#night shift fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barnesafterglow · 7 months ago

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night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

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simpjaes · 7 months ago

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night shift part 2 if you want to? i enjoyed it so much and i reblogged i swear!

oOooOOOOooo, check this shit out:

#ask #anon #fic: NIGHT SHIFT

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thegrimreaperisanerd · 6 months ago

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On a lighter note somebody on A03 just dropped this comment on Chapter 15 of DUCKLINGS THAT DROWN with a fan comic???? They gave me permission to repost it here and I had to because I'm obsessed!

Dolores Dei in her waiting outfit? The black speech bubbles for (real) Kim contrasting the white, pure, *fake*, speech of dream Kim?? How they're all drawn in general???

THE GAME MENU AS THE DREAM ENDS AND HARRY WAKES UP ALONE IN THE DARK???

I have been looking at this for hours.

#I saw this right before I had to go work that Sunday night close and it honestly got me through the shift #that sounds dramatic but i was so miserable at one point i went to the bathroom for a scrap of quiet. opened my phone. looked at it.#then went 'aight' and continued serving customers #INLAND EMPIRE with the hand on Harry's shoulder and Kim's face in the last panel are my favourite parts I think #DUCKLINGS THAT DROWN #disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #dolores dei #i wouldn't usually use main tags for my fic stuff but this is amazing and i need everyone to see it

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ender1821 · 27 days ago

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and I’ll never see you again if I can help it

Posted on ao3: read here!

In which Gem tries to sort through the past and the present.

…unfortunately, Pearl is always there.

#ender writes #gempearl #pearlgem #mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #trafficshipping #trafficblr #wild life smp #no healthy communication for you. no reliable narrators here. go listen to night shift by lucy dacus on loop and on full blast #if you see me mix up tenses because i Had A Vision and had to make the flow of this fic way more complicated than it needed to be #You Simply Didnt. ok

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lavenderfluorite14 · 6 months ago

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A Taste of Plums | Astarion x Female!Tav

Chapter 11: Fun

Summary: Astarion is surprised, in more ways than one, by the morning after. Rating/Warnings: PG, casual murder, poisoning, degradation/humiliation. Full tag list on AO3. Read on AO3. Chapter 10❤️‍🔥

Astarion wakes from his trance surprisingly refreshed. He stretches his nude body languidly, enjoying the brief flash of soreness in his muscles. Beside him, Tav still rests peacefully. He openly admires her, his eyes lingering on the bite marks he gave her last night. The mottled petals of the bruises lay so beautifully against her skin.

The morning sunlight streams through the canopy in golden ribbons as Astarion quietly rises, moving to bask in a nearby sunbeam. His mind goes blank as he lets the pleasure of it all wash over him. He hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

His plan is working. He’s safe and full. The morning sun feels so warm on his skin.

“Good morning,” Tav interrupts his musings, her voice gravelly with sleep.

“Good morning,” he replies. He’s loath to turn around, wanting to keep sunning himself, so he shifts slightly so he can watch her out of the corner of his eye. “You’re up early! I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

“Oh, I am,” Tav yawns. She arches her back in a deep stretch, her nipples pebbling in the morning chill. Light purple hickeys dot her breasts, each one a small reminder of their night together. They will take days to fade. “I quite enjoyed myself,” she admits, smiling at him. Astarion preens. Of course she did. All according to plan. Behind him, he can hear Tav get to her feet. “Did you have fun?” she asks, suddenly tentative.

“Of course, my darling,” Astarion answers, surprised by the question. “You’re a veritable feast.” “Good, I’m glad,” Tav says, relieved. “Towards the end, I was worried that something may have been wrong?” Astarion stiffens imperceptibly. “But I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to ruin the moment.” Astarion isn’t quite sure how to explain this.

“I was holding back a little, it’s true,” he reveals. “I didn’t want to lose control. Delicious as you were, I didn’t want to go too far.”

It’s the truth, it’s just not the whole truth. For the sake of the plan it was imperative that he perform correctly, and that meant remaining in control. But even though their tryst may have been tailored to Tav’s pleasure and tastes, he still enjoyed himself. Even holding back, he experienced more pleasure last night than he has in decades. But there is no need to talk about all that.

“Oh,” Tav says, obviously chewing on his words. It occurs to Astarion that he has never had to navigate a “morning after” before. Not like this. Is it always so awkward? So vulnerable?

“Now let’s go, we have a long day ahead of us,” he prompts. He turns towards the oak tree, where he had left his clothes, but stops when he sees the pensive expression on Tav’s face. “May I ask about your back first?” Tav asks.

Of course she had noticed it. Most of the time Astarion tries to forget it is even there. He considers brushing her off, burying his shame even deeper down. But a bigger, louder part inside of him howls for comfort.

“It’s a poem,” he explains, crossing over to the oak tree to gather up his shirt. He had left it carefully folded at the base of the trunk. “A gift from Cazador.” He pulls his shirt over his body, fussing with its fit. “He considered himself quite the artist and used his slaves as a canvas. He composed that one over the course of a night.” Tav just listens, letting him speak. “He made a lot of revisions as he went,” Astarion finishes, his voice soft and deep. He can’t quite keep the pain from those last few words.

“That’s awful,” Tav says quietly.

“Yes, well. ‘Awful’ does aptly describe Cazador,” he replies.

“Are you sure it’s a poem?” Tav asks.

“Of course I’m sure,” Astarion insists, not sure at all now. “That’s what Cazador said, as he was carving it into my back.” Cazador, who of course was a completely trustworthy source of information.

“It just doesn’t look like any poem I’ve ever seen before,” Tav presses. “Well, I didn’t say he was a good poet!” Astarion cries. “What do you mean, ‘it doesn’t look like any poem you’ve ever seen before?’”

“Well for starters, why did he write it in Infernal?” Tav asks.

“Infernal?“ Surprise jolts through him, settling in the pit of his stomach where it quickly curdles into fear. He has no idea what this means, but it can’t be anything good. Nothing with Cazador is.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what happened.

“I-Who knows. The bastard was insane,” he says dismissively. “Now let’s go, before I regret my restraint last night,” he purrs, trying to pivot this conversation back into comfortable territory.

Tav looks at him thoughtfully before silently dressing and gathering up her things. His flirtation falls flat, ringing falsely even to his own ears. Its hollow echo follows them all the way back to camp, where they both quietly slip into their separate tents.

They smell the goblin camp before they see it. A miasma of filth blankets the base of the western mountains in a bouquet of smoke, sweat, death, and dung. And, of course, that one singular, arresting note: blood. Old and new, stale and fresh, rotten and delicious. It stinks to high heaven.

There’s a group of goblin warriors guarding a narrow entrance that passes for a gate. Tav pulls them all aside before they engage.

“Listen, you three,” she levels a serious glare at Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’Zel. “I know the past few days have been….” She pauses, trying to choose her words carefully.

“Thoroughly frustrating?” Shadowheart remarks.

“The time of your life?,” Astarion offers, suggestively.

“Bad,” Lae’Zel declares.

“Bad,” Tav agrees. “And I know this group has had its challenges. But I don’t know what we’re going to find in there, and I don’t know what we are going have to do to make it out alive. Hopefully with Halsin, but we need to anticipate the worst. We can only make it through this together. I need the most vicious and ruthless fighters of our group to have each other’s backs today. So, can you put aside your differences to make this work?”

“Of course, darling. I’m a consummate professional,” Astarion vows.

“Affirmative,” Lae’Zel confirms.

“So long as nothing is said to me, I’ll be fine,” Shadowheart says, turning up her nose. Tav sighs.

“I’ll take it. Let’s go.”Tav is all business now, already forging ahead with the business of the day. Which is perfect, because Astarion has absolutely no desire to address the morning’s awkwardness. He’s trying to enjoy his victory, but something still feels off to him. Last night was a success, but there’s a nagging voice inside of him that says it was not enough. That he will need to do more to truly secure his place.

Lae’Zel, Shadowheart, and Astarion all watch as Tav bluffs her way past the goblin guard at the entrance. Just as they are about to pass, the guard stops her and points to a gelatinous turd at his feet. He gestures to it with his hand and pantomimes applying it to his face. Tav takes his suggestion, bending down to scoop up the excrement.

“Oh no,” Astarion whispers to their cohort.

“She wouldn’t,” Shadowheart whispers back, incredulous.

“She had better not,” Lae’Zel growls. Tav looks back at them over her shoulder. Their disgust for this is palpable, magnified in triplicate. Her eyes find Astarion’s.

And she winks.

Tav flings the poop directly in the goblin’s face, immediately souring any hope of peaceful entry. Astarion laughs a high, whooping laugh as he rushes to high ground. He easily snipes the goblins who try to call for help while Lae’Zel, Shadowheart, and Tav clear the remaining guard with relish and ease. So much for goblin security.

