#so I'm freaking out thinking i need to stay up for a few more hours and go through the other module too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halaboyz · 2 months

Text

spice and everything nice, seonghwa

ceo! ateez seonghwa x gn, employee! reader fluff wc: 11.4k warnings: rather detailed description of food and eating, ALL OVER THE PLACE ! not my best work but my best efforts though a/n: rrAAAAHHH i think this is my first time trying this trope?? lmao anw its inspired by a lot of scenes in kdrama 'dreaming of a freaking fairytale'! giving lots of my gratitude to my one and only ducky 4 deciding with me (which... ended up with spin the wheel) @ricsang !! ilysm <3

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to move out as soon as... tomorrow morning." Your landlord drops the bomb, and leaves you without a second glance, leaving you with a piece of dismissal paper and a list of your unpaid dues.

You gawk, closing the door behind you helplessly as your eyes wander around your flat, eye twitching at the sudden— is it really sudden— news with your head still hazy from the sunlight.

Sighing, your fingers quickly call your friend, your one and only, already placing a default smile on your face, although he won't see it. "My lovely, most gorgeous, kindest, prettie—,"

"What the fuck do you want so early in the morning?" Wooyoung growls through the line, and you hear his bed sheets as he probably twists and turns from his bed.

"Clear your lawn." Your default smile drops, "I'm moving in your lawn for a few days. I'll be there by lunch,"

You don't even wait for his answer before you drop the call, finally washing up to start and clean up the flat you've been living in for years, and been leeching off for months already.

"I cannot, for the life of me, absolutely believe you." Wooyoung stares at you in bewilderment, movers working behind you as they drop your boxed things in his lawn.

"I cannot absolutely believe how broke I am too, thank you very much. Do you have food? I'm starving. I spent my last on the moving company," You comfortably made your way through his house, immediately going to the kitchen and found his mom's kimchi lying in the counter.

"Don't touch anything, I'll just make you lunch," Wooyoung sighs, while you hop into the high chair, watching Wooyoung move around his territory. "Come on, y/n, just ask your family for some money. They're your family, of course they'll need to help with your masters fees. You've been LOA for what, almost a year now!"

"Look, Mr. Right," You take a gulp of water, "My family is not like yours, all mighty and well that you even have a house of your own while you take your masters, no dues, no bills." You state as a matter of fact, but take no offense of his opinions, picking on the nuts he provided you snack on while he cooks. "My family's already struggling as they are."

"So why take masters? Why not just go and work already?"

"Because they wanted it, too. I helped start my masters with some fees with my part time job, which unfortunately fired me because I ate one of their expired food, and then lived far away so they wouldn't worry much about me." You explained, and he sighs. He's sad he can't do anything to help you lighten your burden, which is why he lets you stay in his house with him.

Of course you had conscience. You insisted to stay in his lawn because you had a tent and a sleeping bag, but Wooyoung was a loyal friend after all. After a little more insisting from Wooyoung and his mom which he called for help, you and Wooyoung had finally agreed until you've found yourself some decent job.

"Don't your company have some free space?" You pout, looking through your laptop's screen for a whole hour now trying to find a job.

"Even if there was, I can't get you in there," Wooyoung sing sung, scrolling through his phone on your bed, lying in his tummy.

"Why? They're that strict?" You squint, facing him.

"The CEO himself handles who goes in and out of his company. Directly. Don't know what goes in that cold head of his," He shrugs, and faces you. "But it doesn't hurt to try. Your degree lines up with mine so they could consider you without a doubt. You also have a high GWA so,"

You nod, knowing there's nothing going to hurt when you try. You've been handing over a hundred resumes for hundreds of companies, what's one more, right?

"Oh my god," You barge into Wooyoung's room one evening, and thankfully he was only lying in his bed, "I got scheduled for an interview at your company tomorrow!"

"For real?" Wooyoung shoots up as he looks at the email on your phone, "It's real..." Wooyoung whispers, and stifles a chuckle. "Be at your fucking best tomorrow, you're getting head on with a fucking bull."

Well, Wooyoung mentioned a bull. But he didn't say that bull was the CEO himself, Park Seonghwa.

Park Seonghwa, consistently chosen as number one for consecutive years already as continuously rising businessman in the fashion industry by different newsletters and publications such as Vogue, GQ, Esquire, Arena Homme, of the many.

He sits in front of you all elegant and mighty, while you sit there almost wanting out with how he gazes at you. You feel so small in front of him, and feel like Wooyoung just dumped you into a hell hole.

But thinking of your situation, this wasn't a time where you feed your ego away to the birds. It was a desperate time, not only for you but also for your family. So you set your embarrassment aside, heading face on with the bull, as Wooyoung adviced.

"You're applying for?" It was like elegance and superiority was oozing out of his lips when he talked. Having a one on one interview with one of the living legends of the fashion industry was making you shake to your toes, goosebumps all over your body.

"Either marketing strategy or marketing secretary, if I may, sir." You confidently reply, straightening your back. Right. It was a time to be arrogant of your skills.

"Without experience, at that," Seonghwa scoffs, and tosses your file to the table. You almost swoon at how he sounds, but quickly shake your head to reality. "You may leave."

"I am quite the ambitious person, sir. And I have my experience. As an intern, you'll see it by the third page," You ignore his last order, sitting still in your chair.

"Which has been five years, and if I may add, at an already closed, blacklisted company," You didn't get to think about that. which almost crumbles your confidence down. but you stand your guard. "Leave."

"Let me prove my skills for a week. Just a week. Whatever tasks you give me, let me prove it." From all the companies that has accepted your almost empty resume that only consisted of academic achievements but zero experiences, you were quite— desperate by a lot.

Seonghwa scoffs again, crosses his legs and leans back to his chair.

"A day." Seonghwa offers, smirking. "Attract ten investors tomorrow, within the day and I'll even accept you to be my direct secretary." Seeing your dumbfounded face was something he found funny, because it was a funny offer, after all. "It's a take it or leave it offer. That's so much time I can offer to a candidate only,"

"We have a deal, then." When he hears your determined voice, he internally scoffs. You keep throwing him out of his zone, being the first one to do that. He raises an eyebrow in interest, letting him know for the last time that you had agreed to his offer for tomorrow.

"Was that a bad idea?" You almost cry to Wooyoung, thinking you're only walking right into the trap of embarrassing yourself.

"I don't want to pop your bubble but... absolutely." Wooyoung gives you a wry smile, patting your shoulder. "The company's been having a hard time getting new investors for a few months now, I think it's due to less and less creatives coming out. That's also why his secretary suddenly quit and signed with a rival company. Thinks it's the start of the downfall of Park Enchante."

You dramatically fall on your knees, losing all hope for yourself.

"I can't believe I just said those to the Park Seonghwa..." You almost whisper, "...who you didn't tell me is your CEO!" You point out when you suddenly remember, jumping to strangle him.

"I didn't get to?" He slyly tries to get out of your room in a hurry, but you immediately grab his jacket.

"You don't understand! He's a living legend! Did you know he's the youngest CEO who has established his own brand? Do you have any idea how much he's earned just a month after he established his company? How lovely his first works were? My god! I could go on and on!"

"It's not my fault that you didn't know his company name!" He struggles out of your reach, trying to calm you down. "And I'm not down bad for fashion like you are! I'm just someone who works at the company! Also, why apply for marketing, you literally have a god-given talent at styling and creating!" Wooyoung blurts out, and it makes you pout.

"I don't draw and sew shit anymore, Woo." You roll your eyes, plopping to the couch. "It's been years, come on now, let it go! I'm majoring in marketing now so goodbye creatives,"

"y/n, you were so good at that, you were even thinking of starting of making your own brand! Why didn't you push through with it anyway,"

"I didn't think I would earn from it anyway. And starting it would cost so much. Don't worry about it, hands were rusty anyway. I wasn't confident with my own works, too." The atmosphere glooms and you take responsibility for it, clapping and taking a sharp breath. "Anyway! Better be ready for tomorrow. You should go rest, I'll be readying files for tomorrow."

"You got the files?"

"Easily. With permission from your great CEO, the temp secretary gave all out to me at once." You sigh, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have 10 clients to meet tomorrow,"

"Holy shit, I can't get used to these big ass revolving doors," You whisper, and determinedly let out a huff as you admire the big Park Enchante blaring on top of the doors. "I'm getting you in my resume." You nod in commitment, patting your chest to cheer yourself up. But before you even take a step in, three consecutive cars rush in the front of the company, and you stop to see in curiosity.

People rush out of the two cars behind, one opening the car door of the first car.

There he was, so elegant and flashy, coming out of the car with his sunglasses on. Another held an umbrella up for him but he immediately takes it with him, shooting the butler a small smile.

It was the first time you see him smile. You never see him smile. In person (from yesterday's experience), online, whatever paper you see him on, he never smiles. Always that poker face, sleek, straightened-back, poised and just pure... elegance.

"Wow. He's so handsome," You curse through gritted teeth, unconsciously holding your breath as you watch him make his way inside. "He couldn't have seen me, right?" That was a surge of shame running down your veins.

It was rich coming from you that you even had the guts to apply to a company like this.

He wouldn't mind if you wouldn't show up for your deal, right?

"Right." You nod, heels turning around as you make up your mind not to show, gripping your coat and stepping away from the big doors.

Before you're stopped by closed, long, black umbrella.

"May I ask where you're going?" Seonghwa, the almighty himself, now without his sunglasses presents by your side, holding the umbrella up to your waist to stop you.

"Hi." You awkwardly chuckle, "I uh, umm," You think of an excuse, sighing. "Going for coffee. Before going in," You smile in default.

"Ah. Five minutes before supposed time in," He checks his watch, and then at you. "I do not condone late comers. And, coffee's provided in the lobby. Why go for a mile walk if you can get it here,"

"Ha. I didn't know that."

"You're pulling back from the deal." He stated as a matter of fact, taking the umbrella down.

"Why would I for a once in a lifetime offer," You chuckle, shaking your hand in front of him. "I need money to save my life, why would I," Being sarcastic doesn't even go through him.

"Get ready in ten. I'm coming with,"

"What?" You blurted out, face contorted into something... desperate. When Seonghwa turns around to look you in the eye once again. He raises his brow at your reaction, and you immediately fall into a default smile once again. "I mean, you're the CEO. Why would you need to come with,"

"I don't think you've heard," He sighs, confidently stepping towards you. "I'm in a quite desperate situation right now. And I can't quite trust an unskilled candidate employee to go alone with my files."

You inhale sharply as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, stepping towards him as well.

"I'll prove my skills, then." You confidently crane your neck, facing him head on with another challenge. "I'll get employed, get my skillful ass paid, and get out of your company. I'll bet you'll beg on your knees to not let me resign?" You shrug, waiting for his rebut.

He chuckles incredulously, tucking his hands in his pockets. And then he nods, taking your statement seriously.

"I'll be waiting for that day,"

And it wasn't even half the meeting for the first client to see how skillful you were. The way you communicated, the way how you had managed to study all about his company through the files he had provided, and how easily you gave your beautiful smile.

Oh that beautiful smile is what scammed him in this deal in the first place. Although he knew it was sarcastic and far from the real one, he liked it. How you showed confidence, how you were ambitious, how honest you were, how you showed no fear of the high figure in front of you.

It was fresh to see in the industry.

Before he even shoots back to reality, you were done with your first client in thirty minutes. Hopping back to the seat two tables away to observe you after the client has gone, Seonghwa swiftly turns his gaze toward you.

"How was it? Did you fail already?" Seonghwa blinks, but you just open the file folder to present to him, falling flat at the table, signed.

"Promptly, the successful second client meeting will be in another ten minutes, at the hotel next door. Let's get moving, my dear CEO." You smiled, closing the folder and waving it at him.

It wasn't even long before you had finished eight more clients. Seonghwa had stayed silent, only tailing on you and continuously giving you additional information you asked for.

While talking with your last client, your eyes moved to him as he rest his elbow on the armrest of the couch he was sitting on. His eyelids were falling with his chin in his palm, legs crossed. It looked very uncomfortable, making you quicken the pace of the last meeting.

"Thank you very much. We'll contact you once again for future meetings and appointments. I appreciate you coming in person." You bid your farewell, watching him thank and smile at you, shaking hands before going his own way.

When he's out of sight, you made your way quietly two tables away where Seonghwa sat solemnly, sitting in front of him. When he feels it was too... quiet, his eyes finally open to see you sitting in front of him, reading more files he had handed out.

"Ten over ten clients signed. What do you think about that?" You arrogantly shook non-existent dust on your shoulders, leaning back on the chair.

Seonghwa chuckles, scooting to a more proper posture. "You're hired from the first client itself. Saw how you do, saw your potential. Nine more clients were a bonus. Quite impressive, I have to give you that."

"You're beautiful when you smile. Why don't you do it more often?" You scoff, making him squint his eyes at you. "Thank you, sir." You smile, that always default smile. Seonghwa still likes it, though. "I'll treat dinner, follow me. You must be tired." You offer to your huge CEO, gaining ego and confidence now.

"Follow where? We're already at a hotel, we can just eat here." Seonghwa looks around, confused. "And I think you've come to grow a little comfortable with me too much, secretary."

"One, you think my wallet can handle a five-star hotel restaurant?"

"Then you can let me pay for dinner." You shush him sharply, glaring.

"Two, its beyond working hours. You wanted to go with me so I'm giving you the chance of being treated by a broke person. You wanted to go with me so it is not my fault that I can't keep being polite and straight up sucking up all day with you." You ramble, reasoning your hunger for it. When he raises his brow, you press your lips to a thin line. "...Sir."

He scoffs, until he lets you lead the way on where to eat. You lead him to a small grilling house near your neighborhood, coming in like it's already your home.

"Oh, you're with someone new today? Where's Wooyoung?" The owner welcomed you, leading you to a free table.

"Please don't tell him I dined here tonight," You scrunch your nose, patting Seonghwa to let him sit. "We'll take Set B, with a plus of two beers," You smile, and watch the owner hop away after winking at you.

He hesitates, seeing how molds were forming at the corner of the walls.

"Humble setting." Seonghwa mumbles, still looking around in awe. His face scrunches when he sees cobwebs in his side of wall, flinching.

"What, you want to switch?" You chuckle, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yes, please." Seonghwa immediately stands up and almost pushes you out of your seat, making you scoff in disbelief.

"This is the best grilling house in town. Haven't you at least heard of it? This ambience makes the food even better and here you are scrunching your beautiful face."

"I've never been to such... humble place," Seonghwa doesn't even look at you. He keeps looking around, as if he was there to scan the place for more cobwebs or worse. "Can't we eat at a more proper place?"

Just at the right timing, the tray was set rather angrily in the table, which made the both of you two jump. The owner scowls at Seonghwa, taking what he said as an insult.

"I think i might just prefer the loud one than a classy one," The owner rolls her eyes before leaving, eyes still glaring at Seonghwa as she does.

You chuckle as you notice Seonghwa stunned in his seat, looking like a kid who just got scolded.

"I'm betting my everything you'll love the food here." You ready your chopsticks, and with your other hand, start grilling the pork and beef. You expertly moved both hands simultaneously, the other mixing the sizzling stir-fried squid while Seonghwa watched you in awe, for the nth time today.

He just finds you interesting.

When finished, you put a mouthful on top of his rice and urged him to take a bite, giddy on your toes to see how he would react.

"Go ahead," You nod, waiting for him. He looks at you and the food suspiciously, and then around. God just please let it be edible. Seonghwa thinks, before finally picking up his spoon and letting the weird thing in his mouth.

You watch him as his suspicious eyes turned into wide ones, urgently taking another sweep of food. You chuckle, smiling proudly and taking your own portion. You began to eat quietly, only observing how the both of you finished in thirty minutes when you and Wooyoung usually finish the set in an hour and a half.

"Looks like you were hungry." You smile, looking at him finish his last bite.

"I mean, wow," He wipes his mouth elegantly with the tissue, tapping his tummy. "That was the most I've eaten for months," He was unlike the CEO who has been uptight and poised the whole time, but rather a kid who had just discovered his now new favorite food and restaurant.

He looks around and finds the owner still glaring at him but did he care? No. He raises two thumbs up and mouths a wow, pointing at a squeaky clean tray and grill. The owner only lets out a scoff, shaking her head.

"It looks like it's your first time eating like this, what life were you living?" You embarrassingly whisper, pushing his hands down.

"It is." Seonghwa mumbles, gulping down the glass of beer. "You see, I've always gone to fine hotels and restaurants and I didn't have the leisure to go around small towns so,"

You coo in disappointment, "You're just in the tip of the iceberg, then," You chuckle. "Let me pour you a glass. To thank you for employing me," You offer the can of beer, waiting for him to offer his own glass. When he does, he gets the can and waits for you to offer yours.

"To my new secretary," He raises his glass, and you smile.

"To my new CEO,"

"God..." You mumble, getting the hair out of your face as sunlight hits you. "My head fucking hurts..."

You grumble, throwing the comfortable sheets over your head and cuddling the warm pillow beside you.

Wait, sunlight?

And a warm pillow beside you? For all you know, your bed in Wooyoung's house only fitted your own body. And there was only a little window that sunlight doesn't even touch your bed.

This wasn't Wooyoung's house. You open one eye to inspect, your eyebrows meeting the first thing in the morning.

"Oh my god." You whisper, hand flying to your mouth to shut the fuck up.

It wasn't a warm pillow. It was a body.

Scratch that, your new boss' body.

You did not just sleep in one bed with your boss. You were still in denial when you slowly took the sheets off of you, sneaking out of bed.

You take a glance to make make sure if it was indeed your boss, taking the sheets that covered his face too.

You gasp, confirming it when his face becomes clear, sleeping sweetly and tightly. You mock cry, hitting your head as you get your purse and your shoes, tippy toeing out of the pension he owned. At least you were both still fully clothed.

You just pray to the gods no one saw you.

You remember getting hellbent drunk with beers last night, calling a designated driver to drive the both of you home with Seonghwa's car. Apparently, you had asked the driver to wait for you while you walked an almost sleepwalking, drunk Seonghwa to his flat and to his room, but he only had a waiting time of thirty minutes so when you didn't show up, he parked the car and left.

When you got to his flat, you threw him to his bed as he cradled his own blanket. His bed looked so comfortable and you swore that you were just going to try lying on it for five minutes.

That five minutes turned into the whole night.

"Where the hell did you stay?!" Wooyoung welcomes you, hitting your shoulder. "What happened? Did you get the job? Why do you have a bedhair? Where did you sleep?"

"I got the job! I have ten minutes to get ready so I'll answer all your questions later. Wait for me!"

It was one whole hell of a story to tell when Wooyoung's the recipient. He keeps on talking backin the middle, talk shit about his boss and how proud he is of you for finally landing a job- the direct secretary of the CEO at that.

"Good morning, sir." You shamelessly greet, handing him a cup of coffee while you tailed him to his huge office.

"Well aren't you very polite now," Seonghwa takes a seat in his office chair, leaning his head back and eyebrows met in between due to the aching head he had after waking up with an alarm.

"I have to keep my job now, don't I?" You smile, the default one you always held. "Would you prefer a hot coffee? I can make you one right now," You offer, heading to the side of the coffee maker in his office to make one for him.

"I drank too much last night I don't remember a thing. Did you get home safe?" Seonghwa's voice was laced with worry, watching your back.

You chuckle nervously, slightly trembling as you make your way to him with his cup of coffee. Careful not to spill it, you put it on his desk.

"Of course I did! Haha!" You reply, clapping even. "I had so much fun, I didn't even get drunk so I was able to go home," When you see Seonghwa nod, you internally sigh in relief. Clasping your hands, you smile again. "Please give me something to do now, dear CEO. This is the day I've been waiting for,"

"Oh yeah?" Seonghwa held a devious smile, standing up from his seat and walking up to a tall shelf of files and files and files. He picks, one, two, three, four, five thick documents and hands them to you all at once, making you stumble on your feet. "I need reports of these documents by tonight. And if ever I need you, I'm ringing this bell. Have you introduced yourself to everybody? Make sure you're getting along with everyone. With your attitude, I think you're going to need it." Seonghwa taps the top document in your hands, making his way to his seat back again.

He feigns ignorance by raising his brows, as if asking you what had you stunned on your place.

"I think I'll do just fine, Mr. Park. Shouldn't take advice from yours truly now, should I?" You smile, difficulty making your way out of his office.

After settling on your large table, you sat comfortably on your seat.

"Wow. Okay, this is really happening." You whisper, in awe of your own table, own nameplate, and the pile of work you're about to do. "I'm doing it. I'm working," You whisper in disbelief, internally screaming and punching the air continuously for about a minute before slapping yourself back to reality, starting your work.

In the other side of the window, Seonghwa watched you in amazement, chuckling. Such a peculiar attitude you had, it kept him in his toes.

"Done!" Not even three hours in, you had barged in his office, putting his files back to his table.

"That's a day's worth of work of a secretary. What do you mean you're done?" Seonghwa had his CEO mode on, making you politely smile. He began to run through the files, analyzing your work.

Peculiar, and good at work.

"That's a day's worth? What secretaries have you been having?" You furrow your brows, skeptic. "I'm just naturally good at work. I told you, you won't regret hiring me. Is there something more I should do?" You smile, waiting for him to finish scanning your work.

"Incredible. You may now go home," Seonghwa nods in acknowledgement, and you crane your neck. "What?"

"...That's it?"

"Well, I don't have any more meetings schedules today, don't I?" Seonghwa confirms, setting the files in the side with a sigh. When you nod, he nods as well. "There's your answer. You can now go home."

"It's not even twelve noon, though?" You question, taking a double look at your watch. "Give me work worth of my pay, I'll feel guilty if you let me do that alone," You demand, even offered your hand to him.

He chuckles, "That's what good workers get. Early leaves." Seonghwa just looks at you with a smile, but you only pout, looking at your offered hands. You still wait for him, and he finally looks around. "I really don't have anything else for you to do though..."

"Then we can't do anything about that," You disappointingly lower your hands, finally bidding goodbye and thanking him for today. "You can call my phone number if you need anything. Please make sure I have a lot to do tomorrow," You chuckle, heading to the door. You hear him chuckle before you closed the doors behind you, heading to the marketing department. "Woo!"

"Oh, you're here," Wooyoung exclaims, side-hugging you and leading you to his table. He was about to leave for lunch break. "What do you mean you're done?"

"He said he gave me a day's worth of work. And he really didn't ring the bell so no one disturbed me so," You explained, bored. "I really don't have anything to do now."

"You can help me with mine," Wooyoung slyly offers, making you squint your eyes.

"No thanks. This is a blessing, I guess," You take a bite of your lunch, while Wooyoung delves into his. He looked more in a rush than you, since he still had work to do. "Can I ask you something?"

"Aren't you already asking?" Wooyoung's childish remark makes you roll your eyes.

"What time does Seonghwa usually leave work?"

"For what, you're going to tail him?"

"Wooyoung," You grunt, slapping his arm.

