#secret ending 02 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiminrings · 3 months

Text

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

#heh . how r we feeling citizens!!!! :O #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader

1K notes · View notes

svnnw · 4 months

Text

WHEN YOU SMILE — mark smau

after barely passing your recent exam you're now desperately looking for someone to tutor you so your friends wouldn't worry about you and your grades.

or in which you find yourself making a deal with mark lee, a top students who seeks for your help. mutual benefit right?

fake boyfriend!mark x fem!reader

GENRE — fluff, angst, slowburn, comedy, humor, fake dating, non-idol au, college au

WARNINGS — a little bit of cursing, reader is kind of mean to mark, mark is REALLY nice, reader gets teased a lot, features other idols : xiaojun (nct); jaemin (nct); giselle (aespa); natty (kiof); haechan (nct); chenle (nct); ningning (aespa); minji (nwjns)

STATUS — ongoing

PLAYLIST — wildflower – billie eilish [02:14] ; sure thing – miguel [02:16] ; iris – the goo goo dolls [00:11] ; nobody gets me – sza [00:38] ; 200 – mark [01:04] ; godspeed – frank ocean [00:33] ; infrunami – steve lacy [00:32] ; intro (end of the world) – ariana grande [01:08] ; margaret – lana del rey [03:57] ; we can't be friends – ariana grande [02:27]

TAGLIST — open

A/N — soo excited for this smau especially because i've been wanting to post a mark smau for soo long!!

profile 1 || profile 2

1 ) how can you fail the easiest class

2 ) does this mean we're friends

3 ) just you wait

4 ) haechan's birthday party

5 ) officially fake dating

6 ) she's my friend

7 ) y/n is missing??

8 ) crazy fangirls

9 ) showing off while you're sleeping is crazy

10 ) does she hate me?

11 ) ILL FIGHT FOR YOU

12 ) i need advice

13 ) i guess i can forgive you..

14 ) mellowed out like crazy

15 ) YOU HAVE A SON???

16 ) bro tweets like a poet

17 ) why do i have to study even if i passed

18 ) this is a set up i just know it

19 ) 7 minutes in heaven

20 ) i bet his name starts with m and end with ark

21 ) i'd do anything to see her smile again

22 ) my angel

23 ) mark is down bad

24 ) it's not that important huh?

25 ) are you at a photoshoot

26 ) mark you're just jealous admit it

27 ) you're lowkey speaking facts..

28 ) this is what i call mandela effect

29 ) is that your secret man cave

30 ) my pretty angel

31 ) so was i ugly yesterday?

32 ) you're so easy to gaslight xiaojun..

33 ) what did i tell you?

34 ) since we're already here..

35 ) and that kids is how we kissed.

36 ) matching shirts with my new best friend

37 ) you've always been cute

38 ) crazy how you broke haechans record

39 ) so i'm that important to you?

40 ) you're a very socially awkward guy

41 ) just go and check twitter

42 ) i'm gonna rip my hair out

43 ) ARE YOU RUNNING AWAY??

44 ) WELL YOU THINK WRONG ❌

45 ) when you smile

bonus chapters :

who does he think he is?

dude yk i didnt mean it like that..

1K notes · View notes

yoonia · 8 months

Text

A Christmas Fix — 02 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, fake dating trope on the side, minor body insecurities (implied), fight scene, some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, pregnant sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 29,410 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: February 1st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | And we're finally at the end. Thank you so much for everyone who has read part 1, and those of you who have been so patient with me. I'm sorry I had to wait for a day to post this. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the journey to see how this story ends :)

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: ⤎ previous chapter

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

The house has been quiet all morning.

There is only one day left before Christmas Eve, and everyone has been busy for the past couple of days. Your mother and Honey are hosting the Christmas Eve’s family dinner this year, with close relatives from their side of the family joining in, so everyone has been busy going around and about to prepare for it.

After days filled with all the bustling activities, it feels like you finally have some downtime. With both of your parents gone—your mother is out with Honey to shop for a couple of necessities needed for the event, and your stepfather out doing some errands, assisted by Taehyung in place of Hansol—it feels like you can finally breathe easy.

While the pre-Christmas rush helped smother the loud thinking constantly happening inside your head, the silence that you are experiencing now feels comforting. The underlying tension that is also present, however, isn’t so much.

When you agreed to stay home and help out with the rest of the Christmas baking still needed to be done, you didn’t expect that Alia had volunteered to stay behind and help too. So you have been using this silence as a protective shield.

Almost an hour has passed since the two of you started getting busy in the kitchen. No meaningful conversation has been shared so far, aside from the times you had to talk through the recipes together or talking about passing things over. The only sounds that are keeping you company are the occasional sounds of kitchenware hitting the counter, the shuffling sounds coming from both you and Alia as you move around the kitchen, and the burning oven behind your back.

Slowly, you are beginning to enjoy this routine, finding calmness in the steady rhythm of baking and cooking which helps quiet the voices in your head. Too bad it doesn’t last long enough for you to relish it when Alia suddenly speaks, bringing up something other than the task in your hand for a change.

“I’ve been wondering for a while, but you look like you had a rough night. Is your stomach still bothering you?” she asks, breaking the silence.

To say that you are caught off-guard seems like an understatement. And you have no idea how to respond to her question. For her to suddenly ask something personal is completely unexpected.

It’s not that the two of you never had an actual conversation with one another like a pair of normal human beings. It’s just she never seemed to truly care or have any interest in getting to know about you other than the stories shared at family dinners with your parents around.

It’s making it even harder to answer when you have this underlying guilt brewing inside you. A feeling that comes from hiding a secret that keeps getting heavier to carry. And you are afraid that the moment you open your mouth to speak, they will all come spilling out of you.

You wish you could just lie to her face. Tell her that everything is fine so you can continue working in silence.

But when you look up and actually look at her, she seems—genuine, in her concern, and almost as much with her curiosity.

But there is no malice or pretence in her question that you find yourself reaching out to accept the olive branch that she is offering you and answer, “It’s—okay. I mean, it’s been pretty rough the past few nights. I think it’s because of the lack of sleep I’ve been getting.”

And you’re not completely lying. Because the past couple of nights have been rough. But you couldn’t possibly explain to her why.

Alia scrunches her nose, oblivious to this. “I heard from Honey that you get this way when you’re stressed out. Has work been stressful for you lately? I mean, with your latest work promotion, I can only imagine that you’ve only gotten busier lately.”

You purse your lips and avoid her gaze, once again biting back the secret that is threatening to slip out.

“Maybe—” you start to answer, “I haven’t been eating well, and I’ve messed up my sleeping schedule so bad lately, that it’s been hard to fix it even when I’m home. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and I woke up with a headache this morning.”

Alia frowns. “Have you been taking meds? I have some vitamins that may help you sleep better. I’ve been taking them lately to—”

Thinking about taking vitamins makes you cringe. The doctor’s warnings come floating through your mind—reminding you that you should be wary of the medicines and vitamins to take, as they may not be safe enough for the baby in your belly, her warning about keeping your stress level low, and her reminder of watching over your diet at the beginning of your pregnancy.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t usually take medicines or vitamins to help me sleep,” you gently refuse. Even without your doctor’s warnings, you know that nothing could really help you with your sleeping problems.

Because the truth is, your nausea and ‘stomach bug‘ haven’t been the sole reason why you have been having trouble sleeping as of late.

It was Taehyung.

Ever since you came across Taehyung that night in the hallway, memories from the night of your wild hookup have been coming back to you. They have been haunting you at night, whether you were sitting in bed wide awake or when you were deep in your restless sleep.

When sleep failed you, you would be left spending long hours recounting every action and every conversation that you could remember. Every single detail had been coming back to you in bits and pieces jumbling together, and you would spend the next long hours trying to piece everything together. You went through it all to answer the resounding questions that are still messing up with your mind.

How many times did we do it that night?

More than twice, for sure, you recall each time you try to look back. Was it three, or four times?

You remember feeling sore and tired the next day, yet you were content enough to sleep the whole flight away towards your dream vacation with your whole body humming with the waning pleasure. And while you weren’t completely drunk that night, you were surely tipsy enough that you were unable to memorise every single moment with a clear mind.

But the biggest question that you have yet to answer—

He really did wear condoms that night, didn’t he?

You remember watching him roll the condom down the length of his impressive cock. It wasn’t really a memory that you could easily erase, no matter how tipsy-minded you were that night. Not when the way he did it left you completely transfixed.

For some reason, everything about the first intercourse you had with him remains vivid in your memory. Because it was the first time for you to ever feel that kind of pleasure. To feel wanton and free with someone who was willing to help you open up a part of you which had been locked and sheltered during the long period of time you spent in your past relationship.

The second time always seems a bit blurry. But you can still recall waking up to his sinful lips devouring your sore pussy in the middle of the night.

He claimed it as a way to make up for the rough and dominating way he took you the first time and the lack of foreplay. So he spoiled you by giving you pleasure through his mouth and tongue and the work of his fingers, before he fucked you gently, slowly, until you were arching into him and crying out his name once again as he helped you embrace your slow rising climax.

And the third time—

“Um, earth to ________.”

Alia’s sharp voice pulls you out of your dark thoughts. Her curiosity seems to grow more palpable, and so does the concerned look you see on her face.

“Are you okay? Seriously, you don’t look so well. You keep spacing out today and now it’s like you’re burning up or something.”

With a gasp, you reach up and touch your cheeks, quickly realising that she is right. You are burning up. Except that instead of burning from a fever, your body is growing hot from the inside for a different kind of reason.

You are burning from being drowned in your dirty thoughts and recounting all the pleasure that you felt back then. To be thinking about all the wanton things that you shared with—

Your eyes fall open as you draw a shocked gasp. Realising too late that you are thinking about your stepsister’s new boyfriend while she is sitting right in front of you. Guilt pierces through your chest right at that moment, and you quickly rise from your seat.

“Excuse me, I think I need to cool down a little bit. I’ll be right back,” you quickly say to her before slipping away from the kitchen without waiting for her response.

Needing distance from Alia, you rush to your bedroom upstairs, finding solace in your safe space as you lock yourself in it. The feeling of shame washes over you. You can’t believe that you had allowed yourself to think of dark, sultry thoughts while you were sitting right across your stepsister.

Worse yet, that doing so made you feel aroused.

The same thing always happens each time you think back about that night. As if your body has memorised what your mind has failed to remember. Each memory of his touch brings back sparks on your skin, reigniting the same reaction that he managed to draw from you then.

By the time you lie down on your bed, the heat in your body has spread all over the place. Even to the places that you didn’t expect to be affected, as it spreads down between your legs.

At the same time, your skin seems to be humming with need. There is a desire that has been awakened simply by reliving that night in your thoughts, which would be impossible to quench.

You close your eyes, and immediately feel as though you are under a spell. Your hands begin to move on their own, searching for the source of the heat rushing within your body. They continue travelling their way down, following the pulses that you feel emerging from your core.

You slip one hand down your pants, reaching down until you feel skin. A gasp threatens to come out when the tips of your fingers are met with dampened skin. Just as expected, thinking about that night and the things you did with Taehyung then has made you wet.

Your fingers tremble, and your heart starts pounding like crazy as you continue touching yourself. Slipping your fingers across your slit, you make use of the slickness that has formed to slide back and forth, playing with yourself until you feel only pleasure. A shudder erupts through you as you stroke your clit.

You shouldn’t be doing this. But before you can stop yourself, an image of his face hovering right above you comes to you. In that moment, you are back to the night when you were with him.

The fingers that are touching your hot center are no longer yours. They may not be the same size as his fingers, and not as firm, but your memory easily replaces your dainty digits with Taehyung’s longer and wider ones as you push them into your throbbing core.

There is a voice in your head that keeps telling you how wrong for you to be doing this. How inappropriate for you to be thinking naughty thoughts about someone who isn’t yours and pleasuring yourself with it.

But your body wouldn’t listen.

Your hand continues to move, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy while your hips push back against them. The pleasure rises, increasing quickly the faster you move your hand, the more you ride your fingers like an animal in heat.

And you don’t stop until your orgasm starts building. It keeps growing stronger, until everything within you snaps.

As you fall into bliss, his face is all you see. His voice is the one you hear instead of the soft, muffled moans coming out of your lips, whispering to you the same sweet soothing voice that he gave you that night while you were succumbing to pleasure.

“Good girl. You’re amazing, Red. Rest up, and we’ll play again once you’re ready.”

“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.”

You start to roll your eyes before you remember that Skye wouldn’t be able to see it. For the past hour, you have been on the phone with your roommate while you were hiding from your family.

Locked in the safety of your bedroom for the second time today because you still couldn’t get over the mortification that has fallen upon you after this morning’s blunder.

Having your arousal slowly pooling between your legs by the mere thought of Taehyung and the sinful deed you shared with him seemed scandalous. Allowing it to happen while you were sitting right in front of his girlfriend, someone closely related to you, made you feel as if you were more deserving to be burned in hell rather than sharing the joy and laughter of Christmas.

And instead of brushing those nasty thoughts away, you took it one step further by seeking pleasure with the touch of your fingers. With your head filled with thoughts of Taehyung and while your stepsister was waiting downstairs for you to return.

Shame and guilt plagued you once you were done. And you were also too sated and tired to even function. But you couldn’t hide in your bedroom for long. Doing so would only cause people to grow suspicious of your behaviour, and you already gained enough unsolicited attention to let it happen.

So after cleaning yourself up and wiping off any remnants of your misdeed, you put your big girl pants on and went back downstairs to finish the Christmas baking with your stepsister. This time, you kept to yourself more, avoiding as much conversation with Alia while you continued to pretend that nothing happened while you were away.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to be alone with her for far too long when everyone returned from their outing.

Masking your shame no longer became a struggle when you stopped being the main focus of the room. Everyone was busy with Christmas Eve’s preparation; your mother with the holiday decorations, your stepfather with his handiwork as he went out to fix the porch and the locks on the front door, while you and Alia remained in the kitchen to finish baking.

Honey stayed nearby, as she sat at the kitchen counter, watching everyone doing their own thing while she was nursing a mug filled with steaming hot cocoa and sharing the most recent gossip about the old ladies living in her apartment complex.

While all of this was happening around you, you were blessed with the absence of Taehyung, who was said to have gone back to the motel where he and Alia have been staying to finish some work before Christmas Day.

You didn’t question it, trying not to care too much about him and making use of him being gone to try and forget everything that had happened.

But then lunchtime came, and he returned just in time to rejoin your family for the meal. Seeing his face again, hearing his voice, watching how your stepsister kept being all touchy feeling with her boyfriend and clinging to him all the time gave you an unpleasant feeling that you felt sick to the stomach.

That was when you rushed back into your bedroom. You convinced yourself that you weren’t hiding from them. That you simply needed some time alone; alone with your thoughts, to gather your wits, and calm your nerves that had become unsettled during lunch while he was once again sitting right across the table, subtly watching you when others weren’t looking.

But being alone with your thoughts hadn’t been quite helpful.

Your mind kept wandering into places that you shouldn’t dare to visit. You needed someone to talk to. To vent and get everything out of your system. And Skye, who is currently on the other side of the country to be with her family, was the best option to call.

And yet, after telling her everything that has happened and keeping her up to date with the latest developments, you are starting to regret calling her.

“Do tell me why you, of all people, would call this catastrophe a miracle?” you ask her while pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head feels tense, although you are relieved that it has somehow stopped pounding after sharing all of the drama to your roommate through the phone call.

You can hear the subtle sound of her humming to herself, contemplating her answer. “I mean, think about it. We already made an elaborate plan to track him down, to the point that we nearly booked a ticket to go back to the place where your flight made a stop for transit in case we can’t easily find him,” she says with the same no-nonsense tone of voice that she always uses when she is laying out all of the facts, “and then he suddenly appears, right at your family’s home, as if saying ‘Here I am, look no further’.”

She laughs, and you can picture her shaking her head when she adds, “Tell me that’s not a miracle.”

Instead of answering her, you only bite your lips. It does sound almost too good to be true. Except for the one simple fact that is impossible to ignore. “You’re forgetting the fact that he’s here as Alia’s plus one. I’d say it’s a curse, instead of a miracle.”

You can her chuckling bitterly on the other side of the phone. “And once again, I’m going to say that I don’t envy you.”

You let out a groan as you fall back on the bed. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know, sweetie,” she says, comforting you with a sigh. “It’s just so absurd to think about all the coincidences happening around this baby business.”

You close your eyes, hating the fact that she’s right. There are too many coincidences happening around you, and it’s astonishing to think that everything could come to this point.

“Yeah, it does sound absurd.”

“I’m just sad I’m not there to witness it,” she says, laughing, while you barely have the energy to scoff at her.

For the longest time, Skye has always been the one you turn to whenever you need someone to vent about your ordeal with your stepsister. But compared to the other times you clashed against Alia, this one surely takes the cake.

“You haven’t told him about the baby, have you?”

You wince. “No,” you answer with s sigh. “I can’t think of a way to do it.”

And you have been avoiding being in the same room with him to even have the chance to talk about it. Not that you would have found that chance anyway if you did, as Alia has always been by his side. You suddenly remember the way Alia suddenly sidled to his side when he was alone at a time, making a complete show about her doting on him.

Grimacing, you shake the image out of your head. “I’ve thought of different scenarios involving me talking to him and revealing about my pregnancy, but everything has changed now that Alia is involved in this.”

Skye grows silent for a moment. “Just tell him,” she says. Her voice softens, which only means that she is being serious about this. “The sooner the better, even more so because he is involved with Alia. It’s better to let him know now rather than later, once they’ve been dating longer and the baby is here.”

You bite your lips again, refraining to tell her that you had thought about the same thing. “He did say he wanted to talk—”

But he never made it clear what he wanted to talk about. What is there to talk about if he still has no clue about the baby? Is he trying to convince you again not to let Alia know about your past hookup? How would that work if you’re having a baby together from that hookup?

You hate to admit it, but being kept as a secret feels—painful.

“Well—” Skye hesitantly says, “It’s not like you’re planning to have an actual relationship with him, right?”

Her question makes your stomach drop. Have you ever really had any hope of having a relationship with him, just because you are expecting a baby with him?

Thinking back to the night of your hookup makes you look back and relive the emotions that you felt that night. You are sure that you felt a connection with him that night. A connection that you never felt before with anyone else. It felt real, yet you denied it simply because neither of you had been using your true identities when you climbed on that bed together. It had seemed to you that both of you had only wanted that night to be a one-time thing.

The sparks you felt with him had also been real, and you are quite sure that you felt them again the last time you were alone with him in that hallway, when he confronted you after the first family dinner that you shared with him. Sometimes, you can also feel that same sparks coming back whenever he is in the room, no matter how far away you try to distance yourself from him.

Could it be that somewhere along the line, you had unknowingly harboured hope that you could be together again? When did this happen?

Or did having his baby growing inside you make you think that you could somehow build something real with him, to develop the connection that you felt that night into something else entirely?

Is that why seeing him with Alia has been bothering you so much? Not only because you are hiding this secret, but also because nothing can come out of it once you come clean to him?

Not for the first time today, you feel like you’re about to throw up.

You only had one night with him. You keep reminding yourself this, hoping that it will be able to snap you out of the silly illusion that you had allowed your mind to possess.

“No, I just want him to know about the baby,” you answer weakly, hoping that voicing this promise out loud would help put an end to your wishful thinking. To stop it before it gets too far.

“But having this baby with me while he’s dating my stepsister will complicate things. And things are already complicated between me and Alia.”

“Right,” Skye sighs on the phone. Knowing exactly what you mean without you having to say it out loud.

Over the years, Skye had both witnessed and heard every single spectacle that had become a major part of your relationship with Alia. You can tell that she understands what to expect once this thing blows up.

“You’re right. I can’t imagine how she’ll react,” you hear her say, before releasing an overly dramatic sigh, and you immediately know where this is going. “Maybe she wouldn’t have hated you so much if you didn’t break that doll of hers when you were a kid.”

You scream into the pillows while she laughs historically on the phone. “Why do you have to bring that up?” you groan, hating yourself for sharing this with her during one of your late-night drinking fests. “Out of all the ludicrous things I shared with you, that’s the one crossing your mind right now?”

“Hey, you were the one who brought it up first. How would you know that it wasn’t true?”

“How could you possibly remember that when I barely could?” you whine out loud.

One drunken night was all it took for you to disclose the severity of your childhood crime. Even if you barely remember the details of it. Thankfully, your roommate had been the only witness to listen to your drunk confession.

“It was an accident that happened ages ago, and I already told you that she couldn’t have possibly started resenting me for years because of that ugly doll.”

Because it sounds ridiculous if you think about it with a sober mind. And you refuse to believe the disdain that Alia has shown you for years had all stemmed from the small incident that happened when you were a child.

At nine years old, your small family—originally consisting only of you, your mother, and your sweet grandmother, Honey—suddenly expanded. Everything changed for you the day your stepfather, Cliff, came into the picture. Not only did he fill the void that was left behind by your late father, but he also brought with him another girl, and you suddenly had an older sister to play with and to look up to.

A few years older than you, Alia appeared in your eyes like the coolest kid you have ever met. Beautiful, smart, witty, though she could act a bit snobbish whenever you tried to play with her, yet she still shared her bedroom, her toys, and sometimes her collection of dolls.

One sleepover, a pair of clumsy little hands, and a ripped old doll later, everything turned the other way around. It happened so long ago that you eventually forgot about it. As Alia entered high school, she rarely came to visit her father, and the incident was simply overlooked with all the other things happening in your life soon after.

The moment she came back into the picture, Alia began acting differently towards you and your relationship was quick to turn dreary.

Forced smiles and tensed, courteous chats. The hard and solemn look coming through her eyes that she would always reserve for you when others weren’t looking, always at the times when you earned everyone’s attention or when you accomplished something good in life. Plotting schemes by arranging her own agendas to match the significant moments of your lifetime—graduation days, birthdays, anniversaries—oftentimes forcing Cliff to have to choose between being there for you or to be by his biological daughter’s side, while mostly finding excuses to miss out on your important dates altogether.

After another incident where she caused another drama back home years ago, you came back to your apartment with an opened bottle of tequila and spent the night drunk-venting with Skye.

Somehow, as you drunkenly wondered why your stepsister would treat you with so much disdain, that small incident from a long time ago came back to mind. And that moment, it seemed that your subconscious linked the incident with the way she treated you years after, and you let it slip to Skye for her to later make it a running joke between the two of you whenever you came to vent about your stepsister drama.

But really now…all of that hate and drama over a doll?

As if that would justify the way she has been treating you for years. It also makes you wonder if last year’s incident had anything to do with that as well.

Shaking your head, you hate to think of what kind of hell she will be giving you once she finds out that you are carrying a baby from the man she’s been flaunting around since the day she came home.

You shudder at the mere thought of it.

“You know that my offer still stands, right?” Skye suddenly questions you, much to your relief, as she changes the topic right before your head begins to ache again. “If things get too hard or if he wants nothing to do with the baby, or if he mistreats you at all after knowing that he got you pregnant, we can still run away and raise the baby together. Maybe Europe is a bit too far, and too cold for me, so how about Australia?”

Unprepared to hear her comment, you immediately erupt into laughter. Like always, your best friend knows how to ease your mind. The tension that comes from the stress is lifted, and so are your worries.

It doesn’t change the fact that you are still going to have to face the music the moment you are given the chance to, but at least you are starting to see some light waiting at the end of this.

“Running away sounds awfully tempting right now, I’m not going to lie,” you murmur into the call, knowing that Skye can hear you perfectly. But she wouldn’t be able to see it as you rise from your bed and reach out to the beside table, picking up the sonogram which you had gotten right before you left for home.

Running away does sound tempting. But it is not the choice that you can make. And you won’t.

You are going to have that talk with Taehyung and tell him everything. Soon. You just need to be ready to face his reaction and the consequences of what the truth might bring.

As much as you kept telling yourself to prioritise finding the chance to speak to Taehyung, all of your bravado simply vanished by the time you rejoined your family for dinner.

Sitting down at dinner, once again taking the front row seat to watch Alia making a good show of being the doting girlfriend, as she kept clinging onto Taehyung while he was trying to keep his composure in front of you, you felt suffocated.

And you couldn’t escape it.

You had done it once, masking your discomfort with your sickness. And then doing it again a couple of more times under various excuses while everyone was spending time together.

Despite feeling like you wanted to run away, you were running out of excuses and there was nowhere for you to hide. Even once dinner is over, your attempt to escape unnoticed quickly fails when Taehyung finds you first.

“What are you up to now?” you nearly snap at him as Taehyung slips into view, intercepting you when you are about to slip past the backdoor, hoping to get some fresh air.

Pursing his lips, he hides his smile and shrugs. “Nothing, just trying to see what you’ve been up to.”

You squint your eyes at him, finding him suspicious. “Does Alia even know you’re here? Cornering me instead of chaperoning her out there?”

As you cross your arms over your chest, challenging him with your question, Taehyung simply stares at you with an amused look in his eyes. “You know, everyone is in the living room and they’re wondering where you are. Honey is about to make a show of making that rum cocktail that she was bragging about at dinner.”

An overwhelming feeling of craving and queasiness comes over you as you picture Honey and her rum cocktails that you would normally enjoy during the holidays. You swallow the tightness in your throat and force a smile. “So you offered to look for me?”

Taehyung grins, making it seem like he has no fault whatsoever for being where he shouldn’t be. “I’m currently free, so why not?”

You scoff at him and shake your head when you fail to hide your smile. “Yeah, well. I doubt that they’ll be missing me.”

There’s already Alia in the room with them to steal the show and everyone’s attention anyway, you silently wonder.

And yours.

Surprisingly, a frown forms on his face upon hearing this. “That’s where you’re wrong. Honey kept asking for you. Said something about making a special recipe for your, um…stomach bug,” he says with a small smile, and then lowers his voice to add, “and I also wondered why you weren’t there.”

Your heart makes a sudden leap inside your chest. “Thank you for caring,” you say to him with a sarcastic tone of voice, trying not to look deeper into it or feel to happy about him looking for you.

Having the flutter in your chest gives you more reason to walk away. “Please tell Honey I’m sorry that I can’t join her tonight. I’m not feeling up to it.”

“Are you sure?” he asks before you can get away. “I remember that you enjoyed drinking sweet cocktails the last time we met. With how Honey kept bragging about it, I’m a bit curious to try the drinks she’s making. Don’t you?

Of course, you would be interested, you wonder. But I can’t possibly drink whatever it is that Honey is concocting, even if I feel like I need a glass of whatever she is offering.

But he doesn’t need to know that yet—or should he?

Suddenly, you start doubting yourself. You can feel the words hanging by the tip of your tongue already, the urge to spill everything to him right this moment grows so strongly as you look at his smug face.

So what if he wanted to wait until the time is right to talk? When is the right time to talk about this?

You take a quick glance around, noticing that you are all alone with him. This would be the perfect chance to tell him about the pregnancy, wouldn’t it?

“Maybe her cocktail can help you feel more at ease and less—tense,” he suddenly adds with a hint of a teasing tone in his voice that rubs you the wrong way, taking away every good will you ever have of talking to him properly about your ordeal.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve dinner. There’s going to be enough drinking then,” you say to him while gritting your teeth. But you know that it would be highly unlikely that you are going to drink even then.

You realise that you will have to find more excuses tomorrow to avoid any alcoholic drinks being passed onto your hands. But you can figure that out later. You first need to figure out how to share him the news.

“You should go back. Alia would be looking for you by now,” you say to him with a bite while avoiding his eyes as you try to walk around him, yet he stops you from running away again.

This time, he isn’t using his words.

Your entire body freezes as he catches your wrist. Once he knows that he has gotten you right where he wants you to, he starts pulling you gently back to him. You look up at his face, surprised that he would do something so daring when he was the one who had been so adamant about keeping your history with him a secret.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, yet you don’t make a move to pull away. You throw a quick glance towards the hallway leading to the living room, worrying that someone might suddenly show up. “Are you crazy? What if someone comes here?”

Taehyung steps closer until you can feel his warmth engulfing you. He only stops once his chest is merely a few inches away from yours. His move seems menacing, and so does the look in his eyes as he looks at your face.

Those are the same eyes that had been looking back at you that night. You get to see the same look you saw then. Passionate. Enthralling. He grounds you with nowhere else to go even without having to restrain you to him, only refraining you from escaping him with nothing more but the look in his eyes.

Suddenly, the room feels tight. As though there is not enough air in your chest for you to breathe, much less to speak. And he is getting too close for comfort.

His hold on your wrist loosens, yet he doesn’t pull away. The dark look in his eyes also wanes, and he looks almost as if he is in pain when he leans down, getting even closer until your faces are almost touching each other.

“Is it making you feel uneasy that I’m around? Is that why you keep running away from me when I’m there?” he questions you with a voice so soft that you would have missed it if he hasn’t been this close, with his lips hovering close to yours.

So close that you can almost feel his kiss, even without touching. Each word he murmurs to you sends your skin shivering, while the cavities inside your chest seem to tighten on themselves when he whispers, “You might be able to ignore it and pretend nothing happened, but I can’t.”

You take a sharp inhale of breath. What is he saying right now?

Suddenly, you feel as if you have just walked into a dream. The same feeling that you had that night returns to you; all the sparks that seem to be floating in the air around you; the way your head seems to be in a haze, as if his entire presence is intoxicating you.

And his words are making your head spin.

Once again, you feel as if you are under his spell. But at the same time, you feel irritated at him for doing this. For choosing to act like this now, when he was just holding hands with your stepsister just moments ago.

While your irritation lights up, he rubs his thumb across your wrist, and the sparks explode around you like fireworks. “Tell me you’re not feeling it too.”

And just like that, his voice snaps you right out of the spell that he placed on you. Closing your eyes, you suck a deep breath and try to compose yourself.

“This isn’t right. Alia is in the next room,” you grit your teeth. You open your eyes and glare at him. “You were the one who told me not to tell Alia about us. Was that not your way of telling me to forget everything?”

Taehyung’s eyes grow wide and he slowly pulls back. To his credit, his face is filled with shame when you remind him of his own words.

Leaning closer, you whisper to him, doing your best to keep your voice from shaking when you question him, “Or do you make it a habit of jumping from one woman to another as long as it’s convenient for you?”

He winces. Once again, he looks pained after hearing your accusation. “We’re going to talk. Once the time is right,” he whispers. He clenches his jaw, looking tense for a moment until he lets everything go with a sigh. “But you need to stop avoiding me.”

You rear back, not expecting to find that he has noticed that you have been deliberately keeping your distance.

How are you going to explain to him the reason why you can’t possibly stay in the same room with him?

For you, the reason is quite obvious. You are still feeling it now, when your skin feels tight and your chest grows warm the longer you are in close proximity to him. Even when you entered a room once he left, you could still feel his presence lingering around you, and it was starting to drive you insane.

And yes, seeing him with Alia bothers you so much that you can never bear being there to witness it.

After your last conversation where he made it seem like he wanted to move on and forget everything, you thought that he would only notice Alia and wouldn’t care to notice your predicament. But obviously, he isn’t completely oblivious to your turmoil.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you insist.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” he questions you with an accusing tone. “I don’t think I imagined it when I saw you turning away and running out of the room whenever I came in.”

He is right, and you find it impossible to lie about it when you barely tried to hide it.

Tired of holding out the truth, you finally admit to him with a small voice, “No, you’re not imagining things. Do you really think it’s fun for me to watch you both together with Alia getting all over you the entire time you’re here?”

The light in his eyes dims. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—” he sighs, “I’ll talk to her so she can tone it down.”

You shake your head and chuckle bitterly. “Don’t bother. She’s your girlfriend. I’ll be out of here right after Christmas anyway.”

This makes him frown. “Look, ______,” he starts, but you are too exhausted to deal with this right now to listen.

“I have to go,” you whisper as you pull your hand away. “We’ll have that talk—”

Because there are a lot of things that I need to tell you.

“And then I’m gone and you can go back to Alia with her family thing on Christmas Day. But tomorrow night, we talk. Right after the family dinner.”

Not bothering to wait for his response, you turn and walk away, once again leaving him behind in that dimly lit hallway as you search for solace, somewhere far, far away from him.

Taehyung has been restless.

He has been feeling uneasy for days. The truth is, it has been like this for him since the moment he stepped foot into Alia’s father’s house and saw you standing there. It has been a struggle to hide it and keep everything in. But last night, after talking to you again, the urge to speak to you about everything and explain himself has been growing even stronger.

The look that you gave him when he first saw you has been haunting him, weighing him with guilt. Ever since that night six weeks ago, he has kept your smile deeply ingrained in his memory; the coy smile that you gave him as you flirted with him at the bar; the sultry look you wore when you clung onto him at the elevator while testing his limits with your lips tracing his neck; the content smile that he saw on your face the morning after the long, passionate night he shared with you before he took you again one last time.

And yet, the smile that he kept wishing to see again for the past month was not there when he finally met you again. The expression that he has yearned to see had been replaced with shock, as you stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlights, while at the same time, you also seemed as if you had just witnessed someone kicking your puppy.

Which was quite understandable, looking back at it now. It must have been a complete shock for you to see him entering your home, holding Alia’s hand and introducing himself as her boyfriend. Just as shocking it was for him to find out that you are Alia’s stepsister.

Fuck, how did things get so messed up?

”You’re not ready yet.”

Taehyung has been so out of it when he enters the motel’s bedroom that he fails to notice Alia watching him. Sitting right in front of the dressing table, she barely gives him a glance as she is busy putting on her makeup and doing her hair for the night.

Normally, she doesn’t take this much time getting ready. But Taehyung understands that tonight is different.

According to Alia, the family’s Christmas Eve dinner is a small annual gathering that is quite important for them. Held on behalf of Honey, who often spends the holiday with Cliff’s side of the family. It is when family members and second cousins would come to her Dad’s house to celebrate both the holidays and Honey’s good health.

Ever since early this morning, Alia has been saying how she needs to look as her best self tonight—spoken in her own words—because she wants to make a good impression on her stepmother’s family. The only problem was that she also made it clear that she wanted Taehyung to play his role as her boyfriend perfectly, to continue to show that they have a great relationship right in front of everyone, just the same way he has been doing it for the past few days.

It shouldn’t be bothering him so much that she would ask him to do this. Since that was the main reason why he is here in the first place.

The original plan had been simple. All he had to do this holiday was to accompany Alia on her trip home to see her family. The family gathering from her mother’s side has always been so stressful, and he simply wanted to help her lessen the pressure so she could enjoy the holidays for once.

Yet her mother’s special Christmas gathering tomorrow had not been the only thing that was bothering Alia before this holiday came around. Once Taehyung agreed to be her plus one, she extended her desperate plea for help by asking him to come with her as she spends Christmas and the upcoming days to it with her father’s family before heading to see her mother.

He can’t remember well what Alia told him about having to be here. He understood the reason when it came to her mother, but he barely knew anything about her father’s family. He remembers her talking about something that had to do with clearing her name. Obviously, he should’ve paid more attention, and maybe he should’ve taken the time to know more about Cliff’s family.

Not that it matters now. When he has travelled all the way here for this, and now he is stuck in this mess without having any clue how to fix it.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung blinks. “What?”

Alia doesn’t say a thing at first. For a moment, Taehyung wonders if she notices anything when she tilts her head at him, finally looking directly at him as if she is trying to read him.

Yet he is proven wrong when Alia merely sighs. “I just said that you need to get ready,” Alia says, unaware of the battle happening inside Taehyung’s mind. Before he can say a thing, Alia averts her gaze and looks back at the mirror as if she is trying to solve a puzzle. “You need to look your best if you’re going to stay beside me and we’re going to be late if you’re not moving it.”

Chuckling to himself, Taehyung walks over to stand right behind her. With his face appearing in the mirror, she has no choice but to look at him. “Should I wear my best suit tonight, then?” he taunts her as he leans down, breathing in her perfume that is a bit too extravagant to his liking.

I was right, this perfume is nowhere near my taste, he says to himself, while he silently recalls breathing in your perfume and thinking just how much it suited you.

Alia looks up at him through the mirror and rolls her eyes. “You can wear whatever. A suit would be too much, since we’re having the dinner at home, not at some fancy and way too expensive restaurant like how my Mom would have it. You did bring your suit, didn’t you? Wear that at my Mom’s party tomorrow,” Alia instructs him, and for some reason, it doesn’t make him feel good about it.

Usually, he wouldn’t take it to heart and just laugh it off when she acts this bossy around him. Not this time, however. The entire situation has made him grow a bit resentful to her, something that he has been realising for a while now, even if it isn’t fair for her to be treated this way when it wasn’t really her fault.

Alia keeps her eyes on the mirror when she continues to speak to him. “Wear that black jacket that you love so much. You always look good in it,” she says, flickering her gaze in a teasing way when she adds, “Even I would swoon when I see you wearing it, and that doesn’t happen a lot.”

Taehyung scoffs at Alia and lowers his head to avoid her gaze. The black jacket brings back a lot of memories. He didn’t think much of it when he brought it with him on this trip, but maybe a part of him already felt that he would be needing it.

Would it be okay to wear it tonight, right in front of her?

“Are you okay?” Alia’s voice snaps him out of his musings. As he looks up to meet her gaze through the mirror, she surprises him by not only softening her voice, but looking as if she is worried about him. “You know, you don’t seem like yourself lately.”

How nice of you to notice, Taehyung wonders to himself but bites his tongue so he wouldn’t let those words slip. He has been wondering for a while now just how she could remain oblivious to everything that has been happening around her.

If only she would notice how uncomfortable he feels whenever she clings to him, or how their act in front of her family bothers you so much.

Maybe she does notice it, he muses. Maybe she’s been doing it on purpose by pushing it on him. Does it have to do with—

Before Taehyung could finish his own thoughts, Alia seems to have enough of his silence and turns on her seat to look at him straight in the eyes.

“What is it? Spill.”

Taehyung only continues to remain silent, having no idea how to answer that question or if he should try to. Even if he can explain himself, where should he even start?

Is this the part where he needs to tell her that her stepsister—the reason why Alia decided to come to see her Dad after spending weeks complaining that she didn’t have any desire to, and also the reason why she is trying so damn hard to impress everyone this holiday, even to the point of bringing Taehyung home to meet her family—was his last sex partner?

“You need to tell her.”

Taehyung closes his eyes as your voice echoes through his head, as if you are the voice of his conscience.

You were right. He needs to tell Alia about his connection to you. But knowing her mood swings, and the reason why she has been trying to be ‘perfect’ the entire time she was spending time with Cliff’s family, he was hoping that he could postpone talking to her about it until tonight’s big family dinner is done.

An event that Alia claimed to be more important for her than her mother’s fancy family gathering.

No, I need to talk to her first, he decides. Maybe we could figure something out once she knows everything.

“Nothing. I’m just overwhelmed. You didn’t tell me—” he stops himself as he almost let it slip that it was your presence that bothers him.

You didn’t tell me anything about your stepsister.

He keeps those words to himself. But he makes a mental note to bring it up once he gets back to her again by the end of the night to have a different kind of conversation to the one he is having with you. “So, black jacket, huh? Got it.”

“Good, now go get ready and make it quick. The trip from here back to Dad’s house will take some time,” Alia says with a sigh as she turns back to the mirror, her concern is quick to vanish as she proceeds to complain, “We could’ve spared that trip if you hadn’t insisted that we stay in this motel instead of using the guest room like me and my Dad suggested.”

“I already told you,” Taehyung says with a deep chuckle, leaning back down again to whisper, “I’m a terrible actor.”

He straightens up while looking pleased with himself for drawing a frown on Alia’s face. “And being in your Dad’s house the entire time we’re here would cost me too much work. The gig would’ve been up before you know it.”

“Fine, whatever. Just go,” Alia waves him off.

Taehyung nods and makes his way to the door. He stops before he opens it and asks her, “Remember what I asked earlier?”

Once again, Alia rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah, yeah, tone it down with the clingy girlfriend act. I get it. Now go get ready, we’re going to be late.”

Taehyung breathes a sigh of relief to hear it. He can’t seem to forget the way the light in your eyes seemed to dim when you talked about the way he kept putting on the new couple act in front of you. On top of this whole mess, the last thing he wants is to leave you feeling hurt by his actions, so he made a deal with Alia to tone it down, even if he couldn’t explain to her the reason why.

Pleased to know that Alia is listening to him for once, and that he has at least one problem handled before tonight, Taehyung leaves Alia’s motel room, closing the door behind him with a click before he goes to his own room to get ready.

You turn to your side and have a good look at yourself in the mirror. On instinct, your hands run down your belly, pressing down gently at the spot where the baby should be.

The knitted dress that you have chosen to wear tonight may not be the fanciest one, but it is the one that feels comfortable on your skin. It isn’t tight enough on your body to make you feel self-conscious about yourself and definitely not enough to show the changes happening in your body.

With just over six weeks of gestation, the baby bump isn’t showing that much yet. But you can still feel the way your body is changing. Perhaps it is all happening in your mind, only from knowing that you are keeping a living being inside you, but you can almost see it when you look at yourself in the mirror that you cannot help but try to do anything you can to hide it from your family.

For now, at least. Only until you are ready to reveal everything to them.

Thinking about this only makes you grow more anxious. You have been feeling this way since morning, all for the thought of having to face Taehyung again, and to finally talk about everything that is needed to be said before the night ends.

“Tonight,” you tell yourself as you straighten up to look at your reflection in the mirror for one last time. “I’m going to tell him about the baby tonight.”

Tonight will be the only chance you will ever have to talk to him, after all.

Tomorrow, Taehyung will join Alia to visit her birth mother. Alia’s mother has always held a massive luncheon or dinner event on Christmas Day that Alia would be required to attend, so you doubt that she would miss it this year, even if you had always overheard her complaining about it to your stepfather.

Every year, Alia would always prioritise her mother’s family event over her father’s during the holiday season. Coming from a wealthy family, Alia’s mother had always appeared to you like a different breed. Her holiday parties had always been so fancy, almost too extravagant compared to your family’s simple ones.

Every year, Alia would focus on preparing for those events, always stressing about it before going, and barely focusing on her days spent with her father and his family that it did come as a surprise to you when she came early this year to join your family and to even get herself involved.

Perhaps that was the reason why she had decided to bring a date with her this time around, and to introduce her boyfriend to the family like you did with your ex.

Shaking the thoughts of Alia out of your mind, you finish getting ready and walk over to your purse. With gentle fingers, you pull out the sonogram that you had printed during your latest trip to the doctor.

Holding it up under the light, you brush your fingertips across the blurry image of your growing baby. Sometimes it is still hard for you to process the fact that you are carrying a human child within you. Even through the nausea, the cravings, the lethargy, and any other peculiar things that have become parts of your life as of late, you still have a hard time grasping this fact.