“Did you really think that I would do that?” Tav asks them as she leads the way inside. “Did you really think I would smear shit on my face?”

“I’m never quite sure what you are going to do next,” Astarion teases. Tav glares at him, playing at being insulted. Well, maybe she is a little insulted. “I just meant that you are full of surprises, darling.”

Tav hums a low, sarcastic note. “Good surprises, I hope?” she replies. There’s a hopeful glimmer in her eye that makes his stomach flutter.

“Naturally. Only the very best,” he promises, his tone low and provocative. Tav disguises her smile with a playful eye roll.

“If you debase yourself like that for a puny goblin I truly will leave,” Lae’Zel warns. Astarion and Shadowheart hesitate at her words, but Tav giggles as if it is a joke and not a serious threat.

“Noted, Lae’Zel. I will not smear poop on my face.”

Once through the gate, no one questions their presence. The goblin camp is utter chaos, and probably more surprisingly, filled with more than goblins. As they cross a crumbling bridge, they spot a familiar face on a makeshift dias across the way.

“Is that? Volo!?” Tav gasps. Volothamp Geddarm, noted writer, adventurer, and overall smarmy fuck, fumbles his way through a monologue of nonsense as a crowd of goblins jeers and pelts him with trash.

“With fragulous crown and sceptre abrade, Dror Ragzlin short work of the innkeeper made!”

“Bravo!!!” Tav cries, clapping loudly to drown out any booing. The goblins scowl, side-eyeing Tav with annoyance.

“Come on darling, that’s not the kind of show they want,” Astarion whispers. “They want to mock him.”

“Z’ose friends o’ yours?” A female goblin asks, her voice laden with suspicion.

“Of course not! No funny business here!” A flustered Volo laughs nervously. He shoots a quick glare at Tav.

“What are you doing? I’m busy here!” He says, shooing them away. He begins his screed again.

“Dror Ragzlin….Dror Ragzlin….” Volo tries his best, but he eventually trails off pathetically. A goblin chucks a cup at him, splashing Volo with the dregs of stale ale.

“If you aren’t gonna perform, you’re goin’ back in tha cage!” The goblin yells. Volo withers before her.

“Of course, ma’am,” he grovels. She shoves him harshly off the stage, much to the delight of the crowd.

“We have to help him!” Tav whispers to their group. Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’Zel all share a look.

“We are not here for the annoying wizard. We are here for the druid, as you said,” Lae’Zel reminds her firmly.

“It’s true, I did say that. But, we will almost certainly have to fight to free him! Won’t that be fun?” Tav says. Lae’Zel considers this.

“I do not fight for ‘fun.’ I fight to win. I fight for the honor and glory of Vlaakith,” she announces.

“Tav, this is Volo you are talking about,” Shadowheart complains.

“The Volo. Maybe if we save him he will put us in his next book!”

“That’s precisely what I am afraid of,” Astarion says.

“But then we’ll be famous!” Tav smiles sweetly up at him.

“Make us rich and famous and then you have a deal,” Astarion counters.

“Lady of Sorrows, will you two stop flirting with each other? I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but this hellhole is a temple to Selûne,” Shadowheart spits out the name with vitriol. “Even if it’s appropriately defiled, l don’t want to be in a temple of the Moon Witch for longer than I have to be,” Shadowheart whines. Tav looks away shyly, chastened. But when the cleric turns away, Tav looks at him and pulls a face behind Shadowheart’s back. Astarion stifles a smirk.

Something between them is changing, which is perhaps why it feels off to him. They have always shared banter, but it seems as though she’s actively trying to make him laugh now. And if he makes a joke, he can depend on Tav to laugh, even in a wry sort of way. It’s flirtatious, but it’s fun.

Fun. Perhaps he should chase that feeling. After the revelation that there may be more to his scars than he knows, a little fun with his lover at the expense of some goblins sounds like just what he needs. Lover. The word sounds so serious. And yet it isn’t. Not really. It could mean a lot of things.

As they walk, Astarion takes in more of their surroundings. They seem to be in a courtyard, which has been hastily transformed into a feast hall. Meat of some kind roasts on an open spit while goblins fill their tankards from a nearby cauldron of liquor. Merchants haggle with customers while other goblins eat, sing, fight, and make merry in a haze of hedonism.

One voice emerges above the din of the camp, bragging about recent conquests. “Weaker than pixies, humans!” A goblin squawks. A gaggle of his comrades laugh at his harsh words. Even surrounded by admirers, the squat, scarred goblin still catches their group staring. “Wot are you lot doin’ ‘ere? ‘More pests?” he eyes them up and down. “You prolly think you rule the world,” he sneers.

“That’s not true. We don’t think we’re better than anyone,” Tav pipes up. Astarion catches Shadowheart’s eye, then Lae’Zel’s. He doesn’t need the tadpole to know they all firmly disagree with Tav’s assessment.

“Everyone says that, then they spit in our faces,” the goblin snarls. “But no more. Things’re changin’. We got the Absolute on our side.” He gives them an evil look, sizing Tav up. “Ya better learn yer place.” The hairs on the back of Astarion’s neck stand on end as the goblin advances towards them, a look of pure hatred and disdain on his face.

Cazador has given him that look many times, right before he made Astarion do something particularly ghastly.

“Go on. Kiss my foot,” He points to the ground, wiggling his toes. “Or I’ll wipe that nasty look right off yer pretty face.”

“End him or leave him. But do not grovel to this slug,” Lae’Zel says firmly.

“Just kiss the damn foot. Worse things have been shoved in your face lately.” Shadowheart is speaking to Tav, but she is looking pointedly at Astarion. Predictably, it seems the others noticed their rendezvous. He gives Shadowheart a quick, saucy wink. She scoffs but fails to completely conceal her smirk of amusement.

Astarion can see that the goblin is growing impatient. “Well, go on. Give him a nibble,” Astarion urges. It’s horrid work, but it’s one kiss and then she’ll be done. It will be easy and then they can be on their way. Tav looks at him with surprise. He raises an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting, princess” the goblin jeers. Tav rounds on him with a withering glare.“How about you kiss my foot, before I knock that smug look off your face,” Tav says. At the first hint of pushback, the goblin quickly changes his tune. “Look mate, piss off! Yer not welcome ‘ere,” the cretin says, puffing up his chest.” Tav plants her foot in front of him. “Kiss my foot. Now,” she orders, in a tone that demands obedience. Fear flickers across the goblin’s face as the crowd falls completely silent. Tav points down to her foot and a little thrill passes through Astarion as he watches the goblin sink to his knees. He places a surprisingly delicate kiss across the worn leather of Tav’s boot. “There, I done it,” he says, rising back to his feet.

Tav gives him a final once over as she turns away.

“Good,” Lae’Zel says approvingly. The crowd parts for them as they leave.

“Arrogant swine,” the goblin mutters after her, but Tav pays him no mind.

“Aren’t you the domineering tyrant,” Shadowheart teases.

“Only when I’m pushed,” Tav laughs. “I’m not wearing poop and I’m not kissing goblin feet,” she promises.

Astarion will do what he has to do to survive and he doesn’t begrudge others who do the same, but there’s just something about a person who refuses to be pushed around. Who wields power unapologetically. Astarion snakes his hand around her waist, pulling her close. “You continue to delight and surprise me, darling,” he whispers in her ear. Tav shudders against him and he gives her hip a quick squeeze, releasing her as he playfully retreats out of reach. Shadowheart coughs loudly.

“Lady of Sorrow guide us,” she prays pointedly. Her prayer is interrupted by a hoot of terror as a small, bedraggled clump of feathers darts past them and into a crowd of goblins, which parts for it as it scampers away. “What are they doing to that poor creature?” Shadowheart cries.

Astarion leans against a stone wall as Tav barges over, inserting herself into whatever that business is. He watches as she crouches down to speak softly to the frightened owlbear cub. Something has definitely shifted between them.

Funny. Clever. Cunning. Ambitious. Fierce. “It’s no use,” Tav says, returning. “I gave the cub my scent, but it can’t escape so long as the goblins have it trapped.”

“Well, then it sounds like we have some killing to do,” Astarion says. Lae’Zel grunts approvingly.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind killing some goblins to help that sweet cub,” Shadowheart agrees.

“Same here. But let’s try to find Halsin first. Once we’ve freed him, we can grab the owlbear on the way out.”

“We can still have some fun in the meantime though,” Astartion suggests. “What did you have in mind?” Tav asks. He opens his pack and flashes a bottle of Wyvern toxin at them. “We can cull some of the horde as we go. Watch this,” he grins toothily before swaggering away towards the vat of suspicious booze he had noticed earlier. He thumbs the cap of poison, concealing the flask in his sleeve. He loiters for a bit, watching as goblins meander past. He grabs a nearby discarded cup off of a table, covertly pouring the poison inside. He walks over to the punch bowl, pantomiming filling his cup as he slips the poison into the dubious punch. He takes a few fake sips from his glass as he walks back to the group.

