#somehow this is my first coffee shop au
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palasaki coffee shop AU my beloved 💜💖
day four of @palasakiweek !!! somehow this one really got away from me and is like six times the length of the other ones I’ve been writing, but shhh its fine (and it’s still not super long anyway lol) plus I think I’m starting to get a hang of their voices ? idk hopefully I’m getting at least a little better lmao
#somehow this is my first coffee shop au#I’m not really a coffee person tbf#idk it just hit me and then wouldn’t leave until I wrote it yk#but they’re so cute#there is mentions of abusive relationships but just barely#and it’s fairly canon compliant w David the demon and Crystal’s relationship#there’s also an off camera car crash and non-medical discussions of amnesia#still rated it G bc it’s still a little meet-cute story in the end#just with some actual characterization#dead boy detectives#dbda#dead boy detective agency#niko sasaki#crystal palace#crystal palace surname von hoverkraft#palasaki#palasaki week#palasaki week 2024#day four let’s gooo#dbda fanfic#coffee shop au#ao3 link#ao3
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sugar, sugar | v.a
summary: on a slow day at your grandmother’s bakery, a customer captures your attention. as the weeks pass, you see her pop up more and more. a gentle friendship ignites between the two of you. the only issue was the undeniable attraction to her and it didn’t help now having to do her a kind favor. it would go away…. right?
pairing: fem!reader x vi arcane
contains: modern!au, kick-boxer!vi, reader is described to have long enough hair to tie up, reader has a sister named mila, we love gram, vander, isha and jinx mentions <3, nothing but fluff, strangers to friends to lovers:)
word count: 3.5K
a/n: i seriously had so much fun writing this and i am excited to dig into a mini-series with vi. i hope everyone enjoys this as much as i do </3
— ONE
Running your grandmother’s bakery wasn’t easy but it was a light in your life. She taught you tips and tricks of working the large industrial oven, every single one of her recipes, and wiping down the chalkboard to write the specials for the delicious treats.
She was charm personified; somehow able to convince pretty much every person that walked to the pastry shop to try at least one item. You were on the more quiet side, not insanely secluded but you weren’t extroverted. Nice people cracked you open and next thing you knew it, you were shoving a donut into their palms to take home.
It was a bad habit.
It was a slow Thursday in November. You were sweeping the small area of seating, softly asking one of the usual college students that came if they needed anything else. You were just a few streets down from the community college so many people your age would come in for coffee and furiously type on their laptops.
Once you were told they were good for now, you excuse yourself back to behind the counter to adjust the display desserts. You were bent over when you heard the bell over the door echo within the space, shouting ‘welcome in’.
“If you have any questions, just let me know. We have a daily special which is on the blackboard,” you stood back up with a slight grunt from the rush, brushing a few flyaways to kindly smile at the new customer. “Today we have buy one, get one donut free.”
Your eyes slightly widen at the… attractiveness of the customer. You adjust the neckline of your soft brown cable knit sweater to tug out your necklaces, plastering on a friendly smile.
“I actually came in because I was curious about the sign,” she trails off, tilting her head as she shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Do you actually just let people smell the food?”
You let out a soft chuckle as you nod. Your grandfather, one of the only men who had ever tolerated, made the sign for your grandmother the second she mentioned it to him. Now, in all its carved glory ‘Free Smells!’ is hanging underneath the shop's main sign: Sweet Tooth Bakery + Cafe.
“Yeah, my grandma thought it’d be a funny sign to draw people in. Obviously, we don’t let them shove their nose into it or anything,” you shake your head, holding your hand out to the stranger. “Because that’s… unsanitary.”
The pink haired stranger nods with a soft chuckle, stepping back to check out the arrangement of treats in the display case. In that moment of silence, you, as discreetly as possible, check her out. She had on a navy blue cut off sleeve zip-up, a soft white tank top underneath and a pair of grey sweatpants hugging her lower half. Very simplistic outfit but she made it look good.
You think she just naturally looked good. If you stared for long enough, which you embarrassingly did so, you could see markings of ink on the side of her neck and following down the backs of her arms and the smallest etching on her cheek.
“Any suggestions on what to smell first?” She questions, curious eyes bouncing back up to you.
You hum to yourself as you, too, stagger your eyes from pastry to pastry to carefully choose which one you could have her smell.
“Are you a fan of blueberries?” You question with a beaming grin.
“Uh, sure, yeah. Blueberries are good.”
“Then you have to take a whiff of the blueberry danish. It’s one of my favorites.” You offer, pointing to the sweet treat.
The pink haired stranger leans forward, folding her bare arms across her chest. You, again, can’t help your stares as you try to figure out what was exactly dotted into her pale skin. She nods with a shrug, looking at you with a kind smile.
“I’ll give it a whiff, yeah,” she stepped forward so that the glass of the display case was the only obstacle between the two of you.
You can feel your face getting hot as you mutter a bright ‘okay’ to yourself. You bend over once again grab the metal tongs to pick out the danish to place on a ceramic plate. You place it on top of the display case, motioning for the stranger to give it a smell.
Still seeming a bit hesitant that you were playing a joke on her, she leans her face forward so that she is mere centimeters away from the pastry. She inhales a bit, letting out a long sigh as she leans back to look at you.
“Shit, that smells amazing,” she praises the sweet aroma, nodding in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”
You blink at her before chuckling awkwardly.
“You don’t have to buy the ones you smell. I promise.” You reassure her as you attempt to put the danish back so that you can shove the cranberry-orange muffin in her face.
She’s quick to hold a palm out to stop you, shaking her head. A beautiful smile spreads on her lips, temporarily forgetting how eager you were to show her every single pastry on display.
“I want that one. I swear. Plus, my sister’s going to rush me out of here if I take too long.”
A part of you was disappointed that she was so quick to purchase the first, yet incredibly delicious, treat. You selfishly wanted her to stay for as long as possible. Your grandmother would be on your ass for being so distracted by an attractive customer.
She would give you a clap on the back for making a sale, though.
“Oh, okay. Did your sister want anything?” You offer, itching to find any way possible for her to stay just a bit longer.
The stranger hums to herself for a moment as she examines the rest of the delicious treats. You tilt your head as you grab a small brown paper bag to place the danish into, waiting patiently to see if she was going to pick another item.
To your delighted surprise, she nods as she points to a more simplistic pastry.
“I think this pink donut should be good,” she nods to show certainty.
You grasp onto the sweet treat to slide it into the bag with her danish, trying not to spill a lot of the sprinkles. You seal it closed with a custom sticker with the logo of the shop, typing up her total into the register. The stranger reaches into her sweatpants pocket to pull out her wallet.
“Your total is gonna be $7.89. Cash or card?” You question.
“Card.”
You watch her hand you a simple light blue credit card, grinning as you not-so-discreetly check out her full name on it. Her first name caught your attention. Violet. As you swipe her card, you clear your throat to work up the courage to give her a compliment.
“I love your name. It’s pretty,” you say as you hand her back the card.
The stranger, now known as Violet, smiles small at your words. Her long fingers take the card from you as she slides it back into her wallet.
“Thank you. My, uh, dad named me,” she grins at you.
“Well, he made a very good choice,” you hand her the bag as well, nodding as you try not to appear awkward. “Anything else I can get for you?”
Were you being weird?
“No, no, I’m good,” she chuckles as she crinkles the bag in her palms. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
You nod as you hand her own copy of the receipt, holding onto the half second of the tip of her fingers brushing against yours. You watch her turn her back and leave the shop, eyes never leaving her sculpted back profile. You huff at your behavior once the bell from above the door snaps you out of your small trance, shoving your copy of the receipt into its designated spot.
“She’s cute,” you hear from behind you, causing you to jump and whip your head around.
You’re met with your grandma grinning evilly at you, a little bit of flour smudged on her cheek from her baking in the back.
“Gram,” you sigh as you shake your head, brushing away your loose hairs.
“I’m just saying, bug,” she walks up next to you to rub up and down your arm.
You blush at what she was insinuating. As much as you love your grandmother, she attempted to be your match maker like you were an introverted middle schooler. You were 22 for God's sake. You would make moves and flirt when you felt like it.
“Don’t you have something in the oven?” You raise your eyebrows at her, hoping she’d leave it alone.
“Hey. I could fire you, you know,” your grandma pointed a finger in your face accusingly but her tone was light and a cheeky grin was on her face.
You roll your eyes playfully as you softly bump your hip with hers.
Everyday since Violet came in, you perk at the sound of the bell hoping to see that head of pink hair waltzing in again. Two excruciatingly long weeks pass before you see Violet again.
What was disappointing about seeing her today of all days was that you were working this shift with your 17 year old sister who was… less than thrilled to be working now; especially with you being her superior in a workplace. She, like most teenagers, was yearning to be more independent which meant constantly disregarding your instructions on what to do at work.
You were irritated beyond belief with her constantly arguing with you. You couldn’t even really fully pay attention as Mila smacked your arm with the rag. When you saw her from outside the shop, this time around she came with company. You were in the midst of a bicker with her because she didn’t wipe down a table like you had told her to when you saw Violet coming in with a little girl walking beside her.
You gasp at her childish antics, pinching her arm but then shushing her as you tight-lipped smile at Violet as she approaches the familiar display case. You try not to frown at the sight of her bandaged nose and small bruise sitting right on the apple of her cheek. Her outfit is similar from the last time you saw her except a simple oil-black hoodie with those same joggers. You even saw a bit of wrapped bandages on her hands peeking out from the sleeves.
Was she jumped or something?
“There are only, like, two people here and they’re sitting outside,” your sister whisper-shouts at you, plastering on a fake smile at the new customers. “Hi! Welcome in.”
Violet glances at Mila when she straightens her back, placing a gentle hand on the back of the child’s back to guide her to the display of new and fresh treats for the day. She places her little hands on the glass as she very eagerly bounces on the soles of her worn in dark blue tennis shoes.
“Hi! Violet, you’re back.” You turn to your sister and sneer quietly. “Clean the tables. Now, please.”
Mila gives Violet a once-over and you a narrow glare as she grumbles a ‘fine’ as she rounds the corner to go and wipe down the crumb and dust filled tables.
“Hey. You can call me Vi, by the way. I, uh, was with my sister for the day and she wanted to try this place. I gave her some of my danish and she went crazy.” Violet motioned to the child just a few feet below her, chuckling at her gazing hungrily at the sweets.
“Well, Vi, I’m glad to hear,” you lean your head to the side to get a good look at her sister.
She had a wild head of short waves, a small gap in between her two front teeth. Her outfit made her ten times more adorable; a plain white Henley long sleeve with a pair of overalls. Her big hazel eyes stared at you patiently.
“Hi, cutie. Do you see one that you like?” You question her with a friendly smile.
Her adorable face scrunches up in thought, stepping back to look at her choices. She turns her head to her older sister before pointing at a strawberry muffin and raising her hands to sign what you believe is ASL. You curse yourself for not knowing what she was telling the pink haired stranger.
“She wants to smell the strawberry muffin,” Vi chuckles. “I told her about how you let me smell my danish first before buying it.”
“Okay, I can do that for you. What’s her name?” You question, hoping it didn’t come off as offensive.
“Isha. She doesn’t talk much,” Vi raised a bandaged hand to settle on her light brown waves on her head, ruffling the strands.
“Well, Miss Isha,” you focus your attention on her once again, watching her bounce on the balls on her feet with excitement. You grab your trusty metal tongs to grab the muffin and place it on a soft blue ceramic plate to set it down on the counter area of your register set-up for her to smell. “Here you go. Let me know if you want to smell anything else.”
Your heart grows tenfold as Vi quietly tells Isha to not shove her nose into the muffin, smiling at her sister as she hovers close to the pastry.
“Is she the one who ate the pink donut?” You turn your attention to Vi, raising your brows as you adjust your flyaways from your bubble braid.
Pretty blue eyes flickering to yours, her brows twitch as if she was shocked that you remembered such a minuscule detail.
“No, that was my other sister,” she shakes her head. “Isha was actually very angry with me when I came home with no cupcakes or muffins for her so I’m making it up to her.”
You watch her scrunch up her bruised bridge of her nose for a second as Isha signs something else to her. Vi playfully rolls her eyes with a sigh as she turns to you with another wince.
“Can she eat this now? She has an impatient appetite.”
You chuckle with a nod as you hand the plate to her, muttering a ‘careful, sweetie’ to Isha who beams up at you. She scurries over to a small round table to hop up on the seat to divulge. Now that it was just you and Vi standing in front of each other.
“Hey, are you okay?” You ask softly, eyes flicking to each injury on her gorgeous face.
Confused about your concern for her, her brows furrow for a moment. You watch her turn around to make sure Isha was all good, hounding down the muffin with crumbs falling from her mouth to the ground.
“Oh, yeah,” Vi shook her head, waving at you off as she grins sweetly. “I work at a kick-boxing studio and some of the kids can get aggressive. I’m okay, though, trust me. I’ve taken more than a few hits to the head.”
That explains the injuries and the bandaged hands. Of course, she was a kick-boxer. Her physique gave that away but what did you know? Isha was distracted with her muffin so you were able to converse with her, get to know her a little more so your gram would stop asking you if that cute pink haired girl came in again.
“Really? Where at?” You hum.
“It’s like fifteen minutes from here. Why? You want to come see kids beat me up?” She teases, folding her arms over her chest.
You hum with a nod, walking around the counter to place a napkin on the table so Isha could wipe her face to be rid of the sticky crumbs on her face. “Yeah, that’s exactly why. Because I’m a masochist.”
An actual laugh left her plush lips as she shook her head, eyes following you as you face her now. If Gram could see you now. Well, she was probably watching you from the security cameras in the back room with an evil smile.
“You know, I meant to ask. Do you make custom cakes?” Vi leans back to rest her lower back on the countertop where your register was, crossing her legs and shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie.
She really just looks like that, you thought to yourself.
“We do, yeah. Is your birthday coming up?” You look at her with raised brows.
Vi shakes her head, pointing to the little girl behind you. “No. Her birthday is next week and my family is throwing her a zoo themed birthday party.”
You awe out loud at the thought.
“That’s so cute. Yeah, I can— I mean, we can do that,” you shake your head as you correct yourself, hoping she didn’t catch your desperate slip-up.
Isha stands up from her table, dusting off the crumbs from her overalls. She walks over to you to hand you the plate, signing ‘thank you’ to you. You pause for a moment before hesitantly signing back ‘you’re welcome’ slowly, not sure if you were doing it right. You knew the basics but weren’t extremely educated on ASL. After today, though, you were determined to brush up on it.
Isha eyes brighten at you signing back to her. She turns to Vi with a smile so wide, you swore her cheeks would split open. She nods down at Isha, ruffling her hair once again as she reaches for her pocket to retrieve her wallet.
“Shit, sorry, how much do I owe you for the muffin?” Vi shuffles through the bills in her wallet.
“No, no. You’re… good. Don’t worry about it.” You wave her off, shaking your head.
Vi pauses before scoffing, attempting to shove the money into your palms. “I’m paying for the muffin.”
“Seriously. It’s one muffin, Vi. Plus, a little early birthday present for Isha.” You shove the bills into her hands once again, gripping onto her hands to make sure she doesn’t try to give them back.
Vi glances down at your gentle hands around hers. Reluctantly taking the money back, she takes the bills before shoving them back into the crease of her wallet. You try not to focus on how slightly bigger her hands were from yours; how surprisingly soft her knuckles were.
Isha seems to become impatient now with her elder sister, reaching up to tug on two of her fingers. Vi nods down to her, muttering a soft ‘okay, okay’.
“Thank you for that, by the way. And if it's not too much trouble for you, cupcake, can I get your number?” Vi questions as she takes Isha’s hand in hers. “You know, for any questions about what the cake should look like and what flavor it could be.”
Your brows furrow at her words before nodding, pursing your lips to repress the smile creeping onto your face. Cupcake. You like that nickname coming from her lips.
“Right! Yes, um,” you walk over to the counter to grab a sticky note and a pen to scribble down your personal number. “Here. Call or text me with all the information.”
You place the small yellow piece of paper into her palm that wasn’t holding Isha’s. She takes it in between her pointer and middle fingers, nodding with a confident smile.
“I will. See you, cupcake.”
“See you, Vi. Bye, sweetheart,” you bend down ever so slightly to wave at Isha.
The adorable girl waves her free hand at you with a just as cute toothy smile on her face. You excused it as a sugar rush as they walk away from you, hand in hand as they leave the store. Vi turns her head to give you one more glance before Isha is tugging her down the sidewalk.
Mila angrily stormed up to you the second they left and raised her hand with the rag to smack you on the forearm. You gasp and snatch the weapon away from her, pointing a finger in her face.
“What the hell? Stop hitting me with this,” you sneer.
“I’m wiping down tables and you’re flirting? How the hell is that fair?” Mila quips back as she folds her arms in front of her chest.
“I wasn’t flirting. I was taking a cake order, by the way, so you can stop whining.” You roll your eyes as you walk back around to the counter.
Mila sucks in a deep breath before shaking her head.
“Really? So what was that whole,” your sister cleared her throat, sucking in a deep breath. “Giving her your personal number when you could’ve just given her the store's number?”
You pause your movements of wiping down the counter from behind the register, thinking about it for a moment. You knew why. You just hated your sister being all in your business.
“Okay, what is it to you?” You get defensive. “I can’t… make new friends?”
Mila merely snorts before rolling her eyes.
“Sure. You definitely only want to be friends with her.”
next part
TAGLIST: @strawberrykidneystone @lovinglynny @kylorey25
#wlw#sapphic#lesbian#vi x you#vi fluff#vi arcane#arcane vi x reader#arcane vi#vi fanfic#arcane show#arcane league of legends#arcane league of lesbians
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Never made it as a wise man
(joel miller x f!reader)
Description: Joel solves your car troubles for free, and you try to return the favor with a homecooked meal. When you accidentally interrupt his jerkoff session, you take a chance and help him out.
Note: y’all are out here answering god’s toughest questions, like what if emotionally unavailable Joel was loved unconditionally? or what if Joel was the Mothman?, and I deeply appreciate that.
However, today, I am here to answer a question that nobody asked– What if Joel was a divorced dad rock kinda guy?
You know, like, listening to Nickelback on an old-school boombox in his garage, or unironically singing Creed on the way to work, or bonding with Ellie over Papa Roach? And also, (inspired by a genius) what if he was a little bit pathetic?
Anyway, I present to you: divorced dad rock dilf, Joel, ta-da! (my humble submission for @hellishjoel‘s hot dilf summer challenge) obvs dedicated to: @auteurdelabre
ao3: read here | masterlist: here | part 2 here | part 3 here
Tags/warnings: AU no outbreak divorced Joel x f!reader, Sarah is not mentioned, but Ellie is your adult coworker, reader is clueless about cars and so am I, gratuitous smut and horny thoughts, implied jorkin’ joel but no witnesses, hand job, fingering, premature ejaculation, touch starved kinda loserish but hot divorced dilf joel, he’s a real tiddy guy in this one and idk why it just happened, pwp, is it a crackfic? maybe, but i meant it wholeheartedly so idk
WC: 4.2k
You pull onto the long driveway, hoping to see Joel’s truck. You forgot to text first to see if he would be around, but he did tell you to come by if you ever needed anything. You mostly just hope he’ll be willing to accept your gift.
Last week, he’d helped you out by fixing your car. He told you what the issue was, but he might as well have been speaking another language when he described it. You had already brought coffee and a plate of cookies to your coworker Ellie to thank her for dragging you to Joel’s to ask for help. Being in a new town was hard enough, but you had no idea how you would handle the price for diagnostics, let alone whatever the repair would’ve cost. You tried to offer Joel the cash you had as a thanks, but he wouldn’t accept it. You tried to argue with him, but Ellie told you it wasn’t worth arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. Instead, he had offered to change your oil for you, making you feel even more indebted to him.
At first, the most you got out of Ellie for intel on Joel was that he was the one responsible for you having to listen to “One Last Breath” and “Lips of an Angel” at ungodly early hours. Ellie claimed that her music taste was deeply influenced by Joel, and somehow, Ellie is always in charge of the music at work. When you rolled your eyes calling it divorced dad rock, she let it slip that you were right about that.
That explains a lot when you remember the brief time you spent in his house and shop. The house was clean inside but not tidy. Stray beer bottles and travel mugs dotted the counter and coffee table. But the shop had all the Divorced Dad Barbie accessories.
The project car and crates of assorted parts. The beer fridge and the plastic lawn chairs in the corner for bullshitting with whoever stopped by. The boombox on the workbench with the stack of CDs. And the fading calendar from another decade with the naked woman kneeling on the beach.
You hadn’t been able to stop your eyes from darting to her sultry expression and swimsuit model-perfect breasts when Joel had been explaining what he was going to do to your car. You wondered if the heat burning in your cheeks had given you away, but he didn’t notice then. Ellie sure did, though, and she had rolled her eyes at you, noting it had been up so long she even forgot it was there.
Luckily, Ellie didn’t notice your eyes lingering on Joel’s body. You weren’t trying to be a creep, but the way his arm flexed when he opened the hood of your car gave you some feral brand of intrusive thoughts. The ratty band t-shirt and the faded jeans were working for him, too, or at least they were doing something for you. Time slowed when your eyes trailed over his arms and down the muscles of his broad back. He just seemed so… solid. You finally understood what your friends back home meant when they said they wanted to climb a man like a tree. You had jumped a little when Ellie slammed the fridge behind you and shouted at Joel about how he can’t just live in the shop drinking shitty beer and eating beef jerky. She had grabbed your arm to drag you to the house for an iced tea while he worked.
Her comment sparked your idea. You figured Joel must be a utilitarian type. He probably lives on frozen pizzas–or even worse, those Hungry-Man frozen TV dinners–instead of making himself something fresh. Maybe he’s one of those guys who got really into smoking meats instead. Either way, you hope the lasagna you made from scratch and the other tray of cookies will be an acceptable thank you for his help. He can’t refuse it if you already made it, right?
You pull up next to a truck, assuming it’s his, and that he’s home. Before you grab the tray, you pause to check your reflection and adjust your breasts in your white tank top, making sure your cleavage pokes out as temptingly as possible.
You check yourself in the mirror with a look. Why does it matter what you look like? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck your only (almost) friend’s dad, right? Although she calls him by his first name, not Dad, so maybe there’s like a loophole or something if she’s adopted. You think about the calendar model and her perfect tits hanging on the wall over his tools. It can’t hurt to just do a little harmless flirting, right? Maybe you aren’t even his type anyway.
After knocking on the door a couple of times, you frown, wondering if he’s not home. On the way back to your car, with your head hung in defeat, your ears perk up at the sound of something clanging in the shop. Of course!
You skitter back to the front porch to leave your goods by the door and head for the shop to find that divorced DILF–Joel, you mean. It’s sweltering out, and sweat is beading on your chest after only a few minutes in the heat. The closer you get, the more easily you can make out the sound of his little CD player blasting another brooding, raspy ballad sung by a white man with a troubled love life.
The garage door is shut, so you knock on the door on the side of the building. You wait a minute before testing your luck and opening the door yourself. Assessing the shop, you don’t see your man, sorry, Joel, at first glance. The music blasts, and the calendar model gives you the same impish smirk through her false lashes and a layer of dust, but there’s no Joel. The evidence clearly dictates that he’s in here somewhere, as his tools are strung around his project, the lights are on, and a beer with a sweating label sits on the edge of the workbench.
You aren’t trying to be sneaky. You didn’t think to holler and announce your presence over the music. Plus, you didn’t fully get your bearings the last time you were here. Now, you can pick up a few more details as your eyes absorb everything they can about anything that gives you a hint about who this guy is.
The guy that’s been haunting your dreams for a week. Last week, when you walked back to the shop with Ellie to check on your car, you nearly tripped, watching Joel wipe the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. You had just caught a glimpse of the trail of hair disappearing under his jeans, but it was enough to replay in your mind every night as you created your little scenarios to carry you off to sleep.
The scent memory was somehow worse. It was so easy to transport yourself back in time with the thought of the sweaty musk and the grease or oil smeared on his fingers. It shouldn’t turn you on, right?
You remember thinking he seemed so knowledgeable when describing the issue. You had no idea what he was talking about, but his low voice and patience were enough to tell you he could talk you through anything.
You notice a few other details as you enter his sacred space today. The woodworking projects, the band posters, and the pictures with Ellie and other family members tacked to the wall over another workbench.
Still, no Joel, however.
You circle the partially disassembled project truck and see a door to another room. It would be the office if the shop were a professional business. There’s a window along the wall, but instead of a boss watching an employee, it’s you hoping to see that brawny man and his dark curls.
As you step closer, you nearly squeal. There he is. Well, at least, you can see the broad shoulders and back you’ve been picturing above you in bed. You practically skip to the door. It’s already open a crack, and you give it a knock, calling his name as it swings open from the force of your rapping knuckles.
The next moment is a blur.
“Shit, fuck, hold on!” Joel shouts gruffly as he slams the door in your face. But you already heard it. The phony wailing noises that came from the busted speaker on his phone.
You still face the closed door, trying to process the interaction before he wrenches the door back open. He’s breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling, as he looks at you with wide eyes that quickly narrow.
“What are you doing here?” he barks.
Your hands fall to your sides, and you start to step back, ready to turn and run.
He catches your fear and tries to adjust, but you’re faster.
“Sorry,” you mumble as you turn and try to dash away. Joel’s quick, too, though, and he grabs your wrist.
“Hey, wait,” he loosens his grip when you spin back towards him, “I just didn’t hear you comin’. Wasn’t expecting you.”
“Sorry,” you repeat, stuttering as you continue, “I-I just, uh, just wanted to say thanks for your help last week.” You stare at the floor. Unsure why you’re embarrassed, you feel so small after he saw your face and practically shouted at you.
“All right,” he rumbles. You’re too busy staring at the crack in the concrete floor to notice how his eyes are glued to your exposed skin. Or to see the blotchy red flush that crawls up his neck and toward his face.
But your brain starts to catch up. Joel might’ve snapped at you, but you’re the one that caught him in the act. You don’t lift your head, but your eyes trail over his stained and faded jeans until you’re studying his crotch.
Bingo. It’s almost too easy. You can make out the outline of his erection tucked up in his waistband. Even more glaring evidence is the open fly. You wish you had caught what he was watching. How does he like it? What does he search for when he wants to jerk off in the back office on a hot Saturday afternoon?
He clears his throat, and you snap your attention to his face. “Was there somethin’ you needed?” He asks.
“Yes.” You tell him you’ve got a lasagna that should get into a fridge before it reheats in the sun. He follows you toward the front door and into the house, not missing how your hips sway as you lead.
Once the tray is shoved into the fridge, nestled between some takeout containers, he turns to thank you. “You didn’t need to do all that,” he gruffs over the cookies and homemade meal.
You step back to lean against the counter, littered with mail and more coffee cups, and let yourself check him out up close. His faded Creed t-shirt has holes around the neck. He’s got that same sweaty man musk going on, and you wish you knew why that stirred your arousal, but your pussy lacks logic.
“I know, I know,” you reply, “but you really saved my ass with the car, and I wanted to do something for you. You know, some way to pay you back?”
“All right, well, thanks,” he trails off. He doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Maybe you should be on your way already, but he’s not ushering you out the door.
This time, you do catch when his eyes drop to your chest. There’s no way you’re imagining the tension between you as you stand in his kitchen while he stares at your barely clothed tits, right? Fuck it. You’re gonna go for it.
You take a step towards him. “I wasn’t sure if it was really enough,” your voice is soft and tempting, and your sweet perfume wafts towards him like a lust potion. Joel swallows thickly as you approach.
He knows you must’ve put it together, but he tried to delude himself. Maybe you couldn’t hear the theatrical screams of the woman he was watching get railed before he slammed the door in your face. He hopes all you heard was Chad Kroeger’s voice screaming, “This time I'm mistaken
For handin' you a heart worth breakin'” from the stereo.. on the other side of the shop.
“You worked so hard,” you continued with one final step, and now you’re nearly toe-to-toe in front of him. “There has to be something else I could do.” You’re so close to him. He forgets to respond. It takes all his power to keep his eyes on your face.
You have a wild urge to taste the sweat on his neck, but you keep your tongue to yourself. He hasn’t made any move to encourage you, but he hasn’t stopped you yet either, so you figure it’s worth taking a risk.
“Maybe you’ve got a problem I could help you with.” You go for it, reaching your hand out to palm at the bulge in his jeans.
Again, too many things happen at once. Joel snaps out a “What?” in disbelief. His hand circles your wrist tightly. His hips jerk, involuntarily bucking into your palm. Your glossy lips part into an “o” shape at the size of his not-quite-hard cock. And now you’re both locked into this position like statues.
His fingers stay firmly wrapped around your wrist, but he doesn’t pull you away. Your fingers squeeze over his jeans, and your eyes flash wide as you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen at your touch. The touch that rapidly overrides your better judgment, drowning you in want. Your clit twitches itself in response, your nipples strain under your thin tank top, and your eyelids feel heavy immediately.
“What are you doing?” His voice crackles like he hadn’t just used it. You slide your hand to pop the button on his jeans, and he releases your wrist as you flip it to slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers in search of his cock.
“Let me help,” you say in more of a whispered tone. The searing heat between Joel’s legs makes you salivate. Your fingers graze coarse curls before you acquire your target, wrapping your palm and fingers around his thick shaft. His size has your cunt throbbing in your shorts.
Joel’s eyes are squeezed shut. He looks nearly in pain. You pull your hand back out to let the pool of saliva on your tongue drip into your palm.
“Jesus,” he breathes out, watching your lewd maneuver. “You wanna help?” He repeats your plea in the form of a question, a little dumbfounded. He’s trying to figure out what’s happening right now.
“I do,” you answer in a honeyed voice as you dig your hand back into his pants. He’s unable to respond with words as you swirl your palm over the head of his cock, mixing saliva and precome, but his body eggs you on. He bucks into your fist, and you work quickly, pumping his throbbing length. The slick noises are muffled by the layers of clothing, but the grunts that catch in his throat shoot piping-hot desire straight into your core.
He looks a little desperate, eyes slammed shut again, jaw slack, arms hanging uselessly at his side. And for god knows why, the entire scene pulls a moan from your lips. The sweet sound snaps Joel back to attention. His hands shoot straight to your breasts, cupping them gently to feel them bounce against the motion of your arm wrestling with his jeans to keep stroking his cock.
They’re so close to spilling over your tank top on their own. Joel can’t resist tugging the thin material until they spill over the top. The sight alone nearly has him coming in his pants. But then you moan so loudly when he squeezes them both and pinches at your nipples, and he really can’t stop.
“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he spits out, but it’s too late. His hips jerk erratically, thrusting into your slick fist, and he’s coming. It coats your hand and wrist and makes an absolute mess. You relax your grip when his whole body seems to shudder and gently remove your hand. He tries to choke his groan of frustration before it surfaces, but he immediately pauses his shame spiral when he sees you suck your come-coated fingers one by one.
“God, that’s so fucking hot,” you tell him. At the same time, he’s muttering curses at the sight of you. You’re feeling a little giddy that all it took was your hand and showing your tits to have Joel losing control and spilling his load for you. It has your mouth curling into an impish grin.
He’s got the sight of you half topless in his kitchen, licking your fingers, looking awfully proud of yourself, etching into his memory. Before the blood can return to his brain, he grabs you tightly by the ribs and walks you backward towards the counter. He lifts you onto it and wrenches open your shorts, yanking at them as you lift your hips so he can slide them off of you and drop them onto the kitchen floor.
Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny little goblins in your brain shriek and chant, incited by the rough and impulsive way Joel gropes at you. It’s barbaric, and that delights you.
Sitting on the counter, you give him such perfect access to put his mouth on your breasts that he forgets what he was going to say. He mouths at each of them wetly, his beard tickling you as he’s busy sucking marks into your delicate skin. He sucks and bites at your strained nipples until your loud whines turn into a sharp gasp, and he pulls back.
The heavy-lidded look on your face has him diving back in for more, and you groan and arch into his touch. You rake your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and tug at him. He grunts and moans into your skin, and it drives you wild. You need to feel him closer.
You grab the worn cotton on his shoulders until he lets you slip the shirt over his head and drop it onto the counter next to you. It gives you the briefest moment to take in the sight of his built chest and shoulders and softer midsection with that trail of hair you had memorized. You need to taste the salt on his skin.
Spreading your legs wider, he slots his hips against yours at the edge of the counter, and you run your tongue along his neck. You slide one of your hands down the smooth golden skin of his shoulder, and the other nestles back in his messy curls as his mouth finds yours.
He tastes like cheap coffee and the peppermint nicotine gum parked above his teeth along the left side of his mouth. You know it’s wrong that you can’t get enough. But you're helpless when he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you mindlessly roll your hips, seeking any relief.
He’s grumbling in your ear about how it seems like you need help now, but you couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. His deep voice alone could get you off. You let out an uninhibited whine at the thought.
“Jesus Christ,” he pulls back. His head hangs, staring at the floor. He shakes it in what you assume is disbelief. You don’t want to wait for him to think any further. You grab his hand, pulling it between your legs.
“Really, fucking, hot.” You echo your earlier declaration. Doing your best to sound assertive. You figure at least your soaked panties will prove your point.
“Fuck,” he stifles a groan. You’re so wet it coats his fingertips through the thin material. He nudges his fingers into you, over your panties, and you whimper for him. The fabric sticks to you and makes an obscene sound as he toys with you for only seconds. “Oh, you do need my help. Hm?”
You nod, spreading your legs wider for Joel to have access. He scoffs at you, displayed eagerly atop his kitchen counter. “Just desperate for me, aren’t ya?”
You snap your legs back shut with a glare.
“No way,” you press, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you don’t get to laugh at me like I’m a slut for you when you just came in your pants for me.”
His nostrils flare, and blotchy red patches creep up his neck again. You aren’t sure what kind of bear you’ve just, quite literally, poked.
“But you are, aren’t you?” He challenges. “You came all this way in this excuse for a shirt, just for me.”
He wedges his hand back between your closed thighs, and you relax just enough to let him work his way back to your core. Your breathing gives you away when it hitches and stutters as he traces his fingers along the hem of the fabric between your legs. You let your legs fall a little wider apart, and he sinks a finger beneath the hem and right inside of you to the knuckle.
A whiny noise rolls in the back of your throat.
“Shh,” he sinks a second finger inside of you, and your muscles spasm and contract, “that’s better, hmm?” He slowly pulls his fingers almost all the way out and then plunges them back in. He repeats this, and your core tenses as you writhe for him.
“You need more?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, you do.” He adds a third finger, and the slight stretch makes you hum.
“You just need to be filled up, hm?” He teases you. Awfully confident now for a guy you just caught watching porn on his phone in a grimy back office in the middle of the afternoon.
But your noises and impatient movements spur him on. His sticky cock is filling out his jeans again. He nearly drools at the thought of the wet walls of your cunt, currently wrapped around his fingers, sliding over his cock instead. He knows you want it, too.
“Don’t you?” He asks like you could read his mind.
“Hm?” You hum absently. Empty headed. You’re still taken by the entire pulpy, messy scene.
Reveling in the vulnerability of being spread open on his cluttered counter as you’re both half-dressed and panting in the other’s hot breath. Any semblance of the lightness of your mood is quickly replaced with a blinding need. His fingers work into you, making obscene sounds, and then you add your own fingers. Circling your swollen clit just as he lets you in on his vision.
“You wanna bounce on my lap. Fill this pussy with my cock.”
“Yes,” you hiss as you hover at the edge.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he watches your fingers working deftly over your swollen clit. The encouragement tips you over. Your body jolts erratically as you contract around his fingers, and bright sparks of pleasure course through you.
“Yeah, you’re gonna ride me like fuckin’ champ,” he decides. You pull at his wrist when you start to feel overwhelmed, and he slides his wet fingers over your soft inner thigh. He’s ready to grab you and carry you to the couch when both of your heads snap to attention at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway.
“Shit,” he grumbles, looking for the clock on the stove before he remembers it’s definitely not set to the right time. You move nimbly, shimmying into your shorts, snapping your straps back over your shoulder, and brushing your hair out of your face.
“Hey, wait,” he calls for you, but you’re on the move.
“Let me know when I can pick up the baking dish,” you call over your shoulder. Luckily, Joel’s next guest seemed to know him better. They were off to search the shop first, so you didn’t collide with anyone before you got to your car. Joel stayed locked in the kitchen, catching his breath while you started to pull away. He didn’t see that you stole his dirty Creed shirt off the counter before you skipped out the door.
When you grab it later to wear to bed, a naughty little smile tugs at the corners of your lips. When you pull the worn fabric to your nose to inhale deeply, you wonder if it’s one of those weird pheromone matches or something because you’re sure the sweaty man musk should be wrinkling your nose.
Instead, it makes you think of his big arms and chest filling out the shirt. And how his shoulder and back muscles ripple under his sun-bronzed skin. What they’d look like coated in a sheen of salty sweat as he railed you, bent over his workbench, under the watchful eye of the calendar model and her flirty smize.
The image has you interrupting your own scenarios-before-bed time. Maybe Joel needs a model from this decade. You giggle, bunching up the t-shirt to snap a tasteful shot of some underboob cleavage, with the faded Creed logo on full display.
You send it off with no context, figuring it’s self-explanatory. It’s less than a minute before your phone buzzes, and you feel the intoxicating rush rip through your body before you pick it up to see just the heading on your lockscreen:
Joel
Attachment 1 image
part 2 here | part 3 here
divider by @cyberangel-graphics
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THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 1 — JJK (m.)
for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.
the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.
PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader
GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
CHAPTER WORD COUNT 20k 😍
CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, countless mentions of weddings and engagements, angsty undertones, it’s the… yearning? 97liners assemble lmao, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, explicit sexual content [dry h*mping, making out, c*nnilingus], alcohol consumption, arguments 🤓, i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me 🙏🏼 belated happy birthday jaykay, my forever muse❤️❤️
NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry this got delayed!! gave up on trying to make this a one shot cos it stretched out into 50k words IM SORRY! anyways check out my trello page for updates on my writing progress 🩷 make sure to comment down ur thoughts and like and reblog to circulate hehe !! asks are deeply appreciated!! scream your takes!! let me know what you think!! also made a spotify playlist for this mini-series soooo if u wanna listen to the songs that i think embody this fic, i've linked it below 🫶🏼
[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]
SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.
The girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations and a cute little beach wedding to boot. You’re the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. That girl who thought the guy she met at nineteen at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. The girl who thought that her boyfriend at twenty-one would finally be The One after introducing her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. You’re exactly the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.
Reality pretty much hit you hard with a big slap on the face; because you soon found out that your love interest doesn’t suddenly come into your life while you clock in your shift at a coffee shop, and there is no such thing as grand love declarations – no one wanted to profess their love to somebody at airports anymore, or even in the pouring rain, for god’d sake! And there is never going to be a beach wedding when there’s no one to do it with in the first place.
Because even if you do everything right, men just always somehow manage to do you wrong.
Your first boyfriend, Changsub, just suddenly ghosted you after you moved to a different town for college. When you saw him again for winter break, he was dating the girl from his History class – the blondie who was always the cause of your heated arguments in the lockers because you’ve always been jealous of her. Needless to say, you never talked to him again, and Changsub never bothered to reach out either.
At nineteen, you met Soohyun at a frat party your roommate invited you to. He was part of your college’s football team – the regular famous jock, and you felt a little bit special when he showed you a little bit of attention. When he chased you for a while, you caved in and had sex for the first time. You soon realized that was his thing – “popping them girls’ cherries” – as what you’ve overheard from his equally asshole teammates when you made an impromptu visit at their sweaty, stinky locker rooms – and that he apparently had a thing for girls in the cheerleading team (you were a part of it for awhile). Soohyun just told you it wasn’t working anymore. He was out and about with another girl three days later.
You swore at twenty-one, you were smarter. Heck, you got your heart broken two times already by then by the same brand of asshole with two different names and faces! You must’ve been a bit wiser, no?
But in your defense, Jaehyun was totally different from Changsub and Soohyun. He wasn’t an athlete. He was low-key… an introvert, and a total nerd. A film major guy who was so good at getting you through his art. He told you you were his muse, and you believed it wholeheartedly for the almost three years you’ve dated, most especially when he brought you to his hometown that one New Year’s Eve and introduced you to his family on your first anniversary.
You don’t exactly know what happened then… he just ran cold. Backed out of your plans of moving in together. Suddenly got so busy with his gigs when he normally would make time. Until the elephant in the room was acknowledged and it was just over before you knew it.
That relationship was your first “I love you”, Jaehyun said it was the same for him.
Fast forward, he gets married two years into the break-up, which is six years ago from the present. He has three kids now, two lovely girl twins and one boy. You didn’t go to the wedding, just sent him a post-it card that said you’re happy for him.
Which is true. He was your first love, but the heartbreak didn’t last long like you thought it would.
