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court-jobi · 5 months ago

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Let's Heal Each Other

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (fem!reader is a semi-retired pro hero)

Words: 3.6K

Rating: T+ (18+ near the end for some spicy themes)

Warnings: talk about scars, past traumas, FEELINGS, body image issues, hurt/comfort, body worship, kissing, use of petnames

Summary:

You play a game only you keep tallies of: lay hordes of kisses onto your boyfriend until he breaks and gives into your sweet affections. It works-- making him reconsider keeping the majority of his skin (and insecurities) hidden from you, until he believes wholeheartedly that your love for him goes beyond scar tissue and that he literally never wants you to feel an ounce of self-hatred anymore, either. "I don't think I like this uno-reverse treatment. Aren't you supposed to be the flustered one, green eyes?" "You want me to stop?" "..no." "Then respectfully, hush your mouth, honey."

A/N: a love letter to sweet, sweet teacher!deku… I've lowkey always wanted to write for him~ horrified I'm not caught up on the manga/anime as I write this, but I had to dabble! Back into my MHA era I go~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

What began as you looking through his journals and hearing each and every one of your sweetheart’s passions from over his shoulder turned into a game of placing whisper-soft kisses on his cheeks. It was a private game that only you kept tallies of.

Rules are… anytime he opens his mouth, the timer starts: how long can you hold out before forcing him to stop and take a breath after a quick pebbling of affection? Seeing him sigh at the first touch only encouraged you to do it more. He’d allow a few little pecks here, a few more there, or -like tonight- he’d suffer every one of your little presses until his patience broke, and he had no choice but to give you a kiss back. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hear the content of what he shared– he was your own personal podcast, after all… but sometimes the fight to resist kissing him silly just turned tail and was nowhere to be found.

One long kiss turned into two and under the trae lit ceiling of his study, a bit of a makeout session grew as your lovely Izuku Midoriya relaxed into your affections, his hands roaming to your back to pull you comfortably over into his lap from your spot on the couch. He hugged you close and placed plenty of pecks along your cheek and jaw until you ultimately pressed him back into place– all so you could straddle him and face him properly. This move finally made him flounder and start to lose his vocabulary- even at the ripe ‘ole age of twenty-eight.

You had to giggle a little and tease him for it; you’d expect a boy half his age to sport such a reaction, not a faculty member at UA highschool.

"This is ok? I just wanted to see that cute face of yours-" you leaned back to give him enough space if he needed, letting your hands trail along his arms, down to his hands.

Izuku, or ‘Deku’ as his friends and the Hero World still called him, grasped yours and fought his wavering voice to recover.

"N-no no! uh, it’s ok- yeah, it's fine!” want and desire brought out Izuku’s voice flip, “I just uhhh-heh~ haven’t had you sit this close up, like this before. I‘m... like it a lot."

You brushed your thumbs along his hands and linked his dominant's hand’s fingers with yours– noticing the pull of some scarring there for perhaps the first time.

Izuku swallowed and tensed, pulling back to simply squeeze your hand briefly before letting go. Turning his wrist to turn down his cuff sleeve clenched that fist so tightly, the scars turned white.

"U-um.. yeah, I know it's pretty rough to look at. I hurt myself a lot my first year at UA- as a student, I mean. It's kind of embarrassing..." Izuku laughed it off, massaging his hand palm side up so you didn’t have to see.

"Embarrassing? Why?" You brushed his hair back on one side soothingly.

Izuku met your eyes, finding nothing but genuine interest. Any effort to keep him talking would reward him in the end– only now you feared this was not a game anymore, but rather a necessary act of reassurance. He shook off any initial nerves with a quick tease back,

“... You’re just– trying to get me to lay off the stats, aren’t you.”

“Course not,” you defended, “but it seems like if I touched a nerve, it must be important and I don’t wanna gloss over that either. So, I wanna know all about that, too.”

Izuku quirked his lip and carried on, "If you insist. I guess the short of it is, I didn’t know my limits when I enrolled, and I damaged myself beyond repair while training with ‘One for All’. The tightness is a lot better now! But I overdid it... and I'll always have these scars as a reminder- they're… still there."

Care for his younger self flooded you. It’s clear Izuku still had plenty of regrets surrounding his former hero days, at least in how he went about discussing it. Were he still active as a hero, he might view battle scars differently - just signs of the lifestyle. Now on him, they must be more painful reminders instead.

"May I see?"

Once again, the man looked up in surprise to see your little half smile and steeled himself– not having the heart to say no to you when you were being sweet. You were his girl after all.

So, Izuku shimmied himself out of his sportek hoodie, and you scooted off his lap to give him room. You always noted he wore a black underarmor shirt, no matter the weather, and now realized why.

Biting the inner of his cheek, Izuku kept his sights up and over your shoulder as he rolled each sleeve off, wrenching it between his hands. Jagged scars ran all the way up his dominant arm to a big patch behind his tricep. His shoulder remained largely untouched save for a dangerous slice following where the underarm curved upwards. Without the pop of a shirt collar or the bunching of a hoodie, you now fully saw the stiff scar that trailed up his neck and matched in color to the one gracing his face.

For all the years that had passed since those days which he’s fully told you were a time of intensive training and exercise, you were surprised to learn that he’s kept up a workout discipline. His body was scarred, yes, but still incredibly strong. He’s clearly prioritized keeping himself in shape, if for no other reason than to maintain flexibility and range of motion.

The whole moment fell quiet, but extremely intimate– even as he left his base tank top on. You ran your fingers up his now bare arm and hummed gently.

"Well..." you leaned demurely towards the back of the couch, admiring the freckles that stood out between the changed pigments, "for what it's worth, I think they read ‘I lived’ rather than ‘I failed’. And I don’t think they’re ugly." You kissed a broad line on his bicep and met his eyes. " ‘Scars are tattoos with better stories’, right? Yours even have ‘sparkles’."

Though touched enough to give a sweet little hum back, his expression held tears right at the surface. He looked at your arm in comparison and let out a little sigh, his own fingers caressing the soft skin there. Didn’t take anyone with a psychic quirk to tell what he was thinking.

"Here–”

You sat up and turned around, starting to lift the back of your own shirt, and you heard his squeak of surprise–

"UhhhHWHATareyoudoing!!" Izuku reared back as if his scandalized mother would enter the room at any moment.

"Relax, tiger,” you fitted a look over your shoulder and teased. Holding the shirt in place over your shoulders, you activated your kinetic quirk and doing so illuminated some rigid scarring across your lower back- what looked like whip marks as you'd seen from the surgery notes.

Gemlike light shone through even your underclothes, up your back, then on a diagonal across your neck. These were your own battle scars from over the years. You pointed with your thumb starting at the low spine,

"These were from when I was first captured in Panama. Up here, when I tried to escape." Then you twisted to the side a bit where a big gash shone brilliantly to just under your left breast, "this, I got when I tried to make a quick rescue during my first internship in the States. I had a little boy in my right hand and couldn't drop him, so I took a hit on the other side." You shared these stories softly and he studied each with complete care.

Izuku reached a bit with his good hand, but stayed his motion when he hovered an inch away.

You encouraged, with ultimate trust, "You can touch it."

Despite your kind chirp, his eyes checked over you briefly and simply brushed you with the back of two fingers at first. He let out a shaky breath at the sight that greeted him– the light danced around his fingers, interacting with his presence like ethereal steam rising around the contours. There were so many moments watching you in combat with these sorts of emissions that he remembered blackwhip- one of the more practical gifts ‘One for All’ had offered him, though equally dangerous and hard to control.

You had your own ‘blackwhip’ and it gifted you similar lessons learned- he wasn’t the only one.

"See? It's not so bad," you resolved any concern Izuku had shown so far. He sought your eyes again, catching sight of the side of your other cheek which was also glowing a bit. "-- at least we match in the face shot department~"

With a scoot, you slid back to face him again; he noted the scar across the temple of your hair trickling down to the top of your cheek bone. The way the light shone mimicked a tear’s tread down a fogged windowpane.

Ultimate care brought Izuku to reach up -to stop it’s run somehow- and touched the skin with a gentleness you came to love about him. Anticipating his concern, you mumbled something about it only really hurting when you have a glare headache after too much screentime, reminiscing on the throbbing sensation.

"Huh..." Why couldn't he see them before? Why would your quirk hold onto pain this way?

"They only show up when I'm actively using my power to its fullest, and these are usually covered by clothes or face shield when I'm driving." You tuned into his thoughts perfectly. "But… I know they’re there, even if I’m completely covered up. I see ‘em in the back of my mind anytime I’m in front of a mirror."

As you deactivate your illumination and your skin settled back to normal, you righted your sweater down to your waist so it didn’t catch in the sofa cushions. If you were bothered at all, you barely showed it through your shrug.

"Everyone carries scars- not every single one can be seen, but we all have them. If not physical, emotional then." Running your manicured hand along the edge of his jaw made him lean into the touch, not unlike a puppy. "Please dont think less of yourself because of this... you're too wonderful to even think so poorly. If nothing else, it's proof of how great a hero you are."

He was one, after all, according to the annals of the Pro Hero Japan Registrar… but Izuku hardly felt like one anymore. It was an old pain in several ways past the tangible. Because ultimately, he had his chance of being an active pro hero– which was now fully over the minute he expelled the last of his power and ended the cycle for good.

Help of friends, mentors, and loads of therapy have helped him cope with the memories and pressures of his time in school– all to bring him to a better, more healthy mindset in terms of his place in the world. Putting in the mental work was his largest success, to his credit. In many ways, his life was even more fulfilling now; Izuku fully recognized that and expressed gratitude vocally. Teaching gave him both an outlet and a purpose that he shined in. Still, a selfish twinge of him still hurt knowing how it all panned out- how different his life ended up from what he’d dreamed.

‘What a great hero I am’…What kind of hero am I?’ his eyes grieved with distance behind them, ‘Now that I'm no more than a living legend like All Might? He at least got to have a full career.’

Behind a tight lipped smile, Izuku wanted everything in him to sink into your loving sentiments as they often consoled him like none other; but now he found his delight dropping against his will. And how could he fight your praise when you looked at him so earnestly? Like you believed it? It seemed this sentiment upset him. Izuku never once doubted your sweetness so visibly, until now.

It seemed dating you brought some old feelings to the surface– try as he might to ignore them.

As if sensing the turn of his thoughts inward, you read the tiniest of changes in his posture and pressed on, pulling your legs up to stretch over his lap. Unphased, Izuku dropped the hoodie to the floor and absently caressed your calves.

“You do know you’re still a hero, right?”

Izuku cocked his head, not understanding.

“You were one before any of that madness. They show it all the time at the schools, y’know,” you shared with a good deal of pride, “The sludge monster that had your friend– that was Deku’s first mission. Bet you didn’t know it then, anymore than you do now: even while you’re teaching the next generation of heroes. Your words, your mind, and your heart– you’re still very much a hero… by all three you carry with you.”

And just like that, Izuku truly didn’t think he could melt into the floor like Mirio– until that very moment. It was that pinnacle point that Allmight identified it, too. The instinct that turned the rest of his life upside down.

Betrayed by his disciplined nerves, his weepy heartstrings eeked out a catch in his voice,

"How is it you always know just what to say?..."

Your brilliant smile pressed your cheeks into the most charming lift, knowing him all too well and being proud of it:

"I feel like you do, more than you think. I've gotten really good at masking my own issues, so I get it.”

In a split second, Izuku channeled all self-pitying energy into full, protective alarm–

"IsSuEs?? About what?!–Yourself- how could you say that??"

You chuckled with a full heart, and gave him another doting kiss on the shoulder to try and deter him.

"Well I'm not exactly a tiny girl anymore, hot stuff~ Mah thighs have been particularly blessed since I took a step back from active duty, and they’re at war with any skirt or pants I find." You palmed down your legs briefly, stretching and doing your best to be alluring, "You don’t seem to mind too much ‘bout my size though, so I don’t sweat it nowadays… You inspired me, actually.”

Light suspicion glared back at you, listening but friendly. “How so?”

You turned introspective yourself- but voiced your train of thought rather than shut it up behind pretty eyes and stunted vulnerability.

“Oh, that silly voice in my head shouts just as loudly as anyone else, so I’m plenty guilty of keeping myself down. She doesn’t serve me though, and that’s taken some reframing to get over… I started focusing on making you feel better, when I met you. Share something outside of myself. That makes me happy. Helps keep things in perspective and not stay hung up hard on myself either.”

Before you could read into how tenderly your Izuku was listening to you, you bombarded him with a bite of your trademark humor..

“I mean, let’s be honest– you’ve done the impossible work of convincing me to finish an entire Stanley before lunch, all in the name of hydration! That’s true love right there…”

You reclined back fully now- an extension of your true level of comfort with him. Watching you ease your way down, Izuku would have been flustered at any other time, but now? All he did was fawn after you like you hung the stars yourself.

“You deserve some happiness, baby,” you reminded him. “If I can play any part in that, give you even a fraction of what you’ve given me? I’m honored for the chance. Not for everything you've done– but everything you are. To me."

Seeing Izuku’s newfound appreciation and sentimental smile, you feared he would slide right off the sofa and take you with him– until a newly confident smirk took its place.

A flit of his gaze down your body proved he’d decided otherwise: you were gonna pay for the emotional roller coaster this night has turned into.

Picking up one of your bent legs and chucking it off the couch, Izuku stole you from your comfy position outright: he scooped you up, then plopped you down again with the immense strength he did in fact still carry– all to snuggle up by pinning you where he liked. The surprise had its desired effect, as you giggled at your hero snatching you– squeezing him in a tight, full body hug.

"If you're going to let me not worry about my arms,” Izuku curtailed his laughing, “-then I'll see to it that you don't worry about these–”

He muffled a kiss to your thigh after scooting backwards- one kiss each, then settled his chin on your tummy.

"You’re really beautiful,” Izuku marvelled, “I’ve always thought that. Inside and out."

You stuttered a bit and leaned up on your elbows. Your earlier bravery was slipping now that the roles were reversed.

Next, he set a loving course of affections there on your stomach too, and scattered more smooches across your midsection, regardless of the barrier your sweater kept between. The hand not supporting his weight caressed your side and even dipped underneath the hem a little.

"Izuku...." you sighed a bit, running through his hair again. There he goes, making you thoroughly embarrassed.

“You should take your own advice, sweet girl,” he shared wisely, “-- treat ourselves as nicely as we treat others– and I don’t mean about keeping you hydrated, silly.”

You snorted back. No argument there– but you hear him out all the same.

“You’re right about that, y’know,” his sights adored you inch by inch as he spoke. “I can wish and wonder how things might have been n’let that keep me down… or, I can be proud of what I’m making now… the future I get to live and see… with the loveliest woman on Earth.”

These comments would be the death of you. Death by Deku.

You chuffed at the change, “Well, geez what happened to my blushing bride? A little pep talk all you needed?”

“Mmmyup. Your turn, now.”

“I dunno if I like this uno-reverse,” you teased his scalp– “it’s definitely.. different.”

Izuku mouths a minute at your wrist, puppy eyes locked on yours, “You wan’ me to stop?”

“...No.”

“Then respectfully, hush your mouth, honey.”

Littering compliments on you caused Izuku to kiss you a bit slower, crawling up your body, pressing tiny kisses up your middle, skipping your chest (politely) and going for the open space from your off shoulder top to take a taste of you on your collarbone. He hummed on contact with skin, brushing some of your flyaways up and away. He muttered between kisses.

‘You smell good… well, of course, you always smell good, always feel s’soft…’

Sighs and spoken praise passed the man’s lips as chose a new spot on your shoulder to adore, claiming you as soft and warm in the tenderest of ways, humming distractedly along every spot he deemed worthy of worship.

Without your noticing, those very strong, steady, scarred hands guided your chin– leading your head away so he'd have room by your neck. This was a great tactic to hide your dizzying aversion, so you’d be damned to stop him now.

Completely unfair. Wasn’t it his job to be constantly embarrassed?!

Taking your pitiful moans as a hint for a breather, Izuku pulled back to savor how cute your face contorted in shyness.

Your darling Izuku leaned down to your ear while you hugged him closer than ever now. The hot anticipation in your belly let its tight grip loose to something relieving to your senses; a refreshing blanket of comfort, rather than white-hot lust and drive. He nuzzled you as he spoke, whispering such caring words,

"You hold onto me, love, and I'll hold onto you. Let's help heal each other."

You hummed in agreement and gasped a little at feeling warm lips meeting your neck for the first time. The sound that left you, involuntary as it was, did nothing but give him the confirmation he wanted.

Izuku’s kisses fell gently and sweet from that moment forward, tongue lapping after some sucked areas to ease any harshness on his way to your waiting mouth. He seemed to be lost in his actions, moaning little utterances of your name as he went. You called for him too in your lovestruck haze, rubbing his shoulders and holding him in place lightly by the hair once he graced your lips at long last.

His hands trailed all over your sides and with your encouragement finally reaching his ears, he grasped at your waist a little firmer. Strength and assurance on full display, he turned the both of you over so you laid in his arms fully, and he met your lips with newfound passion.

Pausing to catch a breath, you both looked at each other with such respect and understanding and damn near reverence that you couldn't keep a smile in. He could have sworn you were sunlight. Warmth you'd never felt before bloomed inside.

Not that you’d ever be the one to make him stop once he’s on a roll, but you caught sight of the abandoned notebook on the ground beside you. Still open, long forgotten.

“What happened to quizzing me on Present Mic’s sound wave frequencies per mile~” you mouthed to him, breathless.

Izuku simply held you tighter, onto his brightest sunflower. “Nah, maybe later. ‘Wanna play your game first.”

#izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha

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vxiphoid · 2 years ago

Text

EXIXIR OF EMOTIONS

❨ summary ❩ genshin › more than friends? moments. is he feeling too much or too little?

tags ✧ gn!reader, fluff, modern au (?), friends to lovers, y’all are dorks, the sweetest of feelings.

amanuensis’ message ⊹ y’all are not just friends babes, smooch.

⌜ O.7+ ⌟

♫ lover boy - phum viphurit

genshin masterlist

CUDDLING.

“you’ll put me to sleep at this rate.”

“its not like i’m going anywhere anytime soon. i like you here, in this moment. just sleep.”

— there’s absolutely nothing better than hearing your beating heart while he rests over you. no better feeling than your hands carding through his hair, braiding a few small pieces he was sure not to remove. he listens to your absentminded humming, your muted whispers about how soft his hair is, and the delighted thrum of your heart. his hand finds your unoccupied one and you were quick to interlock fingers, a reassuring squeeze following shortly after. maybe a small nap wouldn’t be so bad, little did he know you weren’t that far behind him.

AETHER, kaveh, WANDERER, zhongli, shikanoin heizou, BAIZHU, ayato, gorou, venti.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

LATE NIGHT TALKS.

u up? ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀2:23 am (read)

been up ever since i heard your ringtone, are you alright? ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 2:23 am (read)

— you have a different ringtone from everyone else in his contacts for times like this. honestly, it doesn’t matter if you want to rant, call, or even plan something like going for a walk, his answer will always be yes. its the yearning need to hear you laugh over the phone, even if he did see you three hours ago. babble on about the first thing that comes to your mind, watching you light up as you spoke. he’s sure he has heart eyes as his pupils as he takes you in for the umpteenth time tonight.

XIAO, DILUC, childe, kaedehara kazuha, shikanoin heizou.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

LISTENING TO HIM GEEK OUT.

“sorry, i’m talking your ear off.”