“Battle is more honorable. But I suppose this is efficient,” Lae’Zel remarks. “That’s absolutely terrible” Tav admonishes. Astarion frowns in surprise, but Tav quickly drops the act. “I love it,” she says, smiling. “Now, let’s go, before they catch wise,” Astarion snickers, smiling back. The group beelines for the heavy doors to the temple, putting as much space between themselves and their crime as possible. “What will your evil little mind think of next?” Shadowheart says as they disappear deeper into danger.

Chapter 12: Penance

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #astarion longfic #a taste of plums #astarion is bad at feelings #astarion x reader #the night shift #the goblin camp bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fic #astarion fluff #in a dark messed up kinda way

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cr4yolaas · 3 months ago

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the night shift — prologue

masterlist | day 1

it's cold. too cold.

it's a little too late at night for any customers to arrive. tokyo is deemed one of the many cities that don't sleep, but with how quiet it is inside and out and the snow collecting softly on the windows, it seems that the world has come to a slumber.

the overhead lights flicker, slightly. someone would have to squint their eyes to see it. the freezers hum in the background, forever running for the satisfaction of others. a gentle melody that neither of them knows the name of loops from the speakers. it's just about the same as every other branch in the city.

and yet, for them, it's a sanctuary.

to escape from the reality of their lives is a blessing, and they find that solace in the walls of the convenience store, almost every night.

he likes to observe her. when their shifts align and they find themselves seated together behind the register, just like every other night, he observes, and observes, and observes, but he can only absorb so much. the color of her hair. the tint of her cheeks. the little habits.

he knows there's more to it. that, beneath the mass of flesh and muscle and bone, there are more intricacies than he could count on his fingers. but he reminds himself, every night, that there is no point in bothering himself with it. because, after all, they're just coworkers.

the alarm on his phone, set at exactly 11:30 in the evening, rings inside his pocket. they're both pulled out of the reservoirs of their minds and dropped into something more secure, something more familiar. a routine.

while he gets up to sanitize the counter, she moves to the register, the metal clinking at the little drawer pops open (he doesn't know, but she counts the money in her hands and wonders what it'd be like if it were all hers, just for a day). the heater shuts off and the door to the break room clicks shut. old shoes squeak against old tile while pen meets paper, little notes jotted into her mind that she'll (hopefully) remember to tell her manager about tomorrow.

silence washes over like a blanket. they don't fight it.

a sense of agreement, albeit not verbally disclosed, is shared between them — that much has been established since they were both employed, standing side by side in a line full of newcomers with too little shoulder space. there is no need to say anything. there is no need to do anything, other than their job. it's routine. it's necessary. it's comfortable.

but, the night shift drags on. and the more it does, the more he wants to break the routine.

ᡣ𐭩 thank you for choosing to read the night shift !!

ᡣ𐭩 this is one of my favorite projects ever i think. i'm so so excited for it

ᡣ𐭩 i wanted to introduce the ambiance and general vibe first so i hope this little prologue captured it well ^_^

ᡣ𐭩 in case you missed it, the convenience store that kags and yn work at is a common branch in this au. therefore it's not exactly a mega company but it's not a family business either

ᡣ𐭩 yn texts the manager's son bc he's an old man who stays around just for the fun of it. may or may not hate the son's guts, bc he's a bit of a privileged nepo baby

ᡣ𐭩 kageyama is a people watcher imo. bc of his analytical skills that are constantly applied to volleyball, i feel like he tries to apply similar skills to those around him sometimes. and who better than his coworker !!

ᡣ𐭩 anyways. i hope this smau turns out well !!

taglist: @causenessus @strawberryuri @iiwaijime @savemebrazilhinata @tiramizuloz @conrad4life13 @wyrcan @zazathezaer @nperoconelcositoarriba @winniethepooh-lover

italicized names cannot be tagged. check your account settings!

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becaexists · 2 years ago

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I'm having an internal debate so I'm turning to you the people: should I have the situation at the docks and Sebastian ending up in the hospital be a canon thing that happened in Like Real People Do? (for those that don't remember, it's my Peace-Message/SebAngelo + Styx and Quin all together as roommates fic) I'm very conflicted as it does add spice but also jumbles the timeline sort of

#Idk I can't decide #very annoying :/#night shift podcast #angelo volta #sebastian fen #fanfiction #night shift pod #sebangelo #night shift fics

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simpxxstan · 1 year ago

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the night shift

pairing: idol!jeonghan x caregiver!f.reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, a little bit of angst

summary: it’s such a surprise what just three months of your life can do to you. it can actually change your life.

word count: 10.3k

rating: 13+

warning: mention of death (not major character). a few swear words here and there. a lot of time skips, i hope it doesn't impede the reading flow!

a/n: i have officially been sucked into the world of svt and there’s no getting out of here! i honestly just got into soft jeonghan feels and wrote this. i’m writing after a very long time, and so much has happened since my last update on tumblr. i’m sorry if i have kept any of you waiting 😭. i will try to update regularly now!

i hope you enjoy reading it!

“Hello. I’m L/N Y/N.” You bowed deeply to the young man sitting in front of you in a wheelchair, a bored expression feeting in his eyes, his blonde hair falling raggedly over his face. A face you were not unfamiliar with.

The man twisted his lip in annoyance and looked at the other man in the room. “Why is she here?”

“Hyung, you had said you’d keep a nurse.”

“I don’t remember, Hoshi. Perhaps, I was under the effect of heavy medication. Because of these fucking meds-” he seemed mildly irritated as he swatted his hand about in the air. “None of these meds are heavy in any way. Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten!” The younger boy whined, and continued, “Jeonghan hyung, the company, the doctor, the members, your family. Everyone has said that this is the best for you. You don’t have a say in this,” Hoshi had stood up to hold Jeonghan’s hands down. “Hyung, please.”

The man in the wheelchair had no option but to become limp in Hoshi’s hold. Flecks of irritation still on his face, he kept glaring at you with the world’s most disinterested look. “One month.”

“Hoshi-ssi told me three months…?”

“No. One month. You work for me, I decide the rules.”

He swiftly turned his wheelchair around and went back into his bedroom.

“He’s moody these days, his mind is really fragile. I hope you understand.” Hoshi spoke to you gently. “Yes, I do. I’ve dealt with more stubborn patients, don’t worry.”

“I’ll leave you to settle down, then! Annyeong!” And the cheery young man left, after bowing his goodbyes.

You had a sense of foreboding creeping into your heart. There was perfect silence in the apartment almost as if you were alone in the entire space. But you knew you were not. How was it possible that Yoon Jeonghan could exist so soundlessly? What if he was actually not- oh god, what if he had passed out or something? You quickly go to his bedroom and knock on the door frantically. “Please, Jeonghan-ssi!” Slowly you heard one breath being released. The door slowly creaked open. The apartment became full of life again as you felt Yoon Jeonghan’s beautiful face eyeing you curiously, like his new found toy.

The first week was a chaotic one, but by the time the fortnight had passed, you knew Yoon Jeonghan was now in your grip. Idle, he had all the time in the world to prank you and tease you, even while being in his wheelchair. Sometimes he would feign memory loss and forget who you were, other times he would ask you to change his shirt after he had dropped some soup on it. If your days at the hospital, where you were interning, were tiring, your nights were even more challenging. He would fall asleep without taking the prescribed medicines, shuffle out of his wheelchair without calling for your help as he should have, and behave just like any naughty kid would. And you had no option but to scold him each time. But you could never be too angry at the man. He would smile the most angelic smile at you, making your veins burst and melt at the same time, your anger dissipating into annoyance into laughter. Eventually you would smile to yourself every time he was successful in his teasing, each feat giving him immense happiness. One successful prank, and Yoon Jeonghan was a happy man.

There were other ways to coax him into submission too. Making him his favourite ramyeon to warm his body whenever he could not sleep in the winter nights. Watching Jun’s new drama with him, and giggling over the kissing scenes, as Jeonghan would give you live commentary on how Jun would probably be behind the scenes. Combing his hair, which was growing longer by the day, into neat braids.

You had, eventually, and unthinkably, fallen into a routine.

“What is it exactly that you do in the daytime?” He had asked you once, while you were preparing breakfast for him before leaving for college. “I go to med school. Then I intern at the local hospital.”

“I know. But that can’t be it. Surely school and internships can’t leave someone as dog-tired as you come home, Nurse L/N.” He looked at you with suspicious eyes, a mischievous spark in his doe eyes. You knew he was going to tease you now.

You had, honestly, gotten used to this, and started recognizing the signs. Before you would cry out in anguish every time his teasing got the better of you. ‘Jeonghan-ssi. I forbid you from speaking ill about my favourite pen. It’s my lucky pen. I always do well in exams I write with this.’ ‘Oh, save heavens I make fun of your dearest pen.’ And he had laughed, all while knowing he had hidden the pen below his pillow. He would give it to you the next morning, a wave of relief flashing over your tense features, extremely nervous over the exam that day. ‘Don’t worry. You’ve studied so much. You’ll do well, irrespective of the pen.’ And then he had the audacity to wink. Fucking wink. After all the superstitious stress he had put you through the entire night.