But this sonogram shows you the undeniable proof that the baby is there. You had even gotten the chance to hear the baby’s faint heartbeat on your last appointment, making it clear that you are carrying a life inside you.

A life that seems so fragile, that you have developed a strong urge to protect it from the world. Even from its father, if he ever tries to deny or reject it.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper to yourself while brushing your fingers on the picture again, speaking of it like a mantra. At the same time, it also feels as if you are talking to your baby, soothing it like you would if the baby is here with you. “Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s just get through tonight first.”

For a moment, you contemplate between carrying the sonogram with you or to leave it here. With no purse or a pocket to hide it in, you finally decide to leave it on top of the bedside table until you are ready to show it to Taehyung later tonight.

With one last look at the mirror, you rub your palms down your dress and give yourself the final pep talk before heading out. “Let’s go,” you whisper to yourself as you walk out of your bedroom, strengthening your shoulders and keeping your chin up as you prepare yourself to face the inevitable.

It’s finally Christmas Eve.

The holiday spirit hasn’t completely sunk in on you until you finally sat down at the table for the annual Christmas dinner, surrounded by your immediate family and the family members that you haven’t met for a period of time while you have been pursuing your dreams away in the city.

Outside, the temperature has dropped down even lower than before. The layer of snow that your stepfather had spent hours shovelling away are piling up with fresh ones as snowflakes keep falling from the evening sky, while the windows would tremble once or twice with the flowing breeze that seemed to have picked up as the day turned into evening.

Inside, however, the warmth of the festive season fills the air, as everyone gathers around the overflowing feast that has been set up on the table—your grandmother’s specially made ham and turkey with the additional main of lamb skewers and turkey meatballs, Aunt Dara’s potato bake and baked salmon, and Uncle Marco’s signature casseroles, with smaller bowls of side dishes set on the side.

A couple of bowls of the fennel salad that you helped prepare are being passed around on the table. Once everyone is done with their meal, your home-made cinnamon bread rolls and your cousin June’s apple and caramel pie are ready to be served as desserts.

Once everyone has filled the dining room, your mother’s Christmas decorations which you perviously thought was overdone no longer seemed as much. The twinkling lights and the fragrant pine garlands adorning the room are enough to rival the festive sweaters and bright-coloured dresses that everyone is wearing for the night. The scent of cinnamon and cloves wafts around you all the way from the kitchen, and it makes your head swim even without sipping on the champagne that are being passed around.

As everyone took their seats at the table, you stepfather stepped aside to let Honey take the head of the table as the matriarch of the family and the night’s host. The radiant smile on her face which never seems to wane sets the mood in the entire room, helping you to also forget about your personal troubles that no longer seem as dire as your mind had made them up to be.

The laughter and chatter filling the room becomes the perfect distraction that you need to pay no heed to the unwavering gaze that Taehyung keeps stealing your way. Even as he chats with June who had sat down by his side, Taehyung continues to throw a few not-so-subtle glances your way, making you feel uneasy and self-conscious whenever you aren’t having your attention dragged away from your younger cousin, Maya, who is chattering right beside you while sipping her glass of champagne.

You turn your gaze at Alia, who had chosen to sit by Cliff’s brother, Kyle, who had decided to join your family this year. Too busy catching up with her uncle, she doesn’t seem to notice her own boyfriend’s wandering eyes. She doesn’t even seem to care as much as she should, you realise, as you have also noticed that she hasn’t been clinging or openly doting on Taehyung throughout the night since they had gotten back from the motel.

It has given you a sense of relief, because you can finally have one night where your heart isn’t being crushed from watching them together, but also a twinge of guilt, knowing that your last conversation with Taehyung may have had something to do with it. She did appear tense when she first came in, and you never figured out why when it quickly faded the moment she saw her uncle in the room, and her stiff expression quickly turned into relief.

The sounds of glasses clinking and the pouring champagne continues on as everyone is starting to finish their meal. Nursing the glass of fresh juice that you have had all through dinner, you hope that nobody notices that you have left the glass of champagne on your side mostly untouched—apart from the occasional raise of the glass when someone makes a toast or pressing your lips lightly on its rim to disguise the fact that you are not drinking any drop of it.

Not too long, dinner is over, and everyone filters into the spacious living room to gather around the fireplace while the kids loiter around the Christmas tree to curiously shift through the wrapped presents to try and find which one of them would be theirs.

There are a selective few that separate themselves to head out to the back porch to smoke and talk business—mostly your male cousins—while the others quickly follow Honey to where she has set up the minibar for her signature rum cocktails and act as the designated bartender for the night.

As you follow to join everyone in the living room, the impending conversation that you are about to have with Taehyung keeps weighing you down, making you grow more anxious with each passing second. It makes you feel vulnerable, causing you to be hyper-aware of his presence inside the room even before you catch the sight of him mingling with your family.

Moving one feet after the other without tripping feels like a struggle under the heat of his gaze. It bothers you to no end to notice that Taehyung seems to have disregarded any last bit of subtlety, when he is now openly staring at you even while he is chatting with someone else by the Christmas tree.

You have no idea if anyone, especially Alia, has noticed it. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone has caught on, when he makes it so obvious that he is watching you from across the room.

The only reprieve that you have to cover you from Taehyung’s gaze and the silent questions that may linger within any observant pair of eyes would be your grandmother, Honey, who steals most of the attention by running the show as she mixes her sweet cocktails and shares new stories about her friends back at her apartment complex and gossips that she heard recently from the neighbours here.

“Congratulations.”

A deep voice greets you, pulling you out of the stupor that you are in. You look over to see Kyle, your stepfather’s younger brother, coming to your side.

It was a nice surprise to see him this year to join your family gathering, as your step-uncle has been working at another state for the past year and you haven’t seen each other since. Carrying a glass of wine with him—red, just the way he enjoys it—instead of a glass of cocktail, he gives you a warm smile that looks like a mirror image to his older brother.

“I heard from your Dad that you just got another promotion. I’m guessing that this gathering is part of the celebration too?” he asks, while your skin warms at the mention of your stepfather.

For as long as you could remember, you have been calling Cliff as ‘Dad’. You can no longer remember how it started, but ever since you were little, the only ‘Dad’ you have ever known has been Cliff, not the birth father who had been gone almost your entire life. He may not be your birth father, and there has been no talking about him adopting you yet, but he is the one and only Dad that you’ll ever know.

Having someone else noticing and acknowledging it feels gratifying. Especially when it is coming from his side of the family.

Nodding your head, you answer your step-uncle with a bashful smile. “Yeah, that’s what Honey said and she insisted that we host the annual dinner this year instead of Aunt Dara. But we all know that she’s the main star of the show,” you joke with him as you nod your chin to point at Honey, who is teasing your mother about dropping rum into her hot cocoa instead of taking one of her sweet cocktails.

Kyle laughs with you as he watches the scene. “Still, you should be proud of yourself.”

“Oh, I am proud,” you answer him with a smile. “I worked hard for it, but I’m feeling a bit guilty too since the busier I had gotten, the lesser I was able to make time to contact my parents.”

Your step-uncle nods. “You can’t help it. That’s often the cost of building a career,” he says, understanding your situation, as he too has the same troubles of making time for his family with his busy life.

“But your parents would understand. In fact, your Dad has been bragging about his girls quite a lot lately. One who keeps traveling across the globe to see the world, while the other who keeps climbing the corporate ladder, and I have to say—” he sighs, “I’m kind of jealous.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Has he now?” you chuckle a little, somehow feeling good about being your stepfather’s pride. “Oh, you shouldn’t be feeling too jealous of Dad. You know your kids are doing great too. They’re both in college now, aren’t they?”

At the mention of his children, Kyle’s eyes seem to grow brighter. He speaks with a voice full of pride as he talks about the two young boys who had just returned from the back porch and now huddling in front of the fireplace to warm up while bickering on their own.

You stay to talk to him for a while longer, until your stepfather steals him away to share a bottle of a much stronger liquor in another room and you continue to mingle with the other family members that you haven’t met for a while.

By the time you are done catching up, the object of your frustration—who is coincidentally also the father of your baby—forgotten, you are feeling drained and your legs are giving up from standing for too long that you unceremoniously collapse on the couch in the corner of the room without a single care.

For a moment, you find calmness by sitting on your own, staying in the corner where you are mostly unnoticed. The festivities is still high around you, but you find freedom here, away from everyone’s attention. Too bad that you aren’t given the chance to savour it when someone decides to slide in and sit right next to you.

“So—I suppose that aside from the cocktail tasting, the gift exchange is going to be the main part of the night’s event, huh?”

A shudder rocks through your body. His deep, distinctive voice does that to you even when you hear it in your dreams. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself before turning to him, hoping that you have enough strength to look at his face without feeling like your heart is about to burst.

Slowly, you turn to look at him, and immediately, your entire body betrays you. Your heartbeat picks up, and the cavity in your chest is overflowing with gentle flutters, as if there are a thousand of butterfly wings inside you coming awake with just one look at his face. Taehyung lets his gaze linger on the children who are showing off their wrapped gifts to their parents before looking back at you.

Your cheeks burn the moment your eyes meet each other, and you look away before it gets too much. “Yes, we’re exchanging gifts before the night ends, and then everyone will go on their merry way. Some drunk, while relying on their designated drivers or a cab, and some others to continue with their own thing back home,” you explain to him while trying to keep your voice calm. “It started mostly with Honey being the one giving out the gifts on the Eve, since it’s her thing to give something to everyone she cares about.”

A smile is lifted on your face while you watch Honey handing out small wrapped boxes of gifts to the children first before the older ones get their turns. The cheerful laughter shared by everyone who has received Honey’s special gifts fills the room. Curious expressions that quickly turn into joy has always been the high point of these Christmas gatherings in your family.

You should be there to join them, to enjoy the festivities, yet with everything that has been going on, you are feeling too overwhelmed to take part in it. “After a while, the relatives who are often invited to these things started joining in, bringing in their own gifts in addition to the plates of food that they bring for dinner.”

“Sounds like so much fun,” Taehyung muses. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

“Why are you sitting back here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Alia?” you question him as you wonder why he would be so daring to join you instead of staying by his girlfriend’s side and play his role as her plus one. “You could’ve asked Alia about these things.”

Taehyung grins. “She’s busy with her own thing. Besides, every time I ask her about these things, she would just brush it off and tell me to ask someone else.”

Frowning, you find his comment to be odd. It isn’t something that you could expect to hear from a new couple such as them. Lest of all from one half of the couple that haven’t been shy with their constant public display of affection from the day they arrived.

Once again avoiding Taehyung’s gaze as he looks at you again, you find Alia across the room, conversing with one of Kyle’s sons. Judging from the way she seems to be enjoying herself with the glass of cocktail in her hand, she doesn’t seem to care much about what her boyfriend is up to, much less to feel curious enough to find him.

That’s odd, but it’s not really my problem, is it?

You remind yourself and put your curiosity aside. “You could’ve asked Honey. You seem to have grown closer to her lately,” you tease Taehyung, pointing out how often he has been spending time with your grandmother whenever he isn’t busy helping others in the house or catering to Alia’s need for attention.

Taehyung chuckles softly. “How could I bother the host of the party? Look at her enjoying herself. She’s the superstar tonight, so I’d rather not take her out of the spotlight just to be my guide.”

Even without looking, you can hear the smile in his voice as he talks about your grandmother. And when you look ahead, you can obviously see that he isn’t completely wrong.

Honey is clearly having the time of her life; whether it’s about watching the happy faces receiving her gifts or seeing people enjoying the drinks she is making. She may have lessened her own drinking habit—except for the occasional drop of rum that she sneaks into her hot drinks—but she still knows how to make amazing sweet and fruity cocktails for others to enjoy.

That should explain why you have the penchant for sweet alcoholic drinks instead of the bitter ones whenever you feel like it.

“So,” you turn to Taehyung with a sly smile. “I guess that means I’ve earned the honour to answer your questions?”

Taehyung seems surprised to see that you smiling back at him. His gaze softens, and so does his voice when he leans closer to say, “You’re the only person I know in this room.”

Fuck. Your cheeks shouldn’t be getting warm just because he says something like this. You look away to hide it. “Is Alia the jealous type? Would it bother her to see us chatting as friendly as we do now?”

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t think she even bothers to notice. Not tonight, anyway.”

“Yeah…she can be the least perceptive person in the room sometimes,” you sigh as you watch your stepsister joking with her cousin without a single glance at her boyfriend. Realising what you just said, you turn to Taehyung to apologise. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine,” he scoffs. “Trust me, I know it full well from experience.”

There is a sarcastic tone in his voice that should have made you wonder about his comment. Yet there is a bitterness that you feel inside after hearing those words. Of course, he would have enough experience dealing with Alia’s attitude.

They are dating, after all.

You look away and bite back that bitter taste in your tongue. “Right, of course.”

Unlike Alia who can be completely insensitive to her surroundings, Taehyung notices your change of mood right away. You feel him sliding closer, just enough to allow him to speak in a low voice, but not enough to make people grow curious or suspicious that something is going on between the two of you.

“You promised that we could talk,” he says, almost a whisper under the noises around you.

Your stomach feels tight with nerves. It’s time. “I did, and we do,” you say to him while clenching your hands. You are beginning to wonder if you had made the right decision of leaving the sonogram behind. Maybe bringing him back to your bedroom wouldn’t be a good idea. “I have—something to tell you. Something important.”

Taehyung nods. “Do you think we can slip out of the room unnoticed?”

“You mean…now? You want to do it right now?” you hiss at him, glancing at Alia before looking back at him again. “Wouldn’t Alia be looking for you?”

Taehyung merely scoffs. “Like I said, she’s busy. Once she gets a few more glasses of drink, she’ll be more focused on looking for a sofa to lie down on instead of noticing that I’m gone.”

As if on cue, Alia’s laughter echoes through the room, and she turns away to joke with both of her male cousins now. You also notice that she has somehow gotten a fresh glass of cocktail in her hand, and she must have drank it halfway already by the looks of it.

Looking around the room, you notice that the guests crowding the living room is slowly dwindling. Most of your relatives who had gotten enough of Honey’s cocktail and received their gifts are starting to bid their goodbyes, hoping that they could return home before it gets too late and preferably before each of their designated drivers join in with the drinking. Yet there are some family members who have yet to show any sign of leaving soon, still enjoying their chat with Honey by the Christmas tree.

There will be no other chance, you tell yourself as you silently make a decision. The lesser people there are left, the more obvious it would be for everyone that you had gone missing from the room.

And with whom you may have disappeared together.

“Can you, uh—meet me in my room in about ten minutes, maybe less? I think we can get some privacy there and people don’t normally get upstairs unless they’re staying the night.” And because I left the sonogram there.

That’s right, it would be easier to show the sonogram to him right away when you tell him everything, just as how you initially planned it, even if you haven’t been too sure about it. “I’ll have to mingle a bit more and make sure that Honey can see me before I disappear. She’ll be looking for me if I don’t join her even if for a minute.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Taehyung says as he straightens up, “You go ahead and talk to Honey, and I’ll sneak us out some drinks so we have something to do while we talk.”

“Drinks. Right. Good idea,” you simply say to him, not bothering to try and turn down his offer, or to insist him to bring you the non-alcoholic ones. He’ll figure things out later once you are alone with him anyway.

With a nod, Taehyung rises from his seat and walks over to June, your cousin who seems to have gotten along with Taehyung over dinner. You wait for a few more minutes before making your move. Honey seems to be busy as more and more relatives are preparing to leave. So you turn to Aunt Dara and have a quick chat with her, making sure that the two of you remain within Honey’s peripheral vision so she can still see you.

Too restless to linger around and stay a bit longer, in not more than five minutes, you end your conversation and turn away from your aunt, hoping that you can slip away from the room before anyone notices your stealthy escape. Not even Honey. Because the moment you are caught by your grandmother, you know it would make it even harder for you to leave the room.

But just as you slip through the guests, staying clear from your mother’s relatives who are crowding Honey, your grandmother catches the sight of you and calls out—

“______, there you are. We were just talking about you. Come over here,” she says, waving her hand so you can join her and the small group that still remains to accompany her after a couple of more relatives have left the party.

Fuck. Too late.

Forcing a smile, you slither towards her, practically dragging your feet. “What is it, Honey?”

Honey leans against the minibar and picks up a small bottle. She continues mixing and pouring the drinks as she starts talking to you, “I was just talking to them about your recent promotion and how proud you made us. And then Jennie here shared that she is starting a new job and moving to the same city where you work. I told them that you have a big apartment that I love so much—”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Honey, I already told you. I don’t own the place, I rent it with a roommate.”

“Anyway,” she brushes you off, “I wondered if you could be a dear and help Jennie out to find a nice apartment. You know people in the city can be a bit sneaky. We’ve heard stories of young girls getting scammed the first time they’ve gone into a big city, so obviously, I was worried.”

Before you can say anything, Jennie raises her hand and cuts in, “I told Honey that I’ve already been looking up at a few places so—”

Jennie’s voice fades in and out and you can barely focus on what she is trying to tell you. Something about making arrangements with property agents to look up for a few affordable apartments not far from where you live. But your attention is being drawn elsewhere, as you notice from the corner of your eyes, that Taehyung is nodding at June and walking away, barely giving you a glance as he slides towards the small corner table filled with bottles of beer to grab the drinks he promised you.

“You know what, why don’t you call me up once you start moving. Maybe you can crash at my place and use the couch while you’re looking. Then I’ll see if I can arrange my schedules to go with you when you’re looking into those apartments so you won’t have to go alone.”

“That sounds great!” Jennie says, looking relieved, and you see it as a chance to also slip away so you can get to your bedroom before Taehyung could.

“Honey, I—”

“See? I told you that _____ is an angel,” Honey cuts you off before you can get a word out. Then she turns to you, handing you the glass of cocktail that she was mixing while you were chatting with your cousin.

“Here, you should try this. I made this specially for you,” she says as she gives the drink a few more stirs. “I remember that you loved the rose scented drinks I bought you, so I ordered this infused—”

You bite your lips, trying to hide away your revulsion as Honey raises the glass to you so you can take it from her. On reflect, you lift your hands to refuse. “No, thank you, Honey. I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for cocktails right now. I’ve just finished my hot chocolate, after all.”

“That’s too bad. Well, I guess someone else has to taste this one for me.” She pouts, making you feel guilty for refusing her offer as she lowers her hand. “Speaking of which, I haven’t seen you drinking tonight. In fact, I haven’t seen you drink any alcoholic drink at all this holiday. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

Your stomach drops. An incredulous laugh leaves your lips. “W-what?”

What did she say? You wonder. You must’ve heard her wrong. Right?

Honey shrugs as she puts away the rejected drink and places it on top of the minibar. “Seeing how you keep getting sick and avoiding alcoholic drinks since you got here, I would think that you’re secretly pregnant,” she says while laughing and looking proud, as if she was simply throwing her crude joke as she usually does without realising how spot on it was to the truth. “Are you carrying a child in that belly, dear?”

The room falls into a rapt hush after Honey throws that comment into the room. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, while Honey remains unfazed, still wearing her curious smile as if she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Honey? W-what are you saying?” you nervously ask her, while your sweet grandmother merely shrugs and innocently waves you off.

“Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie. Just thinking out loud. It’s just that seeing you get sick every morning, and being so sensitive with certain smells reminds me a lot of myself when I was pregnant with your Mom. You haven’t even touched a drop of alcohol I offered since you got home, and I know that you barely touched your glass of champagne during dinner,” she says with a wicked chuckle. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t. You tried to hide it, but I knew. I have eyes, you know.”

Fuck. I didn’t think she would notice.

Gritting your teeth, you can only curse at yourself for acting such a fool. You thought you were being clever about it, but you must have been distracted by Taehyung’s presence at dinner that you failed to notice that Honey had kept her eyes on you all night.

“I—”

You try to speak, but words fail you. How do you respond? What do you say to this?

Ever since from the moment you came back home, you had expected that Honey would be the one who is able to put the pieces together, being the perceptive person that she is, and she had been the reason why you have been extra careful in hiding it, especially when you were around her.

Never once did you ever expect that she would so quick to draw up this conclusion and speak of it so nonchalantly with a few relatives are still around.

“Mom, stop talking nonsense,” your mother gently chastises your grandmother while laughing nervously. She looks back and forth between you and her mother, her eyes flickering on your face, then to your belly, as if she is trying to find what she has been missing. “_____ can’t be pregnant. Right, sweetie?”

Your tears begin to form. “I, uh—I don’t—”

Your head starts spinning harder the more you try to speak up, to explain, knowing that it would be futile to lie. Not to Honey. And certainly not to your parents.

Under the attention and distress, feeling the burden of having all eyes on you, all of them waiting for your answer, your hands move on their own, finding comfort in embracing the very spot where your growing baby is hidden as you press your palms on your barely-there bump. Noticing this, a collective gasp spreads through the room. Honey’s smile falters, while your mother’s eyes grow wide in shock.

But the most devastating of all is to see your stepfather walking around his brother to get to you from across the room. “You’re pregnant?” Cliff asks you carefully as he slowly comes to your side. When you look up at is shock slowly turns into rage when he asks, “Is that why that prick left you? Did he get you pregnant and choose to walk away like a fucking coward?”

“No, Dad. I—”

While you are struggling to answer him, your stepfather’s voice continues to rise. “Tell me where he is and I’ll chase that fucker—”

Everything moves in slow motion. Your stepfather who keeps cursing at your ex. Your Mom who keeps pulling him back to try and calm him down, and her pleading gaze silently asking you to explain. The whispering gasps and questions shared among the nervous glances that the guests are sending each other.

Everyone is talking at the same time, while you continue having a hard time to speak up. Your stomach feels tight. Even the touch of your hands no longer bring the calming warmth that your body needs.

Gentle hands press down on your arms as you are slowly being pulled away from the chaos. You can only make out Jennie and Honey’s voices whispering to you, guiding you to breathe while helping you to sit down before you would pass out.

Amidst the confusion, your eyes travel across the room, immediately finding Taehyung who is standing there in the corner with a frown on his face and a couple of bottles of drinks in his hands. As your eyes are locked with one another from the distance, you can see him processing through everything. His emotions are clearly written in his gaze; confusion, bewilderment, wonder.

You have no idea what kind of look that he sees on your face, but slowly, you can tell that everything seems to sink in on him. A dawning realisation sparks through his eyes when he finally puts the pieces together, and his shoulders fall to slump.

He knows.

And he isn’t the only one who is putting the pieces together.

With a quick glance, you find Alia standing on the other side of the room, her eyes keep flickering between you and Taehyung, evidently noticing the silent exchange happening between the two of you. There is a clear sign of shock and hurt in her eyes that you get to see a glimpse of when she looks at you one last time, before she turns away and runs out of the room.

“You need to rest. The stress wouldn’t be good for you.”

Jennie’s voice sounds subdued, worrying. She has always been shy, but she seems particularly cautious as she looks at you. As if she is trying her best not to look down at your belly. But her presence here and her small, careful voice offers you comfort. Something that you need as you lean against the doorway to your bedroom, feeling a bit too weak to stand on your own.

“I’m sorry you got entangled in all of this,” is all that you can say to her. You feel guilty for having your cousin and your aunt roped into this whole drama, all because they had been there to witness it when everything unfolded.

While your step-uncle, Kyle, took over escorting the departing guests, and your mother is somewhere in the house to talk with your stepfather, Jennie had volunteered to help escort you back to your room. She becomes the calming force amidst the storm that helps clear your mind.

“It’s fine,” she waves you off. “You’ll be paying me back once I’ve moved closer to you anyway. The couch is still available, right? You said I could crash until I’m settled.”

That helps bring a smile to your face. “Yes, my door is always open. I’ll let my roommate know that you’re coming. She’s usually open to welcoming family who needs help anyway,” you say to her with full gratitude before adding, “Thank you for staying to help.”

She nods and begins to turn away. “I better go check on Honey and see if my Mom is ready to go. I’ll see you soon.”

Too exhausted to say anything else, you simply thank her one last time and watch her go down the hall before closing the door. Once again, the silence in your bedroom gives you the perfect solace. It does nothing to erase the weight in your chest, however, or give you the answer you need as you wonder how you are going to talk to Taehyung about the whole thing.

You never expected that things would turn into such a mess, robbing any chance of you telling Taehyung about the baby properly, free of drama and uncertainty.

Just as you start dragging your feet towards the bed, you hear a soft knocking on the door, pulling you back to it. Thinking it might be Jennie, you immediately open it. “Did you forget—” Your voice falls to a hush when you find Taehyung standing there instead, giving you a small smile that draws back all the slow flutters in your chest.

“Oh, hi.”

“Hey,” he gently greets you. His smile is cautious, restrained, and his exhale of breath seems shaky. But he sounds calm when he speaks to you, “May I come in?”

You prepare yourself to answer, but your eyes flicker out the hallway, searching, a gesture that he easily notices. “Alia is with your parents. They’re worried about you, but your Mom seemed a bit frantic because she didn’t see the signs. Alia probably won’t be looking for me until later. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Okay,” you answer him with a sigh of relief. “Come in,” you beckon him, stepping aside so he can enter your room.

He steps deeper into your room while you take your time, gathering courage before you can turn to face him. His voice fills your room as he continues to talk, “I left our drinks downstairs. Things were so chaotic, so it slipped my mind—”

“That’s okay, it’s—” you say in return, failing to notice that his voice has faded out into silence. When you finally turn to him, you find him standing in front of your bedside table, his eyes are locked on the tiny thing that he is holding up under the dim light of the bedroom.

He found the sonogram.

“How far along are you?” His voice seems quiet against your thundering heartbeat, drowning even in the silence surrounding you.

You draw an unsteady breath before speaking up. “Six weeks, give or take.”

Taehyung remains silent for a moment longer before a sigh comes out of him. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asks, still with his eyes on the sonogram. His expression is unreadable, something which you cannot fault him with, knowing that this must have come as a shock to him.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve gone to you sooner,” you quickly apologise to him. A part of you wants to rush by his side, even if you cannot decide whether you want to calm and soothe him or rip that sonogram from his hand. Yet your legs seem frozen, and you are locked at one spot with no ability to move.

“From the moment I found out, I was planning to find you and figure out how to share the news to you in person, but then you showed up here with Alia, and I got”—blindsided, aghast, confused, terrified—”I just couldn’t figure out how to do it.”

“So, I was right. This baby is mine.”

Just as he says those words, you finally understand the look that he is wearing on his face. Captivated. Entranced. Amused. As if this revelation is more fascinating to him rather than it is frightening. It brings a twinge of hope rising inside you, telling you that maybe you can both figure out on how to deal with this.

But what about Alia?

“It was from that night, wasn’t it?” he asks again, breaking you out of your thoughts—from thinking about Alia. And you can almost sure that you catch the corner of his lips lifting to a smile.

“Yeah,” you cautiously say to him. “It happened the night we got together. I’ve never been with anyone else since—”

“What is this all about?” A deep voice bellows through your small bedroom, cutting through your words before you can finish talking. Both you and Taehyung turn to the door, noticing too late that your stepfather is standing there, watching the two of you with grief and horror in his eyes.

“Dad—what you are doing here?” you ask him as your eyes flicker towards the door behind him.

Crap. Distracted by your own nerves that had been affected by Taehyung’s arrival, you must have failed to shut the door tightly behind you.

“I came to check on you and apologise for freaking out,” Cliff says, frown deepening, his voice and the expression you see on his face convey a mixture of anger and hurt. “But what is he doing in here?” he continues, pointing at Taehyung. “Why is he in your room, when he’s supposed to be with Alia?”

The atmosphere grows heavier, yet Taehyung—the brave soul that he is—carefully steps forward to face your stepfather. “Cliff, I can explain—”

“And what did I just heard about the two of you being together? Is that baby—” Cliff turns to point at you, then back at Taehyung again while keeping his eyes on you, expecting you to answer him. “Was he the one responsible?”

Still holding the sonogram in his hand, Taehyung straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin. And it seems to be enough to answer your stepfather’s question. But what it only does is to aggravate Cliff even more. The air crackles with his rage, and he moves so fast—too fast for your mind to comprehend—as he grabs the front of Taehyung’s shirt and starts dragging him out of your bedroom.

“Dad, no!”

The moment you see your stepfather dragging Taehyung out the door, that is when you snap out of it and start running to chase them. As you run out the door, you see Alia who was clearly on her way to your bedroom. Her eyes are wide with shock, and though you are unable to interpret the gloss in her eyes—whether they are tears of hurt or her tipsiness—you can tell that she has been standing there long enough before anyone noticed.

But was she there long enough to hear everything?

“Daddy? What are you doing?” Alia screams out, though she doesn’t make any move, seemingly in shock to see her father dragging Taehyung across the hallway.

“Alia, you need to stop him!”

Your scream snaps her out of her shock, and she quickly rushes to chase both men down the stairs. You try to follow them as fast as you can, but your heart is racing, your legs feel weak, you can barely manage to come down the stairs without tumbling down.

“Careful!” Alia snaps at you in panic as she catches you at the final flight of stairs. You lift your head to thank her for helping you, only for her to give you no chance to as she turns away right after, chasing after her Dad who is now dragging her boyfriend out the yard.

Once the both of you are out the house, you can hear your stepfather’s voice bellowing through the air. His accusations echo through the chilly night, his eyes are blazing with frustration and rage, and he still has his hand pulling at Taehyung’s shirt, nearly lifting him off the ground as he continues shouting profanities between his grievance.

“—the fuck are you trying to pull?” he yells at Taehyung’s face, and you wince at how loud he is being against the silent night.

The only relief you can savour is the fact that he hasn’t gone physical. No hits are thrown, and the only rough handling he has been doing is to shake Taehyung back and forth with his tight grip on his shirt as he demands the truth. An answer. Anything that could clear this whole misunderstanding.

Taehyung’s eyes dart over Cliff’s shoulder as he notices you and Alia coming. Your stepfather follows his gaze and is caught by surprised to see you chasing him. But as he looks at you, his gaze hardens as he pleads, “Tell me that it’s not true. Tell me that you weren’t sleeping with him while he’s seeing your sister.”

No, it’s not true. They weren’t together. You remember hearing Taehyung denying it when you first questioned it, so it must’ve been the truth. Right?

The night you hooked up with him flashes through your head. That night from six weeks ago, the shared moment that he claimed to be a time where he hadn’t gotten involved with Alia. You want to speak up, to deny that he was playing both you and Alia, that the only thing behind this whole mess had been mere coincidence.

If only you could stop shaking. Get some words out. Anything.

But your chest feels tight. You can barely breathe in air, much less to let your voice out.

“Cliff, please! I told you, I can explain!” Taehyung tries to get your stepfather to listen. You see his hand reaching to grab Cliff’s wrist, though it doesn’t seem that the hold would budge no matter what he does to pull it off. His eyes turn to you, then to Alia, right before he screams out with fear in his eyes, “Alia!”

“Don’t you dare say her name!” Cliff yells at him, and you force yourself to speak.

“Sto—” you try once, failing when your chest tightens. “Stop,” you cry out again, “Dad, please—”

Your voice comes out as nothing more than dried paper, a silent hush compared to the loud voices as Cliff and Taehyung continue to argue with each other at the center of the front yard. But Alia is standing close enough to you to hear it. Close enough to see your hands shaking, your face turning pale and sickly, and she quickly moves right in front of you, standing between you and the quarrelling men.

“Daddy, stop yelling. You’re going to stress ______ out,” she yells at her Dad while pushing you behind her to keep you away from them, as if she is making sure you won’t get hurt.

She’s…defending me?

Your head starts spinning harder. Everything is so confusing right now, and it makes you feel worse when you look at Alia, seeing her getting caught in the crossfire as she tries to separate the two while shielding you from the chaos.

“And it’s not Taehyung’s fault!” she yells again, and this time, it seems to do the trick, because Cliff finally lets Taehyung go.

Now free from your stepfather’s clutch, Taehyung steps back. He tries to catch his breath while fixing his shirt. You notice then that he is still holding your sonogram, surprising you when even amidst all the chaos, he is still gripping onto it protectively.

“How is it not his fault?” Cliff snaps at your stepsister. “Why are you defending this asshole? He slept with your sister when he’s dating you, and he even dared to show his face at my—”

“Because we’re not dating!” Alia cuts him off with a scream, and everything stops. Her scream even shuts the voices in your head, drawing a single question in their place—

What—? What did she just say?

With all eyes on her, Alia begins to shake with nerves. And then the truth spills out of her mouth. “We, uh—Taehyung and I—we’re friends. I wasn’t planning to come this year but you kept calling me to come for Honey’s family dinner, and—” she says, stuttering as she points at her father, and then turns to face you to add, “I thought that your—I mean, Hansol. I thought he was going to come with you this year like he always did and I didn’t want you to think that—”

Drawing a shaky breath, she pushes through her nerves and forces the rest of the truth to come out. “I asked Taehyung to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend so you wouldn’t think that I was going to try to make a move on Hansol again.”

“Wait—what?” Taehyung snaps at her. He seems confused, and it is evident in your eyes that he never got to hear this part of the ordeal from Alia when he signed up for—whatever it was that they had agreed upon. “What did you do?”

Alia opens her mouth to continue, yet Cliff cuts her off before she could. “Enough,” he says, no longer yelling. His voice sounds drained, exasperated, and yet there is an eerie calmness underneath that makes your skin shiver with fear. His silent rage terrifies you more than his loud, raging voice does, while the defeated look in his eyes hurts you deeply. “Alia, get inside. And you—” he turns to point at Taehyung. “Get out of my sight.”

“Dad, no—” you step forward to stop him, yet Cliff doesn’t even look at you when he calmly orders Alia to move.

“Alia, get your sister back in her room,” he says as he turns away, making his way back into the house.

Left with no other choice, and feeling like the fight has left you, you let Alia place her hands on your shoulders. “I’m sorry,” you turn to Taehyung one last time as she starts guiding you back to the house, but then your stomach drops when he remains silent. His eyes are cold, as if he is trying to mask his true emotions as he looks at you. Something twists in your gut as if he had pierced a knife deeply through it. “Tae, wait—”

A small smile is lifted on his lips, though it seems closer to a sneer, something which doesn’t seem to reach the pained look in his eyes, and that is the only thing that he gives you before he turns away and leaves the property without saying a single word.

Sleep, without a doubt, has become fruitless.

All night, you have been tossing and turning in your bed. Even when you manage to close your eyes and doze off a little, your stepfather’s grievance and Taehyung’s bereft smile flash through your mind, sending you to an abrupt wake each time.

At the very last time you find yourself being forcefully pulled away from your restless sleep, you glance out the window, its curtains left partly opened, you see the shadows of nightfall slowly shifting. A blush of hue in gradient colours of purple and grey is beginning to emerge amidst the dark, and you can feel it in your skin the awakening of dawn.

Too anxious to remain still on your cold bed, adrenaline and stress still flowing violently through your body, you finally give up trying to rest and tiptoe your way downstairs.

The stillness in the house at night has always been something that you have come so familiar with, but as you walk down the stairs and into the quiet kitchen, the house feels more eerie that it usually does. You can almost hear the creaking sound of the floors and the walls around you, as if they are whispering to you all the things that they have witnessed from the night before.

The air feels unusually cold. You fight the temptation to light up the fireplace once more and huddle up right in front of it, resisting only to avoid waking everyone else up, and then walk into the kitchen in search for another source of warmth.

You are just beginning to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate to warm up when a figure steps into the archway leading towards the hallway. You turn with a jump, realising with relief that it is Alia.

Giving you a hesitant smile, she walks into the kitchen. With her arms wrapped around herself and a thick shawl cloaking her shoulders, you realise that you are not the only one struggling with the cold.

“Can’t sleep? Or did you wake up too early?” she asks you with a soft whisper.

“A little bit of both. How about you?”

She stands by the kitchen counter to watch you work. “Tried to sleep, but I kept having nightmares. I was running downstairs to catch up with Dad, and it kept repeating over and over”—she visibly shudders—“and then I woke up with this crappy headache.”

You give her a smile and tip your chin at the high stool right by the counter. “Take a seat. I’ll make more,” you offer her, which she accepts with a smile.

Neither of you says a word for a moment, only breaking the silence once you are done pouring the hot drinks into two separate mugs and handing one to her while whispering, “Here you go,” to which she responds with a soft, sleepy murmur, “Thank you.”

Taking the seat on one end of the counter with Alia sitting on the other, silence stretches between the two of you once again. There is an awkward tension in the air. You cannot remember when you have ever found yourself alone with Alia like this, deep in the night and with nothing else to do but to talk. Not since those many years ago when you were children.

You remember how your parents made you share the same bedroom. It was their way of getting you to bond with your new stepsister at the time. Even then, you could tell that Alia wasn’t exactly thrilled by it, already so used to having her own bedroom before she had to split her time between spending the weekdays with her mother and then with her father on the weekends.

But at least back then, the silence didn’t feel as stifling. And she had let you borrow her personal things to play with, as long as you got out of her way. And that included her books—so many of them, you remember—with her occasionally sitting right beside you so she could read you some of the hard ones to follow for a little child.

Taking a sip of your hot cocoa, you decide that you have had enough of this silence. “So—” you breathe out a sigh. “You and Taehyung.”

Alia groans and closes her eyes. “You heard me last night, didn’t you? I know I was drunk off my ass, but it’s true,” she says, scoffing as she glances sideways and meets your gaze when you do the same, “It’s stupid, I know.”

You sip your drink before asking, “Why did you have to go make an entire scheme out of this?”

“I don’t know,” she breathes out an exhausted sigh. “It sounded like a good idea at the time.” Her voice sounds wistful when she says this, and then she breaks out into a bitter chuckle. “But I guess, just like a ton of other bad decisions I’ve made my entire life, it only added to the long list of fuck-ups that have tainted most of my adult life.”

You let out a snort, something that is so uncharacteristically you, but still comes out with all honesty. “At least you’re taking accountability of it,” you say to her almost teasingly, “I know some people who wouldn’t even admit that they fucked up and simply move on while everyone had to pick up the mess they left behind.”

Alia laughs. You can see her eyes warming up. “When did you meet him? How did it all happen?”

Your lips curl up to a smile. You drink your hot drink slowly before you begin telling her everything—the trip that you went to after your breakup, the frustrating debacle with your flight getting delayed and cancelled and meeting him at transit, the hookup, everything that you already shared with Skye the first time you revealed about your first promiscuous night abroad with the stranger, the agreement you both made about shedding your identities, which had lead to this whole mess, and more.

Surprisingly enough, Alia merely responds with a soft chuckle. As if this is something that is to be expected when it involves her friend. “That explains it,” she muses softly. She has this faraway look in her eyes for a moment, as if recalling something in the past—perhaps something that happened during that period of time.

“He was going through some stuff when we got in contact again about a year after the last time we met. We lost contact again briefly during that time”—the time he went to take that trip, you tell yourself—”I think he said he was off to some sort of a business trip and was using it to ‘escape’ from everything. He never told me any of the details, though.”

You are curious, wanting to know more. But you also know that it isn’t your place to pry. You can also tell that Alia may not answer if you try to ask her. Yet she then surprises you by adding, “Then he contacted me not too long ago and said something about needing my help. I thought it was a wild coincidence and decided to use the chance to get him to help me in return. One thing lead to another, and here we are now.”

You both share a laugh, despite how pitiful the two of you seem at this moment.

When you both grow quiet once more, each of you taking the moment to savour your drink and the silence that is starting to bring more comfort than the uneasiness you felt earlier, your mind wanders. You recall the events that have been happening for the past few days, to tonight, seeing everything with a new light now that the truth has come out. You also find that you no longer feel the weight of your secret shadowing you, allowing you to breathe easier.

And then the conversation you had with Skye on the phone from a while ago comes back to you.

“I’m sorry I broke your doll,” you suddenly blurt out, while Alia snaps her head to look over to you.

“What? Which doll?” she asks, her face is filled with incomprehension, before her expression shifts into knowing, and then to shock. “Oh, that one? That was a long time ago!”

You laugh at her reaction. “Yeah, but it feels like you started resenting me since then.”

“No, I’m—” she shakes her head and scoffs at you. “It’s actually fine. I hated that doll. That was the ugliest piece of shit I’ve ever owned when I was a kid.”

“What—?” you let out an incredulous laugh. “But you made it look like I’ve ruined your entire world. All hell broke loose because of it so I thought—”

Alia laughs, though she also looks somewhat guilty when she explains everything to you. “One of Dad’s ex-girlfriends bought it for me on my eighth birthday. I never liked any of the women he brought home and introduced me, but she was probably the sanest and most normal one of all,” she calmly tells you, quickly adding, “That was before your Mom came in, by the way.”

That makes you smile. Especially when you notice that her eyes are filled with fondness as she talks about your mother.

“Anyway, she gave me the doll as a gift after she went for a trip abroad, and maybe I did like it because it made me happy to know that she thought about me. But the older I got, the weirder it felt for me to keep it, but every time I wanted to get rid of the doll, it made me feel guilty for even considering it because of how sweet she was to me,” she winces as she recalls the past. “When you ruined the doll, I was actually relieved. But I couldn’t show it to Dad since he thought I loved the doll so much that he even went out on his way to help take care of the doll for a long time, so I made it seem like losing the doll made me sad.”

Your jaw drops and you laugh again. “Damn, I can’t believe I was gaslighted and framed by a twelve year-old.”

“Sucks to be you,” Alia laughs back at you as she sips her drink. “Sorry for causing you some childhood trauma or whatever.”

“It wasn’t so much of a trauma,” you say to her while scoffing. But that incident did leave an impression on you, regardless. And it wasn’t a good one. Looking back on it now, it does seem ridiculous for you to let it haunt your memories for so long.

You are just about to share your thoughts to Alia when she finally speaks again.

“On your eleventh birthday, you started calling him Dad,” she says, her voice dull, but you can feel the weight of her words when you hear them. It takes a moment for it to sink in, until you finally realise—

“Oh—” Oh. You swallow hard and take a deep breath, realising that she is talking about Cliff. “Did you, uh—were you worried that I might take him away from you?”

Alia smiles bitterly. “I’m not sure. Maybe?” She shrugs. “As a kid, I may have harboured an unrealistic fantasy that one day, my Mom and Dad would make up, get back together, and everything would be back to how it used to be.”

She looks at you with a small smile. “But then Daddy met your Mom, and my Mom became more unhinged after the divorce and dealing with the consequences of her affair that it was becoming more obvious Dad would have never taken her back, no matter what.”

The more she speaks, sharing her deep, darkest secret, the more you are able to understand her. For all these years, you simply thought that Alia has resented you for childish reasons. You never knew that she had nurtured the heartbreak of an innocent child for so many years. Silently hurting without anyone else knowing.

“But it was the day you began calling him Dad that finally broke me out of that fantasy and forced me to accept that they were never going back together,” she says, sighing deeply with a broken smile on her face, which only deepens the guilt that you feel for becoming a part of it. “Maybe—that was the moment I started seeing you differently.”

