs. your grab at her brests, pinching her nipples between your pointer and thumb. “you gonna come?” she bites her lip, nodding at your question.

“cum all over my pussy, please ellie.” you moan loudly, her fluid slowly leaking out of her and onto you. you quicken your hips, ellies lip finding home between her teeth until she suddenly falls into you, both of you moan when she untangled your legs.

“fuck.” she whispers, looking down at the mess that spread between the two of you, connecting you. you slowly lift yourself into a now sitting position. gingerly adjusting yourself so that you don't irritate your already sensitive nerves.

“so.” ellie starts, looking over at you, her eyes again filled with hope. you sigh quietly. “So, im gonna pee and you're gonna be gone by the time im done.” you state matter-of-factly as you stand up, slipping you oversized shirt back over your body. she shakes her head in confusion. “What?! But i thought-”

“you thought what, ellie? that i was just going to let you come back? you broke my fucking heart.” you can see her starting to tear up but you ignore the fact. instead slipping your underwear back on but discarding your pants.

“i told you it was a mistake! baby, i love you!” you scoff, your lips curling up into a smile, how fucking ridiculous.

“Listen to me ellie. Im going to go pee and you're going to go home. and then, tomorrow, im going to leave this fucking town forever and i swear to god you will never fucking see me again.” you argued, ellie still sitting there, with no clothes on. you didn't think she deserved your forgiveness. You felt guilty for denying her in such a vulnerable state but you convinced yourself that she deserved it.

you begin to walk up the stairs, you can hear her stand up from the couch and slip into her clothes once again. without turning around to face her you bid your final goodbyes,

“Tell your fiancée i said hi.”

unbeknownst to ellie, you had noticed the wedding band that shined around her left ring finger. that was when you decided not to let her back in.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟizzie writes!?#ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie willams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie x you

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saythenametotheworld · 5 months ago

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Take a Chance With Me | j.ww (18+)

You could not believe that no one ever told you how frustrating (and beautiful) it was to be hopelessly captivated by a boy who thinks love is overrated.

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: college au, strangers to lovers, slow burn Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader Warnings: fluff fluff, she fell first he fell harder kinda slow burn lol, mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 25k words. Part 3 of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Take a Chance with Me by NIKI. Longer fic because writing this was my coping mechanism for the devastating tragedy that was Backburner. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Take a Chance with Me by NIKI, Forces by Japanese Wallpaper, I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift, Taglist: @katfaceu @mansaaay @scoupsjin @iarayara @gaslysainz @silvermist002 @ssmebody @alyssa19123456

Jeon Wonwoo’s story began one hot evening, just two weeks into your senior year of college. It was at a party—one where you’d arrived late after a supposedly quick pre-game session with your girlfriends at Lea’s apartment turned into a full-on mini-party on its own. You’d almost ditched the party altogether, but Mina said she had to meet this guy at the party, or she’d regret it forever. Of course, she was exaggerating at the time, but you went anyway.

You were the designated driver since you were the only one who didn’t drink, which was because you were late even to the pre-game. Some things just never change, and being late is one of your many talents.

As soon as you pulled up to the driveway of the party venue, your friends rushed out of the car and into the house, leaving you behind to park. Just as you were stepping out of your car, you spotted Wonwoo—tall standing next to the lamppost, and handsome under the yellow-orange glow of the light. He was attractive—the slight flush on his cheeks, his skin glowing under the lamplight, and even in simple square glasses and a plain white tee, he radiated some kind of confidence that made you pause.

He was cute. And he was heading toward you.

Why though? Did he want to talk to you? Maybe get your number? Oh my god. What are you gonna do?

You stood frozen, heart pounding in your chest as Wonwoo closed the gap between you. Sure, he wasn’t the first guy to ever approach you, but he was cute, and it was ridiculous how fast you were crushing on him.

He’s coming, you told yourself, glancing around casually, trying not to look too eager. But just as he was about three steps away—bam! He hit the ground, limbs sprawled out in every direction.

You gasped, rushing over. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He groaned, kicked at the offending rock that had tripped him, and then dramatically flopped onto the grass as if it had betrayed him too.

You crouched beside him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey, you alright?”

Wonwoo blinked up at the sky, glaring like the stars were personally out to get him. Then, locking his glassy eyes on yours, he said, “Hi. My asshole friends abandoned me here.” He hiccupped. “I’m kinda drunk and you’re kinda gorgeous. Would you be so kind to help me out?”

Caught off guard by his random compliment, you chuckled. “Here, let me help you up,” you said, tugging his arm, trying to haul him back to a sitting position. “You can walk, right? You were walking just now.”

“Walking’s overrated,” he muttered, but with your help, he managed to get back on his feet, wobbling slightly.

You told him your name. “What’s yours? Where do you live? Do you need a ride?”

He opened his mouth to speak but someone suddenly appeared beside him, patting his chest. It was Hoshi. “There you are, Wonwoo. We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Hosh! You know this guy?” you asked.

“Look,” Wonwoo said, turning to you and pointing a very unsteady finger at his friend. “See that? Fake friend. Never trust people who abandon you.”

“What are you talking about? You’re the one who wandered off!”

Wonwoo smirked, leaning in as if sharing a deep truth. “People who gaslight you aren’t your friends. Don’t forget that.”

“I can’t believe I ditched my girl for this. Okay, that's enough from you.” Hoshi slung Wonwoo’s arm over his shoulder. “Where’s that idiot Jun? Junhui!”

A second later, a man came jogging toward you. “Found him?”

“Yeah, help me get him out of here,” Hoshi said, struggling to hold up Wonwoo’s weight.

Jun smiled apologetically at you as they shifted Wonwoo’s arm off your shoulder. “He seems like a handful, but he’s nice sometimes.”

You stepped back, watching them as they wrangled him toward a black pickup truck. “He doesn’t seem that drunk, though.”

Jun chuckled. “You’d be surprised. One time he got wasted and started working on a coding project. Finished the whole thing in one sitting.”

“Didn’t even remember it the next day,” Hoshi added, making a mock exploding gesture at his temple.

You couldn’t help laughing, finding it both amusing and adorable that a fine man like him would have such drinking habits.

“Anyway, thanks again,” Hoshi said, flashing you a quick grin as they started loading Wonwoo into the truck.

“Bye, gorgeous lady!” Wonwoo called from the back seat, waving weakly. “I love you!”

Jun scoffed. “You don’t even know her name.”

“Who cares what you think, Jun? You’re a fake friend!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, waving them off as the truck pulled away. Standing there, you found yourself thinking about Wonwoo—strangely intrigued by this cute, clumsy guy. But before you could dwell on it for too long, you heard Lea’s voice calling your name from inside the house.

“Why are you out here alone? Let’s go!”

You skipped toward her, linking arms as she pulled you inside. “I just met the cutest guy ever.”

If Seungcheol’s face wasn’t the first thing you saw as you stepped into the pool pavilion, you wouldn’t have recognized him at all. His neat blue suit from yesterday had been swapped for something far more relaxed—crisp white pants and a cream button-up that made him look more… approachable. He greeted you the moment you arrived, gesturing to the lounge chair beside his.

“I ordered cocktails,” he said, motioning to the bellinis on the table. “But I took liberties since I didn’t know what you like.”

“You didn’t have to include me, but thanks,” you smiled, taking one of the flutes.

Seungcheol watched you take your first sip before saying, “So, what depressing tale would you be telling me today?”

You coughed, choking very slightly on your drink. “You said you wouldn’t judge.”

He shrugged, leaning back on the chair and fixing his eyes at the infinity pool. “I wasn’t judging. My expectations are based on past experiences. In this case, the experience was yesterday’s story. It was quite heavy.”

“Exactly,” you nodded, setting your glass down. “Yesterday was intense, so I’m dialing it down today with a lighter story about my favorite ex.”

“You have a favorite ex?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “But that’s not the point. Do you wanna hear it or not?”

Seungcheol nodded. “Please. Proceed.”

“Alright.” You took a sip of your drink before starting. “His name is Jeon Wonwoo.”

THE DAY after you'd first met him at that party, you’d prioritized looking for Wonwoo. Living in the on-campus dorms gave you time to walk around the campus before your class. The problem was, you didn’t know where to start. Your friends could swear they were sick of you, gushing about him and retelling the story of how he called you gorgeous and basically confessed his love for you in under five minutes of meeting each other.

“I know he was drunk, Jill. But people say you become more honest when you’re drunk,” you insisted, not even trying to hide your excitement as you scanned the cafeteria for any sign of him.

“What’s his name anyway?” Mina asked, scowling slightly as she watched you crane your neck, practically spinning in your seat.

“Wonwoo. I don’t know his last name.”

Mina scoffed. “Wonwoo? Aren’t you like neighbors?”

You stopped mid-scan, turning to her with wide eyes. “We’re WHAT?”

As it turned out, Wonwoo lived in the on-campus dorm too. He and Hoshi were roommates, and you only knew this because, apparently, the guy Mina just had to meet at last night’s party was Hoshi.

“You’re telling me I’ve been looking around campus for him like a lunatic when he’s been right under my nose this whole time?” you asked, clutching your pearls.

Jill snorted into her iced coffee. “You’ve been obsessed for, what? Twelve hours?”

“Thirteen,” you corrected. “But who’s counting?”

For a while, you tried catching glimpses of Wonwoo around your apartment complex. You even took slightly longer routes on campus, hoping to spot him by chance between classes or during meals. But every time, you came up empty—no sign of him at all.

“Just where does this hot specimen hide his gorgeous self?” you grumbled. “It’s been three days.”

Lea watched you with a glimmer in her eyes. “This is a first. You’ve had crushes before but never hyper-fixated on one until now.”

“Right? I was just thinking the same thing,” Jill affirmed.

“There’s no one like him,” you gushed, tilting your head dreamily. “I think he might be the one.”

Mina choked on her drink. “You’re not serious.”

You laughed, stroking her back gently. “Of course not. I’m just having fun, guys. Relax.”

“Anyway, why don’t you just ask Hoshi?” Jill suggested, sounding like the only sane one in the group.

Oh. Right. Hoshi. Why didn’t you think of that earlier? You paused, considering the idea. It was practical. Sensible.

“Do you think that’s weird? Just asking out of nowhere?” you asked, biting your lip.

“You’re the one who’s been running around campus like a headless chicken,” Mina pointed out dryly. “Asking Hoshi would be a lot less weird than that.”

You smiled at Mina, batting your eyelashes prettily. “Ask him for me.”

Mina swatted your hand away when you tried to hold her. “We’re not talking right now. And no, I won’t tell you why.”

You grimaced. “Well, no one’s asking!”

Jill laughed. “Just go to Hoshi. You guys are friends. And it’s not like you’re asking for Wonwoo’s hand in marriage. You’re just curious.”

“Alright, alright,” you relented, standing up from the table. “I’ll ask Hoshi.”

Mina gave you a thumbs up as you left the cafeteria, heading out to start your quest. You just hoped your heart didn’t explode from the anticipation before you got there.

You spotted Hoshi in the dance room, drinking water after practice. Perfect. You strode over, determined but trying to keep it cool. He saw you coming and grinned, clearly already knowing what this was about.

“Well, well, well,” Hoshi said, putting his bottle down and crossing his arms with a smirk. “What brings you to my humble corner of campus today? Or should I say... who?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, stop. I just wanna ask you something.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re about to ask me where Wonwoo is, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ve seen this before. You’re already head over heels. It’s okay, it’s a common reaction.”

You tried to look annoyed, but your lips twitched, betraying you. “Fine. Yes. Where is he?”

Hoshi raised his eyebrows, looking overly impressed with himself. “See? I’m basically psychic. I should be charging for my services.”

“Just tell me!” You lightly shoved him.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “He’s usually holed up in the tech building, doing nerd stuff. You know, coding, hacking the mainframe, whatever those guys do.” He waved a hand in the air. “Oh, and I’m gonna tell you this only because you and I are tight—you’re gonna need to bring a snack. Wonwoo’s been known to forget to eat when he’s in the zone.”

You crossed your arms, half-joking but half-serious. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do I need to worry about him starving to death before I even get the chance to talk to him?”

“Maybe,” Hoshi said, eyes twinkling. “But hey, if he does, I’ll make sure his last words are something romantic. Like, ‘Tell her... she was... gorgeous.’”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible,” you groaned, turning to walk away, though you couldn’t help laughing.

He called after you, still grinning. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you! And hey—if you need a wingman, you know where to find me!”

Now you had a solid lead... and maybe a ridiculous wingman if things got really desperate. But most importantly, you had a plan: bump into him casually.

You spent the next few days timing your trips past the IT building. At first, it felt silly—pretending like you were just ‘happening to walk by’—but today, your patience paid off. There he was, standing just outside the doors, tapping away on his phone. Your heart fluttered the second you saw Wonwoo, that same flush you remembered from the night before creeping up your neck.

You were about to walk over, but then a group of people spilled out from the building, laughing loudly as they passed by Wonwoo. You turned away, worried someone might recognize you. As soon as they were far enough, you spun back to see Wonwoo, only to find him gone.

You sighed. “Next time.”

The next time came—several next times, actually. You just couldn’t land the perfect opportunity! The universe was against you, you could swear with how each encounter was always interrupted by other people, unexpected circumstances, and now, even the weather!

You stared at the sky with a deadpan expression. “Really? Just tell me you don’t want me to shoot my shot with him, why don’t you?” you spoke to the sky, as if it would respond.

You were supposed to do your routine attempt at ‘bumping into Wonwoo’ but the rain started pouring right when you stepped out of your building. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you didn’t bring an umbrella with you. You sighed, scuffing your shoe against the pavement, debating whether to make a run for it or just wait it out.

“Maybe I’m just unlucky?” you muttered to yourself.

Staring at your feet, you noticed a new pair falling into step beside you. You looked up and gasped audibly upon seeing Jeon Wonwoo standing there with an umbrella in his hand. He looked as handsome as you remembered—neat appearance, well-kept hair, and his glasses that suited his face perfectly.

“Wonwoo!” you exclaimed, making him glance at you.

He scanned you for a second. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I know you.”

You told him your name—clearly and in full. “We met at the party last Friday,” you smiled, hoping he’d remember.

“Oh, I met a lot of people that night.”

“You called me nice and gorgeous?” you offered, gouging a reaction from him, but so far—nothing. “And, uh, you also kinda said you love me.”

Wonwoo blinked, clearly taken aback. “Did I?” You saw the confusion in his expression, followed by a flicker of embarrassment. He looked away, his jaw tensing slightly. “Sorry, I don’t remember any of that,” he said, his voice softer, but there was no warmth in it. It felt more like a brush-off.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you said, waving it off casually. “You were really drunk, so I guess it makes sense.” You grinned, hoping the playful tone might make the moment less embarrassing

He seemed like an entirely different person. He was fun that night, sweet even. Was that a one-off thing?

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sound of the rain pounding on the concrete was oddly loud. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, not entirely sure if you should say something or just let it go.

“Well, then. I should go.”

You nodded. “Of course. It was nice seeing you.”

You watched him walk into the rain, dry and safe under his umbrella. You couldn’t help but scoff. If it was the Wonwoo you’d met that night, he would probably share his umbrella with you.

“What a bummer,” you muttered, looking down at your feet again as you kicked your tiptoes on the floor.

You kept your gaze there, replaying the encounter with Wonwoo and how awful it made you feel. You barely noticed the car that pulled over in front of you until you heard someone call your full name.

When you looked up, you saw Wonwoo in a car with his window rolled down. He turned to reach for something behind him before extending his umbrella out to you. You stepped into the rain for a second to grab it and then backed away with a confused look on your face.

“Thank you,” you called out.

He just nodded, lips tight. “Leave it to the dorm lady when you’re done with it.”

“I will!” you replied, smiling at him.

As he drove away, you waved your hand in the air, your smile getting impossibly wider as you clutched his umbrella in one hand.

Just like that, your quest to make Jeon Wonwoo fall for you was on. You chased him around—well, not really, but you seized every chance to talk to him. First, you personally delivered his umbrella to his dorm, which surprised him because obviously, he wasn’t expecting it.

When you found him at the cafeteria that day, sitting alone at a table while working on something on his laptop, you walked over with your tray and casually slid into the seat across from him.

“You look like you could use some company. Lucky for you, I could use some too. Let’s accompany each other,” you beamed, and he looked up from his laptop briefly—just to see who you were.

“I’m working,” he said, reverting his attention to his work.

You leaned forward with a grin. “I can multi-task. Do you want me to be quiet while you work?”

“Do what you want,” he said, noncommittal.

That made you perk up. As long as he didn’t tell you to leave him alone, you were fine with being quiet. He was quiet too, but didn’t seem to mind your presence. So you stayed, eating your lunch while on your phone and occasionally sneaking glances at him.

One time, you find him at the library sitting at a table with his headphones in, immersed in whatever he was working on on his screen, again. You plopped down next to him, spreading your books out.

“It appears you might need some intellectual stimulation. I’m excellent company for that too,” you said.

Without looking away from his screen, Wonwoo said, “Pass.”

“Are you coding?” you asked, ignoring his refusal.

“I'm studying.”

“For what?” you asked, leaning back to take a peek at his screen. “You're reading a book on your laptop?”

“It's convenient.”

You grimaced. “I bet you don't know what books smell like.”

“No, and I don't really wanna know,” he said, facing you. “Now, can I have some peace and quiet?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry. I’ll just be over here being pretty and smart. Don’t mind me.”

He didn’t respond, just nodded slightly, continuing to work. You watched him for a bit, playfully resting your chin in your hand.

“Wow. My man is so cute and smart,” you muttered and Wonwoo suddenly glanced sideways at you.

You looked away immediately, opening a book, and burying your face in it. Wonwoo reached for it, taking it out of your hand and flipping it.

“It’s upside down,” he said before fixing his gaze on his screen again.

If not for your prior commitment to your friends, you would probably stay in the library until he leaves. Half-heartedly, you packed away your books and got ready to go. Wonwoo noticed you then but didn’t say anything.

You tapped on the table next to his laptop, making him take off his headphones and look at you inquiringly.

“I was thinking of watching a movie this weekend. You’re welcome to join me.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “I don’t watch movies.”

You shook your head disapprovingly. “Guess we’ll have to change that about you.”

“Good luck with that,” he replied, putting his headphones back on.

He didn’t seem put off by your forwardness, which was all that mattered to you because it didn’t seem like you were bothering him. You were resolved to continue what you were doing.

Another time, you saw him at the gym when you were there with your friends. He was lifting weights, and you confidently strode over, showing off your figure in your gym outfit. You casually leaned over the machine he was using.

“Wow, so you’re not just working out your brain, you work out your biceps too? Impressive,” you complimented.

“I come here to avoid conversations,” he deadpanned.

“You’re still talking to me, so you’re not really doing a great job,” you chuckled.

Wonwoo sighed, but again, he didn’t tell you to leave. He just continued what he was doing, and you watched for a minute, smirking. You were enjoying yourself, despite his lack of reactions.

“I’ll be over there if you need me,” you said, winking.

“Why would I need you?” he asked, resting his hands for a second.

You shrugged. “You never know when you might.”

As you walked away, your friends were waiting for you with playful smiles. Mina said, “Girl, is it just me or are you kinda embarrassing?”

You scrunched your nose cutely at her. “I am, kinda. But it’s okay. He’ll warm up to me soon.”

You kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into him at random spots—by the vending machine, dorm hallways, the library aisles, or even walking to class despite being in different buildings.

Sometimes, you felt a little embarrassed, but you liked how fun it was to tease him and flirt with him, despite his aloof attitude. He was gonna break sooner or later, and whatever he decided to do when that happened, you were prepared to accept. You had projected about a dozen different scenarios of him confronting you, but the reality was far more unique.

“Look at us, fate keeps putting us together. Ever think the universe is trying to tell you something?” you told Wonwoo when you coincidentally (for real this time), ended up in the same college seminar together.

He stared at you. “The universe doesn’t work that way.”

Unfazed, you shrugged, opening your laptop. “Maybe not, but it’s more fun to believe it does.”

Wonwoo closed his laptop and turned his body slightly toward you. “Do you have feelings for me?”

“Yes,” you replied without missing a beat. “Wasn’t it obvious? I made sure you’d get the message though.”

He was quiet for a while, staring at you with a blank expression. After about a minute, he asked, “Why?”

You shrugged, keeping your smile. “Because I do. Hey, you confessed your love to me first!”

“When did I—” he stopped and then sighed. “I don’t even remember any of that.”

“It’s okay. I remember enough for the both of us,” you teased, tilting your head with an innocent smile.

Wonwoo seemed to realize arguing wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He shook his head slowly, as if accepting defeat. “Do whatever you want, but I won’t take responsibility for your assumptions.”

“You’re not telling me to leave you alone?” you asked, raising your brows in genuine surprise.

He looked at you, baffled. “What?”

“You’re not telling me to leave you alone,” you repeated, this time more matter-of-factly. “So can I take that as a sign that I can keep following you around?”

Wonwoo grimaced, though it was more out of exasperation than irritation. “You’re not seriously going to follow me everywhere, are you?”

You grinned mischievously. “No, not really. But now that you mention it, maybe I should. What do you think?”

“Well then, leave—”

“Good afternoon, sir,” you exclaimed upon seeing the professor walk in.

You lay sprawled on Lea’s bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, scowling. Next to you, Lea was perched on her stomach, typing away on her laptop.

“The guy’s a tough nut to crack,” you muttered, shaking your head in frustration. “Do you think… maybe he’s just not interested?”

“I thought he made that pretty clear with how he keeps brushing you off?” Lea replied, not looking up from her screen.

You sat up with a sigh just as Mina and Jill strolled into the room. “He doesn’t really brush me off though,” you argued. “More like… he lets me do whatever I want.”

“You guys talking about Wonwoo?” Mina asked and you nodded. “Hoshi is inviting him over for movie night. Apparently, he said ‘yes’.”

Your jaw dropped. “No way? He said he didn't like movies!”

Mina nodded, pulling out her phone and flashing you the screen. “I don't know the details. Hosh says he’s wingmanning you,” she added with a grin.

You squealed, grabbing Lea by the arm. “Quick! Lend me a cute dress. No! I should just go back to my dorm and get one!”

“It’s a pajama party,” Jill interrupted, sitting beside you with a bowl of ice cream in hand. “You’re supposed to wear pajamas.”

You paused, considering. “Yes, but... like, do you have a cute nightgown? Those count as pajamas too, right?”

“I do,” Jill said, shaking her head, “but I’m not lending it to you. You’ll just complain about being cold.”

You slumped back onto the bed dramatically, face-first. “Friendship is dead. It never existed.”

Lea gasped. “Jill! Not you eating ice cream on my bed!”

“Oops, sorry!” Jill mumbled, quickly getting off the bed.

You rose when you heard ice cream, following Jill off the bed and asking to share. Mina was watching you with a soft smile on her lips. Then she said, “You changed a lot, did you notice? Remember when you took a break from school when we were freshmen? You were so different back then.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, mouth full of ice cream. Jill answered for you. “That part of her life was her character development arc. It wouldn’t make sense to remind her of such a depressing time when she’s done a really good job getting over it a long time ago.”

You shot her a pair of finger guns and winked, appreciating the save.

“You’re right,” Mina said, her expression softening as she came over to hug you. “I’m just so proud of you.”

Jill joined in the hug, and Lea followed soon after, sandwiching you in the middle.

Feeling warm and fuzzy, you leaned over and kissed Mina’s cheek, only for her to pull away, grimacing. “Ew, sticky lips,” she complained, wiping the smudge of ice cream from her face.

“Sorry,” you grinned, unapologetic.

The smell of popcorn filled the apartment as you rummaged through Lea’s closet, pulling out a cozy sweatshirt that still looked stylish enough for the movie night. “This will have to do,” you muttered, tugging it on over your pajamas.

Lea, now in a matching set of flannel, raised an eyebrow. “You really think Wonwoo’s gonna notice your outfit at a pajama party?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shrug. “But it’s better to be prepared.”

When you got back to the living room, the usual chaos of movie night was already in full swing. Hoshi and Jun were bickering over what movie to watch while Seokmin raided the snack stash.

Hoshi called out your name, waving you over with a mischievous grin. “Look who actually showed up.”

You froze mid-step. Wonwoo was sitting on the couch, casually leaning back with his arms folded across his chest, looking as aloof as ever. He was wearing pajamas, which was unexpected because you didn't think he'd be the type to engage in silly activities like this one, but he was cute nonetheless.

You blinked. “He’s real,” you whispered, eyes wide, and Mina stifled a laugh. To Hoshi, you said out loud, “Hosh, you’re my most favorite person in the world.”

Just as you were about to claim the spot next to Wonwoo, Jun swooped in and plopped down right where you were headed. Without thinking, you grabbed Jun by the arm. “Move!”

Jun blinked at you, laughing. “What’s going on?”

You picked up a throw pillow and hit Jun with it again and again until he moved out of your way.

“You’re ruthless,” Jun chuckled, shaking his head but laughing anyway. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you winked at him before turning to Wonwoo. He watched the whole thing unfold with mild amusement, shaking his head as you settled in.

“Comfortable?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” you grinned, inching just a little closer to him. “Fancy seeing you here. I didn’t think you’d really show up. And in pajamas, no less,” you said, flashing him a wide grin.

Wonwoo glanced at his clothes briefly. “Hoshi insisted,” he said flatly.

“Well, I’m glad you came,” you said, batting your eyelashes in what you hoped was a cute way. “It’s not every day I get to sit next to my favorite person.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, unamused. “I thought Hoshi was your favorite.”

You pouted. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he replied, unbothered.

Determined to get some sort of reaction, you leaned closer, pretending to examine his face. “Do you always wear glasses?” you asked, feigning curiosity. “They make you look extra smart.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose, side-eyeing you. “I am extra smart.”

You giggled, undeterred. “I bet you’re super smart, Mr. IT Genius. You could probably hack into all our phones right now.”

Wonwoo didn’t seem fazed. “I’m not that smart. And hacking is illegal.”

“Well, that’s good. Otherwise, you’d see all the photos I took of you before,” you teased, leaning even closer so your shoulder brushed his. “For research purposes, of course.”

This time, Wonwoo did look at you, but only briefly. “Research for what?”

“Oh, just, you know,” you waved a hand vaguely, “studying the behavior of elusive, handsome introverts.”

“Sounds like a waste of time,” he replied dryly, though his lips twitched into a faint smile. You’d almost missed it if you weren’t staring right at him.

You grinned, feeling triumphant at his tiny show of amusement. “Did I just make you smile? Am I your source of happiness and joy now?”

“Just what is up with you?” he questioned, genuinely bewildered.

“I’m persistent. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I have.”

Before you could respond, Hoshi’s voice boomed across the room. “Movie’s starting, everyone! Grab your snacks, get cozy!”

The lights dimmed further, and the opening credits began to roll. You wiggled in your seat, purposely leaning just a little closer to Wonwoo, your head brushing against his arm. Wonwoo glanced at you but didn’t say anything, so you tilted your head playfully and whispered, “You’re not gonna move away, are you?”

He looked away, clearly unimpressed. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know… because I’m annoying?”

“You are,” he said, eyes fixed on the screen.

“Hey!” You nudged him with your shoulder, a mock pout on your lips. “I’m charmingly annoying.”

“If you say so,” he replied.

Every now and then, you’d make little comments, trying to catch his attention. Wonwoo remained mostly unresponsive, only glancing at you occasionally, but he didn’t seem bothered either. In fact, the more you nudged him or commented, the more relaxed he seemed.

Finally, you ‘accidentally’ let your head rest on his shoulder. “Oops,” you whispered, eyes still fixed on the screen. “My bad.”

Wonwoo sighed, but to your surprise, he didn’t push you off. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight.”

You grinned up at him, batting your lashes. “What can I say? I like taking my chances.”

“Just watch the movie,” he muttered, but you could tell—he didn’t actually mind.

With a satisfied smile, you snuggled a little closer, content with your minor victory.

After the movie, everyone stretched and yawned. Hoshi and Seokmin were already debating what to watch next, while Jill and Lea were dramatically complaining about the lackluster conclusion to the movie. You continued the night with laughter and conversations over light drinks. It was a school day, so no one was entertaining the idea of getting wasted.

You glanced at Wonwoo, who had stayed quiet throughout the night, except for a few quips here and there. You often flirted with him in between conversations, but as usual, he couldn’t even be bothered.

When the group started to pack up, you took a deep breath and turned to him. “Hey, do you wanna walk back to the dorms together?” you asked, keeping your tone light and hopeful.

You were the only ones going back to the dorms, since the rest of your friends lived off-campus, and Hoshi was obviously staying over at Mina’s.

Wonwoo stood up, gathering his things without making eye contact. “No, thanks,” he said simply, pulling his jacket over his shoulder. “I’ll head back on my own.”

Your heart sank a little, but you didn’t want to let it show. “Okay, sure,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off with a casual laugh. “Didn’t think you’d say yes anyway.”

He paused for a moment, adjusting his jacket before looking at you with a slight frown. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t need to follow me around.”

The words stung more than you expected, even though you’d been joking about it all night. You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Instead, you just nodded, forcing a small smile. “Got it.”

Wonwoo gave a short nod, then turned and headed for the door without a second glance. As you watched him leave, the lightheartedness you’d felt earlier fizzled out. You knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel, but his rejection still hurt. You’d pushed and pushed all night, and for a moment, it felt like maybe he was warming up to you. But now, it seemed like you had been wrong all along.

Mina noticed your shift in mood and walked over. “Hey, you okay?”

You plastered on a smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll head back now. See you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Your farewell was noisy, with your girls dramatically begging you to stay. There was a big smile on your lips when you exited the door, but as you headed back to your dorm, thoughts of Wonwoo’s words stayed with you.

Maybe this little game of flirting wasn’t as fun for him as it was for you. Maybe you were pushing too hard. Maybe this was more one-sided than you wanted to admit. It had been fun for the most part, a lighthearted chase that kept your heart racing, but now it was starting to feel tiring—draining, even.

Your brows furrowed in frustration. “I should stop…” you muttered under your breath, kicking at a stray pebble in your path. Then, with a small pout, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest. “Men ain’t shit,” you grumbled, though the bitterness in your voice didn’t quite match the half-hearted way you said it.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” said a greasy, slurred voice from behind you, giving you goosebumps all over. “You don’t really mean that, do you?”

How deeply distracted were you that you didn’t notice the dragged-out footsteps behind you?

You tried to brush it off, but when the pace quickened and the slurred voice called out again, you got ready to run. Before you could, however, he grabbed your arm.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” the man drawled, his breath reeking of alcohol as he eyed you. “What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ out here all alone?”

You shot him a sharp glance, trying to ignore the knot tightening in your stomach. “I’m not interested. Leave me alone,” you said, trying to swat his hand away but his grip tightened.

“I’m not so bad, am I? C’mon—just a little company,” he slurred.

You yanked your hand back, eyes narrowing as you tried to fight him off. “Let go!” you snapped, your voice rising in panic.

The man chuckled, tugging you toward him. “What’s the rush?”

With a rush of adrenaline, you elbowed him in the ribs and stomped on his foot with all the force you could muster. But despite your efforts, he was stronger, and your heart pounded as he forced you back against a wall, your breath catching in your throat.

Just as you started to fear you couldn’t fight him off, a sharp voice cut through the air. “Hey!”

Before you could process what was happening, Wonwoo appeared, eyes blazing with fury. He swung a solid punch, landing it squarely on the guy’s jaw. The man stumbled, dazed, before collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.

You stared in shock, chest heaving, barely registering the fact that Wonwoo had just knocked the guy out. He reached for your hand, his grip firm but reassuring. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice calmer now, though still laced with urgency. “Before he gets back up. Come on.”

Grabbing his hand, you ran with him, your pajamas flapping awkwardly as the two of you bolted down the street. Imagine getting harassed in oversized Pucca pajamas? The ridiculousness of the situation would’ve made you laugh if you weren’t so shaken.

Your heart was still pounding, and you could feel Wonwoo’s hand tightening around yours as you rounded the corner, not stopping until you were safely back inside the campus walls.

When you finally slowed down, panting, you glanced at him. “You just—” you started, still breathless, “You punched him!”

Wonwoo looked at you, still catching his breath. “Yeah.”

The simple acknowledgment sent a strange warmth through you. You both stood there for a moment, the adrenaline fading. You were still catching your breath, trying to process everything that had just happened.

“Thank you,” you breathed out. “You really saved me back there.”

“I think you would’ve done well by yourself even if I wasn’t there. You probably broke a rib or two with that elbow,” he quipped, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Is that a joke?” you questioned, pointing at his lips. “Are laughing at your own joke?”

He looked at you, his expression shifting back to his usual. “I didn’t laugh. Next time, be more careful. Don’t walk by yourself at night.” His voice was steady, almost scolding, but there was an unmistakable note of concern in it.

You blinked up at him, feeling your heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the scare you just had. He had just knocked out a guy without breaking a sweat, and now he was here, telling you to be careful. You couldn’t help it—the admiration in your eyes must’ve been painfully obvious because you were falling even harder for him.

Wonwoo noticed your dazed expression, the way your eyes lingered on him a little too long. His brow furrowed slightly before he sighed, clearly not amused by whatever was going through your head. Without saying a word, he took off his jacket and threw it over your face.

“Go back to your room,” he muttered, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. “And stop being weird.”

You pulled his jacket off your face, blinking up at him with a grin, but he was already turning away, clearly done with the situation.

“Hey! Wait for me! What if he comes back?” you called out, running to catch up to him.

This wasn’t part of the plan. You were doing just fine on the sidelines of college life, navigating the highs and lows of being a student. You were content not drawing attention to yourself in places that didn’t need your presence, happily enjoying the fun college functions from a distance.

Why did you have to join the student council on a whim?

“I’m so sick of this,” you muttered, hauling a large box of banners back into the storage room. Someone else could do it if only there were other hands available to help. Frustrated, you kicked the box, only to recoil in pain when it slammed against your foot. “Ouch!”

“Move,” came a familiar voice from behind you. You glanced back just as Wonwoo pushed you aside, his movements smooth and efficient. With ease, he picked up the box and carried it to the storage room. You followed him, a wide smile creeping onto your lips.

“Thanks a lot,” you said, genuine gratitude lighting up your tone.

Wonwoo gave you a side-eye. “Next time, ask other people for help if you can’t do it by yourself.”

“There was no one to ask! Everyone’s busy with other stuff,” you defended, pouting at being scolded.

“You didn’t ask me.”

“You were busy too!”

“Then you should’ve waited until I was done.”

“What are you so mad about? I didn’t ask because you were busy, and you’re not even in the council to begin with. This isn’t your job.”

Wonwoo sighed, turning away. You followed him out, trying to keep up with his long strides. When he stopped, you halted too, glancing up at him. He stared at you for a moment, inspecting your appearance with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

“Are you checking me out?” you quipped, knowing how he’d react.

Wonwoo scoffed. “Are you heading back to the dorm now?” he asked, and you nodded. “Wait here,” he said before climbing up the sound box to fetch his backpack. When he came back down, he pulled out a jacket and handed it to you.

“Oh, I’m good. I have a jacket in my bag,” you chimed, dismissing it.

“Forget it, then,” he said, putting it away, but you stopped him.

“No! I’ll take it! Mine’s not warm enough,” you grinned. “Thank you!”

Wonwoo’s deadpan expression remained as he rolled his eyes. “Go get your things. We’re leaving.”

You blinked, confusion washing over you. “Huh? Are we leaving together?”

“We’re going the same way anyway. Might as well just go together,” he said, glancing away with a slight furrow in his brows. “You might get yourself in trouble again.”

“We’re on the campus, I don’t think anyone would try something like that here,” you stated, but you couldn’t help smiling.

After what happened the other day, Wonwoo seemed to be warming up to you now. It felt good to know that he cared enough to walk home with you and ensure nothing happened again.

“If you don’t want to, suit yourself,” he said, turning his back.

“No, wait! Let’s go!”

You rushed back to where you’d left your things, bidding hurried goodbyes to your student council friends. When you returned, Wonwoo was still waiting for you. He sighed at the sight of your massive grin and started walking first, so you ran to catch up with him.

“Wait for me,” you called, giggling as you intertwined your fingers with his. He didn’t shake you off.

“Put the jacket on. It’s cold.”

“Oooh, Jeon Wonwoo,” you teased, peeking at his face. “Are you trying to get promoted to green flag?”

“I’m not a red flag,” he said monotonously.

“When did I say you were?”

“You kept implying it.”

You chuckled lightly. “You know, I heard that people who claim that they’re not a red flag tend to be… well, a red flag.”

“Just wear the jacket. I don’t want to be responsible for you if you get hypothermia.”

You pouted, backing away to put on the jacket. As you did, you unlinked your fingers with his but Wonwoo chased after it, tightening his hold. You blinked at him, confused. “Let go. I need to put this on.”

“Huh?” he blurted, retracting his hand like he’d been electrified. His fingers slipped away too quickly, but the warmth lingered on your skin.

“Do you hate it that much?” you scoffed as you wore his jacket. It was warm and smelled like him. “And no one’s getting hypothermia in this weather. It’s not that cold.”

“Can’t we just walk quietly and pretend we don’t know each other?”

“No, we can’t,” you chimed, linking your arms with his. “It’s impossible because we look like a couple right now.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” you sang, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you strolled down the dimly lit pathway. You allowed yourself to savor the moment, your steps perfectly in sync with his, a warmth spreading in your chest as you walked together under the soft glow of the pathway lights.

The school festival was coming up, and you got to work with Wonwoo on the preparations—you as a student council member, and him with the IT Club. Your tasks were different, not overlapping at all but you were content just being in the same space with him.

While Wonwoo worked with a clubmate on the sound systems, you were assigned to help with decorations and logistics. Despite your tasks not overlapping, you made a point to stroll by his area often, a smile lighting up your face whenever your eyes met. Wonwoo would only nod to acknowledge you, but each exchange was a little jolt of happiness for you.

The hours passed in a blur of laughter and hard work. You organized tables, hung streamers, and made sure everything was in its right place, all while stealing glances at Wonwoo and his team.

During a break, you found yourself near the sound booth, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. Wonwoo was adjusting a microphone, and you couldn’t help but watch. He looked effortlessly cool, his concentration making him even more attractive.

“Don’t just stand there, you’re making me nervous,” he teased when he noticed you staring.

You flushed, momentarily caught off guard. “Just appreciating the view!” you shot back with a grin.

“Right,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Just don’t break anything.”

“Oh please, I’m the master of decorations! No broken things here!” you replied with mock seriousness.

As the day wore on, the festival started to take shape, and your excitement grew. You loved this sense of unity, the way everyone worked together to bring a festival to remember. It was very tiring, wearing out your bodies with work and your minds with how much you kept brainstorming for the best ideas. But as the sun began to set, and the field was transformed into a magical scene with the glow of fairy lights, all your labor had been worth it.

“Looks great,” Wonwoo said, suddenly at your side.

You nodded, unable to suppress your grin. “It does, doesn’t it? You guys did a great job too. The LED displays are cool.”

“We did what we do best. You guys at the student council worked harder, coming up with cool ideas and stuff,” he replied, giving you an appreciative nod.

Feeling a rush of warmth at his compliment, you could only smile. “Let’s just say we make a great team—each in our own way.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Some of the council guys were a bit pompous and bossy but, yeah, you’re right.”

You laughed at that, hitting his arm and letting your hand stay there. Wonwoo didn’t flinch, even flashing a small smile as you both stared at the fruit of your labor.

The school festival was finally here, and the campus was alive with excitement. You could feel the energy in the air, the smell of food wafting from the stalls, and the cheerful sound of laughter and chatter.

The day kicked off with a formal ceremony in the main courtyard—with the school band playing a march. Students and faculty gathered under a large banner that read Welcome to the 00 University Festival! You stood with your friends, cheering as the college president gave a short speech about the importance of community and collaboration.

“Let the festivities begin!” he concluded, and the crowd erupted into applause.

As the ceremony ended, you raced to the game booths that had been set up around the campus. Your friends challenged each other to various games—ring toss, balloon darts, and a giant inflatable obstacle course. The laughter was infectious, and you lost track of time as you tried your hand at each game, reveling in the thrill of friendly competition.

In between the fun, you made your way to the sound booth, where Wonwoo and Jihoon were busy setting up for the afternoon performances.

“Snacks for the most hardworking people on the whole campus,” you called out, showing them the containers of food and drinks.

“Thanks a lot!” Jihoon said with a bright smile, taking a snack before returning to his controls. “You’re so thoughtful.”

Wonwoo, on the other hand, merely nodded, a small smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “Thanks,” he said, taking a sip from the drink you brought him.

“You guys are doing an amazing job! Can’t wait for the party tonight!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over.

“We’ll make sure it’s a good one,” Jihoon replied, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Are you kidding me? DJ Woozi is here. I know it’s gonna be a good one,” you chimed, pointing finger guns at Jihoon.

The latter couldn’t help grinning at your compliment. “You should come over more often! It’s not all boring work here.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll be here often. Gotta make sure you stay hydrated. You’ll need the energy to keep up with the crowd.”

Jihoon tilted his head slightly, unconvinced. “Pretty sure Wonwoo will appreciate it,” he chuckled, nudging Wonwoo’s arm.

You just smiled, winking at Wonwoo before you bid your goodbyes and promised them you’d be back.

As the afternoon rolled in, the booths and games continued. You lost yourself in the fun, but each time you never forgot to stop by the sound booth, checking in on Wonwoo—and Jihoon because he happened to be there too.

“Want a break?” you asked during one of your visits. “You’ve been at it for hours!”

Wonwoo looked at you, the serious expression on his face softening slightly. “I’m good. Just need to make sure everything is perfect for tonight.”

You nodded, admiring his dedication. “Well, I brought more snacks,” you said, pulling out the waffles you got from one of the booths.

“Thanks,” Jihoon said, taking the bag with a grateful smile.

Soon, the day transitioned into the evening. Students gathered around the stage, and the sounds of music filled the campus. You joined your friends, dancing and enjoying the beats as Jihoon—moniker, Woozi got the crowd hyped.

You could see Wonwoo in the sound booth, focused on the music, and your heart swelled with admiration. Every now and then, you made your way back to him, offering him drinks or just sharing a quick laugh about something funny happening in the crowd.

“Having fun?” he asked during one of your visits, his gaze momentarily leaving the controls.

“Definitely! This is amazing!” you replied, breathless from dancing.

“Good. Just keep your distance from the speakers,” he said and you could see a playful glint in his eyes despite his deadpan expression.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to break anything,” you shot back, grinning.

The night continued to unfold, filled with dancing, laughter, and an electric atmosphere. Later, when the party wound down and the crowd began to disperse, the working group gathered again for a final clean-up.

“I can’t believe how well everything turned out,” you said, looking around at the remnants of the festival.

“Yeah, it was a success,” Jihoon replied, glancing at you. “Thanks for all your help today.”

“Of course! It was so much fun being part of it,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through you.

The student council president clapped his hands together to grab everyone’s attention. “Before we call it a night, how about we plan a weekend escapade to celebrate our hard work? A little break after all this?”

Cheers erupted from the group, and you felt your heart race at the thought of spending more time with everyone, especially with Wonwoo.

“Good to know everyone’s up for it!” the president said, smiling. “For now, let us pack up what needs to be packed up, make sure not to miss anything, and then we can head to the after-party.”

You helped pack up the necessary stuff that could not wait until tomorrow. Luckily, the university had a cleaning personnel who would handle the rest, so your work was lighter. Afterward, the group dispersed, some resigning to their dorms to rest, and the others heading to the after-party at an off-campus frat house.

Your friends were waiting for you outside the dorm, and you all hurried off to the party. It was a big shift from the organized chaos of the festival to a more liberated vibe. The living room was packed with students, and the atmosphere was thick with the smell of alcohol, vape, and perfumes mixed with the faintest hint of sweat. Colorful lights dance across the walls, along with the bodies of partygoers moving along to the catchy music.

“Let’s grab some drinks!” Mina shouted over the music, and the group surged toward the makeshift bar set up in the corner. You followed, adrenaline coursing through you as you filled a cup with whatever was on offer.

With drinks in hand, you scanned the room, your eyes searching for a familiar face. And there he was—Wonwoo, standing in a corner, a drink in hand, watching the chaos unfold with an amused expression. His dark hair glimmered under the strobe lights, and he stood out in his plain white t-shirt.

Without hesitation, you weaved through the crowd, clutching your drink tightly. “Hey, you made it!” you said, trying to sound casual despite the excitement bubbling inside you.

“Not willingly,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup.

“Want to join the madness?” you asked, gesturing toward the dance floor, where a group of students swayed and grinded, lost in the music and alcohol.

“Pass,” he said, not even giving it a thought.

“I knew it, but why did I still ask?” you mumbled, chuckling over your cup.

Across the hall, you spotted Mina and Hoshi, getting touchy as they danced to the rhythm. You smiled at the sight of them, lifting your cup in greeting when Hoshi waved at you.

“They look so in love, it’s annoying,” you snorted, but your fond smile was anything but snarky.

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Wonwoo commented, making you glance at him.

“You don’t see it?” you questioned, genuinely perplexed. “It’s so obvious. They can’t even get their hands off of each other.”

Wonwoo hummed, but he looked unconvinced. “It could be the alcohol, you know, making them hot and touchy… and horny. You don’t need love to feel that way.”

You observed him for a while, trying to gouge what was in his mind but to no avail. You could tell though that he was a cynic. “You don’t believe in love, do you?”

“Love is overrated,” he said, sipping from his cup.

You just nodded, acknowledging his admittance and respecting his opinions. “Are you sure you should be drinking? You can’t handle your liquor.”

“Oh, this is plain soda,” he replied, showing you the contents of his red cup. “I’m not drinking. Can’t afford to make stupid mistakes.”

“Mistakes? Like calling some stranger gorgeous and confessing your love for them?” you quipped but there was a bit of snark in your tone.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

That dampened your mood. “Well, good luck then,” you said, bumping your cup gently against his. “Enjoy the party.”

As you turned to walk away, Wonwoo grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna go have some real fun. Dancing, drinking, maybe some games because I’m quite good at them,” you smiled, motioning to the chaos around you. “It’s a party after all.”

He released your arm and you couldn’t quite tell what expression he was wearing. “Have fun then.”

“Thanks. I will,” you said with a salute before disappearing into the crowd.

You didn’t see him around the house after that, neither did you try looking for him. You just enjoyed the night, trying to take him off of your mind and the nagging thought at the back of your mind that going after him would not result in anything but disappointment.

Early Saturday morning, you gathered at the school plaza with other members of the festival working group. You were set to leave at 9 am, and despite the hangover from last night, you managed to make it there on time—not without a splitting headache that a handful of other members seemed to share.

“Alright?” asked Wonwoo, appearing beside you with a slight scowl as you pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to ease the pounding pain.

“Hi!” you greeted him, smiling from ear to ear only to wince again. “Ouch. My head is killing me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Wonwoo smirked.

Before you could retort, Jihoon hopped over, a small plastic bag in hand filled with water and medicine. “Here. It’ll help with the hangover,” he offered, his expression earnest.

You groaned dramatically, pouting at him. “Thanks a lot, Jihoon. You’re a literal angel.”

Jihoon’s cheeks flushed at the compliment, the corners of his mouth twitching into a bashful smile. “That’s… Well, it’s not much.”

“No, I mean it. You really are an angel. Your skin is so fair, it’s blinding,” you said, squinting playfully as if his glow was too bright to bear.

“Take the medicine if your head is hurting that much,” Wonwoo chided sternly on your other side, making you turn back to him.

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, opening the bag. You popped a pill in your mouth and fumbled with the bottle of water, struggling to twist the cap off. Just as Jihoon was about to help, Wonwoo snatched the bottle from your hand, effortlessly twisting it open.

“Thanks,” you said, raising the bottle in appreciation. You mirrored the gesture to Jihoon, grinning widely. “Thanks, my angel.”

Soon, the rest of the group arrived, ready for the trip. Since the university didn’t sponsor this outing, you all had to pay for expenses and transportation. Some students had cars and agreed to carpool with those who didn’t.

Without giving it much thought, you headed straight to Wonwoo’s car, making yourself comfortable in the front seat like you belonged there.

He didn’t seem to mind, though he did say, “I thought you were going in Jihoon’s car.”

“Oh, he didn’t invite me. We’re not that close,” you replied, buckling your seatbelt. “Besides, I’d rather ride you.”

You noticed his hand freeze mid-air, the awkward silence that followed stretching between you like a taut string.

“With you!” you said in a panic. “I meant to say, I’d rather ride with you.”

Wonwoo nodded with a blank expression. “Yeah. I know,” he said coolly.

You chuckled awkwardly, looking outside his window and mentally cursing yourself. When the other cars started driving away, you realized that Wonwoo still hadn’t turned on his engine.

“Are we waiting for someone?” you asked and he nodded.

“There he is,” he said, gesturing at Seokmin, who was rushing toward you with a backpack slung over one shoulder.

He yanked the backseat door open and hopped in immediately. “Wow. Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

“You had three minutes left,” Wonwoo replied, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he finally fired up the engine and drove out of the campus.

The car ride was filled with laughter as Seokmin took charge of the music, blasting upbeat tracks that made it impossible not to move. He sang along, his voice rising above the catchy beats, and every now and then, he added exaggerated dance moves from the passenger seat, making you and Wonwoo laugh.

“Can you believe we actually survived the festival?” Seokmin exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought we’d end up in a full-on food fight or something! Just imagine it—streamers flying, popcorn everywhere, total chaos!”

You chuckled, picturing the scene, however impossible it was. “Yeah, and we’d be the ones cleaning it up afterward.”

“Exactly! But it would’ve been legendary!” Seokmin insisted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Next time, I’m bringing a water balloon launcher. Who’s in?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. “You’d just end up hitting someone with that.”

“Details, details!” Seokmin waved off the concern. “It doesn’t matter as long as you had fun and made lots of memories.”

He stopped and gasped quietly as he watched you extend the iced coffee toward Wonwoo so he could take a sip. You noticed him only when Wonwoo had taken a sip and you’d placed the coffee back in the cup holder.

“What?” you asked.

“Why don’t you guys just kiss in front of me?”

Wonwoo scowled, glancing briefly at his friend. “Why would we do that?”

“Right?” you blurted, snorting. “Didn’t know you were kinky like that, Seokmin.”

Seokmin leaned back in his seat. “You guys. You know that’s not what I mean.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “I was just being nice, okay?”

“Right, just being nice,” Seokmin teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “But I mean, he didn’t look like he was complaining. When did he stop complaining about you invading his space?”

“Oh, he’s never complained to me before,” you replied, you didn’t even need to think about it.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “He did not?”

“Not that I remember,” you said, peering at him in the backseat. “And I remember every single interaction we had,” you added with a proud smile.

“But he doesn’t like it when people are in his space,” said Seokmin, pointing at Wonwoo with a surprised expression. “He hates it.”

You shot a glance at Wonwoo, who kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. “Enough, Seokmin. You’re gonna make her think I’m enjoying this.”

“Aren’t you?” he shot back with a grin. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a hot girl following him around, giving him drinks and all that?”

“Exactly!” you exclaimed. “Look at me! 1-800-hot-n-fun.”

Seokmin leaned between your seats, pointing a finger gun at your temple. “Excuse me, ma’am. You’re under arrest for being 10 out of 10 and 2 hot 2 handle.”

You and Seokmin burst out laughing, and even Wonwoo couldn’t hide his grin.

“Settle down, or I'll kick you two out of the car,” Wonwoo chided.

“Is it strange that I’m more invested in your relationship than you are?” Seokmin asked after a moment’s pause.

You shushed him. “Shut up. No one is more invested in our relationship than I am!”

As the miles rolled by, the countryside unfolded around you, with fields of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Just as you were nearing the location, you had to stop at a gasoline station because Seokmin needed to use the restroom.

“How about you?” he asked, just as Seokmin had left the car.

“No, I’m good,” you replied, glancing at him and found him scrolling through his phone. He just hummed, eyes fixed on his screen.

You took in his features—handsome, of course, with that natural air of confidence he always seemed to carry. His jawline gave him an angular, sharp look, yet there was something almost delicate in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, or the way his lashes fell gently against his skin when he blinked.

Your gaze fell to his lips—symmetrical with a defined cupid’s bow and subtle but natural fullness. There was that ever-present slight curve. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it always seemed like it was on the verge of one, and it made you wonder what it’d take to coax a real one out of him.

“You know,” you said, voice dripping with playful mischief, “you have really pretty lips.”

Wonwoo paused, blinking as if processing your comment. His eyes flicked to your mouth, and for a second, the silence between you seemed to thicken. But then he shifted his gaze back to the road, brushing off your words like it was nothing. “Thanks,” he replied, as nonchalant as ever.

At the back of your mind, you wonder if it was as soft as it appeared to be.

“Can you tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue?” you asked again, leaning a little closer with an innocent smile on your lips.

You knew exactly what you were doing—the teasing tone, the loaded question. It was playful, sultry, but in a way that you could brush off if he didn’t bite. You fully expected his usual indifferent response.

Then again, there was the possibility that maybe he’d pick up your hints this time, and maybe he’d do something about the tension that was building up between you right at this moment. Maybe—

“I don’t think anyone can,” he answered flatly, the corner of his mouth barely twitching.

You threw your hands up dramatically. “Oh my god. What was I expecting?” you groaned, looking away.

Wonwoo remained quiet, so you glanced back at him. You met his eyes, dark with an intensity that you hadn’t seen before. His jaw was clenched tightly, and somehow it felt as though you had done something wrong.

“What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He didn’t say anything. He just unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned towards you. Before you could react, he was already cupping the back of your head and crashing his lips into yours.

You were momentarily stunned, grappling with the sensation of his lips pressing against yours. He tightened his grip on your head, tilting it just right, allowing him to kiss you more deeply. It was firm, yet slow, like he’d been thinking about it for much longer than you’d realized. You closed your eyes as you melted into him, kissing him back with a rhythm that made your skin prickle with the warmth that was slowly creeping into your chest. Your heart raced in its cage—so wildly that you swore Wonwoo could feel it echoing in his own.

When he finally pulled back, his expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of triumph in his eyes.

“So?” His voice was low, teasing. “Can I?”

You blinked, still a little dazed. “Huh?”

He smirked, the smug confidence catching you off guard. “Can I tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue?”

Your mouth fell open in disbelief before you burst out laughing, the tension between you now crackling in the air. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, the flustered grin spreading across your face. “Absolutely. You’re amazing. Basically a pro. Heh.”

Luckily, Seokmin arrived before the mood could get any more awkward. He did notice the shift between you, but when he asked about it, you just brushed it off. Deep inside, you were reeling in the bliss of kissing Wonwoo—wait, no—of being kissed by Wonwoo.

You soon arrived at the villa, its warm stone exterior blending beautifully with the surrounding trees. There was a welcoming warmth to it, and you hoped it was as comfortable as it looked.

“Wow, this place is massive,” Seokmin commented dramatically as he stepped out of the car, looking up at the villa as if it were a five-star resort.

Just then, a girl with beautiful long hair and a bright smile appeared on the porch. “Hey, guys! You made it!” she called out, waving enthusiastically.

“Claire?” Seokmin blurted, evidently surprised.

“Seokmin!” she squealed, running to him for a quick hug.

You noticed Wonwoo stiffen slightly at the sight of her, his expression shifting as he watched the reunion. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, but Claire seemed blissfully unaware.

“What are you doing here?” Seokmin asked, backing away with a neutral expression.

The student council president came out before Claire could respond. “You’ve arrived! Good. Good. Have you met Claire?” he said, smiling at Claire. “Claire here was kind enough to offer their family villa, so this is going to be our home for the weekend.”

“Oh, I know these guys. We go way back,” said Claire, referring to Seokmin and Wonwoo.

Prez introduced you to her and Claire’s smile widened as she extended her hand to you. “Nice to meet you!”

“Nice to meet you too!” you replied, trying to match her enthusiasm. You were still processing the sudden tension in the air, especially from Wonwoo.

“Come on in! The others are waiting.”

As the president guided you inside, you watched as Claire held Wonwoo by the arm and walked ahead of you. You felt a sudden surge of annoyance at her, clearly out of jealousy.

Seokmin leaned in to whisper in your ear. “That’s Wonwoo’s ex.”

The revelation made you nervous as you watched them. Wonwoo’s expression was blank, while Claire remained upbeat.

As you stepped further inside the villa, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this weekend was going to be more complicated than you had anticipated.

The first order of business in the villa was dinner. After arriving early, everyone gathered around for snacks and chatted, but by dinner time, the group split into two—those helping in the kitchen and those exploring the villa.

You hadn’t planned on helping out in the kitchen, but when you noticed only a few had volunteered, you reluctantly joined in. A mistake, you realized, as your eyes drifted to the living room where Wonwoo sat with Claire beside him. She looked far too comfortable, leaning in close as they talked, her laughter ringing out over the murmur of conversations. Your chest tightened at the sight, the feeling of irritation and insecurity creeping up on you.

It’s fine. He’s allowed to have a past, you told yourself, gripping the knife a little tighter as you sliced through a watermelon. But does she have to sit so close? Exes shouldn’t be too nice to each other. And does she have to appear now?

“Hey, focus!” Jihoon’s voice cut through your thoughts as he nudged your shoulder. “You’re going to cut yourself if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, blinking down at the cutting board. You had nearly reached the end of the watermelon and were dangerously close to nicking your finger

“Why are you so distracted?” Jihoon teased, glancing briefly at Wonwoo and Claire before turning back to the stove. “Relax. He’s yours. I’m sure of it.”

You let out a dry laugh, though your stomach twisted. “You can’t be so sure. Not with his ex clinging to him like that.”

“I don’t know... He’s heading this way now, so I think I’m right,” Woozi replied, stirring the contents of the pan with a knowing smile.

Before you could process Jihoon’s words, Wonwoo appeared beside you. His presence made the kitchen feel smaller.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the watermelon as he gently nudged you aside. His body brushed against yours as he took the knife from your hand, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. Then he began slicing the fruit with ease.

Your pulse quickened. “What do you think?” you pouted, stepping aside but staying close enough for your elbows to brush every now and then.

“I think you’re trying to get my attention. Getting hurt and all,” he replied, making your jaw drop. He laughed at your expression. “Aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t hurt,” you told him, rolling your eyes although your heart was fluttering at the sight of his smile. “And even if I did want your attention, I don’t need to hurt myself to get it.”

Wonwoo nodded, agreeing. “You’re right. You don’t need to. It’s one of your many talents.”

You took a paring knife and started slicing the pears, scooting closer to Wonwoo so your elbows touched slightly. “Seokmin told me Claire was your ex.”

Wonwoo hummed in response, not looking up from the watermelon he was slicing. “She is. Freshman year.”

You stopped the urge to roll your eyes. “So you did believe in love.”

“Just because I had girlfriends before doesn’t mean I believe in love.”

“You know, I heard somewhere that people who claim not to believe in love tend to be the most hopeless romantic individuals to ever walk the Earth.”

“Whoever said that was lying,” he replied, shoving a small piece of watermelon in your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your lips.

You chewed slowly, feeling a blush creep up your neck. The way Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on your lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. On an ordinary day, that would be a good opportunity to make fun of him, but after what happened in the car earlier, you could not bring yourself to tease him.

He cleared his throat, looking away and resuming his task. You glanced around, suddenly feeling self-conscious and didn’t know where to put your hand, so you grabbed a slice of watermelon.

“It’s very sweet. Try it,” you said, offering the slice to him.

Without looking, Wonwoo leaned sideways to you and took a bite of the fruit. You instantly regretted that because now you were the one staring at his lips, recalling the vivid imagery of earlier’s kiss.

“Wonwoo!” a voice called out from the living room, snapping you out of your imaginations. It was Claire and she didn’t have anything to say, just waving at Wonwoo with a smile.

You glanced at Wonwoo who didn’t even bother to show a reaction, let alone respond.

“Does it bother you that she’s here?” you asked, your voice softer now, more curious than playful.

He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”

“So you’re unbothered?”

“I’m unbothered.”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “You know, I heard that people who say they’re unbothered tend to be... well, very bothered.”

Wonwoo let out a small, resigned laugh, finally setting the knife down. His gaze softened as he turned to face you fully. “Again with your odd wisdom.” He raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing but warm. “What’s next? People who claim to have allergies aren’t actually allergic?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” you shot back, laughing. “Allergies are backed by science. But being bothered when you’re in the same room as your ex? That’s a little harder to prove. Just like not believing in love.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he said sarcastically. “I might need to practice my patience so I can keep up with your antics.”

“Oh? You’ll do that instead of telling me to leave you alone?”

Wonwoo scowled lightly. “Did you forget what Seokmin said? That I hate it when people bother me?” he asked, reaching to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear. “I don’t hate you, so I won’t tell you to leave me alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could reply, Claire’s voice carried over from the living room, breaking the moment. You glanced over, watching as she stood up, her eyes briefly meeting Wonwoo’s before she looked away.

I have a feeling in my gut that she’s doing this on purpose, you thought to yourself, narrowing your eyes slightly at the other girl.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” someone called from the kitchen, pulling your attention back.

Wonwoo didn’t seem to notice Claire at all as he turned to the stove to help Jihoon with the final touches. After that, you moved to the backyard just as the evening settled into a cool, dusky warmth.

The smell of barbecue filled the air, rich and smoky. The large grill crackled and popped as steaks, skewers, and vegetables sizzled under Seokmin’s watchful—albeit playful—eye. You could hear him narrating the process dramatically to anyone who would listen, complete with sound effects.

“And now, behold! The perfectly grilled steak, sizzling under my masterful technique,” Seokmin proclaimed, waving his spatula like a wand.

You sat at one of the long picnic tables on the patio, nursing a cold drink and watching the light from the grill flicker across the faces of your friends. Wonwoo sat beside you, quietly observing the scene while Claire—who had rejoined the group—chatted animatedly with some others across the table. You were trying not to feel too aware of her presence, but it was impossible not to glance her way now and then.

“Hey, are you going to give me a hand, or are you just going to sit there looking cute?” Seokmin called to you with a playful wink.

You snorted, setting your drink down and getting up. “You know, you can’t use that line for everything.”

Seokmin shook his head, grinning widely. “Who said it’s a line? You just happen to look cute all the time, okay? Now, get over here and help me with the skewers.”

Wonwoo chuckled beside you, and you gave him a teasing glance as you headed toward the grill. “Don’t laugh too much, or you’ll be next on Seokmin’s target list.”

“I’ll pass,” Wonwoo replied dryly, though his eyes followed you with a hint of amusement.

You reached the grill, where Seokmin handed you a plate of marinated vegetables to arrange onto skewers. “So, how’s it going over there with Mr. Mysterious?” Seokmin asked in a low voice, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively as he leaned closer.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

Seokmin nudged you with his elbow. “Don’t play dumb. I saw how you and Wonwoo were looking at each other earlier. You’re practically making out with your eyes.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, you win. You are more invested in our relationship than me.”

“I told, didn’t I?” he asked, giving you a knowing grin. “I’ve known the guy for ages. He’s not usually this... I don’t know, present. It’s like he actually pays attention when you’re around. Normally, he’s off in his own world.”

You opened your mouth to respond but were interrupted when Wonwoo appeared at your side, casually grabbing one of the skewers you had just finished assembling.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, laughing. “You’re supposed to let them cook first.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, popping a piece of bell pepper into his mouth. “It’s good raw.”

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “It’s what?”

Wonwoo flicked Seokmin’s forehead, discouraging his thoughts. “Take your mind out of the gutters.”

Seokmin rubbed the part of his forehead that Wonwoo flicked, grinning at you and wiggling his eyebrows knowingly. You playfully swatted his arm with the back of your hand.

“So dirty-minded, go away,” you scolded though you were grinning.

Wonwoo smiled softly, and for a moment, the noise of the group around you faded. His gaze held yours, and you felt that familiar warmth spread through your chest again.

Seokmin cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Okay, lovebirds, enough with the eyes! We’ve got mouths to feed.”

You blushed, turning back to the skewers as Seokmin gave you a teasing grin. He leaned over and whispered, “See? What did I say? Sparks.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help smiling.

Seokmin sighed reminiscently. “Man, I’m so single. I wish the others were here too.”

“Right? I would’ve been fun to have them here,” you noted, remembering your rowdy friends.

“We should do this again with them. Say ‘yes’.”