“Have you ever met any person from the medicine industry?”

“Nope. No people. Some annoying aliens though, prescribing bullshit medicines to me which I don’t even need. And of course, I’ve met you.”

“You don’t even know how stressful med school is. And then, at the internship, they’ll ask us interns to do everything. Right from sanitising the scalpels, to cleaning the floor if someone spills coffee, and the very next moment, they’ll ask me to perform a minor treatment, as if I wasn’t busy polishing the floor right now.” You huffed and puffed as you served Jeonghan the sunny-side-up. He had already put butter on his bread and began eating it.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving now. Your coffee is in this pot. I’ve baked some cookies last night, while you were on that live call with fans-”

“Ooh that’s why the entire house was smelling like dogshit.”

“SHUT UP! They taste very good.”

“Dogshit? You’ve tried? A true connoisseur-”

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ll put you in timeout.”

“No!” He instantly put on his angelic smile, pouting, his features full of aegyo, and your momentary anger melts. Oh you don’t know what to do with this one.

20 days later, you could feel the wall between you two breaking down slowly. He had become more accepting to having you bossing around the house, keeping it clean and keeping him safe. Although you worked with him only for the night shift, the two of you would often have conversations, aside from the bickering, the nonsense he kept spewing and the teasing, that would actually be meaningful.

“You’re wearing your shirt the other way round, Nurse L/N,” he said as soon as you unlocked the door and stepped into the house after finishing your job.

“Oh!” You dropped your bags immediately and made your way to the washroom attached to your bedroom to change. “That’s why everyone on the subway kept staring at me.” When you returned to the hall, Yoon Jeonghan was sitting in the same way, flicking through his phone.

“You didn’t wear the shirt wrong in the morning?” He cocks an eyebrow, and you blush all over. He had caught you. Clearing your throat, “Umm, well…” He tilts his head, letting the evening sun fall on his hair and making it shimmer. “I had a date today.”

Immediately your veins start burning as he makes his way towards you, a small smile on his lips. “Nurse L/N! How did it go?” he asks you, then doesn’t wait for an answer. “Ahh well. That’s a wrong question. If you’re wearing your shirt the other way round, it must’ve gone well.” Peeking at you, to see your blush spreading all the way to your neck now. “Who is the unlucky person then?”

Argh. Not even 10 minutes into the house and he had started teasing you.

“He’s my friend from med school. We intern at the same hospital.”

“Show me a photograph.”

“Why?”

“I want to see!”

“Why? This is personal space.” You fold your arms, going along with his teasing.

“I want to see if he’s more handsome than me.” Jeonghan declares solemnly, as if that’s the most reasonable response. And when you burst out laughing, he laughs with you too, but continues whining to see the photo. And you have no option but to yield.

When Hoshi-ssi had approached you through his manager to take care of Jeonghan for the next three months till he recovered from the accident that had broken his left leg, you had been reluctant before saying yes. Firstly, you hadn’t believed that such a famous celebrity would be requesting for you, when they had all kinds of services at their disposal anyway. Then you learnt that you had taken care of Hoshi’s aunt when she was very ill and bed-ridden, and the good feedback had flown in from his family. Hoshi’s aunt had been your second patient, your first being your own mother, who had suffered from schizophrenia, before you had lost her two years ago. Although your eyes were still wet from those memories, you had decided to take nursing up as a side profession, to pay for the bills of med school, and put your nursing skills to use as well. Seven clients later, you had landed this job- taking care of the superstar idol, Yoon Jeonghan.

“It’s a night shift. So you’ll have to interact very little with the patient. Through the day, he can take care of himself. We just expect you to keep him company as his… mental state… is really weak right now, perhaps more than his physical state,” the manager had said.

You weren’t a Carat. You didn’t even follow idol groups. You didn’t want to seem like a golddigger, and you knew well that these celebrities could throw tantrums, or even worse, ill-treat you.

But when Hoshi-ssi personally called you, you simply could not refuse. There was something so soft in his voice, laced with worry whenever he spoke about his hyung, you simply knew you had to help this man out.

And you had taken up the job.

The apartment was big enough for you to stay comfortably. Jeonghan was non-interfering in your personal matters, mostly. From time to time, he would comment on your hairstyle, worry about the dark circles under your eyes, suggest a new skincare product, and enquire about your family in all politeness. You had thought the initial courtesy he showed would die down, and then he would minimise his interactions with you.

However, to your great (mis?)fortune, he stayed up every day, even after 25 days had passed, waiting for you to come back home. He would sit at the dinner table, as you made dinner in the kitchen. He would text you, while you were at work, sometimes meaningful questions, other times random thoughts, and even more rarely (thankfully), some photographs. Of his pet rock, of a new parcel delivered home, of takeout he had ordered for lunch instead of eating what you had cooked for him that morning, of himself.

Oh, of himself.

Those selcas were the rarest, and yet you kept wishing for him to send you one whenever your phone lit up with a notification. While you would sit in the break room, eating lunch between classes, you’d wait for it. When hanging out with friends after the internship, you’d wait for it. When your date from two weeks ago, Minho, took you out to coffee, you found yourself waiting for it again.

And when it did, you’d save it instantly. Take a screenshot if it was a one-time view. Stare at it endlessly, sometimes laughing at the filters he would set up, sometimes smiling wistfully into his beautiful brown irises, looking at the camera with odd affection. You knew he generally sent those photos to you to get a reaction before posting them on Weverse for his fans. But somewhere in your heart, you had begun to wish, he would click those photos for you. Not for his fans, not out of boredom, not just to check if his face was still handsome. Just for you.

But that was the least of your problems.

Your job had turned a month old, and you paced about in your bedroom, having packed your bags already, ready to be kicked out. Although Yoon Jeonghan had been fairly tolerable these last few days, one could never understand what went about in his mind.

You were mentally listing off all the things you’d have to worry about now. You’d have to go back to your shitty paid guest room, and pay rent. You’d have to go without the extra cash from this job, barely making enough to eat four meals a day. Only somewhere in the corner of your mind, another little thought came up- you’d have to live without the living breathing caramel sunshine that was Yoon Jeonghan. You had truly gotten used to living with him- as a roommate, of course. Even with his irks and mischief, his moments of vulnerability and his fake aegyo. You had learnt to not dislike him, and now he was getting too close to your heart.

A sharp knock on your bedroom door broke you out of your thoughts. “Nurse L/N? You didn’t come to wake me up?” He says it so normally, as if you’re not combusting with nerves right now. “It’s not 8 am yet, you don’t like it if I wake you up before that.”

He yawns. Lazy, warm, still in his night sleepsuit. His hair messy, his skin looking soft and his lips looking-

“What’s all these bags for?”

“Huh?”

“You’re leaving me?” He starts to pout, making your insides like molten lava.

“I- uh- one month-” you manage to stutter out, wondering if he had truly forgotten or if this was one of his pranks. “One month’s done? Yay! I am two months away from freedom. Nurse L/N, can you please order waffles for me today, I’ve been craving something sweet!” He whirls around his wheelchair after flashing his brightest, cutest smile at you. Left with your mouth open, you already start thinking whether all the ingredients for waffles could be found at home or not.

While you would be away during the day, his members or family would come visit him, to help him dress or bathe. Every other day, you’d see him sitting with a member of his group, hearing their laughter even before seeing them when you entered the house. Sometimes more than one would turn up, and it would be a party.

They always treated you with great respect. Joshua would profusely thank you, the polite charismatic gentleman he was, for taking care of Jeonghan. Seungcheol would ask you regularly whether you were well, whether his friend was irritating you, and whether the terms of work were suitable for you. The days when his members would arrive, usually Jeonghan would switch on live, for his fans. Mostly the lives would get over as soon as you would arrive, sometimes they would continue after you arrived as well, and you’d try your best to soundlessly work through the house so as to not disturb anyone. Contractually bound to secrecy and personally wishing for no involvement with his fans, this was an arrangement suiting you perfectly.

Except one day, when he was doing the live all on his own. You dropped a small glass, and hurt your finger in the broken glass. Almost on instinct, Jeonghan had shouted out, “Nurse L/N, are you okay? Did you break something?” Hearing voice full of concern, real genuine concern, you couldn't help but reply back. “Yeah I’m okay! Don’t worry, it’s just a glass.” “Hmm, okay.”

Cleaning up your wound, you had tiptoed towards Jeonghan’s room, where he was arranging legos while streaming live. Your heart was pounding in your chest, waiting for the call from his company, asking you to resign. Knocking softly on the door, you entered, trying to signal him to not mention you aloud and asking him if the company had reached out to him to announce your dreadful fate.