“I—didn’t know,” you murmur, and then you begin to recall how Alia kept avoiding to spend time with her father on the weekends when she was a teenager. “You started to come by less and less by then.”

Your parents had excused Alia’s absence at the time as her newfound need of being independent. But you know better now.

Alia releases a sigh, as if opening to you is helping her relief some of her own weight. “Dad was so happy because you and your family welcomed him into your lives. I guess that was really important to him. The more I watched him having a new family that was a whole, the more I resented it. Seeing you with Daddy—” she stops with a sharp intake of breath, “I guess the child in me felt like I was being replaced and I couldn’t take it.”

“Alia—”

She cuts you off with one look, with a gaze that is surprisingly warm. “You know what’s worse?” she asks.

“The way Dad keeps bragging about you in front of me and anyone from his side of the family whenever he has the chance to. You have always been smarter, you’ve gained everything you wanted in life with your own effort. You have a good job, a nice apartment and, for a time, you had a long-time boyfriend, while I’m still floating through life,” she says with a wistful tone of voice instead of a bitter one. “I have no steady job, and I’m still moving around instead of settling down, which left me with no chance to start any serious relationship to brag about in front of everyone. So I suppose that makes me feel inferior when I have to face you.”

You have no idea what to say. Because you had no idea about any of this. Still, you feel guilty, even if none of this was your fault when all you ever did was live your life the way you wanted it to.

“Last year, I think that’s when I came to my limit,” Alia adds with a chuckle. “I guess somewhere in my mind, I had this thought that since you already stole my Dad, maybe I could steal something that was yours for a change.”

Once again, your jaw drops. You let out a gasp. “Hey, that’s fucked up!”

She laughs at your reaction. “I know! And I’m sorry, alright?” she says, still laughing and lifting both of her hands at you. But she quickly sobers up, looking genuinely concerned when she asks, “Seriously, though. Did you break up—”

You quickly shake your head. “No. He chose his career over our relationship,” you admit to her. “He has always been like that. He’s always so crazy about work, a perfectionist, and not only does he have a big ego, he also has big ambitions. I think he pushed me to match his pace, whether he realised it or not, which became the reason why I managed to gained everything I have now.”

Looking back, you have to admit that your ex was the one who gave you the drive which helped you get where you are now. As much as you hate to admit it, you do owe him that much for your current life, despite everything.

“In a way, he pushed and motivated me to constantly be a better version of myself. But, deep down, I was starting to get tired of it.” You recall all the fights, the arguments, the agony that you felt when he belittled you for your need to start going in your own pace instead of following his. “I never realised how exhausting it was with him until we broke up. He made me feel like I was on a race against him instead of in a relationship where we were both equals in life.”

Alia slowly nods her head with a silent understanding. “What happened last year with your ex was also the reason why I asked Taehyung to come with me,” she confesses with a shy smile.

“I felt so bad for everything that happened, and I had no idea how to fix it. I thought that if I brought someone with me this year, not only would I be able to shut my Mom up about trying to hook me up with some snobby guy from her circle and pushing me into marriage”—she rolls her eyes—”I would also be able to show everyone here, and you, that I had no desire to steal your boyfriend from you.”

You grin at her. “That explains why it was shocking for you to find out that I already broke up.”

“Obviously,” she scoffs. “That thwarted all of my plans.” You laugh together while she continues to complain about it. How she had meticulously planned everything to clear her reputation and avoid adding more drama between you.

“But I couldn’t give up the gig. I know that Dad still keeps in touch with my Mom once in a while because of me, and she would call him to check on me if she’d heard I was coming, so if I let everyone know that Taehyung and I aren’t actually dating, my Mom would sit me down next to any bachelor of the year that she had chosen for me at the family gathering with just a snap of her fingers,” she sneers, lifting her hand to snap her fingers in the same manner that you imagine her mother would do.

“And, as always, I had to mess everything up too because of my stupid plans,” she heavily sighs. “Sorry, by the way.”

Scoffing lightly, you simply wave her off. “It’s not your fault. If only Taehyung and I had talked when we had the chance,” you finally admit, realising that you are also to blame for avoiding to speak to him right away, “Or if he had told you about me when I asked him to, then maybe the three of us could have figured something out.”

Alia nods her head in agreement, and then her lips rise to a slow smile. “I didn’t expect that Honey would be the one stirring the pot when it was already boiling.”

That makes you laugh again. “Honestly? I had expected that Honey would be the first to notice. I just didn’t expect her to blast me right in front of the whole family.”

Sipping her hot cocoa slowly, Alia hums. “Maybe it was meant to work that way. Or else, I feel like neither of us would find any chance to spill out the truth, as bitter and ridiculous it might sound to admit,” she says, and you cannot help but agree with her. Even with no resolution have yet to be made, you can feel some of the weight of your troubles being lifted from you.

Everything may have gone messy, yet for some reason, the future doesn’t seem so bleak when you are looking at it one last time. Then Alia gently adds, further encouraging the hope that is slowly blooming inside you.

“Taehyung—he won’t be joining me to see my Mom. He’s driving back home, either in the morning or before noon, I’m not sure. You should go see him and talk.”

“I—” you swallow hard. “I want to. We do need to talk, but—”

Alia stops you by shaking her head. “No buts. You have a baby on the way, and I’m sure—seeing his reaction last night—he would want to be a part of it. Only if you’d let him.”

That immediately shuts you up, taking away all the excuses that you have to run away and avoid facing him. You still remember seeing the way he was clutching your sonogram possessively as if it was his lifeline, and you have yet to get the sonogram back from him when he left.

“Even without the baby—” Alia continues, noticing how you are still deep in your thoughts. “The favour that I mentioned? I think it might have something to do with you. I’m not sure what it was though, because he hasn’t had the chance to say anything about it. He only said that it had something to do with what happened during his trip from that time.”

You know that she is right. The only problem is mustering the courage to go and see him in person. After what your family had put him through last night, you have no idea how to face him, feeling too guilty that he got roped into so much mess because you couldn’t tell him the truth when you had the chance.

“Well, while you take your time considering it, I should go back to my room. I have another Christmas event that I would need to mentally prepare to,” Alia says as she steps out of her seat. You watch her walking around the counter to put away her empty mug before smiling at you. “Thanks for the nice chat, and the hot chocolate.”

You return her smile and nod. “So—are we good?”

That makes her chuckle. She stops before going out into the hall and shrugs. “Yeah, you’re okay. I guess we are.”

“Does that mean we’re friends now?” you tease her, drawing a scoff from her.

“Ugh—don’t push your luck, kid. Don’t even think about us being sisters,” she says, pointing at you.

“Never would’ve dreamed of it,” you respond with a chuckle. Still, you are overcome with relief now that the old tension between you are lifted. “Good luck with your Mom.”

“Thanks. Good luck with—” she says, “well, everything.” She turns away, but not before giving you one final warning, “I’m serious. Go talk to him. Don’t worry about the others, or about how Daddy would react. I’ll hold down the fort and explain everything to them until you’re back.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightens just as your stomach tightens with churning doubt.

The thought of seeing Taehyung, alone, seems nerve-racking. You have no idea what to expect once you get there, or what you are going to say, which only makes you even more nervous the further you are getting from home.

Your thoughts are filled with worrying that things may not go as planned. Not that you really had any plan to go with other than to talk to him, stop him from leaving, and maybe find out what the future hold—if there is any hope there.

The weather outside seems dreary, which is no help at all. Even under the winter sunlight that appears brighter than usual, the snow keeps falling thickly from the sky, the trees standing on either side of the streets are swaying dangerously towards various directions due to the intense wind.

Weather does hate me, you wonder to yourself as you glance through the side mirror, wondering why these things keep happening to you during critical times such as this one.

Getting more impatient, the urge to press down on the accelerator feels so strong, yet you fight it the best you can, recalling the promise you made when you stepped out of the house.

Honey was right, it was a bad idea to be driving out under this weather. She was the one who warned you about the weather when you were about to leave, which you simply ignored because the sky was bright, the wind was steady, and your intention to see Taehyung was strong.

You should have learned from experience and took your time checking today’s weather forecast to find out just how quickly the weather could change.

Looking at the fierce weather, it seems obvious that things are about to get even worse. A white jeep breezes past your tiny city car, causing your car to sway, and you feel a pull to match its speed. But then you see it nearly slipping on the road as the jeep makes a turn right ahead, and you heart stops. Your car slows as you start hearing Honey’s voice warning you about how easy the road becomes slippery on days like this.

“Drive carefully. Even if you want to risk your life getting out there, at least think about that baby,” Honey’s voice echoes in your head, stopping you before you could even think of picking up speed again once the road clears up before you.

“There’s nothing to worry about. With this weather, he couldn’t have left yet,” you convince yourself, though your doubt keeps pushing back nearly tenfold.

He couldn’t just leave, right?

Turning with reduced speed on the next intersection, you curse under your breath. It feels like it’s taking you forever to reach the motel, and when you still see no sign of getting any closer to the motel, you begin to wonder if you’ll manage to get there at all.

“Damn it, Alia. Why did you have to choose that motel? There’s a bunch of them closer to home.”

Obviously, there is nobody here to answer your question. So the only thing that you can do is to force yourself to calm down, focus on the road—and in not slipping or sending your car into a ditch—and find the motel as fast—and as safely—as you can.

Quiet Peaks Motel. Room 1109.

You almost laughed when Alia gave you the room number where Taehyung has been staying in. The irony of having those numbers shown to your face, reminding you of that night from six weeks ago.

“I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.”

You let out a scoff as Skye’s words ring back to you. Christmas miracle my butt, you inwardly scoff at the notion. A queer coincidence, that’s what this is.

Not too long, you are driving your car into the small parking lot of Quiet Peaks Motel. With your head covered under the hood of your coat, you challenge the cold to rush into the motel without taking a look around to see if his car is still here. Past the receptionist desk, you follow Alia’s guide to find Taehyung’s room.

Room 1109.

Shaking off the snow that has gotten all over your body, you take a deep breath, and knock on the door. A few seconds pass.

No answer.

Another knock, just a bit harder this time. And all you have in return is silence. No. No. No—

You raise your hand again, ready to give it another try while refusing to accept the possibility that he is no longer there, when finally—finally—you hear a click, and the door slowly opens. Taehyung appears before you, with wide, curious eyes and a smile slowly lifting on his lips, like a piece of a fantasy manifesting into something real.

“You’re still here,” you breathe a sigh of relief, drawing a low chuckle from him.

Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest as he hovers by the doorway, the small smile on his face unwavering. “Alia called. Warned me not to run away,” he gently says.

The thought of him driving off to leave town, running away before you could see him, feels like a bolt piercing through your heart. “Were you—trying to run?”

“I felt the urge to,” he admit while lowering his gaze, briefly avoiding your eyes. “But I couldn’t.”

You can hear the sound of your heartbeat. “Because of the blizzard happening outside?”

Taehyung looks up, and his smile deepens when he steps aside. “Why don’t you come in? It’s getting colder. You can warm up inside.” There is a playful glint in his eyes which says the unspoken words—

With me.

Drawn by the look in his eyes, your legs begin to move on their own. Your arm brushes against him as you walk past him, just barely, and your skin prickles warmly, as if the thick winter coat that you are wearing is nonexistent.

Taehyung takes your coat, shaking the remaining snow that is still attached to it before hanging it on the coat rack by the door while you step out of your snow-coated boots, refusing to leave trails of snow and dirt on his floor as he pulls you inside. He guides you to take a seat on the edge of the bed while he takes the one-seater from the corner of the room and places it across from you.

Sitting back, he wears a playful smile on his face. He seems giddy, with a twinge of wariness that is quite noticeable coming out of him—both feelings are something that you also share as you sit with your back straightened while your legs are shaking.

Sitting here like this allows you to get a good look at Taehyung. And for the first time, you notice the boyish charm in him that looks—adorable. You can see it better when he smiles, when he looks at you with an expectant look in his yes, and when he doesn’t seem to be able to remain calm.

You have no idea why you had never seen this side of him before. Has he been hiding this part of him? Because, if you want to be honest with yourself, you like seeing this side of Taehyung, maybe even more than the side that he has allowed you to see before today.

If comfort is a person, this side of him fits the picture, you wonder to yourself with a smile.

Speaking of pictures—

Your eyes travel around the room, taking notice of the place where he has been staying at. The room is undoubtedly smaller than the suite that he booked back at the transit hotel, but not any smaller than your own bedroom back home. The bed that you are sitting on feels soft, with wooden bed frames that makes it seem sturdy. There is a single vanity table that stretches out on one wall, also functioning as a writing desk, an electric fireplace in the corner that is running with a soft hum, and a wall-mounted television that has been kept on with its volume lowered to fill the room with its white noise.

Your eyes fall on the long table, on the small object that catches your attention.

“Would you like to drink?” Taehyung asks you as the silence stretches out for too long, and you look at him with a smile.

“Sure, I’d love to.”

Nodding, he rises from his seat to grab a drink from the corner cabinet, while you do the same. Drawn towards the small object that Taehyung had placed on the table like a precious jewel—your sonogram.

“I didn’t mean to keep it with me. But throughout all the chaos happening last night—” you can hear his voice getting closer and closer, yet you do nothing to look his way. Holding up the sonogram between your fingers, your eyes are focused completely on it, fixated at the clear proof of your future. You still have your eyes on it as his warmth comes pressing on your back, his voice feels like a gentle brush on your skin as he whispers close—

“—I just couldn’t let it go. It felt surreal whenever I looked at it. It was almost as if—I was actually holding that baby in my hands, and I needed to protect it.”

His words send your mind into a daze, even when you notice the tremble in his voice. Everything he does next seems like parts of a dream. You notice his hand reaching out beside you, placing two objects which seem to be bottles of fresh juice on top of the table. And his hand stays there, palm pressing on the edge of the desk while his other hand is resting on your other side, practically caging you in place.

Slowly, you turn around to face him. The sudden closeness makes you feel dizzy, yet the feeling is incomparable to the way your body is reacting when you look into his eyes.

His dark eyes somehow appear even darker from up close. You feel nothing carnal in the way he is looking at you, nor the way he is giving you no chance to escape. But there is the heat that you feel reaching out to you, vibrating through his chest together with his heavy breath.

“We are—” he murmurs, stopping briefly with a deep exhale of breath. “We’re expecting a baby.” He speaks as if he is trying to rewire his brain into accepting reality.

Your heart starts racing when you hear his words.

We. That word seals everything in.

And you can feel that sense of acceptance coming from him. You can easily see it written all over his face; in his gaze that looks resolved and in his warm smile that seems inviting. And then you get to see it coming together when he takes you in, his eyes landing on your belly. Even though covered under your thick sweater, he looks at you as if he can see what is hidden underneath.

“We’re expecting a baby,” you whisper with a smile. “It’s still early. Very early. Which is why you might not see any changes, like seeing the baby in its fully grown form, or find out the gender yet, but we can already hear the heartbeat. We can arrange so you can join me on my next appointment with the doctor. That is, if you’d like.”

Putting all of your hopes into words feels risky. But thinking about him being there puts a smile on your face. That smile fades for a brief moment when you realise that you are also putting your heart at risk of being broken—be it from him, or from life.

“Anything could still happen,” you add with a wry smile. The sceptical part of you slowly sneaking its way into your mind to take control. “But if you’re willing to go through this with me and—”

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence when he suddenly reaches out to touch you. He brushes your cheek with the gentle touch of his fingers, and wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you gently to him until you are nearly pressed into his chest. You bring your palms up to his chest in reflex, pressing against him as a barrier, separating you from his overwhelming warmth.

You can feel his heartbeat picking up under your palms, just as your own heartbeat starts thundering inside your chest.

“Last night, Cliff stole my chance to figure out or express how I felt about this,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “I was in so much shock both from the news and then Cliff’s reaction that I couldn’t say a word about it. But the moment I left your home and spent the night alone in this room, I finally got the chance to process everything.”

He stops, shaking his head before pressing his lips on your temple. “Still, I can’t believe that this is happening. But this is our new reality right now and I have to face it. No matter at what cost,” he whispers with his lips hovering against your temple.

“What—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m all in,” he says, pulling back so he can look at you. “I told you, didn’t I? You never really left my mind after that night. I’m not sure why, but waking up in the morning to see you gone back then got me curious and, well—” he chuckles. “It was all the reason why I got roped into Alia’s sneaky scheme, which I’m beginning to regret ever being a part of, but since we’re here anyway.”

Taehyung lets out a dramatic sigh, drawing a curious smile to your face.

His chest rises and falls as he exhales a deep breath. “Alia promised to help me once we’ve done the deal. And although I never told her specifically what I needed help with—” he grins, looking as if he is thinking back to the day he planned out this whole scheme with your stepsister.

A scheme where he pretended to be dating her to trick your and Alia’s family.

“Actually, I was already trying to find you. Alia has a lot of connections, gathered by traveling to different places and jumping between odd jobs, so I thought that maybe she would know how to solve that problem of mine,” he admits, and your skin flushes warmly when you realise that not only has he been thinking of you this whole time, but he had also thought of looking for you when you thought that he would have simply forgotten everything and moved on.

“Things may have gone differently than I imagined, and not entirely in the right order. But technically speaking, she made it happen, just as promised,” he chuckles again, looking just amused at the situation as you are. “If I had known about the baby, I wouldn’t have asked you to hide from Alia that we got together at one point,” he grimaces. “I wasn’t sure what kind of situation Alia was in that would require her having a fake boyfriend, so I don’t know what telling her that we hooked up would do.”

Frowning, you simply shake your head and murmur, “No, I should’ve told you right away. But like I said, I wasn’t prepared to see my baby’s daddy coming into my parents’ home holding hands with my stepsister.”

Taehyung smiles and rubs his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Your body shudders under his touch, but you cover it with a sigh. “Likewise,” you whisper. “But can we please stop talking about Alia right now?”

He barks out a laugh. “Okay, if that’s what you want,” he says with a wide grin on his face. “Maybe you’ll be more interested in talking about something else, then?”

You suck a deep breath as his eyes bore into yours. Even before he says it, you can somehow tell what he is thinking. There is something in his eyes that makes you feel hot inside. Something that feels intimidating, yet comforting at the same time, and it makes you want to dive into whatever it is that is offering you.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung starts staring at you the same way he did that night—with the same passion and hunger that are enough to engulf you as a whole.

While you are captivated with his gaze, Taehyung leans in, stealing a kiss from your lips before you realise what is happening. He begins with a gentle, tentative kiss, as if he is testing to see how you are going to react. But with your emotion heightened, and relief warming your chest, the innocent kiss that he is giving you is already enough to send heat flushing through your body.

Your fingers sink into his sweater in a desperate clutch as you return his kiss, pressing your mouth onto his without any inhibitions. A sigh escapes from your throat, while he releases a deep grunt and begins to deepen the kiss.

His tongue presses between the seams of your lips, penetrating into your mouth in seek of control. All the heat inside you starts swirling violently as he devours your lips, and it’s driving you crazy. Your thundering heartbeat presses against your chest and he keeps stealing your breath, leaving you gasping the moment he releases your lips.

Yet Taehyung doesn’t stop. Giving you a few more pecks on your swollen lips, he then moves his kisses down the column of your throat, and your head falls back in an instant, helping him to travel lower until he rests his lips beneath your earlobe where he breathes out a sigh.

“This wasn’t—” you gasp as he nips at your pulse, rocking your entire body at the touch of his teeth on your skin, “This wasn’t the reason why I came here for.”

“Are you sure?” he hums against your skin. “We can stop if you want to. But you have to be the one to say the words.” His words make you swoon, but contrary to what he is saying to you, Taehyung continues to press his lips on your skin, making it hard for you to say a thing. “It’s been pure torture having to hold back, being in the same room with you but unable to do anything about it.”

He leans back, looking at you with a deep gaze as he brushes his thumb across your swollen lips. “I kept seeing these lips and wishing I could kiss it.”

Silently admitting that you feel the same way for him, your eyes move to his lips, noticing its swell, the faint crimson shade and the moisture that are left there after kissing you, and hazily blurt out, “Did you kiss Alia with that same mouth?”

“Fuck, no!” he says, making you laugh when he seems horrified at the thought of kissing your stepsister. “We’re friends, but not that close as friends to be smooching at each other.”

The way he is scrunching his nose still makes you giggle. “Sorry, but—you know, I had to make sure.”

Taehyung snorts. “Of course you do,” he grumbles, although the mirth in his eyes turns, as he gives you an understanding look through them, now knowing what kind of relationship that you share with Alia. “There are a lot of things about your stepsister that you might not know about.”

His words remind you of the short conversation that you had with your stepsister this morning. Deep down, you realise that he is right. With so many years spent harbouring a deep misunderstanding between one another, you realise that you never really knew her at all. Closing your eyes, you tell yourself that you can revisit this later.

“Are you going to spend the rest of the day trying to butter me up so I can start being best friends with my stepsister, or are you going to kiss me again?” you question him with a grin on your face once you open your eyes again.

He returns your grin with his own, showing you that same boyish charm that makes you swoon as he murmurs, “I think I like the second option a lot better.”

Giggling, you release your grip on his sweater and move to wrap your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway just as he leans down to capture your lips again. “An excellent choice, Sir. I do like that option much better as well.”

Once his lips descend on yours once again, they don’t come down gently. They crash into yours, and you can feel his urgency, his hunger, everything that he had spent days withholding for the sake of the god-awful scheme. The kiss melts every cell in your body. It weakens your knees, leaving your arms as the only thing holding you up against him.

His hands feel hot on your skin as he runs them down your waist, your hips, the heat penetrating through your thick sweater and jeans. You instinctively arch your chest against his, while your legs are moving, rubbing against each other when his touch sends your pulse rising, hot blood flowing down right between your legs.

Fuck, why I am so sensitive?

Right as you are wondering if your pregnancy has anything to do with the way your body is reacting, Taehyung folds his body and grabs the back of your thighs to lift you up.

“Oh, God—” you pull away with a gasp, surprised with the sudden lost of balance. Tightening your arms around his neck, you hold on to him as he turns. His smile widens, looking as if he is proud of himself, and then he drops you onto the bed, gentle as he puts you down until you are lying on your back.

You shift backwards until you are at the center of the bed with him following close behind. His gaze remains on your face as he starts crawling over the mattress, not stopping until he is hovering above you. He doesn’t settle his weight on top of you right away, but instead grabs a gentle hold at the hem of your sweater. With a quick work of his hands, the sweater is gone, tossed somewhere across the room. He doesn’t let you see where it went as he bends down, hovering close above you.

“Doesn’t this make you think back about that night?” he asks, with a deep voice that has your entire body trembling. He ignites more reaction out of you with a gentle kiss at the crook of your neck.

“Something is”—you gasp, shuddering under his kiss—“something is different, though.”

His warm breath comes brushing on your skin with his deep chuckle. “You can tell, huh? I did some workout after that vacation,” he brags to you while wiggling his eyebrows, making you laugh.

“I’d say you may have gotten your money’s worth. A little bit,” you tease him as you reach down between your bodies for his zipper.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your palm. Even while hidden under his pants, you can feel the heat coming from him as you rub your palm against his covered bulge, moving it back and forth until you feel him hardening under your touch.

“Are you going to continue staring at me, or are you going to fuck me?” you whisper, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with how much you need him.

And he is the only one to blame. When his sole existence stirs your every being. With one glance coming from his eyes, butterfly wings flutter inside your body, touching all the crevices that aren’t filled with past hurt and the baby’s presence and filling them with warmth.

With one touch, your whole body comes alight, and you are feeling it now as he brushes his fingers along the expanse of your waist. As tough your blood is on fire as it runs through your veins, even with nothing more but a light graze on your skin.

Taehyung licks his lips. His desire is written so clearly on his face. But then his gaze moves down your body, lingering on your stomach that is completely exposed now that you no longer have your sweater covering your skin.

“Will it be okay?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. His voice sounds tight, filled with worries, which gives your chest a tight pinch.

When was the last time you had someone—other than your family—to be so concerned about your wellbeing? Granted, there is a baby that is involved in all of this, and it would be normal for him to care, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like he is seeing right through you.

“I think I read somewhere that the baby will be okay,” you look down at your stomach and start rubbing your hand gently over it. “Maybe we can go gentle. At least until we get to see the OB and ask more.”

“Good idea,” he says with a smile, while you feel soft inside. But when his hand begins to move again, his thumb grazing down your exposed stomach, the heat rises back up and he is back in the game.

His smouldering gaze feels like a complete opposite to the softness in his voice when he says, “Alright, I can do gentle. Just tell me if it gets too much, or you can lead the pace so I won’t make any mistake.”

He wears the same wicked smile that stole your heart many nights ago as he lifts off from your body. You watch with your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip as he begins stripping himself. His sweater comes off, showing you his hard chest and filled arms which you haven’t had the chance to appreciate in the past.

This time, you get to see everything with a clear mind. Instead of feeling hazy with intoxication, all you can feel now is the haze coming from your need for him.

Reaching down to his pants, he pushes down his zipper. With a mocking grin, he makes a great gesture of pushing down his pants, only to stop once he hears your moan.

“God, I missed hearing that sound coming out of your lips,“ he murmurs. He immediately returns to you and pushes your pants and panties down in one motion. Your bra comes off right before your butt comes back down on the bed. Having not an inch of your skin covered while you are lying there makes you feel exposed and vulnerable. Yet he keeps a gentle hold on your waist, holding you still while he takes you in.

“I remember thinking that you were beautiful, but it beats seeing you in this kind of light to see what I didn’t get to see,” he murmurs, almost groaning as he takes you in.

Licking your lips, you hold back, keeping your voice from trembling to answer, “We were both kinda drunk, so—”

“Were we?” he chuckles softly and returns to you again, as if he can’t take being apart from you for too long. He presses his lips on your collarbone and whispers, “Good thing we get the chance to change that.”

Your legs come up and wrap around his waist the moment he is back on top of you. The way his hard chest is pressing on your bare breasts feels heavenly. You can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest, almost at the same rhythm as yours. But your attention is quickly drawn away once you try to move your hips to get comfortable beneath his weight, only to unintentionally rub yourself against his body.

You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh as you brush against him. Heat pools right at the depth of your core once you feel just how badly he wants you. It grows more intense as he pushes back into you, rubbing his covered cock against your center until you feel your wet arousal soiling the front of his pants.

Yet still, the friction isn’t enough to satiate your needs.

“Taehyung—”

The moment he hears you calling his name—his real name—something dark and feral flashes through his gaze. As if saying his name in the heat of desire snaps something inside him that needs to be unleashed.

His mouth comes down to capture yours just then, claiming you with a deep kiss. You writhe beneath him while he devours your lips, pressing against his center in a silent plea to have him striping himself off of the restricting pants and letting you feel him.

Without saying a word, he understands what you are asking for and complies. With a reluctant sigh, he pulls back. He keeps his eyes on you the whole time as he pushes down his pants and boxer briefs until he is completely bare. His hard cock immediately springs free right before your eyes, drawing your attention towards it the same way it did the first night you were with him.

“Say it again,” he says to you with a deep voice. A rough sigh escapes him as he wraps his hand around his girth and starts stroking himself, making himself hard and ready while he pleads with you, “Say my name.”

“Taehyung,” you call him with a soft moan, and he lets go every last bit of his restrictions and covers your whole body with his.

His mouth crashes down on yours, kissing you passionately until your body grows hot. A moan slips from you, and his tongue sweeps in between your parted lips, getting entangled with yours and you are immediately lost. You barely notice it when his hand moves down, slipping between your bodies to find the source of your heat.

He flicks at your nether lips, drawing a gasp from your lips, and your hips rise up to welcome him. Then he slides a finger into your pulsing core, entering you until you are arching against his chest, overwhelmed with the sensation that he draws out of your body as he buries his finger deeper into your pussy.

While he slides his finger in and out of you, his mouth remains pressed on yours, swallowing every sound you are making. Drowning every cries, every moans, while he continues devouring you as though you are his lifeline.

The pleasure rises, and your body starts moving on its own before you can control it. You start grinding against his finger, needing more. It starts with a slow rock, but the more the pleasure climbs within your body, you continue grinding harder and harder onto his hand. This seems to amuse him, as you can feel his smile growing against his lips before he pulls away, freeing you from his searing kiss.

Yet his hand continues to move, not resting until you can finally find release. “That’s it, ______. Give it to me, baby. Come for me,” he whispers with his deep voice like a spell.

Under his encouraging words and his relentless strokes, you finally reach your orgasm. It feels so intense you can almost feel as if your body shatters in his hold, with your breath coming out in broken pants and your moans rising higher.

With a gentle move, he pulls his finger out of you, leaving behind a series of small spasms inside your pussy from the climax.

You immediately feel empty. But he doesn’t make you wait long as he positions himself between your parted legs, and his heavy hard-on comes right where his finger had been. His cock slides in between your slit, moving back and forth as he rocks his hips. The friction draws the slick sound of your release as he continues rubbing the entire length of his cock against your hot cunt.

As your body continues to shudder beneath him, Taehyung lets out a deep groan. “Can’t wait, baby. Need to be inside you now.”

“Yes, fuck me, Taehyung,” you cry out, and those exact words are the ones that draw him to move.

You should have been prepared for it, yet your mind and body are somewhat occupied. Distracted by the blinding pleasure that he keeps pulling out of you, you are not ready when he slams his cock into you. You instantly cry out, and Taehyung stills inside you.

You can feel your muscles clenching, pulsing around him in small spasms of pleasure at the sudden invasion. It draws a moan out of him, and he holds you in his arms to help soothe you through it until you are more accustomed to his width filling you up.

“You okay, baby? I’m sorry,” he whispers with his lips pressing gently on your skin. Starting from your neck, your chin, and then he keeps making his way up to capture your parted lips. His kiss is soft, barely a flutter, but with every pulse rising in your body, you can feel the heat shooting right into your core.

You wait just long enough until the pounding sound of your heartbeat eases before answering him, “I’m okay.”

You start to wiggle under his weight, moving your hips to test if it’s going to hurt. When you feel that your muscles are no longer tense, and nothing but pleasure rushes through your body, you start moving your hips more. Grinding down his length, you can feel your hot walls contracting around his thick cock. It draws a sharp hiss out of his lips, and he jerks his hips against you, as though he is close to losing control.

“Are you going to stay there the entire time we’re here”—you tease him while tightening your legs around his waist, your hands on his hard shoulders—”or are you going to fuck me?”

Taehyung lets out a deep chuckle and begins to move. “So impatient. It’s been a while, so I’m only letting you act like a brat just this once,” he growls against your lips as he rocks his hips, moving in a slow pace.

It feels so good. But you want more. You need more.

With your heels pressing on his back, you rock back against him, grinding into his cock. He reacts with a groan, murmuring to you, “Fuck, that feels good. You want more?”

The pleasure continues climbing. It starts to feel overwhelming that words fail you. The only thing you can give him is a nod. A sharp gasp comes out of your lips when he starts picking up his pace, going faster while pushing deeper with each thrust.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he nearly begs, sounding desperate when you have yet to give him words in response to him. “Please, baby. Promise me. I’m barely holding on here, but I don’t want to hurt you or the baby.”

His voice goes in and out of your senses, yet you still manage to hear what he is trying to say. “I’m fine, Taehyung. I won’t hide it, I promise.”

He lets out a relieved sigh and smashes his lips on yours. “Good,” he groans against your lips. “Hang on tight then, baby.”

Those words become the last warning as the force and speed of his thrusts escalate, hitting you deep and hard until your toes are curling and your throat feels tight with the urge to cry out in pleasure. Your chest rises in an arch at the sensations you are getting as your hard nipples are rubbing against his chest.

But your mind is clear enough for you to do exactly what he asked of you.

Your legs are pressing around him, not tight enough to make it hard for him to move, but enough to keep you attached to him. Your arms are around him, fingers running up to the nape of his neck and pulling at the back of his hair, while the other hand runs down his back, nails sinking into his skin as he takes you on a wild ride.

Pleasure explodes through your body under his hard strokes. Your mouth falls open with a series of strained cries, calling his name. You wish he would lean down, to kiss you, to drown the sounds of pleasure that you are unable to hold in. Yet Taehyung chooses to pull back, allowing himself to keep his eyes on you as he continues with his relentless thrusts, making sure that he wouldn’t miss any sign of pain that may show on your face.

But the pain that you had expected to come from his rough lovemaking only extends the pleasure. The wet sounds of his thrusts pushing deep inside you fills the room, growing intense by the minute. Your skin flushes warmly as blood pulses deep in your core, your pussy walls flutter around his girth, letting him know how close you are to reach the edge.

“Are you close, baby? Do you want to come?” he whispers to you with a groan, and you find yourself crying out,

“Yes, Taehyung—I’m close. Please, let me cum. Please—”

With his hands reaching down your hips, he lifts your bottom half slightly off the mattress, placing you in a new angle that allows him to reach deeper. Your whole body quakes once he finds your sweet spot, and as he repeatedly pushes his cock against that hidden spot inside you, you soon feel him pushing you over the edge, with him not slowing down even for just a moment. And you take it all while you continue clinging desperately to him with your nails sinking into the skin on his back.

Pleasure flares through you like fireworks. A new wave of raw pleasure overcomes you, and your body erupts with the first wave of your orgasm. It flows smoothly through your body, but still intense enough to knock the air out of your chest. You cry out with a strained voice, your entire body shuddering beneath him.

You heave as wave after wave of pleasure overcome your body, yet Taehyung shows no sign of stopping. Still not having enough, he still fills you up with long, deep strokes that rock your body and the entire bed together.

With every shake of your body, your nipples grow hard that they start to hurt as your skin keeps rubbing against his chest. Looking between you, Taehyung’s eyes turn darker with lust. You force yourself to watch him through your haze, feeling more than seeing it when he runs one hand down your belly.

His big palm stays there, as if silently greeting the baby growing inside, before it continues to travel lower, finding home right where your bodies are joined. With his thumb and forefinger, he flicks at your engorged clit. Already throbbing and growing sensitive with the amount of frictions happening all at once, it sends your hips rising as another wave of pleasure rises from your core.

Deep groans escape his lips as he savours the sight of you embracing the pleasure, and he continues playing with your clit—rubbing, flicking, pinching, drawing pain and pleasure over the constant thrusting of his cock. And just when you are feeling it building up once more from within, the telltale of your orgasm that you have been depraved of for so long, Taehyung leans down, capturing one taut nipple between his mouth and bites down.

"Oh god. Oh god. I'm going to come again,” you cry out with your hips rising to meet each hard thrust that he is giving you.

“Yes, that’s it. Cum for me like a good girl," he croons against your skin, which sends you straight into the next round of climax while you are still riding the aftershock of your last one.

Your body shudders as another orgasm rocks your entire body, and your muscles clamp around his hard cock, sucking him with a tight clench as he thrusts in and out, pushing deep and sending your body shaking violently as you finally succumb into an earth-shattering orgasm that takes away the last drop of strength that you still have.

And the force of your final orgasm is what sets him off.

With a deep groan, and a rough tremble of his chest, Taehyung finally finds his release. You can feel his warmth filling your insides, his cock twitching and pumping between your spasming walls, and you are almost sure that the wicked sensation of him filling you up with his cum is enough to send you to a smaller, much more subtle climax.

It takes a while for you to come down from the height of your release, and Taehyung is there, helping you to ride off your orgasm with the slow strokes of his cock and the gentle brush of his fingers as he slowly comes to halt.

Once everything is done, your body is completely spent that you are unable to move. Your legs have turned languid as Taehyung gently drops them back onto the bed. The room is filled with the sound of deep breathing as both of you are fighting to catch your breaths.

You can barely feel your arms moving, but essentially, he is freed from your tight hold, allowing him to pull out of you before dropping down beside you.

The room no longer feels cold now that your entire body is burning hot. Seeing the thin sheet of sweat on his skin, you know that Taehyung is feeling the same heat, yet it doesn’t stop him from turning to his side and wrapping his arms around you to pull you close.

The sound of your intense heartbeat makes it hard for you to listen to any other sounds. You feel so tired. The lack of sleep you had last night is making it hard for you to fight off the drowsiness that is coming over you. Feeling relieved and sated, you just want to give in to sleep.

Your eyelids keep growing heavy, and once your breath is calm, you can feel Taehyung’s gentle kiss pressing on your temple. His voice is barely a whisper when he murmurs to you, “——sleep, rest for a while. It’s not like we’re in any rush to get anywhere, right?”

You open your mouth to answer him, yet your body fights against it. His words seem to act like a spell, when you are soon taken deep into slumber, falling into a dreamless sleep with his arms wrapped around your body.

When you finally come to, the soft light of the afternoon sun is slowly penetrating through the windows.

It feels warm inside, especially now that you have a blanket covering your naked body and his heavy arm resting languidly around your waist, yet you know that the same cannot be said with the weather outside. Even without opening your eyes, you can still hear the sound of the fierce wind hitting the windows, and you doubt that the road would be safe enough for you to drive out of this place.

You find yourself curling against Taehyung’s bare chest as you properly come to wake. His heartbeat is steady, and you can feel it when he starts waking up.

“Hey, there—” you whisper, greeting him with a sleepy smile, which he returns with his goofy smile. “Was I asleep for a long time?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “No, not long enough,” he whispers. “I also just woke up, though. So—”

Chuckling softly, you stretch out next to him. Your muscles are lax, and while you still feel worn-out, the short nap has restored your energy some. It helps clear your mind, yet you still refuse to move a muscle.

Glancing at Taehyung, you notice that he has a faraway look in his eyes. He keeps his gaze out the window, and you start wondering what he is thinking about.

“Do you think we’re going to be okay?” Taehyung asks you with a gentle sigh.

You close your eyes briefly and sigh contently before answering, “With the baby? I mean, it might be a struggle at first. I know because I haven’t really grasp the fact that I’m carrying your baby, but—”

“No, I’m not talking about this,” he says with his hand waving around your entangled bodies. “I’m talking about—” he waves his hand to point at the window. The muted light of the sun that you saw earlier is still looking bleak, more of a pale-grey than the usual golden, with the wild swirls of snow dropping from the sky and no sign of the blizzard letting up anytime soon. “That.”

He sighs. “I feel like we’ve had strings of bad luck constantly following us.”

Smiling against his chest, you know what he is trying to say. “We slept together twice, and both happened due to bad weather,” you deliberately deduce his thoughts with a hum. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah,” he says with a delirious chuckle, finding it somewhat funny now that you have voiced his thoughts out loud. “Looks like we’re stranded together, again, until the wind starts letting up. They say it’s going to be soon, but I’m not sure.”

You cannot stop smiling the more you think about it. “Funny how it keeps happening to us, huh? At least we can remember this day as the first Christmas morning we celebrated together,” you say this with a grin, as you pull back to rub at your stomach from over the blanket. “Just the three of us.”

Taehyung follows your gaze and scoffs. “Way to go for making me feel guilty about stealing you from your family on Christmas Day,” he grumbles, making you laugh. “And if we’re actually doing this, uh—this relationship, do you think it’ll be weird?”

You look up to him, seeing the frown forming on his face. Before you can question what he means by it, Taehyung continues to explain, “Maybe I shouldn’t come to see your family again next Christmas, or anytime soon. At least until we’re settled and everyone has forgotten about everything.”

The way he says it, and the way he looks when he did, makes you want to laugh. “I think we’re good. And you can always join us next year. Besides, the holidays aren’t so bad with you around. Not this year. It beats sitting down and listening to other people’s stories for once.”

Hearing this, Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you. “Even with all the drama we had with your sister?” he asks, sounding doubtful. “In case you forgot, I almost had a brawl with your stepfather.”

For the first time ever, you doesn’t feel any need to correct him by calling Alia as your stepsister. That thought makes you smile. But you keep it to yourself, and instead lean up to kiss his cheek to help ease his mind out of it.

“What we had?” you question him with a teasing voice, “that’s nothing. You haven’t experienced having Aunt Janey around. Have you ever read or heard those Reddit stories about entitled aunts? She would have gotten all the trophies if anyone in the family has ever written anything about her online.”

You smile as Taehyung listens to you with a chuckle, and you can feel his worries slowly being lifted. “And as for Dad—” you let out a sigh as you think about your protective stepfather, “let’s just hope that Alia manages to butter him up to let things go. You know that he’s weak when it comes to her. Or, you can buy him a drink the next time you see him.”

Taehyung purses his lips as he considers this. For a moment, he doesn’t seem to believe your words, but he still nods his head either way. “Fine, I guess we can talk about that later. We’ll cross the bridge when we get there, I suppose?” he asks with a bashful smile. “Why don’t we focus on you for now, and the baby?”

You prop yourself up on your elbow while holding up the blanket with the other arm to cover your nakedness from his hungry eyes. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he says with a grin as he sits up against the bed’s headrest. “Should we continue and maybe do this with a late lunch, though? I’m starving. I couldn’t eat anything at breakfast.”

“Are you famished for food, or—” you tease him by leaning closer, “Do you have an appetite for another thing?

He groans. “If the second option has anything to do with you, then the answer would be both. But we need to get some food in our system if we want to get back into the other.”

Laughing, you finally step out of the bed to call for the room service. You continue to spend the rest of the day with him, chatting over the meal, talking about your future plans and all the mundane things that you need to know about each other, before the heat between you picks up again and he pulls you back into bed.

Warmth envelopes you the entire time you are with him, regardless of the winter storm that is still happening outside of these walls.

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading this story! Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. See you in the next story :)

#k-vanity #bangtanwhq #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #bts x reader

1K notes · View notes

bbtsficrecs · 10 months

Text

BTS FIC RECS PART 4.1

Part 4.1 of some of my favourite BTS fanfics. Please do consider liking, reblogging and/or commenting on the fics you like. There are so many wonderful and amazing authors out there who do not get the recognition they deserve. So please send them lots of love to keep them going. If you're on here, then know I enjoyed every second of reading your story ♡

There will be two parts 4 as it's (sadly?) too long to be saved under one post. Stay tuned for part 5, joon recs will be added!

Please let me know if some of the links aren’t working. Happy reading!

⊹ Merry Kinkmas - part 02 Enemies to lovers au au | s | @bebejungkook ‣ You find out who your secret Santa was but his gift was a little too personal.

⊹ In Your Arms Tonight College au | s, f | @angelguk ‣ “I’m Team I Would Like To Be Fucked Tonight.” You stated, blatantly ignoring the stink eye he shot your way. “But clearly that’s not on our agenda. Have you ever seen Vampires Suck?”

⊹ Baecation Richboy!jk au | s, f | @1kook ‣ “Lose the top, or lose the right to present yourself in any low back gown for the next three months.” He truly knew the way to your heart.