“Yes,” you replied, not missing a beat. “Absolutely, yes.”

As the grilling continued, you could hear laughter and chatter all around—Seokmin’s over-the-top narrations, Jihoon offering sarcastic commentary from where he stood near the grill, and Claire’s voice chiming in from the table, still carrying that same vibrant energy she had when you first arrived.

Once the food was ready, everyone gathered around the picnic tables, the platters piled high with grilled meats, skewers, and sides. The scent of charred meat and fresh herbs mixed with the cool evening breeze. The plates clinked as people passed around dishes, and conversations overlapped in the comfortable chaos of friends enjoying a good meal.

You found a spot next to Wonwoo again, your plate full, though you were more focused on the way his knee brushed against yours under the table. Each little touch felt like a secret between the two of you, unnoticed by everyone else.

Across the table, Prez pointed his fork at you and Wonwoo, grinning. “You two are awfully close for two people who aren’t dating.”

You almost choked on your food, but Wonwoo calmly sipped his drink, completely unfazed. “We’re just eating, Prez,” he said, but his hand landing gently on your thigh under the table contradicted his statement.

“Yeah, and sitting suspiciously close while doing it,” Seokmin quipped, wiggling his eyebrows. “Just saying. The grill master knows things.”

“You really need to stop calling yourself that,” one of your companions teased, shaking her head at Seokmin.

Seokmin gasped dramatically. “Excuse me, ma’am, but this title is earned through years of culinary excellence and—”

“Hey, Claire, do you think Seokmin deserves the title of ‘grill master’?” someone called from the other end of the table, cutting off his exaggerated speech.

Claire, who had been quiet for a while, looked up with a smile. “I mean, he did a good job, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

The group erupted into laughter, and Seokmin threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’ll accept the demotion.”

As the laughter died down, you felt Wonwoo lean a little closer, thumb rubbing your thigh over your jeans. He didn’t say anything, but the way he quietly stayed by your side, even in the midst of all the noise, spoke volumes.

The evening carried on, full of easy laughter, good food, drunk anecdotes, and the soft glow of lanterns that lit up the patio as night fell. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this light, this content, as the warmth of the barbecue wrapped around you like a comfortable blanket and the buzz of alcohol numbed the cold air hitting your skin.

“You alright?” Wonwoo asked, placing a hand over your back as you were resting your head on the table.

Everyone had gone back inside, save for a few others who continued their drinking by the poolside. You and Wonwoo were the only ones left at the table, mainly because you were tired and he didn’t want to leave you.

You sat up and stared at him. “My god, you’re so handsome. I could kiss you.”

“You’re drunk.”

You snort. “I’m not drunk. I never get drunk!” you paused, staring at your index finger. “Actually, I did get drunk… once, twice? Was it thrice? I don’t remember. Anyway!”

You took a deep breath and tucked your hair behind your ears. “Even if I’m not drunk, I always want to kiss you.”

“You do?” he questioned, amused.

You stood up and stepped closer to him, he remained in his seat, watching you with soft eyes. You wobbled a bit but Wonwoo caught your arms firmly, keeping you steady. You held his face with your hands, squeezing his cheeks slightly. “Don’t dodge this, okay?”

“So? Did you…” Seungcheol paused, hesitating. There was a hint of embarrassment on his face as he finished his sentence. “...kiss?”

You laughed, lolling your head back. “You’re a grown-ass man and you’re hesitating to say the word ‘kiss’?”

Seungcheol shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking away with a small pout. That expression intrigued you, surprised to know he could make such a face. Then again, what do you really know about him?

“It’s not my fault. The mood of your story is quite… I’m not sure what to call it. Innocent? In a way?”

“I get what you mean. But to answer your question, we didn’t kiss,” you jeered, rolling your eyes. “I blacked out and forgot, but he told me that we didn’t kiss. He dodged it.”

“You believed that?”

You shrugged. “Wonwoo had no reason to lie about it. I mean, that’s just out of character for him.”

“I see,” said Seungcheol, thinking. “So? What happened next?”

You groaned, taking a big sip of your drink before continuing. “Remember Claire?”

“Yeah, we do not like her.”

“Good, she’s annoying,” you said, rolling your eyes. “She was even more annoying the next day after that...”

Prez had a hike planned for the next day. The area was a popular spot for its beautiful river up the mountain, so you all agreed to go. When you heard a knock on your door, you had expected it to be Wonwoo, but instead, Jihoon’s smile greeted you.

“Looks like we’re carpooling today,” he said.

“We are?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

Jihoon gave a half-shrug. “Yeah, I thought the same. Figured you’d be with Wonwoo, but apparently, he already left.”

“Wonwoo’s gone?” You tried to keep your voice steady, masking the sting of disappointment that followed his words.

“Yeah, he headed out early with Prez, Claire, and a few others,” Jihoon explained, noticing the subtle shift in your expression.

You forced a smile, quickly masking the sinking feeling in your chest. “Well, can’t be helped. I’ll just grab my jacket.”

“Take your time. Calum’s not even ready yet, so we’ve got a bit.” Jihoon leaned against the doorframe as you moved back inside to grab your things.

“Who else is with us?” you asked, emerging with your jacket and a small backpack.

“Just Calum,” Jihoon replied with a smirk. “Which means we get to listen to him complain the whole way.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Well, we better go before he decides to ditch us too.”

As the three of you arrived at the foot of the mountain, you spotted the rest of the group already gathered around the guide for a quick briefing. Your eyes immediately searched for Wonwoo. Sure enough, he and Seokmin were at the front of the line, both seemingly unaware that you’d arrived. A strange tension filled the air as your gaze lingered on Wonwoo, but you quickly pushed it aside, focusing on the hike ahead.

“Okay! Everybody ready to go?” the guide asked and everyone responded with a chorus of yesses.

You saw Wonwoo scanning the crowd behind him, stopping only when he locked eyes with you. There was a subtle change in his expression, something softer as if in recognition of you. He patted Prez on the back, saying something to him before he jogged toward you.

“There you are,” he said with a small smile. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

“Who said that?” you asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Claire. She said she heard you tell someone that you weren’t coming out today.”

You smirked, annoyed at Claire and her obvious attempt to sabotage you. “And you didn’t think to check with me?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “I didn’t wanna wake you. You seemed pretty drunk last night.”

The annoyance you were feeling suddenly dissipated, replaced by shame as you recalled trying to kiss him last night. You looked away, covering your mouth in shock.

“Are you shy?” he asked, chuckling lightly. “That’s new.”

You tutted at him and hit his arm playfully. “Shut up.”

He chuckled, casually taking your sling bag and wearing it across his chest. “I’ll take this.”

You grinned playfully. “Are you a gentleman now? Is it because you’ve fallen in love with me?”

“No. I just don’t want to deal with you complaining about a heavy bag halfway through the hike.”

The hike started out smoothly, with the morning sun filtering through the trees. Your group moved at a comfortable pace, with chatter filling the air as you climbed higher, nearing the mountain’s scenic river. Claire—who somehow found a way to walk next to Wonwoo and you, was leading the conversation close to Wonwoo, which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“Are you alright?” Jihoon asked quietly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. He flashed you a knowing smirk, catching the direction of your gaze.

“I’m fine. Just… taking in the view,” you replied quietly.

Jihoon didn’t seem convinced but dropped the subject. “Well, we’re almost there. Save your energy. There’s still the climb up to the ridge,” he added, pointing ahead to a steeper incline.

You felt a hand on your back and glanced at Wonwoo who just smiled at you. As the group made its way up, the conversation turned to reminiscing about old hiking trips. Claire, of course, found her way into this again, laughing as she talked about a time she and Wonwoo had hiked a similar trail.

“Wonwoo was such a show-off back then,” she said with a laugh, nudging him. “You remember that, right?”

You could hear the hint of nostalgia in her voice, but Wonwoo barely reacted. He just gave a polite nod, keeping his eyes on the trail ahead and his hand on your back.

“I was younger. Probably didn’t know better.”

Claire smiled at his response, but there was something about the way she looked at him—like she was waiting for more. It twisted something in your chest.

“Yeah, when you’re younger, you make stupid decisions,” said Seokmin, laughing a tad bit louder than necessary. “You’re so relatable, man. I try to forget my stupid decisions too. Especially the worst ones.”

You didn’t know the context, but you grasped the picture Seokmin was trying to insinuate about Wonwoo and Claire’s history. For some reason, it made you feel better about yourself to know that Wonwoo’s friend didn’t like his ex.

After another thirty minutes of steady climbing, you reached the ridge, overlooking the crystal-clear river that sparkled in the distance. Everyone took a breath, the beauty of the view silencing the group momentarily.

“This spot is perfect!” Prez called out, breaking the stillness as he bounced forward with his phone, ready to take pictures. “Let’s get some photos, everyone!”

Some of the group began to gather for a group shot, while others wandered around, taking in the scenery. You stayed back, wanting to enjoy the moment without Claire’s constant presence.

After a few photos and a lot of teasing from Seokmin, everyone dispersed, walking back toward the trail to continue on. As you moved ahead, you glanced at Wonwoo, who seemed quieter than usual, lost in his thoughts. You wondered if it was Claire getting to him, or if he was just being his typical reserved self.

The hike continued around the river, with a playful challenge thrown in along the way. Seokmin, always full of energy, dared anyone to balance on a fallen log that stretched across a small stream.

“Come on, who’s got the best balance?” he called out, clapping his hands together. “It’s a rite of passage for this hike!”

Prez shook his head, grinning. “I’m out. I’ll leave that to the younger ones.”

Seokmin turned to you, eyebrows raised. “How about you? I bet you’ve got some hidden skills.”

You shook your head. “Have fun without me.”

“Come on!” Seokmin grinned, motioning for you to step up. “Just once. Let’s see who wins.”

“Fine. You asked for this,” you told him, taking off your jacket and tying it across your hips.

The challenge began, and as you wobbled your way across the log, the others cheered from the sidelines. Seokmin was right behind you, steady but focused, and you could feel his presence as you tried not to lose your balance. A few slips here and there, but you made it across, jumping off the log with a victorious grin.

“Not bad, not bad!” Seokmin cheered, clapping his hands as he followed behind you, landing with ease.

You were catching your breath when you noticed Claire, standing a bit too close to Wonwoo, again sharing some kind of inside joke. Your stomach twisted as you watched them, the sight more irritating than the thought of falling off the log.

Feeling a bit frustrated, you turned away, pretending to check your bag but realized it was with Wonwoo. You sighed again, and then suddenly you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Wonwoo, holding out his water bottle.

“You didn’t bring water, did you?” he said simply, eyes soft but unreadable. “Drink up.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Thanks.”

“Don’t wanna have to carry you all the way back.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he was only trying to downplay his concern for you. “Of course.”

You took the bottle, your frustration softening as you realized he’d been paying attention. It wasn’t much, but you loved it anyway. You basked in it—in his attention which seemed to be on you most of the time.

He didn’t say anything more, just walked beside you as the group started unloading their stuff for a quick lunch by the river. The others went for a swim, led by Seokmin, as expected. You quietly took a sip of the water, the cool water hydrating you as you glanced over at Wonwoo in his usual quiet demeanor. He handed you a sandwich that he’d peeled open for you. Even though he wasn’t saying much, his actions were enough, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going through his mind.

After lunch, Seokmin managed to talk you into looking for wild berries. The guide mentioned there were plenty of wild berries around, so it sounded like a harmless adventure. You walked with Seokmin, Jihoon, and a few others, but Wonwoo decided to sit this one out, saying he was a bit tired. You glanced back at him, wondering why he didn’t want to join. He simply gave you a small wave before sitting by the water’s edge, his quiet presence still lingering in your thoughts.

As you wandered deeper into the trees with the group, the sound of laughter and rustling bushes filled the air. Seokmin was practically bouncing from one patch of greenery to the next, exclaiming every time he found a small cluster of berries.

“Look, these are the good ones! I told you I had an eye for this!” he boasted, holding up a handful of bright red berries.

“Okay, okay! We know you’re the berry master,” you teased, bending down to pluck a few yourself. But as you reached for another low-hanging cluster, you misjudged your footing on a slippery rock. The moss-covered surface gave way under your shoe, and before you could catch yourself, you stumbled forward, scraping your hand against a sharp branch. A sharp sting shot through your palm, and you hissed in pain, clutching your hand.

“Ow!” You winced, inspecting the cut. It wasn’t deep, but a small trickle of blood appeared, and the sting was enough to make you stop in your tracks.

“Are you alright?” Jihoon was quick to notice, walking over to check on you.

You waved him off with a sheepish smile, trying not to make a big deal of it. “Yeah, I just slipped on a rock. It’s not that bad.”

Seokmin, always the dramatic one, rushed over too. “Whoa, are you bleeding? Should we get you back? Do we need a first aid kit? A stretcher?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “I’m fine. I just need to wash it off.”

But despite your attempts to brush it off, the sting lingered, and you felt a little foolish for not watching your step. Jihoon offered you his handkerchief to wrap around your hand for now. “Here, it’s not much, but it should help until we get back.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling a bit more embarrassed than hurt.

After a while, the group decided it was time to head back to the riverbank. As you approached, the sight of Wonwoo sitting alone by the water came into view. He was gazing out at the stream, looking serene.

When he saw you returning, his eyes instantly dropped to your hand, the makeshift bandage catching his attention. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to you, his brow furrowed slightly.

“What happened?” he asked sternly, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Oh, I just slipped. It’s nothing, really,” you said, trying to sound casual, though the throbbing in your palm said otherwise.

Wonwoo, however, didn’t seem convinced. Without asking, he gently took your hand, carefully peeling back the cloth to look at the cut. His touch was soft but firm, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he inspected the wound.

“You should clean this properly,” he said, his voice low, a hint of concern in his tone.

“I will, it’s just—” you started, but he was already pulling you toward the river’s edge.

He crouched down by the water, motioning for you to follow. “Come here, rinse it off.”

You knelt beside him, dipping your hand into the cool water. The sting intensified for a moment before the fresh stream washed the dirt and blood away, leaving the cut cleaner. As if on cue, the guide appeared with a small first-aid kit, handing it to Wonwoo. He opened it, cleaning the wound with a steady hand before covering it with a Band-Aid.

“Here,” he murmured. “This should be better than that cloth.”

You glanced at your hand, grateful, but Wonwoo's next words caught you off guard.

“You said you don’t need to hurt yourself to get my attention?” he asked, an almost teasing glint in his eyes.

You blinked, caught between amusement and exasperation. “I didn’t do this on purpose! And you weren’t even there when it happened. How is this an attempt at getting your attention?”

“You came here with a wound,” he replied, his gaze softening slightly. “That got my attention.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I didn’t ask for you to clean it up or worry about me.”

For a moment, his brow furrowed as he studied you. “You don’t want me to?”

“What? Of course, I do!” you stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “But if you’re just going to hold it against me, no thanks. I’ll take care of myself.”

Wonwoo didn’t let the comment slide. “As if you have to take care of yourself. Lots of people will do that for you,” he said, scoffing as he nodded at Jihoon who was chatting animatedly with other people in a distance. “Like Jihoon, for example.”

You felt a spark of irritation flare. “God, I hope you’re saying that because you’re jealous.”

Wonwoo’s scoff came out a little too loud, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Exactly,” you said, pouting as you stood up abruptly, a wave of frustration rising in your chest. “You don’t like me enough to get jealous of other guys.”

Wonwoo stood up too, his expression softening just slightly. “Let’s go back together, okay? Don’t go with Jihoon.”

You crossed your arms, turning away. “Did you hear me complain when you came here with your ex?”

Wonwoo fell quiet for a second longer than expected. When you turned to look at him, he was smiling. You raised an eyebrow, making him chuckle lowly.

“You don't have to worry about her.”

“I'm not worried,” you denied, huffing. “Why would I be worried? I'm a 10. 2 hot 2 handle.”

Wonwoo chuckled, pulling you by the waist and wiping your damp forehead. “Don't hang out with Seokmin too much, you're starting to sound like him.”

You didn't say anything, too caught up in the feeling of being close to him to form a coherent sentence.

“Come on. Let’s pack up,” he said, quietly dismissing whatever it was that just happened between you.

After the hike, you all went back to the villa to pack and get ready for the long drive home. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow, tired motions, still buzzing with the high of a day spent outdoors, but ready to settle into the comfort of a car seat. You grabbed your jacket and water bottle, feeling a slight soreness from the hike, but overall content with how the day had gone.

When Wonwoo finished loading your stuff in the trunk, you made your way to the shotgun and sat there while waiting to leave. Claire appeared at your window, startling you a little. She was smiling as she knocked.

“Hi, Won,” she greeted as if she couldn’t see you there. “You didn’t forget your promise, right? That you’d give me a ride back?”

“Of course,” Wonwoo replied.

“Yay, thank you!” she said, opening the front seat door, much to your confusion.

Claire stared at you for a while, making you feel self-conscious all of a sudden. You gave her an inquiring look, which she returned with a raised eyebrow, gesturing for you to get off.

“Do you want me to get off so you can sit here?” you asked aloud, genuinely curious. “Seriously?”

“What’s going on?” Wonwoo asked, making you glance at him.

Claire spoke before you could respond. “Oh, I don’t mean to offend you or anything. It’s just… well, I get woozy when I sit in the backseat for long drives. Wonwoo knows this. I hope you understand.”

Her words seemed innocent enough, but her tone grated on you. You glanced at Wonwoo, half-expecting him to shoot down the excuse for what it was—a blatant attempt to sit next to him. Instead, he gave a simple nod, signaling for you to move.

Your heart sank. Seriously? It was obvious what she was doing. Glaringly obvious. And yet, he was just... fine with it? You bit back your frustration, forcing a polite smile as you got out of the shotgun seat.

“Oh, thanks a lot! You’re such an angel,” Claire gushed as she slipped into the seat beside Wonwoo. Her voice was dripping with exaggerated sweetness, but there was a glint of malice in her eyes that you were sure only you could see because her back was on Wonwoo.

“I have snacks,” she added to Wonwoo, pulling out a bag. “We can share it. I know you like to nibble on something when driving.”

Still silent, deadpan, you slid into the backseat, trying not to let it bother you. You stared out the window, hoping something—anything—would distract you from the irritation building up. Then you spotted Seokmin jogging toward the car, his usual carefree grin plastered on his face.

That was a relief. Seokmin is fun so you’d probably be too busy laughing to even notice the two other people in front of you.

You moved to open the door for him, but he went straight to knock on Wonwoo’s window.

“What’s going on? I thought you said you were too tired to drive?” Seokmin called through the rolled-down window.

“Yeah, I was waiting for you,” Wonwoo replied, his voice light as he opened the door to step out.

You blinked in confusion as Seokmin slid into the driver’s seat, chatting animatedly. Wonwoo made his way to the back, where you sat still trying to piece together what just happened. When he reached for the door, you instinctively tugged it shut, surprising both of you.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurted, opening it again quickly, your cheeks flushing. Wonwoo raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just chuckled softly as he pulled the door open himself.

He settled next to you, draping an arm over the seat. “Where’s our blanket?” he asked, glancing around.

“Our—” you started, then caught yourself. “It’s… uh… there!”

You pointed toward the compartment near the gear shift. Wonwoo reached for it, undoing the fold and casually covering himself with it.

“Hey, I brought that for myself,” you protested, though there was no real heat behind your words.

“I’m cold. If you need it, you can scoot closer,” he teased, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile.

“Don’t just hog it,” you complained, tugging the blanket but Wonwoo tutted, glaring at you playfully before scooting closer to you and covering you with the blanket.

Seokmin, who had been fiddling with the car’s controls, sighed dramatically, tilting his head toward you two. “I’ve never felt so single until now.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was undeniable. As the car finally started moving, you caught Claire’s icy stare in the rearview mirror. She was not enjoying the ride at all, and you hadn’t even left the parking lot yet.

The ride back to the university had been a blur. After the initial chatter and laughter, the exhaustion from the hike finally caught up to you. You vaguely remembered the sound of Seokmin’s playful banter, Claire’s chipper voice fading in and out, and the muffled conversations that filled the car, but most of it was a fog.

By the time you woke up, the sun had dipped lower in the sky. You blinked groggily, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. It was then you realized your head was resting on Wonwoo’s arm, nestled comfortably against his shoulder. The scent of his hoodie filled your senses, and you stiffened slightly, unsure how long you’d been using him as your personal pillow.

You hesitated to move, not wanting to wake him if he had dozed off too, but then you felt him shift. His arm flexed slightly under your weight, and you quickly sat up, feeling your face grow warm as you straightened yourself.

“Sorry, was I heavy?” you started, voice still heavy with sleep.

Wonwoo turned his head toward you, a soft smile playing on his lips. “It’s fine. You looked tired.” His voice was calm, as if it was no big deal, and somehow that made you relax a little.

You glanced out the window to see familiar buildings coming into view. The car was already pulling into the university parking lot, the journey back seemingly much shorter than expected—probably because you’d slept through most of it.

Seokmin was the first to break the silence from the front seat, stretching dramatically as the car came to a stop. “Finally! I thought we’d be driving forever.”

Claire, who had been unusually quiet toward the end of the ride, turned in her seat to glance at you and Wonwoo with a tight smile. “Did you get enough sleep back there?” she asked, her tone sugary but edged.

You smiled politely, pretending not to notice the underlying tone of her question. “Yeah, I feel better now, thanks.”

Stepping out of the car, you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders as the cool evening breeze hit you. Wonwoo came around the side of the car, his backpack slung over one shoulder and yours in his hand, his expression as calm and unreadable as always. You walked together in silence toward the dorms, the sounds of your friends’ voices fading behind you.

“I guess that’s the end of our little trip,” you said softly, breaking the quiet between you.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo replied, glancing over at you. “It was fun.”

You nodded, the memory of the hike and the car ride settling into something softer, quieter. You couldn’t recall every detail of the trip, but a few things stuck with you—the feeling of warmth each time he attended to you, the quiet closeness that had lingered in the space between you, and although it had been a silly joke, the kiss that you shared with him in the car.

At the dorm entrance, he paused, turning to you with a small flicker of worry on his face. “How’s your hand?”

“This? Oh, it’s totally fine,” you said, showing him your hand. “You took really good care of it.”

Wonwoo gave a slight nod, his lips curling into a faint smile.

He walked you all the way to your room, with your bag in his hand while you kept talking to him, asking him this and that like a curious toddler.

“What are you doing today?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Probably working on an assignment.”

You raised a brow, pushing the conversation further. “And after that?”

“Gaming, maybe,” he replied with a small smirk, clearly entertained by your persistent questioning.

You tilted your head, pretending to think deeply. “Do you need help with the assignment?”

He gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “No, I’ve got it.”

As you reached the door to your room, you hesitated, glancing at him. The idea of letting the day end here felt anticlimactic, and you weren’t ready to let it slip away so easily. He stood there, still holding your bag, his usual calm expression giving nothing away.

“Do you wanna come in for a bit?” you asked, glancing at him.

He blinked, a little surprised. “Why?”

“So I can hang out with you more,” you answered honestly, flashing him a playful smile. “You can get started on that assignment and I promise not to bother you too much.”

His eyes flickered to the door, then back to you, his lips quirking into that small, barely-there smile he often wore. “Sure.”

You opened the door and stepped inside, the cool air from your room greeting you as you flicked on the lights. It wasn’t much—a cozy little dorm room with just enough space for a bed, desk, a single couch, a built-in closet, and a small shelf where you kept a stash of snacks.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, motioning to the small couch by the window. You placed your bag down and went over to the mini-fridge. “I’ve got some juice or water. Or… ah, here we go,” you smiled, pulling out a couple of sodas. “Would you like some?”

Wonwoo took a seat, casually stretching his long legs out in front of him, his gaze following you as you handed him a can. He accepted it with a nod, popping it open with a soft hiss. The sound filled the quiet room, making the moment feel more intimate somehow.

He opened his laptop and began working, but you couldn’t help glancing over at him every now and then. The subtle shift of his focus, the way his fingers moved over the keyboard—it was distracting in a way you weren’t expecting. You grabbed a bag of chips and sat on the floor next to the couch, close enough that your shoulder pressed slightly on his leg.

“Why are you on the floor?” he asked, reaching for the side of your head and rubbing his thumb through your hair.

“I don’t wanna eat on the bed,” you replied, leaning slightly in his touch. “I’m fine, you can keep working,” you added, pulling up an app on your phone.

You were content with the quiet—both of you immersed in your own different bubbles, but still feeling the warmth radiating from each other. You didn’t think you’d actually keep your promise to be quiet and let him work, but here you are.

“So, about the hike…” Wonwoo said after a while, leaning back into the cushions as he stretched out his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

You took a sip of your soda, trying to act nonchalant. “Yeah, it was nice. Different.”

“Different?”

“In a good way.” You smiled. “I didn’t expect to have that much fun either. Well, except for the part where I hurt myself,” you added with a playful grimace, showing him your bandaged hand again.

Wonwoo’s eyes softened as he glanced at your hand. “Just be careful next time.”

There was a pause. You could feel him watching you, and when you finally looked up to meet his gaze, there was something in his eyes that made you feel both nervous and confident at the same time. It felt like the perfect moment to say something, to push the boundary of whatever this tension was between you.

Wonwoo put his laptop away. “Come here,” he said, patting his lap.

You stood up almost immediately, placing your arm around his neck as you lowered yourself down on his toned thighs. Not many words were exchanged between you—you didn’t need to anyway, you both knew exactly what you wanted.

Wonwoo’s lips met yours in a soft, lingering touch, as if testing the waters. But after a second, a wave of heat surged through you, and you felt your entire body come alive. His lips were soft, warm, and tasted faintly of the soda he'd had earlier, and you couldn’t help but lean in closer, deepening the kiss.

He responded almost immediately, a low, quiet sound escaping him as his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him. His fingers dug into your sides, not harshly, but enough to make your breath hitch. The room around you disappeared—there was no bed, no walls, no anything. Just the two of you lost in each other.

Your lips parted, allowing the kiss to deepen, and when his tongue swept across your lower lip, a shiver ran down your spine. It wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was something more, something primal, and hot—very hot. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him, and he obliged, his lips moving against yours with more urgency, more need.

You gasped when his teeth grazed your lower lip, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through your body, and your knees weakened. His arms tightened around you, holding you steady, as though he could sense how much you were melting into him.

When you pulled back, you were in awe, staring at him with your mouth hanging open. Wonwoo smiled a content smile—proud, even, as he traced the outline of your face with his thumb.

“Wow, that was so much better than what we did in the car,” you blurted before you could think about it. “I mean… heh. Not saying that one was bad, just, you know. This one is better.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer before reaching for his laptop. His focus reverted back to his work, which caught you off-guard since you were still sitting on his lap, with his hand supporting your back.

He’s not seriously going back to his assignment, is he? you pondered, a bit disappointed. But he did, pulling you closer slightly as he used his two hands to type.

You casually slid out of his lap, sitting your butt on the armrest, but he held your legs in place just as you were about to get off completely, so you just left it there. For the next hour, you sat there together, him working on his assignment, and you scrolling through your phone.

You were both silent—he’d always been quiet, but you? Your mouth may be quiet, but your mind is spiraling—overthinking, replaying, wondering, and projecting different scenarios in your head—all while celebrating another blissful kiss from Wonwoo.

In the days that followed, things between you and Wonwoo felt different— and unmistakably so. It wasn’t just the quiet, stolen glances anymore, or the playful teasing that came so naturally. There was a shift in the way you interacted, in the way he smiled more often, and in how he seemed more comfortable around you.

Before, it had always been you who initiated any kind of physical touch in public—holding his hand, a playful nudge, resting your head on his shoulder when you were tired. But now, it was him, too. Wonwoo would casually drape an arm across the back of your chair when you sat together in the library, or he'd give your shoulder a quick squeeze as you passed him by in the hallway. In private, he would hold your hand, or rest his hand on your thigh when you were out with friends. There was nothing over the top about it—just small, simple gestures—but the warmth of it lingered each time, leaving your heart racing a little faster.

One afternoon, you both sat in a quiet corner of a cafe, sipping iced coffee while you pretended to focus on your assignments. Wonwoo was clicking away on his laptop, his attention mostly on the screen, but every now and then, he’d look up, meet your gaze, and flash you that rare, quiet smile that made you melt just a little.

“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He didn’t look up, but his lips curved upward. “What? I always smile.”

“Not like this. You’ve been smiling because of me.”

Wonwoo finally met your gaze, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. “I smile for a lot of people.”

“Oh? Do you kiss a lot of people too?” you shot back, leaning forward and watching as a faint flush touched his ears.

He shook his head, still smiling but retreating behind his usual mask of aloofness. “That was a fluke. And I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me.”

You gasped dramatically. “You filthy little liar!”

He simply chuckled but didn’t argue further. Instead, he glanced over at your half-empty cup and nudged it toward you. “Finish your drink, or you’ll complain about all the ice melting away later.”

Your heart fluttered at the subtle care behind his words. Wonwoo wasn’t the type to outwardly fawn over anyone, but these little moments showed how much he paid attention. You wanted to impress him, so you drained your cup in one go, even though you were already full. He chuckled softly, giving you a look that said he saw right through you.

It wasn’t all just the proximity and teasing, though. You’d started noticing how you both went out of your way to take care of each other. You would save him snacks from lunch or remind him about deadlines, just wanting to show you cared. He, in turn, would grab an extra coffee for you in the mornings or walk you to class when it got dark, without making a big deal out of it. He was thoughtful, considerate—genuinely so.

Later that evening, you met up with him for dinner at a small restaurant near the campus, you greeted him with your usual chipper smile.

“Is that a scrunchie?” you asked, eyeing the yellow lace scrunchie around his pulse.

“Hmh?” He glanced at his wrist. “Oh. Yeah, it’s a backup.”

“Backup?”

“You keep losing yours when we go out. I got this for backup.”

“Aw. You’re so obsessed with me and I totally understand. I mean—” With flair, you flicked your hair out of your shoulder. “Just look at me.”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, taking the scrunchie from his wrist and handing it to you. “Fix your hair. I don’t want it in my soup.”

You took it with a teasing grin. “Thanks. You could have just gotten those plain black hair ties though. That way, I wouldn’t feel too bad for losing them.”

“I thought it would look good on you,” he mumbled but you heard him just fine.

Out of habit, you would’ve teased him—asked if he’s falling for you. But the way he looked away with the tiniest hint of shyness, the red tint on his ears, and the slight furrow of his brows—they all made your heart race. You needed not to ask, the fact was staring right back at you.

The thought of Wonwoo finally falling in love with you was daunting—terrifying in the best way. But you didn’t know how to navigate this phase.

You decided to keep things playful, like always. “Are you falling in love with me, Jeon Wonwoo?” you teased, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Wonwoo scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an air of practiced indifference. “I’m not falling in love with anyone,” he denied smoothly.

“Maybe not,” you shot back, a knowing grin curling your lips. “But you definitely like me.”

Just then, the server approached, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. “Oh, to be young again,” she said, her gaze flitting between you two. “You two look adorable together. How long have you been dating?”

“We’re not dating,” you said automatically, flashing the woman a charming smile. “It’s just me. I like him a lot, and he’s… well, he’s just putting up with my antics.” You scrunched your nose for added effect, fully expecting the server to move on.

But the woman tilted her head thoughtfully. “Isn’t that what a couple is?” she said, her smile widening.

You blinked, taken aback by her question. “Sorry?”

“If you like him, and he puts up with all your silly antics,” she continued with a hearty laugh, “then you’re a couple.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the teasing atmosphere suddenly charged with a different kind of tension. You glanced at Wonwoo, half-expecting him to deny it too. But he just stared back at you, lips quirking into an amused smile, saying nothing.

This wasn’t the first time someone mistook you for a couple. You’d lost count of how many times people asked things like, “When did you start seeing each other?” And every time, you laughed it off, always the first to deny it, brushing away the idea with a joke. Not because you didn’t want it to be true—but because you were scared of making Wonwoo uncomfortable, scared of pushing something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Wonwoo, however, never once denied it, though he never really confirmed it either.

“Have you decided on your order yet?” the woman asked, prompting your attention.

After dinner, you walked back to the campus, completely satisfied by the good food. You were clinging on Wonwoo’s arm, your head swaying from side to side as you hummed a song that you liked listening to these days.

“Why do you keep telling everyone we’re not a couple?” he asked out of nowhere, making you glance up at him in surprise.

“Because we’re not?” you replied, brow furrowed.

A smirk tugged at his lips, his gaze fixed straight ahead. “For someone who’s supposedly head over heels for me, you seem to hate it when people think we’re a couple.”

“I don’t hate it. I actually like it!” you defended, tightening your grip on his arm. “I’m denying it for your sake. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” he echoed, glancing down at you.

You paused, biting your lip, trying to think of how to respond. “Because… I guess I just didn’t want to assume you were okay with it. I didn’t want to make it weird by pushing something you hadn’t even said you wanted.”

“Why would you go out of your way worrying about me when I don’t even make a big deal out of it?”

His tone was casual, almost indifferent, but there was something in the way he said it—something that made your heart skip. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You couldn’t quite piece together what he was really getting at. It was confusing and you didn’t want to make your own conclusions.

Wonwoo let out a soft sigh, moving a step ahead of you, his hands slipping into his pockets as he walked on.

“Hey, wait up!” you called after him, jogging to catch up, completely unaware of the small, knowing smile that played on his lips.

BACK IN the present, Seungcheol scoffed and started clapping, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Wow.”

You frowned, confused. “What? Why are you clapping?”

He stopped, resting his hands on his thighs and giving you a sarcastic smile. “You were so dense, it’s embarrassing.”

“Hey! Whatever happened to just listening and not judging?”

You were in your dorm room again, the familiar comfort of your space wrapping around both of you. It had become routine—spending time here, where you could sit across from him or lie together in peaceful silence. Wonwoo, as usual, had his legs crossed, leaning on the backrest of the couch, looking more relaxed than ever as he talked about his plans for the future.

It was the kind of conversation that you’d expect from Wonwoo. He had been so open about his future, talking about post-college job prospects and what he planned to do with his IT degree. You listened, intrigued by his calm and composed outlook.

“What about you?” he asked, catching you off-guard.

It was odd to be caught off-guard because of the way your conversation was going, it was expected of Wonwoo to ask about your plans too. At the time, it hadn’t sunk in yet, but you remembered that you were already a senior and would soon be graduating. It was a difficult question for you—a student who didn’t know what to do to launch the career she wanted to pursue.

“What do you wanna do?” he asked again, tilting his head in the way he did when he knew you weren’t paying attention.

You found yourself drifting, your gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips. It was a habit now, the way your eyes traced the curve of his mouth whenever he spoke—how his lips moved with each word, the subtle way they pressed together in thought. You barely registered the question he had just asked, lost in the subtle details of him.

“Hey?”

You blinked, your gaze snapping back to his eyes, but the words tumbled out before you could think. “I so badly want to kiss you right now.”

Wonwoo sighed, like he was almost bored, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. His non-reaction is only comical to you now.

You shrugged, already moving to stand up. “Never mind, then.”

You turned to leave but then came a sudden tug that had you sitting on Wonwoo’s lap, a brief glimpse of him swiftly taking his glasses off and tossing them aside before his lips crashed into yours—all in a span of two seconds.

You were dumbfounded, but you immediately returned his kiss with the same amount of fervor.

“There. Happy?” he muttered, looking bored, though you weren’t fooled by his attempt to downplay what had just happened.

You blinked, still catching your breath. Slowly, you pouted as you reached out to fix the collar of his shirt. “I don’t really wanna talk about careers right now.”

“Okay,” he said, shrugging. “Then let’s talk about us.”

“Us?” you echoed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse had quickened.

He nodded, watching you with gentleness on his face that gave you butterfli. “Yeah. Us. Me, you, and what we want this relationship to be.”

The room felt still, his words hanging in the air between you. You couldn’t stop staring at him—at the way, his dark eyes softened as they traced your face, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as if there was something more he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to.

Your heart was pounding, your pulse echoing in your ears, and the proximity of him—so close, so inviting—was intoxicating. He looked at you with a quiet intensity, his gaze flickering down to your lips, and in that instant, something between you snapped.

Wonwoo grabbed your face and pressed his lips onto yours—softly, languidly, like he’d been deprived of it for so long that he wanted to savor every second of it. You quietly kissed him back, closing your eyes to immerse yourself. Every touch felt electric. The way his hands slid up your back, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The way his lips moved with a rhythm that seemed to match the pounding of your heart. It was overwhelming—the intensity of it, the way you could feel his heart beating through his chest, how the heat was engulfing you from head to toe.

You pulled back for a moment, just enough to catch your breath, but your forehead stayed pressed against his. His breath was warm against your lips, and his eyes—half-lidded and dark with desire—locked onto yours. He didn’t say anything, but he looked at you like you were the only person in the world that mattered. You could still taste him on your lips, the memory of the kiss lingering, sending a thrill through you all over again.

“Kiss me like that again and I’m gonna take it as your confession of love,” you said, breaking the silence.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes and kissed you again with the same amount of sweet abandon. You gasped when he pulled away, utterly shocked.

“Is that… Is that your confession of love?”

“You’re impossible,” he sighed.

Before you could say anything else, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss. This time, it was deeper, hungrier. His lips molded against yours, his grip on you tightening as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. You moaned softly into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the kiss as he tilted his head, changing the angle to kiss you even harder.

You felt dizzy, lightheaded—completely consumed by him. His lips, his touch, his scent—all of it was too much, yet not enough at the same time. You wanted more of him, more of this.

Your hips bucked forward, slamming onto his crotch where you found out that he too was being spurred further into the pit of desire. The contact made Wonwoo grunt, nipping your lower lip and wrapping strong arms around your waist.

Breathless, you pulled away, staring into his eyes and wondering if this was actually happening. Wonwoo lifted you by your thighs and moved from the couch to the bed in a heartbeat. There, he carefully laid you down, running gentle fingers through your hair.

“Wonwoo…” you whispered, unsure of what you were going to say, but needing to break the silence.

He pressed a thumb on your lip, shushing your softly before kissing you again. This time, he abandoned your lips too quickly, moving his kisses down to your jaw and up to your earlobe. The tickling sensation spread through your nerves, intensified by his hand slipping under your shirt to palm your breast. You moaned out, arching toward his touch as your way of asking for more.

Wonwoo’s lips left your ear, trailing to your neck down to your collarbone. His hands were busy with the buttons of your shirt, all while you were angling your neck to give him better access of your skin.

He pulled back once he was done with the buttons, marveling at the sight of your body, and letting out a sharp exhale before lifting the hem of his shirt and tossing it across the room.

“I can do a lot more without those,” he rasped, gesturing at your underwear and you hurriedly took them off.

While you were fiddling with the hook of your bra, Wonwoo dived down to kiss your belly, sucking with an intensity that you knew would leave tiny bruises on your skin. He was moving upwards, grabbing a boob as he peppered his path with kisses and then taking his mouth to meet your nipple. As if by his design, he sucked your nipple and pressed his fingers on your sex at the same time.

The moan you let out was throaty, spurred on by the ministrations of his mouth and his fingers. He rubbed tentative circles on your cunt, trying to find your clit based on your reactions. When he did find it, your mouth parted open as you took a sharp intake of breath, and the confidence on Wonwoo’s face made you want him even more than you already did.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, licking a stripe on your neck. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

You bit your lower lip, trying not to lose your mind with just this. “Since when were you so arroga—agh!”

“Shh, you’re distracting me,” he said after pushing a finger in your cunt that had you gasping. He watched you writhe underneath him, going absolutely feral with just a finger. When he pushed another one inside, you were close to crying, whimpering, and clenching around his fingers.

“Wonwoo please…” you whined, forehead creased and lips downturned—desperate, needy. “Inside, baby. Please.”

“Come on. Say it properly. I can’t give you what you want unless you speak to me clearly.”

You threw your head back and sobbed before meeting his gaze again to say, “Fuck me, Wonwoo. I need you to fuck me really really good.”

Wonwoo groaned softly, clenching his jaw as he pulled his fingers out of your pussy. He shimmied out of his sweatpants and positioned himself between your legs, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

You watched in anticipation as he licked his fingers and used them to palm his erection. As he did, your breath hitched, chest heaving up and down as you waited patiently for him to do what he came to do. He lowered himself, placing his hands beside your head as he prodded your entrance with his cock.

Finally, you let out a guttural moan as he pushed inside you with one messy stroke. The nerves all over your body were rejoicing, feeling both relief and a delightful pain as your cunt stretched exquisitely.

“Damn, look at you,” he drawled, leaning lower to give your open mouth a sloppy kiss. “I didn’t know you could get any prettier. If I did, I would have done this a long time ago.”

“Move, Wonwoo,” you managed to rasp out, not even trying to hide the desperation in your voice. “Please, move. Please, please, please, please!”

He did as you asked, moving languidly as he practiced the clench. That didn’t take long. In no time, he was rocking inside you over and over in a rhythm that made you lose your mind. You writhed and whimpered, urging Wonwoo to keep going.

When it looked like you couldn’t take any more, he paused for a bit, squeezing your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Then he lifted your leg over his shoulder and rammed deeply into you, grunting at how tightly you clung onto his manhood.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pausing to take a break. You reached to wipe the sweat forming on his forehead and saw the expression on his face—something between pained and delighted. “We’re not done yet,” he said, hovering over you and ravishing your neck before picking up where he left off.

You kept at it, moving in sync with each other, getting lost in a blur of passion and desire. Your mind was clouded, thinking about nothing except satisfaction and release. You rose to meet his thrust, clawing at his back as you desperately chased a high that was almost within reach.

“Oh, Wonwoo,” you cried out, eyes rolling back just before the pulsating release engulfed you with euphoria.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo murmured, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unsteady as he chased his own climax, driven further into a high by your blissed-out face.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, staring at the ceiling with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing to break the silence. You turned on your side, moving toward him and resting your head on his arm. His hands found a spot on your waist, thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on your skin.

“Is this the part where I ask if I could be your boyfriend?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You giggled. “We’re way past that now. But I’d say ‘yes’ just for the sake of it.”

“But I don’t believe in love. Is that okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay.”

“It’s overrated.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that,” you replied, chuckling lightly.

He turned on his side so he could face you, his eyes gleaming with affection and fondness. Those eyes were directed at you. “I’m not good at this. And I don’t know what to call this, but I know I can’t stand the idea of not being yours.”

You kissed his cheek. “It’s fine, Wonwoo. If you want me like I want you, it doesn’t matter what we call it.”

“Okay, baby,” he grinned, pushing your hair out of your shoulder. He brushed his thumb over the skin of your neck, staring intently at it. “I may or may not have left some…” he trailed off. “...marks.”

You gasped, sitting up with a jolt and hitting his chest. “Jeon Wonwoo!”

Wonwoo simply grinned, propping himself on his elbow as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“The girls are gonna see that and know that we had sex!”

He shrugged. “They’ll probably just say something like, ‘About damn time’, you know?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying,” you said, standing up at once and heading for the bathroom. Wonwoo followed behind you, draping an arm around your shoulder and then kissing the side of your head.

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“No, do it again,” you said sheepishly, looking away. “Just… not where people can see it.”

You peeked at Wonwoo’s face and saw him sporting a massive grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

From the start of your official relationship, things shifted dramatically. Wonwoo was completely different from his usual aloof self. He’d be all over you—holding your hand, lying on your lap, hugging you from behind, anything as long as he was attached to you. He’d hold your hand even when the two of you were quietly reading books—a habit he eventually picked up from you after your constant attempts to get him to read an actual physical book made of paper.

Your dorm room, as always, was the prime spot for these intimate moments. He’d lazily wrap his arms around you, leaning in to steal kisses when you least expected it. The guy who once seemed indifferent now craved your touch.

When hanging out with friends, it was no different. Wonwoo would always reach for you without looking because he knew you’d always be within his reach. He would casually intertwine his fingers with yours, or simply place a hand on your thigh. It was so second nature that he did it once to Hoshi by mistake, his hand absentmindedly landing on Hoshi’s knee while he played a game. Hoshi, immediately recognizing his chance to mess with him, leaned his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, pretending to cuddle closer.

Still blissfully unaware, Wonwoo absentmindedly reached up and cupped Hoshi's cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

“Man, I didn’t realize you were this clingy,” Hoshi teased, leaning into the warmth.

Wonwoo blinked, his brain catching up, and when the realization hit, he let out a horrified gasp, retracting his hand so quickly it was like he'd been burned. “Hoshi, what the—!” he stammered, scooting away from him as far as possible.

Across the room, you were in stitches laughing with the rest of your friends, watching the whole thing unfold.

“Babe,” Wonwoo called out to you, almost desperately, making a beeline toward where you sat. The sudden, affectionate tone in his voice had everyone cringing.

“I could never get used to this,” Jun said, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief

“I hate it when they call each other that,” Seokmin added with a mock grimace. “Like, okay, you’re not single and lonely. We get it.”

Wonwoo pouted as he made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you like a child seeking comfort. “I missed you,” he mumbled dramatically into your shoulder, sending another wave of exaggerated groans through your friends.

You playfully tapped his forehead. “I’m like five steps away.”

“That’s five steps too far,” he said, all mock seriousness, burying his face into the crook of your neck while the others looked away in mock disgust.

Moments like this had become common now, where he let little things slip that showed just how much he cared. Yet, he still clung to his old habit of feigning indifference, as though denying his feelings made it easier to hide how deeply he’d fallen for you. But it was all in good fun, and you found it adorable when he would switch back to his aloof, “too cool” personality just to see you smile.

Despite the teasing, you liked this new side of him. It felt good knowing Wonwoo was willing to show both you and your friends a part of himself that not everyone got to see. Your relationship had leveled up, and it was evident not just in the way he acted but in the ease you felt together now

“Can we go back to when the only simp in this friend group was her?” Jill asked, pointing at you. “Wonwoo’s giving me the creeps.”

Feigning offense, you placed your hands on your hips and said, “Wow, okay. Sue me for being drop-dead gorgeous and having a boyfriend who’s head-over-heels with me. Whatever.”

“Don’t listen to them, babe. Jealous friends are fake friends,” said Wonwoo, covering your ears and kissing the side of your head.

“He was perfect. The best boyfriend one could ever ask for, except for the part where he didn’t believe in love. Actually, that didn’t even matter in the long run because he was still such a great guy,” you recounted, sighing contently as you gazed at the horizon, the warm colors of the sunset painting the sky. “I had never met anyone like him again. I don’t think I will.”

Next to you, Seungcheol furrowed his brows slightly, the confusion evident on his face. “If he was so perfect—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you interjected, turning to him with your palm raised. “There was no ‘if.’ Wonwoo is perfect.”

“No, hear me out,” he insisted, grabbing your hand and gently putting it down. “If he was so perfect, why did you break up?”

You retracted your hand and glared at him, pretending to be offended. “It is, what it is.”

“What does that mean in this context?”

“It means, we were just not for each other,” you said, shrugging in acceptance. “He was lovely and perfect, and all that. But—You know, I read somewhere that we were all created in pairs, and that we were put in this Earth to be with that one person—our pair.”

“Polyamorous people are not gonna like it when they hear that,” he shot back, a teasing grin on his face.

You tutted, shaking your head. “Listen!” Narrowing your eyes at him, he mimed zipping his lips, letting you continue. “As much as I wanted Wonwoo, we weren’t the perfect match.”

“Okay, I get it,” he replied, nodding thoughtfully. “So how did it end?”

You let out a heavy sigh then flattened your lips together in a tight smile. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the whole time I was telling the story, I never once mentioned anything about us fighting.”

Seungcheol’s face lit up in realization.

“That’s because we’ve never had a fight. Not even once,” you added. And somehow, that was everything.

How did it end?

It wasn’t anything grand, much like how you got together in the first place. Wonwoo continued to be a great boyfriend, one you could always boast about. Your friends were envious of such a perfect relationship—one where your man was obsessed with you and adored you to death, not to mention good-looking and smart. He was a catch.

Wonwoo had a quiet patience that made it easy to handle your boundless energy. When you’d burst into a room excited, full of chatter, he would always listen with a soft smile, never overwhelmed by your liveliness. He didn’t need to match your enthusiasm; his calm presence was enough.

And you understood him just as well. You knew when he was getting tired, even when he tried to hide it behind his usual stoic demeanor. Like when he’d sit a little closer than usual or his fingers would linger on your arm. That’s when you’d ease up, toning things down without him needing to say a word. You were attuned to his subtle cues, a silent understanding between the two of you that others rarely noticed.

But Wonwoo wasn’t just passive; he knew how to take care of you, too. When your stress bubbled over, he’d pull you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head, whispering words of comfort so softly they barely broke the silence. You’d feel the tension melt away in those moments, reassured just by being close to him.

“I hate dental checkups,” you complained, slumping on Wonwoo’s bed the moment you entered their dorm room.

You had just arrived from a dentist appointment and had to have your teeth cleaned as a regular procedure. Wonwoo sat in front of his computer, eyes fixed on the game he was playing, but he was listening to you.

“Was it bad?” he asked, fingers moving rapidly on the keys and eyes darting left and right as he focused on the screen before him.

“It was! I forgot it was time for a cleaning procedure, so I went there totally unprepared. I didn’t get to meditate and mentally prepare myself for the torture. It was awful,” you grumbled, burying your face in the sheets.

“Come here,” he called, glancing only briefly at you.

You walked towards him with a slouched back, sitting on his lap and burying your face in his neck.

“It can’t be helped, it’s not like you can just neglect your teeth. You did a great job back there,” he murmured, his voice gentle and comforting. “I hate dentist appointments too.”

You lifted your head and peeked at his face. “Right? It’s the worst.”

He hummed. “I can’t even last two minutes on that table without gagging. It’s a nightmare.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised to learn something new about him. “You know, I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Wonwoo cocked an eyebrow, finally meeting your gaze just as the unmistakable sound of ‘Victory’ echoed from his headphones. “Really now? Should we put that mouth to use then?”

You gasped, covering your mouth dramatically at how incredibly attractive he sounded. The atmosphere shifted, a sultry heat igniting the air between you.

“What? You didn’t tell me that just to brag about it, did you?” he teased, his lips curling into a smirk.

At this point, you were sure your panties were already on the floor. “Jeon Wonwoo, you hot specimen of a man,” you said, lunging at him with an urgent kiss.

Your relationship was not only built on mutual respect and adoration but also on an undeniable passion. As your lips met, you could feel that familiar spark, igniting something deep within you.

And despite his usual laid-back attitude, Wonwoo would go along with your plans. You’d drag him to social gatherings with friends, where he might seem indifferent, but you knew better. His hand always found yours under the table, and though he stayed quiet, the squeeze of his fingers let you know he was happy to be there—just because you were.

Even when you coaxed him to take breaks from gaming or studying, he’d give you that knowing look, letting you win every time. “Alright,” he’d say with a sigh, but the way he let you guide him outside for fresh air told you he enjoyed the break more than he’d ever admit.

Yet, as you basked in these moments, a thought nagged at you, echoing in the back of your mind. You turned to Wonwoo, breathtakingly handsome in the golden light of the sunset.

“Babe,” you began, “did you know we never had a fight yet? Not even about the smallest things.”

His brow furrowed slightly, realizing the truth in your question. Then he looked at you curiously. “I didn’t realize. Isn’t that a good thing?”

You pondered his response. “I think it is, but it’s weird, isn’t it? Why don’t we fight? Couples fight all the time. Look at Hosh and Mina.”

Wonwoo shrugged, taking a bite out of his churro. “Maybe because we don’t let small things get in the way of our relationship?”

“Hmmh. We understand each other so well, don’t we?” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know why, but somehow, I can’t help but think that maybe it’s too easy. Like we never challenge each other or have those deep conversations.”

“We have deep conversations all the time.”

“You’re right, but not because of a fight,” you stated in a matter-of-factly tone.

Wonwoo frowned, and you could sense the wheels turning in his mind. Then he hummed, and said, “It does make you wonder if we’re really communicating or just avoiding issues.”

What he said struck a chord with you. Days turned into weeks, and the questions loomed larger with each passing moment. You began to notice the cracks beneath the surface of your perfect relationship. The playful teasing became tinged with seriousness, and the easy laughter felt strained at times.

You pondered over the conversations with Mina and your other friends about love and relationships, and it began to dawn on you: What if what you have was limiting your growth instead of nurturing it? What if you had mistaken stagnation and decay for safety and comfort?

One evening, you and Wonwoo sat in your dorm room, the atmosphere cozy as you both worked on separate assignments. He was focused on his computer, while you scribbled notes on a notepad. You glanced at him, the familiar sight of his concentrated expression making your heart flutter. It was in these moments that you felt most at peace. And then came the thought that you couldn’t seem to shake: How could something so good not be enough?

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. Wonwoo looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

He tilted his head, taking in your every word. “What’s on your mind?”

“Remember when we talked about how we’ve never fought at all?” you began, fidgeting with your pen.

Wonwoo hummed, nodding.

“Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and…” you paused to sigh, biting your lower lip to prevent the words from spilling out of your mouth. You knew it had to be said, that it was necessary to see if you should continue moving forward or move on with your lives.

Wonwoo reached for your face, wiping away a tear that you didn’t realize had rolled down your cheek. “I know. You don’t have to say it.”

Your lips turned downward, trying your best to hold back your tears. “But isn’t that avoiding the issue too?”

He chuckled lightly, pulling you toward him in a tight embrace. “It is but, isn't it better than saying things that will only hurt each other’s feelings?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, nuzzling against his chest.

Wonwoo was patting your back in a slow, soothing rhythm, calming your nerves and helping keep your tears at bay. “I know what you’re thinking, baby. I’ve been thinking about it too. And it’s okay, it can’t be helped. Maybe it’s for the best too.”

You exhaled sharply before letting yourself sob in his shirt, tears rolling down your face like a sudden downpour. Wonwoo tightened his hug, shushing you gently as he rubbed your back, muttering soft ‘it’s okay’s in your ear.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“Me neither,” he said softly, pressing a kiss on your head. “But I think we need to face the reality of our futures. Our paths are set to diverge anyway, even if we try to change it. It might be for the best if we part ways now, while we still have these great, happy memories of each other.”

You pulled away from his embrace, looking up at him with your tear-stained face. The thought of never laughing together again weighed heavily in your heart, but there was also a flicker of understanding that this was the right choice.

“Remember when we were in that seminar, and you asked me if I liked you?” you chuckled through your tears, the memory bringing a smile to your lips.

Wonwoo laughed, a soft sound that felt like a warm hug. “How could I forget? That was when I started falling for you.”

“Really?” you asked, eyes widening at his revelation. Wonwoo rolled his eyes as if he regretted telling you that. “No, but seriously?”

“Yes, yes,” he gave in. “You were so confident then. So straightforward and honest. I may have experienced having my heart skip a beat for the first time.”

“No way!” you giggled, snuggling into him. “Why were you pretending to be so nonchalant for a long time?”

“I kinda liked having you chase me around,” he admitted sheepishly. “Why? What were you gonna say about that day?”

You pulled back, sitting up. “Oh, I wanted to ask if you were gonna tell me to leave you alone that day before the professor came in and I cut you off.”

He scoffed, feigning indifference. “Well, I guess you know the answer to that now.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his torso while you looked up at him. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he replied in a heartbeat. “Love was worth a try with you.”

“I’m gonna remember you forever.”

“That’s quite a big promise, but okay. I’ll take you up on that.”

And you spent the rest of your college days in each other's embrace, dreading the inevitable but also accepting the reality of your future. Jeon Wonwoo was a breath of fresh air, the warmth of the early morning sun, a prelude to a beautiful song, and a sweet memory of your youth that would stay with you forever.

[fin]

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo x you #wonu x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic recs #seventeen smut #wonwoo fic #seventeen ff #wonwoo ff #calcali

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ahundredtimesover · 10 months ago

Text

I Want You to Stay (13) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption; arts, business/property devt, and book publishing talk that’s probably inaccurate; mentions of injury, trauma; family drama; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; they're still idiots; explicit sexual content (making out, oral (m & f receiving), body praise, mutual masturbation, protected sex) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 29k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: It's here! This is a long one so I hope you enjoy and savour it all. We're close to the end! So thank you so much for all the support and love for this story 🤭🤭

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

You take up Yoongi’s offer of a listening ear on Saturday, the day after your last day at the company. You spent last night wallowing in sadness over not being able to see Jungkook during your farewell dinner and in regret for not telling him what you wanted to say - that you were thankful, that you wished the Arts Center would be everything he imagined it would be, and that hopefully, you’ll see him again.

Maybe if he showed up, you would’ve said more - that you’re terrified of everything he makes you feel, that you’re too burdened by your past, and that you want him even if you don’t know if you’re ready to be with him.

You spent much of today convincing yourself that it was better that you didn’t see him, even if you kept imagining his shy smile and the feel of his lips against yours, and then you got frustrated all over again.

With all that’s going on in your head, you figured that spending dinner on your own today would make you feel more sorry for yourself, so you’re currently seated in front of Yoongi with your wonton soup barely touched while he’s just slurped the remaining noodles of his.

“Your soup’s getting cold,” he nudges your foot as you mindlessly gaze at your bowl. “It’s not gonna eat itself.”

“Apparently, I don’t eat much when I’m sad,” you sigh, turning to him.

“Well, that sucks. It’s really good soup,” he hums.

Yoongi looks at you patiently just as he has for the past half hour. You told him you wanted to eat out, and he agreed immediately, even offering to drive you home after. But you haven’t said much since you arrived at the restaurant and he hasn’t forced you to say anything either.

“I’m sorry for not being a fun dinner partner tonight,” you say.

“It’s okay. When I told you the other week to call me if you wanted to talk, I didn’t expect you to actually talk,” he chuckles. “I know sometimes you just need someone to be with. And there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. Like I said, it’s complicated,” you reply. “I can't even figure myself out.”

“It’s only complicated if you make it,” he counters. “Human beings are complex, yes. But feelings of desire aren’t. They’re quite straightforward. You want something and that should tell you everything. It’s pride and fear that complicate things. If you set those aside, then you’ll be able to figure out what you really feel.”

“What if they contradict each other?”

“The push and pull isn’t always equal though. One overpowers the other in some way. So you’re either more happy about leaving or more sad about it. And then ask yourself why.”

“I’m sad about leaving Jungkook,” you admit. “I don’t regret my decision but it doesn’t make me happy right now.”

“And why doesn’t it make you happy?”

“Because it hurt him. And then it hurt me.”

“Why did it hurt the both of you?”

“I don’t know about him,” you pout.

“Then what about you? Why did it hurt you?”

“Because he kept his distance - he replaced me, shut me out. And then he didn’t show up to my farewell dinner.”

“So what’s painful about that?” Yoongi pushes, wanting to help you make sense of things.

“Because I want him close to me,” you say quietly, letting the words sink in. You’ve always known this, but saying it to someone else somehow makes it feel more real this time. “I want him… with me.”

“Told you it was simple,” Yoongi shrugs.

“But it isn’t,” you argue.

Yoongi is a straightforward man, and you suppose the only way for him to understand is for you to tell him the truth, so that’s what you do.

You tell him about your ties to the Jeon family, why you stayed in the company for as long as you did, all the attempts at leaving, and the plan of doing so after the Arts Center opening. You share about your life in the process - your childhood of staying at the library and your coping mechanisms, your life in Busan, going back to Daegu then leaving for Seoul, working to repay a debt, and then losing yourself because of it. You talk about the closeness you developed with Jungkook, all the times that he was there for you, the kiss and the aftermath, why you pushed him away and why you also feel bad about how he reacted. You say a bit about the things that scare you - getting hurt being one of them - and why staying for Jungkook would be difficult, and why leaving him would be the same.

Yoongi looks at you earnestly. He’s always known about you being guarded, keeping parts of yourself that you don’t really share with others. This is the farthest you’ve let him into your world, and he sees so much of Jungkook in you. There’s that fear of not being wanted but also of being wanted; you’re scared of not being enough to be loved but also of not loving the other person enough. You’re unable to express how you feel because you don’t know if the person will respond with the same vulnerability and honesty, and you don’t like baring yourself with no one there to tell you it’s alright.

All of it feels like how his friend is. He’s seen it since the moment Jungkook stepped foot into the office a year ago; he’s seen it everytime Jungkook disengages from you or gets mad at you; he’s seen it even when you’ve started to become comfortable with each other, and Yoongi has seen it these past weeks of Jungkook dealing with your departure, especially recently.

“So after all that, you mean to tell me that you didn’t actually tell him how you feel?” Yoongi points out. “That he just overheard you say that you like him but you didn’t actually tell him? Not your feelings nor your fears, not your contradicting emotions, nor the fact that you want to be with him? Because I’m hearing you, ___. And all I hear is that you’ve found someone you’re willing to give your heart to but you’re too afraid to do anything about it. Even after he’s told you how he feels, because you don’t think that he would be open and honest enough to you to mean them.”

You let out a breath and pout, Yoongi’s words making it seem simpler than it actually is. In hindsight, maybe it is, because after everything that you shared, the first thing he points out is how, despite the obvious reciprocated feelings, you’re the one who’s afraid to give in.

“You talked about how Jungkook made you feel braver during the times you were scared and alone and hurt,” Yoongi says, seething at your experiences that made you look towards Jungkook for strength. “Why can’t you be brave enough for him? I mean, I get it that you want to leave the company, no one questions why you would. He did but he’s accepted it because he understands, but why do you have to let him go? Is it just because of the ties to his family? Or is it because you’re afraid of what he feels for you that isn’t tied to you being his assistant?”

His last question causes your face to fall, and Yoongi knows he’s hit a nerve.

“You’ve been living your life trying to prove that you’re more than your past, that you’re capable and that you deserve all that you have now,” he adds. “This job was your life. You told me before that you don’t know if you’d like yourself outside of it, and maybe you’re thinking that Jungkook wouldn’t, either.”

“I… don’t think I’m that great, Yoongi,” you confess. “I mean, just think about what the guys I dated said about me.”

“Those don’t count because they’re absolute jerks.”

“Even then, I… I’m terrible at a lot of things. I pull away, I get scared, I… I don’t know how to be someone’s anything. I don’t know if I want to be. I don’t know if I can, or what that even means,” you stammer. “For a second there, I let my guard down for Jungkook and—”

“He did the same and that terrifies you,” Yoongi finishes. “Being wanted back terrifies you. It’s why you feel confused and conflicted, ___. You have the chance to have something you’ve been yearning for and—”

“I’m scared I’d lose it,” you interject. “And I won’t if I don’t have it. I’m scared of heartbreak, Yoongi. I gave in when it came to Jungkook but I saw the possibilities with him and heartbreak was one of them. This is why I don’t give in to anything. I mean, it’s why I didn’t give in to you. I… I was scared we’d hurt each other and that I’d lose you and… I’m sorry I’m bringing this up now.”

“It’s good that you are,” he assures you. “Because do you see the difference? You didn’t give in to me but you did to him. You never know if the person is worth the pain until it’s there but you at least know that he’s worth a try. I wasn’t, and I don’t take offense, but that’s the point. He’s the guy you try for, ___. He’s the one you climb out your walls for. So don’t cower inside. Be brave for him this time.”

It’s a while before you’re able to say anything. The background chatter in the noodle house fades away in your mind as you take in Yoongi’s words. And he’s not wrong.

You never told Jungkook what you felt; you didn’t know how to. You kissed him to express that, but you pushed him away just as quickly, but you never got to say anything else, especially after. And now you’re left to wonder - what was the fear really about? And what was the need to let go of him because of it?

You’re scared of a lot of things; you’re scared of every single thing you want to have. You learned some time ago that Jungkook was the same, but you think that you’re probably more terrified than he is.

You’re a walking contradiction, too - you want to cut ties with him because it reminds you of a past you don’t want to be defined by, but in doing so, you’re cutting yourself off as what you started as - his assistant, and you’re scared to be anything else but that. You were good at it - you were competent, capable; you managed his life and the team well. But being with him means you have to be someone else for him - his partner, his companion, his lover, and you don’t know how to be those things for him. You don’t know if you’d like yourself, and so you don’t know if he’d like you if you tried. And that scares you.

But like Yoongi said, you thought Jungkook was at least worth it; you wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t, even if you thought it was a moment of weakness. You just have to follow through with that belief this time, and be brave enough to not just want him because you do; you have to be brave enough to let him want you back. You have to be brave enough to believe that he’ll stay.

“How… how do I do that? How do you become brave for someone?” You finally ask.