“Ou?”

Facepalming yourself as Jeonghan asked you in the loudest whisper possible, you gave up. Even if your earlier reply was probably not audible due to the distance, it was so clear now when Jeonghan visibly looked up at you, and asked you, in the most innocent way. “Ou? What are you saying?” You were about to leave the room, when suddenly he introduced you, out LOUD, in front of his fans. “Caratdeul! This is Nurse L/N, she’s taking good care of me! Don’t worry for me. Nurse L/N, please say hello!” By now, you were palpitating. Your phone would ring any moment. Any- “Hello, I am Nurse L/N. I’ll take your leave now, Jeonghan-ssi,” you said, without showing your face on the camera.

But Yoon Jeonghan had no intention to let you escape. “Nurse L/N,” he cried out, with a pout on his face, his eyes shining behind his glasses, “how does my lego model look?” It was a model of some sports car. “Hmm, looks good!” “Everyone!” A smug look appeared on Jeonghan’s face, “This is the first time Nurse L/N has said my work looks good! This is all thanks to our Carats.” Taking his self-absorbed, smiling-widely-till-his-eyes-disappeared moment as an excuse, you left the room. Because another minute, and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from crossing a line.

You were well into the second month, when the panic attacks started.

They were most likely triggered by the doctor’s report that morning. Jeonghan-ssi, I’m afraid you’ll need more time to recover. Although your femur’s not broken, it’s extremely weak, and your legs cannot support your weight now. Even after recovery, I would advise you to not dance heavily for at least another month.

You had been awoken by a sharp scream in the middle of the night, no scratch that, early in the morning, as you could see the first rays of dawn streaming in through the window. Immediately you rushed to Jeonghan’s room, who slept with his door unlocked for such emergency situations. “Are you okay?”

And instead of the calm fairy you expected, you were met by a ghost.

Yoon Jeonghan was sitting upright in his bed, sweat pouring down from his forehead and arms, his long blonde hair dishevelled, and his chest heaving for air. The worst was over, you reckoned, as you gently stepped closer to him.

For the first time in two months, you saw fear in Yoon Jeonghan’s eyes. As soon as you came near the bed, he reached out to grip your hands. You whispered to him, endlessly rubbing his arms and his back, it’ll be alright, you’re okay, don’t worry, i’m here, you’ll be okay, you’re safe with me, until you could feel his heart rate slow down to a normal pace.

He then looked at you, in such an inexplicably fond way, like-

Like you were his light.

Like you were the stars in his dark night.

Like you were his world.

And you succumbed to the urge of hugging him. You pressed him gently to your body, trying to relay your warmth to his colder body, initially hesitant as to how he would receive your action.

To your surprise, he pulled you in closer. You realised it was his anxiety speaking, his fingers still trembling from the shock. And not his need to be close to you, as your dumb brain hoped somehow.

But then, he kept the hope alive.

“Stay with me tonight, Y/N.”

The entire day, you were extremely distracted, both in school and at work. Fumbling with things, clumsily dropping things, and forgetting important tasks. Yoon Jeonghan had called you by your first name for the first time. This single thought kept spiralling in your head, finding root in some delusion or the other. The entire night, you had spent with him. Hugging him first, then he had laid down and put his head on your lap. And you had stroked his hair, until he was asleep. You had sent a text to Seungcheol, asking him to come and stay with Jeonghan, as you didn’t want to leave him alone like this but you couldn’t miss classes today. He had immediately agreed, and turned up sharp at 7 am. Instead of waking up Jeonghan, you had left your blanket next to him to fool him of your presence, and left the house, leaving the man in his best friend’s care.

Last night had been a monstrous event for the tiny feeling you felt in your heart every time you thought of Jeonghan, which was actually nearly every second. Long forgotten was Minho and his stupid face and stupid voice and stupid pick-up lines. The only voice which sent warm electric shocks through your entire body was the one that belonged to Yoon Jeonghan. You kept texting Seungcheol, asking him for updates, whether Jeonghan had eaten, whether he had bathed, whether he had taken his afternoon nap, whether he was talking normally, whether his blood pressure was normal, so on and on. Even when his replies satisfied you, you were always nervous about what was happening back home.

Home.

Was the house you spent your nights in now home? Was the subway station you had now gotten used to getting off at home? Was the bedroom you slept in now home?

Or was he home?

When you did return to your home, you found the man who had occupied all your thoughts through the day sitting next to Seungcheol, giggling about something on his phone. “Oh you’re here!” Seungcheol says, popping up when he spots you enter. “Hi. I came home early.”

Jeonghan’s smile disappears, and you tense up already. You have no idea what’s coming.

“I’ll be leaving then. He’s been asking for you all day anyway,” Seungcheol smirks against Jeonghan’s little rebellious whines, and your stomach churns in worry. He bows to you, and leaves. Leaving you with the blonde little elephant in the room.

“So. How are you feeling, Jeonghan-ssi?” You ask after a while, breaking the ice finally. He shifts towards one side of the sofa, and you instinctively step forward, wondering if he wanted to get up into his wheelchair now, but he only pats the seat next to him, asking you to sit down.

“I’m sorry for last night, Nurse L/N.” There, back to just a fucking nurse. It was a slip of tongue. “You don’t have to be. This is what I’m here for. This is what you’re paying me for,” you chuckle, but he doesn’t even smile. “But I invaded your personal space-” you lean forward, hold his hand, and say, “Hey. Don’t worry. I hugged you out of my own accord.” “Because you wanted to?” he whispers, and you whisper back, your heart beating in your throat, your voice hoarse with emotion, “Yes, because I wanted to.”

“Can you do it again then?”

Quirking your eyebrows, you realised he’s being dead serious. There’s no way he could lie and tease you with such vulnerability in his eyes. And so you hug him. It’s not as close as last night, but the embrace still makes your spine tingle with happiness. You hope against hope he cannot hear your heartbeat.

When you try to pull away, he lets you, but keeps holding on to your hand.

“I’m- umm, what they call, clingy. I appreciate physical comfort. I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable. You can move away when you like.”

“No. I don’t feel uncomfortable at all. If you like, we could hug more often. Or you could hold my hand. Or put your head on my shoulder or…” you didn’t want to think of his head on your lap again. You would not be able to control the urge to kiss his forehead and eyes and tiny button nose and of course, the pretty lips.

“But you have a boyfriend…”

“Huh?” You’re taken aback now. What was this? “I have a boyfriend I don’t even know about?”

“That boy, Minho? You went out on dates with him?” He looks confused. You bite your lip, “Oh. No, I lost interest. We didn’t date, at least seriously.”

“Oh," you saw the clouds in his face clearing.

So he was worried about your boyfriend being uncomfortable with a grown man hugging you for emotional support? Jeez. What did he think your taste in men was?

"Can I make another request?" God, what's this tone? You had never heard it before but you could sure get used to it. Pouty-faced, soft voiced Jeonghan was definitely your favourite. As if you could ever say no to him.

"Hmm, go on?"

"Can you sleep in my room today?"

You wish you could say no to him.

“In your bed?”

“No, I think your bed can be shifted to my room? It’ll fit also. It’s a single, thin bed.”

You know it will fit. You also know your room is big enough to fit another queen-sized bed. But when you’re that close, how will you be able to tolerate the distance?

“Hmm. I think it could fit. But I think it’s too heavy for me to carry today… maybe I can ask some help from neighbours or friends tomorrow and set it up in your room? Meanwhile today… I could bring a mattress and sleep on the floor.”

“No!” He cried out. “I mean- you can always sleep next to me.” He smiles, a little angelic, a lot devilish. You know he’s teasing now.

You take away your hand from his, and you can see him begin to whine at the loss of warmth. “On the floor then.”

But yet again, as dawn breaks, he screams awake again, and you notice tears rolling down his cheeks also. He hides his face from you when you sit next to him to calm him down, embarrassed of his tears. You wipe them away with your hands (and not with kisses).

And that’s how he falls asleep again. He lies down fairly far away from you, at least an arm’s distance. But your hand is still in his, and you can’t sleep, overly conscious about drifting towards him in your sleep. You’re content just taking in his beautiful face through the sunrise, drinking up his features like you’re parched, wishing you could put your fingers at each spot on his face, feeling the bone and the muscle and the skin, feeling his breath.

“If you don’t mind me asking… what triggered your nightmare?” You ask him the next morning. Good heavens, it’s a free Sunday after ages, and you had been looking forward to this for weeks now. You had so many plans- ordering food for brunch, catching up on your favourite k-drama, buying a new pair of shoes. But you realised- all of these plans involved Jeonghan. You couldn’t imagine doing any of this without him.

You’re sitting with Jeonghan in the small balcony of his apartment, which overlooks the city almost entirely. It’s a serene view, the sunshine not too harsh, and Yoon Jeonghan hasn’t let go of your hand ever since last night. You hadn’t pushed him too far for answers yesterday, thinking it was a one-time thing. But today, you were getting more curious and worried.