⊹ Act Of Falling Fuckboy!jk au | s, f , a | @kooktrash ‣ What was supposed to be a meaningless fling has turned into much more before you both realized you were falling. Now all you can do is hope that all the challenges you’ve faced are worth something.

⊹ Candles & Flames Royal AU | s, f, a | @taegularities ‣ He wasn’t supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn’t supposed to target you. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

⊹ Distractions Practice couple au | s, f | @chryblossomjjk ‣ Jungkook agreed to let you do his makeup, but he can't stop getting distracted.

⊹ Naughty Boy Step siblings au | s | @scribblemetae ‣ Reader is older step sister that knows he has a crush on her/yandere tendencies & she teases him until one day he gives in.

⊹ When It Feels Right (read part 1 first) Divorce au | a, f | @7deadlysinsfics ‣ Although Jungkook is struggling with the decision he made months ago, he still thinks it was the best thing he could’ve done for your safety. But he isn’t doing well, and his friends are worried about him and how he’s choosing to deal with his feelings. Meanwhile, you’re now living with your brother, his wife, and their ten-month-old daughter, who has helped bring some light into your life. Just as you decide to tell Jungkook the truth about your pregnancy, he appears at your brother’s house with a truth of his own.

⊹ When She Loved Me Terminally Ill au | s, f, a | @jungkookstatts ‣ How does one live when life is bound to end?

⊹ your step brother fucking you in front of your parents Step siblings au | s | @aris-ink

⊹ Don't Blame Me (on-going) Single Dad au | s, f, a | @thvhoe ‣ Jungkook is known for his good looks and is often described by your friends as "daddy material." Funny enough, he actually was a daddy. The daddy of the baby girl you babysit every Saturday. Working as a nanny for the world's grumpiest single dad should have been easy, but you can't keep your eyes off him. He's handsome, a little arrogant, with broad shoulders and strong tattooed arms. And when he decides he can't keep his hands off of you. Who are you to resist?

⊹ Rolling Stone Idol au | s, f , a | @kooktrash ‣ He was a rolling stone with no ties to anyone or any place and that’s how he and his fans liked it. Now he’s found you and it’s never been this hard to convince someone that he’ll stay. The problem is neither of you know what it means to express yourselves without reverting to sex as a form to end discussion. It causes all hell to break loose when Jungkook realized if he wants you to stay for him [with him] then he needs to show it to you too. Can Jungkook and Y/n get past their own growing doubts on if what they feel is real and work out a way to be together—especially considering Y/n wants nothing to do with the limelight?

⊹ The Ability To Fantom - part 02 (on-going) Brother’s best friend au | a, f | @hanniwrites ‣ You are shocked when your friends reveal their theory: Jungkook, your brother’s annoying best friend, has a crush on you. A bad one.

⊹ Torn Apart Infidelity au | s, a | @bethschamberoftales ‣ That one time when you caught your boyfriend cheating on you.

⊹ My Love Is Here (series) Unrequited love to requited | s, f, a | @solemnreads ‣ You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened.

⊹ I'll Stop Tomorrow Friends with benefits AU | s, a | @dreamyjoons ‣ You know it has to end.

⊹ Just A Taste Spring break AU | s, f | @cutechim ‣ “Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you would taste like.”

⊹ Flat Tire Established relationship AU | s, f | @ppersonna ‣ How do you pass the time when you’re stuck on the side of the road with your boyfriend, with a flat tire?

⊹ One Mistake (on-going) Idol!Tae & Cheating AU | a | @vamours ‣ it’s been three years since you and Taehyung had started dating. recently, you’ve started to notice changes in taehyung’s behavior towards you. with your four years anniversary only a few weeks away, you’ve come to discover the truth.

⊹ Akrasia Strangers to? | s | @nitaescence ‣ Basically two strangers fucking in a crowded bus.

⊹ Stepdad Taehyung Step!father au | s | @aris-ink ‣ "He was not touching himself right beside you. No, that was not possible"

⊹ Rock Bottom Idol Jimin AU | s, f, a | @jkbabiey ‣ When, in a four-year marriage, you get to the point where you question its worth, you know that’s your rock bottom. How many I’m sorry’s will you handle? How many times are too many times?

⊹ What's Poppin Established relationship AU, | f, s | @joonberriess ‣ Yoongi being the type to buy you a chain cause if he’s pimped out, his girl gotta be too.

⊹ Foundation - Part 01, 02, 03 feat Yoongi Non-idol doctors AU | f , s, a | @hamsterclaw ‣ You know Jungkook is a fuckboy. So why are you letting him fuck with you? Featuring Yoongi.

⊹ Looks so refreshed Idol AU | s | @kimnjss ‣ Friends with benefits is hard, but when he’s an international superstar… It’s much harder. So while you love his friends to death, spending the night holed up in his hotel room just sounds a lot more fun than a dinner party.

⊹ Friends (3TAN) Brother's best friend AU | f, s, a | @kithtaehyung ‣ The week you get with Yoongi has a few surprises. and one of them presents itself in the form of a phone call.

⊹ So it goes Friends with benefits (ish) AU | f , s | @prodagustd ‣ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it..

⊹ Marry me, Yoongi Established relationship AU | f, s | @spideyjimin ‣ When Yoongi decides to get married in vegas after all the fan’s comments on the vlives.

⊹ Amour Propre Established relationship AU | a | @randombtsprincessa ‣ Crumbling Relationship with one Min Yoongi

⊹ Blind Spot Established relationship AU | f, a | @randombtsprincessa ‣ Yoongi tries to win you back.

⊹Your Universe Rejection AU | f, a, s | @muniimyg ‣ Regretting rejecting oc, Min Yoongi goes through a circus load of gestures and tasks in attempt to be loved again

2K notes · View notes

zyafics · 5 months

Text

MASTERLIST: RAFE CAMERON

ᯓᡣ𐭩 mood boards

✦ ethnic gfs | all east asian ༯˖. south asian ༯˖. middle eastern ༯˖. west african ༯˖. southeast asian ༯˖. filipina ༯˖. albanian ༯˖. east african ༯˖. brazilian ༯˖. mexican ༯˖. spaniard ༯˖. syrian ༯˖. afrolatina ༯˖. tongan ༯˖. wasian ༯˖.

✦ finish line | fic, blurb, #maybank!reader

✦ all american sinners | fic, blurb, #sex addict!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 imagines

✦ tlc | rafe hollering at you from the passenger side of his friend's car

ᯓᡣ𐭩 drabbles

✦ headspace | sfw + fluff

established relationship, academic weapon!reader┆when rafe comforts you regarding your upcoming exam.

✦ proofs | sfw + fluff

established relationship, academic weapon!reader┆when you need rafe's help to finish a math homework.

✦ mangos | sfw + fluff

established relationship, vietnamese!reader┆when your spice tolerance is different from your boyfriend's.

✦ white picket fence | sfw + fluff

established relationship, dad!rafe | when your baby daughter wakes rafe up, he goes to comfort her.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 oneshots

✦ stay the night | nsfw + fluff

fwb to lovers┆if rafe sees you as a fuck buddy, then you're going to remind him what that truly means.

✦ angry god | sfw + angst

twin flames┆when rafe discovers you're more like him than he realizes, he'll do anything to have you.

✦ dirty air | nsfw

older sister maybank!reader, fuck buddies┆when rafe wants you as a booty call, you're going to make him work for it.

✦ te amo | nsfw + fluff

mexican!reader┆after a fight with his father, rafe shows up to your door for comfort.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 full-story fics

✦ reality check | request, nsfw + fluff

bsf to lovers┆when rafe gets a buzzcut, it changes how you view your best friend.

✦ finish line | nsfw

older sister maybank!reader, racing rivals┆when your little brother has to forfeit a race against rafe, he seeks your help to replace him and win.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 series

✦ brother's rival | in progress, nsfw

brother's rival, secret romance┆when your brother is determined to steal something important from the king of kooks, rafe is going to return the favor.

( 01 ) , ( 02 )

✦ play fake | in progress, nsfw + angst

fake dating┆when rafe needs to secure a girlfriend, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

( 01 ) , ( 02 ) , ( 03 ) , ( 04 ) , ( 05 ) , ( 06 ) , ( 07 ) , ( 08 ) , ( 09 ) , ( 10 ) , ( 11 ) , ( 12 ) , ( 13 ) , ( 14 ) , ( 15 ) , ( 16 ) , ( 17 / END )

— extras ( 3.5 ) , ( 5.5 )

✦ dead man walking | oneshot (for now), nsfw + angst

mafia boss!rafe, reluctant allies┆when a shootout injury is more life-threatening than it appears, you have to save him or lose your life.

( 01 )

#navigation #rafe cameron

651 notes · View notes

mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months

Text

The specific process by which Google enshittified its search

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

All digital businesses have the technical capacity to enshittify: the ability to change the underlying functions of the business from moment to moment and user to user, allowing for the rapid transfer of value between business customers, end users and shareholders:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Which raises an important question: why do companies enshittify at a specific moment, after refraining from enshittifying before? After all, a company always has the potential to benefit by treating its business customers and end users worse, by giving them a worse deal. If you charge more for your product and pay your suppliers less, that leaves more money on the table for your investors.

Of course, it's not that simple. While cheating, price-gouging, and degrading your product can produce gains, these tactics also threaten losses. You might lose customers to a rival, or get punished by a regulator, or face mass resignations from your employees who really believe in your product.

Companies choose not to enshittify their products…until they choose to do so. One theory to explain this is that companies are engaged in a process of continuous assessment, gathering data about their competitive risks, their regulators' mettle, their employees' boldness. When these assessments indicate that the conditions are favorable to enshittification, the CEO walks over to the big "enshittification" lever on the wall and yanks it all the way to MAX.

Some companies have certainly done this – and paid the price. Think of Myspace or Yahoo: companies that made themselves worse by reducing quality and gouging on price (be it measured in dollars or attention – that is, ads) before sinking into obscure senescence. These companies made a bet that they could get richer while getting worse, and they were wrong, and they lost out.

But this model doesn't explain the Great Enshittening, in which all the tech companies are enshittifying at the same time. Maybe all these companies are subscribing to the same business newsletter (or, more likely, buying advice from the same management consultancy) (cough McKinsey cough) that is a kind of industry-wide starter pistol for enshittification.

I think it's something else. I think the main job of a CEO is to show up for work every morning and yank on the enshittification lever as hard as you can, in hopes that you can eke out some incremental gains in your company's cost-basis and/or income by shifting value away from your suppliers and customers to yourself.

We get good digital services when the enshittification lever doesn't budge – when it is constrained: by competition, by regulation, by interoperable mods and hacks that undo enshittification (like alternative clients and ad-blockers) and by workers who have bargaining power thanks to a tight labor market or a powerful union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

When Google ordered its staff to build a secret Chinese search engine that would censor search results and rat out dissidents to the Chinese secret police, googlers revolted and refused, and the project died:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dragonfly_(search_engine)

When Google tried to win a US government contract to build AI for drones used to target and murder civilians far from the battlefield, googlers revolted and refused, and the project died:

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/06/01/technology/google-pentagon-project-maven.html

What's happened since – what's behind all the tech companies enshittifying all at once – is that tech worker power has been smashed, especially at Google, where 12,000 workers were fired just months after a $80b stock buyback that would have paid their wages for the next 27 years. Likewise, competition has receded from tech bosses' worries, thanks to lax antitrust enforcement that saw most credible competitors merged into behemoths, or neutralized with predatory pricing schemes. Lax enforcement of other policies – privacy, labor and consumer protection – loosened up the enshittification lever even more. And the expansion of IP rights, which criminalize most kinds of reverse engineering and aftermarket modification, means that interoperability no longer applies friction to the enshittification lever.

Now that every tech boss has an enshittification lever that moves very freely, they can show up for work, yank the enshittification lever, and it goes all the way to MAX. When googlers protested the company's complicity in the genocide in Gaza, Google didn't kill the project – it mass-fired the workers:

https://medium.com/@notechforapartheid/statement-from-google-workers-with-the-no-tech-for-apartheid-campaign-on-googles-indiscriminate-28ba4c9b7ce8

Enshittification is a macroeconomic phenomenon, determined by the regulatory environment for competition, privacy, labor, consumer protection and IP. But enshittification is also a microeconomic phenomenon, the result of innumerable boardroom and product-planning fights within companies in which would-be enshittifiers try to do things that make the company's products and services shittier wrestle with rivals who want to keep things as they are, or make them better, whether out of principle or fear of the consequences.

Those microeconomic wrestling-matches are where we find enshittification's heroes and villains – the people who fight for the user or stand up for a fair deal, versus the people who want to cheat and wreck to make things better for the company and win bonuses and promotions for themselves:

https://locusmag.com/2023/11/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-dont-be-evil/

These microeconomic struggles are usually obscure, because companies are secretive institutions and our glimpses into their deliberations are normally limited to the odd leaked memo, whistleblower tell-all, or spectacular worker revolt. But when a company gets dragged into court, a new window opens into the company's internal operations. That's especially true when the plaintiff is the US government.

Which brings me back to Google, the poster-child for enshittification, a company that revolutionized the internet a quarter of a century ago with a search-engine that was so good that it felt like magic, which has decayed so badly and so rapidly that whole sections of the internet are disappearing from view for the 90% of users who rely on the search engine as their gateway to the internet.

Google is being sued by the DOJ's Antitrust Division, and that means we are getting a very deep look into the company, as its internal emails and memos come to light:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

Google is a tech company, and tech companies have literary cultures – they run on email and other forms of written communication, even for casual speech, which is more likely to take place in a chat program than at a water-cooler. This means that tech companies have giant databases full of confessions to every crime they've ever committed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/03/big-tech-cant-stop-telling-on-itself/

Large pieces of Google's database-of-crimes are now on display – so much, in fact, that it's hard for anyone to parse through it all and understand what it means. But some people are trying, and coming up with gold. One of those successful prospectors is Ed Zitron, who has produced a staggering account of the precise moment at which Google search tipped over into enshittification, which names the executives at the very heart of the rot:

https://www.wheresyoured.at/the-men-who-killed-google/

Zitron tells the story of a boardroom struggle over search quality, in which Ben Gomes – a long-tenured googler who helped define the company during its best years – lost a fight with Prabhakar Raghavan, a computer scientist turned manager whose tactic for increasing the number of search queries (and thus the number of ads the company could show to searchers) was to decrease the quality of search. That way, searchers would have to spend more time on Google before they found what they were looking for.

Zitron contrasts the background of these two figures. Gomes, the hero, worked at Google for 19 years, solving fantastically hard technical scaling problems and eventually becoming the company's "search czar." Raghavan, the villain, "failed upwards" through his career, including a stint as Yahoo's head of search from 2005-12, a presiding over the collapse of Yahoo's search business. Under Raghavan's leadership, Yahoo's search market-share fell from 30.4% to 14%, and in the end, Yahoo jettisoned its search altogether and replaced it with Bing.

For Zitron, the memos show how Raghavan engineered the ouster of Gomes, with help from the company CEO, the ex-McKinseyite Sundar Pichai. It was a triumph for enshittification, a deliberate decision to make the product worse in order to make it more profitable, under the (correct) belief that the company's exclusivity deals to provide search everywhere from Iphones and Samsungs to Mozilla would mean that the business would face no consequences for doing so.

It a picture of a company that isn't just too big to fail – it's (as FTC Chair Lina Khan put it on The Daily Show) too big to care:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM

Zitron's done excellent sleuthing through the court exhibits here, and his writeup is incandescently brilliant. But there's one point I quibble with him on. Zitron writes that "It’s because the people running the tech industry are no longer those that built it."

I think that gets it backwards. I think that there were always enshittifiers in the C-suites of these companies. When Page and Brin brought in the war criminal Eric Schmidt to run the company, he surely started every day with a ritual, ferocious tug at that enshittification lever. The difference wasn't who was in the C-suite – the difference was how freely the lever moved.

On Saturday, I wrote:

The platforms used to treat us well and now treat us badly. That's not because they were setting a patient trap, luring us in with good treatment in the expectation of locking us in and turning on us. Tech bosses do not have the executive function to lie in wait for years and years.

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/22/kargo-kult-kaptialism/#dont-buy-it

Someone on Hacker News called that "silly," adding that "tech bosses do in fact have the executive function to lie in wait for years and years. That's literally the business model of most startups":

https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=40114339

That's not quite right, though. The business-model of the startup is to yank on the enshittification lever every day. Tech bosses don't lie in wait for the perfect moment to claw away all the value from their employees, users, business customers, and suppliers – they're always trying to get that value. It's only when they become too big to care that they succeed. That's the definition of being too big to care.

In antitrust circles, they sometimes say that "the process is the punishment." No matter what happens to the DOJ's case against Google, its internal workers have been made visible to the public. The secrecy surrounding the Google trial when it was underway meant that a lot of this stuff flew under the radar when it first appeared. But as Zitron's work shows, there is plenty of treasure to be found in that trove of documents that is now permanently in the public domain.

When future scholars study the enshittocene, they will look to accounts like Zitron's to mark the turning points from the old, good internet to the enshitternet. Let's hope those future scholars have a new, good internet on which to publish their findings.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

#pluralistic #ed zitron #google #microincentives #constraints #enshittification #rot economy #platform decay #search #ben gomes #code yellow #mckinsey #hacking engagement #Prabhakar Raghavan #yahoo #doj #antitrust #trustbusting

498 notes · View notes

adeleidetheexplorer · 1 month

Text

ᰋ ׅ࣪ ꒰ minors dni 18+ pac reading detailed ♡︎ your future spouse/lover vs public affection and sex ꒱

01. 02. 03.

disclaimer : this 18+ reading was made for adult audiences. it contains adult language and content and it may not suitable for minors and may not be for some adult readers. read at your own risk and be open-minded. *chuu*

cards: 60C, fool, KoP, NoC, lovers.

your future person would definitely love that idea. they find it attractive when someone is innocent or plays innocent in bed. someone who is soft and virgin, someone who is inexperience when it comes to this kind of area. they want a type of sex where an emotional bond is present with their lover. they love doing it on the balcony, in the forest or somewhere on higher places. this person who can physically please you until the end of fondness, they prefer diligent, slow and erotic affection and the lust and desired you are longing and looking for a partner to satisfy you during and after. if you are horny and looking for someone to please you well you can rely upon on them. public affection and sex's will incredible with them. you can show off some of your desires with them, this connection is about exploring new things and let to unfold each other's desire of fantasies. with them, you will experience: unwavering compassion, intense sexual energy, a close bond, and a love that's beyond human can imagine.

cards: SoS, PoS, Justice, 100S, WoF.

they definitely don't like that idea, moreover, they would feel nervous about that. this person is afraid being arrested for public nudity, they think it's not so cool. they likely raise an eyebrow everytime you ask about that to them, it's like: "are you out of your mind, honey?". thinking about public sex makes them feel embarrassed but i neither figuring you too enjoying public sex but affection? yes, you two are go for it. but for the sex thing in public you both prefer doing it privately, they like being sub-dom because sometimes they let you to take over them, there's something stopping them to fully take over you. this is someone who likes to play and be naughty before actually doing it. they're bold and wild when you two doing it privately, they like watching you over while you are pleasuring yourself: masturbating or having arousal about them. bondage, spanking, handcuffs and collecting sex toys are some of their deep desires that they wanted to do with their lover. Unprotected and breeding sex is likely to happen here. In public places, their ways of showing affection is like sitting close besides each other's in a bench park, theater or lying on the same space while having picnic something along with these lines.

cards: PoW, 20C, KoW, 30C, NOP + AoC.

they fine with it but not too showy when it comes to this kind of areas, someone who act as if they wouldn't care but they kinda feel of excited about it. this person is like a shy type person. someone who is secretive about their fantasies, i don't think they will show it up to you as their partner because they're to embarrassed and shy to do that. typically, you wouldn't know what will happen next when you have sex with them but they prefer to initiate the intimacy. they like looking so seductive and elegant when it comes in the bed. before, this passionate sex happen there's a little chit chats and drinking might happen. if i'm not mistaken they do like comfortable sex, kisses and hugs rather than being harsh towards their partner. they do want their own partner to feel this very deep emotion while doing it. this is like a connection of friends to lovers. having physical intimacy with them makes you feel wanted to do more multiple times, you will desire for their touch and kisses. you can't get enough for the passion that happening between you and them under this red-hot feeling.

©thecelestialperiwinkle

#divination #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #spiritual #spirituality #tarotcommunity #witch #thecelestialperiwinkle #witchblr #cartomancy #love reading #periwinkle pacs

351 notes · View notes

chiyokoemilia · 1 day

Text

chapters of us (a bookstore romance)

ᰔ series. chapters of us (a bookstore romance)

ᰔ pairing. - architect/carpenter gojo satoru x bookstore owner reader

ᰔ summary. your love life is as quiet as the shelves of your bookstore. seeking a change, you sign up for a dating app and become captivated by a picture-less/nameless profile—belonging to none other than gojo satoru, a charming architect with a complicated past. your online connection sparks with undeniable chemistry, but you remain unaware that the man you’re drawn to is also your neighbor next door. when he unexpectedly walks into your cozy bookstore, your world shifts. as you navigate feelings for both the mystery man online and the neighbor who feels like a heartbeat away, hidden truths loom over you. can love blossom amid secrets, or will the shadows of your pasts eclipse your stories before it even begins?

ᰔ word count. tbs

ᰔ fic warnings. contains explicit sexual content, guy-next-door, romantic tension, rough sex, age difference (gojo is 32, reader 23), themes of self-doubt, angst, insecurities, heartbreak, and emotional trauma. explicit smut, rough sex, self-destructive behavior, violence, he falls first and is down bad, illnesses, divorce, complicated relationship/pining, alcohol use. happy ending. ᰔ genre/tags. age difference (9 years), neighbors to lovers, slow burn, romantic tension, emotional depth, self-discovery, secrets, heartbreak, healing. 18+ ᰔ status: in progress ᰔ ao3 + wattpad

ᰔ navigation: chapter list: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | epilogue

ᰔ story details: c.o.u q&a, gallery: gojo’s aesthetic, readers aesthetic, bookstore, workshop, gojo headcannons, ᰔ taglist: — (open! comment if you'd like to be tagged for future chapters)

253 notes · View notes

lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— ode to you ⟢

if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.

or: 25 lives in which you find and don't find jeonghan.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 6.9k words

★ TAGS; reincarnation, multiple lives, pining, angst, suggestive scenes but no smut, sooo many tropes

★ WARNINGS; mentions of blackmail, implied murder, implied depression, mentions of puking/vomiting, mentions of car accidents major character death

★ NOTES; i was supposed to work on my collab fics but i feel like i've gotten a little rusty w my prose so i wrote this as a little writing exercise of sorts :D i've written for other fandoms in this format before and i thought it was high time i did the same for seventeen with my ult of all ults <3 i hope you enjoy!

this is inspired by tongari's 25 lives

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti–red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon

★ JEONGHAN TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @bias-recs - @lunaryoongie

01. the very first time i remember you, you are blonde and you don’t love me back.

One strict rule that you make sure to uphold with all of your clients is that business comes first before all else.

You're a well-known freelancer that lands gigs left and right from high-end fashion brands and magazines alike. The only way your career managed to survive in such a cut-throat industry is because of the strict professionalism you never failed to maintain.

That's until you meet Jeonghan for the first time.

Fluffy blonde hair framing his face, curling just along the edges. Slanted eyes that crinkle just a bit whenever he smiles. And a lazy grin that betrays just how nonchalant he is about the entire thing. Like he knows he's gorgeous he is and how everyone else in the vicinity is aware of the fact, too.

You've worked with a handful of people with breathtaking features in in the past, but there doesn't seem to be any word in any language that could encapsulate just how mesmerizing Jeonghan is.

For the first time in your career, you find yourself wanting to reach for the subject being captured by the lens of your camera. Just to make sure he was an actual person and not some doll crafted from fine silk and porcelain. The fact that he's modeling with a bouquet of lush flowers does little to your peace of mind.

But your innate professionalism overrules whatever nonsensical desires your sleep-deprived brain could conjure in that moment.

Once you're satisfied with the material you've come up with, you're quick to dismiss Jeonghan and the rest of the team, and call it a day. You have another shoot to oversee in less than two hours and you'd like to avoid the rush hour traffic if you can.

Yet, despite your urgency, you stop halfway to the door to the studio—casting a sidelong glance at the person who's supposed to be one of your temporary colleagues and none else.

"Jeonghan," you call out, his name tasting bittersweet on your tongue. "It was nice working with you today."

He barely glances up at you from the soft glow of his phone screen, not even a smile spared your way.

"Yeah, sure."

02. the next time, you are brunette, and you do.

Yoon Jeonghan is the biggest menace you've met in your life.

Not only does he keep stealing your parking space in the office basement and plucks off the last brownie in the pantry during break time, but he's after the promotion you've been vying after for months, too.

Needless to say, he's public enemy number one in your eyes, and all your colleagues are well aware of the scorching rivalry you two constantly waged in the workspace.

But on the night before you're set to present the proposal that you swear up and down would make your superiors choose you over that sniveling prick, the Devil himself swoops into your cubicle with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Do you really not see it?"

You frown at him as you shove your laptop into your bag with an air of irritation. "See what? That they're going to select you for the promotion? I don't, actually. That's why I'm—"

The words promptly melt on your tongue when Jeonghan forces a hand on divider separating your space with the others—trapping you with a sleazy look on his face. His dark brown tresses fall across his piercing eyes but you force yourself to hold your ground.

In the midst of it all, a moment's worth of familiarity crosses your mind.

Blonde hair styled to perfection. A bouquet of flowers just as beautiful as the man that models for them.

How long has it been since then?

"Can't you see that I'm only doing all this to get your attention?" he chuckles. "I've always known you're a bit slow on the uptake, but you might need an extra push in the right direction."

You gulp nervously. "W-What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan shakes his head, amusement dancing across his features in a way that makes you want to smack him, if not for the laws imposed on the land.

"Have dinner with me tonight and I'll withdraw from the competition" he propositions. "How's that sound?"

...Isn't this blackmail? It definitely sounds like blackmail.

But despite knowing that you should just bring your knee up to smash into his family jewels, your face heats up with the implications of his offer instead.

An offer that you begrudgingly accept.

03. after a while i give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything.

"Really?"

Jeonghan grins when he steps into your apartment sporting his newest dye job. You're perfectly aware that idols these days get the most outrageous hair colors, but you didn't think his stylist would be daring enough to pull off long purple hair for Jeonghan just a few months after his group's debut.

Over the years, Jeonghan cycles through a lot more colors than you'd ever thought he'd be willing to try. Blonde, pink, red, brown, silver—all of them, he pulls off with grace.

Even when his idol days are over, he still gets bouts of wanting to march into the nearest salon for another makeover, and you rectify this by just buying the cheapest bleaching kits online despite his whines in protest.

"Our stylist noonas would've been alright with a house call." He pouts just a little as you force him to sit still. "It might come out all patchy."

"Do you have so little faith in your partner's bleaching skills?" you huff, dipping the brush you have in one hand into the bowl of sharp-smelling bleaching mix in the other. "Your stylists noonas charge a fortune, too. We're better off doing it ourselves."

Jeonghan laughs. "You act like we can't afford it."

Turns out, you fucked up the portions of your little bleach concoction and your harmless session resulted into googling first aid for bleaching burns and soaking Jeonghan's scalp with coconut oil for the rest of the day.

"Sorry," you mumble as you help rinse out the oil the next morning. "Do you want to contact your stylist or head to a salon instead?"

Despite your wary disposition, Jeonghan merely breathes out a chuckle, taking your hand in his as he meets your eyes in the bathroom mirror.

There, two rings glimmer in the morning light—the one he shares with his twelve brothers and the one you slid onto his index on the day of your wedding.

"I've been through worse, love. This is nothing," he insists before pressing a soft kiss across your knuckles. "Let's just let my scalp rest for a few days before we dye it, okay?"

You shake your head with a laugh. Really, what are you supposed to do with this man?

"If you insist."

04. because even when you don’t exist, i'm still in love with you.

"You got my name wrong again."

In the middle of packing a takeout bag for the food delivery guy waiting in the corner of the café, you look up to some familiar college kid standing in front of the counter with a furrow on his brow. A regular, maybe.

"Sorry?" you ask, brain a little too frazzled to make sense of what he was trying to say.

Said college kid shows you the underside of his cup—the name Jeonghan scribbled hastily onto the material.

"My name's Jeongin," he sighs. "I've been coming here everyday and I swear, you always get it wrong."

"Well, I'm so sorry, Jeongin, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," you manage to wrench out before calling out to the delivery guy, saying the order was ready for pick-up.

Funnily enough, you end up living together with Jeongin by some twist of fate. Your shoes are lined up with his outside the apartment, toothbrushes lying in the same cup in the bathroom, and you even steal his hoodies every now and again.

But what you don't tell your boyfriend of five years is how you still dream of the man whose name brought you together in the first place.

A man who you don't get the pleasure to meet in this life, much like a dozen others that came before.

05. i remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together

In the past (though its definition is a little...unique in your case), you were convinced that just because Jeonghan is the sole singularity to which your existence is anchored to, that doesn't necessarily mean you'll get to have him and him alone in each life.

Yet in this one, you're fully convinced that he's the only person who'll ever have your heart.

It's on a cold, winter afternoon when you realize that you're in love with the boy that showed you how to cross the monkey bars in elementary school. The boy who gives you his packed lunch whenever you forget yours at home. The boy who taught you how to pick locks so you could sneak into his father's liquor shop and get drunk behind the counter.

Jeonghan has always been a fascinating person in whatever life you meet him. But now that you've got a taste of what it feels to grow up alongside him—witnessing him transition from a snotty kid to a troublesome adult—you can't picture yourself wanting anyone else.

He's rightfully startled when you confess your feelings merely minutes after having realized them. You've lived through this endless cycle of meeting and parting ways enough times to know that there's no room for uncertainty.

And each time he accepts you with open arms, the relief that washes over you feels like the first time all over again.

06. when i share my secrets and sorrows and hiding places with you.

There are times when you're the one who doesn't remember the lives you've lived in the seemingly endless cycle.

When you meet Jeonghan in this life, it's with shoulders carrying the weight of emotional baggage and dreams that have been crushed right before your eyes. It's an understatement to say that you're inexplicably drawn to him as if he's a beacon in the dark. But even if you're yet to remember, Jeonghan has always been easy to trust. Easy to fall into.

One night is particularly heavier than the rest. Your meds aren't kicking in the way they're supposed to and it's raining much too harshly to pay your comfort person a late night visit.

Yet when you call your boyfriend as you choke on your own tears, he's at your door in half an hour—paper bags full of all your favorite snacks in hand with a smile that feels like a ray of sunlight amidst a raging storm.

But he's quick to drop all of it and pull you into a hug when he sees the mess you are in the living room.

"I'm a bad person," you sob into his chest, clinging to the fabric of his jacket as he placates you in his tender embrace. "I'm s-selfish and always just think about myself. I've done so many terrible things, Hannie... How could you even love someone like me?"

Jeonghan doesn't answer right away. He calms you down for the better part of an hour before rising to get you a glass of water in the kitchen. Your boyfriend watches with quiet attentiveness until the look on your face tells him that you're ready to talk again.

"So what if you're a bad person, love?" he murmurs before planting a kiss on your forehead. "Tell me every terrible thing you did and let me love you anyway."

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh. "Which cheesy pocketbook did you pull that one out of?"

"Hey, I drove for thirty minutes in the rain and this is how you thank me?" He huffs before reaching for a bag of chips he haphazardly strewn across the coffee table, tearing it open and offering you a piece. "I read that on Pinterest, by the way."

07. i love how you play along with my bad ideas

In many, many lives, Jeonghan is not yours to love.

And that's okay. There isn't a fine print stating that because you're blessed (cursed?) to meet him in each lifetime, you're meant to be together against all odds.

Fate is fickle like that—so unpredictable that you never really know how to act whenever you do cross paths with Jeonghan eventually.

Still, even if you're not destined to be lovers, you can still love him in other ways.

Like helping him sneak out of his third period lecture so he can come watch local street performers hold a fundraising show in some underground bar. You do all this because he once told you that he wanted to support them in any way he could.

If only Jeonghan could see the grin on his face that gets wider with each dancer that takes the stage, he wouldn't have a hard time wondering why it was so easy to fall in love with him.

"So when's the next time you'll help me sneak out of a lecture?" Jeonghan asks as the two of you head back to campus at a mellow pace even if Jeonghan's next classes starts in ten minutes.

You hum as if genuinely contemplating. "Maybe after you do me a huge favor in return for this one."

Your shoulders bump together as he lets out an easygoing laugh. As the late afternoon sunlight filters through a canopy of trees and onto your best friend's face, you feel a tug at your heartstrings that urges you to pull him in for a kiss.

But you don't.

08. before you grow up and realize that they’re bad ideas.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

Jeonghan's voice sounds considerably spooked when the amusement park staff locks in the over-the-shoulder restraints. The buzz of excitement from other visitors rings in your ears and he seems to be the only person that isn't looking forward to being on a rollercoaster.

"You act like this is the first time you've been on one." You roll your eyes. "Just relax and feel the wind on your face, yeah? If it gets too much just hold my hand or whatever."

You should not have offered in the first place because by the time the you've made two trips around the wildly looped tracks, you're convinced Jeonghan has already cut any and all circulation to your fingers with how tightly he's gripping your hand.

But still...you can't deny that it feels a little nice to be needed by him.

09. (and in our lives together i have many, many bad ideas.)

“Do I know you?”

Jeonghan makes the mistake of blurting out those very strange words when he catches you sitting right next to him at the bar. You startle when he breaks the ice, fully convinced you're the one who had to initiate when you deliberately slid into the stool to his right.

Amused, you study him without much of a real expression before the tension in your posture melts into gentle laughter.

“No,” you say with a tone that suggests you're making fun of him. “But we could get out of here so we can get to know each other better. What’s your name?”

A dozen expressions flit across Jeonghan's face in mere seconds and you would've laughed again if you didn't know the reason behind the perplexity of his reactions.

“It’s Jeonghan. But you can call me…”

Before he can get the rest of the pick-up line out, he promptly throws up all over your outfit.

10. when we meet as adults, you're always much more discerning. I don't blame you.

"Again."

Your sweat beads across your forehead and drips onto the floor as you catch your breath. Palms braced across your knees, you look up to your mentor with a resentful glare.

In this life, Jeonghan—who was considered part of the 'anemic line' in his group eternities ago—is now one of the most well-known choreographers in the industry and would probably put Soonyoung to shame with how much of a perfectionist he is when it comes to your routines.

"Can't I get a five-minute water break?" you plead.

"You can get one when you think you deserve it," he says flatly before crossing his legs. "Do you?"

Much to your chagrin, you're just as much of a perfectionist as he is in this life. You shake your head with a guttural sigh, forcing yourself back into position despite your muscles aching for a break.

You don't miss the way Jeonghan smiles at your display of determination, but you don't let yourself think much of it either.

11. yet, always, you forgive me.

Jeonghan is upset with you.

He has all the right to be, really. You promised that you'll leave enough candy bars from your Trick or Treat haul to last both of you for a week, but you ended up overeating while binging your afternoon cartoons and now there's only one stick of chocolate left in the hollow, pumpkin-shaped bucket.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "Do you want to go to the candy store to buy some more? I can break my piggy bank if—"

"No, you're saving up for that new game on your Nintendo DS, right?"

The fact that he actually remembers that makes you gape at him. "Um, yeah, but it's no big deal. A candy bar is only worth a few—"

Not giving you any leeway to speak any further, Jeonghan grabs the last candy bar inside the bucket—tearing the packaging open with his teeth before breaking the chocolate in half in the middle. Despite his annoyance, he hands you the other half with a small pout.

"Then just keep saving up so we can play it together," he grumbles and even when he's barely eight years old, it comes so natural for him to show you how much he cares about you.

12. as if you understand what’s going on

"Do you go here often?"

You flash the stranger who's speaking to you a befuddled look—not expecting to hear a line typically used on you in bars at your father's yacht club, of all places. He's wearing tattered jeans and an atrocious pink flannel over an equally tattered shirt. You wonder if he's just going for an odd aesthetic or if he's in dire need of a closet makeover.

"No. I'm just waiting for my father," you tell the man honestly before glancing at the boats docked by the pier. "He bought another yacht that I'm sure he won't even think of after bragging about it to his friends."

The stranger laughs. "I know how you feel. My old man's just as materialistic as yours sounds."

Oh. Maybe he is just going for an odd aesthetic with his fit after all.

"Wouldn't have thought you were a nepo baby, too," you snort before kicking a lone pebble into the water—watching it sink into the depths until it's out of sight. "I thought you were one of the boys that maintain these things while their owners completely forget about them."

"Hmm, I can be anything you want me to be," he chuckles and even if you've only met this guy five minutes ago, something about his laughter sounds so oddly familiar.

"The name's Jeonghan, by the way." The not-so stranger smiles and the feeling that you know him from somewhere intensifies tenfold.

"What's yours?"

13. and you're making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist

You like to think of yourself as an independent person.

You've crossed literal lifetimes in the strangest rendition of immortality that you've never once read in all the books you've deigned to pick up in this never-ending eternity. It's only natural for you to be self-sufficient.

But when it comes to Jeonghan, you always get to refamiliarize yourself with what it feels like to be lonely.

There are things about him that you consider irreplaceable: the curve of his easygoing smile, the warmth of his slender fingers, and the touch you yearn for constantly.

You're perfectly aware that you don't need Jeonghan for all these lives to gain some semblance of meaning. In fact, it's in the lives where you don't meet him that you get to learn a thing or two about yourself.

But when he is there, when he's the reason you get out of bed everyday, you simply think that a second of being with Jeonghan in the flesh is worth more than a lifetime in his absence.

14. and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

Your phone is pressed into your ear in the middle of the grocery store because your good friend Joshua thought it was the perfect time to rant about his insufferable boss.

Being the lovely person that you are, you let him talk your ear off as you parse through the cabbages on display—wondering which one you should bring home for salad night.

"He's such a fucking prick, you know?" Joshua groans out the same sentence for the third time since you picked up his call. "No wonder his wife is having an affair behind his back. That's karmic retribution if I've seen it.''

"Shua, have you ever considered just resigning instead of making me your therapist?"

"I have, it's just that finding a new job is way more of a hassle than dealing with my asshole boss everyday," he grumbles. "But about the therapist thing—thanks for always listening to me. I know I can be annoying at times but you always put up with it any..."

Joshua's voice fades into the backdrop of your mind when you spot a flash of pink in the corner of your eyes. You instinctively turn your head in the direction of a stranger running towards the exit of the supermarket—wearing an atrocious pink flannel that you would recognize anywhere in any lifetime.

You briefly apologize to Joshua before ending the call, shoving your phone into the pocket of your jeans before leaving your push cart to chase after the figure receding from your line of sight.

You just barely catch him hopping onto a bus when your instincts lead you to further outside. You would have sprinted for a ride, had it not been for the children that obstruct your path with a little game of tag.

By the time you finally shake them off, the bus has already driven past the intersection—snuffing out the candle, leaving you in the dark.

15. i hate those. i prefer the ones in which you kill me.

You've watched a dozen serial killer documentaries in your lifetime—well, lifetimes. They always start the same way: a psychopath with a way with words charming his next unsuspecting victim into their utter demise.

While you absolutely did not know that this life's Jeonghan will turn out to be a crazed lunatic that gets off on seeing another human being's blood on his hands, it doesn't really change the fact that your heart is still tethered to him despite.

He still smiles as sweetly as you can remember as the tip of his knife glides along the column of your throat. His voice is just as comforting in those lives where he'd never forget to kiss you good night right before going to sleep.

"You're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Jeonghan murmurs. "But you'd be so much prettier if you just lay still."

The last thing you remember seeing is the angelic look on his face as if he's the one who'll personally escort you to the next life.

You don't particularly mind.

16. but when all's said and done, i'd rather surrender to you in other ways.

It's only amidst the post-orgasmic clarity that you realize how much of a fool you are.

These quick trysts you share with Jeonghan are brief. He invites you over under the guise of something that isn't sex for the sake of propriety, only to pull you into his apartment and kiss you until stars danced behind your eyelids.

He's flicks the cigarette he's having on the ashtray as he complains about a coworker he's been trying to get with for the past month. She likes playing hard-to-get, but I like her so much that I don't really mind? Is that weird? Oh, do you want a smoke, too? Sure, let me light you a quick one in a sec—

You're a fool because you've spent dozens, if not hundreds of lives chasing after him—whether you yourself are aware of it or not.

To Jeonghan, this is a life he probably won't remember in the next. To you, it's another inescapable death sentence.

"Maybe you should drop the nice guy act," you suggest before taking a drag of your own—not caring how the ashes stain Jeonghan's crisp white sheets despite his protests. "Showing your true colors is what got you to land me, you know."

"And we all know how much of a catch you are." He winks before killing his cigarette on the ashtray.

You're about to respond with an eyeroll until he plucks the cancer stick off your hands as well, disposing of it the same way he did with his own. When Jeonghan maneuvers himself on top of you again, you let out a withering sigh.

"Maybe I should just date you instead," he giggles before leaning down to nip at your ear, slender arms coiling around your waist. "What do you think?"

"You already told me before that I wasn't your ideal partner, asshole," you remind him with a huff.

Jeonghan hums, a noncommittal sound that seems like there's something else layered underneath. "But what if I told you that already changed?"

It's enticing—the possibility of getting to have him again when you couldn't really call him yours right now. But you know better than to take things that aren't meant for you.

At least, not in this life.

"Stop saying silly things and just fuck me already," you grumble, already tugging off his boxers. "Then you'll delete my number right after so you can finally get with the woman of your dreams. Got that?"

17. even though each time, i know i'll see you again, i always wonder

You've always looked forward to summer.

No more grueling classes. No more deadlines to catch up on. Summer means you get to go back to your hometown for a few weeks, unwinding in ways that your usual schedules don't quite permit you to.

Summer also means you'll get to visit Jeonghan again.

Your mother already has food and flowers prepared in advance—saying Mrs. Yoon kicked up a huge fuss when she found out you were going back home this weekend. You receive the news with fond laughter, noting how the flowers Jeonghan's mother picked out are reminiscent of the ones he held in the very first life you met him.

"I'm graduating next year," is the first thing you tell Jeonghan when you arrive, popping open two ice cold sodas before settling yourself on the grass in front of him. "Can you believe it? Four years of college, just gone in a flash. If you actually went through with your performing arts scholarship, you'd know how I feel."

"I'm thinking of getting a job here instead of the city. You know, so you won't feel too lonely without me," you chuckle, the moisture of your drink beading across your fingers. "Although, your sister keeps insisting that they give you plenty of company already and that I should chase after my own dreams first. She's starting to sound a lot like you, you know that?"