"I don't know. You should ask the security. We all leave before him. I've never seen him leave work before us unless he's been out since noon for meetings and events and such,"

You nod, finally letting Wooyoung eat in peace. After you're both done, you let Wooyoung get back by himself to his department as you head to the entrance security, asking around. Only to find out that he usually leaves late at night, from nine to even midnight.

You pout, checking your phone. He hasn't really texted you anything he needed or called you for something, and it's just two in the afternoon.

"Maybe he's just cutting me some slack since it's my first day. I should just take it," You breathe out, heading out of the office with your things.

You were wrong. It's been two whole weeks and you've constantly been getting early leaves because you finish early. And Seonghwa has not been giving you more work unless needed- but still, you were able to complete and finish it earlier than expected.

"I can't keep doing this," You pout. "Another early leave? Aren't there more works to do? Reports? Client appointments to make? You're just going to make me leave again? Can't you just make me clean your whole office? Make you coffee? Anything?" You ramble, feeling guilty.

"That's not a secretary's work," He snorts, standing up. He stretches his upper body and you can't seem to tear your eyes off of him while he does so, reminiscing how warm he felt that one morning. You shake your head to reality when you realize he's working towards you, holding your shoulders.

"Come on, I have four more hours before my shift ends!" You protest, but he only twists your body to face the door, and leave you out of it.

"Your work's done, y/n. Thank you for today, I'll see you tomorrow." He softly smiles, and you're out of the door. You face him, almost pleading. He softly shoos you away, and the door is closed.

You throw a simple tantrum outside his door, feeling bored two minutes after your work was done. And just like clockwork, whenever you're done for work, you come to the marketing department to cause chaos in Wooyoung's table while he worked.

You even fell asleep beside him.

Meanwhile Seonghwa, an hour after shooing you, peeked outside to see if you've gone home, and seeing you gone, he chuckles to himself. If you were going to go home anyway, why were you even giving him an earful?

"God, you're so adaptive. You sleep anywhere," Wooyoung shakes you awake, and he's standing up with his things. "Should we go home? It's nearing dinner,"

"Oh..." You stretch, checking your watch. "You go ahead, I'll check on my boss first and see if he needs anything," You pat his arms, "I'll text you," When Wooyoung nods, you give yourself another stretch before heading to the elevators, bumping into hundreds of workers about to go home. At the highest level, there were three or four workers left that were already fixing their things.

"Excuse me, hi." You stop one of them, "Has Mr. Park eaten?"

"I don't think he has," They ponder, "I don't think I saw him gone out of his office after the last meeting before you left. That's it."

After thanking them and letting them go their way, you peek at the big windows to see Seonghwa still working, the brightness of the computer screen blaring at his face.

"He's so handsome," You admire for a minute, before going your way.

Seonghwa scratches his eyes as he heaves a deep breath, standing up from his seat after a while. He walks around, stretching here and there, and then standing up before the glass windows to see the view outside. The city was now in its rush hour, lights living up. Seonghwa almost jumps when he hears a knock, head whipping towards the door.

"y/n?" He squints, confirms it was you when you smile and make your way in. "What are you still doing here? I thought you left?"

"I didn't. I was too guilty to do so," You chuckle, getting the rolling tray table to the side. "I was waiting for you to call or text but I get nothing. What a work," You shake your head, and you reveal a plastic of lunchbox. "I was told you never left your office. So I'm guessing breakfast was what you last ate. Apart from that, hundreds of coffee and your unbelievably expensive chocolate candies you have in your refrigerator,"

Seonghwa almost hops at the sight of food, getting his chair and ready to dig in. It was a scrumptious meal, making Seonghwa exclaim in happiness.

"This is from that restaurant, isn't it?" Seonghwa says in between bites, gulping down the food. You chuckle, nodding. "I missed it. Thank you for bringing it for me," Seeing Seonghwa eat so deliciously makes you smile, admiring him once more. "How about you, have you eaten?"

"I did, before getting here. With Wooyoung," You reply, roaming around his table. You see countless of drawings of clothing styles paired together, one catching your eye. You crane your neck, thinking about something about the clothes. "I think it would be better with nets topped with it..." You whisper, and Seonghwa whips his head to you.

"What was that?" Seonghwa asks, and only did you realize what you were doing.

"Nothing." You smile, showing him the papers. "Beautiful, Seonghwa. I think you're doing great," You place the papers down neatly, careful not to ruin it in any way.

Seonghwa takes your compliment to heart, making him stop munching. He smiles, genuinely. To hear a compliment when he's struggling the most and is not very confident in his own work makes him choke up, but he endures it.

He doesn't know whether it felt more genuine because you were more genuine than you sounded before, always sarcastic and work-driven. Or if it was how you used his name so freely and comfortably that it seemed more genuine to him.

Nevertheless, he liked it.

"You're done? You must've been very hungry," You question, peeking at the almost clean lunchbox. "Stop overworking and digesting too much coffee. Neither is good for your body," You help Seonghwa clean the table up, earning silence.

"Wait for me, I'll drive you home." Seonghwa quickly picks his things up, shutting the computer down.

"What? Your driver?"

"It's beyond working hours," He chuckles, "And I always go home late. I can drive myself home,"

"So the rumors were true," You gasp, feeling a bit sad about his situation. "But don't worry taking me home, it's just one bus away,"

"No, let me. You've been waiting for me and even brought me dinner, I owe you." He insists, taking his bag. "Let's go"

You quietly follow him to the parking, thinking about how hardworking this man was already. He deserved his spot, he deserved everything with all the work he's been doing. What he doesn't deserve was this inevitable situation, wherein all creatives were in a slump.

"Please," You realize Seonghwa had been holding the passenger's seat for you, and you look at him in question. "What, you're planning to sit at the back? Make me your driver? Your boss?"

"No- I mean, I can just-"

"Just sit," Seonghwa urges, pulling you closer and pushing you inside. You grow uncomfortable at the situation, uneasy at your seat. "Want me to buckle your seatbelt as well?"

"No, I can do it myself," You quickly buckle your own seatbelt, watching Seonghwa close your door and jog to his seat. "You know, I can drive you rather,"

"You can?"

"...If I had a driver's license, that is." You shyly giggle, looking outside.

Seonghwa almost pulls you in to pinch your cheeks, but he stops himself. He finds you so cute when you giggled, finding it hard to hold himself. He busies himself with the GPS, getting your attention.

"Input your address now, it's getting late,"

"Ah, right," You scoot closer to the GPS, putting in Wooyoung's address and smiling. "Thank you," You say, before he starts the car and whispers a shy 'weicome.'

You quickly send Wooyoung a short message informing him of your whereabouts.

"You live close by," Seonghwa starts a small talk. "I live just down the street,"

You look at Seonghwa to react, but god the way his sleeves are pulled up and how his vest hugged his figure so perfectly made him look so ethereal.

"...here," You hear Seonghwa's voice zoom back in to reality, making you jump in your seat. "We're here."

"Sorry, I was zoning out," You apologize, looking around and indeed was outside Wooyoung's house.

"I figured," Seonghwa laughs, "I was just babbling around," He looks around as well, seeing how all the lights inside are blaring. "You must be living with someone? Or you just really leave all lights on?"

"Ah. Yes, I live with Wooyoung," Seonghwa's eyebrows furrow, looking at you rummaging your phone to send a text. "Thank you very much for driving me home, please do go home safely. I can't ask you to send me a text when you're home, that'll be too... much for a secretary, wouldn't it?" You chuckle, hopping out of the car.

After thanking him again, Seonghwa urges you to go inside before he speeds off, watching you go inside safely. He peeks inside, using his height as a plus to see up the gates. Wooyoung welcomes you outside and you jump right in his arms, and he sighs.

Right. Living together in one roof, dinners and breaks together. he might have just gotten his heart broken a bit with the information.

Seonghwa gets home safely and loosens his tie, plopping on his couch with a thud.

He looks at his high ceiling, stares. It still brings him to a smile thinking about your effort a while ago, stretching his arms and resting it in his forehead.

He likes you. Of course, as a secretary. Nothing more. Should be nothing more.

But when he sleeps tightly while thinking of you, the sleep he's been wanting for a few years now, so peaceful and deep, he rethinks again. Maybe, just maybe, a little more than just a secretary.

"Good morning!" You welcome, handing him his usual morning coffee. "You slept in today? That's a first," You chuckle, tailing him to head to his office.

"That's a first for me too," He mumbles, steps quick as he's late for about an hour already.

"Why are you in such a rush? You're the president here, no one's going to scold you," You try to keep up, almost tripping on your own feet. He doesn't even give you a glance since he step foot inside, making you pout.

"I've got tons of work to do, you're my secretary. I think you should know that," He sighs defeatedly, which makes you shut your mouth. He makes his way elegantly through his office, immediately opening his computer and getting to work.

After seeing him in his office, you quietly do your own work in your table, stealing glances only here and there inside the office. When you hear a beep from your machine, you jolt up and run to his office.

"Hi, sorry. I need you to do more reports, here are the files." He stretches out more documents, and you quickly hug it to your chest. You wait for a minute or two for him to even glance at you, but to no avail. You awkwardly make your way out of the office, getting to work.

When it's lunch time, you finally stand up to stretch your body and leave for lunch, intentionally dragging work to be able to stay longer. You peek inside to see Seonghwa still in his place, drawing different designs and looking at his computer.

"Woo," You say, taking a bite of your food, "Your boss is so complicated, do you know that?"

"Why? Did something happen?"

"One day he acts close, the second day he's so distant. Or is it just because he's late today? Catching up with lots of work?" You crane your neck, clicking your tongue.

He scoffs, putting his spoon down.

"Hey, y/n. Did you know that you've been spending more time with him than me these past weeks?" He puts on a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hey! That's because it's literally my work?" You protest, taking the last bite. "Also, all this time I've been getting off work early, I go home and rest!"

"That doesn't count, I'm not home." Wooyoung shakes his head. "If you weren't home though, you're waiting for him to finish work. You don't think I know that? You sneak out after having dinner with me, saying you need some air and then come back almost midnight,"

"That's... because!"

"Don't try explaining, I understand. Our president's very likeable. Handsome and successful. He just has his bad days," Wooyoung states as a matter-of-fact, nodding.

"What, like being late in his own company?" You roll your eyes, pushing your tray.

"He's never late. Maybe that's why,"

"What's wrong with being late? There was a time I was never late too!"

"Why are you getting mad at me, I'm literally just stating facts here and trying to console you!" Wooyoung and you have been unconsciously raising your voices, making you apologize around immediately.

You meet Seonghwa's eyes in the entrance, making you jump as if a deer caught in headlights. You don't even know but you feel guilty, looking right at him with apologetic eyes.

He just ignores and turns his back on you, going his own way. You quickly grab your things and drink Wooyoung's water, glaring at him as you try and catch up with Seonghwa.

"Weren't you going to go grab lunch?" You ask, feet busy.

"I was. I didn't like the menu," Seonghwa replies, rushing back to his office.

"Should I get you lunch outside?"

"There's no need."

"I insist. I still have ten minutes for my break. I can get you something you want. There's a lot of restaurant near anyway,"

"y/n, there's no need. I'll just continue my work,"

"Still, you should eat."

"I said there's no need, y/n." His voice wasn't loud, but stern and strong. Just like you viewed him before you worked for him. His look was cold, as if you had just touched a sensitive button for him.

You felt small at that moment, shuffling your hands in awkwardness and shame. You may have felt too comfortable with your boss in such a little time.

"Alright, sorry." You mumble, eyes falling down in an instant and politely apologizing. You step back to reach for the door handle and invite yourself out.

Seonghwa beats himself up right when the door closes but wakes himself up immediately. He's got no time for anything else but his work. He has to work.

So when he glances outside the windows to look at you, he brainwashes himself that he did nothing to be apologetic to you and proceeds to work.

"Here are the last reports, is there anything more I can do?" You confirm, and only with a shake of a head he shoos you off. You politely, once again, bid your farewell and immediately take your leave, heading straight to Wooyoung.

It was the first time you had finished work right before designated off work time, Wooyoung already preparing to go home.

"Why do you look so down?"

"Nothing," You smile, tailing him home. Wooyoung doesn't press on it, changing to a different topic. You stop when you realize you're in front of the restaurant you always eaten dinner.

"I think I'm gonna pass, Woo. I can accompany you eat though,"

Wooyoung ended up only ordering a take out, feeling sorry with the thought of eating alone in front of you if you weren't going to eat. He doesn't ask any more, you were probably going to tell him if you can't handle it yourself.

"I'll take a walk around first, Woo. Clear my head," Your feet ends up in front of your company, hand holding a plastic of food. "What the hell am I even doing here,"

You sigh, heading inside and to his office sneakily. You hesitate whether to bother him again and make him eat dinner, because he may skip both lunch and dinner at this point.

When you peek inside the windows, he was focused on his work, holding a paper up to see if any new ideas will pop up if he stretched it out through the light. Again, you sigh, leaving the company all at once when you realize that you might step beyond the boundary once again.

Seonghwa groans in frustration as he sets the paper down, no new ideas popping up. He decides to call it a night and starts packing up, turning the computer off.

When he turns the knob and felt it heavy, he turns to look at the plastic left hanging on it.

You skipped lunch so please eat dinner. I'm saying this with the sense of responsibility as your secretary. Don't overwork and sleep tight. y/n.

He read the note and left him with a smile, taking the plastic with him as he goes home and eats it deliciously. To be honest, he was quite expecting you to be waiting for him once again like how you did last night. But after his burst out, he realizes that maybe it was too much that he was even expecting that from you.

The food was great, it would've been better if you were there, though.

This continues on for the rest of the week. Leaving food in his door, Seonghwa expecting to see food once he leaves work, Seonghwa and you only talking when you need it for work. That's it.

You don't cross the boundary once more, doing your best with your work until your first paycheck.

"A million?!" You blink rapidly to see if you were only dreaming, looking at your bank account with previously only a dollar and sixty-seven centavos.

"A million?!" Wooyoung exclaims when he hears you, rushing to your phone. "What the fuck?! You're a millionaire within a month?!"

"What the fuck! Must've been an honest mistake, I got to text Seonghwa,"

"Keep it! God-given blessing, duh!" You roll your eyes at Wooyoung, immediately asking Seonghwa to call you once his schedule is free. "You and your reasons, you just want to talk to him!"

"Well, who doesn't?!" Clearly, yes, you're only making up reasons to gain just a minute of extra attention from Seonghwa, and you don't put effort into denying that. "Shush!" You shut Wooyoung off when you read Seonghwa's message that he's free now, immediately dialing his number.

"Hi. You know what, could you please go to the office now? I'll be waiting. Sorry if this is sudden," Seonghwa initiates, and you hear a sigh. "I just have one more document to do and then I'm free,"

"If you have something to do, it's fine. I'll be there tomorrow anyway. It's nothing to rush."

"It's okay, I have something to confirm too and I need it tonight. Only if it's not a hassle though,"

"I'll be there in twenty."

You know softly and peek inside, seeing Seonghwa solemnly napping in his desk, head over arms. Papers were scattered around his table, two empty cups of coffee at the side, monitor still blaring. You walk quietly, making your way to admire his face a little longer.

You smile, wanting to trace his sharp features, craning your neck to get a better view. Your eyes follow his eyes, nose, lips, and then the table.

What the fuck.

Your eyes widen at the realization, stunned in place. At the same time, your nervous, heavy breathing wakes Seonghwa up, opening his eyes and blushing when he realizes how close you were.

"Why are these here?!" You exclaim, snatching three, four, five papers from the table. Seonghwa sighs when you finally got space between the both of you, taking a minute or two to calm himself down before he answered you.

"I was finding the invitation for tomorrow night's event, saw those on your drawer." Seonghwa explains, while you gawk at your drawings. When you were bored, you tried mix and matching different styles of clothes, designing them, and drawing them to life. "Did you make these?" He leans back in his chair, swiveling to your side.

"Ye- No? I don't know? I mean," You ramble, shaking your head. You take a deep breath, thinking how to excuse yourself out of the situation.

There was no way out.

"Look, I just made those when I was bored. It's shit." You wave your hand off, hiding the papers behind your back. "Let me go get the invitation and I'll be off," Before you take a step away, Seonghwa stands up in his place and walks toward you.

When he's a step away in front of you, he stops, tucking his hands in his pockets and stares down at you.

"Were you initially planning on applying for designs?"

"No." Your quick reply makes him squint his eyes, waiting for you to continue. "Where would I get the confidence for that?" You scoff, "I told you, I needed money to continue my masters, I have a degree in business marketing. Why would I apply for something not in my field?"

"Because you don't need a degree for that. All I need is creativity and originality."

"Just let me off, sir. I told you, these were made during breaks, you don't need to put much thought on it,"

"Now I'm a sir?" Seonghwa scoffs, taking a step closer and leaning to meet you eye level. "If those were made during breaks, what more could you do if you're paid to do it? Something you really love doing, getting paid, seeing your works being brought to life, and getting credited for it,"

You gulp, realizing that Ha, Seonghwa isn't dumb to connect the dots. With the way you denied your works, bragged your unrelated degree and how you avoided the topic, for sure it was something you'd keep in the dungeon because you didn't realize you'd be much closer step to one of your unrealistic dreams.

You were just a broke college student taking a LOA because of a crisis in financial status two months ago, who knew you'd be working in one of the biggest fashion brands in the world? When you thought you've had let go of your useless talent and dream long ago already?

"I'll get these," Seonghwa reaches for the papers you hid behind your back with a smirk while you had your guard down, showing it to you. "Let's get you home."

You stayed quiet the whole ride, thinking of what Seonghwa had said. Were your works really just acknowledged by the one and only? Works that, for you, even made half-heartedly? Should you have applied for creatives than marketing? Should you have never even hidden your talent and skills?

If you hadn't, then where would you be now? What would you be now?

"We're here." Seonghwa turns on the hazard, removing his seatbelt to take a good look at you.

"Ah," You mumble, removing your own. "Thank you." You were about to open the door when he stops you, tugging your sleeve.

"I mean what I said with your works." He starts, "I have a spot open in the creatives in case you want to, but no pressure." You nod quietly, mumbling another thank you. You open the door and leave, standing safely beside and waiting for him to drive off.

Before he does, he rolls the windows down and smiles at you softly.

"Meet me tomorrow at the entrance of Lotte Mall at eight in the morning if you have the slightest interest in it," You nod once again, pushing through a smile before he asks you to leave first.

You open the gates to the house, seeing the lights still on, Wooyoung must still be waiting for you.

"Hey," You call softly, landing in the couch. Wooyoung was preparing hot tea for you, asking you to wait for a second. When he skedaddles to the living room with the tea, he immediately notices your expression.

"How did the salary talk go?"

"Oh, went south," You chuckle, taking a sip of the tea that warmed your insides. "I didn't even get to bring it up,"

"What happened?! Are you fired?!" He exaggerates, slamming the table. You chuckle, calming him down.

"No, but he found my drawings I did during break and long story short, said he has a spot open in the creatives." Wooyoung's shoulders drop when he realizes that you, Seonghwa, and him had messed with a sensitive spot of yours, making you think of countless possibilities.

But at the end of the rainbow, he thinks that this might be a good shot at rekindling your dreams.

"y/n... Don't you think it's worth the try?" He takes your hand and caresses it, "Park Enchante is literally offering you a spot because the president liked your work! It's a great steppingstone, a large one at that!" Wooyoung tries to be optimistic, at the same time realistic. "You've always been the talented one, y/n. Don't you think you didn't have to dig up that dream you once buried because Seonghwa already did it for you?"

You stayed quiet all this time, but tears were already forming in your eyes and in no time, flowing.

Seonghwa dug up your dream for you, Wooyoung rekindled it, and it was now up to you to keep the dream going.

"Are we waiting for someone, sir? The tailor for your suit should be inside," His driver holds the umbrella up for him, already been standing outside the entrance of the mall for a good five minutes or so.

"Just one more minute," He looks at his watch, which read 8:13, and around. You hadn't given him any text, but he waits in case. He sighs when the clock ticks another minute, ready to go in when he hears quick heavy steps, revealing a fresh-from-a-run you.

"I'm here! I'm here..." You catch your breath, holding your arm up high while your other assisted your body to your knees.

Seonghwa's smile grows big, and his driver takes a double look because he hadn't seen his boss smile like that the past 5 years he's been working under him.

"You can leave now, y/n will stay with me," He smiles brightly at the driver, patting his shoulder as he walks closer to you.

"Lotte mall is such a long ride from home, why would you pick this one amongst all the other?!" You're still catching your breath, holding yourself from hitting him.

"Let's head inside, it's much warmer there and we could get you a drink." Seonghwa lends you a helping hand, stretching his arm out for you to hold on to. "My favorite tailor is here, that's why I picked this one," He leads you to a shop after resting for a while, proudly pointing at it.

As you head inside, you see various of designs of suits and blouses and shirts and different kinds of clothing for men that god, you just want to try and match different things and style it your own way and everything.

He watches you be in awe as your eyes roam around, seeing your eyes sparkle just like how his did when he first step foot in this shop.

"Your suit's ready sir, this way please."

"Wait for me here, I'll get out once I'm done," You only nod at him and roam around the shop while waiting for him, styles catching your eye.

"Seonghwa definitely fits this shop," You mumble, a smile on your lips.

"I'm ready," You hear Seonghwa from behind, and you turn to look at him.

God. He's so beautiful.

He presented with a simple suit, but with a turtleneck inside, necktie loosely worn, vest tightly hugging his figure and coat only hanging on his broad shoulders. He had loose, leather trousers that fit just perfectly the style of the top, making you gawk. (for reference: that one golden hour concept photo outfit)

It was such a simple outfit for someone like him, but Seonghwa radiated so much charisma, elegance and of course, superiority.

When you realize you were staring too much, which made Seonghwa almost twirl in his place in shyness, you smile smugly.

"Nice. Screams so much like you," You bluntly compliment, but Seonghwa knew better that you meant so much more. He knows that eyes will never lie, speaking as someone who speaks with various fashionistas every single chance he gets.

"Thank you," He mumbles, fighting his own demons to smile so wide. "Now, it's your turn."

"My turn? My turn for what?" You question, but he only pushes you out of the shop after loudly thanking the tailors once again. "For what, pres?"

"Your outfit." You both stand outside a humungous branch of Park Enchante, lights shining brightly to welcome you.

"For what?! Look, my bank account can't handle a single thread in your store, what the hell am I even here for? I know you just paid me a million, which I have a question for another time, but here?! And for what?!"

"Don't worry about that," Seonghwa shakes his hand in front of you, urging you to come in with him. You had no choice but to tail him, a habit you built for the past two months.

"This, this this..." Seonghwa was literally picking everything his eyes land on, making you try this and that and playing dress up with you. "No, no, no. Skip that," And of course, a lot getting rejected.

"Seonghwa, may this be the last one or I swear to the heavens I am passing out inside this fitting room right then and now," When you open the door, it takes Seonghwa a minute or two before he claps slowly, and loudly.