“Ummm… I’m not too sure myself? I just have a lot of thoughts these days.” You stroke the thumb of his hand which lies in your palm now. “What thoughts? Do you miss your members? Your fans?” “Yeah, I do. But it’s not like that just…” You know he’s hesitating, but he’s seconds away from crying. “Jeonghan-ssi. Go on. I’m here.”

After a VERY long pause, he says softly.

“You know how the doctor said I’ll need at least another month, even after this hiatus of three months, before I can go back to my normal self, being an idol.” You hum in between his pauses. “I’m scared, Nurse L/N. I’m scared… they’ll forget me. And even if they don’t, I’ll be disappointing them. I won’t be able to meet my fans’ expectations anymore. They won’t get what they deserve from me.”

“No one deserves anything from you. You don’t owe them anything.”

“You don’t understand,” you can sense his voice getting hoarse and louder. “Fans aren’t easy to explain to- and to be honest, which fan wouldn’t be upset seeing their favourite idol isn’t going to dance well any more? Hell, I’m probably no one’s favourite idol anymore.” He looks away from you, his hand already retracted from yours.

“Jeonghan-ssi. Firstly, if you really care about your fans so much, they most likely care about you a lot too. Of course, they’ll understand. And secondly, have you checked twitter? Or instagram? They keep talking about your health, and look forward to your live videos-”

He smiles, “Yeah, they’re asking about you too.” You ignore the statement and continue, “I understand where your vulnerability is coming from- but you can only improve your mindset by not thinking of the worst case possible.”

He doesn’t say anything. His face is still sullen, dark clouds storming in his eyes.

“Jeonghan-ssi, you’re not that easy to forget, and less easier to replace. I don’t think your fans will forget you so soon.”

He looks at you, his lips pursed in a hopeful trance. You know he’s still extremely scared of the future, but then, who wasn’t? It was only natural to be afraid of uncertainty. You gently pat his head, and ask, “Is one of your band members going to come today? For bathing and dressing you…?”

Frankly, you didn’t understand why they couldn’t keep a full-time caregiver who would be professionally trained to do all the work required. But you had seen Jeonghan’s attitude the first time you suggested this. No. I’m not an object for pity, and caregivers will pity me. Plus I don’t trust them. I trust you, I trust my members. I’m only safe in your hands. You had wanted to ask why he trusted you- was it because he knew you really needed the money and a good place to stay? But you had simply nodded and left the issue.

“No. I didn’t ask any of them to come today. They have a shooting schedule today.” His voice sounded even more feeble. He probably missed being on set with them, laughing as a whole, playing games, singing and enjoying themselves. From the videos of their show, Going Seventeen, which Jeonghan had himself shown to you, you had noticed how solid their bond was, and how comfortable they were around each other, easier than friends, stronger than family members.

“Oh.” This meant you would have to bathe him. Shit.

“I’m throwing my shirt!” “Yeah.” You waited outside the door of the washroom as Jeonghan stripped inside, and threw his shirt through the slightly open door. You had become extremely flustered at the thought of dressing and undressing him, but he had provided a simple solution.

Although you doubted how simple it was, when you could hear him struggling to get his pants off. “Nurse L/N. I think I’ll just bathe with my pants on!” “No! Don’t be a dirty boy. Do you want me to help?” You asked, breathless. “No,” you could hear his sigh, “I’m fine. I’ve got it off. Here, catch!”

Then there was the sound of the shower opening, the slight squeak of a tap, and a tune being emitted by the man showering there. You left quietly.

It was around 3 in the afternoon when you both had finished bathing, lunch, folding up laundry (you) and singing random songs (him), watching one episode of a k-drama (him) and wondering why hearts ached without any attack (you). “I’m going to take you out. Enough of staying indoors. It’s eating into your brain.” You announce.

He almost jumps with you, but then winces. “But where? I don’t want to make a public appearance to collect sympathy and pity.” “You’ll see. You said you trust me, right?” He smiles, “Ayy. Human trust doesn’t go that far.” But you can see the excitement build in his eyes. “It’s a surprise.” “Surprises are not nice.” You tie up his eyes with a blindfold, leaving him no option but to huff and puff and whine and sulk.

But this surprise is nice. Jeonghan’s face lights up like a million watt bulb when you take off his blindfold and reveal him sitting in his dance practice room, all his members standing around him. He squeals in joy, and they all start talking instantly, making it too loud a chaos for you to decipher. Hell, you haven’t even been able to tell their voices apart yet.

The man you know as Channie, comes to you and bows. “I’m so thankful to you for bringing Hyung here. Thank you for taking care of him!” Another man, Seokmin, joins him, and they both smile at you widely. You blush, suddenly caught off guard by the attention, and excuse yourself from the room, leaving the boys to their antics. You text Jeonghan that you’re going to meet up with your childhood best friend, and you’ll be back to pick him up whenever he calls.

But he never calls you back. The members carry him around- they go to some restaurant, eat barbecue and drink a hell lot of beer, and then they drop him home. You had returned a couple of hours back, and when you see three strong able-handed men entering the house with Jeonghan, you take the chance.

“Jeonghan-ssi. Do you still want me to bring my bed to your room?” Although the other three men stare at Jeonghan quizzically, he solemnly nods. Seungkwan asks you, “Are you sure that’s okay with you? I t’s a really weird request!” Mingyu adds, “Yeah, Hyung, if you need her anytime, you can just call out for her, she’s anyway in the same house.” But Jeonghan won’t have it. “Yah, please. Nurse L/N, please.” You sigh and say, “He’s not feeling strong enough to sleep alone. It’s okay, I’ve done this before. I understand the need for physical comfort.” “Are you sure?” Seungcheol asks you, and you nod your consent. Then he says, “We’ll help you bring the bed then!”

That night, Jeonghan slept on his own bed, and you on your own, but he said he felt more relief knowing you were around him. I’m worried for you too, you know. Worried? What on earth for? Nothing, just. I’m feeling over-protective for everyone who matters to me right now. It was safe to say you slept in a constant dream-like state. Jeonghan did not wake up that night, and even if he did, it didn’t wake you up. You woke up only to your alarm next morning, breaking your haze of dusty, autumn dreams of blonde ponytails, flowers in a garden, and a pretty face belonging to the man lying next to you.

Third month in, and you were feeling a little under the weather. Perhaps it was the flu passing around in your college for a while now, but you had been strictly banned from going to the hospital (an order you had cried and begged your supervisor to take back, fearing this was the premature end to your internship, but he had calmly asked you to come back when you were well). Jeonghan, meanwhile, was now out of his wheelchair, and simply walking about using a pair of crutches. He was in a better mental state now, as the nightmares became fewer and less intense, and his general moodiness also dissipated.

But of late, he was being too affectionate towards you. Perhaps it was the reason behind you falling in. His sickly sweet smile whenever you complimented him for walking well, his blush of shy satisfaction when he completed any small task you gave him. One day you stepped into the house and almost screamed before the man sitting on the sofa turned around and showed you that it was none but Jeonghan, with his hair dyed black now.

And dear heavens. That black mop of hair would kill you.

For, if blonde Jeonghan was an angel, an embodiment of sunshine, a picture of innocence, black-haired Jeonghan was all of that but a slight rough edge to him, making his features even sharper and his eyes even deeper. It was all you needed to stab a dagger in your heart every day. Now that you’re stuck at home on a leave for 10 days, you have nothing to do except look at this man, laugh at his antics and calm down the growing anxiety in your heart as to what you’d do after these three months got over and your contract would expire. And even though you never voiced your worries out loud, Jeonghan somehow caught them.

“How many months are left till you graduate?” “About five months?” “Hmm. You can actually stay in my apartment throughout and not go back to the shitty place you showed me pictures of.” You gawk, “You’re crazy, how could I ever do that!” “No I’m serious, Nurse L/N.” You stick your tongue out, not interested in his pity offers. “You know what your problem is, Nurse L/N?” Your face is still turned away from him. “You’re just so stuffed with pride. That’s why you’re not taking the medicines I’m giving you at correct times.”

Oh, how the tables have turned.

“I’m fine.” You stress on every syllable, but Yoon Jeonghan can’t seem to take the hint and buzz off.

And that’s your biggest issue. He doesn’t even tease you as much as he is genuinely caring for you now. As if you’re really his friend. You wonder what has brought about this kind of absurd change in him. It’s not like anything had changed in how he saw you. Nurse L/N.

You were wrong about his teasing nature mellowing down. The next morning, when your supervisor had called, you had been in the washroom, and instead of just letting the call go until you returned, he had picked up the call and introduced himself as your Oppa.

Indigestion just had to hit you that very day.

You had no option but to let your blood boil in embarrassment as you overheard the entire conversation, helpless and frustrated.