Yoongi relaxes in his seat, his eyes the most comforting they’ve ever been.

“You just tell them how you feel,” he says. “You face it head on because you know that there’s something more important than a possible heartbreak, and that’s losing on the possibility of happiness with them.”

You let out a breath. You know Yoongi’s right. You’d said that you want to know how it’s like to be truly happy with Jungkook, and it’s this paralyzing fear and stubbornness that’s keeping you from finding out. But you suppose that when you’ve gotten used to keeping a lot of things in, just telling someone how you feel isn’t that easy.

“It’s hard for you, I know,” he continues, reading your mind. “But how would you learn what your heart is capable of if you don’t follow it?”

“Then you’ll just risk it getting broken,” you argue.

“You do,” he hums. “Hearts break. But it’s not the only thing they do.”

The words are simple, just as the thought is. You almost feel embarrassed that Yoongi has to remind you of these things, about the inevitability of pain and loss and how it should be worth it in the end. But the fear comes from somewhere, from a heart that’s close to your own that shattered so many times, you wondered at one point if it was still capable of loving.

“I told you that I never met my dad, right?” You share, willing to bare a bit more of yourself to him. “He left before I was born because he wasn’t ready. But mom… Mom loved him deeply. I found a photo of them under her pillow one time and I asked her about it, and she had me lay my head on her lap while she told me about him. I was around 6 years old and probably didn’t understand much but I felt her tears drop on my cheek, and then everyday for weeks, I’d hear her cry, all alone in her room. And somehow, she just cried harder every time I hugged her.”

You remember those days. You learned what it felt like to have your heart broken at that age, and it was because of seeing your mom try to smile through glassy eyes; it was hearing her tell you that she loved you, even if the other half of you was the reason why she was hurting in the first place.

“Eventually a man came along and he made her laugh until he stopped,” you continue. “Until all he could do was hurt her. And that… that felt worse. She’d just learned to share herself again but then he just broke her. And I… I felt that, too. I felt it every time she hugged me, kissed me, covered my ears to drown out his yelling… I felt it every time I had my head on her lap so I wouldn’t see her break down.”

Your eyes wander into the streets outside, recalling those difficult years when your mother protected you, even as she was in pain herself.

“They say that a parent feels the pain their child is feeling,” you say. “I guess it’s true for children, too. I felt her pain, I felt her heart break. Her heart was my heart. And I guess ever since then I’ve just been scared for it to happen to me, knowing how much it hurts. It took years before she could recover. That was hard, too.”

“How long did it take her to give Min-woo a chance?”

“Years,” you shake your head. “She was so cautious. But he stuck around, and she realized he was worth it all. And she gained two other daughters who adore her in the process.”

“Her heart was your heart,” Yoongi repeats your words. “And all she did was love. That means your heart is capable of just as much. It’s just as strong, too.”

You’ve never thought about it that way. You've always believed that the one thing you took from your mother was her grace. Perhaps if you tried, you’d learn that you took her strength, too. Maybe her unyielding ability to care. Perhaps it’s her faith in what she was capable of no matter how broken she may be.

“I… I needed this,” you tell Yoongi, your eyes misty at his words. “It’s been hard understanding myself lately. And you, you just know me. You know what to say all the time.”

“It’s because I risked something, too, when I told you how I felt about you all those years ago,” he replies, the reminder of his unrequited feelings no longer awkward for either of you. “And at the end of it, I learned how I could care for you, and that I could care for you much better as a friend.”

“And well, you’ve been an amazing one to me, especially this past year.”

“Good, so for my sake, especially since you and Jungkook give me so much headache,” Yoongi laughs, “remember everything I said, okay? Your heart is capable of so much. So please give it a try and follow it. I doubt it will be broken this time around.”

You spend the entirety of Sunday at home, cleaning up the place and tending to your growing collection of plants. It was a cool enough day for you to walk up the neighborhood to buy some things from the store, and as Yoongi’s words from the night before ring in your head, you find yourself hurting more at the absence of Jungkook in your life.

There’s a new recipe for fried rice that you saw online, and he was your first thought because you think he’d like it. You read an article about Lee Jaemin in the morning where she mentioned the Arts Center, and you wanted to share it with him and gush over her words. His favorite Japanese chef has opened a new restaurant in Insadong and you wonder if he’s already tried it. The playground at the park is closed because they’re doing repairs after you told the council about how rusted the swings have become at Jungkook’s suggestion.

They’re little things, really, and you realize even more just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him, and how much of himself he’s shared as well. Whatever lines that were drawn up due to your respective positions were crossed long ago, even before that kiss. It started when you both started to care for each other, and when you both started to wish for the other’s happiness and healing. On your end, you’d hoped you’d be a part of that and that he’d be a part of yours. You don’t think that has changed though.

There are still many things you want to share with him, you realize again, especially on that Monday afternoon when you find yourself at Rkive Publishing for your contract signing that has you looking at Namjoon in question.

“Are… are you sure?“ you ask him, as you read through the document.

He’d sent a version of this for your review a few days ago and you’d given your verbal confirmation. You expected to come today to just sign the contract, but he asked you to review it again since he made a few changes. The salary is one of them.

“Are you asking me if I’m sure of offering you a higher compensation package?” Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Y-yes?” You say. “I mean, not that I don’t prefer it but… why?”

You knew that working for a smaller organization, and for a publishing company at that, despite having a higher position and more responsibilities meant that your pay wouldn’t be significantly different from what you were getting at the Jeon Corporation. You’d accepted that, and it was something you’d talked about with Namjoon. But still, this little bit of increase is something you hadn’t expected.

“We’ll, let’s just say that we’ve had many applicants in the past who oversold themselves. You did the opposite,” he responds. “You impressed me and the panel enough with your resume and interview and we thought you were a good fit but that recommendation letter from your company’s President showed us just how qualified you were, and that there’s so much potential there. I was also able to speak with your most recent boss.”

“VP Jeon?”

“Yes, I was on a call with him last Friday. He elaborated on the strengths you’d mentioned and that Mr. Jung had noted,” Namjoon responds. “They’re top executives of a well-known company who have worked closely with you, who saw your growth, and can attest to your potential. Given all those qualities, we thought it was just fair that we increase your compensation. We’ve learned it’s important to trust and be committed to our staff, and this is how we show that.”

“This… this is deeply appreciated,” you manage to say, not realizing just how valuable the references were. You check to see that your responsibilities didn’t change much, so you know that this is really them, believing in your worth.

“We’re looking to expand in the next few years and are working towards establishing our position in the industry,” he adds. “We don’t just need competent individuals - we need leaders, we need people of good character who can embody all the things that we stand for. We’re trying to build something here and someone like you would be a wonderful asset. You can help us grow, ___. And I, well,” he continues, shyly smiling. “I just really wanted to make sure that we got a good start. Your role is critical. It’s also one of the toughest ones out there and I wanna show you that we want you here. I mean, I was sure a lot of companies were trying to get you and we’d have to compete for you.”

“I was already convinced early on, Namjoon,” you assure him. “To be honest, meeting you at the bookstore that day felt like some sign from the universe that it was time for me to carve my own path. I guess I didn’t just need a new environment, I needed a blank slate, too, where I could start over and feel like I was really doing this for myself, that I wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone else, not even to me.”

“Glad I took a chance on talking to you, then, even if I sort of freaked you out,” he chuckles. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“It was fine,” you laugh. “In hindsight, I’m also glad you did. I told you, it was a moment that stuck with me. It’s what pushed me to learn about what you’re all doing here, to learn about you. I… I do well when I’m surrounded by good people, by those who believe in their work, and those who believe in others. I know it won’t be easy but I already know I’ll thrive here. So thank you for giving me this chance, too.”

You and Namjoon talk some more and then lock in a date for your first day. You agree to start in three weeks - that gives you enough time to properly rest and mentally prepare yourself for this new phase. You’ll still be in a fast-paced and high-stress environment, but you’ll control your time and directly manage a team. Everything’s going to be new, and you want to be ready when it all happens, which is also why you’ll be doing your onboarding a few days before.

“I wanted to give this to you,” he says, handing you a book as he walks you out the door. “I always give one to new staff as a form of welcome because books are our heart and soul, you know?”

“This is lovely, Namjoon,” you smile at him. “This will definitely be my companion for the next few weeks.”

“Good. It’s always meaningful to have something tangible like this,” he smiles back.

There’s warmth in the way he does it, as if every time he talks about books, it elicits special memories. You think being around someone like that will be good for you, as you try to hold onto good memories yourself despite the sadness you still feel.

“I hope you like it,” he says before bidding you goodbye.

You walk through the neighborhood and picture yourself going through this route everyday. It’s definitely nothing like the busy streets that you’re used to. There are more trees and quaint cafes and boutique stores here, and even just this change is already making you feel lighter; you can imagine getting over your stress with surroundings like this. You suppose that’s how Namjoon remains as calm and hopeful as he is despite his responsibilities - there’s so much energy you get just being outdoors, and it’s something you decide you’ll do today.

You have all the time in the world now, so you grab coffee then head to a park to enjoy the early summer cool air.

The book that Namjoon gave you is a novel published five years ago about a woman who quit her job in search of herself. You don’t think it’s a coincidence, as in such a short time, you've come to know him as a thoughtful man who’s very assuring, and you suppose this is his way of telling you that everything will be okay as you take on this new journey alongside him. The bright color palette of the design seems to reflect the hopeful subject of the book, and right as you’re about to start reading, the sound of children laughing catches your attention.

There’s a playground nearby, and your mind immediately goes to Jungkook. There’s an image of him looking happy and safe in a place that made him feel those things that you keep in your heart. You don’t know how he looks like as a child but you can somehow imagine a little boy riding the swing and coming down the slide with the softest smile and thinking that he can do and be anything he wants, that he feels capable enough for it, and that he’s able to share that joy with whoever who’s with him.

You think about earlier when Namjoon was talking about your capabilities and how you were able to see yourself the way Jungkook and Hoseok see you as a professional. You think about how it felt being supported that way, how their trust and confidence in you made you trust and be confident in yourself, too. There’s this pride you feel at being able to make that much of an impression on your new boss early on and there’s no stress, there’s no pressure.

Sure, you want to show that all those aren’t empty words, but there’s no urge to prove yourself that you earned your spot unlike how you’ve been these past nine years. There’s just this desire to live - work is a part of it but so is reading stories, meeting people and learning about them, walking through quiet streets and appreciating the sunlight peeking through the trees. There’s this yearning to experience the day and not just survive it.

You look at the book in your hands and know that someday, you’ll be holding one that you had a hand in creating. And it would be something that you poured your heart and soul into, one that you experienced in its entirety, and it would make you so happy knowing that you could touch it, that you can hear it, that you can see the story come to life in your mind.

You trace your fingers down the front cover and realize that this beautiful thing is tangible. And then you realize another thing - happiness is tangible, too. You’d felt it, you’d heard it. You’d seen it smile at you. You’d felt its lips against yours, too, but then you pulled away and became too afraid to take it back. Happiness was so close - it breathed you in, it held you close; it wanted you, and you were too scared to let it stay.

You spent so many years chasing it. You’d found it in your friends and your new family, but there was always something more that you wanted, one that you couldn’t find. Until him. And you’re slowly learning just how painful it is to let it slip away.

Jungkook stays in your mind for the rest of the evening, and you find yourself wanting to share about your day.

You want to tell him that you felt a little shy when Namjoon was praising you but that you felt proud of yourself. And that you wanted to thank him.

You want to tell Jungkook that your new work environment is quite charming, that the surrounding areas are inspiring, and that you might just start spending time outdoors from now on. And that you wish you get to explore it with him.

You want to tell him that you’re excited to start your new job and that you’ll maybe start reading books because you’ll have a hand in creating the finished products. And that you want to share that with him, maybe make him read it, too.

You want to tell him that you’re sorry. That you shouldn’t have doubted what he felt, that you should've stood by your feelings regardless and fought for them. You want to tell him that you don’t regret quitting, but that you regret losing him in the process. That no matter how hard you try, he’s still the one you look for, the one you want to talk about your day with, the one you want to share your dream and hopes to.

Jungkook has made you feel free in a way that you hadn’t before - an irony, considering that working for his family made you feel constricted, burdened, stagnant. But there are so many possibilities with him, so many reasons - to smile, to be brave, to hope, to yearn for more, to believe that you deserve good things that you can touch. And you want to know what those are like; you don’t want to lose out on that chance and lose him completely.

Perhaps all you had to do was free your heart so it could feel what it’s supposed to. Like what Yoongi said, maybe you just had to follow it to know what it could do.

It’s why on Thursday of that week, you find yourself inside his office with an envelope in hand, as you hope that actually freeing your heart and following it isn’t too late.

You were scheduled to come today so you could get your final pay and sign some documents with HR. You arrived mid-morning and got to those right away. It didn’t take long, which is why you were able to pass by Hoseok’s office to update him about your new job and thank him for the recommendation. You headed to the support team’s office after, and they were quick to make lunch plans with you. Jungkook’s at the Arts Center, they said, so they can take their break in half an hour, but they can’t be out long. There are lots of things they have to do with the opening happening on Friday of the next week.

Lucas told you that he’d found some of your supplies that you’d left and they’re in a drawer in his desk, and you told him that you could get them yourself. They were easy to find, and you took the time to leave little notes for him in between folders and files; you figured that finding them on days when he doesn’t expect them could give him encouragement somehow.

Jungkook’s door was slightly opened, and you took the chance to enter and take in a piece of him. The last time you were here, it felt like there was so much you still couldn’t say, there were feelings you were too afraid to face and words you weren’t sure he wanted to hear. Being back here, you feel a lot braver, and you know it matters that now, you’re trying to be brave for him.

You stand in front of his desk, almost cradling the letter you’d written last night. You’ve spent the past days outdoors, finding cafes and quaint spots in areas that you’ve never explored before. You’ve been reading the book, too, and the more time you spent by yourself - not being tired, not being stressed, not feeling lost or burdened - the more you realized just how much you’ve been missing and yearning for things. And that you deserved whatever it was you wanted, and that included Jungkook.

The life you’d started to live without him convinced you that the intimacy and connection you’ve been desiring is something you can find with him. You want to know what that’s like; you want to know how happy you could be with him, and you’ll only know it if you express it to him this time. You owe it to him to do that; you’re scared that any more time apart will push both of you farther away, too far to pull the other back because the anchor wasn’t set securely in the first place. You don’t want him to be your what if; you don’t want him to be your biggest regret.

Telling him how you felt was another thing, though, and writing a letter took you longer than expected. You don’t know how he’ll take it, but you could only hope he’ll see your sincerity through it, and that he’ll still want you, even if it took you quite a while to accept what he felt, too.

His desk isn’t as organized as it usually is, but you place the envelope on top of a folder of blueprints that you know he’s going to get to soon. You know how he is - he always likes his things in their proper place. The center is the urgent pile so you know he’s gonna find this once he gets back and that maybe, he’ll go to you right after, hopefully to tell you that he still wants you, that he still wants to be with you, and that like he’d asked before, you’ll figure things out together.

There’s fear just as there’s excitement. You hope at the end of all this, you’ll find yourself in his arms - everything forgiven, with nothing but more good memories you’ll create.

You head out to lunch with the team shortly after and hold off on asking how Jungkook’s doing or about the changes in the Arts Center. Everyone looks tired enough as it is and you don’t want them thinking about work during their break, so you settle on talking about your new job and how excited you are. They’ll be supporting the books, they say; you can’t help but think again about how much you want to share them with Jungkook, too.

You spend the rest of the day at home, waiting for that phone call from him or perhaps, his knock on your door. You’re unsure if he’ll come today; you don’t want to think that he wouldn’t, even if he has reasons not to want to see you anymore after what you’ve done.

But the hope lives, as you convince yourself in the evening that maybe he got back to the office late and hadn’t seen your letter.

You do the same thing the next day - you stay at home, hesitant to leave in case he comes, and then tell yourself that there’s a reason why he hasn’t shown up at your door yet.

You do it again the day after, then the next, and then again.

The hope remained but it has now withered away. It’s Tuesday afternoon, and he still hasn’t come.

Jungkook sinks in the seat of his desk, breathing heavily as he tries to catch a break. It’s not much, but it’s the only moment he has of complete silence where he forces himself to not do or think about anything. He gives himself only ten minutes each day for this, other than when he’s sleeping. He does it only between meetings or calls or visits to the Arts Center, which he fits all in one day.

It’s only 2PM on Thursday but it might as well be late on a Friday evening. He’s exhausted, as if he hasn’t rested for days, as if he hasn’t been sleeping properly, and as if he hasn’t stopped working. And all of those are true.

Ever since he’d decided on making changes in the Arts Center, he’s been going nonstop. From drawing up the design, purchasing materials, to constructing the room, Jungkook has been doing it all, on top of managing the rest of the work being done. He’s employed the help of Yoongi and a project manager to help him, but Jungkook has been the one making all the decisions, and that definitely didn’t go well with his father.

He caught the ire of the old man right away, with the CEO scolding him for doing this weeks before the opening and for going over budget, which is why Jungkook stays in the Arts Center most of the day, going in the afternoon and then staying or returning at night, doing the manual labor himself so he doesn’t have to pay more for the workers. He paints the walls as well as some of the furniture, and that’s taken so much of him these past weeks, especially his time, time that he’d taken away from seeing you.

He wasn’t really present during your last days at the company. He approved all your leaves and he was sincere about having you take them, but during the days when you were in the office, he was barely there. He was either physically at the Center or his mind was.

Other times, he was performing his executive functions, with Hoseok reminding him of his Vice President duties. Jungkook had neglected some of them, as evidenced by his messy desk that’s giving him a headache. He’s always been organized with his things but not recently, not when all he’s been doing is working himself to the bone like what he’s used to. But this has more at stake for him; this isn’t just some structure or room he’s building. It’s so much more.

One other thing he’s been doing is regretting that he wasn’t there during your last day to bid you goodbye and to see you for the last time, it seemed like. He wished you well and thanked you, even if there was more he wanted to say. He knew he wouldn’t be able to, and he wouldn’t have handled lingering, too, if that would give you a chance to say something more to him that would make him express what he’s really feeling, and he’s scared that would push you further away.

He was never good at that. The one time he told you what he wanted and felt, things didn’t go right - the timing was off, you doubted his sincerity, and there was so much you kept hidden from him. He hasn’t known what to do nor say since then, which is why he’s doing what he’s doing for you. It’s more than the words he doesn’t know how to say; it’s something he won’t regret as it expresses everything that’s been in his heart, and it’s lasting, it’s constant, it’s comforting; it’s everything he wants to be for you.

But then again, all this work kept him from seeing you for the last time, and it’s a reminder again of how he’s been living his life - diverting his attention to other things instead of facing what’s important.

There’s not much he can do now, though. Everything has been completed. All the certifications have been secured, all the invitations are out, the promotion for the opening is all over social media, and the support team is on top of everything that’ll take place tomorrow. With the end of it just within reach, he’s able to take a breath, and it’s why he’s able to extend his short break to 15 minutes.

The Arts Center is being cleaned and security checked, so he has no choice but to stay away from it until it opens tomorrow. So right now, he has the time to work on his other responsibilities, such as draft plans for a project that Hoseok’s working on that he’d asked Jungkook to review.

“I had Lucas leave the blueprints on your desk last week,” the older man says over the phone after being asked if the files are still with him. “You should see it right away. It was urgent so I told him to put it at the center.”

“Well, that’s one of many that’s apparently urgent,” Jungkook sighs as he sees the pile of documents in front of him. It seems like he’s neglected a lot of other things this past week. “When did you say you left them?”

“Thursday morning,” Hoseok responds. “You would’ve seen them immediately.”

“I would’ve… except I haven’t really been at my desk in days.”

Which is the truth. Jungkook has been sitting on his desk only to go through his emails and then signing documents that Lucas gives him before heading to meetings and the Arts Center. It’s been his schedule this entire week, which is why he hadn’t seen the designs that Hoseok’s talking about. And as Jungkook goes through the pile - of memos for checking, of studies from Yoongi - he sees something else that makes his heart drop.

The last time he found an envelope on his desk with your handwriting on it, his world took a complete turn. He remembers reading that resignation letter and thinking that he’d really screwed things up, that life wasn’t going to be the same without you next to him everyday, and that there was no way he could have you again after how things turned out.

He doesn’t know what to expect with this, not when he hasn’t seen you in days, and not when he doesn’t know how you’re doing right now.

“Kook?” Hoseok says on the other end after the prolonged silence. “Are you still there?”

“Did ___ come to the office this week?”

“She was here last Thursday. She signed some HR stuff and dropped by my room. Why?”

“She… she left a letter on my desk.”

“Oh… What does it say?”

“I… I haven’t opened it. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what’s inside,” Jungkook says, his hands trembling as he places it back down.

“It could be many things but you won’t know unless you read it,” Hoseok responds. “Both of you have been keeping your feelings to each other from each other, Kook. This… this might be something that changes that.”

“Did… did she say anything to you when she visited?”

“Just about her job. She seems content and excited. Whatever else she feels, I’m pretty sure it’s in there. So read it, and don’t worry about the designs. Those can wait.”

Jungkook drops the call, noting that he’ll thank his cousin later on. This letter is the most important thing right now, even if he’s nervous about what’s written on it.

He finally opens the envelope and the first thing he sees are pictures - one of an empty playground, and another one of you on the swing, smiling. It’s been weeks without your smile, and remembering how much comfort it’s given him is what makes him calm down; it’s what makes him have the courage to read through the letter.

Jungkook,

I took the photo of the playground during my birthday trip using the gift you got me. We passed by a park on the way to one of the towns and we stayed there for a while. It was so beautiful, so peaceful. I felt a kind of comfort I’ve never felt before, and it made me think of how I feel when I’m around you.

I was thinking of you, too, when Soomin took my photo. I seem to do that a lot, I’ve learned. I think of you and smile, and there’s this unfamiliar feeling of joy. There’s this yearning to feel it everyday, and that scares me. We kissed and the desire for you scared me even more. So did the thought that I can’t be what you need me to be despite what we feel, and that there's a possibility I’d get hurt along the way.

But I learned that what scares me the most is losing you.

I don’t regret leaving, but I regret how I did it, and I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I got to tell you what I really felt, and I wish I realized much sooner that the happiness I’ve been looking for is one I can find with you.

I’m scared of many things, Jungkook, but you make me braver. This is me being brave for you. Please come and find me. I hope it’s not too late.

Jungkook reads the letter one more time. It’s nothing like he imagined but everything he hoped. You’ve wanted him all this time; you still want him after everything. He senses the sadness and the hope in your words, and they’re things he feels, too.

You want him to find you. And just like you, he hopes it’s not too late.

He rushes out of his room and instructs Lucas to cancel all his meetings for the day. Jungkook heads to the support team’s office to tell Mr. Ri that there’s somewhere important they need to go.

“Where to?” The older man asks once they get inside the car.

“___’s place,” Jungkook pants. “Get there as fast as you can.”

Mr. Ri doesn’t ask any more questions. He drives off and merely glances at the rear view mirror.

“We’ll get to her,” he says. “One way or another, we’ll get to her.”

Jungkook could only hope, but when he gets to your apartment and finds it empty, that hope slowly fades. He’d call you but that’s not how he wants to fix things, he thinks. That’s not how he wants to ask you to be with him. He probably won’t even be able to say what he really means. So he tries one more, knocking and calling out your name, but no one comes.

“She’s not here,” someone calls out. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jungkook turns around and finds your elderly neighbor, a woman he’d seen that one day he visited you after you got injured. You’ve mentioned her a few times and how she sends over food on some nights and invites you for tea on some weekends. She looks kind and warm, and definitely curious.

“She… she asked me to find her,” he says dejectedly. “But I didn’t know she wanted me to. I didn’t see her letter right away and now… now it’s too late.”

“You’re the man she was waiting for,” she hums, walking closer. “She’s right, you’re very handsome.”

“She… she talked about me?”

“A few times. I asked about how she got home when she hurt her ankle and she said you helped her,” the woman smiles. “I don’t see anybody visit her other than her friends. And I’ve known her for years; I haven’t seen any other man she’s allowed in her home in all that time, nor has she talked about one. I knew then you meant a lot to her. But she said things were too complicated and that always held her back.”

“That always held me back, too,” he responds. He’d smile at the thought that you’ve talked about him, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re gone. There’s a reason why you stopped waiting. “Has she been well?”

“She has. She seems to have more life in her now. I always felt like her old job tired her out so much,” she says. “She’s excited to start fresh, and I’m proud of her. Oftentimes we stay in one place for too long and we just lose ourselves in it, you know? We lose sight of the things that make us happy and it was really brave of her to leave behind everything she’s known.”

“It was. I know that now,” Jungkook sighs. “Did she say if she found it? What makes her happy?”

“She did. She said she found you.”

The words hit him, as he knows it’s the same for him. You may have found each other in the place you’ve both been in for so long, but it’s losing each other that perhaps made you both realize what it was you couldn’t live without. Letting each other go showed what happiness actually looked like, and that neither of you wanted to be without it anymore.

“I found her too late, I think.”

“That’s for her to decide, though. You won’t know unless you look for her,” she hints.

“When did she leave?”

“Tuesday afternoon. That was just two days ago. I doubt she’s changed her mind,” she smiles again. “Well, I’d love to stay here and chat but I have some grandchildren to pick up. And I believe you have someone to find.”

“I think I do,” he responds, the nervousness evident in his voice. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome,” she hums. “Get to her, okay? She deserves someone who won’t give up on her.”

You don’t, Jungkook agrees, as he nods in goodbye and heads back to the car. That’s not something he will do this time. All he’s done was let his fears and worries speak for him these past months and he doesn’t want to do that anymore, not when there’s more of you that he’ll lose.

“She’s not home,” Jungkook responds to Mr. Ri’s questioning look. “I… I didn’t get to her in time.”

“Where to, then?”

Jungkook breaks as he imagines you in your apartment, waiting for him, wondering when he’d call or knock on your door. He can’t imagine you still doing that after he made you wait, but the one thing he’ll do this time is go to where you are and tell you everything he needs to.

After the heartbreak he caused, he assumes you’d go to either your family or your friends. He remembers the way you’d talked about your mom in the past, and how her comfort was always the one you sought.

“Do you mind driving to Daegu?” Jungkook asks.

“Not at all,” Mr. Ri smiles. “I figure she’ll be there, too.”

The long drive feels that much longer with Jungkook in the passenger seat, just looking out the window and watching the buildings and houses pass him by. He turns to the man next to him every once in a while, asking about how you were during your last weeks in the office.

“She was trying her best, making sure she had everything organized. She spent a lot of time with the team, too, and I think that lessened her guilt, because she felt that,” Mr. Ri shares. “She hated that she had to leave at this time, but I knew it meant a lot to her that she was finally doing it.”

Jungkook hums, thankful that the team assured you that it was all okay. But still, he wondered some more, and the look on his face is something that the older man reads.

“She hated that she had to leave you, too,” Mr. Ri adds. “I think it mattered to her that she didn’t feel tied to your family through you, even if she was always going to be. It mattered that she made that choice to leave you, that she came to terms with who she is and her past and decided that it didn’t matter, that she still wanted you despite all of that.”

“You sound hopeful,” Jungkook laughs dryly. “That makes one of us.”

“You can tell how much someone cares by how they hurt, Jungkook. And during her farewell dinner when you didn’t show up, she… she was hurt,” Mr. Ri says. “I had to wipe her tears that night. I think that’s also when she realized how much she really felt for you, when she saw what life could be like without you and knew it wouldn’t make her happy.”

Knowing he made you cry again when he wasn’t there on your last day frustrates Jungkook. He held himself back that time, thinking that a short goodbye would be better for both of you. Then he spent the rest of the day at the Arts Center and he’d completely forgotten about the dinner. In his mind, he already let you go; seeing you another time would pain him again. But that’s what hurt you in return.

“Why are you going after her now?” Mr. Ri bursts through his thoughts. “After all these weeks of avoiding her, of convincing yourself that letting her go was the right decision, why now?”

“It hurts so much without her. I guess it’s how I know.”

The older man gives a satisfied smile. He always knew that only both of you could decide for yourselves when the pain was too much because only both of you would really know what to do about it. You've done your part and now it’s Jungkook’s turn.

They make it to your neighborhood in over three hours, with only one stop over at a service center. It’s the house in the corner, Mr. Ri says, and realizing that you’re so close again, Jungkook starts getting anxious. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. He supposes that coming out here to see you on a work day is enough of a statement, and maybe you’ll both just take it from there.

The car stops and he looks at the man to his left, as if pleading to take the lead for now.

“Aish,” Mr. Ri huffs. “Are you really gonna make me ring the doorbell and ask for her after driving you all the way here?”

“Yes,” Jungkook pouts. “I… I don’t know what to say. What if she doesn’t wanna see me because I made her wait too long? What if she’s angry? What if she realized while waiting for me that she made a mistake?”

“Over three hours sitting in the car and that’s what you came up with? That she’s angry?” Mr. Ri scowls. “Don’t make me think you’re hopeless.”

“Please?”

The older man sighs, thinking that Jungkook just needs time to pull himself together before facing you.

They both get out of the car, with Jungkook standing on the side of the entryway, hiding behind the shrubs just in case you answer the door.

Mr. Ri rings the doorbell and not long after, the gate opens. And for all the years that Jungkook has known the older man - with his firm and often stoic disposition - this is the first time that he’s ever seen his face soften, the gentle smile appearing and lingering. There’s a beat of silence, a moment of appreciation it seems, before he says anything.

“Hye-soo. It’s so nice to see you again.”

“Byung-hun,” the woman greets. “It’s been so long. When was the last time we saw each other? Was it ___’s 25th birthday?”

“I think it was. That was a really great day. Your house looked much different back then.”

“Who knew an old house needed repairs and renovations to stay up,” she laughs. “But it all worked out. We’ve got more space now.”

“Space enough for Yoon-chae and Yeo-jin to run about?” Mr. Ri chuckles. “I remember their tag game then. They complained how it always ended so fast. But ___ also told me they’ve grown up so much now. And that they adore you. How’s it like raising teenagers at this time?”

“Ah, difficult,” she chuckles. “But it’s wonderful. They… they truly see me as their mother and I… I get to do things right this time.”

“Hey, you always did,” he comforts, having seen her do everything she could for you. “No one could’ve raised and loved ___ better than you. You got through the toughest times because of that.”

“With a little help, of course,” she smiles. “You know I couldn’t have done it without you. And years later, you’re still looking out for her. That means the world to me.”

She’s where all my love goes to, Mr. Ri doesn’t say. He knew early on that the only way to not lose himself in losing her is to care for the one person she loves the most - you.

“And you? Have you been well?” Hye-soo asks.

“As well as I could be,” he hums. “The stress isn’t the same as when I was working next to Jae-sung but he still tasked me to babysit his son; that in itself is a bit tough.”

“And why is that?” Hye-soo giggles, knowing there’s affection in his words.

“He’s a bit of a hard-head, you know? Pretty stubborn, too, just like his father,” Mr. Ri laments, disregarding the scrunched eyebrows of the man just meters away from him. “And he makes me drive all the way out here, only to be scared to face the woman he’s been looking for.”

“Is that so?” Hye-soo asks, picking up on the man in front of him gesturing towards the side. “I hope he knows that he has nothing to be afraid of.”

Mr. Ri finally turns to Jungkook, motioning for him to get out of hiding and do what he came here for. Jungkook sighs in his place, thinking that this is the first time he’s meeting your mother, and it’s after he’d made you wait and think that he doesn’t feel the same way. With his head bowed down, he walks towards the gate.

There’s a softness on his face when he looks up, and Hye-soo beams in delight at how the man she hasn’t seen in over 20 years looks very much like the 10-year old boy who used to quietly draw cars and houses on the Jeon mansion living room floor. It’s that same shyness and those same wide and curious eyes that made her have a soft spot for the younger son. They reminded her so much of you.

“Jungkook,” she says with such warmth. “You’ve grown up so well. It’s nice to see you after all these years.”

She definitely has your smile. It’s welcoming and assuring and perhaps the one thing he didn’t know he needed before seeing you. There’s so much comfort in her eyes, and there’s this subtle strength that she exudes, one that’s oddly giving him the courage to face you.

“Mrs. Cho,” he bows. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I wish it was because of other reasons, though.”

“What’s wrong about the reason you have today?” She wonders.

“A lot of things,” he sighs.

“Nonsense. You’re here. That’s all that matters,” she smiles. “Would you like to come in?”

“That would be great.”

Jungkook follows inside while Mr. Ri opts to stay behind.

There’s something special about entering someone’s house. People spend time and energy to make it feel like home, to make it be a place of safety and warmth. It’s a place filled with all the things they care about, of all the things they love.

Jungkook never designed the places he’s lived in; an irony, considering his profession. But his residences have always been a place for him to just move into, to just sleep and eat and work at. They’ve always been… empty - grand, expensive, well-designed, but empty. They’re superficial, he would say, a reflection of what he’s always felt. Which is also why he never really welcomes anyone other than his friends. The women he used to bring home don’t count - he’d let them in and make them leave; he never makes them stay long enough to be comfortable, to feel like they belong there. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he belongs there, either, as if it’s a place reserved just for him to feel alone in.

And so being welcomed in someone else’s home feels different. You’d done it to him, and being in your apartment both times made him feel at ease and familiar. Now, your mother welcomes him to the place where you grew up and it feels the same - there’s that comfort, that sense of nostalgia, even if he knows he’s never been here before.

“Welcome to our humble mansion,” your mother says. “Please, feel at home. Would you like some tea?”

“Uh, yes. Tea is fine,” he bows.

She heads to the kitchen and Jungkook is left to look around. It’s not a small house but it’s not large, either. He’s in the middle of a spacious living room, with shelves lining up the walls - one has family pictures in it, the other one has books and small framed paintings. The dining and kitchen are to the right; on the left is a hallway that seems to lead towards the bedrooms. There’s a screened door that also leads out the backyard.

The entire space is airy, with lots of natural light coming through the windows. He spots some renovations done over time, as there’s some mismatch of materials, something only trained eyes could see. But they’re done well, and he could see the love that created this home for all of you.

Your mother returns with two cups and places them on the table. She asks him to sit down, and Jungkook makes himself comfortable, facing the door as he gazes out at the sky and admires the beautiful changing of the colors. He knows you’d probably admire how it looks, too.

She observes him - nervous as he meets her eyes, a kind of desperation and fear evident as he constantly shifts on his seat. He’s grown up so much, but he’s still that shy little boy she remembers meeting all those years ago. She used to regularly go to the Jeon estate for some private events, and she won’t forget how Jungkook was the son who always kept to himself, content with a sketchpad and some crayons or riding the swing in his custom-built playground.

“Do you remember me at all?” She wonders.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Did I see you often?”

“A handful of times,” she responds. “Your father introduced me to you and your brother when I first started and I’d see you whenever I had to go to your house. But you were always so shy.”

“I was, but I… I wasn’t really good at paying attention. And I guess, there were a lot of things from when I was younger that I don’t remember,” he explains.

The faraway look in his eyes says that there’s more to that, that they aren’t just things he doesn’t remember but they’re memories he tries not to, that he blocks out.

“I’m sorry about what you had to go through as a child,” your mother says, having wanted to express her apology for years, knowing how much the experience haunted him. “I involved your parents in a very personal matter and that deeply affected your family. It affected you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. And I know it wasn’t my parents’, either,” he sighs, feeling regret over the resentment he felt and the distance he created.

“They were just trying to protect you. I hope you know that now.”

“I do,” he hums. “Do you… do you know what happened that night? In the woods?”

“Byung-hun told me,” she nods. “I’ve never seen him so broken over not finding you sooner. He carried that guilt with him, too, that he didn’t look out for you the way he should’ve.”

“I… I didn’t know that.”

“That man feels a lot even if he doesn’t show it. He’s got the biggest heart that I know and he cares for you so much,” she smiles. “A lot of people do. That includes my daughter.”

At the mention of you, Jungkook’s eyes perk up, the softness mixed with sadness evident once more.

“She and I didn’t want our ties to your family to be known,” she explains. “It was a way for us to move on from all that happened. But in no way did she mean to deceive you. She… she would talk about you with such admiration and fondness. And you showed her that it was okay to let people in, that it could be worth it to follow her heart. She’d hoped that you could see past her decisions and know that she was sincere about everything. That she was sincere about what she felt for you.”

“I… I know that now.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re here?”

“It is,” he sighs, wanting so badly to see you, even if he doesn’t know how to say everything he wants to. “Is she around?”

There’s a prolonged silence after his question, and your mother’s eyes flit to the far end of the house before they return to him.

“She, uh, she picked up the girls from school and decided to have dinner out and watch the movies,” she excuses. “I’m not quite sure what time they’ll arrive. And it’s a shame that you came all the way here. Is there anything you want me to tell her?”

Jungkook debates whether he should wait to say all this to you, perhaps when you’re ready and able to see him, or to say what he can now, knowing it’s important that he gets to express whatever he can at this moment, knowing it will get to you somehow.

But he also doesn’t know how much longer he can hold everything in. All the emotions he feels for you - the regret, the yearning, the desire to have you next to him - have been festering and he just needs to say them. Maybe doing so in front of your mother might be a bit of pressure, but if there’s anyone who can relay all this to you, it would be her.

“There’s a lot of things I’m not good at, Mrs. Cho. Opening myself up is one of them,” he starts. “But your daughter, she… she showed me that it wasn’t so bad. That it’s something I’m capable of doing, and that it’s safe to do that with her. Even when I distanced myself, she didn’t go anywhere, and that does a lot for a person.”

“She’s quite stubborn, isn’t she?” Your mother laughs, remembering those hard times when she’d tell you to get ready for bed, with you disobeying her because you wanted to hold her hand while she cried.

“She is,” he echoes. “It’s one of the reasons why I like her. One of many, actually. She’s also so patient and gentle and understanding… everything I’m not but… all the things I want to be for her. And I wish I’d told her all this when I had the chance but I was so blinded by my own needs that I… I eventually pushed her away. But she was still the one to reach out. She left that letter but I only saw it today and I…”

“Came all the way here to see her,” she finishes.

“Is it too late, do you think?”

“Between the both of us, not at all,” your mother smiles. “She’s all those things you said but she’s human, Jungkook. She gets scared, too, and hard-headed and tired and upset because she feels so much when she allows herself to do that. And sometimes she needs someone to just show her that it’s worth it, that having fears is valid but that they’re not the only things out there. And you being here… I think it’s what she needs.”

She pauses so he could process her words, meeting his eyes so he could feel them even more.

“You’re all she thinks about, you know? She likes being home with us and she’s excited for her new job but I can tell that there’s something missing. And I know that's you.”

“She’s all I think about, too,” he expresses, feeling more at ease now. “It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or where I am, I just always think about being with her. And I know that made her doubt, too. I’ve gotten so used to her presence but that’s not out of necessity. I’m not… a boss when I’m with her. I’m just… me. Because she made me see myself as someone beyond all that I do, someone worthy, and it’s that person who wants her, who needs her.”

Jungkook bows his head, angry at himself as all the words come out now, at a time when you’re not in front of him to hear them, to see that he means all of them. For weeks, all the things you said rang in his mind and every time you were in front of him, there were so many things he wanted to say but he never could, afraid of your rejection, of losing you for good. Now they’re out in the open, but somehow the words don’t seem enough. He realizes that when it comes to what he feels for you, nothing is.

“These are the things I should’ve said to her but I just got overwhelmed at the thought of losing her,” he continues. “I don’t want that, Mrs. Cho. I don’t want to lose your daughter. I want to be with her and tell her that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore, that I want to protect her and take care of her. I want to make her happy.”

It’s the most he’s said about how he feels for you, and he feels quite overwhelmed about expressing them. But he has to say them. You have to know, even if you’re not the one in front of him. They’ll get to you, he’s sure of it.

“I know she wants that, too, Jungkook. And seeing you now, I just know you’ll find your way to each other again, and you’ll both be free from whatever it was that was holding you back,” she assures. “But if it’s not too much, do you mind being a little patient with her this time?”

“Of course,” he nods, knowing that everything that’s happened could make you a bit cautious again, and that’s not something he could blame you for. He’ll give you as much time as you need, and you’ll be the one to find him once you’re ready. “I’ll just be where I always am. And uh, the Arts Center opens tomorrow. It would be great if she could come.”

“She’ll know where to find you,” she smiles.

He feels that he’s said all that he could, so he finishes his tea and stands up. He remembers that he bought something for you, initially hoping that it would make you smile once he gave them.

“Could you, uh, could you give this to her?” He asks, handing your mother a plastic bag, somehow feeling ashamed that this is all he got as a peace offering.

She peeks inside, her eyes widening in delight.

“Chocopie?”

“Yeah,” he smiles shyly. “I would’ve given her flowers but I just thought this would make her happier. ___ told me that it’s her favorite because you’d give it to her as a treat while she waited for you to get off work at the school. She said it always made her day.”

“This was your favorite, too, wasn’t it?” Your mother asks.

“It was. My mother said I always hoarded the ones she’d bring home and wouldn’t share it with anyone,” Jungkook chuckles, recalling those days of stacking them in his room and quietly eating them while he drew houses on his drawing pad.

“You shared it to ___, though,” she says.

It catches him by surprise. He’s never done that, as far as he knows. This is the first time he’s even getting it for you.

“That night those years ago, after I told your father what was happening, he offered us to stay at the staff house of your family’s estate until I’ve sorted things out,” she recalls. “We were in the living room while your parents talked to me and there was little ___, hiding behind my legs. I noticed her let go for a bit and that’s when I saw you, handing her some chocopie. She was always a shy kid but she took what you were giving, and I remember the smile on her face. Everything was new and scary for her and that… that was the first time she smiled that day. And I’ll never forget it.”

Jungkook stands in silence, as much of his memories from those years have been buried deep in his mind. He remembers hiding away whenever there were visitors at home but perhaps he looked on, curious about the girl who seemed scared and maybe something prompted him to share the treat with you, and something pushed you to take it.

“I thought she was just being nice,” your mother continues. “She didn’t really like sweets then but she ate the ones you gave her. And when I’d take her to the convenience store after that, it’s what she always picked out. I’ve just been getting it for her since then, and that’s probably what she remembers but it was you, Jungkook. You’re why I bought it for her every time.”

“We’ve… we’ve met before. And I didn’t even know,” he manages to say, thinking now about the familiarity of your presence and the need to always look out for you.

It’s something he always wondered about, how someone could just pull him in and make him feel things he’d never felt before - that comfort, that warmth, that desire to be good for someone else. It turns out, he’d felt those long before he knew much about the world. And while so many things happened that got both of you here, there’s still something serendipitous about not realizing you met as kids, and then finding each other decades later. There’s all this pain and sadness between the both of you, much of them intertwined, but at the end of it, you heal each other, you make each other stronger, braver.

“She didn’t know, either,” your mother hums. “And this just means that she always kept something of you from that day. Without realizing it, you were always a good memory that she kept; you let her forget the bad things even though she'd forgotten about you, too. It’s how I know that even if she’s not the one in front of you right now, her heart will always search for you.”

Your mother’s smile is reassuring, as if she knows that it’s what he needs. He’d meant to find you today and tell you everything he feels, but somehow he believes it would’ve been hard for him to do that, and so expressing it is all he could do. He feels like he’s gotten so much despite not seeing you though. Learning that missing part of his childhood that had you in it is overwhelming enough, but perhaps it reinforces what he’s known all along - that his heart will also always search for you, it’ll always find you, and it will always be what he wants to hold close to him.

“Thank you for welcoming me to your home, Mrs. Cho,” he says as he bows another time and heads out to leave. “It means a lot meeting you today.”

“It does for me, too,” she states, leading him towards the door and out to the street where Mr. Ri waits. “And thank you for being good to my daughter. She’ll find you. You have to trust that she will.”

He nods, knowing he’ll just have to have faith in what you feel for him. And he hopes that as he walks away and gives you the space you need, you’ll trust in what he feels for you, too.

Your mother bids you and Mr. Ri goodbye, the longing look between friends hitting Jungkook deeply. They’re each other’s what if’s, and while one was able to live out another love, the other kept living out the one he let go of. It’s painful, and Jungkook now can’t imagine making that choice of letting you go completely.

Love is a big word. It’s something he’s forgotten how to feel. He knows there’s still so much more to experience with you and love could be one thing, and that’s a possibility he’s sure he wants to live out one day.

He enters the car and sighs as he sinks in his seat. It’s been a long day and an even longer trip back home, but Mr. Ri insists that they take it.

The older man starts the car and looks dejectedly to his side. “So, she wasn’t there, huh?”

It takes a while but Jungkook answers. “She was.”

It’s a wild guess, but somehow he knew you were there, probably inside one of the opened rooms or in the hallway, just meters away from him but still so far away. Your mother had said you were out, but the way her eyes constantly flitted elsewhere, the way she gave him the time and space to just talk and express his feelings, and the fact that she’d shared that story about both of you meeting as children as if she meant to say it to you, too, all told him that you were right there.

Maybe you hadn’t expected him to come. Maybe you didn’t know what to say this time. Or maybe you thought that seeing you would leave him tongue-tied again, unable to express everything he means, and you wouldn’t be wrong. He just focused on what he felt and not the right things to say or how you’d react at that moment, and he supposes that allowed him to be vulnerable, too.

“And you’re not there with her because?” Mr. Ri wonders.

“Because she needs time,” Jungkook states. “And it’s the least I could give her. And I’ll wait until she’s ready. We’ve spent all these months avoiding each other, thinking that letting each other go is the way to move forward but I… I know that’s not what I want. She is. And I’ll show her I mean it.”

“Well, you went to her. And that’s not all you’re doing.”

“I’m not good with words, you know that,” Jungkook shakes his head.

“I do. She knows that, too. So when she sees everything that you’ve done… she’ll know you mean it.”

It's the assurance that Jungkook needs, and he’ll hold onto that, too, until the time you find him again. Right now, he’ll focus on the Arts Center - he owes it to you to make sure that all the work you put into it is worth it. He knows you’ll want that, too.

The long drive to Daegu had him think about how much of yourself you’ve given to the project that means the world to him. You may have done so because it was your job, but he can’t help but think that in the midst of it, you saw what he was yearning for, what he was trying to attain for himself, and that it mattered to you that he did.

Jungkook and Mr. Ri go to a restaurant for dinner on the way back to Seoul, and the serious expression on the older man’s face has returned. This is his default state, but his soft, longing look is something that Jungkook won’t forget soon.

“How was it like seeing her after all these years?” Jungkook wonders. “Does… does it still hurt, knowing what could have been and the life she lives now?”

It takes a while but Mr. Ri finally replies. “In an alternate universe, Hye-soo and I are living with our family on some farm. We talked about that a few times, about wanting to grow old in a place that’s peaceful,” he recalls, all those long drives and hectic days becoming worth it whenever he shared them with her. “But this is the universe and lifetime I’m living now. The decisions I made brought me here, but they also set her free. You’ve met her, you’ve seen her home. She’s happy where she is and even if it’s not next to me, that’s the life I always wish she’d have.”

Jungkook hums, unable to fully comprehend the heartbreak of letting someone go like that, and then seeing them live a life that he could’ve shared with them. Thinking about meeting you at a park or something years from now, perhaps with a husband or children, and then wondering what would’ve happened if he didn’t let you go plagues him. That’s not the life he wants. It’s not a decision he wants to make, and he could only hope that neither do you.

He looks across at the man in front of him with all that love for the woman he can’t have, and Jungkook wonders where all of that goes, recalling a conversation from not long ago, when Mr. Ri first revealed about a woman he’s held onto for years.

“Does it all go to ___, then? All that love?”

“It does,” Mr. Ri hums. “It also goes to your family, Jungkook. It goes to you. Those have kept me going all these years and they always will, so seeing you and ___ care for each other means a lot to me, too.”

It’s a comforting thought, knowing that at the end of everything, Mr. Ri still finds happiness in others, that he hasn’t allowed himself to fall into a kind of despair that paralyzes him. Jungkook recalls growing up and seeing the older man always by his father’s side, joining him on his trips and then coming back with some treats that he gives to Jungkook and his brother. When he was in Singapore, Mr. Ri visited often, showing up whenever he had a project launch. Jungkook also knows that he stayed in Canada for a few months, helping Jeong-sik recover after an accident left him with broken limbs.

And there was that incident that Jungkook carries with him, how he was powerless and alone under the rain but it was Mr. Ri who searched for him, who didn’t give up, who dealt with that guilt for years. And Jungkook doesn’t know if he’s ever thanked the man for all he’s done.

They engage in light talk for the rest of dinner. Jungkook offers to drive the rest of the way home, insisting that it’s a way for him to preoccupy himself instead of thinking about you. They spend it recalling his growing up years, how he slowly isolated himself, and then how he gradually opened up again. The older man expresses how proud he is, that regardless of what happens after all this, Jungkook pursued his happiness, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you, for uh, for everything,” Jungkook says as he exits the car, hoping that his simple words would convey all his emotions.

There’s a softness on Mr. Ri’s face this time, one that Jungkook has seen only twice in his lifetime, both of which were today. It speaks of care and warmth; he knows now that it also speaks of love.

You lay on your mother’s lap, needing the comfort you always felt whenever she held you close and ran her fingers through your hair. It’s something she always did when you were a child, and she knows that despite having grown up, you need it now just as much as you did before. She doesn’t say much, letting the silence of your bedroom envelope the both of you this Thursday evening.

It’s been a roller coaster of emotions this past week, and today pretty much took you on a deep plunge that has you holding onto your chest and wanting the stability of being on the ground. After you left that letter on Jungkook’s desk last Thursday, you stayed in your apartment and waited for days.

In hindsight, maybe it was silly that you stayed put when you could’ve called or gone back to his office in an attempt to talk to him. But you weren’t sure what he was feeling, if he was harboring resentment for how you chose to leave, or if he was too busy with the Arts Center opening to even think about you. He kept himself busy during your last weeks after all, and he missed your farewell dinner, too.

That letter was your way of expressing yourself without the fear of outright rejection. And giving him that decision to find you was your way of telling him that it was his call, that if he still wanted you, you’d be waiting for him. And that’s what you did, day in and day out - you waited for that knock on the door or for the ring of your phone.

It drove you crazy, thinking that you could be with him already, but the possibility of him also deciding that that’s no longer what he wanted plagued your mind; it’s what kept you from making that call or paying him a visit. There was that part of you that couldn’t help but think that he might’ve wanted things to just remain as they are. It made you realize that despite taking that step of being brave, there was still fear within you that held you back.

The hope dwindled by the weekend despite the comforting conversation you had with your neighbor, and on Tuesday afternoon, the sadness took over. You packed your bags and decided that if you were to get over this, being with your family is where you need to be. You knew your mother would convince you to wait for Jungkook a little longer. She’d be the reasonable one and say that maybe he’d missed the letter. And she may be right, but if you were to pursue him again, you knew you needed to be around people you loved to give you back that strength and confidence.

It turns out, your mother was right. Jungkook did miss the letter. It took him days to see it, and he didn’t waste his time and went to find you right away. Perhaps that certainty that you’ve been needing is what turns out to be the one that overwhelms you in the end. You walked out of your room to find him in your living room, and you froze. You stayed rooted in that hallway, listening to him talk about what he felt for you, and all you could do was hug your knees as you sat on the floor, taking his words in, hoping they’d heal your heart as quickly as his silence broke it.

“Do you think he knew I was there?” You look up to your mother in question.

“I think he did,” she hums. “I doubt he would’ve said as much as he did to me, someone he’s just met, unless he knew you could hear him. He had this look on his eyes - it was sad and sincere, full of regret but also of hope. And it just felt like was baring himself right there, hoping you’d know exactly what he felt.”

You think about it. Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn’t have let himself be that vulnerable to someone that easily, even if it was in front of your mother. He’s not always able to express himself to you, and maybe that’s why. Maybe like you, he loses his words and caves in in front of the person he wants. It’s happened so many times to you, and it’s one reason you chose a letter to express your feelings; saying it to him directly with all the uncertainties just terrified you.

But he’d been bold, he’d been honest. And you got to hear his every word, and you believed all of it.

“Why didn’t you want to see him?” she asks, given that you’d shaken your head when she looked at you after he’d asked if you were around. “What were you so afraid of?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It felt so long being without him, and I was holding onto this hope after leaving that letter and then the wait just… it discouraged me. Somehow seeing him there paralyzed me a little,” you explain. “Suddenly I wasn’t ready. I had all these feelings that were hanging in the air and to hear that he returned all those was just… I… I was overwhelmed because he was finally within reach.”

“Both of you are in this constant push and pull that’s keeping you from each other,” she points out. “At some point, you’ll have to just get over the fear and meet him where he is and he’ll have to do the same. No one wins in fear, darling. Weren’t you the one who told me I owed it to myself to give Min-woo a chance? You’re the one who said it was better to be scared with him next to me than to be scared alone.”

“Easy to say that when I’m on the outside, it seems,” you chuckle. “I get what you were feeling then, mom, and I understand now how hard it must’ve been.”

“That’s true, so you’re gonna have to trust me that what you said was true - it was better that I was scared with him next to me than if I was alone,” she repeats. “But I made that choice and it was the best one, because I can’t be any happier than I am now because I let him love me, and I allowed myself to love him. You and Jungkook could do that. You just have to trust that it’s all worth it.”

You nod. At the end of the day, you know it makes a difference that it’s your mother reminding you all of this. It’s her pain that you carried, it’s why you were always scared of opening up and sharing your whole self to another person. And it’s also why it matters that it’s her happiness that she reminds you of that pushes you to get over your fear, or at least, to choose to be with Jungkook in spite of it.

She tucks you in bed and tells you to get some sleep now. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow, she says, as you have to make that long trip back to Seoul in time for the Arts Center opening.

“As your mother, I’m kicking you out of my house,” she teases. “You are to head out there and tell that man how you really feel, okay? I won’t allow you back here until he’s with you.”

“That’s unfair,” you pout.

“It is, but so is keeping yourself away from him,” she shakes her head. “You take after me so much. Stop being stubborn.”

You laugh this time, knowing that while it’s that stubbornness that pushed Jungkook to open up to you, it’s that same trait that’s keeping you away from him.

“I will. And I’ll head out tomorrow,” you promise. “I’m so tired of being sad.”

“Good. No one gets tired from being happy, so that’s what you should try to be.”

Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror, tightening his necktie and then spending half a minute to determine if it’s aligned or not.

It’s something he’s started doing. It’s been weeks since you left and stopped doing it for him, and even if Lucas has pointed out a few times that it was crooked, the younger man never really attempted to fix it. Jungkook didn’t really have a choice but to learn how to do it himself. For an architect with trained eyes, he’s ironically terrible at assessing something as simple as this. He never knows if he’s done it right, and he’ll always be amazed at how you do it.

He finally decides he’s done it correctly, and he takes his coat to complete his look for the biggest day of his professional life. He opts for the classic suit this time, needing that refinement and elegance that a Kim Taehyung tailored outfit gives. Despite his best friend’s suggestions of trying something a little different, Jungkook insisted that simple is what he wants - the attention shouldn’t be on him, adamant that a textured charcoal ensemble would do its job. The pattern differentiates it from an ordinary suit so he at least doesn’t blend in too much and it’s a good compromise. You agreed with him on this months ago, and hearing you assure him that it looks good on him is something he’s missing.

He shakes his head at the thought. Here he is again, his mind going to you. Perhaps it’s his body’s way of dealing with the nerves; somehow thinking of you calms him down even if you’re not around. You’ve always had that effect on him, and with the unveiling of most important project of his life as the company’s Vice President, that composure and confidence is what he needs.

It doesn’t stop him from wishing that you’d taken to heart what he said yesterday, not just about what he feels but about finding him. You know most of the details of today’s opening, and if you wanted to, you’d come to show your support even if he kept you in the dark during your last weeks. And if you really wanted to, you’d come to tell him that you want to be with him, and that you’re not going to walk away this time.

It’s difficult to have today, of all days, be somewhat of a determinant of how things are going to go for both of you. He’ll definitely wait for as long as he needs to until you’re ready to face him again, but if it’s not today, he’s afraid there’s more that’s holding you back, and that not getting to you early on must’ve really hurt you.

But he’ll keep on, as so much has happened for this day to be as successful as he hopes it to be. Hoseok constantly reminds him of the entire team’s hard work and that it’s what will pull him through. But beyond the expectations from his parents and the Board and past the importance for the artists involved, this was Jungkook’s dream as a professional, and he made it happen. He’ll hold out hope until the last moment that he’ll see you there, though, but if he doesn’t, he’ll just have to deal with your absence like he’s been doing these past weeks.

Jungkook exits his bedroom and gets approving looks from his best friends who’ll be his support system for today. He’d gone to the Arts Center early in the morning despite last night’s long trip back to Seoul, wanting to make sure that everything was okay. It took some reprimanding from his father to finally go home to fix up, the older man claiming that Jungkook will need to collect himself before all the activities in the afternoon.

There’s an interview with the Culture Minister, a press conference right after, and an afternoon tea spread in the nearby hotel for all the artists whose work will be exhibited for the opening - all before the ceremony scheduled for 5PM. It’s a big day and an even bigger evening, and he’ll have to preserve his energy and learn to manage, and it’s the first big event without you. He knows it’ll be hard, so do his friends, which is why they're here to show their support and lend their energy when needed.

“You look like the star of the show,” Seokjin praises. “It’s a really good suit.”

“The stars of the show are the artists, actually,” Jungkook corrects. “And the public. It isn’t me.”

“Too bad. It’s a simple suit but you’re styled to still get attention so own it,” Taehyung states. “You look really good, Kook. So chin up, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”

Jungkook tries to smile, hoping that faking it would eventually make it look real.

“We know it’s tough and you wish you could share it with ___, but just think that she’d want you to enjoy this either way,” Seokjin comforts. “You also owe it to her to give it your best today.”

He knows his friends are right. So many things had to come together for today to happen. Everyone involved did their parts. He heard that there’s so much buzz on social media about the Arts Center and the registration that opened to the public exceeded expectations, and that’s only the beginning. Thinking of all the possibilities excites him, and he’ll hold onto that to get him through the day. Or the week and even beyond that, if needed.

Jungkook nods and thanks his friends, saying that it means a lot that they’re there for him. It catches them by surprise because he’s not one to easily express gratitude or any level of sentimentality. They suppose it’s what having you around had done for him, and maybe losing you also reminded him of the importance of being vulnerable.

They head to the hotel that’s one block away from the Arts Center. Jungkook goes through the interview with ease, and with the support of his father, Hoseok, Ji-woo, and Lucas, he manages the press conference, too. He takes some time to collect himself after all that engagement, then he proceeds to the event hall to meet with the artists, curators, and craftspeople and show his appreciation.

He feels a sense of accomplishment already just knowing that they’re as excited as he is. The inaugural exhibitions feature their work, and the products created to commemorate them are all beautiful. It’s truly come together, he thinks, and he allows himself to feel pride for the first time, knowing that more than the structure, it’s the connections and the art that they’re all celebrating, and it’s what he always hoped to achieve with this project.

It’s not long after when he finds himself in the Arts Center, first doing the customary ribbon cutting with his father and the Culture Minister before entering the lobby where he’ll give the formal welcome and signal the official opening of the center.

It feels different with so many people present, all awaiting to see how the structure was renovated and what new features they’ll look forward to. There’s a buzz of excitement that Jungkook internalizes, as he sits on a chair by the stage. He watches on as his father and cousins go around to meet the guests, opting to save his energy for his speech. It’s the feel of his mother’s touch that makes him realize he’s shaking, and he turns to her and is met with her warm smile. It’s been a while since he allowed that to comfort him, and at this moment, it’s what he needs.

“It already looks gorgeous, son,” she assures him. “And you’re going to do amazing up there. People listen when you talk, and they believe in what you say. I’ve seen it. So just trust in yourself, okay? At the end of the day, the structure speaks for itself, and that’s what the people will remember.”

“Thank you, mother,” Jungkook smiles back. “And thank you for staying here with me. And uh, for all the other project launches that you attended.”

“Of course, Jungkook. I’ll always be there to support you,” she says. “Anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Anything that you work on will be something I’m proud of. Never forget that.”

He nods, feeling a little lighter the more he accepts the love and support of those around him. He never really knew what that felt like, and he knows that’s all on him. He’ll try to change that now, and he supposes that expressing and receiving gratitude is one thing that he took from you. He just hopes he gets to have an opportunity to thank you again - he wouldn’t have done any of this without you.

Chin-sun approaches him to say that they’ll begin shortly, and Jungkook looks at the growing crowd one last time, that sliver of hope that he’ll see you keeping him going. There are so many moving parts to this entire project, but he knows he’s not alone. After tonight, he can breathe easy and look back at the year that’s passed and know that he put his all into this, and that it turned out to be exactly how he imagined it to be.

It’s not long after when the program begins. CEO Jeon gives his opening remarks, followed by the Culture Minister, before Jungkook takes the stage. It’s a much longer speech he gives this time, as he wants to make sure that he gets to thoughtfully express his hope and purpose for the Arts Center. He talks briefly about its conception and then delves into the ideas of connection and intimacy, how he wants art to be experienced by people as both spectators and creators, and that he wants this to be a hub for people to create meaning, all while celebrating Korean culture in an environment that reflects the merging of tradition and modernism.

He keeps his eye contact with the audience, and he sees their warm reception to his words. A video plays to introduce the artists and craftspeople who are featured, and then he ends with thanking everyone who was involved in the process - from the laborers, suppliers, and contractors, to the Board, the investors, and the executive team. He gives a special message to his project team and management support team, asking them to join him on stage because they deserve all the praise for how the Center turned out.

There’s a resounding applause, and once that’s settled, he finally asks for all the doors to be opened.

“There are so many things to explore here,” he says. “Please savor every space you enter and take your time. The meaning of art is something only you could define but the beauty is in the experience, and the experience is even more fulfilling when it is shared. Thank you very much and have a good evening.”

He watches the crowd disperse and he releases a breath. The night is far from over and the toughest part for him is just about to start, and that’s going around to see how everything is being received. His mother greets him after, congratulating him again. Hoseok and Ji-woo tell him how proud they are, and his father gives him that assuring nod, with words expressing pride and encouragement accompanying it.

Jungkook quickly meets the team and gives instructions on how to divide and conquer before he heads to one of the performance halls. He sees Yoongi hanging around and there’s a warm smile on his friend’s face, a rarity because it’s not usually directed at him.

“You’re getting the hang of these speeches,” Yoongi hums. “___ would be proud.”

“Only if she’d heard it,” Jungkook sighs. “I looked around but I didn’t see her. Do you… do you know if she’s here?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t heard from her. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook nods, knowing he’ll slowly have to accept that maybe you’re not ready yet, or that asking you to find him here at a time when there are so many people might have been too much. There’s hope that you’ll give him a call or maybe meet him at another time. He understands what you must’ve felt while you waited for him, and he hates himself for making you go through that. It’s excruciating being on the receiving end of it, and it’s only been a few hours.

“Let me know if you see her,” Jungkook instructs. “I’ll just be…”

“Around,” Yoongi chuckles. “I will. But your job continues, so go out there and find out what people are saying. I’ll be on the lookout for her.”

Jungkook thanks him and continues visiting the different halls, engaging with the artists and Board members and some other visitors along the way. He searches for your face in every space he enters, exiting them in disappointment when he doesn’t find you there. His heart slowly breaks, and he hangs on for a little longer until he starts to feel too much, with the tiredness from being on the go the entire day getting to him.

It’s a hard call but he decides to leave. Hoseok assures him that it’s okay; he’s talked to every important person already and that’s enough. People will explore for as long as the Center is open, and he’s got the project and support teams to hold the fort for him. There’s not much else he needs to do anyway; their subsidiary company tasked to manage the operations has already taken over, and Jungkook’s main tasks have been fulfilled. It eases him, knowing that he’s not abandoning anyone by deciding to step out.

As the hours go by with no sight of you, the heavier he feels. He needs time alone, not just because his battery’s gone out but also to just wallow in the sadness. It’s pitiful but it seems better than constantly hoping he’d see you here while being surrounded by so many people.

He goes to one final area before heading out. It’s the most special one, the one he dedicates to you, the one he hopes you’d one day see and know that he thought of you everyday, even during the days when it didn’t seem like it. He wonders if you’ll like it, if it would remind you of what you grew up with, and if it would be a place for you to feel safe and free and happy in, all the things he’d wished you’d feel with him.