“no, keep talking. i love your voice. what happened then?”

— its the complete adoration and love swirling in your eyes that makes him lose his train of thought. he notices when he turns to see if you’re still following, the smile adorning your face spreads wider under his gaze. what are you trying to do? give him a heart attack? don’t look at him like that (please do, he’s literally in shambles.) you’re so willing to listen to him even when you dont understand the topic. give me a night, ill have it all memorized and we can talk about it together, you’d say. how could you be so perfect?

ITTO, KAEYA, thoma, ALHAITHAM, tighnari, CYNO.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

D.I.YING CLOTHES TOGETHER.

“and then the needle goes through here…”

“please don’t poke yourself—”

— you texted him about some moss embroidery on a sweater you had saw on pinterest and he was already on his way to pick you up and run to the nearest store for yarn and string. he found two old similar sweaters in the depths of his drawers and you were quick to get to work. he could barely pay attention to his own stuff because your shoulder kept brushing his… by the end of it, made with your hello kitty bandaged fingers, on the very end of his sleeve was his own embroidered moss and your initial.

AETHER, BAIZHU, albedo, VENTI, kaveh, zhongli.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

DANCING TOGETHER.

“no but, what if i fall? that would be embarrassing.”

“i would catch you. always.”

— having his hand interlocked with yours has never felt so faultless, he’s been close but never this close. the amount of times he’s wanted to play with your hands but refuse because of the fear of making you uncomfortable yet you seemed so at ease grabbing his hands to mess with his knuckles at any given time. your hand that was splayed out on his chest traced little hearts into the fabric while you studied his face. for a second, he swore you leaned in.. that was until you stumbled on his foot. instincts kicked in quicker than he could react, tugging you flush against him. well that was embarrassing… even then, both your laughter, firstly stiffed, echoed throughout the atmosphere.

ALHAITHAM, ayato, DAINSLEIF, tighnari, KAEYA, THOMA.

┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

KISSING HIS SCARS.

“why do you do this?”

“i want you to know i accept every part of you.”

— weither that be his hands, his arms, back, neck, waist, there’s no place that your lips don’t leave a tingling feeling upon his skin. it’s how you say hello, its how you say goodbye, it’s so frequent he finds himself counting the mere seconds of the intimate interaction. how you lingered for a second longer one day or a second less the next. you’ve found scars on him where he didn’t even know he had-including the invisible scar you insisted he had on the corner of his mouth that you’d pecked last.

AETHER, albedo, childe, CYNO, dainsleif, DILUC, gorou, itto, KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, XIAO, WANDERER.

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worldsaparted · 6 months ago

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hi i was wondering if I could request a fic with johnny where reader is insecure abt her body so like its leads to like johnny telling reader how beautiful she is and a passionate make out sesh where he’s just worshiping and appreciating her body 💝💝

hi, i love this idea and thank u for requesting! i hope you enjoy this :)

Perfectly - Johnny Lawrence

At the sight of herself on this particular Friday night - Y/n groaned. She removed the small top and threw it back onto the bed - shaking her head before letting out a sigh.

Tonight was the first party in the Valley since school was back - and as much as she wished to have ease picking out an outfit, it was never that easy.

She was on a time limit, because her boyfriend would be here soon to get her - and still after an hour, she wasn’t content with anything.

She stood turned, checking her body in the mirror and frowning just the slightest before her door swung open. She turned in a panic before her eyes met Johnny’s, and he furrowed his brows before shutting the door.

She was in just her bra and some jeans she hadn’t worn in months.

“You’re not ready?” He asked, and at that Y/n turned to her clock, her eyes widening.

“Shit.” She hissed, rushing to her drawer to get out her safe sweater. At the sight of that, Johnny shook his head - taking a seat on her bed that was filled with clothing.

“N/n. You’re gonna be hot.” Which was true, it was still summer and as much as she wished for it to be cold out - it simply wasn’t.

“Well, nothing else looks good.” She spoke, throwing it on as he tugged her closer by her pants. She threw it on, covering herself up and he studied her - his eyes softening.

Maybe Johnny was a hardass with everyone else, but when it came to his girlfriend - he was different. Pleasantly different. “Y/n.” He began, tugging her down to sit on his lap and once she did, her eyes searched his.

“I just look stupid in everything, I don’t know why. I’m sorry - we can go now.” Her voice was soft, sort of timid and as much as Johnny wished he could simply tell her she was beautiful, that never worked. He thinned his lips and stayed there, his hand on her thigh as she watched him closely.

As embarrassed as she felt now, Y/n loved when Johnny was like this. Gentle, and calm. Not out there starting fights with people and letting his rage out, no. Here, with her - holding her and caressing her leg as his eyes stared into hers.

His hand moved up to hold her face before he kissed her - softly and quickly. As he pulled away, he took notice to the way Y/n had her arms wrapped around his neck. He was perfect. That’s all she could think as she stared at him.

That’s sort of what got to her, she didn’t see herself with someone like him. Someone so so perfect and she absolutely no clue, but he felt the same way. Whether she believed it - Y/n was very perfect. Johnny saw it, and as much as it bothered him - he knew other guys at West Valley saw it too.

He went back in for another kiss, and this time - it was more craved. Faster, and still gentle but not as gentle. His hands held her hips before he tugged her back onto the bed, turning her around so he hovered her - and at this, Y/n smiled.

He was always doing this - so she figured it was another quick moment before they left, but Johnny didn’t want to go anymore.

His eyes studied her body for a quick second before he softly moved his hands to the hem of her sweater. He could tell she was sort of uneasy but still - she allowed him to pull it off of her, because even though she might’ve felt weird about herself, this was Johnny. And he was her safe spot.

He kissed her lovingly after removing her sweater to reveal her bare stomach, and the dark red laced bra that he got her. His smile grew and he rubbed her hips. At this, Y/n groaned - her mouth opening and Johnny took this chance to slip his tongue in. He smirked as he felt her hands run through his hair that he just did - and his grip on her tightened.

Slowly, he unbuttoned her pants and pulled them off of her, keeping the intense eye contact and instead of returning to her lips - he began to kiss her neck, biting at it from time to time. Y/n gasped in pleasure, doing her best to keep quiet and Johnny room this as his opportunity to speak to her. His hand rubbed her thigh before inching towards her back, squeezing her and finding pleasure in that.

He moved further down to her breasts, leaving firm kisses upon them and now - she was moaning.

“You know you look good in anything.” He started off, and at this - Y/n spoke through her moans. He went back to kissing her chest that was covered up by her bra, and smiled up at her through his eyelashes.

“Johnny.” She began to protest, because she really didn’t want to talk about this today, but Johnny stopped her by sucking at the exposed skin on her chest, causing her to groan in pleasure.

And then, he continued. “In those gym shorts I always make you pull down..” He spoke against her skin. “Those dark washed jeans you say you hate, that green top, those dresses, my clothes..” he stopped for a second at the sounds of her moaning, and he held himself back from removing her bra - and instead finished. “In nothing.”

At his words, Y/n softly moaned - her hands running through his hair as he bit down just above her lace bra - his hands gripped her hips and he wanted nothing more than to be this close forever. Once he finished kissing at her exposed skin, Johnny moved to the places she’d complain the most about. He slid his hands under her, grabbing at her ass before aggressively moving her up and further on the bed, moving down on her.

His lips met all over her stomach, kissing her and squeezing her from time to time. Y/n got a hint of what he was doing, because it was working. She was easing up in her body, and now - as Johnny Lawrence praised her - she felt better.

“You’re so perfect.” He rubbed her back now, smiling down at her as she wrapped her legs around him to secure the spot. Johnny allowed her to remove his shirt as well - and he stared at her lovingly, his hands moving back to grip her ass.

He ducked down, his mouth now up against her ear. “Every day in first period when you sit next to me and I get an up close view of you, I dream of fuck - ”

“Johnny - ” She chuckled, partly at the feelings of his words against her ear but also because of his words. He shook his head, in need to finish.

“Im serious. You put that water bottle between your thighs after drinking from it, and I’ve never wanted to be one so bad.” He spoke, a smile creeping onto his lips as he watched the same thing happen to his girlfriend. She squirmed in his grip as she laughed, pulling away to look into his eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Johnny Lawrence.” She spoke through her small laughs, and biting his lip - Johnny leaned in.

“I mean it.” He spoke firmly before kissing her once again, and he continued to hold her close to him, he played with the material of her underwear, even biting at it when he kissed down her stomach - and as heated as they got, Y/n was thankful for Johnny. As he slowly removed her undergarments, admiring her and staring in awe for a few minutes before he went in on her - his lips meeting her beloved thighs, Y/n h kept her hands on his shoulders, nodding in pleasure.

Throughout their time, Johnny uttered the smallest comments to her, his hand went up and down her leg as he moved closer to her inner thigh, and he spoke against it. “You’re so beautiful.”

That alone eased her up once again, she was short of breath at the feeling of his hand inching towards her exposed skin that he kissed beside, and she let out soft moans before watching him continue. In the most Johnny Lawrence way, he assured her that she was nothing but perfect, but more importantly, perfectly his.

#billyzabkaxreader #billy zabka #william zabkaxreader #williamzabka #william zabka #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence #cobrakai #cobra kai #gregtolan #daniellarussoxreader #daniel larusso #karate kid

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lynnaredfield3383 · 30 days ago

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Kenma's Crush - PT 1 (Not my characters. Aged up to 21. Fem Reader.)

"Come on. Please, please, please.”

Kuroo gave you his biggest smile as he tried to convince you to go to a party.

“No. I don't even know half those guys.”

“But you are one of the guys. You fit in with everyone so well. I mean they love you and Kenma really relies on you being there to save him.”

You were angry and Kuroo didn't even realize it, but you couldn't blame him. Your whole life you'd heard that you were just one of the guys. That you were across the board personality wise which drew people to you.

“Kenma should learn how to say no to you. Honestly, you're not that charming or convincing.”

Kuroo clutched his chest as if he'd just been shot.

“That hurt. Really hurt. I thought you loved me.”

“You're my roommate. Love has nothing to do with it.”

Kuroo noticed you were angry, but he couldn't figure out why. As you stomped out of the kitchen he text Kenma.

Roo - U want her to come, ask her.

Ken - U can't convince her?

Roo - Not this time.

Kenma had pulled his hair into the slightly messy ponytail you said made him look adult sexy. He even wore black slacks & the gray button down shirt you said he looked good in. Kenma only wore it for meetings and had bumped into you at your shared apt with Kuroo once while wearing it. The way you looked at him, he swore his heart stopped.

Now you weren't coming and he'd set the party up at his place to ensure his foolproof plan to get you alone. He didn't know what to do. Beg, he would beg, he told himself as he started texting you.

Ken - Will you pls come?

You - Sorry Ken. Not this time.

Ken - Why?

You - Studying & relaxing.

Ken - Pls. I'll buy u anything u want.

You - Come here if u want.

Ken - Party is here. Pls

You sighed when Kenma added prayer hands, kitty emojis and a ton of crying emoji's.

You pulled out a jersey from your ex and smiled. Fine, if you were going to this party it wouldn't be as one of the guys.

Kuroo was in the kitchen when you walked in wearing the jersey as a dress, with black yoga shorts and sneakers.

“Um wow. Who're you trying to impress?” Kuroo asked.

“Nobody. But tonight no one will see me as just one of the guys,” you smiled.

Kuroo text Kenma quickly.

Roo - u better stick by her all nite.

Ken - Y?

Kuroo sent the quick pic he'd snapped when you reached for your jacket. Your legs were long and sexy in it.

Kenma groaned. Why did you have to show off what he already knew you had? There was no way he could ask you tonight. All the guys would be on you.

“You wanna tell me what's going on?” Kuroo asked as he drove.

“I'm tired of being one of the guys. My last 2 boyfriends broke up with me because they only saw me that way. I'm done. This is also the last time I'm going to one of these gatherings.”

“Your exes are idiots. Not were. Are. Okay. Besides…I know for a fact one of the guys there tonight doesn't see you like that. Try and stay open minded.”

“Honestly, I'm gonna stick with Kenma. Probably end up in his gaming room alone.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't know how you felt, or I wouldn't have pushed tonight.”

You smiled at him as you both exited the car. You didn't want him to think you were mad.

“S'kay.”

#haikyuu #hq x reader #hq anxiety #hq fluff #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu kuroo #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #nekoma

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star-writes-fanfiction · 1 month ago

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:: c o p y c a t :: ☆ :: p e t e r . p ::

Character/s: mcu!peter x implied stark!reader

Summary: doing the 'copying snaps' trend with Peter.

Warnings: very suggestive content, light smut [masturbation, fingering] it's also kinda short since it's not full smut and I did not proof read, like, at all. Comment if you want me to edit lol.

Request: none (based off a headcanon I wrote recently)

Other: I don't really know how snapchat works because I don't use it much, so if I've messed it up let me know. <3 also I wrote reader and Peter as college students because sexualising minors is a big no-no y'all 😐😑😐

You were laying in your bed at the tower, playing block blast to pass the time. You were meant to be studying for your massive exam coming up, but there's nothing more fun than procrastination. Besides, you had all of tonight to cram as much as possible, and you work faster under pressure.

Just as you cleared your board, you got a notification from Peter, your best friend since elementary school, and also your decade-long crush. It was a snap of him pulling the duck face captioned 'it's that snapstreak grind'. Typical Peter, you thought, going to reply. There's no way in hell either one of you would be the one to lose your streak of 2000.

You took a photo of your roof, adding the text. 'I was trying to study, p'. His cute little face popped up in the bottom left as he began to type.

Pete ❤️

Oh sorry lol

It's ok im bored anyway 😭😭

Time to spam u with ridiculous photos cuz u love me

You joked, already opening your camera. You took a photo of your middle finger, leaving it uncaptioned and hitting send. A moment later Peter sent you a similar photo with the same pose.

Oh, so thats the game we're gonna play? You thought to yourself, taking a photo of your face this time, poking your tongue out.

Again, he returned the snap. "Well, I may as well use this to my advantage..." You muttered aloud as you took a photo of you doing the spidey hand. You know, where you curl your two fingers?

And Peter, being the innocent little gremlin he is, sent it in return. His arm outstretched as he curled his middle and ring fingers. God, you thought, your thighs fluttering at the sight. You took a quick picture of you just sitting up and captioned it 'silly spidey'. That would buy you some time.

Keeping the image in your head, your fingers crept down your stomach and into your panties. You deftly found your clit and began to rub in in quick circles, gasping at the feeling. Your back arched slightly as you inhaled sharply. With those same two fingers from the photo, you started to thrust in and out, curling at that spot that makes you want to scream.

But in your mind it wasn't you, it was Peter. His hands in your pants making you feel so good. "Fuck, don't stop," you whined, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. You couldn't care less about replying anymore. It felt so fucking good.

You felt your body reacting as your neared your orgasm already, just thinking about Peter. "Fuck, baby, you're so wet for me," he'd say in your ear as his toned arms supported his weight and trapped your head in. His left knee would be holding your right leg in place as you squirmed uncontrollably.

Until finally you came, finishing all over your sheets. You let yourself lay in euphoria before remembering about Peter. You scrambled to pull your pants up and grab the phone.

Pete ❤️

🟦 sent you a snap

Hello?

No reply?

Damn I just got ghosted 😞😞

You blushed, the full weight of what you'd just done settling on you.

Sorry Peter dad wanted me for a sec

Pete ❤️

Oh ok alg

What'd he need

You rushed to think of something.

He needed my little fingers for something

Wow, great lie, you thought sarcastically. You were wondering if it's possible for one to think sarcastically when he replied.

Pete ❤️

U sure it isn't u who needs my fingers for smth?

You turned the brightest shade of crimson on the spectrum of colour right then. Shit, think for a response! You thought desperately. Then he sent you another snap. You hesitated before opening it, seeing a picture of his hand clenching his sheets. Fuck~ you thought as you nearly moaned at the sight. Then you read the caption.

'Want help?'

You've never seen anyone agree as fast as you did then.

Send help I love this man too much. Like and rb as always and plz leave requests!!!

- star ✨️

#☆ peter parker ☆#peter parker smut #peter parker #marvel smut #marvel #avengers smut #fanfiction

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suemaelee · 11 months ago

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Right here? |kitchen sex| ♡Quick smut ♡

Why Jungkook was cooking, you worked on your studies at the dinner table. A slice of life. It was raining, relaxing, quiet.

"Hey honey, come help me please?"Jungkook says.

You get up and walk over to the kitchen island.

"Whats wrong?" You asked.

"Mh, nothing..just wanted you here with me." Jungkook says biting his lif, with a detailed smirk.

You roll your eyes and try to walk off.

"Nu uh, come here...I want you tonight." He says pulling your waist towards him. "Babe, the assignment is due in 3 hours." You tell him.

"It won't take long, I promise. Plus why would u wait till the last minute to make it?" He asked.

"I wanted to do it this morning at Joon's so he could help and then I was going to leave but he started cooking and I got worried. Last time he ruined cereal. Then my girlfriends wanted to go shopping and then I was tired so I slept blah blah, now I have a very horny boyfriend who won't let me finish my work."

Jungook laughed at your exhaustion.

"Well, it seems like you need to relax a bit. I can help."

Jungkook picks you up and places u on the counter. He then leans in and kisses you gently. He grabs onto your waist, pulling you in closer. One of his hands slips between your thighs. He caresses your pussy outside of your pants. U squirm feeling his fingers rub against your aching clit. Oh, it's been way too long.

Then he proceeds to grab onto your pants and pull It down. You lift your bum to help him.

"Wait...right here?" You ask.

"Why not...? He responds before biting down on your neck.

"You're so wet baby," He says. He puts one finger in...then two. In and out into your slippery wet slope. Curling his fingers against your g-spot. Over and over again. You feel yourself getting closer. He starts to go faster and harder. Feeling yourself begin to lose control over your muscles you begin to shake.

"Cum for me..cum, cum, cum" He says looking deep into your eyes. U tremble into his arms feeling yourself cum. Your juices were going all over his fingers. Your back arching in pleasure, your head leaning back feeling the intensity.

"Fuuckk" you moan out as you start to catch your breath.

"That was so fucking hot baby," Jungkook says. "I can't wait. I need you right now." Jungkook says taking his rock-hard cock out.

He places his cock right against your entrance. He stops and looks at you for a moment. He leans in. He kissed your lips deeply and he began to enter his dick inside you. You let your moans escape into his mouth. More and more intense by the second.

"Fuck" He moans out. Going in and out slowly into you.

You grab onto the back of his neck. He grabs onto your thighs and places them over his shoulder bow going faster and harder.

He bites his lips and has a face full of aww. Lust in his eyes. The craving for you. You hear the sound of your skins smacking against each other. Harder, faster.

He grabs onto your waist harder pulling you deeper onto his cock.

"Fuck baby" He moans out. He looks down at hiw his dick enter u everytime.

"Fuuucckkuh.." He moans out. "I'm gonna cum baby."

With a couple of extra hard thrusts, Jungook releases himself into you. You feel his hot cum inside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck" You feel him shake a bit releasing every last drop of his hot semen into you.

A moment if silence for you both to catch your breath.

*Ding~*

"Right on time." Jungkook chuckles. He holds on to your waist and slowly pulls out. He leans in and kisses you passionately. "I love u so much, baby."

"I love you" You respond.

"Who's hungry?"

"Me!" You chuckle

"Alright, baby." Jungook gives u one last kiss before you both continue your night."