Because lastly, there was Eunwoo. The guy you met during the construction of the condominium near the apartment where you were staying at for med school.
Cha Eunwoo was an intern architect around that time, a nice one at that that it didn’t really take long for you guys to hit it off. Too many encounters on the street made you think that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence anymore that he was there whenever you walked passed by. You really thought it would be difficult for you to love somebody again like how you loved Jaehyun… but Eunwoo made it easy. He did everything right. From the cute encounter, a grand love declaration in your fourth year together wherein he proposed to you in a romantic cruise ship dinner, down to the beach wedding he promised you during that night.
What was supposed to be a three-month engagement lasted longer than you both wanted, though. And it was mostly due to you because you told him you couldn’t marry yet. Not until you pass your licensure exam. Unintentionally, it stretched into a year. Eunwoo blamed it on your internship, said you were too busy that you couldn’t really give him time anymore.
You still remember that argument so vividly inside your head. When you said you told him already that it was life for you in residency. He rebutted with the sentiment that if you wanted to, you would. But you knew it was unfair of him to say that – not when he was also volunteering himself for the mountain of projects at his firm just so he could impress the senior architects there. Eventually, the engagement was called off. You two broke up. You both settled that it was the schedule conflict… you were just both so busy with your careers. Such big ambitions. So much to prove, passionate to a fault.
But two years ago, Eunwoo got married, and his wife is a general physician. The last time you two accidentally bumped into each other at a café downtown, he said he was “so happy and contented” that he felt like “taking a sabbatical to focus on being a husband”.
You guessed then he doesn’t actually mind dating doctors. Doesn’t mind making sacrifices for them. He just minds specifically you.
Your long, tragic dating history should already stop you by now from believing in love altogether. You mean, it just never works out for you, do they? The universe gives you a taste of what it’s like to embark on that journey, but it never takes you to the final destination.
But what can you say… love is just so special to you; romance, falling in love… they hold a significant place in your heart that you can’t help but bet on it every time it comes. You just have so much love to give – but unfortunately no one to give it to, because the men you date always don’t want you in the end of it all.
It bubbles up frustration in you, especially when you see all your exes getting fucking married left and right and them having the audacity to send you an invitation – and even thank you for what you’ve helped made them become. Eunwoo made that lame ass speech in the café. It’s such a subtle physical act of slapping you right on the bone of your cheeks and violently hurts you psychologically.
You’re frustrated that marriage seem to come easy for them, but never for you.
It’s why you unintentionally spat water out of your mouth when one of your co-residents, close friend, Nayeon, announced:
“Minhyuk proposed!”
Naturally, your other friends at the cafeteria attend to your spluttering, with Doyeon patting your back and asking, “Girl, are you okay?”
You shake your head repeatedly at them, tapping your chest to regulate your breathing, putting on a tight smile before turning to Nayeon.
“I’m sorry— what? Minhyuk proposed?” You ask her, and you don’t intend it to sound incredulous.
Nayeon, thank god, doesn’t notice it. And you realize it’s because she’s in a lovesick haze to care about anything else.
“Yep!” She almost squeals. “You guys are all invited to the engagement party next week on Friday.” She giggles when Doyeon pokes her side, lightheartedly teasing her about the wedding.
“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You say, grinning widely, but your jaw hurts from the way you forced it. You look at each one of them; Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung. “You guys are soon gonna be… married.”
Taehyung turns to Doyeon, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Doyeon’s still single, though.”
Doyeon throws a napkin at him. “It’s because your kind are bums. Anyway, Taehyung is also still not married.”
Taehyung pauses. Then, he purses his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly.
“Well… about that…”
“He’s planning to propose to Hyerin!” Nayeon exclaims and quickly covers her mouth when some of the doctors in the cafeteria turned their heads to look in your direction. She shrinks herself small, as if realizing what she’s done, and then her eyes widen when she sees your guys reaction. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Taehyung!” Nayeon quickly apologizes to him who looks like heaven and earth fell on him. She scrambles to say, “It’s just that I saw the ring in his locker today and so of course I have to ask and you guys met Hyerin, she’s an amazing woman and I’m so excited for her and Taehyung and she are a good couple aaand… I’m shutting my mouth.” She stops, closing an imaginary zipper over her lips when she notices the death glare Taehyung’s sending her way.
He turns to look at the rest of you.
“Well… you heard it from her.”
“Oh my god, Tae! This is insane!” Doyeon tells him. “When are you proposing?”
Taehyung shakes his head and rubs his nape. “I don’t know… she has this, uh, case that she’s confident on winning this Thursday. Maybe I’m going to do it when she gets home that day…” he trails off, and Nayeon coos at him when she sees his ears turning red. Doyeon throws back the napkin Taehyung threw at him, and she receives a juvenile pinch on the arm from Taehyung back.
You laugh along with them.
But deep inside, you’re finding it hard to process all the information that you learned today. You were just letting out words when you said that they were all going to be married, an exaggeration at best, because Nayeon is apparently now a fiancé, Taehyung has been in a long-term relationship with his prosecutor girlfriend that it’s easy to assume their next step is tying it down, and Doyeon is single but you refuse to believe that’s the case. It’s a wild theory that your friends have but you all feel like she has a secret boyrfriend or something.
Apparently, though, you’re not exaggerating at all. Because Taehyung is indeed planning to tie it down.
“It seems like everybody is getting married these days, no?” Doyeon mentions. She looks at you and you feel your heart beating abnormally for some reason. “What about you, __? How did that blind date last week go?”
She’s talking about the guy whom your cousin set you up with a few months back and have only gotten around to meet a week ago, Park Hyungshik.
They all seem to eagerly wait for your answer, and you can only meekly shake your head, sipping on a juice box so your jittering fingers can have something to do.
“It was okay.”
You can see the way their shoulders deflate, and you know you don’t need to explain the details for them to know how bad the date actually went.
“Fuck men.” Doyeon sighs.
“I agree.” Taehyung affirms, followed by Nayeon.
It earns a laugh from you.
“Fuck off, you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes, knowing they’re blindly judging Hyungshik in unconditional support for you. The joke is appreciated though, as it makes you light up and forget about the sudden grey that washes over your insides at the terrifying thought that maybe you’re never going to be married at this rate.
“You’re laughing right now but I’m still scared that you’ll just put up an IG story of you and Jungkook getting married on a random Sunday.” Nayeon suddenly says which elicits quite a violent reaction from you.
“Fucking gross, Nayeon!” You slap her on her arm and she gives you an ingenuine, “Owe!”
Taehyung laughs and adds in another nonsensical input, “That’s where my grandma and grandpa started, by the way. The line between love and hate is thin, after all.”
Your face contorts into a deeper frown every passing second as they continue to tease you.
“Fuck you, Taehyung. I’ll kill you in your sleep and me and Doyeon will hide the body.” You threaten him with your eyes and when he only laughs more, you make quick work of your hands and snatch out his egg omelet, putting it in your mouth fast enough he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.
“Aw, man! Hyerin cooked that for me!” He whines, going back to his seat, defeated after trying to get back the food from you.
But Nayeon is more concerned about another thing.
“Why is it only you and Doyeon? I can help hide Taehyung’s body, too!” She says, face painted with an expression so solemn as if you betrayed her.
“You made the joke first, you don’t get the privilege.” You cross your arms under your chest.
“I’ll commit perjury for you in court. Doyeon can’t do that ‘cos she still hasn’t told us about her secret boyfriend.” She insists.
Taehyung deadpans. “You guys really do love me a lot here, no?”
“We never pretended to love you, Taehyung,” Doyeon taps his arm, giving him a contrasting look of faux sympathy. “And for the nth time, I do not have a secret boyfriend,” She says dryly, sounding exhausted for having to say it again. And then, she turns to you, “Where is that punk, Jungkook, anyway?”
You scowl at her. “Seriously guys, why do you always look for him from me?”
“It’s just that you always know where he is, babe.” Nayeon says as a matter of fact. “No offense.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. When she sees your eyebrow raising higher, she adds quickly, “And malice!” And then she continues some more, “Even though I personally think you’d be cute together and all but we understand perfectly you both just have this sort of weird relationship where you’re platonic roommates and you’re like best friends but you argue all the time for no reason—”
“Oh my god, shut up, Nayeon.” Doyeon cuts her off before she goes on a spiral again.
“See why it’s only me and Doyeon who gets to hide Taehyung’s body when I kill him? You’re gonna tell the police word for word how exactly I did it.” You tell her, and she pouts at you.
“And we’re back to killing me again.” Taehyung comments, sighing, and you stick your tongue out at him in that juvenile manner, only that Taehyung does the same because he’s an even bigger child than you.
“Kids, stop fighting.” Doyeon warns. “Seriously, where is Jungkook?”
“He told me he has a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.” You say.
“Damn.” Comments Taehyung.
Everybody including you nod in understanding.
It’s always been an inside joke in your friend group that Jungkook and you are gonna end up marrying each other because you’ve known each other for a long time, the closest to each other, live together – and you both are also the ones that can’t keep a relationship.
After your breakup with Eunwoo in the middle of your internship which was four years ago, you took a break from dating for a very long time. It’s only two years ago that you picked up going on casual dates, having quick flings, all that sort of stuff. It’s an occasional thing and they never end up as something more.
It’s why you’re still single up until now, and it’s not even that you want to be so – you prefer to be in a happy, loving relationship, thank you very much – but you yearn for a deeper connection with someone, and every date just doesn’t seem to click. And even though you find a little ugly bitterness when somebody brings up marriage, you would never, ever want to settle down with somebody just ‘cause you feel like you have to.
Meanwhile, Jungkook is a special case. He’s single because he wants to be. He’s single because according to him, the bachelor life has “chosen” him and he can’t do anything about it.
It’s why he goes to this myriads of dates… with those… women. Sleeps around. Never attempted a serious relationship as far as you’ve known him except that one time in your last year of med school when he exclusively dated Min Sora for about a year.
You don’t judge him for the kind of life he lives. He’s just an admittedly good-looking, liberated guy who hooks up with good-looking women who are looking for the same fun as him. When you asked him if they ever do fall, he told you that they always agree prior sex that it’s just going be a one-time thing (two or three or four times if they particularly like each other… or whatever the hell he said).
Despite that, Jungkook is – and always has been your best friend. You met each other in med school and were in the same study group together with Doyeon and Taehyung.
As much as heartbreak is a constant in your life, Jungkook is a frontrunner in it as well because from being in almost all the same classes during med school for four years, you both decided to live in the same apartment unit together.
It has two different bedrooms, of course. The apartment’s a big unit he and Taehyung owned three years ago until Taehyung moved in with his girlfriend. Jungkook couldn’t pay for it all by himself, and the only logical roommate choice was you because when he proposed it to Doyeon, she just looked at him disgusted beyond belief.
You’ve been with each other for so long it’s quite impossible to not know the other like the back of their hand. You’ve seen him during his worst in med school days up until the years of your residency as does him you. You both shared the highs and lows of life with the other’s presence, and as much as you both quite differ in the way you approach certain things in life – he’s ultimately your person, the one-call-away friend (or the one-knock-to-the-door-friend), and the guy you can always lean on when things are just particularly hard to bear.
Jungkook may not be the most ideal when it comes to romance, but he’s the guy you’d certainly wish was your friend.
Why you don’t understand when the rest of your friends tease you both is because you’re so… platonic with each other. Sure, you’re closest – you knew each other first – but you and Jungkook never acted borderline sweet for other people to be making assumptions. You aren’t the kind of friends who call each other siblings but then get weirdly clingy towards each other behind everyone’s backs.
You may have had a tiny bit of crush on him when you first saw him during first year of med school – it’s a common fact that he’s handsome and whatever, okay – but he had never shown interest; from post grad all throughout the years of your shared residency. You never, either.
But maybe it’s the teasing, since you always fight like goddamn children whenever you’re near each other. There’s nothing romantic about it, though, you don’t think so. In your defense, that’s how your dynamic works! That’s how your friendship with everybody works! If you didn’t banter with a person, you probably hate them.
Shaking the thoughts of Jungkook in your head, you continue to eat your lunch, asking questions about Nayeon’s further plans, squeezing your break with the rest of your friends, knowing your pager is going to beep anytime soon.
What Doyeon said, though, everybody does seem to be getting married these days. If you could sigh, you would, but you have to do with a little bit of internal mulling for now lest one of the gang notices and you get interrogated for it. You don’t want to get aired out for feeling suddenly weird at the tough realization that again, everybody seems to be getting married and proposed to except… you.
You’re happy for them – you really are! You’d be such a shit friend if you weren’t. But there’s a pang in your chest and you know exactly where it’s coming from.
There was an added case to the OR schedule when you checked it earlier this morning, and you were assigned to it as per instruction from the chief of your team – a melanoma excision.
After your lunch, you went to scrub in for the surgery and it was what made you busy including the paper works needed to be done, so busy that you thought you’d forgotten the pain from a while ago.
Turns out, it sat at some bench at the far end of your heart, hiding and shrinking itself for a little while, only showing up when it’s time for you to clock out; in the quiet of the locker room, alone while you change out of your scrubs.
You let out a heavy sigh and lean your forehead to your locker door, closing your eyes and getting your breathing even.
You’re just tired from work. You tell yourself. You had two surgeries today; it would be true. But you know it’s not entirely that. It’s the reminder of your loneliness when you see an envelope peeking out from your locker.
You take out the invitation card for Nayeon’s engagement party she’s given you this afternoon. It’s a thick off-white material that has her and her fiancé’s name printed on gold beveled font. So intricate to the touch; you deduce once you run your fingers over it.
“Yo, what are you up to?”
You quickly stand up straight and hide the envelope behind your back, your other hand going right above your chest when you turn around only to see Jeon Jungkook approaching the inside of the room.
“Jesus christ, learn to knock.” You say, genuinely surprised and taken aback. Jungkook cocks a brow at you.
“Feisty.” He muses, and the way his eyes fall to your chest makes you realize you’re still in your bra having not put yourself into a clean and fresh top yet since you decided to have a sentimental moment in your locker door like some high school girl.
“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, making quick work of putting on a shirt.
Only when you’re done wearing it do you see Jungkook stripping out of his own scrubs until he’s left with only his boxers across from you.
“Some decorum, please?” You tell him, turning around to sit on a bench to change out of your sneakers and wearing a more comfortable pair of sandals.
You hear Jungkook laugh behind you.
“What can I say? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, you see.” You take a quick look at him so he can see how far your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook ignores that, wearing his shirt while he says, “You’re out the same time tonight?”
You take out your ponytail and comb your hair through your fingers to fix it.
“Yeah. You?”
Jungkook smirks and suddenly there’s something flying at your direction. You’re quick on your reflex and manage to catch it on time, only to realize it’s his keys.
“You’re driving.”
It earns an instant groan from you.
Jungkook puts on another pair of shoes while laughing. “What? I drove us here this morning.”
You’re about to give him an attitude but then you realize making him pity you may be more effective. Stepping closer to him, you sit on the bench where he placed his foot to tie his shoes on. You look up at him and try your puppy face on.
“But I had two surgeries today, Kook.”
Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass by, with you blink up at him, and you think he’s gonna cave.
Instead of getting swayed by your poor attempt to get his sympathy, he takes down his leg and says with a sarcastic smile on his face, “I did a major one. Yours were both minor.”
Your shoulders deflate, making sure to jab at his thigh that was at eye level and snark, “And two is more than one. Fuck off, Jeon.”
Jungkook follows behind you while his boisterous ass is laughing.
“Don’t get pissed at me, are you kidding? It’s your turn to drive. Favor for a favor.”
You turn back to him, and because you were walking in a faster pace, he crashes to your back. He grips your shoulder, pursing his lips into a thin line, obviously holding in another fit of laughter.
“You’re gonna drive us tomorrow here, do you understand?” You say, giving him an ominous glare.
Jungkook raises his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He nods his head, and to piss you off more, he adds, “Bossy.”
That earns him a pinch to the side which he quickly dodges. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and continue to head towards the exit.
You both enter his car soon after.
“I miss my car…” you longingly say, turning on the ignition to start driving.
“It’s still in the shop?” Jungkook asks while rummaging around his compartment glove to look for a snack. He always has a few in it. It’s convenient.
“Yeah, the mechanic told me it’s gonna take a few more weeks. So,” you look at him bitterly.
“That’s tough.” Jungkook comments, opening a granola bar and biting on it. He extends his hand to you. “You want some?”
You stretch your neck to the side, eyes still on the road while taking a bite off his food.
“Tough because you can’t bring your girls here anymore?” You joke a little. Jungkook gives you a dirty look. Your eyes widen a little, realizing what you just said. “Please say you don’t fuck in your car. I’ve touched your passenger seat and your backseat.”
“Give me more credit, yeah? I don’t fuck in my car, that shit is unhygienic as hell,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you heave a sigh of relief upon his confirmation. “I wine and dine my women before we do the deed, thank you very much.”
“You’re just so sweet, aren’t you?” You say with a straight face.
Jungkook sing-songs. “Just like how they like it.”
“You’re really beating them off with a stick these past few years, huh?”
“A gorgeous stick, might I add.”
That earns a disgusted groan from you, which he laughs at, and you drop the subject before it even goes to another place.
There’s a comfortable silence that sits on the air for a while until Jungkook speaks.
“Hey, what was that earlier?”
“Hm?”
“In the locker room.” He says.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Clearing your throat, you answer, “Oh, it’s just, uh… Nayeon’s getting married. Do you know that?”
“Yeah.”
You turn to him in surprise. “Wait, how? You didn’t eat lunch with us.”
Jungkook snorts. “I saw the invitation cards in her locker yesterday, she thought she was being discreet. She threatened me to keep it a secret when I asked her about it, though. I guess she told you guys today at lunch?”
“Oh my god, you really need to stop snooping in everybody’s locker.”
“I do not snoop in in everybody’s locker.”
You give him a certain look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”
Letting out a heavy breath, you look straight ahead as you say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t doing anything…”
“Just getting a little sentimental in the locker room?”
“A bit.” You purse your lips. “But it’s not a big deal.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that. From your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at you but you choose to ignore that, focusing on driving instead.
“If you say so.” He says after a while.
You’re thankful for the dismissal. Jungkook’s usually insistent that you tell him everything – he’s just nosy like that – but deep down you know it’s because he cares. And if you’re in any trouble, he’s always willing to be there for you may it be listening to you vent or eat unholy amount of Chinese take out in the middle of the night.
As you went on the road, he played a few of his playlists and they served as background noise as you both talked about your day, like how your surgeries went. It’s a usual drive when you’re both in the same car together – which you’ve done quite a few times now because after all, you work in the same building and gas is expensive. It’s the most logical way to save up in this economy.
These past few weeks, though, it just so happened that your car got a little bitchy and started to act up so you made a bargain with Jungkook.
Anyway, you both arrive at your apartment shortly, with Jungkook and you taking turns in the shower.
“You wanna order in something?” Says Jungkook who’s currently drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his lower half.
He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s some kind of exhibitionist. Jungkook has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless and sometimes with just even his boxers on, and it’s not like you aren’t used to seeing it! You admittedly see a lot of it when you guys would change in the locker rooms back at the hospital, but that is work, and you have more things to worry about at work other than your co-worker changing in front of you.
Still, it’s hard to get used to his exhibitionist tendencies. You had a hard time with it especially in the first few months of living together, but you had to adapt, and right now, even though you can say you’re partly immune to it, his naked upper half still bothers you. A little.
Listen, you’re a human being with primal instincts and men who have good bodies do, in fact, distract you a tiny bit.
“Nope.” You take a sip of the glass of water, closing the refrigerator with your foot, looking at Jungkook who groans at your answer. “What?”
“I was hoping we could split the delivery fee.” He deadpans.
“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”
Jungkook laughs while you head towards your room. He follows you until you reach your door so you turn to him, putting your hand on your hip as you ask, “What?”
“Don’t think too much about it.”
Your furrow your brows. “How do you mean?”
“The wedding,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “And weddings, in general. I know you’re thinking about a few things up in that smart brain of yours. Don’t.”
You’re completely taken aback by his words, but at the same time, you’re not at all that surprised. Jungkook can read you almost like an open book.
Still, you decide to lie.
“I’m not thinking about weddings, weirdo.”
“Liar,” Jungkook’s brow arches, and you know he’s figured out your shit. “Your nostrils flared up. You’re lying.”
You groan, giving him a light jab at his bicep. Jungkook chuckles.
“My nostrils do not flare up.”
“It does so,” Jungkook points out. “Like this.” He stands there on your door and start to purposefully enlarge his nostrils to imitate you.
You roll your eyes. “My face is not like that when I lie. Go back to your room,” you say, pushing him slightly out of your doorway, ready to close it in front of his face, but you add more, “And don’t bother me.”
Jungkook stands up straight and gives you a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he says in a register octave lower, walking away with laughter as you tell him he’s annoying. You roll your eyes once again before finally closing your bedroom door.
A lot of people may judge your love for romance as naivety, but you really couldn’t care less. Even if you get heart broken countless times, love will never fail to make your heart soft and make you feel like you’re floating.
It’s exactly what you think as you look at Nayeon and her fiance, Minhyuk, on the stage huddled so close together, laughing and giggling to each other. They look so incredibly happy. So connected. So sweet. It brings a feeling of warmth to your heart – to see one of the most important people in your life finally meeting the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. It makes you melt on the inside to see two people so deeply in love that it emanates in the whole venue of the garden their engagement party is being held at today.
The weather is sunny – not too hot, like the universe knows not to fuck it up for Nayeon and her fiance. There’s also a lot of people; their families, some of Nayeon’s friends and probably Minhyuk’s – people you’ve never seen before. You assume it’s Minhyuk’s friends or acquaintances. The guest list for their wedding must be big, but it isn’t surprising, given that Minhyuk comes from the big corporate world.
“You want more champagne?” Jungkook whispers beside you, ready to stand up from his seat.
You stare at him, and you notice his eyes are not even on yours. He has it glued towards a woman across from you. A pretty woman wearing a satin dress that shows off her slender figure. You notice Jungkook’s been looking at her since the beginning of the party.
Shaking your head, you scoff. “You’re just gonna pick up some woman.”
Jungkook sputters and quickly take his gaze off the woman. “No, I’m not. I just think she’s familiar.”
You raise your brow. “Let me guess… one of your hook-ups?”
Jungkook huffs. And then off he goes.
Everybody has their plus-ones except you two, and now that Jungkook is probably off his mission to find a hook-up for the night, you’re left alone as usual.
You don’t feel bad about it. The champagne is good and there’s hors d'oeuvre on the table.
“Miss?”
You look up, finding the owner of the voice.
And holy hell.
“Hi.” You greet reluctantly, not sure if he meant you. You’re also trying to contain a blush from spreading across your cheeks because goddamn, was the man beautiful.
He smiles. Wow. Whoever this is… he looks pretty damn good.
“Is this seat taken?” The stranger says, pointing to the now empty seat beside you. You look around but can’t really spot Jungkook.
So, you shake your head, gesturing to the chair beside you. “No, not really. You want to sit here?”
He nods. “Alone?”
“No, not really… but I’m Nayeon’s friend. I’m her co-resident at the hospital.” You smile, taking a sip of your champagne that’s already about to run out. “Are you one of Minhyuk’s friends?”
“You guessed right. Law school friends. Worked at the same firm when he was a practicing lawyer until he quit some time ago,” You nod at that, and he gives you a boyish smile again. He offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”
You take his hand.
“I’m ___.” You both laugh when you shake your hands together.
His hands feel rough but at the same time warm. It’s nice.
“You’re a doctor?” Mingyu asks, keeping up the conversation.
“Yeah. A resident surgeon.” You glance at him. “I’m assuming you’re a lawyer?”
Mingyu nods. “Yeah. Corporate.”
“I see.” You nod, looking in front of you again, trying to stray from any eye contact. He’s way too attractive for your own liking.
“Say… I hate to make this about work but I just need to ask real quick,” Mingyu says, and when you look at him, you furrow your brows at the worry in his eyes, suddenly growing nervous at the depth of seriousness it’s showing. “So, I got here, and I suddenly have this sort of… feeling of heart palpitation. Increased heart rate. It’s like it’s missing a beat and it’s been making me real nervous.”
“Oh,” you look at him in concern. “That’s— did you drink uh… coffee?” He shakes his head. You place your champagne glass on the table and turn your body to him so you can face him properly. You don’t know if it’s just the doctor in you, but you forget about pretty much everything when you see or hear someone feeling under normal. “Are you a smoker, then?” You continue your line of questioning.
“I quit years ago.”
“I see… okay, uhm…” You look around, trying to look for something. “There’s a lot of roots for heart palpitations. Does your heart feel like pounding right now? Flip-flopping or something like that?”
Mingyu nods.
“Okay… well I can’t say for sure – I wish I have stethoscope with me right now. But I’m gonna lay out all the possible reasons why you might be feeling so. Smoking’s out of the question. You didn’t drink coffee, but do you drink more than one cup in a day?”
“Not in the past few weeks, no.”
“So, you’re not overcaffeinated, then. I really don’t want to lay this out on you, but you might want to check in with your doctor if this is not your first time feeling this. Heart palpitations is normal most of the time but I’ve seen lots of people get in these situations and it ends up being arrhythmia, which is a really serious condition.” You look at him straight in the eyes.
Mingyu looks stricken back. “Well… are there any more reasons out there that’s not… as dangerous?”
You still in your position.
Oh, right. There is more.
“Are you feeling certain emotions right now? Like, really, strong emotion?” You say, internally face-palming yourself because how can you not remember one of the very basic roots of palpitation!
“Yes, I am.”
“Well… certain emotions do trigger your heartbeat to accelerate. It might be anxiety… fear, panic, stress…” You look at Mingyu, noticing that his once serious face is now forming a smile. That makes you back-track, but you hesitantly continue. “... infatuation.”
And then he says, “I think you’re right off the bat with that one.”
Your lips part slightly. A few seconds passed and then suddenly, what he’s doing registers in your head, and you can’t help but to let out a laugh.
“Oh my god,” You say in disbelief. “You weren’t– you weren’t actually asking for medical advice?”
“Bad way to flirt with a pretty woman, huh?” Mingyu smiles and it’s so dashing that you shy away from his gaze, but you’re still laughing at the turn of events.
“God, no. I can’t believe I didn’t get it earlier.” You say, gingerly placing a palm on your forehead at the embarrassment.
But Mingyu just laughs along with you.
“It was just bad flirting. I’m sorry,” He says, sipping from his glass and takes a glance at you. “I can do better.”
You arch your brow. “Oh?”
“Yeah. If you let me. Say, Friday, ten o’clock?”
You chuckle. “That was really smooth.”
Mingyu was about to say something when suddenly, you hear a familiar voice approaching your direction.
“Mingyu?” When you look up, you see Jungkook. You eye him in confusion, wondering how the hell he knew Mingyu’s name.
But then Mingyu speaks and you grow even more confused.
“Jeon Jungkook?”
“Oh hey, it’s you,” Jungkook says, and he looks genuinely surprised. Mingyu stands up from his seat to give Jungkook a hug, slapping him on the back – kind of like how guys usually greet each other. You watch as Jungkook reluctantly reciprocates it.
“You work with Nayeon?” Mingyu asks, and even with a smile on his face, you can see he’s also in disbelief to be seeing Jungkook.
Jungkook nods at him, still looking a bit stricken. You can’t figure out if it’s just his surprised face or something else. You’ve never seen him look so… stunned like this before. Nevertheless, he says, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”
“Been with Lee and Song for the past three years, Minhyuk’s previous firm before he quit and went out to the business world.” Mingyu chuckles, tapping Jungkook’s back.
Jungkook smiles. “That’s crazy, man. I can’t believe we’ll meet here again.”
Mingyu, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, says, “Man, it’s been, like, what– almost ten years?”
“Yeah, yeah, too long, man.” Jungkook nods, chuckling slightly.
You hate to interrupt, but you’re confused, and you need to confirm something.
“Wait,” You butt in, making them both look at you. “You know each other?”
Jungkook sits across from you while Mingyu follows.
“We did pre-med together during undergrad.” Mingyu says.
“You did pre-med in undergrad?” You look at Mingyu incredulously, and he nods with a bashful smile on his face. You squint your eyes at him, feeling slightly betrayed that he asked you all that stuff earlier when the whole while he has a pre-med degree.
Jungkook cuts in.
“How the hell do you two know each other?” He said, leaning back and pointing between you two. It seems like he’s finally out of the trance he was in earlier.
“I just met him today.” You tell Jungkook, blinking your eyes at him.
“Well, how about you two? How do you know each other?” Mingyu asks and the whole thing suddenly feels like watching a game of tennis somehow.
You’re about to answer when Jungkook beats you to it.
“We’re co-workers. Together with Nayeon.”
Mingyu nods his head and then turns to you, “So not his girlfriend, then?”
“What? No!” you didn’t mean for it to come out that violently, so you repeat it in a gentler manner this time. “I mean no. What?”
Mingyu turns to Jungkook who’s now looking confused.
“I was just asking her out for a date.”
You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. In front of Jungkook, out of all people! You aren’t embarrassed! You just feel weird and shy.
But Jungkook looks at you as if silently asking you if Mingyu’s being serious. You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.
Then he nods his head slowly. “Really?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at you. “What’d you say?”
Mingyu looks at you with a hopeful smile. “What do you say?”
You feel weird about doing the whole thing in front of someone, but you look at Mingyu again – how attractive he is, his charming smile, his physique, and his charisma… and you don’t think it’d be too bad to chance at least one date with him.
So, you nod, avoiding Jungkook’s sudden way too intense gaze.
“I would like to,” But he cocks his head to the side. You chuckle, adding, “Yes, Mingyu. I’d like to go out with you.”
“Woah!”
“Jungkook, please knock!”
You look at Jungkook irritably while you lock your stud earring, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity table to pick up your purse from the edge of your bed.
“I was just going to borrow your hair dryer.” Jungkook says, trudging inside your room freely which makes you roll your eyes at him.
You watch as he expertly makes his way to your vanity table and slides one of the drawers, taking out the hair dryer.
“You need to buy your own one.” You say with a straight face.
But Jungkook just stands there for a while, and when his stare goes on longer than necessary, you start feeling conscious.
“What.”
“What are you so… dolled up for?”
You jab him on the chest when you get near him, enough to make him wince. “What an asshole way to say I look good.”
Jungkook laughs. Your heart drops.
Most of the time, you understand that your dynamic consists of teasing and bantering with each other until one of you gets pissed off. That’s usually you. But they never go too far – you’ve built a foundation of respect in your relationship which you love. However, sometimes, there are moments when you’re under a certain kind of pressure – like right now in which you only have twenty minutes before Mingyu arrives to pick you up outside of your building complex and you still haven’t done your hair – and Jungkook laughing while looking at you is not helping.
The faux confidence falls as fast as that.
“Okay, Jungkook, can you just tell me nicely if this dress looks ridiculous or if I put too much make-up on?” You say, failing not to sound defensive.
Jungkook’s quick to halt his laughter, and he looks taken aback at your clipped tone.
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You were laughing at me.” You point out, turning around to rummage through your make-up products scattered on the top surface of the furniture, thinking that maybe you overblushed. So, you look at yourself in the mirror.
Jungkook situates himself on your vanity table so you’ll look at him.
“Wha— you thought I was laughing at you?” You don’t answer, checking if your cheeks are way too pink, purposefully ignoring him. “Okay, that’s– I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I laughed at your words, not the way you look.”
You let out a sharp breath, look at him angrily, ready to present more argument, but you see the look of sincerity on his face and you realize then that you’re being borderline sensitive.
You sigh. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” Jungkook places a gentle hand on your shoulder.
You pout at him. “It’s just… first date jitters. I feel slightly anxious, I don’t know,” You sigh again, “I bought this dress two days ago.” You say, looking down at it. It has a tube top with thin straps, fitting your upper half like a glove but flows prettily to the bottom, stopping just about four inches above your knee.
“It looks good on you.” Jungkook comments, and you quint your eyes at him.
“You swear?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie?”
“To make me feel better, I don’t know,” Then you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, does my make-up look okay? I didn’t put too much blush?”
“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Jungkook says, baring his own to emphasize what he meant.
“Shit.” You panic, quickly ducking down to check it in the mirror.
You soon realize Jungkook was fucking with you when you hear him laughing beside you.
“I hate you.” You hiss, pushing his thighs so he can get off your vanity table. He remains on his seat, fighting your force while laughing. “Ugh, don’t you have a date of your own or something?” You groan as you take the hair straightener on the side, sitting back down again on the chair to straighten a certain part of your hair again so it’s looks nothing but perfect.
“Ohh, so you are going on a date.” Jungkook says as if he wasn’t there in front of you when Mingyu asked you out.
You give him a weird look. “With Mingyu, remember?”
“Oh, right.” He’s quiet for awhile, and then, “You’re really dating him?”
You put down the hair straightener.
“Yeah… why?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing.”
But you want to insist. “He’s your friend. You told me he’s a nice guy.”
He nods his head. “That’s true.”
You eye him suspiciously. “You’re making me nervous.”
Jungkook chuckles and pats your head. You scowl at him and slap his wrist.
“You’re like a cat,” Jungkook comments. “Anyway, I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He trails off. You look at him, waiting for his continuation.
You don’t expect the genuine smile he sends your way.
“I wish it works out for you this time.”
Lips parted, you think about what to say to that, but nothing comes out of your mouth.
Jungkook gets off the table and brings with him your blow dryer. Before he heads out completely, he tells you, “And don’t worry about how you look. Mingyu likes pretty women. You’re exactly his type.”
“Really, mini-golf?” You ask Mingyu, but he already has his fingers intertwined with you as you both enter the course.
You’ve just had dinner at some fancy restaurant that served, admittedly, good steak. He told you it was some sort of special place for him; where he takes himself to whenever he closes a deal or wins a case. You tried not to think too much about what it meant that he brought you there – given that you’re only on your first date.
But hey, maybe he thought you deserve to eat good steak? That’s probably what it was.
You don’t ask.
You thought the night was over when you finished your meal and good two glasses of Malbec, but Mingyu commented in his car that he’d love to burn off the food for a moment – and you didn’t really want to leave just yet.
So, you end up at Pier 26, and Mingyu’s enthusiastic.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He says, and you have no choice but to follow behind him.
“I really don’t know how.” You tell him, smile bashful as you watch him carry the golf club, walking towards the direction of the ball.
“What’s up with that? I’ll teach you,” Mingyu says, putting down the club and unbuttoning his cuff to push his sleeves up to his forearms.
You try not to focus too much on the veins that show up at the action and how his biceps are almost fighting to pop out of his sleeves. His hands look so big compared to yours when he offers it to get you to stand beside him.
“Really? You’re gonna teach me like a big… macho man?” You tease, taking his hand nonetheless.
Mingyu smiles once you’re beside him, placing himself behind you, guiding your hands so you can hold the club together.
You can feel his breath on your neck as he instructs you what to do. “You just have to stand like this,” He lets go of your hands in favour of your hips, and your breath hitches when he whispers, “Look ahead, and you just… let go.”
The golf ball jumps out of the line and you giggle at the way it completely misses the hole.
“That was… wow.” Mingyu says, staring at the ball.
“Shut up! Okay, okay, I’ll try it alone.” You say, dismissing his incredulous look, a bit embarrassed at your performance.
From your periphery, you see Mingyu closely watching you as you grip the golf club a little less tight this time so it’s not too tense when you hit the ball. Squinting your eyes, you eye the goal and let out a controlled breath. You relax your posture just like he taught you and when you finally hit the ball, it lands right in the hole perfectly.
You turn to look at Mingyu immediately with widened eyes, and when he gives you a huge grin, you do a little jump out of excitement.
“Oh my god, I did that!”
Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm. And due to the high of hitting the goal once, you agree to another round until it turns into a session.
You only stopped when you got tired. Nonetheless, you realize it’s actually something you’re good at, and that geeks you inside. Meanwhile, Mingyu suggested you walk around the park for a little while.
Mingyu told you he was just going to buy some food at a stall, but as you sit on the bench to wait for him, you think about how you’d like to go with Jungkook here some time to challenge him to mini-golf. You almost always never beat him to any games… surely, he must not know mini-golf, right? You can finally have the upper hand, if ever.
“Ice cream?” Mingyu returns from the stall and extends the cone to you. You try not to show your wince. You’re lactose intolerant.
“Thanks.” You say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. It’s not that bad, and you want this date to be perfect. Mingyu joins you on the bench.
The night’s cold and you regret not bringing your blazer with you and leaving it in his car instead.
“You know,” you start to strike up a conversation. “I’m still pretty shocked you studied pre-med.”
Mingyu chuckles. “Why?”
“I don’t know… but in hindsight, I should’ve known the moment you asked me about “heart palpitations”.” You say, quoting the last two words, trying to tease him.
“I really thought that was a good idea, huh?”
You snort. “It was–” you gesture with your hand, pursing your lips. “Pretty lame, yeah. But admittedly… it was cute. So, there.”
Mingyu laughs. “Thanks. I also thought that was a brilliant way to flirt with a doctor.”
You shake your head, laughing at him.
Silence sits in the air for a while until he speaks.
“You know what they say? Study law when you don’t know what to do after getting a degree, so law it was.” Mingyu shrugs.
“You didn’t see yourself as a doctor then?” You ask curiously.
“Not really. Didn’t really think too much about it when I chose a pre-med program as my major. Soon realized it wasn’t for me. I was lost in law school too for a good couple of years, though. But I love it now,” Mingyu looks at you who’s intently listening. “You? You always wanted to be a doctor?”
You look ahead, nodding. “For as long as I can remember.”
“Just like Jungkook, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “He really wanted it a lot. I remember him excelling during those moving tests. He had a lot of people getting jealous over him for balancing his school and basketball lives so well, you know?”
You furrow your brows. “He did basketball?”
“Yeah. We were in the varsity team together.”
“Hah.” You smile. Jungkook. A jock. “That makes sense.”
“That I’m a jock?” Mingyu asks with a teasing smile on his face.
You didn’t mean him, but regardless, you nod, finding that it also applies to him. “You look like someone who plays basketball.”
“And what’s the diagnosis of that, doctor?” Mingyu leans closer.
You nibble on your bottom lip.
“Let’s say you have a… chronic jock face.” You say, not backing down from Mingyu’s sudden challenge of eye contact.
“I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Is that a good thing?”
You chuckle. “It just means that you are conventionally attractive.”
“Ah,” he nods, but you notice his hand making its way around your waist. You don’t make a move to protest it. “Then, can a conventionally attractive guy like me chance a kiss with a pretty girl like you?”
Your breath hitch when he leans his face closer. One more inch and his lips will lock against yours.
“Yeah.”
Mingyu doesn’t waste a second longer and leans in to plant his lips on yours. It’s nothing short of a peck when he breaks away from the contact, but when you look up at him with parted lips, he goes back to kissing you again, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him better, this time taking you closer by your waist.
It starts off as something experimental, like he’s testing the waters first. But when you take out your tongue to prod the side of his mouth, he does the same and inserts his tongue in yours.
You did not really think that you’d end up making out of some bench at a park, but here you are.
“Oh,” you unintentionally let out a low moan, and you hear a guttural sound coming out from his throat. Your hands come up to fist his collar as some sort of support, and Mingyu responds with a slight pinch to your hip.
You break away from the kiss to regain your breathing, and Mingyu takes that as an opportunity to plant kisses across your cheek down to your jaw. Sighing at the sensation, you close your eyes as you let yourself get drowned in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.
But when you open your eyes, you see people walking by at a short distance and that’s when you wake up from your trance.
“Mingyu,” You call him, but he’s too busy kissing your neck. “Hey, I think we shouldn’t do this here.”
Mingyu stops. Then, he looks at you, eyes hooded, hair a mess, his lips swollen, some of your lipstick getting on it.
Your blood flows to your cheek at the sight. He looks unbelievably hot. God, what more if he was under you and you were doing more than just kissing and– no, no. Not going there. Absolutely no thoughts of … there.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mingyu says after seemingly snapping himself out of the trance as well. “Shit. I really am.”
He looks so apologetic, so you put your hand over his arm.
“It’s fine. Just uh… let’s take it slow?” You tell him.
Mingyu gives you a small smile.
“Slow. Yeah. Let’s do it slow.”
What's the definition of slow, anyway?
The tension at the park was too much and you made out some more in his car with heavy petting that may have included Mingyu copping a feel of your boob and you coyishly feeling out the bulge in his pants.
Safe to say, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.
You started coming over to his place, but you still haven’t had sex. Not yet at least. You haven’t even taken off your clothes in front of each other yet. Suddenly, you remember being eighteen and just making out with your boyfriend – the territory of any form of sex prohibited for some reason. Somehow, you two have never gotten around that for the past few weeks you’ve hung out. It may be because you always stop it before it happens, but it’s not because you don’t want to; just that it feels like you’re going to a place you won’t know how to go back to.