Jeonghan doesn't respond. Of course he doesn't. But you can almost hear his stilted laughter in the warm breeze anyway.

You place the flowers and the cola in front of his gravestone with a bittersweet pang in your chest. But before the tears can get the chance to escape, you turn on your heel and leave the cemetery altogether.

You didn't always look forward to summer after the accident that took the love of your life away. But knowing that your best friend—your soulmate—would simply be waiting for you in the next life, things became much, much easier.

18. is this the last time?

"Don't go..."

Jeonghan murmurs the words between drunken hiccups as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckle, smoothing your hand across his sweater-clad back as he clings to you like a koala.

"Hannie, what do you mean?" you whisper as you glance at the mess of empty bottles you'll have to clean up from the coffee table once you put your boyfriend to bed. "I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls away from you briefly, puffy eyes glistening with tears as he lets out a shuddering sigh.

"I had a dream that you left me for some guy named...Jeongin, or whatever," he mumbles. "I promise I'll treat you better than anyone else. Just don't...leave me."

In some way, he remembers. Not everything because even you don't completely recall all the lives you've lived. There's too many of them now, most of which are too painful to think about all over again.

But this is the first actual instance where Jeonghan unknowingly hints that his past lives stay with him even beyond death, and it makes you wonder if he'll start to remember the others in time as well.

"I won't, Hannie," you whisper, weaving the words into a promise that you'll be sure to keep in the next life, and the hundreds of lives that will inevitably follow.

"I won't."

19. is that really you?

There are lifetimes where you try, but it just doesn't work out.

Sometimes, fate carves both you and Jeonghan into mismatched pieces of two different puzzles, and he doesn't even try to convince you to stay as you quietly pack away your belongings in dull brown boxes. The tension in your movements tells him that you knows he's watching.

"I'm not getting back together with you, if that's what you're wondering," you rasp. "If you love your job more than me, then I'll be the one to see myself out."

Jeonghan manages a sad smile that you completely miss—having been so caught up with your frustration with him to look. You thought that in each life he ends up becoming a world-famous idol, it meant that he'd also live all of his days with you by his side.

But things aren't always that simple, and Jeonghan merely stands in resignation as you shut the door to both his house and your heart.

20. and what if you're already perfectly happy without me?

When you took up a job as an events coordinator, never in your wildest dreams did you expect to be planning Jeonghan's wedding, of all things.

He doesn't seem to remember you and you don't really fault him for not recognizing someone he's met literal lifetimes ago. Not when he's obviously so enamored with his current fiancé.

"We were interested in the deluxe package on your website," Seungcheol, his intended, breaks the ice after the formal introductions, showing you a screenshot on his phone. "Is this inclusive of a lights and sound system or will we have to outsource those somewhere else?"

You nearly miss what Seungcheol was asking you—too caught up in how beautiful Jeonghan looks today. He's grown out his hair longer than he usually does and it's half pinned behind his head.

When it takes you a while to respond, both his and Seungcheol's gazes flicker with confusion before your heart sinks with how in tune they are with each other.

"Y-Yes, lights and sounds are already included in the package." You compose yourself with a warm smile. "But you might be interested in the royalty package. This would give you access to..."

21. ah, but i don’t blame you.

"Baby, I'm sorry."

Jeonghan looks like a kicked puppy sitting at the side of the hospital bed with how apologetic he is. You want to tell him that it really is no big deal but with the lower half of your body temporarily paralyzed, you can't really say that's the case.

"I shouldn't have insisted that you come to the music show when it was raining," he groans. "It's a miracle you managed to swerve out of the truck's way."

You wonder if he remembers the life where you lost him to an accident not so different from the one you narrowly escaped last night. The absolute fear in his eyes the moment he saw you covered in casts and bandages is reminiscent of the time you received the phone call informing you of your boyfriend's passing.

But you don't make it a habit to ponder too long about lives that have long come to an end. What's important is now, where you're still living and breathing and able to remain by his side.

"It's not your fault, Hannie," you murmur as you reach out to pet his head with some difficulty. "I shouldn't have gone past the speed limit in the first place."

"Well, you wouldn't have to do that if I wasn't being so pushy about you showing up," he sighs in defeat. "Tell you what, I'll pull out of all our comeback schedules until you can walk by yourself again."

You frown at him. "What? No! Your managers are going to kill you."

"They will, but knowing you'll be all alone while you recover will kill me inside too."

Jeonghan isn't usually this cheeky with you, so you keep this memory tucked away in your consciousness for as long as you can. Knowing there's no talking him out of it once he's got his mind set, you shake your head with a defeated sigh.

"You better take care of me like they do in those five star nursing homes then."

22. i’ll never burn as brilliantly as you.

Your favorite lives, you think, are the ones where he lights up the stage and the entire world as an idol.

He's happiest in these kinds of lives. The bond he shares with the rest of his bandmates transcends even the love you've harbored for him through lifetimes, and if there are people you'll gladly surrender Jeonghan to, it's those twelve boys that will always be his brothers no matter what.

"How was that?"

You're in the middle of giving out stage directions for the next round of performers when Jeonghan walks up to you with his signature, lazy smile. He's sweat-stricken with a stutter to each breath he takes, but he makes himself appear just as composed as he wants you to think.

"Breathtaking as always, Jeonghan," you decide to humor him—knowing that the sooner you give him a compliment, the sooner he'll leave you alone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to—"

"Will you be busy after the show? I wanted to cook dinner for us at home."

A panicked look seizes your face when you gesture for him to keep it down. Your eyes dart around the vicinity—idols and their stylists running around backstage in preparation for the next segment of the show. None of them seemed to have picked up on Jeonghan's little slip of the tongue.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" you whisper sharply over the sound of another fellow stage director paging you in the south entrance. "Anyways, I have to go, Hannie. And please don't go blabbing about our relationship where you shouldn't."

When that idiotically handsome smile doesn't fade from his lips, you know things won't exactly go your way as usual.

23. it's only fair that i should be the one

At some point, you stop counting altogether.

The lives you live with and without Jeonghan blend seamlessly into each other the longer the cycle repeats itself. It doesn't hurt as much when you don't find him, but your heart still gushes with relief when you do.

And yet there are instances where you try to spit in the face of fate itself. Instances where you decide that you don't want to be chained to Jeonghan anymore. That the lives you live belong to you and that you won't let some otherworldly force dictate the course of it any longer.

One day in the summer, in some petty attempt to cheat your way out of fate, you decide to date your next door neighbor.

Sujin has the same eyes as Jeonghan—it’s something you can’t really look past. Maybe that’s what makes it so easy for her to wear down your defenses without breaking a sweat.

But the moment the thought crosses your mind, you wipe out every similarity until you can’t see them anymore. They almost look the same apart from gender, but Sujin is so different from Jeonghan, that for a while, you forget about the burden you've been carrying all this time.

One day in the fall, Sujin talks about meeting her brother for dinner, and you don't really ponder about it—agreeing without a hitch.

But that’s only the first of your many mistakes because the man who walks into the restaurant is Jeonghan. Sujin’s brother, the person who’s kissing your girlfriend on the cheek, is Jeonghan.

“Did you know that Sujin never shut up about you when you brought her the housewarming gift?” Jeonghan snorts before ordering a glass of wine. “Hmm, you look kind of familiar, though… Have we met before?”

“No,” you respond almost instantly.

It doesn’t work. Your master plan of waging war with destiny is rendered utterly useless when Jeonghan bruises his way back into your life. Where Sujin managed to ease herself past the walls you've put up after a few weeks, Jeonghan tears them down in half the time his sister took to pick you apart.

One day in the winter, Sujin breaks up with you, and in spite of the coil of emotions twisting in your chest, you watch her pack her things and move back into the apartment across the hall.

One day in the spring, there’s a knock on your front door that you're in no hurry to answer. You stare at Jeonghan with equal parts irritation and relief when you see him there. His grin reminds you of flowers unfurling as he stares back with a challenge in his eyes.

A challenge you loathe, but one you can never refuse.

24. to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

Your head is resting on Jeonghan's lap when he poses the question, and you think the fact that your eyes are closed is already an answer on its own.

You used to think you were cursed. Maybe you've incurred enough bad karma in your very first life to provide you with a steady stream of misfortune in the next few million lives you're destined to live.

That could be the reason why you have to live all these lives, meet all these people—rinse and repeat. Is this how the gods are punishing you? Is there anyway to atone for sins you can't even remember committing anymore?

Though…when you open your eyes and see Jeonghan staring out into the distance, you have a hard time thinking of him as a punishment.

You sit upright and stretch out your limbs. There’s a kink in the back of your neck that might be resolved by a good night’s sleep, but you offer Jeonghan a hand before you can think about it any more.

“No,” you answer as you twines your fingers together, pulling him back to his feet as he spares you a loving smile.

“Not really.”

25. until i find the one where you'll return to me.

"That bouquet's really pretty."

Jeonghan glances behind him with a confused look—frustration clear on his face from trying to get the new stove he had installed in your kitchen last week to start. When his eyes land on the beautiful spill of flowers bundled up in a vase on the dining table, his features soften with fondness.

"Those are the flowers I had when you met me the first time, right?" he chuckles before taking a seat next to you. "The one where I was a 'prick of a model who wouldn't even bat you an eyelash'?"

Your chest bubbles with laughter at his description. You've grown more and more comfortable with telling Jeonghan about the lives you've shared in eternities that have long unspooled, and just when you feared he'd treat you like someone who escaped an asylum, he instead took all your words to heart.

He doesn't quite remember them all on his own, but when you bring up little pieces from old memories you do manage to dredge up, he's able to complete the pieces of the story to form a coherent picture.

Maybe that's what Jeonghan is to you—someone that isn't exactly necessary to have in your life, but someone who makes it infinitesimally better.

If there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that Jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. He can be crass. He can be secretive. He can be nothing short of vexing.

But he can also be kind, considerate, and present in times when you need him the most.

In the end, he's everything you need him to be.

And you couldn't ask for anything more.

⟢ end notes: me: this is a writing exercise, the word count: pushing 7k :') ok so this wasn't proofread even in the slightest so if you spot any mistakes and errors, no you didn't <3 thank you for joining me in this very self indulgent train of delusion!

#svthub #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

2K notes · View notes

kalki-tarot · 8 months

Text

GOOD THINGS HAPPENING FOR YOU IN NEXT 6 MONTHS ✧˖°.

Timeless | pick a picture | Masterlist

Tarot is not 100% correct all the times and does not replace medical or professional treatment. Your destiny lies in your own hands and you create your own reality. Kalki tarot is not responsible for any decisions made on behalf of this reading by anyone.

Pile 1

You are finally walking away from things that don't serve you in the next 6 months

Your hard work will be acknowledged by your seniors or superiors

Someone will offer you a helping hand or emotional support

Small investments will convert into big profits

Your intuition will increase and you will connect more to your higher self

Someone's true nature will be revealed to you (water sign, masculine energy)

Some truth will come to surface and will be known to you

A love message / offer / confession on valentine's day

You will gain stability after a long time of being drained

An exciting text message!

New friends, new people and new communication

Pile 02

You are getting the needed rest and relaxation

A trip of travel / break from work and going on a vacation

People who don't match up your energy are finally leaving your life in next 6 months

You will be blessed with Material abundance and generational wealth

A result coming in your favour

Your Emotional well being improving

Mental clarity and a state of letting go of things that don't serve you anymore

Alignment with your goals

You are getting some reward or recognition for your hard work

A manifestation is coming to you in the 3d

A successful deal will take place and things will go your way

A new relationship is forming here, something you were anxious about will go very well according to your plans

Pile 03

Your dream wedding is taking place

A party or meetup with friends and family

Your family and you are having a great time and things are being resolved by their own

A communication is coming fastly towards you which you were waiting for a long period of time

A wish fulfilment

International travel

Your trauma is being healed in the next 6 months

Maybe you will finally meet a therapist or a nurturing human being who will help u heal and serve an important purpose in your life

Balance and harmony in your mental state

Things are getting better for you

Something about your moon sign will be beneficial for you, or some astrology related thing happening with your moon sign in your favour

You will receive a bouquet of flowers

You will go to a beach / water body for relaxation

You learn something about your ex which will help u move on from them / their true nature will be revealed to you through divine intervention for your betterment

You will finally complete or break a karmic cycle.

Pile 04

A mental conflict or fight will get resolved

You are advised to not spend too much money on useless things

You will do some charity work or just volunteer for people

You will know some divine secret

A wish is getting fulfilled in the next 6 months

If you are thinking of confessing your love to someone, do it! They will day yes to you!

You will finally leave your comfort zone and go out on a date

Something significant from the past will inspire you to start something new soon

A new beginning in something is quickly on its way to you

You will be presented lot's of options in love or career to choose from

You will finally rise from the ashes

Your family or loved ones will help you with something with which u are struggling rn

A situationship will come to an end and will being communication

Things may get delayed for you but they are coming on the right time

749 notes · View notes

temptaetions · 7 months

Text

angel eyes 🪽 b.cc (m)

a/n: the photo above is from stray kids' skz magic school shoot. i don’t own the media. i clearly got carried away writing this, because it's so long. however, i hope you guys enjoy it. obviously none of this is real...so does accuracy matter?

✩ spellbound secrets series m.list

✩ synopsis: you’ll think you’re in paradise, and one day you’ll find out he wears a disguise, don’t look too deep…

✩ genre: idiots to lovers | love epiphany au | teacher x student

✩ pairing: ??? b.cc x fem!compassion conjurer!reader

✩ word count: 21.6k | lowercase intended.

✩ rating: 18+. minors do not fucking interact.

✩ warning(s): quite a few time skips. minor character death, mentions of a car accident, semi descriptive. y/n has a scar across her body (not self inflicted, how it was inflicted is not described), both y/n and chan have unresolved issues with love, chan's kind of a dick in the beginning. swearing, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of blood, y/n has a medical episode, once more horribly written smut [between b.cc x reader: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!!), creampie, oral (f. receiving...he starts eating it thru the panties LOL), so much kissing, some (nude) grinding, missionary (because i'm an emotional bitch), light nipple play (clothed), crying during sex, multiple orgasms, reader begs a lot, some biting, light choking (m. receiving), a bit of alluding to sex as 'extra credit' and subtly feeding the professor x student power dynamic]. (more information about y/n: she glows, kind of like a glowstick, and she can float around instead of walking.)

✩ what to listen to: angel eyes - abba | the chain - fleetwood mac | bodyache - purity ache | if it isn't love - new edition | cherish the day - sade

tuesday – november 02.

it's slow, the fall. it feels like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

he's been lost before - in grocery stores, not understanding assignments. shit, he's even been lost in the woods before. he knows what it's like to be lost, physically. he knows what it's like to not know what his emotions mean, either, so that also counts in his book.

but this? this feeling that he's just wandering the world? not knowing where his purpose lies, or what he's meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose? this is a feeling of damn near disorientation, isolation, off fucking course. it's all the same anyway. everything is the same, nearly everyday.

he wakes up, brushes his teeth. greets changbin and hyunjin at the table for breakfast, and gets ready for the day. goes to class, daydreams. he comes home, has lunch with jisung sometimes, and goes to the gym with changbin at seven-thirty. every few fridays, he'll go to one of the university baseball games, cheering on seungmin and jisung while sharing nachos with his ex-fling, sooyoung, and her best friend (who so happened to be seungmin's former girlfriend.) then, he's home again, he showers, he sleeps for a few hours.

every. single. day.

he gets bored, but reminds himself he needs to find peace in the routine. it's all he knows – he doesn't know what's keeping him here, but he's aware it's something. everyone knows it's something, but have no answers for him. he's sought after so many master sorcerers across all dimensions, begging to find an end to his equation, but to no avail.

he has no idea who he is, or what purpose he serves, and he pretends he's okay with it. he soothes by saying that not all can be known.

he pretends it's fine as he goes through his days, as he goes to class, as he talks to girls. he doesn't feel much of anything when he does these things, but the women he speaks to certainly do. they grin from ear to ear, like cheshire cats, when they get a moment to speak to the uncertainty that is bang chan.

but, it's fine. he's fine, it's really not a big deal.

he's in his last year of grad school, hoping to just bury himself in his studies to stop the feeling of impending doom. normally, you open up shop right after undergrad. you offer your services, barter for goods, sometimes get paid in a goat and two chickens instead of money. so many of his friends have already done so, relishing in the satisfaction that is being a sorcerer and mastering their craft.

what the fuck is he supposed to do? study until his fingers fall off and his brain becomes putty?

"i dunno, man. you could become a genius." jisung spoke around a mouthful of blueberries, and chan grimaced. "what? i'm bulking up!" shaking his head, chan closed his notebook. shoving it into his bookbag, he sighs. "i don't think i want to know everything there is to know, ji."

"doesn't knowing everything you need to know, start with knowing yourself?" minho teases from across the table, winking at jisung over his coffee cup. the younger boy nearly chokes, getting a whack across the back to aid in not seeing god. "don't flirt with him, he'll have an aneurysm." "hey!" jisung sputters, but the three of them know it's true. how jisung was the campus' playboy, no one would ever know. chan didn't even know if jisung could read when they first met. "you know it's true, ji. i gotta head out, i have a night class this semester with professor y/l/n, i finally got my schedule fixed. changbin is going to hate me because i'm going to miss the gym every tuesday and thursday." chan groans as he swings his bag over his shoulder, and the two men watch as he slides his headphones on, walking out of the library.

he's insufferable lately, and they don't know why. they assume he needs to kiss someone, preferably sooner rather than later.

"you think the poor guy knows what he's in for?" minho mumbles, closing his textbook. jisung shakes his head, popping another blueberry in his mouth. "i hear she's ruthless. i mean, if i was an anomalistic prodigy with gorgeous thighs like hers, i would be, too." "shut up, you can't even kill spiders."

your classroom is surprisingly cozy as he strolls in. the lights are dimmed, and there are blankets draped across many chairs. he looks around, spotting a green couch in the back. raising his eyebrows, he makes a beeline for it, hearing other people start to trickle in.

setting up his laptop on the table before him, he lets his eyes wander.

the walls are plastered with entomology posters, and he scrunches his nose as he sees a taxidermied praying mantis on your desk. he remembers what you said in your speech at your commencement ceremony – "the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide. a guide for those who needed direction, and my god, have i needed it. life truly does go on and i am further amazed by how deeply it fills me with joy to stand here before you. the people of ancient greece and egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide, and i am so honored to be the mantis that prays for you."

you were the university's little treat, their trophy to parade. their only compassion conjurer and possessor of the will to practice benevolent magic. you cared of nothing more but to help those around you, you never said no. you never denied yourself to be utilized to find peace. he admired you, but not really. it was twisted, but he thinks you should…help yourself. he believes you should be selfish, at least once in a while.

he didn't really know you, but he hadn't expected to, either. you seemed like you were constantly on the go. you floated about, sort of like a ghost. your hands often clasped behind your back, a warm golden glow surrounding you. he'd heard from some people that they've seen it change color, but he never has.

but again, he didn't know you.

"chan!"

the voice whips him out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see yugyeom. he smiles, reaching his hand out for a dap from his oldest friend. "hey! how have you been? still on the baseball team?" "nah, i quit after i started dating doyeon. apparently, she has quite the track record with the team." he whistles, pulling out his laptop as he slides on the couch. "you quit the team for a girl?" chan questions, and yugyeom gives him a shy smile.

"she's not just any girl, chan. i think…she could be the one." he shrugs, a blush coating his cheeks as chan bumps his shoulder. "aww, that's so gross."

"shut up. what happened with you and sooyoung? did you guys break it off?" yugyeom takes a sip of his water, and chan nods as he sees more people walk in and take their seats. "yeah, we stopped fucking around. i wasn't as emotionally invested as she was, and i felt awful for it but we ended on good terms. i'm just not ready for a relationship and i should have made that clear. that was months ago, though, and we're fine." he shrugs, and feels an odd shiver down his spine. he shakes it off, continuing the casual conversation with yugyeom.

the door opens, and they both stop talking to look up. you're floating in gracefully, dark hair framing your face, a few scattered gold strands sprouting at the crown of your head. a bit like a halo, really. long, wine red nails reach for the light switch, dimming the lights even lower.

"good evening, everyone. eyes up front, please." your voice is softer than at your ceremony, but just as confident. you're looking around, your glow dimming lightly as your eyes stop in his direction. chan's eyes flicker to yugyeom, who is smiling at his phone, thumbs typing rapid fire. shaking his head, he looks up at you, your gaze on yugyeom. chan bumps his foot, and his head shoots up. your eyes are slightly amused, "you're paying for this class. i suggest you pay attention." "sorry." he slides his phone in his jacket, and chan bites back a laugh as he clicks his pen. smiling, you redirect your attention. "welcome to identity theory! i'm professor y/l/n, but you guys can call me y/n. you might already know me, as i'm the university's only compassion conjurer, and that is exactly why i'm teaching this class." you hold up the syllabus, and begin walking around to pass them out.

"this is an extension course to the one you took in undergrad, self-discovery 101. here, we are going to further delve into ourselves, and figure out who we are outside of our powers, or what purpose they serve. i like to focus on eudaimonic theory, but if you guys have any others you want to talk about, i'm open for discussion. i also want to apologize for starting the class so late in the year. i promise the workload isn't much, i was just having a hard time deciding if i wanted to teach this class. i wouldn't be doing much soul searching with you guys, i'm already the trophy wife of the administration."

he likes your voice. it's smooth, unwavering even as you apologize and joke, even as you let your feet touch the ground. he feels his chest grow hot as you graze everyone's table with your fingers, a soft chatter beginning amongst the students. he's not nervous, but you're very commanding. he likes the way you grab attention, despite it now seemingly about to be directed to someone in the room.

"your eyes are very pretty." you stop in front of him, and the class grows quiet. you look down at him, the soft light around you a little brighter. he feels his cheeks flush, as he nods in confusion. "do they glow brighter the more i make you nervous?" you tease, and he looks away.

"cute." you slide his syllabus in front of him, and he takes it with a soft thank you.

his eyes were the only thing that gave him that something that people always mentioned. they swirled, every now and again, the brown glowing slightly violet at their own will. nobody knew what it was, but it seemed to take your interest. you move forward with the lecture, not even attempting to hide the subtle boredom in your voice as you go over the syllabus.

"i will see you all on thursday! have a safe night!" you cheer, and the students seem to bask in your happiness as you let them out of the room. you float about, and catch chan at the tail end of the gaggle of students. "you, pretty eyes."

his headphones are in the way, and you place your hand on his arm. his skin is warm to the touch, and he jumps at the contact before turning around, sliding them off. "oh, i'm sorry. did you need me?" "i just wanted to say, i hope my teasing didn't make you uncomfortable. sometimes it just slips out." you smile, and you notice one..two dimples make their presence on his cheeks. "don't worry, it's alright. is that all?" "no, actually." you hold up his file, and he seems to know exactly what's coming. "i don't know my abilities, if that's what you're going to ask. and i won't answer any questions about my parents, that's also in there."

his eyes hold something heavy, and you notice your glow dim as he speaks. if he does, he doesn't mention it. "alright, then i guess that's it. i'm sorry if i disturbed some emotional blockage." your brows furrow lightly, and he raises his own.

"whatever." he mumbles, and slides his headphones back on. he walks away, and you feel your lips tug into a frown. you wonder what his problem is as you walk back into your classroom, sliding the file into your desk drawer.

"you try and make a classroom a home."

thursday – november 12.

from: [email protected]

hello, chan. this is professor y/l/n. i noticed you didn't show up to class last thursday, tuesday, or tonight.

i took it upon myself to look into your file again, with permission from the administration. i want to apologize for the sudden hot seat on tuesday after class, i was unaware of your situation and just wanted some insight. i can see how this made you uncomfortable, and i am sorry for causing said discomfort. i want you to be able to enjoy my class, and hopefully we can traverse that journey together.

that being said, i have come up with a new assignment for you, for the time being. since you don't really know what your specialties are, i can't grade based on performance or any papers delving into how they affect your life, personality, etc.

below is the rubric designed for this assignment. i spoke to the administration, and they're on board with this approach. if anything is too much, please don't hesitate to send me an email, or a text. my number is also below. have a good weekend!

signed,

y/n y/l/n

identity theory

spellbound institute of magic

psychology department

555-8212

he's been staring at this email for the last half hour. he even let hyunjin read over it, asking if he was seeing shit.

he'd skipped your class on thursday, and today. he didn't want to see you, so he avoided the psych hall altogether. he didn't really know how to feel as he switched tabs to the rubric you'd sent, essentially just saying you wanted an essay on how he's been coping with not being sure of his path in life.

how does he feel about it? does it bother him, and if he could pick, which abilities would he pick? his brain says the ability to never see you again, but his heart pangs as he rereads the postscript at the bottom of your email.

p.s. i am once again very sorry. i hope to see you in class on thursday, channie. - y/n

channie. ugh, his heart ached. he'd been so rude.

"you're thinking too hard." changbin sings from the living room, and chan sighs. "how would you know? you can't read minds." he rolls his eyes, shutting his laptop. changbin walks into the dining room, leaning over the back of a chair. "i know that look. the furrowed brows, the pout. you're thinking way too hard about this, and it was an honest mistake on your professor's part. you need to apologize, you grumpy bitch." "yeah, i don't really think it's a huge deal, either." hyunjin chimes in from the kitchen, and chan frowns. "you guys think i'm being overdramatic?" "i think your emotional repression is getting to you, you've been so insufferable lately. when's the last time you got laid?" hyunjin teases as he slides into a chair, and changbin wiggles his brows in agreement. "ugh, don't even." chan slumps his head against the wall. maybe seven months? he has a lot of pent up frustration. maybe not enough to write about his feelings and how annoyed it made him that you were digging into his life this early into him meeting you. what did you need to know, anyway? "isn't your professor that compassion conjurer paradigm? i heard the speech she gave at the convention last year, and i saw the photos. she's gorgeous, that glow around her all the time?" changbin whistles smoothly, and chan's stomach does a flip. he also saw the photos, but couldn't bring himself to think anything of them. he barely remembers watching your speech, too, but he certainly remembers the way your hips swayed as you walked off the stage.

he grimaces, feeling a bit gross at ogling you.

"she's fine." he shrugs, and changbin gives hyunjin a knowing look. "so, she's hot and you're into her. that's why she has you so worked up."

"i beg your finest fucking pardon, seo?" chan blinks, and hyunjin smirks. "then beg, channie. i'm sure professor y/l/n would like it if you did, she seems like the type. get on some dating apps, man. you need stress relief." chan scoffs, shoving his laptop into his backpack. "i'll be in my room, if you decide to stop talking about romancing my professor."

hyunjin and changbin snicker as chan storms off, his door slamming behind him as he flops onto his bed. sure, you were…okay. okay, you're hot. you're so fucking hot.

but, he doesn't like you. he doesn't like that you put him on the spot, and he doesn't like that you intended to ask so many personal questions right off the bat. he also doesn't like that his roommates are probably right – he probably is angry because he needs to get laid.

he groans into his pillow, fishing his phone out of his pocket. he unlocks it, opening the stupid app. "spellbound soulmates, how dumb." he mutters, unpausing his profile. he goes through it, updating photos and prompts. once he's satisfied, he goes to his deck.

left. left. left. left. right. right. left. left.

y/n, 26

compassion conjurer, benevolence magic

biography: sexy as fuck by day, sexy psych prof by night. everything you've heard is true.

interests: if your ass is phat, swipe right 🥵

his eyes widen, your smiling face staring back at him. scrolling through your profile, he sees mostly modest photos – you holding a tray of shots being the most scandalous. not a sliver of skin showing above your waist, but plenty of short skirts showing off your full thighs. you're smiling in every photo, but he can't think of anything except your lips parted, your thighs around his head. moaning his name.

alright, chris. he thinks. chill the fuck out.

he contemplates it for a bit, scrolling up and down your profile when he just shakes his head, closing the app and tossing his phone to the side. he flips onto his back, letting the pillow close around his ears.

he hates to admit it, because he doesn't know you. he doesn't dislike you, per say. but he's not very fond of your subtle insistence.

it's not necessarily your fault, but he really doesn't like talking about his family, especially his parents. only his friends know, and even then, it took all of four years to even bring it up. the fact that they're humans is a huge deal, and he can't risk their safety like that.

not to mention, admissions begged him to keep it a secret. they were toeing the line, chan being the third person in the university's history to have human parents. they knew about the world of magic, but didn't really have the abilities to take care of chan the way it was necessary.

so they didn't. they sent him to boarding school from a young age, and made it a point to frequently visit him. he sees them at least four times a year, but it's never enough time. he feels like he's missing a place to call home.

he feels so alone.

it's not your fault. and he knows he needs to apologize. he just has too much pride right now.

he hears a knock, and changbin opens the door. "hey, what are you doing? i'm going to the gym, want to come with?" chan sighs, before forcing himself out of bed.

tuesday – november 17.

he's sitting on your couch today.

legs spread, hair tucked under a cap. black, like the rest of his clothes. he looks relaxed, his fingers dancing across his laptop as yugyeom shows him something on his phone. he just nods, and you can't make out what his lips say.

you'd been feeling terrible about the events of last week, and hadn't gotten so much as an email from him. not about the assignment, not about how he clearly hates you, or even addressing your apology. you didn't understand him, but you don't know him, either.

the past three classes, you'd gotten to know your students. minnie, soyeon and shuhua were your favorite (and only) group, giggling in the corner over their laptops. they were all herbomancers, and you could tell simply based on how giggly they were. they chatted, and last thursday, shuhua was so high she just sat against her chair and stared into the abyss. you found it a little funny, when soyeon and minnie would have to drag her out of your class.

mingyu was a constant flirt, and you attributed it to his matchmaking expertise. he was one of the few cupidancers on campus, and you'd seen him about before. he had the ability to entrance people, to get them high off his attention, and you often saw girls with hearts in their eyes after speaking to him. it was quite the sight, to see someone emotionally orgasm. the fact that you were his professor didn't stop him from smiling at you, making suggestive comments, overall trying to weasel into your heart. you simply played his game, making him flustered.

yugyeom was too enthralled with his phone, and his girlfriend, to complete the assignments. the fact that minnie had slid eighty dollars his way told you his spirit weaving ways were some for the books – and so did minnie – as she rambled about a party at beta tau that past weekend. "you should come sometime, y/n. you'd get so wasted but it'd be so worth it."

you liked that they felt so at ease with you, speaking to you like you were nothing special. you liked being their age, being able to relate to the crazy parties and not worry about how you'd get home the morning after. you enjoyed the intimacy of the small class, but not the coldness surrounding who you would deem your most intriguing student.

he just sits there and he looks so nice. the slope of his neck, the way his fingers bounce on the keys of his laptop. the sheen of his lips from the cherry lip balm he applies three or four times over the two hours of your class. the way your hue almost changes from gold to pink from staring at him, and you know you catch some of their eyes as it tries.

"why do you glow, y/n?" you can hear minnie's hazy voice from the back of the room, and you feel yourself a bit dimmer than usual as you fight down the feelings of lust. "i actually don't know. the master sorcerers never told me, but i know it can be several different colors. care to ask me what they mean?" you wiggle your brows, and minnie giggles.

"pink means you're turned on, huh?" mingyu calls from his seat between shuhua and soyeon, earning a smack from both of them. you chuckle as he pouts, "what? i hooked up with a compassion conjurer last year in the second dimension, forgive me for assuming." "i thought you were bitchless, gyu? what a nice surprise, loverboy." shuhua teases, and mingyu just rolls his eyes. "well, he's not wrong."

their heads whip back to you, and you're purposely glowing gold. you're glad they don't make it weird, their eyes full of glee. "i know those sex flashbacks gotta be good, y/n." minnie giggles, and sighs dreamily. "i once got one in undergrad during the ochem final. i ran out of time and failed."

you laugh, floating closer to their table. "the colors mean a lot of things. i can also change them at will, if one isn't overpowering the other. the hues and brightness also amplify how i feel, which makes it really hard to hide any of my thoughts. for example," you pause, closing your eyes. you feel the warmth of blue overtake you, and hear a soft ooh.

opening your eyes, you give a quick spin. "blue means i'm sad, disappointed, or at ease. i rarely get this one, it usually happens when i'm with my closest friends and can act on impulse."

the quartet looks amazed as you continue to change colors, explaining them slowly.

green, for envy, and disgust. you also rarely turn this color, and it is amongst the most dim that you've ever been. pink, for lust. you say it's your favorite color, but not your favorite feeling. orange for anger, and you recall that you only turned this color when in your mother's presence, and that you hated this one. silver, for remembrance and emptiness, and they don't require an explanation as the light grows brighter, your face deepening in sadness before you shake your head.

you exhale, before letting the cold of indigo overtake you. they gasp, and you feel shivers rack your body before you can finally speak.

"this is the only one i don't understand. i can make it seem darker, too." you say calmly, eyeing the dimness of it. it glowed almost like a blacklight, and at your will, it turned a deep violet, lining your extremities in black pixels. "have you ever felt it before?" soyeon pops a piece of gum in her mouth, offering a piece to you. taking one gently, you shrug as you unwrap it.

"nope. this one feels cold, though. the others feel warmer, like a blanket. this is like, sub-zero temperatures." you slide the piece into your mouth, feeling your golden glow return as you speak. "that's so cool, though. thank you for sharing." shuhua is gazing at you, fondness riddled in her eyes. you feel your cheeks heat, as you smile.

"my pleasure. class is over in twenty minutes, so wrap up whatever it is you're doing and i might let you guys dip out early." you nod at them, floating in the direction of yugyeom and chan. looking up from your gum wrapper, you see chan looking at you intently, his eyes slightly swirling with that same violet glow from tuesday.

"hey, pretty eyes. so kind of you to grace us with your presence today." your teasing makes him grimace, a hint of annoyance flashing through his eyes. "paying for the class, might as well pay attention." he mutters, echoing the first words you said to yugyeom.

your brows furrow at his attitude, and you watch yugyeom slip away, beckoned by minnie with a piece of pink paper. chan glances at you, closing his laptop and shoving it in his bag with indignance. "why are you acting like this? i already apologized." you feel your glow flash orange, before feeling the soft tinge of blue creeping up your back. his eyes are still violet, but they've softened. "i'm just trying to help you, chan."

"i don't think you can help, when you're part of the problem." he mumbles, his gaze never moving from your eyes. you sense blue creeping up your neck, and succumb to it, letting it blaze. "how disappointing, for a teacher to try and aid you in finding your path of life." your annoyance is visible as you spin, directing your attention to the gaggle of students watching your interaction. soyeon's eyes are wide as you dismiss them, asking them to please let the door close instead of leaving it propped open.

the words aren't even out of your mouth when you hear the door slam, yugyeom pitiful eyes confirming your thoughts. they begin to stand up, heading for the door when yugyeom splits from them, circling back to you.

"don't worry about chan. he's being a dick, it's not your fault." he places a hand on your shoulder, and you give him a sad smile. "i know, yug. i know."

a soft squeeze to your shoulder and he's gone, you're alone in your room. you sigh deeply, letting the most overwhelming hue of all take over.

the same dark red you felt all those years ago, letting it overwhelm you entirely. you sink into your desk chair, letting the soft burn of grief sink into your skin. you can close your eyes and still see it, the wine color in front of you. the one that matches your nails, and on occasion, your lipstick. the one that makes you ache the most, and yearn for those who are no longer here.

you miss him.

just like you miss chan's wide eyes, not having heard the creak of the wooden door in your turmoil. he slips away.

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

later that night, you're sitting in your bathtub, letting the hot water relax your muscles. you hear your phone ping, and you reach for it.

from: [email protected]

hello, professor y/l/n. i have read your email a few times since it was sent.

i accept your apology. i also accept this assignment, and will submit it as my final project grade, as per the rubric allows.

that being said, i will not be in class on thursday due to a prior commitment. feel free to email me back with any questions you may have, only those regarding the assignment will be answered.

signed,

bang christopher chan

spellbound institute of magic

general magic

you glare at the email, and let orange flicker like the light of your limoncello candle. you made no effort to question it, simply letting it slide. you send back an automated reply, sounds good! have a good weekend.

thursday – november 19.

chan hated meeting his parents in secret.

like it were a crime, to want to see them. he hated acting like it didn’t bother him that his siblings were growing up and he didn’t know them, he didn’t know what they liked, or what they did for fun. he felt so left out of everything, but still framed the photos they sent him. he still tucked their letters in a box for safe keeping, he still yearned to be loved by them.

not that they didn’t love him, but obviously it’s hard to do so from a distance. so they sit in the middle of the forest that surrounds the university, exactly 50 miles from all civilization. they sit there, for hours, and catch up.

“any luck yet?” his father peers at chan over a steaming plate of food, and he shakes his head. “no answers yet. if i don’t find out before the end of the semester, the master sorcerers said they’d figure something out.”

his mother sighs, her spoon stirring the canteen that held her warm coffee. "it'll be alright soon, channie. have you focused on other things? maybe find a nice girl to settle down with?" his father watches as chan visibly tenses, before pulling his wife close. "jagi, maybe that's for another time." she grimaces.

"i disagree. if he's having issues with other parts of his life, he needs to put it on the back burner for a second and figure out other parts. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? the goal of life is to not let one bad thing, or one disappointing moment deter you from finding the answer to your qualms." she rolls her eyes, earning a smile from her husband.

"okay, she has a point." his father relents, and chan just shakes his head. "i'm not ready for a relationship.' "what about that girl, sooyoung?" his mother won't back down and he knows that. "moving on from my love life, i'm content. i'm fine with things, i have my friends, i have my studies. i'll get an answer eventually." he shrugs, trying not to let it show how much it gets to him.

"chan." she slides her arm across the picnic table, grasping his hand gently. "you're not happy. you can't possibly be, with all the turmoil you feel. you're like an angsty teenager who has never stepped outside his room." "yeah, well. life goes on." he mutters, and she feels her heart sink as he pulls his hand away, checking the time on his watch. "i think i'd better start heading back. i have an early day tomorrow." he's lying. they know it, but they begrudgingly allow him to bid them goodbye. they watch him

walk to his car, and flash his hi-beams as a final farewell before pulling off.

thursday - november 26.

it's been about a month since chan started taking your class.

and it's been about a month since he's been able to say a single word to you without the same tone of indignance on the tip of his tongue. seeing him look indifferent in the back of your classroom made it all the better, though, because at least now he was in class. he didn't speak to you unless you spoke to him first, but he was on time and attentive.

you liked something about him, but you didn't really know what. it's quite possible you just have a little lustful wishing for him, but it felt…weird. it felt strange, you could practically feel your skin on fire every time you glanced at him, catching his eyes every once in a while. he never held the gaze for longer than a few seconds.

as for his violet eyes, you hadn't seen them since. you saw him smile with yugyeom. you've heard him laugh, the sound so sweet to your ears. you hated that your glow was so evident when his giggle resounded in the classroom.

you thought nobody noticed, the students didn't treat you any differently than their own friends. soyeon, minnie and shuhua made it a point to start inviting you out to drinks, and mingyu flirted with you relentlessly. you simply took the interactions in stride, and smiled politely as you kept the lectures going.

but tonight? chan wasn't in class (again) so you didn't have anyone to fawn over. mingyu was front and center, and the girls gathered around him as they conspired amongst themselves. they weren't very secretive, and you could hear them giggling as you floated over.

"what's the joke? i want to laugh, too." you teased with a soft smile, and mingyu flashed you his pearly whites before turning his phone at you.

message from: doyeon

[9:03pm] hey mingyu! tell yug i'm waiting for him at the party, and bring the girls with you!

[9:04pm] see if you can convince your professor to come, too 👀 i've seen her and she's hot! maybe she can take eunwoo off our hands, i'm sick of him moping over jisoo

you chuckle, your glow brightening a bit. "you guys want me to go to a party, at a frat house, on a school night?" shuhua nods her head, a giggle falling from her lips. "c'mon, y/n! live a little, there's going to be so many cute boys there."

"yeah, y/n! plus, a little bird told me a certain purple eyed boy will be there." minnie wiggles her brows at you, and you smirk. "yeah? chan skipped my class for a party?" you glance at his empty spot on the couch, your glow dimming.

"c'mon, y/n. we all know you have the hots for him." mingyu says matter-of-factly, and you laugh. "i do not! he doesn't even speak in class, i don't know anything about him." you shrug, and mingyu smirks. "i've seen the way you look at him!" minnie chimes in, and you shake your head. "so what if you don't? he's hot and you're into that. he has nice muscles, i've seen him at the gym." mingyu sounds like he's trying to convince you, and you give him a smile before patting his shoulder. his cheeks tinge as you whisper, "are they as nice as yours?" soyeon teases mingyu as you float away, and their words stay with you as the class continues for another forty minutes. you type away at your desk as you bid them goodbye, but don't miss minnie sneaking away from her group to hand you a piece of pink paper.

"the address, in case you do want to see chan tonight." she slides it across the desk, a shy smile playing on her lips as she walks away. you glance at it, grimacing at the beta tau seal.

you sigh, pulling your phone to map the walk there from your apartment, receiving a text from your friend, jihyo.

message from: jihyo <3

[9:55pm] hey, you! come with me to a party, i want to scout for booty tonight 👀 i heard beta tau is having one

message to: jihyo <3

[9:57pm] funnily enough, i was about to text you, i got an invite. captain booty reporting for duty 🫡 wear something hot!

— ☆ — — ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —— ☆ —

the party was already in full swing when you and jihyo arrived, pinkies linked. it was apparently a student's birthday party, a short stop on the baseball team. you didn't keep up with the university's sports, but managed to snag a piece of birthday cake in a cup (meaning you dumped the rest of the pink whitney into your cup, and a splash of lemonade) as you let jihyo roam.

"y/n, you made it! you look so hot." you hear minnie from behind you, and you swirl to see her holding onto mingyu. "hey, guys! sick party, my friend jihyo also wanted to come." you shrug, taking a sip from your cup, and minnie gives you a knowing smile.

"hey, don't worry about it. lover boy hasn't kissed anyone since he's been here." minnie moves her head in the direction behind you, and you twist to see chan holding a red solo cup and talking to another student, short with wire rimmed glasses, and a waist you could only dream of. you turn back to minnie, who just winks at you before pulling mingyu away with her.

your body twists to look at chan, trailing your eyes down his figure. he's got on a white muscle tee, and mingyu had not been lying about his body at all. his chest donned what seems to be a rosary, nestled between his pecs that bounced lightly as he laughed. a sliver of his lower stomach was visible, mostly covered by a jacket he likely took off, but the red on the lapels looked good against his skin. silver hoops looped through his lobes and if you didn't sink your teeth into him soon, you were going to combust.

you don't have a crush on chan. not in the slightest. but, you're not blind.

you decided to worm your way to the bathroom, but you didn't realize his friend had spotted you staring. nor that chan's eyes were on you now, wondering what you were doing at a party on a school night, in that short black skirt and soft, flimsy blouse – with no bra. his eyes roll, asking himself why you manage to torture him this way. your coat is long, and covers most of your thighs as you walk away. he winces at the twitch of his cock against his pants.