{Okay, u can shoot me. I skipped a week after promising every Sunday. Yo girl been busy but you don't wanna hear that. I hope you guys can enjoy this quick smut. Idk how I did on it. BTW, As I thought, yall are sluts for Jungook! But for those who did show the last Suga must love, thank you so much!! I don't even know if anyone reads these but still. I gained like 20 extra followers in such a short amount of time. So thank you for your support. I will do my best to try and stay consistent. LOTS OF LOVE ARMY!♡♡}

#bts army #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts #jungkook smut #jk smut #army #thank you #jungkook x reader #jungkook

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lunarw0rks · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! i absolutely love ur work and ur most recent fic absolutely ripped my heart out 😭 i was wondering if u could maybe do a simon x reader where y/n has a panic attack from their nightmares (can be abt anything) and ghost helps them calm down and is just there for them with a lot of fluff? thank u so much!!

A/N: i love this type of fluff sm <3 out of all of them, he would understand what it's like to suffer panic attacks and nightmares :(

Summary: When you suffer a nightmare that then turns into a panic attack, Ghost comforts you.

Warning(s): GN!reader, depictions of panic attacks/nightmares, hints at ghost's trauma, brief gun mention, established relationship, domestic!simon, fluff | Word Count: 971

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ PART TWO // requests | ao3 ver.

Bad Dreams | Drabble

When Simon came back from his deployment, it wasn’t always warm welcomes and pillow talk. He was usually too exhausted to change clothes or make it up the stairs for that matter.

After a quick embrace at the door and a cheap takeout dinner—he was out cold on the couch, snoring away in some god-awful position.

You were used to this by now, and you understood how drained he would be after months away. Of course, when you went to sleep that night you wished he was there next to you. You only had so long together before he’d be shipped off somewhere again, and for who knows how long.

Nightmares got more frequent, especially the longer he was away. They always gave you a sense of dread, and waking up to the empty space beside you only made them worse. The one you had tonight was especially chilling.

You felt like you were being pulled every which way, and whatever was chasing you was too fast for you to get away from it.

Most frightening, you had the sense Simon was watching you being pursued and had no intention of helping you. His eyes were cold, unlike any look he’d ever given you. He looked as if he was merely enjoying the show of you defenseless and fleeing from your attacker.

When you’re finally gaining some speed, the attacker catches up with you. As you’re being whipped around to face them, you jolt awake.

Downstairs, Simon’s eyes opened when he heard the gasps from upstairs. He crept down the hallway and grabbed the pistol he kept on the hallway table. He braced himself for anything when he peeked inside the bedroom, instantly placing the gun down when he saw you.

He knew that look all too well—bloodshot eyes frantically darting around, tear-stained reddened cheeks, and the wheezes escaping your trembling lips.

You still hadn’t come awake fully. The blurriness of your vision rendered you unable to comprehend what was real and what wasn’t. Usually, you’d wake up from these nightmares, toss and turn for an hour, and find yourself back asleep.

This was different. You were in full-blown panic, and you weren’t able to snap yourself out of it.

Simon's hands found you, gently holding your wrists so you didn’t hurt him or yourself with your panicked haze.

He didn’t want to smother you with an embrace and risk making things worse. Although he knew the by-the-book instructions on how to help you, inside his head, he was filled with unease.

Had you suffered like this before while he was away? Was it his own problems rubbing off on you, like the prospect of him never coming home one day?

You felt yourself become a bit more grounded when he constricted your wrists, but mentally you were still running off the adrenaline. You blinked away your tears, finally able to see him sitting at the end of the bed, his brows furrowed in tenseness.

“You’re alright…” He wanted to sound reassuring, but even he was unsure of that.

Your hyperventilating turned into low, rapid breaths slowly but surely. He sat there as long as you needed him to, just studying your body language to make sure you wouldn’t have another attack.

He released your wrists and placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing away one of the stray tears. “Should’ve told me you were struggling like this, love…” He whispered, both lovingly but firmly.

“They’re usually not this bad.” You muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed at the fuss. It wasn’t his fault, or anyone’s for that matter. It was just your anxiety getting the better of you.

“Don’t excuse it,” he forced you to look at him, giving you a pleading look to be let in. “I’m not upset, but you need to tell me things like this. Don’t want you passing out on me.”

You swallowed away the lump in your throat, leaning closer to him. He took that as his invitation to finally embrace you, placing a tight hand around your waist as you buried yourself into his large chest.

“You were tired… and there are bigger things than my night terrors, Simon.”

He pulled your head out of his chest, locking eyes with you once again. It was that look. The look he gave you when he was at a loss for words, and his eyes were convincing enough words for you. Stern, protective, but tender.

He left the bedroom without saying a word, which made you think your words angered him. You tightened your brow when his shadow disappeared down the hall, now feeling more ashamed than before.

Not a minute later, he came back with a glass of water clutched in his fist, and he watched you drink it until you finished the whole thing. As soon as you set it down on the nightstand, he crawled atop you, using the pressure of his frame as a way to cage you in.

“Nothing’s more important than you, ‘doesn’t matter how tired I am.” He muttered, staring directly down at you, as if confining you to him would force you to believe his words.

He leaned down and pecked your lips, then trailed a few down your neck, before rolling over onto his side of the bed. He traced his fingers down your forearm, stopping when he intertwined them with yours.

“We’ll continue this conversation in the morning.” He spoke playfully, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade.

With him beside you, it didn’t take long to fall back into slumber. His body was like your own personal furnace, especially when he was clutching you so tightly.

He waited until your faint snores filled the room again, using that as his signal to finally get a good night's rest, not letting go of you for a second.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley fluff

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starrysvn · 2 years ago

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place in me | jung wooyoung

pairing: chef!wooyoung x chef!gn reader

genre: angst, slow burn, fluff, ex2l

word count: 17k

warnings: angsty af, kinda toxic workplace, food, drinking, i know jackshit about cooking apart from hell's kitchen, masterchef and google searches, one (1) sex joke, reader is kinda dumb.

a/n: this has been in the works since march. i gotta stop procrastinating. anyhoww, i cited "m. butterfly" by david henry hwang and reworked one of my favorite quotes ever from "jane eyre" by charlotte brontë bc i luv her. hope u guys enjoy it <3

networks: @cromernet 🫶🏻

playlist: beside you by 5sos, finally // beautiful stranger by halsey, sparks fly by taylor swift, sorry by halsey, back to december by taylor swift, right where you left me by taylor swift, the winner takes it all by abba, haunted by taylor swift, amnesia by 5sos, place in me by luke hemmings

masterlist | navi

During quiet nights you worked best. It had always been that way ever since you were a student and you didn’t think things would change. Not when the kitchen was completely silent except for the slow rumbling of whatever you had on the stove and the swift swish of your chopping knife against the cutting board. You loved listening to music while cooking, but on nights like these, you preferred the muffled sounds of the city coming in from the cracked open window and the occasional humming that left your mouth.

It was peaceful enough to remember why you loved cooking so much. Not that you ever forgot but, lately, it was hard to find joy in your job. The hustle and bustle of the kitchen kept you busy enough to render your work almost mechanical, punctuated by the quick rhythm of orders coming in. All the loud noises around you sent you into a frenzy more often than not.

It was on nights like these - in the kitchen of your own apartment, off duty for the evening - immersed in the mellow atmosphere you created, that you wondered if it had all been worth it. The studying, the getting yelled at, Paris… If it had all brought you to this - working in a Michelin star restaurant you had only ever dreamed of setting foot in - but could never get you anywhere past it. If this was your final dream, your last ambition, then why did it all feel so heavy?

It was a question you could never answer. You took great pride in your work and in yourself for getting you where you were. You liked some of your fellow chefs, and the reaction your answer got out of people when they asked you where you worked. It lit a match in you, it felt like a pat on the shoulder to your younger self. But when you got home exhausted and so not ready to face it all again the next morning, doubt clung heavily to your mind.

You turned off the burner with a sour taste in your mouth you knew only your cooking could melt away. Sat down in front of your gamjatang, you took a big breath before diving in. You had avoided the dish like the plague ever since then, but somehow tonight your hands moved for you when reaching for the ingredients. The circumstances couldn’t have been more different than when you last cooked it; you weren’t hungover, it wasn’t four in the morning, and you weren’t halfway across the world with him.

A memory pushed and shoved to come to the forefront of your mind, one about warmth and love and understanding all washing over you in the tiny kitchenette of a Paris apartment where, with him, you tipsily laughed and slow danced to the music of your hearts beating at the same time.

It wasn’t surprising that it just didn’t taste the same. Recipe and execution-wise it was perfect, you couldn’t count the amount of times you cooked the soup. But it tasted off, somehow. And right now you didn’t have the mental capacity to analyze why. So you just ate in silence, a slight frown on your lips with every spoonful, grateful you only had to load the washing machine before going to bed, disappointed your peaceful night of cooking had been ruined.

–

“What’s got your panties in a twist today?”

Park Seonghwa was your favorite coworker. You two started working at Hwang’s at the same time and bonded pretty quickly. He was quiet and focused, a perfectionist when it came to his job and never really contributed to the migraine-inducing bustling crowd of chefs around you. He also would never dare to speak like this when you both were in earshot of the sous chef. You sighed. Apparently, you had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and proceeded to grill your junior chef Jongho with more bite than usual.

“Please don’t say that when Seo’s so close to us,” you flashed him a warning look which was met with a mischievous smirk.

“We all know you’re aiming for his spot, with the scolding you just did he can only be proud,” the sous chef in your kitchen had the reputation of being even worse than head chef Lee, truly the bane of everyone’s existence. You didn’t want to be like him.

“Oh, lord,” you shook your head, slowing down your chopping the slightest bit. You’d woken up with a headache after a fitful night of sleep, already frustrated with the world before even facing it. Missing the bus and clocking in late didn’t help either, not when you were greeted with a murderous glare from the head chef. You didn’t mean to be snappy with your junior, but things had inevitably piled up.

“I don’t even know if I want the position anymore,” you grunted under your breath, earning a soft giggle from Seonghwa.

“Careful saying that out loud, or the vultures will try even harder to take you down,” he knew better than to bump his shoulder with yours, lest he interrupted your furious chopping and ended up being the reason you lost a finger, but did it anyway. The sweet gesture comforted you, surprisingly you didn’t feel the urge to bite his head off.

“Let them,” you meant the words to sound a little less disheartened than they did, but all of last night’s thinking had seemingly gotten to you. Seonghwa gave you a confused look but could say little before being interrupted.

“Executive Chef Kim needs to speak to you,” the eyes of the whole kitchen were on you as a sort of stillness descended upon everyone. Even Seonghwa beside you looked surprised, even if less than everyone else. You knew in his head he was probably cooking up some joke about you being the next tyrant sous.

There were two ways this encounter could go: either fire you or promote you. A conviction that grew stronger when you entered the still-empty restaurant and sat at a table were not only the executive chef, but also the owner and manager, waiting for you. Why would they do this hours before opening?

“Thank you for joining us,” manager Na said as soon as you sat down in front of them. “As you may be aware, chef Kim and chef Lee have had their eyes on you as a possible candidate to replace chef Seo once he retires.” Her piercing eyes stared deep into your soul. You nodded, almost afraid to speak, wondering why in the world you chose to work for such intimidating people.

“I’m afraid you will not be taking that spot.”

A low blow. Somehow, even when you were neither too hopeful nor too enthusiastic about becoming sous chef, the rejection still hurt. It still sent a jolt of disappointment and self-doubt shooting through you. Were you not doing a good job? Were you not up to their standards?

“However,” you looked up again, your eyes now on executive chef Kim. “Mr. Hwang is opening up another restaurant.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” you mumbled, wheels slowly turning in your head. Manager Na smiled knowingly.

“I would like to give you the opportunity to become head chef in my new restaurant,” Mr. Hwang said. “I’m told by chef Kim and chef Lee that you would fit the position better than the one of sous chef. I trust their judgment.”

It took all you had not to let your jaw hang in front of them. Head chef? Had they lost their minds? Never had your mind taken the decision for you before you could even rationalize your thoughts.

“Could I think about it?”

“Time ticks fast here, you know that chef Y/L/N,” Manager Na’s intimidating eyes were on you again. “We’d like to have an answer in two days at most.”

With a curt nod, they dismissed you. You didn’t think you had ever made a beeline for the bathroom so fast in your entire life. Surely, you couldn’t go back into the kitchen looking like your cat just died. Everybody would know something was wrong, they would know that the position as sous was still free and you had been shot down. And there was little they could do better than kicking a man when he was down.

So you sat in the cubicle, trying to calm your shaking hands and regain composure. Act like nothing happened. Betray no emotion. Go back to dicing potatoes exactly one centimeter by one centimeter. Not a millimeter more, not one less.

Assholes. All of them. They couldn’t have chosen a better moment to tell you this than the most hectic night of the week. And now you’d have to work through it. Through the eyes trailed on you, holding questions and spite and jealousy. Through chef Lee’s and chef Seo’s yelled reprimanding, making sure everything was just perfect for the critic coming in.

Just one more night.

Never had you held on so tightly to such meager consolation.

–

“You look like you need a beer.”

Seonghwa’s voice broke the silence of the back alley. After closing, you decided to stick around instead of fleeing home like you usually would. It had been a while since the last time you sat outside the back entrance of the kitchen, alone with your thoughts after hours of noise.

“I need vodka,” you voiced, not looking up as he took a spot beside you.

“That’s stooping so low, what’s wrong?”

You knew the question would come. Somehow he had not asked anything when you entered the kitchen again with a blank face. A murmur had slithered past as you took your place and started working again. But Seonghwa had just shot you a look, resuming his work as well.

“They want to make me head chef at Hwang’s new restaurant.”

“But that’s great!” He was looking at you with those big, wide, excited eyes of his and a genuine smile on his lips. One would think the offer was made to him. You were almost sorry you had to wipe that happiness away.

“I don’t know if I want that…”

“What do you mean?” He looked puzzled, but not surprised. You sighed. How did you explain this without sounding crazy?

“I mean… I-” you grunted, hands in your hair. “When’s the last time you felt like cooking?”

Seonghwa stared back with a slight frown in his brow, eyes bouncing around your face in an effort to understand.

“Like, really cooking. Without walking into the kitchen and wanting to throw up, or dreading opening time and all the yelling. I know it’s how it is when you work for such big names but fuck. Everything’s too fast and I… it feels like I don’t care anymore, Hwa. They took my passion and stomped all over it.”

“Didn’t you want to be a high end, gourmet restaurant chef?”

You stared, mouth hanging open. Of course, you did. It was your biggest dream, your one ambition. It was excruciating that all the pressure was making you break, making you think that you weren’t cut out for this and you had wasted your time.

“I did, I do.”

“But?”

“But this isn’t it. This feels like a survival show, where everyone’s out for blood. I understand competitiveness, but I can hardly breathe when we start cooking. Chef Seo is a literal nightmare and I don’t think I can do it anymore in a place like this.”

“I see…”

“You think I lost my mind,” you let your head tilt back, eyes on the starless night sky.

“Maybe you did,” Seonghwa said. “That doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”

“I’ll be honest, I never thought I’d hear you like this,” he continued. “You hold such pride for what you do and how you do it. I think Seo might yell at you just because he’s irritated he’s got nothing on you. Half of the people hate you for how well you manage.”

“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed.

“My point is,” he bumped his shoulder with yours. “That it’s indicative of how much this place fucking sucks if they got you breaking. A Michelin kitchen, or any kitchen for that matter, shouldn’t burn out their best chefs.”

“Jongho is so brave for junioring here,” you deflected, allowing his words to soothe your burning wounds.

“Hey, we did that too!”

“Yeah, and look at where it got us,” you giggled, smiling for the first time tonight. Seonghwa huffed out a laugh.

A beat of silence passed. You were glad for Seonghwa. Even though you often joked he was just your favorite coworker, you considered him a dear friend. One of your only friends for the matter.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll quit,” you heard his surprised gasp and chuckled. “And I’ll refuse the position. I know head chef sounds better but I know them. Manager Na and Mr. Hwang will only hire straight up assholes and I’d have to deal with it, and not even as executive chef.”

“We’re not assholes!” his hand sat on his chest in mock offense, you giggled.

“We look like assholes and do our job quietly and damn near perfectly, that’s why we’re here.”

Mumbling something along the lines of I guess so, Seonghwa accepted the heavy truth. In the quiet alley, sitting with your friend, you felt okay. The murmur of the busy city filled your heart as you quietly giggled and remembered your first days working at Hwang’s. Goodbyes were always hard on you, but not this time. You expected gut-wrenching pain and tears and the heavy burden of failure on your shoulders as you accepted your decision. But none of it manifested, not when Seonghwa had snuck one of the most expensive bottles of wine out of the kitchen and launched himself in a perfect rendition of Chef Seo’s latest meltdown. Maybe taking a step back didn’t mean failing, something you never would’ve believed mere months ago.

The sound of freedom equated to the one of your blaring alarms each morning. It had been two weeks since you had quit your job, but you still refused to get a good night’s sleep. Well, except the night you told Seonghwa and you ended up drunk off your faces.

You rolled over, turning off the annoying alarm, ready to start another day of not knowing what to do. There were few things you enjoyed doing, apart from cooking, when all you were left with was free time and silence. It was nice getting out of the house in the early spring morning to buy groceries, go for walks, and swing by your friend’s flower shop, but it got old quickly. Mostly, you didn’t like how sometimes, while cooking, memories you tried to never think of seemed to resurface on their own.

When you finally got to the kitchen and there was nothing but eggs in the fridge – it was shopping day – you settled on an omelette for breakfast. Only, halfway through cooking, your mind wandered back there.

When Chef Berrien asked you to make an omelette you wanted to laugh. You didn’t though, not when you saw the serious frown he was sporting. He was being serious? The absurdity of the situation made you question if dropping everything you had back at home just to fly to Paris to master your craft had been worth it. Maybe your mother was right, maybe you were crazy.

“Omelettes are the easiest thing to spoil,” he stood resolutely in front of you all. “Only good chefs make good omelettes.”

Oh god, your mother was right.

“Good luck,” a smug voice sounded from beside you.

If there was someone who could push you over the edge Chef Berrien shoved you to, it was Jung Wooyoung. In just two weeks of sharing your working station with him, you discovered that his bubbly personality clashed with your silent brooding. You preferred to work in silence and, apparently, he thrived in chaos.

“You too,” you grumbled, getting your few ingredients ready. How in the world were you supposed to prove your worth with a fucking omelette? You closed your eyes and sighed, getting to work.

“That definitely looks… simple,” Wooyoung mumbled as Berrien walked through the cooking stations, pulling faces at every dish. You looked down at yours - a plain, french omelette - then at his - all prettily plated and definitely cheese filled - and bit your tongue.

“He asked for an omelette, not a Michelin star worthy breakfast,” you hastily whispered, wishing he would just shut up for once.

“Aren’t we training to be Michelin star worthy chefs?” came his rebuttal, getting on your last nerve with that pretty smirk of his.

Pretty?

You scoffed and shook your head, straightening your back and clearing your throat as Berrien came close to your station. When the chef’s eyes landed on your omelette, a slight frown pulled his lips downwards. As he walked away, you did your best to ignore Wooyoung’s silent snicker and the burning in your cheeks. After the evaluation, you kept quiet for the rest of the day.

It sometimes happened that you would close off to the rest of the world, and focused only on what you were thinking and the task at hand. Most often when you were cooking, which both helped and hindered your work. As much as you needed to focus on what you were doing, you also needed to listen to orders while doing it. You hoped to get better at managing it, it was why you were here, after all. Though, for now, after a full day surrounded by people, you were happy sitting alone with your back resting against the backdoor to the kitchen.