So, it’s mostly date nights, a sneaky coffee hung during the afternoon when you’re not particularly busy and your schedule aligns, and making out in his car until your pager beeps or when his phone rings.
And as good as Mingyu may be with his lips when he locks them with yours, he’s more than what you thought he was.
You have to admit that you had doubts when you first met him. You don’t trust a lot of good-looking men, because they always end up being assholes. He also has the face of a guy who – in a cliche fashion – likes to break women’s hearts on a regular basis. You went to the first date a little hopeful of something real, but you knew your luck with romance isn’t the best – may be the worst you’ve ever known – but recently, you’re starting to think that maybe the poison’s wearing out and Mingyu may just be… decent.
Decent enough to be a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.
And it feels so weird to think so. You’ve been single for so long, and sure, you went to a lot of dates during the past two years but Mingyu’s going on two months, and everything just seems so… right. Like this can be it.
You hate having wishful thinking. You hate getting your hopes high. But god, he makes it so hard.
“You going with us later?” Nayeon asks, stretching her neck while looking at you.
You’re all currently at some abandoned ward at the hospital where you take quick breaks from your shift to eat or talk for a while.
“Where to?” You ask, taking a bite off Taehyung’s egg sandwich which he gave you earlier.
“We’re going out for barbecue tonight. Jungkook didn’t tell you?” Doyeon says, coming back from her quick trip to the vending machine.
You look at them confused. “No, he didn’t tell me about… barbecue or going out.”
As if on cue, Jungkook arrives in the scene.
“She’s not coming with us,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with visible offense on your expression. “She’s going out with her boyfriend tonight.”
The room quickly becomes rowdy at the declaration, and you flip Taehyung off when you hear him let out a lighthearted “boo”.
“Oh my god,” Nayeon squeals. “Mingyu’s your boyfriend now?” She asks, going over to the bed you’re sitting on, huddling closer to you ready to hear some gossip.
Doyeon looks surprised as well.
You look at Jungkook to give him a death glare. The fucker just puts his hands up in the air.
“No, god– why would you believe him?” You huff out, rolling your eyes. “Mingyu’s not my boyfriend.” Nayeon’s shoulders deflate. “Yet.” You add, and suddenly, she smiles. You take a glance at Doyeon who looks at Jungkook subtly. Or not so subtly, since you saw her. She didn’t seem to notice.
But Jungkook just wears a smug expression as he approaches you closer.
“See?” He shrugs, plopping himself on the same bed beside you. He looks at everybody. “She barely goes home nowadays.”
“Shut up, Jungkook!” You say, continuously hitting him on the arm as he makes little effort to dodge them.
But as usual, your friends love to bully you and join in the teasing.
“So, you joining or what?” Taehyung says after a while.
You actually had plans with Mingyu tonight. Just the usual dinner at his place and some movie and some fooling around, but you remember Jungkook’s teasing and felt the competitive need for him to not be right.
Besides, you don’t want to be the kind of friend who suddenly ditches their friends just because they’re starting to date – and you know that beneath their good-natured chaff is a genuine feeling of sulk because you’ve been admittedly bailing out on all your hangs lately.
It isn’t even that much because you don’t get to hang outside the hospital often – but you usually do go out on Fridays or Saturdays for some barbecue and go to a KTV bar afterwards. It’s sort of like became a tradition at this point, and it dawns on you that you haven’t been present in them for the past few weeks, which makes you feel bad.
“I’m coming with.”
Jungkook immediately eyes you with an arched brow. “For real?”
You challenge him with a look. “Yes, why?”
“I just remember you mentioning you’re going to Mingyu’s tonight.”
“Eh,” you shrug. “I’m just gonna tell him I’m hanging out with you all. No big deal.” You say, believing what you said. Mingyu’s come accustomed to your group of friends and you’re both adults who live separate lives. As far as you know him, he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of you cancelling on a plan. You think he’ll understand. You hope he does.
“Oh my god, don’t!” Nayeon cuts in. “Don’t worry about us. Go date your hot lawyer boyfriend right now. Are you insane?”
You look at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
Doyeon looks at you, nodding her head. “Nayeon’s right. If it’s between a date with my boyfriend or having barbecue with Taehyung and Jungkook, I’d rather be with my boyfriend,” She looks at the two guys. “No offense.”
“As if I don’t want to be with my girlfriend either tonight?” Taehyung says in disbelief.
Doyeon rolls her eyes, but she lets out a low chuckle.
“Wait– why are we fighting right now? If __ wants to cancel her date with Mingyu to come with us for barbecue night, then let her be.” Jungkook says.
In the corner, Taehyung crosses his arms and sends a certain look Jungkook’s way.
“Don’t get too excited, Jungkook.”
Jungkook and you pretty much have the same exact reaction at that.
“What the hell does that mean?”
You feel a slight pinch to your arm.
“Aw!” You slap Jungkook’s bicep for what he did. “What the hell!”
“I said it first.”
“You’re a child.” You roll your eyes.
Taehyung raises his hand. “I think you’re both twelve-year-olds trapped in thirty-year-old surgeons’ bodies.”
“Twelve’s too generous, I think they’re mentally still in first grade.” Doyeon comments.
You don’t get to rebut as you see a glimpse of the resident chief coming your way. It seems that the rest noticed the same thing, and suddenly, you’re all scrambling from your comfortable positions on the ER beds and going your separate ways to the hallways.
You went to your go-to-barbecue restaurant as soon as your shift ended for the day.
The eating becomes a drinking session until everybody tapped out but you and Jungkook. More like, you, because Jungkook wasn’t drinking at all. Doyeon was the first one to call herself an Uber, and then Nayeon and Taehyung had to leave because they have an early shift the next day.
“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?” You ask Jungkook, downing another shot glass of soju. Your alcohol tolerance is not that high nor is it that low, but after two bottles – you admit you’re starting to feel a little dazed.
“Yeah. Afternoon.” Jungkook responds. When he sees you pouring yourself another glass again, he takes the shot and downs it himself.
“Rude!” You pout at him.
“You’re all red and shit, it’s time to tap out.” Jungkook chuckles when you show him an even deeper frown. “Come on, it’s nearing twelve.”
“I’m so tired.” You whine, not even bothering to take your glass back from him, just letting your shoulder deflate and bowing your head down, your eyes becoming droopier by the second.
After four years of residency, you feel like you have started to operate on autopilot somehow. Wake up at fuck-ass o’clock at dawn to prep for work and finish a varying number of hours of shift for the week. You admittedly barely get time to partake in leisure activities – and it’s not new per say. It’s just like in med school except you’re actually doing the real thing now and instead of grades, real lives are involved and at stake – which puts an even bigger weight on your shoulders.
It’s why you’re thankful to Mingyu; for his presence… for starting to invite you to his place rather than eat out. Don’t get it twisted– you love the bougie dinners and all that, but his penthouse is definitely way more comfortable.
But lately you’ve forgotten about what it is like to hang out with your friends outside of the five-minute breaks in the hospital – and times like these you love letting yourself loose and relax because, hey, you deserve it a little!
“Should I buy you soup to drink in the car?” You can hear Jungkook ask. You don’t answer. “Yeah, I should buy you soup.” He tells himself.
And then you see him going to the counter only to come back after a few minutes with a paperbag in his hand.
“You’re drunk.” He announces.
You snicker. “I’m not.”
“You sure are.” Jungkook shakes his head as he takes you by your waist to help you stand up.
“Just feeling a little dizzy, ‘s all.” You mumble when you fall against his neck upon straightening your legs.
“You’re not just a little dizzy, silly.” Jungkook whispers against your head.
You hum as a response and you can feel the vibration on his chest as he laughs at you. He doesn’t say another word as he guides your steps outside of the restaurant, and before you know it, you’re situated in the passenger seat of his car, with him wearing your seatbelt around you.
“Thanks.” You give him a lopsided smile, shifting around in the space to get more comfortable.
“Welcome, your highness.” You giggle at his response. “Drink up, it’s gonna help you sober up.” He says, handing you the paper bowl of soup he bought from the restaurant a few minutes ago.
You groan, taking it from him and slowly sip from the cup. Jungkook tells you to get his water flask from his backpack on the back seat when you finish your soup.
The soup and water relieve you from the acid reflux you feel in your stomach. Only slightly. Because when you close your eyes and lean back on the seat more comfortably, that’s when you feel something in your throat.
“Jungkook,” You call him.
“Hm?”
“I think I want to puke.”
Jungkook immediately turns to look at you. “For real?”
You bite your bottom lip, nodding your head repeatedly.
“Okay, shit– wait,” Jungkook looks around for something. Probably a plastic bag or whatever. But when he finishes scoping the area around the interior of his car, he seems to find nothing. When he glances at the rearview mirror, he takes a reverse and suddenly, he turns off the ignition of his car. “I’ll park here for a while. Let’s go outside.”
He gets out of the car first before opening your door. You think you’re fine to walk on your own, but you don’t oppose to Jungkook wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to a…
Playground. The swings, in particular.
“Sit here for a bit.” He instructs, holding the chains steady for you as he waits until you’re sitting on it. He runs towards the car, and you feel way too weird in the throat to ask him why.
You recognize the place that’s not exactly far away from your complex. Maybe a ten-minute drive away.
Jungkook comes back with a crumpled plastic bag. It’s from a familiar provision shop. Probably was in his compartment glove the whole time.
“Here,” he hands you the plastic. “I’ll help you.”
You get it from him and shake your head.
“No, it’s fine.”
“I don’t mind.”
You look at him straight in the eye. “You’re not gonna help me puke, Jungkook.”
Jungkook stares at you for a while and then sighs. He holds the chains of your swing again, standing beside you, putting his hand in his pockets.
“Okay. Puke your heart out.”
You snort. You open the plastic bag and get a feel of that weird invasive push in your throat – until you realize Jungkook is watching you.
Looking up at him, you whine, “Jungkook. Don’t watch.”
Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not watching.”
“It’s gross.” You say, a bit embarrassed. The whole thing’s embarrassing, to be honest. Jungkook taking care of you because you got stupid drunk. It’s not the first time, and there were definitely a lot more occurrences worse than this – you’re just grateful he hasn’t kicked you out of a curb. Yet.
“Watching somebody puke?” He scoffs as he says your name. “We literally amputated a leg today, and FYI, I’m just scared you’re gonna have some serious complication while puking.”
You frown because– okay. Fair. He has valid points.
“Okay. Well. I’m not gonna die puking. So, turn around or stand back there at the slides far from me.”
“Seriously?” Jungkook asks, disbelief painting his voice.
You just nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more and obediently walks about five steps away from you, acquiescing to your request.
It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself before you let out the accumulation of what you’ve digested for the day. Your throat feels crass when you’re done, and your stomach feels empty. When you look ahead, your head still feels like it’s floating. But at least you feel a little better now.
“Drink this,” Jungkook approaches you again and gives you his tumbler once again. You drink from it quickly and quietly. “Feel okay now?”
You hum, nodding and smiling up at him.
“Thanks, Kook.”
He only mirrors your smile and goes to sit on the swing beside you. “You wanna go home now?”
You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating his question. As you look around, you notice it’s so... solemn. It’s midnight, after all. There’s a sort of eerie calmness with the cricket sounds but the wind is nice and the dark skies project twinkling lights.
“It’s so nice here,” You say instead.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Jungkook chuckles and you follow.
You look at him and sincerely, you ask, “Just for a few minutes, please?”
Jungkook’s quick to say, “Okay.”
His voice is just as gentle as the night breeze.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. You’re sobering up?”
“Eh. I’m getting there.”
“Good.”
You look at him again. “Thank you.”
Jungkook sends you a confused look, but there’s a smile on his face.
“I heard that.”
You chuckle. “And I’m saying it again. Thank you.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Alright. You’re welcome. Times two. And you’re not allowed to say it again.”
You both laugh at the exchange. The silence that follows after that is comfortable.
“You know, you still remember Changsub? My first boyfriend?” Jungkook nods at your words. “He asked me to be his girlfriend at a playground. Some old one in our hometown.” You pause for a while, recalling that memory. You laugh because it was just… so long ago. But the pictures are still so vivid in your head.
“Sweet. Too bad he’s an asshole, huh?” Jungkook comments, having known most of your relationship history.
“Yeah,” You shrug, laughing still. “But I, uhm, I remember a day after that– I had, like, this whole scenario in my head. I pictured a few years down the line, he’s on his knees and he’s showing me a ring asking me to be his wife on the very same playground. I thought it would be really sweet if he proposed to me at the same place.”
“Wow.” Jungkook muses, and you chuckle at the reaction.
“I know. It was crazy. I mean, why the hell was I thinking about getting married at that time? I was literally only sixteen and I think I had an AP assignment due the day after that. I was just so in my head.” You say, looking at Jungkook who has a smile of amusement on his face.
And then your laughter fades.
“I was so naive that time. But then I was also naive at twenty. And Jungkook…” You bite your bottom lip, feeling it quiver when you look into his eyes this time. “I’m afraid that I’m still naive at thirty.”
Jungkook calls your name softly, noticing the drop on your tone and the shift from playful to… melancholic.
You close your eyes and draw a deep breath.
“I like Mingyu. I really like him a lot,” And the declaration feels weird verbally announced. You’ve thought it for the past few weeks you’ve been with him – but you’ve both never said it to each other. Not yet. But saying it out loud now – it feels different. It feels real. And you’re so scared. “And we enjoy each other’s company a lot that I feel like he likes me just as much as I like him. You know, we kissed on the first date. I don’t usually kiss on the first date. But I like him so much that I did.”
You look at Jungkook sadly. You gauge the look on his face, but he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face, though he listens. He always does. You’re not particularly looking for any response, anyway. And he just seems to know so well that right now, you just want to vent.
“It’s so embarrassing to say but I feel like he’s it, Kook.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I feel like… like the last time I felt this way about someone was with Eunwoo. And that was four years ago—” You let your head fall slightly. “And I’m so scared.” You don’t intend the crack in your voice when you say it.
“Hey,” Jungkook calls you again, turning his body towards you, reaching out to hold your arm.
“What if I’m wrong? Again?” You tell him.
It takes Jungkook a few seconds to answer.
“I think, __, that you’re a person with a big heart,” You scoff with a smile on your face at that. You get that a lot. But Jungkook insists, “I think you have so much love to give, you know? And I think… Mingyu’s a lucky guy if he gets to receive it.”
That makes your lips curl. Touched.
“You think so?”
Jungkook only nods.
“Why can’t you be nice to me like this all the time?” You crack a joke.
“I’m always nice to you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, obviously finding your words absurd. You only laugh but now Jungkook turns serious, and you fear you might have induced a genuine worry in him. “Am I not always nice to you?”
“You always tease me and shit in front of our friends but so incredibly sweet when we’re all alone.”
Jungkook stutters when he says, “Well… that’s my love language. Teasing you.”
You squint your eyes at him. “Awe, you love me?”
“Okay, fuck off.”
You burst into laughter when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you.
“Hey, swing me.”
You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.
“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.
“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”
“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.
“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.
Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it – a huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.
“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.
You laugh.
“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”
He visibly winces. “Touché.”
Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.
For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.
But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.
“Okay, your turn.”
Jungkook gives you a big grin.
“Nice.”
You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.
“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.
You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”
The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.
You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.
“What the fuck, __?”
You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.
Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.
Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.
“Let’s lie on the ground.”
“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.
You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.
Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”
You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.
Jungkook stops his rambling after that.
“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies.
“The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”
Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him.
As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.
You smile, going back to looking at the sky.
“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.
“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.
Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”
You chuckle at the irony.
“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”
You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”
That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.
“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”
“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.
“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”
“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”
You hum, eyes still closed.
“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.
The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.
Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.
“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.
You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.
Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.
“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.
You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.
“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.
Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.
You fall asleep easily mid-drive.
In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.
morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed — your angelic friend, kookie
You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.
“Mingyu,” you call his attention. Mingyu turns to look at you. “This is a really nice place.”
He smiles at your remark. Mingyu moves his hand from your waist to your lower back as he leads you to the entrance door.
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.”
When you both reach the door, Mingyu introduces himself to the butler. You let the two of them talk for a while, him confirming his reservation, your eyes roaming around the restaurant and taking in the classy interior.
“Please follow me, Mr. Kim and Ms. __,”
The butler gestures inside and you both follow behind him.
It’s another one of your date nights. While it isn’t unusual for you both to get fancy with dinners, you’ve gotten used to the casual dinners you’ve been having at his own place with take-outs and his impressive cooking.
But tonight is a little different. There’s a certain something in the air – especially when Mingyu especially asked you to dress a little more formally. He always has a suit on naturally with his line of work, but tonight he’s wearing a particularly shiny one. The tie is something you’ve never seen before, but maybe you just like to think that. You on the other hand settled for an indigo satin dress that hugs your figure like a glove and shows just enough skin. You’ve always thought you looked good in it.
And you think it’s perfect for when Mingyu asks something that will change the trajectory of your relationship for good.
Today marks the third month since you started seeing each other. You don’t know if he’s aware of it – but it’s been, indeed, whole three months. An monthsary some sort? Granted, there’s no official label to it, at least not yet. But with the fancy set-up and the way he cryptically replied to when you asked him what the whole thing was for tonight, you think he does know. And this is his idea of surprise.
Of course, you don’t let yourself get obsessed with the idea lest you end up with only mere assumptions.
“Thank you.” You both say to the butler as he leads you both to your table. He gives you the menu book and you take your sweet time to choose from the selection, giving the butler your orders after a few minutes.
When he leaves, Mingyu looks at you wearing his usual charming smile.
You don’t think you’ll ever tire of his face.
“This is really fancy,” You tell him, smiling.
“It’s sort of like special place,” Mingyu chuckles. “You know, Mr. Yang– the senior partner over at work– officially announced me as partner here.” He tells you, eyes looking into yours.
You feel your heart do a somersault at his gaze and the possibility of his words.
“Good steak?” You say, trying to act oblivious to the weight of his confession. You also don’t want to assume he’s saying what you think he’s saying…
“Yeah, yeah,” He nods his head, chuckling, then his laughter fades as he begins to look more serious when he continues, “So… it’s been three months since we started seeing each other.”
Your heart skips a bit when you listen to his words. You didn’t think what you were thinking earlier was true, but now that he’s brought it up, you deduce you might not be too far away.
“__,” Mingyu calls. You hum, leaning in closer to let him know you’re listening attentively. He gives you a coy smile, then his hand on the table moves over towards yours. You don’t fight your big smile off when he places it on top of yours, especially when you feel the warmth it radiates and how it looks like it could just easily enclose your own. “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that. I just want you to know that this is – this thing between us – it’s serious for me.”
“I’m serious about us two.” You say immediately.
Mingyu chuckles, simpering when he looks at you again. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“So?” You ask, waiting.
“I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me.” Mingyu says, clear and firm. “It’s just… I’m happy with our dates. And I just love hanging out with you. But I think I’ll be even happier if we go out together as boyfriend and girlfriend – officially – from now on.”
You nibble on your bottom lip; couldn’t contain the big smile you’ve been fighting against since earlier.
You’ve been expecting the question ever since you got here, but you’re quite surprised for your assumptions to be right.
“Okay.” You say coolly.
Mingyu furrows his brow. “Okay– as in…?”
“Okay, as in, I wanna be your girlfriend.”
His lips part. “Are you… for real?” You nod your head repeatedly, stifling a giggle as Mingyu begins to smile so widely. “Fuck.”
“Hey,” you lightheartedly scold.
Mingyu nods his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m just—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle. “You’re my girlfriend now.”
“Yeah.” You chuckle.
“I wish I can kiss you right now.”
You feel your cheeks heat up as you look around. There are too many people. But the hopeless romantic in you tells you it’s okay.
“Why won’t you?” You challenge him, and Mingyu arches a brow at that.
He looks like he’s giving in, but then he shakes his head. With a smile that borders on flirtatious, he leans closer to you and whispers, “Later.”
Mingyu’s sweet promise at the restaurant ends up with you straddling his lap on the driver’s seat, your dress riding over your thighs and the thin straps falling off your shoulder.
"Fuck," Mingyu breathes in your ear, hands full of your ass while you continue to grind against the bulging crotch of his slacks.
You're not any better, panting on the crook of his neck as he encourages you to move on top of him. You feel the wet kisses he bestows across the column of your neck, moaning at the delicious friction from one particular thrust of his hips.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your defense. Your dinner ended on a really good note and Mingyu was just supposed to lean in for one sweet kiss once you were situated in his car.
But then you swiped your tongue over his lips and Mingyu threw away his gentlemanly act for the night, granting you back with a kiss that had more fervor in it. Forceful in a way that says he wants you.
And the feeling’s more than mutual.
His coat’s long gone now, stashed away on his back seat, and you’ve already undone the top three buttons of his dress shirt. Mingyu squeezes your boob over the thin material of your dress, prompting you to let out a low moan.
“Why—” Mingyu cuts himself off to kiss your lips one more time.
“Why don’t we go to your place?”
You don’t register his words the first time, too drunk from the sensation of his touch over your body.
“Yeah?” You mindlessly say, eyes shut as Mingyu peppers kisses to your jaw down to your neck once again.
“You’ve never invited me to your place.”
At that, your eyes open and you still on top of him.
“What?”
Mingyu looks up, and you’re about to be distracted by his messy hair and his swollen lips but then he says, “We’ve never gone to your place before.”
“Oh.”
He’s quick to gauge your reaction. Cupping your jaw, he plants a kiss to the side of your lips. “I’m not insisting if you don’t want to.”
“N-no, I want to,” is your immediate response. “It’s just…” you trail off, thinking about how to approach the subject.
Mingyu hums, waiting for your next words, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. It helps you regulate your nervousness at the sudden mention of your place.
“I have a roommate.”
There you let it out.
Somehow in the past three months you’ve been dating, you never mentioned that you’re living with Jungkook. The subject just never came up – until now, that is – and you didn’t really feel the need to tell him when he never asked in the first place.
But deep inside, you’re a bit hesitant to tell him about it. Sure, Jungkook’s his friend, and Mingyu did say they were close and knew each other well, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him that you’re residing with his close friend – but that’s exactly what makes the whole thing weird. It’s one thing as a woman to live with a man in one place, and it’s another if that man is a friend of your – well, now boyfriend.
And you know to yourself that you and Jungkook are purely platonic so there should be absolutely nothing to be worried about. It’s not even that you don’t trust Mingyu to understand – it’s just that it’s not as easy to tell him straight up. Not when you’re just starting a relationship right now with an official label to it – not when you’re finally in a serious relationship after four whole years of looking and waiting.
You don’t want to ruin it. Not right now.
“Oh, okay.” Mingyu nods at your confession, understanding. “Is it why…?”
You nod your head, already getting what he means. Licking your lips, you look anywhere but his eyes. Instead, you focus your gaze on the exposed upper part of his chest and let your fingers toy with his collar. Mingyu lets you.
“But… roommate’s away for the night.” You tell him. And it’s true. Jungkook told you he has a date tonight and that usually means he won’t be going home.
And you want Mingyu so bad it’s not even funny anymore.
That puts a smile on your boyfriend’s face.
“She is, huh?”
Your heart skips a bit, and you give him a smile you hope he doesn’t recognize as fake.
Somehow, you don’t bother to correct him even though Jungkook – your very roommate – is most definitely not a she.
“And here goes my bedroom,” You say as you open your door, letting Mingyu in. You’re not really worried about its state because thank god you cleaned up before leaving for your date tonight. Jungkook’s the cleaner one though, and that’s an advantage because he’s kind of obsessed with cleaning the whole apartment and not just his room when he has the time. It’s exactly why Mingyu pays you a compliment on the neatness of the place.
“Cute,” he muses, looking at the Sanrio plushies on your nightstand.
“Yeah.” You nod, feeling a little shy. Mingyu’s place is the definition of bachelor – his bedroom’s literally out of an Architectural Digest page. And while you’re proud of your Sanrio plushie collection – they’re your childhood gifts and you’ve collected them until college and they were expensive as hell – you can’t help but think that maybe you’re coming off as childish right now. You wish you could’ve hidden them or something…
You hope Mingyu doesn’t think too much about it.
“I like the room,” Mingyu says, looking at you who’s sitting on the edge of your bed. “It feels very… you.”
“Really?” You chuckle. “I mean, I’d hope so. I’ve been here for two years.”
Mingyu chuckles, following you to the bed. You feel the mattress sinking in when he sits beside you.
“I wanted to give you something at the restaurant earlier, but I kinda chickened out,” He says.
You arch your brow. “What is it?”
You watch as Mingyu takes something out of his pocket, your heart skipping a few beats when it turns out to be a jewelry box. Mingyu looks at you and smiles, hands slowly opening the velvet box, and your lips part when it reveals a dainty silver necklace with a small drop diamond pendant.
“Wow.” You utter, eyes blinking repeatedly, not knowing how to react.
“Well…?” Mingyu says, gauging your reaction.
“You’re giving that to me?” You ask in pure disbelief. He only nods. “That’s really– it’s really pretty.”
“I thought about you when I picked it up. It made sense.” He says smoothly, and you giggle at his words.
God, you like him so much.
“I honestly don’t know what to say,” You chuckle, cupping your face with your hands as if it could make the blood go away from your cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I’d love to wear it on you.” Mingyu smiles.
“Of course.”
He takes out the necklace from the box and asks you to turn around for a bit. You do so, helping him put your hair over one shoulder. You can feel him scooting closer to your back, his breathing on your nape, and the way he slowly caresses your shoulder first before his arms go around your neck to lock the necklace around your nape.
The cold of the material hits your skin, just on time when you feel Mingyu planting a kiss on your clavicle.
“It’s really pretty.” You say in awe, touching the pendant.
“Hm,” Mingyu continues to pepper your skin with small kisses. “You’re beautiful.” You turn to look at him, smiling. He mirrors that and cups your jaw to give you a peck on the lips. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
You giggle when he squeezes your waist.
“Thank you.” you say in between your laughter. You hold his arms and stand up from the bed to place yourself in front of him. Mingyu looks up at you with one brow raised, but he’s quick to manspread when you begin to straddle his lap. As you situate yourself on top of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him run his hands across your body when you do so. “I really appreciate the necklace.”
“Yeah?” Mingyu whispers against your lips.
You hum, trailing your fingers down his collar then start to unbutton his shirt. When you get the few undone, you look Mingyu into his eyes and he meets your lips that crash into his in a few seconds.
You suppose it’s not exactly surprising that the kiss turns heated way too quickly. After all, you were both humping each other in his car earlier.
Sighing into the kiss, you tug at his hair, and it prompts his hands to squeeze your ass a little too tight. Mingyu breaks the kiss and there’s a barely noticeable string of saliva when your lips move away from each other. He trails kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck, taking the straps of your dress down, hands beginning to rub your bare arms.
“So beautiful,” Mingyu sighs, lips travelling back to your own. He prods his tongue in your mouth that you gladly open for him. You let out a moan from the sensation of his tongue against yours, clutching his shoulders so hard you're sure you're gonna imprint your nails on his skin despite the shirt he still has on.
"Mingyu," you whisper, mouth ajar and gaping uselessly against his hair as his mouth leaves yours eventually to go down to your cleavage. His wandering fingers go around your back to fumble with the ribbons that are holding the dress, and you’re quick to help him tug it down completely until your chest is out for his full viewing.
Mingyu hisses at the lack of bra – except the nipple tapes – when the top of the dress comes off. He stops and stares, then takes a long and deep breath, as if the sight of your breasts intoxicated him; sighing as if he's long wished to see you like this.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so hot." He cups the swell of your chest in his two large palms, fondling them as you continue rolling your pelvis against his straining crotch area. He grazes the silicon material covering your nipples, looks up at you as if to ask.
“Y-yeah,” you sigh out, knowing what he meant with the look.
Taking them off gently, Mingyu earns a moan from you, the sound getting a bit louder when he puts one of the two peaks in his mouth, and the sight is nothing short of erotic.
It elicits a sharp breath from you, hands flying to his soft and brunette locks. You almost feel bad thinking that you've been grabbing at them since earlier.
But you have more important things to mind than attending to Mingyu’s silky and healthy hair.
You seek for his lips which he gives you almost automatically when he notices you asking for it, the two of you meeting in a hungry kiss, your nails on one hand clawing at his back as you cup his jaw in the other. But his hands don't leave your breasts, palming them roughly but just right; squeezing so hard all the while tugging at your nipples.
For a moment, you take a halt, catching your breath and look at him with your hooded eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Take your shirt off."
He does as you say so, and you help him unbutton the entirety of his dress shirt to get the thing off him faster. Mingyu lets go of your boobs but quickly holds them as soon as his shirt is off. This time he flicks at both your nipples, and you can’t help but bite at his neck. The pleasure’s too much and you can feel yourself dripping down your thong, the sticky feeling of it making you squirm on his lap.
As if Mingyu has read your mind, he grips your waist and sets you down on the bed. He hovers over you, fingers idly exploring under the skirt of your dress until he finds the band of your panties.
You groan when you feel the cold brush of air on your bare thighs, suddenly feeling impatient. "Mingyu,"
“You want me to eat you out?” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.
You almost cry at his question.
“Yes,”
Mingyu drags his fingers on your clothed core, groaning when he feels how soiled your thong is. "You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Look at you," he sighs, hands leaving your pussy as he leans back and palms the strain of his pants. Your toes curl at the sight, uneven breaths puffing from your lips. "Look so sweet under me."
And you're also a mess under him, writhing and completely getting lightheaded from his actions.
You let out a mewl when he pushes up the skirt of your dress to your hips, dragging down your underwear to your thighs.
Lifting your butt off the mattress, you help him get it off of you completely and you don't miss the way the flimsy thong sticks to your pussy before he takes it off you entirely. Mingyu seems to notice as well, judging from the way he hissed under his breath.
Your pussy is slick and sloppy, wet and dripping for him.
"So fucking pretty for me, god, I can’t believe I get to have you like this," he whispers against your throbbing heat, leaving a small kiss on your clit.
You arch your back when he uses his finger to run it through your slit, adding another one to spread your walls. Mingyu groans at the juices that stick to his digits.
As he adjusts himself on the mattress, hands gripping the back of your knees, you push them up until you're bended in almost half. You hold up your own legs, getting whiplashed when he licks a long, firm and deep stripe over you, making your eyes roll from the back of your head, breath hitching as you keep yourself steady in your own hold.
"Oh my god – Mingyu!–"
He starts slow, kissing around your labia, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. Your head falls from the mountain of pillows under you, suddenly feeling frustrated.
"S-stop teasing me. Please, Mingyu,"
Ending your misery, he spreads your thighs, puckers his lips and dusts a few pecks over your bare heat and dives in for it seconds later with too much fervor. He savors every drop that oozes out from your hole, licking and lapping until you feel his tongue inside you. Mingyu could be spelling out his name for all it matters, but you really couldn't give a fuck.
"Oh, fuuuuck–" you groan, trying so hard to keep yourself steady. "S-so good,"
He hums in your pussy, and you don't help the way one of your legs drop to the mattress, the other one hooking on his shoulder. It makes you grab for his hair, pushing his head down and thrashing underneath his face.
It felt like minutes passed and you're almost crying by how good it all feels, his tongue doing wonders in the walls of your heat.
Soon, tears start to well in your eyes because of the pleasure, drawn out moans and heavy breaths filling the room. You couldn’t care less about the volume. Right now, you just want to cum.
"Your fingers, Mingyu,” You sigh out, and before you could even prepare yourself, he's inserting his middle finger inside you, pushing it in until it's knuckle-deep. "Oh god!"
“Yeah?”
He starts at an average pace until he adds another finger in your entrance, this time picking up his speed – and it makes you drip everywhere.
When he settles on scissoring his fingers inside you, moving at an abnormal pace that have you gasping under him, your body shake and your toes curl on the sheets. Mingyu swoops down to kiss your pussy again, two digits being repeatedly swallowed by your warm hole, slurping every juice that comes out of it. As he feels you tremble, the precedence of you nearing your climax, he takes his thumb to your clit.
"Oh, fuck, fuck," your pant, "I'm coming–fuck–“
Mingyu removes his fingers from you, exchanging them with his tongue instead and you cry out while he continues to rub your clit vigorously.
And when you arch your back higher this time, you spasm around his fingers, moaning uncontrollably.
“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Mingyu whispers, pecking your heat a few more times to calm you down from your high. After a few moments, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, quickly coming up to kiss you on the mouth.
You taste yourself on his tongue but you couldn’t pay much attention to it when you feel his dick against your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion wash over you.
Mingyu lets you stay still, and when you open your eyes again, you see him staring at you with a warm smile dancing across his lips. Your heart skips a beat, could no longer feel it but hear it instead, and you bite your lip, pushing his chest away slightly in an attempt to get on top of him.
“Let me suck your cock.” You say, but Mingyu shakes his head, firm on his place: on top of you.
“Let’s do that next time. Tonight, I have to fuck you well into the next day.”
And he does.
You didn't cum again – you usually don't from penetrative sex – and your first orgasm exhausted you way too much to let yourself go the second time. Mingyu didn't mind, telling you it was fine when you gave him an apology about it.
You wake up panicking at the thought that you’re going to be late for work.
Scrambling to sit on your bed, you take your alarm clock in your hands, letting out a dramatic “Thank god” when you see it read as 5:06am. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 as your weekday shift starts at seven.
Which means it’s still early. And you’re not going to be late for work like you feared.
You remember last night’s events though, and your eyes quickly go over to the other side of your bed.
Mingyu’s not in it – but it feels warm. An indication of the fact that he stayed the night over after what you did. You also deduced that he must’ve only gotten out a few minutes before you woke up.
Thinking he’s outside your room, you begin to stand up – groaning the way your thighs ache a bit as you do so. You’re only dressed in your panties and camisole, and you thought about going out in them – but then it made you feel a little weird. Okay, sure, Mingyu’s already seen everything there is to see – you had sex last night – but being naked in a non-sexual fashion in front of someone is kind of a little different, so you opt on putting on a pair of short shorts.
As you head towards your door, fingers ready to twist the knob, you’re surprised to see Mingyu meeting you halfway.
“Hey—”
“Why the hell is Jungkook here?”
Your smile drops and you look at him in confusion.
Mingyu wears an expression you’ve never seen him in before. He’s pissed. Eyebrows furrowed, gaze not soft like it usually is when it comes to you, and above all… his tone borders on accusatory.
“Why is he in the living room saying he’s your roommate?” Mingyu asks once again when you don’t say anything.
“I—” but you’re rendered speechless, frozen in your position. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Your brain is a jumble of thoughts and all you can think about is Mingyu seemingly getting mad at you.
“__?” A voice that’s absolutely familiar speaks up. You hear Jungkook’s steps getting closer to your door when he finally shows himself to you. “What’s Mingyu doing here? And why doesn’t he know we live together?”
Mingyu forces himself inside your bedroom and bumps into you a bit as he faces you with a venomous tone. “I’m going.” He declares, grabbing his shirt from your desk chair and putting on his belt.
“Mingyu, it’s not—”
“Save it, __.” He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, hastily buttoning up his dress shirt.
Jungkook frowns and butts in. “Mingyu, let her talk. I told you earlier, we’re roommates—”
“Jeon,” You turn to look at him, almost spitting out his name. “Not now.”
You see Jungkook visibly recoiling at that. But you’re too concerned over Mingyu already on his way out the door, ready to leave.
“Mingyu, just hear me out.” You say, looking at him sincerely.
“I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now.” Mingyu tells you with a cold look paired with a cold tone. You deflate, taken aback at how nothing on his face screams like he cares about you. He glances at his watch. “I have to go to work.”
He heads towards your apartment door and you follow him there, hoping to change his mind about hearing you out.
“I know what you’re thinking right now, and it’s not that, Gyu.” You tell him once again, following him outside your unit.
Mingyu stands there for a while. Then, he sighs, putting his thumb over his temple. He heaves out a breath, looking into your eyes as he says, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… let things cool down for a bit.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you mean?”
“I’m flying to Chicago this afternoon but I’ll be back in the evening. I’ll call you later after work.” He says, and now his face doesn’t look so devoid of emotions like how it was earlier.
But you worry about his words.
“You’re flying to another state.” You reiterate, just so you know you heard him right.
“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart,” The petname soothes you a little but then he continues to add, “Look, I’m not sure of how I feel about… Jungkook being your roommate. You didn’t tell me about it– just imagine my surprise when I saw him after I went out of your room. It’s not a nice feeling to get lied to,” He says, and you feel an arrow shooting straight to your heart at that. You blink your eyes, feeling like there are tears forming on the sides. Mingyu seems to notice that as he steps closer to you and rubs your arm. “We’ll talk later, __. Just not now. Give me time to process this.”
You give him a weak smile.
Mingyu cups your cheek, and you lean towards his touch. Rubbing a thumb over your skin, he leans down to kiss your lips.
When he breaks away after a quick moment, he tells you, “Later, hm? I promise.” You nod. Mingyu gives you a smile. “And thank you for last night.”
That erases your worry. Not all, but some of it.
“Thank you too.”
“Alright, I’m going, okay?” Mingyu lets go of your face and you look at him as he turns around after you bid your goodbye.
You watch his retreating back in the hallway from your position, nibbling on your bottom lip trying to process the turn of events – and it’s only five fucking am still.
When you enter your apartment again, you see Jungkook sitting on the couch of your living room. And he looks just as pissed when your gaze falls to him.
“What the hell was that?” He welcomes you with.
“What the hell is this?” You point back at him. “You told me you weren’t coming home.”
“Yeah, but I have work – which we both go to at the same time, by the way. Apparently, you’re bringing boys now to this goddamn place.”
You do a double take at his tone.
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” You say, voicing starting to pick up volume. You feel irritation bubbling up inside you as Jungkook stands up from the couch and turns his back to you, ignoring your question as he heads to the direction of the kitchen.
“I said we’re both gonna be late for work.”
You follow his steps. “No, you said I’m “bringing boys here”, what do you mean by that?” You grab his arm and that’s effective enough to make him turn around and look at you. But he avoids eye contact. “Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you, Jungkook.”
“I’m so sorry then, I’ll make sure to look into your eyes when I say every word that comes out of my mouth from now on.” He sarcastically says, and your annoyance grows.
“Watch your goddamn tone.”
Jungkook scoffs. “You’re the one to talk about watching tones when you literally just told me to shut up in front of your boyfriend?”
Your frown instantly. So you were right to think that moved him a little. But you tell him your confusion, “Where the hell did you get that? I didn’t tell you to shut up.”
“Yeah, you just told me “not now” like I’m a child trying to insert himself in mommy and daddy’s little argument. You might as well just have told me to shut the fuck up.”
The way he phrased your argument with Mingyu “little” rubs you off the wrong way.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” you sarcastically say. “Did getting told to shut up by a woman in front of another man hurt your big macho man ego?”
“You’re making it about another thing.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the refrigerator and taking out a loaf of bread.
“You think I forgot about your little “bringing boys here” comment?” You point out, but Jungkook decides now is the time to be an asshole and starts acting nonchalant instead, putting jam all over his bread. But you see the tick in his jaw, the tongue prodding against his mouth. He’s just as pissed as you are right now.
“And you sure as hell did. I don’t know what to tell you.”
You seethe. “Fuck you. I don’t bring “boys” here. Mingyu’s my boyfriend,” You say, and to be petty, you add, “As if you’ve never ever brought girls here before?”
Jungkook looks at you instantly. “Don’t you dare pin that on me. That was in the very first week that we lived together, mind you. But you told me how uncomfortable it made you feel and I thought about boundaries since then and never did it again. Why do you think I come over at their place instead of just hanging out here, huh, __? Even when we didn’t verbally agree on not having sex around this place, I thought it would be a goddamn principle. Heck,” He looks somewhere and scoffs, “Mingyu didn’t even know I’m your roommate. What did you tell him?”
You open your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing comes.
Because you realize in the middle of his outburst that… he’s right.
The first time that you saw a woman coming out of his own room and Jungkook noticing your discomfort about it, he just stopped doing his… thing in the apartment. It wasn’t a verbal agreement, as per his words, but he’s right. It should have been a principle.
In the past two years you lived with each other – that was the only time he ever did it. It became an unspoken rule: don’t bring your hook-ups here. But you never really had to worry about that unspoken rule because you didn’t do one-night-stands often, and when you did hook up with people over the past two years, it was rare so it was easy to do it in their place.
It has become a norm for you that you don’t see other people here anymore except for your friends when they invite themselves over – but you aren’t aware that Jungkook’s apparently making an active choice to specifically not hook up in here this whole time.
Coupled with the fact that you didn’t tell Mingyu about him being your roommate and him being caught up with your argument earlier – you feel a sense of guilt. A huge one at that.
But the stubborn part in you thinks that Mingyu’s different. He’s not a mere hook-up. He’s your boyfriend now! Couldn’t that be an exemption to the rule that’s unspoken in the first place?
“I…” you trail off, scolding yourself internally for not forming a coherent thought faster than you’d like.
When you don’t follow it up with anything, Jungkook takes his plate with him, turning on his heels away from you.