One last look and there’s still no sign of you. He calls Mr. Ri and asks to be dropped off at the office. It seems like a better place to be in when he’s sad and upset.

The building is empty on a Friday night. Everyone’s either at the Arts Center or gone home and he’s ironically the one craving for the loneliness of this place. He’s committed himself to his job for a decade and doesn’t know much of who he is outside of it. He learned a bit of that in the midst of the biggest change he’s experienced and the most challenging year he’s had, and it was through you.

He learned that he’s actually quite caring, that there’s a protective side to him, that he steps up and shows up when he’s needed, and that he finds joy and peace in the outdoors. He’s passionate and a perfectionist but he wants to be a bit spontaneous, too. He makes mistakes and can apologize for them. He’s capable of kindness and in some instances, enjoys the company of other people with whom he can observe and laugh with. Being alone often made him feel lonely, and he realized that he’s someone who craves companionship, who wants intimacy, and that he’s someone willing to be vulnerable and share himself with the right person. And while he tends to be impatient most times, with you, he’s willing to wait. And for you, he’ll try to be better.

He enters his office and lets the silence envelope him. The city looks alive from his window but there’s dullness from within. He’ll get over it, he thinks, but until then, that sadness will remain for as long as you’re not in his life, for as long as you’re not next to him.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the elegance of your rose-colored midi dress a contrast to the stress painted all over your face. You give yourself only a few seconds to admire how you look - there’s a bit of that sexiness from the v-neckline and front slit, and the flutter sleeves and other vintage details lend to a classic look. Your hair isn’t as fixed as you want and your makeup is too pale for your liking, but with time no longer on your side, those are the least of your problems.

You couldn’t sleep last night despite your mother insisting that you get some rest. The image of Jungkook leaving your house plagued your mind. You should’ve ran after him and told him that you were sorry, that it doesn’t matter anymore if you waited, for as long as he found you. You should’ve stopped him to say that you wanted to be with him, that you were done with running away from what you really wanted, and that you’re willing to always be brave for as long as he held your hand and eased your worries. You should’ve gone back to Seoul with him, but you’d been too overwhelmed to move, to speak, to chase after what you’ve been yearning for.

Deciding to come to the Arts Center opening wasn’t always certain. You knew you were going to visit one day. You worked hard on it, too, and you wanted to show your support even if Jungkook would never know. But when he asked you to find him there, you knew you had to go right away. You imagined him making that speech that you helped him draft months ago, donned in the gray outfit that Taehyung was proud to make for him. You envisioned the smile he’d have on as he looked around to see all his plans come to life and the visitors taking it all in.

You just didn’t expect to sleep through your alarm and then miss the train by a minute. The travel wasn’t bad. The chocopies that Jungkook got you kept you satisfied the entire trip, but it was halfway back to Seoul when you realized that you didn’t have anything nice enough to wear. The ones you have are either too formal, too casual, or meant for a night out.

Taehyung had designed a dress for you but you said it was no longer necessary after you resigned; it was fortunate that he hadn’t started making it yet, and so the guilt wasn’t too much. You didn’t want to go to the opening in just anything. While it mattered to get there, you didn’t want to get any attention, and so dressing appropriately was your plan. Everything else in your closet would make you look underdressed, and you made the quick decision to pass by a store and grab the first nice dress you could find and then head home.

The clock was ticking, and it didn’t help that you got stuck in traffic on the way to your apartment, and that a vehicular accident at the intersection outside your village forced the cab driver to take a longer route to the Arts Center. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and the program was over, and Jungkook would probably now be in the midst of engaging with so many important people and you don’t want any of the attention that your arrival might bring.

You finally make it though, and while minutes ago you were stressed and just desperate to make it to the Arts Center, now that you’re here, you’re quite nervous. You’ll face him again after so long, and the fact that happiness would be within reach brings about an unfamiliar feeling. But you also can’t wait to experience it. It’s a kind of joy and contentment you’ve only dreamt about, and you’ll finally know what it’s like.

Exiting the cab, you look around in awe. From this view, you could imagine the sunset framing the main building so beautifully. You enter the lobby and it’s even more spacious than you remember. Perhaps it’s the absence of all the laborers and materials on the floor. Now, it’s just this open space with art pieces placed around. The floor-to-ceiling windows would bring so much light in. It was one of the big changes to the old structure, and with the moonlight shining through, it feels as if there’s a natural spotlight on the art pieces.

You’re enamored by the grandness of it all. Even more by the many people around, perhaps taking their time in exploring all that the Center has to offer. It’s such a massive space that it’s impossible to absorb everything after one go around, and you already can’t wait to take it all in the next time you visit.

It’s tempting to get lost in it but right now, your priority is finding Jungkook, but as you’re about to head to the second floor, Do-hyun’s whisper-yelling of your name catches your attention. She gives you a tight hug and there’s suddenly an air of sentimentality as the old team is together once again. It was just a year ago when you all took on the biggest project together and after all the highs and lows, it’s finally here. And while you missed out on the final weeks of preparations, they assure you that you’re just as much a part of those as they are.

“You had to deal with the last minute changes, though,” you insist. “That must’ve been hard.”

“Only at the beginning,” Chin-sun says. “We were barely involved. We just helped with procurement but Mr. Jeon was the one who worked tirelessly on it. He had just two other people help him construct it and I guess that’s why he spent so much time there. But it turned out beautifully, and you wouldn’t have known it was only an addition.”

“Wha-what is it?” You ask, the curiousity taking a front seat for now.

“It’s—”

“It’s something you need to see for yourself,” a familiar voice says.

You all turn around and bow at the sight of CEO Jeon. He looks at you and smiles, gesturing towards one of the doors. You excuse yourself from the team and follow the older man, walking next to him in silence.

“I was worried you weren’t going to come tonight,” he says. “I think that so was Jungkook.”

“I… I tried to come earlier but there was all this traffic and… I, uh, how did he do?” You ask.

“Great, as always,” CEO Jeon answers. “He had everything under control and managed all the socializing impressively. He’s come a long way, hasn’t he?”

“He has,” you smile, recalling the anxiousness that he used to feel at just remembering names and keeping up with people’s energy.

“He’s come a long way in other aspects, too. Smiling, believing in himself, being kinder to himself… it’s great to witness,” the older man continues. “And standing by and caring for someone the way he did with you, that was… that was new, too.”

“I didn’t intend on feeling this way for him, sir,” you say, recalling that the last time you spoke, you weren’t ready to talk about it. “And I tried to suppress it, and that pushed him away but I guess, sometimes we lose people for a reason; we find them again for a reason, too.” It’s a statement that CEO Jeon had told you the last time you talked, and it’s one that stuck with you. “I’m here to find him again.”

“Good. I was hoping you would, so at least I’d know that all this wasn’t in vain,” he chuckles. “And I really do hope you see his heart with this, ___. He takes after me, and I didn’t realize just how much until he came up with this plan.”

You lose him for a bit, suddenly unsure of what he means. CEO Jeon notices, so he gestures towards his right and you follow his lead, and that’s when you see it. Your eyes widen in shock, and you can’t help but gasp at the space before you.

“He’s not always good with words but he tries. And this is how he does it.”

You noted entering the grand library as he spoke. The walls and design were familiar, as you’d gone in here during your last few visits. But this area that you walk into is new. It’s not a large space but it feels like it now. It used to be a section of historical books and archived materials that were put on display, almost like a museum of literary artifacts that a historian had sold off. But it’s nothing like that now.

The glass enclosures have been replaced by shelves and bookcases, all easily accessible and reachable by anyone. The framed walls are no more - instead, there are reading nooks and character murals painted artistically, bringing them to life outside of the books they only lived in. The lights are not blinding; they’re warm and inviting, illuminating a space that makes you want to just sit or even lie in, especially with the large stuffed animals spread across. The chairs aren’t the same, too; there are couches all around, all soft and comfortable, decorated with knitted dolls and colorful pillows.

You walk further, mouth agape as you take in every inch of the space that brings back so many memories from your childhood. This place is new but familiar. It looks nothing but everything like that neighborhood-run library that your mom used to take you to. Towards the back is a little activity area, with a large, leveled table and a row of shelves filled with coloring books and paper dolls.

You feel chills as you realize what this place is supposed to be, and who this was meant for.

You remember the first time you told Jungkook about this. It was after that incident at the restaurant. He took you to a park and told you how the playground was his favorite place, how it made him feel free and safe, how it allowed him to just be himself and imagine doing and being everything he wanted. You shared a piece of your childhood, too, and described that library you frequented, how you felt sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye to it, and that you hadn’t seen a place like that again.

But now you have. That last minute change that he made… It was this.

You turn towards CEO Jeon and try to find the words to say but nothing comes out. You’re overwhelmed by what you see, by the memories they elicit, and by all the emotions overtaking you all at once.

“Jungkook called me one evening and said that he was going to re-do the archive section in the library,” the older man says. “He wasn’t asking for my approval because it was his project, he’d said, but he just wanted to let me know. He made all the decisions and most of the design. He painted the walls and some of the furniture, too. He spent every afternoon here and stayed until the evening. He barely rested. He just… he just wanted this done. It was so important to him.”

“I… I told him about a place like this, that I used to go to,” you manage to find your voice now. “He never saw it but it… it looks like this.”

“Maybe you described it really well,” CEO Jeon smiles. “It’s how he’s always been. Just a few words and then it comes alive in his mind.”

“That’s why this Center is as beautiful as it is,” you hum. “He’s good at that, bringing to life everything that he envisions.”

“It’s his way of saying the things he can’t say, too. It’s something he got from me, I think. I’m not good with words either,” he admits. “So when Byung-hun told me that your mother used to spend her lunch breaks taking you to a library when you were younger, I knew this was Jungkook expressing everything he feels for you.”

“It’s a bit grand, don’t you think?” You say shyly. “Building something for someone is… so personal, so—”

“Sincere,” he finishes for you. “And intimate, I’d say. But my son, he feels a lot. Which is why I think he tries not to, and why he distances himself from others. He felt like he’d lost you, ___, even before he had you and that… messed with him. He needed to do this for you, but I think he also needed to do it for himself. If at the end of the day, you’ll no longer be a part of his life, this would remind him that you were.”

You blink away the tears that you quickly wipe off as you look away. If at the end of the day, he’s no longer a part of your life, this would also remind you that he was. But you don’t want that, because you want him in your life, you want every part of him that he’s willing to show, and you want to hold every bit of that in your arms, care for it, and never let it go.

The time you spent with so little of him in your life made you feel his absence, and that allowed you to recognize the pockets of joy you had with him. It gave you something to look forward to, to connect with, and to treasure. The first step was resigning, and that itself felt like freedom. You get to pursue that connection and deep desire by choosing him this time. Knowing yourself means knowing how your heart heals and loves, and you want him to be at the receiving end of that.

“I… I need to see him,” you say, not wanting him to spend another minute without knowing how you feel.

“You should,” CEO Jeon nods and motions towards the door. “I’m sure he’s wondering where you are.”

There’s a soft smile on his face and you mirror it, as if to tell each other that all has been forgiven, that everything has been accepted, that there’s no more blame or burden to carry anymore.

You rush out, wondering where to start looking for Jungkook. Turning to the left, you see Yoongi, who quickly rushes to you.

“What do you think?” He asks, gesturing towards the library where you’d just come from. “Is it close to the one you used to go to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “Did you help him with it?”

“Kinda had no choice,” he chuckles. “We were working on it while everything else was being completed. He didn’t want anyone else to know, especially you. I didn’t even know why he wanted to build a children's library all of a sudden when it wasn’t in the plans until that night you told me about your childhood. It clicked then.”

“He was already dealing with so much but he still had time for this?” You say, still in shock that Jungkook pushed through with this despite everything.

“He had a lot to say to you but he didn’t know how to. And I guess working on this was a way for him to deal with losing you,” Yoongi answers. “You mean a lot to him, ___. He was a mess without you.”

You think back at the times you felt that he was quickly replacing you, that he was distancing himself, that he was probably upset because you’d messed up his plans, and that he just wanted to move on from you. All this time, he was working on something that he could leave you with, all because he knew how much it meant for you to have a place like this.

“Now I just have to find him,” you say. “Have you seen him?”

“Not in the past half hour. He’s just been going around but I did tell him I’d let him know if you came. You should call him.”

“I wouldn’t be able to say anything if I did,” you sigh, knowing that it’s probably the same reason why he didn’t call you after not finding you in your apartment yesterday.

There’s too much to say that can’t be said over the phone. You’ll probably be tongue tied once he picks up.

You decide to call Mr. Ri, the possibility of Jungkook having left swimming in your mind after thinking of how long he would’ve been socializing. It’s been hours since the opening; it’s possible that he’s gotten tired from it all.

“___? Everything okay?”

“Do you know where he is?” You ask, desperate now. “Is he still in—”

“I just dropped him off at the office,” the older man answers. “I don’t know why he wanted to be there but I’m on the way back to the Arts Center. Do you want me to pick you up somewhere?”

“I’m here right now and I just saw what he made. I need to see him.”

“You can wait for me and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll find my way there. Thank you.”

You drop the call and start heading towards the exit, with Yoongi on your tails, offering to drive you.

“You’ve done so much already. And you’re needed here,” you say. “It’s okay.”

“True, I have. It sucked witnessing you two constantly going in circles when you both clearly can’t get enough of each other,” he chuckles. “So go, find him. You can both stop being such idiots now.”

“Rude,” you laugh. “But thank you, Yoongi.”

He smiles, and it’s a sight that’s gotten you through some of the toughest days. He tells you again to leave now, and you rush out as you book a cab, slowly getting impatient as you want nothing more than to be with Jungkook already.

You get inside the car and watch the city pass you by. So many nights you’d done this, wondering about your life and where it was headed, hoping that one day you’d find the strength within you to go for what you’ve always wanted, whatever it was. A smile paints your face as you do it again now. One day is today, and with another act of bravery, you’re heading towards that other piece of happiness, and you’re finally claiming it for yourself.

The office isn’t far, and with the traffic having eased despite the hour, you make it to the building in no time.

You’re suddenly nervous once you enter the lobby. You’re used to late nights but it’s different this time. The security personnel assigned tonight still remembers you, and he doesn’t ask questions when you say you want to head to the VP’s floor.

It’s a little nostalgic walking down the hallway, even if you were here just last week. It’s knowing that you’ll be seeing Jungkook at the end of it that makes you emotional, your heart beating fast as the seconds tick by. You quietly make it to his room, and with the door opened, you wonder if he expected you to be here.

You stand at the entrance and see him standing by the window, looking out into the city below. His sleeves are rolled up, and he has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of whiskey. You spot the bottle on the edge of the table and not far from it, the mess of folders and blueprints piled on the desk.

“Why are you out here celebrating on your own?” You say, your voice soft despite the yearning you’re feeling.

He hears you though, as the swirling of his drink stops and he slowly turns around to look at you. He looks tired, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up. You wish he notices the way yours do, too.

“The Arts Center is beautiful, Jungkook. You should be enjoying it with everyone else.”

“It didn’t feel right without you,” he answers, walking towards his table where he places the glass next to the bottle. “It felt incomplete without you around. You… you were a big part of that.”

“Why did you leave, then? That’s where you said I’d find you.”

“Is that what your mother said?”

“It’s what I heard,” you say. He doesn’t look surprised, and maybe a part of you knew that he knew you were there, but still, he asks.

“Why didn’t you see me? Why didn’t you want to talk to me?”

You start to walk closer and see the sadness in his eyes. It brings you back to this room weeks ago, how those same eyes looked at you in dejection, in guilt. You hate hurting him, and you don’t ever want to do that again.

“I realized that I easily accept it when I’m told that I’m being selfish and that I don’t deserve happiness. But when it comes to someone’s genuine feelings, I cower,” you respond. “Your sincerity scared me and maybe that’s why I doubted it the first time and I’m sorry that I did.”

Your voice starts to shake now as the emotions intensify with every word you say, and with every inch of distance you eliminate.

“I’m sorry that I pushed you away, that I left, that I kept my past from you. I’m sorry that I was so scared about everything, especially about the way I felt, only because it was all so new. It was all so much; wanting you became too much, I didn’t know how to stop. But I…” you blink away the tears, not realizing they’ve been waiting to fall. “I realized I was more scared to lose you. I was foolish to think that I could just move on and forget about what I feel for you. I thought it’s what you wanted to do, too, and—”

He shakes his head, and it’s the most reaction you’ve gotten since you started speaking.

“All I’ve done since that night you left me here was think about you,” he says, now able to say what he’s been meaning to. “I didn’t know how to stop that either. Wanting you was no longer enough and I wanted to be with you but I didn’t think I could, not when I thought you didn’t want me. You left and I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“I knew it’s what I needed,” you admit. “I… I reached a point where if you asked me to stay, I probably would and I didn’t want to. I wanted to know myself outside of all this and I didn’t want you to be the reason why I’d stop myself from doing that, from searching for whatever would make me happy but I realized that it’s you.”

You take another step, your body aching for him as your heart beats faster. “I felt free but it didn’t feel like I thought it would be. I didn’t want to be here but I wanted to be with you. And I’m sorry it took so long.”

“I didn’t find you right away,” he whispers, as if he still carries that guilt with him. “I was so caught up with everything else, with dealing with the fact that I lost you.”

“The library,” you say. “You were caught up creating something for me.”

“I… uh, I didn’t know how to say everything that I wanted to say,” he sighs. “And I’ll probably always struggle with that but… I just thought that as you go about your new life, I could build you a place where you’ll always feel safe and free, and that if I can’t be that person to comfort you, you’ll have a place that can do that. Selfishly, I didn’t want you to forget me. But I also just wanted you to know that I was always going to think about you.”

“Doesn’t it feel a bit grand?” You ask now, inching closer once again as he takes another step forward. “Building a library for someone is a pretty big deal.”

“You would’ve been my biggest what if. I probably deserve something grand to remind me of how stupid I was that I let you go.”

“You’re not gonna do that again, are you?” You teasingly smile. “Because I won’t.”

“No,” he says a little seriously. “I put you through so much, ___. I just… I just want to be someone who would care for you and would make you happy.”

His words are simple but they carry so much. You suppose at one point, that’s all what’s started to matter. All he wants is to be part of that happiness you’ve been searching for. Maybe it’s what’s been missing in his life, too, and all you want now is to be a part of it.

Another tear falls down your cheek, and you appease the worried look on his face by saying that it’s a happy tear.

He softly smiles, wiping it off with his thumb before cupping your face in his hand. He’s gentle as he caresses you, and you learn everyday just how capable he is of giving warmth, that there’s such tenderness within him that he’s unable to fully show.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he admits. “So many times that I’ve seen you cry and I’ve just been… so powerless to do anything.”

“Now you aren’t,” you breathe out as you eye his lips, knowing they’re what you need at this moment. “Now you can—”

His proximity stops you, as he bends down and closes the distance. His mouth presses against yours, the hint of alcohol intoxicating you a little but it’s the feel of him that makes your mind hazy. With his hand still cupping your cheek, he pulls you towards him, his tongue merely licking your own when he slides inside as if to tease.

“Do that,” he finishes, pulling away only a little bit to allow you to answer.

“Yes,” you heave, wanting so much more now that you’ve had a taste of him again. “I won’t stop you this time.”

“Good,” he pants, grazing the tip of his nose on yours. “I don’t plan to.”

You’re unable to take a breath before his mouth crashes against yours, but you don’t mind, not when you immediately lose yourself to the way he feels. The kiss is desperate, with his tongue seeking entrance right away and then entangling with yours. Yet it still feels gentle with how he holds you, as his one hand continues to caress your face while the other glides down your side torso, settling on your hip to pull you closer.

Your fingers grip his dress shirt, needing that anchor to ground you as you feel yourself drifting, getting lost in what you’re feeling - pure desire, an insatiable need, a sense of relief that there’s finally nothing holding you back. He angles your head, allowing him to go even deeper, and you let him take control, you let him breathe you in, let his tongue explore your depths before he pulls back and nibbles your lower lip.

But he doesn’t stop just like he said, as he makes his way to your neck. You moan once you feel him lick the shell of your ear, the sound urging him to do more. He finds spots that have you grunting in pleasure, sucking and licking and pressing soft kisses on them, leaving you a pleading mess. You chant his name, grind against him for that friction you badly need, and pull on his shirt, as if wanting that barrier gone.

“Fuck,” he groans, meeting your hips. “Fuck, you sound good.”

Jungkook feels the shiver of your skin, as his mouth slides up and down your neck while he grabs your waist. He loses himself in the sounds of your moans - constant and yearning - just as heavenly as he remembers. You’re pliant, moving your head to give him access, letting him explore whatever’s exposed for him to do as he pleases, to taste whatever you can offer right now.

He pulls you for a kiss once again, and there seems to be more desperation now, as you try to dominate, to taste him, to keep him there. Your hand finds his, guiding it to map your body, to let him know where you want him, to tell him where he can go. He curses under his breath when he feels your breast, fondling it for the brief moment it’s there before you direct it further down. You know exactly what you want and he’ll give it to you.

The front slit of your dress makes it easy, and when his finger grazes your clothed cunt, you let out a sound that rings in his ear, and he wants more of it.

“You like that?” He huffs in your ear. “You want me to touch you like that?”

“Ye—yes,” you mumble, unable to say anything more.

Jungkook hears your desire. He feels it, too, but he teases a little, gliding down the wet patch before slowly pressing on your clit. You jerk a little, briefly pulling away from him so you can take in a long breath. You bite your lip and he knows that you’re holding yourself back.

But he wants more and he can tell that so do you. He doesn’t care where you are right now; all he wants is to taste you, to feel you pulsate against his tongue, to make you feel good and let you know what he can give.

He looks down where his fingers have slipped past your underwear then back at you, the lick of his lips his way of seeking permission. You seem to know what he means, and you nod, granting it to him. He pulls you again for a kiss, much rougher this time, before he pushes you against the desk and lifts you so you could sit on the edge, just like that first time. But like you said, you won’t stop him anymore. And he truly doesn’t have an intention to.

His mouth moves down actively, kissing every clothed and exposed part of you it passes while slowly lifting up your dress. He kneels on the floor and spreads your legs open, aching to taste even more of you. But he glances up and sees the anticipation on your face, his mind hypnotized even with just this view alone.

Holding your gaze, he teases, with his tongue merely grazing your throbbing cunt.

You tense up but it’s what gets you pleading.

“Please,” you whimper, the sight of him from below leaving you in a daze. “Jung—want—plea—I—”

You’re unable to form proper words so he finally gives in, pulling your underwear to the side. He grunts, as the sight of your wet lips has his dick getting even harder. Your desire matches his, and all he wants is to fulfill your need.

With the barrier gone, he presses his tongue flatly over your clit, warming it up first before he starts moving around. He alternates fervent licks on it with slow movements everywhere else - on your lips, on the sides of your thighs, and inside your hole. It’s messy and absolutely mind numbing, as your scent and and the way you taste divine have him burying himself even deeper into you, losing himself even more when he feels your hand in his hair, pushing him towards you as if you don’t want him to go anywhere. And he wouldn’t mind. He’d live here if he could.

You start to give in, your legs slowly closing on him but he pushes them apart, keeping them open so he could do more. With his movements, he pulls you closer to the edge - of the table, of your orgasm - and he buries his face there again, licking and sucking and moaning like a man starved.

The sounds you make drive him crazy, and that's with you still holding back. You’re still in his office, doing something you both definitely shouldn’t, and he supposes you don’t want your obscene sounds to echo throughout the floor despite it being empty. He can’t wait to hear you without anything stopping you.

You start to shake and that’s how he knows you’re close. He feels your uneven breathing, hears your broken chants of his name, and sees your grip on the table getting tighter. He wants to take you there, and with one final nip of your clit, you crash, the low, long-winded sound satisfying his need to pleasure you.

You try to catch your breath while he laps up your juices. You’re still sensitive, as your legs jerk with every movement of his. He takes a peak and sees your half-lidded eyes and parted mouth, but you eventually return to your senses and meet his gaze. You’ve had enough, it seems, as you pull him up and meet his lips.

Jungkook tastes of you, and you kiss him languidly, still out of breath and definitely in a daze. You want more of him, though; you want to bury yourself in him and elicit hypnotizing sounds that’ll have him chant your name, too, so you start to palm his hard length in return. But he goes soft on you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his waist before he cups your cheeks again while he returns your kisses.

“This feels quite familiar,” you hum against his lips.

“Really? I don’t remember you pushing my head between your thighs the last time,” he teases.

“Oh, shush,” you frown, quickly realizing exactly what you’d done. “I can’t believe I had you eat me out on your desk. In your office. On a work night, too. And while you have an event going on. Your father will be so angry.”

“Good thing he won’t know,” Jungkook shrugs, clearly unbothered.

But you aren’t, so you pout at him. “What was I thinking?”

“Maybe you missed me too much, and I can’t blame you, since you know, I did, too,” he reasons, his shy smile turning cheeky in a second. “Or maybe you wanted to leave me with a gift or something,” he smirks.

“True. When you’re stressed at work you can just remember what you did to me here and then you’ll feel better, I guess.”

“Actually, that’ll probably frustrate me,” he chuckles, pulling you closer again and wrapping his arms around you. “Thinking about how good you sound and how amazing you taste without you around… Yeah, I’d be angry.”

His praise flusters you, and you briefly turn away. But he assures you again that his father won’t know, and that you’re in the clear despite the indecency you both committed.

“And it doesn’t matter,” he continues. “That is worth whatever trouble I’ll be in, if it happens. I… I couldn’t wait any longer. I just wanted you right away.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks again, and you giggle and bury your face in his neck. It’s comforting, the way he giggles back but hugs you tighter. He smells just as you remember, and you think that this is how you want your days to go from now on - flushed against his chest, cradled in his arms, with his soft lips giving you shivers as he kisses your forehead.

It’s just your joint breaths that you hear now, and you turn to him, your soft smile making his heart skip a beat, and he knows that this is how he wants his days to go from now on - safe in your embrace, with your soft lips tracing his jaw and leaving teasing pecks on his cheeks. He captures them in his, basking in the taste of you, and it’s not long after when the kiss intensifies, leaving him wanting more again.

But just as you return his desire, it’s at that moment when the phone rings, catching both of you off guard and in surprise. He appeases you, as your eyes look at him in worry. He picks up the call, and he hums in confirmation before putting the phone down.

“The building is scheduled for sanitation in half an hour,” he says. “We have to go.”

“Oh right. I remember putting that in our calendars,” you hum, getting off the table and feeling the dampness of your underwear.

You fix your dress, trying to make it less uncomfortable. You turn to him who looks at you shyly.

“Can I take you home with me?” He asks. “Maybe we could, uh, continue this and you know, make up for the time we spent apart?”

“Yes,” you respond, feeling your heart race at the possibilities of tonight. “I’d like that.”

He nods, unable to control his own smile. He motions towards the door and you walk out side-by-side, knowing enough that there are security cameras around. There’s at least that unspoken agreement that neither of you want the attention that could come from having this exposed, whatever this is. But you suppose you have time to figure it out. You’ve both expressed enough that you want each other; you’ll just have to talk about how to move forward and make up for all that’s happened.

It’s cheeky glances from the elevator down to the car. But once he drives out of the building, he takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. He smiles when you tighten your hold, as if to say that you don’t want to let go of him, too.

You explain that you woke up late and had to buy a dress that’s why you didn’t get to him earlier. You share how you met the team and then his father, and the anticipation you felt on the way to the office to see him.

Jungkook narrates how his day went, saying that the interview and press conference were successful, and that he received so much praise from the artists for how the Arts Center turned out. You compliment him, too, saying how everything looks grand but that each individual space feels intimate, personal, and that you can’t wait to explore it further.

The conversation is a good distraction, as the moment from earlier still has you reeling internally. His taste is addictive, and there’s just so much more of him you want to see, to feel, to immerse yourself in. He seems a bit impatient, too. He’s driving close to the speed limit, perhaps wanting to get to his place as soon as he can to continue what you both started. With everything that’s happened, you wouldn’t mind doing it all night.

You finally make it to his building, and he constantly pulls you close as you make your way up, with his hand snaking around your waist while you smile at him. But when he opens his door and you enter his penthouse, he keeps his distance, letting you walk through his hallway and into his kitchen as he looks on.

He walks slowly towards you and his heart starts to beat faster, knowing he’s got you alone now, and that there’s no limit to what both of you could do. But though he wants to just take you in his arms, feel you against him again, and kiss you until you both run out of air, he decides to savor this first - the sight of you back in his apartment.

It’s been so long. And with you looking as beautiful as you do in your pink dress, he wants to ingrain this image of you in his mind - happy and content, with a tender smile that’s already healing the parts of him that once hurt.

“Your place looks the same as the last time I was here,” you say, looking around.

“Well, I haven’t really been spending time here,” he shrugs. “I was too busy being an idiot and making this children’s library for this girl that I’m really, really into to make up for it. And well, she’s here with me now. I feel like this place is going to start feeling like home.”

“Plants would help. And maybe some personal photos,” you tease, but you reach out your hand that he takes and you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and grazing your nose against his. “But I’m also here. And I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I just happen to really, really be into you, too.”

He laughs, and it’s a sound you once said you want to hear all the time. You think from now on, you will.

“Good. I’d like to keep you for as long as I can.”

His eyes turn serious and it makes you feel hot all over. It’s hard not to use his playboy lifestyle as a basis for how he’d be, and you can’t help but think just how good he’s going to make you feel. There’s always been so much tension with him that in hindsight, you’ve always tried to quell or overlook, but there’s no need for that anymore. You’ll let your desire take over, release all that lust and yearning until he knows just how much you want him in ways words could never express.

But just as he closes the distance between you, the doorbell rings, and his groan of frustration makes you laugh. It’s as if the universe is edging both of you with these distractions.

Jungkook looks at you in apology and agony. “That might be Mr. Ri. Or Lucas,” he says, remembering that they’d said that they’ll drop off some of the gifts he received in celebration of today. If he doesn’t answer, they’ll probably enter on their own, since he’s given them permission to.

So he lets you go and heads towards the door while you scurry to the left towards the hallway.

You doubt whoever it is would come all the way inside so you don’t really attempt to hide, but you do lean by the wall and listen in. You’re appeased to know it’s Mr. Ri, as you see him enter with several gifts and packages.

“These are from the artists and the Board. There are art pieces in the cart outside so just bring them in,” he instructs, oblivious to you standing not far away. “They gave you lots of alcohol, too. I thought to bring them here already for whatever reason you might need them.”

The older man chuckles and finally looks up and sees you.

“And I assume that reason is to celebrate,” he smiles now, and you don’t miss the smug look on his face that makes you feel flustered. “I was just gonna say that ___ was looking for you,” he turns to Jungkook. “Looks like she’s found you.”

“She… she did,” Jungkook smiles back.

“Good. It’s about time you kids made up,” he teasingly rolls his eyes. Heavens know how much he had to deal with, with you and Jungkook being such hard-headed idiots.

“We were in the middle of it but then we got disrupted,” Jungkook frowns, to the amusement of the older man.

“Oh, I wonder who did that,” Mr. Ri teases. “I better get going then.”

He sets aside the boxes and turns to both of you.

“But before I leave, I just… I just want to congratulate you, Jungkook. The Arts Center is a beautiful piece of artwork. And that… that last-minute thing you did… I’m telling you now that it drove your father crazy. But he… he told me how proud he is of you,” he continues, his look softening as he recalls their recent conversations, including the one just before he drove here. “To do all that for someone you care about, that takes a lot of heart. I think that you, finding it and using it is what he’s happiest about.”

His words are followed by Jungkook’s nod, perhaps in appreciation, and silence, as you’re unsure what else could be said after that. Mr. Ri excuses himself after bringing in the last set of gifts and there’s still that soft smile on his face before he leaves.

It’s happening, he thinks, and despite all the time it took for you and Jungkook to get here, he supposes it was the only way. It would’ve been easier if he or even Yoongi or Hoseok went ahead and spoke to both of you, perhaps to say it was all a misunderstanding or that there was nothing to be afraid of, not when you both undeniably felt the same way.

But he also knew that you both had to come to that realization on your own, that life without each other isn’t something neither of you wanted. You also had to make that decision for yourselves - to be vulnerable, to be brave, to take risks, and to find out that it would all be worth it if you’re just honest about how you feel. It seems you’ve both figured it out now, and he can finally feel at ease that two of the most important people in his life can now take care of each other, and that the love he gave helped both of you to get here.

Jungkook leads him out the door then returns to you, and as he walks to where you are, you’re finally able to appreciate how he looks. It’s just like the other times when he had an event to go to - hair slicked back, long sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dress shirt accentuating his toned chest, and the fit of his trousers showing off the rest of his figure. You eye him up and down and he smirks at you in response.

“So… you exposed yourself, Mr. Jeon,” you say, pulling the neck of his tie to bring him closer to you. “Who taught you how to use your heart like that?”

“Who knew I even had one in the first place?”

“I did.”

“Not at the start though,” he says, with a hint of guilt in his eyes.

“It was there, you were just hiding it. But I saw it. And I got used to it. Then I couldn’t get enough of it, of you,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And now I just… I want more of it, Jungkook. I want all of you.”

Having you be so bold about what you want does something to him. It already got him weak in the knees when you directed his hand where you wanted it earlier and when you looked at him to grant permission about having a taste of you. Hearing you say you want all of him causes his mind to short circuit, but he recovers quickly, as he nods and releases a breath before cupping your face in his hands then crashing his mouth into yours again.

It’s sloppier this time, as you both try to take in as much of each other as you can. Your tongues battle for dominance, you nibble and lick each other’s lips, and you moan with every breath as he’s got you caged against the wall, your hands gripping on his shirt to pull him even closer.

You feel Jungkook’s length hardening as he’s flushed against you, and you grind against him, needing that friction badly. He meets your hips and releases your face from his hold, supporting your back that now arches as you chase him, as he finds purchase on your neck, licking and sucking to elicit the most obscene sounds from you. He kneads your ass while you moan his name and plead for more, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this much pleasure with just this, and you can’t wait for what comes after.

“Please,” you beg, as you feel your cunt throb in pain.

Jungkook doesn’t need you to say anything else, as he has the same desire to feel your body. There’s so much he wants to do to you, so much more he wants to touch and feel. He wants to know how else you sound like, what makes you lose your breath, what makes you quiver and shake. He wants to know how else his mouth could make you come and how his fingers can drive you wild. He wants to know how your mouth feels wrapped around his cock, how much of him you can take, and how it’s like to be buried deep inside your warm walls as your essence coats him.

He wants you right now, so he heads towards the closest room, guiding you backwards as he unzips your dress and removes your bra. His hands immediately map your bare body, feeling the shiver in your skin with every movement. You whimper when he fondles your breast, and the thought of you being sensitive to his touch makes him even harder.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he guides you to lie down. He trails downward, nibbling as he goes and memorizing your body this way. His mouth reaches your waist, and from here, he finds himself intoxicated from your scent. He slowly removes your soaked underwear and the sight of your went cunt makes him throb in pain.

You’re so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He can’t believe he waited so long to have you like this.

He thumbs your clit, and your continuous moans and calls of his name make him give in. He stands up and smirks at you and, taking your hand, he replaces his fingers with yours, his eyes ordering you to touch yourself.

You follow, and though it doesn’t feel as good as how he does it, the pleasure hits differently when you watch him loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. All those months of doing your morning routine comes back to you - now you get to see all that’s underneath the clothes you prepare, and when he pulls down his trousers, your mouth drops the same time it does. He’s thick and veiny, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you.

His eyes are on your sopping cunt while yours are on his fingers as they stroke his length, getting himself ready for you. He opens the drawer and pulls out a condom, and while there’s the tiniest bit of disappointment, you don’t mind. It’s something you’ll eventually talk about. Right now, you just want him inside of you and you call out for him another time, prompting him to smirk once again and walk towards you.

He replaces your hand with his fingers this time, and when he returns to touching you, he climbs on the bed and hovers over you, lowering himself for a searing kiss.

“Good girl,” he hums against your lips.

You lose it, as if you hadn’t lost yourself already, but his deep voice and the way he grunts against your skin do something to you. You feel his cock not long after, and no amount of yearning for him could prepare you for how good he feels. He fills you up just right, and the gradual way he enters you while his eyes bore into yours has your stomach in knots and your heart beating out of your chest.

“Fuck, fuck,” he mouths as he goes deeper. “Fuck, baby, you feel so, so good.”

He hits the edge and he settles for a while, letting you get used to the feel of him, but when you start to grind against him, he decides to do the same.

He moves his hips, pushing then pulling out then pushing harder. He raises himself and intently watches your face distort in pleasure - your breath hitching, your lips parting, your eyes half-lidded as you moan his name, as if it’s the only word you’ll remember after all this. He starts to increase the pace, loving the way your breasts bounce in response. Then he slows down, only so he could capture one of them in his mouth to suck and the other, in his hand to touch.

The feeling of ecstasy overtakes you. He doesn’t go rough all the way, as you initially expected he would. Instead, he paces himself, going fast for a period of time and then slowing down to let both of you bask in the feel of each other. He doesn’t seem to want either of you to come right away, you can tell, by the way he moves and the way he looks at you - with a kind of longing and desire that feels so intimate.

He gets back on his knees after and spreads your legs, giving him more space to pound into you, and with his hands gripping your hips, he pulls it towards him to meet his. You feel him deeper inside, and it has you holding onto your breasts, pleasuring yourself there, too, as he starts fondling your clit once again.

You’re feeling everything everywhere, and your mind starts to go hazy when he lifts your leg and places it over his shoulder, allowing him to enter you from an angle that has you mewling in intense pleasure. You feel your eyes rolling out, but somehow they land on him, and the way his head tilts back while he grunts in pleasure as he caresses your thigh is a sight that you want to keep seeing. That image of his clenched jaw and strained neck will be ingrained in your mind from now on.

You continue with this pace for a while until he lowers himself and kisses you, hard and deep the same way he thrusts into your hole. With his chest flushed against yours, his mouth sucking and licking your neck, and his hand flicking your pert nipples, you come, the deep inhale and the exhale of moans echoing inside the bedroom.

Jungkook feels your essence despite the barrier, and it’s a kind of euphoria that pushes him to reach his peak. He hovers over you again, pinning your hands to your side for that anchor he needs. He meets your tongue with his, and then he pounds hard, wanting that high as you come down from yours. But you don’t hold back, as you meet his hips and curse and tell him how good he feels

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you seethe. “You fuck me so good. Fuck, fuck, yes. Keep going, please baby. Keep going.”

Your words push him over the edge, and he crashes before he knows it. He grunts as he catches a breath, a way to express the intense pleasure he just experienced. But he sees you still panting. You may have already come but another one won’t hurt, so he nibbles on your breasts again, knowing it won’t take long. You’re already close, and with a few more flicks of his fingers on your clit, he feels you quiver again.

“Come for me again, baby,” he mumbles. “I wanna hear your pretty sounds again.”

It doesn’t take long. There’s a tone of your moan that lets him know you’ve reached your peak, and he keeps that in mind for everyday that he plans on doing this to you.

You catch your breath, feeling as if you’re in a daze with what you just experienced. As you come down again, you meet his eyes. They were intense and lustful earlier but they’re soft now, just as his smile is. There’s contentment on his face and adoration. He kisses your lips, and that’s soft, too, before he turns to your side and lies on his back.

Jungkook feels the exhilaration from that ride with you, and he definitely wants to do it again. But he knows he’ll have to recover. He turns to you and thinks that you’ll need some time, too, but he can’t help himself. He presses soft kisses on your torso, up until he reaches your cheek, and that causes you to smile.

He finally stands up and tells you he’ll clean up, and you nod, somehow needing a moment alone to wrap your mind around what just happened.

It’s different, you think, when sex is with someone you actually feel really strongly for. All the ones before don’t compare. Sure, you were attracted to the men you dated, but they never made you feel anything close to this. Perhaps it’s Jungkook, but maybe it’s also you - for the first time, you’re giving more than just your time and your energy. For the first time, you’re giving your heart, too. All of it.

The thought makes you giddy. It also makes you shy because it all feels new. And it suddenly makes you hyper aware of where you are.

You look around. This is a new room. Other than Jungkook’s bedroom, you’ve only been to his study; this door was always closed and you never had a reason to see what’s behind it. You know he doesn’t really have people over but you assume an extra bedroom is always good to have.

You start to feel cold without Jungkook’s warmth, so you shift on the end and pull the covers, burying yourself under it. You don’t remember where your dress is, and you’re suddenly too shy to just head out the room and get it. It’s at the same time that Jungkook exits the bathroom with his boxers on, and even that has you feeling all kinds of things.

“Hey,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Are you cold?”

“A bit,” you respond.

He looks around and spots his dress shirt on the foot of the bed. He takes it and pulls away the blanket so he can make you wear it. He buttons it and fixes your hair, parting the damp strands and tucking them behind your ear. He helps you stand then you scurry towards the bathroom to clean yourself up.

You don’t take long as you don’t want to make him wait, and when you open the door, you see him with his trousers back on, fixing the bed. On top of it are your folded dress and underwear. Between that and the shirt you’re wearing, something inside you stirs as you’re reminded again of how thoughtful Jungkook is. You like him for so many reasons, and now that you get to be with him like this, you’ll get to know him even more.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him as he moves about until he starts walking towards you.

“I’ll get your clothes dry cleaned. Is that okay?”

You nod, giddy again and unable to speak.

“I was also, uh, thinking. Do you want to spend the night with me? And maybe the one after, too?” He asks.

“I’d like that,” you smile.

“Good,” he smiles back, kissing you deeply. “I was really hoping we get to do more of that.”

You laugh in response even if deep inside, you’re screaming in excitement. You’re still overwhelmed by all this, but you know that spending the evening and then waking up next to him will let you ease into this new life that you have.

He laughs, too, when your stomach grumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten anything since you left your mother’s house, and that was almost 12 hours ago.

“I actually don’t have anything in my fridge so let’s just order out.”

You nod, and shortly after, you find yourself sitting on the couch with him, your legs laying over his lap while his fingers caress your thigh. He’s got his arm around you and you sit there, just talking, while you wait for your dinner to arrive.

You stay on the dining table when it does, and you remain there after you’ve both wiped out all the food. You both clean up, liking the domesticity that feels more real now, even more when he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

“I don’t have any makeup remover or anything like that,” he says from inside his bathroom. “Just cleanser. Is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah, that should be fine,” you say, following him inside.

He places some skincare items on the counter and says that he’ll buy your brand this weekend. He grabs a towel and places it on the stool next to the shower before he turns to you.

There’s a look of desire in your eyes, and though he’d initially thought that maybe you’d want to wash up on your own, the way you’re biting your lips makes him think that maybe you don’t.

He walks towards you and, with his fingers fiddling with the buttons of his shirt you have on, he looks at you in question as a way to seek permission. You nod, and it’s his confirmation. There’s something about you speaking to him with your eyes that has him nervous, but every approval you give stirs something in him. There’s your shyness but there’s also that desire to have him close.

He undoes the shirt, and though he’s already seen your bare body earlier, it still takes his breath away, as if it’s the first time he’s being graced with this, only because he’s been craving it for weeks.

Not much is said when he undresses after you, but you don’t really need words. Right as he turns on the warm shower, your lips are already on his. It’s sensual this time, as you both seem to want to savor this now that you have more time to spare. There’s still so much he wants to know and to feel, and he supposes there’ll be more days to learn all that.

But then again, that could also be today, as you kneel on the floor and take his hardening dick in your mouth. You’re just as heavenly as he imagined, even more when you let him come on your chest and he’s dazed with how turned on you look. He finishes you off with you caged against the wall, your breasts in his mouth and his fingers inside your hole. It’s more languid kisses once you decide to actually take a shower, and going slow as you caress each other’s bodies is another feeling that he wants to keep having.

He gives you one of his shirts to wear before you both head to his bed. It’s past midnight and the day has started to catch up to him. He’s been tired since midday, and he would’ve crashed on his couch after finishing a bottle of whiskey if you hadn’t come.

But you did, and the past few hours have been nothing short of amazing, as if it’s a dream he doesn’t believe is really happening. You lay next to his side, looking warm and comfortable with the softest smile on your face, a contrast to how you looked when you took him so deep in your mouth and moaned curses while you pulled on his hair as you came on his fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask him.

“A lot of things. Also nothing,” he says. “So much has happened today and I just… I just wanna sleep but I also want to stay awake with you a bit longer.”

“We’ll have more time together though,” you assure him. “We can talk about them tomorrow.”

He hums, knowing that his weekends from now on will no longer be boring like they used to be.

“What about you, what are you thinking about?”

“That your bed is so soft and your pillows smell so nice,” you respond, earning you a laugh. “Better than the one earlier. Although come to think of it, I didn’t even know you had a guest room.”

“It’s, well, uh… I wouldn’t really call it a guest room. I don’t really make people sleep there. Unless, they, uh, stay the night even if I told them not to.”

With his embarrassed face, the thought dawns on you.

“You have a room specifically for your hookups?” You gasp. “You fucked me in your hookup room!”

You don’t seem angry but still, he supposes it doesn’t sound good when you say it like that.

“That… that was the closest room with something to lie on and I just wanted you so badly,” he explains, truly looking like he feels bad about it. “I only have that because I don’t let people in my room and well, you’re here now, aren’t you? I don’t like people being inside my space but you… I want you here. I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with apologetic eyes and you suddenly feel bad for reacting the way you did. It’s not a big deal. Maybe it isn’t ideal when you look back on it but then again, he fucked you so good, it doesn’t really matter. It also doesn’t matter where he does it. But maybe claiming other parts of his penthouse isn’t so bad.

“It’s okay, you made up for it,” you say, kissing his pouty lips to let him know it’s fine.

There’s really nothing you can complain about, not when you’re next to him and feeling the safety and warmth of being by his side. There’s that comfort of being able to say and do what you want to, including expressing your desire without holding back anymore. That itself feels like freedom, and you get to live that out with him.

“We should probably skip that room for next time,” you add. “I mean, you have a nice bathtub and a spacious closet and a large couch and a wide dining table.., you have a study, a gym…” you smirk, something he does, too. “We have so many options.”

“We do,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you now. “We also have my bed, in case you forgot.”

“I was just about to say,” you giggle, sitting up and motioning for him to lie on his back. His smile is replaced with a lustful look once you start grinding against his clothed dick. “So, uhm, shall we?”

He grabs your hips and aids your movements, immediately feeling pleasure that he fortunately isn’t too tired to build on. He sits up and catches your lips in his.

“I can do this all night,” he whispers.

And with languid kisses and curious hands mapping each other’s bodies, you feel the beginnings of learning what your heart could do. Right now, it’s racing, as it feels the desire to be one with him, to share in intimacy and vulnerability as you bare parts of yourself to him with no reservations.

You know that starting today, there’ll be more that your heart will learn to do, like understand and forgive. One day, it will heal. And as it soars and finds a home in Jungkook’s arms, you know that one day, it will learn how to love, too.

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moongreenlight · 1 year ago

Text

“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #141 headcanons #headcanon #drabble

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hottiesforhockey · 3 months ago

Text

ho, ho, hoe ⎜m.barzal

🎄pairings: mat barzal x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜christmas special ⎜smut ⎜friends to lovers⎜ 🎄warnings: mat is in love and not great at hiding it ⎜alcohol consumption ⎜ drunk sex ⎜missionary ⎜p in v⎜pretty vanilla overall ⎜ marking/hickeys⎜ just a dude in love ⎜awkward love confessions ⎜very minimal smut tbh ⎜ 🎄synopsis: an accidental christmas hook up, becomes so much more when your hoe of a best friend catches feelings. 🎄word count: 5.2k 🎄authors note: this is my first of several christmas fics - there will not be a part 2 but I hope you all enjoy!! christmas fic list

(unedited)

“Come on, you promised,” Mat said, his voice teasing as he nudged you out of the car. “It’s one party. You’ll survive.”

You glared at him, tightening your coat against the icy December air. “You ambushed me. I never said yes.”

“Details.” His smirk deepened, and you hated how easily it chipped away at your resolve. “Besides, you’ve been sulking at home for two weeks. Consider this an intervention. No one should be this much of a Grinch in December.”

It was impossible to argue with Mat Barzal. You’d learned that years ago. He had a way of wrapping his words in charm and layering them with just enough humour to get his way. It didn’t help that his ridiculous good looks made you forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

Mat was your best friend—the kind of friend who’d been there through every bad breakup, every celebration, every boring Tuesday night when all you needed was a movie marathon and pizza. He was also, as you liked to call him, a professional-grade hoe. Always flirting, always texting someone new, always shamelessly charming his way into trouble.

So, of course, it was Mat who had dragged you to this Christmas party. And of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the guest list included a suspicious number of his teammates, their dates, and not many people you actually knew.

You tugged your itchy sweater down and shot him a glare. “If this is your idea of a fun Friday night, I’m starting to question our friendship.”

“You’ll thank me later.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the door. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a great time.”

What Mat didn’t say—and wouldn’t dare admit—was that he’d spent weeks working up the nerve to do this. To spend more time with you outside the cozy bubble of friendship. To finally figure out if the feelings he’d been burying for years were one-sided or if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.

But Mat was a coward when it came to you. A hoe, sure. But only because it was easier to flirt with strangers than risk what you had.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Twinkling lights strung across the room, the faint scent of pine and cider in the air, and a playlist that was just loud enough to drown out awkward small talk.

Mat stayed close, his hand brushing yours as you made your way through the crowd. He didn’t miss the way you wrinkled your nose at the chaos, and his grin softened. “Alright, Scrooge. Let’s get you a drink.”

You let him pull you toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on dragging me out like this. Don’t you have ten other girls you could be charming right now?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, so brief you almost missed it. “Maybe I like spending time with you.”

The words hung between you, light but heavy, before he quickly added, “Besides, no one else would put up with your terrible attitude about Christmas.” You laughed, and Mat felt the tension ease, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen.

One day, he thought.

One day he’d tell you the truth.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, the hum of conversation and Christmas music muffled by the thick walls. Mat handed you a cup of something that smelled strongly of peppermint schnapps and took a long sip of his own.

“This is terrible,” you said after a cautious taste, wrinkling your nose.

Mat grinned. “It’s festive.”

“It tastes like someone melted a candy cane into rubbing alcohol.”

“Exactly.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Happy holidays.”

You clinked cups with him, rolling your eyes. Typical Mat—always the life of the party, always ready with a sarcastic comment or a sly grin to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back against the counter, his dark hair slightly messy and his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the room.

“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “Having fun yet?”

“I’ll let you know when it starts.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but join in. It was easy to relax around Mat, even in a setting where you felt like a complete outsider.

As the night wore on, the two of you lingered in the kitchen, your drinks steadily disappearing. Mat’s stories became a little louder, his laugh a little freer, and you felt yourself loosening up too.

“Remember that time we tried to make cookies in my apartment?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

“How could I forget?” You grinned, leaning against the counter beside him. “You set the oven on fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire,” he protested, gesturing with his cup. “It was a… controlled open flame.”

“Your neighbours didn’t think so.”

“Yeah, well, they hated me anyway.” Mat chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you stayed. Even when I ruined the cookies.”

“You had alcohol,” you said simply, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, but before you could respond, he downed the rest of his drink and changed the subject.

“Okay, real talk,” he said, setting his empty cup on the counter. “What’s your deal with Christmas? Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it,” you said defensively. “I just think it’s… overrated.”

“Overrated?” He looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire family. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. It’s just not my thing.”

“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” he said, his grin lopsided. “You should let me show you how it’s done.”

“And how’s that?”

“For starters…” He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your overused christmas sweater. “This thing has got to go. You look like a rejected elf.”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him, mock-offended, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re the only person I know who can make something that ugly look good.”

The comment sent a flutter through your chest, but you brushed it off as just another one of Mat’s usual flirtatious remarks. He was always saying things like that—half-joking, half-serious—and you’d learned not to read too much into them.

Still, as the drinks kept flowing and the night wore on, Mat’s comments started to feel… different. Softer. More pointed.

“You know,” he said at one point, “sometimes I think you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his cup. “Just that you’re… you know. Amazing. Like, actually amazing. And you don’t even realise it.”

You laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”

“Tipsy, maybe,” he admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Before you could press him further, someone burst into the kitchen, dragging Mat into a conversation about hockey and leaving you standing there, your mind buzzing as much from his words as from the alcohol.

As the night wound down, you found yourself back where you started—leaning against the counter, your cup nearly empty, with Mat by your side. The party had thinned out, voices from the living room fading into a low hum.

He was quieter now, his usual spark mellowed by the weight of the night and whatever thoughts had been lingering behind his lopsided smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, breaking the silence.

“Am I?” His lips quirked up, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“You need a brain for that” You hoped your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

He hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “Like how you’re still here,” he said finally. “When you could’ve bailed hours ago. But you didn’t.”

“Maybe I’m a sucker for bad holiday parties,” you joked, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten.

“Or maybe,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you.”

It was the kind of thing he’d say all the time, casual and easy, except now there was something behind it. Something that made the air between you feel heavier. Charged.

Maybe it was the alcohol?

Or maybe it was something you had been feeling all night - a shift.

“Mat,” you began, but the words caught in your throat when his hand brushed against yours, tentative and testing.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “And I will.”

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It wasn’t careful or calculated—just instinct, like you’d been waiting for this moment longer than you cared to admit.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Not the bad music, not the overplayed holiday cheer, not even the fact that anyone could walk in at any second.

“Guess the party’s starting now,” he said breathlessly when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours.

“Shut up,” you muttered, laughing as you pulled him back in.

Mat’s laugh rumbled softly against your lips before his hands shifted at your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss slowed, turning into something softer, sweeter, but no less intense. His fingers traced light patterns along the curve of your back, and you found yourself melting into his touch, the rest of the room falling away entirely.

When the sound of voices drifted closer—someone coming down the hallway, loud and unsteady—you both broke apart, the spell momentarily shattered. Mat took a step back, his eyes lingering on yours, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

“Guess we’ve got an audience incoming,” he said, nodding toward the approaching voices.

“Probably shouldn’t give them a show,” you replied, your cheeks burning. Your hands dropping to straighten out your sweater, your cheeks burning a bright red as you turn away from your friend - taking a few sobering breaths. You turn back to Mat slowly, your eyebrows lifting as you find him already staring at your, his cheeks burning as much as yours.

“I don’t think I’m finished with tonight.” He says slowly - adding, “but I’m definitely done with this party.” His Adams apple bobbing as he watches your mind turn a hundred miles an hour.

“Oh, well there’s a bar down the street thats usually open late.” You note, Mat’s brows furrowing as he shakes his head.

“That’s not—,” Mat lets out a soft sigh, his smile soft on his face as he spits out, “I’m trying to ask you to come home with me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric, like a string pulled taut. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly, or if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was playing tricks on you.

“Home,” you repeated slowly, testing the word on your tongue. Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.

Mat nodded, his gaze steady but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for the answer. “Yeah. With me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat reverberating in your ears. The room around you blurred—the noise, the decorations, the faint smell of spiked cider—and all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against his palm, the slight twitch of his jaw as he waited.

This wasn’t like him. Mat, the always-casual, too-cool-to-be-flustered Mat, was standing in front of you looking like his world might tilt depending on your response.

You took a breath, your pulse skipping as you leaned in just enough that your words were for him alone. “Okay,” you whispered, the weight of the decision melting into something exhilarating as you saw his grin break through.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now, carrying an edge of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”

His hand found yours again, this time with more certainty, fingers lacing through yours as he gave a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here before someone stops us.”

You followed without hesitation, weaving through the scattered crowd, ignoring the knowing glances and side comments. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, sharp and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth of the party. Mat didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And as he led you down the street, your hand still in his, you felt something settle in you, a kind of rightness you hadn’t expected and couldn’t deny.

The walk to Mat's place was quiet but charged, every step a wordless conversation. The city hummed around you—car engines purring in the distance, the occasional laughter spilling from a bar’s open door—but it all felt like background noise. The real energy was in the small, subtle touches: the way his fingers tightened around yours when your hands brushed, or the way he glanced at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

When you reached his building, Mat paused at the door, his free hand fishing out his keys. He hesitated, looking at you with a crooked smile, his breath visible in the cool air. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped. “Mat, if you don’t open that door in the next five seconds…”

His laugh was soft, barely louder than the jingle of the keys as he unlocked the door. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing it open and holding it for you. “Come on in.”

The warmth of the lobby hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The building smelled faintly of pine—probably some festive candle someone had left at the front desk—and you followed him to the elevator, the silence between you comfortable now.

Inside the elevator, the closeness felt different. More intimate. The quiet hum of the machinery filled the space, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat. You caught Mat glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instead, his thumb resumed its soft pattern against your hand, grounding you.

When the doors slid open, Mat led you down the hallway to his apartment. The tension built with each step, your stomach doing little flips as you reached his door. He unlocked it smoothly, gesturing for you to step inside first.

His place was exactly what you’d imagined—warm, lived-in, and distinctly him. The couch had a throw blanket draped messily over one arm, and a few mismatched mugs were scattered on the coffee table. String lights twinkled softly along the windows, their golden glow casting cozy shadows across the room.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you.

“It’s not messy,” you replied, taking it all in. It was charming, actually, and it felt... safe. “It’s nice.”

Mat exhaled a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing again. He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing your arm before sliding down to your hand.

“Still sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something vulnerable.

You nodded, your fingers curling around his. “Still sure.”

That was all he needed. Mat pulled you in gently, his other hand finding your waist as his lips met yours. This time, there was no hesitation—no second-guessing. It was slower than before, but somehow even more consuming, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you, the way you fit against him.

One of mats hands reach up, tugging slowly on your hair scrunchie pulling it from the bun, letting your hair fall loose, his fingers playing with the strands as he leads you to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours as your arms loop around his neck. Mat’s lips make his way down your neck - pressing soft kisses as he tugs on the hem of your sweater, his lips only leaving your skin as he pulls the thick fabric over your head, his eyes immediately dropping down to your bra.

“I’m about to fucking combust.” Mat groans, the two of you falling onto his mattress, your head buried among the pillows as Mat sits up on his knees, taking in the sight of you as he rips his own soft hoodie over his head, his hands reaching out for the button on your jeans.

“God, you’re stunning.” Mat coos, as he slides your jeans down your legs, throwing them off to the side as he smoothes his hands down your body, his hands stopping at your knees as he pushes them apart, his body slotting slowly between them as he leans down to reattach his lips to your jaw - sucking harshly against the soft skin, a soft whine escaping you the blood rushing to the surface as an obvious bruise starts to form.

“Perfect.” He whispers, against your neck as he picks a new spot and sucks again.

“Mat.” You hiss, as his hand slowly dips in the waistband of your underwear, gently teasing your clit, his teeth skimming the skin on your neck as he pulls away. “If you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear to god.” You continue, your nails digging into his shoulders as he dips an experimental finger inside of you.

Mat doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes quick work of his own pants, his cock painfully hard as it leaks with premium - his body leaning over your as he rifles through his bed side table. “Wrap it before you tap it.” He jokes, your hands pulling your own underwear down your legs, throwing them off to the side as you take in Mat.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You sigh, but your smile betrays your serious tone. You always knew the hockey player had a good body - his fitness levels beyond the average person, but seeing his stone cut figure was about to make you drool - your hands reaching out for him as he rolls the condom on his dick.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” He whispers as he crawls back on top of you, his body slipping perfectly between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as he lines himself up. His head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushes in, his movements slow and purposeful as he lets you adjust with each inch. “Is this okay?” He whispers into your hair, his hips moving excruciatingly slow as he pumps himself in and out.

He smiles as you nod, your lip trapped between your teeth as you let out a soft whimper, his hands placed on either side of your head as his movements speed up a little. “My pretty little pillow princess.” Mat coos, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as the sound of skin on skin fills the room.

“Fuck Mat.” You hiss as his pelvis brushes against yours, your cunt clenching around him - his hips stuttering as he lets out a low groan.

“I’m close.” He hisses, your head nodding in agreement as your nails drag up his back tangling in soft hair, tugging lightly.

“I need more.” You breath out, Mat eye brows furrowing as he lifts himself up slightly, lifting a hand off the mattress, his fingers dipping between your body as he teases your clit softly.

“Shit.” He grunt as you squeeze around him again, his orgasm being pulled from him as he bottoms out inside of you, his fingers still working on your clit until he feels you clench tighter around him, a long whine escaping you as you cum. Mat’s body falls against yours, the two of your breathing heavily as your fingers continue to scrape against his scalp, a please sigh leaving him as his body melts on top of yours.

“Mat, I need to go to the bathroom.” You mumble, your eyes almost forcing themself closed as the heat radiating from your best friend tries to lull you to sleep. Mat lets out a grunt, lifting himself up just enough to capture your lips with his, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he rolls off of you, discarding the condom as he lies on his back.

“There should be your favourite stuff under the counter if you need it.” He says softly, his eyes already closing, “Come back to me quickly.” He adds, his arm thrown over his eye as his breathing evens out.

You watch him for a few moments before dashing into his bathroom, facing the mirror as you take in your nest of hair and your flushed cheeks. “What the fuck did I do?” You sneer at your reflection, the bright red bruises on your neck sticking out like a sore thumb. You turn on the tap, using the cold water against your face before cleaning yourself up as quickly as possible, your frown deepening as you step out of the bathroom, Mat fast asleep in the bed, his body turned towards the empty space besides him.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you make your way over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his temple before pulling your clothes back on as escaping your best friends house.

Three days passed quickly - your phone constantly dinging with a barrage of messages from Mat. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your phone sat face down on the counter, Mat's unread messages and missed calls an ever-growing weight on your chest. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to face him after what had happened.

Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel his hands on you, his lips against yours. The memory of his soft laugh, the way he had asked you to come back to him—it all made your heart ache.

You fucked your best friend.

And then you ditched.

What if this ruined everything?

What if he regretted it?

You finally pick up your phone, glaring down at the messages waiting for you;

Matty ♥️: Hey, just wanted to check in, is everything okay?

Matty ♥️: I know this might’ve made things awkward but maybe we should meet up and talk?

Matty ♥️: I know you’re reading these, please answer me.

Matty ♥️: I miss you.

Fuck.

Mat was - rightfully - going out of his mind.

He hadn’t heard a word from you—no texts, no calls. You were ignoring him, and it was eating him alive. Every time his phone buzzed, he scrambled for it, only to find some pointless notification or a message from someone who wasn’t you.

He couldn't get the memory of your touch, your laugh, or the way you had whispered that quiet "I'm sorry" as you left his place. That had stuck with him, playing over and over in his head.

What were you sorry for?

Leaving?

Crossing the line between friends?

Or something more?

Matty ♥️: I miss you.

His most recent text. He’d sent it hours ago.

No response.

Again.

“God, what did I do?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. You had been his best friend for years. He knew you inside out—or at least, he thought he did. But now, it was like there was this wall between you, and he hated it.

Mat stared at his phone, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His apartment felt suffocating, every quiet moment filled with the phantom echoes of your laughter or the soft murmur of your voice. He could still see you everywhere—in the hoodie you had borrowed and never returned, in the stupid inside jokes you’d scribbled on his fridge, in the way his couch smelled faintly like your perfume.

The silence was driving him insane.

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He didn’t even hesitate as he shoved his keys into his pocket and stepped out the door.

The drive to your place was short but felt agonisingly long. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his mind racing with every possibility.

What if you didn’t want to see him?

What if this was it?

What if you hated him for what happened?

But he couldn’t sit around wondering anymore.

He needed to see you, to talk to you, to fix this—whatever this was now.

When he finally pulled up outside your building, the glow of your apartment light felt like both a taunt and a lifeline. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

What was he even going to say? Hey, sorry I ruined everything, but also, I think I might love you? That sounded pathetic, even in his head.

But before he could second-guess himself, he was out of the car and heading toward your door. His knuckles rapped against the wood before he even realised what he was doing.

Inside, you froze. The sound of his knock sent a jolt of electricity through you. You hadn’t expected him to come here—not after how you had ghosted him. Your stomach twisted with guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey, it’s me,” his voice came through the door, quieter than you’d ever heard him sound. “I—I know I should’ve waited for you to reach out, but... I can’t. I need to talk to you.” Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, to let the silence stretch on. But the other part—the part that missed him so much it hurt—had already pulled you to the door.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mat...” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a flood. “But please—just tell me what’s going on. I’m going crazy over here.”