"That!" He points, "That's your outfit," He proudly stands up to walk closer and take a good look at you, swirling you around. He smiles proudly and sighs, pushing your shoulders to a well-lit full body mirror. "You look amazing," He sweetly smiles, making you feel all giddy inside. "I'll be at the counter. You don't need to change back to your clothes," He pats your shoulder and leaves, making you take a good look at yourself.

He was right. You looked amazing. The outfit was literally made for you. You smile as your hands roam around it, admiring it.

"Right." You mumble, patting at yourself. "Amazing."

"Let's go?" Seonghwa asks, carrying the paper bags which consisted of both his and your clothes from a while ago.

"Shouldn't I go change? What's this for anyway?"

"For tonight." He explains, shaking his head when you try to get the paper bags from him.

"And why do I get one as well?"

"Because you're coming with?" He rhetorically answers, as if you should've known.

"For your information, my dear CEO, the event for tonight will be private, consisting of directives of Park Enchante only. No outsiders allowed," You explain, "Now I'm going to change back to my clothes because there is no way I'm getting this just because you're the owner,"

"I'm the owner, I could do what I want." He stretches his arm up high, making it impossible for you to reach the paper bags. "And I'm the CEO. I could invite who I want. Now let's get going because one, I'm hungry, two, we'll be running late for the event if we don't eat now and go for the event."

"Oh my god, what am I even doing here," You quietly stand in one corner, seeing Seonghwa mingle with other directives in the small hall.

The event was meant for a small, formal gathering for a supposedly, announcement that will be made by the CEO himself. But an hour in, Seonghwa still hasn't made any move to pronounce anything.

"Hey," Seonghwa pulls you to a table, handing you a drink. "You look stunned." He chuckles.

"Of course I will be," You say through gritted teeth, smiling sarcastically. "What the hell am I even supposed to do here?"

"You're the star of the event, actually."

"The what?" You dramatically sigh, having enough of his bullshit. Fine he looked gorgeous, with his hair done immaculately and his outfit god made for him, but you were done with his surprises.

He pulls out a paper and a pen, softly smiling at you. You realize that he wasn't joking, making you furrow your brows.

"What's this?" Before you focus on the paper, he takes your shoulder and makes you look at him. He notices a stray hair and tucks it behind your ear, smiling once again.

"There is absolutely no pressure in this, y/n. If you don't agree, this gathering will just be a gathering. We'll act like nothing happened and you'll continue to be my secretary for as long as you want, get paid as much as you want."

You see where this is going, making you sigh.

"But if you agree, I will stand up for you among these people to announce that I have seen one of the best works I have seen my entire life, coming to collaborate with Park Enchante to produce the best works in the industry. How does that sound?"

You stare right at him, as if he just said the most ridiculous ment in the whole of your existence. You had not seen this part coming. You thought it would only be a you and Seonghwa talk, but he had other plans.

At the same time, although you have already decided only this morning, being questioned like this wasn't part of your plan. You still had your doubts, your insecurities, your overthinking to even come up with a final answer.

And as if Seonghwa read your mind, "I'll be here to help you. We can help each other grow, and I can offer you the free of contract. You can stop whenever you like, and I will support whatever decision you make."

You stayed quiet, tears forming once again. Before it even falls, Seonghwa had already wiped them off your eyes, and pulled you in for a hug.

"You can leave if you want. We will forget this ever happened." Seonghwa's words made you shake your head, pulling back to face him. When you smile, the heaviness on your chest leaves.

"Are you sure this is without pressure? You just told me I'm the star of the event," You squint your eyes at him, making him chuckle.

"Okay, maybe with a bit of pressure. With your talent, I don't want it to either go to waste or to be of another brand's hands," The thought made him shiver, as you let out a hearty laugh.

With a breath, you pick the pen up and sign both copies of paper, making Seonghwa exclaim exaggeratedly and punch the air, earning a lot of weird stares.

"Yes! Finally, everyone!" He shouts, holding the paper in his hand and leaving the other copy in the table. He gives you a tight hug before leaving to the stage, tapping the mic to finally announce you as an official creative and still secretary.

While everyone is still in doubt, Seonghwa goes on a rave about how amazing your works he discovered are, emphasizing that you only did it on your breaks.

Embarrassed, you hang your head low and apologized for the commotion he's causing, glaring at him and mouthing for him to come down.

Making his way to you, he was stopped by a few directives for a small talk about the announcement and honestly, you couldn't care less about what others say. Seonghwa believes in you, the Park himself in Park Enchante. What could others hold against you?

You sigh in relief as the other copy of paper you signed caught your attention, scanning through the pages of paper until you're in the last.

This contract is only for the purposes of having an agreement, but the client is of free-employment role.

The client's status will be (1) Direct Secretary of the President of Park Enchante; (2) Creative Fashion Designer and Stylist of Park Enchante.

And optionally, (3) To be Park Enchante's President's personal company for as long as the client wants.

The client's assistance over the last two months has been much appreciated by Park Enchante's president. The president owes the client tremendous gratitude since the president recognized and valued even the modest efforts the client made over the previous two months.

By signing this page additionally, the client grants Park Enchante's president into their personal life in return for their services.

You scoff at the amount of ridicule the 'contract' was oozing of, but at the same time, it made your heart skip a beat.

"Ridiculously childish," You mumble, yet the smile can't be wiped off your face.

"Oh, you read it," Seonghwa's smile falters a bit, seeing how you reacted to it. "You don't have to mind that, you know,"

"Isn't this abuse of power?" You shake your head, waving the paper in front of him.

"Hey, it says there optionally," Seonghwa pouts, "As long as you signed the first page as our creatives, everything's good," Yet he can't help feel his heart break a bit at the thought that slipped his mind- Wooyoung. "It's my company, my contract, I can alter it as much as I want," Seonghwa mumbles like a little kid talking back.

You scoff at his words, "Ah, so you don't want it signed?" You raise your eyebrows, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. "I was more than willing to let you in my personal life though," You shake your head, clicking your tongue. "What do I do with this copy, then? It's already signed,"

You see the process of Seonghwa getting bewildered, to his eyes shining bright as it beamed at you, realizing what you had just said as his smile grows wider than it already was a while ago.

"Really?" Despite the excitement and the shock, his voice was sweet and soft. Delicate, as he steps closer to you and cups your cheeks.

"Really, Seonghwa." You mumble, smiling at him. You stretch your hand out to ask for the other copy, but he only pulls it and engulfs you in a warm, tight hug.

"I've been holding my feelings off for so long," He whispers, breath hitting your neck, "Now we're even bonded through paper,"

"I will stay to company you to my deathbed, Seonghwa." You chuckle, still finding it ridiculous at how you find the contract still ridiculously sweet at the same time. "But please, do not ever do that again. If you're going to ask me out, ask me out like how a normal person will,"

"What's a Seonghwa if it wasn't for my self-made ideas?"

permanent taglist: @sunlightwoo

174 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 11 months

Note

Eddie x cheerleader! Reader, so, Eddie's FWB ends things with him and he's kinda sad about it, but during a deal with Cheerleader! Reader, she offers to make him feel better (hurt/comfort to smut?)

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting <3

⚠️ smutish

Deal?

Y/N has bought weed from Eddie for months. She was one of the only cheerleaders that wasn't scared off by Jason's freak speech. As a result, she got sent to do everyone's deals. But she didn't mind, she enjoyed talking to Eddie.

He was energetic, funny, and the life of the party. He could make anything fun. Y/N enjoyed talking to him because she finally got to talk to someone real.

But today he seemed distracted. He was quick to deal, with no small talk as he silently separated the bags of weed. Y/N watched him closely. She noticed the frown on his forehead, the pout of his lip, the defeated sighs that kept escaping from his lips.

"Okay, what's wrong?" She finally asked, he was about to stand up to leave.

"Nothing." He shrugged, continuously packing up his stuff.

"Sit and talk. We're friends. Let me listen." She offered, and she gave an encouraging smile as he thought it over.

"Remember Becca?" Eddie asked, sitting down back on the bench. His eyes looked over Y/N as she tried to remember the name.

"Sex girl right?" Y/N remembers slightly talking about a Becca. But it always was about sex.

"Yeah. Well, she ended our little exchange and I'm screwed." Eddie sighed, he put his elbows on the table, crossed his arms, and leaned down on it. His face was close to the table as Y/N softly hit his nose.

"Eddie, you're hot. You can easily go to a bar and ask for a fuck." Y/N didn't see the big deal. It was just a girl, and he could find another.

" I need....just never mind." But Y/N didn't let him adventure off.

"Explain."

"I struggle to sleep. Like I went days without sleeping. And I learned that if I have sex or an orgasm, it helps me sleep. But it's like immediately if I'm in bed. I can't bring a girl over and pass out in seconds. She could rob me or think I'm a loser. Becca understood that and she stayed. Some nights she'd stay the whole time and some she left once I was asleep for a few hours to make sure it worked. She understood me. " Eddie explained. He felt like an idiot. It was such a first-world problem. Here he is crying about not getting fucked to sleep.

"What if I help?" Eddie snapped his head up to look at her, sitting up straight.

"Um, what?" Eddie choked. Spit stuck in his throat as he coughed.

"You explained it all to me. I understand what you need. " She said, standing up and walking over to him. She stood behind him, her lips against his ear as her hands ran down his chest.

"It can be a little deal. You call me when you need help sleeping, and I get free weed. Sound fair?" Eddie shivered as her voice ran chills down his spine. Her hands slowly moved down to his belt.

"But...you sure?" His voice went higher in pitch as she unbuckled his belt. Her lips softly kissed his jaw. He looked around, he saw nothing but trees. He couldn't even see her, but he loved feeling her pressed against him.

"Definitely. Tell me it's a deal." She said, her hands were now in his boxers, her fingers circling his tip.

"It's a deal." He moaned, a smile on her face. She removed her hand for a second, her palm under his chin.

"Spit"

Eddie spit in her hand, moaning as she yanked his hair. His head flung back as she kissed his jaw and neck. Her wet hand was back in his boxers. She ran her fingers up and down his length. She enjoyed the way he stuttered and shook.

"I know, baby. Just let me make you feel better." She encouraged. She wrapped her hand around his cock and began to jerk him off.

Eddie felt his nails digging into his palm. His mind was racing. He can't lie, he always thought of Y/N in a more friendly way. But never did he think she'd be giving him a handjob in the middle of the woods behind school.

"See, no reason to be sad. She's just a girl." Y/N whispered but Eddie could only think about her. Becca lost his head as Y/N's name was on his lips.

"Fuck, Y/N." He moaned as she sped up. He could feel every muscle tightening but also melting. He felt like he wasn't even there.

"That's it." She praised them, he could feel himself getting closer and closer. He looked down, seeing her hand disappear under his boxers, his jeans down to his ankles.

"Close." He warned, expecting her to speed up but she stopped. He went to protest when she asked him to turn around. He was confused but listened.

He turned himself around, kicking off his jeans. He now faced her as she dropped to her knees.

"Oh, you're gonna kill me," Eddie smirked, and she winked in response.

She felt branches digging in her knees but she didn't mind. She wrapped her lips around his cock, grabbed his hand, and placed it on her head.

Eddie got the hint and began to move her head. Helping her bob up and down on him. His hands gripped her ponytail as he fucked her throat. He chased his orgasm, moaning as his stomach clenched.

He tried to pry his eyes open to look down. Her eyes were watering as she gagged around him.

"Cumming!" He moaned, both his hands pushing down on her head as he came. Forcing her further down his cock as he shook. She felt his cum hit the back of her throat, breathing through her nose the best she could.

Once he slipped out, she took a deep breath. She coughed a few times as she stood up. She leaned down and used his shirt to clean her lips. Eddie always came a second time.

She dug in her backpack and grabbed a sharpie. She wrote her number in his palm.

"Call me." She winked. Eddie put his sensitive cock back in his boxers. His eyes on her as she wandered off.

Eddie has no idea what just happened.

But he knew for sure he was calling her.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson smut x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson smut x female reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson x cheerleader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #sub eddie munson x dom reader #sub eddie munson x reader #sub eddie munson

614 notes · View notes

laiiaaa · 1 year

Text

THE PART WHERE YOU KISS ME — JJ MAYBANK

summary: You're stuck with the job of getting a very drunk, very lovesick JJ into bed.

length: 2.4k

contains: tooth-rotting fluff, obsessed boyfriend JJ, soooo touchy he can't keep his hands off of you (can you tell my love language is physical touch lmfao???), mentions of heavy drinking of course, zero plot, he's a flirty little freak and i hate him

note: Not the happiest with this but I haven't posted in a week and I'm in the middle of writing three other pieces right now...so take this as an apology gift for not having the GFAW chapter out yet <3

Driving to the Chateau this late is never ideal, especially when you’re tired and ticked off from a busy shift. Your feet and back ache, your head could use a few Advil, and you would be perfectly happy to stay home and sleep for twelve hours.

But when Kie calls you, groaning and saying Your boyfriend is wasted and won’t shut up about you and you need to come pull him to bed, you go. It’s as simple as that, really. Partially because JJ is already painfully stubborn when sober and only gets worse as the night goes on (code for: he won’t listen to anyone but you), and partly because you get a sweet kick out of his clinginess and extra loving.

So when you finally pull up and hop out of your car, the sound of Pope sighing Finally doesn’t surprise nor offend you. Kie and Sarah scurry over, welcoming you with hugs and jokes about how sorry they are they had to call you while John B and Pope still tend to the drunken blonde.

“It’s alright,” you assure them, “I don’t mind.” And you really don’t, not at all, not when he acts all the more helplessly in love with you.

The bonfire still burns on, red-hot embers breaking off into the midnight sky. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon plays from a speaker nearby, and beer bottles litter the ground as you approach. The fire’s warmth wraps around you, a handle of Tito’s—only half full—entering your field of vision as you find JJ reclined back on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes while his other hand taps along to the song. You crouch down next to him and hear him hum in tune.

John B stands behind you, feeling a little helpless. “He’s been talking about you nonstop since he got, like, three shots deep.”

“And as much as we love you guys together,” Sarah adds, leaning into the boy’s side, “He doesn’t listen very well once he gets started.”

You shoot them a smile over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I get it. You guys can head in if you want, this might take a while.” The two lovebirds wave you goodnight as they walk back inside with Kie and Pope, and you turn your attention back to your exceptionally troublesome boy. “JJ? Time to go to bed.”

He grumbles without moving an inch. “I told you to fuck off, Sarah, I just wanna see my girl.”

Your heart flutters at the name—his girl. You’ve never heard him call you that. Does he seriously think you’re Sarah? “Your girl?”

“Yeah, you know the gorgeous one?”

“Might ring a bell.”

“Yeah, well, she’s the most…the most beautiful person in the history of…of forever, and she’s mine, so get outta here n’…go flirt with John B or somethin’.” He lazily waves you off, mumbling something you don’t quite hear.

A smile fights its way to the surface, and you gently place your hand on the smooth plane of his shoulder. “Oh, but I wanted to flirt with you instead. How’s that sound, hm?”

He quickly pushes your touch away. “It sounds like my girl’s gonna kill you any second now, so watch it, Blondie.” He slurs his words as he speaks, pulling giggles from your lips. You gently take his wrist in your hand to remove his arm from his eyes and press a kiss where your fingertips touch him. His eyes stay closed, and he juts his chin in the opposite direction in protest.

“Jay, baby, I’m not killing anyone anytime soon,” you coo, leaning over his chest and face while running a hand through his hair.

He opens one eye, suspicious of your claims, but quickly realizes it’s you, and turns to look at you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, his expression swallowed by a smile. “When did you get here, baby?”

“Oh, just now,” you answer, laughter lacing your words, “Kie called me over.” You press a kiss to his forehead before sitting back up, your hand quickly taken by his.

“You should’ve come sooner.” His other hand makes its way to your thigh, smoothing over your skin. “I was waiting for you, all by myself, and—” he abruptly sits up— “there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers. He casts a glance to the Chateau. “It’s top secret.”

With him this close, you can smell the vodka on his breath. “Yeah? What is it?” You loop your arms around his neck and scratch at the nape of his neck, to which he instinctively responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing the palms of his hands along your back.

“This is top secret, classified information, princess, you can’t just get it for free. Everything comes with a price.” A sly little grin comes over him, tugging you a little closer.

Knowing JJ, you already know where this is headed. You decide to play along anyway: “Name it, then. I’m sure we can strike a deal somehow.”

He mulls over his words before saying, “Hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“You—” he points at your chest— “give me three—no, five kisses for the info up front.” When you raise your eyebrows in suspicion, he continues, “And every follow up question is worth another kiss.”

“This must be very important information.”

“Very.” His hands, still soaking in the feeling of you beneath them, start to play with the hem of your tank top, fingertips slipping beneath the fabric to feel skin. “Better pay up soon.”

You feign a look of shock and place a hand on his chest. “I didn’t even agree yet, don’t get too excited.”

He pouts with furrowed brows, convinced his offer would be impossible to resist. “Why? Baby, come on,” he urges, holding you tighter, “This is the part where you kiss me.” His eyelids droop with drunkenness and fatigue as he presses his lips to your neck, but you quickly take his jaw in your hand and pull him away.

“Ah ah ah,” you tease. “You come to bed first, then I’ll give you kisses for your secrets.”

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.” His hands work their way from your waist down to your hips again, soon grazing your thighs the way he knows erupts butterflies in your stomach. “I wanna stay here with you…have you boss me around. You’re very sexy when you do it.” He smirks while looking up at you, and you know for a fact he’s just trying to push your buttons.

You roll your eyes and push his face away as you start to stand up. “You’re a pain in the ass, I hope you know that.” As bitter as you try to sound, you’ll always have a soft spot for him the way he does for you, especially when your bitterness is met with that beautiful smile of his. You hold out both hands, towering over him and urging him to stand. “C’mon, Jay.”

He leans his weight onto his hands, stubborn as always. “Will you stay the night?”

“Not if you keep this up, I won’t.” You lend him a condescending smile.

“But Baby,” he groans, finally complying now that the stakes have been raised. “I haven’t seen you all day, and I miss you.” He starts to shuffle where he sits, taking hold of your hands as you pull him up, dizziness causing him to stumble into your arms. “Can’t a boy just get some love from his girl?”

There he goes again—his girl.

You loop his arm over your shoulder and wrap yours around his waist as you lead him into the Chateau, surrounded by his warmth and the smell that’s so distinctly him: a bit of beachiness, mandarin and musky from his body wash, a hint of marijuana.

“You’re very kind,” he rambles on, “for coming here so late. I missed you.”

“I know, baby. You told me.”

He makes his way up the steps with you, following as you open the door. “Well, I’m making sure you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, love.” You smile to yourself, a little caught off guard with how open he’s become.

“I still have to tell you that top secret information,” he whispers, leaning down to your ear-level. His body wraps around you as you stand in front of him to open the door to his bedroom, his arms start to wrap around your waist again. “And you still owe me kisses for it.”

You usher him into his room, shutting the door behind you. “C’mon, let’s get into bed. That was the rule.”

He does as you wish without complaint for once, though when he does sit at the edge of his bed, he also pulls you to stand in between his legs. “I’m in bed now.”

“I can see that,” you giggle, hands massaging his neck and shoulders.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a kiss now?”

“Not yet.” You tug at the fabric of his shirt. “Take this off, please?” You don’t think much when you say it, but once the words slip out and you see JJ’s brows raise as a cocky smirk crosses his face, you realize you need to cover your tracks.

He bites his tongue to oblige, nabbing the back of his tee before pulling it over his head. Revealed to you are his broad shoulders, his chest, those toned arms that are, admittedly, to die for, though you’d never tell him that directly.

“You’re trying to undress me, baby?” he asks, too quick for you to correct yourself. His hands take purchase of your hips before taking up your thighs, his hands molding to your curves and getting treacherously close to your inner thighs.

Your face goes hot—why is he so good at this?—but you keep a straight face and grab his face, one hand cupping his jaw while the other supports the back of his head. “Do you want your kiss or not?”

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, almost immediately. His eyes glaze over, entranced by everything you are. A drunk smile is sent your way, and he can’t really tell whether the tingling all over his body is just from the vodka, or if it’s your hands on his body, your snippy tone that he knows is full of love. He’s sure that no matter how flustered he can make you, it’ll never compare to how you make him feel with even the slightest of touches.

Your grip goes soft, and you rake your hand through his hair, his eyes falling shut and his head gone slack into your hands. “You’re beyond wasted, aren't you?”

He laughs heartily now, eyes still shut as he nods his head. “I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, princess.” Giggles line his words and his face scrunches in a smile, dimple on display.

“How much did you drink?”

“A few beers.”

“And?” You tug lightly on his hair.

“Mm, some vodka, maybe. A few shots.” His hands drag from the backs of your thighs, to your hips, to your waist.

“JJ.” You stare down at his clearly vodka-dazed face. “How many is a few?”

He hums to himself, as deep in thought one can be when wasted. “Maybe seven…or nine…don’t remember,” he mumbles.

You sigh to yourself, not surprised by his recklessness but still not all too happy with it.

But before you can formulate a single thought, a single articulated response, he starts to pout—eyes still closed of course, because your boy is nothing if not a truth-teller. “You sound mad.” Even when wasted he knows you so well.

“I’m not,” you fib a little, for his own sake. You kiss his forehead, then his cheek before letting go of him entirely to pull back the covers for him. “Come on, time to sleep, yeah?” You give a soft tug on his hand as his body goes pliant.

He slowly but surely crawls properly into bed, giving you a show of his back muscles flexing and relaxing before falling face-first into his pillow with a hmph. You lay down next to him as he lifts his arm with all his might, slowly turning onto his side to make space for you. Legs intertwine without words, the warmth of his body blankets your senses, his weight grounds you.

“You need to hurry, princess. I need to…need to give you the information.” The words are half-muffled by his pillow, and his eyes are still shut.

“Oh. We’re still doing that?” You’re surprised he even remembers the information at this point—whatever it might be.

He squeezes you tighter into his body, pulling a smile from you as he groans. “Yes, we’re still doing that…it’s important. You need three more…”

“Okay, okay,” you soothe, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. “Does that count?”

“Mhm, two more.” A stupid, drunk, terribly charming grin crosses his face, and it feels like you’re falling for him all over again, teetering at the edge of a cliff. His arm, still heavy on your waist, shifts a little, and his fingers dance along your back and light fires where they touch.

You curl your hand, gently, along the crook of his neck and kiss his jaw. “And that counts as well?”

With the way you’re whispering your words into his neck, JJ swears he could die happily. “Mm, sure does.”

For the fifth and final kiss, the corner of his mouth. It curls into your kiss like he knew it was coming, and you give him one more just for good measure—and, maybe, because seeing him smile is worth his weight in gold. You brush your hand through his hair before hugging him a little tighter towards your chest, all too aware now that you won’t be getting any information out of him the rest of the night. This minor inconvenience, however, doesn’t seem to compare to having him in your arms, his breath against your neck, his arm wrapped around you to tell you he’s there, and he’s there to stay, and he wants to be there more than anywhere else.