“See you at work.” He says, but it’s sarcastic and clipped.
Jungkook leaves one piece of bread for you though – just like he always does. And you take that as a sign that he’s not all that mad at you.
… Maybe?
You stand there in the middle of your kitchen island like some stupid stoned individual, going over the things that happened for the past – what – twenty minutes? You don’t even fucking know. Your wall clock in the living room had run out of battery, and your brain is too occupied with messy thoughts scattered all around you can feel a headache coming.
One thing’s for sure, though: you’re in the wrong. With Mingyu and with Jungkook. And you need to make it right somehow.
PART TWO | PART THREE
all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3
#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#bts imagines#jungkook imagines#jungkook scenarios#bts angst#mingyu smut#mingyu fluff#mingyu angst#svt smut#svt x reader#bts x reader#fic: tlp#awrkive
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nice boys don’t kiss like that
summary: when your former rival chances upon your diary and reads all the unpleasant things you’ve written about him, he takes it upon himself to change your mind.
⇢ pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader ⇢ genres: fluff, developing relationship au, rivals to lovers au, pining, kind of suggestive? idk ⇢ word count: 3.3k ⇢ warnings: profanity, making out ⇢ a/n: inspired by this scene from bridget jones’s diary. reposted from my old account.
It is on a twilit Saturday evening, at precisely 7:01 P.M, that Kim Mingyu is accosted by a notebook for the first time in his life.
He lets out a startled grunt and finds himself with an armful of things—a denim jacket, a crumpled grocery shopping list, an empty box of Tic Tacs, a woollen beanie with a questionable brown stain he thinks is ketchup; all presumably from whatever depths of your drawer he can see you hunched over, searching for something that remains stubbornly elusive. The offensive projectile whizzes past his shoulder and lands on the polished wooden floor with a thud.
Mingyu stands at the doorway to your bedroom, having bypassed the living room and hallway that leads to the kitchen in favour of pressing heated kisses to your cheeks and collarbones. He watches you, bemused. A few weeks ago, he might’ve laughed at your frazzled state with derision. Now, he still wants to laugh, but more in an affectionate way.
You turn around swiftly, nearly tripping on a stray stocking on the floor, and he bites back a smile when you mumble a string of curse words under your breath.
“Hi,” you say, breathing heavily. “I’m really sorry.”
Then you slam the door shut on his face.
Well, Mingyu thinks. This is the first time a girl’s closed the door when I’m in her apartment.
Faced with nothing else to do except wait for your arrival, he drops the Tic Tac box on the floor, hangs your jacket and beanie on the back of the sofa, and almost stubs his toe on the corner of the notebook.
Wincing at the close call, Mingyu glares at the book like it’s the cause of all his troubles. DIARY, it reads, embossed in ornate gold letters. The cover is a rich shade of red, rough and leather-bound. He picks it up; it’s rather heavy, and judging by the frayed corners and the random bits of paper poking out of the sides, it seems to be quite old too. Regardless, it is well-cherished—he knows this because he knows you, and you’re the kind of person who wears your heart on your sleeve.
Which is why he knows opening it is a bad idea.
Mingyu shrugs and places the book on the coffee table, taking a seat on the plush, olive green sofa opposite it. He leans his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers under his chin. From the inside of your room, he can hear muffled screaming—should he be worried? The screaming stops. Mingyu lets his tense shoulders relax.
His eyes zero in on your diary once more. He shouldn’t open it—he really, really shouldn’t. It would be a horrible breach of your privacy. Your trust in him would be broken forever, and even if he somehow manages to win it back, it will always be a stain in the fabric of your still-developing relationship.
But.
One tiny peek can’t hurt, right? He’s only waiting for you to come out of your room, after all. Just one little look, and then he’ll close the book immediately. It can’t possibly hurt. Curiosity is both a blessing and a vice, he figures, and since he’s already stacked up on vices, there is no harm in adding to his karmic points.
So he picks up your diary and flips to a random page, freezing momentarily when he hears an irritated grunt and the sound of something hitting the floor from inside your room. Your handwriting is a lot messier than it usually is; you probably save your best penmanship for official things, and your personal diary is not one of them. That, or you were just frustrated.
12th June I fucking hate Kim Mingyu. I hope I never have to see him and his stupid handsome obnoxious face EVER AGAIN. I’m so DONE with him.
Mingyu’s cheeks prickle with heat. He’s thoroughly invested now. He turns to another page.
14th June Ran into KMG again today. He spilled coffee all over me what else is new but. he actually apologised!!! Crazy. Maybe he was just in a good mood. Either way, my new blouse is ruined so fuck him.
The strangest thing is that Mingyu actually remembers that day vividly. You were wearing a gorgeous cream-coloured blouse, and he was so caught up in staring at you talking animatedly with your supervisor that he zoned out completely and accidentally spilled his coffee on you because he tripped over his shoelaces. Now, knowing that your blouse was new at the time brings up a slight twinge of guilt. He’ll ask you about it later.
22nd June KMG is actually…… kinda nice? He supported me in the meeting today with the clients when they were being so tiresome. He has a nice smile I guess.
Mingyu smiles widely.
23rd June Nevermind. I take back everything I said. Kim Mingyu is a prat with zero social skills. I mean, would it kill him to say hello back??? I get that he’s busy but i thought we’d made progress. One thing is for sure. Kim Mingyu is NOT nice. Not even a little bit.
His smile falters.
The next page contains a similar anecdote—something about how he always vehemently disagrees with everything you say, and how despite his good looks he was a complete and utter asshole. Further investigation reveals the same thing: you hate Kim Mingyu with a burning passion.
And… Well, he couldn’t lie and say the feeling wasn’t mutual at one point in time—but it has mellowed down since then, gently and slowly, like a fallen leaf being carried by a soft wind. There came a day where Mingyu found himself glaring at you, not with disdain in his eyes, but with a steady thrum in his chest where his heart lay. Later, he would realise that he didn’t hate you—not even a little bit.
He assumed you felt the same way. Why else would your smirks, so full of malice, melt into grins that could light up a whole town? Why else would you agree to go on a date with him when he asked you out, one day, after work, tripping over his words like an elementary schoolboy? Why else would you invite him home and ask him to spend the night?
Of course, it doesn’t explain why you’ve locked yourself up in your bedroom currently (frankly, he’s a bit befuddled about that). But the sentiment must still be there.
It’s a diary, he reasons.
It’s your diary, his brain screams back, and that’s the real issue here, isn’t it?
Diaries are full of crap, anyway, he thinks to himself.
Diaries contain the Real Thoughts And Emotions of a human being, his brain hollers back.
Mind swirling, Mingyu closes the book and places it back on the coffee table, barely aware of his movements. Have you been lying to him? No, there’s absolutely no way—he trusts you far more than that, and besides, what would you even lie to him about? There are no benefits to stringing him along, and you’re not the kind of person who would do something like that, anyway.
You must have had a change of heart, then. That’s the only conclusion he can think of. Your diary entries come to a standstill after 27th June, which means you haven’t opened it in a while. It’s also around the same time you stopped picking fights with each other. Something must have changed by then; Mingyu is glad it did.
Satisfied with his deduction, Mingyu stuffs his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles together. Behind your bedroom door, you remain suspiciously silent. He considers knocking on the door once to make sure you’re okay—or if you need any help, because staying put inside your room for over twenty minutes is certainly not normal when you have a guest and potential boyfriend over.
Almost as if you’ve heard his thoughts, the door to your room swings open. You stand at the doorway, breathing heavily.
“Hey,” Mingyu says, quickly standing up. “Everything good?”
You beam at him. “Perfect. Sorry to have kept you waiting, I—”
Your gaze drops to the coffee table, landing on your diary. Mingyu keeps his gaze fixed on you. You look back at him, lips parted.
“Um,” you begin. “It’s— It’s just a diary.”
“Clearly.” Mingyu fights back a smile.
You chew your bottom lip nervously. “Did you read it?”
“I did,” he confirms, nodding. “I’m sorry. I was just curious—”
You groan, lifting your hands and covering your face with your palms. “Fuck.”
Mingyu reaches out and encircles your wrists with his fingers, gently tugging your hands away from your face. He finds it oddly endearing. “It’s only a diary. I’m sorry I read it. I shouldn’t have.”
“I don’t care about that. You… you probably read all the horrible, mean things I wrote about you.”
“Well,” he says, shrugging a little, “some of the entries were definitely… interesting.”
You blink. Unable to help himself, Mingyu drops a light kiss to the tip of your nose.
“I don’t hate you, you know,” you tell him.
“Mhm.”
“I’m serious.”
“Mhm.”
“Mingyu.”
“I’ll tell you what I think about your diary later, ‘kay?” he says, hooking his pinkie finger with yours. “Come with me.”
“What? Where?” Confusion paints your features.
Mingyu huffs out a laugh. “Just trust me.”
Mingyu places the brand-new diary he’d bought for you on the dining table with a flourish. “D’you have a pen?”
You eye him suspiciously, gaze darting between him and the new, dark green notebook on the table. He grins, carefree and indulgent. Still wary, you hand him a blue ballpoint pen from the pen stand placed above the drawers to the left. He hums and uncaps it.
Flipping open the book to the first page, he bends down and writes slowly.
This book belongs to Kim Mingyu and
Mingyu stops writing and holds the pen out expectantly to you. “Here. Write your name.”
Confused, but curious, you oblige. Your name, written in your handwriting, next to his own semi-legible scrawl, makes a warm, affectionate feeling bubble up inside his chest. He wonders what it would look like when both your names are signed next to each other on a marriage certificate. Then, he wonders when and where your wedding would take place. A summer wedding sounds nice, but the sweltering heat might be a bit of a problem. Winter weddings are beautiful for sure, but neither of you is a big fan of the cold.
He’s in the process of thinking of names for your children and pet dog when you break him out of his daze.
“Hey. What’s all this about, hm?” You nudge his shoulder lightly with yours.
Mingyu says, “It’s a diary, but for both of us.”
You glance at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. He swings an arm over your shoulder and draws you closer to him, smiling when flyaway strands of your hair tickle his cheek.
“In your old diary, it was pretty obvious you, uh, didn’t like me much,” he explains, holding up his free hand when you open your mouth to protest. “I don’t blame you. We were assholes to each other most of the time. But we’ve moved past that. At least, I hope we have.”
Your reply is instantaneous. “Of course. Of course, we have.”
Mingyu trails his fingers absent-mindedly over your arm. “Right. And… It’s kind of silly, I guess—I don’t know—but I thought—if we kept a new diary together, one that we could use to document our journey, with both our perspectives in the same place—I thought it would be nice.”
Your mouth parts and you look at him, an indiscernible expression on your face. He shifts from one foot to the other, feeling suddenly nervous. You don’t betray any hint of emotion on your face, but Mingyu’s heart hammers inside his chest. What if you think he’s being silly and overly sentimental? What if you find the idea ridiculous?
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he quickly backtracks. “I know we’ve only just moved past the idea of being more than friends, but—” He stops himself.
“But…?” you gently prompt him, twisting around to see him better.
Mingyu swallows. “But I can’t imagine not being with you.”
He hears your sharp intake of breath, and in the next moment, the breath is knocked out of his lungs when you throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a tight, rib-squeezing hug. Automatically, his arms circle your waist, and he presses a light, barely-there kiss to the junction of your neck and jaw.
Eyes shining happily, you pull back slightly with a wide grin on your face. “You’re so hopelessly romantic, it makes my chest hurt.”
“Consider this your trial run. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”
“Don’t you dare.”
He sighs, content. “Okay, I won’t.”
“What should our first diary entry be about?” you ask, loosening your hold on him.
“About how you ditched me inside your house for almost half an hour after you invited me over.” He’s only half-joking.
You look away, embarrassed and sheepish. “I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“I’m being serious, Mingyu.”
“So you’ve said,” he agrees breezily.
“Actually,” you begin, a tad shy, “I was thinking it could be about this—about how you bought us a diary and then kissed me in front of the dining table after we christened the book.”
Mingyu’s eyes widen, but before he can get a word in edgewise, your lips are already centimetres away from his. “May I?” you whisper.
“Yeah. ‘Course,” he murmurs back.
The kiss makes him feel dizzy, like he’s had one too many bottles of soda—fizzy and light-headed. Your lips are soft, mouth warm; you taste like chocolate, and he licks into your mouth desperately. His fingers dig into your waist, bunching up the material of your t-shirt, and you run your hand through his hair, tugging gently. He’s kissed you before, of course, but something about this time feels important, a core memory sort of thing. Later that night, he’ll sit beside you on your bed and watch as you write in your shared diary, and he’ll make fun of the way you chew on your pen cap when you’re thinking of what to write next and you’ll shut him up with a kiss.
But for now, he indulges himself whole-heartedly. You let out little gasps which he swallows with his mouth. He tilts his head and kisses you deeper. Only when his lungs are burning does he pull away, and even then, not without a parting peck to the space in between your eyebrows.
“Mingyu,” you say, breathless.
“Yeah?” he responds, unable to tear his gaze off of your kiss-bitten lips.
“I really am sorry about what I wrote about you,” you apologise, looking down once and then back at him. “It’s only a diary—everyone knows diaries are full of crap.”
“I know.” Mingyu smiles tenderly. “I’m not mad.”
“You should be. I would be, if I was in your place.”
His eyes dart back to meet yours, and he grimaces. “If you really think about it, I’m the one who should be apologising, not you. I shouldn’t have read your diary, no matter how curious I was.”
“I… don’t really care about that, weirdly enough,” you say thoughtfully. “I was more worried about the fact that you thought I hated you and you were gonna leave me. Not so much about you reading the diary itself.”
“Pfft,” Mingyu says, affectionately condescending. “If I left you, where would I go?”
Your mouth parts as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “Jesus. How do you say things like that unironically?”
“I could compose whole sonnets about you and it wouldn’t be enough.”
“That’s ironic, I hope.”
He tilts his head and pulls you close. “Only one way to find out.”
When he captures your lips with his this time, it’s with colliding bodies and biting teeth. He runs his tongue across your bottom lip, and you shudder in his arms, moaning. Somehow, you stumble back into the living room, a mess of tangled limbs.
Briefly pulling away, Mingyu sits down on the same sofa he’d occupied earlier and clumsily pulls you onto his lap. You brace your hands on his shoulders for support, lifting your head up when he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw.
“Fuck, Mingyu,” you gasp, eyes falling shut.
He hums against your skin. “Tell me what you were doing in your room for so long.”
“I was—ah—it’s embarrassing.”
Mingyu stops his movements. “I won’t judge you.”
“I know,” you say, teeth worrying your lower lip. “I’ll tell you someday.”
When you purse your lips, ready for him to kiss you again, Mingyu lets out a soft laugh. “Sweetheart.”
“What?”
“I think I need to correct some of your… perceptions of me,” he murmurs, rubbing his hands up and down your back.
You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”
“I’m sorry about your blouse,” he whispers. “You looked really pretty wearing it, you know. Got distracted. Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“Mingyu, I don’t know what you’re talking—” You gasp when he kisses the column of your throat.
“I’m sorry for being obnoxious,” he continues, lowering his head and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck. “But I’m not sorry you think I’m handsome.”
“Only your face,” you mutter, but you tug on his hair to get him to tilt his head up. When he does, you kiss him again, your hands warm and placed on the junctions where his neck meets his shoulders.
“I’ll support you in more than just meetings,” he says, pulling back. His breath ghosts over your lips, prompting a shiver to pass through your body. Your eyes widen when you finally, finally realise what he’s talking about. “I’ll tell those stupid clients to shut up and take it.”
You laugh, bright and happy, and Mingyu wants to bottle the sound up greedily. “That sounds kinda wrong,” you say.
He shrugs, his smile turning lopsided. “I’m sorry for ignoring you when you said hi to me. I won’t do it ever again.”
You laugh again, teeth flashing in the warm glow of the living room lights.
There’s an odd feeling in Mingyu’s chest—something warm and golden—something he can only describe as being terribly, hopelessly lovesick for you.
He whispers your name again, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Tell me what you were doing in your room for so long.”
You groan again, your previous amusement turning into embarrassment. Your next words are muffled by his shoulder, your lips warm against his clavicle as you mumble something only you can understand.
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you,” Mingyu says mischievously.
Another sound of mortification.
“I won’t laugh,” he says. “Promise.”
“Underwear,” you mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. “I was searching for a better pair of underwear than the one I had on.”
To his credit, Mingyu really doesn’t laugh. It takes a lot of effort, though, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent his giggles from escaping.
You lean back and narrow your eyes at him. “Oh, go on. I know you’re dying to laugh.”
He shakes his head, cheeks blown out like a pufferfish. You stare at him quietly.
Minutes later, he exhales shakily. “See? I didn’t laugh. I’m a nice guy.”
His lips find yours again, slower and more languorous this time. After all, he has all the time in the world now—to hold you like this, kiss you gently—and he plans to cherish each second. Your tongue swipes his lower lip, and he parts his mouth willingly. He feels like putty underneath you, as he uses one of his hands to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your lips move against his, already familiar, but he could never stop craving it.
When you pull back to breathe, your eyes are wide and your lips are swollen—a fact that Mingyu notes with pride.
“Nice boys don’t kiss like that,” you breathe out.
“Oh, yes, they fucking do.”
#mingyu x reader#seventeen x reader#mingyu fluff#seventeen fluff#mingyu scenarios#seventeen scenarios#mingyu x you#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt fluff#svt scenarios#svt x you#seventeen#kim mingyu#mingyu
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Meet Cute of a Lifetime | Vi x Reader
Summary - When sleeping in leads to you visiting your regular coffee shop later than usual and forgetting your wallet at home, your day proves to be more interesting than expected when a generous stranger offers to pay for your coffee.
Word Count - 1,040
CW - Just fluff, no use of Y/N, fem!reader, Vi is taller and she's a sweetheart as per usual, Modern AU, coffee shop meet cute
A/N - This fic is set roughly 3 years before my 'Just Tell Me When' fic but it's not necessary to read them in order or together at this point!
A/N #2 - I hope everyone enjoys this! Also never feel shy to send me asks with different concepts for this AU or any other you can think of, I'd love to hear them!
Modern Chef!Vi Masterlist
-
The first thing you hear when shaking off the haze of sleep is a soft but consistent knocking on your door accompanied by the voice of your mother telling you to wake up. Glancing over at the clock on your nightstand causes you to shoot out of bed, nearly tumbling to the floor in your haste.
You’ve somehow managed to sleep through all of your alarms. Most likely because of how late you'd been up the night before studying for the upcoming end of term exam.
Truth be told, college had been beating your ass lately. You suppose this is just one of the effects.
"I'm up!" You call to your mother, cursing under your breath as you rub your eyes in an attempt to shake off your sleepiness. Opening your closet, you quickly settle for a fuzzy blue sweater, some lined leggings for warmth and an easy hairstyle that keeps it out of the way.
You hardly have the chance to say good morning to your parents before you’re rushing out the door into the cold, dry December air, shoving your headset over your ears and beginning a swift walk to the coffee shop a few blocks away.
Shaking off the chill, you admire the Christmas decorations on the houses on your way, the blown up Santa Claus in your neighbors yard, the Christmas lights, beautiful even unlit, and finally the wreaths adorning nearly every door.
You only stop once to pet the fluffy brown cat with a white nose and paws that you see nearly everyday. She doesn’t have a collar, nor have you seen her going in or out of any of the houses on your street. So you’re pretty sure she’s a stray, but you haven’t managed to convince your parents to let you take her home no matter how much you beg and plead.
As you reluctantly part from your fluffy friend, you shiver at the biting cold and can't help but worry that she's also feeling the effects of the weather. But you push forward, nearing a street lined with a variety of different shops and of course, your favorite coffee shop.
It's not five minutes later when you come up to the entrance of the coffee shop, groaning at the long line you can see from the outside of the window.
Shaking your head in annoyance and pulling the door open, you're hit with a comforting wave of warmth that melts some of your frustration away. As you glance around, you figure if you're already late you might as well just wait and get your morning coffee.
Who needs art history class anyway?
A slow ten minutes later when you finally reach the counter, you order your usual drink and reach for your wallet only to find your pockets empty.
Cursing softly, you're about to tell the barista to just cancel your order and go to class without your caffeine fix when you hear a voice from behind you.
"I've got it."
Whipping around, you lock eyes with what's got to be the most attractive woman you've ever seen. She smiles kindly, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Are you sure? You really don't have to." Against your own judgement, you begin taking in her features, eyes darting around her face. Her powder blue eyes, plump heart-shaped lips, the scars on her lip and eyebrow and finally, her roman numeral tattoo.
Your cheeks heat when she catches you staring.
"I don't mind," Her smile softens and she's already getting her wallet out, zipping it open and pulling out a ten dollar bill. "This should cover it." You watch as she passes the bill to the barista.
"Thank you so much, I really appreciate it." You sigh heavily, beginning to ramble as she orders her own drink, a classic hot chocolate. "Can't believe I forgot my damn wallet- I was in such a rush to get here I must've left it on my nightstand- but I guess things like that happen when you sleep in. I really appreciate the generosity though! Thank you..." You mentally kick yourself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I'm totally talking your ear off."
"No, no. It's alright, seriously." She stuffs her hands in her jacket pockets. "And you're welcome, you looked a bit stressed when you came in and I thought maybe I could cheer you up."
The barista calls your name and you eagerly take the cup in your hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. You pop open the lid, inhaling the scent.
"You watched me come in?" Your cheeks heat once more and you reach to unzip your coat a bit.
You hadn't noticed her, but you wish you would've.
"I did... shit, I'm sorry if I've made you uncomfortable-" The woman's cheeks flush a color similar to her hair and sways on the balls of her feet, boots clunking softly on the tile flooring. "I just thought- think you're really pretty."
"Really?" You blink in surprise, 'cause there's no way this is happening to you right now. "Thank you, and likewise!" You reply awkwardly, kicking yourself again, you're totally blowing this.
The woman chuckles. "Thanks, I'm Vi by the way."
You tell her your name and she nods with a soft smile, taking her coffee from the barista with a soft 'thank you'.
As the both of you step away from the counter, Vi asks: "Would you like to join me? I usually like to hangout here for a bit while I drink my hot cocoa."
You almost shed a tear, because you can't.
"I'd really love to, but I'm actually super late for my first class." You say apologetically. "But, I would definitely be down to another time? Maybe this weekend?" The words are hopeful and they make Vi smile.
"Yeah, I'd like that too." She pulls out her phone. "Wanna exchange numbers?"
You nod enthusiastically, taking the phone and handing her yours simultaneously. Quickly entering your number into her phone, you hand it back.
"Was nice to meet you, Vi."
"You too, pretty girl."
You leave the shop with a wide smile on your face, no longer worried about being late for class. Perhaps sleeping in was a good thing.
You really, really hope so.
-
No one can convince me that Vi would like coffee, maybe tea though? But she's definitely a big fan of hot chocolate.
#vi arcane#vi x reader#vi x reader fluff#arcane x reader#vi#violet arcane#modern AU#arcane#I love this woman so bad#vi x fem!reader
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나비 / NABI — THREE.
SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.
PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, somehow also a christmas and new year’s au, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, rumors as a plot device, bullying, alcohol consumption, cheesy shit, a few makeout scenes WAHAHHAHA. WORD COUNT. 28k (out of 49k).
NOTE. whoa.....HAHHAHAHA. this was long overdue, so i saved up my yapping for the afterword. anyhow, here it finally is 😭😭😭 my blood, sweat, and tears. mostly tears. enjoy. please let me know what you think, and happy new year to all!
모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE
#3: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HOW MUCH OF YOUR IDENTITY HE’S STRIPPED AWAY. Your title has changed from Choi Beomgyu’s girlfriend to Choi Beomgyu’s cheating girlfriend. Such an upgrade. It’s like you have a sign with that title label hovering and pointing to your head every time you pass through a decently crowded hallway, or enter an occupied area. Like Horangnabi, for example. You’re minding your own business, sipping on your iced mocha, and the people on the next table keep snagging glances at you.
Julie shows up with a loud cough, practically slamming your cinnamon waffle onto the table. The group snaps their eyes off of you and jumps into a sudden conversation. Julie rolls her eyes. “If I hear anyone talking crap, I’m kicking them out of the shop.”
“Are you even allowed to do that?” You’re pretty sure the cafe belongs to the school. And Julie seonbae is still a student here.
“No one’s ever here to supervise. This is my store now,” is her logical response. She takes a seat in front of you. You’re also pretty sure she’s still on duty. “Anyway, how was your break, pretty? Did you get some rest?”
Last week was the rest week after midterms, so you were able to spend the last six days at home in Daegu. Beomgyu wasn’t able to join you because he and the coding club— and this was hard to believe at first— had decided to join a game development contest hosted by TXT Inc. Shocker, you know. You couldn’t believe your ears after hearing the news from Beomgyu.
But he crushes your feeling of pride just as quickly as he triggered it. They’re not doing this entirely out of passion and willingness, he said. The extracurriculars office threatened to shut down their club if they fail to show any tangible results before the end of the semester.
Well, you guess if there’s anything that can get a bunch of boys to actually start properly operating their club, a dissolution threat will work wonders. They scrambled to find something they could do— a proposal to improve the MIS, events, anything. Fortunately for them, the TXT Inc. competition advertisement showed up on Yeonjun’s feed right when they needed it. Unfortunately, the deadline for the contest is mid-December. It’s now the last week of October. They’ve got like two months to cram an entire game from scratch, so for the entirety of the one-week break, they’ve been in a self-imposed isolation in the clubroom. To say that they’re on a tight schedule is an understatement.
Which is why you’re at Horangnabi right now. To buy a fuckload of coffee for those poor, sleep-deprived chumps. Another barista walks up to your table with a dozen cups of coffee, halved into two takeout containers, and you bid Julie farewell before heading out to make your way to the clubroom.
It’s concerning how they haven’t even locked the door. It’s even more concerning how you’re met with pitch darkness the moment you swing the door open— save for the singular glow of one computer screen on the opposite end of the room.
You flick the lightswitch on. Groans erupt. It’s like you’ve just revived the dead.
“Turn off the sun,” you hear Heeseung groan from below. He’s laid on the worn out couch by the door, shifting around underneath a blanket. Looking around, you see the other corpses strewn about. “Turn it off.”
“What a mess.” Navigating through the sleeping bags on the floor (sleeping bodies included), you notice that it’s littered with a distressing amount of plastic bottles and takeout boxes. You grimace. “I got you guys coffee. Come and get it.”
The first person to be revived is Yeonjun. The sound of the containers set on the table stir him up from the couch, next to Heeseung, and he stumbles over to you, finishing out an americano from the box. “Thanks,” he drawls out, patting you on the head before making a turn towards the door. “Ugh. I need to wash my face.”
“You go do that,” you say. “Everyone, come get your coffee then get out. This place is a biohazard. Go out and get some sunlight while I clean up.”
If they keep working in this environment, you’re pretty sure one or seven of them are gonna catch a disease. After a few more moments of coaxing and physical threats, most of them eventually evacuate from the clubroom. You had to physically kick Heeseung out before locking the door. The only one left is a certain Choi Beomgyu, still curled up on a chair against the half-wall. He’s stuck behind the table, one remaining cup of coffee left behind for him. Poor guy. He looks like absolute shit. You decide to pick up the crap on the floor first before kicking him out.
To get some more light in this damned cave, you pull open the curtains and turn on the lights in the back. Copious amounts of rustling and two full trash bags later, Beomgyu is still knocked out. You’re not surprised. He sleeps like a corpse.
You set the bag aside against the door, spraying some sanitizer into your hands before walking up to him, quietly wedging yourself behind the table because he’s still got his headphones glued to his ears. That can’t be healthy. You try to remove it from his head, sitting down on the chair next to him, carefully placing your hands on the sides of his face, but this stirs him awake.
Beomgyu grumbles and shifts in his seat. And then you hear him mumble out your name with a question mark at the end. “Morning, idiot,” you say, retracting your hands. “I got you coffee.”
“It’s...it’s morning?” he groans, barely coherent.
“It’s five past nine,” you tell him. “What time did you sleep?”
“I don’t know,” he grunts, pulling up his legs to the chair and scrunching himself up even more with a yawn. “I just decided to nap when my eyes couldn’t distinguish the ones from the zeroes anymore.”
You laugh. “Get some more rest,” you say, getting up from the chair. “I’ll close the curtains, hold on—”
“No, it’s fine.” You’re tugged back onto your seat, and you feel Beomgyu drop his head onto your shoulder. “I’m gonna—” he releases another yawn. “I need’ta get up in a bit anyway.”
A breath slips past your lips. His head is so god damned heavy and you struggle to squirm into a comfortable enough position, all while trying to make sure you’re not moving too much to keep his head steady on your abused shoulder. While you’re doing that, you hear a knock from the other side of the clubroom door. Which is weird, because none of those fuckers knock at all. They tend to just barge in whenever they want.
Beomgyu recognizes this anomaly as well. He jolts up, relieving you from his weight. “Ah, shit,” he remarks, and— for some reason— starts...crawling underneath the table? “Can you answer the door? If someone’s looking for me, tell them I’m not here.”
You’re more than a little confused. Beomgyu’s face wrinkles into a grunt when another round of door knocks echo into the space, and he ducks further under the table, shielded from whoever the hell is on the other side of the door in case they walk in. Despite not receiving any answers on an explanation, you do as he says. Opening the door, you’re immediately slapped in the face by a loud, over enthusiastic voice that you don’t recognize.
“Choi Beomgyu, you can’t keep running from us anym—”
The guy cuts himself off, eyes wide at the recognition that you are not his person of interest. You don’t recognize him, but he seems to recognize you, confirmed by how he coughs up your name with so much weariness that it almost feels like he’s wronged you somehow.
“Yes?” you say, brow raised. He gulps. Who is this man, how does he know you, and why is he scared of you?
“Oh, uh— Yeonjun told us Beomgyu would be here…?”
“He’s not,” you reply, crossing your arms and tilting your body to the doorframe, just to give your friend some extra coverage. “But I can send the message. What do you want from him?”
You’re very aware of the amount of attitude you’re expelling right now. “W—well, you know the autumn festival is next month, right?”
“Get to the point.”
He flinches out a nod. “I, uh, I came here to try and convince your boyfriend to join the Battle of the Bands competition for the festival. The ICT department still needs some vacant slots to fill, so...do you think...you can maybe…?”
Ah. Right. There’s that thing. The festival. Your seniors have been sending messages in the group chat about it and Heeseung did mention that off-handedly at one point. They scouted him for your department’s band, too, but he’s still on the fence about it because of the competition deadline they’re trying to catch. That doesn’t answer why Choi Beomgyu is currently hiding under the table though. “Who are you again?” you ask in an attempt to get some hints. This question sends the guy frozen and standing perfectly upright.
“S—sorry, I’m Choi Soobin,” he introduces. “I’m Beomgyu’s senior from the department.”
Your face stiffens. Well, god damn, you’ve just been totally rude to a senior. You clear your throat, brushing your embarrassment aside by inhaling a sharp breath. “I’ll see what I can do,” you simply say before shutting the door. Once the lock clicks, you immediately taunt Beomgyu out of his hiding spot. “You piece of shit, you could’ve at least told me I needed to be respectful!”
“Wow. You’re so brave for talking to someone older than you like that.” He snickers, shuffling out from under the table before grinning at you, now standing at full height. “Your temper has mellowed out lately. I forgot that you’re inherently Satan’s underling whose default setting is to be mean and cranky.”
“Shut it,” you roll your eyes, moving back over to the door to take a peek if Choi Soobin had already left the premises. He has. The hallway is more or less empty. You turn your head back, looking over your shoulder at Beomgyu, who has his hands in his pockets, face scrunched in a yawn. You can’t help but notice the bags underneath his eyes, the gaunt paleness of his skin. A sinking feeling hits you. “C’mon. All your clubmates have left. Let’s get you photosynthesized, fuckface.”
The both of you trek the relatively barren path from the ICT building to the courtyard, planning to circle all the way back because god knows when was the last time this guy had been able to do some exercise. Pace slow, you cock your head to eye Beomgyu. He’s silently sipping on the coffee you got him, the mid-autumn leaves crunching underneath the soles of his feet as more cascade down from the trees lining your path. When your gaze shifts up, Choi Beomgyu still looks as tired as ever underneath the sun. You frown, biting on the straw of your own drink.
“Why didn’t you want to join the band thing, by the way? You usually say yes to these things.”
Beomgyu looks over at you. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” you start. “Last sem’s E-Sports Fest. The conference thing. Not to mention all throughout highschool, you’d never miss the opportunity to be the center of attention. I’m just a little surprised.”
He lets out a hum. “Well, my priorities have changed.” Beomgyu reaches out for the top of your head with his free hand, plucking out a stray orange leaf from one of the trees above before flicking it away. “I’m already busy with the game dev contest as is. I’d rather focus my time on the important things.”
“Wow. So mature. I’m gonna tell your mom her son is all grown up.” All he does is roll his eyes at you. You laugh.
Despite that conviction of his, however, Choi Beomgyu is pretty quick to change his mind.
The next day, you’re back at the clubroom again with another set of coffee orders. It looks a lot more livable than yesterday. You call out their orders one-by-one, “Heeseung, iced mocha,” and they come up to the table to snatch it from your hands.
“Thanks, dear friend of mine,” Heeseung says, tipping your service with a firm smack on the back.
“I spit in your drink,” you retort back. He ignores your threat and saunters over to his spot next to Beomgyu, who’s busy doing god knows what with the computer, aggressive keyboard noises filling the room. You have no idea what he’s doing, nor do you try to find out. The most help you can offer to these losers is being their coffee intern.
When you finish handing all of them their drinks, ready to disappear and head off to your own business for the day, Hyunjin’s voice perks up your ears. He announces something to the entire club, eyes glued to his phone like he’d just read something very interesting. “Hey,” he starts. “Apparently Jang Seung is the drummer for the econ department’s band. You know. For the festival next month.”
They all stop doing whatever they’re doing— all heads pivoting to Beomgyu’s corner, who has now stopped typing on the keyboard.
Beomgyu promptly gets up. He marches over to the couch, near where you’re at, and fishes for his phone from the scattered bags on the cushion. “What are you doing?” asks Yeonjun. “I thought you won’t stop coding until nature starts calling the need for you to piss.” Beomgyu simply waves him off, successfully retrieving his phone. You watch as he taps and scrolls and taps and puts the device up to his ear.
Everyone is looking at him. There’s a moment of silence before he finally says, “Hyung,” into the phone. You eye him curiously. He meets your gaze— a flicker of a second— before turning his head just a centimeter away. “You still haven’t found a singer and guitarist yet, have you?”
Your eyes widen. Holy shit.
“Cool. I’ll see you later.”
Beomgyu throws his phone back onto the pile. “You’ll be in the band?” you manage to quickly get in before he scuttles off into his station again.
He turns to you. A smile. “Yeah?” he says. “You’re gonna cheer for me again, right?”
“But I thought you said you didn’t want to—” you stop yourself. “Nevermind. I will cheer for you as long as I don’t have to wear an ugly tangerine cosplay again. Why do your department colors have to be orange?”
He laughs. “Wear whatever you want.”
The news finally settles into the rest of the club. “Oh my god. Oh my god, holy shit, fuck, wait— I’ll prepare the posters—” Heeseung frazzles. The rest of the idiots start freaking out too. Jeongin says he’s going to design a lightstick. Jesus christ. Beomgyu’s fanclub has greatly diminished since, well, the issue, but you’re amused to see that his biggest fanboys are still standing strong. You bid the coding club farewell as they prepare for their fanchants on top of having a deadline to catch.
This changing of his mind just made seeing your friend’s face throughout the following weeks a lot more difficult. He gets home late almost everyday, sometimes not even coming home at all. You know this when there’s no invader unlocking your door and sauntering into your home at 11 p.m. just to complain about how tired he is. But he still texts you often. Too often, and he gets cranky when you don’t text him back even though all he sent is just a photo of his forehead with a sad face emoji, and you’re in the middle of taking notes for a class, and he gives you a call not long after to complain about his grievances out loud.
“Are you ignoring me?” You hear him huff over the phone. You’re on the way to leave campus now. Usually, you’d hitch a ride with Choi Beomgyu, but he’s been occupied lately, so it’s the bus for you today. The sun is setting. The moment you walk past the gates, there’s already a bus waiting for you.
“Cut to the chase,” you gripe, hopping onto the vehicle. “What do you want?
“Free up your schedule tonight,” he demands. Wow. Does he think you’re a pushover? “Band practice is finishing up early because of the Lantern Festival downtown. Let’s go check out the night market.”
“Sure,” you say. “If you’re late again, you have to pay for the equivalent of my wasted time.”
“I won’t be late! I promise, I’m gonna rush out as soon as—”
“Yeah, whatever,” you laugh. “See you later.”
Funny guy. Despite his packed schedule, he still manages to squeeze in some time to hang out with you. Whether it’s by knocking at your door at two in the morning for a sudden drive, or this. On holidays and special occasions. The Lantern Festival is celebrated annually in the city, matching the schedule of your own university’s autumn fest. It’s now early-mid November. You freshened up at your apartment before heading back out once the sun had fully set, waiting under the streams of brightly lit posts downtown.
You look at Beomgyu’s last text saying that they’re finishing up and he’s gonna head out in a bit. That was twenty minutes ago. You begin counting his debt as you walk down the lantered streets lining the path towards Gwanghwamun Night Market, a thousand won every minute he’s late. There are countless stalls and pop-up bars, pitched up tents selling souvenirs and food and trinkets. There’s a lot of things to keep you busy while you wait for him.
Your eyes catch one particular stand upon closing into the area. On the table and display at the far end of the tent are countless second hand, vintage digicams for cheap. You walk up to it, fiddling with the displays before asking the store owner for his recommendations. He hands you a silver, retro looking camera, the Canon logo stamped on it, with its price tag dangling behind. It’s pretty affordable. You make the purchase, carefully storing it inside your tote bag just in time for your phone to buzz.
A text from Choi Beomgyu. You whip your head around and stop the moment you see him looking lost amidst the crowded square, brows furrowed as he tries and fails to find you. You feel a laugh bubbling. You respond to his text. [eyes ahead, doofus] He follows your instructions, face brightening the moment he sees you. Beomgyu then quickly jogs up to your spot, a little sweaty and breathless and quite frankly disheveled. “Hey!” he calls out. “Sorry, there was traffic and I had to run away from my bandmates. They wanted to have dinner together, and, uh—”
“Thirty minutes.”
Your flat tone causes him to flinch. He presses his lips together, guilty.
“I waited for thirty minutes,” you tell him. “You owe me thirty thousand won.”
Beomgyu lets out a grunt and an apology and starts towing you away. “Fine,” he whines. “Let’s eat first. I’m starving.” You let him drag you to the lines and lines of street food stalls, quickly finding something to settle your appetite, and before you know it, he’s scammed you into filling his 30k quota on nothing but snacks.
You realize this just as you and he are standing in front of a stall, sticks of fishcakes in hand and you’ve already half chewn yours. “Cheater!” you exclaim the moment it hits you. “You made me use up all your debt in less than an hour!”
He mocks you with a close-mouthed smile, cheeks still filled with fishcakes and he waves his stick at you, taunting.“Cry about it,” he muses. You roll your eyes. “Why? Did you want me to buy you something? I might consider it if you say it nicely.”
The sounds of nighttime festivities fill your ears. It’s very bright for eight in the evening. You buy another two sticks from the vendor. “Yeah. I do,” you reply, handing one of the sticks to Beomgyu. He takes it and starts nibbling. “I wanted you to buy me a turntable.”
And then he coughs on the fishcake. “The fuck?” he leers at you. You cackle and enjoy your own food without choking on it. “That’s— five times more than thirty fucking thousand won. You don’t even own any records? Wait, where did this even come from, you’ve never been interested in this kind of stuff, what the he—”
“I was joking, doofus,” you roll your eyes, but your lips remain smiling. Smiling because he looks so appalled, it’s funny. He doesn’t share your sentiment— the corners of his mouth downturned into a frown with knitted brows, and you snort at his expression. You throw away the empty sticks, ask the vendor how much you both owe, pay the equivalent, and your eyes wander off to the sound of chatting and laughing passing you by, groups of people funneling into the direction of the stream nearby. “Hey,” you tap on Beomgyu’s arm, before taking the liberty to grab a fistful of his sleeve, tugging him closer. “Let’s go check out what’s going on.“
Beomgyu allows himself to be dragged along by you without much protest into the shuffling crowd. You manage to squeeze into a gap, not even being able to turn your head and check on him when the pace of the crowd pushes you forward, moving further away from the bright and warm stringed lights of the night market, now into a dimmer portion of the area that greets your cheeks with cold brushes of the wind.