You bit your lip, a lump rising in your throat. The wall you’d been trying so hard to build was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to stop it. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see him standing there, his expression a mix of hope and heartbreak.

The sight of him made your chest tighten. “Mat...” you said again, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, taking a small step closer. “For whatever I did, for whatever I said that made you leave. But you—you can’t just disappear on me like this. I need to know if we’re okay.”

And there it was. The question you had been avoiding. The answer you weren’t sure you even had.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“Are we?” you asked softly, your voice breaking on the words.

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I want us to be.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest spilled over, and the tears you’d been holding back finally came.

Mat’s expression softened immediately at the sight of your tears. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back, unsure if you’d let him. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of your silence filling the small space between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the emotion. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to...” You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hesitation melting away. “You don’t have to apologise. I just—I’ve been losing my mind not knowing what you’re thinking. If I pushed you too far, if I—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tears. “It’s not you, Mat. It’s me. I... what if we made the wrong choice?”

That stopped him. His brows knit together as he studied you, his confusion clear.

You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “What if we ruined everything? What if things will never go back to how they were before? You’re my best friend, Mat, and I don’t—” Your voice broke again, and you bit your lip hard, willing yourself to keep it together.

His eyes widened slightly, something soft and vulnerable flickering across his face. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t lose you.”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But, God, you’ve got to stop running away from me. From this.”

“I don’t know how,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Then talk to me.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding yours with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He held them tightly, grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Not for a second. And if you think for one minute that I’d let that ruin what we have, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the fear and uncertainty that had been suffocating you. You searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all you found was sincerity.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. “But I’m not scared of ruining what we had because what if I want something more?” He pauses taking in a deep breath, “What if I want you?”

The tears came faster now, but they felt different—lighter, freer. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you did the only thing that felt right.

You stepped closer, your hands slipping from his to cup his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the first time. It was slow and tender, filled with everything you hadn’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. “Don’t run away again,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “Please.”

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady this time. “I won’t.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x reader #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl smut #christmas special #christmas smut #nhl christmas

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rosemariiaa · 1 month ago

Text

~Caffeinated Crush~

𐙚- pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚-synopsis: Paige works at a bookstore, and Azzi is the girl who comes in every day but never buys anything. When a spilled coffee incident occurs, she learns Azzi is sketching her in a nearby cafe.

𐙚- this is so cuteeeee, yes i am still currently working on chapter 3 of RMH so you’ll have that soon, but for now enjoy these cuties! happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚-themes: fluff, au

𐙚- taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @ohbueckers @juspeaks @imaginespazzi @pbaz7 @bueckersbitch @xxloveralways14 @d3arapril @lupinqs @pazzilover101 @ashortyluvsports @absolutelydreadful

enjoy!!!

I should’ve never let Nika get in my head.

My thumbs hover over the screen of my phone as I scroll through yet another endless TikTok, airpods blasting maybe the best R&B playlist handpicked by the queen. Anyway, the store is empty—of course it is. It’s barely 10 a.m., and no one is running to a bookstore this early unless they’re sixty or a morning person.

Not me, though. I’m here because Nika decided to call me lazy last week and the whole team agreed. Said all my NIL deals made me too comfortable, like I didn’t just have the Big East Scholar of the Year award, not to be cocky or anything but doesn’t that mean i’m smartest to ever exist? Exactly. But no, she just still had to run her mouth, so now I’m working this dumb part-time job at “Bound and Brew,” where the only exciting thing is the smell of cinnamon wafting in from the café next door.

Speaking of which, I mentally add a bagel to my lunch break checklist. Asiago, toasted, extra cream cheese—don’t judge me.

I glance at the clock on my phone. Still early. My chin rests in my palm as I lean on the counter, half-heartedly refreshing the store’s Instagram page. No new likes. Big surprise. God, I have practice tomorrow, and for what?

My earbuds buzz with a notification, but before I can check, the door chimes.

My eyes flicker up, and there she is. The girl with the brown, coily hair.

She’s been coming here for weeks now. Never buys anything, just walks around, poking through shelves like she’s on some personal treasure hunt. I’m pretty sure she works at the café next door—I always see her there, either taking orders or perched by the window with a book in one hand and a green matcha latte in the other. Matcha. It’s alright, I guess, but I can’t help the silent judgment. gatorade > tea.

Her eyes meet mine as she steps inside, and I clear my throat, pulling out one earbud. “Hey, what can I do for you?”

She smiles softly, the kind of smile that’s more polite than warm. “You’re fine. I don’t need help yet.”

Her voice is quiet, soft enough that it almost doesn’t match the confidence in the way she carries herself. She’s bundled in a gray puffer coat, her pink sweatpants tucked into winter boots. The UConn shirt under her jacket catches my eye.

She goes to my school? Weird. I’ve never seen her on campus.

I nod, going back to my phone, but I can’t help the way my eyes track her as she moves through the store. Her hands graze the spines of books, pausing occasionally to pick one up, read the back, then put it back in place.

She doesn’t rush. There’s something careful about the way she lingers in each aisle.

I shouldn’t be looking (staring) at her like this.I really shouldn’t, but her hair is just…nice. Thick curls that spring with life, framing her face like something out of a painting. And her skin? Smooth, glowing, the warm tone almost golden under the soft overhead lights.

Wow. I’m really gay.

I snap my attention back to my phone, pretending to scroll. My heart’s doing that annoying thing where it skips.

When I glance up again, she’s at the door. Leaving already. She didn’t pick up a book or anything again.

The door chimes softly as it closes behind her, and I’m left staring at the empty space where she just stood.

She’s really, really pretty.

And just like that, I’m shaking my head, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Get it together, Paige.

This is supposed to be a job, not some secret queer daydream.

By the time my lunch break rolls around, I’m practically counting down the seconds.

The café next door is my safe haven. Warm, cozy, and always smelling like cinnamon and espresso. It’s everything the bookstore isn’t. I step inside, stomping the snow off my sneakers, and head straight for the counter.

There’s no line, which is a small miracle, but then I see her pretty face again.

Brown curls, her same shirt, pink sweats, and those same bright eyes. She’s standing behind the counter, tying an apron around her waist.

Oh.

I knew she worked here! Scholar of the year i told you.

“Hi,” she says when she spots me. Her voice is just as soft as before, but there’s something about the way she looks at me that makes my stomach flip.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to sound casual. “Can I get an asiago bagel, toasted? Extra cream cheese.”

She nods, her hands already moving to jot down the order. “Anything to drink?”

“Just a black coffee,” I say. “Simple.”

She glances up briefly, the corner of her lips quirking like she’s amused. “Simple’s good.”

Her gaze lingers a second too long, and I feel the faintest heat creeping up my neck. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me, like she’s trying to figure me out but doesn’t want me to notice. I definitely noticed.

I glance at her name tag, needing some kind of distraction. “Azzi,” I murmur under my breath. It suits her.

She catches me looking, her cheeks tinting the slightest pink as she fiddles with the pen in her hand. “It’ll be ready in a minute,” she says quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thanks, Azzi.” Her name rolls off my tongue easier than I expect, and the way her eyes widen just a little makes it worth it.

Azzi ducks her head, pretending to check the order screen, but I can see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. She’s shy, reserved even, but there’s something so genuine about the way she carries herself. It’s almost refreshing.

As I wait, I glance around the café, the hum of chatter and clinking mugs filling the space. A few students are hunched over laptops in the corner, and there’s an older couple sharing a slice of cake by the window. The atmosphere is cozy, intimate, like something out of a movie.

“Bagel and coffee,” Azzi calls softly, placing my order on the counter.

I step forward, and for a split second, our hands brush as I reach for the tray. Her fingers are warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside, and I swear I see her inhale sharply before quickly pulling away.

“Thanks,” I say again, trying to meet her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She hesitates, like she wants to say something else, but instead, she bites her lip and busies herself wiping down the counter.

As I turn to leave, I catch her glancing at me again, her gaze lingering on my face before quickly darting away.

I smirk to myself, holding back a chuckle. So she does notice me.

Sliding into a seat by the window, I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes drifting back to Azzi. She’s leaning against the counter now, flipping through what looks like a notebook, nah definitely a sketchbook. Her curls bounce slightly as she moves, and there’s a faint smile on her lips, like she’s lost in her own little world.

For some reason, it’s hard to look away.

I finish my bagel way too fast, but instead of leaving, I sit there for a while, pretending to check emails on my phone while sneaking glances at her. She’s busy now, taking orders and chatting with customers, but every once in a while, her eyes flicker over to me.

It’s subtle—barely noticeable—but it’s enough to make my chest tighten.

When I finally get up to leave, I make a point to walk past the counter.

“See you around, Azzi,” I say, letting her name hang in the air.

Her head snaps up, her eyes wide with surprise. “Yeah, uh—see you,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing as she fumbles with a stack of napkins.

I chuckle to myself as I step back into the cold, the warmth of the café lingering in my mind.

This job might not be so bad after all.

—

The next morning, Paige finishes practice, her muscles aching but her mind buzzing with anticipation. She now knows Azzi works morning shifts, and though she tells herself she’s just stopping by for breakfast, there’s no denying the extra pep in her step as she drags Nika along with her to the café.

As they walk in, the comforting aroma of coffee and freshly baked goods fills the air. Paige’s eyes scan the room, immediately finding Azzi at the counter, focused on a stack of receipts. Her heart skips a beat.

Paige shrugs off her hoodie, tossing it onto the back of a chair at an empty table by the window. She and Nika sit down, glancing over the breakfast menu. Paige tries to act casual, but Nika, ever observant, leans in.

“Calm yourself down and find something to get.” Nika pipes up.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, burying her face in the menu.

Just then, Azzi glances up and notices them. Her expression softens, and she waves, a shy smile spreading across her face.

Paige beams back, her cheeks tinged pink as she waves back.

“Hi,” Azzi greets, approaching their table. Her soft voice makes Paige’s heart flutter.

“Hey,” Paige responds, a little too quickly.

“What can I get you guys?” Azzi asks, pulling out her notepad.

“I’ll have eggs and a croissant,” Nika says, glancing between Paige and Azzi with a knowing smirk.

“I’ll take some pancakes,” Paige says, handing Azzi the menu.

Azzi jots down their orders and looks up. “What would you like to drink?”

“Orange juice,” Nika answers.

“And—” Paige starts, but before she can finish, she and Nika both say in unison, “Coffee, black.”

They burst into laughter, and Paige sneaks a glance at Azzi, whose dimples appear as she smiles.

“Got it,” Azzi says, gathering the menus and walking back toward the counter.

Paige’s eyes linger on her retreating figure, her gaze drifting downward until Nika snaps her fingers in front of her face.

“Yo twin, is that the girl you keep talking about in your sleep?”

Paige’s head snaps toward Nika, her eyes wide. “What? In my sleep?”

Nika leans back, smirking. “Yeah, I heard you last night saying her name over and over again. ‘Azzi, Azzi,’” she mimics, feigning a dreamy voice.

Paige’s face flushes. “Shhh! I don’t—whatever, I just say random stuff when I’m sleeping.”

“Sure, sure,” Nika says, winking. “But you keep staring at her. And she keeps looking over here.”

Paige shrugs, slipping into her usual cocky demeanor. “Well, I mean, it’s me. Can you blame her?”

Nika rolls her eyes. “Cocky ass.”

A few moments later, Azzi returns with their food. She sets Nika’s plate down first.

“Thank you,” Nika says with a grin.

As Azzi places Paige’s plate in front of her, she hands her the coffee. But before Paige can grab it, another worker bumps into Azzi from behind, sending the coffee spilling onto Paige’s shirt. Azzi stumbles forward, gasping as she falls right into Paige’s lap.

“Yo!” Paige snaps, turning to the worker. “Can’t you watch where you’re walking? You just made her fall.”

The worker mumbles an apology and scurries off as Azzi scrambles to her feet, her face burning red.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Azzi stammers, her voice shaking.

Paige brushes it off, trying to calm her down. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. But I do need a new shirt now.”

Azzi looks stricken. “I—I think I have an extra one in the back. Come with me to the bathroom?”

Paige stands, turning to Nika, who is smirking like the Cheshire Cat.

“Shut up,” Paige warns, flipping her off as she follows Azzi.

In the bathroom, Azzi motions for Paige to wait while she fetches a shirt. As soon as she leaves, Paige peels off her stained hoodie, leaving her in a sports bra and sweats. She grabs a paper towel, wets it at the sink, and wipes the remaining coffee off her stomach.

When Azzi returns, she pauses for a moment, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly hands Paige a black t-shirt.

“Sorry again,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige grins as she pulls the shirt over her head. “You’re good. Thank you.” She smooths the fabric and gives a playful twirl. “See? Good as new.”

Azzi giggles, her dimples deepening.

Paige’s expression softens. “You have a really pretty smile.”

Azzi ducks her head, her cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she says softly. “We should probably head back before my boss notices.”

“Lead the way, Miss Azzi,” Paige says, motioning dramatically toward the door.

As Paige returns to the table, Nika raises an eyebrow. “Everything good?” she asks, smirking.

“Shut up,” Paige mutters, sitting down.

Once they finish eating, Nika and Paige pack up to leave. As they’re about to walk out, Paige glances around, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Azzi. When she doesn’t see her, she sighs and heads for the door.

Just as she steps outside, she feels a light touch on her back. Turning, she finds Azzi standing there, holding a folded piece of paper.

“Hey,” Azzi says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to say sorry again about your shirt.”

“I told you, it’s okay,” Paige says, smiling. “Things happen. And I love my new shirt.”

Azzi smiles nervously, then holds out the paper. “Okay, um, don’t think this is weird, but it kinda is? but it’s also- anyway I wanted to give you this.”

Paige takes the paper and unfolds it, her eyes widening at the detailed sketch of herself.

“Woah,” she breathes.

Azzi shifts on her feet. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. I just did it for fun.”

Paige fakes a pout. “And here I thought you did it because you liked me.”

Azzi blinks, her cheeks flaming. “Well… that too,” she admits quietly.

Paige grins, her confidence swelling. “This is so good I could literally kiss you right now.”

Azzi’s voice drops to a whisper. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Paige steps closer, her hand cupping Azzi’s cheek as she leans in. Their lips meet, soft and tentative at first, before deepening into a kiss that leaves them both breathless.

When they pull apart, snowflakes drift around them, settling in their hair. Paige grins. “So, if I asked you on a date right now, would you sketch me again?”

Azzi laughs, her dimples showing. “Maybe.”

“Pretty please?” Paige pleads, pouting dramatically.

Azzi rolls her eyes playfully. “Fine fine. Since you’re begging.”

Azzi glances over Paige’s shoulder, spotting Nika in the distance, pumping her fist in the air and yelling, “Go gays!”

“Isn’t that your friend?” Azzi asks, raising an eyebrow.

Paige groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I don’t know her.”

#pazzi #fic talk #pazzi fics #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #rosie’s works 🎧⋆｡ °⋆#rosemariiaa

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cherriegyuu · 6 months ago

Text

so high school | kmg | part 2

pairing: hockey player mingyu x f!reader genre: smut (in later part), fluff, a bit of angst, bad attempt at comedy word count: 7.8k summary: when you’re suddenly thrown in Mingyu’s direction, you have no choice but to stay by his side, and maybe it’s not as bad as you think playlist: click here warnings: reader is mentioned to have long hair, mentions of food and alcohol please, remember to comment and reblog, it does mean the world to me and i would love to know your opnions.

< part one >

It had taken you almost two entire weeks to work up the courage to talk to Mingyu again. He had been nice enough not to contact you first. No texts, no calls, and the two times you had bumped into him on campus — aka seen him across the street — he had nodded in greeting, but made no attempt to get closer.

You hated it, admittedly, but you had missed his presence. The annoying texts at inappropriate times, the way he would wave his arm above his head every time he saw you, like he was a kid seeing a friend after a long vacation.

You had no idea how to talk to him. You couldn’t just say haha, I’m sorry I didn’t remember you, even though I saw you every day for two years, you know how it is, right? without sounding like a complete and utter lunatic. And you didn’t even need Jeonghan to pull out his school photo album, which he absolutely did, to rub in your face how completely forgetful you were. The moment Mingyu said the words “she doesn’t remember me”, laughing a little, a somewhat embarrassed by the situation, it was as if the movie of your adolescence suddenly flashed through your eyes.

Every time you had seen him leave the gym, following Jeonghan and Seungcheol closely. At first, he was quiet, just observing everything and later talking to your brother only, and then he was laughing and making jokes along with everyone else. He was obviously loved by his teammates. You remember finding him handsome back then when he was much younger and wore clothes chosen by his mother. You never talked, it’s true, you didn’t even know his name, but you always knew who he was.

How you went from that moment to years later not remembering him, you didn’t know. That was a big mystery, and you had no idea how to answer.

You saw Mingyu leaving the building next to a girl. He smiled and gestured as he talked, clearly excited about the subject at hand. The girl next to him smiled broadly, her body leaning closer to his, despite the clear space between the two of them. She looked at Mingyu as if he had nailed the stars to the sky, as if he was the only reason the sun shone every morning.

You thought about giving up. You were going to interrupt something and you didn't want that, didn't want to draw any kind of attention to yourself, anything more than necessary.

And then Mingyu looked straight ahead, right in your direction. You closed your eyes for a second, forcing yourself to do exactly what you had planned to do from the beginning. Slowly, you raised your right hand in front of your body, at the height of your stomach, and waved. It was a quick and shy movement that you almost didn't want to do.

The smile on Mingyu's face grew huge as if he had seen something that had truly made him happy. He held his arm over his head, swinging it from side to side like a child; you couldn't stop a small smile from spreading across your lips, no matter how hard you tried.

Mingyu strode across the lawn, the girl he was talking to was left behind, forgotten, calling out his name loudly, but he didn't look back once. She glared at you and you knew, at that very moment, that if you didn't have a single enemy in your life, you had just made one.

He stopped in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face. It took everything you had to do not to stare at his arms or to keep smiling.

"Look, who's talking to me, in public" the teasing was clear in his voice.

"Mingyu" his name came out of your mouth like a warning.

Even though your tone didn't seem friendly, Mingyu smiled as if having heard a joke. It was almost a losing battle, not smiling while looking at him. You wondered exactly how things had changed, how one day you said "I don’t want to be seen with athletes in public places" to suddenly "talking to an athlete in public and still smiling".

“Sorry.”

Although he was apologizing, you knew that there wasn’t a single bone, or cell, in Mingyu’s body that felt sorry while he was teasing you.

“I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t remember you.”

That’s why you had looked for him, why you had put all your pride aside and sent a message to Seokmin, asking — in the most delicate and unsuspicious way you could imagine — what Mingyu’s last class of the day was. When he seemed too excited about the whole situation, you didn’t even know that someone could be so excited through message, you were forced to ask him not to tell Mingyu that you had contacted him, because you still didn’t know if you would meet him because you had another appointment at almost the same time and might be late. It was a lie, there was nothing, but you didn’t know if you could trust Seokmin to simply not tell him.

“It’s okay, I’m sure I don’t remember someone I’ve seen every day for years either.”

You smiled, unable to control it this time, and Mingyu smiled along with you as he took another step closer to you. You knew he was too close, rumors would start spreading around campus any second. You knew you should take a step back, and put more space between you two, you knew you should stop smiling like a teenager. But you just couldn’t force yourself to do anything but stand there.

“You’re making me feel even worse.”

“Seriously, it’s okay. I’m not going to use it to blackmail you or anything like that.”

You wanted to ask him what he could blackmail you with, but that was too close to the line of flirting, and that was an imaginary line you refused to cross with him — even though most of the ones you had set had already been crossed, one by one.

“Thank you,” was all you allowed yourself to say.

He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

“Now that you know you’ve been unfair to me, for years I might add, and I’ve been benevolent enough to forgive your mistake, could you please stop making my life difficult and let me do the assignment with you, without me having to beg?”

You threw your head back, laughing out loud. You wanted to tease him, tell him that he was already begging and pleading, but again, too close to flirting.

“Benevolent? Ah, a man’s ego.” was all you allowed yourself to say as you rolled your eyes at him.

Mingyu smiled, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Come on, cut me some slack”

You nodded in agreement, rolling your eyes again.

“Let’s coordinate our free time and meet up again.”

“Great.”

“A little green bird told me,” you rolled your eyes before Kira could even continue the sentence, “that you were caught with a certain hockey player.”

“Oh, for the love of God.”

Kira had hooked her arm through yours, her voice cheerful. If voices could have shape and were visible to the naked eye, Kira’s would definitely be bouncing around you. She was almost doing it herself.

You knew someone would have seen you talking, you knew someone saw it and wasn’t happy about it at all, you were sure it was only a matter of time until people were talking about it. You just didn’t think it would be so fast. It had barely been five minutes since you had said goodbye to Mingyu, you knew that that gossip was an inherent part of student life, but the quality and speed were impressive.

“Oh, come on! Tell me what you two talked about, I want to know everything, down to the smallest detail.”

Your friend’s voice was soft, almost like a child whining next to you. Kira knew how much you hated it, more than that, she knew that you would tell her everything, every word, just so that she would finally stop making that pitiful face and that shrilling and completely irritating voice.

“We talked about what I talked about with you,” you sighed, “I apologized for not remembering him, he was annoying and in the end we agreed that I wouldn’t stop him from doing the assignment with me.”

“The little green bird also told me that you were smiling and that you were even blushing while you were talking to him.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. It was true that you had smiled while you were talking to him, you had given up on playing tough. But you were sure that you hadn’t blushed or embarrassed.

“That little bird of yours is wrong. I smiled, yes, but the rest I didn’t do”

“So you didn’t make out in the middle of campus? You didn’t laugh out loud, the kind that makes you throw your head back and close your eyes?”

You simply stared at her, standing in the same place, refusing to move an inch. The student's gossip was fast, impressive, and deceitful.

“Some guy saw you guys and told everyone about it. I was walking by and heard it. They weren’t exactly talking quietly.”

You nodded and started to walk again. You didn’t have anywhere to go, but you didn’t want to stay either. Even if it wasn’t true, you felt like everyone was staring right at you, like you were a circus attraction in the center of the red and white tent.

“Nothing happened. We talked, I smiled, he said something funny and I laughed. That was it.”

It was a little strange that everyone was at your house at the same time. By everyone, you mean Mingyu and Seokmin, who were there to continue the project, and Jeonghan and Seungcheol, the first because it was his house and the second for god knows what — your best bet was that he had come there to see Mingyu, but he could also simply have wanted to see you embarrassed, it was almost like it was his and Jeonghan's favorite pastime.

You hadn't bothered to tell Jeonghan that the two of them were going home with you after class, you were sure that if you had told him and asked him not to be there, he would simply ignore your request. Besides, the rabbit was out of the hat already, there was nothing left to hide. Seungcheol being there was a surprise, but Mingyu knew him too and you figured he had told Seokmin everything.

Seokmin's behavior was surprising. He had greeted Jeonghan and Seungcheol when he came in, chatted with them for a bit, and then sat down at the table with you. You couldn’t help but wonder if Mingyu had scolded him and just how harsh he had been — though you didn’t think Mingyu and harsh were words that went together.

“Sorry about the other day,” Seokmin said. “I was just surprised.”

You shook your head. You had thought a lot about that day, about how you would have reacted in a very similar way if you had run into someone you were a fan of like that, at someone’s house from college. You had been taken by surprise, and that was one of the things you hated the most. You liked to have everything under control, to have all the cards in your hands, to know all the information before actually getting into a situation. You had made a bet by taking Mingyu and Seokmin home, and you lost. That had nothing to do with Seokmin.

“If I were his fan, I would have reacted the same way,” you assured him, not liking that he had become so quiet and introverted. “And look, they love the attention, so you can go as crazy as you want, you have my approval. And if they complain, you can talk to me.”

Seokmin laughed and turned his attention back to the book open in front of him, reading carefully and taking notes in the notebook next to it.

It wasn’t long before Mingyu entered the room too, still laughing a little at whatever he had talked to Jeonghan and Seungcheol about. He seemed distracted as he sat down and took his cell phone out of his pocket, placing it on the table, face down after checking the notifications.

It was impossible not to think about the conversation you had with Kira days ago, the fact that suddenly the entire college believed that you had hooked up because you had only talked for a few minutes. Could it have been gossip that had spread uncontrollably and thus taken on traits that had nothing to do with reality, or had Mingyu, in all his stereotype of dumb athlete and famous for being a womanizer, spread lies around, bragging about something that hadn't happened?

You hoped it wasn't the second option, not when hating someone for simply existing was just so much work, not when you had started to think he was a cool guy, not when every time you got a message from him you felt like an excited teenager seeing signs where there was supposed to be only a black screen.

"There's something I want to know," the voice came from the living room, distant at first, but getting closer with each syllable.

You were sure that this sudden approach from Seungcheol couldn't bring anything good. Especially when he had a cocky smile on his lips, the kind that you knew, just by looking at him, that he was not going to do anything worth of noticing and at any second someone was going to be embarrassed. And, in this case, you were sure that someone would be you.

Jeonghan was right behind him, his eyes showing that he didn’t know what it was about, but seemingly enjoying the whole situation.

“Seungcheol,” his name came out of your lips in a mix of warning and plea.

“When we were in school, you,” he stopped behind Mingyu, his hands on the younger’s shoulders as he leaned forward, “had the biggest crush on our dear youngest Yoon”

You closed your eyes and wished that someone, anything, would hit Seungcheol in the head with all its strength, to the point he would faint and no longer be able to open his mouth to say a bunch of nonsense.

You turned to Jeonghan, who seemed confused by the whole situation — having been completely taken by surprise by Seungcheol's revelations. His eyes went from you, to Mingyu, to Seungcheol, and back to Mingyu.

Mingyu was pale as if he had just seen a ghost, his eyes wide and his hands frozen in front of his body. The pen that was spinning between his fingers had rolled across the table and stopped in front of Seokmin, who was looking at the situation in complete shock.

“Do you still have a crush on her or is that a thing of the past?”

“Oh for the love of god, Seungcheol, shut up.”

Even Jeonghan, who loved a joke, a tease to the very last second, was uncomfortable with the situation. He didn't know where to put his hands or who to look at. Mingyu seemed to want to sink into his chair. Seokmin had his chin glued to his chest, his eyes completely focused on the open book.

“Dude”

Jeonghan slapped Seungcheol on the head, who was just laughing at the situation as if everything was a big joke to him and probably it really was. The only problem was that no one was laughing with him.

“That's a valid question! I'm sure you're curious too”

You pushed the chair you were sitting in back hard, the friction of the metal on the floor probably leaving marks that would be there forever.

“Seriously, what's your problem?”

You grabbed the hood of Seungcheol's coat and pulled him out of the room, while he complained and made a fuss.

“You're strangling me!”

You rolled your eyes.

“At least you'll stop talking shit”

You stopped only when you were close to the door and could reach the doorknob with your free hand.

“It’s just a joke!” he tried to defend himself.

“You don’t have the right to come to my house and embarrass my friends, so if you don’t know how to behave, you can leave.”

You turned your back to him for a second, just long enough to grab his bag from the couch and throw it into his arms.

“You can’t kick me out, it’s not even your house.”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Jeonghan?” you said without turning to look at your brother, your eyes never leaving Seungcheol.

“It’s her house, yeah.”

You raised your eyesbrows at him, mimicking him.

“See? Great, you can go now.”

Needless to say, the rest of the night had been pretty close to a funeral. Jeonghan had holed up in his room and you suspected he was either asleep or dead, because he hadn't made a single sound and hadn't come out for anything.

Mingyu didn't even dare to look at you, much less talk with you. A night that was already embarrassing enough because you still had college rumors swimming around in your brain had gotten even worse because, at some point during the night, Seungcheol had decided, in a not-so-casual way, to drop the bomb that Mingyu had a crush on you.

And no matter how much you thought about it, how many ways you tried to analyze and remember those years, it didn't make sense.

You were sure you had never spoken to Mingyu, that you hadn't spoken directly to him before. The first time you talked was a few weeks before, in college. Even if you didn't remember him, you were certain you hadn't of it. You always made a point of staying away from Jeonghan's teammates, your brother made a point of keeping them away too.

That old story, when one doesn't want to, two don't fight. And in this case, neither you nor Jeonghan had any interest in you getting closer to his teammates.

In your head, it didn't make sense. Seungcheol was just talking a bunch of nonsense because he could, because he knew you never had the urge to argue with him. With Jeonghan? Silly arguments were normal, you sent your brother to hell as easily as you fell asleep after a long day. But not with Seungcheol, because you knew he loved the fights, he had fun, you always chose to just let him talk until he got tired. It was one thing to tease you and another one, entirely too different, to do it with your friends.

Logically, you knew that at some point in the past Mingyu had been friends with him too, but you also knew that that friendship had died the moment Seungcheol graduated from school.

Seokmin was the only one who dared to say something, completely focused on the assignment, but it was obvious that he was trying to break the ice of the situation. Trying and failing.

“I think it’s time for us to go,” Seokmin said as soon as he heard the sound of a door coming down the hallway and a second later Jeonghan walked towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s kinda late” Mingyu agreed and stood up.

There was no way to disagree with them, it was late and the mood had gone down the drain. Prolonging the situation would almost be a form of torture for the three of you.

“Sorry about Seungcheol”

You didn’t know what to do with your hands. You wished you had pockets so you could have somewhere to hide them, but the leggings and shirt you were wearing didn’t provide any hiding spots.

“It’s okay, really” Mingyu assured you “He’s always been like this”

Seokmin went into the living room, but you and Mingyu remained standing there, barely breathing. You wanted to ask if it was true, if he really had a crush on you, or if Seungcheol was just trying to annoy someone and chose Mingyu. You also didn't understand what he had said, about Seungcheol “always being like this”. Did he mean annoying or someone who teased his friends with embarrassing secrets? Either answer would be correct but you wanted to hear it from him.

You wanted to ask, but you didn't have the courage. If it was true, it was bad and if it was a lie, it was worse. If it was true, you would feel even worse for not remembering him right away. If it was a lie, it would be bad you had liked to hear, when you knew you shouldn't care.

“I don't know if it's a good time,” he said, “but there's a game on Friday. You could go and take Kira with you.”

You were shaking your head before he could even finish speaking.

“It can’t, I already have a thing already”

“Oh, okay” he nodded and turned to the living room. “Bye, Jeonghan.”

Your brother appeared in the living room, putting his phone in his pocket, but looking like he had heard the entire conversation between you and Mingyu.

“Bye.”

You closed the door when you saw Mingyu and Seokmin enter the elevator. You were ready to hide in your room and try, even if it was impossible, to understand what had happened that night, but of course, Jeonghan had other plans. He was leaning against the wall in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest, an inquisitive look on his face.

“Don’t start,” you warned.

Everything that had happened, not only that night but also during the week, had simply been too much for you. You had just gotten used to the idea of having Mingyu around, you had started to like having him around. But then everything happened so fast. A laugh on the sidewalk had become an unbridled make-out, a smile a declaration of love.

The rumors had gotten worse since that first day. Kira talked about them carefully, mainly because she knew you didn't want to be associated with athletes in any way, but she never failed to tell you anything about what was going on. That's only you begged her to tell you, otherwise it would be like in those cliché movies, the girl walking down the hallway and discovering all the rumors that were going around about her because she overheard someone's conversation.

And it wasn't like you hadn't gotten stares in the hallways, but the truth is that you had gotten used to them when you were still a teenager. Getting into that same skin of an apathetic, uncaring person was pretty easy.

"Why didn't you accept going to his game? You like it. It would have been fun”

And on top of that, as the cherry on the cake, because of course life couldn't just make things a little easier for you, there was that whole shit show from a few hours before. Even though you hated the situation with a passion, you knew there was some truth to it. At that moment, you felt, once again, as if you were still 15 years old, sitting in the living room at home, enduring whatever nonsense Seungcheol decided to say.

Seungcheol was the kind of guy who made jokes out of real situations. In that sense, he was the complete opposite of Jeonghan. Your brother came up with impossible situations, bordering on insanity, and spoke about them with such conviction that you felt compelled to believe him. Seungcheol, on the other hand, took small facts and distorted them, or just exaggerated them in some way.

At that moment, sitting at that table, watching Mingyu's face become completely devoid of any color, you knew it was true. Maybe, yes, an exaggerated version of the truth, but a truth nonetheless.

“Jeonghan, it's just… I can’t”

You walked past him. That scene was too familiar and despite the theme of the conversation being different, you didn't want to have to go through the same situation again.

“Because of me?”

“Because of him.”

You hated seeing that look on Jeonghan’s face like he blamed himself for everything that was wrong with you. Daddy issues? Mommy issues? Apparently, you had brother issues.

“You know, one day I hope you stop caring so much about what people think, because you’re barely living your life right now, hoping that someone, someday, won’t care.”

Jeonghan's words floated through your mind for days. You found yourself standing in the middle of the campus several times, analyzing the people who were walking from one side to the other, some in a hurry, others talking to each other, many too distracted with phones in their hands to pay attention to what was happening around them.

None of them, no matter how much part of your brain said otherwise, seemed to care about you.

Even though you had been the main topic of conversation for a few days, everything changed when someone on the football team got drunk enough to kneel on a bar table crying, declaring his undying love to a girlfriend from elementary school. You had hidden yourself for so long, away from everything that you considered to be a problem, that you had forgotten how things worked.

No one really cared — no one might be a little too much to say, but very few people looked at you and cared about what was happening. It was much easier to understand the situation than to start acting differently, but you hoped it was a start, however small it was.

Your phone started to vibrate in your hand, a second later the screen lit up, and the word mom flashed on the screen. You knew what she wanted. You had been avoiding her calls and messages for a couple days. But you knew you couldn't pretend you were in class anymore, come up with some lame excuse to ignore her. She had even called Jeonghan and asked, or rather ordered, him to tell you to call her. You had avoided it as much as possible.

“Hi, mom”

“Ah, you finally remembered you have a mom”

You could imagine the exact scene: your mother walking back and forth, her hair tied into a low ponytail, gesturing before dropping her hand and slapping her thigh. You couldn't help but smile when you heard the clear sound of footsteps, followed by a slap.

“Sorry, I've been busy. You know how it is.”

“I can always talk to your brother just fine”

You knew she didn’t mean anything, you knew it wasn’t a comparison — at least not a conscious one — but the sentence was received with a sting anyway.

“That’s because Jeonghan has a schedule for literally everything. I study until I nearly blackout or my brain turns to pudding, which ever comes first.”

You walked to nearest bench and sat down with a sigh.

“Have you been sleeping? Eating enough? You and your brother are terrible cooks, and I know he eats at the club most of the time, but what about you? I can come by every week and bring you food, it’s not a problem.”

She kept talking nonstop, you were sure she was already making a list of everything she needed to make enough food for a week.

“Mom!” you said loudly, loud enough for the girl next to you, who had headphones on, to look at you. You smiled awkwardly, lowering your head a little in apology. “Mom, we’re fine. We learned how to cook enough to survive.”

“Noodles are not a real meal.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We have vegetables, rice, and meat at home, Mom. I went shopping yesterday,” you said before she could say anything.

“One of these days I’ll show up and surprise you.”

“And on that day, you’ll find the fridge full and food ready,” you said jokingly.

You were silent for a few seconds, until she spoke again, this time her tone much more cautious.

“I know you don’t like it very much, that you’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than participating in this, but just this year, couldn’t you consider going to the hospital gala? I know it’s the middle of the semester, that you have a lot of things to do, that you’re looking for an internship, but it’s just one night and…”

Even with all the differences you had with your mother, you didn’t like seeing — in this case, hearing — her begging for anything, much less for your presence at an event that you knew was important to the family. Ever since you started refusing to go to it, your mother never forced you to go. She insisted a little on the first year and asked if you hadn’t changed your mind at the last minute. But never like that. For whatever reason, she wanted you at the party, and by extension, you knew your father did too.

“I’ll go, Mom. I’m going to buy a dress tomorrow.”

Despite the distance, you knew your mother’s breath had caught in her throat, that she was trying her best to control herself. She liked parties and glamor and she liked it even more when you attended. And you liked it too, until… until you decided to avoid it.

You had to start somewhere, this whole thing of not caring what people thought. It was best to start somewhere at least somewhat familiar, right?

“I… set… I have…” she cleared her throat and began again “I made hair and makeup appointments for me. You want me to schedule it for you too?”

Her voice was almost shaking, making you feel even worse. Had you alienated yourself from mother to the point where she was shaking just because you agreed to go to a party?

“Could you make an appointment for a manicure too? I need to get my nails done.”

He walked into the room, adjusting his tie around his neck, laughing at whatever his sister had said, hating the feeling of being suffocated. He wanted, almost desperately, to take off the damn tie, but he knew better than to. His sister would laugh at the situation, but his parents, especially his father, would not be happy about it. It's not like he disliked the event itself, but he hated having to pretend. Pretending that he and his parents got along well and that the smiles they gave when someone complimented Mingyu were genuine.

It was all completely and utterly fake.

The truth was that Mingyu barely spoke to his parents. He didn't know when was the last time he had talked to them, just to talk. He didn't know what it was like to ask if everything was okay just because he cared. He didn't know what it was like to send a picture of a place, or anything, to his mom because he could, because he wanted to like he always saw Seokmin do.

He always tried his best to keep his distance. Maybe being so far away from his parents wouldn't make him feel like a complete failure every time he thought about them. Logically, he knew that wasn't the case, he knew he wasn't a failure, but he was a disappointment to his parents. So he kept his distance, it was easier.

He still attended events like that to keep up appearances, that was an important thing to them. Not having received support, affection, or love from his parents since he was 17? Insignificant compared to the need to maintain the idea of a united and happy family in front of their friends.

In the end, he didn't mind going to events like that, supposedly for charity. He liked seeing his sister and deep down he liked seeing his parents' friends praising him and saying how amazing it was that he had a career completely independent of his parents and even without their help.

Mingyu liked to think that his father had opened up about not having helped him at all in an attempt to seem tough and smarter than his son, but that only made him seem bitter every time his career as an athlete was the subject of conversation. Besides, he could see his school friends again. So it was a win-win situation: his parents kept up appearances and he had fun reminiscing about his school days as if it had been 20 years instead of just 3.

“If you keep pulling that tie, it’ll rip,” his sister said, laughing as she forced Mingyu’s hand down.

“It’s suffocating”

“Oh, you poor baby,” she pouted mockingly at Mingyu.

Mingyu shook his head and turned to the rest of the room, looking for a familiar face. He quickly found Jeonghan and Seungcheol but decided not to approach them as he normally would. If it had been last year’s party, Mingyu would have talked to them both, but this time he chose to stay in the same place.

That night at Jeonghan’s house still left a bitter taste in Mingyu’s mouth. He had a plan, which might not have worked — that probably wouldn’t have worked — but if one day you found out about his teenage crush, Mingyu wanted you to find out by him, and not through some guy who had brought it up for no reason. He wanted to ask you out, to go little by little until you felt comfortable with him. But Seungcheol did him the huge favor of throwing everything out the window for a joke.

It’s like that old saying: I lose the friend, but I don’t lose the joke. And Mingyu wasn’t his friend, not now or back in school, so truthfully there was no loss for Seungcheol.

And then he saw you.

For a second he thought it was a mirage. It had been years since you had last been to that kind of event. Your last one was Mingyu’s first. He thought he was imagining things, that he was so crazy wanting to talk to you that he had started to imagine you in places you weren’t.

He watched as you walked right past Seungcheol, even when he tried to talk to you and stopped next to Jeonghan. Your expression was serious, a little uncomfortable, but beautiful.

The strapless dress slid down your body, almost as if it had been molded to your curves perfectly, tailored just for you. Your hair was loose over your back, just two strands framing your face. And your lips... lips painted in the sexiest shade of red he had ever seen.

Forget the little crush he had back in high school, this didn't even compare. It was a goddamn waterfall. Mingyu felt like he was standing next to one too with the way his heart was beating so loudly and deafening in his ears.

It was official, he was lost. He didn't know what to do. It was the first time he had felt this nervous in your presence. Before, it had been like butterflies flying around in his stomach, that kind of fun anxiety, the one that makes one giddy and excited.

He tugged at his tie again and grabbed a glass from the tray of a waiter who passed by. He didn't know what it was and also he didn't care, he needed something to wet his throat. The liquid went down bitterly, burning. The surprise made him have a small coughing fit.

Suddenly it was as if all eyes had turned to him, including yours. You smiled slowly as Minseo patted Mingyu on the back, trying to help, but making the situation even worse.

You quickly turned to Jeonghan, saying something for a second before walking towards Mingyu. With each step you took, he felt like his heart was beating faster and faster, to the point of almost exploding in his chest.

Over your shoulder, he saw Jeonghan smile and give him a thumbs up.

"Go for a walk," he said to his sister, without taking his eyes off you.

Did he say a waterfall? Forget it, it was more like an entire ocean.

Unconsciously, you smoothed your dress at least twice as you walked towards Mingyu. In a place full of so many theoretically important people, much more important than the two of you, it was very easy to go to him. Taking all those steps wasn't scary at all.

The feeling was completely different from that one time you had talked in college. That day, you had waited for him, your fingers trembling a little because you were in a place where anyone could see you. However, at that moment, you didn't feel any kind of nervousness.

Maybe, there was some nervousness, but the good kind. When you're excited to do something, the kind that you were sure would bring good things. You liked to think that the good thing at the moment was Mingyu.

"You look, wow... stunning."

He smiled and it was as if the breath had been taken from you, as if for a whole second your lungs forgot their purpose, forgot that they were supposed to push air into your body.

“Look at you, using pretty words,” you somehow found your voice again.

You tried your best to hide the nervousness you felt, the slight tremor in your voice. You didn’t know why you were feeling that way. You had seen Mingyu so many times, before and after you found out who he was. You had seen him in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt walking around campus; you were at the bar when he walked in wearing an all-denim look and glasses on the back of his head — you remembered finding that way of wearing glasses ridiculous, but you hated to admit that it made sense on him —, you had seen him walking around with his cap on backward.

You had always made a point of staying as far away from him and the circle he frequented as possible, but you could never deny that he was gorgeous. But there, in that moment, in that a black suit, his tie a little crooked and the most magnificent smile you had ever seen, you thought that maybe you didn’t need to force yourself to be away from him all the time.

“Just to impress a beautiful woman.”

You smiled, even though you tried to contain yourself, pressing your lips together. But you knew it was useless. There wasn't a single cell in your body that didn't like the attention you were getting, that didn't like his compliments.

“You haven't been to one of these in years.”

You nodded and looked over your shoulder. Your mother was chatting animatedly with a colleague, her eyes shining as she held out her hand and a second later your father was beside her.

You had all these differences with your parents, things that you disliked about them, and that made you keep your distance from them, but the truth is that you loved them.

When you arrived at your parent's house to get ready earlier that day, your dress in the bag, your backpack almost falling off your shoulders, it was as if you had been transported to your house 8 years before. But it was also different.

You half expected some comment, anything, no matter how small, that could be a comparison with Jeonghan — how even though he was completely busy with work if he didn't have a game or any specific schedule, he would always go to events, while you did everything to avoid it. But the comment never came.

Your mother sat by your side all day, asking you questions about yourself, about college, about the internship. She never mentioned Jeonghan, and when you tried to mention him, the only answer you got was “I don’t want to know about your brother, I want to know about you.”

You wanted to cry when you heard those words. It was the kind of thing you laways wanted to hear from her. The confirmation that you didn’t need to be compared to Jeonghan, that it was okay not to live in his shadow all the time.

“Do you come every year?”

“Yeah, my mother and sister would forgive me if I missed it.”

You nodded with a low noise in the back of your throat and took a step forward, your body a little too close to Mingyu’s, your fingers closing around his tie and pulling it slightly to the side until it was aligned with the buttons of his shirt.

You didn’t know what possessed you to do that. All your sane neurons, which hadn’t melted when he smiled at you for the first time, screamed that you were one step away from insanity, that you were, in fact, already crazy. You were sure that nurses the size of refrigerators would show up and take you to the psychiatric ward of the hospital at any second.

You licked your lips and took a step back, avoiding looking directly at Mingyu.

“It was the first time my mother managed to convince me in years” you admitted.

You looked around, looking for a waiter, wishing one would materialize in front of you, just so you could have something to hold on to, but have something to do with his hands, but there was none around.

“I'll thank her as soon as I see her.”

“You're a shameless flirt, aren't you?”

“Only when there's a gorgeous woman in front of me.”

The rest of the night went by smoothly, without any temporary bouts of insanity. There were a few moments, but you managed to control yourself every time. You managed to control the urge you had when you were next to him, to simply hold his hand.

Your mother was a great help, taking you away from Mingyu now and then to introduce you to some friends and coworkers. Jeonghan was by your side every time you weren't with Mingyu, like a bodyguard. You wondered if he was acting that way because you had said those things to him before; and if your mother's change in attitude was also related. Despite it all, although you had been shown off for part of the night, you had had fun. It could also have been the alcohol talking.

You had accepted a few more glasses than you should have. You were far from drunk, but you were certainly not in your sanest state. However, the alcohol brought a wave of courage to you, which until then had been completely unknown.

Towards the end of the gala, after dinner, when some of the guests had already started to leave, you saw Mingyu at the table next to yours. His parents sat in front of him, his sister next to him, and some people you had no idea who they were sat on at the edges. Mingyu kept his head low, nodding now and then. He seemed desperate to get out of there.

Before reason could prevail, you stood up and walked towards him. You placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned your body forward until your face was close to his.

“Can you help me with something?”

You didn't notice the tremor in Mingyu's voice when he asked to be excused because your whole body was shaking too. You smiled at his parents and turned towards the exit, needing some fresh air.

A new wave of tremors and electricity ran through your body when Mingyu put his hand on your lower back. He was neither guiding nor rushing you. His hand was simply there, lightly. He pulled the door open for you and somehow still managed to keep his hand on you.

You liked it, the weight of it, his presence there.

"Did something happen?" he asked when you were far enough from the door and prying ears, letting his hand drop at the side of his body.

You just shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself, suddenly missing the warmth from inside.

"No, you just seemed to be suffering" you half smiled, half laughed, suddenly feeling a little pathetic for assuming things.

Mingyu smiled at you then, removing his jacket and dropping it over your shoulder.

"Thank you. If it weren't for you, this night would have sucked entirely"

It was silent for a minute, neither one of you doing anything at all. You were simply standing side by side, his elbow brushing yours from time to time while he rocked on his heels.

It was most definitely the alcohol talking, it had to be because there was no way you'd ever say what you were about to say if it weren't for it. Never, in good and normal conscience you'd have been bold enough. And yet, there you were.

"Can I ask you something?"

You turned to him and got a nod as an answer, his eyes expectant and curious. You forced the words out before you had the chance to stop yourself.

"That day, at my place, Seungcheol mentioned you having a crush on me. Was that true?"

There was a beat of silence, as Mingyu's smile slowly dropped. It was enough to make you regret the question, almost enough to make you regret the whole thing. Seeing Mingyu at the gala was a pleasant surprise, his presence was something you were grateful for during the night. You didn't mean to ruin it at the last minute.

You blamed the alcohol, though it had very little to do with your decision. You had been curious and wanted to ask Jeonghan about it but didn't dare to do so, not when you knew that your brother would be able to read right through you.

You blamed Seungcheol and his constant puppy eyes throughout the night, following your every move. His clear apologetic look, though no sorry words were said. His pride was too big for that.

You blamed yourself too, for being curious about it. You were just fine when he was just a guy from college, someone you'd see now and then in a poster, or someone you heard of in passing.

You blamed Mingyu too.

"Yeah, it was," he finally answered, sinking his hands into his pants pockets.

Screw it, you thought, if it's raining I might as well get drenched.

"And now?"

You held your breath, waiting for his answer.

"Still is," he said, voice soft, this almost apologetic smile on his lips.

You closed your eyes for just a second, somehow lavishing on his answer. There was a small smile on your lips as you turned to him, gripping his tie and pulling him down until you could press your lips to his.

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baepsays · 1 month ago

Text

Suck it and See ⸻how you met stoner Suguru.

☽⋆.˚ WASTED AND ABSORBED ⸺03

series description : chronicles of geto suguru and your experiences as a couple who just happen to like getting high together.

description: of all places, Geto Suguru didn't expect to meet a girl with knee high socks, who practically pulled him in like an eager sacrifice to the Siren— at a frat party surrounded by smoke. cw: use of she/her pronouns, fem oriented reader, mentions of drugs, weed, and alcohol; nothing much this is mostly a meet cute-ish, lore stuff really, artic monkeys references everywhere, they mild nsfw stuff.

playlist inspired by the content.

What a pleasure it is to be surrounded by sweaty people you barely know in a room full of smoke. All because your best friend is an extroverted social butterfly of a freak.

Safe to say, Geto Suguru would be anywhere but here right now. But maybe he does need some free alcohol and free cigarettes, a finance degree is the furthest thing from causation of sobriety. And as an average university student reliant on caffeine, alcohol, and cigarettes—completing his last semester and starting his big-time finance bro job later this year might I add—he is oddly conservative when it comes to weed though, if we're talking about ways to numb yourself.

The fact he has seen people actually do much worse actual hard drugs and yet he has a bigger opinion about the devil's lettuce of all things available out there. The only viable reason which can be given is that he had a stoner roommate during his first semester and it was the worst time of his entire university life. And honestly, he has seen Gojo get high for the sake of trying it, that was not fun for anyone but Shoko who was filming Suguru trying to stop Gojo from jumping off the balcony to chase a cat he apparently saw (there was no cat).

But these are excuses really. Well, Geto Suguru would not say he is repulsed by weed. In fact, he has tried it himself once. It was mostly about going along with his high school debate team who wanted to get high during one of their out-of-town tournaments. And guess what. High Suguru went on and blurted out all his little animosities to big grudges against everyone there and somehow fell asleep next to a trashcan in the hallway. Thankfully no one remembered and the video footage of all of this happening went into his hands first. He made sure to delete everything and ask around without being suspicious if anyone remembered anything he said. He was safe since they all forgot about everything.

Since then, he has steered clear of weed, it does odd things to him which no other substances do. Even when he is drunk out of his mind or buzzing with caffeine and nicotine, he is never impulsive. He always has control. And the fact he let that control slip is very scary. Matter of fact, despite his side hobby of making fun of a scared Gojo during horror movie marathons, Suguru himself didn't like being scared by something unknown or letting himself slip out in front of someone he would rather not have seen him like that .

Yet here he was, at one of the more famous frats who are known for their weed more than their alcohol and what not. I mean, it's not about where you end up but what you're looking for, right? Maybe that doesn't make much sense but so doesn't his last assignment of the semester before exams start, which carries 40% of his marks.

And for someone who isn't looking for weed, his amazing friend makes sure to pull him right into the room full of—who apparently seemed to be—stoners. Supposedly Satoru knows someone there, but he also knows way too many people for his liking. The amount of time he has to stop, stand, and stare around to wait for Satoru to finish chatting with yet another stranger—infinite really.

Regrets of ending up in that room without any alcohol in his hand, seemed to have flown right out of the room with the smoke. And it might as well have been the residual of weed in the air, but what's happening in his head was alarming. Right across from the person Satoru apparently knew, sat this gorgeous being, looking ever so effervescent and oozing mystique surrounded by clouds of smoke (he is a poet everyone). Wearing, what in his mind seemed like, the most poorly constructed skirt, practically giving away the secret eighth wonder of the world—which are those thighs. And is that fishnet? Someone please check on him, is he having a nosebleed? If not, that tight top perfectly snug around your chest, might do the job. More over the breasts, it was the neck. How can someone find a neck that beautiful? I wouldn't know, ask Suguru.

Real question is who wears knee high socks in the summer? He is not complaining, it somehow really works for you, and it works wonders on him. Again, it might be the weed. It has to be, because Geto Suguru, who is the most calculated person you'll know—sly little shit who is known for being the level headed, mysterious, lady's man— he may be just as much of a menace as Gojo and just as silly, he just knows how to mask it. And he's losing it. He's losing that control, because why aren't his ears working? His eyes refuse to focus on anything but you dragging a smoke out of the joint, which was passed to you by someone. And his legs are moving on their own towards the couch where you are sitting with the only person who you seem remotely interested in, 'might be her friend' he assumes, while ignoring this other guy who seems to be high off his mind talking about who knows what. His ears already made the effort of blocking out every sound, including Gojo's, who was calling him out because he wanted to introduce Suguru to his friend.

"Hey"

Real smooth from Mr. Lady's man over here. Incredible opener to introduce yourself to this person who may or may not be a witch cause why is he completely under this sort of trance as if he is the one sucking on that joint. Also, the fact he is just awkwardly standing in front of you while you look up at him through your lashes, unbothered and definitely high, still sitting on that couch—he must've inhaled too much weed smoke.

"Did you mean to say that to me? Because I think your friend needs you over there actually."

You say after blinking at him twice, then point across to you where Gojo and his friend are sitting. It's rather a given to be confused by this random long-haired Rapunzel to awkwardly stand before you like he doesn't know any better about how to interact socially, he's not drunk definitely, you saw him and his friend stroll in through the doors just a few minutes ago. Why would you even bother to care enough to remember that? Well, Rapunzel here is too gorgeous for his own good, secondly, you're high and feeling rather needy.

Pre-finals week suck, universal sentiment shared by all degree pursuing students. So here you are on this couch, in some frat, with your friend who's seeing one of the frat members. All you expected was some good quality rich boy weed and alcohol, nothing more really. Sleeping with someone you met at a frat party, reeks of STDs. And yet here you are looking at this gorgeous man looking like he doesn't have any thoughts behind his eyes, contrary to what you assumed, from afar he looked like a manipulative man whore. The world might be full of surprises or he's a theatre major.

"Huh?" — is all Suguru somehow manages to utter, it's illegal to smell that good while also smelling like weed, what god forsaken perfume you're using? Those eyes are enough, why do you need to crawl through all his five senses and wrap your hands around his brain.

"Huh." You say with one raised eyebrow. Seems like you've found yourself an excuse to escape.

"Seems like you don't know anything other than three lettered words starting with h."

He just stares into your eyes and lets you throw that jab at him. Really just too enchanted to speak, it's not that this is something he's choosing to do. He'd rather sit across from you and socialize with Gojo, while staring you down from time to time, then after much considerable eye contact, he'll slide himself to your side of the couch, asking your permission to have a seat, with much charisma no one can deny.

Yet here he is, not drunk, or losing his mind with weed—purely high off of sucking in your presence. This is only the second time he has lost control over a situation, and this time he is completely sober. New discoveries are made every second he supposed. Because if a sly talker like him, one who especially finds existential joy in countering the opposing person's jabs, is standing here tongue tied—he believes climate change can be reversed then. (How wishful)

You get off the couch to stand facing him, way too close to him for his sanity's sake, between the narrow gap between him and the couch—you might be shorter than him but your gaze is too piercing. And yet he cannot look away.

"Would you rather I dragged you out of this room? Maybe the smoke is getting to your head huh?"

Takes a second for Suguru to contextualize what you just suggested. And without any power to verbally respond, he simply nods into agreement. Somehow in that moment his incognizant brain decided that maybe leaving himself to your devices in this situation is the most natural thing to do. In fact, you might as well have all consumed him and he couldn't care any less.

All he cares about is that you're taking his hands in your hands, which made him think it might be a missing puzzle piece that only fits in perfectly with his, and dragging him out after a little bye to your friend and Gojo as well. Suguru is really out of it. He's not going to hear the end of it from Gojo, while he retells this story to their friends in the most overexaggerated way, which is so impossible given how ridiculous he is acting right now. Anything less dramatic than a Shakespearean play wouldn't do justice to exactly what played out in there. Yet Gojo Satoru will make sure to put a shame to Shakespeare's dramatics. That's his headache for later, let's focus on the ache in his palpitating heart.

You drag him out of that room, into the big living room or space and then drag him through the crowd to one of the rooms on the first floor, and take him straight to the balcony attached to it. The balcony sits right above the pool. Below you two, you can see most people congregating around there, swimming or just dancing or talking. Most of the speakers are there playing every frat bro's Spotify rotation probably. It's dark enough and tucked away nicely for anyone to notice you two there even if they look up—you saw this balcony the first time you visited this house with your friend cause of the guy she was seeing and since it was not a party, it was clear in the daylight that it was a nice place to people watch from. Or just enjoy the music,

'And her lips are like the galaxy's edge

And her kiss the colour of a constellation fallin’ into place'

Suguru couldn't agree more. If he didn't know any better— he'd say the song was about you. Because right now he is pulling out the lighter out of his pockets. Moving it towards your direction and halting halfway in the little space in between you two. Suguru wouldn't write this out as some kind gesture. He would never even think of sharing his prized lighter. It has been with him since he found it one day visiting his grandma's village home with his parents. Lying in a puddle of mud near the river that flowed behind her house. Scratch random people he wouldn't even let Satoru touch it or let Shoko take a light with it. Yet here he is— silently helping you out all because it looked like with the roll of a joint tucked in your bra, you forgot to bring a light.

You stare back and forth between the burning flame and his face. Contemplating perhaps. Then you move forward grab a hold on his hand, which was holding up the lighter, just a bit far for you to easily lean in and ignite the blunt. So you move, move to now sit face to face with him, both your knees on either side of his thighs—hovering over him, hands holding his, which was holding his silver lit up lighter. You lean forward probably closer to his face than the lighter even, all while keeping constant eye contact. You move your head to your left and finally burn the joint pressed in between your lips, after what seemed like an eternity.

Once the smoke comes out, you unwrap your lips from the joint and smile at Suguru, not one of those half smiles you've been throwing at him all this time. A genuine laidback smile.

"Thanks uh- oh wait I don't even know your name"

"Well I haven't given it to you yet."

"You gave me your lighter, might as well give me your heart. How much more could your name matter?"

Well he might as well have given you his heart and what even is in the name, if he could he would give you the entirety of the galaxy, but It would probably fade out in your comparison.

"Suguru. Geto Suguru."

"Nice to meet you Suguru."

"And what more might you need other than my lighter, heart, and name in exchange for your name?"

"I don't know? Anything tempting you are offering? Perhaps a seat right here?"

Did you mean right there? There on his lap?

"I wouldn't ever deny you anything."

So you did in fact mean his lap. Cause you perch right up on there and drag a long smoke out of your joint, blowing the smoke up in the sky above you two.

"L/n Y/n. And I'll hold you onto that claim."

"Do you always ask people for names in exchange for a seat on their lap?" Suguru smirks and tries to regain some confidence and control over the situation. If he wants to keep you right where you are, he would need to get out of the haze of intoxication — which was ironically not the weed in the air but just your existence.

"I never really ask for names. Really bad at remembering them. And as for seats, hmm I don't know. Your legs looked more comfortable and warm than the cold floor. And you looked sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Why? Does that not describe your —chase Atlantic and Artic Monkeys, cigarette smoker, fuck weed i am better than that, only dark colors— aesthetic?"

"How did you know I don't like weed?"

"Made a face right as you walked into the room down there. Also anyone else would've asked to borrow this by now." You move the blunt in between your fingers slightly to signify what you're talking about.

"Does that not bother you?"

"I mean it doesn't bother you that I am smoking this right in your face, if you had said something I would've respected that as well. I don't really care what you think is the standard for intoxication."

Suguru just smiles. He doesn't really have a topic exactly to speak about. He is in fact not capable of doing much right now you've rid him of the taste of control and the only taste he wants to be acclimated with from this moment onwards is yours. And he doesn't care about this change. He knows your name, he knows the feel of your fishnets against your skin. He knows the material of your lethal skirt. He knows the vanilla and jasmine notes of your perfume. He knows the exact color of your eyes and how many eyelashes you have. And he thinks that is enough.

'You have got that face that just says

"Baby, I was made to break your heart"'

You might as well break his heart, do as you please with it. It burnt away from his grasp the moment you burnt the end of your joint using his lighter.

"Looks like they are more intoxicating than any drug in existence." Was he talking about the blunt? Because his eyes were aimed at your lips. And he was unaware of what he even let slip out of his own lips.

"Suck it and see. You never know."

Not wasting a second with your unaware confirmation, Suguru moves forward. The hand on your fishnet clad thigh tightens, digging into the supple skin, weaving the fingers with the fishnet itself. The other hand, coming up to your lips, taking out the joint and throwing it out somewhere on the balcony, his fingers first touch your lips with light touches as if one touch is too heavy and you'll disperse into thin air. Slowly the fingers on your lips start pressing down on, well past both of your lips, making an audible gasp leave your mouth involuntarily. His fingers dig around the entrance to your mouth— rubbing your lips, then proceeds to press down on your tongue and graze over your teeth interchangeably. All while staring into your eyes, or staring at you, your eyes might as well be all white or shut close. Anything partially visible, is all a blur.

And you allow him all of it. You allow him to twist his fingers up to rub his rough finger pads on the along the expanse of your hard palate and soft palate, borderline trying to choke you. You simply allow it. You allow those hands to explore parts of you even out of your own reach. One digging in your mouth, other trying to make itself at home on your thighs—practically memorizing every little stretch mark running along your skin. He wants to know it all, have it all and who are you to deny a starved man?

When he's had enough of his little exploration, his own pairs of lips come crashing down on you. A sigh of almost a relief, leaves both your lungs. It is not quite relief, it is nice to finally have him kiss you—but his lips are the kind to leave your head dizzy, head swaying, forgetful of the whole process of breathing through your nose while he devours you, eyes flickering like unreliable headlights on the highway. You might as well be crashing out.

His lips are caging in yours, tongue fencing with yours, hands roaming around you like he's gonna find the most prized treasure on the surface of your skin. Guiding your hips to force down on his lap and roll them into little grids of desperation. Who was exactly the desperate one here?

At that point it all becomes too overwhelming to have your ability to breath taken away. So you push him off, with no ease. It was as if pushing him and pulling yourself back simply made him hold onto you harder. And when his lips did leave you alone, they go on to chase your lips to find his rightful place back on them.

You put one of your hands on his mouth to halt him, all that does is make you have goosebumps all over your body—having him look up to you with his desperate and hazed mono lids, the purple-brownish shade of his pupils burning you up. And him just heaving in your hand, short of breath, was of no help either.

“I was talking about the joint.” you breath out with an exasperated sigh.

“Well I am not sorry.” He leaves a feather light kiss on your hand covering his mouth.

“What even are you?” Genuinely, how does a man with gorgeous hair and horrible vocabulary make you fold so easily?

“‘I am a fool for you.”

A/N: dividers by @/sister-lucifer & @/omi-resources, header from my own gallery. And I didn't proofread half of this ok IT IS HARD TO READ YOUR OWN WORK

SERIES MASTERLIST . <prev | next> soon!

To check out more of my work click here.

tag list: @moonlitwitchdaisy @madamechrissy @cuntphoric @fuwagojo @aishi-toru @theorphicangel @rriwyu

if you would like to be added to future possible tag lists, please drop a comment here or under the series masterlist and feel free to send asks! i got a few anon asks about this but unfortunately idk their @'s :(

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hwaslayer · 2 months ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | nine.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 9.7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, phone sex / mutual masturbation, lots of kissing and making out per usual lol, these two are off to another conference but together-together, alcohol consumption and intoxication, bar scene, dancing, fingering on the balcony, finger sucking, oral (f. receiving), a sprinkle of spitting, a sprinkle of nipple play, a lazy handjob lol, unprotected sex from behind oop, some dirty talk, some hair pulling, multiple orgasms, reverse cowgorrrrl, implied shower sex, lots of talk and speculation, hohoho the end 🤭

Your friends weren't really surprised when you said you'd be leaving for another conference. They did wonder why it was last minute, but you don't think they dwelled on it much. Not like Jiung, at least. Outside of Jiung, maybe Yunho, too. But luckily, Yunho didn't make it a big deal since you weren't scheduled to TA his class this week [hands-on lab week with his postdoc]. He reassured you by saying it was a good conference to attend, though. That he wasn't giving a talk this year, but he was still thinking about popping in for a second.

You hope not.

You'd be with San and you'd finally get to be away with him, alone. You hoped no one else would be around and try to disrupt that [selfishly]. San had just traveled overseas for another lecture post-NAS conference, leaving you behind to sulk away while you missed his company.