You think that you could play this game a million times over. The part where you kiss him—that is, when his lovely, sweet little smile peeks through that rough shell—will never get old enough to retire.

(But for tonight, you can live without more of his drunken teasing. Just for tonight.)

#jj maybank #jj outer banks #jj obx #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj obx fic #jj obx imagine #jj maybank x you #outer banks #obx #obx fic #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank fic

3K notes · View notes

weirdwildwonderland · 22 days

Text

How TUA should've ended

Lila and Five relationship-Lila and Five don't spend 7 years in the subway. They do get lost, but it's more like two years this time (whoever thought of 7 years was crazy). Two years is enough for Five and Lila to almost kill each other many times, enough for them to cry to each other one night and swear to never talk about it again. Enough for many bouts of food poisoning and starvation and cold nights when the train didn't show up. Enough for Lila to keep waking up with a sick feeling in her stomach because she keeps having dreams where she wakes up in her house, with Grace and the twins and Diego just downstairs. Enough for Five to stay awake as he wipes silent tears away because he's thinking of his siblings. The only ones who have been there for him. They find the strawberry timeline near the end of the two years, and it only makes them miss everyone more. There's a lump in Five's throat as he mutters something about how "wish we could've taken the idiots here" and Lila starts to cry, because something about this timeline is so warm and safe, because she would give ANYTHING to have a Saturday morning with her family again, Diego making her coffee, waking up the twins, reading to Grace. She finds a delicate silver bracelet on the floor of the greenhouse, and remembers how her father gave Grace a bracelet just like this when she was born, and that's when she breaks, and Five begrudgingly helps her off of the floor and pats her on the back. They find the notebook a few days later, and both of them well up as they ride the subway back. It's only been a few hours for the rest of them, and as Diego hugs Lila again, this guilty feeling wells up in her chest, because she remembers how they were before, how distant they had become. But he's still here, somehow. So they go inside and she starts crying when she sees everyone. Diego asks about the bracelet and Lila and Five exchange a look. You tell him. No, you. Diego asks if something has been going on, and it all comes out. Lila crumbles even more. Isolation does funny things to the emotions.

They all finish watching the dance of the sugar plum fairy before the news about Ben flashes onto the screen. It's the most peaceful hour or so of this whole fucked up week

2. They get swallowed by the cleanse.

3. And then they all wake up in the void. All of them are dazed and drained. The man on the TV is talking about shattered timelines (or something related to the themes of time in the show). God watches on her bicycle as they slowly figure out that they lost their powers again. Diego starts crying because he realizes Ben isn't there and Lila comforts him. Luther looks more worried about Diego than about the fact that they're dead. Allison, Klaus, and Viktor seem glad that their powers are gone. Five just looks happy that they're all still together. Klaus goes up to God.

He says something along the lines of "Hey, I'm happy that I can still come up here and all, but you need to get us back down somehow, because there's no way I'm spending all of eternity with THEM. Plus, I have nieces and a nephew and I hope they're...not up here too."

She says something like "They're not."

He stares at her.

She says "I think you're insufferable. I don't know anyone who comes up here multiple times and then goes back down."

"Look, God, I've had it up to HERE with my life so far, and I can say the same about all of them over there. But I've gone through some things recently, and it made me realize that I would really like to keep living it, if you wouldn't mind. And," he points at everyone "they have their reasons. And they deserve to live the rest of their lives out, too."

She stares at him. "I've had it up to here with you too. You know, I watch you down there, sometimes. I think you're better off there. Not up here, annoying me. Plus," she looks over at everyone else (they're freaking out/arguing etc) "it's too early for all of you to be here."

She picks 8 marigolds from her basket and plucks the heads off. They fall to the ground and new sprouts start coming up from the earth. "Whatever was in you, it's gone now." She looks over at everyone, annoyed. "Oh yeah, I forgot you need help to get back." She rolls her eyes.

"You know, you kind of remind me of my niece." Klaus says

She snaps her fingers

Cut to black again.

Cut to outside Diego and Lila's house. It's hot out, and they all wake up on the asphalt in their winter clothes. Everyone starts complaining about how hot it is. Diego gets up and knocks at the door. No one knows what day it is. For all they know, their kids could be teenagers now, and that scares him.

Someone bumps into Lila on the street, and it's the Handler. Only, she's not. She's just a normal woman talking on her cellphone, and she looks at Lila apologetically before continuing her conversation. A woman looks at Viktor and asks him if he needs help off the ground. It's Grace, and she's walking with a baby stroller. Viktor nudges Diego and they're both speechless.

The door opens, and Lila's mom answers. Lila bursts into tears and hugs her. Grace and Claire come to the door and Grace says something about "you didn't pick me up from camp on time, Mommy! And Coco's been crying for FIFTEEN minutes, that's what Grandma said. I think she misses you. Oh, and Ben (boy twin) broke a bowl, but Grandpa said it's okay" and Claire rolls her eyes and asks what they're all doing dressed in coats and tells them that they're all so weird. Grace turns to Claire and accusingly says "You never told me that grownups cry too." Klaus and Allison both burst into tears too, Luther and Viktor look like they're about to cry, and Five just looks the most relieved he's ever been in his life.

Lila's mom sighs and says "Come in, everyone. I don't want to know what you've gotten yourselves into now, but you look hungry. It's too hot out to cook, so you're eating the leftovers." Diego is still crying, but he starts to laugh. And then Five starts laughing too. And then the rest of them. Lila's mom tells them that they really need to get inside now before someone starts looking at them weird.

Cut to shot of all of them walking into the house, taking off their shoes, flopping onto the couch, hugging their kids, etc. Continue to "I think we're alone now" montage of all the side characters walking on the street living life as normal people.

POGO: On the twelfth hour of the 8th day of August, 2024, nothing out of the ordinary happened. You might say it was just a normal day.

Cut to black

Credits roll

Post credits scene

There's a knock on the door. Ben walks in looking dazed, holding Jennifer's hand. "What's up, assholes? I'm back!" he says, before everyone groans and the screen cuts to black again.

END S4E6

#look theres prolly a lot of plot holes and missing side characters that i shouldve included but i wrote this in like an hour #what happened to reginald and the keepers and abigail? idk and i do not care #also this is just the ending I kept everything else like the subway and cleanse and stuff #lol I cannot rethink a whole season that I don't even accept as canon #tua #tua s4 #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #lila pitts #viktor hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #hargreeves siblings

92 notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 3 months

Text

Best Spring Break Ever (Eddie Munson)

Summary: Spring Break 1986, the way it should have gone.

Word Count: 3.2k

Characters: Eddie Munson, Corroded Coffin (Jeff, Gareth, Dave - Unnamed Freak), Dustin Henderson, Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Will Byers, Wayne Munson

Themes/Warnings: No Upside-Down AU, Road Trip, Lighthearted, Boys Will Be Boys in the purest way possible, Nerd, Pop Culture References, one or two sneaky little references to Store Manager Verse (I had to)

Note: So a LONG TIME AGO I dropped a fun head canon that got lost to the cutthroat nature of the tags. It's not necessarily coming back to life per se but and now that I've promised @br0ck-eddie and @somnambulic-thing that I would do more Gen fics, I'm sort of giving it some more juice.

Gonna also use this for @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire and their Flip Flopped Summer Writing event. (I cheated on the length, sue me.)

Enjoy!

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

---

When one thought of words to describe Edward J. Munson, there were plenty to choose from.

Daring, dashing, brilliant, handsome--

"Douchebag," Gareth muttered under his breath.

"Can it, asshole," Eddie snapped from the driver's seat of the van, angling the rearview mirror so he could pin the younger boy with a scathing look. "Or I'll leave you behind."

"He's got a point though," Dave offered. The rearview mirror shifted again, revealing dark brown eyes that narrowed angrily.

"Sorry," Dave sunk in his seat.

--adventurous, non-conformist, a music legend...

But carpool mom had never been a contender.

Until now.

For Eddie, Spring Breaks were never exciting.

A lot of families in Hawkins took the days off school to go out of town. Vacation to someplace interesting or warm, trips up to the beach, or to a distant grandparent's house for a visit.

Eddie always stayed home. He enjoyed the silence of the town and the freedom to go anywhere and do anything he'd like. Wayne picked up some overtime while some of his coworkers were away, so there were a handful of extra hours for Eddie to play his music as loudly as he wanted, and some extra cash to splurge on a few nights of takeout.

This year was different though.

This year, Eddie had the misfortune of being friend, older brother figure, and role model to Dustin Henderson and his band of merry nerds.

The four of whom decided to enter into the All-State Science Fair in May with a project so ambitious and convoluted, they were either going to crash and burn, or get some kind of scholarship long before they needed to think of college.

And of course, when the time came to gather supplies for such an...extensive endeavor, the lowly freshman came to their good pal Eddie to help them procure some interesting items.

That was the thing with Eddie, though. He was sort of known for being the guy that could find things. Yeah, weed and other drugs from Reefer Rick, sure. But the phrases "I know a guy" and "I can try and cash in a favor" and "you owe me one" often passed through his lips, followed by a glint in his eye and a quirk of his lips.

For weeks he got the little idiots various items for their project, but when things on the list began to seem impossible to find--Rick had practically thrown him out when he had asked where to get liquid nitrogen--things started to get a little tricky.

Eddie, not one to let his friends down, complained about the whole ordeal to a friend he had unexpectedly made working at StarCourt over the past Summer--the Claire's store manager--and she had an interesting suggestion.

"Why don't you just go to the Science Surplus store in Chicago?" Eddie looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "What? Don't let the Cool Mall Girl facade fool you. I'd been known to dabble in science fairs and stuff when I was still in school."

"Nerd," he snorted before he waved for her to continue.

She told him about lab coats and machine parts and mystery boxes.

"It might be fun for you and your friends to drive up there and see it."

Thus, the Great Spring Break Roadtrip of '86 was born.

---

Well, more accurately, it was the Great Secret Spring Break Roadtrip of '86.

Because what parent--specifically Claudia Henderson--was going to let their kid spend a few days with no parental supervision? Where the only adult, technically, was Eddie.

She liked him, of course. Shit, most of the kids' parents liked him. But trust him to drive their kids hundreds of miles in a van that looked like it probably wasn't gonna make it 10 miles up the road?

That was another story.

But he was a schmoozer, a sweet-talker, a charmer, and in the end he got them all to agree to a few days up at the Dunes hiking and swimming and grilling hot dogs over an open fire.

If only the parents had been his harshest critics.

"When was the last time you had your brakes checked?"

"And your oil changed?"

"I heard some squeaking when you drove us home from Hellfire. I think there's something going on with your suspension."

"When did you become my pit crew?" Eddie snapped as he leaned against the front of the van and smoked the last cigarette he would have until they stopped for gas along the way.

Dustin, Mike, Will, and Lucas all froze in place. The older members of Hellfire Club leaned their heads out of the van to watch the interaction like the relentless busybodies that they were. Eddie flicked the butt of his cigarette to the ground before approaching the kids with his hands on his hips.

"We just wanna make sure it's safe," Mike was the first to speak up.

"It's safe," Eddie insisted. "I checked everything myself; Wayne wouldn't let me cross state lines if I hadn't."

Mike considered it for a second, then jumped into the van.

Dustin hummed doubtfully and kicked at one of the rear tires.

"Do you have a spare tire?" he questioned. "Just in case?"

Eddie nodded and even offered how to show everyone how to change a tire if the need ever rose.

"Gotta earn your keep somehow."

He mashed his hand on the top of Dustin's head as he passed.

Lucas and Will were last; they had their backs to him, heads leant together as they whispered conspiratorially. Eddie wondered for a moment if they even wanted to go--it was ok if they were scared--until they pivoted on their heels and began a barrage of questions about handling and off-roading and how prepared he was for any emergencies.

He was about to snap at them, tell them to shut up, when he saw a rolled up copy of Car and Driver in Lucas' hand and his brief annoyance faded.

He took a deep breath and stared up into the clear blue sky, begging whatever gods or devils there were to give him the patience to survive this trip.

"Listen," he huffed, "you either trust me and we go, or you don't and we stay. Even if I didn't have a stocked first aid kit--which, I don't, by the way...best you're gonna get are some crumpled band-aids in my glove box--it's not like we have all the time in the world to put one together.

"I promise. Everything will be fine. You trust me right?"

Lucas and Will turned away from him and whispered furiously once more. Before they stood up straight, looked him dead in the eye, and asked something that made Eddie let out a bark of laughter,

"What about Second Breakfast?"

---

They stopped for gas an hour in.

What should have been a ten minute stop turned into an hour. Bathroom breaks all around and then debates over which snacks to get.

"Don't waste all your money," Eddie fussed over them, pulling bags of candies and chips from their hands and stuffing them back onto shelves. "You're not gonna eat it all for one thing. And I'm not gonna clean puke out of my van if you try and end up making yourselves sick."

Suddenly the four freshman were all talking over each other with "mom never lets me have funyuns" and "what if we get the smaller bag?" Jeff, Gareth, and Dave all snickered and watched from afar as Eddie taught them The Art of Gas Station Snacks.

By hour two, the radio stations became unfamiliar, Eddie's mix tapes got boring, and slug bug was impossible. That's when everyone began fighting over the road map to play navigator, even though Eddie insisted that it was Jeff's job, since he called shotgun. But no one cared, especially not when--

"Hey I know our cover is camping at the beach," Mike piped up from the back. "But we're actually going to pass the Dunes. Can we go?"

Some of the others started to agree, mentioning how their moms packed their swim trunks.

"Hey!" Eddie snapped at them and then reached back to jam a finger into the map. "We passed the exit already. Better luck next time."

"But how about on the way back?" Dave suggested. "It's getting too crowded in here. A little fresh air would be nice."

And Eddie would have fought them, the thing was...he kind of agreed with Dave.

The members of Corroded Coffin were used to just the four of them and their band equipment. Now there were seven of them, on top of all their backpacks and sleeping bags, Eddie's guitar, and a cooler full of snacks and drinks. There was too much noise, too much arguing. One absolutely rancid fart had been tooted without admittance, which led to everyone just ripping one without a care in the world.

On the other hand, did he really want to have to clean sand out of the van once this trip was over?

"Alright," he finally shouted over the others, causing them to quiet down. "If everyone behaves the rest of the way, we'll see about making a stop at the Dunes on the way back."

---

Their accommodations that first night were less than ideal.

Rick had mentioned something once about forest preserves and camp sites once when he'd driven up to Chicago to meet up with some fishing buddies. So Eddie figured renting a campsite would be fun, not to mention cheaper than a motel. They'd sleep under the stars, just like he'd promised all of their parents, grill some hot dogs and roast marshmallows for s'mores.

It would be great.

But building a campfire was harder than it looked--especially when you had six sets of eyes on you--the ground was hard to sleep on, and then at some point in the night, a storm rolled in and they all had to pile into the van to stay dry.

Chalk it up to Murphy's Law.

"Should have sprung for a cabin instead," Jeff joked as they all struggled to fit in the back of the van after they all sought shelter inside.

Come morning, they were all tired and sore and grumpy, and Eddie drove through McDonalds for steaming hot hash browns and egg mcmuffins to shut them all up.

Then they finally reached their true destination.

The American Science and Surplus Center was an unassuming building in a busy suburb north of the city. Busier than Hawkins, at least. Eddie had to drive around the block several times before he realized the entrance was in the back of the building, gravel parking lot and all.

As soon as they set foot inside, it was a sensory overload, but it felt like home.

Colorful signs everywhere, aisles filled with bins of bottles and beakers and corks and machine parts. There was a man who looked like he stepped out of Doctor Who by the cash register, and about a dozen lab skeletons situated around the perimeter of the store dressed to look like famous scientists.

All of the boys scattered once they picked their jaws up off the floor and they, quite literally, spent hours scouring the store finding one amazing thing after another.

Dave and Jeff went to the back corner where there was a display of army surplus. Garerth found an entire aisle dedicated to models and kits. Eddie walked around picking up things at random. Things that just seemed interesting and weird, his imagination putting different bits and bobs together to create mini figures for mechanical foes for the next--and maybe last--campaign he created as the DM for Hellfire.

It was a bittersweet moment for him.

And the kids? Well, they were either the worst customers in the world or the best. They were running around, throwing things into baskets, trying to figure out how much of this or that they needed for their project.

This was a once in a lifetime trip so they were determined to get everything they needed now.

Of course, that ended up causing a problem. Because there was only one of a certain item on their shopping list and Dustin wasn't the only person to grab it.

Eddie heard the commotion before he saw it.

"I need this."

"So do I."

"I touched it first."

"Well I saw it first. Finders keepers."

The other freshman were quick to jump into the verbal tousle, disrupting everyone in the store, and Eddie was quick to abandon his own shopping to go and see what was wrong.

Only to find the dweebiest tug of war on the planet: His four little sheepies versus three equally dorky-looking boys. It was a flurry of gangly limbs, sweaty hands, mom-provided haircuts, and pressed khakis as they argued over the one thing all of the kids seemed to need for their respective projects.

Eddie figured it was better to intervene before someone got a nosebleed from stress.

"Hey guys, cut it out, what are we arguing for?"

"Who's this?" the apparent leader of the other kids snapped. "The barber shop is down the street if you need a haircut Bon Jovi."

"Alright Revenge of the Nerds, calm down," Eddie snapped. "Just trying to make sure this doesn't end in a bloodbath. What's going on here?"

"We need that air pump," Dustin nodded down to the box he was holding onto for dear life.

"Well so do we. And we saw it first."

The kids started talking over each other again until Eddie whistled sharply.

"How about," he suggested and dug into one of his pockets and pulled out a shiny quarter, "we flip a coin?"

"No way!"

"No chance!"

"This air pump is ours," the rival nerd scoffed.

"What if we just beat you up and took it?" came a voice the next aisle over. Eddie glanced over his shoulder and shot daggers at his nosy friends.

"Not helping Jeff!" he hissed and turned back to the kids. "It's either a coin toss or nothing."

Eventually, both groups agreed, and Dustin was even gracious enough to let the other kids call it. Eddie flicked the coin into the air, the nerd called heads, and then time seemed to slow.

Eddie's thoughts raced through all of the possibilities. He really couldn't give a shit about these other nerds but...damn they deserved a fair shot at it. And his friends...he didn't want them to come all this way just for disappointment.

There was a clink as the coin hit the ground and bounced.

Then another clink.

Then a clatter as it landed.

Tails.

---

Another hour passed victoriously in the science surplus store and everyone's mood went up exponentially.

Eddie spent a little extra cash to get a soldering iron that he found in a clearance bin. Dustin and Lucas got to explain their whole project to the wannabe timelord, who was excited at the prospect of flash freezing ice cream. Not to mention Dave, who flirted with the evening manager as she came in for her shift; he even got her number, the lucky schmuck.

The sun was setting by the time they made it back outside, chattering happily about their finds, but they stopped in their tracks as they found the rival nerd standing near the van with a tall, polished boy in a letterman jacket beside him.

"This them?" the jock asked the younger boy.

"Yeah," he glared at them all and then pointed at Mike. "And that's the one who flipped me off."

Eddie could feel Mike tensing beside him--obviously regretting what he had done in the throes of victory--and he took a step forward, hands held in front of him to show he meant no harm.

"Hey guys listen," he started. "What are we doing here? What's fair is fair. We flipped a coin."

"My brother said it was rigged," the jock accused.

Eddie snorted, "how could I possibly rig a coin toss? Here I'll even show you the quarter."

The jock, curious, took a step forward, despite his brother whining for him to "just beat them up already."

Eddie shoved a hand in the pocket of his jacket and rooted around for a moment, before swiping his sneakered foot across the ground, sending gravel and sand and whatever else made up the parking lot into the two boys' faces.

"Go, go, get in the van," he hollered to his friends, who immediately crossed the lot and piled into the vehicle.

Once the doors were locked and the key was in the ignition, they all hollered in triumph, Gareth even yelling for Dave to "hit 'em with the pressed ham" as they pulled out of the parking lot.

And Eddie wondered if it was cowardly for them to have done what they did. For him to have done that.

He didn't want to be known as the guy who ran from trouble.

But hearing his friends' laughter, knowing their safety was ensured, he figured that sometimes running away was ok.

---

Dinner was reminiscent of something out of a heroic legend.

The IHOP off Route 64 had become a mead hall with drinks sloshing over the edges of cups and laughter and cheers in abundance as they regaled each other with more fantastical versions of the non-existent battle they'd just survived.

As though Eddie had been Beowulf and his foe the dastardly Grendel.

"He had to be 7 feet tall," Lucas awed. "And like...400 pounds."

"I'm never worrying about Jason Carver beating me up again if we survived that guy," Mike agreed.

"You're gonna have to fail again this year so you can stick around and protect us Ed. At least until I graduate," Gareth told Eddie, who protested that he didn't even do anything.

Then everyone erupted into a good-hearted merriment again.

Eddie felt a little bad for the waitress who would clean up after them, but he couldn't do anything to stop his friends joy and excitement.

Instead, he left a very generous tip once they left.

Their second night of camping was much more successful than the first. There were no attempts at a fire and no s'mores to be had, but Eddie broke out his guitar and strummed some familiar songs that had everyone asleep in no time.

Almost everyone.

He stayed up for a little longer though, smoking and staring up at the sky through the canopy of the trees. There was something special being out here, and he wondered if all of the heroes in his favorite stories felt like that, seeing all of their companions safe and asleep under their watch and the watch of the stars above.

There was a rustle of a sleeping bag and Dustin looked over at Eddie with bleary eyes.

"Why're you still up?" he asked. "Gotta take a dump or something?"

Eddie snorted and crushed the butt of his cigarette underfoot.

"Just thinking," he waved a hand dismissively. "Get back to sleep. Gotta drive back in the morning, and we need to hit the road early if you guys still wanna go to the beach."

He was about to take his own advice and settle into his sleeping bag when Dustin called his name again.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"I dunno," there was another rustle as Dustin shrugged. "For driving us out here, for getting all of the stuff we've been asking you to get, for protecting us...for being our friend."

"Don't mention it Henderson," Eddie smiled warmly. "What else was I gonna do? Let you guys lose the science fair."

"It's more than that."

"I'm sure that Harrington would've helped you if I hadn't."

"Steve's a cool guy but seriously," Dustin insisted. "He wouldn't have done all of this for us."

Eddie didn't know how to answer that, so he just hummed and closed his eyes.

The last thing he heard before he fell asleep, to dreams of guitar solos and bats and epic adventures...

"Best Spring Break Ever."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #flip flopped #summer writing event

127 notes · View notes

silent-stories · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: You visit Eddie at the hospital after the demobats incident.

Warnings: just fluff

You peeked into the dark hospital room with a smile on your face, trying to hide the horrible sensation you'd been feeling relentlessly for the previous few hours, waiting for a doctor or nurse to come out to tell you if Eddie was going to be okay. If he was still alive.

You were really scared that he could have died, that you would lose him and you never thought you could feel this way about someone you've known for so little time.