"professor! what are you doing here!" you hear yugyeom shout from across the room, eliciting a woo from all the people at the party. you smile, and hold up your cup. "hey, yug!"

he waves you over, and you oblige, downing the rest of your drink. "here, try this! i made it." he holds up a long, brown bottle – and you smirk, letting him pour it into your mouth. a bunch of students are watching you down this burning liquor without a second thought, a low whistle emitting from one in particular.

tall, handsome. nicely chiseled face, hair slicked back. barely dressed. slutty.

not chan.

"who invited the trophy wife of the administration? that was hot as fuck." he leans on soyeon, who huffs and shoves him off. "shut up, san."

minnie screams before you can answer. "i invited her! she's cool as fuck, drinks up and tits out for professor y/l/n! wooo!" the crowd that had formed around you took their drinks, a few girls flashing their breasts at you. you let a laugh rip through you when you spot jihyo smiling at you in the crowd before knocking back the rest of her drink. you point to the hallway, signaling you're going to continue your way to a bathroom, before you suffocate on the smell of buchanan's and cheap beer.

the house gets quieter the deeper you go, aside from soft moans coming from a linen closet, obscene wet noises making you shiver as you turn left, finding a clean bathroom. you leave the door slightly ajar as you splash cool water on your cheeks. you let it drip through your lashes before you grab for the toilet roll, only to see someone slip into the bathroom in the mirror.

"hey." chan's voice is low as you pat the toilet paper on your face, and you glance at him. "hey. skipped my class for a party, huh?" "what are you doing here?" he doesn't sound upset, moreso amused. his eyes shamelessly rake up your legs, and you give a snort in reply. "minnie invited me, and my friend jihyo wanted to scope out some ass."

"yeah?" his eyes flicker to yours in the mirror, the violet swirl evident, and you feel your thighs clench in his gaze. your glow starts to change hues, and you roll your eyes as you glow pink instead of your normal yellow. "yeah. why, channie? are you here looking for babes?" you turn, letting the liquor talk as you lean against the sink.

"would it bother you if i was?" he tilts his head, sort of like a lost puppy. you smirk, shaking your head. "why would it bother me if my student wants to get some?" "do you always play this little game with your students, professor?" he takes a step closer, and you curse yourself for glowing a little brighter, but shrug as nonchalantly as you can. "beats being uptight like professor callaghan."

"god, you're so right." he chuckles, before his hands cage you in between his body and the sink. "i bet this glow thing gets really annoying, huh?" "you have no idea." you look up into his eyes, subconsciously tucking your bottom lip under your teeth. you wonder why he’s not questioning the color change, maybe he just knows, maybe he was listening last week. you wonder how many girls he’s gotten with, and how many he’s romanced with those angel eyes of his. "you look good." he says gently, almost as if he's giving you an out. almost as if, he's nervous.

"i taste good, too." you mumble, ghosting your lips over his. you can feel your skin start to singe, but you let him kiss you anyway. you let him lift you onto the sink, parting your legs to stand between them. you let him run his hands up your plush thighs, leaning into the kiss as deep as you can without completely absorbing him.

“can’t you get in trouble for this?” chan doesn’t really care, to be honest. you can tell he doesn’t as he drags his lips down your neck, his fingers tugging your skirt up gently. “hmm, no. not me, anyway. trophy wife of the administration privileges.”

he laughs against your skin, and you give him a cheeky smile as he kisses your lips again, his thumbs gently working circles into your hips. “i don’t want to do this here. let’s find a room, yeah?” "mmm, i don't think so. students who don't participate in class don't get extra credit." you pout, patting his chest when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

message from: jihyo <3

[11:47pm] saw you dip with cutie, so i cozied up to that mingyu guy

[11:48pm] going back to his, u can get home safe?

[11:49pm] i'll turn around if u can't. bros before hoes 💪🏻

message to: jihyo <3

[11:51pm] go ahead <3 txt me deets l8r he's a massive flirt lol

you slide it back into your pocket, and chan's hands leave your skin. he quietly moves your skirt back into place, and his eyes flicker to meet yours. he doesn't look upset at your rejection, moreso a bit grateful. "you're cute. you ask too many questions, and i'm still upset with you, but you're incredibly cute."

it's just the liquor talking. he won't remember any of this, or change his behavior by tuesday. he seems to hold grudges, but you know it's really just emotional blockage. nothing you can't help with, but everything he won't let you help with.

"maybe come to class and i might let you cum in me. you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you mumble against his lips, a shiver going through his spine. "let me walk you home." he murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours. you feel your stomach flip, the gesture so cute you just might let him sleep with you. you capture his lips again, sliding your hand up his chest, fingers softly wrapped at the base of his neck. his hand catches your wrist, sliding it higher.

you give it a soft squeeze as you slither your tongue into his mouth, drawing a soft groan from him. he pulls back, your lips chasing after him as he raises an eyebrow. "who's needy now, huh?" "shut up, let's go." you place a peck to his cheek, and you force your glow back to gold, albeit dimmer than normal. he has his hand on the small of your back as you exit the bathroom. he slides it around your waist, his fingers softly digging into your hip before he stops dead in his tracks. "what?"

you're whispering as you follow his eyes, seeing a blond guy in a baseball jersey staring back at him as he sneaks out of the closet you passed. a girl is gripping his hand, floating behind him. the guy turns on his heels, quickly weaving his way through the people crowding the hall, the girl giving a hazy smile as he drags her through.

"in a closet? really?" he shakes his head, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist. "sorry." "no worries. could've been us if you showed up to class." you tease as he guides you through the crowd, and you spot minnie watching you sneak your way through the people. she wiggles her eyebrows, and you just shake your head as chan opens the front door, letting you out first as he grabs his jacket from his friend.

"shit, it's colder than a witch's tits out here." you chatter, and chan quickly joins you on the porch, sliding the jacket over his arms. "it really is. which way do you live?" the walk is quiet, besides the leaves crunching under your shoes. he's close enough that his cologne meets your nose, but not close enough to where you can touch him and not be overdoing it. the taste of his lips was not enough to satiate you.

"why are you so mean to me?" you ask, not daring to look at him. he hums in response, before grabbing your shoulders, swinging his arm over you. you instinctively wrap your own around his waist, your fingers brushing the same sliver of skin you'd eyed earlier that night. you're burning up against him, and he welcomes the heat as your hips bump.

"i'm normally not this uptight." he starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "i don't like answering questions about my personal life, much less my abilities. or lack thereof, rather. it was too soon when you asked, i'm still trying to figure myself out. i'm very lost in that area of my life, and if i don't find out soon, i'm not sure how i'll make a living. please don't think i'm only this way with you, i'm just feeling stuck. it's like i'm running out of time." you take in his words, nodding silently. you know your magic is taking over him as he speaks, because you feel your glow dimming more and more as you keep walking. "i don't know what that feels like, chan. i'm sorry, genuinely. i truly do want you to understand that i am here to help as much as i can, not just as a professor but as…a friend, i guess." "mmh, i don't think you can help." he squeezes your arm gently as you make a left turn. "i'm too far gone, i believe. i thought about what you said, the emotional blockage thing. and i know that you're using your fingers to seep your funky little magic into me so i talk about myself and get things moving for your peace of mind." his fingers pat yours lingering on his hip, and you sheepishly go to move them.

he holds them in place, as you guide him to the gate of your complex. "i don't mind talking to you, or answering your questions. i really, really admire you as a person and sorceress. the selflessness, you're one of the kindest people i've ever had the pleasure of meeting. you just have to give me some time to warm up to you."

he stops in front of the gate, letting you punch in the code before sliding his arm off your shoulders. "i want to apologize for my behavior. i know i've been increasingly bitchy and standoffish, i'm just stressed. i'm sorry, and i'm sorry for taking it out on you. i know you're just trying to help."

"won't you come in? it's rather late and i'd hate to have you walk back alone." your eyes are slightly pleading, and he raises a brow. "are you sure?"

you shrug, holding the gate open. he walks past you, not comfortable enough to slide his arm over you once more. he feels the warmth of you as you float past, and he follows quietly. unlocking the door, his eyes peer into your apartment, and it's just like your classroom.

the lights are dimmed, and your couch is the same velvety green. it smells like bambinella pear and bergamot, and your walls are littered with photos and articles. many of them penned by you, he notices, as he skims them. "feel at home?" you chuckle, and he hears the rustling of your coat as you slip it off.

"mhm, it smells nice in here." he nods as he continues observing articles, before bumping into your side table. he looks down and sees a newspaper from seven years ago, a smiling face staring back at him.

spellbound prodigy involved in an automobile accident puts the world of wizardry at risk.

he skims the paper, seeing your name repeated over and over again but yet, no mention of the person in the photo. no age, no name.

"oh, you found that?" you're behind him, and you take hold of the paper, letting it droop over your hands. "who is that?" you sigh, your fingernail tracing the man's face. "minhwi. he was my best friend from primary school until the summer of 2017. that's when the accident happened." setting the paper back down, you pat the picture before floating to the kitchen, your golden glow gone as it begins to turn dark red.

"it's grief, the hue." you wave your hand at yourself as chan leans against the island, his eyes softening as you pour water in a glass, sliding it to him. the color dims as you turn to him, sitting on the bar stool. "i know, you're wondering how i'm involved in the accident."

chan looks down, and you let out an airy chuckle. "god, i hate talking about this." you rub your thighs, before looking up. "he told me he was in love with someone, and i encouraged him to make the hour drive to see her. i even offered to tag along, even though it was into the human world."

you're nervous, and chan can feel it. he rounds the island, sliding onto the stool beside you. you twist to face him as he takes your hands in his. how cute, you think.

"there was a really bad thunderstorm, but minhwi literally used to race cars for money. rain or shine, he was an expert behind the wheel. he won so many, and i was there for almost all of them. he called me his biggest cheerleader." chan's thumb wipes at your face, and you hadn't even known you were crying. you feel your chest ache as his hand lingers, before dropping back to your lap. "lightning struck one of the oak trees lining the backway route into town. minhwi tried to swerve out of the way, and we wound up spinning out. the tree landed on the car, and the weight crushed us, and there was glass everywhere. he died on impact."

you sniffle, and chan's eyes are glossy as he clears his throat. "and you blame yourself?" "absolutely." nodding, you interlace your fingers with chan's. "and the fact that i survived and he didn't, it kills me inside. it's not like he would've been able to, he was a…" you trail off, and chan's eyes match yours in size.

"...he was human." he finished, and you can't look at him. "you exposed the world of magic and our practices, to a human." you stay silent, before his arms envelope you in a hug. the burn you feel is almost debilitating, but you feel blue crawling up your neck as he rubs your back softly. "i'm sorry for your loss, y/n."

"that's it?" you blurt, and he laughs against your neck like he did earlier. "yeah, it's not like i can judge you, and it's not like humans don't know we exist. we're just frowned upon, it's not a crime to involve yourself with them. love makes us do crazy things." he pulls back, and you let blue overtake you. "i'm genuinely sorry about your friend. he sounds like he was a great time." "he was. i haven't talked about him since. all i have left is the scars from the accident." you shrug, taking a sip of your water. "scars?"

you flash a smile at him, before shaking your head. "just know, if i ever do let you in my pants, the shirt stays on, not because i'm insecure but because i hate looking at them."

he nods, a shy look crossing his eyes before he closes them. "can i ask you for a favor? before you go to bed, i mean?" "sure, anything." you tuck your hair behind your ears, sitting up. "that emotional blockage you spoke about, you can…remove that, right? i'm not too sure what your powers are." he mumbles as he picks at his nails, and you smile. "i can. would you like me to do that for you?" his eyes look to yours, and you see fear flash through them. "it doesn't hurt, channie. come on, i can do it right now." you slide off the stool, holding your hand out to him. he takes your hand, but instead of following you, he pulls you towards him.

your chest is flush to his, and you see a subtle blush on his cheeks as he dips his head, lips brushing against yours. you relax in his hold, letting your lips mold against his. you can't feel anything but heat and his tongue teasing yours, but it's no big deal (you're trying to convince yourself at this point.) his hands move to hold your face, his fingers burning your skin when he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours.

"not tonight, i don't think i'm ready." he whispers against your lips, and you open your eyes to look into his hazy ones. nodding, you press another chaste kiss on his mouth. "whenever you're ready, channie. i'll be here."

"i'll take the couch." he plants one last kiss on your forehead, and you nod. "if you insist. goodnight, channie." "goodnight, y/n." he watches your glowing form trail down the hall, likely towards your bedroom.

and he sees a hint of indigo spreading across your back as you shut the door behind you.

tuesday – december 15.

chan is a lot nicer as the next two weeks go by. still shows up to class, even early, since your escapade after the party. he finds himself staring at you more often than not, and you're not the only one who notices.

minnie often slips you knowing looks, and you find yourself growing shy as you look to see chan peeking at you over his laptop, eyes glowing that bright violet you've come to adore.

"alright, everybody. have a good weekend!" you smile cheerfully as they file out, your glow now bright blue. the girls had mentioned you looked much more relaxed these days, and you attributed it to 'more sleep.'

you didn't really know what it was. you'd woken up glowing indigo the day after the party, and almost everyday after that. you flickered indigo when you caught chan in the hallway before class on tuesday, and when he hung back a little too long on thursday. really, if you even glanced at chan, you'd flash the dark color and leave the students rubbing at their eyes.

chan, on the other hand, was constantly looking for ways to talk to you.

he saw the flustered flickering, the confusion of your body as it glitched from hue to hue. at one point you had splotches of indigo, pink and your natural gold all over you. you still flirted back at mingyu's advances, albeit he calmed down noticeably. he observed that mingyu was on his phone more often, and you later found out through minnie that he was utterly romanced by jihyo. you thought it funny, and teased him about it (and jihyo, the next time you saw her for coffee and pastries.)

"hey, can we talk?" chan is standing behind you as you wave off your students, and you jump at the closeness. "sure, channie. what's up? is this about your final project?"

it wasn't an unreasonable question. the semester was coming to an end, the students looked visibly stressed and you hadn't heard of any parties since.

but, you knew it was unreasonable for your situation with chan. you never missed his longing glances at your lips, or the fact that he was early to class. his friends changbin and jisung often trailed behind him as he walked to class, and he only introduced you to them because they wouldn't stop badgering him at the doorway. "she's even prettier up close," jisung had said dreamily, and you just gave him a soft smile as you watched him bump into the doorframe.

"not really? maybe." he rubs his neck, and you tilt your head. "what's going on?"

"uh, i think i'm ready. for what we talked about…the night of the party." he swallows thickly, and you feel taken aback. "oh? what brought this on?" you float to the back, patting the same couch he sits in during class. you tuck your legs under you, holding your head up with the wall. his knees brush yours as he sits, and you wince at the heat you feel in your chest.

"i started the essay you assigned last night." he can't look at you, and you find your stomach to grow increasingly tight. "yeah?" "i can't write anything. i have six drafts already, and i feel so overwhelmed." he's nibbling on his lip, almost as though not to cry. you lean closer, his eyes glassy as they meet yours. frowning, your hand finds home on his jaw, your thumb wiping a few fallen tears. "i'm here, i can help. we can do it here."

you get up, moving the tables back towards the walls. he watches you as you move, and your back is splotched with indigo. he still doesn't know what it means, but you shiver as it creeps up your neck. your hand flies to your nape, rubbing your skin. it dissipates, returning to your golden glow.

"need an open space. are you sure?" you motion for him to join you in the center of the room, and he nods. you can already feel the same heat on your skin as he settles in front of you, and the same eerie cold of indigo on your shoulders. you huff, sliding your cardigan onto the floor and rolling up your sleeves. "i have to touch your skin for this, okay? and don't worry about anything else, just keep your eyes on me." he's nervous as he lets you take his shaky hands, a soft pout on your lips as you close your eyes. "i got you, okay? i won't let anything hurt you, you're strong." you're muttering, but he finds comfort in your words. he's sure you say this to everybody.

until you start glowing a blinding blaze of indigo, your face scrunched, wincing as the room cools significantly. you're brighter than he's ever seen, possibly brighter than the fluorescent lights that line the university halls. your grimace grows as you furrow your brows deeply, the glow around you seemingly like a flame. he just watches silently as you drop one of his hands.

"can you lift your shirt for me?" your voice is strangled. your eyes are screwed shut, and he quickly does so, your hand trembling as it makes contact. your skin feels like it's on fire, and you don't know what's happening that you can only hear ringing. you'd never felt anything this intensely, but you persist as your hand palms around his torso, before reaching the center. you splay your fingers, pressing into his skin.

you flash green for a second, so quick he almost misses it.

sliding your hand up his chest, you find the base of his throat. a sigh slips through your lips, and you pull him closer. placing his hand on your waist before moving yours in his hair. you flash slightly pink as he slips his other hand on your hip, his fingers digging into your skin.

"this might feel a little cold." you murmur, and you dim entirely. the glow around you is now gone, a soft grey floating off you. it runs to the floor, like sand, and forms different grainy figures. kind of like…sandcastles. you open your eyes, despite the damn near inferno heat where your skin meets his.

"these are all your blockages." you pull his shirt down, and move his hands from your hips. to your right, is a grainy woman that splits into several more women. next to her, are two figures, who seem to disappear into another figure, a forest. you skirt around him, holding him in place with a hand on his hip. behind him, is another figure.

shaped kind of like you. your thighs, your arms, your hair.

"what…do they mean?" you're snapped out of your process by his voice, and you sigh. "this one…channie, you have to find better coping mechanisms. sleeping with women for stress relief is not good for you. i know it feels good, but there are other things you can do. ever tried puzzles?"

you sink to the floor, pulling him with you. you move the figures next to each other in front of you, the sand-like texture sticking to your skin. gesturing to the women, you keep talking.

"casual sex is awful, when you compare it to relationship sex. shit, even hate sex. at least you feel something other than lust for the person you're fucking." you grimace, and he nods. with a wave of your hand, the sand collapses. "these next three…you can pick which you want first." he glances at them, his hand subconsciously searching for yours. you grab it, and he points at the two people. you let your skin burn as you begin to talk, his fingers tightening around your palm. "these…are your parents, and the forest around the university." the room stills, and chan lets go of your hand. "what about them?" "you're afraid they're not proud of you. you feel like you're missing out on your experiences with them, because…" you wince as an aftershock racks your body, making you shiver. you miss chan's nervous glance. "because they're distant. you feel like an outcast from your family, and it affects the way you form bonds here. it's hard for you to build friendships, and it's hard for you to establish relationships because you fear being loved. or maybe loving, and not being loved back"

taking a breath, you pull your knees to your chest.

"the forest is representative of your lost feeling. all the trees look the same, and it makes you feel like you're constantly going in circles. everyone here is identical, we all have something special. you find it hard to relate because although you know there is something that makes you like us, you're unaware of what it is." he nods, and you let the figures drop.

"this one…" you're mumbling, and he leans slightly closer to hear you. sighing, you pull the figure of you closer. raising your arm, the figure raises her arm. "that's me." his head snaps to look at you, your eyes burning holes into the floor. you glance at the figure, collapsing it. all the figures pool together, and you lean forward, blowing it like you would dust off a bookshelf. it disappears, and chan leans back on his hands.

"what about you?" he murmurs, and you shake your head, moving to lie through your teeth. "i don't know." "you're lying." you feel your glow return, flickering gold. "y/n, tell me what it means." "i can't." you shrug, "i don't know what it means. did this help? do you feel better?"

he's peering at you, his eyes swirling violet. you raise a brow as you look at him over your shoulder, and he just shakes his head. getting up, he stalks back to the couch. you watch as he shoves his arms into his hoodie, and you simply get up, floating towards your desk.

he grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him. you sense the frost of indigo across your mid-back. you turn his hold, eyes glued to his fingers wrapped around your arm. "why?"

"hm?" "why can't you tell me?" his eyes are insistent in their violet glory. chills run down your back, indigo spreading over your hips as you run your eyes over him. he's so beautiful. "because…i can't reciprocate."

he doesn't understand, you can tell as he keeps looking at you. kind of like he wants to eat you alive, but also like he wants you to vanish.

"it means you're in love with me, or you will be. you don't like the idea of it, because it means you'll have to open up to me. that kind of…figure doesn't change, even if you want it to. you won't get the option to leave me out of your heart, and it will be unrequited for the rest of our lives. you will love me, forever, and you won't get a say in it." he lets go, brows furrowed, and his face is deep red in embarrassment. you take a step forward, and your hands instinctively reach for his waist. he allows it as he crosses his arms across his chest, his eyes fixated on you, waiting for you to speak.

"i can't love, chan." you whisper, and feel indigo overwhelm you. pursing your lips, you look down so as to not let him see the tears forming. "trust me when i say i wish i could. i wish i could love you, the way you deserve. i could wake up every morning and reach for you, but you would never be there because i can't give you what you need." the tears are dripping off your face now, pattering on the rug beneath your feet. you let go of him, your fingers tugging your shirt up, slipping it over your head. your hair falls to your shoulders, and you push it back, dropping your shirt on your desk. his eyes soften as he looks at the curve of the wide scar – like an insignia, it's carved into your skin. it starts on your shoulder, curving around it the way a fallen bra strap would. it trails down your sternum, before splitting at your diaphragm. a sharp point ends right under your left breast, while the other curves to the right of your belly button, ending on your hip.

"there is nothing i could do in this world that could ever get me in trouble, because i have this." speaking softly, you lift the cup of your bra, showing him where x marks the spot – directly above your heart. "the coven said this was my punishment for minhwi's involvement in this world, and the outrage i sparked. i can't feel love, and i haven't for so long that even if i did, i wouldn't know what it's like. i won't ever feel what it's like to be loved again, because i don't deserve it."

chan's eyes are glossed over as he brings his hand to your skin, the singe making you grimace as his fingers trace the border lightly. he tucks his lip in his teeth as he touches your shoulder, and your glow flickers slightly brighter. he pulls you in, burying his nose in your hair. "everyone deserves love. this is not your fault, i'm sorry things happened this way." you pull back, his eyes glistening with tears as he thumbs the scar on your shoulder. you give him a sad smile, shrugging in his hold. "it's life. life goes on, but for what it's worth…if i could, i'm sure you'd take great care of me."

"i still can." he says, reaching for your shirt. "i'm a pleaser, really. reciprocation has never been an issue."

"are you seriously making a pass at me? after i just told you all of that? have some shame." you let an airy chuckle slip through your lips as you take your shirt from him, and he just smiles. one, two dimples. "not being able to love doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to cum. just saying." you gasp, landing a gentle smack on his arm before sliding your shirt on. "chan, stop it! what did i say about casual sex, hm?" pointing an accusatory finger in his direction, he cages you between your desk and his firm chest. "didn't we just talk about this? you know it's not casual." you know it's not casual.

"just once, think about yourself, yeah? do yourself a favor." he places a chaste kiss on your nose, and you feel your cheeks heat as he peppers his lips over them. you let a giggle bubble in your throat, his lips stopping over your lips. "just think about it." he gives your lips a quick kiss, before pulling back.

"it's late, let me walk you home?" he offers a gentle look in his eyes. you just nod, grabbing your purse from the back of your desk. you decide you'll move the tables back on thursday, sliding your cardigan up your arms. "aren't you cold?" he asks, sliding his arm over your shoulders like he did the night of the party, as you lock the classroom door.

"no, actually. i don't know if you feel it, but every time you touch me, i feel like i'm on fire." you chuckle lightly as you start walking, and his breath hitches. glancing at him, he just moves the two of you forward. "chan?" "mhm?" he doesn't look at you, and you stop walking. crossing your arms, he sighs. "it's not a big deal." he shrugs, trying to shake the subject by tugging you slightly closer. you frown, wrapping your arms around his waist. your eyes are fixed on him, and he can't help but coo.

"you're so pretty." he squishes your face with his free hand, and continues walking forward. "does it bother you?" you ask, your fingers drumming on his hip. the air is so frigid, and so is indigo as it fights chan's warmth. you just have to let me warm up to you.

he did so awfully fast.

"does what bother me?" he's tracing circles in your shoulder, the movement scorching. he seems so relaxed, so unperturbed by anything. you'd never seen his face so calm, used to the furrow of his brows or the bags under his eyes darker than they should be. "the fact that i won't be able to love you back." he chuckles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. "i'm used to it, as pathetic as it sounds. love is not my forte, or for the people around me. jisung is surprisingly able to get into almost anyone's pants, and can't settle down for shit. changbin is sickeningly in love with his best friend, and do you remember that guy we saw at the party? the one sneaking out of the closet?"

you nod, and he laughs. "that's seungmin. that girl he was with, they broke up back in august. they've been fucking around ever since. if they're both at a party, they're hooking up. can't seem to stay away from each other, in a desperate attempt to stay on each other's minds, i guess? it's cute, i think." he shrugs. you feel your heart skip a beat, looking down to see a white glow on your chest. you ignore it, probably glowing silver as you feel the emptiness, the longing to understand what he means.

"so no. it doesn't bother me, it never will. you get used to it."

it pains you a bit, to hear him sound so…well, used to it. so accustomed to settlement, so unbothered by a lack of reciprocation. selfless, really.

wednesday – december 16.

chan wound up spending the night at your apartment. he insisted on taking the couch before you physically pulled him into your room. the moment his back hit the mattress, he ate his words as you tickled him, forcing him to admit that it was more comfortable.

really, you'd just wanted an excuse to wake up next to him. maybe see his bed head, run your fingers through it, exchange a morning kiss. all of that stupid couple shit that you would never fully experience.

because love makes you do stupid things, like spin out on a backroad and die. so you don't deserve to feel it, and really, it keeps you safe. you have no idea what it's like to love anymore and you pretend you're okay with it. you soothe by saying that not all can be felt, not all that can be desired should be had.

but fuck, if you didn't like chan before, you certainly do now.

there's no reason for this. for him standing in your living room, holding a cup of coffee as he reads through the articles you've written and framed. for him to look so cute in your old abba shirt that's too tight on his arms, for his eyes to be swollen with sleep as he blinks over the mug. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects. on you, on the people in his life.

"you're up." his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you feel your cheeks heat as you nod. "your hair is a mess. here, let me fix it."

he sets down his cup, calmly running his hand through your mussed hair. the curls fight him as he tucks them behind your ears, his fingers lingering on your lobes as you stare at him. your indigo glow reflects on his skin, his head tilted as he speaks. "what? cat got your tongue, professor?"

your mouth opens to retort, but you have nothing to say. nothing comes out. you feel orange flicker through you as you close your mouth, earning a squeaky laugh from the man in front of you. "cute. there's coffee in the kitchen, i just made it."

he doesn't have morning classes on wednesdays, you figure as he follows you to the kitchen. because it's eleven thirty and he's still in your apartment, in your shirt, with his hands on your waist, and you don't care one bit as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"are you upset? you haven't said a word." his thumbs work into the small of your back, and you shudder at his touch, before you shake your head. "i'm not used to having people here so early." "it's nearly noon, y/n." he laughs airily, his breath tickling your neck. "still, so early."

you try and ignore the heat in your chest, far stronger than it had ever been before as his fingers carefully dip below the waistband of your sweats, coming out just as quickly. "you weren't in bed when i woke up." you're muttering, but his proximity makes him hear you anyway.

"aw, did you want to wake up in my arms like they do in the movies?" he's teasing you. you scoff in embarrassment, eyes not catching the subtle white glow on your chest as you turn in his hold. "no way, pft. i like spreading my limbs like a starfish, you were crowding me all night." "hey, i offered to take the couch." he shrugs, and you just shake your head. "should've insisted a little more, then i wouldn't have felt so cold when i realized you weren't there." you joke as you set down your cup, and he raises a brow. "didn't think it would bother you, but that can be fixed." "chan–" you squeal as he hooks his arms under your thighs, your own flying to his shoulders. your legs wrap around his waist as he marches the both of you to your bedroom. "chan, don't you have classes today?" "don't you?" he kisses your forehead gently as he sets you down on your bed, pushing you back lightly. you roll your eyes, trying to hide your excitement as he slips under your duvet. he tugs you closer, your back to his chest. if he cares about the scorching heat of your skin touching, he doesn't mention it as he settles his head in the crook of your neck, reaching to intertwine your fingers with his. he holds your hand tightly, nestling it between your breasts. "if you wanted to touch my boobs, you could've just asked." "shut up, let me hold you. be selfish, for once." he nips at your earlobe, and you sigh. tender kisses trail your neck, and you can feel pink creeping down your thighs as he gives your hand a squeeze. "is this okay?"

"mhm." you can't speak as he lets go of your hand, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of your hip where your shirt has ridden up. he doesn't go up, but instead softly dips into the waistband of your sweats, snapping your underwear against your skin. a whine slips, and you freeze as he pauses. "should i stop?" his voice is raspy in your ear, and your hand grabs his wrist, bringing it lower. "it's alright. you can keep going. f-further, if you want."

you curse yourself at the stutter, hearing a soft chuckle in his throat as his fingers pad over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches in your throat as he circles the wet spot you've been presented with, a shaky sigh escaping chan as he rocks against you. you feel pink envelope in its warmth as you turn onto your back, holding his hand in place as you capture his lips. he kisses you back fervently, his fingers never stopping their movements on your clothed heat.

"c-can you…" you whimper against his lips, his hand never slowing as you move against it, brows furrowed. he watches as you try to form words, your eyes screwed shut as your hand tugs his away. "can you go d-down on me?" barely a whisper as you peel your eyes open, and he swears they hold the stars.

"i'd kill a man if you asked me." he shrugs, and you just roll your eyes. tugging your sweats off, he gets a glimpse of the way your panties stick to your lower lips, his heart racing in his chest knowing he's got you soaking.

he could make you cum with them on. he's positive.

spreading your thighs slowly, he watches as you hook your thumbs into the waistband. he pushes your hands away, not bothering to address your confusion as he holds them in place, sinking between your legs. he can't help but tease, dragging his soft lips up your skin, watching you shudder at the contact. he moves to grip your hips, your shirt rising and the end of your scar becoming visible. his eyes flicker to yours, "shirt stays on, right?"

"y-yeah." you look away, and he rubs your hip reassuringly. "s'alright, baby. i can make you cum just like this, if you want."

it's not a question, you can tell as he kisses the pink cotton of your panties. he has no intention of taking them off, he might not even fuck you, but you don't care. all that matters are his eyes peering into your fucking soul as he dips his head down, a chaste kiss pressed to your hip. he trails down, hands circling your plush thighs as he litters them with kisses. your eyes are watching him nervously, lip tucked under your teeth to stop the soft pants from echoing the room. you feel like you can't breathe as he pulls you closer to his face, pressing that strong nose into you, inhaling deeply. "you smell so fucking good, baby." he's not even doing anything, but the vibrations of his moan against you elicit a whimper from your throat, making you buck your hips forward. his grip tightens as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, placing a soft kiss on it before he speaks against it.

"be nice, or i'll make you scream." he smiles into your underwear, tonguing your clit through the fabric. he watches as your glow grows brighter, pulling you impossibly closer. he's letting you grind on his face, to use him for your pleasure, and you'd be lying if that doesn't make you that much more wet for him. "y-you don't want to take them off?"

your stuttering is adorable to him, and the way your fingers card through his hair and tug adds to his own pleasure. shaking his head, he snaps the waistband against you again, "you're so needy, aren't you? can't get off just like this?" "channie, p-please. please, i want your f-fingers." he hums against your clit, continuing his cruel lapping, the sound of your pussy against his face obscene and sloppy. "you can beg better than that. tell me how bad you want it, baby." "w-want it so bad, channie, please. please, i'll be g-good for you, p-promise. s-so good." you're almost sobbing, and he almost feels bad. a gentle laugh leaves his throat as he thumbs your slit, leaving sticky strings against his skin as he gives in. "so good? so, so good for me? is that right?" he slides the flimsy fabric down your legs, the exposure to the cool air making you shiver. he's watching your face contort as he collects your arousal on his fingers, before slowly teasing your entrance. "i swear to god, chan-" your retort gets cut off by a gasp, his fingers hitting just right, his lips sucking tortuously on your clit. he likes it messy, is all you can think in your fucked out state as you coat his entire hand in your slick, feeling him groan against your pussy.

"look at you, so pretty. you're a good girl for me, right? you're gonna soak the sheets, hm?" he feels you clamp around his fingers, another wave of your arousal glazing his palm as you sob. "fuck, you sound so hot." "c-channie..." you rasp, your voice so low he almost misses it. he peers at you over your soft tummy, your lips swollen and covered in your spit from biting back your moans. you're actively whining, grinding against his hand in a weak attempt at reaching your release. "aw, baby wants to cum? is that it?"

you whimper, making him curl his fingers inside your wet heat. he seemed to have found the perfect spot as you arched your back off the bed, attempting to pull away from him. his left arm holds you tightly in place, your fingers clutching his wrist as your choked moan rings blissfully in his ears. your thighs close around him, his soft shh doing nothing to quiet you down as you let your orgasm wrack your legs. his lips pepper kisses all over your pelvis, mumbles of praises as he works his way up.

he hovers over your face, pressing his soft lips on your cheek. you wrap your arms around his neck, shivering at the way his fingers pinch your clothed nipple lightly. "you can give me one more, right? just one more, princess." he's murmuring against your skin, and you nod as he reaches your lips.

"just one more?" you nip at his lower lip, before sinking in to kiss him. "just one. want to feel you around me, want to know how good i'm making you feel." you realize it's important to chan, despite what he said the night before. he wanted to be praised, he wanted to make somebody proud, even if this was the only way he felt he could do it. he could act like he's this statue, this emotionless, needless creature of nature – but he also desired approval, to be needed, to be wanted.

to be loved.

you don't say anything as you let his hands push your knees to your chest, his lips now suckling on your nipple through your shirt. your hands move to his head, pushing it away as you go to slip it off. his hands let go of your legs, entwining your fingers with his brows furrowed. "you don't have to." "i want to." you quip back quickly, tugging your fingers out of his grasp. you hook them at the hem of your shirt, lightly lifting off the bed to slide it off. he hesitates, his eyes tracing the curves of the raised skin. the way it glows lightly, almost as though it's losing its defined edges.

his eyes flicker to yours, your gaze intently scanning his face. did you think he'd be disgusted? maybe even repulsed? lowering his head, he brushed a kiss to your lips, before he allowed himself to sink to your chest. you breathed in nervously, your fingers gripping the sheets next to your body when you felt his mouth planting feather-light touches to your scar.

he can feel your skin heat under his face, the more he travels along the healed welt. the glow is slightly brighter than your overall pink, as you shudder under him, his hands pulling your fingers into his, the crumpled sheets forgotten as he pins your arms above your head.

"you're so beautiful. gorgeous, ethereal. no words could express how lovely you are." he whispers as he presses one final kiss where x marks the spot, and you jolt lightly at the singe you feel. it spreads, the whole insignia across your torso burning deeply as he moves back. his eyes are flashing with something you can't read. "chan…" "sorry." he shakes his head, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hands. you tilt your head at him, before glancing at his body, a smile spreading on your plump lips. "are you going to fuck me with all your clothes on?"

"i can." he smiles, and you raise an eyebrow. "off, all of it."

standing off the side of your bed, he tugs your old abba shirt off, and you watch with sinful eyes as he flings it away. "stop staring at me." he whispers, and you shake your head playfully. "you said you'd kill a man if i asked, and gave me the best head of my life, but i can't watch you strip?"

"the best, huh?" he ignores everything else he slips his sweats off, pulling your hips to the edge of the bed. "don't get cocky, or this won't count as extra c-credit." your eyes peer at him, the leaking head of his thick cock already teasing your folds lightly. his hands circle your legs once more, pulling one over his shoulder while folding the other close to your chest. he stares at your soaked cunt, the way it clenches around nothing. so inviting, so wet, so ready for him.

"that's alright, let's count it as the first class i missed. what was it, getting to know me? ask me something." he continues his teasing, watching as you squirm against him. "uhm, o-okay. what's your favorite color?"

"really?" he rubs against you lightly, his tip dragging over your clit so menacingly, you swear you could cum from just that. "hm, i like black." "black is an ab-absence of color, fuck." you dig your nails into your thighs as he shallowly thrusts into you, the lack of warning wracking a shudder up your spine. "mm, if you can't keep talking there's going to be an absence of dick in about two seconds."

"n-no, no please. shit, that feels so good." you can't keep your eyes open as he slowly sinks further into you, stilling his movements as you tuck your lip into your teeth. "ah, ah. eyes open, keep talking to me." his fingers lightly tap your cheek, your skin burning in embarrassment as you peel your eyes open. "next question, baby." "b-biggest accomplishment so f-far?" you swallow thickly as his hips are flush against your ass, allowing you to adjust to the size of him before making any more movements. he leans his head against your ankle, brows furrowed as he speaks. "probably making you cum so hard, you cry." you narrow your eyes as you look at him, "you h-haven't, though?" "but i will." he kisses your shin, giving an experimental thrust of his hips. your eyes flutter shut, a silent gasp from your lips turning to soft mewls as he starts a gentle pace. "next question." "d-do you believe in love at first s-sight?" you feel him hesitate, before he gives you a particularly harsh thrust. "somewhat." he rubs your thigh gently before continuing his brutal ministrations. "harder, please." silently, he obliges, letting your breathy moans fill his ears instead of talking. he hates talking, he hates answering questions, but he can't help and adore the tone of your voice, the softness of your queries, the avoidance in answering his.

"you feel so good, channie, holy shit." he can feel you clenching tightly around him, but lets your praise take precedence. the way you're arching your back off the mattress, hairline lined with beads of sweat as you let him fuck into you, just the way you like. the way you seem to love, as he lowers to whisper in your ear. "next question."

the proximity makes everything feel like it's a thousand degrees, your hands flying to his hair as he sucks on your collarbone lightly. "favorite s-song? ah!' you hiss at his teeth on your skin, feeling his grin against you.

"your voice." his thrusts are slowly becoming less steady, but you don't care. you don't care because his skin is scorching hot, he's holding you to him, you can feel the air of his pants against your neck and he feels so good.

there's no reason for this. for him to be blissfully ruining you while holding you flush to his chest, your nipples touching with every roll of his hips. for him to look so good while he defiles you, the way you're not even speaking coherently in his ear. for your soul to feel like it's aching for more of him, but how much more could you have when you can't love him. for him to be so effortlessly unaware of his beauty, of his own effects, on you, as the white-hot of your orgasm starts approaching fast.

"i…" you feel a sob rip through you, and he instinctively pulls away from you. "hey, hey. it's alright, baby." guilt fills his chest, his hands holding your face as the tears stream down your cheeks. "it's alright, we don't have to–" pushing yourself up on your elbows, you smash your lips to his, feeling yourself glow so hot you're practically on fire. it's all teeth and tongue, and you're wrapping your fingers around his throat before he can react. squeezing gently, he whines into your mouth, his hips snapping erratically against you. you swallow his sounds in your quiet sobs, the tears dripping down your neck doing nothing to cool you down.

"y/n…" he whines pitifully against your lips, and you can feel his pout emerge as you clench around him. he settles his face in the crook of your neck, cheeks flushed. "p-please don't stop, don't stop, e-ever…" you're just as needy as he is, throwing your head back as he bites at your shoulders, your hand on his throat tightening as he sends you over the edge.

"fuck, baby." the whimper into your shoulder does nothing good for him as you clench around him, milking whatever is left of him, hips driving you both into overstimulation. he slows, his head lifting from your shoulder to peer into your eyes. you avoid them, letting go of his throat and wiping them off with the back of your hand.

the room feels heavy, with guilt. shame. maybe even a bit of hatred, but you’re not entirely sure as he kisses you gently, chastely, before pulling back. his eyes hold the sun, the stars, the moon.

"guess you got your biggest accomplishment, huh?" you chuckle thickly, and he shakes his head, pulling out slowly. his eyes avert to your center, watching his cum drip out of you slowly. he feels weird, it's such a waste. "are you okay? i should've asked sooner, i'm sorry." "no, no. it was…it was really good." you admit, feeling your glow flicker. you close your legs, scooting up on the bed as he reaches for your shirt, you cross your arms over your chest, fingers digging into your sides. "i really liked it, actually." "are you sure?" he's absent, you can tell as he wipes the back of your legs gently, before tossing the shirt over his shoulder. "i'm sorry for crying, i know it was really sudden. i just felt so overwhelmed and you felt so good, and i…" you trail off, and he feels his cheeks heat, shaking his head again. "no, it's fine. that was the goal, after all. i…do you want me to go?" your brows furrow, and you tilt your head. "go? why would i want you to go?" he shrugs, not meeting your eyes as he tugs on his sweatpants. "i don't know, i usually leave after…things like this." "what happened to 'you know it's not casual?'" you use air quotes, and you see his cheeks burn bright red. "i…i don't think i'd be able to do this, especially after what we talked about yesterday."

"do…what? we just had sex, it's not a big deal." you uncross your arms, ignoring your blatant nudity as he slips your abba shirt to you, taking it just to toss it to the side. "...act like i don’t care. i really, really like you, y/n, and i already feel so guilty about this." he can't look at you as he slips his hoodie on, the one you'd thrown over your desk chair last night when he said it was too hot to wear to bed.

you close your mouth, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grab the shirt, tugging it over your head. "i figured this would happen. maybe you should go, chan. clear your head, and we can talk later."

your brows are furrowed as you open your bedroom door, and he swallows thickly. he knew what he was getting himself into, so why does it bother him now? he said he wouldn't care, he said it so confidently.

and yet, he can't bring himself to say a word as he slams out of your apartment, eyes full of tears. leaving you feeling dejected, guilty and alone.

thursday – december 17.

it wasn't until the next day that you noticed it was significantly smaller.

it didn't curve under your breast anymore, the subtle x on your skin gone. it didn't wrap around your shoulder anymore, and it stopped right next to your navel. the scarred skin was now a bit paler, and you'd grimaced as you tugged your shirt on.

you couldn't be arsed with thinking about it, really, because now you had to walk into your classroom and face chan. of course, the chances of him not being there were fifty-fifty.

which inherently, made you feel worse.

you didn't understand why you couldn't stop thinking about his words, and what he said. your voice was his favorite song, he didn't care if you loved him or not, he somewhat believed in love at first sight? he'd met you officially a little over a month ago, no one can fall in love that quickly.

groaning, you felt orange flicker across your body as you let your heels clack against the saltillo tile of the hallway, tossing your half-empty coffee cup in the trash can. upon entering your room, the air feels…cooler.

chan is sitting on the couch, his legs squished together as minnie and shuhua peer at his face. soyeon, mingyu and yugyeom are flipping through various textbooks, each talking about what could have caused a sudden irischroma shift. he probably feels the heat of your stare, his eyes flickering to yours.

they're a deep, deep indigo color. they flash lightly at the sight of you, and minnie looks up to see you standing at your podium. "y/n…you've gotta come see this." "i can…i can see it, minnie." your voice is faint as you feel your chest searing hot, your hand coming to soothe it. clearing your throat, you shake your head as you feel a little weary, shuhua approaching you quickly. "are you okay? y/n?" "yes, i'm okay." your breathing becomes a little labored, soyeon and mingyu rushing to your side as you sink to the floor. "just give me some room." your hands touch the cool floor, and you can feel yourself dimming by the second.