“Is the silent treatment payback for beating you today?”

The door flew open, making you lose balance for a second, then came his question.

“You didn’t beat me, Wooyoung, this is not a competition,” you sighed, keeping your eyes set on the wall in front of you rather than on his figure sitting down beside you.

“Sounds like something a sore loser would say,” he bumped his shoulder with yours, no doubt with a shit-eating grin on his lips. That did it.

“Just because your omelette got a nod and mine got a frown, it doesn’t mean yours was better!” You all but exploded, finally looking at him. Indeed, he was wearing a smug grin.

“Well, Chef Berrien would disagree,” you scoffed as he looked at you with shiny, distracting, eyes. Was it the light from the lamppost reflected in them or had the lack of sleep finally got to your brain? You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thought.

“Fuck you too, I guess,” you finally said, turning back around, earning a laugh from him.

You didn’t want to stop and think about why his laugh pulled a snicker out of you, making you feel so light and at ease.

“Does this mean you’ll go back to talking to me then?” He asked, sounding a little small. “You’re not mad?”

Something pulled at your heartstrings, hearing him ask something like that. Did he really think you were mad at him? You probably looked like an asshole for the rest of the day after Berrien barely passed your omelette.

“I’m not,” you said much faster than you anticipated. “I never was.”

“That’s good,” he smiled, and you weren’t sure you liked the warmth that blossomed in your chest.

You avoided thinking of your training in Paris with all your might, and he was the reason why. But it seemed that now that your whole world had turned upside down, your brain could do nothing but. Add that to the list of things you hated about unemployment. A funny smell pulled you from your thoughts, eyes focusing back on the almost burned omelette in front of you. Mumbling curses under your breath, you turned off the heat and plated it. This was why you never let your thoughts take over.

You ate your spoiled breakfast in silence, deciding to get started with your day and your grocery shopping, mentally listing all the food you’d need. Anything, really, at this point to keep your mind occupied with something that wasn’t him.

It was still hard for you to wrap your head around what Jung Wooyoung meant to you. Or rather, you knew perfectly well and tried to avoid it like the plague. He was a closed chapter you didn’t want to revisit simply because it hurt. Because there was a point in time where he meant the whole world to you, where he was your whole world, and you decided to burn it all down only to choke on the ashes of what it used to be.

You left wondering if he was still writing pages or considered the story closed and done as you did. Like you had to not to drown in guilt.

While walking down the street, warm sunlight caressing your face, you asked yourself why it was all coming back to you now. A hollow of confusion had opened up in your chest, and of its own volition your heart chose to fill it with such memories. When Wooyoung came into your life, he did so by taking it by storm; randomly, upsetting all you had ever known, and maybe at the wrong time. That didn’t mean he didn’t leave a sign, a permanent one, on your heart. And now that you were crawling in confusion, he was barging in once more.

Wooyoung was late. It was teamwork evaluation day and your project partner was nowhere to be seen. Chef Berrien had sent daggers flying your way upon seeing the empty side of your workstation, not waiting a second longer to start the class. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole and also to strangle Wooyoung on sight. There must’ve been a logical reason why he still hadn’t shown up when you were supposed to finish your three-day project. If the fucker left you alone to finish cooking lièvre à la royale, you were seriously going to give him the scolding of a lifetime.

Anxiety started to claw at your stomach, twisting it in knots and tugging at them in a way that made it harder to breathe. Under the chef’s pointed gaze you could only stay as still as possible, hoping he’d prolong his very unsubtle speech about tardiness until Wooyoung got here, praying he would, and yet cursing him in your head.

He still hadn’t shown up when he gave the class permission to start working. You sighed in frustration, walking to the fridge to retrieve the hare you’d cooked the day before with trembling hands. Back at your station, you realized that working while checking the door every three seconds would get you nowhere, and you weren’t about to fail the assignment even if half of your team was missing.

When the meat was finally cleaned of the jellied liquid it had sat in overnight, and you were preparing to cut it into exactly eighty grams slices - not one more, not one less, Berrien's voice sounded in your head - the door to the kitchen burst open.

In came a panting Wooyoung, his white chef jacket buttoned up a little crooked, who tried to make his way to your station unseen. It didn’t work.

“Jung,” Berrien’s voice resonated in the hot hair of the kitchen, making everyone stop working for a beat. Too bad no one had time to spare. You started slicing. “I don’t appreciate tardiness.”

“I’m very sorry, Chef-” he held his hand up next to his face, shutting up your partner.

“You may start cooking,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding the whole time, shoulders almost sagging in relief. “But don’t think I won’t keep this in mind during evaluation.”

The frustration you’d tried to keep at bay so far flared up once more, and your grip on the knife tightened. Wooyoung silently made his way next to you, washing his hands carefully and using the time to assess how far you’d gotten into the process. You didn’t utter a single word, fuming quietly as you focused on your task and he picked up on his.

You couldn’t afford to lose time bickering now, and for the first time in a while, you cooked in complete silence, the air around you tense and devoid of the usual jokes he would throw around to lift your spirits. No banter, just instructions and cooking for the next five hours.

Despite everything, Chef Berrien couldn’t hide how pleased he was with your dish, which didn’t end up at the top of the class only because of Wooyoung’s mishap. As soon as the chef dismissed you, you fled the kitchen.

“Wait!” Wooyoung’s voice called after you, who were already outside and determined to escape to your apartment to avoid cussing him out in front of your fellow chefs, who had already thrown confused glances at you the whole day.

“Hey, hold up!” He caught you by the wrist, spinning you around. If he wanted to do this here, who were you to deny him?

“What.” Wooyoung almost flinched at the harshness of your voice.

“I’m sorry I was late, I really am, I just-”

“Save it,” you cut him off. “Day’s over, damage is done, and we ended up with an alright grade. I don’t want to fight.”

It was true. For how mad you’d been, you didn’t want to make it worse. You could tell he was sorry by the way he’d cooked in silence, waltzing around you as if you were a bomb ready to go off at any minute. It had taken all your strength not to. You made to turn around and walk away, but he was determined to make you listen to what he had to say.

“Can you come with me?” He sounded defeated despite the determination in his eyes. All you really wanted was to go home, wash up and rot in bed. You were tired, physically and mentally drained by the day. But your friend – because how could you deny that Wooyoung had become more than a simple classmate in the last month? He’d quietly snuck up on you, surprising you with his cheerful smile and awful jokes, and slowly but steadily carved his own spot into your heart, now beating to the rhythm of his screechy laughter and kind words – was pleading you with his brown, burning eyes and how could you say no?

Sighing in defeat, you nodded, readjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder and watching as his frown turned into a soft smile. Wooyoung took your hand in his, going back into the building, and guided you up the stairs. Transfixed, you stared at your hands; his felt slightly rough from all the cooking but still soft. You ignored the warmth the simple gesture sparked in your heart and followed quietly; you could only hope he wouldn’t get the two of you expelled.

Finally, you got to the last flight of stairs, legs burning and chest heaving. You hoped he had a good reason to be dragging you up six flights of stairs and potentially getting you in trouble for trespassing. He ushered you to the small balcony, apparently mostly used for storage, and nodded to a shaky ladder perched onto its wall, leading to the roof. You often did this at your apartment too, the one perk of living on the last floor, but suddenly your mouth went dry.

“How did you even have the time to find out about this-'' you climbed the small way up, thanking your lucky star that the building at least had a flatter roof compared to yours. But the words died in your mouth when you finally got your bearings and looked around.

Wooyoung emerged as well, now leaning against one of the chimneys. You sat down, amazed at the view all around you; as the sun set in the West, tinging the bluish sky with hues of warm orange and golden light, you spotted the Sacre Coeur sitting North and the Eiffel Tower immersed in a pink blush down South. A light breeze passed by, blowing a strand of dark hair into Wooyoung’s eyes, taking your breath away. Paris was quite the show from up there.

“I really am sorry,” slowly, he made his way over, sitting down next to you as he cast his eyes onto the breathtaking view in front of you. “I overslept, couldn’t find my keys, then had to rush here and… I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, not believing he almost failed the both of you because he didn’t hear his alarm in the morning. Actually, you could believe it, because it was such a Wooyoung thing to do. You couldn’t stay mad for long though, not when you turned to look at him and simply seeing his face bathing in the golden sun made your heart stutter in your chest. Not when his sorry eyes were melting like honey in the light.

“I wanted to punch you in the face when you came in late,” overwhelmed by his gaze, you looked away. Faintly, you heard him scoff beside you. “But I was also relieved. I didn’t think Berrien would let you cook.”

“I was ready to beg on my knees,” you snickered, Wooyoung elbowed your side. “No, really, lièvre à la royale is a bitch, I wouldn’t have let you cook it alone.”

“Then why did you sleep through your alarm? I was seeing red and had a knife in my hand, do you have a death wish?” You joked, heart singing when you made him laugh.

“Hey, I had trouble sleeping last night,” he defended himself, hands up as his laughter died down. With a furrowed brow and inquisitive eyes, you finally looked back at him, studying his face. Only then you noticed the purplish circles under his eyes, just a bit darker than usual.

“Why?” You asked, trying to sound less worried than how you felt. It was Wooyoung’s turn to avoid your eyes and look out at the Parisian skyline, starting to twinkle in the fast-approaching night.

“I- well,” he sighed as you kept looking, feeling the air around you shift. The way Wooyoung was struggling to come up with an answer had you feeling like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, buzzing with expectation, hanging onto his every word. You didn’t ponder too long on why your heart was racing or why you felt like you could barely breathe. Finally, he looked at you.

“I like you.”

Now you truly did find it hard to breathe.

“I like you so much I can barely focus when we cook, and it’s never happened to me before because I love cooking and I always pay close attention to what I’m doing. I also don’t want to lose a finger, you know? But now you’re around and it’s like I can’t help but look at you. You’re so bright and so passionate, and when you’re chopping vegetables you scrunch your nose a little and it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen-”

In seconds you had your lips on his, pulling him closer with a delicate hand on the back of his neck. Wooyoung froze for only a millisecond before kissing you back. His lips were so pillowy and soft, you kissed him slowly, like you had all the time in the world. Lightly, his hand traveled up to rest on yours, which had moved onto his cheek. Kissing him felt like coming home after a long day. Warm and pleasant like the flame that swallowed your heart, chasing away the menacing grip fear had on it.

Wooyoung pulled away first if only to plant a small peck onto your lips before smiling.

“I was speaking,” he said.

“You were rambling.”

You both started laughing, hearts singing.

“What I wanted to say is that you shine in your own light and I can’t help but bask in it.”

The way he was looking at you, in ways no one ever could, could have melted you right then and there. You felt the flush rise to your cheeks, the hand that still rested on his cheek trembling lightly.

“I like you too, Jung Wooyoung,” you smiled. “More than I think I should.”

The quaint flower shop came into view, dispelling the memory, and a soft smile opened up on your lips. It didn’t look like there were any customers, so you stepped in. The colors of the pretty flowers that covered every inch of the walls always managed to put you in a better mood. You walked up to the counter, ringing the bell.

“Coming!” You heard from behind it, somewhere in the back, with a little shuffling and a loud thump. You jumped on your spot, giggling.

“You okay, Sang?” You asked, trying to peep. Your friend emerged a second later, clad in a white shirt, jeans, and his green apron, blowing a piece of his black fringe out of his eyes, a vase full of sunflowers in his hands.

“Oh, hey, what brings you ‘round?” He smiled, setting the vase on the counter.

“Just dropping by before going grocery shopping,” you shrugged, smiling back before you started playing softly with the leaves of the flowers near you. “How are you doing?”

“I��m good, I should be asking how you are,” he raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, “it’s the fourth time you visit this week.”

You rolled your eyes, used to his antics, standing to help when he nodded at you to follow him. The quietness of the shop eased your thoughts more often than not, plus, you enjoyed the company of your friend. Yeosang lived in your same apartment building and opened up his shop early in the morning, around the same time you had to leave for work. Oftentimes you shared a coffee before your obligations called. He complained about horrible customers and you complained about your horrible coworkers.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” busy with an arrangement, he nodded you to the water lilies to his right. You reached for them with an arched brow, passing them. “A restaurant is opening down the street, if you’re interested in paying rent this month.”

You huffed a laugh, pretending to be offended.

“I’ll have you know I save my money, thank you very much.” He stood again, having finished his composition, watching you with an amused expression. “But I appreciate it,” you conceded. Yeosang smiled now, going back behind the counter as you followed.

“You should really check it out, even if it’s just temporary. It’d do you good,” a customer walked in, interrupting your chat. You nodded, leaving him to his work, shooting him one last smile before walking out. His cheerful Have a good day followed you out of the shop and into the now busier street.

Yeosang was right, you knew that much, but you still hesitated as you left the flower shop. There was uncertainty in your steps as you dared to walk down the street, looking ahead to spot the restaurant. Maybe you could go later that day, you could start with something easy like the grocery shopping you needed to do, to ease your nerves.

That was better, you decided, easing yourself into the day with your routine before upsetting it by facing something new. With newfound vigor, you resumed your walking, headed to your favorite greengrocer. A walk that lasted barely five steps, before you collided against another passerby.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

As apologies spilled past your lips, your eyes finally caught sight of the person you so rudely slammed into. When you did, you stopped talking, just as your lungs stopped breathing for a long second.

His dark hair looked a little longer, and his smile was just as you remembered, if not a little softer. Breathtakingly dashing like the first time you saw him, even in his worst moments. Because the last time you saw him, things weren’t pretty. You threw around words you didn’t mean only to disappear from his life. Both of you were crying, eyes red and puffy, voice broken as you spoke. You thought you’d never see him again.

To your dismay, you realized right then and there that you weren’t ready to face him yet. You never prepared for the moment it would all come back, simply because you never thought it would.

“Thought I’d never see you again,” Wooyoung huffed, his polite smile falling in seconds.

“Yeah, me too,” you croaked, still in shock.

The moment stretched on for what felt like minutes, and was only probably seconds, as you desperately tried to come up with something to say, something that’d make sense. But your brain came up empty-handed, because what if he hated you? He should hate you. What if he just told you to fuck off and left? Just like you did years ago.

“So, what are you up to?”

And yet, here he was again, taking your life by storm. There was no way he was standing there, in front of you in the middle of a busy sidewalk, asking what was of your life. You blanked, producing a sort of confused and surprised noise. He had to be joking. You watched as a little amusement flashed in his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“Would you like to catch up over coffee?”

Your eyes must’ve been wide as saucers, not a single second of this was making sense to you.

“U-uh… Sure,” you shrugged, despite yourself.

Was this his way of showing you he was unbothered and had moved on? His long-awaited chance to brag about where he was in life? You didn’t know him as someone who would do that, but perhaps you deserved it. Maybe this was karma.

Awkward. It was all so painfully awkward: walking in tense silence beside him to the coffee shop down the street, trying to make small talk about the weather, stumbling over your words when ordering coffee, waiting for him to join you at the table near the exit. Just in case.

“You’re back home?” You finally asked as he sat down in front of you, desperate to find something, anything, to talk about and fill the silence that hung menacingly over your heads. After all, he wanted to catch up. Wooyoung nodded, slowly sipping his drink.

“Oh, you’ve been traveling then,” you mumbled, playing with your coffee cup, not daring to look up at him again.

“I was, yes.” It was hard to wrap your head around what was happening. In another life, this would all have been familiar. It could have been. Sharing a cup of coffee on a Thursday morning, talking about whatever, sharing cool recipes, and planning how or when to try them out. His presence wouldn’t make you want to simultaneously vomit and run and hide. Dug your own grave, huh?

“Only big names I imagine,” you forced a smile. He shrugged with a huff, a little bashful perhaps. It was all you needed to know you’d guessed right.

“What about you? What brings you here?” Wooyoung asked, pulling you out of your reverie. Despite the small, polite smile on his lips, his eyes were unreadable. Though, deep down, you knew the answer he wanted to hear. That you traveled all around the world and did big things - still were - and worked for big names. Achieved your dreams at the expense of his. The lump in your throat made it hard to swallow, to speak.

“Worked at Hwang’s for a while…” you managed to say through the bitterness. Wooyoung’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, jaw hanging open.

“Really? Wow, that’s… amazing! Doesn’t it have two Michelin stars?” Some of your guilt evaporated at the surprise and excitement in his voice, a lightness that was quickly crushed by your own disappointment.

“How’s it there?” There it was, the million-dollar question. You scoffed, bitter, looking at him, watching his face fall a little.

“I quit.” You shrugged.

“You? Quitting? What happened to the Y/N I knew?” Wooyoung was surprised, that much you could tell, but there was something else brewing in his brown eyes.

“Dead, gone and buried, apparently.”

Your words were nothing but bleak, with a little bitterness still in them. Sure, you did what was best for you and you were proud, but you couldn’t help but feel like you had let him down. And wasn’t that absolutely, wildly foolish?

“They offered me a job as head chef in their new restaurant, but I turned that down as well,” you rushed to explain, feeling like you had to, missing his furrowed brow.

“That’s…”

“Crazy?” You offered, cutting him off. Wooyoung scoffed.

“Well, yeah, but there must’ve been a good reason,” he shrugged. “You don’t have to justify your choices to me, Y/N.”

Your breathing faltered at his words and the fragility they held. Wooyoung had muttered them so softly, you could’ve lost them in the bustling atmosphere around you, and somehow both stabbed and healed your heart’s wounds.

A moment passed before he cleared his throat, speaking again.

“So, you’re unemployed,” you almost couldn’t fathom how quickly he got back to bubbly and upbeat. You nodded, still stunned.

“Great, me too.” Wooyoung smiled while you blinked repeatedly. Was he… happy?

“My friend told me about this one restaurant opening down the street-”

“They’re not opening,” he said, watching as your face fell. “Not yet at least.”

You furrowed a brow, confused, about to ask what he meant when he cut you off again.

“I still need to find a co-owner.”

For a moment, you didn’t hear the car, just outside, honking at a group of teenagers crossing the street despite the redlight. You missed the way a barista made a glass fall and shatter eliciting surprised gasps around the shop. You only saw Wooyoung in front of you, his expression between smug and daring to hope, eyes shining with a little fear. All you heard were the words that left his mouth and what they implied, along with your heart ringing in your ears.

“What do you want to do? Why did you decline the head chef position?” You blanched, head spinning, brain scrambling to form coherent words. His eyes burned with a fire in them that screamed determination, one you were used to seeing as he challenged a dish he was afraid to ruin. A fire you used to love so much and that, you found, still made your breath hitch.

“I-I just want to make good food and not run a kitchen of overworked, stressed, miserable and spiteful people,” you settled on, not daring to look away, not even when he leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips.

“How’d you like it to open a restaurant?”

“Let’s open our own restaurant,” you laughed at his words, turning your head to catch his enthusiastic smile and bed hair all over the place. He was so beautiful, bathing in the morning light of your room, that your heart jumped and hurt and sang all at once.

“What?! Is this post-nut clarity?” Wooyoung laughed, pulling you with him.

“Way to ruin the moment, love,” he quieted down. “I’m serious, though,” he was looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes, and such adoration that sometimes it was hard to fathom it was directed at you.

“Mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster, Jung,” you found yourself saying, giggling when he pulled you into him, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. It was quiet for a while and you reveled in the warmth of the moment. Wooyoung often made you feel like anything was possible, like right now, huddled in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets despite the impending class you needed to leave for.