The crowd fizzles out near the ledge overhanging the stream, allowing you to patter your steps across the pavement, running up to get a better view of what’s underneath with Beomgyu’s still in tow. On the water, you see a line of intricate floats slowly making their way downstream. Historical arches and buildings, dragons and folklore. You can even see a Doraemon float way back in the line if you squint and the air is knocked out of your lungs, from sheer awe and amazement. It’s so pretty. What catches your attention more is further down, there are people releasing their own orbs of light into the water, and some letting the lanterns loose into the sky.
“Whoa,” you breathe out. “That’s so cool.”
You feel a nudge on your shoulder. You turn to see Beomgyu, engulfed in the cold evening light, and he cocks his head back into the direction of the market. There you see a tent filled with similar looking lanterns that everyone else was releasing, not too far away with people queuing up in rows. Your head snaps back to Beomgyu, eyes sparkling. He huffs out a smile and leads you to the tent, getting in line to have your own.
“Please wait for any available spots by the table to write your wishes down.”
“Thank you,” you smile at the stall attendant, a paper lotus lantern in hand with Beomgyu right next to you, and you take a spot on the table the moment it becomes vacant.
It doesn’t take you long to ponder your wish. Good health. A fucking boyfriend. The works. Not that you’re superstitious, but it’s a cute idea. You peer over at Beomgyu, who’s still holding an unopened marker with a thoughtful expression. His brows are furrowed, lips pursed, and all of a sudden, he snaps down and quickly scribbles something you can’t see. Wow. He’s serious about this, you laugh a little. “Are you done?” He jolts, a little surprised before looking up at you.
“Oh, yeah.” Beomgyu sets down the marker, picking up the lantern from the table. “Are you?”
The both of you get off to get your lanterns lit up, and the once pink-tinted paper now burns a warm orange in your hands, toasting up your palms in spite of the cold weather. You head off back to the stream, all the way underneath the overhanging bridge to its shore. Carefully, you crouch down near the water, Beomgyu following your lead, and you look at him, the contours of his face tempered by an almost sunset-like glow amidst the frigid glimmer of the moon all around you.
“Do we just...drop them here?” he asks. You blink. You turn your head to the surface of the shimmering stream as it waits for your burning offering.
“I—I guess so,” you cough out. “Should we count?”
“You’re so lame,” he laughs. You glare at him. “Sure. On three. One—”
“Two.”
“Three.”
The lanterns escape from your grasps at the same time, pulled away from you by the current and the breeze. You watch as the two orange orbs slowly float away above the water, bumping into each other, drifting away from each other for a mere moment before colliding again, and remaining at that same proximity as they both follow the same current, pushed by the same breeze.
You look at Beomgyu, who watches the two lanterns until they fully escape your line of sight.
“What did you wish for?” you ask.
His gaze shifts over to you. It’s heavy. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.
“You can’t just ask those kinds of questions,” he jeers, bringing up a hand to your retreating face just to punch your nose. “That’s gonna nullify my wish. Stop trying to sabotage me.”
“I’m not! I was just curious!” You swat his hand away, annoyed. You two are still crouching by the stream, hands resting on your knees. There’s a lot of people around you too, also indulging in the festival tradition. At this point, your lanterns have been completely swallowed by the multitude of other glowing lotuses on the water. You’re pretty sure that the government is just gonna clean it all up come morning and throw them into the dump. So much for lantern wishes. Whimsy destroyed. Romanticism ruined.
Before your nihilism can completely take over, Beomgyu starts speaking again. “The game deadline is nearing,” he suddenly starts. “And the uni autumn festival is like, next week.” For some reason, you can hear a sigh in his voice. Poor idiot. He must be so tired. “I seriously can’t wait for everything to be over. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t even been able to drive you home lately.”
You stare at the water. You feel a knot in your throat which you cough out, bumping your shoulder against his before your arms stretch out, fingers locking and elbows hitting your knees to release the tension in your muscles. “I can get home by myself, you know,” you tell him, allowing your hands to hang languidly in the air.
“I know,” he says, reaching out for your pinky finger, a jolt of warmth running down your spine as he plays around with the contours of the joint, tracing down to the tip of the finger when he continues, “It’s getting colder. We should go.”
Beomgyu pulls you up with him when he stands, fully enclosing his hand with yours.
He drives the both of you home that night. First time in a while, and the last time in an even longer while because he gets even busier. Band practice. Club meetings. Game dev contest on top of your also staggering amount of coursework. Most of your time is spent with Minjeong and Sungchan because Heeseung has also been swallowed by work. Poor pathetic guy number two. He deserves all of his misery.
It’s a weekday, and you’re at the library with Minjeong and Hanbin this time. He’s been liberated from coding duty because he has an exam tomorrow. These two have just been formally acquainted with each other, as far as you know, but while taking a bathroom break with Minjeong for a brief moment, she suddenly tells you, “I like him better than Beomgyu.”
You cock a brow at her through the mirror, shaking your wet hands over the sink. “Hanbin? What’s the point of comparison here?”
“Yeah,” she answers, retouching her lip gloss. “He doesn’t make fun of you and he’s less annoying. You should date him instead.”
A laugh leaves your lips. You walk over to dry your hands and once the restroom is relieved from the echoing whirs of the drying machine, you quip back. “Hanbin is nice, but he’s not my type. Just because I want to date doesn’t mean I’m just gonna try it with every decent guy I know,” you nag as you walk out the restroom and back into the library. “And I think he has eyes on someone else. And quit hating on Beomgyu. He annoys everyone he likes. If you think he’s annoying then you’ve fallen into his trap. Congratulations, you and he are friends.”
On the way back to your table, you notice a group of students eyeing you. While passing, you hear one of them whisper. But it’s too loud of a whisper. Like you were meant to hear it.
“I can’t believe she still has the guts to show her face on campus.”
Minjeong stops in her tracks. “The fuck did you just say?”
“Leave it be,” you sigh, tugging your friend away before she starts a cat fight in the library premises. Yeah. You’ve already been branded as a cheating whore. Maybe you should just give up dating altogether.
“Why do you keep letting these fuckers talk shit about you?! Let me at ‘em—”
It’s less of you being a pushover and more of you not wanting to waste energy, really. You’ve gone through this bullcrap in high school (though at a lighter degree). People believe what they want to believe and it doesn’t matter what you tell them. So, why bother. You have a group of nerds plus Minjeong and Sungchan behind your back, anyway. And of course, Choi Beomgyu, who got into a fight with his friends (former friends, he insists) that were involved with the anonymous post issue. The funny thing is, they all apologized to him with their foreheads scraping the ground not even a day after the event, but none of them even bothered trying to receive your forgiveness— until Beomgyu pointed it out and they eventually, reluctantly, came to your feet to mumble out incoherent sorrys.
It’s whatever. The post got taken down, but you still hear some snide remarks here and there like just now. Again, it’s whatever. It’s not gonna stop you from enjoying your uni life. Which is why you’re here, right now, at the uni autumn festival with a trove of nerds who are all arguably vitamin D deficient, all carrying banners and flags with Choi Beomgyu’s name in one way or another, waiting for the Battle of the Bands to start at the campus courtyard.
“Put this on!” Hyunjin shoves a bright, orange bandana into your hands with bold, white text text BAMTORIS 4 BEOMGYU on it. They came up with a fucking fanclub name. Your head rings. The bandana wrinkles in your hand as you shove it into your coat pocket, never to see the light of day.
“Hey, it’s starting!”
The large, heavy speakers boom through the crowd. Indeed, it is starting, and you already can’t wait to go home. But you persist. You’re going home after Choi Beomgyu’s stage. His text said they’ll be performing fourth, after the economics department. You can handle that much noise and chaos. Your social energy needs to last, else you’d have to coax a sulking dog tomorrow for ditching him. The host screams a welcoming spiel into the mic, and everyone else starts screaming. You wince. Yeah, you can deal with this.
When the performances started, you were actually able to vibe a little with the music. Having Heeseung shaking you around and screaming lyrics into your ear does help a bit. When the third band comes up however, you feel the mood around you shift. The coding club boys are so much louder now. No, they’re not cheering. They’re hell bent on sending an overpowering amount of boos and jeers at Jang Seung the moment he got up on stage.
The guy was so flustered at the non-cheers that he was offbeat for half the song. You’re thoroughly enjoying this. Heeseing continues yelling different iterations of, “Get off the stage! You suck!” until Jang Seung finally does with his bandmates drilling dirty looks at him. You laugh. Absolutely deserved.
The boys’ jeers shift again the moment the host calls out the ICT department onstage. They start cheering. Very loudly. Ferally, almost. You see Beomgyu walk his way into the center, electric guitar hanging from his neck as the lights focus on him. You hear nothing but yelling. Jesus fucking christ. It’s an assault at all fronts with Heeseung, Yeonjun, Jeongin, and Hyunjin surrounding you. Maybe...maybe you shouldn’t have joined these damned nerds.
It hushes down when Beomgyu grabs the mic to give an introduction of the band. Heeseung is still screeching, though. You grow concerned.
“Anyway, sing and dance along if you know the lyrics.”
Beomgyu’s hands grip the microphone as you hear his voice continue through the speakers, staring down at the crowd as if he’s looking for something. Then his eyes land on you. You’re taken aback for a moment. Just a moment, because you manage a smile. Good luck, you mouth, hands cupping your lips.
He smiles back. “This song— is you.”
The instrumental is familiar. A guitar sings. Drum beats crash. You’ve heard this numerous times from Beomgyu’s playlist before. In his car. Along the streets. On the floor of his apartment at three in the morning after he called you out to do nothing in particular until you fall asleep on the couch. Then his voice resonates in the night, carried by the still familiar melody and you feel your heart thump along with the bass vibrating from the speakers.
Time and time again, Choi Beomgyu proves to you that he’s always meant for the spotlight. He belongs there, to receive all the attention and adoration of everyone that catches sight of him. Seeing him up there brings an unconscious smile on your face. That is until you feel Heeseung shove his shoulder against you, prying your attention away from the blinding stage lights to the dim glow of your friend’s lightstick. “Hey, lovergirl,” he says, grinning widely. “He says he’s nothing without you.”
“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes, cheeks stretched by a flurry of heat. “It’s just a song.”
It’s over before you know it. You were able to snag a few shots of your friend at the near end there as per his request for his Instagram feed, but your plan to run away after their performance is ruined because the boys have decided to hold you hostage because, “There’s no way you’re missing tonight’s celebration!” as if the winners have already been announced. There’s like three bands left. Tonight, you suffer.
Still, your waiting and leg aches for standing too long aren’t wasted because when the winners are indeed announced, the ICT department are called as the victors, and the rest of the night is a blur of hoots and yells and many, many bars and clubs all throughout the city.
Unfortunately for you, this is only the start of your series of night outs leading up to the end of the year.
After finals, Sungchan dragged you and Minjeong out for another night out to celebrate. When TXT Inc. announced the winners for their game development competition not long after, you’re dragged to another night out since the boys managed to scrape by 3rd place and save their club from the threat of administrative shut-down.
You’re exhausted. Absolutely drained. You sleep the entire car ride home to Daegu with Beomgyu, recharging just enough for the joint Christmas eve dinner with your family and his. Your friend manages to notice your pitiful state and saves you from conversations by answering questions from the parents on your behalf over the meal.
“Ah, I heard from our daughter that you performed at your festival last month? Oh, how was it? You used to sing and dance during our village Christmas parties all the time when you were still in elementary school.”
“He was trying so hard to look cool, dad.” Regardless of your exhaustion, your system always has enough energy to jump at the opportunity to make fun of him.
Beomgyu glares at you from across the table, and you feel a kick from underneath. “I was cool. We won, if you forgot. Just so you know, I only joined to put that Jang Seung back in his—” You kick him back. Beomgyu jolts, eyes widen. Oops, he sends you an apologetic look. You send him a silent warning in return.
“Who’s Jang Seung?” his mother asks, curious.
“Some annoying guy from our department. He likes to think he’s cooler than me and I needed to give him a reminder,” Beomyu responds. You release a silent sigh and sip on your drink. “Which I am. Proven by my victory during the competition.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy.”
“Auntie! She’s being mean again!”
By the time you reach your apartment building, the clock at around eleven at night, you are barely alive. The rest are walking ahead of you. You are but a bamboo stick getting brushed along by the wind and Choi Beomgyu’s stops you from falling face flat into the floor because you bump into him.
“Idiot,” he scolds, balancing you by the shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s go. I’ll be your navigator up the stairs, you withering stick of bamboo.”
“Wait,” you protest (verbally, because you have no strength left in your body and could not physically stand your ground). Beomgyu eyes you, halting from bodying you all the way up the apartment. You look over his shoulder to yell at your parents up ahead. “You go in first! I’m gonna talk to Beomgyu for a sec!”
“It’s late,” your mom narrows her eyes at you. “Can’t you two talk tomorrow?”
“It’s—it’s important,” you stammer. You look at Beomgyu. He raises a brow, confused and suspicious.
You step on his foot. He gapes his mouth and lets out a silent swear. You make a face. He makes a face back before letting out a defeated grunt, spinning his heels to confirm your initial sentiments. “We won’t be long. Mom, you can toss the keys to me. I’ll lock up.”
Not long after, you and Choi Beomgyu are left alone at the foot of your apartment building. He stuffs his apartment keys into his pockets, swirling around to look at you with a face stoned by disapproval. “What is it?” he gnaws. “You’re about to pass out any second. What could be more important than getting some sleep right now?”
You ignore his nagging. “Come to the playground with me,” is your unrelated response. His face jitters— disapproval churning into a shock of anxiety, but he attempts to brush it off.
“You’re not gonna ask me to do something along the lines of pretending like we don’t know each other, righ—”
“No! Fuck off! I’ll go alone if you don’t want to.”
“I’m coming,” he sternly says, trailing behind your heated steps to a corner of the apartment square, on the way to the playground at the back of the building. “At least tell me what you want to talk about first.”
“It’s—it’s nothing bad.”
“You’re being suspicious.”
“I’m not!”
Your foot stomps over the dirt of the playground, pressing your lips together as you scramble out your phone to check the time. 11:13 p.m. Dammit. Your coat pocket feels heavy, the thing inside snuggled deep and concealed. How do you distract him for forty-seven more minutes? He’s already yawning. Your eyes flicker around— the spring riders catching your attention first. “Come here,” you say stiffly, just as mechanically hopping onto what you assume is a duck on the spring.
Beomgyu is evidently weirded out by you, but he follows you anyway, unquestioning whenever you lead him from one equipment and ride in the playground to the next— the swings, spinners, monkey bars, tubes, slides, even the fucking climbers that probably can’t handle your weight. It’s not the most appropriate age and weather to be doing this, but you needed something to kill the time.
The only thing left untouched are the seesaws. It’s 11:55. God damn it. You’ve been willfully avoiding this contraption in case it reawakens your moment of shame and weakness, but having been caught in the pattern you’ve started, Beomgyu is already plopping down on one of the ends.
You bite your tongue. You follow and take your spot on the other end, quiet. The both of you see and saw in silence, most likely carrying the same thing in your minds.
The moment your feet hit the ground again, you stay there. You flip open your phone. Three more minutes. Beomgyu springs you up in the air. You’re brought back down.
“Whatever you’re planning on saying—” he starts, from above. “Don’t say it.”
“It’s not what you think!” you argue. Two more minutes. “Stop moving. Hold on a sec.”
You and Beomgyu are on both ends, both on the ground. One more minute. He eyes you suspiciously, maybe even nervously and you don’t blame him. You dig into your coat pocket, feeling the crumple of the smooth fabric of the pouch you pocketed before leaving for dinner earlier, the item hard in your hand.
“Choi Beomgyu, you’ve been working hard all semester.” Your phone alarm rings. Fucking finally. You pull the pouch out of your pocket. “I thought maybe you deserve a treat.”
You toss it at him. He lets go of the seesaw handle to catch it.
“Merry Christmas, fuckface.”
The pouch lands in his hands. He just stares at it for a moment, eyes wide in surprise and your heart rattles. Why are you nervous right now? You begin to palpitate even further when he actually pulls the strings open, revealing the vintage digicam you bought during the lantern festival. From the moment you saw the stall, you knew the sentimental idiot would like one of these. It’s been waiting in your drawer for this occasion. You start to feel even more self conscious every second he takes to examine it.
“I—I know it’s a bit cheap,” you stammer. “But I already spent so much money on your birthday gift, so don’t you even dare—”
Click!
You look up to see the camera in front of Beomgyu’s face. You blink. He puts it down, tinkering with the buttons with a smile on his face. “I like it,” he says, flashing his eyes at you. “It’s pretty.”
Without a second to waste, you jump off the fucking seesaw and Choi Beomgyu’s ass lands on the ground. “Hey, delete that!”
“Nuh-uh! No way!” he fends you off, swatting away your hands as you straddle him on the dirt ground. “You gave it to me so this is mine! I can do whatever I want with it!”
“My portrait rights! You’re violating the law!”
“Ow! That hu— owww! Fine! Okay, fine—”
It’s Christmas, and the both of you are on the dusty ground of your apartment complex’s playground, a little breathless from squabbling. Beomgyu has one forearm shielding himself from your attacks, the other keeping the camera safe to his chest.
“I’ll delete it! I’ll delete it on one condition.”
You slump back, already tired. “What?” you wheeze.
He grunts and picks himself up, dusting his clothes and you follow not long after once you’ve caught your breath. “Come to my place for a sec.”
This time, you’re the one eyeing him with suspicion. Still, he humored you tonight, so you shall humor him too. You follow him into the building, up the flights of stairs until you reach your floor. Beomgyu grumbles out a few swears under his breath as he puts more effort than necessary to unlock the door to his place. “Need a little help doing simple movements there, buddy?”
“Shut your mouth,” he grunts, finally managing to unlock it.
Their festive living room greets you upon entry. The rug is different from what you remember. The curtains shielding the interior from the moonlight have gingerbreads and snowmen on them. Beomgyu leads you up to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room, painted with tinsel and ornaments and stars. He sits down on the carpet, patting on the spot next to him without looking at you and you gingerly cross your legs down. He digs into the mix of real and fake gift boxes for decoration. You know because some have names, some are blank.
“I didn’t expect you to throw me a gift right at midnight. That was an unprompted attack.” He finally leans back with a pretty big box in hand, setting it down on the floor right in front of you. “Still. I refuse to lose. Here.”
There’s a name on it. Yours. From your pretty and handsome and amazing most favorite person, Choi Beomgyu. You snort.
“Open it,” he nudges.
“Now?”
“Duh.”
He’s annoying, but you let him off. Carefully, you unwrap the ribbon, a pang of nervous anticipation hitting your bones as your hands hover over the box lid.
You open the present.
You see the gift.
Your hands instinctively jerk back down to fucking close it.
“Choi Beomgyu! I said it was a joke! Why would you—” you hiss out, a quiet scream as you throw your head around to look at him, only for the words to fizzle out your throat upon seeing the expectant look on his face. His eyes are big and sparkly and looking at you with so much expectation. Your face grows hot, the burn even more palpable amidst the December weather, and you suck in a deep breath, looking down in acceptance and defeat. “A fucking turntable. You’re insane. Why would you get me this? You said it yourself that I don’t even own any records or LPs or whatever you use for this. What’s wrong with you?”
“You said you wanted one.” He’s grinning. He’s grinning very proudly. “Merry Christmas, dipshit. Now, we’re even.”
Ah. God damn it. He really is insane.
“He got you a what?”
Within the last week of December, you and Beomgyu return back to Seoul. There’s some crap to do at uni regarding your scheduling and classes, and Jung Sungchan is throwing yet another party to celebrate the incoming new year. Not at his parent’s place this time because he got an earful after the previous party. He’s hosting it in his apartment, so the invitation list is smaller. More bearable, because you and Minjeong are forced to attend again.
“Girl, you don’t even own any records.” Minejeong’s head pops up from the other side of the clothes rack, looking both appalled and amazed from the information she’d just received from you. “Have you even used it yet?”
“No!” you remark in response. “The thing has been catching dust in my apartment and I’m starting to feel bad. Is it okay if we stop by a record store after this?”
Which is why you and she are out shopping right now to buy a cute new year’s outfit to match Sungchan’s black and gold party theme. You don’t understand why he has to have a theme, but it’s a good excuse to treat yourself to some new clothes. You and your friend have been thrifting and boutique hopping, spending a good chunk of your holiday money for a one-day millionaire spree.
A few shopping bags in hand, a bell jangles when you push open the door to a vintage record store you saw in passing earlier, in between thrift stores. The scent of rubber, dusty wood, and pressed vinyl hit your senses, along with the dull hum of music from the store’s speakers from the background. You walk in with no plan on what the fuck you should buy, so needless to say you are overwhelmed by the gigantic selection on display.
“Hey, how may I help you?”
The singular employee present in the store has probably noticed your swirling eyeballs trying to take in everything. “Oh, I’m just looking around,” you say with a smile. The store clerk smiles back, telling you to feel free to browse, and you thank him. He’s tall, presumably college-aged with sandy hair, and your mind wanders around the idea that it would be nice to find another part-time job for extra allowance. But your break is almost over. And you’d have to look for somewhere else because it won’t be a great idea to work at Horangnabi again and deal with the rest of the studentry considering your current, uh, reputation.
But you’re not here to dwell on that. You’re here to finally put Choi Beomgyu’s fucking gift to good use. Minjeong stays by the door with her phone while you walk further into the store with the clerk trailing behind you. As you run your hands over a few familiar covers, familiar names and titles, he shoots you a few questions here and there— are you looking for a specific artist? What kind of music do you like? I can give you some recommendations if you’d like? Clearly, there’s something more than customer service going on here.
As you check out a selection of two records (because holy shit, these are expensive), it dawns on you that it’s almost the end of the year, and you still have yet to find a god damned boyfriend. Granted, you don’t believe doing so will help salvage your image in any way at all, but it kind of sucks to think that you’ll be spending another new year single and lonely.
“Come again any time.”
Well, maybe not too lonely because you won’t have time to think about any nihilistic bullshit at Jung Sungchan’s party. Minjeong scolds you as you walk out the store with a new paper bag and no new number in your contacts. “He was clearly trying to hit on you,” she says.
“He’s not my type,” you deflect back. She clicks her tongue and nags you that every shot you don’t take is a miss, and you simply brush her off with a laugh. But she has a point. Maybe you’re the reason why you’ve been single this entire time. Perhaps the universal false assumption that you and Choi Beomgyu have been dating for the past one-hundred years has nothing to do with it.
Lee Heeseung agrees with this new speculation of yours. “You’re too prickly,” he says over brunch at a local bed-and-breakfast. You and Minjeong meet up with him right after your shopping spree because he just happened to be in the area. “And a little scary. Everyone from the club used to be afraid of you at first because you’re so mean.”
“You nerds are just losers,” Minjeong defends you.
“Wow. Two bullets in one shot,” you say in between enjoying your bacon, fried rice, and eggs.
“Hey, you have no right to say anything. You’re single too.” Heeseung points his fork at her. “It can’t be helped. This is unsalvageable. It seems like I must share this secret trick I found on TikTok to solve all of your problems.”
“That source sounds very credible,” you snort.
“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Heeseung proceeds to explain the secret trick: eat twelve grapes under the table within the minutes passing into the new year, and your wish will be granted. You nearly cough out your brunch. Minjeong bursts out laughing right next to you. You can’t even begin to imagine how Heeseung managed to land himself into that side of the app.
“Incredible,” she chortles out. “What do you plan on wishing for, Hee? For you to get back together with—”
“No!” he screeches out. “No way. That era of my life is over now. I’m gonna get accepted at HYBE Inc. for my fucking internship.”
“Wow,” you gape, taking a sip from your iced tea. “You’re maturing.”
“Right? This is crazy.”
Heeseung’s outburst melts down, and the redness slowly starts seeping out from his cheeks. He looks at you, a little proud and rubs a finger under his nose with a grin. “Heh. It’s nothing.”
“You’ve got some rice on your face, Mr. Maturity.” You hear an ‘oh shit,’ from across the table as you look down to your lit up phone from a message notification coming in. Your eyes narrow, letting your utensils clatter on your plate to make a few taps on the phone screen. “You asked Beomgyu to come?” you ask, looking back up at Heeseung. “Why is the idiot telling me he’s on the way here?”
Specifically, it was a shot of him from the eyes up and a bus ceiling with [omw 2 u 🛵🛵] plastered on his forehead. “Oh, he’s coming?” Heeseung responds, unsurprised. “He asked if I wanted to hit the PC room with him. I told him I’m still with you two and sent him my location.”
“Ah, fuck me. Now I have to change seats.” You watch in slight confusion as Minjeong pushes her food over to Heeseung’s side of the table before following suit, leaving the space next to you cold and barren and empty, and your look of confusion muddles into betrayal. “Hey, don’t give me that look. Beomgyu always follows you around like a puppy with severe attachment issues and I don’t really want to be caught in between the both of you.”
“He does not!” you defend, your fist bouncing on the table with a clatter, just in time for your eyes to flicker off to the direction of the restaurant door opening, welcoming a Choi Beomgyu, who’s whipping his head around to look for you three, inside.
“Hey, dude, over here!”
Unfortunately, he proves Minjeong correct. Beomgyu turns his head to you at the recognition of Heeseung’s voice, blank face shifting into an easy smile. His next set of movements are programmed right into his system: he walks up to you, he plops down right next you, and he dips his head down to take a long sip from your iced tea, right before releasing a refreshed lip-smack and sigh with his shit-eating grin, directed right at you. “Thanks for the treat.” His hand meets the top of your head, utterly ruining your hair.
“Fuck off. No one even invited you here.” You wrestle him off with your elbow. Beomgyu retreats by letting his arm stretch behind your back, causing the cushion of the booth seats to sink down while he calls a waiter for the menu. You feel your throat dry. You reach for the ice tea Choi Beomgyu just drank a third of to rinse down the dryness. Minjeong’s eyes are on you. Heeseung is pressing his mouth together, and his face is pissing you off.
“Do you want me to find another table then? I see you’re almost done with your meals.” The bitch is trying to play victim. You give him a look of aversion. He’s unfazed, looking at Heeseung with a subtle quirk of his lips inching towards victory, because the latter took his bait.
“I’m ordering another meal,” Heeseung announces. “You. Sit. We’re hitting the PC room after this.”
“Sure thing.” All you can do is sigh while Beomgyu sticks his tongue out at you. “Quit grumbling,” he snarks. “And quit acting like you don’t want me around. Didn’t you say it yourself? Should I give you a refresher? Ahem, what makes you think I can’t live without—”
“Moving on!”
Your face is now hot. Beomgyu is still grinning like a bastard, but he doesn’t finish the statement. You can still see the amusement on the corners of his lips even when he leans down to sip from your iced tea again. “I hate being here,” Minjeong breathes out, gulping down the last of her drink before slamming the glass down onto the table.
Beomgyu’s order arrives. “Why are you two so moody today?” He points a pair of chopsticks at Minjeong before stabbing them into his salad. “Did your shopping trip go badly or some shit?”
“For your information, our day was going great until you showed up,” you glare at him.
“Yeah,” Minjeong doubles down. Heeseung’s second meal also arrives. He ignores the squabbles and starts happily digging in. “Our shopping trip was great. You should see the dress she bought for the party. It’s really pretty.”
At that mention, Beomgyu’s head tilts, eyes flickering over to your direction. “Is it?”
There’s something in the tone of his voice that forces you to swallow something down. “Mind your own business, buster,” you hiss at him. He shrugs and continues eating. “What the hell is Jung Sungchan thinking dress coding a college party, anyway? It’s not like he’d kick me out if I end up wearing bright green.”
“Is the dress you bought bright green?” Beomgyu chimes in. “Now I’m even more curious.”
You look at him, face scrunched up. “If you want to wear my dress, just say so.”
“Hey, I think I’d body it.”
“Oh my fucking god.”
Indeed, no one gets kicked out for wearing the wrong thing. The moment you walk into Jung Sungchan’s blasted apartment, you see red, pink, purple, maroon amidst the gold foil decorations and fuzzy warping lights. No, Choi Beomgyu did not show up in your dress. He’s in a beige wool blazer, white undershirt, and lazy black trousers with a beer can in hand, waiting for your arrival by the door. “Oh, hey.” You do not recall beige being in the goddamned dress code. At least his pants are black and his necklace is gold. “You’re here.”
“I wish I weren’t,” you grunt, wiggling out of your coat because although it’s currently the cold season, Sungchan’s apartment is humid. Though it’s significantly less people than his house party last summer, it’s still thirty people more than to your liking. You grimace, hanging the garment on your forearm. “Where is he? Where’s the host of this shithole?”
You point up your chin, looking around for Sungchan, but to no avail. Maybe he’s at the balcony, but your friend over here isn’t answering you.
“Hey, I’m talking to you.” You whip your head back to Beomgyu. He hasn’t left, no. He’s just standing there, a faint buzz tinting his cheeks. You peer at the drink he’s holding. You click your tongue, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello?”
Luckily, he isn’t fully checked out yet. He swats your hand away and clears his throat. “I think he’s on the balcony. C’mon.”
Sungchan greets you with a barreling hug and nearly bulldozes you into the floor because he’s a dramatic bastard who hasn’t seen you since finals week. “Now that you’re here, we can officially start the party!” he yells, as if it hadn’t already started, and drags your limp body back to the living room. Right now, it’s around ten in the evening. Minjeong clocks in not long after you and gets roped into the mess of drinking games happening on Sungchan’s carpeted floor, already a few rounds in.
In between all the yelling and the music and the chants to chug, chug, chug it, Heeseung stands up with a microphone in hand. You have no idea where he got that from, but he has it, and has decided that it would be a great idea to start singing your hearts out.
“Sing or drink! Sing or drink!”
Yeah, no. You’re downing that fucking shot.
“Boo! You’re no fun!” Heeseung jeers at you. You toss him the now red solo cup with the droplets of whatever the fuck they mixed into that, gagging slightly. The microphone eventually gets snatched by a very drunk Yeonjun, who already got his necktie wrapped around his head. This is a big mess. Yeonjun gets his solo moment. He starts singing Through the Fire by Chaka Khan.
“Yeonjun hyung! Yeonjun hyung!”
“Hyung, why do you have to graduate?!”
“Hyung, I’ll miss you!”
You’re definitely not drunk enough for this. By eleven-thirty, you’re already fucking exhausted, so you ready to escape to the kitchen. A lot of people have left, the ones remaining consisting mostly of Sungchan’s close friends. Minjeong sees you escaping and runs after you. “Going down for a bit. I need some fresh fucking air.”
“Don’t die,” you hum, patting her out the door.
“You don’t die.” She nudges back at the directions of the living room, where the boys are gathered in a sudden emotional huddle. Choi Beomgyu included. The year’s coming to an end. Meaning a few of them are gonna be graduating from uni soon like Yeonjun. You swear you can hear someone wailing. “I don’t want to deal with that. Good luck. Hide safe, soldier.”
She salutes you off, marching out the door. You turn back to look at the mess of the apartment. Sungchan’s prettily hung gold foil have either been ripped off, their remnants tattered on the floor, or barely strewn. There’s still music playing, the bass thrumming through the walls. Cups and plastic and confetti and a few pairs of shoes are scattered all over the floor. You grimace and walk over a wet spot, heading over to the kitchen to help yourself with whatever wine’s still left over.
Pouring yourself a glass, you can’t help but notice what’s left on the moderately sized dining table. Jung Sungchan put an effort to drape it with a pretty sheet of fabric stitched with metallic gold, serving as a bed for the display of various round fruits at the center. A single melon. A bowl of oranges and kiwis beside the bed of green and red apples. You huff out a small laugh, teeth clinking against the rim of the wine glass. Even Jung Sungchan is a little superstitious. You’ve heard about the round fruits for good luck on new year’s before. It’s a miracle none of these were massacred. Save maybe for the half-eaten apple abandoned right by the sink.
Your eyes notice the package of untouched shine muscat grapes sitting soundly on the table, still covered in plastic wrap. You check the time on your phone. 11:45 p.m. Heeseung’s dumb voice echoes in your brain. Twelve grapes. Wishes. Good luck. Superstitions. God, this shit has been haunting you since November.
“Hyung! Promise me you’ll still visit the club even after you graduate, okay? Promise that you’ll—”
“Dude, you have to learn to let go! If you love someone, let them go!”
“No! I don’t want to let Yeonjun hyung go!”
Still. Just like the paper lanterns last month. Just like the damned alarm you have on your phone that rings every night when the clock strikes eleven-eleven, you find yourself falling for this bullshit again.
This is fine, right? No harm in humoring the teeniest-tiniest possibility that these affirmations will hold true? Before you know it, you have the grapes in your person, the tablecloth flung open for a glimpse of a second, and ten minutes before the new year, a singular thought runs laps inside the pitch darkness of your head in the form of the question— can you get any more fucking pathetic?
“What...what the hell are you doing?”
You wince, light leaking into your safe space under the dining table, at the same time as the intrusion of Choi Beomgyu’s voice. You look up at him. He has peeled back the tablecloth— your cover— and honestly you’re not even offended by the look of pure and absolute judgment littering his face right now. You’re judging yourself too for listening to Heeseung’s fucking stupid trick, crawling underneath the table at new year’s party for god’s sake, sitting on a dirty ass floor, a bowl of grapes on your lap, a glass of wine next to your folded up legs, and an expression not befitting the holiday spirit because you’re looking up at him like you want to die.
“I’m—I’m manifesting,” you say petulantly with a squeak, cheeks burning and refusing to explain any further for the sake of your shame and pride. It’s eleven-fifty. You hope he’d politely fuck off before midnight so you can do your business in peace.
Your eyes should be sending the message right now. Beomgyu continues to stare at you with a less than amused expression, a contemplative pause that you hope is a sign that he’s going to leave you alone. But, no. Your message does not come across because Beomgyu decides to plop down, cross-legged, right in front of you.
“That doesn’t explain anything,” he says. Why can’t he just mind his own business? He should leave you and your grapes alone. “Sungchan’s looking for you and before I left the living room, he picked up a megaphone. Tell me what you’re scheming or else I’ll rat you out.”
“You, bitch!”
Eleven fifty-five. Shit. Choi Beomgyu doesn’t seem like he’s going to budge any time soon. His lips are pursed and he’s got the base of his palm holding up his chin. You bite down your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, taking in a sharp inhale before airing out your pathetic desperation in its rawest form.
“Like I said. I’m manifesting.”
His eyes narrow, brows furrowed. “Manifesting what exactly.”
“A fucking boyfriend.”
Whatever. Fuck it. He can make fun of you all he wants.
“Heeseung said if you eat twelve grapes from eleven fifty-nine to twelve o’one on new year’s, your wish will be granted. I—I—I looked it up because it sounded stupid, but—” You pause. You take a half a second glance at Beomgyu’s expression and decide that you are unable to look him in the eye. “Listen, Beomgyu, I’m desperate. I’m grasping at the straws here. I’m sick and tired of being single and misunderstood by all those damned fucking rumors and I know you’re nowhere near responsible, but I’m very annoyed right now, okay? So, if you’re just gonna make fun of me, please leave because there’s only, like three minutes left before twelve, and I really don’t want you deliberately ruining my chances this time, Choi Beomgyu.”
You breathe in. That. That took you an entire minute to say. Maybe you drank a little too much. Maybe you were rattling on like a maniac just now, but you can’t quite decipher Beomgyu’s reaction to your insanity.
Is he judging you? Is he weirded out? Pitying you? Because you sure are pitying yourself right now, but you don’t fucking know because all he’s doing is looking at you dead in the eye, face unmoving, totally blank expression, and you gulp. What the hell is he getting at?
Two minutes left. You hear the premature hiss of fireworks outside. “Scoot over,” he finally says. “I can’t believe you’re doing something stupid by yourself and leaving me out.”
“Wh—what are you doing?!”
The tablecloth falls. Your vision is darkened. Choi Beomygyu is wedged right next to you underneath Sungchan’s dining table, on the dirty kitchen floor of his apartment, two minutes before the start of a new year. A new point in history. And here you are, with your friend of over twenty years who’s plucked a shiny green grape from the stem, rolling it between his fingers with an unsure look. “Twelve? We have to eat twelve of these?”
“You don’t have to do it if you’re just gonna make fun—”
Beomgyu pops the grape into his mouth.
“How many minutes do we have again?”
You pause a little, staring into space before coughing out, “Th—three.” You put a handful of grapes into the cup of your palm to toss it all in there in one shot. It’s twelve fifty-fine. “Three minutes. Starting now.”
“Got it.”
Now, you can’t even begin to fathom the absurdity of this scene. You can hear the boys making a ruckus from the other room, yelling into the megaphone, counting down while you continue to shovel the fruit into your mouth. Eight. You have eight left.
“Woohoo! Happy new year!”
Fireworks are bursting, music is blaring.
“Six! Five!”
Four. Four grapes left in your hands. The juice spurts into your mouth. You glance up at Beomgyu. His brows are knitted together, counting the remaining grapes he has to swallow down before the time is up.
“Two!”
You seriously can’t believe you two are doing this. You’re about to choke, stuffing the remaining grapes into your cheeks and god forbid your obituary say that you died asphyxiating on round fruit on December 31, 11:59 p.m. Seriously. How did you get so pathetic? You swallow down the last bit of fruit while the rest of your friends are having fun outside. So single, so desperate, so pathetic. You’re never gonna eat another grape again.
“One!”
And the thought hits you
“Happy new year!”
If you’re so single, so desperate, and so pathetic, then—
“Done!”
Beomgyu’s sudden voice causes you to jump and bump your head against the table. His eyes widen, and firm hands clasp your shoulders to pull you in. “Sorry, are you okay?” he sputters out, little panicked while one hand travels up to the top of your head— where he’d usually ruffle, tousle to ruin your hair and annoy you, but this time Beomgyu’s touch is gentle, checking to see if he’s caused any damage, while your face remains pushed down, eyes trained on the ground where your tight knuckles are pressed into.
The fireworks haven’t stopped. There’s still a lot of noise outside, but Beomgyu’s soft voice manages to ripple through everything you hear.
“Nothing hurts, right? You’re good?”
He guides you to look at him, hands gingerly placed on the sides of your head, and you can feel his index fingers grazing the helix of your ears. You look at him. His former blank, judgemental stare softened with a concern that almost sounds like he’s carrying the weight of the whole universe on his shoulders, as if accidentally causing you to bump your head against the table would endanger the fate of the world.
You’re so single, so desperate, so pathetic, and also so, so stupid because why did you even waste your wishes on that paper lantern, those twelve grapes, and all the countless eleven-elevens these past months when the answer to your wish has been right in fucking front of you this entire time?
“At this point, we should just start dating.”
You gasp.
You cover your mouth, jolting up. Your voice was a little louder than you thought, and your heart sinks down into your stomach as you try to focus your rattled gaze at Beomgyu— at his face, his expression, but you don’t get to do any of that. You don’t get to laugh it off, take it back, say it was just a joke. A joke. Because just as when you open your mouth, the words threatening to jump out of your throat—
“You’re right.”
Beomgyu says something first, and none of it comes out.
“We should just do that.”
You’re not sure what you’re feeling, but it’s like your heart that got dropped right into the pits of your stomach just burst into a million, fluttering pieces.
Your breathing is ragged. Your eyes flit back up to Beomgyu. Your face flushes. Why isn’t he laughing? Why isn’t he saying it’s just a joke?
“Jesus christ—! There you two are! What the hell are you doing— oh my god, were you hooking up under the table?!”
“It’s new year’s, baby! Everyone, get crazy!”
You can’t feel your legs. You’re fished out from down there and into the mess of noises and singing and firecrackers bursting and you never get to clarify anything to Beomgyu, because he’s tugged along by Heeseung and Hyunjin for a group photo with the boys, and Sungchan and Minjeong are asking you a million questions that you can’t hear over the unfamiliar sound of your heartbeat. What...what is this? What the fuck is going on?
“Don’t tell me you actually did Heeseung’s stupid fucking trick.”
And then it hits you.
Butterflies. There are butterflies in your stomach.
This cannot be normal. You douse them all dead with a shitload of alcohol.
“Whoa, holy shit, that was half the bottle!”
That ought to kill the fluttering and buzzing insects. Only temporarily because the next morning, you’re hit with a different kind of buzzing.
Your head is ringing— buzzing— brain fuzzy, and when you open your eyes, you’re no longer in the mess of Jung Sungchan’s apartment. You’re in yours. In your bed. Still wearing your dress from last night under the covers. You have no idea how you got here.
It takes a moment for your mind to settle. You groan, vision swaying when you lean over to the bedside desk to feel around for your phone. You don’t feel it. But you do feel your purse that has your phone in it. What the fuck. Seriously, how did you get home? When you turn it on, you see on your lock screen message notifications from Heeseung and Sungchan, asking if you got home safe, pictures from last night. Some of the events caught on camera, you remember happening. Some, you definitely don’t remember happening and you grow all the more concerned.
One text in particular pulls in the only memory you need to remember, though. It’s from Minjeong, saying [choi beomgyu hauled your ass home in case you’re wondering btw HAHAHHAHA i never saw you drink that much before. jesus christ].