"Hey" You said walking into the room towards his bed. He was wearing one of those awful sort of dressing gowns that hospitals usually supplied, part of his face was covered in scratches and he had a tired expression drawn on his face. Even if you couldn't see it, you were sure that his torso and chest were covered in bloody bandages. "How are you feeling?"

Stupid question, maybe, but "I'm so glad you're alive I could cry right now" seemed too profound.

He looked smaller than usual, without his leather jacket and jeans with chains, more vulnerable without the clothes to helped him keep up the tough guy facade. Some people would say he looked less scary that way but Eddie never looked scary to you.

"Good enough for someone who almost died" he replied when his big brown eyes landed on you, an almost surprised expression painted on his face "You stayed."

"Of course I stayed" You said "we all stayed but then it got really late and the kids had to go home and they needed someone to drive them, so now Steve is also a chauffeur as well as a babysitter."

"Late? What time is it now?" He asked and you caught on to the fact that he had no idea how long it had been since he lost consciousness.

"It's almost four."

"In the morning?" he asked incredulously. You nodded.

"Jesus Christ Y/N, go home, please, I-"

"I haven't waited all these hours for you to send me home, Munson." You cut him off in a tone a little too harsh. You absolutely didn't want him to think he was a burden, you stayed because you wanted to be there for him. You had the impression that not many people were there for him, usually.

"Can I sit?" You asked then, softening a bit and pointing to the space next to him on the bed, he just nodded before silence fell between you.

You're sure at some point you let out a sigh of relief, after all that had happened you were grateful to know that Eddie was going to be okay and that everything was going to be fixed, somehow. Now that Hopper was back you were sure that if you and your friends explained the whole situation to him he would help you and be able to prove that Eddie was innocent.

"Can I ask you something?" he said after a few moments.

This time it was you who nodded.

"Why are you still here? I mean, you stayed even after everyone left, you're still covered in blood, you must be really tired and dying to sleep. So why did you stay?" He asked looking down, playing with the rings on his fingers.

You sighed. "We're friends. I care about you. I didn't want you to be alone when you woke up. After everything that's happened to you lately, you don't deserve to be alone. You didn’t even before."

He just looked at you like you were something weird or saying the craziest thing he's ever heard.

"We are friends." he muttered, repeating your words as if you had said nonsense.

"Of course we are." You tried to read his expression but you couldn't figure out where he was trying to say.

Didn't he want you to be friends or wasn't he used to people treating him like one? Had anyone even told him they were his friends? Did anyone ever tell him he wasn't a freak and didn't deserve even half of the bad things that had happened in his life? you find yourself thinking.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry. It's just that it's weird you know? A few days ago I never thought that a girl like you could even talk to someone like me and then everything happened and now you're here at tell me we're friends. It's weird, but it's- it's cool. Really. I'm glad you are here, Y/N." He finished the sentence with a chuckle.

You weren't exactly one of those considered "popular" at school, but certainly no one ever stopped you in the hallway to yell insults or you never found the words "freak" and "murderer" engraved on your locker.

Did Eddie really think you wouldn't be on his side just because he was considered one of the "outcasts"?

"No, you're right." You replied "I wouldn't talk to someone like you because there's no one else like you, Eddie. That's why I like you. The way people in Hawkins talk about you isn't fair. You are not mean or scary. You are not bad. Bad at school yes, but a bad person? No way. And you also almost died to save our asses."

He laughed and looked down. "It was metal though."

You couldn't help but smile and shake your head at his comment. "It was. But never try to do something like that ever again."

"Thanks Y/N." He added then.

"For what?"

"For everything. For being my friend. For staying."

You just nodded and reached out to grab his hand, his rings were a little cold against your skin, but you didn't really mind because as soon as you did that, a smile appeared on his lips.

Silence fell between you again -and probably also in all the rest of the hospital given the time- but it wasn't an awkward silence, it was calm, pleasant and somehow intimate.

The last thing you remember before sleep overtook you is Eddie's hand lazly playing with your fingers and yours drawing imaginary circles on the back of his.

"You think... that they're like together-together?" Mike asked Dustin the next day. Both were in front of the hospital bed, watching you and Eddie sleep next to each other. Eddie's arm was around you to hold you close to him, like he was afraid that if he didn't you'd disappear.

"Nah, they're just friends." Dustin answered with a note of doubt in his voice. He was a little mad at you for not calling to tell him Eddie was fine, but maybe now he understood why you didn’t. You and Eddie were like him and Suzie, just more disgusting.

"Mh, I'm not sure. Friends don't act like that, man."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #please be kind I wrote this in the doctor's waiting room :]#eddie munson fluff

1K notes · View notes

casuallyanidiot · 16 days

Text

The Beta Test | Chapter 2

[Yandere M x Gn Reader]

Local party animal and known social butterfly [name] wakes up to find that they've been abducted by their very reclusive and very wealthy classmate. Why, you might ask, did he do this? Well for one reason of course! He needs to know how he's going to talk to his crush! So now, with their freedom on the line, [name] has to figure out how to get this kid with the one of his dreams or risk never leaving at all. Lots of weird conversations ensue, of course.

1.6 k words Tw. Swearing

Chapter 1 Table of Contents

You stayed shivering on the floor of the cell for what you guessed to be the next few hours. There were no windows in the little room you had been stuffed into, and even the little dim lights under the cabinets on the other side of the bars had been turned off. They had shut off a few minutes after Javier had left, leaving you in near absolute darkness. Over the course of however long you had been in there, your mind had become increasingly clear.

You had fallen asleep after a certain point. Like, what else was there to do? When you woke up again, it felt like your spine had been bent into thirteen different directions. This sucked, to say the least. Your freedom for him getting with some girl? What a freaking weirdo. You sighed as you stretched out as best as you could and tried not to think about the absolute mess of a man that could probably harm you with little remorse.

Still, all you could really do was wait for Javier to come back. So, that’s what you did.

It wasn’t clear how long you had been sitting there, staring at the cabinets and trying to imagine what lay in them, before a beeping noise came muffled from the other side of the door. Your bleary eyes widened before narrowing sharply. A twinge of annoyance ran through you as a head peeked into the room. This little asshole stared at you like you were some kind of rabid animal. Still, he shuffled in.

“ Hey uh, you’re probably hungry cause of the drugs and all. I brought you something,” he said. He walked over to stand in front of your cell. In his hands was a tray of what looked like something edible. Honestly, it was the least he could do.

“ I would’ve had a…someone else deliver it to you, but I think we should kinda uh get to know each other a bit more. Since you know, you’re gonna help me and all,” he laughed a little and raised the dishes out to you slightly. You could only blink at his audacity. But hey, you were pretty hungry.

The pit in your stomach had been a big pain in your ass for who knows how long, and you doubted that a hunger strike would really get you anywhere. You let a groan out in frustration as you threw your head back and started to stand. It was a slow and shitty process; all your joints were cracking like a glowstick. You should not be having this hard of a time in your twenties. Maybe it was time to go see a chiropractor or something. Surely someone knew a good one that wouldn’t break your bank or back.

Walking up to the metal bars you realized that this was the first time you had ever been this physically close to Javier. He must’ve been thinking the same thing because he was shifting around so much you would’ve thought that he had to go use the bathroom or something. Still, you wordlessly held out your hands with a blank stare. He looked at you silently for a few moments, absolutely flabbergasted I'm sure, and went rigid. You rolled your eyes.

“ For fuck’s sake man, just give me the food,” you said, pretty exhausted all around. Your sure you sounded like a stay-at-home military mom with 5 kids after picking them up from school or something. Not a good look at all. Whatever. Being held captive wasn’t exactly the vibe you wanted to put out either, but here you were.

“ Huh! Oh yeah.. That. Sorry, sorry. Here you go,” he said meekly and attempted to pass you your meal, finally, but there was just one issue. It was kind of weird how neither of you had noticed nor thought about the fact that the plate might be too big to actually fit through the bars. As the plastic dish was stopped by the immovable steel (or whatever metal it was actually made of. How should you know?) you pressed your lips into a thin, tight line. You raised your head to see the gloomy man going through what you could guess were the five stages of grief all at once.

Yeah, Javier looked like he was on the cusp of shattering like a lego building does when dropped from the twelfth story.

“Dude…” you whispered, also absolutely devastated because you were hungry, duh.

“ Uhhh, umm.”

The guy couldn’t even get a single word out; He only kept trying to shove the plate into your cell. The room was filled with only the sounds of dull tapping. You could only stare on dumbly, lips parted in absolute disbelief.

“ Hey it’s um, it’s not going to get through,” you said. It was like your words went in one ear and out the other. It was like he was a robot, trying to do an action even though it was physically impossible. You noticed his trembling hands and his quivering lip almost immediately, and you shook your head. You reached through the bars and grabbed the plastic dish, stopping the weak motions.

“ It’s not gonna work man. Let it go.”

It was like you had backhanded him or something. His dark eyes went wide and he actually jumped back from you. You were left in a pretty uncomfortable position there while he bumped back into a table. His chest was heaving pretty deeply, and his string bean body was splayed out in all sorts of awkward angles. You stood there, with your back still hurting as the one who kidnapped you in the first place stood trembling 5ft away.

Well, that was a total waste of time.

He seemed to realize that he was acting very, very strangely and cleared his throat. Javier ran his hands through his flat, dark hair, clearly stressed. He straightened up, pushing on the high-quality marble counters with shaky arms.

“ I uh, sorry. I should’ve thought of that haha. Guess that just shows how useless I am,” he laughed weakly, and you grimaced at the way he glanced to the side. You rolled your eyes, the hunger had really started to whittle down your already tiny amount of patience. The plate of food, which you still could not pull into your cell by the way, smelled stupidly good. I mean, if you really tried, you could still be able to eat. Though as you held it up, you noticed that there was nothing for you to eat with. You huffed.

“ You’re fine, man. Can you get me a fork?”

“ I’m fine? Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed out of relief. He laughed as he waved a finger at you. “ I think… I think I can see why you get along with people so well. “ You raised a brow at his words. He stood tall, finally done with whatever emotional rollercoaster he had gone through in like under two minutes.

“ I mean, you’re really good at talking to people. I mean we’re already having some fun memories, right? I mean, I know we’re not friends, not yet at least, but um, this is good! You can help me better if you’re more comfortable with me and stuff haha,” he said while rubbing his arm. You could only blink at the audacity of this man.

“ Fun memories? Like what?” You couldn’t help the confused hiss that left your lips.

“ Oh you know, like right now. I made a mistake and um, you were all reassuring and stuff. Like I said I know we’re not friends, but um it was really nice how you kept me calm and stuff. I know that I’m probably gonna remember this for a long time,” Javier giggled a little bit at the end.

“ Ah okay. Well, that’s cool and all, but can you please get me a fork?”

“ Yeah, it is cool. I’m glad that I came and talked to you today. I almost didn’t, haha. I was um, kinda nervous. I mean… yeah this was nice. I’m gonna go now. See you later,” he said. His gloomy expression had become noticeably brighter. He gave a little way and smiled before turning to the door.

“ Wha- hey wait!” You cried out, but he just kept walking. The door was shut once again and the same mechanical beeping rang out. You stood dumbfounded, an offended scoff leaving your mouth as those stupid lights dimmed down. The food in your hands couldn’t easily be eaten without utensils, and even if you did, your hands would probably be super messy. Your stomach rumbled as you sighed in defeat.

It was awkward to move the plate down to the ground while your arms were still outstretched beyond the bars, but you managed to do it. You stared at it longingly. Maybe if you looked at it long enough the flavor would somehow miraculously end up on your tongue. You slumped over in slight defeat.

While you had always assumed to an extent that Javier was socially inept, you would’ve never guessed it would be this bad. Like, the dickwad didn’t even spare you a second glance as he left. Did he even hear you? Was it even possible to be that wrapped up in oneself? You could kinda feel bad for the guy if the current setting was literally anywhere else.

If you were back in the quiet corner of the library, then sure, you might feel for the guy. Hell, if he had asked you to help him like a regular fucking person would, you probably would’ve jumped at the chance. But here? Now?

You groaned as you slumped over. If he was this bad, then there was absolutely no way that he was going to get with that girl. Even if you helped. You looked miserably at your plate and bitterly came to the reasonable conclusion that you were probably gonna die here because of that fact alone.

Fucking Javier Galvan, man.

#yandere x reader #my writing #yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #tw yandere #stalker yandere #x reader #fanfic writing #the beta test #javier #yandere boy

61 notes · View notes

gloomysoup · 2 months

Text

it starts with a phone call

Eddie can't breathe.

He’s in his car, music off, breaking every law possible in his haste to get to the hospital.

This is a nightmare.

It started with a phone call. A vague call from Wayne that gave no details whatsoever. Something happened. Steve was in the Emergency Room. Eddie needed to get there. So, that's exactly what he was trying to do.

Eddie had never been so terrified. He didn't know what happened, or if Steve was okay. Wayne didn't say anything. Eddie is thinking the worst, of course. A freak accident has left Steve in a coma for the rest of his life. He's never waking up. It was the end of Eddie’s life as he knew it.

So, yeah, he was panicking. A lot.

His chest was tight, his vision a little blurry. He wanted to throw up, but didn't know if he even could. He had a white-knuckled grip on the wheel just to keep his hands from shaking.

Eddie swung into the parking lot, barely shifting it in park and shutting it off before throwing himself to the pavement and racing inside the sliding glass doors. Tiny pinpricks were settling under his skin as he searched the room for any sign of someone he knew.

“Eddie.”

His head snapped around. Wayne was standing up from a chair on the other side of the room. Eddie met him halfway, tugging his hands through his hair. “What happened? Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne said calmly, placing a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “He just took a little tumble helpin’ me with some house work today. The docs are still runnin' tests. Knocked his head pretty good, so they're just rulin’ out further injury.”

Eddie breathing came a little easier, but not much. More head trauma for Steve was not great. What if it did something to his brain? What if something was seriously wrong?

“Where is he? Can I see him?”

“Gettin’ some imaging and such done. The doc’ll be back to update us soon.”

Eddie reluctantly followed Wayne to the collection of chairs, sitting beside him. His knee bounced anxiously. He hated this part; the waiting. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to do something. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do. He just had to sit, and wait, and hope for the best.

It was nearly half an hour later when someone came to update them.

“For Steve Harrington?” the doctor asked, nodding toward them. Eddie was immediately on his feet.

“How is he? Is everything okay? Can I see him yet?”

The doctor smiled softly. “So far, all the imaging has come back clean. We’re still waiting on results of a blood test, just standard procedure, but everything looks good so far. He does have a fractured ankle, so he’ll need to stay off his feet as much as possible for the next few weeks or so, and also a sprained wrist. Other than that, he should be just fine. I can take you back to see him now, if you'd like.”

“Yes, please.”

Eddie and Wayne followed the doctor back to a separate room. Steve was sitting up in the bed, a cast on his ankle and a brace on his wrist and forearm. He smiled when they walked in the door, and Eddie finally felt like he could breathe again.

The first thing he did was wrap Steve in a tight hug.

The second thing he did was slap Steve’s shoulder.

“What the hell were you thinking? You scared me half to death, Steve.”

Steve shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Sorry. I was just trying to help. I figured it was safer for me to be on the ladder than Wayne. Guess I was wrong.” He looked up at Eddie, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I swear I'm fine, though. It wasn't even that bad of a fall.”

Eddie plopped into the chair by his bed, rolling his eyes with a huff. “Yeah, because a fractured ankle, sprained wrist, and more head trauma 'isn't that bad’. Bite me, Harrington.”

Steve grinned. “Gladly.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Eddie said with a loud, put-upon groan. There was no heat in his words, though. Not with the way he grinned right back.

Maybe his morning hadn't gone quite the way he'd planned, but at least Steve was safe. And Eddie would never let him climb another ladder again, as long as he lived.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #gloomysoup #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things fic #gloomysoup ao3 #gloomysoup writes #steddieangstyaugust #wayne munson #honestly not my best work tbh #i debated not even posting this #ultimately though i decided its fine

71 notes · View notes

hongjoongspoetry · 3 months

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Part 3 – You Know You're On My Mind

⛸️ Summary: Would you rather A) represent Seoul at the Spring Championship, B) find the answer as to why Mingi was ignoring you or C) stay in your shared flat for the winter holidays? How smart of you to go with option D) none of the above.

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst!!!

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: Female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (princess, beans), a lot of tears and crying, probably incorrect use of hockey terms, fist fight, blood, verbal fight, Mingi is really mean but also aware he's being a douche, Dasom is a good friend, more side characters!!!

⛸️ Wordcount: 16.6K

⛸️ Author's note: I freaking love angst 😈 Hence why I've looked forward to the third part of Cold Hands, Warm Hearts! A warning, I have absolutely ZERO knowledge about hockey so the things you'll read concerning the hockey game may or may not be wrong idk. I've tried watching a lot of hockey games on YouTube, but they move so fucking fast I can barely wrap my head around what's happening lmaooo.

I also wanted to write my own comments for the chapter (something I should have done since the first part tbh), but I've been home with a fever for some days now and I honestly can barely sit up, let alone write extra stuff so I'm sadly skipping out on that. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this part and don't be shy to tell me your thoughts 🩷

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes, not just sexual content but descriptions of both physical and verbal fights, as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs, please, refrain from reading or interacting with this work or my blog!!!

December 9th, 2024.

The day was marked in Mingi’s little red calendar he kept away in his backpack — not that he needed the reminder, the day was practically burned into his mind — and the fanciest suit he owned was ironed three nights prior with the help of his best friend and roommate, Jeong Yunho. One would think it was an important day — as to explain why he woke up at a presentable hour with enough time to spare for a few errands and a brunch with his roommate — an exam determining his final grade or something to do with his hockey, but no it was just the day of your competition.

Currently sitting in a sandwich shop, thumbs twirling and eyes set on the flower shop across the street, Mingi contemplated whether bringing a bouquet — maybe roses or those tulips, they were quite popular nowadays — would be too much or not at all. The two parts of his brain clashed and before he could make a decision Yunho came back with their orders, a teriyaki chicken sandwich for Mingi while he ordered something nasty looking with a really fancy and long name that Mingi couldn’t bother remembering.

“There you go.” Yunho settled in the seat across Mingi and dove right into his food, letting out a moan of approval. “Best sandwich in town, no kidding.”

“Do girls like flowers?”

Caught mid bite, cheeks coated with crumbs and mayonnaise, Yunho looked up at Mingi who already had his eyes set on him with a seriousness that rarely outshone his happy and goofy exterior.

“Uhm, I suppose. I mean the girls I’ve given flowers to liked the gesture. Why? You looking to impress someone, Mings?” A teasing smile quirked at the edge of his lips. “Is it a quick fuck?”

“Dude?!” Mingi hissed and quickly threw a glance around the room making sure no one overheard their convo and labeled them as creeps.

“Oh, come on, we’ve talked about worse things than some sex deets.”

“It was a simple question, Yunho-ya. Do flowers equal happy girls? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, cool.”

Sensing this wasn’t a topic Mingi was all too keen to talk about, Yunho gave him some space and took another bite of his sandwich. Then he remembered their conversation three days ago and how Mingi begged him to help him iron his suit and teach him how to properly handle a tie, and if that wasn’t enough of a reason then he could always use the we’ve-been-friends-since-diapers card and pry whatever information he wanted out of him.

“Is this about that figure skating girl?”

“Absolutely not… Do you think she’d like roses or tulips?”

Mouth full of bacon, tomato, lettuce and bread, Yunho mumbled out a barely audible answer. “Roses. Definitely roses.”

“I’m just saying if Hyunjin brings you roses I’ll jump in front of the ice resurfacer!”

Keeho laid flat on your bed, legs dangling in the air and chin propped on both palms as his eyes burned holes on your back. While rummaging through your closet you threw a random shirt over your shoulder, purposely aiming it at him and you knew it was a success as he let out a surprised ‘ack’.

“That’s what you get for being noisy,” Dasom chirped and rolled over him, her feet hitting your pillow and arms reaching the end of your bed.

“You guys promised to help me pack! I’m so going to be late.”

An empty duffel bag sat on your bed beside the entanglement of limbs that were your friends. Despite waking up a whole twelve hours before your planned departure, you were running late or would be if you didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes.

“Fine, but I’m just helping because I know you’ll make it big one day and I can use it to be a multimillionaire influencer. Yoon Keeho, best friend of the South Korean Olympic figure skater. It has a nice ring to it, no?”

Another shirt hit him in the face, this one coming straight out of the dirtied piles of clothes in the corner.

“No more throwing shirts!”

“Up we go, Kyo.”

Dasom repositioned to sit criss-crossed in front of your bag and began neatly placing necessary things inside; towel, spare change of clothes, bobby pins, hairspray, your skates.

“Where’s your suit?” She asked while zipping the bag.

“My coach still has it. Something about seeing it before the comp would bring bad luck or whatever. Like it’s a competition not a wedding and Keeho, get out I need to change.”

“I bet a round of lamb skewers Hyunjin is proposing after the comp– I’m leaving, I’m leaving, put that down!”

As the door closed you quickly stripped and threw on a sweatsuit bearing the logo of Tiny University printed on the front and back. Knowing you were practically working on autopilot while your nerves skyrocketed, Dasom didn’t want to step out of bounds and send you into a potential spiral of panic and stress but she was also very curious, and her greed won over her morals. With a soft call of your name she asked the million dollar question.

“Did you only invite Hyunjin?”

You froze with your hands in your hair, a bobby pin between your fingers and an extra in your mouth as your gaze fell on her. Flashing you a derpy yet reassuring smile that warmed you up like the sun on a summer afternoon filled with sugary strawberries and pink lemonade.

“No… Not just Hyunjin, I actually invited Mingi too, but I… don’t know why.”

You plopped down beside her and played with your fingers. It all felt so silly and you didn’t even have the time to think about him or Hyunjin or anything boy related overall. Not that it was a bad thing, in fact it was great, but that meant your mind was completely occupied of nailing your choreo, imaging everything that could go wrong and to not let anything go fucking wrong.

“Maybe it just felt right,” she whispered, as if the words were made of steel and you were of twigs that would break at the slightest contact.

Sighing, you nodded and fell back on your bed with Dasom in tow. There wasn’t much left to say. You couldn’t remember what drunk-you thought when inviting Mingi nor did you want to know. All you knew was that your heart did that little leap thing before violently kicking at your rib cage when he said he’d be there and that was concerning but not more so than your competition taking place in a few hours.

If Mingi showed up, great.

If he didn’t then that was great too, is what you forced yourself into believing.

Mingi stood before a body-length mirror and kept running his hand through his neatly made hair. Yunho placed a palm over Mingi’s shoulder and the shifting motion immediately subdued only to proceed as the hand withdrew.

“Stop moving around dude, you’re making me nervous!”

Taking a step back, Yunho quietly assessed Mingi, searching for creases in his black suit or stray hairs standing up funny. There were no faults, his tall friend — that was still slightly shorter than himself — looked perfect appearance wise. It was the slight twitch of his finger and sweat collecting at the nape of his neck that gave him away.