—FLASHBACK

San settles into his empty hotel suite after a long day of being in attendance for a board meeting and conference. He loosens his tie and unclips his cuffs, letting out a hefty sigh when he turns on the shower. He musters the last of his strength to shed off his clothes and step under the piping hot water. He's still feeling a little groggy and gross from being in a timezone that's 5 hours behind from home. Over the years, he's slowly gotten used to traveling this way; flying to the other side of the world for 1-2 days before heading back. It used to wear on his body a ton until he's gotten better about taking care of it and his health. Still, even after these years, it doesn't get any easier.

Especially now that San has you— he just always feels like he's missing something. All he wants is to be with you, occupy his time with you.

When San steps out of the shower and finishes getting ready for bed, he slips under the sheets in nothing but his boxer briefs. He rests against the headboard, flipping through channels while he waits for you to text him back. He flips through some of your photos, some of the nudes you sent that he tucked away in his hidden folder. He feels himself getting worked up, missing you even more; missing your touch, your kisses, the way you feel. You promise you'd stay up and wait for him even though San begged you to sleep, so he wouldn't be surprised if you had fallen asleep.

You couldn't though, not without talking to him.

you: sorry sannie, was cleaning up a bit. can i call you now? 🥺

san: yeah of course baby, as long as you aren't tired.

It's not less than 20 seconds that you end up calling him after that text, settling into your sheets to try and get comfortable.

"Hey sweetheart."

"Hi." You smile to yourself hearing San's voice, though he sounds tired and worn out. "You okay? You sound really tired." He chuckles.

"Ah, do I? I kinda am though. Mentally exhausted from the meeting and conference today."

"I'm sorry, Sannie. You should rest."

"I am, love." He sinks a bit further into the sheets. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"What have you been up to today?"

"I caught up on some assignments and worked on a few things with Belle. How was the board meeting and conference?"

"Cool, but exhausting."

"I bet. Have you gone around the city?"

"A bit, but I don't really plan to do most of it until the second to last day here." You hum on the other line. "Wish you were here with me, baby." His voice is low, husky. Enough for you to bite your lip and sink into your own covers to try and distract yourself from the butterflies in your tummy.

"I wish I was, too. I'm sure it's beautiful there."

"Mmyeah." He feels himself getting incredibly worked up at this point, missing you terribly and wishing he had you all to himself here. Imaging the things he could do with you, to you, is enough to turn him on.

Replaying past events and hearing those pretty little noises you make for him.

God, he wishes he could have you.

"You lying down?" He breaks the silence and asks.

"Mhm."

"Wish I could have you right now, sweetheart." You can hear it in his voice, the small pauses and breaths he takes in between. "All I want."

"I wish you could too, Sannie."

"Baby." He breathes out. "I'm so hard for you." He lets out a small groan just as you dip your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts and panties.

"Can you come home already?" You whine.

"Soon, love." He whips his cock out and slowly strokes himself, releasing a shaky breath in the process just as he tilts his head back against the headboard— thumb spreading his pre-cum across his tip. "Fuck—Can you touch yourself for me?"

"Yes." You let out, rubbing at your clit in slow circular motions, digit dipping between your folds before gently slipping inside. A small whimper leaves your lips that shoots straight to San's cock, causing him to grip his member a little harder— stroke it a little quicker.

"Feels good, angel? How wet are you?"

"Mhm." You moan. "So wet, babe."

"Good girl. Keep doing that for me, yeah?" You fail to respond, too focused on finger-fucking yourself as you slip in two digits and work at a hungry pace. You too, think about San and how well he takes care of you; how well he fucks you and makes you cum over, and over again. "Wish I could fuck you so good right now." He moans a little louder this time and it has you reeling— hips subtly working with your hand as you come back up to your clit and spread your slickness around. "Hear you make those pretty noises for me and me only."

"Sannie." You breathily whine, rubbing at a faster pace.

"Mhm?" His voice is deep. "You want that, baby?" He lets another moan slip from his lips as he chases after his high, hand working quick on his length. "You like it when I handle you? Do you need that right now?"

"Yes, Sannie. Need it so badly."

"Mm." His hum is close to growl. "Shit." He hisses, breathing becoming irregular just as yours is. The more you listen to San on the other line while rubbing at your core, the more you feel yourself ready to snap. "I'm close. Can you let go for me, hm? When I get back—" He pauses briefly. "I'll make sure to take care of you. Fuck you so good— show you how much I missed you."

"Fuck— San." You cry. "Mm'coming—" You continue to moan and say his name as your orgasm washes over you, trembling at every touch as you milk it out and ride out your high. Hearing the way you unravel has San spiraling, causing him to release shortly afterwards— strings of white painting his stomach and abdomen as he moans deeply; the euphoria crashing down on him instantly. You lie there, eyes shut as the exhaustion kicks in, a small smile on your face when San huffs out a quick 'fuck.' "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just made a mess." You giggle.

"Too bad I'm not there."

"Don't say things like that or I'll get hard again." You snort, also getting up to clean up and snuggle back into the covers. "Can't wait to get home to you."

"I can't either, babe. Just take it easy, okay? You'll be home soon."

"Soon isn't enough."

—END

He was there for a week before he came back jet-lagged and super tired. He still managed to cater to you despite the things he needed to catch up on, but you honestly felt bad intruding in his space when you're sure he just needed time for himself. With that being said, you didn't see him as much over the following week— allowing him to get back on track before yet another trip and another conference.

You needed him to yourself, and that's all you were asking for.

And you got that; hopefully, with no issues, repercussions or interruptions to come.

"Baby." You turn from the window to face San, his hand giving your thigh a squeeze.

"Hm?" You hum, pulling yourself out of your daze while watching the ocean pass you by.

"You okay?" He smiles a bit, driving with one hand down to the grocery store.

"Mmyeah, sorry. Was just watching the water." He nods, licking his lips as he leans onto the middle console after stopping at a light.

"No worries. Can I just steal a quick kiss?" You giggle, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. You pull away for a second, only to kiss him again. And again.

And again.

Beep!

"Fucking relax." San says, looking through the rear view mirror. He hits the gas, smirking when he hears you laughing in your seat.

"Woops."

"Gonna get me in trouble."

"Pay attention, Professor Choi." You tease, lacing your hand with his. His hand is soft, his hand is warm. You give it a soft squeeze, thumb caressing the surface.

"Can't help it when my lady's in the front seat." He smiles. "Anyway, got a good list of groceries in mind already?"

"Just a couple of things." He nods.

"What do you wanna do tonight? Take a walk near the beach? Party? Explore?"

"Party?" You snort. "You party?"

"I'm really not that old, for your information." You laugh.

"You know, exploring sounds kinda fun."

"Yeah?" He kisses your knuckles just as he pulls into the parking lot of the plaza, finding a spot near the entrance of the grocery store. "Well, we can explore."

"Stumble into some bars, walk down the lively nightlife streets." He chuckles and slides his hand into yours when the both of you hop out the car and head into the store.

"That does sound fun." He squeezes your hand before grabbing a basket. "So, what did you have in mind?"

"Lots of good snacks." You giggle, leading him towards the snack aisle. "But, I was thinking we could make something for dinner together tomorrow night."

"Yeah, we should. What's on the menu?" You shrug, throwing your favorite chips into his basket, along with your favorite waffle cone snacks.

"Curry, maybe?"

"That sounds really good, baby. Let's do it." You smile up at San before tippy-toeing to give him a kiss on the lips. You continue to roam around the store, throwing in some ingredients into the basket with San, along with some soju. After the two of you have made an entire round around the store and are satisfied, San heads to the cashier to pay. You beg for him to let you cover half and he shakes his head, kissing you on the side of the head for the attempt. You catch his arm flex when he raises the basket onto the belt, causing you to shift your attention to the floor to try and distract yourself. San catches on though, and he chuckles while tapping his card to the reader. You shy behind him, hand loosely in his while he grabs the bags with his other.

In the car, you pull up a few potential spots to visit tonight. You find that most of the fancy restaurants and fun bars are along the same street, which is pretty close to the hotel and beach. You suggest walking down and around, and San agrees— as long as you're comfortable. You look at him and nod, watching as he drives down to the hotel 15 minutes away; chewing at his gum with his hat strapped on backwards. San is in a casual white tee and black pants, while you've got on an oversized graphic tee and cargos. San booked a hotel that's on the opposite end from the venue, more than willing to do a 45 min drive around to get there just to avoid running into familiar faces and colleagues. It wasn't a huge conference, though. Not a lot of people he knew would be showing up. Still— didn't mean others weren't aware of who he was and he couldn't risk that. He just needed to be with you, in private; away from anything that could ruin it or make you uncomfortable.

When you get to the hotel, San checks in with a breeze before taking your hand and leading the way to the room. He's carrying both of your bags— a duffle slung on each of his shoulders. He taps the keycard on his phone against the reader, pulling the handle down to reveal the suite. You've seen pictures but pictures don't do justice to capture just how beautiful it is in person. It's a small suite, perfect for you two. There's a small living room, a kitchen next to it. There's beautiful barn doors separating the room. The room has a Queen's bed, beautiful white curtains that hide the balcony with the ocean view. The bathroom has a his and hers sink, a stand-in shower just like the one San has at home and a tub next to it. San sets your bags down to the side of the room while you set the ingredients and soju in the fridge, snacks laid out on the counter. San lets out a small sigh as he comes to you, tossing his hat onto the counter before wrapping his arms around you from behind and placing a kiss against your head.

"So, baby." He says lowly from behind, giving you the opportunity to relax in his hold. "Wanna get ready and head back out?"

"You sure you aren't tired?" He smiles when you turn to face him and wrap your arms around his neck.

"No. We can do whatever you want." His hands squeeze at your sides. You tippy-toe to peck him on the lips, hands gently tugging on the ends of his hair sitting on the nape of his neck. He kisses you back for awhile, deepening the kiss just enough to have you to two indulging in each other against the kitchen counter. He lets out a soft, content sigh in between, hand coming up your shirt.

"Maybe we should—" Kiss. "Get ready." Kiss.

"We should. But, it's not fair now that you've got me all worked up." He whines a bit, causing you to giggle.

"I'm sorry, Sannie." You kiss him one last time. "We can take care of it later, hm?" You smile, pulling out of his grip to head into the bedroom. He watches you walk off, hips swaying as you make your way to your bag before strutting into the bathroom. He does a little head tilt, still in disbelief at how he's got you right here— with him.

He feels lucky. Genuinely happy.

At some point, you and San are both getting ready in the bathroom— you've dressed yourself in a mini cami dress while San has his all white attire on. You're brushing the mascara wand through your lashes, dabbing some blush to your cheeks, swiping the lip gloss across your lips. San is ruffling his hair next to you, trying to style it to his wants until he's satisfied. You look over and peep the silver dog tag necklace hanging from his neck, tan chest exposed through the deep-cut shirt he's wearing.

"What?" He smiles, slightly confused at the way you're staring at him.

"Just looking at your necklace."

"You sure that's it?"

"I mean I could say other things, but I won't start right now." He laughs.

"Chris gave it to me for my birthday."

"It's nice. Looks good on you."

"You think so?" You nod, setting your makeup bag aside. "Doesn't look nearly as good as this dress does on you." He comes behind you, hand gripping your ass.

"Choi San."

"What?" He chuckles. "I mean it." He presses a kiss to your temple. "Ready to go, pretty?" You nod, turning to face him.

"I am."

"Can I have a kiss before we go?"

"My lip gloss." He shrugs.

"I don't care." He gently grips your jaw and tugs you closer. "C'mere." You kiss him, smiling as you pull away and tug on his shirt.

"Let's go." You gently wipe off the excess gloss from the edge of his lips, being the first to pull away and grab your things.

"Yesma'am." San bites onto his lip, following after you.

And it ultimately leads to one of the best nights you've ever experienced.

San pulls up to a Peruvian restaurant, taking your hand and carefully navigating through the groups of people waiting for a table. He puts his name on the waitlist, telling you it'll be about a 25 minute wait. You respond with a 'no biggie,' leading him up the street to look at the gift shops while waiting. You and San poke around at the shirts, sweaters, magnets and other souvenirs, playfully trying on fun, festive hats and headbands before purchasing a few items for your mom and friends. You move onto the next store, in hopes of killing the last 10 minutes of the wait in there. It's a cute and quaint jewelry shop, one owned by a sweet middle-aged lady who sits on a high stool behind the counter. She greets you and San, her eyes twinkling when she sees you both stroll in happily into her store. You slowly browse along the glass containers, your eyes instantly fall onto a dainty, silver layered butterfly necklace sitting in the far corner.

"I was hoping you'd look at that one." She says. "I think it'd be perfect on you."

"Wouldn't it be?" San comes from behind. "Is it okay if we take a closer look at it?" She nods, pulling it out of the glass case and onto the surface.

"It's so pretty."

"There's only one other shop that sells this necklace. It's simple, but I think it brings out some joy in people. Butterflies are meaningful." She adds.

"They are. My grandma loved butterflies. We'd always take her to the butterfly garden near her home for her birthday."

"It really would be perfect on you." San whispers as he dips closer to the side of your face. He sees the way your eyes light up, causing his heart to soar. He immediately turns to the lady and flashes his dimpled smile, his arm around your waist. "Do you think I can take it off of your hands?"

"Certainly—"

"San." You pout. "You don't have to—"

"I do." Is all he says, sliding his card over to the sweet lady just as she gently takes it off of its display and lays it down. It's not expensive, but not inexpensive; yet, San doesn't care much for it because all that mattered to him was the way your eyes glowed and the way your smile filled the room.

"I'm assuming you'd like to wear it out?" San nods.

"Yeah, she will." She hands him his receipt to sign off on before handing him his card.

"Enjoy." You smile at her as San slips his card back into his wallet and carefully pries the necklace out of the container. When you get to the front of the store, San stops you to help you get the necklace on.

"Baby, let me put this on."

"Thank you, Sannie." Your eyes sparkle at the necklace in his hand, his smile growing by the minute as he comes behind you to slip it on.

"It's perfect." He gently caresses your chin before he's distracted by his phone buzzing. "Also, perfect timing?" He flashes his phone towards you. "Our table's ready." You simply smile up at him, letting him lead you back down to the restaurant. Once he's checked back in, the host brings you to a table in the dim, far corner of the restaurant— away from the entrance, away from the high traffic. It's a small booth, cozy and intimate enough for you and San.

You begin skimming through the menu, chiming in about certain plates you wanna try. You and San decide on a few main courses to share, along with dessert. He's quick to call the waitress over to place the order, also putting in an order of cocktails for you two to indulge in while waiting. San talks to you about future plans and how things have been going on his end [grants, his progress with Jongho on that new building]. He's trying his best to not talk about school and work but there are things he just feels the need to tell you, knowing you'd support him and cheer him on when he needs it the most. But, at some point, the conversation gets interrupted when a call from Jiung comes flashing through your screen.

"Do you wanna get that, sweetheart?" You shake your head and let the call go to voicemail.

"It's okay. I'll tell him I'll call him back later or something."

"You sure?"

"Positive, San." You give him a reassuring smile. "I can always catch up with him." He nods. "You were saying? About Jongho and Namjoon?"

"Right, yeah." He chuckles a bit. "Namjoon's been talking to the dean and he seems to be onboard with giving us some real estate in the new building to start a program. I think they're still discussing, but it sounds like as long as we do yearly symposiums and update him on the progress of how things are going, it should be good."

"That sounds amazing! I mean, I always knew you and Jongho would be able to push it forward." He does a slight head tilt.

"Well, baby. I don't know if it's us or Namjoon." You laugh.

"Namjoon wouldn't be able to make a valid case if you two weren't doing great work."

"True. I think it'll be able to help bridge a lot of future collaborations, especially in different departments. Like Zara's, Applied Physics." You quietly sip on your cocktail and nod, taking a big gulp to [hopefully] swallow down the question you want to ask, the question you're so curious about. San catches on quick, though. He sips on his cocktail and furrows his brows slightly, trying his best to read you from his seat. "What're you thinking about?"

"Huh? Nothing."

"Angel." He laughs a bit. "I told you you could ask me anything, remember?" You sigh and give him a look before caving.

"So, have your friends been trying to hook you up with her?"

"Zara?" You nod. "Yeah. I'm not gonna lie."

"Hm." You hum.

"But, we're just colleagues, love. Nothing else."

"They think you two make a good pair."

"I don't. We're good as colleagues, and quite frankly, I never really saw her in any other way since the beginning." Silence. "What's on your mind, hm?"

"I just tend to overthink, that's all. She's a professor, too. She's the same age as you, on the same kind of path. Has life figured out and is pretty set. Pretty. What if you realize we aren't a good pair and you two actually are?" He shakes his head.

"Babe— baby. I'm gonna have to stop you right there, okay? That's not gonna happen or else I wouldn't have pursued this if I knew I wasn't set on this. If I had any doubts about us or what was going on between us, I wouldn't have continued. I'm not like that. I would never do that to you." He looks at you and you can't help but give him a tiny, toothless smile; feeling reassured from the way he looks at you alone.

Like you've hung up the stars in the sky.

"I trust you." Is all you manage to say.

"Good." He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. "I don't want you to worry. Let's enjoy ourselves tonight." You nod.

As dinner progresses, you and San talk endlessly about life, family and stories from the past. You talk about what your friends have been up to, what your mom has been texting you about, new shows and books you've been trying to get into and San always listens so intently. Dinner lasts for about 2.5 hours before you're two cocktails deep and heading out of the restaurant to the bar just further down the street. This time, you lead for the rest of the night. You take San's hand and follow the loud music, the crowd. You fall into the bar, already bouncing to the beat with San close behind you. You order a few shots from the bartender, San giving you a look as he whispers in your ear about how good you look glowing under the dim light, how good you look happy. San takes the shots with you, ending up on the dance floor with you. Everyone else around you seems too intoxicated to care about their surroundings; too intoxicated, too happy enjoying the moment. And surprisingly, San is, too. He holds you close as the song blasts through the bar, gripping your hips as you work your ass against him. He keeps up with your rhythm well as he dances along, playfully turning you to face him so he could praise you in your ear while he squeezes at your ass.

You're not sure this man lacks in anything, and it's crazy to call him yours.

But, he is.

He is, he is.

You and San spend a good hour at the bar before you walk over to the beach and stumble your way back into the hotel from the back entrance. The both of you are still in good spirits despite the exhaustion slowly creeping up, laughing and joking with each other until you've finally made it back inside the room.

"That was fun." He smiles, pulling you flush against him before cupping your cheeks and kissing you on the lips. "Thank you, baby." He thanks you because he's not sure he's felt this alive in a long, long time. Even though he had his good moments with Iseul, he can say their relationship was never that spontaneous. They kept within routine a lot, did the usual things with their friends a lot. Iseul wouldn't dare take him down the street into a random bar to take shots and dance the night away while out of town.

Everything about you was so good, so different, so good to be true. But, you were all his and he was all yours.

He wishes he could stay here with you, in this moment. With no worries about school, work, the outside world. People.

"No, thank you." You smile sweetly at him, but he can't admire it for long when his phone buzzes in his pocket despite it being on do not disturb.

jongho: can i call you real quick? sorry, kinda urgent but i won't take up much of your time.

san: yeah, sure.

"I'm sorry baby, I have to take this." He flashes the screen, showing Jongho's name come up. "Real quick."

"No worries." You chuckle. "I'll clean up around here." He nods, walking off.

"Yo." San picks up the call while he decides to stand outside on the balcony.

"Aye. Where have you been? I sent you some emails but it's been crickets." Jongho asks.

"My bad. I told you I was going to the Baskin Conference."

"Oh, you actually went? I thought you were still thinking about it."

"No. What's up?"

"Are you alone?"

"Why?"

"Okay." Jongho chuckles. "Anyway, I was just wondering where you were at since I haven't seen you and heard from you. I received a 'just in time' email for the new proposal we worked on. Might be good to start getting our approvals together for it so we can get the grant awarded ASAP." San nods, relaxing when he feels you wrap your arms around him from behind. He turns to face you, one arm coming around you while you look up at him; other hand still occupied with holding the phone to his ear. San watches you carefully as you lay random, soft kisses against his jaw and silently giggle— teasing him in the same manner that drives him crazy.

"That's great news, actually! Kinda been bombing out some of the grants I have right now and have yet to renew some of them." Jongho laughs loudly.

"Yeah, same."

"I'll prioritize it and get it done when I get back."

"Sounds good. I've already looped in the others in that email to get it started."

"Thanks."

"Enjoy yourself down there." Pause. "And San?"

"Yeah?"

"Please be careful with her."

"I'll talk to you when I get back." San hangs up the call and slips his phone into his pocket, smirking when he finally gets to hold you close. "And what do you think you're doing, hm?"

"Just wanted your attention." You pout.

"You always have my attention, angel. There's no doubt about that." You bite your lip and tippy-toe to kiss him, pressing yourself flush against his body while you deepen the kiss. You feel him hardening against you, causing you to moan into his mouth. He briefly pulls back, smiling down at you as his hand travels down and beneath your dress— fingers teasing at the edge of your panties. "Think you can keep quiet for me?" Your breathing hitches when his fingers dip beneath the material and start slowly rubbing at your clit. He keeps his eyes on you the entire time, watching the way you let out silent moans even as he finally slips two fingers inside of you.

"Babe—"

"Shh." He shushes you with a smile. "Don't worry about anyone." He says, expertly hiding your figure in front of his, keeping you at an angle behind the decorative pots and plants sitting on the balcony for aesthetics. "Just let me take care of you." He grazes his lips against yours, indulging in the way you quietly whine against him, indulging in the way your slickness covers his digits.

You're dripping.

He picks up the pace as he tries to quietly [and subtly] finger fuck you on the balcony, enjoying the way your head tilts back in pleasure, giving him access to the surface of your neck for small little kisses, love bites that aren't so obvious to the naked eye.

"So close— so good." You moan softly against his lips, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible on this balcony, threatening to tip over the edge any second now. "I'm gonna—"

"Mm, I don't think so, love." He teases when he feels you clench around his fingers.

"Wanna cum, San. Please." You beg and San smirks. He removes his digits from inside of you, letting out an evil [and fucked up] chuckle. "Sannie." You whine, feeling needy and so incredibly weak at how he stripped you of your orgasm. You needed him, badly. You craved him, badly. "I need to—"

"And you will. Just not now." He teases. "Open for me." He says, slipping his two digits into your mouth to watch you suck on your own juices— tongue swirling around his pretty fingers. "Taste good, baby?" You nod so innocently. "That's my good girl. I'll make the wait worthwhile, hm?" He grips your jaw as he talks lowly near your ear. He begins to trail kisses from your jawline down to your neck, tongue swiping across the surface before nibbling and sucking ever so gently. As much as he'd love to paint your skin with all those marks, he knows he shouldn't.

"San, please." You beg again, hands tangled in the ends of his hair as he continues to kiss your neck in all the right spots. San is pressed up against you, and you can feel his hard, aching cock against your thigh. Your hand comes down to give it a feel, a quick squeeze, before he's letting out a low, breathy moan against your skin.

"Bed. Now." He demands, letting you lead the way to the bedroom;

A trail of clothes following suit.

Shirt gone. Pants gone. Dress gone.

Boxers off to the side. Panties somewhere in the room.

Balcony door still wide the fuck open.

He gets you situated on the edge of the bed, keeping your legs cocked open for him as he dives right in to get a taste of you. He swipes his tongue up, teasing your clit before sucking gently. He continues to lap away at your heat— expertly tonguing your folds in between and teasing your entrance. At some point, he slips in a digit; finger fucking you while he watches you writhe from his angle. You let out his name a few times, your moaning and begging sounding like pure music to his ears.

"Wanna cum for me?" You nod, eager to unravel and snap in his hold. "You've been good, baby. Go ahead and cum for me."

"Fuck— please." He spits on your pussy and continues to suck away at your clit; allowing you to grip his head with slight force as you keep him in his position and grind against his mouth, his tongue. "Oh shit—" You mewl, yelling his name shortly after as you come undone— body twitching as your orgasm hits you like a wave. San continues to latch on until your body settles, releasing himself from in between your thighs to hover over you and plant a trail of gentle kisses up your stomach;

Chest.

Neck.

Until he meets your lips in a deep, heated kiss. His hand comes up to cup your breast, thumb toying with your nipple while you respond to his touch. You lazily stroke him while he continues to kiss you, letting out low groans in between.

"Turn around for me, sweetheart." He whispers against your lips, gently biting down on your bottom lip and pulling back. You do as you're told, flipping onto your tummy as San presses you down against the mattress— ass up and backed up against him. He runs his hand down your back, pressing feathery kisses against the surface before slowly stroking himself and lining up at your entrance. He eases himself in, the both of you letting out loud moans that fill the room; probably echoing out into the balcony. He buries himself to the hilt before working at a slower pace, hands gripping your hips while he adjusts to the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He watches his cock slip in and out of you, your slickness coating his length. He hisses at the sight, head tilting back in pure pleasure as he finally begins to pound into you.

"That's my fucking good girl." He presses you down into the mattress, keeping your ass up against him. You continue to moan loudly, San giving your ass a loud smack as he continues to thrust into you roughly. "Tell me— whose pussy is this?"

"Yours."

"Louder, baby. Tell me whose is it."

"Yours!" You cry, San groaning behind you as he gives your ass another smack.

"Fuck, that's right." He groans. "So perfect, angel. You're all mine." He tugs on your hair and pulls you back towards him slightly, giving him leverage to moan praises in your ear as he continues to fuck into you. "Want you to ride me, can you do that for me, sweetheart?" You nod in between your whines, desperate to do anything for your man—

Desperate to feel him in any way, desperate to tip over the edge and come undone.

Suddenly, San pulls himself out and you feel empty. He lays back on the bed, resting against the headboard as he has you climb ontop and face the balcony doors.

"Yeah, baby. Like that." He moans lowly while you instantly start to work him at a steady pace, eager to fill this ache in your core. "Always know how to ride me— made for me." He praises from behind as you swirl your hips around and bounce on his cock like no tomorrow. The new angle works in your favor deliciously; his perfectly thick cock rubbing against your walls and knocking his tip right at that delicate spot that always has you spiraling. You call his name out like a mantra as your hips work faster, sloppier.

You don't think you can hold on any longer.

"Mm— feels too good—San." Your moans are broken, breathing irregular. San knows you're close. "Can I cum?" You whimper, no longer able to hold back. "Wanna cum for you again." You plead cutely.

"Yes you can, love. Look at you, so pretty riding me." He praises you. "I'm getting there, just—fuck— keep doing that." He watches the way your ass bounces on him, relishing in the way your walls tighten around him. "Doing so well."

He'll snap.

"Sannie—" Everything feels like a blur, like white noise, when your orgasm comes crashing down on you in one swift motion. Your moan bounces off the walls as you still in his grip and ride out your orgasm; San fucking up into you to chase his own high shortly afterwards.

"Oh shit—" San's face contorts in pleasure, brows knitting tightly as he shoots his cum into you. "Shit." He repeats in between low groans, his fingers digging into your flesh as he releases every last drop inside of you. Cum damn near dripping out of your pussy.

"Oh my god." You pant, finally able to come to your senses post-orgasm. You give yourself a minute before carefully climbing off, giggling at San's fucked out look. You kiss him sweetly on the lips, continuing a string of tiny repeated kisses before you gain energy to head to the shower. "Gonna wash up if you wanna join me?" San smirks as he watches you head into the shower and turn the water on. He sighs before hopping off the bed and following suit, slipping into the shower right behind you. At first, it starts off sweet; San carefully taking his time with massaging the shampoo and conditioner in your hair and vice versa in between sharing deep, heated kisses.

His hands roam up your body, sweet touches and gentle moves— just to take you again in the shower; your back pressed against the cold wall, his arm hooked under your leg to prop it up while he fucks up into you harshly, roughly.

His name being called over, and over, and over again; just the way he likes it. Making you cum over, and over, and over again; just the way he likes it.

Because you are his, and he is yours.

The next morning comes, and you're awaken by San's soft hand slowly rubbing up your back along with his soft kisses to your bare shoulder. The sun is beaming through the balcony doors, providing extra warmth as San cuddles close to you.

"Wake up." He whispers in your ear, still continuing his motions on your back.

"I'm so tired." You mumble into the pillow, causing San to chuckle.

"Let's get breakfast before the conference."

"Is it really time already?"

"Mhm." He hums in a sing-song tone, now gently massaging your back.

"Can't we just stay like this?"

"You know I'd want that more than anything." He gives you a kiss to the head before dragging his body out of the sheets and into the bathroom. You stretch and fully wake yourself up, grabbing San's button-up from the nearby chair and slipping it on. You continue with your normal morning routine— the only difference this time is having San around, which makes things feel a little more complete. Once you've both gotten yourselves together, San is in a plain black tee and black jeans, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose; you're in a simple get-up of a tight, white tee, dark jeans, an oversized blazer and boots. The two of you add finishing touches to hair or makeup before cleaning up around the room and heading downstairs to the next door restaurant for brunch. It's still pretty early, so you and San were sat immediately at a table on the back patio, facing the beach.

"This is pretty." You look out at the view. "It's perfect weather today."

"Yeah, it is." He flips through the menu. "You already know what you want, baby?"

"Mhm." You giggle. "I checked out the menu earlier." He laughs.

"Course."

"You ready to lead one of the panel discussions later?" He smiles.

"Uh, I'd say I'm way more relaxed knowing I don't have to prepare anything in advance." You nod. "What're you gonna do?"

"Listen in. Visit some posters after."

"Good thing my panel discussion is early. I actually don't plan on staying long unless you do."

"No. I only came for you, remember?" You tease. "I'm surprised they still managed to slip you into the conference somehow even though you confirmed last minute. You're so wanted, Professor Choi." He shakes his head. Suddenly, your phone starts blaring off to the side, your eyes darting straight down to the caller ID flashing on the screen.

Jiung.

That's right.

You said you'd call him back.

"You should get that, love." You silently nod, swiping to answer the call.

"Hey."

"Okay, well. At least you're alive."

"Jiung." You whine a bit. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

"Bro." Jiung chuckles a bit, though kinda disappointed he hasn't been able to spend time with his bestfriend or even talk to you like before. You feel busy, but too distant, and Jiung isn't sure how to feel about it. "Where have you been? You're always so busy now. I was lowkey expecting you to call back last night but you didn't even do that when you usually do." You fiddle with the hem of your shirt before letting out a small sigh.

"I'm sorry. I know. It's just been crazy hectic, but I promise I'll do better, okay?" San looks at you from where he's sitting, slight concern crossing his expression.

"It's not that. Sorry— I just miss being able to hang out with you like before. You feel so distant even though you're right there."

—FLASHBACK

"Ayooooo!" Sunwoo says, running into Jiung near the Harvey Center. He gives him a dap and pulls him in for a hug, pausing in his steps to catch up with him for a quick minute. "What's up? Crazy I've barely ran into you all this time."

"Aye." Jiung laughs. "How's everything been?"

"Dude, pretty busy. But, I think Y/N and I have gotten some really good data to work off of for her rotation update and for the upcoming review cycles for the paper."

"That's awesome, I'm glad."

"How're things in Jongho's lab?"

"Constantly moving, you know how it is." He nods in agreement. "But making progress for my own rotation update, too."

"Sick. Proud of you." Sunwoo nods. "When is Y/N coming back from the conference?"

"I'm not sure actually. Probably Monday or Tuesday."

"I feel like I've barely seen her even though we're in the same lab." Jiung cocks his head to the side.

"Don't you guys work on behavior together?"

"Uh, for awhile, she's been working on her own schedule and catches me up later on. We only meet if we need to, like to go over data or if something goes wrong elsewhere."

"But, I thought you guys have been working late nights? She always says she's running off to the lab for the mice or behavior work." Sunwoo shrugs.

"Sorry dude, beats me. She hasn't been in the lab late at night for awhile. Our mice have been fine and we're wrapping up this cohort."

"Huh." Jiung says audibly, even though he meant it for himself.

"Yeah. She left for the Baskin Conference hella quick. I didn't even see her at NAS."

"Wait, really? I thought—" It's Sunwoo's turn to look confused. "Nevermind. I thought she saw you."

"Nah, she said she was busy with you guys all week!"

"So, she didn't sleep at yours or Belle's room?" Sunwoo tilts his head.

"Bruh, what? No." He laughs. "She definitely wasn't with us, so I'm not sure who she was with."

"I see." Jiung nods slowly. "Yeah, I guess it's just been hectic for her."

"I bet. I remember rotation days." He chuckles. "Anyway, gotta run. It was nice catching up for a quick minute." Jiung nods before parting ways. He lets out a breath, running his hand through his hair as he pulls out his phone.

He pauses.

What the fuck was he even gonna ask? How was he even gonna ask? While you're away, too?

What is even going through his mind right now?

"Ugh." Jiung groans, pulling up Felix's number to see if he's around, hoping it'll get his mind off of things until he can cohesively gather his thoughts. Meanwhile, Zara and Jongho are sitting at a table outside, waiting for the rest of the group to trickle in for lunch. Zara is having a fun, light conversation with Jongho about future lab plans just as Jiung crosses over. With Jiung passing the café, Zara suddenly gets triggered to ask the most pressing question she's had since the NAS conference. And Jongho senses it too, because by the time she shifts her attention back to him, he's already cocking a brow up.

"Jongho."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure? I might have an answer."

"San." Jongho smirks a bit as he sips on his iced americano.

"Ew." He laughs in his usual Jongho fashion, causing Zara to giggle shyly at her attempts of hiding her crush on his bestfriend. "Kidding. What about him?"

"Actually, now I'm kinda shy."

"No, you already put it out there so you have to ask now." Jongho chuckles.

"Has he been seeing anyone recently?" He takes a sip and sits back, letting out a sigh.

"You know, to be honest. I can't say for sure, but I think he is." He looks at her and can physically see the hope leaving her body. She's sad, and she has a right to be. Mingi tried his best to set them up and for a split second, it seemed like it could work.

Obviously, it didn't.

"I'm sorry, Zara. I know that's not what you wanna hear, but I have to be honest so that you don't get hurt. I think whatever your gut has been telling you is right."

"Is it too much to ask who? Like are they from here?" He shrugs.

"That asshole hasn't told me much lately." She laughs, and Jongho feels relieved he can at least cheer her up amidst the news.

He knows.

He knows exactly who it is and how long it's been. San didn't have to tell him, but he could have at least let her know he wasn't interested. Fucking Choi San.

"It's fine. It shouldn't matter anyway, he seems to be happy."

"Yeah." Jongho adds. "Yeah, he does."

"And I just hope he's doing the right thing." Jongho looks at her without saying much besides a simple nod.

Maybe, she knows too.

—END

"I know." Silence. "I'll make up for it when I get back."

"All good. I just hadda get it off of my chest."

"We'll plan things like the old days, k?"

"When are you getting back, anyway?"

"Tomorrow evening. Late."

"Hm, okay. Are you enjoying your stay at least?"

"I am, it's really nice here."

"That's good. Enjoy yourself there, but be safe, please."

"I will."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you sure you are?" What he really means to say is 'i know you haven't been telling the truth and i just wanna know why.'

"I am, Jiung. I promise."

"Did you see anyone there, by the way? Any familiar faces? Professors?" You furrow your brows at the random question.

"Hm, no. Not yet, at least. I've been staying at a hotel that's a little farther out."

"Oh. Why? Was it cheaper?"

"Mhm." You respond just to brush off the topic.

"I heard Professor Choi was gonna be there, though!"

"Mm. I think it might've been mentioned by him in passing." Jiung fiddles with the hem of his shirt while he listens to the awkward silence on the other line, trying to figure out what exactly he's trying to hear from you. He remembers Jurin mentioning that she saw you with Professor Choi at the bar and she jokingly teased about it. And Jiung laughed it off. But, now he doesn't think it's a joke anymore. Cause everything within him is pointing to something he thinks is entirely off, entirely wrong. Unreal.

Unacceptable.

But, the pieces to the puzzle are slowly being put together and he swears he can't ignore the feeling in his gut. What exactly is it trying to tell him?

That it's true?

He doesn't want it to be, and for once, he hopes he's fucking wrong.

"Alright, well. I'll let you be." He yawns. "I'm about to go out for a run."

"Be safe."

"Text me when you get home, please?"

"I will."

"Is.. everything okay?" You sigh and set your phone aside.

"Yeah, it's just Jiung. We've always been close and we've always spent a lot of time together so he was just wondering where I've been."

"I'm sorry, baby."

"No, you don't have to say sorry. I just have to be better about my time and spending more time with my friends. Kinda hard when you have a hot bf." He snorts.

"But, you should spend more time with them. I'm not going anywhere so don't worry about me."

"It's on me."

"You think they know who you've been spending time with?" He smirks just as the waitress comes to set down the food. San gives her a quick nod of appreciation before returning his attention to you.

"I don't think so."

"Even Jiung?"

"Doubt it." You start digging into your food.

"Can I ask you one more thing, angel?" You look up at him and nod, chewing your food. "Have you ever thought Jiung liked you as more than a friend?"

"No way." He cocks a brow up as he eats.

"You sure?"

"I'm so sure, Sannie."

"I'm genuinely just curious. He seems to really care about you."

"And I do, too. But, we do as friends."

"Fair enough." Is all San says. He's not entirely bothered by it, but at the same time, he is. Because he knows they'll find out one day. He knows the relationship won't always be a secret to your friends. He's just not sure what that means when it comes to Jiung and how much of a voice he'll be in your ear. Would he try to convince you that San doesn't care about you? Would he try to convince you that all of this was incredibly wrong? Force you to face the facts and wake the hell up?

He brushes the thoughts away when you start talking about your mom and how you plan to see her next weekend. The conversation goes down the rabbit hole— the two of you exchanging more childhood stories and memories.

When breakfast is done, you and San drive over to the venue for the conference. The session for the panel discussion he's participating in starts right after the first talk of the conference. When he pulls up to the venue, he luckily finds a spot at the back end, far corner. It's a bit of a walk to the main entrance, and San is having to walk in first since he needs to check in and head straight to the mic room for audio testing and a quick run down of what to expect. You trail in a few minutes after, checking in as a regular guest and grabbing the agenda on your way into the main conference room where all the talks and poster sessions would be taking place.

You don't see any familiar faces or professors you personally know, which allows you to release a breath of relief. You settle into a seat as the first speaker gets introduced and settled onto the stage, the crew bringing up her presentation on the projector. San is sitting off to the side with two other people— names you are slightly familiar with, but haven't done much research on their work or what they've been up to. Everyone around you is dressed in business casual attire as well, taking notes as she continues to go through her 20 minute presentation. Once the 20 mins breezes on by, the host kicks off the 10 min discussion session that starts off with San highlighting some of her data. It does spark a lively conversation between the panelists and the crowd, a few people raising their hands for quick questions.

After her session finishes, the host introduces the next talk that follows the same format, then the last of the session. It's about a good hour and a half, shy over a few minutes, that they conclude session one and adjourn for a break before session two. You head to the opposite end of the room to see the posters up at this time, pausing at a few and jotting down some notes for Belle and Sunwoo. You know they'd be interested in hearing your findings, and you've already stumbled across some intriguing projects in the 15 minutes you've walked down the aisle. As session two kicks off, you continue to observe the rest of the posters, spotting San in the crowd speaking to a small group of people around him. You watch him for a little, adoring the way he flawlessly pulls people in and charms them with his signature, dimpled smile. He has a hand in his pocket, cup of coffee in the other hand.

It's definitely black coffee and you can't help but wince a little to yourself knowing he's happily sipping that.

And, somehow, he always manages to catch you. Just as you're about to turn and finish up with the posters, he meets your gaze and gives you a tiny smile. His eyes linger on you for a little longer before he returns his attention to the group, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks as you pass through the remaining presenters.

san: wanna head out after session 3?

you: damn already? 🤣

san: baby? lol.

san: i meant it when i said i wasn't trying to stay long. 🥹

san: i just wanna get out of here and spend more time with you before we have to fly back.

you: mkay, lover boy. hahaha

san: come meet me by the ballroom entrance, we can find a seat together once session 2 wraps up.

you: okay, professor!

You do as you're told, meeting San by the entrance. You stick by his side as you wait for session two to wrap up, proceeding to the free seats near the left side of the room. The both of you keep it strictly professional as others settle around you, only really discussing things like your findings from the poster session or his panel discussion.

No one bats an eye.

Meanwhile, Yunho walks into lobby and struts into the conference late. He rushed over from a prior commitment, only deciding to join the conference since he was already in the area. Session 3 is about to end, but Yunho is at the back, greeting those around him quietly before taking a moment to stroll down the posters. He asks a few questions, engages with a few presenters before running into other familiar faces and conversing with them. He follows them over to the finger foods that have been set out for lunch, grabbing some quick bites to nibble on. At some point, he hurries off to the bathroom to release himself and quickly freshen up— already pretty exhausted from his day, and it's barely past lunch time.

When Yunho exits the bathroom, he has to pause in his steps when he does a double-take after hearing the side back door shut and catches you with San. The two of you are leaving the venue— his hand on the small of your back while he hurriedly guides you to the passenger's seat of his car near the back end of the lot. Yunho continues to watch as San slips into the front seat, swallowing the lump in this throat as he pulls out and drives off.

Now, Yunho feels the conflict bubbling within him cause he didn't want to be right.

Yet, he is.

And it can't be good for anybody.

"Hey." Yunho answers the call [coincidentally] coming in from his wife. He sets down the hall, eyes still peering out into the lot as if he can see more of you and San. He clearly doesn't, but it doesn't make the feeling in his stomach settle.

"Hey! How's the conference going?"

"It's going well! Nothing too crazy." Is all he manages to say, which catches Iseul off guard. He's typically one to say more, so him holding back feels weird to her.

"You sure it's going well? You sound pretty quiet."

"Yeah, uh. It's nothing."

"Love." He sighs, silently greeting familiar faces before excusing himself to the corner of the lobby where it's a little quieter.

"I just don't know how to explain what I saw."

"Try?"

"San's here with Y/N, my TA."

"Okay? She's rotating in his lab, right? People meet up with their students all the time, I don't get it?"

"No, baby. Listen. I think he's here.. with her." There's a small pause before Iseul speaks up again.

"Are you sure? Cause that's a pretty bold assumption. You know something like that is serious and can cause a lot of issues."

"I don't know. I can't say, but I'm just feeling weird about it. I did see them together at NAS, too. Saw them getting kinda close with each other, away from the crowd." Yunho just briefly remembers running into you and San on his way out of the bathroom. The two of you had been standing off to the side in a far corner, sipping on some water while talking. San was standing in close proximity to you, smiling down at you almost like—

There was fondness in his eyes, some kind of awe and admiration for you.

Yunho and San haven't talked in years, but he still knows what that look is. He's seen it before.

Starting with the symposium.

"Yunho, why don't you talk to Namjoon?"

"No, no." He shakes his head as he continues to pace around the same corner. "Not gonna do that right now cause what if I'm entirely wrong? I don't have any other concrete facts besides what I saw. What if he's just offering her a ride?"

"I mean, that could mean something or nothing at all. Were they just walking alongside of each other or..?"

"Uh, no." He scratches at his temple. "He had his hand on her back and guided her to the car."

"Okay, so it's something. You should talk to Namjoon." He shakes his head— torn between doing what's right versus what's wrong; aka letting San be happy despite how fucked up all of that is on the surface level.

"I, yeah— Anyway, that's all. Enough about that, I'll figure it out." Iseul sighs. "Conference is good though, seeing more familiar faces than I did at NAS."

"Hm." Iseul hums, now thinking about the idea of San potentially dating a student. She doesn't try to meddle though because both her and Yunho don't have much to work with. And although her and San don't get along, she doesn't wanna cause any more trouble for him. "That's good, honey."

Yet, at the same time, there's no way she can let this be now. Yunho opened that door and they're here.

If she needs to help him figure it out, then that's exactly what she'll do.

—read 9.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling

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spookyserenades · 8 months ago

Text

Trouvaille - Chapter Nineteen

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 16k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

HI!!!! Dana loves loves loves you all and I'm kissing every single one of you on the forehead for waiting for this chapter 🥺 most of you know that I caught a lovely plague, but on a more positive note, I got to spend more time writing hehe. WELL that aside, get ready for some ANGST babes!!!! No smut in this chapter (Y/N needs a break!) but there is some goooood fluff and a LITTLE bit of a spicy moment in there. Forgive me for another cliffhanger. I love you, thank you, and I can't wait to hear from you (and respond when I can feel my legs again!) 💜

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Orange embers floated up into the darkened sky, mingling with the deep blue of the moonless night. Taehyung found the contrast of these two colors, fiery orange and velvet blue, striking. Something he wanted to capture in a still frame and hold onto forever, to revisit when everything felt hopeless and without purpose. Lost in thought, he hardly noticed the chatter around him, nor the chill Alaskan-July mist clinging to the material of his flannel. There was a deep ache starting in the muscles of his upper back and spider-crawling down through his shoulders and biceps, and when he used his hands to prod at the muscles in his arms, he realized he couldn’t recall the last time he wasn’t sore.

“Taehyung, brother. What do you think?” Taehyung was pulled out of his trance of staring at the roaring bonfire in front of him, turning his attention to one of the other Kodiak hybrids he worked with sitting on the log beside him, Andy.

“About what?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy after not speaking for so long. He wasn’t a fan of talking when there was nothing to say.

“You’re a goddamn space cadet. We were talking about ghost stories, do you have any?” Caleb, Taehyung’s least favorite co-worker, rolled his eyes at him from across the bonfire.

“No. I don’t have any ghost stories,” Taehyung replied, a frown tugging on the corners of his mouth. “This is what we choose to talk about after a double?”

“What else are we going to talk about? It’s not like we have lives,” Andy pointed out, Taehyung snorting humorlessly and taking a swig from the lukewarm beer someone managed to smuggle into the plant. “Okay, I’ve got one. When I was working in the western plot for an overnight, I could have sworn I saw a woman in a nightgown by the lake…”

Taehyung zoned out again, the aftertaste of the beer turning sour on his tongue. He had heard Andy’s ghost stories a hundred times, and they lost all their luster over the years. Instead, he focused on finishing his beer and losing himself in the flames licking the sky, the scent of pine stuck in his nostrils.

He wondered if there ever would be anything else at all for him and the hybrids he was destined to work with to discuss. All there was to speak of was the day’s work, the woods, and after a few cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon– ghosts and things that go bump in the night. For once, Taehyung wanted to dig deeper. Was he really such a shell of a being? Was there nothing more than work? He dreamed of expression, though he was not a hybrid of many words.

“Was the ghost lady hot at least?” Someone drunkenly asked Andy, Taehyung furrowing his eyebrows. “Maybe she fell in love with you, Andy.”

The other Kodiak hybrids dissolved into tipsy laughter, Taehyung pulling his threadbare beanie further over his forehead, the fabric muffling sound from both sets of his ears.

“I think that would be nice,” Andy sobered up once the chuckles died down, Taehyung peering at him curiously. “Though in this life, none of us have time.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung spoke up, apparently the only one confused as everyone else nodded seriously.

“Falling in love. It was never for us, Taehyung. You know that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taehyung bristled, staring down his nose at the leopard hybrid, the feline hissing at him.

“It’s too early for this bullshit. You wanna live in denial? Be my guest. But stop with the shifty behavior. It’s hurting Y/N,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Taehyung’s gritted teeth, not intimidated in the slightest that Taehyung had an inch or two of height on him.

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, the color draining from his face, unable to come up with a response. As soon as Yoongi mentioned Y/N’s feelings being hurt because of him, a shard of ice wedged itself in his heart. Shaking his head, Yoongi ran a hand through his long, inky locks, pushing past the frozen hybrid. All Taehyung could do was follow the movement of Yoongi’s spotted tail curling behind him with his vision slightly fuzzy.

“Wha– Why would you say that I’m in love with her? Isn’t she with you and Seokjin?”

Yoongi stopped by the door, taking a deep breath. After that conversation, he’d need thirty minutes of Y/N holding him on the couch to calm him down.

“Bro, it’s fucking obvious. You’ve been a jealous prick since you found out about us, which I can understand. Stop fucking growling at me, I’m answering your question,” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, one of his ears twitching in agitation. “Before that, it was written all over your face. Following her around like a shadow. You had a fist-fight with the wolf over her, when he flew off the handle last summer. And it’s all in your scent. Are you really in denial or just out-of-touch with your emotions, Taehyung?”

Shocked, Taehyung leaned against the wallpapered alcove across from the piano, his skin flashing with heat. Falling in love wasn’t something Taehyung thought about much. Sure, he listened to countless songs about the sensation of falling for another, but he was a hybrid, not a human. A hybrid who was designed to be a workhorse, nothing more than that. Apparently, stuffed beneath his baser instincts, feelings he had never experienced before started to bloom when Y/N swept into his life.

“For what it’s worth, she really cares about you, too. Way more than you think. She goes to every single one of your expos, finds rare records for you online, lets you take pictures of her when you think she isn’t paying attention. She couldn’t give a shit about your past. For fucks sake, she turned a linen closet into a dark room for you. Is that what this is about? You don’t think there’s a possibility that she could love you back?”

Taehyung flinched like he was slapped across the face. Yoongi sighed, thinking he had said enough. It wasn’t his place to tell Taehyung how Y/N felt about him and the rest of the hybrids, but it would make things a hell of a lot easier. All he could do was nudge the Kodiak hybrid in the right direction so Y/N wouldn’t look so sad whenever Taehyung would flee from her sight.

“Just– think about it, okay? I’m gonna get the coffee started before Hoseok complains,” Yoongi shoved his sheet music under his armpit, suddenly feeling sort of bad that he was the reason Taehyung looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. Mouth pressed into a line, Yoongi left the Kodiak hybrid in the music room, Taehyung gaping after him.

Perhaps he had been a little too harsh on the younger hybrid, but all of Yoongi’s instincts were screaming at him to protect Y/N. The instinct had only grown stronger since he claimed her as his mate, and sensing her gloom towards the odd situation between her and Taehyung had become unbearable. If he had to shove a few cold, hard truths down Taehyung’s throat for Y/N’s sake, he’d do it time and time again. As he slouched down the stairs, his nose twitched, picking up the rich smell of roasted coffee beans, and brightening up, he caught a whiff of Y/N’s jasmine lotion mingling with her natural scent. She must have beaten him to the kitchen that morning, and he was thankful that both the music room was soundproofed and Y/N had only human hearing.

She was by the island, an arm curled around Seokjin’s waist as he cut up some fruit in his pajamas. Yoongi snorted at the goofy print on the set, the pink pajamas stamped with cartoon puppies, one of Seokjin’s black ears twisting back at the sound. Cheek smushed against the side of Seokjin’s arm, Y/N looked back, catching Yoongi’s gaze and smiling sleepily. Even first thing in the morning, she was lovely, despite the fact that her hair was sticking up in several directions.

“Morning, angel! We’re gonna make banana pancakes, wanna help?” Y/N asked, watching her leopard hybrid stroll into the kitchen, grinning when he booped her nose as he passed by.

“No, I think you two have it covered. I wanted to start writing something for your next lesson,” Yoongi tapped the book of sheet music, Y/N’s eyes sparkling with excitement.

“You’re composing something new?” Y/N squeezed Seokjin’s waist, lips automatically parting as the jaguar hybrid fed her a slice of banana.

“I’m going to attempt to. We’ll see how it goes,” Yoongi settled on a barstool across from the other two, pausing when Y/N pushed something in front of him.

“Here, your coffee,” Y/N said proudly, butterflies soaring in his stomach when he glanced at the glass. “Iced Americano, your favorite! I finally figured out the espresso machine!”

“Are you sure you figured it out on your own? That smirk on Seokjin’s face is sort of giving you away, silly girl.”

“Ugh. Seokjinnie, you need to learn how to school your features,” Y/N complained, reaching up to tug on the dangling earrings hanging from the jaguar hybrid’s lobe, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout.

“Sorry, pretty,” Seokjin replied, stooping so he could kiss the apple of her cheek.

“It’s fine, honey, I’m only teasing. I like that you display your emotions so clearly. You’re like Jimin in that way,” Y/N pulled away from Seokjin, Seokjin making a sad little purr when she disappeared into the pantry. Yoongi watched Seokjin’s neck blush furiously at the compliment with a chuckle.

Y/N definitely wasn’t aware that her constant kind words meant the world to all of them. The hybrids she adopted were used to a world that was against them, treating them like commodities or prey. Compliments were far and few in between, and kindness was rare and usually met with suspicion. To be so accepted, to be allowed to pursue their interests, and to have a safe and loving home was sometimes unbelievable. Clearing his throat, Seokjin made meaningful eye-contact with Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same.

“My loves? Do either of you know where the new jug of maple syrup ended up?” Y/N called from the pantry, Seokjin’s blush reddening even further with the way she addressed the two of them.

“Behind the wolf’s sugar cereal,” Yoongi answered, using a pencil to draw the treble clef on the staff paper.

Y/N made a satisfied hum from the closet, emerging with a gallon jug of syrup, nearly knocking into Jeongguk who was trudging into the kitchen. Hand shooting out to steady her by her shoulder, Jeongguk grunted, taking the jug from her swiftly.

“Watch it, you were about to take me out with this thing,” Jeongguk scolded, flicking Y/N’s forehead. Y/N scrunched up her nose at the elk hybrid, flicking him right back and returning to Seokjin’s side. “Why do we even need this much syrup?”

“Namjoon,” Y/N, Seokjin, and Yoongi spoke all at once, Jeongguk’s eyes going round at the chorused answer.

“That tracks,” Jeongguk admitted, scratching above the barbell threaded through his eyebrow. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have a cavity. Y/N, you spoil him with too many sweets.”

Seokjin glared at the elk hybrid, while Yoongi simply shook his head, definitely not taking him seriously considering he looked like a doe without his bony antlers.

“Well, we’ll find out. You guys are going to the dentist next week,” Y/N reminded them, Jeongguk sending her a grimace.

“Do I have to take these out?” Jeongguk asked, pointing at his lip ring and then sticking out his tongue, Y/N’s eyes glazing over as she stared at the barbell so close to her face.

“Jesus, I didn’t know you had that in your mouth,” Yoongi lifted an eyebrow, Y/N mumbling something under her breath as heat rose to her cheeks. If only Yoongi knew what was under the elk hybrid’s shirt– thinking about Jeongguk’s chest had her hiding her expression by hiding around in the fridge.

“Yeah, you’ll probably have to take them out, sweets,” Y/N’s voice came out feathery, hoping that the three hybrids didn’t notice her spontaneous fluster. “Uh, what should we do today? It’s Saturday, so we could go into the city for dinner or something.” “You three aren’t going on a date or something tonight?” Jeongguk snarked, but there was no real bite to it.

“No, not that I’ve planned. Yoongi, Seokjin? Have you? Shall we invite Jeongguk so he isn’t lonely?” Y/N teased right back, pure shock and embarrassment washing over the elk hybrid’s face as he tripped his way to the breakfast nook.

“Stupid,” was all Jeongguk could mutter, Yoongi and Y/N sharing an amused snicker at his shock. Jeongguk supposed he walked into that. “What you do on dates is none of my fuckin’ business.”

It had only been two days since Yoongi’s birthday, and thankfully, no one teased her when she snuck out of Yoongi’s room in his tee shirt and boxers, smelling like his vanilla body wash. Though truthfully, she didn’t run into anyone as she scampered to her bedroom to change into her own clothes. By the time she bumped into Hoseok on the way to the kitchen, all the fox hybrid did was tickle her sides teasingly when he greeted her.

She supposed that her hybrids would likely not even acknowledge her tryst with Yoongi; after all, they knew that the two of them had been intimate. Suspecting that they didn’t want to embarrass her, that slight comment from Jeongguk was the only minor implication that he had at least thought about what Y/N was doing with Yoongi and Seokjin once or twice. Surprisingly, Y/N couldn’t find it in her to feel ashamed, only continuing to slice bananas beside Seokjin.

“I think there’s an early farmer’s market near Faneuil Hall. We can stock up on some produce and then get some drinks and good food around there,” Y/N continued, trying to ignore the intriguing heat rising in her cheeks when she pictured Jeongguk listening in and imagining what her and Yoongi were doing the night of the leopard hybrid’s birthday, just down the hall in his own bedroom. She shivered, turning to the stove and greasing up the skillet for the pancakes in order to compose her expression.

“Let’s do it! We have to pick a designated driver,” Hoseok made an appearance, his usual disdain for the morning time patched up by the potential opportunity to explore the city later. “Not it!”

“I got it,” Yoongi volunteered, predicting that Taehyung would be the only other option, and Yoongi guessed that Taehyung wouldn’t be showing his face the rest of the day. “When do you want to leave?”

“Uh, not sure. I’ll have to talk to Joon, Jimin, and Tae, before making a solid plan,” Y/N stepped to the side so Seokjin could sprinkle chopped banana into the dollop of batter she ladled onto the pan.

Internally, Yoongi cringed. He had no idea if Taehyung would even talk to Y/N after Yoongi confronted him like he had, much less be willing to hang out with the rest of them in the city. With his human side regretting saying anything at all to the Kodiak hybrid, the animalistic side regretted not tearing into him further. It was all very confusing, and part of the reason Yoongi decided to opt out of drinking that evening. Booze and moodiness was a hell of a mixture.

Jimin came in from outside shortly after that, a basket full of eggs swinging from his elbow, and when the house began to fill up with the buttery, sweet smell of pancakes, Namjoon was summoned from his bedroom with a wagging tail. Everyone helped themselves like normal– it wasn’t unusual for members of the household to eat at different times, but Y/N still caught herself glancing towards the foyer every few minutes, waiting for Taehyung to silently enter the room and make his coffee.

Even when she was washing dishes besides Jimin when breakfast was picked over, a cellophane-wrapped plate of pancakes left for the Kodiak hybrid sitting on the stove, she waited for him. Chewing her lip, she entertained the idea that perhaps he was just sleeping in or not very hungry, but Y/N still couldn’t help that wounded section of her heart from throbbing painfully. When her hands were dry and almost everyone had cleared the room, she pulled out her phone to text him.

Y/N: Morning, Tae! Left some breakfast out for you if you’re hungry

Y/N: We’re all planning on going into Boston for dinner tonight, and to walk around the farmer’s market!

Tae 🐻: Thx

Tae 🐻: Have to work on expo pics tonight…

Y/N: oh, okay! You don’t have to come if you have too much work

Tae 🐻: yeah, I’ll stay here if that’s alright

Y/N: totally fine, want me to bring you some food home?

Y/N was picking her nails nervously when Taehyung offered no response, starting to fret over him. It was typical, when nearing a photography expo, that Taehyung would hole up in his room or the dark room to work, but Y/N couldn’t help but think that he was perhaps still distancing himself from her, even after their last talk– her almost-confession. Limbs stiffening with dread, a dish slipped from her grasp when she considered how horrifyingly embarrassing it would have been for her had she managed to confess, the phone call from Diana following directly after. Thankfully, with Jimin beside her, he managed to catch the dish before it shattered on the floor, a canine noise of surprise ripping from his throat.

“Are you alright?” Jimin placed a palm over her shoulder blade, a pout on his full lips.

“O-oh. Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart, just clumsy!” Y/N assured him, the warmth of Jimin’s palm immediately soothing her. Chuckling to herself, she pushed some golden hair off of Jimin’s forehead, poking his cheek when his pout didn’t let up.

“Hey, can I help you put the herbs into the planters today? Before we leave? It’s nice and sunny out,” Y/N shook off her worry, thinking that some time spent outside would do her some good, Jimin’s pout transforming into a brilliant grin as he nodded.

“You still need to wear a sweater, pretty,” Seokjin called from the hallway, where he had dashed away moments ago to rummage around in the coat closet.

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without letting you bundle me up, Seokjin,” Y/N snickered, waiting patiently by the slider into the backyard while her jaguar hybrid approached her, one of his soft felt coats in his hand.

Humming as he puffed out his chest dutifully, Y/N went lax as Seokjin maneuvered her limbs through his coat, a happy purr leaving her lips as his eucalyptus scent swallowed her whole. If Y/N had her way, she’d throw away every single one of her coats just so she could wear one of her boy’s every time she’d have to go outside, so she could drown in the scent and comfort of them. As Seokjin slid the last button in place, he ducked low, brushing his lips against her temple softly. Seokjin wasn’t as bold as Yoongi when it came to kissing her in front of the others– though hugs and words of affection he doled out generously regardless of the audience– so the gentle kiss had her skin tingling.

“Have fun,” Seokjin’s cheeks rounded out cutely when he smiled at the dazed look on Y/N’s face, a hand on her lower back as he guided her towards the door.

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N waved him away, embarrassed. She scurried off, following the swish of Jimin’s sandy tail off in the distance.

The grass was starting to become green again, with the nearing arrival of spring, and small sparrows swooped overhead as they scouted for spots to build their nests. Tiny red bulbs were just beginning to swell on the branches of the willow trees, and while the temperature was still rather raw, Y/N couldn’t feel it with the way she was wrapped up in Seokjin-scented warmth. The anticipation of spring was making her giddy, and when she caught sight of Jimin patiently waiting for her by the newly refurbished greenhouse with a pot of mint sprigs, she skipped her way to meet him with a smile.

Y/N placed the stir-fried noodles she brought back for Taehyung on the stove, next to the untouched wrapped stack of pancakes that were looking really sad. Apparently, the Kodiak hadn’t bothered to come downstairs the entire day, and even with the merry tipsiness flooding through her bloodstream from the Mai Tais she ordered at the bar with Hoseok, the sight of the food sitting there had her mood souring quickly.

“He could have at least put these away,” Yoongi muttered from her side, scooping up the plate and promptly dumping the pancakes into the garbage. Seokjin made a low hiss in agreement, upset that his and Y/N’s hard work was ignored by Taehyung and was now sitting in the trash.

“I should check on him. I don’t want him to pull an all-nighter, and he should eat something, at least,” Y/N sighed, resting her chin on Yoongi’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering at the sensation of his tail curling around the back of her knee. “Jeongguk, it’s your turn to pick a movie tonight, just make sure it isn't something too horrifying. I don’t think Hoseok can handle a film like Hereditary again, no matter how much rum he’s had.”

“Sucks the fun out of it,” Jeongguk complained, sending Hoseok an evil eye, the fox hybrid offering him the middle finger right back as he very tipsily filled a glass with water for himself. “Should I put on Aladdin, or is the Genie too intimidating?”

“Pfft. It’s not the Genie that’s scary, asshole, it’s that big talking lion cave,” Hoseok cleverly replied, his cheeks flushed and eyes slightly squinting. Jeongguk snorted, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“Heart of a lion, you have, Foxy,” Yoongi teased, narrowly dodging his ear from being pinched by Hoseok, Yoongi ducking behind Y/N and hiding his face in the back of her neck.

“Okay, enough,” Y/N giggled, Yoongi’s fingertips pressing into the soft of her tummy. “Go get comfy while I check in on Tae. Anyone see Joonie or Jimin, by the way?”

“Jimin’s half-asleep on the couch already. I think Namjoon went to shower the bar off of him,” Jeongguk helpfully informed her, scratching at the bony spots where his antlers once were. Y/N had said antlers sitting prettily on display on her altar in her bedroom on a strip of velvet– something Jeongguk didn’t know.

“Alright, queue up the movie. No Aladdin or Sinister, please,” Y/N gently requested, able to wiggle her way out of Yoongi’s grasp. Scooping up the carton of noodles on the stove, she cupped Hoseok’s warm cheek tenderly as she passed by him, his worried grimace at the thought of a horror movie dissolving into nothing at the touch, his sunny grin replacing the storminess. “Be back soon!”

Sobered now that she had an important task to complete, Y/N soldiered up the stairs, stopping right in front of the dark room, the door open and lights off. Frowning, considering Taehyung told her that he was busy working that night, she spun around, glaring at his bedroom door across the hall.

“Tae? Are you alright? Not working too hard, I hope?” Y/N knocked on his door, the only indication that he was inside being the lamplight that spilled out underneath the door. “I brought you some dinner. Shrimp stir-fry, your favorite!”

No response.

“Um, Taehyung? You’re worrying me, is something wrong?” Y/N felt her heart begin to race, picturing Taehyung sick and unable to reply, much like how Seokjin was many months ago when he had to scent her.

“N-no, nothing’s wrong, I’m fine!” Taehyung’s voice abruptly cut through her spiraling thoughts, right when Y/N was about to turn the doorknob and enter the room. “Thanks for the food, you can leave it there. I– I’m just getting out of the shower.”