And you freeze, the blood draining from your face as you recall just what happened during the new year’s countdown.
You might have asked out your friend of twenty years.
And he might have said yes.
Your face drops into the plush of your pillow, lurching over to let out a long, distressed scream. That fucking grape trick was more effective than you hoped. Instantaneous. Heeseung should’ve warned you of its effects, what the fuck. Your moment is ruined by the sound of dull knocking, which you can locate coming all the way from your front door.
You pause, face still muffled into your pillow. The knocking is followed by a short pause. Then the sound of your door code beeping. Then your door unlocking.
Motherfucker, shit, fucking crap.
You throw your covers over yourself. You’re buried underneath. Choi Beomgyu can’t hurt you from down here. Maybe. God damn it, you don’t know what to do, you haven’t had the chance to think yet. The sound of footsteps from outside your room causes you to jitter. It’s still pretty far off, shuffling into the kitchen, you think, and they stop for a moment. Cupboards draw open. The sink turns on then stops. Footsteps resume. They enter your open bedroom door and you bite down a swear. Fuck it all, you’re so fucking fucked.
The desk chair behind you is pulled out, the sound of its legs screeching against the floorboards, ending with a quiet clatter. You hear a second clunk. Then the voice of someone sitting right behind your curled up and pathetic, vulnerable frame.
“I know you’re awake.”
Fuck. Fuck everything.
“C’mon, get up. It’s past two in the afternoon. I can’t believe I woke up earlier than you.”
Begrudgingly, you peel yourself out from under the covers, and just as hesitantly turn yourself around to face the face you aren’t quite ready to see at the moment with squinting eyes from the bright sunlight. You hear Beomgyu let out a sigh. “You drank way too much last night. Or this morning. Whatever.” Instead of looking directly at his face, you choose to look at whatever he’s brought to your desk instead. A tray. A tray with oatmeal, aspirin, and a glass of water. Your stomach is starting to act up again. You’re not sure if it’s whatever the fuck you drank last night, or something else. “How’s your head?”
Not well, thank you very much. You can’t even manage to verbalize your comeback. Shit, just how much have you fallen after just one slip-up. Why isn’t he bringing it up anyway? Why is he acting so normal? You grunt as you sit up from your bed, head still ringing as the aftermath of last night, and set the tray right onto your lap.
You drink your water, eat your meal, and take your medicine in silence. Beomgyu doesn’t do anything to bother you. All he does is watch you with steady eyes, gaze following the movements of your hand especially when you bring the water to your lips, leaned slightly forward as if he’s ready to jump in in case you drop it because your hands are shaking a little.
Thankfully, you don’t do that. When everything’s done, Beomgyu gets up and ducks down to get the tray off your lap, and— much to the demise of your entire nervous system— you’re forced to look at his face in such a close proximity, that you hiccup and jump back into the headboard.
Beomgyu turns up to look at you, still hunched over you. “What?”
You clear your throat. “Th—thanks?”
His eyes are fixed. His nose scrunches a little before setting the tray back down and returning to his seat. “You look like shit.”
“Thank you, asshole,” you correct, getting riled up. He’s fucking smiling. Seriously, why is he being so normal? “Now, leave. I’m gonna wash up so I look less like shit.”
“Sure,” he laughs. “I’ll come get you at around four?”
You look up. “Why?”
“To take some pretty photos around the city.” He’s up again, tray in his hands to return to the kitchen.
“Why?” you continue to squint at him.
“Why not? I didn’t bring the camera at the party because some of the guys might’ve used it as a ping pong ball, so I wasn’t able to take any photos for the new year. But it’s still the first day of the year today. Let’s go make the most out of it.”
Cheesy as hell, but you’re already all dressed and ready to go out when he barges into your apartment again. He makes an impressed holler upon seeing you, saying that you look like a human being again, and you land a kick on his shin before locking up your door, Choi Beomgyu trailing behind you with an anguished yelp.
It’s late afternoon, the streets of downtown Seoul are uncharacteristically free. Most are probably still behind the shutters, nursing their post-new year’s hangover. Some are probably back in their hometowns for the holidays. You and Beomgyu trail down the walkway. Your hands are stuffed into your pockets, him holding up the digital camera to his chest while he whips his head around, probably looking for a pretty scene to capture. You laugh, racing up your steps as you walk ahead of him. “Pick up the pace, loser,” you call out, turning half-around to provoke him with a snicker.
Your lips quirk just in time for the sound of a click to stop your backwards walk. Beomgyu has the camera up to his face. He puts it down, grinning.
“Hey!” You’ve halted in your steps, stomping down a single foot. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Like I said.” Beomgyu hums and looks down at the shot he just took, a satisfied look on his face upon inspection before flicking his eyes back up to you. “Taking pretty photos. Let’s go near the crosswalk. I think a shot would be nice there.”
You thought you were just going to accompany him on this excursion but somehow, you got roped into being a subject in the countless photos he’s taking. On the sidewalk. By a tree in the park. In the arcade. In the middle of walking into the facade of a cafe. Most of his shots are taken without warning, causing you to throw a mini-tantrum immediately after the taunting sound of the shutter. But all he does is laugh and shield the camera from you, assuring you that you look fine, that it’s pretty, that you guys should hurry off because the evening is nearing, and you’d just have to huff and and surrender and move on, else he’d notice the warmth on your cheeks and the stirring in your stomach.
“Ah, I want to try the mocha cake.”
“Then order it?”
“Now, I don’t want to because you’re telling me to.”
“You’re ten years old.”
“Nyenye, you’re ten years— hi! We’d like an iced matcha latte, iced americano, and a coffee mocha cake, please. Dine in, yes. Thanks.”
The things he’s always done that seemed so, so natural that you never even put a second thought to them suddenly linger in the forefront of your thoughts. The way he puts his lips on your straw even though you know he hates matcha just to annoy you. The way your hands rest on the table, his fingers tapping on your knuckles while droning on a rant about some game you don’t even know the name of. The way he naturally brushes a crumb off your face, shares a dessert with you, holds up the last bit of cake and icing on the fork in front of your mouth for you to have. Really, nothing has changed. Nothing has, but it feels like your entire life just got turned upside down thanks to the event of last night— of which neither of you are even addressing.
You still show up to each other’s places unannounced. You still go to 7-Eleven ice cream runs at three in the morning. You still shove your face into his arm while watching horror movies and screaming bloody murder, but nothing happens beyond that.
Not once have you brought up the conversation you had under the table at the strike of the new year. Not even after a month has passed since then.
It’s now the beginning of February, and you’re on campus to register for your classes next month. While there, you’re forced into the coding club room by the pest named Lee Heeseung. He rattles into your ear on the way there, talking about how they’re currently polishing the game they submitted to TXT Inc. (Which won. He never fails to emphasize that). When you get there, you’re jumped by three more boys wanting you to try out the said winning game.
“C’mon, just give it a shot!” Hyunjin bulldozes you into the computer corner.
“We’ll walk you through!” Yeonjun chimes in right after.
“I’m not— I’m not interested in your—” Jeongin sits you down on the seat. Heeseung is covering your path to escape. Yeonjun and Hyunjin are on the other side. God damn it. Where’s Hanbin? Where’s the only normal person here? Heeseung is messing with keyboard and mouse, the screen immediately loading, and you’re greeted by what appears to be a first person shooter game that honestly looks...pretty good? Wow. They actually worked hard on this.
“What are you guys doing?”
All five of you turn your heads back to the door. It’s Beomgyu. He’s got a backpack on him, which he tosses off to the sofa before walking up to your huddle. “Great! You’re here!” Hyunjin welcomes him in. Beomgyu finds a spot in between Heeseung and Jeongin, curious eyes glancing down at you. “We’re trying to get her to play our game!”
“Oh?” Beomgyu hums, leaning down against the back of your chair. “Sounds fun. Go ahead. I want to see this too.”
Do they enjoy fucking with you this much? Is this their favorite hobby? For some reason, clicking start is making you more nervous than you expected. Your hand is literally shaking on the mouse and you can hear Heeseung snorting at the way your other hand is positioned on the keyboard. “I hate all of you,” you announce, the stage loading. “I really hate all of you.”
“This is gonna be fun,” Jeongin assures from behind you. “The controls are simple. You just—”
“No, let her figure things out by herself.”
“Okay, it’s start—”
“Go, go, go! Run! Start shooting!”
“What?! Shoot what?!”
“The enemies! No, no, you’re going the wrong way don’t—”
“What is this?! What’s going on?!”
“Oh my god, this is hilarious.”
“Am I dead? Is it over?”
“Dude,” Heeseung lurches over, laughing and wheezing. “You’re so bad. You suck.”
Beomgyu is also laughing with them. You give him a side-eye. He immediately shuts up, clearing his throat, but obviously still smiling in avid amusement. “Let’s try that again,” he says. “I’ll help you this time.”
He cracks his knuckles, teiling Jeongin to scoot over so he’s the one directly behind you now. No, you don’t want to try again. You start turning around, but are immediately stopped with a quiet squeak because Beomgyu leans forward, pushing the office chair further into the desk, and you stiffen when his arms stretch out to cage you in. “What—what are you doing?” you sputter.
“These guys aren’t gonna leave you alone until you finish a level,” he simply says. His hands rest over yours on the keyboard, on the mouse. He’s pressed up against your upper back, your shoulders. He’s way too fucking close.
“Awh. This is way less fun.”
At this point, your eyes aren’t even registering the screen, and Beomgyu is basically playing the game himself. The shooting noises and fighting sounds from the speakers run dull. Dizzy. You feel dizzy. “Nice! Good job,” he says. His low voice is a rumble right into your ears. “Hey, you’re doing it. Nice shot.”
You shoot up, nearly headbutting him in the process.
“What’s up?”
“Restroom,” you squeak out. “I need to go to the restroom.”
The cold splash of water against your face is very effective. You’re at the restroom, hands gripping the edges of the sink as you stare at your drenched face at the mirror. There are things that you can’t ignore anymore. You two should address what’s up as soon as possible. Otherwise, you’re going to go insane.
“Choi Beomgyu.”
Not now, though. You...you just haven’t gathered enough courage yet to talk to him about it yet.
“Pass me the pillow.”
Right now, you’re on your living room floor, the aftermath of your takeout lunch on the coffee table, and Beomgyu grabs a cushion from behind him on the couch and pats it down onto your laps, eyes glued to your laptop screen, a dog grooming YouTube video playing.
There’s still a little bit less than a month before the semester starts. Beomgyu is supposed to leave for Daegu in a bit. The Chois have a family event back home, and they invited you as well, but you promised to accompany Jung Sungchan for a seminar later this afternoon, so you had to decline. Beomgyu’s brother is in the city, so he doesn’t have to drive or commute all the way there. He’s gonna get picked up in like, thirty minutes, so he decided to wait around and loiter at your place for the time being.
The entire time he’s been here, seemingly unbothered and unchanged even after the new year’s thing, you’ve been trying to get your shit together and just clear the air. What the fuck are you two now? Does he even remember what happened? Or is he just trying to sweep it under the rug? Is he overthinking about it just as much as you are right now? What the hell is going on?
“What are you thinking about?”
The video he’s watching has ended. His attention is now completely on you.
“Uh,” you stammer. “Yeon—Yeonjun seonbae is the only graduating student from the club, right?”
“Ah. Yeah,” he hums in affirmation. He twists his body a bit, crossed-legs slightly turned towards you, and he places an arm on the sofa seat, head resting on the knuckles of his hand. “The guys are planning on throwing a party this weekend to celebrate. To, you know, send him off.”
“He’s probably gonna end up crying again, isn’t he.” You attempt to dissuade your brain for now.
“Oh, definitely,” he laughs. “We’re gonna set up cameras in the clubroom. He won’t be safe.”
Bzzt bzzt. The both of you look at his vibrating phone on the table, right next to your laptop. Beomgyu grunts in annoyance (and slight back pain), pulling himself up to grab the device. You silently watch while he takes the call. He looks so annoyed. You’d be making fun of him right now if your brain wasn’t in so much of a mess.
“Hyung,” Beomgyu whines into the phone. “What do you mean meet you at the gas station? That’s so inconvenient. Ugh, fine. What time are you gonna be there?” You shoot him a thumbs up. He pushes it down, hand enclosing the back of your fist, and he continues complaining into the phone. “Just text me before you start driving. Yeah, she’s here. Do you wanna say hi?”
He hands you his phone. You clear your throat and put it up to your ear with your free hand. “Hi, hyung, how have you been? Yeah, he’s at my place again. A freeloader— exactly!” Beomgyu squeezes your knuckles at that remark, visibly pouting and offended. You brush him off. “Ah, yeah. Sorry I can’t join you guys. Maybe next time, I’ll be able to—”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Beomgyu snatches the phone back. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll wait for you there. Bye, hyung. Later.”
The end of the call signals that you two should maybe start cleaning up. You throw out the boxes, wash the dishes and cups you used and tidy up the living room floor and couch. Beomgyu is grumbling the entire time, asking if you really have to attend the stupid seminar later. “I’m not gonna flake on my friends, Beomgyu.” You lean against the doorway with your arms crossed, seeing him out. He frowns. “You’re gonna be gone for three days right?”
“Yeah,” he responds, audibly deflated.
A huff of air blows past your lips. Three days. You should just talk to him once he gets back. “Have you packed already? Need any help?”
“No, I already took care of everything last night.”
“Wow,” you laugh, impressed. “That’s so unlike you. You’re well prepared for once.”
Beomgyu doesn’t respond to your jab with the same energy. “I didn’t want to spend the entire morning packing when I can use it to spend a bit more time with you.”
Instead, he decides to be sweet. Honest.
You feel your rib cage rattle, your stomach stir. “O—oh,” you rasp out. “Um.”
“What’s with the look?” he laughs a little, taking a step forward. Your back is still pressed against the doorframe. Beomgyu’s arm reaches up further above your head, pushing himself closer. “I thought that much was obvious when I knocked at your door at nine in the morning.”
When you follow his gaze, you can tell that his eyes are tracing the lines on your lips, eyelids heavy. Your breath hitches in your throat. Shit. Oh my god. Is he going to kiss you? Is he leaning it to kiss you? You’re about to freak the fuck out and Beomgyu seems to notice that. He pulls back, allowing the air to circulate back into your lungs, and he lets out a sigh.
His arm falls down to his side. “You can still take it back,” he says. You look at him, brows furrowed. What? Take what back? Beomgyu waits for you to answer, and when you don’t, he decides that it’s best to be more clear. “We can pretend like what happened on new year’s didn’t happen— uh, remain with what we’re used to if you’re not fine with this. If you think we’re better off as friends like we’ve always been, I don’t mind. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Oh. Oh. You weren’t ready to talk about this yet. You planned to talk about this three days later, but when did your plans ever work? Never.
Beomgyu attempts a smile and starts heading back to his apartment. “We can talk more once I get back so you can think about it. I’ll go get my—”
“No, wait.”
You grab hold of his arm. Beomgyu turns back, surprised.
“I’ve al—already been thinking about it. I’ve been thinking a lot.” Crap. Your throat is dry. You didn’t plan any of this. You weren’t expecting to say this to him right now at all. “What I’m saying is—”
Choi Beomgyu looks a little expectant. You suck in a sharp breath. This feels weird. It’s like there’s something jittering at the base of your stomach. Many things, fluttering all the way up to your ribcage and throat and causing your cheeks to flare up.
“We...we can give it a try.”
There. You said it. You finally fucking said it and you can breathe again. Your gaze focuses on Beomgyu, heart racing, and his expression is yet again indecipherable.
He takes a step towards you. Your nerves jolt when you feel his touch on the arch of your spine, pulling you in even closer. “You sure?”
You let out a squeak. “Tech—technically, I was the one who asked you out, so shouldn’t I— shouldn’t I take responsibility…?”
Beomgyu takes a moment’s pause at your resolution. You’re nervous. You’re so nervous right now that you might have severely fucked up. He looks at you. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to avert your eyes, face flushed from the heat of the moment, only for him to release the tension with a big laugh, fully embracing you by the waist, and dropping his head down onto your shoulder before lifting it back up to look at you with a wide smile. “Yeah. Yeah, you should.”
This time, when he leans in again, doesn’t draw back midway.
You feel his lips on yours and your eyes flutter wide open, heart rate spiking up and up and up until your lips part, him kissing you deeper, until you can’t keep them open anymore. Beomgyu’s hold around your waist loosens, one hand traveling up to the back of your head before it could collide with the doorframe when you stumble back as you lose the strength in your knees, and before you know it, you’ve got your hands tangled in his hair, dizzy and short-winded and making you think that this— this isn’t so bad.
He draws his lips back with a heavy exhale. “God,” he sighs out as the heat of his breath hits your skin. Your foreheads are pressed together, eyes hazy and cloudy when he leans in again, mumbling into your mouth, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”
The reverie ends when a jolt of self-consciousness hits you belatedly. Your hands travel down to his chest, barely pushing off in a surge of sudden panic. Your face is burning, your lips feel fuzzy, and Beomgyu looks both surprised and disappointed which makes the churning in your stomach even worse. “A—a—aren’t you supposed to go now?” you stutter out, still a little breathless. Holy shit. That just happened.
“You’re right,” Beomgyu responds. “I should go now.” But his body language isn’t showing any signs of leaving. You wait for him to budge. He doesn’t.
Somehow, you manage to push him off you and finally drag him out of the building with his backpack in tow, much to his whines and protests. His brother has been endlessly calling him with all calls left unanswered except for this one. “I’m going! I’m almost there.” He is not. He’s at the bottom steps of the apartment building.
“Text me when you arrive,” you tell him, ready to head back inside. Beomgyu pockets his phone, looking more alive than ever and it’s annoying you a little.
“Mhm,” he hums in response. His eyes flicker down, debating whether or not to put whatever he’s thinking about with that into action, but decides against it and settles for a rough pat and a ruffle on your head instead, pressing out a small smile. “See you when I get back.” You wave him goodbye as he disappears out into the road. He sends you a text the moment he meets up with his brother.
It’s still a little awkward. You still can’t wrap your mind around this change after being nothing more than just two good friends for two decades. You’re just glad he isn’t trying to rush it. What doesn’t change is his incessantly annoying texts every goddamned hour throughout the three days he’s away.
And indeed, you do see him when he gets back. He’s supposed to go shopping for the Yeonjun farewell party tomorrow anyway, so you decide to meet him at the station and just proceed to the store immediately after. When he departs from the train and sees you waiting amidst the crowd, he immediately comes rushing over like a puppy. Christ, Minjeong was right.
Admittedly, you can’t get used to this yet. He’s always been touchy, but they’ve always been subtle. Devouring you into a bone crushing embrace to the point where all you can see and feel with your face is the fur of his jacket isn’t exactly subtle. The sounds of trains zipping, people chatting flood your senses. You quite frankly, cannot breathe. “Hey, chill out. It’s literally been only three days.”
“Bleh, whatever. Chill out, fuck off. Just let me have this.”
Your attempts to wrestle your way out of this good-natured suffocation is fruitless. You used to be able to push him around like nothing back in middle school. How far you have fallen.
“We still have errands to run,” you grunt out, managing to at the very least pop your head out from being smothered into his chest. He looks down at you, bitterly clicking his tongue and loosening his grip a bit. “Jeez, do you like me or something?”
That was supposed to be a joke. Beomgyu doesn’t find it very funny because he suddenly draws back, arms crossed and expression utterly exasperated. “Are you serious? Are you an idiot?”
“I was just pushing your buttons, stupid,” you shoot him a glare, taking advantage of your freedom to start walking ahead and out of the station.
“You’re stupid.”
There isn’t a day where Beomgyu doesn’t decide to irritate the crap out of you. He’s walking behind you. He’s stepping on the back of your shoes and bumping into you like a sixth grader. “Quit it!”
“Make me.”
He’s so annoying. He continues being annoying even at the event supplies stores downtown, where you’re picking up some streamers and party hats for tomorrow. You and he debate between hot pink and baby pink for the color theming. Rock paper scissors declare hot pink the winner and you get paper plates and cups in matching colors. “By the way,” Beomgyu starts, putting in two party poppers into the basket once you’re done loading up the utensils. “I met up with some of the guys from highschool yesterday. You know. Seungmin and Jimin. They were back in town for the holidays as well.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember them,” you respond, not very enthusiastically. The memory still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth like a permanent carpet burn. Beomgyu notices you shooting daggers at the innocent, inflated teddy bear balloon right in front of you. He tugs on your hand and leads you to the checkout counter before you can vent your temper at the poor balloon. “Anyway, how are they? Did you guys hang out?”
“Same old. We hit up the PC room for old times sake,” he hums, waiting as the cashier buzzes your items. “Actually, our high school batch is apparently planning a small reunion or get together of some sorts here in Seoul. They’re asking if we wanted to attend too.”
Well. You don’t exactly want to mingle with a bunch of kids that you weren’t even close with back then. And your social battery is already beyond depleted and has had no chance of ever getting a full recovery after all the events from December to January.
You mull it over while the counter finishes bagging your things. The both of you decide to make a pitstop at a nearby cafe. After ordering, you two pick a table on the outside porch because the weather is nice out. Beomgyu drags the metal chair from across so that he’s sitting next to you. Again, Kim Minjeong might’ve been onto something when she called him a puppy with severe attachment issues. The server comes by with your order. Your caffeine intake has been atrocious so you opted for a lychee drink instead, and he settles with a regular latte. Beomgyu hums out a tune while stirring his coffee, playfully hooking his opposite leg with yours underneath the table.
“About the reunion thing,” you chime up. “Will Chaeryoung be there?”
“How should I know,” he grimaces after trying out your drink. At this point, you think he’s faking it. “She’s your friend, not mine.”
He just keeps pushing your buttons today. “Hey, jerk.” You snatch back the drink from under his chin, visibly provoked. “Why have you gotten even more annoying now that we’re— we’re. We’re—”
Your initial attitude is immediately gone. You choke on your words, one left unsaid because at this point it’s still a little fucking embarrasing, especially with how Choi Beomgyu’s is eyeing you with a shit eating expression while taking a sip from his coffee.
“Now that we’re what?” he hums in provocation, smiling that annoying smile of his with twinkling eyes. “C’mon. Say it.”
“Fuck you, nevermind—”
“No, I want to hear this! Now what we’re what?” Suddenly, he’s twisting over his chair to directly face you. You groan and quickly jerk away when you notice he’s enjoying this a little too much. You seriously want to sock him in the face. “Do you want me to stop being annoying? Hey! Hey, look at me!”
You let out a squeak when you feel his palms on your warm cheeks, turning your head to face him in bewilderment and you panic and hold onto your chair. “What the hell are you—”
“Tell me,” he interrupts. “What do you want me to do?”
This bastard wants to kill you via heart failure. Any ability to speak coherently has completely left your body.. “I, uh, well—”
“Hm?” he touts even further. “What was that?”
You hate him. You hate him so much. You want to hide and bury your face into the ground, and he’s just visibly laughing at you like a sick freak.
Beomgyu finally releases his hold on your face to snatch both of your hands instead. He pulls them towards his chest, but his eyes remain on you, the sheer amusement never leaving his gaze. “Do you want me to be sweeter?” he hums, tracing his thumbs over your knuckles before pressing a light kiss in between the narrow gap. “I can do that.”
His eyes are still trained on you, almost taunting.
“Baby?”
Then the sun spits on your face and you feel the primal instinct to book it and run away.
“Sweetie?” He tugs you forward, pulling your forearms into his chest, just in time for him to land a peck on your nose. “Darling?”
But you can’t run away. No. Because Choi Beomgyu has you hostage while he attacks you with an onslaught of cringey endearments and butterfly kisses on the face to remind you that he is, in fact, strong now, and you can’t do anything about it. Had you known he was going to torment you like this, you should’ve just taken it all back.
“Ow! Why are you hitting me, I’m just doing what you wanted me to do— ow! Then again, dipshit does suit you better than—ow! This is assault!”
“You’re assault!” you screech out, finally managing to retrieve your bearings and you immediately cross your arms over the table, next to your barely touched lychee drink, and bury your face, never to see the light of day ever again. You hear Beomgyu having the time of his life next to you, laughing like an asshole. You send a blind kick in his direction. It hits. His cackling stops and he makes another pained noise.
“Hey, look, I’m sorry,” you hear him say. Then you hear the squeak of the chair, a bump on your elbow, and you peek out to see him laying his head on his crossed arms on the table as well, facing you. “I was just happy to see you again.”
You stare at him. How the fuck are you supposed to keep protesting when he’s being like this. “Beomgyu, you were gone for three days.”
“Three days too long,” he whines, muffling himself into his sleeves. “I’m with you every single day. I was suffering from withdrawals especially when my parents and your parents kept asking me why I didn’t bring you this year.” He tosses his head back up, suddenly looking at you with narrowed eyes and petulantly pursed lips. “And to think that when I got back, all I’ve been getting are swears and punches and rejection and— ah, my heart is wounded. I won’t ever recover from this. Never, ever, not even in a million— mmph!”
Choi Beomgyu’s eyes are wide, the tips of his fingers lifted up to his slightly parted mouth after you’d just shot up to shut up his never ending yapping by kissing him. There’s a heavy blush on his cheeks and even though yours are a little warm too, the corner of your lips involuntarily quirk upward. Holy shit. So, this is how it feels to be on the attacking end. Choi Beomgyu, you can eat shit and die. “Hah. Two can play it that game, fuckf—”
“Oh my god?!”
Your victory is cut short. Your blood runs cold. You should’ve remembered that you’re on the outside deck of a cafe right now, where people can just freely pass by and see you. You two are, in fact, seen, not just by any people.
With the creaks of hesitance in your joints, you turn to the sound of the very appalled, very alarmed, very familiar voice. There, you see Kim Minjeong and Sung Hanbin standing with shopping bags, some of which have fallen on the floor, all of which are for what you assume is Yeonjun’s farewell party. The former looks at you in horror. The latter is just smiling and waving. “What the fuck did I just see?” Minjeong croaks out. “Tell me, what the fuck did I just see?”
“I—I can explain!” you quickly sputter out. You turn to Beomgyu for help, but the fucker is still lost in a lovestruck daze. Oh my god. You want to die.
“Congratulations,” Hanbin happily remarks. You want to die very much. Maybe at the hands of Minjeong because she’s marching up the deck and her eyes are on fire.
Somehow, you manage to smooth things over. You fill them in with what happened on new year, and Minjeong says she saw this coming but still can’t accept it because you’re way too good for Beomgyu, which snaps him out of it and they get into a squabble. “So you approved of Jang Seung but not me?!” Hanbin is all smiles, though, and he promised to keep it a secret from the rest of the coding club guys for now because you don’t even want to imagine what would happen if they find out. Heeseung especially. Oh god. It’s going to be a disaster.
The disaster comes not even twenty-four hours later, at Yeonjun’s farewell party.
Most of the morning, you all spend the time to decorate the clubroom and set up all the cameras to record Yeonjun’s inevitable sobfest. Hot pink and white streamers are hung around and about. There are balloons on the wall spelling CONGRATULATIONS, Y3ONJUN! because there weren’t any letter E’s available. The boxes of pizza and chicken arrive. Jeongin walks in with a cake. You’re all decked out in party hats and birthday trumpets while waiting for the man of the hour to arrive.
“Pink or brighter pink?” Beomgyu asks, holding up the two cones for your perusal. You’re both wedged in a corner in the room, slightly detached from the rest of the group scuttling by the door.
“First one,” you hum, and he draws the string down, tapping the cone cap on the crown of your head while he slowly lets go of the string once it’s set underneath your chin. Beomgyu takes a step back, examining his work, before nodding into a satisfied smile and putting his own party hat on himself.
He’s. He’s so dumb. You brush off a smile with the shake of your head, and in doing so you inadvertently lock eyes with Heeseung, who seems to have witnessed the entire exchange and is now squinting at you— like he’s trying to understand something. Clearing your throat, you look away before he can take your eye contact as an invitation to talk, and Heeseung is just about to approach when the clubroom door clatters open, a series of party poppers go off, confetti shoots out, right in time for Yeonjun to step in, eyes wide in half-fear, half-surprise.
“Wh—whoa, what? Hey, what’s going on?”
In a matter of seconds, things escalate. Congratulations are yelled out. Some happy birthdays (whatever makes them happy). The pink graduation cake is released. It takes a moment for Yeonjun to let it all sink in, and when it does, the boys’ predictions are ultimately proven correct because he tries to play it off that he’s definitely, absolutely not crying (he is).
They laugh at him, make fun of him, and group hugs are shared. It’s all very silly and very cute. You’re on photo taking duty until Hyunjin pulls you into their mess of limbs and yelling and sobs until you’re finally able to wiggle out back into your corner.
Beomgyu returns to your corner with a slice of cake on a paper plate, two forks, and a dollop of icing on the tip of his nose.
“Is that a new look you’re trying?” you laugh, taking one of the forks on the plate.
“What are you talking about?” His brows are furrowed. You tap on your nose. Beomgyu mirrors your movement, still confused until he feels the smudge of icing, and he draws his hand away with disgust. “God damn it. Jeongin, that rat.” Despite his desire for revenge, Choi Beomgyu doesn’t leave the corner. He stays there with you, watching all the rest of the boys making a mess as you share your cake, plucking off a crumb from the corner of your mouth while you wheeze at Heeseung trying and failing to pin the tail on the Yeonjun-donkey.
“Idiot, to your left! Left! That’s not your—”
“Hey, hold still for a sec—”
“Are you directionally— oh!”
Lee Heeseung rips off his blindfold— ready to whine at you— but that intention immediately simmers down to something else when he snaps his head just in time for him to witness Beomgyu touching your face and getting away with it unscathed. You jolt. Heeseung’s eyes are narrowed at you. “Hey, what’s going—”
“We got a noise complaint! ICT publication from next door!”
“Ugh, party poopers.”
“Choi Beomgyu, go deal with it.”
Thank god for that interruption. The man in question doesn’t seem as happy about it, though. “What? Why me?” he groans in protest. You see Heeseung pause mid-stride towards the both of you.
“Because we need someone with charisma to make sure we don’t get in trouble and Yeonjun hyung is useless right now.” Hyunjin reasons. Cut to Yeonjun who’s still sobbing his eyes out at the paper roll of messages you guys wrote for him. He really is useless. Beomgyu sees the waterworks and lets out another grunt.
“Ugh.” Pouting, Beomgyu turns back to you, handing you the plate and finishing it off by messing up your hair. “I’ll be right back.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Quit acting like you won’t miss me, meanie.”
You stick your tongue out. Beomgyu rolls his eyes and heads off with Hyunjin outside to deal with the complaint, hooking the latter by the neck with his arm. You’re about to finish up your cake when Heeseung replaces Beomgyu’s spot. You nearly choke on the damn thing when he suddenly bolts up saying, “Hey. Why the fuck are you two acting so weird?”
“Jesus fucking—” you cough. “What the hell are you talking about?”
The look of suspicion never leaves Heeseung’s face. You can feel it— cold sweat breaking. Shit. Is this it? Is this the end of your peace and quiet? “Beomgyu has been all up in your space since we started preparing and at this point, you would’ve sworn at him at least two dozen times already,” he starts. “I haven’t heard your unrecyclable mouth utter even a shit or damn. There hasn’t even been any bickering and it’s freaking me out.”
Of all times, why does he decide to be perceptive now? You can’t even muster up a response. Thank god he’s a yapper because he fills in the silence himself.
“Well, whatever,” Heeseung simply shrugs. “I guess that’s a good thing because my ears are spared from your potty mouth just for today.”
He’s perceptive but not sharp. Today, you are saved. “Go suck a dick.”
“That’s the spirit. Back to normal.” Your friend grins and gives you a thumbs up. You shoot him a glare and he blocks your punch with his palm. “But did something happen? The vibe between you and he is a little different. How do I put it?” You struggle to remove your fist from the bastard’s grip, but he doesn’t let you budge while he continues to ponder. “It’s like you’re a couple of high schoolers who just started dating or some shit, haha. Something like that.”
You rip your hand away and press it close to your chest.
“Yo, what’s with the face?”
Turns out, your good for nothing friend has been speaking a little too loud that it’s gotten quiet. Quiet in anticipation because everyone in the room is looking at you right now— including Beomgyu, who’d just gotten back with Hyunjin after their successful mission. “Whoa, what’s going on?” Hyunjin asks. You gulp. You look at Beomgyu, who’s a little taken aback by what’s going down. Oh, you’re so fucking screwed.
“Wait, why aren’t you denying it?”
How could you when Choi Beomgyu is looking straight at you? Sure, you don’t want them to find out, but you don’t have the heart to deny it and make Beomgyu upset, either! You remain quiet for five, sixe seconds— several seconds too late because they construe your silence as a yes, and Heeseung’s eyes start beaming, and it gets loud again, and your face is starting to grow way too hot for you to handle
“Oh my god? Oh my fucking god? Oh my god, my biggest wish is finally happening— guys! Guys!”
That’s it. It’s over. It’s all over. The news spreads like wildfire, but it’s all Heeseung’s hearsay until a confirmation comes out from either of you two’s mouths. Heeseung is shaking you by the shoulders. Yeonjun is crying even more. Hanbin is watching everything with a smile and he sends you an assuring thumbs up, but you don’t feel assured at all. From the corner of your eye, you can also see Beomgyu getting assaulted. He’s got Hyunjin and Jeongin yelling at him from both sides. He looks like he’s getting a migraine.
“Is it true?! Did you two really decide to date?”
“No way! Not with how adamantly she’s been against—”
“Wait, this isn’t our business, we shouldn’t—”
“Who asked who out? C’mon, you gotta tell us!”
Despite it all, Beomgyu’s usually loud mouth remains quiet. He says nothing to them. Instead, he meets eyes with you from across the room— a cock of his head, a slight raise of his brow as if to say just give me the signal, what do you want me to do?
You feel as though you’ve already been asking him for too many favors this year. You suck in a sharp inhale, and, while ignoring Heeseung’s vigorous shaking of your person, answer Hyunjin’s question in his stead. “I did,” you said. “I asked him. On new year’s. Under the table.”
Heeseung suddenly freezes. You squeeze your eyes shut and look down, cheeks burning. Then you hear a scream.
“You?! You?!”
“This is crazy. What the fuck, I don’t believe it.”
“I knew it! I knew something big happened then! Gosh, I fucking knew it!”
“You were barely conscious then, how could you know—”
“About time, really.”
“Hey, I’m so happy for you two,” Yeonjun suddenly saunters up to you, eyes red and threatening to spill again. He sniffles and pulls you into a hug. “I’m just so...so—”
And your shoulder is wet. You give him a few pats on the bag as you watch Beomgyu fed off his rabid fans from jumping him while he attempts to move closer to you. He manages to succeed by announcing that he needs to talk to you in private and then go crazy. He doesn’t succeed as much in prying Yeonjun off of you, though. You’re both suffocated in a group hug and best wishes from the soon-to-graduate club member.
“Hey, I hope none of you have forgotten who this party is actually for,” you raise in the hopes of dissuading the situation. Which works. Somehow. You’re in no position to question a blessing from the skies.
“Sideshow over! Time to watch the message video—”
“Where’s the cord? Whose laptop are we using again?”
“Hey, nobody leaves until we clean everything up! Jeongin, I’m looking at you.”
Regardless, Heeseung wouldn’t leave you alone until you fess everything up to him. Even after the party, he kept texting and calling you to tell him the how, what, where, and why. Mostly because he wanted to confirm that he has all the credit of introducing you both through that blind date. It was very funny to see his entire world shatter when you told him that you and Beomgyu had known each other since forever. He stopped bothering you after that and decided it’s not fun anymore to tease you.
Unfortunately, the rest of his club members haven’t tired themselves out yet. When Beomgyu told them he wasn’t gonna join their night out this weekend because you guys had the high school reunion thing he mentioned to you the other day, they refused to believe him and that he was just making an excuse to spend time with you. You owe Hwang Hyunjin a punch to the gut. He must’ve forgotten that there was a reason he was scared of you the first time you met.
Anyhow, those headaches are set aside because you have a different headache to deal with— that is, the impending hell of meeting your high school classmates again. You contacted Chaeryoung the other day, asking if she’s also attending and she responded with a sudden call, which turned into a two-hour catching up session. Needless to say, you have no choice but to show up now.
It’s the day of, and you’re getting ready inside the bedroom apartment. There’s soft music humming through the turntable Beomgyu gave you as a Christmas gift, loaded with the record you bought last month. It’s the same song he played onstage two months ago. The room is dimmed, the bronze ceiling light the only thing illuminating the walls, floor, the bedsheet you’re sinking into and the mess of makeup items scattered about, as well as Choi Beomgyu’s face that’s inches away from yours— a focused look of concentration etched on his pursed lips as he brings up a brush up to your cheekbone.
“Hey, stop that! It tickles!” you laugh, albeit unwillingly, as you swat his hand away. “If you mess up I’m gonna have to wipe my entire face off and start over.” You feel your phone vibrating next to your hand that’s pressed into the mattress. Must be from Chaeryoung. You look down to grab it, but Beomgyu taps on the side of your jaw, lifting your face up to look at him.
“Who cares? We’re already late anyway.” His brows are all knitted up in concentration, wielding your lipstick wand like it’s a scalpel and he’s about to perform open heart surgery. Why is he taking this so seriously? He barged in while you were putting on makeup earlier and bragged that he could actually be pretty good at this, and you egged him on to prove it. So far, he’s been all talk, sweating after tapping on barely any product on your cheeks with your blush brush. “Stay still, dipshit. Unless you want to end up looking like a clown.”
“I’ll kill you if you mess up.”
“Then maybe shut your mouth for a sec.”
“Nyeye, then maybe shut your mouth for a—”
“Shush! I’m concentrating!”
You muffle down a laugh, seeing him try so hard. You can see the sweat bead trailing down his forehead as he lifts up your chin with one hand and now brings a shade of lipstick to your lips with the other. There’s a jitter of hesitation the moment you feel the product brush against your lips— a light press and a pause. You look up at his eyes but he’s not looking at yours. And then you watch as Beomgyu’s takes a deep breath while clumsily applying the product in a rush, mumbling something you can’t quite hear under his breath, and he twists the wand back into its container before tossing it onto your bed.
“What was that?” you ask, grabbing his wrist before he could retreat. You can see him even under this dim light. You can see just how red his ears are. You fight back the urge to laugh and make fun of him outright. You need a different strategy to win against him. “What did you say?”
Beomgyu is still not looking at you. He’s not fighting against your grip, but the heat has traveled down to his neck as he continues to look away. “I said pretty,” he coughs out, then repeats, “your lips are pretty.” Your grip loosens. He takes this as an opportunity to peek at you once more. Which proves to be the wrong move. “No, your entire face is pretty. What the hell? How am I supposed to make fun of you now? This is pissing me off.”
You don’t recall giving him any blush, but Choi Beomgyu is blushing red when he stomps out of your room in a fit. You’re flustered yourself, but your annoyance and confusion overtakes any other emotion as you quickly gather your purse and phone and wallet to catch up to him and his sudden tantrum.
“Now, why the fuck would that piss you off, you dick?!”
You’re both in your living room now. Beomgyu is throwing on his coat when he snarks back, “See! Because it doesn’t match your vulgar mouth and nasty personality!”
“You talk as if you’re any better than me, fuckface.” Somehow, you’re both on your way out now, walking down the hallway and down the stairs to the lobby as your…civilized conversation continues. “In fact, your mouth is way worse than mine.”
“Lies!” he barks back. You’re both out of the building now. “Statistically speaking, you swear exponentially more times than me.”
“You failed our statistics and probability final in ninth grade. Don’t get smart with me. And should I show you the voice recordings Heeseung sends me whenever you two are playing a game? Your mother would cry if she heard them.”
“I can’t believe you’re using my own strategy against me.” Now, you’re walking to the parking lot and even while he’s ranting, Beomgyu manages to lead you right to his car. “And mind you, those are exceptional circumstances. In general and on average, you are the worst offender of all. There isn’t a day where you don’t tell me to fuck off or eat shit, and I’m not the only victim. There’s Heeseung. There’s Sungchan. There’s—”
His throat holds his words hostage. You are being held hostage in between him and his car when he leans in to open the passenger door for you, hand already on the handle, but Beomgyu remains unmoving. His lips are pressed tightly, together and a wrinkle creases the space between his eyebrows.
Then, he breathes out a swear.
“Dammit.”
His grip leaves the door, cups your cheeks, and lunges in for a kiss like a crazy person.
The first moment, you’re shocked and wide-eyed and wondering what the fuck is this idiot trying to pull. The next moment, you find yourself getting swept up in his insanity, wide eyes fluttering close with your arms around his neck, securing another five minutes of tardiness to the event, and the five minutes end with his exhaled breaths warming up your lips amidst the cold evening. “I swear to god, Choi Beomgyu,” you grunt, barely shoving him away. What was the point of his whole make-up guru charade earlier? What was the point if he was gonna smudge it all off anyway? “There’s seriously something wrong with you.”