"gyu, get help." minnie shoves mingyu out the door, and you can hear his footsteps fading as he runs to the infirmary. "chan, help me pick her up." yugyeom urges, and you weakly shake your head.

"i'm fine, i'm okay." you choke out, your hand clutching your chest as you feel chan's warm hands on your arms, circling around to lift you gently. "easy, easy. i got you, baby." he murmurs, and you feel your eyes sting with tears as he lets you slump against him, your glow fading fast.

"stay with me." his fingers dig into your side as he picks you up bridal style, carefully walking you over to the couch. yugyeom pulls their backpacks off, letting him lower you gently. minnie fans you with a stack of papers. chan peers at your face, your brows pinched as you breathe in as deeply as you can, his thumb instinctively padding at the crease. huffing, you tear his hand away, lacing your fingers in his. he acts like his heart doesn’t lurch forward.

"alright, everybody, back up." mingyu's voice rings in the room, and your bleary eyes can barely make out the oxygen mask that nurse taeyeon is slipping over your face. "there, there, professor. we got you."

you're shivering as she instructs chan to lift you onto the gurney on three, and you almost cry at the loss of contact when he sets you down. "chan, chan." your voice is nearly a whisper, and the students watch as you flicker, your glow lost as it glitches between colors.

"maybe you should go with her." yugyeom nudges him as nurse taeyeon glances at him, and she crosses her arms as chan nods slowly,slipping his bag over his shoulder. he takes nurse taeyeon's place at the end of the gurney, rolling you quietly out of the classroom. you're flickering from color to color as he walks slightly faster at nurse taeyeon's command.

"what happened?" she asks, and chan shakes his head as they take a sharp turn, your groan resounding in the hall. "i'm not sure, she just started clutching her chest and basically fell to the floor." nodding, taeyeon stays quiet the rest of the walk, her eyes only glancing at his worried expression and your hazy one. they're in love, she thinks. this is love.

taeyeon can't really help you. her powers lay in the herbalism field, she has no idea what's wrong, and she can't get a specialist here fast enough. she watches as chan carefully positions you in the empty room, letting his bag slide onto the floor before taking a seat at the foot of the bed. she simply sighs, calling that she'd be back with a rosemary tea and to just sit tight as she calls for the master sorcerers.

his hand gently strokes your ankle, making you flinch. "chan, chan i can't breathe." you tug at your collar, and he quickly reaches to unbutton your top buttons. "it's gonna be okay, angel." he's whispering as your hand grasps his wrist, the oxygen mask doing little to help as you wheeze.

"chan…" his head lifts, and your eyes are teary as you hear footsteps approaching hurriedly. he doesn't acknowledge you as the master sorcerers burst into your room, taeyeon trailing behind them with a steaming cup. "excuse me, coming through." she perches at the edge of the bed, carefully pulling you up. you whimper softly, and chan feels his heart ache at your pain. "drink this, it'll help your stress. that's probably what this is, just some anxiety."

taeyeon's tone is soft as she takes off the oxygen mask, the master sorcerers waiting until they can swoop in. neither of them acknowledge chan, despite getting to know him insanely well over the past few years. he could dare to think that they were afraid of him, of not knowing what he was. master sorcerers my ass, he thinks.

"i can't…" you're breathless, and taeyeon's gaze softens as she lets you slump down on the pillow once more. "it's alright. the master sorcerers are here, okay? they'll take care of you." she pats your shoulder, and you nod wearily as the grandest of all, dr. kang seulgi, takes a step forward.

"bang chan, why are you here?" her sharp voice echoes in the room, and your hand weakly reaches for him as he slides off the bed. "i brought her in, dr. kang."

"i see. you can evacuate the premises." she waves him away nonchalantly, and he frowns deeply as he steps back, your eyes fixed on him. almost like you're begging him to stay.

"i think i'll stay, actually." he blurts, and dr. kang's eyes snapped to him. "i'm not asking you, chan, i'm telling you." "let the boy stay, what's the harm?" dr. min's voice rings from his spot against the door frame, and chan glances up at the nimble man. "c'mon, seulgi."

"yoongi, if you undermine me again, you're sleeping on the couch." she grits, her wedding band to dr. min glinting in the low light as she rubs her temples. your hand reaches for chan once more, a soft groan from your lips catching his attention. he takes it, entwining your fingers quickly, kneeling at your side. "of course, jagi. y/n, what seems to be the problem?" dr. min pushes past, noting the undone buttons of your blouse. your chest is glowing, but the rest of you is the dimmest indigo he'd ever seen. much less, having seen you never glow indigo. your breathing is still labored, chest glowing brighter as chan once more rubs the pinch of your brows away.

"y/n, i'm going to open your shirt, okay?" dr. kang pushes past dr. min, her nimble fingers undoing the rest of the buttons. your scar is illuminated, but…it's not really there. it's faded, and chan can tell this is out of the ordinary as dr. kang's brows raise.

"yoongi." her voice is low, bringing her husband to her side. "oh, my."

their eyes meet, as though they're speaking telepathically. dr. kang's eyes flash gold as she furrows her brows, her husband grimacing as his own flash green. they glance at chan, who is gingerly moving your hair out of your face, his fingers barely ghosting over your sticky skin.

you can barely see him through your foggy eyes, but you're scanning him intently. you can see the glowing indigo of his eyes, that matches yours. you're dimming, but he's brighter than ever and it sends a shiver up your spine. his hand squeezes yours, a wave of heat attacking your chest.

dr. kang looks back, her husband staring intently at her.

"he healed her, it seems." his eyes speak, and she shakes her head. "he's not a healer, remember? we tried that already." yoongi nods, eyes fluttering back to the both of you. chan's now sitting on the edge of the bed, your arm draped over his lap as he speaks to you gently. he can't hear what chan is saying, but the glint of adoration in his eyes tells him all he needs to know.

"chan, can i see you in the hallway?" dr. min speaks, and your head turns to him. you pout, your eyes filling with tears as chan pulls away from you. dr. kang gives him a hard glare as she takes his place, her cool hand placed directly on your hot skin, making you groan.

"yes, dr. min?" chan's eyes are enticing, and dr. min shrugs. "let's try a little something, hm?" chan follows dr. min's line of vision, the door of the bathroom ajar. dr. min makes a gesture for chan to wait, before ducking into the bathroom, shutting the door. chan hears a loud crash, and dr. min appears just as fast, with a bloody fist.

"dr. min, are you alright? i can get nurse taeye-" dr. min places his free hand over chan's mouth, a knowing look in his eyes as he holds up his injured hand. "heal me, chan." "what? sir, i'm not a healer, you know that." chan furrows his brows, and dr. min shakes his head. "channel it." dr. min's eyes are boring into chan's soul as he looks away, shivering as he tries to channel any sort of magical energy for this injury. he's not surprised when nothing happens, and dr. min nods his head.

dr. min simply heals it himself, and chan looks away as the skin closes quickly, the dried blood disappearing before his eyes. vitalis mendacium, he thinks it's called. "chan, i think i may have an idea of what's going on with professor y/n." dr. min clasps his hands together in front of him, and chan tilts his head.

"you're in love with her, aren't you?" dr. kang's voice rings from the doorway of your room, and chan gapes at her. "w-what?" "don't play dumb. she told me she helped you clear some emotional blockage on tuesday, and she showed up in your blockages." dr. kang crosses her arms, and a groan is heard from you, chan flinching at the sound. "chan, this is dangerous territory." his eyes narrow as he shakes his head. "i don't think what you did to her was right. i think we all deserve a chance at love, no matter our mistakes. you're wrong, dr. kang." dr. kang scowls, "you think we did this to her? the old coven did it, we had no say!" she points between herself and her husband, and dr. min places his hand on her shoulder.

"chan, seulgi is right. in this world, there is no amount of study done that could reverse what the old coven has done to y/n. they cursed layers upon layers of punishment on her, this was never intended to be something that could be undone." dr. min speaks slowly, and chan can hear you whining in the room behind the couple. he's antsy, he feels sick to his stomach knowing you're a mere ten feet away and he can't make you feel better.

"i don't know what to do." dr. kang admits lowly, her hand covering her eyes as she looks away from the men in front of her. "i think…" dr. min trails off as chan pushes past them, sliding next to you. he watches chan fan you with his hand, your own wrapped around his waist as you shiver.

"you trust me, right?" he looks to seulgi, who nods her head. "always." his hands spin her around, making her face the two of you. "i think this is his to heal. look how quiet she is in his presence, she's barely moving. her breathing is more steady." "yoongi, he's not a healer." seulgi groans into her hands, her eyes catching a flash of white protruding from you as chan runs his hand down your back. she watches as he helps you peel your jacket off, your baby pink shirt transparent from the sheen of your sweat soaking through.

"maybe not for us, but for her." yoongi mumbles, seeing chan swipe your hair away from your neck, his lips pursed as he blows cool air against your skin. your groan is one of relief as he rocks you, and seulgi glances at her husband, swallowing thickly. "they're so rare, yoongi. there hasn't been one in this dimension in three hundred and twenty five years."

"i think we may have another on our hands." yoongi smiles widely as you slowly prop yourself up on your elbow, chan's worried eyes scanning your face for distress. you make a noise of disgust, your glow returning green steadily as chan helps you sit up. "what happened? ugh, i'm all sweaty."

glancing at your hands, you see them glowing indigo as it spreads up your body. you turn, seeing the master sorcerers staring at you from the doorway. grimacing, you glimpse at chan, who is looking at you intently. "hey, you alright?" his hand is holding your hip, and your frown falters as you look into his eyes. they're glowing bright as he looks you over. "what happened to your eyes?" your voice is raspy, and he looks away, shrugging.

"i'm not sure. they started changing last night." he swallows, and you shudder as indigo engulfs you entirely. "they look…pretty."

he snorts, shaking his head. "you might want to button up your shirt." feeling your cheeks burn, your fingers fumble with the buttons when you feel seulgi's cool hand on your wrist. "wait."

letting her lay you back, you miss chan's warmth as he slips off the bed, lingering from a few feet away as she opens your shirt. her eyes widen as she quickly beckons her husband over. his eyes snake down your torso, and his eyes glint with green as he meets seulgi's. they're silent, their faces moving as they communicate.

"y/n?" dr. kang's voice is low as she runs her hand through your mussed curls, and you meet her line of vision. her eyes are soft, staring at your torso. "y/n, do you know the history of psychosomatic healers?"

raising a brow, you nod your head. "yeah, they're the rarest of the healing trifecta. there hasn't been one in this dimension since 1699, and even then there's only seven recorded cases because they're so difficult to pinpoint at commencement." dr. min steps forward, noticing chan's eyes glued to the floor as dr. kang examines you further.. "y/n, i'd like to try something, if you don't mind." nodding, you allow dr. kang to take your arm in her hand, pulling your sleeve off your shoulder.

with a quick swipe of her nails, you're bleeding. you gape at her, a scoff flying from your lips when chan looks up, the sound tearing him from his thoughts. "are you serious, seulgi?" you push her away, flickering orange and dr. min beckons chan forward. "touch her, chan."

taking a deep breath, chan gets closer to you, his nose scrunching at the blood seeping into your shirt. he takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin. you look away from your shoulder, zeroing in on the subtle touch of affection when a white glow catches everyone's eyes. tugging at your shirt sleeve, seulgi reveals a clean shoulder, no injury visible.

"a psychosomatic healer can only heal those they love." she states, her eyes boring into chan's as he tries to tug his hand away, but you only use it as leverage to sit up. "what the fuck are you guys on about?" "there's no way you're that dumb, y/n." seulgi snorts, her manicured fingernail pointing at your chest. "i don't know how he did it, and i don't think we'll ever know. the curse the coven set upon you has been lifted by him." you look down — the raised welt where your scar once was has dissipated. widening your eyes, you peel the shoulder of your shirt down, the formerly scarred skin now smooth. your fingers tremble as you run them over your soft flesh, feeling the sting of tears forming. you can feel the burn of a sob in your throat as chan releases your hand, stepping back as you process.

the burning of his gaze, of his skin on yours, of your chest in his presence. the ache you felt in your soul yesterday as his lips brushed your neck with every roll of his hips, the way his answers confused you. the anger you felt while walking to class, at not being able to decipher him.

the way his angel eyes held the sun, the moon, and the stars. the way worry creases his brow though relief has washed over his frame, the way you're itching to hold him close, and never, ever let go.

it all makes sense.

"we'll give you both a moment." the master sorcerers bow their heads as they back out of the room, dr. min closing the door behind him. you sit in silence, feeling sticky and gross and overwhelmed.

"you're in love with me?!" you shriek, and chan throws up his hands in defense. "i thought we already knew this, why are we screaming?!" you swat his arm, and a nervous laugh bubbles up his throat. flopping back down onto the gurney, you dramatically cover your eyes with your arm, sighing. "now i have to cherish this, and we're probably going to get married and have kids and all that shit. are you serious? are you serious." "y/n…" you stand up, pacing back and forth in front of him, your hands weaving through your hair to soothe the onsetting migraine at the information. "how are you not freaking out, chan? you just found out you're one of the rarest healers in the trifecta, and not to mention the first in over three centuries! are you shitting me right now?" "y/n?"

you're not listening as you continue to ramble, pacing a hole into the floor when he grabs your shoulder, pulling you to him. taking both your hands in his, he looks you in the eyes. "you're spiraling."

huffing, you nibble on your lower lip. "what happens now, chan?"

his smile is warm, it's comforting, it's making your stomach flip as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "i don't know. isn't that the beauty of it all, though? not knowing where you end up?"

pouting, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing his warmth to seep into your skin. "i've never felt this, chan. i don't know what it's like to be lost, i've always had my answers." you can feel the vibrations of his chest as he laughs, his hand coming to stroke your hair gently.

"that's okay, it'll be like the blind leading the blind. for now, we can just focus on…us? maybe go on a date, have dinner…" his voice is soft as you look up to him, his eyes already scanning your face for any hint of rejection. "unless you don't want to." you do, of course you do.

"i'm all sweaty, and gross. we've had a revelation about your purpose in this world, your eyes are a different color, and you want to focus on us?" your voice is laced with incredulity, a hint of amusement peeking through as it tugs at your lips. "i have my whole life to focus on other things. when you can't find a piece of a puzzle, you pick another part to focus on, do you not? i have that answer, that piece now, but i'm already figuring this part out." squeezing your shoulder, he places a chaste kiss on your hairline, your nose scrunching.

"why did you come with me?" you poke his chest, and he smirks. "yesterday or today?"

gaping, you land a soft smack to his chest, his squeaky laughter filling your ears as your cheeks heat. "chan! not funny!" "sorry, i'm sorry! i saw an opportunity, i took it. but, i was worried about you." he starts, taking a piece of your hair between his fingers. "i saw how angry you looked before minnie spoke to you, and before you looked at me. you started looking faint when we met eyes, and i was…i was scared that something might happen to you and that i wouldn't be able to apologize for potentially overstepping boundaries, or ruining whatever little game we have going on."

"you couldn't ruin whatever this is even if you tried." you scoff, your words tumbling out before you can process them. "i've never felt anything this intense before in my entire life. my ears started ringing when i touched your chest on tuesday, here." you splay your fingers on his hoodie, in the same place.

"i couldn't hear a thing. that was me, the blockage, i was basically hearing myself. if we didn't have that moment, if you hadn't let me in, none of this would have happened." you speak softly, taking his hands in yours, his eyes glassy as he looks into yours. your smile is gentle, and he can feel his stomach flutter as you lean closer. "and i'm so glad it did. despite this whole day being so weird, despite the coven probably burning holes into the back of my head right now from hell right now, and despite the tears i can see about to spill out of your eyes, nothing could ruin this. okay?" he looks away, nibbling on his lip. your thumb strokes his cheek, catching a few stray tears as you make him face you. vision blurring, but you can see him clearer than ever.

"okay?" you insist, and he nods. "okay."

"good." pulling him towards you, you crash your lips to his, feeling your heart beating in your ears. your arms cross over his shoulders, his hands finding home on your bare waist, the kiss becoming heated. parting his lips, your tongue snakes its way in, a soft groan from chan as he pushes you back, your knees hitting the gurney.

"not in here, guys." dr. kang's voice echoes in the room, and you spring apart like teenagers. wiping at your lips, you watch as chan grabs your discarded jacket, and his bag. outstretching his hand to you, you take it, letting him rush the both of you towards the door. quickly bowing to the master sorcerers, you giggle as the cool december air hits your chest.

"yeah, y/n! nice titties, girl!" you hear a holler from down the hall, your eyes catching a glimpse of minnie's teal hair. you smile widely, waving as chan continues, a blush coating his cheeks as you begin to float behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"where are we going?" you mumble in his ear, and he shivers. "to yours. i need to show you how much you mean to me." you let the butterflies bounce around in your stomach, knowing exactly what was coming your way.

friday – january 08.

your relationship with chan had become the talk of the wizard world. several words were thrown your way, many to your detriment – but you chose to focus on 'love epiphany' and 'anomalies made to traverse together.'

he naturally passed your class with flying colors, what more could you do when he literally discovered himself? the students deemed it completely fair, with only yugyeom choosing to retake your course because he felt like he didn't really do what was necessary. mornings were filled with the buzzing of your phone – the students had made a group chat and continuously badgered you with memes, and mingyu with his graduation photos.

whereas, chan's mornings were filled with you, his phone long put on silent. your soft hair tickling his neck, only for your gentle lips to place chaste kisses along his jaw as he awoke. your warm leg draped over his waist, your knee teasing his crotch so early was something he'd never get used to. your arm, propping you up once he lazily peels an eye open, closing it the moment he sees your beaming smile, a blush coating his cheeks.

"do you always stare at me when i sleep?" he mumbles, his fingers dipping under the hem of your sleep shorts. "do birds fly?" "you're a creep, you know that?" laughing, he lets you hold his eyes open with your fingers, the indigo glow of them making you glow brighter in turn. that was what it meant, after all – the subzero color now warm, as you illuminated the room with your love for chan. "yeah? well you're creeping your fingers into my panties, so maybe shut up."

your lips are addicting, he could never get enough of them as you brush them against him. both sets, of course.

kidding. sort of. not at all. he loves you, okay? that's all that matters.

"you should check your email, channie." you murmur against his neck, and he nods his head, watching as you try not to smile. "oh i should, should i?" ignoring the raise of his eyebrow, you reach for chan's phone, plopping it on his bare chest. chan lolls his head back, hands relocating to your hips as he pulls you on top of him. your cheeks heat at the soft love bites on his pec, but shake it away as his voice snakes into your head

"you seem a little too excited, baby." he ruffles your hair as he unlocks his phone, and you just bite your lip as he scans the screen. "tell me, sorcerer, what's the news?" your voice bounces off the walls, with chan just squeezing your hip in response.

from: [email protected]

dearest bang chan,

it is our honor here at the spellbound institute of magic to let you know that you have been chosen to be published in this year's edition of the spellbound sorcerer. such an honor is only awarded to those with extraordinary skill.

we've also made the unanimous decision for you to speak at this year's annual convention, taking over the healing trifecta's booth. more information will be provided as the date approaches.

we look forward to seeing you and professor y/l/n there.

signed,

dr. kang seulgi

dr. min yoongi

master sorcerers

spellbound institute of magic

his eyes flicker to yours, your grin so wide, it's infectious. "i'm getting published." "you're getting published!" you cheer loudly, and chan feels his cheeks heat as you pepper his face in kisses. "you're getting published, baby! we have to celebrate! let's ask your parents to dinner, yeah? we can get a cabin for the weekend, so they don't have to drive home so late."

he forgets how you pried the truth about his parents out of him, but he's almost sure it was last tuesday when you made him beg for you to sit on his face. almost sure, but he doesn't really care anymore. after all, he'd warmed up to you.

"i'm so proud of you, channie." your voice is gentle as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, and he nods, burying his face in your chest as embarrassment spreads in his. "hey, you can't hide from me. what happened to the praise kink? don't you want to know how good you're doing?" "i told you that in confidence!" he swats at your leg as he nestles into your laughter. "i know! it's just me and you here, what's the problem?! let me praise you!"

"never. come on, let's read my stupid essay." he throws the comforter off his legs, and you huff as you climb off his lap. sitting up on the edge of the bed, you lean against his back, your arms hooked around his broad shoulders. the same ones full of your nail marks, a few imprints of your teeth scattered around them. "i graded it, i already read it." "well, praise me while i read it." he snorts, and you press a soft kiss to his shoulder. "mm, okay. i'll take what i can get."

bang chan

professor y/l/n

identity theory

if you're nothing without this suit, then you shouldn't have it. – tony stark, spider-man: homecoming (2017)

the fall was slow, like liebesträume.

feeling lost is an understatement.

i've been lost before – in grocery stores, misunderstanding assignments. i've even been lost in the woods before, riddled with anxiety standing within the trees. so uniform, full of belonging. those trees know where their purpose lies.

me? i've been wandering this world not knowing where my purpose lies, what i'm meant to be doing with said unrealized purpose. this is a feeling of disorientation, isolation, off course. it's all the same anyway, isn't it?

i spent years looking for answers – from the day i was dropped off at the academy to the day i met professor y/l/n. life was well sullied with fear, a feeling of desperation as i felt my time running low. i willingly put myself in danger, hopping from dimension to dimension with the aid of some friends to find something to ease my worries, and came up empty. answers will find you, not you them.

another thing i failed to consider was that i perhaps had my answer all along. from the natural instinct to protect and take care of the people i hold close, to the agony of being away from my family – all i needed was a catalyst. something to throw me even more off course, even more confusing than what life had come to be before her.

professor y/l/n has brought me to life. truly, i could never say enough to express the appreciation i have for her, but i will attempt it any chance i get. an enigma, an anomaly, a paradigm – she is far, far more than these words could begin to define. she's selfless, she's full of light and i could never understand that. my admiration for her goes well beyond this lifetime, and like the praying mantis, she was a beacon of guidance.

her story is full of twists and turns as she allowed me to indulge. from the flickering of the glow around her, to understanding that only the deepest of her indigo hue glows for me, i'm honored to say the least. i will never get enough of her story, of her truths, of her. the idea that love lies in the hands of the beholder is entirely true in this case. to be loved is to be known, and she read me far beyond my wildest dreams the moment her golden cast laid upon me.

eckhart tolle says that, to love is to recognize yourself in another. i have never experienced something as deep as this, nor have i ever seen myself in y/n – and i'm glad i don't. my insecurities, my flaws, what i dislike about myself, are my own. however, i know she sees something i don't, and i trust that. i trust her, with my entire being. without her, i'd have no clue of my purpose. to younger me, who is still wondering the answer to that, i propose this.

your purpose is to love. love beyond your ways, love selflessly. love selfishly, like it's all you can do. like it's all you're capable of, because the moment you lay eyes on y/n? you will see, it is. loving her is all you can do. life without love is meaningless, life without her is hopeless.

taglist: @cookiesandcreammy | @alician87

(if you asked to be on the taglist and do not see yourself here, please consider checking if you have your age/year of birth in your desc! otherwise, you will not be tagged. thanks!)

462 notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 1 year

Text

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. Mostly canon-compliant. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Read Gilded Constellations on AO3

Read the French Translation by @nagareboshi-chiyo

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x reader / Wolfstar x reader

Chapter average: 5k - 6.5 k

Content: Smut in later chapters, Poly!Marauders, throuple, graphic descriptions of violence, MAJOR and minor character death (this is The Marauders Era guys, you know), jealousy, angst, pining, love triangle, LGBTQ+ themes, The Wizarding war 1.0, implied child abuse, possible proofreading errors, mental health struggles, hurt no comfort, hurt with comfort, period typical attitude, first war with Voldemort, canonical character's death, fluff, Requited Love, F/M/M, mostly canon-compliant.

Status: Ongoing (Weekly updates)

♡ Indicates SMUT

PLAYLIST

01 | Summer Breeze

02 | Escape

03 | Bitter Sweet Symphony

04 | Rainy Days and Mondays

05 | Good times

06 | Crazy Little Thing Called Love

07 | Peaceful Easy Feeling

08 I Fooled Around and Fell in Love

09 | The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

10 | Black Dog

11 | Do Ya

12 | You really got me

13 | Rebel, Rebel

14 | Maybe I’m Amazed

15 | No One Like You

Interlude (Q&A Event)

16 | Boogie Wonderland

17 | Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

18 | Friends will be Friends

19 | Silver Bird

20 | Bad Moon Rising

21 | Fox on the Run

22 | Long Long Way From Home

23 | Hungry Eyes

24 | Peace of Mind

25 | I’ll get Even With You

26 | Hooked on a Feeling

27 | Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

28 | If You Want BIood, (You’ve Got It)

29 | With a Little Help From My Friends

30 | Bridge Over Troubled Water

31 | Strange Magic

32 | Come a Little Bit Closer

33 | More Than a Feeling

34 | You Belong to Me

35 | Chill of Desire

36 | Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

37 | Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

38 | Let the Good Times Roll

39 | Running With the Pack

40 | Hot Stuff

41 | Urban Adventure

42 | Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

43 | Sympathy for the Devil

44 | No One But You

45 | Hold The Line

46 | Comfortably Numb

47 | Let Me Take You Home Tonight

48 | Dust in the Wind

49 | High Hopes

50 | Love the One You're With ♡

51 | Some Guys Have All The Luck ♡

52 | Twentieth Century Fox

53 | Too Much Love Will KiII You

54 | Sail Away Sweet Sister

55 | Noone Together

56 | Who Wants To Live Forever

57 | Play the Game

58 | Staying Power

59 | Break on Through

60 | Stone in Love

61 | Mr. Blue Sky

62 |

63 |

64 |

65 |

66 |

67 |

68 |

69 |

BONUS TRACKS:

Your Theories, The Note, The Costumes, Sirius and the Chimney, Sirius and Vix after the bad moon, Evans and Vixen, Remus and Vixen at the infirmary, Remus holding Sirius at DADA, Remus and Sirius’ height difference, the FOXSTAR picture, Art by @nineloseteeth, We're going French,

Leave a comment telling me if you want to join the tag list

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

2K notes · View notes

thecapricunt1616 · 4 months

Text

Coriander (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): “I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.”

♡ Chapter Inspo: Love, health, immortality, and protection. Tie fresh coriander with a ribbon and hang in the home to bring peace & protection. Add to love charms and spells to bring romance or use in ritual work to ease the pain of a broken love affair. Promotes peace among those who are unable to get along. Use the seeds in love sachets and spells. ♡ Summary: You are in a FWB situation with Richie, Mikey dies - Carmy comes home to run The Beef, and suddenly...you find yourself in a FWB situation with Carmy as well, what happens when Carmy makes you two official in secret so he can have you all to himself? ♡ W/C: 5.3K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/29/2024 ♡ A/N: Hellooooo! Happy day 4/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡Here♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24) so get your requests in! Here's another celebration ask on the books! This ask is from a sweet anon, ask can be found right ♡Here♡ - Thank you so much for your request! As you can tell by the word count I got very inspired! I hope you enjoy :D This could easily have a part 2 so if you want one, just let me know in the comments This is kind of a Richie/Carmy thing i've never written Richie before and I had a whole lot of fun doing so! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, FWB Relationships, Smoking, Usual TB trigger warnings, Asshole!Carmy (kinda), Angst, No real comfort to be found in the end, Age gap relationships, Rough sex, smutsmutsmut, No uses of Y/N, Reader not described (pics are for vibes only)

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had been working at The Bear since it was The Beef. 3 months before Mikey died, you were hired as a food runner. You’d met Mike maybe twice? Both times, the guy was high out of his mind- so you couldn’t say much about his character.

Richie on the other hand, was flirty. He was handsome, he was funny, he had a huge cock. You were in your third year of college, Richie was smitten with your girlish charm, and you’d fucked those 3 months pretty consistently - until Carmy came back to Chicago.

You’d been warned his ‘cousin’ was a big shot NYC chef, ‘Michelin Starred’ Richie said one night while fucking your brains out after a stressful shift as he smoked a cigarette in his shitty, dimly lit apartment. Puffs of smoke left his lips as your ass bounced against his hips and he rambled on about what had pissed him off today,

“Ye’ sweetheart- fuck-“ he took a long inhale before continuing - “mm’y’fuckin tight baby- shit-“ he stuttered as your pussy clenched around his cock firmly as your second orgasm washed over you, thighs shivering. “Thaaas it- huh? Gooood girl. Knew y’could do it babygirl” he kissed the dimple on your spine as you shivered, tendrils of smoke trailing up your back and over your hips.

He then sat up, casually taking another drag, tightening his non-dominant hand around your hip so there would be little fingertip bruises once more over the yellowing hearing ones, and continued, his bruising pace getting rougher and quicker as he continued chasing his own orgasm.

The meat of your ass and the skin of his hips made smacking sounds as they came together. Pathetic little whines drag from your lips with each rough kiss the tip of his cock gave your cervix as he just continued talking like he wasn’t using you like a fuck doll.

“he uh, has a Michelin star- whatever that means? He’s a little prick. Guess that’s ahh-fuck- that’s why Mike left it t’him- he knows how t’make fancy shit- little fuckin’ Eleven Madison Park dickhead” he grunted as he filled you up, spanking you roughly for good measure.

“Good girl. Always take it like a little whore mm?” He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. He pats your hip gently as he pulls out, collapsing next to you with an old man grunt that you always teased him for. “Ey’ sweet girl, Y’wanna rub my back since I fucked y’so good mm? So I won’t be sore at work tomorrow?” He pulled you close, kissing your neck, his stubble making you shiver as cum leaked down your beard-burned thighs.

That was how you spent one to three nights a week since you’d started working at The Beef.

Then, Carmy came. For the first 6 or so months, it was business as usual for you and Richie. Quiet spanks on the ass as you walked by him during rush as you brought food out to a customer, sometimes letting him fuck your face in the back alley as he went on about what an asshole Carmen was being that day.

You just took it, the fighting, the bickering, the sexual tension. You were the go-between for the both of them, when they weren’t talking Richie would bug you to go tell Carmy what he needed to say. “Immature asshole” you’d call him at the end of the day as he knelt between your thighs in that same shitty apartment, sucking on your clit while his beard scratched up your thighs. He’d just chuckle into you, squeezing your thighs amusedly with his large hands.

Then one day, you were in the dry storage, grabbing something for Marcus that was on the bottom shelf and heavy. You were bent over, trying to tug it out and the door shut behind you. “Hey- sorry just gonna reach over you-“ Carmy. When you felt him press against your ass like that, his tattooed hand resting on your hip. You felt heat rushing straight for your core, your stomach flipping and fluttering.

Then, you started making moves. A brush of the hand here, a smile there, a giggle at one of his dorky jokes no one else bothered to pay attention to, of course, he noticed. The young piece of ass that used to spend all day giggling and shooting the shit with his older cousin was into him now. The first night it happened, you made sure to pick up a double on a day you usually didn’t go home with Richie, and while everyone except Carmy did their best to rush out the door as soon as they possibly could, you stuck behind.

You went to the bathroom, fixed up your hair, and your makeup not enough to be noticeable to a guy that you’d changed, but enough to look fresh. You put on some more lipgloss, freshening up your body spray and hiking your tote bag onto your shoulder before heading out of the ladies' room into the back-of-house. You heard the swish swish of a scrub brush, and the plopping of water - and knew Carmy was still in there scrubbing something. When you turned the corner to see him on his hands and knees, muscular arms flexing as he really scrubbed that floor. You could tell there was something….about Carmen Berzatto.

It wasn’t just the fact his brother died, it wasn’t this strange stoic seriousness he had at not even 35, it was something else. Dedication, maybe? But you weren't sure to what because not a day went by without referring to the restaurant as ‘a shithole with decent sandwiches’ - you knew he was just keeping it running because it’s what Cicero wanted and no one denied that man. But you wanted to see if that dedication or learning ability translated into the bedroom. “Damn- You could eat off that grout” you teased. His head popped up, blue eyes twinkling under the iridescent lights.

This damn family and their pretty eyes

“The hell you still doin’ here? Y’shift ended what-” he looked at the clock, “An hour and six minutes ago” he continued scrubbing at the tile with the tiny little brush.

“Oh you memorized my shift schedule?” you teased, a small smile on your lips. You were towering over him, being sure to block his light so he would give you his attention once more.

“I make the schedule, yeah I know when my employees work” he looked up at you again “n’y’re in my light” he pushed his greasy curls out of his way with his dry hand.

“Mmm- last I checked Chef Syd did the scheduling- unless…that changed?” you asked and he looked back at the floor, scrubbing over the same spot he had been since you came over here.

He made a little ‘mm’ noise and was quiet for a few moments as he continued to scrub. “So why are you still here if y’not gettin’ paid?” he asked again. You crouched next to him, hugging your knees and he stopped, looking over at you. He could smell your perfume perfectly, your lipgloss glitter was shimmering in the light. He could very well near smell the mint coming off of your breath from the gum you had chewed an hour earlier. He swallowed thickly, blinking a few times how he did when he was confused he noticed and his eyes fan to your lips before back up to your eyes. “Uh-”

You cut him off “Cause I haven’t met you, Carmy. We haven’t talked, Why’s that?” you question with a small, innocent smile. It was true, he all but ignored you while he’d been here. The only time he spoke to you was when he absolutely had to tell you something or when he was assigning you your morning tasks when you first got in.

“W-What d’you wanna know?” he asked, tongue darting out to quickly wet his lips. He was nervous.

“Why do you ignore me for starts” you jet your bottom lip slightly out into a little barely there pout for added effect, “Tina asked me a few days ago what I did, so what did I do Carmy?” you ask gently. You knew it was because you caught him staring at you so often he thought you thought he was a creep, but you thought it was adorable how flustered he got when he’d been caught and quickly tried to make it look like he’d been focused on something else.

“Nothin- nothin’ y-you didn’t do anything m’sorry I made you feel- what’re you-” he trailed off as you gently fixed his Saint Anthony chain so it was facing front, carefully slipping your finger under the loop and pinching it between your forefinger and thumb, adjusting the clasp to be at the back of his neck.

“Sorry, small things like that bug me, I think little things bug you too, Carm” you said softly. His cheeks were getting pink, his pupils were widening. Your plan was working. “Is this ok?” you gently fixed the sleeve of his t-shirt over his bicep, the fabric deliciously stretching over his buff arm

“Mhmm” he muttered, breath catching as your hand trailed up his shoulder and resting there. “Did you um- did you need something…” he asked, voice that delicious kind of soft you adored.

“I thought you'd never ask. I’m gonna go to the back office and wait. If you think you know what I need, then come on back. If you don’t want to, we can just pretend this never happened mm?” you got up, making sure to sway your hips a tad more as you went to the back office. You pushed the door shut behind you and dropped your tote under the desk, sitting down on it and leaning back against the wall. He came in 2 minutes later, cheeks red, biting his lip as he opened the door and saw you sitting on the desk.

He blinked rapidly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing “Jesus Christ” he muttered to himself, shutting the door behind him. “Y-y’re sure. Like- wait you mean- you mean you want me t-”

“Do whatever you want with me, chef,” you told him in a sultry tone, watching him closely as he walked over. You’d assumed he’d be just like Richie, rough, unforgiving, and sometimes even a little mean, but the way he cupped your cheek was…gentle.

“Are you sure you want this? M’y’r boss..I don’ want you t’feel like i’m…making you, ‘er somethin’” he ran his thumb over your cheekbone. He was so close that you could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath as well as the musky scent of the long workday mixed with his cologne. You were nearly put in a trance by it. In response, you gently rest your palm on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and giving him a gentle kiss.

He leaned forward, resting his hand on the side of your thigh and kissing you back, his lips hesitant on yours at first but when he felt your tongue swipe his bottom lip, his hand moved to your shoulder and gently squeezed as he opened his mouth, tongue darting out to find yours. He moaned softly at your taste, his breath coming out in small hot puffs that fanned your upper lip as you explored his mouth with your tongue. His hand that was on the desk gently moved to your hip, giving a tentative squeeze. You grabbed it, bringing it to your breast and with your hand over his, guiding him to squeeze and massage it.

He let out a little hum of realization and did as you asked, only able to do so much with a t-shirt bra and work shirt, he with trembling hands tugged at the bottom of your navy blue The Beef t-shirt, asking for permission to take it off. You pulled away, swiftly taking off the shirt and reconnecting your lips with his. Your hands made your way behind your back, unhooking your bra and pulling it off, bringing both of his hands to your breasts. You whine softly as he pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers, the action making them even harder and perkier. He kissed down your jaw, nipping gently and sucking on the sensitive skin.

Richie can’t know this happened

“N-no marks babe- kay?” you said a bit breathlessly, hand trailing up to gently tug at his hair. He hummed in response, kissing down and mouthing over the hickeys Richie had left earlier in the week. You bit your lip as he continued to roll and tug your nipples kissing down your neck and when he finally got to your breasts you heard him mutter

“So fuckin perfect” before he took one of your perky abused nipples into his mouth, lightly sucking as you combed through his curls, taking out all the knots with your nimble fingers. With his other hand, he continued to massage your other breast, causing a moan to fall from your lips.

“You wanna fuck me? Mm? Right here over the desk? You can go as hard as you want yea?” you told him, it was nice that he was spending so much time dedicated to making you feel good, but were confused why he hadn’t just…bent you over and gotten it over with by now like Richie usually did when you fucked at work.

He pulled off with a pop, looking up at you with those wide eyes that had been darkened with lust. “Uh- Can I taste you..instead?” he asked shyly, resting his chin on your sternum gently, his hot breath puffing from his nose and tickling your chest. You raised your brows, looking at the clock - wasn’t he exhausted?! If he ate you out, that would be what - another 15 minutes on top of him getting off, would probably be another 20, so you both wouldn’t be getting out of there until 1:30 or so.

Well, if it's what he wants.

“Sure honey” You got up, slipping out of the sweats you took the train home in usually, setting them on the desk to sit on and pushing your panties down as well after kicking off your Ugg slipper shoe-type things and sitting back on the desk, spreading your thighs for him and resting one of your heels on the edge. His mouth parted slightly, nearly dropping to his knees, his curls falling in front of his eyes but he didn’t seem to care as he kissed your inner thighs, almost enjoying his time getting you worked up. He gently sucked on your nether lip, groaning lightly at your flavor. Your mouth drops as you watch him, fully blissed out as he laps at your wet folds.

“Holy shit Carmy” you breathe, gently pushing his bangs back so you could see his pretty blue eyes once again. He looks up at you, sandy brown long lashes nearly touching his bushy brows as he connects his mouth with your clit, flicking his tongue over it and running his jaw back and forth messily, a mix of drool and your arousal running over his chin. “Wow feels so good - doin’ so good Carmy” you breathe, head falling back in pleasure and breathing picking up. He was really good at this. When Richie was in the mood (AKA his back wasn't hurting, or his knees, or his shoulder) he would give you the pleasure of eating you out, and he did it well, he always made sure you came when he did it, and you never had to fake it with him.

You weren’t going to have to fake it with Carmy, either, because holy shit - he was amazing at this. You felt that familiar tightening within’ your stomach within minutes. He took one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder to give himself a better angle, and ran his tongue down, slipping it inside of your pussy and moaning as you gush over his tongue when his nose runs back and forth over your clit, stimulating it most deliciously. Your thigh twitched, toes curling, and a sharp moan comes from your throat, biting down roughly on your lip. “God- god Carmy, I’m cumming” you warn, Gripping his curls rougher which seemed to edge him on, rubbing you rougher with his nose and curling his tongue up against your gummy walls, wet lewd noises coming from between your thighs.

Within moments there was a fire of pleasure shooting beneath your skin as you cried out in ecstasy. Your eyes rolled beneath your lids, letting go of his hair and gripping the desk instead with a crushing grip as he worked you through the intense waves of overstimulating delight that ripped through you relentlessly. He finished with a chaste kiss on your thigh before grabbing your bra and helping you put it on as well as your panties, even finding the shirt you’d thrown and shaking off the dust from the floor before handing it over. “That was uh…really good, thank you” he wiped his chin and lips with the back of his hand, rubbing it on the back of his jeans. You shamelessly stared at his crotch and noticed the hard bulge in his jeans before looking back up at him.

“You don’t want to get rid of that? I can suck you off if you want I have a hair tie” you said, holding up your wrist to show him. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“No- no you don’t owe me anything, I got what I needed don’worry. See y’tomorrow- make sure you leave through the back I already locked up the front” he said, leaving the office and closing the door behind him to give you some privacy. You sat in shock for a moment, blinking a few times. All he wanted from you was to eat you out? You’d never met another guy who simply ate you out and that was it - they’d always…expected something from you after, and of course, you gave it because you felt like they’d paid you a favor just by eating you out first even if you didn’t finish. You slip your work shirt back on, get up, and put on your sweats with shaky legs before slipping your shoes back on.

It continued like this, the days you weren't fucking Richie, you were in the back office getting eaten until you nearly passed out. Until The Beef started getting renovated, then the days you weren’t getting your brains fucked out in Richie's bed, your thighs spread wide at odd hours of the morning on Carmens’ couch, some random cooking show playing in the background as he lapped at your pussy like a man starved on his knees in front of you after kissing down your body like you were a goddess to be worshipped. If you were quite honest, you liked this routine. It felt perfect for you, you knew where your feelings lay for both of the men, and it was a stable comfortable routine on both sides.

For Richie, it was fun and flirtatious. Sneaky spanks when you came to visit and help him renovate the restaurant with Neil, rough makeout sessions in the back alley when he went out for a smoke, rough near bruising quickies in the soon-to-be walk-in freezer that hadn’t been set up yet, so it was a nice little private area you two could go. He’d even started stealing a kiss or two when you weren’t being sexual. He was protective of you, Carmy started noticing this. That was why a few weeks before the big opening, he had started being a bit more handsy with you.

The two of you started spending a lot more time together, and you realized he was even opening up to you a bit more. He began asking to see you more often, taking you out with him when he had to run errands for the opening. When he took you with him to the restaurant supply store, he had his hand rested on your lower back, gently rubbing circles as he explained to you the difference between the bunch of different kinds of cutlery. You had been baffled that there were 11 different kinds of butter knives there and he explained to you the difference between them, as well as showed you which sets went together.