“Why are you so nervous, Mingi-ya? It’s just a figure skating competition, nothing more nothing less.”

Taking a hold of the perfectly wrapped bouquet of heart-colored roses he paid a good penny for, Mingi pouted and shrugged his shoulders as if a toddler being put on the spot for doing something bad.

“I don’t know.”

“You want me to come with?”

Yunho, dressed in an old tattered shirt and bright red basketball shorts with his naturally dark hair growing at the roots and taking on the look of pudding, was ready to drop everything and jump in his brand new suit planned for their graduation if that’s what Mingi needed.

“No, no. I’ll be fine, it’s just… Don’t you think it’s too much? Flowers, a suit? It’s a figure skating competition not a wedding.”

“Does it matter? Personally, if it were me, I’d rather see the girl I invited put in the effort even if it means wearing nice clothes over something raggedy. This shows you care.”

“I guess…”

Mingi jumped as Yunho reassuringly landed his hands on his shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze and smiling so his cheeks puffed up. “Come on, let’s get that tie fixed and then I’ll give you a lift.”

“Ah, the privileges of not having a driver’s license.”

“You mean the privileges of being a passenger princess?”

“Yah, Yunho-ya!” Came the whine as Mingi followed his friend like a kicked puppy on a rainy Monday morning.

The arena was packed and while it wasn’t an unusual sight for Mingi — always being a witness of how the bleachers slowly filled up during his warm ups — it was weird seeing it from an outside perspective. Everything seemed so much smaller and compact compared to when he was on the ice squinting past the blinding headlights to barely even catch a glimpse of the audience. Other than practice and hockey game, Mingi had no reason to visit the arena. There was no other sport that piqued his interest enough to stand in line, pay an overpriced entry fee and freeze his ass off on a plastic chair. He’d usually just enter through the changing rooms and skip all that yet there he was, all glammed up and standing behind a family wearing shirts with the name of some random chick printed in big bold letters.

Thinking about it, Mingi couldn’t actually give less of a fuck about figure skating and months ago he didn’t care who represented Seoul or if they were even capabale to compete with the other cities.

“All my friends are going to be there.”

“Nice friends you have.”

“We are friends,” you said matter-of-factly, your ‘S’ coming out with a lisp. “Alllll my friends are going.”

“You want me to come to your competition princess?”

“You’ll come?!”

You slinked your arm through his and squished it against your chest, cheek pressed to his bicep as you looked at him. One would believe Mingi hung up each and every single star individually in your name for you to look at him that way.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I’ll be there.”

It was your stupid yet endearing eyes that did it all. The little shining glint that completely vexed him and before he knew it, the promise slipped off his tongue and was spoken into existence. Mingi didn’t get to indulge more in the memory of the beauty that was your face as the lights dimmed and an enthusiastic voice boomed through the speakers, welcoming everyone and announcing the start of the preliminary that would determine the female representative of Seoul at the annual Spring Championship.

Honestly, Mingi didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know a lot of things; how long this would be, what time your performance would start, was he supposed to find you after or before they announced the winner? It also didn’t help that he was sweating through his dress shirt despite the freezing temperature inside.

Performance after performance passed and he was yet to catch sight of you. Honestly speaking, Mingi was growing impatient. The numbers weren’t anything extraordinary — he had seen you do much better even when ending on your rear — and he wasn’t here to watch some mediocre ladies flip around to classical music. The weight of his phone burned in his suit pocket and he was itching to reach for it. He was three taps away from dialing Yunho and making the taller man pick him up again. Oblivious to the curious and soft eyes peering at the bouquet in his lap, Mingi stared at the ice rink with a far away look on his face and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Those are beautiful,” a voice came from his left. It was comforting and full of kindness.

Snapping his head towards the person, Mingi faced a woman looking old enough to be his mom. The compliment pulled at the corners of his lips and soon a full blown boxy smile took over his face as his eyes creased into crescent moons.

“Thank you.”

Mingi contemplated whether to hand her the darned flowers and leave while you still hadn’t caught sight of him, that way his money wouldn’t go to waste and the flowers wouldn’t end up in the bin outside the venue.

“I’m Chaeryeong’s mom.”

“Song Mingi,” he curtly answered with a little bow of his head.

“Are those for your girlfriend?”

As kind as this woman looked she sure was twice the amount noisy.

“No, they are for a… friend. She’s competing today.”

“Oh, when is she up?”

At the sight of his uncertainty, she handed Mingi a pamphlet with several numbers followed by first- and last names of the competitors. Quickly scanning the sheet of paper he landed on your name in last place and with the twenty-ninth performer taking her starting pose right as Mingi looked back up again. The urge to squish his face against the pamphlet was immense.

“She’s last.”

“Oh! That’s Hoseok’s kid. She’s amazing and if it weren’t for my Chaeryeongie I’d root for her.”

Pride swelled in his chest and heat nipped at his cheeks. He tried suppressing the fond smile forcing its way out but failed.

“It’s actually my first time watching her perform but yeah, she’s pretty… p-pretty cool!”

“Really? Well, it’s better late than never.”

Why Mingi was getting flustered was beyond him. Not wanting to think about it and eventually fall down a rabbit hole he always did when thinking of you, he nodded and took the praise with the lady leaving a pat on his shoulder.

“Mmm, you’re smiling! Are you sure she’s just a friend?”

Mingi lowered his chin and avoided the teasing eyes of Chaeryeong’s mom. No way was he talking about girl problems with a random lady at a figure skating competition.

“Would you spare my seat? I just need to go to the restroom.”

“Of course, son.”

With one last bow he ran up the stairs leading to the main hall and straight for the male restroom which — to his delight — was empty. Mingi released a breath of unease and stopped by the sink hoping to wash away the sweat collected on his hands. Looking at his reflection in the oblong mirror, he pursed his lips and splashed cold water on his face before lightly slapping his cheeks.

“It’s easy. We hand her the flowers, tell her she did great and then we leave.”

Mingi couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous over talking to a girl. Thinking about it, he talked to you all the time. Yes, most of it was hidden behind jokes and teasing remarks, but it still counted as talking.

“Welcoming our last performer of the night…”

The booming voice of the announcer echoed through the whole building and with a quick ‘shit’ falling from his lips, Mingi dried his hands off his expensive pants and ran back into the arena receiving weird stares from other people, but he wasn’t about to miss the start of your performance after waiting for over two hours. In sync with you gliding out on the ice he flew past the double doored entrance and caught himself on the metal railing. Mingi realized there was no need to go back to his previous spot, not when he had a great view of the whole ice rink from where he stood and a great look of you posing in the middle, one arm elegantly thrown over your head and the other following the length of your figure and stopping midthigh.

Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, angelic, breathtaking, enchanting, marvelous and other adjectives wouldn’t do the justice to describe how truly captivating you looked.

The first thing that caught his attention was your costume. It was a long sleeved dress transitioning from dark to light blue with sparkly beads going down your chest, across your abdomen and arms in a tilted motion as if the foam of multiple waves. Your costume had a tiny skirt which Mingi was sure would swirl prettily when pirouetting and twirling in the air. The upper part of your dress took on the shape of a heart and went down your back in a v-form leaving your collars, shoulders and back completely exposed. Your hair was styled in a sturdy updo matching the elegance of your suit and while Mingi couldn’t see your make-up, he assumed it would reflect the colors of your dress and accentuate your facial features in just the right way.

The starting notes of your chosen song erupted from the speakers and Mingi’s breath got caught in his throat as you glided across the ice, his heart beating in rhythm to your every landed jump. You moved with grace and for once the teasing nickname he reserved just for you had no malice objective behind it. You surrendered yourself to the music and allowed it to guide you, your body resembled the elements of nature and became an entity that was no longer your own. Moving like the ripples of a wind, flowing and rising as though you were water yet curving fiercely as a controlled fire and flourishing like a sunflower yearning for light.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Mingi would rather have spent two hours watching you skate than those other amateurs and he was slightly bitter your number only lasted for four minutes. 240 seconds of no breathing or thinking, just existing to admire you as if you were a painting exhibited in the most famous art museum in the world.

As you were entering the last moments of your performance, the music picked up and you mentally prepared yourself to do the main stunt. There was no turning back now and with confidence pumping in your veins, you inhaled and propelled yourself off the ice. Time slowed down and magically you could somehow hear the amazed gasps of the audience. Your body spun, and spun and spun and you felt the start of gravity doing its work. As if caught in a sense of Déjà Vu, the sharp point of your skates chipped the ice and threw your landing off course, and before you knew it, you landed on the outer side of your thigh. The crowd gasped again, the tone much more horrible than a few seconds ago, and all you wanted to do was continue to lay on the cold surface, but the show was yet to be over. In hopes of saving your score, you recovered with a double-axel which wasn’t nearly as appealing as the one you failed, but at least you landed it.

The performance ended with you posing in the middle — much like you practiced — and waiting for the last piano notes to run out. Despite your big fail the arena erupted in chaos of applause and whistles. Thanking the spectators with three respectful bows — each facing a different side — you skated off the ice with shaky legs and a heart hammering in your ears falling right in the arms of your coach. Mingi didn’t move until you rounded the corner towards the locker rooms and disappeared from his sight.

A short static echoed in the hall as the AUX was rather harshly unplugged from your phone, making you lose your footing and fall on your ass.

The ice beneath was hard and cold, and it numbed your whole left leg except for the burning pain that flared up in your backside. You had to physically hold back tears as you stood back up on shaky legs.

“Majestic as always, princess, but I’ll have to deduct ten points for that eye captivating fall.”

A chorus of laughter and gloves pounding against the plexiglas averted your attention for a split second, and the picture of an audience watching wasn’t much of an imagination as the whole hockey team stood by the entrance of the rink.

Mingi sighed at the memory and stalked back to his seat where the kind family and bouquet of roses waited on him.

“You missed her performance!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed and handed him the flowers.

Mingi smiled shyly, then scratched the back of his neck. “Ah no, I watched from up there.” He turned and pointed at the spot he was standing in not even thirty seconds ago. “It was a better view so yeah…”

Chaeryeong’s mom smiled tenderly with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “What a relief! You got me worried for a minute but I should’ve known you wouldn’t miss it.”

“She was amazing,” Mingi stated and received a smug look from the woman.

“Mmm, I told you so. It’s a shame she fell. Well, we’re going out for a breather but we’ll be back so please save our seats for us.”

You sat in one of the locker rooms, head in your hands and feet tapping on the floor. The performance couldn’t have been more perfect, all for it to go to shit in the end.

All the hours, sweat and energy put into practice was a waste and you didn’t have to wait for the winner to be announced to know whether it was true or not. It was ironic really, despite being in a competitive sport, you hated the concept of competitions. The idea that there could only be one winner always got to your head like a parasite planting eggs of anxiety. Your number was great, but your fall made the other girls as good if not better and that really got you spiraling.

Not to mention neither of your parents could make it, the timing clashing with their working schedules besides driving back and forth from your hometown was too exhausting for one day. Keeho and Dasom weren’t there either, occupied with work or school projects making it unreasonable for you to be angry with them. You also didn’t spot Hyunjin or Mingi in the audience which wasn’t that much of a surprise as you could barely make out the people in the front row, but nonetheless, the lack of support was weighing on you. That’s why in these situations, you were so grateful for Mr. Jung. Not only being your coach, but for stepping up as a ten man army of supporters.

A series of knocks snapped you out of your thoughts followed by Mr. Jung’s voice on the other side.

“You ready, star? They are announcing the winner.”

“Oh, look! I think they are announcing the winner!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed as she sat back down in her seat.

The competing figure skaters went back out on the ice in a neat row, all dressed in various shimmering suits creating a palette of multiple colors. The whole crowd quieted down as the announcer asked for silence and simultaneously caught everyone’s attention. Not Mingi’s though, no his eyes were set on you who — together with the other girls — lined up behind the host.

Hands trembling and breath caught in your throat, you didn’t allow yourself to think of anything. You felt like your head was underwater. It wasn’t scary or suffocating, but not a great feeling either as you couldn’t hear anything clearly thanks to the blood pumping in your ears. Somehow you could make out the distant voice of the man holding the mic, but no words were being registered. Focusing on the white translucent puffs of your short inhales and exhales, you didn’t hear the thick voice announcing the winner. It all happened incredibly fast. One second everyone was at the edge of their seats — you imagined them to be nibbling their nails like in the cartoons — and the next thing you know, the whole arena exploded in cheers. You were so out of it you hadn’t even heard the announcement of the winner. Although it didn’t matter, because a second later the call for a girl who wasn’t you sounded through the speakers as she was welcomed up on the podium.

“Everyone! A round of applause for Seoul's representative of the Spring Championship 2025!”

You felt yourself sink deeper and deeper into the ocean as a booming wave of applause and whistles scattered around, shaking you to the core. Tears sprung to your eyes and you silently thanked the makeup artist for using waterproof cosmetics, the last thing you needed was for everyone to notice your emotional breakdown. The winner skated up to the host and he rewarded her with a bouquet of various flowers and a sash reading ‘Seoul Representative 2025’ in gold letters. You imagined him to be wishing her good luck and words of encouragement before letting her shine in the light of attention and praise.

After bowing to the girls, judges and audience you skated out of the rink and threw yourself in Mr. Jung’s embrace who patiently waited by the open board door. His heart smile didn’t hold quite reach its natural form and came out more pained than what he’d like to and his creased eyes mirrored your own sad expression. The flashes of a dozen cameras quickly annoyed you as well as the sound of the gadgets going off and you tried your best ignoring them, but each flicker was like a stab to your heart.

You were supposed to be the winner. The camera was supposed to be on you, not on that girl.

“It’s alright, starshine. Winning is not always guaranteed,” he whispered and hugged you tighter as you started crying harder, hot tears soaking his shirt.

He stayed with you a while inside the locker room. The silence and your occasional sniffles were the only sources of sound, besides the light chattering noise outside.

“I’m still proud of you.”

The simple sentence brought another fresh set of tears to your eyes and you hung your head in defeat, and slight embarrassment.

“I know you think it’s not fair and that you should be the winner of tonight's event, but that would have been too easy and that’s just not something life is… We’ll break down and start again.”

Mr. Jung had always been exceptional at shifting between being a serious and humorous coach, but the current words spoken came from someone who had experienced failure before. From one loser to another, his little words of wisdom helped you get on your feet even if you felt like you were at the lowest point of your adult life. It would still take days to get over your disappointing performance, but you’d be alright. With a pat to your head, he ushered you to wash the blue feelings off.

While you did that, Mingi found himself once again in the bathroom, wet hands combing through strands of hair in an attempt to look less disheveled and more like he had his shit together (he did in fact not have his shit together). He sniffed the collar of his suit jacket and then his armpits, and as he didn’t detect the smell of sweat, but the aroma of his favorite cologne — that smelled of bergamot and lavender — he straightened the jacket and went out to accomplish his mission or rather plan B.

Instead of congratulating you, like he initially planned to, he’d do something else — and what that was, he had yet to figure out — but from his own experience, he’d known better than to give you praise, especially after losing by a few points.

Skipping two steps down the stairs, he stopped by the see-through doors instead of continuing down the hallway with several changing rooms. Mingi didn’t know what room you were assigned to and even if he did, he wasn’t planning on barging in while you were possibly getting dressed or showering. The vision of a soapy you sent heat rushing to his head, both of them, but were quickly discarded as you came out.

You looked different from the girl twirling on the ice minutes ago. Wet hair and dressed in comfy clothes, no fancy make up or extravagant details, but a solemn expression and puffy eyes. It didn’t matter though because you were still beautiful, he thought and fixed his tie out of sheer anxiety, and opened the door. Your name swayed at the tip of his tongue and was just in need of a small push to reach your ears. Eyes entirely focused on you, Mingi missed the boy walking towards him and slinking through the opening created by the taller man.

“Thanks, bud.” Hyunjin didn’t spare Mingi another glance as he headed straight for you.

At a loss for words and frozen in place, Mingi just watched you fall comfortably in Hyunjin’s arms and as if a masochist he stood rooted and felt his heart squeeze painfully as you melted in his hold, your sobs filling the bleak silence taking residue in Mingi’s head.

One, two, three and four seconds later, Mingi headed home, hands stuffed in his pockets and roses left in the trashcan by the smoking area outside. Thinking back to it, he should’ve given them to Chaeyeon’s mom — or whatever her name was — at least then they’d be rotting away on someone’s kitchen table and not in a random bin on the streets of Seoul.

Entering the shared apartment with Yunho nowhere in sight — something Mingi was grateful for — he stripped out of the expensive clothes and pushed them to the back of his closet, saving his future-self from a painful reminder of what did and didn’t happen. Somewhere in the rational part of his mind, he knew not to be angry with you, but the other part, the selfish and angry one, put the entire blame on you. If there was one thing hated more than losing, it was to be made into a fool.

“I can’t believe I lost,” you said and downed a shot of soju.

Hyunjin quickly snatched the soju bottle from beside you before you could pour yourself another shot, your sixth one to be exact.

You frowned and placed your palms against your heated cheeks. “I’m never figure skating again.”

After the little meet up with Hyunjin, he requested (more like demanded) on treating you to food, and while you insisted he admitted he’d do it either way if you lost or won. That was how you ended up in a meat house, sitting around a table for two as Hyunjin grilled the food.

“Don’t be silly. If you give up now you’ll never win.”

You rolled your eyes and the frown turned even deeper. Gazing down at the sizzling meat, your mouth watered and stomach rumbled impatiently. You could already taste the savory flavors just by looking at it.

“I can’t believe you dragged me here looking like this.”

Hyunjin raised a brow, genuinely not understanding what you meant. To him you looked just fine in a pair of leggings and hoodie, and it didn’t matter that your hair was still wet or your face bare of makeup because you were perfect.

“What’s wrong with the way you look? I think you’re cute.”

A fire lightened in your core and rose up to your cheeks, ears and neck, and the air in the restaurant changed too, suddenly feeling as if you were a chicken sitting in an oven. As your heart didn’t do its usual badum-badum-badum, you realized the effect Hyunjin had on you didn’t appear. You were surprisingly calm. Unbothered even and instead of buzzing with joy you were counting down the seconds until it was time to leave.

Not to get you wrong, you loved his company. You’d been dreaming of days like these since the first time you laid eyes on him and now that you had it, all you wanted was nothing more than to jump in bed and just go into hibernation, and forget about the world.

Something was telling you though, that even if you were eating meat and celebrating your win, you still wouldn’t feel the spirit of a winner. Deep inside, you knew the root of it. The reason as to why a gray cloud hovered over you — besides losing — and it all led back to the absence of a certain hockey player.

“Here, try this.” Hyunjin gently hand fed you a piece of beef and other fillings wrapped in lettuce. “It’s good, huh?”

“You good there, princess?”

You reeled back, momentarily stunned by the unexpected presence. Mingi grinned at your reaction and sat back. Very satisfied with his work. As he readied his own computer, you took in his appearance and found yourself growing more irritated. There was no denying that he was attractive. Thick pink lips, a straight and sharp nose and a very prominent jaw. His brown eyes were surprisingly relaxed and didn’t resemble those of a fox. The boy was even blessed with not one, but two moles. His knitted sweater was an ugly shade of moss green but it looked good on him, much to your dismay.

You sighed and sucked through your teeth, “Why are you here?”

Why wasn’t he there?

It was as if the universe was out to get you.

First, you lost a spot at the Spring Championship. Then you failed an assignment that took a month of your life to get done, and if that wasn’t enough, the representative face of Seoul at next year’s championship was plastered all over town. She was even on the newspaper thrown in your mailbox, which you hadn’t subscribed to! If it weren’t for your personal duo of Chip and Dale, you’d skip school just to avoid it all.

To say, you were feeling down right shit would be an understatement, and everyone around you could feel it. That was probably why Mr. Jung canceled a whole week’s worth of practice and you couldn’t have been more relieved.

Figure skating was the last thing you needed right now.

Besides your friends and coach giving you space or peppering you with love, there was another person to be added in that equation. Hyunjin made sure to spend more time with you, always asking to go out for lunch or a stroll in the park that usually ended up with window shopping and eating ice cream.

“Felix and Changbin have been dying to meet you, you know,” Hyunjin stated as he scooped a spoon of chocolate ice cream.

“Really?”

You remembered Changbin solely by his Halloween party and you pushed aside the other memories that came along with that night. The other boy, Felix, you knew a little next to nothing about.

“Yeah, they haven’t stopped pestering me about it, especially Changbin.”

“Mmm, have you been talking about me, Hyunjin-ah?”

The black haired boy grew red at the teasing and nearly choked on the plastic spoon.

“Wh-what!”

It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered and it sure was a different sight from his usual composed self. Your chuckle filtered between the giggles and chatter of multiple friend groups. It was a surprise to see so many people outside in the snow. Hyunjin eventually calmed down and returned to his natural skin color, and he proceeded with caution at his next question, slightly afraid to walk straight into another teasing trap.

“They are going to watch that hockey game… if you want, it would be a great time to meet them.”

Truth to be told, you had completely forgotten about that sport and it had everything to do with Mingi, the only connection you had to the hockey team of your university. The last time you saw him was a few days before your performance and you hadn’t seen him since, at one moment you thought he disappeared to another country, but Keeho’s confirmation of seeing him on campus debunked that theory. It wasn’t that weird though, considering you hadn’t stepped foot in the ice rink and didn’t share any classes with him, courtesy of majoring in two completely different studies.

You wouldn’t say it to anyone, not even Dasom, but the less you saw of him, the more bored you got. Obviously, you didn’t miss his irksome comments or that stupid pet name he’d use at any given moment, yet the days seemed to go slower without the pain in the ass of a man. Going to that hockey game would maybe change that, and what better excuse than to go with Hyunjin?

“Of course! I mean,” you cleared your throat. “Of course, I’ll check if I’m free and then I’ll let ya know.”

“Great. It’s next Friday and, unluckily, I pulled the short straw so I’ll be driving… So if you can and want, there's space in my car.”

Parting your mouth to answer, the left side of your brain suddenly halted all your speech function as you caught sight of a familiar figure.

In the many places of Seoul, he just had to be in the same park as you. Wearing a blue tracksuit with the slogan of a wolf on the front and running sneakers adorning his feet, told you he was out on a late night run. It was quite unfair how even with his hair sticking to his nape and sweat trickling down the sides of his face, Mingi still looked great.

You and Mingi had never been friends — that much you knew — but for him to just run past you without as much as a nod of acknowledgement had you questioning if something was wrong. His exhausted eyes morphed into a nasty glare as they landed on you, which served as a nail in the coffin to your theories.

“Was that Song Mingi?” Hyunjin asked from beside you.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“What’s wrong, bean?”

Laying upside down on your bed with feet tucked beneath your pillow and your head a few inches from the edge apparently wasn’t a normal thing to do if Dasom assumed something was going on.

“Nothing, everything is perfectly fine.”

Everything was perfectly fine if you ignored the fact that Mingi was angry with you and was intentionally avoiding you like the plague.

“Mmmm.”