“I think we’d make it,” he whispered, quite believing the words he was saying. “And if it all starts falling apart we can hire chefs to cook and be the owners. Live somewhere tropical, rebuild our relationship…”

“That’s so sad, we wouldn’t be cooking at all!” you laughed, hiding in his chest and hearing a fake offended hey! from him. “You dream too big, Woo.”

“And you dream too small, my love.” He guided your face in front of his with gentle hands, bumping his nose with yours before kissing you until you were left breathless. When you pulled away, you finally saw the stars dancing in his eyes.

“I do have dreams,” you almost whispered, treading lightly on your own aspirations, opening up your heart for someone else to see. Someone who would understand and not call you crazy. Wooyoung nudged you, an expectant smile on his lips. “I want to travel all around the world and learn from the best of the best. Life’s a classroom, I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop.”

“Never?” he asked, not quite surprised, but more like impressed. He understood. You let out an elated giggle, almost cursing yourself for behaving like a schoolgirl.

“Never.” unable to resist, you pecked his lips once.

“That’s a wonderful dream, love.”

One of his hands came up to rest on your cheek, cradling it gently, looking at you as if you were the most prized possession of his. All over, warmth wrapped you up, and rose to your cheeks that he was still grazing his thumb over, light as a feather.

“I want to open a restaurant someday, ” he whispered, so close to you, looking into your eyes and sending sparks flying in your chest. “But I think I might just follow you to the ends of the world.”

His lips crashed on yours once more, sending your heart racing more than his words had. This might’ve been the closest you’d ever felt to heaven, with Wooyoung wrapped around you, canceling any and everything else. You knew, right then and there, that the fall was going to hurt like nothing had ever before.

Consommé was the most devilish dish you’d ever had the displeasure of cooking. And yet, its intricate cooking process demanded every last bit of your undivided attention. That was why you were sweating away in the kitchen, trying to achieve the perfect result through your rusty memory of the process, although you had no need for it. Well, except not thinking of your morning. You’d rather remember Chef Berrien’s voice as he dictated the recipe and the endless ways you could ruin it, than your encounter with Wooyoung.

A shiver ran down your spine, tingling all the way, when his words, the ones from earlier and the ones from back then, echoed in your mind; clashing, fighting, and leaving behind scorched earth.

You could hardly believe this was your life right now. Accepting would mean tying yourself down to this place, to Wooyoung. You let the thought simmer in your head, waiting for the familiar claustrophobia to bloom in your chest, suggesting you to run and never come back.

It didn’t come.

Instead, the thought of leaving pulled at your heartstrings. You liked it here. You liked your morning coffee shit-talking sessions with Yeosang, you liked meeting up with Seonghwa on his days off, you liked your greengrocers and the walk back through the park near home. You liked your apartment, you finally liked the disposition of your tools in your kitchen. You liked the thought of working with Wooyoung.

You dropped the ladle, splashing your skin with the hot soup. You hissed in pain, clutching your hand to your chest before assessing the damage. You walked the short distance to the sink, running your hand under cold water.

Well, you thought, there goes the clarification process.

You skipped breakfast with Yeosang that morning. For one, you were late despite the alarms, and, most importantly, you needed to talk yourself into actually meeting Wooyoung at the restaurant. The day before you’d left him with the promise of letting him know about the offer. You preferred not to think about how, for just a moment, you could see the determination falter in his eyes. Again. Wooyoung saved his number in your phone before letting you go.

After taking care of your slightly burned hand, you stared at your phone for all of twenty minutes before finally crafting the perfect text saying you’d meet him at the restaurant at ten.

And now, five minutes to ten, you were running down the street, dodging people left and right, trying to get to the closed-down restaurant. You couldn’t count the amount of sorry’s you’d thrown around when accidentally running into someone. Finally, the sign came into view, and so did Wooyoung.

“You made it,” he sounded vaguely surprised and you tried not to let it get to you, or to let it show on your face.

“So,” you cleared your voice after nodding. “How’d you find out about this?” He gestured for you to follow towards the entrance, producing the key from the back pocket of his black jeans.

“I used to like this place,” he easily opened the door, leading you inside the empty restaurant. From the outside the restaurant didn’t look like much more than a hole in the wall, but the inside was spacious enough. A small restaurant, fitting maybe twenty tables at best, but you liked the idea. By the looks of it, it must had been recently renovated. Wooyoung switched the lights on, allowing you to see better. “When I got back the owner told me he was thinking of closing, and I asked if he wanted to sell. He made a pretty good offer.”

“Huh,” you were still looking at the anonymous white walls and the few sleek black tables left behind, making your way to what you knew to be the kitchen. Stepping in, you gasped. It was perfect; an island kitchen slightly bigger than you’d imagined. Almost gleaming in its silver glory it stared back at you, inviting you in. You didn’t even mind the checkered floor as you walked across the space and took it in. Wooyoung stood by the door, leaning against its frame with his hands in his pockets, watching. It looked like he was holding his breath, and you knew why.

“What do you think?” his voice was just a little bit hesitant. You turned around with a smile.

“I love it,” you offered, noticing how he seemed to ease up the slightest bit.

“Ah, I knew you’d fall for the island kitchen,” Wooyoung scoffed, walking into the space as well.

“Not my fault it’s the best type of kitchen,” you raised your hands, hearing him snort.

“Debatable,” he muttered, now standing in front of you. There was amusement dancing in his eyes, a spark you realized just then how much you’d missed.

It hit you then, square in the chest, how much you really just missed him. He still seemed to know what you wanted even before you knew yourself. It happened then and it was happening now. Being in the kitchen with him felt electrifying, your hands itched to start cooking. You looked around once more, seeing yourself bustling around in this kitchen, Wooyoung at your side.

Never once did you regret the choices you’d made; your love for food had brought you all around the world, learning and cooking in the most beautiful kitchens, earning your praise felt like the biggest reward. Believing in yourself and your skill, your craft, and being able to perfect it was all you really needed. Maybe it was time to stop and breathe for a while, and put your experience to use. Because, no, you never regretted where your choices took you, except losing Wooyoung. Your compass, the one who never lost sight of your heart.

“Let’s do it.”

Wooyoung looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, letting out a surprised sound.

“I saved quite a bit in the last few years and we could ask for a loan. Quite frankly, I’ve always wanted to run a kitchen on my own terms,” you could hear it in your voice, the ambition faintly coming back to it, something you hadn’t heard in a while. You smiled seeing Wooyoung straighten up.

“We’d be running it together,” he lifted a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. You mirrored his stance.

“That’s good with me,” Wooyoung smirked.

“Then let’s do it.”

Oftentimes you asked yourself how you ended up here. You believed it almost impossible that you were, once again, sitting in front of Jung Wooyoung at an ungodly hour of the night, eating food you’d made as the radio softly played in the background. What was even less credible to you was how you were sitting in your restaurant, yours, discussing menu plans.

A month strong into the planning and designing, you were proud to say that you and Wooyoung were… friendly. Like coworkers were. Almost like long-lost friends would be. But it was fine because you got to stress Yeosang nearly every morning about how sometimes you both would slip into old habits and bicker like you used to and how that would confuse you. Then you’d talk Seonghwa’s ear off one night a week in front of your drinks, rambling on and on about how you’d catch yourself staring at him, blushing like an idiot, stumbling over your words.

Safe to say that your friends were tired, but deep down it surprised and comforted them to see you come back to life bit by bit.

It was all hard to wrap your head around because the last time you saw him still burned in the back of your mind. It was the giant elephant in the room you could never address, you could never pretend to not see. But Wooyoung was great at turning a blind eye, you realized. And you couldn’t really blame him either. You never expected to be in this sort of situation, you had quite literally run from it.

But you were afraid of misstepping, of crossing a line.

So, now, there you stood, at a crossroads; talk about it and watch this newfound truce crash and burn, or pretend like everything was fine. For now, discussing the menu with your co-owner would have to do.

“I think we should add that!” Wooyoung all but yelled, slamming his chopsticks down.

“And I’m telling you that I know the area!” You rebutted, swallowing your bite, before carrying on with your point. “There’s at least three other restaurants that do that, what’s missing is a gourmet place.”

“Will you let it go?” He sighed, throwing his hands up in the air. “If we get there, we get there, if we don’t, then we’re still making fantastic food!”

Wooyoung had a point, you knew he did. A valid one at that.

“You’re insufferable,” you conceded, rolling your eyes and resuming your eating, trying to hide the smile pulling at your lips.

“You love it,” he winked, picking up his chopsticks.

And just like that, he threw you back into your loop. How could you simply let it go when this felt so familiar? When it reminded you so much of how you were? Light and carefree. Happy. You hadn’t noticed your eyes roaming around his figure, taking in his long dark hair pulled back by a ponytail, the way his eyes seemed to shine in the dull light coming from the stupid lamp he’d insisted on bringing in.

This was his dream, wasn’t it? You remembered, because how could you forget the endless hours he’d spend talking about his own restaurant, managing his own kitchen, creating dishes, and cooking his favorites? You could tell by the small smile he sported as he ate, looking around the room with star-filled eyes.

You didn’t know quite how you fit into this. You never amounted that one conversation, years ago in your Paris apartment, up to anything more than daydreaming. Though, right now, the moment felt tangible, you could grasp it in your hands if you wanted to. He'd given you a new dream to chase right when you thought you were over.

“You’re looking at me weird,” Wooyoung waved his chopsticks in a circle around your face, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry,” your eyes fell back to the almost empty plate, moving the last bites of food around.

“I didn’t say it was bothering me,” his voice was lower, almost a whisper, and you felt your heart drop. When you looked up, you didn’t know what to make of his expression. It looked like he was contemplating his following words, and you were all but hanging from his lips. He stayed quiet, eyes downcast on his plate, and shot you a short smile.

You let the radio fill the silence between you, allowing the thoughts to pester your mind. Though, like a cup overflowing, there was little you could do to cage them and push them down.

“Wooyoung, were you-” his eyes rose to meet yours, and you stopped for a second, mulling the question over, savoring its bitter taste in your mouth before spitting it out as if it were a seed that ruined your bite. “Who were you going to open the restaurant with?”

His wide eyes told you all you needed to know, and yet his stunned silence pulled another set of words out of your lips.

“You said you needed a co-owner first…” you rasped, almost shocked you were still talking through the cotton in your mouth. Wooyoung set his chopsticks down, trying to hide the way his hands started trembling, sighing.

“We made a good team, didn’t we?” his voice was quieter, wondering. He shot you an uneasy smile, so short and so small you almost missed it. “I know you’re a great chef and we want this to be a great restaurant.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, feeling the weight of memories unloading on both your shoulders, their presence demanding the unwanted plunging into deep, murky waters. “Does it have, uhm… does it have anything to do with-”

“Let’s not open that can of worms, mh?” He cut you off immediately, sounding a tad harsher than he had before, rubbing salt into your matching wounds.

“I just-” It felt like you were gasping for air, grasping at any lifeline you were afforded, lost in the swirling sea that were his pained eyes.

“I know.”

A mangled victory, or a loss, the way his voice sounded resolute. It allowed no space for you to counterattack, to try and pry any other thought out of him. And you accepted it, simple and plain, with no complaints. You had no right to. Nodding, you averted your eyes, affording him space.

“I-” Wooyoung sighed, running a hand through his hair. The conflict in his mind was reflected on his face clear as day. Before his eyes were back on you, they looked around the room. “I missed you.”

Bearing his heart, that was what he was doing. It felt like, despite everything, he was still offering you a small piece of it. Your breath caught in your throat. Three words that held huge implications and a heavy past. One right answer, a truthful one, that could sound highly hypocritical of you. But you had to say it.

“I missed you, too.”

Wooyoung smiled, small and tentative, but still as warm as sunshine. You smiled back.

The night was as cold as you felt despite having his arms wrapped around you, offering you shelter from the biting wind. Tonight the twinkling lights of the city below you couldn’t offer their usual comfort. You knew what was going to happen as soon as you opened your mouth to speak; you’d be breaking his heart along with yours. But you had to, hadn’t you? Wooyoung would understand.

“Don’t you want to stay here forever?” He mumbled in your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. You kept staring out at the Parisian lights, heart sinking with every beat.

“I-” you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing there was a way to prevent the hurt you were about to put him through. Never mind about yourself, all you cared about was him. Always him. Then why are you doing this? Sounded something in the recess of your mind. You shushed it. The lump in your throat formed out of the blue, making it hard to utter the next words.

“I wish I could,” you whispered, hoping your words would get lost in the wind, bracing for impact when you felt him tense and pull away from you. A gust blew by, chilling you to the bone now that he wasn’t holding you anymore. The look in his eyes sparked burning regret in your heart, setting it aflame.

“What do you mean?”

He had taken a step back, confused eyes searching for yours. You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when you were about to break all the promises you’d made right along with his heart. What a coward.

“I was offered a job in New York,” you began, hearing his sharp intake of breath. “I took it… I leave next week.”

When you finally mustered enough courage to look back at him, you saw betrayal shining clear in his eyes, swirling in disbelief, his mouth slightly parted in surprise. It was almost as if you could hear his thoughts, and each of them cut a deeper wound.

How could you? Why didn’t you tell me? I would've been happy for you. We could’ve made other plans.

“Were you just going to disappear from my life forever, then?” He spat, a little angry, a little sad.

“No, Wooyoung, I-” you tried to reason, knowing very well that no excuse would hold. He scoffed bitterly, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket like a hurt kid. Already hard to talk through the burning in your throat, the tears springing in your eyes didn’t make the task any easier.

“Save it,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “I should’ve known. I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for there,” he made to go, but you couldn’t let him, not yet.

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” He stopped dead in his tracks; you’d said the wrong thing. But you couldn’t hide your hand now that you’d thrown the stone. “Is it not our dream to learn and travel when all of this is done?”

Wooyoung shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, and to some extent, you couldn’t either.

“No, I wouldn’t have, Y/N. It may be your dream but it isn’t mine. Not anymore, not since I met you. So, yeah, I would’ve given it all up,” he all but yelled, each word was like a punch in the gut. Despite the noise of the city below, the beat of silence that lingered sounded louder than any of it.

“Go to New York, love. It’s your dream after all,” he conceded, voice dying down and broken, softer, like some sort of realization had dawned upon him. He blinked away his tears, still, you refused to let yours fall.

In a second he was close to you again, his smell and warmth engulfing you once more. A sob broke through you when you felt his arms wrapping around you tight, and another was pulled from you when one of his hands came to softly rake through your hair. Wooyoung surrounded you with all he was, holding you tight, almost as if he loved you. Almost, you thought, because you knew the difference, for you had felt what it was to be loved – truly loved – by him. But you went and broke it. Now, you had to put love out of the question, and think only of duty. You had made your choice, after all, and he knew it too.

“Goodbye,” in an instant you were left on your own, cold, and watched as he walked away from you, his whisper resonating in your soul, breaking it with each echo.

If you chose to follow your dream, then why did it hurt so much?

Sundays used to be your day off. You’d wake up at midday, usually to a ray of sunlight harshly shining into your face until you could no longer bear its warmth. You’d roll out of bed and lazily proceed to tidy your apartment and rot on the couch for the remainder of the day. Now, though, you were a restaurant owner and Wooyoung insisted you should stay open on Sundays because two out of three of the restaurants in your area were closed. So, you rolled out of bed, taking just one second to admire the first rays of sunlight shining through the fading, dark night sky. You sped through your routine and breakfast, having sacrificed that slot of time in favor of five more minutes of sleep.

Despite the fast-approaching summer, the morning air was still rather chilly, and much quieter than the rumbling of cars and city rustle that you were used to. You didn’t have to squeeze past sleepy teenagers and angry old ladies on the bus and got to choose which seat to sit in. You didn’t mind early Sundays.

In no time you’d open the restaurant. Today you’d convinced Seonghwa and Yeosang to drop by for lunch; you needed them to test out the menu you and Wooyoung had carefully crafted. Of course, at the mention of free food, both of them agreed, so there wasn’t much convincing involved after all. A sort of test run before the grand opening.

The restaurant stood before you in the quiet street, looking close to the eye. You smiled proudly, producing the key from your bag, opening the door, and closing it behind you after walking in. The room was quiet, the only indication of someone being in there was the rustle and faint light coming from the kitchen.

“Hey, Woo,” he was already there, setting out pans and pots. You walked in, reaching for your jacket.

“Hi!” Although his head was hidden in a cupboard, you could hear his cheery voice loud and clear. “Are you ready?”

When he emerged, he was sporting a happy smile, contagious enough to make you chuckle.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Wooyoung smiled at you, beckoning you over to the station where a copy of the menu lay. You sure had your work cut out for the day. Up until then, between the furnishing and taking care of the more bureaucratic aspect of opening a restaurant, cooking together hadn't been common. You were thrilled to finally share the kitchen with him again.

“Hey! The rolling pin is there to keep you off my half of the counter,” you huffed, trying your best not to let your irritation show. Not while you were trying to close dumplings perfectly.

“Oh, come on!” He protested, “I can’t believe you’d still do that, look at how much space we have!”

“Yeah, and somehow, you’re still taking up most of it,” Wooyoung grumbled under his breath, finally moving a few of his bowls and pans to make space for you.

“Gee, thanks,” although you weren’t trying to rile him up, you still ended up falling back into old habits.

“Oh my-” he rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, moving a couple more things, “You’re the bane of my existence.”

“You literally asked me to be your co-worker!” You laughed, shocked, but amused.

“And there’s not a day I don’t regret it,” with his nose in the air, trying and failing to hide a smile, Wooyoung resumed his meat slicing. You scoffed, not really offended. It was so easy to breathe when things felt as light as they did. A smile threatened to open up on your face, but you had an act to keep up.

Silence used to be rare between the two of you, yet you liked it now. There was no awkward space to fill anymore, not a single word to be wasted. You worked in tandem, like a well-oiled machine, chuckling at Wooyoung’s occasional jokes and exchanging instructions. It felt good. It felt like it used to.

“Are you nervous?” You asked him as you finalized the prepping for the second course. Wooyoung looked up, flashing that smile of his that could rival the sun.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Are you?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and focusing on the bowl under your nose. The sauce you prepared to marinate the fish had a pungent note it shouldn’t have had. You didn’t notice him slipping closer to you, right at your side. Wooyoung was leaning on the counter, facing you.

“You’ve got nothing to be worried about,” his voice aimed to soothe, and it did, sweet like honey. “Are you or are you not one of the best chefs in town?”

You looked up at him, scoffing, ignoring the heat on your face that his closeness brought along.

“See, now you’re exaggerating!”

“I’m not.”

“Are, too!” A soft laugh escaped the two of you, and when he looked at you, eyes so full of hope and happiness, your breathing stopped for just a second. “But you’re right, it’s gonna be okay, I’m just… I don’t know, I want them to like what we made.”

“They’re gonna,” he shrugged. Only when you gave him a questioning look he answered. “Because we made it.”

It looked like Wooyoung still knew what to say and when to say it to put your nerves at ease.

“Can I have some more?”

“Me too!”

“You can’t ask that!”

“Says who?”

“Alright, we’ll make it,” Wooyoung quelled the discussion that was about to start quickly, coming back into the kitchen with empty plates.

Two of his friends had joined yours for lunch, not that the food was lacking, but it seemed that Yeosang and San had promptly bonded over their love for one particular dish. Gamjatang, which wasn’t even on the menu, the two were just bottomless pits, apparently. The only one coming to your aid with restaurant etiquette was Seonghwa, whose reprimanding went unheard. Hongjoong stuck to silent side-eyeing, which barely helped.