Your complaint is met by a pout and him retaliating by pulling you in with one arm, and his free hand finding its way to your face. “Is this your way of breaking up with me?”
He’s insufferable. “You wish.”
“No, I don’t,” is his quick reply. It almost made your heart stutter— even more so when he uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your lips with the disappointed click of his tongue. “Sorry I ruined your lipstick. I’ll fix it in the car.”
You smack his hand away, covering your face with the back of your hand. “It was ruined the moment you put it on!” You quickly whisk yourself into the car, finally. Beomgyu follows into the driver’s seat not long after, but not without yelling out his self-defense.
“Hey, I did a pretty good job! I just need a bit more practice!”
Sometime in the middle of the car ride, the argument fizzled out and got replaced by his playlist, and a conversation on when you’d be coming back home to Daegu before the semester starts since your mom wants to show off the new sofa set she bought. It’s very cozy, she says, with the only downside being the fact that it’s too cozy to the point that your dad’s evening naps have become more frequent.
It’s just mindless meandering on the way to the venue— a karaoke room at Grand Hyatt Hotel that you and the rest of your attending batchmates chipped in to book. Of the thirty students from your batch, twenty-three confirmed attendance including Beomgyu and yourself. Of the other twenty-one people, you’re only close with one of them.
Maybe your endless prattling about your mom’s new cushions and throw pillows to distract yourself from why you even volunteered yourself to attend. Maybe you’re just using Chaeryeong as an excuse to validate yourself and witness exactly how much you’ve and everyone else has changed since highschool in spite of your vocalized disinterest.
“You good?”
The car engine has stopped humming. The streetlight road has been replaced by a dim hotel parking lot, and you turn to see the dim image of Choi Beomgyu’s blurry face eyeing you in concern. You recall his initial surprise when you voiced out your intent on coming with him this evening. Not that he’d stopped you, but you figure even his dummy self could put your initial reservations, and the confession you dropped a few months ago when you made up after your fight. I’ve only been known as the girl who’s always been around you and nothing else. I doubt you noticed how people would only approach me because of you.
It still makes you cringe whenever that memory would creep into your brain like a rat at two in the morning when you’re trying to sleep. Sure, things are different now, but you felt that way at a time when your world consisted of nothing more than your town back in Daegu, and eighty percent of your life was spent in high school. You’re stepping back into that world right now, where you’re nothing but Choi Beomgyu’s friend, acquaintance, something— never had been just yourself.
And you know Beomgyu knows that this is exactly what you’re thinking about right now. Which is why he doesn’t get out of the car yet, and instead asks, “Do you wanna just ditch and go hang out somewhere else?”
You let out a laugh. He’s such a dork. “No way. Chaeryeong’s gonna sulk if I don’t see her today, and I could use a few drinks, you know.” You have no intention of stripping him the opportunity to hang out with his old friends again. You’ve seen how much his phone has been buzzing on the way here. Why does he have so many clingy male friends? You’ll never understand. Choi Beomgyu is just some guy.
That some guy stares at you for a bit as he mulls over your answer. “If you say so. But if you wanna leave early, just tell me.”
Seriously. It’s not like he treats them like this, for them to go crazy over hum. Then again, maybe this guy just has the inherent knack of drawing people in. You’ve been a witness of that phenomenon for the past two decades, and you’re witnessing it again tonight, counting down from the moment you two leave the car and enter the building, enter the karaoke lounge, and despite Choi Beomgyu (and you) interrupting an ongoing performance by Seungmin and Jimin on the machine, the response to his entrance is, quite frankly, a bit over the top.
“Look who’s finally here.”
“Man, what took you so long?”
“Woohoo! Time to get the party started!”
Neon lights are already lighting up the dim room. Beer bottles have already been cracked open on the tables. You watch as he gets whisked away by his old high school friend group, stifling your laughter because maybe Choi Beomgyu has changed because he looks a little overwhelmed and taken aback by the assault of attention. Surprisingly, it’s a very funny sight. He turns back to you while Jiwoong hooks him by the neck and ushers him into the lounge as if he’s asking for help. Which draws attention to you, obviously. His friends turn around. The first one to greet you is Seungmin. “Oh, hey!” he exclaims, leaning in for a quick half-hug. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”
“I’ve been stuck at the door for the past few minutes due to the traffic you idiots are causing, thank you very much for asking,” you respond after pulling back, smiling.
“You still have an attitude,” he snarks. “And you two are still joint at the hip. Did you arrive together?”
“Yup. I’m getting sick of him, so I’d appreciate it if you take him away from me now.”
“You can bet on it.”
Before Beomgyu could protest, he’s already been handed the mic and had been fed a shot glass. The rest of the guys follow suit in giving you quick greetings, how are you’s, how have you been’s. You still haven’t seen Chaeryeong around so you shoot her a text. She responds with exclamation marks and the text, [WAIT A SECOND. BATHROOM. BE THERE IN A BIT], and she emerges through the door not long after to greet you with the gift of suffocation. “Oh my god, I missed you so much,” she wheezes out. “Why haven’t we made plans even once since starting uni? I know we talked a bit last time but how have you been? Has Choi Beomgyu been treat—”
You prompt shut her mouth with your hand. You did keep her posted over the phone last time, but you don’t intend on sharing the status update between you and Choi Beomgyu to your whole class that had been under the assumption that you’ve been together, anyway. It’s none of their business— and definitely not the business of the girl that had been staring at you the whole goddamn time since you arrived here.
Among the twenty-one people that came today is Haena. Haena, the girl that invited you to hang out with her friends for coffee around a year ago. Haena, the girl who kept grilling you about your relationship with Beomgyu, just to ask if you could help her get together with him. Haena and her friends, Bora and Seohyun, who’d been drilling holes into the back of your head for the past fifteen or so minutes. Last you’ve heard of her, she’s studying nursing at DSU.
You’ve never told Beomgyu about the little incident because it never escalated into anything more than dirty looks in the hallway and the classroom and the proliferation of gossip about you and Choi Beomgyu. And since nearly a whole year had passed, you were hoping that that was all water under the bridge now, but apparently it’s not. Jesus, what does she want?
“Okay, okay, let’s stop the singing for now since everyone’s already here and raise our drinks up! To the class of 20XX!”
You’ve no intention of letting that bother the rest of your night. Yet Haena wasn’t the only bitter aftertaste of that period of your life. An hour or so into the evening, you get out of the karaoke lounge to get a breather in the lobby. Choi Beomgyu is still trapped inside thanks to his ten million fanboys-slash-friends. Chaeryeong wanted to come with you but she got roped into a drinking game and has shown no signs of escaping. Which leaves you some time to recharge a bit before the inevitable agenda of reminiscence once everyone’s gotten a bit too drunk and loose-lipped.
On the way to the hotel lobby, you bump into Jiwoong— that guy, ex-crush, who rejected you in the rain two years back, maybe. So much for water under the bridge because just looking at him makes you feel mortified. He greets you with a nod and a smile before walking past you back into the lounge. God, that was an embarrassing moment. You shake your head and race into the hall leading up to the carpeted lobby.
Unfortunately for you, you weren’t the only one with the same idea.
There, sitting defeated and exhausted on one of the plush seats is Lim Jimin. Embarrassing encounter number two. He notices you. You two make eye contact. Fuck. Yes, you two exchanged awkward hello’s earlier, but seeing his face just makes you recount the humiliation you felt when you expected a confession from him.
“O—oh, hi.”
He’s the one that greets you first, and it sounds a lot more agonizing than if you’d been the one to do it. Did Choi Beomgyu say something to this guy? Why does he look just as uncomfortable as you?
“Uh, hey.” You quickly squeeze out a response. “It’s getting stuffy inside, right? Haha, enjoy your alone time. I’ll be doing the same outs—”
“W—wait!” The last thing you expected was for Jimin to say something to you. You preemptively stop walking, and the momentum causes you to jerk a bit, giving him the opportunity to jump off his seat and keep talking. “This…this is a bit long overdue, and this may sound stupid, but I feel like I owe you an apology.”
An apology? Your brows furrow. You regain your balance, resting a hand on the backrest of the sofa beside you. “For what?”
He struggles a bit. “Um…do you remember when I asked you a favor last year? To convince Beomgyu to help me rank up in League?” You can feel the heat of embarrassment flushing your cheeks again. God dammit, why can’t he be like Jiwoong who just smiled and walked past you like nothing happened? “You stormed off after that, and I couldn’t help but feel really guilty that I did something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out why you’d be angry no matter how much I thought about it.”
Somehow, your hands find themselves covering your face, head down. “Ah,” you exhale a disgruntled breath, then force an inhale. You bring your head up. You look at the boy who’s looking guilty when he shouldn’t be. “You did nothing wrong, Jimin. I was just worked up that day and sort of lost my cool. I should be the one who’s sorry.” This is so ridiculous. At least with this, you think you can finally be over it. “Gosh. I can’t believe you’ve been stressing about that.”
Jimin brings his arms to a cross and rubs his palms against his sleeves, still looking down and sorry. “I felt really bad, okay? I really thought I said something wrong, especially to my friend’s girlfriend.”
You feel a twitch in your temple. Here’s another misunderstanding to clear. “I don’t think I would’ve been able to help you anyway. I wasn’t his girlfriend back then.”
This causes him to jolt his eyes up to look at you. “Huh? Really?” His widened eyes blink rapidly. “Back then? Then does that mean you’re—”
An interruption in the form of your name being called out arrives.
You turn your head back— back into the direction of the hall that led into the karaoke lounge. “Beomgyu,” you acknowledge, padding up to him upon his arrival. You figure he managed to listen in on the last part of that conversation, considering the fact he welcomes your arrival with a snug arm around you. Like Minjeong says, Choi Beomgyu acts like a puppy with attachment issues, but he hasn’t been committing any heinous acts of public affection the entire reunion event. You haven’t even said anything. He knows you a little too well. “What’s up? Got sick of all your friends’ love and attention already?”
“That’s one reason,” he grunts “But the guys wanted to gather everyone around for something. What were you two doing out here?”
The question seems to be pointed at Jimin, and the man in question struggles to come up with a response. You lightly elbow Choi Beomgyu. “We were just clearing up some misunderstandings,” you say, which Jimin echoes, and then you give Beomgyu a whispered reminder. “You know. The fake secret admirer incident last year. Looking back, that was also half your fault for planting ideas in my head.”
“Oh, yeah. That incident,” Beomgyu snorts upon recollection. “Damn. You never fail at being embarrassing.”
“Shut the fuck up.” You elbow him again. Less lightly this time. Telling him about the whole confession misunderstanding on your part will forever be one of the greatest regrets of your life. “Jimin, We’ll head in first.”
“Sure thing. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec.”
With that, you shuffle back into the hallway, and upon getting closer to the lounge, Beomgyu slowly paces away a considerable distance between the both of you. The last thing he lets go of is his gentle hold on your wrist as he led you down the hallway. He used that same hand to open up the door, announcing your re-arrival— which elicits a different reaction from the first time you two arrived. “Oooh, here they are. The lovebirds are finally here.”
Even though they aren’t misunderstanding your relationship this time around, it still is really fucking annoying.
“C’mon, sit down, sit down! We’ve already started playing truth or dare while you guys were out. Where’s Jimin?”
It doesn’t feel right to deny it. “He’s still out.” But it doesn’t feel right to just let them keep goading you either. “Said he’ll join us later. If you ask any weird questions, I’m out.”
“Lighten up! We’re all just curious to find out what everyone’s been up to this past year.” The two long tables in the venue have been pressed together to form one big square where everyone is sitting around. With Beomgyu following behind you and seated to your left, you take the spot Chaeryeong has been saving, quickly filling you in with the revelations you’d missed, but it’s hard to keep up with her once the group got the ball rolling again by spinning an empty beer bottle in the middle of the square time after time, round after round.
You all found out Seungmin was the one who put fake cockroaches in the faculty office. Jimin joined the table after that round. Your poor friend Chaeryeong had to chug down a terrible excuse of a drink for refusing to answer a question. She’s now mumbling incoherencies into your shoulder as you watch the botte spin for the nth time— spinning, spinning, spinning, slowly losing speed until it ultimately stops and points at you.
“Alright, alright! Truth or dare?”
Well, shit.
“Ah. Truth, I guess,” you grant. You’ve already had enough embarrassing moments involving your high school cohort. You need not add another one, and considering how everyone’s interest about you revolves around Choi Beomgyu and Choi Beomgyu only, you figured that the poor idiot next to you should be more scared of the question than you in case his friends want to ask about his deepest, darkest secrets.
“Oh, there’s something I’d like to know!”
The person who decides that you should be the one on the chopping block is Kim Bora, who’s grinning at you from across the table, right in between Haena and Seohyun. Ah. You have a feeling where this is going. You suck in a deep breath and muster up all the patience in the world.
“How did you and Beomgyu manage to stay strong after all these years?”
Unfortunately, that amount of patience is very thin. Very thin indeed. Even more thinned out with the number of voices doubling, tripling it down.
“Oooh, I wanna hear too!”
“Yeah, what’s your secret, man? All my relationships end after three months, I feel like there’s something I’m doing wrong.”
“Tell us your secret!”
“What are you guys—”
That last voice came from Beomgyu, who you promptly stopped with the squeeze of his hand. Don’t say anything, don’t stop them, you say to him with narrowed eyes. He gives you a conflicted look, but he relents anyway, settling back down, but you can tell he’s worked up. Well, you just want to know how far they’re gonna take this. You want to know how much you can bite your tongue. You know you’ve always been prone to outbursts and impulse, but after all the shit you’ve been through these past two semesters, mindless, nose-digging gossip like this is nothing.
More than that, you want to know what this girl Haena is planning with how much she’s been giggling for the past minute and a half.
“What are you saying, Bora? You’re so silly! Don’t you remember what we talked about with her before? They’ve never dated!”
And there it is.
“Huh?”
Haena’s statement drops a blanket of confused silence over the table. “What are you talking about?” one of your old classmates asks, and you want to echo the same sentiments because what exactly is she trying to achieve with this?
“C’mon,” Haena waves the silence off, still grinning, still sneaking glances at you. “You didn’t know? You guys were all being judgmental for assuming a boy and girl are dating just because they’re really close friends. Well, it’s not like they ever denied it. Oh, well but the truth is they were never dating. You two were never dating, right? Right?”
Ah. This is kind of pissing you off.
“Hey, that’s enough—”
Is this because you wouldn’t set her up with Beomgyu? Jesus, isn’t she over that already? Is she trying to frame you as some attention-seeker who thrived off the misunderstanding that you and your childhood friend have something more going on? Well, too bad. You’ve already been branded as a cheater and a whore. This is so juvenile that it’s starting to prick at the patience you’ve worked so hard to build up.
“Damn, seriously? So I stopped myself from confessing over nothing? If you two weren’t dating, how come neither of you said a thing?”
“That’s what I’m saying! Kinda crazy that they just let everyone misunderstand!”
“Jesus, why are we even talking about this?” Seungmin attempts to dissuade the conversation, but the misfortune that comes after is Jimin accidentally adding fuel to the fire by letting slip the information you’d shared to him just moments ago.
“Right? Why does it even matter if they were dating or not back then? What’s important is that they’re both happily dating now!”
Another blanket of silence mops the table.
At this point, you just wanna go home.
“Ha!” A noise of disbelief rips out of Haena’s throat as sneers at you from across. “I can’t believe this! You kept saying and acting like you weren’t interested in him when you’d end up taking the opportunity, anyway! Wow, you acted so high and mighty back then, bragging that you didn’t have any feelings for him as if it made you better than the rest of us. If it’d end up like this, you should’ve just hooked up and gone after him ages ag—”
“For fuck’s sake, I’ve heard enough.”
The table rattles. Your eyes widen, snapping up to your left to see Choi Beomgyu who had stood up, who— for the first time in the years you’ve known him— looks mad. Angrier than when you two fought last year. Angrier than you think you’d ever been, even with your horrid short-temper.
His knuckles are tight. He’s seething. You’re too caught off guard to react in time and stop the damage he intends on making.
“Seriously. Why the fuck do you keep running your mouth about something that’s completely out of your business?”
It’s not only you. It seems that everyone is surprised to find the always easygoing, always friendly and outgoing Choi Beomgyu suddenly acting like this— acting like this on your behalf. “So what if we started dating? What’s it to you? What’s it to any of you?” You’re stunned. He draws his fingers to his hair. He shakes it off with an incensed breath. “Jesus christ. If you guys aren’t interested in talking about anything else other than our relationship, then I guess the both of us should just leave so that you can gossip more, yeah? Enjoy the rest of the damned night, assholes.”
When his head drops and his eyes make contact with yours, his gaze immediately softens. Let’s go, he mouths with a smile. You feel a lump in your throat. Beomgyu whisks you away before you can even acknowledge it.
“Whoa, that was scary.”
“Was he always like this?”
“You were the ones who crossed the line. What were you guys thinking?”
At some point, Beomgyu has completely dragged you out of the karaoke lounge, out of the hall, out of the hotel lobby, and into the dimly lit parking lot with nothing but a handful of streetlights illuminating the chalky pavement. You hadn’t even realized you’d been running until he stopped underneath the dancing particles of the ilt-up post, brightening up the empty parking space right next to his car. You hadn’t even realized you’d been catching your breath until he points it out for you
“Seriously, what the hell was wrong with people? Why can’t everyone just mind their own business and leave us—” The tempo of his rant fizzles out immediately. Beomgyu bites down a frown and pulls you in, brushing through the unkempt strands of your hair from the wind. “Sorry, was I running too fast? I just wanted to get you out of there as quickly as I can.”
Choi Beomgyu had confronted your old inhibitions on your behalf. He’d done the same thing with Jang Seung last semester. He’d done the same with his former friends that were talking shit about you and even got into a fight because of it. And it seems like the same thing is going to happen now.
It’s always him who does things for you. He was the one who took the first step in your reconciliation last year. He was the one who’d always put the entirety of his soft, tender feelings into the palm of his hands and handed them off to you without even expecting anything in return.
Maybe it’s about time for you to do the same.
Maybe it’s about time for you to confront the one thing you’ve been confining in the back of your mind for god knows how long.
“Beomgyu.”
It’s always been there— since you were, what? Fourteen? Sixteen? Since he’d made you watch that stupid scary movie in middle school and your heart jumped out of your ribcage for the first time and all you could do was hold onto him for your dear life while you screamed bloody murder? You don’t know when these kind of thoughts started entering your head, but you never dwelled on them knowing and fearing that even considering them, acknowledging them in any way, shape, or form would open up a pandora’s box of emotions you’d have to sift through and organize alongside the fact that he’s just your friend, your friend for as long as you can remember, and you weren’t ready for it yet— even after what happened under the table on new year.
For your entire life, Choi Beomgyu has been a friend. A neighbor. An annoyance. Someone you care about. Someone you can’t live without.
And experiencing firsthand a life without his annoying presence always hovering around you cemented the fact that you really can’t risk losing him from your life again. And the likelihood of things going wrong, things getting tangled to the point where you’d have to cut each other off is less when he’s just your friend— just a neighbor, just an annoyance— than when he’s someone more than that.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me to intervene.”
Which is why you feared that if you’d ever admit to yourself that you had feelings for him, that if you’d stopped brushing those feelings away, that risk of losing him would become more than you could handle.
“I just got too angry hearing them talk all that crap.”
But now—
“Ugh. Even thinking about it is making me mad. C’mon, let’s just go.”
You don’t have to keep lying to yourseff anymore. Because who gives a shit about what other people say? Because who gives a shit about risks and fears that are nothing but debris floating around your head?
“Let’s just go home, okay? Let’s head to car, and then—” He stops himself. He lets go of your hand to cup your cheeks, drying up the tears with the warmth of his fingertips. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Nothing is wrong. Because the only thing you give a shit about right now is the fact that the opportunity to love and be loved by Choi Beomgyu only comes once in a lifetime—
“C’mon. You should just forget what Haena and the rest of them said. They’re all nonsense.”
—and spending the entirety of it in denial would just be ridiculous.
“Oh, and now you’re laughing. You’re laughing and crying. Wow, you must’ve gone insane.
Stupid.
“What should I go? Go back? Should I teach them a lesson?”
Pointless.
“Stay here. I’ll go back and—”
Downright impossible.
“Hey, fuckface.”
You tug on his sleeve to stop him from leaving.
“I’m so fucking in love with you.”
And it feels like air is entering your lungs for the first like, as though twenty years worth of heavy leaden weight has been lifted off your chest. But unlike you, Beomgyo looks like he’s having troube breathing. “Oh,” is all he says, wide-eyed and surprised. Almost as if he’d never been expecting it. Like it had never even crossed his mind that you’d ever say it to him. You, of all people. “W—well—”
“Choi Beomgyu.” You interrupt him befre he could say anything, smacking your palms on both sides of cheeks before the adrenailne leaves your system. Before you could even think twice about anything at all. “I’m sorry I’ve never said it outright before even after we started dating. But you should know that you mean the world to me, you idiot. I’m so in love with you, it makes me stupid. I’m nothing without you.”
This time, it’s him who starts crying.
You let him sink into your arms and bury his face into your shoulder. He drapes himself over while keeping steady around your waist. You hear him sniffle a little. Gross. “Seriously, you’re such a crybaby.”
Beomgyu mumbles an annoyed grunt against your shirt. “And you’re such a meanie for ruining the moment.” He’s glaring at you when he pulls himself up, eyes narrowed and stained red with tears. “Say it again, dipshit.”
“Say what again?”
He frowns. “You know what!”
God. What could you have done in your past life to have been tied together with think punk since the beginning of this one? You roll your eyes and kiss his face. “I’m in love with you, loser. You’re so annoying.”
He grins and lands another one on your lips. “I’m nothing without you, too.”
The streetlight continues to sprinkle its light over the both of you. Choi Beomgyu continues to stay in your life, and he’d keep staying there for as long as this life would let him.
OKAY. MAYBE YOU DO LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. As annoying as he is for wasting your time with how often he calls you up at four in the morning for an impulsive fast food run because he wants some company, for injuring your pride by forcing you to play another one of the games the coding club developed and obliterating your ass in the process, you still like him— beyond understanding or comprehension.
Even when he’s being such a clingy idiot so early in the morning, in the first day of the semester, after he’d just finished being announcing to the entire campus via the anonymous student board gone un-anonymous that you hadn’t been cheating on him since at that time you weren’t even dating, but you are now, and that you’re in love, and that Jang Seung is just a whiney little bitch who made up rumors because he couldn’t stand being rejected.
“You’re crazy! Why the hell would you do that?!”
Choi Beomgyu rubs his nose while you scold his ears off. When you finish, he simply says. “He made another post about you last night. I think it’s because he saw us on a date the other day. What a loser. Hey, look. That’s him over there.”
Indeed, you do spot Jang Seung while you trace down the hallway, on the way to Horangnabi to spend your vacant period in between your next set of classes.
“Ugh. Just what I needed to make my morning worse.”
He’s with a group, and the group contains Eunseok, the guy you went on a blind date with once and got roped into your whole cheating rumor. He looks greatly uncomfortable. Maybe it’s because Jang Seung is talking shit about you and how the both of them got played by you (you did not) when you’ve been going out with Beomgyu this entire time (you were not). Eunseok knows the truth. You talked it out with him before the semester started and he figured you weren’t that kind of person anyway.
Poor guy wants to leave already.
But Jang Seung seems determined to paint you as a crazy, cheating, boy-crazy whore. Did ignoring his texts for one night injure his ego that much? And here you thought you were prideful. You know that things have died down and at this point people have either forgotten about the whole thing or just don’t care anymore, but the small crowd Seung managed to collect still seemed to be thriving in all the overinflated gossip.
“I mean, if she wasn’t all that into me, she could’ve said so, you know? Still, can you believe she picked that guy over me or you? And the poor cuck even has the guts to publicly announce their relationship like some idiot after she’d been hooking up with his friends.”
“Damn. How are they still together?”
“Quit spreading lies, dude. ”
“Hey, how can you just trust everything she tells you?”
“I still can’t believe that those two are still together, much less even started dating in the first place.”
Normally, you’d just ignore this. But you’ve gotten a bit sick and tired of biting your tongue and behaving as of late.
You march up to them. Eunseok spurs out a greeting. You give all of them a smile— mostly directed at Jang Seung, who’s been relishing the fact that you never gave him the light of day since the stunt he pulled. Until today, at least.
“Hi,” you start. The guy flinches at your delivery. “As much as it surprises you, yes I’m dating Choi Beomgyu. Yes, we’re fucking together, and I never cheated on him with a some half-baked, second-string loser like this bastard who resorts to high school tactics of spreading gossip because his fragile ego couldn’t handle being left on delivered for one night because I had a hospital emergency. Unfortunately, someone like that isn’t my type at all.”
Jang Seung’s face flushes scarlet. His jaw clenches and he barks out, “Hey, what the fuck—” until Eunseok fixes him on the spot by the shoulder.
“But just to clarify things. No, I have not been cheating on him and you’d think that if I had, he would say so, wouldn’t he? How the fuck could I have cheated on him last year when he only started dating on January first?”
Okay. You’re getting a little heated. Jang Seung and his group are now staring at you like you’re a crazy person. Beyond them, other people in the hallway have started to pay attention to the ruckus you’re causing.
Now, when a fuse is lit, it’s not easy to kill it.
So you continue talking. For better or for worse.
“Yes. Yes, I’m now dating Choi Beomgyu— are you all satisfied? Are you happy now? You’ve all been up in my fucking business since the first fucking semester asking if I knew him, if he and I were dating, so here’s your god damned answer! Do you want me to tell you how it happened, too? Give you a play by play of how I met him, knew, him and fell for him because you’re all so fucking curious? Should I do that? In fact, why don’t I keep you guys posted! I should just text every single god damned person who knows not how to mind their business to update you whenever, each and every single time we fucking—”
“Whoa, easy there.”
You’re yanked back by Choi Beomgyu, who has one arm hooked in front of your collar shoulders and safely pressing you close to his torso. His free hand is covering the muffled noises coming out of your mouth as you struggle out of his grip.
Beomgyu simply lets you struggle in vain. He looks ahead, smiling at Jang Seung and the rest of the people in the group. “As much as I wanted to continue listening to her, I don’t really want any more people anonymously talking shit about my girlfriend in the forum just for living her own life and minding her own business.” You’re still squirming in his grip. This fucking bastard. “Anyway, we’re off. Eunseok, see you around.”
It’s only when you two have managed to leave the building that Beomgyu decides it’s time to release you. “Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, you jerk?” you yell, yanking him down by the backpack strap.
“What do you think? Saving your ass from any more rumors, stupid,” he answers while shaking you off. “We should really work on your temper.”
It’s a pleasant walk to Horangnabi. You haven’t been here again in ages.
“I have been working on it! Today was an exemption, so go fuck yourself off.”
“This is exactly what I mean,” he sighs and shakes his head, opening the cafe door for you to enter first, and he follows immediately after. “Potty mouth and a nasty personality. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Your mother must have had a hard time raising you.”
“Quit bringing up my mother every single time you want to win an argument.”
You two find some empty seats right by the window in the right wing of the store. You sit down and set your things on the empty seats. “I can’t just give up on my cheat code, you know,” Beomgyu hums, smiling insufferably as slides the menu down from the table surface. “So, do I win? What’s my prize?”
“Hey, no PDA within store premises! I’ll blacklist you two!”
The both of you turn your heads to see Heeseung, who’s holding a notepad and wearing the employee apron as a uniform. He started working part-time at Horangnabi sometime last month. Extra pocket money, he says. You know it’s because he started seeing someone from the arts department and needed the date funds. Usually, he’d be happy to see you, but something’s gotten in his panties in a twist today. You snicker, about to egg him on, but to your surprise, someone else answers your curiosities.
“He’s just salty because he got dumped over the break.”
Your eyes brighten. You beam out a smile. “Julie!”
She arrives with a pat on a grumbling Heeseung’s back as she mirrors your expression. “Hi, pretty girl. How was your break?” She moves on from Heeseung to coddle you with attention, hugging you from behind your chair. Have you considered working for us again? I started missing you more ever since this guy started working with us again.”
“Must be bad at the job,” Beomgyu snorts. Heeseung’s protests are left unheard. “Hey, when are you gonna take our order?”
“Ugh. I set you two up together and this is how you repay me?”
Heeseung takes your orders— an americano for him, a matcha latte for you, and a butterscotch croissant for you two to share. While waiting, Beomgyu takes out some of his notebooks from his bags and starts highlighting the pages based on the syllabus his professor handed them earlier. Wow, he’s become diligent, whereas you’re busying yourself with your phone in the midst of a conversation with Chaeryeong. She was so sorry for passing out in the middle of the reunion incident a few ago, and it was Seungmin who filled her in on what happened. She says gonna treat you to dinner this weekend to make up for it. You smile and text her that you look forward to it.
“Iced americano, matcha latte and butterscotch croissant.”
Hanbin is the one who delivers your orders. You thank him with a smile and he leaves with a pat on your head, telling you to come visit the clubroom later.
“Stop smiling at him like that.”
You turn your attention back to the person sitting in front of you— Choi Beomgyu, with his arms crossed over the books scattered on his table, coupled with a pout and furrowed brows. “Ew, are you jealous?” you snark, picking up your latte from the table and taking a sip. “Wipe that look off your face. It doesn’t suit you. And Hanbin is way too nice and normal to be my type. Unfortunately, god made me like guys who are the slightest bit insane.”
“I keep your life interesting,” he hums out with a proud grin, satisfied with your answer. You set your drink back down, a thought entering your head. It’s quiet in Horangnabi. You two are the only customers at the moment, and soft music siphons through the speakers.
Ever since that day in the beginning of the year, not much has changed between you and him. He’s still calling you names. He’s still annoyingly hooking your feet underneath the table with his so that you’d have a hard time getting up.
It makes you wonder when exactly did he start seeing you differently.
“Beomgyu,” you start. He perks up, a curious expression on his face. “What if I tell you I’ve sort of already had the idea that you’ve had feelings for me since, I don’t know— when we made up after our fight last year?”
He blinks at you, curious expression replaced by something unreadable. You start to grow a little nervous. Then he drops the bomb.
“What if I tell you these feelings have been around since middle school?”
Well, damn.
“That...that would make a lot of sense.”
He only laughs in response, reorganizing his books and setting them aside. “But if you’ve known since then, then wooow— I can’t believe you’ve been leading me on for that long.” He’s shaking his head and clicking his tongue. You groan and cover your face guiltily. He laughs once more. “I’m kidding. It’s not like I didn’t put any effort into hiding it. I know how uncomfortable you got because of all the people gossiping about our relationship. I’d just make things even harder for you if I suddenly confessed.”
With the table now cleared, he slides down the untouched pastry to your side of the table.
“So, I just decided to try and hide it and wait for the right time. If that time ever would ever come, that is,” he continues. “But since you’ve known, I guess I wasn’t exactly doing a good job in hiding how I feel.”
Your eyes linger at the crescent roll. You take the fork and knife and reply, “Yeah, you’re not very slick.”
“Hey, it was very hard for me, you know!” he huffs, pouting. You slice into the croissant and stab the smaller piece with the fork. “I felt like dying whenever you mentioned that bastard Seung or Song, or whatever. And you even asked me to set me up with my friends. You’re so mean—”
You reach an arm over the table. Beomgyu stares at your offering— a little surprised, a little flustered, but he clears his throat and leans forward, taking a bite from the pastry before wiping his mouth with a napkin, eyes down, face flushed.
He can be cute sometimes. You set the fork back down on the plate. “Thanks for waiting for me.”
“T—tsk. I’m just cool like that, you know?” Still insufferable. You roll your eyes and grab a piece of the pastry yourself, but while the mood is still high, Beomgyu takes the opportunity to speak his own mind too, bringing up one more thing that had been lingering in the back of both of your minds. “That night— you know, on new year’s when you said that we should just start dating— I knew you just said it in the heat of the moment.” The pastry gets stuck in your throat. “And I knew at that moment that you’d end up taking it back as a joke and laugh it all off. I didn’t really want to hear that. So I just...decided to speak before you could take it back.”
Ah. Your face is getting hot. You swipe your drink from the table to swallow your emotions down. But Choi Beomgyu manages to snatch your hand before you could do that.
“And you didn’t take it back.”
Your flustered gaze flashes up at him. His eyes remain on you.
“So you just have no choice but to deal with all of this.”
He presses a kiss onto the back of your palm. You yelp and snatch your hand back, cheeks burning and heart racing. He’s grinning like a madman.
“Stop it! We’re in public. God, I hate you, you’re such a dweeb—”
You say you hate him, but he knows you don’t mean it. You’ve been saying all these years that you don’t like him, that he’s just an annoyance, destined to bother you until the end of time— but he’s come to know that none of that is true.
“No one’s here anyway! Heeseung doesn’t count as a person!”
You don’t have to keep pretending that you don’t like Choi Beomgyu. Because in fact, you kind of, really, do.
AFTERWORD. hello….whoo whee this was quite a ride wasn’t it HAHAHAHHAHA. 49k words of choi beomgyu being the only man ever 😞😞😞 anyhow, i hope you all enjoyed what i believe is my best piece yet!!! writing this was both extremely easy and difficult because hannie-dul-set enjoyers know that my brand is usually silly stupid fics, but the emotional weight of this one did make it a bit difficult for me to write sometimes since i’m a mood writer, even though none of the themes are inherently sad? just very very emotional HHAHAHAHA. two of the most challenging parts too in the planning process was how…i’d be able to depict a change in their relationship after the new year’s scene, while also making sure that beomgyu and mc’s dynamic is still…them, you know? it wouldn’t be them if they just became gross and lovey dovey overnight. it wouldn’t be them if they still didn’t call each other names and swore at each other’s faces despite being horrendously in love. but i think i managed to reconcile these two aspects pretty well in the fic.
the other challenging thing i had to tackle might have been a point of frustration for you guys— making sure that mc’s narration and monologue is completely devoid of any acknowledgement about her feelings for beomgyu and vice versa HAHHAHAHAHHA. but it was necessary because she herself didn’t want to acknowledge, even after they started dating, and the entire thing is written in her pov.
speaking of pov….i think a spin-off written in beomgyu’s pov would be nice after all of this. we only got some bits and pieces of how he’d been feeling all throughout and though i believe the limited information i’ve given is enough to give the idea on how beomgyu was faring all throughout, it would also be interesting to delve into his psyche, all the way from mogi to nabi.
anyhow, those are just empty plans for now HAHAHAHAHAH i hope you enjoyed all three parts of nabi— a sequel i never even intended to write in the first place, but ended up being one of my works that’s closest to my heart. please please do send in your thoughts in the comments, asks, dm’s, wherever!
happy new year! love you all!
나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.
#choi beomgyu x reader#beomgyu x reader#txt beomgyu x reader#txt x reader#tomorrow x together x reader#beomgyu x you#choi beomgyu x you#txt beomgyu x you#txt x you#beomgyu scenarios#choi beomgyu scenarios#beomgyu fanfic#txt scenarios#beomgyu fluff#beomgyu angst#txt au#txt fanfic
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apart-mental issues part 1
mini series - jeon jungkook
Pairings: Neighbor JK x Reader
Summary: Just your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook.
PART 1: burrito warrior fuck my life 5 stars thin walls tangerines what's in the box? mission: possible perfect! easy fix
Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents
Au/Genre: Mini Series, Neighbor JK, Smut, Fluff
Word Count: 3.6K
a/n: inspired by when i moved to my new apartment and my next door neighbor wasnt jungkook :(
🐙 Masterlist / AskMe
apart-mental issues part 1
apart-mental issues part 2
apart-mental issues part 3
apart-mental issues part 4
🌯 burrito warrior
You did it!
After months of endless scrolling, awkward tours, and disappointments, you finally found the one—the perfect apartment!
No roommates? Check!
Near the bus stop, grocery stores, coffee shops? Check!
Near your school and work? Check!
Modern apartment with high-tech amenities? Well, not check.
The building’s slightly dated exterior gave away its age, but hey, it was well-maintained and had that cozy, lived-in charm. So,
Vibes? Check!
It’s your first night in your new apartment, surrounded by a sea of sealed boxes (except for a mattress you’d laid on the floor). You feel accomplished. The drive from your old place was a nightmare, and you’ve got exactly five boxes with you, mostly clothes, books, and some appliances. Everything else is apparently still “on its way”, thanks to online shopping apps! You’re so ready for this fresh start. New apartment, new life!
You’d even spotted your next-door neighbor earlier—a tall, cute guy with arm tattoos and a sharp jawline. An eye candy wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t seem to notice you as he checked his mail while walking to his door, and you were glad, given your limited social skills.
After a much-needed shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and waited for your food delivery. Starving, tired, and ready to crash, you finally heard a knock at the door.
AAAhhh!!! My buritooo!!!
You had added a note to your order to leave the food by your door. When the knocking stopped, you sprinted to the door, too hungry to think straight.
You opened the door to grab the paper bag, but just as your fingers brushed the edge, your foot caught on the doorframe, and in an instant, you were slipping. Your arms flailed, grasping for anything to steady yourself, but it was too late. A loud thud sounded as your feet hit something heavy, followed by another crash.
Disoriented, you blinked and found yourself on the floor, head resting awkwardly against the door. Your towel clung to your damp body as you processed the scene: the potted plant that once stood proudly was now on the ground, soil scattered everywhere—and somehow, all over you. You groaned in disbelief, covered in dirt, your towel the only thing that kept you from being fully exposed.
Shit. Fuck. Great.
You didn’t move, your eyes squeezed shut in disbelief. The floor was cold against your skin, and as you stayed perfectly still, wishing this wasn’t real, a door swung open.
Your next-door neighbor.
Tattoos, sweatpants, an oversized shirt, messy hair—and ogling at the crime scene with his round, shocked eyes.
"What’s going on? You okay?"
His voice was calm but obviously concerned, which, honestly, was fair considering the sight before him: soil everywhere, woman on the floor, clutching a towel and burritos, hair wet.
It’s like a storybook with no text—just look at the scene and you’ll get the plot.
“Oh, uh…” you gestured at the mess. “Yeah, fine. Just… gardening at midnight. It’s a thing I do.”
He leaned against the doorframe, huffing. “Cool hobby. Very niche.”
You exhaled sharply.
"You need help? Didn’t break your spine or something? Here." He didn’t wait for a response, just offered his hand like it was the most casual thing in the world.
But you were too embarrassed to process any of it. You didn’t want help, didn’t want to exist, didn’t want to be perceived at all.
“Nope, I’m good. Just gonna lay here for a while.”
You wished you could just sink into the floor.
"Alright," he said, shrugging as if he’d offered you a hand, not a whole rescue mission. "If you say so. Holler if you need help, I’m right next door, as you can clearly see.”
He disappeared back into his apartment, leaving you on the floor with shame, dirt, and your burrito.
Never speaking to anyone here again? CHECK!
Once the coast was clear, you carefully got up, trying to shake the soil off your body, your towel clinging to you like it’s the only thing keeping you together. With a frustrated sigh, you reached for the door handle, but as your hand gripped it and you gave it a shake, you realized—it was locked.
You rattled it again, more forcefully this time, but no, it didn’t budge.
Locked out.
In a towel.
At midnight.
With a burrito in one hand.
“Fuck my life.”
🖕🏼fuck my life
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
You paced the hallway, trying to come up with the best course of action.
Minutes later, your next-door neighbor’s door opened again.
“You still out here?” His voice was casual, and you saw him standing there, now in a gray pajama set, holding a water bottle, looking at you like you were the weirdest creature he’d ever seen.
You tried to play it cool. “Oh, just, uh… admiring the hallway. Great maintenance work here. Big fan of this paint job.”
He tilted his head, clearly amused. He narrowed his eyes, “You locked yourself out, didn’t you?”
You stared at him.
Yes, observant king. Just goooo…
You groaned. But you try to sound optimistic “Yes, I locked myself out. But it’s fine! I’ll just wait here for the landlord in the morning.”
He chuckled, scratching the back of his head as his eyes scanned you up and down. "At midnight? In a towel? Freezing?"
You gave him a pained smile, doing your best to hold it together despite the chill creeping through your towel.
Leaning against the doorframe, he gave you a look that said he was mildly bothered by your situation. "I’ll call the landlord, but knowing Mr. Kang, he’s probably gonna pick up in the morning." He paused, then added, “Wanna borrow some clothes or something? You’re gonna freeze out here."
Before you could respond, he vanished inside his apartment. A few moments later, he reappeared with a pair of gray sweatpants and a hoodie, phone pressed to his ear.
"He’s not answering, but I texted him. Hopefully, he’ll see it when he wakes up. They should be able to send someone as early as 6 am.”
As soon as you had the clothes in hand, you quickly threw on the hoodie. It was so big, it reached your knees, so you skipped the pants altogether. It smelled so good you wonder what laudry detergent he used. Meanwhile, he was still fiddling with his phone, his eyes focused on the screen.