Taehyung’s normally smooth voice was strained, making Y/N furrow her eyebrows. If she didn’t know any better, she almost detected a fib based on his tone. Considering the odd distance between the two of them, Y/N decided not to push it, and instead left the carton of noodles on the floor with a sigh.

“Jeongguk is picking out a movie if you’re interested in taking a break from editing,” Y/N offered, hopeful that he’d make an appearance. She hadn’t seen him once the entire day, which was far too long for her to go without him.

“Uh– I,” Taehyung cleared his throat, pausing. “Maybe. I still have a lot to do.”

So that was as good as a no, Y/N knew. Nodding at the closed door, she tried to imagine his face, as if it had been days rather than hours since she last saw the graceful lines of it.

“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, goodnight, Tae,” Y/N kept the disappointment out of her reply as much as she could, but she wasn’t as good at masking her emotions at Taehyung. The melancholia was plain as day and she knew it.

Returning back to the stairs, Y/N found it impossible to perk up, even when she heard Hoseok’s pitiful, playful whines when the introductory music to Friday the 13th began to echo through the house thanks to the surround sound in the parlor. When she got to the parlor, all she could do was curl up on Seokjin’s lap on the leather recliner, wrapping a blanket around the two of them without a word.

Y/N was eternally grateful that Seokjin didn’t ask her what was wrong. He knew already, she was well aware. He simply snaked his arms around her middle to hold her close, the purrs vibrating from his chest soothing her a few degrees. Relaxing, she rested her head on his bony collarbone, whispering quietly into his skin.

“Love you, Seokjin.”

The jaguar hybrid tightened his hold on her, brushing his lips over the crown of her head.

Sleep evaded her. It wasn’t just because of the slasher film before bed. She thought about going upstairs and slipping into Yoongi’s bed, but she didn’t want to disturb his sleep by tossing and turning. Grumbling at her darkened ceiling, she tossed the quilt off of her body, shoving her feet into some slides. Since the weather was mild, Y/N decided maybe a lap around the backyard would tucker her out. Blindly, she felt along the walls in the hallway, not wanting to turn on a light and wake anyone up. Kitchen completely dark, Y/N fumbled for the coat rack by the slider door, pulling a garment on at random. Gasping quietly, she noticed that the lock on the door was loose, which was seriously abnormal– Namjoon was militant about locking up. Figuring he might have just forgotten that evening, Y/N shrugged, easing the door open and trudging outside.

It was colder than she thought, and the coat she selected– Jeongguk’s leather jacket, as it turned out– didn’t do much to block out the chilly wind. Burying her nose into the collar of the jacket, she breathed in the elk hybrid’s scent; mahogany wood, leather, and smoke. Slowly, as she began her walk around the property, Y/N’s vision began to adjust to the dim outdoor lights that lined the trails. Somehow, being outside, even more alone with her thoughts, Y/N felt her throat growing thick. Pausing, she plopped down on a boulder by the pond towards the rear of the property, rubbing her eyes. With a sniffle, she managed to choke back tears, at her wits end trying to figure out how to fix things with Taehyung.

The moon, half-full, shined down on her indifferently. Wishing that the moon could give her answers, solutions, she cursed her weak heart and inability to tell Taehyung how she felt. It was sucking the life out of her, not being able to tell him, to not even be able to see him, and Y/N had no idea what to do. What she needed was someone to confide in, but she didn’t want to worry Seokjin or provoke Yoongi into saying something to Taehyung. She knew what Ben and Alice would say. Laura would probably agree with them, too. So really, Y/N had to work things out on her own, and that made her utterly miserable.

Unable to stop frustrated tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes, she shoved her hands in the pockets of Jeongguk’s jacket, attempting to stop the tears gathering further by staring at the placid pond. Sniffling again, she froze when a twig snapped off to the side, Y/N searching for the source of the noise– it was probably a squirrel or a rabbit. Her ears strained as her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of heavy footsteps, far too heavy to be some kind of tiny critter. Uneasy, she squinted at the bushes beside her, a startled noise leaving her when something squinted right back at her.

Instant horror flooded through her, the golden orange eyes narrowing further as she stared back. The eyes resembled the ones belonging to the creature she had nightmares about, the creature that would chase her through the woods. Body locked up and unable to move, her heart was hammering around in her chest, Y/N whimpered in fright. Could it be that the entity banished many months ago was back, and this time manifested as the creature Y/N was terrified of for years? Helplessly, she scraped her nails against the boulder she was glued to as the creature emerged from the bushes, and even in the darkness, Y/N could make out how big it was. As it got closer, Y/N breathing heavily, her heart suddenly stilled; the creature’s left ear was jagged and scarred over.

“Jesus C-christ, Joonie? Is that you?” Y/N gasped, her fear slightly slipping away, realizing that it wasn’t a creature in front of her at all, it was a wolf.

Limbs unfreezing, she leaned forward, getting a better look at him. Indeed, it was her Namjoon, Y/N recalled exactly how he looked back when she first saw him at the shelter. He gazed at her analytically, still several feet away, his head cocked at the sound of her voice.

“What are you doing out here? It’s so late!” Y/N recovered, not wanting Namjoon to think she was afraid of him. With shaky knees, she stood, slowly approaching the hybrid. Namjoon glared at her, as if to say and you? “Um. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk…”

Namjoon sat on his haunches, Y/N hardly able to believe how big his wolf form was– it was almost as intimidating as his tall, muscled human form. Hesitantly, she moved in front of him, the top of his head reaching just under her chin. Her earlier fright was a distant memory, and all she wanted in that moment was to pet him. Unfortunately, she didn’t know if Namjoon would be okay with that.

Namjoon blew a puff of air out of his nose, Y/N wondering if he could read her thoughts, and to her surprise, he pressed his face against her chest, a quiet whine coming from the back of his throat.

“Whoa, am I dreaming?” Y/N blurted, Namjoon nuzzling his face further into the jacket she was wearing. Automatically, Y/N’s hands dove into the shaggy fur around Namjoon’s neck, effectively holding him as he melted into her. “Didn’t know you were such a love bug. Looks are really deceiving, huh?”

Giddy, Y/N scratched behind Namjoon’s damaged left ear gently, earning another whine from the wolf hybrid, his tail beating the grass behind him. Y/N, stunned, wondered if Namjoon was actually trying to comfort her– after all, not only had he scared the shit out of her, he had caught her pathetically weeping by herself, on a rock, in the middle of the night. Namjoon was perceptive, so the idea was fairly feasible to her.

All too soon, Namjoon was pulling away, looking over his shoulder expectantly when he began to walk back towards the house. Apparently wanting her to follow, Y/N obeyed, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline when the wolf hybrid led her to the drive in front of the garage, where his van was parked. The vehicle was running and lit up, apparently Namjoon had been hanging out in there after she bid him goodnight. Y/N’s face grew hot when she spotted the pile of clothes Namjoon left outside, the wolf hybrid growling, Y/N getting the hint. She turned, facing the house, cheeks still aflame as she heard the sound of fabric rustling against skin.

“Y/N, you can turn around,” Namjoon spoke after several seconds, Y/N not proud that she almost broke her neck while spinning around to look at him. He appeared just as startled by her sudden movement, still yanking his sweater down over his lower stomach, the strip of golden skin hidden from her greedy view in a flash. “Uh, want to tell me why you were crying?”

“Oh. I forgot how forward you can be,” Y/N quickly swiped under her eyes, the skin still a tad tacky from the few tears that escaped.

“Did I scare you that badly?” Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a line, a rare look of vulnerability flashing over his face.

“N-no! No, it wasn’t you that made me cry, Joonie,” Y/N exclaimed, hurrying over to his side. “So why were you out here?”

Y/N dodged his original question, something that did not escape Namjoon’s attention. Expecting him to press her, Namjoon soaked in her appearance thoroughly, like he was trying to figure out how she was feeling without her speaking a single word. She fidgeted under the weight of his gaze, especially when something in his eyes shifted when he realized who’s jacket she was wearing.

“Come on, let’s go in. It’s cold,” Namjoon opened up the van door, gesturing for her to hop inside. Secretly, she was thankful that he wasn’t making her go back into the house quite yet.

Hovering by the kitchenette, she wasn’t really sure where to go with the conversation since they were both avoiding each other’s questions. Namjoon’s Walkman was playing quiet folk music on the counter, and there was a package of Oreos open beside it. He had put on the fairy lights Y/N taped around the ceiling months ago, something that had her heart squeezing in her chest.

“I… take a walk around the house every night,” Namjoon admitted after pulling the van door shut, his bitten ear fluttering.

“Huh? Like… that? In your wolf form?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Y/N asked, Namjoon shrugging nonchalantly, leaning against the van door.

“I want to make sure we’re safe,” he finally answered, vulnerability all over him again.

“Oh?” Y/N blinked, not exactly expecting such raw honesty from Namjoon. He had really come a long way when it came to trust, so for him to answer so earnestly, Y/N was taken aback.

“When you live most of your life without security, once you get it, you’ll do anything to keep it,” Namjoon clarified, and contrary to the heaviness of his words, a faint dimple appeared in his cheek. “It’s instinct. Protect myself, protect you.”

“Just me? Not the others?” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, knowing that she was toeing the line of provoking Namjoon into laughter or provoking him into agitation.

“Well. Mostly just us two…” Namjoon muttered, toying with the silver ring in his earlobe. Loving this version of Namjoon, Y/N could hardly remember that she was miserable only fifteen minutes ago.

“What about Jeongguk, you aren’t worried about him? He’s our teammate, right?” She continued to jest, Namjoon shaking his head.

“Y/N, I know you’re just trying to tease me to get out of telling me why you were crying. I hope you know by now I’m not going to force it out of you,” Namjoon’s ears went sideways, pointing to the loft above the cab. “Can I show you something?”

“What?”

“Climb up, I wanna show you something, Y/N,” Namjoon moved towards her, Y/N all but herded to the ladder with his mass behind her. There was no reason for her to refuse, so she hauled herself up to the cushy space, astonished that Namjoon was close behind her.

“Ah, thankfully I’m not claustrophobic,” Y/N cringed at her inability to stop jokes from spilling out, cramming herself against the wall in the bunk. Apparently, Namjoon had cleared all of the books he had stuffed up there, transferring them to the bookshelves in his room where his and Y/N’s shared library was, and it was a comfortable place to sleep again. “It’s cozy up here! You used to sleep in this bunk?”

“Mm-hmm, but it’s been a while,” Namjoon carefully swung his large frame onto the bunk beside her, the space wide enough for the two of them to lay there without touching. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Shit’s been crazy, hasn’t it?” Y/N said, snorting. Namjoon was right, it did seem like a lifetime since she adopted the seven hybrids, and between getting to know them, dealing with ghosts, and falling in love, any normal person’s head would be spinning constantly. “I think we’re taking it in stride, though.”

“You have a pretty good ability to bounce back,” Namjoon hummed, reaching up to the ceiling, Y/N following the movement and glowing under his praise.

“Oh! There’s a sky light up here!” Y/N’s eyes widened, Namjoon grunting, pushing the moss-covered window upwards and revealing the night sky. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t think you or Jeongguk knew it was up here, since the glass is covered. Thought you’d like it, I remember you telling me you wanted to learn more about constellations.”

Y/N’s focus on the sky was effectively stolen, gawking at Namjoon’s side profile as she laid beside him. Suddenly she was falling in love with the wolf hybrid all over again, with his perception, the way he listened, the slope of his nose, even.

“That’s right,” Y/N whispered, the fairy lights making his starlight hair appear lilac.

“There’s only a few in the sky this time of year, in this hemisphere. Since we’re outside of Boston, it’s a little easier to see the stars, which is good,” Namjoon didn’t seem to notice that she was staring at him, extending a digit up to the sky. “If you look closely, you can see the constellation Lynx over there. Cancer is right underneath.”

“You really know everything, don’t you, Joon Bug?” Y/N commented softly, Namjoon finally turning his head to look at her. He cocked an eyebrow, watching her shiver at the gust of wind brought in by the open window.

“Of course not. Nobody knows everything,” Namjoon pointed out, making Y/N giggle at the reproach in his tone. “Not much else to do in the wild but look at the stars.”

“Do you know the stories of the constellations, too?” Y/N asked eagerly, scooching closer to him subconsciously for warmth.

“Some of them,” Namjoon replied, reaching towards the foot of the bunk, dragging an old knitted blanket up and offering it to Y/N. “Want me to tell you what I know?”

“Please, can you?” Y/N accepted the blanket, the smell of it reminding her of the woods. There was a beat, one filled with tinny folk music and rumbling coming from Namjoon’s chest.

“Lynx, right there. See it?” Namjoon waited for Y/N to nod, adjusting his body so he could face her on his side, Y/N finding it hard to believe he was willing to be so close to her. “The reason it was named that is because the stars are so faint, people believed only those with eyes of a lynx could see it. Cancer, below it, has to do with a story involving the Greek gods.”

“I used to love Greek mythology,” Y/N grinned, Namjoon’s expression turning sly.

“Oh, I believe that,” he chuckled, Y/N wondering if he knew how flirty he sounded. “Hercules was trying to slay a creature called a hydra. Goddess Hera sent Cancer– the crab, to distract Hercules from accomplishing that.”

Y/N watched Namjoon trace the constellations in the sky with his finger, swallowing thickly. Namjoon had done so much to open up to her, and she hardly ever confided in him herself. Clearing her throat, she got his attention, his mouth twisting up quizzically.

“I was crying because I was frustrated,” Y/N confessed, Namjoon blinking in surprise.

“Okay…” Namjoon drew out the syllables to the word pointedly, shifting closer to her.

“Joonie, you’re observant. Have you noticed Taehyung acting strange?” Namjoon stiffened at the mention of the Kodiak hybrid, so Y/N gave his arm a gentle pat. “I know you don’t. Uh, like him. But I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen how weird he’s been.”

Namjoon paused, throat bobbing, turning the words over in his head.

“He has been acting odd, I agree,” Namjoon answered honestly, with a soft exhalation. “His behavior is frustrating you?”

“Well, yes and no. I’ve tried talking to him a couple of times, but we never get anywhere. I don’t know how to fix things,” Y/N frowned, eyes on the sky again. Thankfully, though, with Namjoon at her side, she didn’t feel like crying again. “I just… if I did something to hurt him, I want him to tell me. I don’t want him to feel like a prisoner in his own home.”

“I doubt he feels that way,” Namjoon said, the note of firmness in his tone. “As much as I hate to admit this, Y/N, Taehyung is similar to me in a lot of ways. He takes a while to adjust to things. Maybe he’s simply getting used to newfound freedoms he has never had before. Or he’s got that moodiness lots of artists get. You haven’t done anything to hurt him, Y/N. You shouldn’t think so badly of yourself.”

“Yeah?” Y/N’s voice was small, Namjoon’s insight bringing her swift comfort. “You think he’ll come around?”

“In time, yes,” Namjoon assured her, realizing how tired Y/N looked– it made something in his chest pinch uncomfortably. “Y/N, you’ve made us feel safe here. We’re not prisoners, we’re home.”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed, and just like that, she was almost moved to tears again. Struck by the heaviness of the conversation, she yearned for something to distract her. “Can you… tell me more about the stars?”

Namjoon gave her a closed-mouth smile, turning his attention back to the sky.

“That one there. Constellation Draco. It represents the dragon who protected golden apples in the garden of Hesperides, Ladon. See it? The golden apples would grant immortality to those who would eat them…”

Y/N listened to Namjoon as best as she could. After confiding in him, she felt like a weight was lifted off of her chest, and his silky, deep voice instilled a sense of calm in her. Namjoon dove into stories of Greek myths, probably trying to make her feel better, and Y/N would ask an occasional question. Some stories he had more details on, others, he’d simply name the constellation and point out where it was. At some point, while he was relaying the tale of Virgo, Namjoon noticed Y/N’s lack of response. Curiously, he glanced at her, eyes widening when he realized she had fallen asleep beside him.

Not knowing what to do, considering carrying her to her bedroom would be impossible to do without waking her (not to mention, he worried about dropping her when climbing down the loft’s ladder), Namjoon could only stare at her serene expression. Gritting his teeth, he closed the window above them as quietly as he could, trying to inch his way towards the ladder. He’d let her sleep up there, and he’d curl up in the booth for the night– he didn’t feel right staying next to her, for some reason.

He froze like a statue when he heard an unintelligible mumble, turning to Y/N, a pout pulling at her lower lip as she slept, squirming in her spot. Namjoon could only compare the sensation in his chest to something that was melting, his ears pressing against his skull in alarm. And before he could escape and unpack all of that, the muscles of his abdomen contracted when Y/N moved again, slinging her forearm around his middle, this time in an embrace. Utterly paralyzed, Namjoon didn’t dare breathe, Y/N mumbling again and cozying up to his side, resting her cheek against his bicep.

Namjoon tried, as best as he could, to relax. Clearly, he wasn’t going anywhere without waking her up. He was surrounded by the floral, vibrant scent of her, and shamefully, it made his mouth water. He inwardly cursed himself– he hadn’t scented Y/N in months, and judging by the volume of saliva gathering in his mouth, he would probably have to do it again in the near future. Even with Jeongguk’s musky scent coming off of the jacket she was wearing, he was nearly choking on the unique smell of her.

Now, Namjoon was the one who couldn’t sleep. Not when Y/N was burrowing against his side like a newborn cub. Every instinct within him was screaming, and it was all he could do to just remain still and focus on his breath. After a few moments, the weight of her arm curled around his center, Namjoon was able to loosen up a bit. Before she’d wake in the morning, he’d be able to move and not make her uncomfortable. In that moment, however, all he could do was let her hold him, and surprisingly, he was able to fall asleep, contrary to his initial hypothesis. He did, after all, remind Y/N that he didn’t know everything.

Y/N was disoriented when she woke up hours later, curled onto her side and blinking at the indented spot where Namjoon was previously occupied, a frown on her face wondering if he had left her alone. Peeking over the edge of the loft, she gasped quietly, the wolf hybrid barely fitting in the booth in the back of the vehicle, asleep. Even though he was unconscious, his triangular ears twitched at the sound of her movement. Climbing down quietly, Y/N felt guilty that Namjoon had slept in such a cramped spot, his body twisted in an odd position. After glancing at her watch, Y/N hissed at the late hour of the mid-morning. She hadn’t slept that late in months, let alone so well, so she definitely owed Namjoon some gratitude for that.

“Joon? Joonie, that can’t be comfortable. I’m awake now, so if you want to keep sleeping you can move up to the bunk,” Y/N slid her palm up and down his back to wake him up as gently as she could. He mumbled, one of his golden eyes cracking open, and immediately the tips of his ears turned scarlet. “I feel bad you had to sleep like this. You could have just stayed next to me!”

The flush on Namjoon’s face deepened, clumsily sitting up, Y/N’s hand falling from his back. Wanting to tease him, she quickly stopped herself, remembering how sweetly he treated her the previous night.

“Thanks for last night, Joonie,” Y/N watched him stand, and before she could think against it, she looped her arms around his middle, squeezing him into a fond hug. “Next month, can you tell me about the constellations you can see in April?”

“S-sure,” Namjoon answered, bewildered, placing his hands over her shoulder blades tentatively, Y/N able to feel his pounding heartbeat through his sweater. That, and she could hear his stomach growling, Y/N giggling and letting him go.

“Should we get some breakfast?”

“Uh-huh,” Namjoon averted his eyes from her, ears drooping in embarrassment. Stumbling his way to the driver’s seat, he turned off the engine, following Y/N back to the house.

“What, did you two fall asleep reading each other’s Tarot cards?” Jeongguk was in the breakfast nook with his feet kicked up, chewing on an apple, his eyebrows pulling together when he spotted Y/N. “Is that my jacket?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I grabbed it by accident last night,” Y/N shucked off the garment, hanging it back up on the coat rack.

“Whatever,” Jeongguk shrugged, still looking at her kind of funny. Using his half-eaten apple, he gestured to the kitchen island. “Toast and eggs over there. Your phone, too, Y/N. It was going off every five minutes this morning in your room so Yoongi brought it out here and turned it off, some spam risk calls, I think. Woke me the fuck up.”

“That’s weird. It’s probably just an over zealous telemarketer,” Y/N reached for the device, turning it back on without too much thought. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“Whatever,” Jeongguk repeated, this time looking out the window, feigning annoyance and continuing to munch on his apple.

Taehyung removed the clothespin from between his teeth, shaking excess fluid from the photo paper poised between the tongs he was holding, clipping the image up on the wire above him to dry. The picture was one he took of the swan boats in the Boston Common weeks ago with one of the vintage cameras Y/N dug out of the basement for him.

Y/N. Even just thinking her name had him biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Shaking his head, Taehyung pushed a hand through his unruly curls, trying to put her out of his mind by focusing on straightening out spare rolls of film on the shelf. He had left the house that morning before the sun was even up, just so he could spend more time at the rec center and clear his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to put Yoongi’s words out of his mind.

At first, Taehyung wanted to knock the leopard hybrid down a few pegs. Every word out of Yoongi’s mouth infuriated him; Taehyung wasn’t used to others trying to psychoanalyze him. Usually, if Taehyung stuck to the wall, he wouldn’t have people trying to pry into what he preferred to keep to himself. Particularly, his emotions. However, what Yoongi said to him sunk in like a heavy stone thrown into a pond. He could no longer deny it: he had feelings for Y/N.

The heavy door to the photography door was pulled open, making him flinch, swear, and topple over the canisters of film he had just organized. Taehyung must have lost track of time, because it was mid-morning, and several other club members would be arriving shortly. Catching the scent of who it was, Taehyung internally groaned. He wasn’t ready to deal with that issue yet.

“Taehyungie, you’re here early!” A raspy female voice, delighted, trilled in his ears. “Thought you would be. Miss me already?’

Taehyung adjusted the collar of his flannel, gazing at the sky for bravery before he turned around. The bobcat hybrid was pretty, for sure, with feline upturned greenish eyes, and gray-blonde hair. At the sight of her, Taehyung had guilt boiling in his stomach he had to squash down, painting a neutral expression on his face.

“You’re here early, too, Diana,” Taehyung answered nonchalantly, watching a pout tug at her lips.

“Jeez. Full name today?” Diana set her camera bag down on one of the benches, sniffing the air delicately. “Is something up?”

“No. Nothing,” Taehyung shook his head, fixing the film rolls again.

“Liar,” Diana narrowed her eyes, methodically placing the items of her camera bag on the table. “Tell me.”

There was a stark difference between Diana and Y/N. Well, there were several, which caught Taehyung’s attention in the first place. The major one, however, was how Diana liked to press Taehyung for information, and Y/N let him come around and tell her his thoughts when he was ready. Yoongi was in his head again, taunting him. Calling him out for using Diana as a distraction.

“I’m fine, Diana,” Taehyung sighed, hoping someone else would arrive momentarily so he would have a better excuse to talk about something else. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I bet it’s something at home. The other hybrids you live with must be causing you trouble. That has to be rough, living with so many others. Poor Taehyungie,” Diana cooed, making Taehyung’s hair stand on end. “Sort of selfish for a human to adopt that many hybrids. She should know how stressful that is for us.”

“She’s the least selfish human I’ve ever met,” Taehyung reacted as if someone struck him with a fire poker. A light, surprised hiss came from behind him, Taehyung cringing that he wasn’t able to keep the anger out of his response. To boot, he bumped into a basin filled with developing fluid, the liquid spilling everywhere. “Uh. Shit. I’m going to get more paper towels from the supply closet.”

“Wow. I get it now,” Diana breathed, Taehyung hardly able to look at the insecurity shadowing her features.

“There’s nothing to get. I said nothing was wrong,” even Taehyung didn’t believe himself. Before he could brush by the bobcat hybrid, she caught his sleeve. Throat bobbing, he waited for her to speak.

“This isn’t going to last, isn’t it?” Diana asked quietly, making Taehyung’s heart pound. “You love her too much.”

Taehyung didn’t answer. She was the second individual in less than 24 hours that brought that to his attention. When he had no reply, Diana sighed.

“I hope you can figure it out, Taehyung. It’s not just you that you’re hurting,” Diana let him go, Taehyung fleeing from the room as swiftly as he could.

He hated himself. Always running, running, running. From himself, from his problems, from those who grew to care about him. It made him sick, and instead of finding himself in the supply closet, he found himself in the bathroom, hurling up the hasty breakfast he had into a toilet bowl. Heaving, he thought about everyone he hurt. The man he killed– even if it was in self-defense. Diana. Y/N. Another dry heave had his body locking up, never feeling more miserable in his entire life. It was like every emotion he desperately locked away had unleashed themselves with a vengeance.

“Fuck,” Taehyung rinsed his mouth out at the sink, wiping away tears that tracked down his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. He had to get out of there.

Out in the parking lot before he could bump into any other members of the club, Taehyung pulled the keys to the station wagon out of his pocket, and like the tires were on fire he was leaving the rec center, Yoongi and Hoseok be damned. A problem for later, and to his misery, a problem that would probably have to be solved by Y/N. Slamming his palms against the steering wheel in frustration, he wondered if he’d ever stop making her life more difficult than it had to be.

After half an hour of him driving catatonically, Taehyung was parked by the Boston Common. He decided to do the only thing that could potentially calm him down; walk around the park and take pictures until his fingers and mind was numb. Shoving a beanie over his head, simply so he wouldn’t have to deal with people staring at his ears, he grabbed his camera and hauled himself outside.

The anonymity brought him a semblance of comfort. With the beanie on, he looked like any other human, so he passed by groups of children without them pointing at his ears peacefully. Taehyung spent the better part of two hours taking pictures of early blooming flowers, the task controlling his newfound raging emotions. Zooming in on a pink tulip, Taehyung’s ears picked up a sweet giggle even with his hearing muffled by the beanie. He went pale, the giggle sound very close to Y/N’s, Taehyung fell backwards on his ass from his crouch, searching for her face amongst the throngs of people. How would she even know he was there?

Suddenly, the laughter was closer, Taehyung whipping his head around to spot a young woman who wasn’t Y/N at all. She wasn’t by herself, she was pointing at flowers, her arm linked with a tall man beside her. The wind carried their scents, the woman just a human, but the man was a hybrid, some kind of feline. Frozen, Taehyung gawked at them, the pair totally wrapped up in their own little world. His fingertips twitched, a certain part of him wanting to snap a photograph of the two, but he couldn’t move. It was the look in their eyes.

Taehyung had seen the expression on the male hybrid’s face before. He’d seen it on Yoongi when Y/N would determinedly practice his compositions beside him on the piano. Seokjin often wore the same look whenever Y/N would enter a room. Once or twice, he swore he saw it on Jimin whenever the two of them would work on the garden beds.

And the one the woman was wearing? As she glanced at her hybrid companion picking a flower from the dirt for her? It was pure adoration, easy and sweet. One that Y/N offered him, all of them, endlessly. Taehyung then knew.

“Who’s that?” Jimin asked when Y/N’s phone went off for the third time, the two of them covered in soil as they transferred flowers into one of the garden beds.

“Spam risk. I keep trying to block the number but then another one will replace it. I think some newspaper peddlers got a hold of my cell,” Y/N grimaced, switching her phone off. “So annoying…”

Jimin grunted, packing soil loosely around one of the plants. Spring was fast approaching, so whenever she had a moment to spare, she was out with the coyote hybrid setting up the garden. Judy hadn’t forwarded any new consultation cases for her, Namjoon, and Jeongguk, so the three of them would sit in the shop during her shifts and basically stock inventory. On the bright side, with the two of them there, she’d get to tell them what certain herbs were for witchcraft, sometimes Jeongguk would explain who was on the saint medallions, and what they represented.

“Maybe you should change your number,” Jimin pointed out, concerned. Nudging her elbow into his ribs, Y/N shook her head.

“Nah, that would be a total pain in the ass. They’ll give up eventually,” Y/N brushed it off, turning her head to survey the completed garden bed beside her, filled with culinary and witchy herbs. “I’m so excited to start using these herbs. But even more excited to see what we can grow and cook!”

“Me too. Maybe you can teach me how to make something besides pancakes. I was never much of a cook,” Jimin admitted, admiring the glow on her face.

“You could always go to a cooking class with Seokjin and I. He’d love that, it gives him a chance to show off,” Y/N replied, running her fingers over the rosemary plant in the herb box. “Oh, yeah. Speaking of classes, I know you were interested in maybe taking one once the universities started offering them.”

“I… yeah. If it’s okay, I mean,” Jimin paused, setting down the rake he was holding, Y/N groaning. “Huh?”

“Jimin, of course it’s okay. You guys need to get it through your pretty, thick, skulls that it’s alright to ask for things,” Y/N grasped onto Jimin’s arm, playfully shaking him. The alarm in his eyes changed to surprise, his cheeks hot. “What kind of classes interest you?”

Jimin, contrary to his usual impeccable self-control, had a whine leaving his throat, brushing dirt off of his jeans bashfully. Y/N shook him again with a coo, trying to coax it out of him.

“W-writing. I like reading, but I want to learn how to write down things I’ve seen,” Jimin mumbled, now picking dirt out from beneath his fingernails. “We had basic education on the ranch, but we never really learned how to write creatively. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Creative writing! Sounds like fun, have you looked into any local universities, if they’ll offer that?”

“Yeah, Boston College is going to,” Jimin was completely pink, Y/N finding his shyness adorable. “In the fall.”

“So, are we signing you up?” Y/N cocked her head, Jimin growing redder by the second. “C’mon, Jimin. You should! It’ll be fun for you to meet some new people, write together.”

“If it’s okay–” Y/N shot Jimin a glare, making him cut himself off, chuckling nervously. “I’d like to try it out.”

“Great! As soon as there’s information about applications, let me know, I’ll help fill them out if you need me to,” Y/N cheered, pumped for the coyote hybrid. “Oh! If the classes are in the fall, it’ll be after our trip to Montana to visit your family. We can tell them about it too!”

Jimin stuttered, apparently haven forgotten about Y/N’s promise to take him out west. Blonde hair falling into his eyes, Jimin flashed her a shaky smile, nodding. She opened her mouth to continue, when her phone went off again. Agitated, this time she actually picked up, murmuring an apology to Jimin.

“Hello? Please stop calling. I’m not interested in anything you’re selling,” Y/N spoke firmly, Jimin watching her with rapt interest.

“Actually, I’m interested in something you could sell me,” A slimy, smug male voice answered. Wrinkling her nose, she exchanged a puzzled look with Jimin.

“I think you have the wrong number. I’m not selling anything. Please stop calling,” Y/N was about to hang up, when the man scoffed.

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?” The man’s tone turned condescending, Jimin’s ears perking up protectively as he listened in on the conversation. “You’ll want to sell when you find out what I’m offering.”

“Fuck off,” Y/N barked, an icky sensation filling her. She hung up, blocked the number, and turned off her phone with jerky movements. “Ew. Telemarketers are getting creepier and creepier.”

“That was… worrisome,” Jimin’s eyes softened when Y/N appeared slightly disturbed, offering him a half-smile.

“No, it’s fine. Just trying to intimidate me into giving my credit card number, probably,” Y/N shook off her nerves, blindly searching behind her for another pot of flowers to plant.

“We’ve planted them all, Y/N. Yoongi will probably want your help with dinner, you want to head in and wash up before then?” Jimin changed the subject. Instinct told him to look further into what he perceived to be a threat, but if Y/N wasn’t too concerned, he decided to let it go. For now.

“Good idea. It’ll be a while before we plant the vegetables, anyways,” Y/N agreed absently, letting Jimin help her up with an arm around her waist. “We’ll start planning our trip to Montana in a couple of weeks! Right after we come back from New York to visit Hannah.”

“Sounds good,” Jimin agreed, reluctant to let her go once she was back on her feet. “I’ll help any way that I can.”

“You know how to book airline tickets?” Y/N teased, both of them making their way back to the house. However, when they entered the kitchen, the lack of Yoongi occupying the room had them both stopping in their tracks. “Weird. He should be home by now. Maybe Hoseok convinced him and Taehyung to stop for pizza?”

“Seems like the most likely possibility,” Jimin nodded, switching on the lights. “Maybe ask Seokjin?”

“Yeah, I think I will. See you in a bit, okay, sweetheart?”

Y/N left Jimin in the foyer, the coyote hybrid off to take his shower, Y/N deciding to do the same before she sought out Seokjin for any information.

Meanwhile, Yoongi was incessantly trying to call Y/N, getting sent directly to voicemail each time. Cursing, he wondered if it was karma for jumping down Taehyung’s throat that he was now stuck at the rec center with Hoseok, without a way to get home.

“Why the fuck would he leave us here? I get why the wolf hates him hour by hour,” Hoseok complained, leaning against a cement pillar in the lobby of the rec center. His gym bag was by his feet, exhausted from a day of both coaching and practicing with his own team. The fox hybrid was ready to throttle Taehyung. “I’m gonna hide all of his cameras if we ever get back. Y/N still not picking up?”

“No. I think she turned off her phone, the spam callers were probably bothering her,” Yoongi mumbled, tucking his freshly-showered hair behind his ear. “This is fucked. Should we call a cab?”

“I don’t think we can,” Hoseok whistled his three-tone tune, mouth set in a sardonic smirk. “Call someone else. Call Jinnie, maybe he’ll pick up.”

Yoongi, hissing, did just that, ready to blow his brains out when the jaguar hybrid didn’t answer the call either. It was just his luck, getting stuck with Hoseok at the rec center with no one coming to get them, when all he wanted to do was have a beer and rot on the couch the rest of the evening. Hoseok was annoying the shit out of him, pacing around the lobby, ordering him around. In a last-ditch effort, he called the next number on his phone.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” Jeongguk picked up on the third ring, his voice a sarcastic drawl.

“Taehyung ditched Foxy and I at the rec center. Y/N’s phone is off. We’re stuck here,” Yoongi snarled, fed up with the three hybrids pushing his buttons at the moment.

“And what would you like me to do about that? You know I don’t drive,” Jeongguk sounded like he was rolling his eyes, Yoongi pressing his forehead to the cinderblock wall and praying for patience.

“Well, first, you can remove the stick from your ass. Then, you can put me on the phone with someone who can come and fucking pick us up before the janitors lock us in here.”

“Nice,” Hoseok commented from across the room, giving Yoongi a thumbs-up of approval, his russet tail swishing merrily.

There was a sound of rustling, before Namjoon’s confused voice filled Yoongi’s ears.

“I can come get you,” Namjoon said through the receiver, Yoongi muttering hallelujah. “What about Taehyung? What do I say to Y/N?”

“Let me handle that when I get back. If you say something now, she’ll freak,” Yoongi ordered, Namjoon making a noise of agreement. “He’s probably just fucking around with his cameras in the park and forgot about us.”

“Asshole. Alright, I’ll be there in twenty,” Namjoon hung up, Yoongi putting his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong? He’ll be here soon,” Hoseok approached the leopard hybrid, hands on his hips.

“Y/N is going to be pissed,” Yoongi leaned his head back against the wall, rubbing his temples.

“Well, yeah. Not at us, though, don’t sweat the shit,” Hoseok bumped his hip against Yoongi’s. “It’s Taehyung that’s going to be in the doghouse.”

“Yeah I know. I think it’s my fault he’s lost his fucking mind, though.”

“What are you talking about? Did you say something to him?” Hoseok exclaimed, surprised.

“I told him something he didn’t wanna hear, but had to know.”

“Oh, you’re so fucked, dude,” Hoseok tsked, walking to the doors and peering outside. “Guess we’ll see.”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Y/N got out of the shower and walked into a whole new pile of shit. “He left you there? Where is he now, is he back yet?”

Y/N was livid. Every hybrid in the room, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok, all had their ears pressed to their skulls, like they were going to be punished. The only one she cared to scold was Taehyung, more worried about him than she ever had been.

“No,” Namjoon broke the silence bravely, Y/N ready to tear her hair out.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Let me call him,” Y/N turned her phone back on, glancing at everyone in the room, tails between their legs. “I’m not mad at you guys, it’s not your fault. He’s been a pain in my ass for like three weeks now. He’s lashing out, for whatever reason… I gotta get Laura over here, do some conflict resolution…”

Hoseok gave Yoongi an encouraging eyebrow raise, the fox hybrid slyly spiriting himself down in the basement to change. Meanwhile, Namjoon went back outside to check the driveway for any sign of the station wagon Taehyung hijacked. Only Yoongi remained, Y/N wondering why he looked so suspicious, shifting from one foot to another. Tabling that for a moment, she dialed Taehyung’s number, ready to chew him out. To Yoongi’s astonishment, the Kodiak hybrid answered right away.

“I’m on my way back to the rec center now, I just lost track of time in the park, now there’s rush hour traffic–”

“Don’t bother,” Y/N cut him off, seething. Yoongi had never seen Y/N so pissed off at someone (other than himself, when he was being elusive about their first meeting). “Namjoon picked them up a half hour ago. They were waiting for two hours for you, Taehyung. How could you take off like that?”

“I–I…”

“We’ll talk when you’re home. I told you that it was fine for you to go wherever you please, Taehyung, but to take off without a word? Leaving the other two behind?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung’s voice was thick, the sounds of Boston traffic coming through the receiver. The pain in his voice had her heart breaking.

“Just get back here, okay? Drive carefully, Taehyung.”

Y/N hung up, arms limp by her side, Yoongi eyeing her carefully.

“Can I have a hug?” Y/N asked hollowly, Yoongi springing into action promptly by gathering her in his arms, ashamed that he likely set that whole thing in motion. Y/N was too exhausted to even cry, simply hiding her face into Yoongi’s hoodie, bathing in his comfort.

“Y/N… I think this might be my fault,” Yoongi cradled the back of her head, Y/N snorting humorlessly.

“How? You were the one that was ditched,” Y/N pulled away, tucking hair behind Yoongi’s ear.

“Yesterday morning. I confronted Taehyung about his behavior. Maybe this is karma kicking my ass,” Yoongi confessed, Y/N’s eyebrows pulling together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to him.”

“Well, that depends on what you said,” Y/N replied slowly, fear creeping into her gut. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t tell Taehyung how she felt about him?

“I didn’t tell him how you feel. That’s up to you,” Yoongi said quickly, Y/N breathing out in relief. “I just– I was pretty harsh. Told him to stop acting shifty. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I appreciate that,” Y/N squeezed his shoulder, his ears perking back up at the touch. “I should fight my own fights though, angel. Talking to Tae about matters of the heart… is tricky. Delicate.”

“You’re not upset with me?” Yoongi purred, secretly pleased.

“Not that much. You’ll have to make it up to me in the future, though,” Y/N flicked his hoop earring, not having the energy to get upset with Taehyung and Yoongi. Yoongi, relieved, ducked and stamped a kiss on her forehead.

“With pleasure,” Yoongi placed another kiss on the tip of her nose, grasping for her hand. “Come. Let’s start on dinner, take your mind off things until he gets back.”

Minutes crawled as she and Yoongi began chopping vegetables for a quick curry recipe, Seokjin joining them after a while, the jaguar hybrid helpfully making the rice to go with the main dish. She dropped the knife she was holding when the front door creaked open solemnly, the two feline hybrids in the room with her exchanging uneasy side-eyes. After she hung up from Taehyung, Y/N cooled down somewhat, and was mostly just relieved he had made it home. Yoongi and Seokjin remained behind in the kitchen, and Y/N went into the foyer to meet Taehyung. She hadn’t seen him, physically, in over 24 hours. He looked like a mess.

Normally golden skin ashen and a touch green, eyes tired and lacking their usual sparkle, Taehyung stood in front of her with his shoulders slumped.

“You’re back,” was all Y/N said, a lump in her throat. “What happened?”

“I just– I went into the city to take photos. Forgot that they’d be without a car,” Taehyung pulled at the hem of his sweater, avoiding her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean to.”

“Um, okay. I accept the apology, but it’s Yoongi and Hoseok you should probably apologize to. Namjoon as well, he picked up the slack,” Y/N’s chest throbbed painfully. She didn’t know how much more she could take of seeing Taehyung in such distress. “Tae, have you been sleeping? You look like you don’t feel well.”

Y/N took a step forward, panic flashing over Taehyung’s face. Did he think she was going to hurt him? He glanced at the stairs, towards his bedroom, and shook curls out of his eyes.

“I think I caught a bug from the rec center. I don’t want to get you or the others sick. I’ll… apologize in the morning,” Taehyung breathed, his voice cracking on the last word he uttered. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I am.”

With that, Taehyung left. Y/N had not a drop of energy to chase after him. She was tired of waiting for him to be honest with her. Y/N decided then and there that she would listen to Namjoon, who swore to her that Taehyung would eventually come around. Putting her faith in her wolf hybrid, she swallowed down her agony and returned to the kitchen to finish making dinner.

“How you doin’?” Hoseok stared down at Y/N, who was standing below him while he sat on the metal bleachers. Y/N snorted at his silly accent, his attempt to make her laugh.

“Oh, you know. Another day in the life,” Y/N sang, pulling her jacket around her tightly. “First outdoor meet of the season. You excited?”

“A bit,” Hoseok swung his feet in front of her face, his expression turning contemplative. “Too bad all the other lumps I live with didn’t want to watch it.”

“What, am I not enough?” Y/N teased, catching the loose shoelaces dangling before her. With a hum, she grasped his ankle, gingerly tying the laces so he wouldn’t trip on the track.

“You’ll suffice,” Hoseok relented dramatically, wiggling his foot in her hold playfully. “Hope you’re not as upset as you were the other night. We’re worried about you.”

“Ah, Ho-seok,” Y/N complained, considering she had put the drama at home aside to watch his meet peacefully. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, if I can’t handle road bumps from time to time, I might as well be a princess.”

“You know… there’s a French saying. ‘Après la pluie, le beau temps’. That basically means after wading through the shit, something good will happen,” Hoseok sobered, reaching up to the bar above him and swinging his body through the slats of the bleachers so he could stand in front of her.

“Is that a literal translation?” Y/N drawled sarcastically, Hoseok smirking at her and pinching her nose.

“No. The literal translation is ‘after the rain, good weather.’ The sentiment is the same, though. Things will blow over.”

“Wait a second, you speak French?” Y/N blinked, even when his coach’s whistle blew to call the team members to the track. She never even considered that he could, even though he was born in Paris. That made her feel quite silly.

“Pensez-vous que l'hiver sera rude, darling?” Hoseok called, jogging backwards with a wink. He was off, quick as lightning, Y/N pulling out a translation app while repeating the words he shot at her.

“‘Do you think winter will be hard’? It’s the end of fucking March, you goober,” Y/N scoffed to herself, though despite the ridiculousness, a grin tugged at her lips.

A while later, back at home once Hoseok won first place in the mile run again, Y/N decided to tidy up her room. Full of energy somehow, she started at her altar by organizing items on the vanity. She had the moonstone Namjoon once gave her front and center, and against the mirror were Jeongguk’s antlers. Recently, Jimin had dried a bunch of lavender and sage for her to use in her practice, so Y/N used natural string to bind the leaves into a bundle for smoke cleansing. Enjoying a few moments to herself, Y/N lit a candle on her altar, burning some calming sandalwood incense to really let loose. It was only a matter of time before one of her boys sought her out, which didn’t bother her in the slightest, but the rare solitude was refreshing as she wrapped the bundle up tightly.

Almost as soon as she tied the last knot, there was a knock on her bedroom door.

“Come in!”

“Hi, pretty!” Seokjin slunk into the room, shutting the door behind him. In his arms was her laptop and a fuzzy blanket from his bedroom, and he was dressed in sweats and a slouchy white tee shirt. “Wanna watch a movie with me? I miss you!”

“Of course,” Y/N melted on the vanity stool she was seated on, Seokjin placing her laptop and the blanket on her bed. Before she could get up, Seokjin was behind her, a closed-lipped smile on his face reflected in the mirror. “I miss you too! I’m all yours this afternoon.”

“We could watch Emma. I just finished reading it and waited, like you suggested. What do you think?” Seokjin began to make a nest on the bed for the two of them to curl up into, Y/N watching him through the mirror and setting the herb bundle she made down.

“Yes, please! I haven’t seen it yet, surprisingly. I wonder how it’ll compare to the book.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Seokjin mused, straightening up and shutting her curtains, attempting to create the perfect environment to watch a movie. Again, Y/N adored that trait Seokjin possessed, the ability to figure out exactly what she needed to decompress. Once he was satisfied with how everything looked, he turned his attention to her, trudging over cutely.

Seokjin leaned down to kiss the top of her head, his entire body suddenly locking up as soon as his nose was buried in her hair, a growl low in his throat. Suddenly, he wasn’t so cute. “Oh.”

“What? Do I smell? Is it the incense smoke?” Y/N frowned in the mirror, Seokjin’s palms curling around her shoulders heavily.

“No, you smell…” Seokjin pulled her up to a stance, spinning her around and shoving his face in her neck. “So good.”

“You always s-say that,” Y/N mumbled, embarrassed and slightly turned on. It had been at least a couple of weeks since someone touched her in a more heated way. Part of her brain– distantly– wondered if he had to scent her or something, with the way he was backing her against a wall. The sudden change in the mood had her reeling.

“Mm, but something’s different,” Seokjin’s words took on that siren-like quality he usually reserved when he was alone with her, Y/N’s lips dropping open to reply. However, her words were choked from her as Seokjin dragged his tongue from her collar bone up to just below her ear, shuddering against her. “Sweeter. Stronger.”

“W-well, I haven’t done anything different,” Y/N clutched the front of his tee shirt desperately, eyes going wide when he shoved a knee between her legs. “Seokjin. Baby. Are we really…?”

“Mmmph,” Seokjin’s speech was muffled, considering he was frantically dragging his face and lips across every exposed patch of skin around her neck and upper chest. “Just wanna. Mm. Kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N egged him on, Seokjin nibbling along her jugular.

“Not… n-not while they’re here,” Seokjin sounded strained, regretful. “I don’t want them to hear you with me.”

“I didn’t say fuck me, Seokjin,” Y/N protested, a strangled noise coming from the jaguar hybrid. “You can still kiss me.”

“Fuck, okay,” Seokjin relented, sliding his lips from her throat to her jaw, littering kisses all over the sharp angle. “God, you’re irresistible. What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” Y/N whined, wrapping her arms around his neck urgently, pressing her chest to his and getting on her tip-toes. Absently, Seokjin pressed a palm against her lower abdomen, which had her stomach flipping over unexpectedly.

“You have no idea how good you smell right now. You must be ov– I… makes me wanna–”

“Wanna what?” Y/N breathed “What am I?”

Seokjin pulled away a degree, his face flushed and eyes wild, predatory. Lust and thrill pulsed through her, but she wasn’t about to escalate things when Seokjin expressed he didn’t want to take things further while the other hybrids were still in the house. His hand still pressed against her abdomen, she looked down, confused. Ov… ovulating. The realization had heat flashing though her violently.

“Yeah,” Seokjin read the sudden understanding blossoming across her face, restraint in his posture. Swooping down, his lips landed on hers in a heavy kiss, but it was short and sweet. “Remember what you asked me about a couple of weeks ago?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N nodded, trying not to whimper when he removed his knee from between her legs, stepping aside. When she asked him about ruts.

“I think next month might be my time,” Seokjin was scarlet red, adjusting his sweatpants awkwardly. “Judging by my reaction to your scent at this point in your, um. Cycle.”

“D-damn. I thought I was the one famous for dropping bombshells,” Y/N attempted to recover from the sudden attack on her neck and chest, though cutting through her lust was also a concern. “Next month? You’ll tell me how to prepare for that, right?”

Seokjin nodded eagerly, despite his clear embarrassment.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush you like that.”

“It’s okay, it’s natural for you, honey,” Y/N grabbed his hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles reassuringly. “You still want to watch the movie with me? I don’t want the scent torturing you.”

“I still want to spend time with you,” Seokjin quickly shot her doubts down, urging her towards the bed. “The scent just caught me off guard. I swear, I can control myself.”

“Too bad,” Y/N quipped, Seokjin clicking his tongue at her but snorting softly at her jest nonetheless.

“You’re so easy to rile up, Y/N. It might get you in trouble with me in the future,” Seokjin warned, pushing on her shoulders slightly so she’d flop onto the bed bonelessly. “Scoot over and play the movie, hmm?”

The teasing threat had sparks shooting through her veins, and she obeyed him completely by making space for him, waiting until he was comfortable and pulling her into his side before playing the film on her laptop. Y/N let Seokjin nuzzle into the crook of her neck for pretty much the entire movie, positively amazed by his self-restraint.

“The book was better, so far,” Seokjin commented halfway through, tail curling around Y/N’s waist.

“I agree, but it’s still nice to watch this with you,” Y/N stroked her hand through Seokjin’s silky waves, content. “Let’s watch Pride and Prejudice next.”

“Again?” Seokjin exclaimed, finally retreating from the crook of her neck with amusement all over his handsome face.

“Come on, Seokjinnie. I thought you liked spoiling me,” Y/N jutted out her lower lip and batted her eyelashes, trying to lay it on thick just so she could spend more time with him.

“A little bit too much,” Seokjin leaned his head back, relenting. “Queue it up.”

That evening ended with her and Seokjin falling asleep with movies still playing in the background. The following morning involved Y/N doing menial chores once untangling herself from a very clingy Seokjin, wiping sweat from her brow as she vacuumed the entire first floor. The task distracted her from thinking about the sticky situation with Taehyung and the fact that Seokjin told her to expect his rut to hit the following month, lining up pretty closely with their trip to New York. Talk about timing.

Her phone had been going off all morning with more spam calls. She ignored every single one, starting to agree with Jimin that she’d have to change her phone number in the near future. Taking a break, she sat down on the staircase, an email notification popping up on the screen from her boss, Judy. Curiosity and excitement stuck through her, hoping for a new case so Jeongguk would stop suggesting the three of them investigate local haunted churches as she tapped on the message.

[email protected]:

Y/N, Jeongguk, and Namjoon,

I hope you are all doing well. I would first like to congratulate and thank you for your success at the Sanders’ home. Ms. Sanders has reached out to me and raved about your professionality and dedication to helping them.

I’ve received information about a new consultation I’d like to hand over to you three. There’s a bed and breakfast inside of Boston city that has changed hands many times. The rumors that it is dangerously haunted drives customers away, aside from amateur paranormal investigative crews. The newest manager stated that these amateur crews have increased the activity tenfold.

Considering the business may be shut down due to lack of revenue, the manager has reached out to me for a potential cleansing and banishment. Would this be something the three of you would consider handling? Let me know when you come into work tomorrow, and I’ll email the manager for more information.

Blessed be,

Judy

Screenshotting the email, she sent it to Namjoon and Jeongguk in their group chat titled Dream Team. She wasn’t expecting an immediate response, considering the two of them were out in the van picking up a short list of necessities from the drugstore in town. Her phone started to buzz in her palm, and her reflex was to throw it considering the amount of spam calls she had been getting lately. However, she relaxed once she saw that it was Laura calling, to her happy shock.

“Hi Laura! Long time no chat! How are you, Kai and Tyler?”

“Hey baby, sorry to keep you in the lurch. Ty and I have been looking all around the area for a good preschool to enroll Kai in next fall. You wouldn’t believe the loops you have to jump through to get a nearly four-year-old into preschool!” Laura sounded exasperated, but still retained her sunny sound.

“Oh, no worries! Adult life really takes the wind out of you, huh? I sometimes feel like I’m chasing my tail.”

“Was that a pun? Y/N, last time you started making puns all the time, you were writing your thesis and living off of caffeine,” Laura accused, making her crack up. After so long, she missed her girlfriends making wise cracks at her expense.

“It wasn’t, but thanks for the laugh. I needed it.”

“What’s up? You sound high-strung, baby.”

“The usual. I could use your conflict resolution skills right about now. Any chance you’re free in the next eight months?” Y/N joked, even though she was half-serious as well.

“I’m free on Saturday. Want me to swing by? Fresh perspective might be useful. You’re all by yourself over there, diffusing situations.”

“Can I text you about it before you come? You’re sure you’re willing?”

“Am I sure? Y/N, we’ve been like sisters for years. I’d do anything for you, just like you would for me. I’ll help you out!”

“Do you want me to babysit Kai on Saturday night? Date night?” Y/N offered, a smile on her face.

“Y/N, I could kiss you. I need a date night so bad, you have no idea. I’ll bring him by when I come for the little meeting. Text me the details so I’m prepared, alright? Love you, baby.”

“Bye Laura, love you,” Y/N massaged her sore lower back, strained from dragging the ancient vacuum around all day. Grunting, she stood, resuming her task so she would be done by midday and perhaps take a nice, long shower.

Just after shoving the vacuum back into the coat closet, the front door banged open, Y/N flinching and shouting a colorful swear. Poking her head around the staircase, she stared daggers at the figure clad in black waltzing through the door.

“Jeongguk! I’ve told you at least three times to be careful with the door. If you break the stained glass, I’m dragging your candy ass to the auctions to find exact replacements. And that could take months,” Y/N threatened, marching up to him and taking the bulk-sized package of toilet paper from him with her tongue sticking out.

“Judas priest. That’s like the first time a threat of yours has actually frightened me,” Jeongguk scoffed incredulously, Namjoon gently locking up the door behind him with several bags of his own.

“Quiet and bring everything down to the basement,” Namjoon requested, Y/N able to tell that he was sick to the back teeth of hanging out with Jeongguk for the afternoon based on the agitated swish to his fluffy silver tail.

Y/N assisted them in putting everything under the basement stairs, Jeongguk able to duck under the tight space now that he didn’t have his antlers taking up so much headroom.

“You guys get my text?”

Both of them appeared confused, Y/N watching with a snicker as they fumbled for their pockets on the way back up to the ground floor. Waiting as they read the screenshotted image Y/N bounced on her toes, their eager expressions having a warm, fond sensation filling her entire body. Jeongguk’s mouth opened, no doubt ready to ask one hundred questions, but he was interrupted by some rapt knocking on the front door. Namjoon recoiled, since he knew that with his and Jeongguk’s return back home, everyone should be accounted for.

“Ah, it’s probably a Girl Scout or something. Hold on,” Y/N gave Namjoon a soft arm pat as she passed by him, unlocking the door and pulling it open. Instead of a little girl she was ready to fork over significant cash to in order for a large shipment of Thin Mints, there was a middle-aged man standing on her porch.

“Um, hello, sir. Can I help you?” Y/N assessed the person in front of her. He didn’t appear to be holding onto any pamphlets like a Jehovah Witness, and the expensive, well-tailored suit he was wearing didn’t make him seem like a robber of any kind. However, his greasy, expectant face had her a little on edge.

“Y/N L/N. You’ve been dodging my calls,” the same slick voice from the phone call she had in front of Jimin days ago was now several feet away, pure horror flooding through her system. “Figured I should swing by.”

“Who the fuck are you? How did you find my house?” Y/N raised her voice, and in less than a second flat, Namjoon was on her right, growling darkly, and Jeongguk was on her left, a firm grip on her elbow that felt protective. Instead of backing away in fright, the man smiled slimily, a gold tooth replacing one of his normal incisors, looking from Namjoon to Jeongguk like they were prime plots of real estate.

“Real nice animals you’ve got there. Gerry’s Hybrids is where you got them, am I correct?”

“You have about five seconds to get the fuck off this porch,” Namjoon’s tone had never been more deadly, the man simply barking out a laugh.

“Oh, he’s a pill. Just what I was looking for.”

“What do you want? Jeongguk, call the cops,” Y/N placed a hand over his, but the elk hybrid wouldn’t budge.

“Ms. L/N. The name’s Harold Bass, from Manhattan. Those hybrids next to you, and the other five no doubt lurking around in this dump of yours, were supposed to belong to me.”

“That’s too bad. They’re mine, now get the fuck off my property,” Y/N was about to slam the door in his face, unable to believe the guy’s audacity. It had been so many months since Y/N had adopted her boys, she never even considered that this guy would try and find her.

“Before you close this piece of plywood on me, you should know something. I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

“What the fuck?” She breathed, Harold’s nose curling at her continued use of profanity. He reached into his suit jacket, Namjoon grabbing Y/N’s other arm and pulling her partially behind him.

“Here’s the deal. You either take my generous offer for the animals, or I take you to court for stolen property. This is an agreement I signed with Gerry stating I had them on hold. I put a deposit down before you ‘adopted’ them.”

“What?” Y/N squeaked, bile rising in her throat.

“Simple, simple girl. Gerry mentioned you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” Harold sneered, all venom and acid. “Are you hard of hearing?”

“Namjoon, please,” begged, grasping a fistful of the back of his sweatshirt to stop him from lunging at Harold. “I don’t understand, Mr. Bass. I’ve legally adopted them. You can’t take my boys away.”

“No? You haven’t heard my offer?”

“There is absolutely nothing you can offer me.”

“Not even one million dollars for the seven of them?”

Jeongguk swore from beside her, his grasp on her elbow loosening. Even Namjoon went statue still, all of the color draining from his face. Y/N was really going to be sick, her two hybrids evidently already concluding she’d take that offer.

“Fuck. That. And fuck you. Get off my property,” Y/N spat, finally managing to slam the door shut and lock the deadbolt in place. Breathing raggedly, she saw the shadow of Harold Bass behind the stained glass beside the front door. He was laughing, Y/N could hear it even with the barrier of the locked door.

“Well then. You’d best get a good lawyer, Ms. L/N. You’ll be hearing from mine soon– and it’s a call you cannot ignore.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997 @prybts @doublebunv @milopenne @steadycreationangel @rinkud @breadcheeksseokjin @nikkiordonez12 @actualz0mbie @tinybasementmaker-blog @hufflepuffwriter1995

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 3 months ago

Text

My Boss's Son: Part II

A tale of tea, poetry, and stolen moments, where Y/N and Harry turn chance encounters into a love story full of wit, warmth, and a dash of irresistible charm.

Content Warning: A little smutty towards the ending but it's brief. Mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 16,483

Part one below!

New Year’s Eve had arrived, and instead of the usual glitz and glamour of parties and countdowns, Harry had suggested something far more low-key. When he texted that morning confirming if I’d still be up for baking cookies together, I couldn’t help but laugh at how committed to the idea he was—and immediately say yes.

By the time he knocked on my door that evening, I’d already set up the kitchen with bowls, ingredients, and a playlist of upbeat songs to match the festive mood. When I opened the door, there he was, standing in a coat and scarf, holding a bag of chocolate chips in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“Thought I’d come prepared,” he said, grinning as he held them up. “Cookies and a bit of New Year’s spirit.”

“You’re too good at this,” I teased, stepping aside to let him in. “Come on, the kitchen’s ready.”

Harry shed his coat and scarf, revealing a casual sweater with the sleeves pushed up, tattoos visible on his forearms. He set the wine and chocolate chips on the counter, rolling his sleeves up further with a playful determination. “Right, where do we start?”

I laughed, handing him an apron. “First, you put this on. We don’t need flour all over you.”

“Yes, chef,” he joked, tying it around his waist. He looked delicious.

We fell into an easy rhythm, mixing dough, sneaking bits of batter, and occasionally smearing flour on each other’s faces when the other wasn’t looking. Harry’s laugh filled the room as I tried to dodge his attempts at retaliation, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so carefree.

“You’re dangerous with that spoon,” I said, pointing at him as he made a show of scooping out another bite of dough.

“Dangerously charming, maybe,” he quipped, winking as he popped the spoon into his mouth.

“ And modest, too,” I teased, rolling my eyes as I placed the first tray of cookies in the oven.

As the cookies baked, we settled on the couch with the wine, the soft glow of fairy lights I’d strung up for the holidays casting a cozy light across the room. Harry stretched out beside me, holding his glass loosely as he looked over.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “this is a pretty great way to spend New Year’s.”

I smiled, tucking my legs under me. “It’s definitely different, but I like it. No crowds, no noise—just cookies and wine.”

“And me,” he added, his grin soft but teasing.

“And you,” I agreed, meeting his gaze.

The timer beeped, breaking the moment, and we both laughed as I jumped up to rescue the cookies. Harry followed me to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I pulled the tray from the oven.

“These look perfect,” I said proudly, setting the tray down to cool.

“All you,” he said, watching me with a smile. “I’m just here for moral support and quality control.”

Grabbing a cookie that was still warm enough to be gooey, he took a bite, letting out a low hum of approval. “Okay, these are incredible. You’ve ruined all other cookies for me.”

I laughed, grabbing one for myself. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As we ate, the sound of fireworks outside signaled that midnight was near. Harry glanced at me, setting his cookie down. “You know, I think this might be my favorite New Year’s yet.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, my heart racing a little as he stepped closer.

“Because it’s with you,” he said simply, his gaze steady.

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine softly at first, then deepening into a kiss that felt as warm and sweet as the cookies we’d just baked. When we pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and his smile widened.

As the timer for the cookies faded into the background, I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight. I turned to Harry, who was still leaning against the counter, finishing the last of his cookie.

“It’s almost time,” I said softly, nodding toward the balcony. “Do you want to watch the fireworks?”

He smiled, picking up his glass of wine and gesturing for me to lead the way. “Absolutely. Let’s see what this city’s got.”

We stepped out onto the small balcony, the cool night air brushing against our skin as we took in the view. Snowflakes still lingered on the railings, and the faint sound of music and chatter carried from nearby streets. From here, we could hear the excitement building as people prepared to welcome the new year.

Harry stood close beside me, his arm brushing against mine as he looked out over the city lights. He sipped his wine, the quiet between us feeling natural, like we’d known each other forever.

The countdown started in the distance, voices shouting numbers as they echoed through the crisp night air.

“Ten… nine… eight…”

Harry glanced down at me, his expression soft and thoughtful. “This has been a pretty great night, hasn’t it?”

“Seven… six…”

“It really has,” I said, smiling up at him. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Five… four…”

“So am I,” he murmured, setting his glass down on the railing and stepping closer.

“Three… two…”

Before the final number, Harry slid his arm around my waist, pulling me gently against him. The moment the city erupted with cheers and the sky lit up with fireworks, he leaned down and kissed me.

The world seemed to fade away as his lips met mine, soft yet firm, with a sense of certainty that made my heart race. The warmth of his touch, the faint taste of wine, the distant crackle of fireworks—it all blended into a perfect moment.

When we finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine, and his grin was undeniable.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and full of something deeper than just the words.

“Happy New Year, Harry,” I whispered back, feeling the promise of something new and wonderful as his arms stayed wrapped around me, the fireworks still lighting up the sky.

As the fireworks crackled in the sky and the sound of cheers faded into the background, I found myself still lost in the lingering warmth of Harry’s kiss. My heart was racing, my hands still resting lightly on his chest as he pulled back just enough to look at me.

But I wasn’t ready for the moment to end.

Without overthinking, I reached up and pulled him back to me, pressing my lips to his again. This kiss was deeper, more confident, and filled with all the emotions I hadn’t said aloud. Harry responded instantly, his hands tightening around my waist as he leaned into me, his breath mingling with mine.

When we finally broke apart again, his lips curved into a playful grin. “You really like fireworks, huh?” he teased, his voice low and full of humor.

“Something like that,” I said, laughing softly, still catching my breath.

His grin widened, and before I could say another word, he slid his arms around my legs and back, effortlessly lifting me off the ground. A small gasp escaped me as he carried me across the balcony threshold and back into the warmth of the flat.

“Harry!” I exclaimed, laughing as I looped my arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you to safety,” he said dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s cold out there. Can’t have you freezing on me.”

I laughed harder, my head resting against his shoulder as he set me gently down near the couch. The cozy glow of the room wrapped around us, the scent of cookies still lingering in the air. He stood close, his hands not leaving my waist, his gaze steady and warm.

As we stood there, the warmth of the moment wrapping around us like a blanket, a thought crept into my mind, one I couldn’t quite shake. I didn’t want to ruin the mood, but curiosity tugged at me.

“Harry,” I said softly, looking up at him, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone gentle, his thumb brushing lightly against my waist. “What’s on your mind?”

I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to dampen the happiness of the evening. “When do you have to leave for America again?”

His smile faltered just slightly, but he didn’t look away. “In a week,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “We’re wrapping up some things for the album. I’ll probably be gone for a while.”

The weight of his answer settled between us, and I felt my chest tighten. A week. Just when it felt like things were beginning to bloom between us, he’d be gone again. I tried to hide the flicker of sadness that crossed my face, but Harry noticed.

“Hey,” he said, his hand moving to cup my cheek, his voice softening. “I’ll be back. This isn’t me disappearing.”

“I know,” I said quickly, managing a small smile. “I just… I wish we had more time before you leave for so long.”