“Should we consider adding it to the menu?” Wooyoung joked, coming over to the stove where you stood, already heating up what was left of the broth from the previous batch. You thanked your lucky star you had some ready, or else they’d had to wait hours to eat.

“Let’s make it available only after eleven, though.”

He laughed, reminding you how you closed at midnight while washing and cutting up the mung bean sprouts, crown daisy leaves, perilla leaves, and green chilies you needed to add later on. You went for the pork bones, potatoes, and cabbage leaves.

Wooyoung set his bowl of vegetables close to the stove, ready for you whenever.

“Do you need more seasoning base?” He asked as you put your portion of ingredients into the pot.

“Yeah, there’s not much left,” you looked at him, waiting for your word to start. “Thanks.”

He smiled, getting to work quick.

As everything simmered and cooked, the two of you stood in front of the stove, silent, side to side. Outside, you heard your friends all talk and laugh, but they sounded miles away. Once again, you thought you knew what was running through his head. The night when he taught you how to cook the dish, the way he followed your every step with an encouraging smile. How your heart fluttered when he kissed your lips right after his first bite, saying that there was no way he was ever going to cook it again if yours tasted much better. How one night you tipsily tried to cook it together, almost spilling the batch of broth you saved in the fridge and ruining it all, but could only laugh until your stomachs hurt because somehow it was the funniest thing ever. After all, they plagued your thoughts as well.

When the timer went off and he looked at you like a deer caught in headlights, you smiled, trying to ease away the tension that had bubbled up, going to kill the flame and plate the dish.

You passed him a full bowl with shaking hands, praying he didn’t hear the way your heart was hammering in your chest.

“Maybe you should take away the wine,” Seonghwa sported a light frown on his lips when you made your way to the table with the other bowl in your hands. You furrowed a brow, noticing the way San and Yeosang were giggling a little too loudly, and how the former was particularly flushed, only after setting the dish in front of him.

“Good idea,” Wooyoung snickered, scurrying back into the kitchen with the bottle. You watched him go, debating if to follow or give him space. You decided to stay, asking your guests how they liked the food.

Seonghwa ended up giving you precious input and feedback, over the laughter coming from the opposite end of the table. It made you smile. Despite how interested you were in your friend’s recap of the things he appreciated the most about appetizers, you couldn’t help but glance a little worriedly at the kitchen doors from time to time. Wooyoung was still in there.

“Alright, we should go,” Hongjoong, who had simply complimented your cooking with a polite smile, spoke up after a while. San protested a little but stopped his efforts to stay pretty quickly when his friend said he was going to have no ride home.

The two made their way to say their goodbyes to Wooyoung in the kitchen, leaving you with your friends.

“We should go, too,” Yeosang stood, walking over to the doors with you and Seonghwa.

“Thank you guys for coming,” you quickly hugged them both. “Drop by whenever.”

“You know I will,” Yeosang giggled, making you smile.

“Keep it up!” Seonghwa said, walking out first. You waved them both off, and when you turned around, you were faced with San and Hongjoong. The former complimented your food, saying he’d bring over friends and family, rambling a bit. You giggled as he spoke, thanking him.

“Thank you for having us, the food was delicious,” Hongjoong watched over San making his way out of the restaurant after saying his goodbyes, turning to you with a small smile. “Can I ask one thing of you?”

Your brow furrowed, but you nodded quickly. He sighed.

“I know you two have a complicated past,” he started, sending a jolt of anxiety through you. “And I see you’re doing great despite it, so, please, just… don’t hurt him again.”

“I would never,” you were furiously nodding, suddenly your throat felt a little dry, hands all clammy.

“Thank you,” Hongjoong smiled, walking out as well, leaving you dumbfounded and staring at their disappearing figures.

You waited in silence for a while, mulling his words over in your head. When you turned around and saw Wooyoung leaning against the kitchen door’s frame with a bright, wide smile adorning his lips, the sight almost gave you a heart attack. He laughed loudly seeing your spooked reaction, making a smile appear on your face. His laughter only served to make your heart stutter like butterfly wings, having barely recovered from the surprise, making you giggle as well.

Wooyoung looked so happy that you felt you could burst at the seams.

“They liked it!” You could barely contain your excitement as you locked up and started to make your way over to him, almost with a skip in your step.

“They did,” he smiled back, eyes scanning your figure until you were right up in front of him. Not even thinking twice, you let your arms sneak around his shoulders, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. You even swayed side to side. Wooyoung laughed happily, his own arms around your waist to pull you closer.

“I’m so happy,” you murmured when your excitement quelled. Your chin was resting atop his shoulder, and his on yours. When he spoke, quietly, you could hear the smile on his lips right against your ear.

“I’m glad,” he said. “Me too.”

It was quiet. For the first time since that morning there were no friends laughing at the table, no bickering in the kitchen along with the sizzling of the pans, chopping on the cutting board, and rumbling of the pots.

Just you and him.

Your heart was still racing, over the moon for the success of your menu, but also quickened by his close proximity. Once realization struck that you’d pulled him into you, you were quick to let go, though his arms around your waist wouldn’t let you wander far.

“Sorry, I-”

“It’s okay,” the look in his eyes was enough to send your heart to your feet, air stuck in your lungs, and take you back in time, just for a second. It was all it took for you to want to pull away from him as if you’d gotten shocked. You found that you couldn’t. Not when Wooyoung held you a little tighter, searching for anything in your eyes that would prompt him to stop leaning even a breath closer.

Frozen in time, in your spot, your grip on his kitchen jacket grew impossibly strong.

When his nose softly brushed against yours, as if he’d sensed your mind wandering far and wide and wanted to bring you back to him, and you saw how his half-lidded eyes were holding a simple question, you pulled back.

“Should we get to cleaning up?”

Wooyoung’s eyes closed, for a fleeting second, before he started nodding.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be here all night,” he cleared his voice, arms falling from around you. He offered a smile so small that it barely showed, the moment gone as soon as it came. You watched as he disappeared behind the kitchen doors, shoulders dropping and eyes falling close.

You gave yourself a moment, just one, to relish in his closeness. The closest he’d ever been to you in years, something that used to be so familiar and still sparked the same goosebumps, the same erratic heartbeat. You sighed, following after him.

You couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t for a good week.

Between the imminent opening of the restaurant and the newfound awkwardness between you and Wooyoung, your head was so full of swirling thoughts that, as soon as you closed your eyes, it prevented you from enjoying one singular night of rest. They just kept going, growing into a never-ending spiral of what-ifs and exploding into a hurricane of beating yourself up.

By now you’d given up on trying to make sense of your feelings. All you knew was that you wanted to keep Wooyoung to your side, co-worker, friend, or lover, it didn't matter. Now that he was back into your life, you didn’t want to risk losing him again. Though, it got increasingly hard to ignore how you wished he would stay with you once you closed the restaurant. How you wanted him to hold you like he used to, how you wanted to tell him every day just much of your love and devotion he had.

It was still dark outside when you closed the door to your apartment behind you. Almost without thinking, you’d thrown the covers off of yourself and gotten out of bed, put on the first clean clothes you found, and got out of the house. The cold, crisp air of the night hit you right in the face, waking you up like an icy splash of water would have. You pulled your jacket closer around your body, starting the walk to the restaurant. The keys jiggled in your hand, one of the few sounds in the lonesome streets.

Your heart had decided the way for you before your mind could catch up.

You’d always found solace in cooking. It allowed your mind to relax, and think about what was right in front of your nose, slicing through all your doubts and worries like a knife. With each step you followed, each accomplished passage towards the perfect result, you felt lighter and lighter. Then Wooyoung came along. Never could you have predicted that something else in your life would’ve been able to bring you the same comfort and brightness as cooking.

Whatever peace and happiness you’d found in your passion, you’d also found in him. He set you alight. You’d been dumb and wrong enough to think that the feeling that came along with him could be replaced.

But how could it? Once you let go if it, of him, Wooyoung had haunted all of your what-ifs. All of your darkest nights could only brighten up if you thought of his infectious laugh, his soft kisses, and his kind words.

Reaching the restaurant brought you back out of your thoughts. You were here now, by some fateful design, with him again. You’d do anything not to lose your brightest star again.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You closed the backdoor behind you with a jolt, not expecting Wooyoung to be sitting at a table, illuminated only by the light coming from his beloved lamp.

“What’re you doing here?”

Ever so slowly, you made your way to him, trying to calm your racing heart. He raised his shoulders, avoiding your eyes a second later, shrugging as if he had no answer to your question. You sat with him, noticing just then the few papers scattered on the wood.

“What’s on your mind?” The question fell from your lips in a quiet whisper, almost afraid to disturb the silence hanging in the air. You still knew him, after all, maybe even more than you gave yourself credit for. He sported that furrow in his brow, the one that lightly creased his smooth skin, that only showed up when something had been bothering him.

“I-” he sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they didn’t waste a single second to find yours. Your mouth went dry.

“You know what I hate most? That sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but always I miss you. And I never stopped torturing myself with the same questions over and over, why would you go? Did our dreams mean nothing to you? Did I mean nothing to you?” A bitter, void laugh fell from his lips. “But you’ve gotta move on, right?”

Oh.

Heart in your throat, you were left speechless in front of his innermost thoughts. Thoughts you never imagined could be plaguing his mind still. But how could you miss it now? His eyes were begging for answers, after all this time, as if the dam had finally broken. You couldn’t bear to see them be so pleading, so misty.

“That’s not true, I,” the words died in your mouth as you choked on them. “You must know it,” reduced to a whisper by the weight of truth, you tried to salvage what you’d so carefully rebuilt.

“Do I?” He sounded so helpless, your brain scrambled in all directions to find a way to convey how so untrue it all was. “You left me, Y/N, and sometimes I'm still there.”

A gasp left your lips, his words squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“We’re doing it now, isn’t it enough?”

Wooyoung shook his head, shoulders dropping in disbelief as he scoffed. Despite the dim light, from across the table, you could see his red-rimmed eyes begging you to catch on. You did, you had the second he started speaking, but you’d still said the wrong thing.

“You’re so dense,” head thrown back, hands on his face, you waited for him to speak again. “Tell me why did you go.”

Not a question. Up against the wall, you felt the way your heart fell to your stomach, how nerves were tugging at it painfully. He needed this, and you were willing to give answers.

“I didn’t think,” you started, feeling so small under his gaze. “The only thing on my mind was that I’d made it. Selfishly, I thought you’d understand. I… I never meant to hurt you, and I know it sounds like bullshit, but it’s true. And when you told me to go, for a split second, I thought we could make it. I realize now how stupid I was. How there were at least ten ways in which I could’ve handled it better. I wish I’d fought for us,”

“I’m sorry. I really am, I-” Unshed tears started to run down your cheeks, wetting your mouth with salt. “There’s nothing I regret more than letting you go.”

“We were meant to be, love,” his broken whisper was a sinking stone in your chest. Lifting your eyes to meet his, you saw the tear tracks on his desperate face matching yours.

“But we were not meant to last,” there were few ways you could describe how your heart was hurting as you muttered the words, hand reaching forwards on the table. You didn’t think Wooyoung would hold on to it until he did. Fingers intertwined, you both held on painfully tight as if by letting go you’d get lost in the current the sea of your words had provoked. Each other’s buoy in a storm of unsaid words and unresolved, muddy feelings, so strong that with nothing they could tear you apart.

You cried immersed in the dark silence of the restaurant hall, the place that crowned your dreams, listening to the other’s quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, forgive me,” you choked out again, trying to find his face past your tears. Wooyoung reached out to brush them away, his hands just as soft as you remembered, if not more careful. The moment his skin grazed yours, a shiver ran down your spine, electrified by such simple contact. His hand lingered for a long second, cradling your cheek before all you felt was its cold absence.

He stood up first, only to walk around the table and stamp a kiss on the crown of your head, his hand holding your shoulder. You froze, barely hearing how he murmured something about seeing you in the morning, barely breathing. What you did hear was the closing door, a sign you’d been left alone with your thoughts in the dimly lit room, knowing your ignorance had broken his heart again.

You didn’t know how to fix it.

Standing and cooking side by side felt off again. You were walking on eggshells, treading on a fine line to avoid ticking off another bomb. If the weight of apologizing had been lifted off your chest, something much heavier now resided upon it. Knowing something had changed yet again, all because of how you’d acted. What you’d said.

“You want to make ramen noodles? From scratch?”

In the middle of cleaning up part of the station, you couldn’t help but let surprise seep into your voice. Wooyoung stared, nodding.

“I thought we already made enough to last us at least two days…” You let your words fade out, not wanting to start an argument. His jaw set and you realized your efforts had been in vain.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry, at least until our new hires come in,” he shrugged, going to preheat the oven. He really was serious.

You wondered why he was going through with this; you ran out of kansui, which was already hard enough to find, let alone expensive. In its absence, you’d need to prepare a substitute for it: baking soda that had to be baked in the oven for at least an hour to act properly instead of the kansui. It was such a waste of time when you had more pressing matters to attend to. Ones that didn’t need the help of your brigade.

Breathing in deeply and deciding that keeping peace was essential, you assessed how Wooyoung was just lining the baking sheet with parchment paper and spreading the baking soda over it. You went to retrieve the whole wheat and bread flours you’d need in an hour, trying to keep frustration at bay. You’d think about the salt and riboflavin later. When you came back with the sacks, Wooyoung was already cleaning the rolling pins and pasta machine. With a grunt, you set them down on the counter, watching as he jolted in surprise.

“I’ll go call our supplier while we wait on the oven,” you really didn’t mean for your voice to sound so clipped. He seemed not to care, simply giving you a nod and going on with his task.

You left the kitchen almost stomping your feet in frustration, sitting down at the table furthermost from it. Whatever game Wooyoung was playing, it needed to stop now. You had tried time and time again, in the last few days, to get anything out of him. To try and patch things up and salvage them as best as you could. But you guessed he needed time, and with the opening just around the corner, you decided it was best to let him be. As long as you could work well together, everything would be fine.

Except the wall he’d put up was so high that you felt it was impossible to climb it or break through.

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality, reminding you that you needed to find the supplier’s contact and call, murmuring something about being closed to whoever had just come in.

“I figured,” the voice made every hair on your skin stand, plunging you back into prickly, cold, anxious times. As you looked up, you could barely believe your eyes.

“Mr. Hwang,” his name left your lips in an incredulous whisper.

“It’s been a while,” he looked around, coming in. His eyes were inspecting thoroughly everything they could lay themselves on, scrutinizing all that might be out of place, or all that wasn’t, and had the ability to spark envy in an enviable man. “Nice place.”

“How may I help you?”

“I have an offer to make you.”

Wooyoung nearly stumbled on his feet. When he’d walked out of the kitchen to see if anything had come of your call with the supplier, the last thing he’d expected was seeing you sat at a table with your old boss, having a chat, exchanging laughter. He’d quickly retreated, leaving you to it, seeing red. He didn’t need to know what was going on, nor did he want to. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself as he stared, unable to do anything else, at the timer of the oven ticking by. Every second you sat out there, was a second he needed to reason with himself and find out what the menacing grip that held his heart was. All Wooyoung knew was that he wished you’d walk through the kitchen doors, a bright smile on your face, ready to get back to work.

And when you did, he couldn’t quite figure out the look on your face. He was dying to ask what Hwang wanted, no matter what it was, he needed whatever words you’d utter to soothe his burning curiosity. But you never spoke, keeping up your diligent work even past the timer dinging, through the kneading of the dough, its thirty-minute rest, and the several compressions through the pasta machine. He observed you carefully, like he always had, as you used a long knife to cut the noodles by hand as he was occupying the noodle cutter of the machine. Were you slipping through his fingertips again? His eyes on you had always felt like an encouraging, gentle caress. Always looking after and out for you. Wooyoung never noticed or wasn’t fully aware, that sometimes they still did. More often than not you felt the need to step away, or look away, under his gaze, caving in under his affection.

You felt that you didn’t deserve to be looked at so tenderly, not anymore.

He searched for words to say as the several pieces of dough were turned into noodles, but nothing came to mind. Nothing sounded right, not even in his head. Wooyoung let silence win this battle, preferring to let the whirring of the machine and the slicing of your knife talk, trying to work out all the tangled threads that were his thoughts. It was easy to mess up the noodles and have them stick together in an unsalvageable way; then you’d have to make them into dough again and put it through the machine, compressing it until it was ready to be cut up. He tried to treat his thoughts with the same care as noodles to avoid starting over. But Wooyoung wasn’t having the same luck.

Your muttering from the other side of the kitchen prompted him to look your way, struggling to find some space in the refrigerator for your sheet-pans. He hid his smirk, tossing the last of his noodles with cornstarch.

“Why?” You turned around, hands on your hips, irritation barely at bay. Wooyoung raised a brow, doing his very best at pushing your buttons.

“Why did we make so many fucking noodles when we are stocked full?”

“Because we need them,” he shrugged. “They’re tedious to make from scratch, it’ll make our lives easier.”

“Then you make space for them,” you huffed, hastily walking over to the dishwasher to start filling it with the utensils you’d just finished using.

“What did Hwang want?”

Wooyoung bit his tongue, watching how your back straightened at his question. He’d tried to sound casual, but the question turned out to be anything but. He couldn’t keep it in anymore, the longer he did, the more his nerves tested his peace of mind. Wooyoung watched as you froze, halting your movements, before turning to face him again. The furrow of your brow as you raked your eyes over him accelerated his heartbeat in mysterious ways, waiting with bated breath for your answer.

“Nothing important,” but it was to him. Wooyoung’s thoughts had taken him places he didn’t want to revisit. His heart had been swallowed with an all-consuming and unkindly familiar pain at the idea of you leaving him behind. Hwang had offered you a lot in the past, afforded you to realize your dreams, he knew that much. What could he give you, then?

“Then why did you take so long talking to him?” One way or the other, Wooyoung had to exorcize the sinking feeling in his chest along with the overpowering green monster resurfacing with all its might. The only way afforded to him now was to venomously spit his words to you.

“I’m not trying to put us in a hard place with our number one competitor,” you closed the loaded dishwasher behind you, coming closer to him, clouding his senses. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes and you lifted a brow, crossing your arms.

“Fine, be that way,” you carelessly threw the towel that was resting on your shoulder upon the counter. “He came back to try and persuade me to work for him again.”

And there they were, the words Wooyoung had feared the most. Someone who would whisk you away from him again as he watched helplessly, feeding into his fears.

“I said no, Woo…” your voice put a halt to every thought drowning him, your eyes full of the same softness your voice was. Giving up the fight, extinguishing the fire of his worries, at the cost of your disappointment. You swallowed the bitter bite. “Did you really think I’d go back, that I’d leave this? That I’d leave you?”

His silence was answer enough. You nodded, pressing your lips together.

“Well, I wouldn’t.”

You weren’t going to let him think like that, not now.

“I wasn’t happy there, and there’s not a single thing he could offer that would make me as happy as you do.”

Wooyoung watched, stunned into silence, while you got rid of your jacket and murmured something about still having to call the supplier. The timid smile you gave him, eyes full of warm hope, moved something inside him that had been slowly waking up ever since you bumped into him down the street months ago.

For so long, he’d tried to move on. In the end, it turned out that you wanted different things from him, and he had to accept that. Wooyoung couldn’t convince you to stay if you wanted to leave. So, with his heart aching and bursting at the seams with the hope that eventually you’d be back, he let you go. There was no way he could describe how he felt when he saw you again. Surprise struck him, leaving him disoriented for a long moment before his mouth spoke for him. As if his body had reacted to the presence of yours, remembering what it felt like to have you close.