“Yes, umm… she’s really stupid. She keeps forgetting stuff, you must know hahaha. No wonder she’s totally forgotten about mentioning me. I’m her local guardian haha.”

You hoped he would clarify something about the Oppa tag. Mention that he wasn’t your boyfriend. Mention that he was your brother or something. Or even an older friend, but in vain. Jeonghan was hell-bent on spreading rumours in the hospital about your love life, one would think.

“Yes! I know. She’s recovering now, I’ve been taking good care of her.”

“Oh no, she doesn’t have any family per se. She just has me.”

“Aaah no no, it’s no like that…” you could hear his voice ambiguously trail off, leaving several loose ends. This must’ve been a question about that-

“Oh sure! Thank you. I’ll let her know asap. Yes, yes tomorrow. Thank you.”

After three minutes when you emerged from the washroom, pissed and stressed, Yoon Jeonghan was smiling to himself while watching a video on Youtube.

“What was that call for?”

“Which call?”

You stare. He budges. “Oh, your supervisor had called. He was asking if you can join back tomorrow. I said yes.”

“Why did you pick up?”

“Why not! Would you rather lose the one chance your supervisor gave you to come back?” He smirks, knowing he had hit your weak spot. “But even then. You’re not my Oppa.” “Huh? I’m four years older than you!”

“Jeonghan-ssi. Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you can introduce yourself as my Oppa. Are you dumb or do you not understand the connotations of such an introduction?”

There was a pause.

“What would you suggest I’d introduce myself as? I didn’t want to say my name-”

“Her friend would just do. Or her neighbour. Or her classmate from college.”

“Those wouldn’t have had similar connotations? Any boy answering any girl’s call would have similar connotations, Y/N-aah.”

Another pause. Maybe he hadn’t realised he had called you by your first name.

“Then you should have just introduced yourself as the patient I’m taking care of in the night shift. Everyone knows about that, Jeonghan-ssi. Honestly, anything but Oppa. You’re not my Oppa.”

Before he could reply, you take your phone from the table and lock yourself into your room for the rest of the morning, too overwhelmed to say anything else or even look into the eyes of that dangerous man.

There had been very little conversation between the two of you through that day and the next, before you left for work again. He had tried a lot to initiate conversation with you, weird questions interrupting the silence now and then. But you were honestly too stressed to take any of his excuses and forgive him.

How dare he call himself your Oppa, when in three weeks he was going to simply forget you totally? How dare he even call you by your first name and break the professional formalities that were standard? You had thought the first time, that night, had been a slip of tongue in feverish delusion. This was no delusion. In bright daylight, he had crossed the line and called you by your name.

Although it shouldn’t matter much, you rationaled. Oppa could mean a dozen different things. No one would assume it meant boyfriend.

But oh, you were so so wrong. You knew it as soon as you stepped into the hospital after an extremely tiring day at university, and saw people staring at you. You reached your supervisor’s cabin to mark your attendance, and he too gave you the weirdest looks. The peak of the entire farce was when Hyerin, your closest friend at the internship, whispered to you after hugging you warmly to welcome you back, “YOU DIDN’T TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND?!” Aargh.

“He’s not a boyfriend. He’s just the patient I’m taking care of. He randomly messed with me and introduced himself as my Oppa.”

“BUT I HAD NO IDEA HE’S LIKE A YOUNG GUY? I thought he’s a sixty-something fellow, no offence to old men who call themselves Oppa-”

“Yeah he’s a young guy. I told you he had broken his leg?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Breaking legs doesn't require the person to be old. It was an accident while he was crossing the street.”

“Still! This changes thing, hmmmm” she smirks, and you know where it’s headed. “Being in close quarters with a man only slightly older than you… are you sure he’s not dashingly sexy? Not a sugar daddy type? I could come and help you in your nursing job then.”

“No, and no. He is pretty good-looking, but I don’t care. Now move and let me start my work before boss comes and sends me on a leave again.” Hyerin wasn’t that close to you to know about the deepest secret of your heart. No one except your one childhood bestie knew about it. And you both had sworn on your childhood rings to never divulge secrets.

To make matters worse, you played a voice note sent by Jeonghan loudly, as soon as you got out of the operation theatre. Right in the corridor.

In your defence, he had sent three messages just before and after that, definitely impatient that you hadn’t heard his voice note, saying URGENT!, and you had fallen for the bait. Instantly playing it, without realising your volume was full, you cringed and almost threw your phone away instantly.

Napipopeta piripu pipiretta. Napi-

“You’re watching Instagram reels at work?!” Somehow your supervisor had also come out into the corridor and had heard the voice note. “You know social media is banned when you’re on duty!”

“Sir, I was just listening-”

“No arguments! So irresponsible. You’ll be staying back till 10 pm today, Y/N!”

“Okay Nurse L/N. Enough of the silent treatment. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be something I’m not… I just didn’t think of the consequences as much. Sorry, please?” He gave you the softest puppy eyes ever given by humankind, as you ate the ramen you had made for dinner.

You hadn’t uttered a single word since returning, just too upset and tired. But now you had to say it. “Was that voice note a joke?”

His eyes widened, “I- I just sent it… thinking your mood would become better hearing it… my fans really like that song…”

You bite your lower lip.

“My boss heard me playing it. That’s why I came home late.”

He stays silent for a minute. “I’m sorry if it got you into trouble. I just thought…”

And out of spite, just out of spite, and pent-up emotions spilling over, you say the worst thing ever.

“Your voice can never make my mood better, Jeonghan-ssi.”

Something had snapped between the two of you since that day.

You had tried to build up a wall between you two, trying to keep distance that you felt was necessary to get your heart used to what was just coming within two weeks. He tried to break that wall, going out of the way to be with you, even helping you study for an exam coming up. He was needing lesser and lesser care by the day, as he regained strength in his legs, and was quite determined to live by his old habits. He would leave the house without waiting for your support, he would cook sometimes, he would also do the laundry.

He did everything to make you feel lesser and lesser wanted in the house.

And you really took the cue. You started minimising your interactions. Even sleeping in the same room became too difficult for you, and you spent many hours on the couch before going to your bed, waiting for him to fall asleep. You would limit conversation to the necessities, taking all possible steps to reduce his dependency on you.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks you, one night, after you both had lied down in your beds but it was obvious that sleep eluded you.

“What?” You whisper back, hesitant. “This. Becoming far away from me.”

There are massive pauses between your replies, and you can hear him holding in his breath through the entire pause.

“You anyway don’t need me much. It’s only best if I move away from you.”

“Physically perhaps- but I thought we could be…”

“Hmm?”

“Friends. Are we not friends?”

Friends. You had stopped wanting to be friends for a very long time now.

“It’s not possible. You and I belong to different worlds, as cliche as it sounds. We can’t be friends.”

“Why not?”

“Have you seen how your fans have taken to stalking me on my social media? I’ve had to delete my accounts everywhere. If they find out who I am, they’re not just going to kill me, but the contract and all the payment I got from this job will be forfeited.”

“Kill you? Isn’t that too extreme?” You can hear him shuffle closer to your end in his bed, his voice closer to you now.

“They’re going to brand me as a golddigger. And even if they don’t kill me, I’ll definitely kill myself then.”

“There, again you and your pride.”

“You’re laughing at my self-respect?”

“No, I respect it. Not many can be so stoic.”

“Goodnight, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“Nurse L/N.”

You don’t want to reply. You pretend you’re asleep.

“Y/N-aah.”

You know he’s heard the change in your breath and he continues. “There are really just six days left?”

“We can reduce it if you like.”

“Can you not be so snappy? It’s really not funny anymore.” He sounds agitated, his voice on the verge of breaking.

“Are you really saying this to me? Why do I have the responsibility to make it seem funny? You have a problem with me having real emotions too?”

“I never said I have a problem with anything. But this attitude of yours is, frankly, uncalled for, in my opinion. Or you’re not telling me something I should know. And this is bothering me.”

Another pause before you reply.

“I’m going to leave in six days, Yoon Jeonghan. You better stop being bothered by me.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. Suddenly you can’t breathe in the house anymore. You don’t even want to call it home these days.

Ever since that conversation, Jeonghan had stopped putting in as much effort. You had far overstayed your welcome, and he really needed you to be gone now. Maybe get a girlfriend to visit him. Must’ve been sad without sex for three months for him. Your heart ached every morning when you saw him as soon as your eyes fluttered open- an angelic face, his mouth slightly parted open as he slept in his dream world. You wanted to kiss him (honestly every minute nowadays you did, even if you burnt yourself up, that desire did not disappear.)

It was a crush, you convinced yourself. Finals were coming up, you’d get busy, you’d forget about him. Easy peasy. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to delete the little gallery of pictures you had formed in your phone- including photos he had sent you, photos of him that you had taken, and the three photos of you two together.