“So do I,” he admitted, his forehead resting against mine. “But we’ve got a week. And I plan on making the most of it—with you.”

His words, full of sincerity, eased the ache in my chest just a little. I nodded, leaning into his touch. “Okay,” I whispered. “A week. Let’s make it count.”

Harry smiled then, his hand slipping back to my waist. “Starting with this,” he said, pulling me closer and kissing me again, as if to remind me that, for now, he was still here—and that was what mattered most.

As we stood close, the warmth of Harry’s presence easing the weight of the conversation, he hesitated for a moment, as if he was debating whether to say something. Finally, he let out a small breath, his thumb still tracing gentle circles against my waist.

“There’s something I didn’t mention,” he said softly, his eyes searching mine. “I mean, yeah, I’ll be heading to America for work, but… I’ve been planning on spending a lot more time here.”

My brows furrowed slightly. “Here? In England?”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. I actually bought a place not too far from Mum’s. A little house in a quiet suburb, just a few miles down the road.”

Surprise flickered across my face as his words sunk in. “Wait—you bought a house? Here? I thought you loved the city.”

“I do,” he said, his smile softening. “But I needed somewhere a bit quieter. Somewhere that feels more… grounded. And being close to Mum just made sense. It’s not far from here, actually.”

I blinked, trying to process the unexpected news. “So, you’re planning on staying in England more?”

“That’s the idea,” he said, watching me carefully. “The touring and traveling won’t stop completely, but… yeah. I want to be here. For her. And maybe for someone else too.”

My heart fluttered at his words, and I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. “You really mean it?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this. Besides,” he added, his tone lightening, “you didn’t think I’d just leave you with the title of Best Cookie Maker in England without trying to claim it back, did you?”

I laughed, the heaviness in my chest lifting. “Good luck with that. You’ve got a long way to go.”

Harry chuckled, leaning in to kiss me lightly. “Challenge accepted. But in the meantime, I thought you might like knowing I’m sticking around a bit more.”

“I like it a lot,” I admitted, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the cozy flat or the wine. “More than you know.”

“Good,” he said simply, his arms tightening around me as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could truly believe it.

The night ended quietly, with Harry deciding to head back to his mum’s house to stay the night. He kissed me goodnight at the door, lingering just a moment longer than usual, his hand brushing my cheek before he finally walked away. I watched him leave, the warmth of the evening still humming in my chest, before closing the door and heading to bed. Tomorrow would be back to reality, with work waiting for me in the morning.

When my alarm buzzed, I groaned softly, pulling myself from the warmth of my bed and dragging myself into the shower. As the water woke me up, my thoughts drifted to Harry, and I smiled, the events of the night before playing on a loop in my mind. But as much as I wanted to bask in the memory, I had to focus. Anne would be expecting me soon.

I slipped into a crisp button-up shirt and a pair of tailored slacks, checking my reflection in the mirror before tying my hair back neatly. Professional, but comfortable. Grabbing my bag and keys, I made my way out the door.

The morning was cold, a light frost covering the ground, but the clear blue sky promised a pleasant day ahead. The drive to Anne’s was peaceful, the roads quiet as I sipped my coffee and listened to the soft hum of the radio. By the time I pulled into her driveway, the world was beginning to stir.

Anne’s charming cottage looked as inviting as ever, the smoke curling from the chimney hinting at a warm fire inside. I grabbed my bag and headed to the door, knocking lightly before stepping inside.

“Good morning, Anne!” I called out, the familiar scent of lavender and freshly brewed tea greeting me.

Anne appeared from the kitchen, her face lighting up as she saw me. “Good morning, love! Right on time, as always.”

I smiled, hanging my coat by the door. “I try. What’s on the agenda today?”

“Oh, the usual chaos,” she said with a wink, gesturing for me to follow her into the kitchen. “But first, let me make you some tea. Can’t have you working without proper sustenance.”

As I settled at the kitchen table, Anne placed a steaming cup of tea in front of me, her warm smile making me feel instantly at ease.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. “It’s quiet this morning.”

Anne chuckled as she sat across from me. “It is. Harry’s out on a quick run to grab some pastries. Figured we’d need something sweet to go with the tea.”

I smiled, imagining him bundled up against the cold, running around town with his usual effortless charm. “That sounds perfect.”

Anne leaned back in her chair, cradling her own cup of tea. “We don’t have too much to do today, thankfully. Most places are closed for the holiday, so I thought we’d keep it light. Just a few notes to tidy up.”

“That works for me,” I said, grateful for the slower pace.

Anne watched me for a moment, her expression soft but tinged with a hint of mischief. “You know,” she began, her tone casual, “I have to say, my plan seems to be coming along quite nicely.”

I blinked, setting my cup down. “Plan?”

She grinned, clearly enjoying my confusion. “To get you and Harry together, of course.”

I froze, a flush creeping up my cheeks. “Anne!” I exclaimed, laughing nervously. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I absolutely did,” she said, completely unapologetic. “Do you think it’s a coincidence he just happened to show up at my Christmas party? Or that I let slip how much you love baking?”

I stared at her, equal parts flattered and mortified. “You’ve been plotting this?”

“Plotting is a strong word,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Let’s call it gentle nudging. I saw how he lit up whenever I mentioned you, and, well, it’s no secret how highly I think of you. It seemed worth a little nudge, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t help but smile, her words filling me with a warmth that pushed away my embarrassment. “Anne, you’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink, “but you’re smiling, which means I’m not entirely wrong.”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “You’re lucky I adore you.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, grinning. “And so does Harry, apparently. You two are good for each other, Y/N. That’s all I wanted to see.”

Her words lingered in the air, and I couldn’t deny the truth in them. Before I could respond, the front door opened, and Harry’s voice called out, “Mum, I’m back! And I brought enough pastries to feed an army!”

Anne leaned in conspiratorially, her grin widening. “See? My plan practically runs itself.”

I laughed, shaking my head as Harry stepped into the kitchen, his arms full of boxes and a familiar smile lighting up his face. Anne gave me a knowing look.

As Harry walked into the kitchen, balancing a box of pastries in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, his eyes landed on me. His hair was slightly tousled, his cheeks still faintly pink from the cold, and he had the soft, slightly groggy look of someone who hadn’t fully shaken off sleep.

“Y/N,” he said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re here earlier than I thought you’d be.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest as I took him in. Even tired, or maybe because he was still a bit sleepy, he looked effortlessly attractive. His sweater hung just right, and the way he ran a hand through his hair made it impossible to look away.

“Good morning, Harry,” I managed, willing my voice to stay steady. “Anne said we’d be taking it easy today, so I figured I’d come in early and get started.”

He set the box of pastries on the counter, his grin widening as he leaned against the edge. “You’re always so diligent. Mum’s lucky to have you.”

Anne, who was busy organizing the tea cabinet, smirked but didn’t say anything, though I could see the amused glint in her eyes. I ignored it, focusing instead on Harry, who was still watching me with that familiar, disarming gaze.

“And I see you’ve already done the hard work,” I teased, nodding toward the pastries.

He chuckled, his voice still tinged with sleep. “What can I say? I aim to impress. Picked these up from that bakery you mentioned last week.”

My heart fluttered at the thought that he’d remembered something so small, but I forced myself to keep it cool. “Well, you’ve succeeded. Those are my favorite.”

“Good,” he said, his grin softening as his eyes lingered on mine. For a moment, the noise of the kitchen—the clinking cups, Anne humming softly—faded away, leaving just us.

“Harry,” Anne’s voice broke through, light and teasing, “don’t just stand there staring. Grab the plates, would you?”

He laughed, shaking his head but obediently moving to grab plates from the cupboard. As he passed by me, his hand brushed lightly against my arm—a small, fleeting touch that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice just loud enough for me to hear, before turning back to the counter.

I watched him, my chest tightening and my heart racing, and realized that no matter how calm I tried to appear, Harry had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

Anne and I worked through everything on the agenda at a leisurely pace, the day feeling light and easy. Once we’d finished, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smile.

“Well, that’s everything,” she said, setting her notepad aside. “Not too bad, was it?”

“Not at all,” I replied, sipping the last of my tea. “Thanks for keeping it simple today.”

Anne grinned, her tone warm. “You’ve earned it, love. You know, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. No rush.”

I smiled, grateful for her kindness. “Thanks, Anne. I might stick around for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she said, standing to tidy up the kitchen. “Harry’s here too, so you’ve got good company.”

As if on cue, the front door opened, and Harry stepped in, shaking snow off his coat and hair. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his boots left a trail of melted snow as he made his way to the living room.

“Hey,” he said, spotting me on the couch. “You’re still here.”

I smiled. “Anne said I could stay.”

“Good,” he said, plopping down beside me with a casual ease. “I wanted to show you something.”

“Oh?” I asked, curious.

He nodded, his grin widening as he stood and offered me his hand. “Come on. It’s better if you see it for yourself.”

I glanced at Anne, who waved me off with a knowing smile, then slipped my hand into Harry’s. His fingers were warm against mine as he led me to the back door.

Outside, the snowy garden stretched before us, the white blanket of snow untouched except for a few faint footprints. The air was crisp, and the soft glow of the late afternoon sun made the scene look like something out of a storybook.

Harry guided me down the stone path, his hand never leaving mine. “I noticed this earlier when I was outside,” he said, stopping near the edge of the garden. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

He gestured toward a small clearing where the snow-covered trees framed a frozen pond. The surface reflected the soft light, and the whole scene looked almost magical.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my breath visible in the cold air. “I didn’t know this was back here.”

Harry smiled, his gaze shifting from the scene to me. “Thought it might make your day a little better. Quiet, peaceful—just like you like.”

My chest tightened at his words, and I looked at him, the sincerity in his expression making my heart race. “You’re really good at this, you know,” I said softly.

“Good at what?” he asked, his grin teasing.

“Making me feel like the only person in the world,” I admitted, my cheeks warming despite the cold.

Harry’s smile softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. “That’s easy,” he said. “Because to me, you kind of are.”

For a moment, we stood there in the snowy garden, the world around us silent except for the soft crunch of snow beneath our feet. And as he leaned in, his breath warm against my cold skin, I felt like everything else disappeared.

As we stood in the snowy garden, a chill crept through the air, but before I could even shiver, Harry wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. His warmth was immediate, and I instinctively leaned into him, grateful for the comfort.

“You looked like you were freezing,” he murmured, his voice soft against the quiet of the garden. “Can’t have that.”

I smiled faintly, my gaze drifting to the frozen pond before us. The way the snow-covered branches framed it, the delicate stillness of the ice, and the pale sunlight reflecting off its surface—it all felt like something out of a poem.

“A poem,” I said aloud, almost to myself.

Harry glanced down at me, his curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

I hesitated, then tilted my head to look at him. “The cold always makes me think of poetry. I read one once that stuck with me.”

He smiled, his arm tightening slightly around my shoulder. “Go on, then. Let’s hear it.”

I turned my eyes back to the pond, letting the memory of the words rise to the surface. Slowly, I began to recite:

"The winter holds its breath tonight, A silver hush beneath pale light. The earth wears frost like fragile lace, A fleeting mask of quiet grace."

My voice softened as I continued, my breath visible in the crisp air.

"Yet in the cold, a warmth remains, A pulse that stirs through frozen veins. For even winter’s biting chill, Can’t silence hearts that whisper still."

I paused, my eyes fixed on the stillness of the pond, the words lingering in the quiet air. When I glanced up at Harry, his expression was soft, his gaze steady as he watched me.

“That was beautiful,” he said after a moment, his voice low and sincere. “Did you write that?”

I shook my head, smiling shyly. “No, it’s just one that stuck with me. I don’t even remember where I read it, but it always felt… comforting.”

“It suits you,” he said, his arm pulling me a little closer. “Soft, thoughtful, and quietly stunning.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “You’re just saying that because you like me.”

“Maybe,” he teased, his grin playful. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and his words wrap around me. In that moment, with the snow falling softly around us and the garden stretching quietly before us, it felt like the world had paused just for us.

As the last of my words faded into the cold air, I turned to Harry, his arm still wrapped around me, his warmth cutting through the chill. Without a word, I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, pulling me into a tight embrace, his hands resting firmly on my back as if he wanted to hold me there forever.

We stood like that for a moment, the snowy world around us silent, as if it was giving us this moment to ourselves. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, grounding and comforting.

Harry shifted slightly, pulling back just enough so he could look down at me. His green eyes were serious now, his usual playful smile replaced by something deeper, something vulnerable. His hands stayed on my waist, his touch warm and steady.

“Y/N,” he began softly, his voice almost a whisper, “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while. I don’t want there to be any doubt—about how I feel, about what this is between us.”

My heart began to race as I searched his gaze, my breath catching at the sincerity in his expression.

“I like you,” he continued, his voice gaining strength. “Not just in a casual way, not just as someone I want to spend time with when it’s convenient. I really like you. And I want you to be my girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air, warm and certain, as he studied me, waiting for my response.

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” I asked, a soft smile tugging at my lips, though my voice wavered slightly from the rush of emotions his confession brought.

“Yeah,” he said, his grip on my waist tightening slightly as if to emphasize his words. “I don’t want you to have to wonder where we stand, or if my feelings are real. They are. You’re the one I think about, the one I want to be with.”

A wave of warmth flooded through me, and I smiled up at him, my chest tightening in the best way possible. “I’d love to be your girlfriend, Harry.”

The relief and joy on his face were immediate, his grin spreading wide as he let out a soft laugh. He wrapped his arms around me again, hugging me tightly, and I felt his breath against my hair.

As Harry and I stood wrapped in each other's arms, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle hush of falling snow and the warmth between us. Just as I was about to suggest heading back inside, I noticed a playful glint in Harry's eyes.

"What is it?" I asked, following his gaze.

He chuckled softly. "Seems we have an audience."

Turning around, I spotted Anne standing at the kitchen window, a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands. The soft glow from inside illuminated her amused expression. When she caught our eyes, she didn't look away—instead, she grinned widely and gave us an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

I felt a rush of warmth flood my cheeks. "Oh my gosh," I murmured, half-embarrassed and half-amused. "How long has she been watching?"

Harry laughed, pulling me a little closer. "Knowing Mum, probably the whole time."

I buried my face briefly against his chest, laughing. "She's going to tease us endlessly, isn't she?"

"Most definitely," he said with a grin. "But that's part of her charm."

As Anne disappeared from the window, likely to give us a semblance of privacy—or perhaps to prepare her teasing remarks—Harry looked back at me, his eyes soft.

"Well," he said lightly, "at least we know we have her approval."

I smiled up at him. "Not that I ever doubted it. She's been rooting for us from the start."

He tilted his head, feigning surprise. "You think so?"

I raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, I know so. She practically admitted to orchestrating this whole thing."

He laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that made my heart swell. "Sounds like Mum."

Taking a deep breath, he squeezed my hand. "Come on, let's head back inside before we both turn into snowmen."

As we walked back toward the house, our footsteps crunching softly in the snow, I felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. Harry opened the back door for me, and we stepped into the warm embrace of the kitchen.

Anne was bustling about, pretending to be engrossed in organizing the tea cupboard. She glanced over her shoulder as we entered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Enjoy your walk?" she asked innocently.

Harry smirked. "Caught us, did you?"

She turned, her eyes twinkling. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I shook my head, laughing softly. "Your subtlety is unmatched, Anne."

She grinned unabashedly. "Well, I can't help it if my kitchen window happens to have the best view of the garden."

Harry rolled his eyes affectionately. "Right."

Anne stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "In all seriousness, I'm so happy for you both."

"Thank you," I said, my voice sincere. "And thank you for... well, everything."

She waved a hand dismissively, but her eyes were warm. "Nonsense. I didn't do anything but give a little nudge here and there."

Harry glanced between us, feigning offense. "Wait a minute—are you telling me I've been set up?"

I laughed, nudging him lightly. "Looks like it."

Anne chuckled, patting his cheek. "Oh, hush. You needed the help."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "Unbelievable."

"Now," Anne declared, moving back toward the kettle, "who's up for another cup of tea? I think this calls for a celebration."

I exchanged a glance with Harry, both of us smiling. "I'd love one," I said.

"Make it three," Harry added, pulling out a chair for me at the kitchen table.

As we settled in, the three of us chatting and laughing, I couldn't help but feel that everything had fallen perfectly into place. The warmth of the tea, the glow of the kitchen lights, and the easy banter made the moment feel cozy and right.

Anne looked over at us, her expression softening. "You know, it's been a long time since I've seen both of you so happy."

Harry reached over to squeeze my hand. "Well, I've got a good reason."

I smiled back at him, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. "Me too."

Anne sighed contentedly. "This is exactly what I was hoping for."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Careful, Mum. Your matchmaking is showing."

She laughed. "Well, I can't take all the credit. You two did the hard part."

We spent the next hour sharing stories and making plans, the earlier embarrassment forgotten. As the afternoon light began to fade, Harry stood up.

"Actually, Mum, I was thinking of taking Y/N to see that new exhibit at the gallery tomorrow. If she's interested, of course."

I looked up, pleasantly surprised. "I'd love to."

Anne beamed. "That sounds wonderful. You two go and enjoy yourselves."

Harry offered his hand to help me up. "Great. It's a date, then."

As we prepared to leave, Anne pulled me into a warm hug. "Welcome to the family, dear, officially.."

I hugged her back, my heart full. "Thank you, Anne. For everything."

The week flew by faster than I wanted it to, and before I knew it, the day had come for Harry to leave for America. He texted that morning to say he’d be stopping by on his way to the airport, and while I was grateful for the chance to say goodbye, the thought of him leaving left a dull ache in my chest.

When the knock came, I opened the door to find Harry standing there, dressed casually in a hoodie and jacket, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping inside and setting his bag down near the door.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I closed the door behind him. “Ready for the trip?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a small laugh, though there was a heaviness to his tone. He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I wanted to see you before I left.”

I nodded, my chest tightening as I squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you did.”

We moved to the couch, sitting close as he wrapped an arm around me. For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the weight of the impending goodbye hanging in the air. I tried to be strong, but as I glanced at his duffel bag and realized I wouldn’t see him for weeks—maybe longer—the tears started to well up in my eyes.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, noticing immediately. He turned to face me, his hand brushing against my cheek. “Don’t cry, love. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking as I tried to hold back the tears. “I didn’t want to do this—I promised myself I wouldn’t—but I’m going to miss you so much.”

His face softened, and he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. “I’m going to miss you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

I buried my face against his chest, letting a few tears escape as he ran his hand soothingly up and down my back. “I know you have to go,” I said quietly, “but it just… it feels so hard to say goodbye.”

“It’s not goodbye,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to tilt my chin up so I was looking at him. “It’s just ‘see you later.’ I’ll call you every chance I get, and as soon as I’m back, the first thing I’m doing is coming straight to you.”

I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words, though the ache in my chest didn’t ease. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, leaning down to kiss me gently. The kiss was soft and lingering, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word into it.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so important to me, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.”

I smiled through my tears, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “And you’re important to me.”

The sound of his phone vibrating broke the moment, and he sighed, pulling it from his pocket. “That’s my Uber. I have to go.”

I nodded, standing with him as he grabbed his bag. At the door, he turned back one last time, his eyes locking with mine. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I said softly, forcing a small smile.

He kissed me again, quick but full of warmth, before stepping out into the hallway. I watched him go, my heart heavy but hopeful, and as the door closed, I knew one thing for sure: no matter how far apart we were, Harry and I were in this together.

The weekend dragged on, each hour feeling heavier than the last. After Harry left, the silence in my apartment seemed louder, the once-comforting quiet now feeling hollow. I’d tried to distract myself—tidying up the kitchen, folding laundry, even putting on a movie—but nothing seemed to hold my attention for long.

Instead, I found myself moping around the apartment, replaying our goodbye in my head. His voice, his smile, the way he hugged me so tightly before he left—it all felt so vivid, like he was still here. But then reality would settle in again, and the ache in my chest would return.

I spent most of Saturday curled up on the couch in one of his old sweaters, a half-empty cup of tea cooling on the coffee table. My phone sat beside me, but I resisted the urge to text him, reminding myself he’d barely even landed yet. Instead, I scrolled absentmindedly through photos on my phone, pausing on the ones of us from the past week: Harry grinning at the garden, his arm slung casually around me at Anne’s house, the two of us laughing over cookies in my kitchen.

Sunday wasn’t much better. I tried to make myself productive, but even the simplest tasks felt draining. I stared at my bookshelf, thinking I might lose myself in a story, but every time I reached for a book, my mind wandered back to Harry.

By the evening, I was stretched out on the couch again, my blanket pulled tightly around me. The TV played a movie I wasn’t watching, the dialogue fading into the background as I stared at my phone. I hated feeling this way—so listless, so heavy—but I couldn’t shake it.

Then, just as I was about to turn the TV off and crawl into bed, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it instantly, my heart leaping when I saw his name on the screen.

Harry: Miss you already, love. What are you doing right now?

A smile broke across my face, and for the first time all weekend, the ache in my chest lightened. Maybe the distance was hard, but his message reminded me that I wasn’t alone in feeling this way. He missed me too.

I sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around me as I typed back.

Y/N: Moping around, missing you. What about you?

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry: Thinking about you. Do I need to fly back there and cheer you up?

I laughed softly, the sound breaking through the haze of my mood, and typed back quickly.

Y/N: As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll be okay.

Harry: You’re stuck with me now.

A few weeks had passed, and life had slowly settled into a rhythm. Harry and I kept in touch through texts and FaceTime, and while I missed him more than I wanted to admit, hearing his voice and seeing his face, even through a screen, made the distance a little easier to bear.

One afternoon, I came home to find a small envelope waiting in my mailbox. It was addressed in elegant handwriting, and when I opened it, I was greeted by a beautifully designed invitation. My best friend was getting married. The date was just a few weeks away, and the location was back in the States.

Excited and surprised, I grabbed my phone and called her immediately. She picked up on the second ring, her voice light and cheerful.

“Y/N!” she said, already knowing why I was calling. “Did you get it?”

“I just opened it!” I said, grinning. “A wedding? When were you going to tell me? You’ve been holding out on me!”

She laughed. “I wanted it to be a surprise. It’s not going to be a huge thing, just close friends and family, but I’d love it if you could come. You’re one of the most important people in my life—I couldn’t imagine getting married without you there.”

Her words made my chest tighten, a warmth spreading through me. “Of course, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Are you kidding me? It’s your wedding.”

“Good,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d say no, but I still had to hear you say yes.”

“When did you start planning this?” I asked, still processing the news. “I had no idea.”

“Quietly,” she admitted. “We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Just something small and meaningful. And now that you’re coming, it’s going to be perfect.”

“I can’t wait,” I said sincerely. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

She laughed softly. “We’ll see about that. Just get yourself here. That’s all that matters.”

After we hung up, I stared at the invitation again, my heart swelling with excitement. It had been too long since I’d seen her, and the thought of being there for such an important moment felt incredible. I couldn’t wait to celebrate her love story—and to feel a little piece of home again.

After I hung up, I stared at the invitation in my hands, excitement bubbling in my chest. But alongside the joy came a small pang of guilt. My best friend was getting married, sharing one of the most important milestones of her life, and I’d been keeping a secret—something I hadn’t planned to keep from her for so long.

I glanced at my phone, hesitating for just a moment before hitting redial. She picked up almost instantly.

“Y/N, what’s up? Forget to ask something?” she said, her tone light and teasing.

I laughed nervously, twirling the edge of the invitation between my fingers. “Kind of. I just… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her tone shifted slightly, curious but still warm. “Okay. Spill. What’s on your mind?”

I took a deep breath, gathering the courage to explain. “So, you know how we were just talking about important people in each other’s lives?”

“Yeah?” she said, drawing out the word, clearly intrigued.

“Well,” I began slowly, “there’s someone in my life I haven’t mentioned yet. And… I feel bad for not telling you sooner.”

“Y/N,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

I smiled despite my nerves, the warmth of her concern settling me. “It’s nothing bad. Actually, it’s really good. I’ve been… quietly dating someone.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then her voice rose, excitement bubbling through. “Wait, what? Y/N! Who is he? Why haven’t you told me? Spill everything, right now.”

I laughed, though my cheeks burned. “It’s kind of… well, it’s Harry, my boss’s son. Harry Styles.”

Silence followed, but only for a beat before she burst out laughing. “You’re joking. You have to be joking.”

“I’m not joking,” I said, smiling nervously. “It’s real. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now. It’s still new, but… it’s real.”

There was another pause, and then a delighted squeal. “Oh my God, Y/N! You’re serious? You and Harry Styles? This is insane. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” I admitted. “It’s been… a lot to figure out. And I didn’t want to overwhelm you with it. But now that you’re getting married, I just couldn’t keep it from you anymore.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh, though I could hear the smile in her voice. “You’re forgiven. But only because this is the best news I’ve heard in weeks. You have to tell me everything when you get here. Every single detail. Me and you. Hotel bar.”

I laughed, relief washing over me. “I promise. You’ll get the full story.”

“Good,” she said firmly. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so happy for you. You deserve this.”

Her words hit me squarely in the chest, and my smile softened. “Thank you. That means so much.”

“Now go start packing,” she said, her voice turning playful again. “I need my maid of honor looking fabulous when she meets my family.”

We laughed together before saying goodbye again, and as I hung up, the guilt I’d felt was replaced by a warm sense of relief. I couldn’t wait to share the details with her in person—and to see where this next chapter of our lives would take us.

That evening, as I settled onto the couch with my phone, Harry’s name lit up the screen. His familiar grin filled my heart with warmth as I picked up.

“Hey, love,” he said, his voice soft and full of affection. “How’s your day been?”

“Good,” I replied, smiling. “Actually, I have some news.”

“Oh?” he asked, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“I’m going to be a maid of honor,” I said, excitement bubbling in my voice. “My best friend’s getting married in New York in a few weeks, and she asked me to stand by her.”

Harry’s grin widened. “That’s amazing, Y/N. I bet she couldn’t imagine anyone better for the job.”

“She’s been one of my closest friends for years,” I said fondly. “I’m so excited for her. It’s a small wedding, just close friends and family, but it’s going to be so special.”

Harry’s voice turned playful. “So, what’s the plan for your maid of honor attire? Something chic? Dramatic? Full-on princess vibes?”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “It’s her wedding, Harry. I’m not stealing the spotlight. She mentioned something about keeping it simple and elegant. I’m sure she’ll pick out a dress for me that fits the vibe.”

“I’m picturing you now,” he teased, his tone light but warm. “You’re going to look stunning, no matter what you wear.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I joked, feeling my cheeks heat.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he shot back, his grin evident in his voice. “Now I’m wishing I could be there to see you walk down the aisle.”

I smiled softly, his words tugging at my heart. “You’ll be there in spirit.”

“Still doesn’t feel like enough,” he said, his tone turning thoughtful. “But I guess I’ll just have to settle for pictures—lots of pictures.”

“You’ll get plenty,” I promised. “And I’ll tell you all about it afterward.”

“Deal,” he said, his voice lighter again. “And if you need someone to practice your maid of honor speech on, you know where to find me.”

I laughed, feeling the warmth of his care wrap around me, even across the distance. The excitement of the wedding had been enough to brighten my day, but sharing it with Harry made it all the more special.

A few weeks later, the day of the wedding trip arrived, and I flew to New York City, excitement buzzing through me. After checking into the hotel where the ceremony would take place, I met up with my best friend, her enthusiasm matching mine. We hugged tightly, laughing and catching up before deciding to head down to the hotel bar for a celebratory drink.

The bar was cozy and bustling, and before long, the laughter between us grew louder, fueled by the cocktails we kept ordering. Somewhere between my second and third drink, she leaned in with a knowing smile.

“So,” she began, drawing out the word, “tell me everything about Harry. What’s he really like?”

I grinned, the warmth of the drinks making me more open than usual. “He’s… incredible,” I said, my voice softening. “He’s kind and thoughtful, always checking in to see how I’m doing. He makes me laugh so much, and he has this way of making me feel like the most important person in the world.”

She rested her chin on her hand, grinning like a schoolgirl. “Okay, I’m obsessed already. He sounds amazing. And ridiculously charming.”

“Oh, he is,” I said with a laugh. “Sometimes it’s almost unfair. But he’s also so genuine. He doesn’t just say sweet things—he backs them up with actions.”

My best friend sighed dramatically, raising her glass. “Here’s to the perfect boyfriend. And to you, for snagging him.”

We clinked glasses, laughing again as the drinks kept flowing. By the time we were both thoroughly drunk, she was looking at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You know what we need to do?” she said, pulling my phone out of my purse.

I blinked, trying to focus. “What?”

“We need to call him,” she said, already scrolling through my contacts. “He needs to come to the wedding. He can’t miss this.”

“What?” I said, reaching for my phone, but my reflexes were dulled by the alcohol. “No! He’s busy. He’s—”

“Hello? Harry?” she said, cutting me off as the call connected. My eyes widened as I heard his voice on the other end.

“Uh, yeah, this is Harry,” he said, sounding a mix of amused and confused. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Y/N’s best friend,” she said brightly, her words slurring slightly. “Listen, you’re amazing, and she talks about you all the time. You need to get on a plane and come to this wedding. We’re going to party, and you can’t miss it.”

There was a pause, and then Harry laughed, his voice warm. “She’s been drinking, hasn’t she?”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Harry, I’m so sorry. She stole my phone.”

“It’s fine, love,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “This is definitely the highlight of my night.”

“Seriously, though,” my friend continued, undeterred. “She’s amazing, and you’re amazing, and you belong here. Come on, Harry. Be the romantic hero.”

Harry chuckled again, clearly entertained. “I’ll see what I can do. But you might want to get her some water before she plans a whole flight for me.”

“She’s fine,” my friend insisted, grinning. “But you’re officially invited. Think about it.”

“I will,” Harry said, his voice softening. “Now, make sure she gets back to her room safely, all right?”

I finally managed to grab the phone, my face burning with embarrassment. “Harry, I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said, laughing. “It’s good to know I have a fan club.”

I sighed, but his lightheartedness eased some of my embarrassment. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m sober. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said warmly. “Goodnight, love.”

As I ended the call, my best friend leaned back in her chair, looking far too pleased with herself.

“You’re welcome,” she said smugly.

I couldn’t help but laugh, despite the mortification. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” she said with a grin, raising her glass for another toast. And despite everything, I couldn’t deny that she was absolutely right.

As the laughter subsided and I tried to process the chaos of my friend calling Harry, she leaned forward again, her eyes sparkling with a new mischievous idea.

“All right, spill,” she said, her tone dripping with curiosity. “How good is he in bed? I mean, come on, it’s Harry Styles.”

My face immediately flushed, the alcohol making my usual filter non-existent. “We, uh… we haven’t done anything like that yet.”

Her jaw dropped, her expression a mix of shock and exaggerated disappointment. “What?! You’re telling me you’ve been dating Harry freaking Styles, and you haven’t gotten lucky yet?”

I laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush it off. “It’s not like that. We’ve been so busy—his schedule’s insane, and when we’re together, the moment just… hasn’t felt right.”

She groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “That’s it. If he comes to the wedding, you have to make it happen.”

“Oh my God, stop,” I said, laughing and covering my face. “It’s not something I can just plan!”

“Sure, you can!” she said, slapping the table. “You’re the maid of honor, he’s the ridiculously sexy boyfriend. It’s practically a movie. You two sneak away during the reception, the sparks fly—boom, best night ever!”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh too hard at her drunken theatrics. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No,” she said, pointing a finger at me, her face serious despite her tipsy sway. “What’s ridiculous is that Harry Styles is in love with you, and you haven’t jumped him yet. If he gets here, you owe it to yourself. And to me, for the record. I need to live vicariously through this.”

I couldn’t stop laughing, my cheeks burning as I buried my face in my hands. “You’re insane.”

“And you love me for it,” she replied with a triumphant grin, raising her glass for another toast. “Here’s to Harry, your wedding date, and your impending fairytale night.”

I clinked my glass against hers, still laughing. “You’re absolutely wild.”

She leaned back in her chair, a smug smile on her face. “You know I’m right, though.”

As much as I tried to brush off her antics, her words lingered in my mind, equal parts embarrassing and amusing. And deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder if she might just be onto something.

Later that night, my phone buzzed on the nightstand of my hotel room as I clumsily changed into pajamas. Still a bit tipsy from the bar, I grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Harry’s name lit up, and a wide, silly grin spread across my face as I answered.

“Helloooo,” I drawled, dragging out the word in an exaggerated sing-song tone.

Harry chuckled on the other end, his voice warm and familiar. “Hi, love. Someone’s had a fun night, I take it?”

“You could say that,” I replied, flopping onto the bed and giggling. “We may have had… one or two drinks. Or three.”

“Sounds like it,” he said, clearly amused. “Well, I’ve got some news. I pulled a few strings, rearranged a couple of things, and… I can be your date to the wedding.”

The excitement hit me instantly, and I let out a loud, dramatic gasp. “You’re kidding! Harry Styles, the one and only, coming to my best friend’s wedding? I can’t believe it!”

He laughed, his tone softening. “Yeah, it’s happening. I didn’t want you going through it without me.”

“You’re the best,” I said, my words slurring slightly as I hugged a pillow. “Seriously. You’re, like, the nicest, sweetest, best boyfriend in the universe.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teased. “So, what’s the plan for the wedding? Are you ready for your maid of honor duties?”

“Totally ready,” I said, giggling. “Except my friend… oh my God, she’s gonna love you. But she said something so wild tonight.”

Harry hummed, his tone curious. “Oh? What’s that?”

I hesitated for a moment, then burst into laughter. “She said… she said we need to ‘get lucky together’ at the wedding.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Harry let out a deep, warm laugh. “She said what?”

“Yup!” I replied, laughing so hard tears pricked my eyes. “She was all like, ‘You’re dating Harry Styles, and you haven’t yet? If he comes to the wedding, you have to make it happen.’ Like, she was so serious. It was hilarious.”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Sounds like she’s your biggest cheerleader.”

“Oh, she definitely is,” I said, grinning. “She’s wild, but she means well.”

“Well,” Harry said, his voice teasing, “far be it from me to disappoint your friend. If that’s what’s on her wishlist…”

I let out an exaggerated gasp, laughing. “Harry Edward Styles, you are terrible!”

“Terrible? Or just dedicated to fulfilling my duties as your boyfriend?” he quipped, the grin evident in his voice.

I dissolved into giggles, rolling onto my back. “You’re ridiculous. But you’re my ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” he said warmly. “Now, get some sleep, love. We can talk more when you’re not quite so… festive.”

“Festive,” I repeated, laughing softly. “Okay, fine. Goodnight, Harry. And thank you for coming to the wedding.”

“Anything for you,” he said, his voice soft. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams.”

As I hung up, my heart felt lighter, the excitement of seeing him again making everything feel a little brighter—even through the haze of my drunken antics.

The next morning, a sharp knock at my hotel room door jolted me awake. Groaning, I buried my face in the pillow, my head pounding slightly from the night before.

“Y/N!” my best friend’s voice called through the door. “Get up, sleepyhead. We’re going to breakfast, and then we’re shopping. No arguments.”

I forced myself out of bed, dragging a hand through my hair as I shuffled to the door. When I opened it, she was standing there, bright-eyed and holding a cup of coffee, looking far more awake than I felt.

“Morning!” she chirped, thrusting the coffee into my hands. “Drink this. We’ve got plans.”

I took the cup gratefully, my voice groggy. “Plans? What kind of plans?”

“Wedding shopping, duh,” she said, pushing her way into the room. “I need a new set of lingerie for my wedding night, and you, my dear, are coming with me. We’re going to find something fabulous.”

I blinked at her, still half-asleep. “You’re dragging me lingerie shopping before I’ve even had breakfast?”

“Yes,” she said with a grin. “But don’t worry, breakfast is first. Oh, and while we’re shopping, you should pick out something slinky for Harry.”

My face instantly flushed, and I nearly choked on my coffee. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, smirking as she flopped onto the edge of my bed. “If he’s coming to the wedding—and thank you, drunk me, for making that happen—you might as well make it a trip to remember.”

“You’re insane,” I said, laughing despite my embarrassment.

“And you love me for it,” she replied smugly. “Now hurry up and get dressed. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

Shaking my head, I set the coffee down and started pulling clothes from my suitcase. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” she said with a wink. “Now, let’s get moving. We’ve got to find you something that’ll make Harry’s jaw drop.”

Despite the teasing, I couldn’t help but laugh as I got ready, her energy infectious. The thought of shopping for something like that was a little nerve-wracking, but her playful attitude made it hard not to feel excited about the day ahead.

After I got dressed and downed the coffee she brought, we headed down to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast. The smell of fresh pastries and brewed coffee was heavenly, and as we sat by the window overlooking the bustling streets of New York City, I felt the lingering fog of last night’s drinks start to clear.

“So,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a sly grin, “are you going to take my advice and pick out something jaw-dropping?”

“For you or for me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I took a bite of my croissant.

“For you, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “This is your chance to show Harry the full package. You know, give him a reason to never let you out of his sight again.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You act like he needs convincing. He’s coming to your wedding, isn’t he?”

“Yes, because I made the call of the century,” she said proudly, sipping her coffee. “But still, a little extra effort never hurts.”

“And you’re just dying to drag me into some lingerie shop, aren’t you?” I teased, smirking.

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “You’ve always been too modest. It’s time to embrace the fun of it. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be the only one shopping for someone special.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “Fine, we’ll see. But don’t expect me to go full-on runway model.”

“Oh, I won’t push too hard,” she said, her grin widening. “But I’ll know the perfect set when I see it. Trust me.”

After breakfast, we ventured out into the city, hopping in and out of boutiques and shops, her energy as high as ever. At every store, she’d pull me toward the lingerie section, holding up items she deemed “Harry-worthy.”

“How about this?” she asked, holding up a sleek black lace set.

I blushed, shaking my head. “A little much, don’t you think?”

“Not for Harry,” she said with a wink. “Okay, how about this one?” She turned to a bold red satin number, the color striking against the delicate fabric.

“You’re relentless,” I said, laughing.

“Of course I am,” she replied, tossing the set into my arms. “Try it. You’ll thank me later.”

Despite my initial hesitation, I let her drag me into a dressing room, her over-the-top encouragement keeping me laughing the whole time. By the end of the trip, she’d found the perfect set for herself, while I begrudgingly admitted that she might have been right about hers for me.

Back at the hotel, we sprawled out on her bed, bags around us as we recapped the day.

“I can’t believe you actually convinced me,” I said, holding up the small shopping bag.

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “You’ll thank me when Harry sees you in that.”

“You’re impossible,” I said, laughing.

“And you’re about to have the best wedding date of your life,” she shot back, tossing a pillow at me.

As I looked at the bag, a mixture of nerves and excitement stirred in me.

Later that evening, nerves and excitement churned in my stomach as I waited for my Uber to arrive. Harry’s flight had landed, and I was heading to the airport to pick him up. My heart raced as I thought about seeing him again—it had felt like an eternity since we’d last been together.

The ride to the airport felt longer than it probably was, the anticipation making every mile stretch. When we finally pulled up, I stepped out into the cool night air, glancing around as I headed inside. The hustle and bustle of the terminal faded into the background as I made my way to the baggage claim, checking my phone for updates on his flight.

Then I saw him.

Harry stood near the carousel, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his curls slightly tousled from the flight. Even in the chaos of the airport, he looked calm and effortlessly put together. When his eyes met mine, his face broke into a wide smile that made my chest tighten.

Without thinking, I ran to him, weaving through the crowd until I reached him. “Harry!” I called, my voice light with excitement.

Before I could say anything else, his arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground as he spun me in a circle. I laughed, holding onto him tightly, the familiar warmth of his embrace flooding through me.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection as he pressed his face into my neck. “And you smell incredible.”

I laughed again, my cheeks flushing. “It’s just my usual perfume.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, setting me down but keeping his arms around me. “It’s you. You always smell amazing.”

I looked up at him, my hands resting on his chest as I took him in. His green eyes sparkled under the harsh airport lights, his grin soft and genuine. “I missed you too,” I said quietly, the words carrying so much more than they seemed.

“Well, I’m here now,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “And I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight.”

After we left the airport, the car ride back to the hotel was filled with easy laughter and light conversation. Harry held my hand the entire time, his thumb brushing softly over my knuckles as we caught up on everything we hadn’t said over texts and calls. Being with him again felt so natural, like no time had passed at all.

When we reached the hotel, I led him up to my room. He dropped his bag by the door and glanced around, taking in the space with a small smile. “Cozy,” he said, his voice warm.

“It does the job,” I replied, grinning as I kicked off my shoes and went to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. As I handed him one, a thought struck me. “Oh! Do you want to see my dress for the wedding?”

His eyes lit up, and he leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “Absolutely. Show me what the maid of honor will be rocking.”

I laughed, walking over to the closet where the dress hung neatly in its garment bag. I unzipped it carefully and pulled it out, holding it up for him to see. The dress was elegant and understated, a soft blush color with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and sleeves. The flowing skirt gave it a romantic, timeless feel.

Harry’s gaze softened as he took it in, his smile widening. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice sincere. “You’re going to look stunning in that.”

“You think so?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious as I draped it over the back of a chair.

“I know so,” he replied, stepping closer. “But let’s be honest—you’d look stunning in anything.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, though my cheeks warmed at his compliment. “You’re too sweet.”

He reached out, pulling me gently into his arms. “Just telling the truth,” he said softly, his hands resting lightly on my waist. “Can I say something without sounding completely selfish?”

“Of course,” I said, tilting my head to look up at him.

“I’m so glad I’m here to see you in this,” he said, his grin turning a little sheepish. “I didn’t want to miss this moment—or you.”

My heart swelled at his words, and I smiled, resting my hands on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here too. It wouldn’t have felt the same without you.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead. “Well, now you’ve got me, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

The dress hung behind me as Harry held me close, the promise of the wedding and the days ahead filling the room with a sense of excitement and possibility.

As we stood by the chair where my maid of honor dress hung, Harry’s gaze drifted around the room, taking in the little details. His eyes landed on the small shopping bag sitting on the table near the window, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward it.

My eyes widened as I followed his gaze, and my cheeks flushed instantly. “Nothing!” I said quickly, darting over to the table and grabbing the bag.

“Nothing?” he repeated, the smirk growing. “You got nothing at a lingerie store?”

“It’s not what you think,” I mumbled, fumbling to open my suitcase and stuff the bag inside, my back to him.

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning casually against the desk, his tone full of amusement. “You’re being very subtle about it.”

“Drop it, Harry,” I said, though the laugh bubbling up in my chest made it hard to sound serious.

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t waver. “But for the record, I’m very intrigued by this ‘nothing’ you’re hiding.”

I shot him a playful glare, zipping up the suitcase and turning back to face him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he teased, stepping closer and brushing a hand lightly down my arm. “But I’ll behave… for now.”

The warmth in his eyes made my heart flutter, and despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Good. Now, are you done snooping around my hotel room?”

“For now,” he said with a wink, his grin turning softer. “But only because I’m more interested in spending time with you.”

Shaking my head, I let him pull me back into his arms, the earlier moment fading into laughter.

After a quiet evening catching up and unwinding from the long day, Harry and I began getting ready for bed. The excitement of seeing him again and the anticipation of my best friend’s wedding the next morning made my heart feel full. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light as I pulled out a pair of comfy pajamas, glancing over to see Harry stretched out on the bed, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed smile.

“You ready for tomorrow?” he asked, looking up at me as I climbed into bed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied with a smile, settling in beside him. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“It will be,” he said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. “And you’re going to be amazing.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence as we both drifted off, the hum of the city outside muffled by the thick curtains. I woke early the next morning, the excitement of the day pulling me out of sleep before my alarm even went off. Carefully, I slipped out of bed, glancing back at Harry, who was still sleeping soundly. He looked peaceful, his hair tousled and his expression soft.

I leaned over, gently pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll see you downstairs,” I whispered, not wanting to wake him fully.

He stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent before settling back into the pillows. Smiling, I grabbed my dress and makeup bag and quietly left the room, heading downstairs to join the bridal party.

The hotel’s ballroom was already a flurry of activity when I arrived. My best friend greeted me with a hug, her face glowing with excitement as she ushered me over to where the hairstylist and makeup artist were setting up.

“You ready for this?” she asked, her grin wide as she handed me a cup of coffee.

“Absolutely,” I said, matching her energy. “Let’s get you married.”

The morning flew by in a whirlwind of preparations—hair, makeup, last-minute adjustments to dresses—and the energy in the room was electric. As I helped my best friend into her wedding gown, I couldn’t help but think about how perfect the day was shaping up to be. And knowing that Harry would be there to share it with me made it feel even more special.

The ceremony was beautiful, every detail reflecting the love my best friend and her fiancé shared. The hotel ballroom was elegantly decorated with soft florals and candles that flickered gently, casting a warm glow over the guests. As I stood beside her, holding her bouquet and witnessing her vows, my heart swelled with happiness for her.

But I wasn’t unaware of Harry. Sitting a few rows back, he watched me with a soft intensity that made my chest tighten. I could feel his gaze, a silent support that steadied me through the emotional ceremony. When I glanced at him briefly, his small, encouraging smile sent a wave of warmth through me.

After the ceremony, the reception buzzed with excitement and laughter. The ballroom had been transformed into a space of celebration, with tables adorned with candles and flowers, and a dance floor waiting for its first guests. Toasts had begun, and as the maid of honor, it was my turn.

When I stood to speak, a hush fell over the room. Harry’s eyes found mine instantly, his expression filled with pride and encouragement. I smiled at my best friend and her new spouse, holding a small piece of paper in my trembling hands.

“I thought about what I could say to you today,” I began, my voice steady but soft. “About how much you mean to me, about the love you’ve found, and about this beautiful journey you’re starting. But nothing I could say felt big enough, important enough, or true enough. So, I wrote you this.”

I glanced down at the poem I had poured my heart into, the words flowing as naturally as the love I felt for her. My voice softened as I read:

"In the quiet of your laughter, And the light within your smile, I’ve seen the kind of love that grows, A flame that warms for miles.

You’ve built a home within each other, A place no storm could break. A bond that holds, through highs and lows, No matter what’s at stake.

So as you walk this path together, A future bold and true, Know my heart is here, forever, Cheering both of you."

As I finished, my voice broke slightly, the emotions catching up to me. Tears glistened in my best friend’s eyes, and as she reached out to take my hand, I realized I wasn’t the only one crying. A quiet sniffle from the crowd told me others had been moved too, including Harry, whose gaze was warm and full of admiration.

“You’re impossible,” my best friend said through her tears, pulling me into a hug. “How am I supposed to top that?”

“You don’t have to,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Just be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

The room broke into applause as we hugged tightly, and I returned to my seat, feeling lighter and fuller all at once. As I sat down beside Harry, he reached over to squeeze my hand, his smile soft and full of pride.

“That,” he whispered, leaning close, “was incredible. You have no idea how amazing you are, do you?”

I looked at him, my heart swelling once again. “I’m starting to get the idea.”

As the music played and the reception buzzed with energy, my best friend walked over, her wedding dress flowing elegantly as she approached Harry and me at our table. Her face lit up with a mix of gratitude and playfulness, and before I could say a word, she pulled me into a tight hug.

“Y/N, you made me cry in front of everyone,” she said with mock indignation, though her voice was thick with emotion. “That poem was beautiful. I’ll never forget it.”

I hugged her back, smiling. “You deserve every word, and then some.”

Pulling back, she turned her attention to Harry, her smile widening. “And you must be the famous Harry Styles I’ve heard so much about.”

Harry stood and extended a hand, his grin charming as ever. “Guilty as charged. You must be the bride who’s been giving Y/N all this grief about me.”

She laughed, shaking his hand before placing her other hand on her hip. “Well, someone had to give her a push. But now that I’ve met you, I think you’re worth it.”

Harry chuckled, glancing at me. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The three of us chatted for a while, the conversation light and full of teasing. My best friend, always the life of the party, had Harry laughing within minutes, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth at how easily they clicked.

Eventually, she sighed dramatically, glancing around the room. “All right, I should go mingle with the rest of these people. It’s my party, after all.”

She leaned in to give me one last hug, her voice dropping to a mischievous whisper in my ear. “You two are ridiculously lucky. And I hope you get really lucky tonight.”

I froze for a moment, my cheeks instantly heating as I pulled back, glaring at her playfully. “Oh my God, stop,” I hissed, but she just laughed, giving me a wink before gliding away into the crowd.

Harry noticed my flustered expression and raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing. “What did she say?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, waving him off.

His smirk deepened as he sat back down. “Whatever it was, it’s clearly not ‘nothing.’”

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my smile. “Let’s just say she’s in full bride-mode mischief and leave it at that.”

Harry laughed, reaching over to take my hand. “Fair enough. But remind me to thank her for all the meddling—seems like it paid off.”

As we sat there, watching the celebration unfold around us, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. Between the happiness of the day and the man sitting beside me, everything felt just right. And though I tried to brush off my friend’s teasing, her words lingered, filling me with a mix of nerves and excitement for whatever the night might hold.

Once the energy of the night began to mellow, Harry and I exchanged a knowing look, both feeling the pull of exhaustion. The day had been incredible, but the hours of celebration were catching up to us.

“You ready to head up?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I think I’m about ready to call it a night.”

We said our goodbyes to my best friend, who was still glowing with joy, and made our way to the elevator. The ride up to the room was quiet, a comfortable silence filled with the warmth of the day’s memories. When we stepped into the room, Harry dropped his jacket onto the chair and stretched, running a hand through his curls.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” I said, grabbing my pajamas—and the little lingerie bag—from my suitcase. Harry, half-distracted by pulling off his tie, waved me off with a smile.

“Take your time,” he said, his voice soft.

In the bathroom, I turned on the hot water, letting it steam up the mirror as I slipped out of my dress. The shower was refreshing, washing away the day’s excitement and leaving me with a fluttering mix of nerves and anticipation. As I dried off, I glanced at the little bag, my friend’s teasing words echoing in my mind.

Taking a deep breath, I slipped the lingerie on, the delicate fabric hugging my skin. It was far more daring than anything I’d normally wear, but tonight felt like the right moment to step outside my comfort zone. Over it, I pulled on a light robe, tying it loosely at the waist.

When I opened the bathroom door, the room was softly lit by the bedside lamp. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I stepped out, his casual expression freezing the moment his eyes landed on me.

“Y/N…” he said, his voice trailing off as he set his phone down, Harry's eyes fixed on me, his gaze slowly sweeping up and down my body. He rose from the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he approached. "What do you think?" I whispered, my fingers playing with the edge of my silk robe.

"You're...breathtaking," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His hand reached out to trace the curve of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His other hand found the tie of my robe, gently tugging it loose before pushing the fabric off my shoulders to reveal my lacy bra and panties beneath.

I smiled coyly, emboldened by his hungry stare. The way he looked at me made me feel powerful and irresistible. As he stepped closer, I reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his toned chest and tattooed abdomen. I ran my fingers over his smooth skin, feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch.

When our lips met in a searing kiss, Harry's hands roamed over me, exploring the swell of my breasts and the curve of my hips. His fingers dipped beneath the lace waistband of my panties, teasingly brushing against me before sliding them down to expose me completely.

"I need you inside me," I whispered into his ear as I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. His rigid length sprang free, pulsing with need. Eagerly, I stroked as I guided him towards my entrance.

He entered me slowly at first, allowing me time to adjust to his size before steadily picking up the pace. Our bodies moved in perfect harmony as we tangled ourselves in each other's heat and passion. Each thrust seemed to take us both higher until we were dancing on the edge of release.

I arched beneath him as he hit a particularly sensitive spot deep within me; my fingernails dug into the muscles of his back as waves of pleasure surged through me. Harry's breath came in increasingly ragged gasps, his green eyes locked on mine, full of unabashed lust.

As our bodies melted together, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, muffling his groans while I cried out in ecstasy. Our climax reverberated through us, leaving us both trembling and sated as we clung to one another.

Later, as we lay side by side in the soft glow of the hotel room, I couldn’t help but turn toward Harry, my heart full and my mind quiet for the first time all day. The sheets were a mess around us, and the faint hum of the city outside provided a soothing backdrop to the intimacy of the moment.

Harry’s face was turned slightly toward me, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady. The subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his curls fell messily across his forehead, and the softness in his expression all struck me in a way that made my chest tighten. Even in sleep—or maybe especially in sleep—he was breathtaking.

His lips, slightly parted, held the faintest curve, like he was caught in a pleasant dream. His lashes were long, fanning out delicately against his cheekbones, and the soft stubble along his jawline added a ruggedness that only seemed to amplify his beauty. The golden light from the bedside lamp highlighted the contours of his face, casting gentle shadows that made him look like something out of a painting.

I traced his features with my eyes, memorizing every detail, every curve and line that made him him. The dimple in his chin, the faint freckles that dusted his skin, and the slight crease in his brow that softened when I gently brushed his curls back from his forehead.

He stirred slightly at the touch, his lips twitching into a small smile even though his eyes remained closed. His hand found mine under the sheets, his fingers intertwining with mine like it was second nature.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but carrying that familiar warmth.

I smiled, leaning closer until my forehead lightly rested against his. “Can you blame me?” I whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

His eyes opened, just a sliver, enough for me to see the flicker of amusement and affection in their green depths. “You’re biased,” he said, his lips curving fully into a smile now.

“Maybe,” I replied softly, my thumb brushing over his hand. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his voice rumbling in a way that made my heart flutter. “You’ve got it backwards, love. You’re the beautiful one.”

I shook my head slightly, a shy laugh escaping me. “We can argue about it later. Just… let me enjoy this.”

He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes again and tightening his hold on my hand. “Enjoy all you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

And as I lay there beside him, the world outside fading into the background, I felt a deep sense of peace. There was no place I’d rather be than here, wrapped in the quiet warmth of Harry and the soft glow of a love that felt like it could light up the entire world.

Harry broke the peaceful silence, his voice low and tinged with something heavy. “I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

The words hit me softly but deeply, and I turned my head to look at him. His green eyes were open now, gazing at me with an honesty that made my chest tighten. He wasn’t trying to hide the sadness in his voice, and it mirrored the ache that had already begun to form in me.

“I don’t either,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like we just got here.”

His hand, still holding mine under the sheets, tightened slightly. “This whole long-distance thing,” he said with a small, rueful smile, “it’s not exactly my favorite.”

I let out a soft laugh, though it lacked humor. “Mine either. But we’re making it work.”

“Barely,” he muttered, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I just… it’s hard leaving you.”

I shifted closer, resting my forehead against his, our noses just barely touching. “I know,” I whispered. “It’s hard for me too.”

“My flight’s not until the afternoon,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “But yours is early, isn’t it?”

I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. Morning flight back to London. I’ll probably have to leave the hotel while you’re still sleeping.”

The thought made my chest ache even more. Leaving him here, knowing we’d be apart again, felt unbearable. Harry sighed, his eyes closing as he rested his forehead more firmly against mine.

“I hate the idea of waking up and not seeing you,” he said softly, the vulnerability in his voice breaking down the walls I’d tried to build to stay strong.

“Me too,” I whispered, my hand finding its way to his cheek. I stroked it gently, feeling the roughness of his stubble under my fingertips. “But we’ll get through it. I have hope.”

He opened his eyes again, the depth of his gaze pulling me in. “I know we will,” he said, his voice steady despite the sadness. “I just wish I could keep you here with me. Or come back with you.”

My throat tightened, and I had to fight back tears as I nodded. “I wish that too. Every time.”

Harry let out a soft sigh, pulling me into his arms and holding me close. “Then let’s just make tonight count,” he murmured against my hair. “No thinking about tomorrow. Just you and me.”

I nodded against his chest, wrapping my arms around him. “Just us,” I agreed softly.

And for the rest of the night, we held on to each other like we were trying to make time stop, savoring every touch, every word, every moment as if it were the only thing that mattered—because to us, it was.

The alarm buzzed softly in the dark room, and I reached out to silence it, careful not to disturb Harry. The early morning light barely peeked through the curtains as I sat up, my heart heavy with the knowledge that I’d have to leave him behind.

I turned to look at him, still sound asleep, his curls a mess against the pillow, his breathing steady and soft. He looked so peaceful, and the thought of waking him to say goodbye felt too cruel. Instead, I leaned down, pressing the gentlest kiss to his temple, letting my lips linger for just a moment.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, gathering my things and moving around the room as silently as possible. My suitcase was packed, my heart ached, and as I looked at him one last time, I knew I couldn’t leave without something more.

I found the notepad on the desk by the window, the hotel’s logo printed at the top, and grabbed a pen. Sitting down, I took a deep breath and began to write, the words flowing easily despite the tightness in my chest:

Harry,

I didn’t want to wake you—I know how much you hate goodbyes. But I couldn’t leave without saying how much this trip has meant to me. Being here with you, even for such a short time, reminds me how lucky I am to have you in my life. You make everything brighter, better, and more beautiful.

I’ll miss you more than I can say, but I’ll hold on to the memory of this time until we’re together again. Thank you for being you, for caring about me the way you do, and for coming to this wedding to make it unforgettable.

Call me when you wake up. And don’t forget—this isn’t goodbye. It’s just ‘see you later.’

Love, Y/N

I folded the note neatly and placed it on the bedside table, propping it up against the lamp so he’d see it as soon as he woke up. My chest ached as I looked at him one last time, my heart wishing for just a few more minutes.

But time wasn’t on our side. With a deep breath, I grabbed my suitcase and slipped quietly out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut behind me feeling far too final.

As I made my way to the airport, the thought of Harry waking up and reading my note brought me a small comfort, even as the distance between us began to grow again.

The flight back to England was everything I dreaded—a cold, uncomfortable reminder of how far I was traveling from Harry. The cabin air was chilly, no matter how tightly I wrapped the airline blanket around myself, and the hum of the engines only made the hours drag on longer. I tried to distract myself by reading or watching the in-flight entertainment, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the warmth of his arms and the soft sound of his laugh.

I stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds, my reflection faint against the glass. My chest ached with the weight of our goodbye, and though I knew we’d see each other again, the distance felt like a physical barrier that was harder to bear with every passing mile.

When the plane finally touched down in London, the dreary sky mirrored my mood. I made my way through customs and baggage claim on autopilot, my suitcase trailing behind me as I navigated the familiar airport. By the time I stepped outside, the brisk air hit me, making me shiver and pull my coat tighter.

All I could think about was the comfort of my own bed, the one place that felt like home when everything else seemed to shift. The drive back to my flat felt endless, and when I finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence hit me harder than I expected.

I left my suitcase by the door and went straight to my room, kicking off my shoes and collapsing onto the bed without bothering to change out of my travel clothes. The soft sheets enveloped me, and I closed my eyes, letting the familiar scent and warmth of my space soothe the ache in my chest.

I reached for my phone, staring at the screen, hoping for a message from Harry. As if on cue, the device buzzed, and his name lit up the screen.

Harry: You made it back, yeah? Hope you’re curled up in bed—it’s what you deserve after that flight.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I typed back.

Y/N: Just got in. You know me too well—already under the covers. Miss you.

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry: Miss you more. Rest up, love. I’ll call you in a bit, okay?

I set the phone down, the comfort of his words settling over me like a second blanket. As much as I hated the distance, knowing he was just a message or call away made it a little easier. For now, I let the exhaustion of the day take over, letting sleep claim me in the quiet warmth of my own bed.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through my curtains, waking me far earlier than I wanted. I stretched lazily, still groggy from the long travel day, when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, rubbing my eyes as I unlocked the screen. A text from Mitch lit up the screen, and I smiled immediately.

Mitch: Hey, just checking in. Hope you’re settling back in after that long flight. H sent me some pics of us in the studio yesterday—thought you might like to see what he’s been up to.

Attached were a few photos, and I couldn’t help but grin as I opened them. The first was a candid shot of Harry at the mic, his hair a tousled mess and his eyes closed as he sang. His passion was evident, the intensity on his face a reminder of how much he loved what he did.

The second photo was of Mitch and Harry together, both of them laughing at something, their instruments nearby. Harry was mid-laugh, his dimples on full display, and the sight made my chest ache in the best way.

I quickly typed back a reply:

Y/N: Mitch! Thanks for checking in. I’m doing okay—just getting back into the swing of things here. These pics made my day. He looks so happy.

Almost instantly, Mitch replied.

Mitch: He’s happy, yeah. But trust me, he hasn’t stopped talking about you. Keeps saying how much he misses you already.

I bit my lip, warmth flooding through me. I could practically hear Mitch’s teasing tone in his message.

Y/N: Now you’re just trying to make me cry. Thank you for keeping an eye on him for me.

Mitch: Anytime. You two are good together. Let me know if you need me to pass along any messages—or if you want me to remind him to eat something besides coffee and snacks.

I laughed softly, shaking my head as I typed back.

Y/N: Always looking out for him. Thanks, Mitch. I’ll text him later, but tell him I said hi, just in case.

Mitch: Will do. Take care, Y/N.

The weeks dragged on, each day feeling longer than the last without Harry nearby. But getting back into my routine with Anne brought a sense of normalcy. Being around her again reminded me of the warmth and support that had brought me here in the first place. We fell back into our usual rhythm of work and lighthearted conversation, and moments like those made the distance from Harry feel a little easier to bear.

One afternoon, I was in the kitchen, boiling a pot of tea for us to share. The aroma of Earl Grey filled the air, and I called out to Anne, who was in the study, “Tea’s ready!”

I reached for the mugs, humming softly to myself, when I suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap firmly around my waist. Startled, I froze for a moment before turning my head, half-expecting to see Anne with some kind of playful gesture.

But instead, I found myself face-to-face with Harry, his familiar green eyes sparkling with mischief. My heart skipped a beat, and a slow grin spread across my face as I remembered the very first time we met.

“Well, you’re definitely not your mum,” I said, my voice light and teasing.

Harry laughed, his grin widening as he tightened his hold around me. “Déjà vu, isn’t it?” he said, his voice warm and full of affection.

I twisted in his arms to face him fully, my hands resting on his chest as I took in the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice caught between surprise and joy. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said softly, his hands moving to my waist as he leaned closer. “Mum might have tipped me off about your tea-making schedule.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Anne’s always in on the surprises, isn’t she?”

“She’s a mastermind,” he joked, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. I missed you too much.”

My chest tightened at his words, and I smiled up at him, my fingers brushing lightly over his sweater. “I missed you too.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. The kettle whistled on the stove, breaking the quiet, and I laughed, gently pulling back.

“Guess we better not let your mum’s tea get cold,” I said, reaching for the mugs.

Harry grinned, grabbing one for himself. “Lead the way, love.”

As we walked toward the study, the warmth of his presence made everything feel right again, like the missing piece of my world had finally fallen back into place.

Harry followed me to the table, the two of us settling into the cozy nook where Anne always liked to sip her tea. As I poured the steaming liquid into the mugs, he leaned back in his chair, his arms casually resting on the table, his familiar grin tugging at his lips.

“Feels good to be back,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at me. “Though I was starting to wonder if you were going to replace me with all the tea-making and poetry-writing. Very English of you, by the way.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I handed him his mug. “I think you’re safe—for now. But Anne’s poetry game is pretty strong.”

He smirked, taking a sip of his tea before setting it down. “Good thing I’ve got my charm to fall back on. Plus, if I remember correctly, you can’t resist my dimples. They’re basically my secret weapon.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress my grin. “Is that so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, leaning forward conspiratorially. “In fact, I’d say they’re at least 60 percent of the reason you agreed to date me.”

I snorted, nearly spilling my tea. “Sixty percent?”

“Fine,” he said with a mock sigh, his expression thoughtful. “Seventy, but only because I’m being modest.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter as Anne walked in, catching the tail end of the conversation. She looked between us, smiling knowingly as she took her seat.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Harry’s trying to convince me his dimples are his greatest asset,” I said, still grinning.

Anne raised an eyebrow, smirking as she took a sip of her tea. “I’d say they’re top three.”

“See?” Harry said, gesturing toward his mum as if her opinion sealed the deal. “It’s unanimous.”

I rolled my eyes, the warmth of the moment settling over me. “Well, congratulations. You’ve won me over—again.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “That’s good to know. I’d hate to think I traveled all this way just to lose you to better tea or a clever poem.”

His words, light as they were, carried an unmistakable warmth, and as we sat there together, the tea steaming between us and laughter filling the air, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to the day—or the story that had brought us here.

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