No, Wooyoung wasn’t surprised that he so readily welcomed you back into his life. You were trying, that much he could see, but he was, too. There was a battle going on inside his head that left him frustrated and confused when it came to you, to his feelings for you. His thoughts laid their armor down only in your presence. His heart knew you were the only one he’d ever truly loved. A love that bloomed at the wrong time, a fragile flower that didn’t survive the winter. Wilted and withered, you’d left him to mend the gashes.

He did, only if it meant learning how to be without you, burning with the hope that one day, if the time was right, together you could grow flowers anew.

The chance was right there for him to take, and yet. It had taken him just a couple of hours after closing the kitchen to decide he needed to see you, and set things straight once and for all.

“What are you doing here?”

The sun was just about to set, gilded light flowing into your apartment from the window, bathing you in its gold. Wooyoung’s breath caught. For a fleeting instant, nothing else existed besides your confused pout and his erratic heartbeat.

“Can we talk?”

You nodded, opening the door wider to let him in, gesturing for him to follow to the kitchen. The sweet aroma hit him first, enveloping him, and he saw the cutting board in the sink after. It didn’t take him long to figure out you were making blackberry jam.

“You’re stressed,” the words left his lips before he could realize he’d spoken them, your head jerking in his direction as you kept stirring the pot, only to nod right after.

“Well, yeah, the opening’s just around the corner now and we-” your eyes fell back on the stove, briefly avoiding his. “What did you want to talk about?”

Wooyoung hesitated. He didn’t know. Rather, he was sure he needed to make things right. Clean the suffocating air of uncertainty when it came to you and what you were to him. What he was to you. You two were always good at dancing in the dark but now, in the light of day, it was hard to fall back into rhythm.

“I’m sorry about the noodles,” he bit his tongue. Way to start.

How could he say what he wanted to when his head was on fire? Still, you were there, waiting, occasionally stirring your jam, making his heart skip. Wooyoung sighed.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving.”

Your hand halted its gentle movements, he saw your knuckles turning white.

“Wooyoung-”

“No, let me say this,” he was pretty sure his lungs almost failed him when you turned to look at him, wide eyed, hanging onto his words. “I don’t really know how to act around you. At first, I wanted to be mad. Just a little bit, but found out quickly that after the anger was gone, there wasn’t much left. Just the part of me that wondered if you’d ever come back, if you missed me like I missed you. And if I push all the confusion back, it’s as easy as breathing. I never expected to want you with me as much as I do.”

You turned off the flame, walking closer.

“I never meant you any harm,” you were picking at your fingers, almost subconsciously, just like Wooyoung’s hand reached out to twine with yours, halting your nervous motions. “I‘m sorry that I let you down, and that I hurt you.”

“I know,” he squeezed your hand with a small sigh, eyes cast on them. “We weren’t meant to last.”

The words bitterly echo in the quiet kitchen, almost lost in the burbling coming from the stove. Wooyoung was tempted to let go of your hand and walk out the door, fragile like a house of cards, as if it cost him his whole heart to tell you the truth. To expose his confusion in fear it may be an imposition.

“No, Woo, not when I was so confused and only put my dreams first. Not when we had so much that we would’ve held each other from,” your watery smile hit him square in the chest, your words feeding his worries. “But I think we were always meant to be. I still… I’ve always held so much love for you.”

Wooyoung stopped breathing, letting the sweet taste of your words wash over him.

“Can we start over?” you asked, tentative, searching his face for any sign that you may have crossed a line. “I want to be by your side, at your pace, we’ll be whatever you want us to be. I wasn't ready then but I am now, and I know it'll take time but I want you to know that I'll be there. No matter how long, I'll always be there.”

The unruled hope, that he’d been fighting to keep at bay, finally broke free and sparked a fire in his chest that swallowed up his heart, holding it in a fierce grip, burning. Your hopeful, misty eyes told him more than words could, more than he could ever dare to imagine. He had longed to see them from this close again.

“Didn’t you say that mixing feelings with work is the recipe for disaster?”

Behind the carelessly amused shrug of your shoulders, your untamed smile shined with bright happiness. The hand that wasn’t holding his tentatively rose to cup his cheek and Wooyoung wasted no time in leaning in and basking in its warmth.

“I think we’d make it.”

Your promise was enough for him. Wooyoung rested his forehead against yours, finding home in your sweet perfume once again. You were finally back into his arms, to hold and to love. Once your lips met his hesitantly, almost afraid at first but feverishly at last, the sweet and pleasantly tart taste of your kiss assured his head and heart that everything would be alright.

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just4jinx · 1 year ago

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jealousy.

wlw, nsft / smut, ryujin x fem reader.

summary: your possessive best friend shin ryujin catches you flirting with a friend at a uni house party and decides to act on how she feels in an attempt to show you who you belong to.

requested? yes. (i accidentally deleted the ask ugh im sorry! you know who u are and ty for suggesting this!)

warnings: dom!ryu, sub!reader, slight drinking, rough sex, public sex, fingering, overstimulation, degradation, possessiveness, toxicity.

word count: 1.8k

tonight was the night of one of your friends’ house parties. you’ve never seen their home, and quite frankly you aren’t even that close, but turning down your first university party of the year was not happening on your watch. you previously shot your best friend ryujin a quick text asking if she’ll attend with you and she immediately agreed, also stating she’d wait and meet you outside the party location.

ryujin always made sure she was by your side no matter what you guys were doing together, whether it’s eating lunch on campus, walking to class, studying, shopping, everything. she isn’t your roommate but might as well be with the amount of time she spends in your dorm with you. she has always seemed pretty possessive of you and you could never come up with a reason why. it’s not like you even have super touchy friends that would make her feel that threatened. but nonetheless, you loved the attention; it made you feel cared for and wanted.

once a couple hours passed and your hair and makeup was done, you stepped out your dorm and locked the door behind you, swinging your little black handbag over your shoulder as you made your way outside. the sun had already set and it was beginning to get dark outside, the sharp cold breeze flowing through your hair. upon arriving you remember to wait outside for your best friend but she’s nowhere to be seen. the music blasts outside every time someone walks through the front door and you suddenly catch one of your close friends stepping out to greet you with an expected sweet smile.

“i’m so glad you could make it!” your friend marina raises her voice slightly so you can hear her over all the noise around, her right hand reaching out to touch your arm enough for you to slightly flinch. you could tell she was at least a little bit intoxicated already. “hey, come in! let’s get you a drink!”

and with that you headed straight for the white marble island in the kitchen which showed off the wide selection of drinks, your eyes soon settling on some archers and lemonade, your favourite. after downing one glass, desperate for that warm fuzzy feeling, you feel someone grab your hand and lead you to the plush couch, plopping yourself down where there’s room. it was, of course, marina. the house was extremely crowded, bodies everywhere with barely any room to move, let alone breathe. you could feel marina’s eyes on you even when you weren’t looking in her direction, her gaze practically burning into your skin.

“i have to say, your outfit is sooo cute.” the other girl began to compliment you, turning slightly to face her and noticing her blatantly checking you out from head to toe.

“yeah?” your tone was playful as you tilted your head to one side with a slight smile, taking this moment to notice her fit as well. she was wearing a slim black dress — the way it hugged her curves making you exhale deeply and look down to her hand now resting on your thigh just under where your pleated skirt ended. “i think you look pretty good yourself.” you added, eyes meeting once more.

marina parted her lips to speak but decided to remain silent. instead, her thumb began lightly rubbing your soft skin which only made your heart race in response. you were both tipsy at this point and couldn’t care less about what was happening. hell, you could only just hear each others voices over the music vibrating through the room. the girls hand attempted to move up under your skirt before you suddenly got pulled up by your wrist, yelping from the harsh tug. all you could see was the back of this girl as she quite literally dragged you away, but that’s all you needed to recognise her. it was your best friend, shin ryujin.

your eyebrows furrowed together in confused as she yanks you harshly into the bedroom at the top of the steep stairs, almost tripping in your heels a few times on your way there. “ryu- what?!” the music mostly gets drowned out once ryujin slams the door shut, pushing you back into it with a slight thud.

“so not only do you not wait for me like planned, you decide to flirt with other girls inside without me knowing?” ryujin’s voice is loud as she speaks, throwing up her hands and stepping closer to you. her vibe immediately makes you nervous, but you still need answers. “what do you mean? why does it-” ryujin cuts you off by pressing her lips roughly against yours, her dominant hand gripping onto your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. your heart skips a beat. this is the last thing you expected from her despite her possessive history. after all, she’s only a friend.

you decide to break the kiss and pull away, turning your head away from her. ryujin’s lips began making their way to your exposed neck, a dark chuckle escaping them. “i want you more than she ever could.” her voice is lower this time, the feeling of her hot breath and her soft lips brushing against your skin causing you to shudder in place. “i have no idea what made you think that was okay. you’re mine, got it?”

immediately your mindset shifted. you didn’t even know she liked women, it was nothing she ever mentioned before. before you could reply to her with probably more questions, you felt ryujin move her hand from your shoulder to under your skirt, deciding to hold it up and out the way for her, at this point not even thinking in the slightest. your lips parted once ryujin pressed her palm against your core, her fingers running along your entrance from over your underwear.

“so wet already, huh? you like being thrown about like a doll?” ryujin growled against your neck, her lips curling up into a devious smirk once she felt you try to close your legs as if to get away from her touch. “such a dirty girl.” the sudden multiple taps to your covered pussy made you whimper, feeling your cheeks become hot with flush due to the embarrassment. your mind was so empty you could barely speak, only whines and other various noises escaping you.

“i’ll teach you how to behave, how about that?” then, without any warning, ryujin slides her hand into your underwear and teases your entrance, coating her fingers in your juices. it doesn’t take many seconds before one of her fingers is inside of you, slowly sliding in and out as if to tease you. ryujin makes her head level to yours once more as you hold onto her for support, your knees beginning to feel extremely weak. the woman suddenly stops, causing you to whine in her ear, deciding to wait a few seconds before pumping back into it except with more force this time. she pushes her finger in as far as she could, eager for you to take the whole length, and even more desperate to add a second one. “come on, baby. you can take it. it’s what you wanted, right?”

ryujin adds a second finger once she knows you can allow it, attempting to sloppily kiss you despite the series of moans leaving your lips, making it anything but easy for her. as ryujin’s hand slaps against your clit with every thrust you feel yourself reach closer and closer to your limit. once she noticed your hardened nipples from under your clothes, all thanks to no bra, her free hand grabs onto your crop top and slides it up over your breasts to expose them. your moans only become louder with every moment that passes, the feeling of your best friends tongue now running along your nipples making you clench around her slender fingers. “fuck- ryujin!” you scream out in pleasure as you come undone on her fingers which keep their fast pace the entire time. sucking on your nipples as she fucks you through your climax, you hear her deeply groan just from the site of you.

she soon slides her fingers out of you and you notice she’s no longer finding it amusing like before. her eyes look dark and heavy, and she maintains eye contact with you while she licks her fingers clean. you barely have time to catch your breath before she pulls down your panties and and drags you to the double bed which she soon pushes you down onto.

“i’m not finished with you yet.” the woman’s voice is no louder than a whisper this time. you try to slide up the bed to rest your head on a pillow but ryujin grips onto your hips to keep you in place, desperate to take you once more, here and now. after she flicks your skirt up to expose your aching pussy, she lifts up your legs and spreads your thighs, her body now level with you. she decides to start off by licking up any juices by your entrance, her nose slightly brushing against your clit making you whimper and try to move away.

“ryujin, i’m too sensitive, i can’t go again. please.” your pathetic begging only pushes ryujin over the edge, not hesitating for a second to wrap her lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and lightly suck. you immediately moan and buck your hips up in response, writhing on the bed due to the sensitivity. “i said, i’m not done with you yet.” ryujin’s tone stayed harsh and dominant, the slight vibration of her voice against your cunt causing you to throw your head back into the bed. at this point, you did not care about the sensitivity, you just wanted to cum again because of her, and it wouldn’t take you long at all.

ryujin continues to eat you out as she digs her black painted nails into your soft thighs, your moans only fuelling her to keep up the pace. her tongue moves around your throbbing clit, flicking it as you buck up your hips into her pretty face. you try your best to hold it out but it feels practically impossible. it just feels too good.

“fuck- i’m close, please!” you scream out in pure pleasure, your best friends tongue now entering you, fucking you with it. your back arches up off the bed and your eyes squeeze shut as you come in her mouth, ryujin moving her attention back to your clit straight after. your whole body twitches and shakes on the bed as you come down from your high, soon watching ryujin stand up from the bed and lick whats left of your juices on her lips. once it hits you what just happened, your immediately close your legs in embarrassment, sitting up despite how weak you felt. you still have the party downstairs to attend again.

“talk to her again and i won’t be so nice next time, yeah?”

#girl group #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #itzy smut #itzy imagines #ryujin itzy #itzy ryujin #ryujin smut #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #wlw community #girl group smut #fxf smut #girl group smut fxf #smut #ryujin fanfic #ryujin imagines

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lionhanie · 8 months ago

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han taesan ; back 2 u (prologue)

you can’t help but find yourself coming back to taesan everytime

this is the prologue of my series, back 2 u (series masterlist here)!

fuckboy!taesan x fem!reader, college au

...featuring! BFFS jaehyun + woonhak, fuckboy leehan (AND he's taesan's roommate), and lovely roomies sungho + riwoo <3

word count: ~460

warnings: cursing, she/her pronouns used for the reader, taesan is a well-known player >.>

a/n: no one freak out but i use proper capitalization... anywho! i'm actually very excited for what i have planned for this series so i hope i can do my ideas justice :,) enjoy!!

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

It was hard to hide the disappointment on your face every time you’d pick up your phone only to see “No New Notifications” taunting you for the tenth time tonight. ”Y/N, I’m going to make Woonhak take that damn phone if you check it one more time. If he hasn’t texted you back in three days, what makes you think he’s going to text you now?” Your friend, Jaehyun, who you were currently supposed to be studying with, looks at you in annoyance from across your shared table in the library.

“Oh, can you please leave me alone?” You complain, embarrassed to think that your desperation is as clear as day. “I’m not the one who’s on the verge of failing this class anyways.”

“Okay, but that’s the exact fucking reason I called you earlier! Why agree to tutor me if you weren’t going to help me in the first place?” The frustration in his voice is evident as he angrily flips through the textbook in front of him. Jaehyun was right. Three days… He’s obviously ignoring you. Nobody leaves their phone untouched for three whole days anymore. You put your phone face down on the table, internally promising yourself that you wouldn’t pick it up again for the rest of your study session.

Woonhak, another friend of yours in the year below, is using his hoodie as a makeshift pillow as he lays his head on the table beside you. The exchange seems to pique his interest, as he lifts his head up slightly to chime in. “Are we talking about who I think we’re talking about right now? Han Taesan?”

“...No, it’s not.” You quickly change the topic while rotating the textbook for you to read better from where you were seated. “Jaehyun, what did you need help with again?”

“Yes, Y/N’s talking about Taesan, Woonhak! Can you believe the person she’s hung up on is Han Taesan of all people?!” Jaehyun is quick to expose you, seemingly more interested in airing out his current irritation with your shared friend rather than his inherent need to study. "He's taking away my precious tutor!"

Woonhak chuckles as he sits up properly now, running his hands through his hair. In fact, he actually doesn’t stop laughing at the situation, until he notices the shameful look on your face as your gaze wanders around the library in a feeble attempt to avoid eye contact. His laughter soon dies down, looking to Jaehyun in disbelief. “Wait, you’re serious? I was just joking when I suggested him in the first place,” Your eyes are closed as you place your head in your hands, the humiliation properly washing over you now. “I’ve never seen him keep the same girl for longer than, what, five days?”

"Yeah, neither have I." You scoff at the realization of the predicament you're currently occupied with: messing around with Han Taesan.

tags: @minwrlds (my babybear beta reader ily) @luna2nite @taesancore @taesanmoon @helpsplease (feel free to send an ask / comment to be added!)

a/n: LOLLLLL future parts will be longer i swear ;D

#boynextdoor #bnd #bonedo #boynextdoor fic #boynextdoor x reader #x reader #bnd x reader #taesan #han taesan #boynextdoor taesan #boynextdoor taesan x reader #taesan x reader #han taesan x reader #✧.* back 2 u #woonhak #jaehyun

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lovableapocalypse · 1 year ago

Text

dial drunk

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!wife!reader

wc- 1.5k

warnings- cursing, established relationship, police station?

a/n- wife reader fyi!! i hope you guys enjoy. i saw noah kahan at acl over the weekend and was inspired to finally finish this wip. lol. also this scene from greys. love u all. lmk anything you want to see!!!

The room was crowded and humid. The open doors that led to the beach were blowing in a smooth breeze, but it was doing little to soothe your anxiety.

Bradley was late. He tended to be on time, at most 10 minutes behind, and even then he’d always message you to let you know. So this was starting to concern you. Everyone was supposed to meet at the Hard Deck at 7 tonight, yet here you were still watching the door, 45 minutes later.

Penny had tried to assure you he could be in traffic, given it was a Friday night, but you heavily doubted it. You were burning holes into the doorway and silently begging for his tanned self to just walk through.

You glanced at your phone for what felt like the 100th time and shot Bradley yet another message.

7:10 PM

You okay?

7:30 PM

Hello??

7:47 PM

Are you asleep? Where r u

You were trying not to call attention to his absence, but your frequent calls and angry typing weren’t fooling anybody. You were getting irritated. You inhaled sharply as you now scanned the back doors. This was supposed to be a Dagger Squad (and family) night, and it bothered you that Bradley wasn’t here.

You feel your phone vibrate in your fist, and the local unknown number showcased on your screen confuses you. You quickly move around bodies and step out into the cooling night on the back patio, answering the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi baby.”

It’s his voice. You know it is, but you still ask, “Bradley?”

You hear him clear his throat on the other end of the line, “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where are you? It's almost 8 already. Everyone’s asking where you are- me included.”

“Yeah, about that,” You can hear the disappointment in his voice and can practically see him running his hands over his face, “I need you to come get me.”

“What?”

“Please.”

“Where are you?”

You hear muffled noise in the background of the call and your brows furrow further as you try to decipher where he is.

He sighs and mumbles, “I need you to come bail me out.”

Your head shoots up from where you were studying your feet on the deck, and your voice raises as you respond, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Bradley’s response isn’t immediate, he could tell you were pissed and confused and he knew his answer would only anger you more. “Look, I’ll explain, I promise- just please come.”

You pull the phone away from your face, dumbfounded that your husband was asking you to come bail him out.

You hear him mutter another “Please” before you hang up the phone and storm back into the Hard Deck.

Your quick angry pace gathered attention from others and as you harshly grab your purse off the bar top, Hangman approaches you.

“You alright?” He questions.

“I have to go bail Bradley out of fucking jail.”

Jake’s jaw parts before he shakes off his initial reaction and places a calming hand over your shaking ones.

“Fuck- okay, I’m coming with you.”

“No- Jake it’s fine. Just stay here and make sure everyone’s good.”

“Let me drive you. You probably need time to cool off anyway.” He gave you a look that said he knew he was right and you just huffed and headed out the doors.

Jake quickly followed and unlocked his truck in an effort to help. Selfishly, he wanted to see Rooster behind bars for himself, but he also acknowledged you might need someone’s help right now too.