It was strange you were clenching your thighs together while a man chatted you up over silverware, but the way he guided your hand to hold them so you were doing it ‘properly’ when you picked one up to get a closer look, had your heart jumping to your throat. That specific encounter was the first time you’d been able to really fuck him, and also draw some dominance out of him as well. It wasn't even his day with you, he knew it - he very well knew this, but little did you know that was the reason why he did it. You rode him hard and fast in the back of his van in the parking lot, he’d made sure to move to a spot in the way back where no one else had been parked so the two of you didn’t get caught and thrown on a registry, of course.

So, that night when you had met up with Richie after he had made you dinner and bent you over the couch for your usual Wednesday night activities - by the first yank of your hips you squeaked, “Gentle - please, daddy, not too rough..” you were glad he was taking you from behind, because you couldn’t bare the confused sweet sorry look on his face. You never asked him to be gentle with you, of course he obliged- because it was all an act. Richie was a big softie, a teddy bear. He just liked to fool around and put on the big mean daddy act in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you.t in the bedroom because it was fun for the both of you. But he would never really want to hurt you.

“Wha’s wrong baby, mm? Why you hurtin’?” He held you up by your ribs, sweetly kissing your hairline as he thrusted slower and softer in and out of you, gently resting his lips against your forehead “was I too hard Monday? M’sorry my sweet girl” he rubbed over your breast gently as he continued his gentler strokes. His sweet girl. That caused your heart to sting a bit. You didn’t know that he liked you too, the same way you liked him. Unless it was just an act? You hope it was an act.

“Yeah” you said, knees going weaker when he reached around your front and toyed with your clit, your hips bucking at the soreness Carmen had left you with earlier.

“Yeah? Y’never been like this before sweetheart” he kissed over your neck, beard scratching at your skin.

“Mm- s’okay- feels good- like it when it hurts like this” you rest your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling a pit of guilt setting in your stomach. Would it hurt him if he found out you had started fooling around with Carmy? You hoped not, but couldn’t help but wonder. They were family. Most of all you would hope it wouldn’t make him insecure due to the much closer proximity Carmy and your ages were. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t even realize he was finishing inside of you like normal moaning into your hair.

“So good- such a good girl” he kissed your head. “go get cleaned up kid, gotta get outta here early t’day cus’ I needa go to Eva’s school play thing” he pats your ass gently and pulled out, leaving you draped over the arm of the couch naked from the waist down and cum leaking down your thighs. You shut your eyes for a moment, rubbing over your face before standing up and doing as he said.

A little over a week later, Carmy asked you to go straight with him. Well. Not really, he asked you if you were fucking other people to which you gave a simple yes and he just said ‘oh…wish I could be the only one’ you teased him and asked if that meant you wanted to be together, just the two of you and he said yes. So, you stopped fucking Richie. You stopped letting him kiss you in dry storage - you stopped having your ass be available for slapping as he walked by.

And man, was it hard. He looked like a sad puppy, a small pout coming to his lips when you turned your cheek causing him to kiss that instead of your lips. “ ‘ey-“ he turned your face towards him “where’s my kiss?” You just looked down at the floor, before turning and grabbing the bag of onions you’d been sent in there to get and saying

“I don’t think we should keep doing this. We should…just work together.” As much as you hated to say it, you did. Then you left the dry storage, and Richie felt his heart crack slightly. Things with him felt way more real then with Carmy, but Carmy was the one who asked you to be his, so you just…went with who asked. You had thought that was the best choice. Even though you stomped on his heart that day, he still cracked jokes with you, and was the same sweet dork you worked with before you started hooking up, the sweet dork that made you want to hook up with him in the first place.

2 days before the friends and family opening, Carmy invited you over to his so he could cook for you. You’d been able to have his cooking once before, when he’d had you come over right in front of Richie at The Beef, and held a spoon to your lips, a hand under your chin for you to try something he’d come up with. Tonight he was making his familys pasta, and when you’d got there you nearly jumped his bones when he was wearing a work shirt from The Beef. You’d never seen him in it before, he’d never worn it to work even though everyone else had to be wearing theirs.

You had a joke with yourself that he knew how yummy and slutty he looked in those stupid plain white t’s so thats why he kept wearing them.

“Hey sexy” You’d said when he opened the door, standing on your toes to kiss him deeply. He hummed, pulling you inside quickly and shutting the door behind you both so no neighbors would see. He grabbed your ass with his palms, squeezing it and spanking you lightly.

“Hey pretty girl” he said, kissing your top lip messily “y’hungry, right? Dinners almost done” he carefully brushed your hair from your face, looking down into your eyes with one of his sweet smiles.

“Mm always hungry for the best chef in the worlds food” you mused, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and playing with his curls “Why’d you never wear this at work, mm? Y’look sexy babe” you kissed his neck. He hummed, hands trailing up your back and palming over your ribs.

“Cause they’re itchy, and it’s laundry day” he said as you rubbed over his chest, grabbing at his pecks and squeezing at the flesh. He chuckled, brushing your hands “jesus someones handsy eh? He cupped your cheeks, angling your eyes towards him “food’ll burn, go wash up yeah? I’ll get y’plate ready” he pecked your lips and ran his hands down your front, grabbing your hand nd pressing it to his lips before heading back to the kitchen.

You followed as he said, going to the restroom and washing your hands as well as your makeup off with the makeup wipes that lived in his bathroom for you now, before going to his bedroom. You stepped out of your stupid waitress uniform, slipping on his white shirt that kissed just below your bum. You padded out to the kitchen, seeing him wiping the edge of your plates off with a paper towel, a kitchen rag over his shoulder. God, he looked so amazing in his element. “Hey” you said gently, going to hug him from behind

“Hey sweet girl, just about done” he sprinkled some fresh parsley over the dish masterfully, before gently rubbing over the back of your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing it. “How was the train?” he asked and you pulled away, walking over to his couch and sitting since he’d never bothered to get a kitchen table.

“Okay, weirdo was playing a ukelele again” you plopped down, crossing your legs and looking over at the random dutch cooking program he had been watching from his station in the kitchen, “You speak dutch?” you asked, he chuckled and you weren’t sure at which statement.

“No, I don’t, I just watch, and I know what they’re doin’ by the look usually.” he came over, setting a beautiful plate of pasta in your lap and sitting down with the small pot he used for sauce, that he’d mixed the noodles in half hazardly and twirled some of the noodles on the fork, taking a bite.

Classic Carmy, serving you a Michelin Starred dish, and eating the leftover scraps.

That was the night you really fell for him. Especially after he did the same thing that he did the first time the two of you hooked up, put you first. Even if he didn’t want you to touch him, even if he was too shy to cuddle you before you fell asleep. You really felt your heart crack open for him.

The night of friends and family, though, you may as well have been a stranger. No matter what you did that night to get his attention, he fully ignored you and snapped at you, and everyone, to ‘pick up your fucking pace’. You had never had him snap at you like this. All you wanted to do was go joke around with Richie, maybe pull him into the dry storage for a quick makeout - but you couldn’t, not anymore. You missed him. You missed your old man, as much as he despised you calling him that, you adored the way he frowned and spanked you in response to the name, telling you ‘it’s already unfair when we go out they think y’my daughter’

When you had find out that Carmy had been locked in the freezer - your first instict was to rush to the back of house, comfort him- tell him it would all be fine, but you knew you couldn’t do that, and it would piss him off if you did so. You were his well kept secret, and he wanted you to stay that way. You had found out from Syd, who was really the only one to know about your short-lived relationship - since Carmy seemed to be more open with her then he did with you - his supposed girlfriend.

“He’s ok, he’s fine- look, just keep pace, ok, me and Richie will handle this - bring the plates from tinas station to table 11, ok?” she told you calmly, giving you a quick reassuring hug before whisking you off to do your job. You did as she said, putting on a smile and bringing the food out to the table, setting it down the way you’d been trained and telling them what was what before telling them to enjoy and heading back to the kitchen to pick up another round of food to bring out to an awaiting hungry group of patrons.

Three hours later, when the night was finally coming to a close- you decided it was a good time to go check on Carmy. All the guests had left, and it was just the staff at this point. You knew that the fire department was on the way since Richie had let everyone know they’d been called, and Syd was back there trying to calm him down. What you didn’t know, was Syd had told Carmy to hold on for a moment because she was gonna go tell her father goodbye and thank him for coming, so he had been left all alone in the back of house, in the freezer.

You walked in, hearing him rambling as you walk up, listening closely to what he was saying.

“Like- Like right? Right?” he chuckled a bit “W-what the fuck was I thinkin’? Huh? The fuck was I thinkin’, Syd? Like - Like I was gonna be in- “ he laughed a bit “In- i-in a relationship- er- er some shit? I-I’m a fuckin- a fuckin psycho- thats thats why, thats why I’m good at what I do, thats how I operate, Syd, you wanna be the best? I am the fucking best, because I didn’t have- any- any of this - this fuckin…bullshit! Right? I-I- I could focus, and I could concentrate, and I- I had a fuckin’ routine, an- and I had fuckin cell reception! An-” he paused. You felt your heart crack, tears filling your eyes,

You were bullshit to him.

He continued, “I dont need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I dont need to- to receive, any amusement- or - or enjoyment. Y’know? And I’m…I’m completely fine, with that. Because absolutely no amount of good, is worth how fuckin’ shitty this feels. S’just…a complete waste of my fucking time.”

You let out the sob you were holding back, gasping a breath, shaking your head and with a trembling voice, you say, “I’m really sorry you feel this way, Carmy…” before rushing out of the kitchen, hot tears running down your cheeks. You grab your bag from behind the counter, slamming into richie on the way out of the restaurant and he stopped you, grabbing your arm.

“Hey- hey kid” he said, and the soothing sound of his voice made you break down fully, starting to sob so hard you couldnt see straight, collapsing into his chest.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry for being so shitty- I- I dont deserve you” you cried, hugging him tightly, “I have-” you took a gasping breath and look up at him “I- i’m done- tell Carmy that I’m done here….” you let go of him and rush out, quickly walking towards the train station the wind whipping your wet cheeks. You pulled out your phone, calling Carmy to leave him a voicemail.

“Hey, uh…I don’t know why you fuckin’ asked me out- but uh- fuck you, carmy. Youre right- you deserve nothing- youre a coward, and an asshole. I hate you for making me love you” you hung up, shoving your phone in your pocket, not even caring the admission that slipped past your lips as you stomped up the stairs to the L platform.

Back at the restaurant, Richie storms into the kitchen, slamming his palm on the freezer door. “Yo- the fuck did you just do?” he asked, voice laced with anger.

“I-I don’know. I-I don’ know what the fuck she heard. Dunno” Carmy said, voice indifferent to the entire thing, which just made anger bubble in his chest at his lack of caring. Richie slams his hand into the door harder, making Carmy jump a bit.

“No- asshole, I said - the fuck did you just say, to that fuckin’ girl?” Richie repeated, getting louder now.

“Richie” Carmy said, sighing to himself.

“Richie? Richie What- Tell me! Tell me, What the fuck. What the fuck did you just say to that fuckin girl, Carmen”

“Will you just shut the FUCK UP AND GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE PLEASE!” Carmy shouts, not having any part of being scolded when his fingertips felt like ice.

“Oh- oh yeah, I’ll get y’the fuck outta there, Donna” Richie mocked, so angry he didnt care how deeply he cut in the moment.

��The fuck you just say t’me?” Carmy challanged

“I-” Richie sighed, knowing he just took things too far and dropped his head back in annoyance.

“N-no- Richie- What the fuck did you just say?” Carmy asks, louder this time, Pounding on the door when he didnt get a response.

“Yo- cousin, cousin look - I don’t know why you gotta fuck up everything good in your life. That girl is nice, shes a good fuckin friend t’you” Richie explained, completely oblivious to everything that had really been going on.

“Are you -” Carmen laughs “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” he spits, the comparison to his mother causing fire to race through his veins.

“No- No i’m not, cousin, someones gotta tell you this shit, ‘eh? First fuckin friend after comin’ home you go ahead and make her cry?!” Richie scolded.

“FUCK YOU! Fuck you Richie!” Carmy yells, running his hands through his hair,

“Ohhh yea, here we go, fuck me, yeeeaaa Carm” he mocked him.

“Yeah! Yeah fuck you fuckin loser. You wouldn’t have shit without me. So fuck you!” carmy shouted at him, his breath coming out in large frosty puffs in front of him.

“Oh-” Richie chuckled, a twinge in his chest that Carmy was willing to cut so deep so quickly “Yeah- yeah tough guy” he mocked, voice getting meeker

“Yeah! Yeah! You- Or y’fuckin kid- fuckin loser - only reason you have anything is me!” Carmy roars, slamming on the door “so ye’ cousin, fuck you!”

“My KID? Y’gonna talk about my KID? Well at least I have a fuckin kid! What d’you have other then a restaurant, jackass!” he yelled back.

“YEAH? I HAVE THE GIRL YOU BEEN FUCKIN’ FOR THE PAST YEAR, MORON. Why you think she dropped you so fast? Huh? You fucking idiot! She chose me- so ye’. I am the reason you have what you have AND I’LL TAKE WHATEVER I FUCKING WANT. FUCK YOU” He yelled through the door, kicking it with his chefs clog.

Richies mouth dropped, stepping back and feeling as if he’d just been stabbed in the heart. “What?” he said, believing his ears were playing tricks on him, how could Carmy do such a thing to him?

“Yeah- yeah. She chose me, and guess what, I fucked her because i wanted to show you I could. Y’fuckin prick” he sat down on one of the boxes of frozen steaks, rubbing over his face roughly. Richie raced out of the kitchen, telling Syd he was ‘done’ and quickly taking out his phone to call you.

Back in the freezer, Carmens phone buzzed. He looked at it, seeing a voicemail from you that finally pushed through. When he heard your sad, broken voice, admit that he’d caused you to hate him by his behaviour made him chuck his phone against the freezer wall so hard that the screen shattered.

Never so badly had he ever fucked up, and by doing so he lost the best thing to ever happen to him.

278 notes · View notes

pinkrelish · 2 years

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶Surely, when two friends set up their two friends on a blind date in the very small town of Hawkins, they make sure those two people don't know each other beforehand, right? And, more importantly, aren't coworkers, right?✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, flirting, mutual pining, angst towards the end, drug/alcohol mention/use, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 3/20 [wc: 6.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 3: The Accidental First Date

“Is this too much?” you asked, yanking down the visor and checking yourself in the small mirror.

Sitting in the back parking lot of the movie theater, you went through your purse for the finishing touches on your look. Doing your last paranoia check for anything in your teeth, turning your head this way and that to zhuzh your hair, and most importantly, preening your oxymoron of a sweater to show a decent amount of cleavage without flashing the cups of your push-up bra.

Truly a walking contradiction of a top. Cable knit and warm, but with a plunging neckline, to where the top button started at your sternum.

“No, you look hot,” Robin assured with her goofy smile. “New York modest is Hawkins slutty. He’s gonna love you.”

You shrank into your girlish giggle. “Good, I want my dating debut in this little town to be a statement. Set the stage for future escapades.. Until I run out of men, I guess. Seriously, how many bachelors live here and aren’t total hicks? Four?” Robin laughed.

“Could be worse. You could be a lesbian.”

“True,” you concurred. “Good thing you have Vickie. Sucks she couldn’t come tonight.” Robin made a sad huff of agreement, working a mascara wand through her lashes. “Hey, I know I said ‘yes’ without asking, but is this guy you set me up with even my type? Not that I care, obviously; a good story is a good story, but I’m just trying to set my expectations here.”

She furrowed her eyebrows dramatically, and paused unscrewing her lip gloss to rock her entire body into a positive affirmation–almost bumping her forehead on the steering wheel from the force of her nodding. “Oh, absolutely,” she said emphatically. “Looks scary on the outside, but is a total sweetheart on the inside. Overconfident, and obnoxious, but in that charming, swoony way.”

“Perfect!” You clasped your hands together.

Stepping out of the car, she waited for you so you could walk with your arms linked together, and she continued, “I haven’t seen him in years, but Steve was telling me over the phone that he’s been going through a tough time, and hasn’t been on a date in a while.”

“Aw, poor guy.”

There was a beat of silence where both of your faces twisted into knowing smiles.

“I know what that look means..” Robin led, canting her head to you.

Innocent, you lifted your shoulder in a coy shrug, bringing a collection of her soft hair up to your chin. “No idea what you’re talking about. I was just thinking, if he hasn’t been on a date in a while.. Why not make it memorable for him?”

You laughed together, rounding the sidewalk to the front entrance of the theater where the glamorous marquee shined gentle daylight upon the darkened street. Romantic and intimate, with a crowd of people standing in vague suggestions of lines; some broken off, gossiping, smoking.

“There they are,” Robin whispered, letting go of your upper arm to wave at Nancy–who you had met at the grocery store last week. She saw you approaching, and tapped her hand on the chest of the man beside her.

Still a considerable distance away, you peered at him, and placed his luscious hair in your memory. “Oh, that’s the guy who came to the shop today.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he was talking to the annoying mechanic I’m always telling you about.”

“The one you have a crush on?”

“Shush,” you bristled at the mention of your not-so-secret. “I do not have a crush on Eddie. Anyway! Did I tell you what he did this morning? He fuckin’ stood outside the window next to my desk, just out of my view for like, full on minutes, waiting for me to look at him. Like Michael Myers or some shit. Scared me half to death.”

Robin, still caught on one detail you had somehow failed to mention in the month you worked at the auto body shop, quietly asked, “..Eddie?”

“Yeah, my coworker,” you answered, not looking at her when she fell a step behind, since you were too focused on greeting Nancy, and introducing yourself to Steve to notice her sudden jog up behind you. Too fixated on complimenting Nancy’s skirt to witness the way Steve aimed his confused frown just past your shoulder. Missed his dismissive hand gestures, and Robin’s panic as she tried to wordlessly communicate something dire to him.

You were too busy listening to the cars cruise by on the street, and chatting casually, and savoring the warmth of a new friendship to scrutinize the sound of quick footsteps from the other direction, or the jangle of metal chains attached to their presence, or Robin’s damning groan.

“Sorry, I’m–” a familiar voice said. A bit nasally and on the higher side. Mirthful, awake with youth, and excited to make a good first impression.

You turned to them. Your date.

“..Late,” they trailed off.

Deer in headlights. Big, brown doe-eyes wide with surprise, framed by beautiful black lashes.

He stared at you.

His stomach sank.

You stared at him.

Your heart raced.

Eddie had stopped mid-step with his hand raised in greeting. The chains on his leather jacket tinkered until they stilled. Kind smile frozen from a better time. Chest filled with a held breath. Presenting himself with his best foot forward, and now his ears were tinted with the embarrassment of trying too hard to impress.

Oh, God.

You blinked away, and were intentional to accept the situation for what it was without showing your surprise, opting for a simple, timid, awkward, shaky, exhaled, “Hey, Eddie.”

He wasn’t so poised.

Shutting his eyes, he allowed the realization to wash over him, scrunching his face in a pained expression as the puzzle pieces slotted into place. He hung his head, and released his breath through his nose. “Your roommate is Robin,” he stated, pointing at her to punctuate his sentence. “And you call her Bobbie.”

“Yeah..” It was an apology as much as it was a confirmation.

“You still call me Bobbie?” Robin asked, tugging on your sleeve, forgetting the tense air surrounding the group for the moment. “I haven’t used that stage name in years.”

“Guess it stuck with me..”

Thankfully, someone else added to the conversation. Unfortunately, that person was Steve addressing the elephant outside the ticket booth.

“So, I take it you two know each other,” he deduced, looking from Eddie’s dejected gaze at the ground, to you wringing your purse strap over your chest.

Eddie enlightened him in a solemn tone, sparing a single glance at his friend, “She’s the receptionist at work.”

“Ah.” He turned his attention to Robin. “You set up two people who work together.”

She threw her hands up and blamed him, “Uh! No way, dunce, don’t put this on me. This whole thing was your idea, and at no point in the conversation did you tell me Eddie was a mechanic! If you had told me he was a mechanic I probably could’ve put two-and-two together myself, and avoided setting up people who see each other every day.”

Increasingly red-faced, Steve very pointedly avoided Eddie’s suspicious squint after being outed as the one who set up the date, not Nancy. “You’re the one who lives with her, how could you not–?”

“Okay!” You clapped once to end their bickering. “Then it’s not a date.”

Nancy, bless her, picked up her improv skills fast. “Yeah! Not a date. Just a casual outing between friends. Steve, get the tickets ready so we can get popcorn before the line gets too long.” There was a ripple of unanimous murmurs, followed by shuffling to the entrance.

“Silver lining,” Nancy muttered out the side of her mouth to Steve, “It’s a movie date, so it’s not like they have to talk to, or look at each other.”

Steve tempered his laugh to a hiss and held the door for Robin, who in turn kept the it ajar behind her for you, but as you went to catch it, it was opened for you.

Clack- clack- clack. You’d heard the sound every morning; his distinct rings on the metal frame of the glass door beside your desk, followed by his soft grunt when pulling it open. But whereas his whispered ‘morning’ normally echoed in the tiled lobby, it was now on the back of your neck, fanning your skin, and it wasn’t a sweet greeting, but a reserved, solemn, regretful, sad, “Sorry for.. yeah.” That’s how he started your date that wasn’t a date. With an apology. And still, as the crisp autumn air was replaced by the humid waft of buttery popcorn, your brain was stuck at the garage, filling in the drag of his heavy work boots on the way to the breakroom for coffee, and the lingering scent of cigarette smoke trailing his stride.

Except, as you were jolted back to reality, you came to know he didn’t present himself so generically outside the context of motor oil. Due to the traffic clogging around the ticket ripper, Eddie ran into you and you discovered the nuances of what he smelled like when not at work, with the added intimacy of his chest pressed to your back.

Worn leather enveloped by notes of vanilla musk cologne. Spicy deodorant carried by the sweet earthy tang of tobacco. Dove White on his heated skin, and Dawn on his hands.

A symphony you could immerse yourself in learning for hours if it wasn’t for the crime of your group moving forward.

“Did you want anything?” Eddie asked you, pointing at the concessions.

“Oh, no, I’m good.” You made a clawing gesture at your mouth. “Eating popcorn before the movie even starts because I have no self control and then being forced to sit there with kernels in my teeth drives me nuts.”

Not finding you as endearing as you intended, he slipped his hands into his pockets, and motioned for both of you to stand off to the side, out of the way while you waited for the others to get their snacks. And he just stood there. Not saying anything. You were turned to him as if to carry a conversation, but his gaze was set ahead; not on anything in particular, just away from you.

Rarely had his face been this slack, this devoid of emotion. Even when doing menial work like filling out invoices for parts you would need to order, there was activity. Liveliness in the tic of his eyes reading lines on the paper. Movement of his tongue sliding across his top lip. A subtle crease between his brows. Something. Anything.

You spoke above the giggly teenagers sneaking into the film next door, “For a stick in the mud, you look nice.” He really did, in his well-loved jacket draping his frame after years of being broken in to perfection. Tight black jeans. Sensible boots. More accessories than just his rings.

Try as he might to cut you an unamused look, his freshly washed hair bounced in immaculate waves around his face, catching the low mood lighting like a messy halo.

“Thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“I can see why you don’t get many dates if you always look this miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Glum, then? Woebegone? Hapless? Crestfallen?” When he seemed hellbent on wishing he were anywhere else, you eased up on your act. Harboring the pit of rejection eating away at your stomach, you pried, “Disappointed?”

The glimpse of vulnerability in your words was not lost on him.

He snapped to, shaking himself out of his funk to reassure you in his gentle timbre amongst the chaos of someone beating the top score on the pinball machine, “I’m not disappointed to be here with you.”

“Then what are you?”

“Sorry,” he guessed, shrugging. He was the type to speak with his hands, moving them despite being confined to his pockets. “I’m sorry our friends suck at communicating and this is how your night turned out; you being here with me when you were clearly expecting someone else.” His gaze didn’t dare dip lower than your nose, but the effort you put into your appearance did not go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he stared a little too directly into your eyes after you decided to stop covering yourself up.

“I don’t go on dates intending to find my one true love or anything lame like that,” you said, honestly. “I go on them to have fun, and I think we can still have fun, even if we have to share the same tiny lunch table come Monday, and we side-eye Carl for bringing tuna again.” He almost smiled at that.

Sensing he needed another boost of confidence, you kept going, “Before I knew it was you, Robin was talking you up in the car. Going on about how my date was some sweet guy, super handsome, and with a heart of gold. You know, the Prince Charming type. Oh, and totally obnoxious too. Real loudmouth who never shuts up.”

Okay, maybe some of that was ad libbed, but you wanted to know how much of it was true.

Eddie shifted from foot to foot, subduing his grin by biting his tongue, literally. “That’s a pretty apt way to describe me back in high school, yeah, especially with how I’m dressed.”

“What changed?”

“Uh, I had a kid,” he laughed. “She stole all my charm. I swear Adrie can talk me into anything.”

“I think you’re just a pushover.”

“Probably,” he surrendered. Raising his brows, he mused aloud one of the many things on his mind, “Do you not agree that she described me accurately? Sweet Prince Charming guy, all that?”

There was no way in hell you were going to speak your truth. Instead, you smirked. “I don’t think you want to know what adjectives I’d use to describe you.” They were far too vulgar to utter in a crowded room. Hot in the most annoying way. Absolute pain in my ass. Just the worst, especially when I don’t hear you sneak up behind me in the kitchen, and you think it’s funny to scare me right as I open my drink from the Coke machine, and you laugh your stupid laugh when I drop it. An absolute eye-sore when you look up at me while you're on your hands and knees cleaning up the mess you created. Irritatingly handsome when you grin and buy me another one.

Ignorant to your private thoughts, he swung his elbow out to push you, and smiled.

Relaxing into the natural lull in conversation, you both watched your friends make it to the front of the line and order their food. They waited at the counter, starting the clock on when they would inevitably make it back to the two of you, and cease your alone time with Eddie. (Although, first, they’d have to traverse an entire bucket of dropped popcorn, and navigate around more than one group of children reenacting a fight scene they just watched on the big screen.)

“Were you disappointed I was your date?” you asked.

Robin was right. Eddie was a sweetheart. As soon as he detected an inkling of insecurity–whether it be in your strained voice, or etched into your face, or imbued in the question itself–he was quick to absolve your worry.

“No, no,” he said. “Relieved, if I’m being honest.”

“Relieved?” You weren’t expecting that.

“There’s a reason I haven’t dated since having Adrie. It didn’t sound like Steve made it clear to.. you, well, my anonymous date which happened to be you. Jesus, this is confusing. Whatever, you know what I mean, he didn’t say if he told my would-be date that I’m a dad, and I was afraid of coming here and having to tell them myself. Even if we hit it off, it’s a deal breaker for some people, y’know? Not that I blame them. I would’ve said the same thing five years ago.”

You nodded as you listened to him. “Never thought about it from that perspective. All my dates have been one-and-dones. Super casual. Kids were never really brought up.”

“Yeah, the dating world isn’t always so gracious. I’m kinda glad I’m here with you–someone who knows me, at least.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Steve raising his sodas above his head as two boys ran past him, pretending they were in a shootout.

Knowing he wouldn’t have time to respond, you informed Eddie, “You’re worrying about the wrong thing. Adrie’s an angel. You should be more concerned about your curmudgeonly attitude being a deal breaker.” His narrowed-eye glare had never felt so sweet.

Robin’s giddy presence became known. She dropped her chin to your shoulder with a satisfied hum, and wrapped her arm around your waist to hug you snug to her body. You laid your head on top of hers, swaying with her.

She must’ve made a face at Eddie, because a different emotion flinched across his features, and he was back to avoiding making eye contact.

You, however, were more enticed by the drink in her hand than analyzing his change in demeanor. “Shit, now I want an Icee.”

“Yeah, I got cherry,” she said, angling the straw towards you. “They have Coke too–Okay, bye, dork,” she giggled after you.

“Go ahead and sit without me! I want an Icee.” Nancy clutched the largest size of popcorn to her chest to avoid spilling it as you stumbled out of Robin’s hold and darted for the concession stand.

Eddie raised his voice, “You couldn’t have decided that five minutes ago when I asked?”

“Nope!”

————

The theater for the low budget horror flick reflected the town’s perception of it. As soon as the heavy door closed behind you, your footsteps on the dense carpet echoed around the empty room. Your group was sitting in the back row, and their murmurs could be heard from the bottom.

You climbed up to them and flumped into the seat next to Eddie. “We can share,” you said excitedly, shaking the drink at him before placing it in the cupholder at the end of the single armrest.

When the subtle pinch of concern around his eyes remained, you promised him you didn’t have cooties.

He played with his rings, pulling them down the length of his fingers and spinning them while he worked through his confusion. “You don’t have to sit next to me.. You can sit next to Robin.” He motioned beside him, to Steve munching on his popcorn while Nancy held it, and Robin whispering on the end, rolling her eyes at something Nancy said.

“Why wouldn’t I sit next to you?”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to settle on what he wanted to say, and finishing with a submissive shrug, leather jacket groaning at the act. He bounced his foot quicker, shaking the aglets on his laces against his boot in a chaotic rhythm. “Dunno..”

“You’re silly. I’d pinch your cheek if I didn’t think you’d bite me.” He reeled at that, and you giggled. You didn’t mind making him balk at your weird quirks; whatever put him at ease. Rather, whatever made him stop rubbing his knee against yours, because you were certain the friction was about to cause a fire.

Digging through your purse, you took out a rectangular box and slid your finger under the flap, popping it open and dumping a handful of candy into your palm. You threw it back into your mouth. “Want sh-ome?” you chewed, offering the box to him.

“Who the hell eats Mike and Ikes?”

“Uh, me, jerk.” Right as the lights dimmed to pitch black, and the curtains drew back from the screen, you hit him with the most exaggerated pout. “I only eat them at the movies. They’re a ritual, and you’re rude.” The shadows lining his face twisted into a deeper grin. “Are you more of a chocolate guy?”

“Maybe,” he answered like he was suspicious of your motives.

And maybe he should be. Afterall, you committed the number one sin when it came to cinemas.

“Looks like I chose right,” you said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a Kit Kat. “I was hoping my date would be a chocolate sorta guy–” You went quiet seeing his eyes widen a touch. “I mean, not date. Begrudging coworker? Tentative acquaintance?”

“Reluctant friend,” he answered smoothly, taking the package from you and ripping it open with his teeth.

~~~

Trailers for other films played, bathing the room in flickers of light interrupting the darkness. The opening credits began. Your candy was half-eaten. His was devoured. You took a sip of your Icee, and from the vantage point of pressing your back into the cheap theater seat, you observed him in your periphery.

His gaze hardly left the drink. Your offer to share it gnawed at him in a visible way. Scoping out the straw, the possible trace of spit you left behind, the possible trace of spit he’d leave behind. He peered at the screen to acknowledge the intro, and then back down it was, boring holes into the Icee.

You were no better, nibbling at your lips when he finally caved and took a sip–all too quick, and clumsy, almost missing the cup holder when he put it back down with lightning speed.

The edge of your thighs touched under the arm rest; worse so, when you folded one leg under you, and leaned into him. “Do you hate it when people talk during movies?”

“Not these kind.” He meant the genre in general, which made for great fodder for ripping apart in friend groups, but another popular trope among this realm of fiction became apparent. The first set of tits flashed on screen, and you both found yourselves lacking in the commentary department.

After a moment, you tilted your head. “That actress looks familiar..”

“She’s been in other cult classics. Always acts with her eyebrows.” He turned to you and nudged your shoulder, vying for your full attention. He emphasized the end of each word with an inflection as if it were a question, and raised his eyebrows in every way possible, mocking her slowly, “She’s the one who always talks like this–!” He looked crazy contorting his face to make his point.

“That’s it!” You snapped. “Her wearing glasses really threw me off.”

“Mhm.” His hum vibrated along your upper arm pressed to his, and he asked quietly under the screams of the first gorey death, “Do you like B movies?”

“Hell yeah. Back home they would play them at this rooftop drive in place. I rarely paid to watch them, though. The next building over had a good view of the projector screen.”

His banter dropped in favor of chewing on the corner of his thumb. If it wasn’t for the wild change in scenery cast across his face, you could’ve sworn his faint smile faltered into inscrutability.

Did you say something wrong?

————

“Damn, that was a cool practical effect,” Eddie complimented the purplish fizzing ooze that once was a person.

“I know, right? That’s why I love these bad movies. There’s no budget for good CGI, so they have to do creative stuff like that.”

It was inevitable. Bound to happen. A mere act of fate. Stars aligning in the close knit group leaning forward to exchange witty quips about the hare-brained plot holes in the movie, and not minding their surroundings except to receive everyone’s laughter, making jokes at the expense of the bad acting.

Steve was asking a question that was technically answered by the movie’s lore if he’d paid attention to the dialogue during the second gratuitous stripping scene. You or Eddie could have answered, but Robin took it upon herself to explain, and you two nodded along.

Absentminded, you reached for the Icee.

Distracted, Eddie reached for the Icee.

The waxed paper cup was cold under your fingers, but your hand was blanketed by warmth.

Slow to process, you both glanced down at the reason why neither of you were achieving your goal, and the overload of sensory inputs faded away to one: touch.

Your thumb was trapped under his palm, and his fingers stretched around the cup, meeting yours on the other side and housing them beneath his in a steady amount of pressure. They were almost interlocking. Holding. Wrist on top of wrist–his with the extra harshness of his leather and chain bracelet on your skin. The heaviness of his forearm resting on yours.

Truly, the accident lasted all of two pumps of your heart, but it felt like more when he stroked his calloused fingertips over your knuckles as he let go.

“Sorry!” he blurted.

“S-Sorry,” you laughed, jittery from the encounter.

Your cheeks were hot. His were flushed red. The lewd moaning of a woman feigning to orgasm just from the male lead removing her bra alone played in the background. Neither of you could decide which plan of escape was less embarrassing: continuing to stare like idiots at each other, or watch the actress’ ginormous boobs bounce as she faked riding a guy.

You blinked. His eyebrows ticced up.

Boobs it was.

He adjusted how he sat, tugging his jeans down his legs a little, and crossing his arms. Eyes laser focused on the woman’s face. The why was obvious, and you couldn’t help but tease him for pretending to be a gentleman in your company when you held no such modesty when it came to ogling her tits.

“Thinking about how much Aquanet she uses?”

“Shut up.”

————

Later into the film, after the plot circled back to the juicy gore, you leaned into Eddie to ask him a question.

What that question was, you couldn’t remember.

As soon as you placed your elbow on the armrest and used the back of your hand to tap his shoulder, he dipped his head to hear you. It was an automatic thing starting from the moment you slouched in your seat. That’s all. A shift in your sitting position and intake of breath, and he knew you were going to speak, and he wanted to listen. He cared about what you had to say. He leaned into you as well, because listening to you took priority over the movie.

“Eddie?” You sought any words. Any words at all. Any would do. Any question, even if you knew the answer. “Uhm. The music sounds really familiar. Do you recognize it?”

“It’s the same composer as Chopping Mall and Deathstalker II.”

“Ah.”

Ah. All you could muster when you were charmed by the silhouette of his lips moving. Watching them form letters, pout on the plosives, press into a line on his thick swallow.

Ah. All you could say when his hair brushed over your fingers. Dry, in need of a deep conditioning. Curling around your forefinger. Tickling your palm.

Ah. All you could respond with when you lifted your gaze, and caught him staring at you like you stared at him.

————

As predicted, the filmmakers padded the runtime with another topless scene, and the movie ended on a witty one liner that included not one, but two puns, and no resolution to the numerous plot threads left hanging.

“That was.. certainly something!” Robin summed up, holding the doors open to the subdued hours of the night.

Once outside in the fresh air, the dynamic reverted back to its original status.

Your friends made themselves scarce in the worst way; whistling, shuffling to the side as they found asinine things to comment on, leaving you and Eddie alone. Their intentions were pure, but reality was not so kind.

Eddie cemented his gaze on the sidewalk as he picked at his callouses, and apologized for the mistake of going out with you. Again. “Sorry about all this.”

Itchy sweat broke out across your back. It sucked he was so brazen about rejecting you. You had hoped some of the tender crush you had on him extended past the armrest you shared, the looks you shared, the touches you shared; but maybe you were just tricking yourself into finding things that weren’t there.

Wanting to end on a better note, you appealed to him in a last ditch effort to smooth over the situation, “I meant it when I said you looked good tonight. It’s nice to see you outside of your work clothes.”

“Thanks.”

That’s all. Thanks. A shy glance from beneath his curtain of messy hair, and a somber tone to maximize the awkwardness of the not-date with your coworker.

You needed to get the hell out of there. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, see you Monday.”

The group winced in unison when they saw the way you two departed.

Robin was quick to link her arm with yours and gather you closer, bringing your heads together to gossip as you walked back to her car. “That bad, huh?”

Around the corner and out of sight, you gave her half a smile, trying to appear in better spirits. “Well, I don’t think he likes me. He didn’t return any of my compliments, and he apologized for being on a date with me no less than four times over the course of the evening.”

She cringed for you. “That’s worse than Balloon Guy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, remembering what would go down in history as the shittiest date you’d been on. “Yeah, that’s more times than Balloon Guy.” Robin hugged you tighter, making your steps go clumsy. She apologized for Eddie’s weirdness, but you shrugged. Maybe you were supposed to find it weird, too. Maybe you were supposed to disapprove of the idea of romantic feelings for your coworker, too. Maybe you were supposed to have no expectations for it to lead anywhere, too.

Maybe you were supposed to reject him, too.

————

Still loitering outside the theater, Steve exchanged a look with Nancy, and jogged to catch up with Eddie before he made it too far in the opposite direction.

“Uh, hey buddy!” Steve clapped him on the shoulder to stop him. “It sounded like you two were hitting it off during the movie, what happened?”

Eddie sulked under the question. His chest fell with a surrendering sigh, and his boots scraped the concrete as he turned to him, not bothering to mask the dullness in his slack expression. Everything about him was tired, including his voice when he slipped into a lower, raspy octave. “She’s nice, but..”

“But what?” Nancy asked, searching his face.

Bottling his burdens, he clenched his teeth, and worked his jaw as he contemplated evading their insistent prying; but after ruminating on it, he explained the source of his problems, “She lives a very.. whimsy life.” He fluttered his hand like a bird flapping its wings, or a butterfly. “She does this thing where she says ‘yes’ to anything anyone asks her; it’s why she moved to Hawkins, and why she ended up on this date to begin with. Y’know, just doing whatever seems like fun. It’s cute, in a way, and obviously I.. feel a way towards her, but this place isn’t where she’s looking to lay down roots. New York is her home.”

Steve squeezed his shoulder, knowing what was about to come.

“I’ve already been left for someone better.. I can’t go through that again.” Eddie’s eyes begged them to understand. “I don’t want Adrie to get attached to someone who’s just gonna leave.”

Nancy started, “Eddie–You don’t know if she’d leave.”

He shook his head, and pulled away from Steve’s lingering grasp. Shushed his friend’s well-meaning words about him being valued, and to forget his insecurities about not being good enough.

“A girl like that doesn’t need me weighing her down,” Eddie said, imparting the wisdom he’d come to accept since you made a mark on his life weeks ago, when it became your mission to befriend him. “I’ll pick up Adrie in the morning. Thanks for watching her.”

The night got darker as he left.

Darker still, when Steve waved at his back, and Nancy played with the locket around her neck, and her goodbye went disregarded.

————

Silence.

It surrounded him. Blood pulsing in his ears, his heart beat, the refrigerator hum, the tink of glass bottles as he grabbed the full six pack and brought it to the couch, springs squeaking under his weight.

Utter emptiness welcomed him.

Not a sound in his home. Not a giggle from his daughter, or scrape of a skillet from Wayne’s makeshift breakfast-dinner before he went to work. Even the dogs around the trailer park were quiet.

Just.. nothing.

It was what he wanted, right? A night to himself; a break from the chores, the questions, the food making, the taking care of a tiny human being who made everything tougher than it needed to be.

He got his wish.

Two beers down in peace, he got his wish.

Eddie looked around his trailer lit by the single lamp beside him.

Quiet, empty, nothing.

Dark silence.

The jolt of his sob startled him. It erupted from his chest so suddenly. Ripped from the tightness of repressed emotions; the things he tried to deny, to feel and then lock away. To keep safe, buried down deep where he could manage them from progressing past the boundaries he created for his own good, and Adrie’s. He felt the agony of them all at once. The morning smiles, the afternoon laughs, the evenings of pretending you didn’t plan to bump into each other in the doorway to the lobby. The game of seeing how long he could watch you twirl the phone cord around your finger before you looked up from your desk. Your sweet way of comforting him after the hard nights of Adrie’s sleep regression by taking his tan work jacket and draping it over his shoulders while he slept at the lunch table in the break room. Your gentle method of fixing his collar when it was tucked on the inside of his coveralls.

The date was too good to be true.

In fact, the truth itself was far more painful.

The date was amazing. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had more fun. More thrills, sure. But not more fun. There wasn’t a day in his youth where he experienced more of the flirty thrum in his veins than when he committed himself to learning the way your lips moved when saying his name in the darkened theater.

The date was perfect. He was happy. And he couldn’t have it again. Shouldn’t have it again. Wouldn’t have these feelings again.

Eddie doubled over and put his third beer on the floor before he spilled it. Nothing was discernible beyond the water invading his ability to see, to fathom his reflection in the old TV. Sad, miserable, and lonely. An idiot for finally getting attached to someone, and it was someone he wasn’t supposed to.

Tears slipped from between his lashes. He smeared them on his cheeks, covering his sweaty face from his possessions bearing witness to his stupidity.

It was in his best interest to reject you–reject your casual stance on dating, and relationships, and people with kids–but the face you made when your advances went underappreciated churned his stomach.

He needed to be stronger. But he was weak.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighed into the stale air. Opening another beer, he nursed it as he huddled into the corner of the couch, and searched for Adrie’s quilt to soothe him. But of course, he sent it with her when he dropped her off at Steve’s.

No baby blanket to hold onto. No Adrienne to sleep on his chest to ease the pain of loneliness. No reason to look forward to Monday after he royally screwed everything up.

“Goddamnit,” he groaned.

Maybe, if he apologized enough, there was a chance you wouldn’t hate him.

Maybe, if you forgave him, you’d go back to the morning smiles, and the afternoon laughs.

And maybe, if he was enough of a masochist, he’d let you gently ease past those boundaries meant to keep you, and your kindness out. If you wanted to trespass, that is. He didn’t know. He was an idiot.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

5K notes · View notes