The first had been clicked on the night when he had let go of his wheelchair and first taken up the crutch. Many of his bandmates were there, and they had all cheered loudly. Because you had been standing right next to him, holding his arm to stabilise him, Wonwoo had clicked a photo of you too right at the moment when he was looking into your eyes with the joy of letting go of the wheelchair, and you were looking right back at him. It was a coincidental photo, and a photo meant to be only of Jeonghan, but you kept smiling when you looked at it. It almost gave the illusion that it was … for lack of better words, a photograph of affection.

The second was a selca. Correction, it was Jeonghan’s selca, which he had clicked without you even knowing, so you were obliviously watching the drama on the television, eating ice cream. He had even posted it on Weverse, blurring you out obviously. But his fans had caught the second hand in the photograph, zoomed into it, and somehow figured out it was a female hand, and then conducted several polls amongst themselves whether it was his girlfriend, his sister, his mother, his friend or his nurse (how would they ever know though?). The results of the poll had been varied, and some had even claimed: guys we don’t know if the nurse and the girlfriend are different people hehehe you know what i mean!! Ugh, these conspiracy theories.

The third one had been the most recent one. You were on a video call with your childhood friend, and he had just entered the room without knocking. He had said hi to your friend, who had smirked and giggled and tried to make suggestive comments until you winked at her to shut the fuck up. Finally he had left after asking you some really redundant questions, making you wonder why he had even entered your room. Your best friend had taken a screenshot of the two of you talking, and she had practically squealed over call god, he’s so handsome!!!! And he’s so in love with you!!! Did you see how he was doting on your face with every word you uttered?! AWWWW! Y/N, I’d say wife him up immediately!

You had laughed then, and you laughed at it now. Every time you scrolled through this secret gallery, you had nothing but a fond smile tugging at your lips, no matter how distant you wanted to make yourself from the man, who had slowly, but surely, taken up all of your heart, and was showing absolutely no intention to leave.

You packed your bags and stood in front of the door, waiting for Jeonghan to bring whatever he was looking for in his bedroom. He had vehemently protested against you helping him, and as a result, a search that could’ve been completed in seconds, was now taking minutes.

Eventually, he appeared. He had a bag for you in his outstretched hand, and you silently took it from him. Peeping in, you saw everything was wrapped with paper. “What’s this for?” “Thank you, Nurse L/N for taking care of me.” He smiled, continuing, “I don’t know why you’re angry at me. But I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way. Please accept my gift.” Your heart was melting with each step he took towards you, eventually so close that you could see your reflection in his eyes. It was too close for you to breathe, but you realised you wanted to get used to this proximity.

“Thank you, then. Jeonghan-ssi, you’ve been an excellent employer these past three months. Thank you for taking good care for me, as well” and you lightly bow.

“How do I see you again?” You’re stunned. Why does he want to see you? “Do I have to break my leg again?” his whispers grow ragged.

You try to crack a joke, “Or you could break an arm,” but he doesn’t smile. He seems impatient for an actual answer. “Or you could call me. We can hang out once every couple of months, if you’re free. Or you could just… you know, call and talk.”

He wants to say something, but your phone begins to ring. Your best friend must have arrived downstairs to give you a ride to her house. You had decided to stay with her for the remainder of the university term.

“Goodbye, Yoon Jeonghan-ssi.”

“Goodbye, Y/N. I’ll miss having you around.”

You don’t believe him. You think he’s just being nice. But oh, somewhere deep down, you hope it’ll be true. You smile at him, tight-lipped, but genuine. He doesn’t smile back.

And just like that, you’re gone.

The next month, you don’t hear from him at all. Your internship has also ended, and you’ve started studying hard, applying to various specialisation courses, and basically trying to forget him. It works, frankly, because with your closest friend around, you have your mind on other things. Such as her extremely toxic situationship, which she doesn’t even realise is harming her, but you keep warning her to step off. Such as her mother baking cookies for you as winter sets in. Such as visiting your own mother’s grave once every week, to give her flowers, a new ritual you’ve set up.

It’s on one of these bus rides to the park which has her grave that you cross the hospital where you had your internship. And you spot, your eyes instantly going wide, a certain familiar someone standing at the bus stop right outside the hospital.

You’d have recognised him from miles away. Even if it’s really late in the evening, the twilight setting in, you can recognise him.

You want to look away and continue the ride to the original destination. You want to ignore him. You want to push away the thought of him waiting (for who?) in front of the hospital where you worked at while staying with him.

But you can’t. You immediately step out of the bus, paying your fare, and walk up a little bit to reach the spot he’s standing. He’s looking the other way so he doesn’t really notice when you come and stand behind him. Until you cough a bit.

And you’ve never seen Yoon Jeonghan smile this brightly before. Never. Not while you were in his house, not even in the videos of him that miraculously come up on your Youtube algorithm now.

“What are you doing here?” you don’t know why, but your voice cannot go beyond a whisper. In the empty streets after dark, he can hear you clearly though.

“You came.” he whispers back.

“You were waiting for me?”

“Who else would I wait for in front of the hospital you worked at?”

“I don’t work there anymore. My internship is over.”

“So I heard. But I had no idea where you live now, and apparently it’s not safe to go to your university if I have to keep you a secret.”

“But waiting in front of a hospital in the dark is safe?”

“It’s a hospital. No one is looking at me here. I’m not the important person here, for anyone.”

You can’t help but say, “You are, for me.”

The stars are out, the cars are flashing by, and you’re walking alongside Yoon Jeonghan on a silent road. Sometimes your arms brush, sometimes he smiles too much for your heart to take, sometimes you look at him for so long that he breaks eye contact. For once in your life, you don’t want to overthink this. Even if tomorrow you wake up and realise this was a dream, you want to live the best dream of your life till the end.

“Hey,” he whispers when you zone out. You’re standing under a streetlamp now, the smell of flowers from the trees around you filling the air. You’re 100 metres away from a tteokbokki stall, and you want to ask him if he wants to eat some, but he holds your hand at that moment.

“Y/N.”

“No more Nurse L/N?”

“You’ve stopped being Nurse L/N for me for a long time now.”

Your heart stops. He grazes his thumb over your pulse point. You think you’ll combust.

“Your palm is sweaty, Y/N. Are you nervous?”

How can you not be when he’s right there, in front of you, so close… but still so far? You don’t know how you landed up like this, after an entire month of avoidance, but knowing that he came every evening to look for you in front of your hospital, waiting till the shift was scheduled to get over, has melted your heart beyond control.

“You’ve cut your hair again.” You finally say.

“Is it looking nice?”

“Hmm… makes you look sharper.”

“Huh?” His eyes are becoming wide now.

You take your other hand out of your pocket and touch his hair with a featherlike touch. “But it’s still so pretty. You won’t cut me, will you?”

He smiles, and leans in, and you can sense him breathing you in. You must be smelling like sweat and grime by now but he doesn’t seem to care. Eventually he places his chin on your head and time has stopped. You can’t help but snuggle into the warm cavity of his body, gently placing yourself against his strong chest, as you can feel now. And somehow, his hands leave yours, and wrap themselves around your back.

It’s a hug.

And then it’s a kiss on your forehead. A kiss on your scalp. And a kiss in your hair. And you snuggle deeper and deeper into him.

He pats your hair gently, and you mumble into his chest. “What took you so long, Hannie? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” it’s half feverish you know, you don’t even expect him to reply. And yet he does.

“Oh, but Y/N-ah, I’ve been coming to you forever, why did you keep pushing me away, baby?” And you spread your hands around him too, pulling him deeper, until you’re both too squished, and have to move apart for air.

But only a little bit, just enough so that you can see his face, and he holds your face in his big palms.

“Y/N-ah. Do you want to come home with me? I want to watch a new episode of the k-drama with you. I’ve really fallen behind it without having you to watch with.”

You smile, his eyes glitter up with the reflection.

“Of course. But only if you promise to hug me more.”

“No. No more hugs. Can I kiss you?”

You suck in a deep breath, lips parting already, at the wonderful tingle going through your body. You could cry right now, with the time he takes to move in and place his lips on yours gently.

And you do cry. One stray tear escapes your closed eyes, and he kisses that away too.

“Hannie…”

“I’m yours, Y/N-ah. If you’ll have me, forever yours.”

“Of course I’ll have you.”

“Sorry if I kept you waiting for long.”

“It’s okay. You’re worth the wait, anyway.” You smile as you press a kiss on his nose, his little button nose you’ve always found cute. You stand up on your toes and kiss his eyes and his eyebrows and his forehead, but then he stops you. “Baby, let’s go home and then you can kiss me?”

How can you ever say no to Yoon Jeonghan? How could he even think that you’d say no?

“Of course, Hannie. I love you.”

“And I love you, baby.” Another kiss on your lips, and you know you’ve seen heaven. Because if Yoon Jeonghan isn’t the equivalent of heaven, you don’t want to know what is.

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