He hastily pulled out of the bar and headed down the main roads. He kept glancing at you and your expression was one of utter disbelief. You were repeatedly shaking your head and trying to think of any plausible explanation for why your husband was arrested.

Jake swung into the police station and parked. You took some of your anger out on the passenger door, slamming it open and closed. You felt your anger multiply as you marched toward the station.

You had dressed up for this evening. You wore your favorite summer dress and had even taken the time to style your hair. Now that would be wasted on police officers and other arrestees.

Jake was quick behind you, not wanting to miss a single moment of this. You pulled the front door open and your irritation was clear as day. The receptionist asked you how she could help, and your response was anything but pleased, “My husband asked me to come bail him out.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “Name?”

“Bradshaw. Bradley Bradshaw.” You shot out. Jake huffed a laugh from behind you, and you whacked his arm in annoyance.

“Right,” the receptionist typed on her computer. “He’s here.”

She asked for your ID and had Jake stay in the front lobby while you followed her back to the holding cell. You could see him. He was sitting on the bench in the cell with his head in his hands. He seemed to be rubbing his eyes in frustration with the heel of his hands.

“Bradshaw.” You spit as you approach the bars. His head shoots up and he stands fast, moving towards you.

“Hey honey.” He says as he grabs onto the bars of the cell. The two other guys in there with him laugh and observe you.

“What the hell?” You ask. Bradley leans towards you through the bars and shakes out an embarrassed laugh. You raise your brows in question and he knows he can’t avoid an explanation any longer.

He glances at the receptionist behind you and at the idle cops at their desks, and exhales quietly, “I was speeding.”

“You got thrown in jail for speeding?” Your tone is incredulous.

He bows his head and leans more of his weight onto the bars. When he finally glances back up at your expectant expression he admits, “I was being a dick to the cop. He didn’t like my sarcasm I guess. Or he just had no sense of humor.” His eyes move to who you guess is the cop that arrested him and he shakes his head again.

You sigh. Bradley reaches through the bars and clasps your hand in his. He can feel your irritation radiating off of you, but also the ridiculousness of it all. He pulls you closer and you let him. He gives you a smirk you know all too well, and he places a soft kiss on your lips through the metal.

You shake your head and turn around to the receptionist, “What do I need to sign to get him out?”

You hear Bradley’s airy laugh behind you and the woman leads you to a desk to fill out the correct forms. The cop was nice enough to not formally charge Bradley with anything, just wanted to teach his smart mouth a lesson.

Once you’ve signed the appropriate forms and taken an opportunity to chat to your lovely local officers, mostly to watch Bradley squirm impatiently, a cop takes the keys and walks to the cell. Bradley steps back and watches him unlock the giant door.

A now free man, Bradley approaches you steadily. As much as you’re annoyed and want to give him grief for his earlier absence, you’re glad he’s safe and okay. He reaches for you and you meet him in an embrace. He places a soft kiss to the side of your head and you sigh into him.

“Please don’t ever call me from a police station again.”

He squeezes you tighter and nods but then says, “I make no promises.” His laughter is muffled as you shake your head and audibly groan in annoyance. You lightly smack his abdomen and start walking back out.

Bradley follows behind you and when you reenter the lobby Jake is still patiently waiting, now sitting in one of the available chairs.

Bradley stops short when he notices his colleague and friend. “You brought Hangman?” He sounds offended.

Jake’s smile is contagious as he peers up from the magazine he was browsing. “She sure did. Wouldn’t miss this for the world Rooster.”

You can’t help but laugh at your husband's look of betrayal. You shrug, “I’m sorry Roo, he offered to drive.”

Bradley shakes his head and fully enters the room. You hear him mutter a “Jesus Christ,” under his breath as he rubs his hands over his face.

Jake stands and is still grinning like an idiot. He starts to head for the door when you ask, “Wait. B, where’s your car?”

He looks like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that question. “On the side of interstate 8 probably.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Bradley can see the further disappointment on your features and leans in to peck your lips. “I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“I’ll drop you.” Jake sighs.

You say nothing and just shake your head, grabbing Bradley’s hand and leading him out of the station.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #tgm #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick x you #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #tgm fanfic #tgm fic #bradley rooster x reader #do not copy #my writing

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hwaightme · 2 years ago

Text

In the rain

(masterlist) (join taglist)

🌧️ pairing: bf!hongjoong x gn!reader 🌧️ genre: fluff, established long-term relationship, mentions of idol life 🌧️ summary: while on a drive with hongjoong, you reminisce the many moments that form the priceless love you share, and think of the future that lays ahead. 🌧️ wordcount: 3.4k 🌧️ warnings/tags: quick edit, love is real, pining over hj/ateez achievements, did i say pining? amplify that, two people deeply in love and committed, congrats on the licence hj~, abstract location descriptions, safe driving everyone! 🌧️ perma-taglist: moved to the end~ 🌧️ a/n: this was prompted by discussion of all things hongjoong - thank you hongsamis~ @yunbug @nebulousbrainsoup @starrysvn; thank you so much, love you and any reblogs, comments and notes appreciated!

🌧️ playlist: she's in the rain - the rose, dancing in the rain - rad museum, good days - sza, with u - ateez, be with you - ateez, mist - ateez

Now for the weather, starting with Seoul. The rainy season is in full swing, with the rain unlikely to let up for the rest of the day, or for the coming week, with only the occasional bursts of heavy cloud as opposed to high precipitation. There may be a thunderstorm in the late evening tonight, so while the air pollution may be low, we do suggest to keep your windows closed-

With the click of a button, the reporter’s shrill tone faded into the pitter-patter of the rain as it relentlessly hit the roof of the car. Your eyes were fixated on the windshield, observing the endless race of droplets, gliding down faster, slower, merging and dotting the glass, only to be washed away again. You barely registered the auditory change, your thoughts and heart racing as you caught the reflection of the beautiful man beside you, his hand pulling away from the radio. It was not necessary for you to turn to face him to know that you were being studied, your motionlessness transforming into a myriad of meanings in your favourite mind.

Fingers flittering over your jeans, you attempted to curb your wave of nervousness while you hoped for your boyfriend to speak first. It was not that you were afraid of something going wrong, nor were you worried about any unwelcome surprises - you trusted Hongjoong with your life, but that tiny voice, reminding you of just how much has changed for the both of you was growing louder and louder, until the rain was no longer the predominant drumming in your ears. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hongjoong’s right hand resting on the steering wheel, silver rings glimmering in the grey light. You had joked a number of times about how your boyfriend would be as a driver, with you painting a comedy during late night conversations in his studio. You still remembered just how widely he had smiled, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he took your hands in his and told you he started taking lessons. But even when his bashful laugh filled your heart whole and you were congratulating him for getting his licence, a part of you was in denial. The part that was afraid of things ever changing.

Had it really been that long? You swore just yesterday you were sitting across from a Hongjoong who was barely an adult, only recently returned from training in the United States, making the first thing he did in Seoul to be seeing you. Iced americanos and ice cream. At least that much stayed the same. How many hair styles and colours had you complimented him on, every transformation equally as stunning as another? How did the boy who modified his own clothes, spray painting shoes and drawing on his denim jacket, metamorphose into the man who was personally invited to the private showcase of his favourite brand, by the designer whom he looked up to for so long? And now for him to be attending high fashion pop-ups and being called a legacy and inspiration? From the smallest details to the bigger picture, you had the pleasure of seeing Hongjoong become more than who he could ever hope to be, cheering him on every step of the way. Now, he was the one behind the wheel, your precious, genius, loving captain. You knew his life, his timeline off by heart better than you knew the weather, and yet, you still could not believe that there he was. This wonderful man with a heart of gold, sat beside you, the constant amidst the changes.

Noticing your darting eyes, Hongjoong let go of the wheel, instead stretching his arm, the action promptly followed by the pleasant crinkling of the suit jacket he was wearing - the same one you had messaged back and forth with his stylist about, and pressing the palm of his hand against your thigh, forcing you to look up and at him. Breath hitched in your throat as you sank into the warmth within his deep brown eyes, impeccably framed by a new pair of glasses - a gift from you for your anniversary. Without a single word uttered, you heard him. Placing your hand over his, you gave it a quick squeeze, earning a grin. A conversation through the rain, sentences crafted out of the staccato played by the downpour, gestures into monologues, a language of two souls intertwined by time, writing and rewriting memories. Hongjoong’s smile faltered as he noticed flickers of concern running over your features, and a whisper permeated the car’s salon, caressing and reciprocating your tender feelings towards him.

“What’s got you pensive, love?”

“Mm, nothing.” you mumbled, letting go of Hongjoong and turning back to stare at the street that stretched out in front of you.

“If it’s about me driving then I-” he began, but you would not dare give him a single chance to doubt himself.

“No, no! Please, I am so happy about this, Joong.”

“There is a ‘but’ in there somewhere, isn’t there?” he tried once more, giving you a sidelong glance before settling back into his seat. You tilted your head a little to observe how Hongjoong diligently checked his surroundings, one mirror after another, moving to softly press on the brake and crank the hand brake. As he switched gears and smoothly began the journey by rolling into his lane, you sighed.

“It’s just… you finally got your licence, huh?”

“Yep. And now I don’t need to nag anyone to see you. Expect your doorbell to ring at interesting hours of the night now.” he elaborated, tone playful, boyish.

“As if it doesn’t already,” with a quick raise of an eyebrow, you pointed out the established reality.

It had become something of a routine for the two of you when he was not touring. Be it after dance practice, or in the middle of a vigorous production and song-writing session, Hongjoong would find a way back to you, to your apartment. In the early days of your relationship he had been too afraid to ever ask, and besides, you had housemates from university to try and not disturb - though your sleep schedule was at times even more chaotic than Hongjoong’s you still thought it was only reasonable to be respectful. But as time went on and you found an apartment to call your own for as long as the landlord would allow, he cautiously began to make his appearances more and more frequent, until everything you owned or he brought became sets for two. With time, he had even forgotten to make up excuses to see you, every move made now feeling more than natural. Meant to be.

“But now I am limitless!” making another turn and driving out onto a larger road, Hongjoong quietly sang a line from the song of the same name, making you chuckle. “Now we can go on driving dates, how cool is that?”

“Patrolling the streets as outlaws should.”

“Shame this isn’t a van. I need to tell Woo to get one for himself to complete his look.” your boyfriend picked up on your comment, subtly linked to the recent comeback, choosing to play along.

While you were glad that you did not have to explain the sentimental mood in which you had found yourself, the topic of the new mini album only amplified what you had tried to suppress. Was it really the ninth? Had it really been that long since the debut? Had the four year anniversary of ATEEZ’s first win really passed a mere few days ago? You blinked once, twice, fluttered your eyelashes in an attempt to clear your head, to no avail. From sales in the hundreds to being measured in the millions, from dream to delivery, the name, the story, the music flying around the globe to be loved and listened to by more and more people with each passing day. Driving across the city to congratulate Hongjoong and his fellow members at the first opportunity with every win and milestone, watching ATEEZ climb the charts in countries your boyfriend had revealed to you had been an eternal dream - you often found yourself tearing up during your spontaneous trips to stores for gifts and most definitely left Hongjoong’s shoulders soaked a few too many times for it to not be an inside joke. You had to constantly tell yourself that this was real, this was well and truly happening, and you could be there to witness history in the making.

Hongjoong navigated the streets, ambitious to reach the place which he had hinted you would like in record time. No matter how many times you had asked him before your date exactly where it was that you were going, he would not crack, far too well-practised in keeping his group’s lore a secret to spoil a little surprise. Passing by one of the central neighbourhoods, you recalled the pride with which you walked past the advertising campaigns, the unique truck promotions for the comeback, now dashing past the locations with the leader himself accelerating the ship on wheels through the metropolitan oceans. It was surreal. Heartwarming. Better than anything you could have ever imagined for the boy with a big dream and a CD in his hands. You leaned back against your seat and closed your eyes, listening to the rain that kept on pelting against the exterior of the car, muted by the hum of the engine.

Seeing darkness, you let your thoughts wander, for them to simply travel right back to Hongjoong. You were not sure what exactly was so special about the driver’s licence. After all, he was not the only member with one; on top of that he was not the only one out of the group to attain this achievement recently. And yet, despite it being common, despite you yourself having been driving everywhere you could for long enough to have the skills turn into instinct, it was the fact that now, in this specific time and space, specifically Hongjoong was the one with his hand on the steering wheel. Maybe you were an overthinker, trained by reading a few too many lore discussions on social media, or maybe, and most likely, you were too in love with the man by your side.

When he had told you that he loved you for the first time, the priceless phrase was promptly followed by the confession that he could not imagine a life in which you were not together, and you could not agree more. While you were both independent individuals, with your own passions, goals and careers, understanding one another was always the easiest thing. He was your number one supporter, while you were his. Come rain or shine. You had been there for each other’s rises and falls, continued to fight even when the path got blurry, and now, in the magical shared solitude you were accelerating into a brighter and brighter future, even though there were thunderous clouds looming above you - not in spirit, however, not in your goals nor your aims. Hearing Hongjoong clear his throat gently so as to not disturb you, nonetheless made you open your eyes and exchange a glance with him. A soft smile melted over your lips as your boyfriend adjusted his glasses and scrunched his face, reminding you of a certain adorable rodent. Focus turned back onto the road, your boyfriend dived into a one way street, inching forwards between the brick walls to let the car be spat out into another display of commercial success.

The rain seemed to only get stronger as you zoomed past the steely, uniform skyscrapers decorated with billboards, numbers and businesses ranging from karaoke to restaurants to studios to anything else under the weeping sky. You checked the clock on the top right of the central monitor where not too long ago you could see the fluctuating waves of the radio as the weather forecast was presented. This was a rare day in the middle of promotions where Hongjoong did not have an evening nor a late night schedule, and so, in the blink of an eye your spontaneous meeting had been organised, and as soon as you could log off work you were already one foot out of the door. Surreal - you kept on repeating the word to yourself as the droplets kept on hitting the windshield, so surreal. The aqueous cacophony left little room for conversation, not that you needed it to fill the space. Over the years you had gotten so comfortable with one another’s presence that sometimes, it was silence that held the most warmth, adoration and meaning.

As the colossal buildings gave way to quaint residential units and lines of serene cafes and shops, an eerie familiarity settled into your heart as you began to look around, head turning back and forth and body moving forward until the seatbelt began to dig into the side of your neck. Counting under your breath, you gasped as your assumption was correct, and the street gave way to another intersection, leading towards one of the many bridges that crossed the Han River, now a rippling stroke of grey ink cutting across the city. Fingers gliding over the bottom of the window to your right, you peered out at the scenery that flew past you - fortunately, Hongjoong had checked the traffic and was skillfully meandering along the concrete canals to the final destination.

“Are we going where I think we are going?”

“Mm… perhaps.” as cryptic as ever, Hongjoong responded, merging into the lane that would take him across the waters.

Now, you had the directions mapped out in your mind, and even when you let your eyelids fall shut, the calm from being together with Hongjoong after so many phone and video calls having taken over you, with each peek you knew exactly where you were, and where you were going to be next. The next turn was to be right by a PC-bang where you and your boyfriend had hidden away a few years ago after rain, much like this one, had taken you by surprise. Further down the road would be an ice cream shop where you had discovered your boyfriend’s distaste for the mint chocolate flavour. You were so immersed in your accurate guesswork that you had initially not noticed that the rain now had an accompaniment, quiet, barely there, but still sweeter than any other sound you had ever known or heard.

As the car joined the bustling procession across the bridge, slowing down to meet the speed limit until the engine was a timid rumble, Hongjoong’s melodic humming gained control of your every sense. Even though you attempted to gain his attention by giving him a couple of darting glances, he did not spare a single one back, aware of what such an interaction would do while he was singing a song that held so much weight for you both. Released just a couple weeks prior to ATEEZ’s debut, She’s In The Rain by The Rose had become something of an anchor and promise between you. You had been young, you still were, and yet both of you could feel that every step you took together was one for the long run. As such, you wanted to reassure one another that no matter what, you would stay, to hold one another instead of leaving the other holding on. While the artist had imbued the song with an original meaning, to you and Hongjoong it had transcended literal and traditional symbolic interpretation, becoming an indescribable sensation. Just like an umbrella protecting from the rain, a warm woollen blanket when the nights got cold, a love to hold you up and an embrace when work seemed unmanageable and goals unreachable.

Now that you were drifting in the notes, humming some of the lines along with your personal lead singer while he progressed into quiet song, enunciating the lyrics with as much affection as his driving-focused mind could muster, you realised that perhaps this was exactly why the licence meant so much to you. You were there along the way, for this ride, you cheered him on, you were the first one he saw and proudly showed off the certification to. You were the one he drove around after he had gained some confidence (though he tended to be overly careful the first dozen times). In this major change, he stayed with you, and was openly hopeful in every gesture and act that you would stay with him, and drive where the two of you would decide to go. Two paths intertwined.

Even when the performance turned into an echo, joining the forecast as another memory, it kept on repeating in the pitter-patter of the droplets, the rain drumming out the song with the diligence and fire of an up and coming star. It took every ounce of strength for you to not lower the window, let the cherished melody wash over you and push you into an all-encompassing reminiscence. The car obediently froze in time, Hongjoong finally satisfied with the parking - a deserted lot, secluded from the majority of sought after destinations on this side of the river, an inconspicuous paradise where, illuminated by the first rays of a bleary sun, your story as two began all those years ago. A click, another, and the seatbelts glided back in wait for the next journey. Words blended with overwhelming emotion were stuck in your throat, and Hongjoong's tender touch on the back of your hand was enough to bring you back to every one of the moments you enjoyed rewatching as you fell into a deep slumber, excited for the stories the next day would undoubtedly bring. Cautiously, your boyfriend turned your hand; palm to palm, fingers intertwined, you were the ripples on the silver waters, blessed with a fluid impermanence, etching eternity in the temporary.

The other bank, obscured by merciless rain was little more than a mirage, leading you to wonder if you were dreaming. Hongjoong raised your hand, pulling it towards him to plant a kiss on your knuckles, cheeks flushing pink when you chuckled, but refusing to let go. He had decided for himself if this was all a dream, then he never wanted to wake up, deepest slumber now a welcome ally. In this dream, he could create, he could celebrate, he could breathe and share the beauty of intricacies that the simplest joys possessed with you. The corners of his lips twitched as he fought back the tears he promised you he would not spill when waves of love struck him, and yet, it seemed to be the only promise he could not keep. Taking off his favourite glasses he looked over at you, noticing a reflection of his sentiments across every feature, and ignoring the gear shift and hand brake leaned over to drown in your arms, grounding himself in the reality that was you and him. In minor or in major chords, every tune was a masterpiece to him. When he felt the most insignificant, you were there assuring him of his achievements, telling him time and time again that he deserved the world and more. When he was on top of this world, you were there to elevate him to new heights and mark with him every one of his successes.

As he felt your body mould into one with his, and his heart matched the beating of yours, he could only conjure words of gratitude; for the wheel of fortune, the maze that destiny had given him that led to how he was leading his life, for how and when you had found him, and what became of the continuation. Shutting his eyes to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, Hongjoong whispered his thoughts out loud, thanking you for every night and day, the pain and relief, the downs and ups, plans and achievements, his voice falling like the rain drops, eventually letting their monologue prevail. There, in the rain's symphony, bound to metamorphose again and again as the two of you were to grow older, take on new responsibilities, travel in new directions, you found permanence. Tomorrow never looked more marvellous.

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