Dasom fell back and mimicked your position, arms thrown out and eyes locked on the ceiling. Some days were like that, spent doing absolutely nothing. Wrapped in big fuzzy blankets laying in either her or your bed, getting lost in space or scrolling endlessly through tiktok until the clock struck the early hours of the morning.

“You still going to that game?”

You huffed, “Yeah. I promised Hyunjin I’d go and he wants to introduce me to some of his friends in return. Is Hongjoong still coming over?”

“He hasn’t rain checked on me yet, so I think so.” She drummed her fingers against her shorts-clad thighs. “Isn’t the game at eight?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Cool.”

You slid down to the floor, brows furrowed and lips titled. “What time is it?”

“Now?”

“Yes, Dasom. Now.”

“Hmmm, it’s currently seven-thirty.”

“It’s seven-thirty!?”

The blood rushed up to your head at your abrupt movement and the whole room spun as black spots clouded your vision. Left with no choice you laid back down and clutched your skull as you tried taking control of your own body again, all while assessing the situation. The game started at eight and you had approximately thirty minutes to get changed and figure out a way to get there before then. The messages Hyunjin sent you earlier today flashed in your mind and you were starting to regret turning down his offer to pick you up, at least then you wouldn’t risk being late and embarrassing yourself in front of his friends.

“Okay, I’m jumping in the shower real quick while you put together an outfit for me that doesn’t scream ‘I spent five minutes on this’ as I walk through the doors.”

Jumping to her feet with an imaginary tail wagging left and right, she saluted. A determined yet excited look on her face. Besides writing poetry in the dim light of your fridge at three AM, Dasom had a big passion for fashion and would always play dress up with you during your childhood days.

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

A trail of water followed from the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped below your feet. You stood with a towel wrapped around your bare body as you watched Dasom finalizing your outfit. The clothes on your bed were a baggy gray sweatshirt with bold letters spelling out ‘TORONTO’ — borrowed from Keeho and never returned — and a pair of blue jeans. It didn’t give too much, but was still appropriate for where you were going.

“Okay, go put it on. Have you figured out a way to get there?”

Shimmying on the clothes you heaved out a breath. “Nope.”

“Want me to call Kyo?”

“It’s a Friday so I’m sure he’s pre-gaming with Jiung and the others.”

“That’s true… I mean I could always give you a ride on my bike?”

You laughed at that. The bike in question was bright purple, almost lilac-ish with shimmering tinsel handels and star shaped wheel clips. It was cute, but embarrassing at the same time. Plus it would be a shit-show, you sitting on the carrier holding on for dear life while Dasom would do her best not to run people over. She was not the most trusted driver, hence the lack of a driver’s license (that she’s tried for five times and failed every single one).

“As much as I love you, I’d rather be late than arrive on that oddity and risk a broken arm or leg.”

“Hmpf, well if you don’t appreciate Melody then you can walk there!” She crossed her arms and pouted, her lower lip jutting in a show of feigned hurt.

“I don’t really mean it, Dae-Dae, I love youuuuu! I’ll come back with something nice to make up for it.”

The sour golden retriever-looking girl immediately brightened at the mention of a treat and wrapped her arms around you, her chin digging above your sternum.

“Can you buy those shrimp chips that I like?”

“Deal! I seriously gotta go now, I’ll text you when I get there. Kisses and hugs and all that bullshit!”

For once you were grateful not having a car as the parking lot was packed with them and other vehicles. It must have been a big deal if some people just blatantly abandoned their cars on the sidewalk, yellow tickets flapping on their windshields. The match was in full swing and it was everything you could expect of a hockey game. Red and blue blurs of jerseys zoomed past you, the sound of blades against ice, the livid roar of the crowd, cutting blows of a whistle, sticks cracking against the puck sounding like thunder and the thump as an opponent was checked against the boards. Seeing the bleachers full of people wasn’t something you expected when you crossed the entrance. The sides were divided into two parts — red and blue — and while you weren’t about to backstab your own university by sitting with the ‘enemy’ you found no empty seats between the Blue Wolf supporters. The other side wasn’t anything better except for the few vacant seats here and there, and more nude chests and faces covered in paint.

This was everything but your scenery.

Staring through the plexiglas you tried spotting the familiar mop of black and white hair you hadn’t seen since God knows when. You gave up as you quickly realized the gear covered almost the entirety of their faces and body proportions, making everyone look identical to one another, the only thing differentiating them being the numbers and colors of their jerseys that did little to help as you didn’t even know his. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders and you jumped at the unexpected touch, hastily turning to see who the culprit was and coming face to face with a grinning Hyunjin.

“Boo!”

“Don’t do that!”

His beautiful laugh reached your ears and emitted a chuckle of your own. He coaxed you into his body and enfolded you in a warm embrace that you reciprocated, chin on his shoulder and arms going around his waist. It was first when the hug broke that you could finally take in his full appearance. His whole attire — suit pants, a tucked in turtleneck and leather boots — were completely black except for the long and expensive-looking jean coat and red beanie showing support for the opposing team.

“Let’s go, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.”

Without missing a beat he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers as he gently maneuvered you through the crowd. Every few seconds you flinched as the people jumped up from their seats, cheering or groaning at what was happening down below.

From across the rink in the bench area adjacent to the ice, the red and blue players filled the booths closest to their goalkeepers. The game was in full swing with both teams scoring a point each and neither willing to let up on their explosive paces. The substitute players were all buzzing from excitement or nerves — probably a combination of both — as they shouted encouraging words to the starting lineup. Like the remaining defencemen of the blue team, Mingi sat in the middle with his hockey stick high up in the air and shoulders squishing against his fellow position players, but his eyes weren’t trained on the puck flying from one player to another. No, they were set on the pair of figure skaters on the other side of the rink. More precisely, he was focused on their interlocked hands and the subtle exchange of smiles.

A red light and the loud blaring of the goal horn went off in the arena as the opposing team managed to hurl the puck behind the blue goalkeeper and Mingi could argue it was how he felt on the inside seeing you together. The big crowd jumped from their seats, waving their red merch and screaming words Mingi couldn’t hear over the angry voice of his coach.

“Matthew, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Wow… This is really annoying. We’re only ten minutes into the first period and we’ve already received two points,” Jungkook fumed.

It was weird that neither Mingi or Jungkook were a part of the starting lineup, considering they were up against one of the better teams of the season. Trusting that their coach was making the right decision of keeping them off the ice, Mingi didn’t try persuading him to be put in. There were still two and a half periods left of the game, leaving plenty of time for Mingi to change the course of the match if needed to. It also gave him more time to keep an eye on you and simmer in his own rage, if he just hadn’t lost you in the three seconds he looked away. Frantically searching the bleachers for a girl with a blue scarf wrapped around her neck, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Song!”

The abrupt call of his name snapped him out of his search and he was met with the beetroot red face of his coach.

“Are you deaf?!”

“Nu-uh. No, sir!”

“Then get off your ass, you’re going in.” As Mingi stood up, his coach threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. “Remember what we talked about. There are scouts watching and they’ve heard great things about this Song Mingi, so show them you’re not all talk, yeah?”

Mingi pushed in his mouth guard and nodded determinedly.

Coach patted him encouragingly and gave one last pat on his helmet for luck.

“Good, get in there and put a stop to their number three.”

Everything turned to background noise as Mingi leaped over the board and his blades slashed against the cool surface. There was only him and his defending zone, and the fact that you were somewhere in the crowd, probably watching him or getting cozy with that stupid figure skater. The grip around his hockey stick tightened at the image and he hated the effect you still had on him. He should’ve been worrying about being on top of his game and impressing the scouts, and not what you were up to.

Mingi and Matthew held the blue line and passed the puck between each other as the remaining blue players skated around in the offensive zone, searching for an opening to get the puck handed to them. As Mingi slid the puck to Matthew, the bigger defender quickly hurled it to the next player only for the pass to be cut off.

Going backwards, Mingi immediately retreated home while putting pressure on the puck carrier and simultaneously keeping him from having a clear view of the net. He skillfully managed to push the opposing player (without physical contact) to the side in the defensive zone. He quickly realized that he was closed off and sent the puck diagonally backwards to another red player who moved with such speed, Mingi knew he wouldn't be able to stop the additional player in time. Protests erupted from the bench as all fourteen substitute players had a hunch of what was going to happen.

To his aid came Matthew and the two defensemen managed to shut down a possible counterattack. As the remaining players entered the defending zone, the puck was still in the possession of the red team. It landed in the hold of their number three, who was a few diagonal meters from Mingi. The winger locked gazes with the blue defender and sent him a smug smirk, tauntingly saying ‘watch this’ as he winded his hockey stick up to his shoulder and readied himself for a slapshot.

Losing all control of his body, Mingi changed the trajectory of his movements and skated almost backwards while getting in number three’s sight of line. Mingi waited for the perfect timing and when the red player rushed forward to skate past him, Mingi jutted out his hip, flipping the opponent over him and stealing the puck in the process. Cheers erupted in the arena and Mingi soared at the jumbled praises and roars of encouragement.

“This is Felix and that’s Changbin, they attend TOP University. Lix-ie, Bin-ie, this is the friend I’ve been telling you about,” Hyunjin introduced you as the crowd calmed down.

The two guys weren’t dressed in anything over the top, basic hoodies and joggers or a pair of jeans with small accessories showing their support for the Red Tigers which made you feel out of place with Keeho’s blue scarf wrapped around your neck. You recognized one of them as the guy who hosted that halloween party; buffy build, a triangle shaped head, but kind features.

“Hey.”

The deep voice that greeted you didn’t match the sunshine-face of the other boy beside Changbin. A sprinkle of freckles covered his nose and cheeks, his eyes crinkling as he offered you a sun-like smile that matched the color of his hair.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you gently said and sat in the spot beside the sunshine-boy.

“It’s great to finally see the girl this one’s been obsessing about,” Changbin butted in with a teasing grin and earned himself a slap on the thigh by Felix.

“Just ignore him, he loves to tease.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I know banter when I hear it,” you smiled reassuringly and looked at the game below.

One would think that because ice was your dome, you’d easily understand other winter sports, but you were truly having trouble keeping up with whatever was going on in the newly polished rink. The puck was traveling a hundred miles an hour and the skaters were freakishly fast, you could barely keep up with who was attacking and who was defending. It seemed like the moment one team scored, the other was immediately taking back a point. On top of all, you had zero knowledge about the rules. To say you were surprised when a — what looked to be dangerous and illegal — tackle occurred, would be an understatement. You expected at least someone to jump out of sheer anger, but no one batted an eye. They just kept watching and the players resumed as if it were the most normal thing of the day.

“Do you want to die?” Chan growled as he bumped shoulders with Mingi, getting all up in the defenseman’s face.

The chants of the Blue Wolves’ fans sent another surge of adrenaline through Mingi’s veins, not that he needed it, but gave him an ego boost to return the cockiness to the max.

“I should be asking you that. Don’t think you can get past us just like that. I’ll shut you down, Chan-hyung.”

In any other circumstance and in a conversation with quite literally anyone else, the use of honorific wouldn’t have been out of place, but hearing it come from Mingi wasn’t an indication of respect. It was a ploy to humiliate him and a way to set the tone of the game. In other words, telling him not to expect an easy win. Chan didn’t think anything less.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Mingi scoffed, a smirk of triumph playing across his lips. “I already did and guess what, hyung. I’ll do it again and again, and again. You will not get past me. I’ll knock you down until your ass makes a dent on the ice.”

Returning the ever-so-kind favor of butting shoulders, Mingi pushed past him and stopped right behind his center, ready to receive the puck or defend if the odds played out in the red team’s favor.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the preliminaries,” Felix smiled empathically and placed a hand on your shoulder for support. “If it makes you feel better, I thought you were perfect and deserved to win.”

You forced a smile at the reminder of the event. The wound was still fresh and even though Felix didn’t have any ill intentions with bringing it up, it still didn’t spare you from the bitter taste of winning — if it could even be considered a victory — second place.

“Thank you, but the jury is rarely ever wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” he started and focused momentarily on the game again. “It still doesn’t change my opinion on who should’ve won though.”

Before you could thank him again and express your gratitude to his kindness, Hyunjin joined the conversation. “Oh, I see you’ve found yourself a new figure skating partner.”

Glancing from Felix to Hyunjin and back to Felix again, you pointed at the freckled boy. “You’re a figure skater too?”

“Yup, I've been training with Jin-ie since elementary school. A tick would be easier to shake off than him.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, everyone practically begged you to sit beside them but no, little Lixie the new student decided it would be best to annoy Hyunjin-ie in the back.”

With a witty remark waiting on the tip of his tongue, Felix parted his lips, but was interrupted by Changbin abruptly standing up, hands clasped around his mouth and shouting, “Come on Chan! Don’t let him get away with that!”

Glancing down at the rink, you noticed number three in the red team was pushed against the border with a blue guy towering over him. Both guys seemed to be communicating through their eyes and if it weren’t for their teammates getting in between, you were sure a full on fist fight would’ve taken place in front of everyone.

“You’d think Chan was his boyfriend and not mine,” Felix said to you — more so screamed over the loud cheers and hollers of distress — and watched an agitated Changbin slump back down in his seat, eyes following the flying puck kissing the net of the red goalkeeper.

“Boyfriend?”

“Ah, right, of course Hyunjin wouldn’t talk about his friends. Anyways I’m dating number three in the red team, maybe you’ve heard of him. Bang Chan or Christopher, whatever seems fitting.”

Your mouth turned into an ‘o’ as the puzzle pieces clasped together. Felix never stopped smiling and even chuckled at your reaction. He found you endearing and understood why Hyunjin wouldn’t stop talking about you during their study sessions.

“I take it, you know him?”

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t say I know him but we had a brief encounter at a halloween party.”

“Ah, that’s cool. The world is really small, isn’t it?”

The buzzer beat you to an answer, indicating that the twenty minutes of the second period were out.

“Oh, and that’s halftime,” Felix said and stood up to stretch.

Changbin shot him a deadly stare, as if the figure skater cursed out his entire family. “You know it’s not called that. It’s an intermission!”

“Eh, we don’t keep up with all that in Australia. Halftime is halftime in whatever sport you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were Australian,” you admitted.

“What, really?” He said in English and then switched back to Korean. “All the people I meet point out I speak with an accent so I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, now that you’ve said it I can actually hear like the faintest accent. Oh, that’s embarrassing of me.” You sheepishly smiled and scratched the back of your head.

“Nah, not really. Anyway, Bin-ie and I are gonna get some snacks, you guys want anything?”

“I’m alright, thank you though.”

Felix threw you a thumbs up and looked at Hyunjin for his reply.

“Yeah, surprise me with something good.”

“Gotcha! We’ll be back like a lil’ before they start if we don’t get held up by the bathrooms. Changbin sure does love to take his time there.”

As the duo followed the crowd out, you and Hyunjin fell into a comfortable silence and listened to the chatter of the people around you. For being your first time at a hockey game, you weren’t bored at all, despite being oblivious to the set of rules. Keeho did say something about fights being legal and you sincerely hoped to avoid that. The sport on ice you were aware of was so less violent, flashy and fast paced. It was so different from your figure skating which was more or less art or a story being conveyed by body language.

Nonetheless, you were still having a good time, even though much of it was spent getting acquainted with Hyunjin’s friends.

“So… what do you think of the game so far?”

Snapping from the ice taken over by a bunch of kids chasing each other and falling on their rears, you hummed and looked back at Hyunjin who already had his eyes on you.

“It’s interesting. I mean, it’s nothing like figure skating, obviously, but it’s cool… Do you guys always do this? Watch hockey?”

“Mmm, not always, but whenever Chan has a game we try to show our support just like he does whenever Lix or I have anything going on with our figure skating.”

“That’s sweet of you. That’s actually really cute,” you gushed and the thought reminded you of your own friend group. How Keeho and Dasom showed up at your competitions or the many times you and Keeho attended Dasom’s poetry slam.

Hyunjin leaned closer to you, a playful smile across his features. “I don’t like being called cute, but considering it’s coming from you I’ll let it slide.”

Taken back by the almost flirtatious side of Hyunjin, you bashfully looked away and cheekily covered your mouth, hiding the way your smile expanded at his comment. Hyunjin, attentive as always, took notice of the action and chuckled.

“How, uhm…”

You leaned back in your seat and braided your fingers together as the change of topic went from cheerful to sullen.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of those two, but yeah… How you holding up?”

Still trying to hold up your happy expression, you faced him and tilted your head, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back from planting a kiss on your cute nose.

“I’ve been alright. There’s not much I can do to be honest and I don’t want to dwell on it more than necessary, you know?”

“That’s understandable. Why think about the things that make you feel bad?”

“Exactly. I’ve decided to focus on the more happier things in life.” You grimaced as a hockey player tripped and smacked head first into the plastic glass. “Even if that is watching people get concussions for just 13.000 won.”

Hyunjin burst out laughing, elegantly covering his mouth with the back of his hand and tipping his head backwards. A laugh of your own lingered with his and the multiple cheers in the air.

“Three for three, Jeon Jungkook does it again! The nimble winger of the Blue Wolves can’t be stopped!”

The announcement sounded through the arena a few seconds after the red lights flashed behind the Tiger’s goal and buzzer erupted, nearly rupturing your eardrums. Jungkook was really on a blast tonight, you thought as you followed his retreating figure, making a mental note of remembering his jersey number. Although you had yet to find Mingi, you felt proud for at least figuring out Jungkook and Chan, completely dismissing the fact that you barely knew a handful of players on the ice.

“You’re doing great out there, Kookie.” Mingi dunked him on the back as they retreated to the neutral zone. “Make that into five out of five and I’ll treat you to some lamb skewers.”

The smirk stretched across Jungkook’s face could only be described as menacingly and with him in his element, Mingi knew they weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“Add steamed dumplings into the mix and I’ll double it.”

As the referee held the puck in the air between the red and blue centers, the rest of the players prepared themselves for another brawl over who put the puck behind the opposing net. Mingi was warm all over, and the extra weight of pads and equipment was taking a toll on his body, as well as defending his home base, but each time a player was stopped, the pride was enough to resurrect his energy. Glancing slightly to the side, everything moved in slow motion as he briefly made eye contact with the supporters of both teams. Some were screaming at him out of happiness and others with harmless distaste, angry at his ability to shut down the reds’ plays and advances. Moving further up the rows, it was like a headlight lit up a spot in the crowd, and suddenly, amongst the hundreds of people, he could make you out like a tulip in the middle of a meadow.

The hold around his stick tightened seeing you squished between pretty boy and an unrecognizable face, and Mingi promised he didn’t care. He didn’t care as pretty boy whispered something in your ear and he definitely didn’t care as you flung your head backward, and let out what probably was the most angelic laughter known to heaven. Smoke erupted from his nostrils and the moment the puck was in possession of the red team, the vibrant colored jerseys irked him like a matador irritatnig a bull. As the puck was in play, all sound ceased to exist and Mingi zeroed in on the players advancing forward.

Mingi would describe it as being underwater with all the noise distant and his movement sluggish no matter how hard he tried to lift his limbs, and if he wasn’t so aware of his surroundings, Mingi would certainly think he was losing one of his five senses.

See, although ice hockey was a sport all about seeing and physical contact, hearing was an important part too and if Mingi wasn’t revolted by your presence, he wouldn’t have missed the referee signaling an offside, and he wouldn’t have skated into the first player daring to cross the blue line that separated the defending and neutral zone.

The referee immediately blew his whistle and fully extended his right arm, fist clenched and eyes set on the defenseman, and time turned back to normal as a pop-like sound burst in Mingi’s ears. He barely managed to realize what happened when another body collide against his, pushing him straight into the boards. Chaous ensued as multiple players got involved trying to easen the situation, but the damage was already done and Mingi was sent to the penalty box — purposely avoiding the heavy gazes of the blue bench — along with whichever guy flew into him.

He cursed out loud as he slumped down on the bench. This was embarrassing on so many levels. It was one thing to ram into someone as payback, but lashing out for no apparent reason and after the whistle was (almost) unacceptable. He wanted to laugh at his stupidity; so much for not caring.

“What happened?” You asked no one in particular, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Ah, that Song Mingi, always up to no good,” Changbin grumbled, more so to himself than you.

You snapped your eyes to the plastic enclosure the blue player was sent off to and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Through the year you had known Mingi, you’d never guess he could really use his size and strength to quite literally floor another person. Hockey was a rough sport, that wasn’t news to you, and considering Mingi could use his strength to his advantage, it was probably why he was so sought after. You couldn’t shake away this feeling of awareness. Just now realizing how… big Mingi actually was and you didn't know whether it was relief or pride, knowing that of all the times you pushed him over the edge, never once did he raise a finger at you out of anger or spite.

Mingi may have been an asshole with 70% height and muscle, but he wasn’t a bad guy.

“That’s called roughing,” Felix started explaining. “It’s like… I wouldn’t say it’s an illegal move, but if done out of motive or in a way to really hurt the other player, it could lead to a minor penalty — a timeout — or game misconduct. But it all depends on how bad the situation is.”

“So he won’t play until the end of the game?”

“Nah, he’ll probably be out in like a few minutes,” Hyunjin answered for you and clapped as the red team scored, evening out the score board to five-five.

“Then the blue team will be a player short up until then?.”

“Pretty much,” Felix confirmed and popped a chip in his mouth.

You didn’t see how that could be fair, but then again, ice hockey wasn’t your forthe and as no one in the crowd was making a fuss over Mingi’s penalty — except for pointing out his poor judgment — you didn’t say much else, but hum in agreement. For twelve minutes, you didn’t pay attention to what was happening on the ice, only applauding when the crowd did and slumped back in your seat as the supporters groaned in disappointment. Your full attention was set on the lone player in the plastic box.

Worry, confusion and pity circled your mind and you wondered if this was how everyone felt seeing the placement of your figure skating competition. As soon as the thought made home in your head, you shooed it away, reminding yourself to focus on the happy things and not everything that was blue.

Forcing your eyes from Mingi, the most blue thing in the arena (both clothing and emotion wise) you zoned out and the players blurred into small vivid spots twirling on the ice like flies above a bowl of fruit. You didn’t understand where the worry came from or why it decided to take shelter in your stomach. It probably wasn’t Mingi’s first rodeo in the penalty box and wouldn’t be the last on either, and you recognized his sudden outburst as the one you saw a glimpse of at the party, right before you left him with that blonde police officer.

Mingi never lashed out in anger and if he did, you were never on the receiving end of it despite giving him back a tenfold of insults he greeted you with. Seeing him quite literally floor a guy his size, made your guts twist in discomfort. It was an emotion that didn’t look good on him at all.

The game was growing more intense with each minute passing and the atmosphere amongst the audience was also getting rowdier as the teams were practically neck and neck, neither willing to let up. The second Mingi stepped foot on the ice again, the whole arena blew up with cheers. It was like the almost extinguished torch of hope re-awakened into a bright and lively fire, and you too held onto the light of hope that the Blue Wolves would take it home, definitely because of your loyalty to Tiny University and not the growing affection for a certain defender in said school.

The puck was flying from one side of the rink to the other in just a matter of seconds with all players, excluding the goalkeepers, circling around and cashing the rubber like stone.

“Here, wanna help me hold this up?”

You didn’t know how you missed the big sign leaning against Felix’s legs, but you did. With a nod of agreement, you both took hold of each side of the white cardboard cutout and quickly looked at the glittery blue writing on it.

I am Chan’s #1 fan.

“Don’t judge, I made it like last second.” A blush kissed his cheeks and his eyes squeezed into crescent moons as you read the corny line.

“No, no! I think it’s cute.”

With ten seconds left of the game everyone in the arena stood up which made you and Felix raise the sign even higher. When everyone thought the game would end in a tie, a player from the defending line of the blue team somehow managed to steal the puck from two red players and sent it hurling across the rink, right in the sanctuary of his teammate’s stick who calculatedly launched it towards the red goal and past its keeper. The buzzer went off and chaos ensued. From what you could see all the Blue Wolves players crowded the scorer and dunked the defender who sent the winning assist, while the fans raised the volume through the roof. Whistling, cheers, laughter, even some old fashion booing circulated the arena.

Not all that upset with the outcome of the game, Felix applauded and turned to his friend who seemed to be quite butthurt. “Song really is crazy good, isn’t he Bin-ie?”

“Whatever, he’s lucky Jake sprained his ankle and couldn’t play today or he’d have them all eating ice. Ha! Get it, cause they’re playing on i–”

The rest of the conversation was tuned out as you focused on the celebrating team, trying to catch sight of eighty-nine. Your eyes traveled from one bulky player to another and then, as if your prayers were answered, the player came right into view.

Mingi walked beside a shorter guy clad in blue and you assumed it was Chan by the sole way he pointed up at you and the other guys. Your suspicion was confirmed as the helmet was removed and Chan’s face was illuminated by the strong lights. You could just make out the faint movement of his mouth, saying something to the giant beside him.

“Good to know your girl is cheering for the right team, Mings.”

Mingi followed the invisible line leading to where you stood and scanned the group of friends. He immediately recognized Hyunjin and the buff one, and he didn’t even manage to take a proper look at the third boy as his eyes found yours. Beautiful as ever, he thought and admired as much of you as possible. Your face, clothes, make-up and everything about you was perfect, and the passive aggressive comment was almost brushed to the side until he zeroed in on the paper in your hands. It was in that moment that the rose-tinted glasses slipped down his nose, jealousy quick to seep into every corner of his existence and he remembered why he’d been avoiding you for weeks.

Before he could send you a sharp (and unjustified) glare, he redirected his anger to the guy beside him.

“Oh, don’t be like that. She was the one to look at me first.

Mingi wasn’t a violent person, he really wasn’t, but there was no acceptable excuse for why he did what he did.

As if born ready for this day, Mingi used his teeth to tear off his gloves and pounced on Chan. One hand grabbed around the collar of his red jersey as the other was colliding with his cheek. He managed to get in two more punches — the first successfully collided with Chan’s jaw and the second just barely missed the bone of his nose — before Chan used his own limbs to defend himself. The red winger grabbed hold of Mingi’s helmet and snatched it off his head, and seized the chance to send a fist flying in his face, returning the punches he received from the blue defender. Red bruises quickly littered across their knuckles and warm blood covered their skin, the thick liquid pouring from both Chan’s nose and Mingi’s lip.

The crowd was going wild, the whistles of the referees were being ignored and it didn’t take long before the remaining players of each team were trying to separate the two brutes.

“Oh my God!”

Felix and Changbin flinched at your gasp.

“He’s fucking crazy. Hey! What the hell?!” Changbin jumped between the seats and rocketed down towards the ice with the rest of you hot on his heels.

The silence was deafening. Everyone was curious as to what was going on and why a fight ensued now that the game was over, usually the nose breaking happened on ice and not off. Whispers and rumors spread like a wildfire, some claimed it was the aftermath of adrenaline while others thought of something more extreme like hard drugs taking over. Nonetheless, the crowd riled them on, clearly finding joy in the brawl. You weren’t anywhere near when the referees and teammates broke them up, Mingi being forcefully sent towards the locker room as Chan stayed laying on the ground, crimson face and teeth no longer pearly white.

“What the hell, Mingi,” you muttered under your breath and slipped through the mass of people, running to where you assumed he’d be.

Your head was working a hundred miles an hour with the images of Mingi hunched over Chan, fists violently beating the blonde and a lot of blood covering his face. You were sure you’d never get them out of your head and you shuddered at the amount of red that ran down Chan’s nose. For the sake of the giant asshole you grew attached to, you hoped it wouldn’t put a stop to his career, both school- and sportwise. It would by far be his dumbest decision yet. For what even?

A group of reporters stood outside a door you assumed was reserved for the Blue Wolves and if that wasn’t enough of a give away then it was the loud cheers and victory singing echoing out to the hallway. In reality you wanted nothing more than to barge inside and interrupt their celebration — how they could celebrate after that bloodbath was still something you couldn’t wrap your head around — but you did no such thing. The moment the door opened you pushed the reporters aside and flew in with your head first, paying no mind to the perverse wolf whistles and cheers of the adrenaline drunken boys. You didn’t even bother with them as your eyes scanned the room that smelled of sweat and axe deodorant for him. Jungkook, seemingly the most normal one there (which spoke volumes), quickly understood why you were there and approached you with no teasing glint or malice in his gaze.

“Try looking by the abandoned gym on the ground floor. There’s a vending machine there we usually go to so I assume if he’s taken off somewhere it should be there.”

You wasted no time in turning on your heel and practically sprinting down the route you repeated like a mantra. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine.

Lo and behold, he was right there and if it weren’t for the worry growing in your belly you’d go back upstairs and reward the playboy with a big smooch to his rosy lips.

Mingi sat down on the floor, legs up to his chest and forearms folded on his knees. His sweaty forehead was leaning against the skin of his arm and an anxious rhythm of his heart beat in his chest. It was hard to miss the red on his knuckles. Inhaling a shaky breath as if it would steady your own heart, your feet stopped before him falling right in his line of sight. Surprised at the unexpected company, Mingi looked up and got a first row ticket of the concern swimming in your eyes. You didn’t know what to expect going after him, but the annoyed — almost disgusted — scoff he let out cut through you like a knife and twisted as he looked back down. Despite the act of annoyance aimed at you, Mingi wasn’t actually that annoyed with you but rather with himself because after everything he still had the urge to reach for your touch and he hated it. His jaw clenched at the circumstance and his nails dug in the palms of his hands. You weren’t even supposed to be here, it made everything ten times harder than it should’ve been.

Having had enough of his pity party Mingi and the weight of your gaze judging him, he pushed up from his position and walked right past you. No hello, no second glances, just walking as if you were a ghost he couldn’t see let alone feel. His movements halted when you latched onto one of his wrists, knowing that if he truly wanted to get away he’d shake you off like a ragdoll and be on his merry way. Although he was with his back facing you, the fact that he stood rooted to the ground was the approval you seeked to continue with your winged attempt at getting him to speak.

“Mingi, what the hell was that?”

The two of you weren’t heavy on the use of honorifics, but hearing you spit his name out like that surely sent a shiver down his spine. You weren’t pissed off, he noticed, you were actually worried and it was quite amusing. The nerve you had of showing up after that fiasco to interrogate him about his actions. Who the hell did you think you were?

“Huh? Why did you do that?” Shaking his arm, you tried again. “Can you please say something? I’m worried for you and your silence isn’t helping, please just say something.”

Mingi didn’t budge and you were starting to lose it. The avoidance wasn't enough, now he was blatantly ignoring your attempt at helping too.

“What is your problem?! I’m trying to help you, something’s obviously happened so why won’t you tell me!”

Ripping his wrist out of your hold, he turned around and it took every particle in you not to cower at his sharp eyes staring you down.

“You want to know what my problem is?” His loud voice bounced off the walls and punched you right in the gut.

There was so much anger in his gaze, his tone and his body. Everything screamed of anger and you didn’t even know why you were on the receiving end of his emotions. You were just trying to help.

“You! You are my fucking problem!”

“What?”

“As if you don’t know what you’re doing. Acting all nice and cutesy like we are friends, like you’re interested in ever befriending me which now that I think about is so stupid because you and I? What a joke. We’re a fucking joke!”

“What are you even talking about?!”

Mingi scoffed again. He looked to the side, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. There were so many thoughts going through his head and all he could think about was what words to use to hurt you the most. To make you feel the hurt he did.

“First, you invite me to your stupid competition and then you come to my game sitting with him! Was this all a game, huh? To get back at me for all the dumb shit I did to you because if it is then wow, you’ve really proven yourself to be more shallow and boneless than I ever thought. I mean, you’re really going out of your way to get under my skin and act like a fucking–”

Mingi closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, the veins on his neck were more prominent than ever and his face was almost identical to the red color of Dasom’s hair. He really needed to calm down before he said something he’d regret. Not that it mattered, the damage was already done and he knew the aftermath was already biting him in the ass. Shit, the look of your glossy eyes was quick to make his inside burn with remorse.

Each insult was a poisoned arrow aimed at your heart. The words physically hurt you more than ever before and you weren’t aware just how mean Mingi could be. Your previous bickering never stooped on a level this low before and it brought tears to your eyes but even that wasn't enough to stop his rant. Not wanting to be caught vulnerable in front of the guy who was practically stepping on you with his shoes, you quickly wiped away the tears that managed to escape.

Mingi knew he was taking his frustration out on you and he knew it wasn’t fair because you hadn’t done anything wrong. It all kept piling on his shoulders. All the instances he saw you two together; the joint practices, your embarrassed giggles any time Hyunjin breathed, watching him console you in the hallways like a poor reenactment of a romcom, sitting so close together at his game, shoulders touching a little too close for Mingi’s liking… If that stupid piece of cardboard was a bomb waiting to be activated, then Chan was the flame that set everything off.

“Oh, great. This is really great now you’re fucking crying too. You think some tears are going to make me feel bad? They won’t, I don’t care anymore okay? I’m done with you and your fucking shit. So go back to your prince fucking charming and don’t even bother looking for me, you hear? I’m fucking done!”

You shrunk back at his unwavering and stern voice. Having nothing more to say Mingi stormed away, blood boiling and hands shaking as the final words set in. The last you saw of him before gut-wrenching sobs wrecked your body was the door slamming up against the wall and back the doorframe so hard the walls vibrated. And later that same night when Mingi got home, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you decided to never look at him again, let alone speak with him.

Different emotions tore you apart and it was hard to make sense of anything that happened in the past ten minutes. The questions — what, why, how — were endless and you wanted to go home, preferably dig a hole in your bed and not come out until better days, whenever that would be you didn’t know. Tears burned your cheeks like lava and snot tickled your nose, dropping off your chin and onto your shirt. With the already wet sleeve of your sweater you wiped everything off your face, not in the right mind to care about what Keeho would say about his precious shirt. Like a baby cub seeking its momma bear for comfort, you retreated home yearning for the closest touch of a mother you could find.

“You have reached the voicemail of Choi Dasom. Please leave a message after the beep.”

After the fifth attempted call, you gave up and continued trudging home. Dark clouds hovered over Seoul and the light pelts of rain quickly became a downpour. Being picked up on Dasom’s bike didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Unlocking the front door of your shared apartment you were greeted with Hongjoong and Dasom sitting awfully close on the couch. They jumped apart as you harshly dropped the keys in the fruit bowl and froze at the sight of you; bawling, wet and shivering. Skipping the formalities you wasted no time diving in the shower and by the time you ventured back out, Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen as if the boy was never there to begin with and you couldn’t have been more relieved. You’ve had enough boys for the next ten years of your life.

“Beans?”

It was probably the dumbest thing to cry about, but your lips still quivered and the tears you just managed to stop surfaced at the nickname. The girl caught you in her arms and you buried your head in her shoulder as your cries got louder. Dasom offered you solace with gentle rubs to your back and patiently waited until your labored breathing became even.

“Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered and slowly guided you to your bedroom.

Attentive as always she helped you get under the covers and shuffled in beside you to which you immediately buried your face in her bosom, her hand slank under your neck and connected with the other at the back of your head. You lay there in each other’s presence and listened to the coexisting beat of your hearts. Dasom didn’t try coaxing the troubles out of you and you heaved out a big breath. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at the constant tears and after waking up from passing out of exhaustion, you knew you’d be a victim of an unbearable headache and heavy feet. The whisper of your name was loud in the silent room and you hummed in reply, letting the other girl know you were in fact awake.

“You wanna talk about it?”

The most obvious thing would be to talk about it; talk about why you burst through the door, face wet and not entirely because of the rain. Your mom always told you to never sleep with an empty stomach, a busy mind or a heavy heart and while you didn’t appreciate the advice at the minute, future-you would (hopefully) think back to this moment and thank you for your courage. Dasom followed in tow as you sat up criss-crossed, taking your hands in hers and giving them comforting squeezes every once in a while. By the time she was pulled through the story of your evening — meeting Changbin and Felix, having a good time with Hyunjin, to seeing Mingi beat the living shit out of Chan and then him lashing out on you — the clock struck somewhere between two and three in the morning, courtesy of a few short crying breaks in between. Glancing up at your friend who was still digesting the events, you felt lighter at the thought of having your very own sun sharing warmth and hope wherever she went.

“He likes you,” she eventually said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You sniffled and wiped at your nose again, hands falling to play with the bedsheet.

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know who I’m talking about?”

You thought you ran out of tears hours ago but were proven wrong as a new batch stung your eyes and eventually trickled down your sore cheeks. Dasom pulled you in another soul crushing hug and held the back of your head, nails gently massaging your scalp.

“Why are you crying, bean?”

Through tears and her thick cardigan you replied. “Because we aren’t talking about Hyunjin, are we? He’s the one we should be talking about.”

“But we aren’t and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

It felt wrong crying over someone who held no significance in your life just a few months ago. The same guy who riled you up like it was his daily dose of sunshine and who set it as his life mission to have you curse him out. The guy who called you stupidly cute nicknames and walked you home at night, offering up his jacket to keep you warm and safe from colds. The guy who didn't turn up to your competition and then lived in your head like an annoying song playing on repeat refusing to disappear. The same guy who shook you to your core with his angry words and fiery gaze.

“Why am I like this?”

“Like what?”

Dasom wasn’t foolish. She knew what you were going through and could only hope you’d come to terms with the unknown feelings rather than to be the one revealing the reason behind your heartbreak.

“Drawn to a guy who’s mean and an asshole when I have the perfect one right there, waiting and catering to my every need.”

“I know I’m supposed to hate him for the things he’s said to you and I do, I really do bean…. so if you think I won’t at least glare him down in the hallways then I’m revoking your position as my best friend… But I’m going to be completely honest with you, bean because that’s what you deserve. I think something else must have triggered him to lash out, it couldn’t just have been because you were simply sitting beside Hyunjin.”

She gently played with your hair as the words sank in.

“He really hurt me.”

“I know, bubs and I’m so sorry. Know that nothing excuses that behavior.”

“Then why do I still think of him even when he’s shit. Why won’t my brain let me be happy with Hyunjin?” You broke from the huge and fell back on the bed, hands gripping the sheets as if they held all the answers to your questions.

“Hyunjin is safe. We all like the safe and predictable, right?”

Your nod of agreement spurred her on.

“But Mingi, oh Mingi, is exciting. He drives you crazy, keeps you on your toes and throws you off course yet you can’t ever really get enough of him no matter how much it annoys you. I see it and I’ve been seeing it for months now and I promise this is the most objective version of me speaking right now.”

“But I like Hyunjin,” you whined, refusing to accept your own feelings.

“And you like me and Kyo too,” Dasom whispered softly, like a breeze passing through a field. “But we don’t fall in Mingi’s category.”

The days leading up to the holidays were spent within the four walls of your room waiting for the time to pass until you’d take your suitcase and haul ass across the country, definitely not because you were afraid to stumble across the very person you were avoiding. After the not so pleasant discovery you didn’t know what to make of yourself or your feelings. You couldn’t just phone him and proclaim your undying love because last time you checked, he explicitly made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you. You from a few months ago would throw a party big enough to think it was for a quinceanera or a sweet sixteen celebration with this information, but the present-you acted like Bella Swan during the disappearance of Edward Cullen just a tad bit less depressing.

Dasom was the first to leave. Her parents surprised her with a vacation to Jeju-island and her flight left the first morning of winter break. Keeho was still in the city but with college out of the way, he took on more working hours than usual. His immediate family lived in Canada and the plane ticket would be more expensive than the salary he’d get over the next two weeks. With your two friends unavailable you passed time thinking about the one who shall not be named and realized how unfortunate the whole situation was. You also realized you probably wouldn’t act upon your feelings as you didn’t with Hyunjin and would just let them flow until evaporating into thin air.

Speaking of Hyunjin, you and him still texted back and forth albeit the conversations were slow and not nearly as exciting as you once found them to be. Your sudden disappearance at the hockey game was covered with a quick lie of ‘not feeling well’, which he immediately believed because, why wouldn’t he? Christmas wasn't anything special. It started with an early message of Hyunjin wishing you a Merry Christmas attached with a selfie of him in a Santa hat and fake beard, and the rest of the day was spent inside with your family watching movies and drinking hot cocoa.

The new year was welcomed on the couch where a bump would sooner or later be formed and that alone was enough to explain the excitement level in the household. You all went to sleep a little after midnight and as you laid in your childhood bedroom, feet almost sticking out of the small bed, you mindlessly scrolled down the explore section of Instagram. A pang of sadness struck you at the picture staring back at you through the screen. It was a post of Mingi and his friend — the golden retriever looking one — posing on a snowy mountain both clad in skiing gear. The taller of the two had an arm slung over Mingi’s shoulder who, in return, sported a boyish grin and held up a peace sign. The split lip had healed perfectly and the only indicator of him being in a fight was the slight plum colored mark under his eye (courtesy of a nice punch delivered to his nose). At least someone was happy with you out of their lives.

Angry, sad and just tired, you exited the app and shoved your phone under the pillow drowning out your scream. You didn’t even know why his post landed on your feed. Wasn’t the explore page supposed to show videos of millennials doing cringy trends and not the most recent activity of the dude that shit all over you.

This continued on for days. While you were decomposing in your room he was updating his Instagram account as if a celebrity. Pictures and videos of him clubbing until the early hours of the morning, pretty girls and tables full of alcohol captured in short stories and then a complete 180; sharing clips of him flying down snowy mountains, doing stunts and whatnot.

If he was so upset with you, why were you the one wasting days self wallowing? It wasn’t like you could party away the worry. Your hometown was the size of a nut meaning A) you knew everyone and their mother, and B) every person in a ten mile radius was well-over the age of forty and the closest thing that came as a party would be the retirement home down the street. Then again, playing bingo with the grannies was better than binge watching gut-wrenching dramas. At least you’d be clearing your ‘to watch-list’.

The weeks passed in a blur and, before you knew it, you were back in the comfort of your apartment with two days to spare until classes started rolling again. Dasom would be home the day after and Keeho was either passed out in his apartment or working his second shift of the day, leaving you to unpack the chaos sealed inside your suitcase. Swirls of snow beat violently against the windows, turning the outside world into a winter wonderland. The heavy weather picked up on your journey home and as you traveled halfway back to Seoul, the ground was slowly being covered in white flakes. You only got so far with your unpacking when a series of knocks rattled against the front door.

“What’s uuuuup?!” Keeho screeched as you opened the door and an equally excited Dasom rolled in with her red large suitcase.

“What are you doing here?!”

They pulled you into a hug. Keeho’s loudness and Dasom’s giggles warmed up the place in no time and you immediately felt better.

“Surprise!”

“I hate you guys!” You exclaimed and squeezed their waists, head resting on Keeho’s shoulder with Dasom’s nose buried against your chest.

“Don’t lie, we know you love us. Now let’s get this bitch started!”

Scurrying to the kitchen Keeho brought back three animated cups; one with Naruto, Totoro and–

“You’re not drinking beer from the cup plastered with a picture of my dead cat!”

“Of course not, that one’s yours. Mine’s the Naruto one and Dasom gets Totoro, for obvious reasons.”

Said girl skipped quickly to the pantry and pulled out multiple bags of snacks. The huge smile on her face got you all curious.

“What’s got you all happy?”

“Nothing, I've just missed you guys! Jeju was fun but it would’ve been better with you there,” she pouted and poured the snacks into separate bowls.

“Pfft, don’t listen to her. She’s been texting that Cruella de Vil boy all winter break.”

Her smile grew and grew until it was a full blown grin and you squealed in delight, genuinely happy for your friend despite the green monster gnawing at the back of your head.

“Tell me everything, c’mon!”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The fun and what would be the start of a girls’ night was interrupted by Keeho. “I should be the one asking you that, little miss I’m in love with my greatest enemy.”

Gasping, you turned to Dasom. “You told him?!”

“So it’s true?!”

He leaned towards you and nearly snickered as your hands covered your mouth — if it weren’t for the serious circumstance — and stared at him with wide eyes. You walked right into his trap and as you told him everything that happened — the good and the bad — Dasom threw her hand out, palm facing upward..

“Pay up, pretty boy!”

“They aren’t even together!”

Dasom, a feral little chihuahua, jumped on him and a wrestling match took place in the middle of the living room. You couldn’t find it in you to be mad or upset. Leaning back against your arms, you watched them with a smile tugging at your lips. This is what you missed back in your childhood home. As much as you loved your family, the one you built in the heart of Seoul was very dear to you.

The ding of your phone snapped you out of your love-struck daze.

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] you back home yet?

You [07:16 PM] yeah, arrived a few hours ago

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] im glad

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] how was it?

You [07:17 PM] Good to see the family again but God did I miss my bed

You [07:17 PM] What were you up to?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] yeah no kiddin ik exactly what u mean

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] Nothing much, did a lot of practice on the choreo w Iseul

You [07:17 PM] Ohhhh how’s that coming along?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] it’s good but nowhere near perfect

You scoffed at the reply.

You [07:17 PM] I’m sure you’ll get it down in no time

Keeho harshly grabbed your shoulders, peering down at the screen but not comprehending any of the words.

“And who are you texting?”

“Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin!” Dasom sang, already tipsy from the soju she downed while you were busy typing away.

“And what does Mr. Popular want?"

Hyunjin [07:19 PM] wanna help me practice?

Author's note pt.2: There's one thing I'd like to say regarding this chapter. When it comes to significant others, situation ships, partners, etc do not ever let anyone speak to you in a condescending matter. It doesn't matter how upset they are or what you've done for them to explode, you should never, and I really mean NEVER let anyone talk down to you. The only reason I didn't make MC obliterate Mingi is for the sake of the story, otherwise I'd have her drag him along the streets of Seoul like a dog, lmao. Anyway, if anyone speaks to you like Mingi did to MC in their fighting scene, please either leave/break up or put them in their place. You deserve to be treated with respect and love as much as anyone else.

116 notes · View notes