“You have no one to call?” he asked, clearly trying to come up with a plan to help.
You didn’t have anyone to call. Your friends and family were either overseas, or hours away, but you didn’t want to get into that. So instead of answering him, you decided to with your genius idea and ask the question that had been floating in your mind.
“I haven’t asked for your name. I’m YN,” you said, offering an awkward smile.
“Jungkook,” he replied, his attention still on his phone.
“Jungkook,” you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. Then, with a serious face, you asked him, “Jungkook, would you be able to help me if I asked you to break my door down?”
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 5 stars
"Alright, let's do it," he said, cracking his knuckles.
Jungkook was game. No hesitation. When you casually suggested the idea of him breaking down your door, he didn’t even blink—like he was waiting for you to say it.
He popped his phone into his pocket and strolled over to the door like he did this sort of thing on the regular.
You blinked. “Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” he replied, smirking like this was the most casual thing to do. "If you want the door broken, we’ll break the door. Let’s keep it quick, though. We don’t want to wake the neighbors.”
“Alright, door’s all yours,” you said, stepping aside and plopping down on the floor.
Jungkook was already squatting by the door, eyeing the lock with way too much focus. You, on the other hand, were sitting there, happily devouring your cold burrito.
He took a step back, raised his shoulder, and rammed into the door.
It only took one, or maybe two, solid hits before you heard the satisfying crack of the door frame giving way. The door literally flew open, and you casually took another bite of your burrito.
He stood there, hands on his hips, clearly proud of himself. "Easy peasy, lemon squeezy." He glanced at you, asking, “You good?”
You gave him a thumbs-up, chewing slowly. “Yeah, excellent work. Five stars. Thank you.”
With a grin, he answered you with a thumbs-up and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood," before heading back to his apartment.
You strolled into your now wide-open apartment, finishing off your burrito.
That night, you used some boxes to keep the door “locked.”
The next morning, you opened the door to find your landlord standing there with a toolbox. He blinked at the door, taking in the wreckage.
You shrugged. “Sorry. Had no choice. Next door helped me out.”
He scratched his head before getting to work on the lock. When he finished, he gave you a pointed look. “Just… try not to have any more emergencies with the door, okay?”
You smiled. “I’ll try my best.”
🎧thin walls
You started to settle into your new place. There were still a few pieces of furniture you hadn’t assembled yet, but it was starting to look homey and feel cozy. You adjusted to juggling school and work, finishing the classes you postponed last year to finally graduate.
But every time you remember your first night, you wince.
Almost naked, dirt all over you, lying on the floor like you’re auditioning for a disaster movie. Embarrassing. Okay, fine, the burrito part was kinda fun, especially when he casually broke down the door…
You even reenacted the part where you were lying on the floor, just to see how ridiculous you looked.
The incident kept replaying in your head, and the more you thought about it, the worse it seemed.
You couldn’t shake how embarrassing it was.
You were thankful to Jungkook, sure. He basically saved you, like some kind of real-life Spider-Man, but why, instead of just thanking him like a normal person, are you avoiding him?
You’ve been dodging him for weeks now, and every time you even think about it, you feel like sinking with the floor.
And because you had been avoiding him, you became familiar with your next-door neighbor’s usual activities—what time he left for work, when he normally came home, whether he had visitors over…
Sometimes he’d have friends over. You assumed they were playing and/or drinking because of the cheers, banter, and sometimes you’d hear them wrestling (?), based on the violent slaps or panicked “ouch, ouch, I’m sorry, please put me down, Jungkookaaa!!!”
You knew he had the same friend group because you had already recognized them by their distinct laughs. There’s the windshield laugh, and then there’s the one with the high-pitched, sharp, hysterical laugh that’s always accompanied by clapping.
Thin walls.
They could be pretty loud, but they usually wrapped up before around 11 pm.
One night, when you had to wake up early for class the next day, you were kept awake by a girl’s high-pitched, giggly voice.
“Oh my god, Jungkook, stopppp,” she squealed, clearly not wanting him to stop at all.
Then came the sounds you really didn’t need to hear—the soft creak of a mattress, her breathy moans, and a muffled, “Fuck, you’re so good,” that made your stomach churn.
You groaned, stuffing a pillow over your head. “Fucking hell!”
This continued until dawn.
The next night, it happened again. Different girl, same obnoxious volume. This one was louder, theatrical, like she was auditioning for something.
“Jungkook!” she gasped, her voice echoing through the walls. “Right there, oh my god—”
You shoved your headphones in, blasted “Deep Layered Brown Noise,” and flipped a middle finger at the wall separating your rooms.
This kept happening for two weeks! TWO WEEKS!!! You were so done. Angry and ready to lash out, you thought, God, give me a break!!!
🍊tangerines
You were never the confrontational type. You were more of the passive-aggressive girlie... until you exploded.
So instead of confronting him, you carried on avoiding him. That was until you ran into him on the stairs, arms loaded with groceries in two paper bags.
“You need help?” he asked.
“Nope, I’ve got it,” you lied, seconds before one of the bags tore, and your tangerines scattered across the floor, some rolling down the staircase.
Jungkook sighed, shaking his head. “You good?”
“Totally. Love chasing fruit in public,” you deadpanned, scrambling to collect the scattered tangerines.
He helped anyway, gathering what he could into his hands. “Here.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You spotted a few tangerines still rolling down the stairs but decided it was fine. You could survive being vitamin C deficient.
“You’re still getting used to this ‘living alone’ thing, huh?” he said, amused.
“Yeah, well, I’ll never get used to having loud neighbors,” you shot back, surprising even yourself.
He froze, just as surprised as you. After a moment of thought, he bit his bottom lip and turned to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you could hear.”
“Well, now you know. Thin walls. Thin fucking walls,” you snapped, your weeks’ worth of irritation spilling over before you stormed off to your apartment.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Jungkook holding the remaining tangerines he’d picked up from the stairs.
You could tell he was about to say something—his mouth opened slightly—but you snatched the fruits, avoided his gaze, and quickly muttered, “Thanks,” before shutting the door.
📦 what's in the box?
You were just about to shut down from exhaustion as you reached your door after your late-night shift when you noticed a package sitting by your door.
A brown box.
Thinking it was just one of the things you’d ordered, you picked it up and fiddled with your keys to get inside.
But just as you held the knob, the door to your neighbor’s apartment opened. You panicked, your hand hastily sliding the keys in.
Oops. You'd already locked eyes with Jungkook.
He was standing there, grinning like a devil…
What’s he up to now?
In his hand is also a brown box, and based on the way it was crinkling at the top, it looked like it had already been opened, and you could see pink ruffles peeking through.
He strolled over to you, extending the box, and casually said, “There’s been a mix-up. This was delivered to me. I opened it thinking it was mine since I was expecting a package today, and it didn’t have a name on it, just the unit number. Sorry if I missed that.”
“Uh... okay?” you muttered, still not fully processing what was going on.
“I believe that is mine,” he smiled, casually gesturing to the box you were holding.
“Oh, okay,” you muttered, quickly swapping boxes with him. But the moment your fingers wrapped around your box and your eyes landed on the contents inside, your jaw dropped.
The entire box was full of pink toys—pink dildos, pink handcuffs, a penis-shaped headband, a pink gag, and… was that a penis-shaped stress ball? Who even invents this stuff? Genius! But oh my god.
You checked the box for any details, but nope—no name, just your unit number and address.
“It’s for my friend,” you blurted defensively, but your voice trailed off as the absurdity of explaining yourself hit you. Why are you explaining?
“Sure it is.”
You didn’t have to look at Jungkook to know his grin was now a full-on, teeth-baring smile. You could feel it.
Without saying another word, you quickly turned your back on him and hurriedly unlocked your door.
Once inside, you grabbed your phone, and angrily dialed the number for the suspect—
“Heyyy!” came the cheerful voice of Hwasa on the other end.
“Hwasa, I swear to God!” you started, feeling the panic rise in your chest. “Why did you send bridal party package to my new apartment?? We all agreed to send it to you!! Oh my God, my neighbor opened it, because our package got mixed up! He saw all those freakin dildos! Also, why didn’t they put a name on it?!”
“Girl, calm down! Why you panicking like this?” Hwasa said, her voice as chill as a cucumber. “First of all, I didn’t order it. It was Jen! Or was it Stace? Whatever! And it’s a discreet store, so they don’t slap your name on the box.”
“Make sure to fix this, okay?” you said, voice high-pitched with stress. “Send all orders to YOU from now on! I’m going to die of embarrassment here!”
“Oh my God, chill out! Why you so pressed about this neighbor seeing your fun box? What’s the deal, huh?” Hwasa teased, a mischievous grin in her voice. “Wait—hold up, is he cute? Is that why you’re shy shy?”
“I’ll tell you everything at the party, okay?” you huffed, trying to shake off the embarrassment. Then, you switched gears, like the best bridesmaids you are. “But seriously, we need to make sure Aera doesn’t suspect anything about her bridal shower, okay?”
🎯 mission: possible
Avoiding Jungkook became a serious mission. You had your reasons—perfectly rational reasons, mind you. It wasn’t like you were being dramatic or anything. It was just reason upon reason stacking up like a Jenga tower, each one reminding you why you needed to stay away from him and make sure nothing else added to the pile.
But humor me, you silently asked the universe: why did every encounter with him have to be either embarrassing or irritating?
Fortunately, you knew his schedule by now (thanks to the thin walls, but screw you still): he left just as you were getting up for school, and by the time you came home after work, it was late enough that he was probably already asleep.
No run-ins, no more awkward exchanges.
For three glorious weeks, your plan worked. You didn’t see him. Not once. It was bliss.
Lofi hip hop radio chill.
Jungkook-free, stress-free.
Perfect.
☕️ perfect!
It was one of those days that felt like it had lasted a year. Work was exhausting, your studies were an endless grind, and everything was going wrong. You got home, drained, and just wanted to curl up with a giant cup of coffee to prepare for your next round of studying.
But of course, your coffee maker had decided to just... stop working. Or something. And you had run out of instant coffee. Perfect.
You stood there, staring at it, willing it to work, until you finally snapped.
“Are you seriously kidding me?!” you screamed at the broken appliance, as though it would suddenly decide to come to life and apologize.
Frustrated, you suddenly craved some fresh air, so you grabbed your trash, decided to throw it out—along with the useless coffee maker—and unleashed your anger on the dumpster.
But frustration quickly morphed into full-blown rage, and for a moment, you felt like you wanted to fight someone. You were so angry that tears pricked at your eyes, as though crying was the only way to release it. But you wouldn’t.
So, instead, you kicked the garbage can. Only to hit your toes, causing you to squat in pain, while still hugging the coffee maker.
Now you were laughing, because the universe clearly hated you. Yes, definitely Mercury in retrograde. Nothing was fucking working!!!
And then, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned, and—of course—it was Jungkook.
Of all the days.
He gave you a concerned look. “You… okay?” he asked, tossing his trash into the large green bin.
“I’m fine. Just… you know, enjoying the ambiance. Haven’t really explored this part of the building.”
He stared at you, clearly not buying it. “Right. Well, if you need anything... I’m just next door.”
You gave him a tight smile and nodded, because, hey, if he didn’t see you having a full-on mental breakdown, it didn’t happen, right?
He didn’t see it, right?
🍬 easy fix
The next morning, you woke up with a headache and an overwhelming sense of dread, bracing yourself for another long day. You got ready, but as you stepped out of your door, you froze.
There, sitting neatly beside it, was your coffee maker. Placed in a box, looking all shiny and clean.
And taped to it was a note, written in neat, handwritten scrawl: “It was an easy fix – JK.”
You blinked at it for a solid thirty seconds. What the hell?
You picked up the coffee maker and set it back where it belonged, plugged it in, and saw the ON button light up. You stood there, clutching your chest, staring at the note.
Jungkook had fixed your coffee maker. Just like that. He never had to, but he did. Out of the kindness of his heart?
This was... sweet? Too sweet?
And now, you were feeling things—things you weren't supposed to feel. Things like gratitude mixed with an embarrassing amount of attraction.
Listen... don’t judge, okay? If you’re a child who grew up with busy parents, barely seeing them, and left to tend to yourself, acts of service like this are dangerous.
Because they make you feel important. And loved. And other things you’d rather not name because it’s better that way.
But, you’re feeling things.
And it's making you uncomfortable.
Next ->
a/n: lmk in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist. I’d appreciate it if you let me know what you think! <3 Thank you and happy holidays if you’re celebrating! :)
-🐙
#jungkook series#jungkook fanfic#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook x yn#jungkook x reader#bts fluff#bts smut#bts series#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts fanfction#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook x you#neighborjungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook#fluff#jungkook au#e2l
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Hello ! How you doing ? 😊
For prompt game: a hybrid au, with n° 25. "No strings attached" and n° 27. "You're mine".
Basically, Jungkook is this super popular lion, and kitten reader is his favorite fling, but she wants more and he doesn't.
That is, until she ditches him and starts dating someone else (maybe a bear hybrid Namjoon ?); and he absolutely loses it, ruining her date and making sure she'll take him back: this time for a real relationship, he is pretty much still jealous, so now reader has him trailing behind her at all times.
Have a lovely day, hugs and kisses 🥰
Hi! I really hope this is okay.
< Do You Want Some Ramen? >
Lion Hybrid Jungkook x Female Cat Hybrid Reader
Warnings: Swearing, possessiveness, hints of smut
Hybrid Au
#25 “No strings attached.”
#27 “You’re mine.”
*******************************************************
Jungkook had his much larger hand firmly wrapped around yours as he lead you through the crowd of people. The holiday season was in full swing meaning people were out and about shopping for gifts, stocking up on groceries, and checking out the city filled with lights and music.
You watched as couples walked around looking much like you and Jungkook only you knew the truth. The two of you were not a couple, not even close. He simply wanted to make sure that your much smaller kitten frame didn’t get separated from him.
The lion hybrid was on a mission to find a new jacket and had asked you to come along and help him pick one out. Of course you knew he also had additional plans which meant you would end up underneath him at some point during the evening.
At first it was great. You guys were friends with benefits with no feelings or commitments to worry about but unfortunately as time went on you started to fall in love with him. Then one evening you found out you weren’t his only girl. You don’t know why it surprised you. He was young, attractive, and wanted by nearly everyone woman that saw him. It should’ve turned you away but it only made you want him more.
So a few weeks ago you confessed. Told him that you wanted to be more than his fuckbuddy. You wanted a relationship. You wanted to feel like something more than his prey.
The laugh that he let out made your heart sink. It seemed like he thought you were a joke, “Y/N…I told you from the start that this was just going to be sex between us. I told you I wanted nothing serious. Just sex, No strings attached.”
You nodded, “I know. I know Jungkook. I just…I don’t know if I want to keep doing this any more. Why keep wasting my time?”
You were surprised when he reached out and cradled your face with his hand. He placed a soft kiss to your lips., “You’re my favorite girl, you know that right? Kitten, you’re my favorite girl, but I’m just not looking for anything serious like that.”
Things between the two of you changed after tha. You started distancing yourself from him more and more. This shopping trip had been the first time you saw him is two weeks which was unusual.
You were just returning from getting some coffee when your ears laid back, your tail angrily swayed behind you. You found him no longer in the dressing room, but talking to one of the sales people at the register. You saw him eyeing her when the two of you walked into the store but you decided to ignore it at the time.
But seeing him leaning up against the counter…smiling and talking up a big game, something about coming over later tonight, made your blood boil. Just this morning he was telling you how much you meant to him and he never wanted to go that long without seeing you ever again and then here he was talking to some Cheetah hybrid seemingly forgetting that you were even there. So you turned and walked out of the store lazily making your way to the mall exit.
Your eyes were teary making your vision blurry. You kept your head down not wanting to draw the attention of anyone which somehow may have been your biggest mistake of the day.
You crashed straight into what felt like a solid wall. Your warm coffee spilled down your chest and onto the floor.
“I am so sorry!”
“Oh my I’m so so sorry. Are you okay?”
You both exclaimed at the same time.
That’s when you looked up to notice the man standing in front of you. He had broad shoulders, a solid chest, and was quite a bit taller than you. Peaking out of his caramel colored hair were two ears which told you he was some kind of a bear hybrid.
“I’m so sorry. My mom always yells at me for walking and reading at the same time. I guess I should start listening.”, he awkwardly chuckled, “Please let me buy you a new a coffee and a new sweater.”
“No it’s really okay. It’s my fault too. I wasn’t looking either. I don’t even like this sweater that much anyways.”, you smiled knowing that was a lie. It had been a birthday gift from Jungkook. He loved you in the color red. But you thought maybe it was a good thing that it was ruined.
“Okay well…at least let me take you out for a decent cup of coffee. There’s this cafe a few blocks away. They have the most incredible chocolate chip muffins.”, he said smiling and giving you a glimpse of his dimples.
You wanted to decline but you could feel your phone vibrating meaning Jungkook had finally realized you were gone and you were reminded about how you were going to try and move on.
“Yeah okay, that’s sounds nice.”, you nodded as he pulled out his phone.
“Oh my name is Namjoon. I guess that would’ve been nice to start with.”, he chuckled.
You typed your contact information into his phone and handed it back to him.
“Y/N, that’s a really pretty name.”
“Th-Thank you.”, you whispered feeling your cheeks heating up.
“I have to get back to work but I’ll call you later.”, he smiled as he walked away.
“Who was that?”, a familiar suddenly annoying voice said from behind you.
“Namjoon.”, you simply shrugged.
“Okay and why were you walking to him?”
“Because I can? Just like you were talking to that woman earlier.”, you spat feeling your irritation growing. Jungkook was silent the rest of the afternoon except for some mumbles any time Namjoon would text you.
You had questioned your outfit choice the entire day. It wasn’t until you had gone on a few dates with Namjoon that you realized that all of your clothes were some shade of red…because that’s what Jungkook liked. You didn’t really have the money to buy something new so you did the best that you could. You just hoped Namjoon would like it because tonight was your third official date.
Your phone rang for the fourth time and it was once again Jungkook. Things had been a little tense between the two of you ever since Namjoon came into the picture. You had ignored the first three calls not wanting him to change your mind or somehow convince you to cancel your date with Namjoon, again. But now you were starting to get a little worried. He was never one to beg for anyone’s attention so the fact that he called you four times in a span of fifteen minutes had you worried that something bad might’ve happened.
You called him back and he answered on the second ring, “Y/N I need your help. Please! How fast can you get here?”
“Umm I can’t. I have a date with Namjoon tonight. Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”
You knew he had a contact list as long as the dictionary of friends and flings that could help him with whatever he needed and you were tired of being the one he always called for nothing in return.
“Please Y/N, I need you kitten. You’re my girl, remember? I really need your help. It’s an emergency.”
If it wasn’t for the very slight crack in his voice you would’ve told him to fuck off and hung up but he hooked you. He never sounded desperate, at least not in that way.
“Okay I’ll be there in fifteen.”, you whispered before quickly hanging up. You called Namjoon and profusely apologized for having to cancel last minute. He said it was okay but then he suggested that maybe the two of you should put a pause on whatever was forming between you both. You didn’t want to but you couldn’t blame him. You could tell he was annoyed and then he which only made you feel worse but you grabbed your bag and headed over to Jungkook’s.
“What’s the big emergency?”, you questioned after he opened the door.
“I’m so glad you’re here Y/N. Come in.”
You followed him into the familiar apartment which was always surprisingly warm and cozy.
“Okay I’m here. Now what is the big emergency?”, you questioned with your annoyance obvious.
“Do you want some ramen?”, he asked innocently. Your mouth dropped open, “Seriously Jungkook? This was the big emergency! No I don’t want to have sex with you.”
He shook his head, “I didn’t call you over for sex. I mean we could…but I made too much ramen and wanted to share with you.”
“No Jungkook! That’s even worse honestly. I had a date tonight. A date with a nice sweet guy who actually seems interested in me and you ruined it.”
“Where are you going?”, he asked as you were walking towards the door.
“To call Namjoon and apologize and see if he’ll let me take him out to dinner.”
“Seriously Y/N? What’s so special about him?”
You rolled your eyes, “I don’t know Kook. Maybe it’s because he asks me about my day. He buys me flowers. He doesn’t expect me to fuck him just to spend a little time together.”
You finally got your hand on the door handle and had just gotten it open when his hand came and slammed it shut. He spun you around so that you were looking at him and he used his arms to cage you in. You had forgotten just how much bigger and stronger he was than you.
“Please don’t go Y/N. I don’t like seeing you with other men. I hate it actually.”
“Oh please. Don’t worry…you’ll have another woman here on her knees in no time.”, you spat feeling angry.
You yelped a little when you felt Jungkook grab ahold of your tail that was angrily thrashing behind you. He ran his fingers over the soft fur as he thought about his next words.
“Y/N…I want…I want to be exclusive with you. I want you to be my girlfriend. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize that. I guess I was just…I was just fighting my own feelings but seeing you with him. I h-hate it.”, he dropped your tail and placed his hands on either side of you. Leaning close until his face was centimeters from yours, “You’re mine. Not his. You’re mine and only mine.”
You stared up at his big doe eyes. He had always hated them saying they made him look too soft for a lion but they were your favorite part of him.
“What do you say kitten? Will you be mine? Only mine?”
“A few weeks ago I would have been yours in a heartbeat, but now you have to earn the right to call me yours. BEFORE I say yes… you will have to prove to me that you mean that. Prove to me that you want only me.”
You weren’t expecting him to smirk but that’s what you got, right before he grabbed the back of your thighs hoisting you up and pinning you up against the wall like it was nothing., “Oh kitten. I’ll more than prove it.”
#bts#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook#bts fic#bts x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook au#bts hybrid au
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Word Count: 2,986
Summary: At his low point, Geto decided to take a change on striking up a conversation with someone at a cafe. This conversation drives him into finding a new purpose.
Warnings: smut, fem!reader, oral (f!recieving), unprotected sex, depression, AU!Geto (he doesn't become a genocidal maniac), pussy saves lives, also Nanami makes a brief appearance
A/N: Shout out to my babygirl @actuallysaiyan for helping me stay inspired to finish this ❤️
Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat. Exorcise. Consume. Repeat.
It’s a brutal, mind-numbing cycle Geto has been stuck in for so long he doesn’t know if he’s capable of doing anything else. No matter what kind of path he tries to imagine for his future, it also comes down to the same cycle. He doesn’t recognize himself anymore. He never sees Satoru or Shoko. He feels stuck. Like a caged animal being prodded with sticks and struck by stones.
It’s like watching a car crash and being unable to look away. Or worse it was like hearing the gunshot and then seeing Riko fall to the ground. That feeling of utter helplessness has never left except now he’s the one holding the gun and he doesn’t know where he’s going to point it.
“I’m fucking done,” he hears Kento Nanami’s voice. The utter disdain in his voice is what grabs Suguru’s attention. Nanami is carrying a duffel bag on his shoulders, and Suguru sees him in something aside from his uniform for the first time.
“Kento, what’s wrong?” Suguru asks, setting aside his soda to walk outside. When Kento turns to face him, there’s an anxious look in his eyes. His jaw is set tight.
“What are we dying for, Suguru?” Nanami asks. “I mean seriously?”
“To…protect…” Suguru winces at the lack of conviction in his words.
“Yeah, exactly,” Nanami rolls his eyes. “I’m out of here. I want to fucking live, okay?”
Live.
What does a life without sorcery even look like? Nanami has always been a bright spark of intelligence, and he’d shyly told Suguru a few months back he’d been accepted into college. Suguru wonders if he’d ever be able to get into college, but somehow he doubts it.
He watches the younger sorcerer get into the car and then leave. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Nanami again, and part of him hopes the answer is no. He wants Nanami to live as he said.
Geto goes to grab his soda from where he left it, then he starts towards his dorm. He can’t stop thinking about what Nanami said. When he returns to his room, he changes clothes instead of moping around as he had planned. He puts on black pants and a sweater before going outside to get on his motorcycle. He rides into the city, not knowing exactly where he’s going until he ends up in front of a coffee shop. He doesn’t know why he stops here, but it’s better than wandering.
He walks inside, and heads to the counter to order a coffee. He’s standing at the other end waiting for it to get done when he notices you.
You’re sitting in a table by the window, scribbling away in your notebook. He can hear you humming softly, a song he vaguely recognizes. He’s never been one to approach strangers like this, but he likes the look of you. You’re pretty and you seem just unaffected.
“Hi,” he says shyly as he approaches you with his coffee. “Can I sit?”
“Oh, sure!” you smile softly and move your things. He’d expected you to look around at least to see if the other seats were taken before accepting him into your space, but you didn’t. “Nice bike,” you say sweetly. “I saw you pull up earlier.”
“Ah, thanks. Sometimes I think it takes more work to keep her on the road than it’s worth.”
“Everyone needs a pet project,” you shrug.
Geto grins but hides it behind taking a sip of his coffee. You close your notebook and slide it into your bag.
“I’m Geto Suguru,” he introduces himself. You smile and introduce yourself as well. He can’t remember the last time he spent more than five minutes in the company of a non-sorcerer. Ever since what happened at the temple…Seeing all those people cheer for Riko’s death…The thought of non-sorcerers made his stomach turn.
“Do you go to the university?” you ask, and he realizes he has ventured close to the college. He wonders if it’s the same one Kento will be attending.
“Me? No,” he chuckles. “You?”
You nod, “Yeah, I’m actually between classes right now.”
“What are you studying?”
The second the question leaves his lips, a spark of excitement enters your eyes. You begin rambling animatedly about your studies, your future plans, and sharing pieces of knowledge you’ve picked up. His heart swells with affection as the way you smile when talking about it. Then, your smile fades into shyness and you look down at your coffee cup.
There had been a time
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that,” you say shyly.
“No, please, don’t apologize,” he smiles. He wants to reach out to take your hand. Not just for your comfort but for his sanity, he wants to seek connection. His hand is already on the table, fingers stretching out in search of yours. He stops himself, but barely. He closes his fist and pulls his hand back. If you’d noticed, it didn’t dull the sparkle in your eyes.
“I have to go to class, but would you like to exchange numbers?” you ask, and you’re already digging your notebook out of your bag again.
“I’d like that,” Suguru grins as he watches you scribble your name and number. You pass it to him, and he feels a jolt of happiness when your fingers touch. It’s been so long since he felt someone’s touch.
“Will you text me, for real?” you ask as you put your notebook away again.
“I really will,” he smiles and carefully folds the paper.
Suguru returns to campus feeling something shift inside of him. He wants to live.
Satoru is leaning against the wall beside the door to Suguru’s dorm. He’s looking at his phone, feeling so secure he doesn’t even look up to see who is approaching.
“Where have you been?” Satoru asks. “I’ve been waiting forever.”
“I went out on my bike,” Suguru opens the door. “Are you coming in?”
“Yeah, duh,” Satoru follows him inside his dorm. It’s been ages since they hung out, but it’s never awkward between them. Still, Satoru notices something is different about Suguru. He seems relaxed. “So what have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know, exorcise, consume, repeat…” Suguru wonders what will happen to the curses inside of him. When he leaves the jujutsu world, he guesses the curses will remain a part of him.
“Nanami left,” Satoru says as he sits on the bed.
“I know, I spoke with him.”
“Too bad…I like Nanami,” Gojo pouts.
“He hates you.”
“No he doesn’t, he just pretends he does.”
Suguru smirks, “Alright, Satoru.” Suguru leans against the wall, studying Satoru carefully before speaking again. This time he’s quieter, more serious. It’s a tone Satoru knows requires attention. “Have you ever though about leaving?”
“Where would I go?” Satoru shrugs.
“I suppose it’s different for you.”
Unlike most sorcerers, Satoru benefits greatly from being a sorcerer just by being who he is. He’s afforded almost any privilege imaginable. Suguru doubts Satoru would know how to function as a normal member of society.
“Are you going to leave, Suguru?”
“I don’t know, Satoru.”
**
You were shocked when Geto texted you. Part of you had figured he’d forget your shared moment in the coffee shop. You spend weeks chatting back and forth. You like him. He seems kind and intelligent in ways different from most of the people you meet. He hasn’t pushed for a date or in-person meeting again. He doesn’t ask for nudes or surprise you with a dick pic. You almost wonder if you’ve imagined him.
Then, one night, after weeks of texting, he asks if you want to go out the coming weekend. You’re shocked, but thrilled, to receive the invitation. You agree to meet at a restaurant for dinner.
For the next few days, Suguru focuses on settling into his new apartment so it’s not a mess on your date night. He doesn’t want to assume you’ll come back to his place, but his time as a sorcerer taught him to be prepared for any possibility.
His preparation proves to be a good idea on the night of your date when he talks you into coming back to his place. It didn’t take much convincing on his part. You’ve been wanting to spend more time with him ever since you started texting. He holds your hand as he opens the door to let you inside.
His heart is racing as he guides you to the couch and lets you settle in. You notice right away how sparse the decoration is.
“Can I get you a drink?” he offers. Truth be told, lately, he’s been drinking more than he should to fight off the loneliness of living outside of a dorm for the first time in so long.
“I’m okay,” you smile and pat the spot beside you on the couch. “Come here.”
He feels nervous as he sits next to you. His hand wraps around yours and he squeezes gently. A smile crosses your face as you look up at him and say, “This has been a great date.”
“I agree,” he blushes. “It’s been a while since I went on a date.”
Your eyes move down to his mouth. He sees your tongue dart along your bottom lip and he knows what you want. A pang of panic hits him. He has a fear of you being able to taste the disdainful curses on his tongue. You lean closer, your lips parting with anticipation. At the last moment, he turns his head away so you end up sloppily kissing his cheek. You’re mortified at the mistake, then your heart sinks into your chest when you realize he’d dodged your kiss on purpose.
“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” you swallow hard, trying to clear the lump in your throat.
He watches your face drop. The look of sadness in your eyes breaks his heart. He holds your hands and tries to think of a way to explain this to you. He doesn’t know how to explain the fear of you being disgusted by the taste of his lips. He kisses your knuckles.
“I apologize,” he says softly.
“Do you not want to kiss?”
He blushes, “I do…But…”
“You’re scared?”
It’s a shot in the dark, but your aim is surprisingly good. Geto’s cheeks burn and he looks down at your intertwined hands.
“I am terrified,” he admits.
“We don’t have to,” you assure him.
Your understanding only makes him want to kiss you more. He leans in. His lips are gentle and tentative as they press against yours. His fingers dig into the couch cushion in anticipation of that moment when you pull back to look at him with disgust when you taste the curses on his breath. He gasps in a mixture of shock and relief when instead deepens the kiss. In the split moment of openness offered by his gasp, your tongue slides into his mouth. His hand moves from the couch cushion to cup your cheek, and he moans as he eagerly drinks up your kiss. The sweetness of your mouth provides a temporary relief. He finds himself chasing your lips when you pull away, a shy smile tugging at the curve of your cheeks.
“Was that scary?” you ask.
“Not at all,” he groans and kisses you again.
You tangle your hands in his long black hair. When you reach the roots, you tug gently. He moans against your mouth, shoving his tongue between your teeth to seek out your tongue with his.
The thought crosses his mind that you must taste this good everywhere. He has to find out. He nuzzles against your neck and his tongue darts across your skin. His large hands eagerly knead at your hips.
“S-suguru,” you whimper.
He pulls back, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, no, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You seemed hesitant at first.”
He pulls you closer by your hips, “I know, I’m sorry. I want to continue if you do.”
You smile, “Yeah, I want to.”
“Alright,” he blushes. He stands up and offers his hand for you. Then, he leads you to his room. He keeps it quite neat and minimalistic in his space.
He closes the door before grabbing you again. His hands move over the soft material of your dress before carefully lifting it over your head. He takes a moment to admire your figure standing before him draped only on your bra and panties. His admiration is disrupted by the feeling of you tugging at his shirt. He smirks and lifts his arms. You have to stand on your tiptoes to lift the shirt off completely, then it joins the pile with your dress.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers before seizing your lips again. His hands move over your body in a greedy exploration before finding your bra clasp. He opens it with ease and his fingers are deft to guide the straps down your arms.
“Am I going too fast?” he asks.
“No, it’s good,” you kiss him sweetly.
He carefully lays you down on the bed, his broad form hovering over you. You notice the scars littering his body, but he doesn’t give you much of a chance to look further before he lowers himself to your chest. His breath is warm on your skin, heated up further by the open-mouthed kisses left along the swell of your breasts. He feels your hands in his hair, tugging him towards your sensitive spots. He relinquishes his curious exploration in favor of learning which spots drive you crazy.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers against your stomach. His teeth scrape against your abdomen before he spreads your thighs. Your panties cling to your wet folds. He pulls the flimsy garment off before kissing down your thigh.
“You don’t have to,” you whisper, suddenly seeming so shy.
“What?” he looks up at you. He furrows his brows when he realizes what you mean. “I want to, baby.”
Want is a rather weak word. He needs to taste you.
“Are you sure?”
He kisses your mound, “I’m certain.”
You nod shyly, and he is all too eager to bury his face between your thighs. His tongue laps at your slit, hungry grunts falling from him as he relishes the taste of your arousal. He doesn’t taste curses. He doesn’t taste anything but the musky sweetness of your cunt on his tongue.
The pleasure rolls through your core in intense waves with every smooth lick and suckle. You tremble in an attempt to keep still as he teases out more and more sensations. His strong hands keep your thighs spread wide so he can fully focus his attention on the feast laid out before him. He stays buried between your thighs until he notices the tell-tale signs of you being close. Your tense thighs and needy whines tell him all he needs to know. He pulls away from your cunt just as you’re about to cum.
“Fuck, look what you’ve done,” he groans as he sits up on his knees and cups the prominent bulge at the front of his pants. “You still wanna keep going?”
“Yes,” you whine.
He pushes his pants down past his ass before slotting himself between your legs. He reaches down to stroke his cock a few times, then drags the tip between your soaked folds. The head prods at your hole, and he begins pushing in carefully. He watches your face contort with pleasure as he fills you. Once he’s bottomed out, he brings himself lower so your chests are pressed together. You can almost feel his heart racing against your chest.
“You feel so good,” he kisses your forehead and nose.
His hips begin to rock at a slow, sensual pace. Your nails dig into his back as you lock your legs around his waist, moaning at the pace he’s keeping. Your kisses are sloppy, more tongue than lips. Your moans pass between your mouths like a breath.
The lingering feeling of your earlier orgasm he’d deprived you off makes the perfect foundation for what’s to come. Already you can feel it, twisting in your core. His cock hits the sweet spot inside you with precision.
“Suguru, I’m close,” you moan.
“Good, baby. Cum on my cock.”
With a few more deep thrusts, you’re crying out his name in unbridled pleasure. The way your walls clench around him as you cum is nearly enough to drive him over the edge.
“Can I cum inside you, baby?” he asks, his voice husky. Without much thought you nod eagerly.
He braces one hand against the pillow by your head, squeezing the material as he starts chasing his high. His pace is sloppier and quicker now. He bites his lip so hard it almost draws blood, then at the moment of climax his mouth parts in a silent cry. His cock throbs as he releases inside you.
As you both come down, he nuzzles against you. You’re both panting to catch your breath. You caress his back until he lifts himself up again. He carefully pulls out of you and lays next to you on the bed.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs as he gathers you up in his arms.
#🌟written in the stars#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#suguru geto x reader#getou suguru x reader#suguru x reader#geto x you#suguru geto smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#geto suguru#suguru geto
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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 (𝟏)
PART ONE | PART TWO
pairing: singledad!steve harrington x divorcedmom!fem!reader
word count: 9.4k words
summary: in which you hate him and he hates you— and that mutual disliking is perhaps the only thing you and him agree on. you make it your mission to avoid and ignore steve at all costs, and nothing more or less than withering stares and annoyed eye rolls are shared among you both whenever you have to see each other, which luckily isn’t that often. but when your son and his daughter end up in the same first-grade class and quickly become friends, it forces things to change between you two. it means that you and him also have to be friends, or, at the very least, tolerate each other’s presence. which is something that is much easier said than done
warnings: modern!au, enemies (to friends) to lovers, steve and reader are in their late 20s/early 30s, bestfriend!eddie, mentions of cheating/an affair (reader’s ex was an absolute asshole), explicit language, some angst
author’s note: i had the idea for this lil two part mini series (and have been working on it on and off) for like a thousand years at this point and i'm so glad and excited that it's finally free from the jail cell that is my google docs lol. i really really wanted to finish this and have it up before this year was over, so part two is coming new year's eve<3333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
For the first time in the past two weeks, you were early. Granted it was only by two minutes, but you still counted that as a win.
You stepped out of your car and headed to where the other parents were on the sidewalk, waiting for school to be over and the kids to come out. You inwardly ran through the list of things that you still had to do today— on a Friday that should’ve been calm, but instead, it had been pretty hectic.
It felt like pure luck that you were able to step away from your coffee shop for thirty minutes to pick up Oliver from school. God bless Jude for being willing to take over the rush that was happening. She was your favorite employee, and you knew that she definitely deserved a raise for being able to effectively keep up with the insanity that the last two weeks brought.
That transition from summer into the beginning of the new school year was harder than you had anticipated, and you knew it was mainly because this time last year you weren’t running a business full-time when Oliver had been starting Kindergarten. Instead, the coffee shop was still just an idea, a dream, that felt like it solely lived in your head; even though it had actually been in its final stages, and with each passing day, you only got closer and closer to that October opening date. And when the long-awaited opening finally came, it actually didn’t alleviate an ounce of your stress; instead, it was only increased practically tenfold.
You’d never say it out loud for fear of being deemed as a bad mom, but it was so fucking hard juggling everything and trying to handle it all.
However, somehow, you were doing it and you were actually doing it pretty well. Although at most times it felt like you were so close to drowning, for the time being, your head was completely above water.
You kept running through your mental to-do list as you waited for the time to go from 2:29pm to 2:30pm, indicating the official end of the school day.
Call the vendors that supply the coffee beans and teas and see if they can change the next delivery date, finalize the work schedule for next week, prep the ingredients for the pastries that will be baked tomorrow—
Your eyes instinctively went to check the time on your watch right as the first handful of kids came barreling out of the front doors.
When you saw Olly, you waved until his eyes landed on you and he immediately smiled.
Suddenly, you couldn’t care less about the time and the rest of the shit that you needed to do throughout the day.
“I made a new friend!” Were the first words he said to you when he came over to where you stood.
“That’s awesome!” You kneeled down so that you were pretty much at eye level with him. Hearing him say that made your heart feel so happy. You knew how shy he could be and he rarely ever talked about any kids that he was friends with, especially not with this much enthusiasm. “Who is it?”
“Maddie,” He answered and then pointed in the direction of where you assumed the girl was standing.
There were a handful of kids standing with their parents in the direction Olly was pointing to about ten or fifteen feet away, but when he further specified that she was “the girl holding the blue lunchbox,” you saw her. A girl with brown hair who was smiling at her dad who was smiling back at her and holding a hand up so that she could give it a high five.
You recognized him immediately.
In your mind, his name was “the worst person in the world.” In reality, his name was Steve Harrington.
You didn’t really pay attention to him until this past January because your kids weren’t in the same Kindergarten class. You actually didn’t even learn that he was the only other single parent in the grade until then.
It was one of your New Year’s resolutions to become more active and involved in school activities, PTA meetings, etc. Mainly because you knew that the other Kindergarten moms were judging you for barely doing anything aside from the occasional bake sale and the school was way too small for you to slip under the radar and not be noticed; those moms noticed everything.
Therefore, on the first meeting back after the Winter holiday break, you were there— five minutes late, but there nonetheless. Although, it could’ve been assumed that everyone thought you were an hour late with the amount of withering looks you received when you entered the gymnasium.
You offered a small apologetic smile and made a mental note to never be even a minute late again.
Leslie, the PTA president, was droning on and on about what big things were planned for the second half of the school year— somehow dragging out a short list of things that you thought could’ve been simply sent out in a mass email— when Steve walked in fifteen minutes after you. You fully expected him to receive the same type of annoyed looks that you had gotten, and maybe even more because he showed up later than you, but he got nothing but happy smiles from the majority of the moms.
That complete opposite reaction severely confused you and you wondered how he was able to receive such niceness when all you got was the coldest of shoulders.
Meeting after meeting it was continuously proven that he was the favorite among the moms, and it didn’t take you too long to learn why. He was a charmer, which everyone absolutely loved, and he seemed to effortlessly throw money at any school activity or fundraising event, another reason why he was so goddamn adored.
You were probably the only one that didn’t give a fuck about his charming personality, and instead, you would inwardly roll your eyes or scoff at pretty much anything he’d say and how easily the moms ate it up. Because when you really looked at it, you two were pretty much doing the same exact things— only moderately participating in events, showing up to the big monthly meetings instead of the weekly ones (and he was still always late to them), and not signing up for fields trips or activities that happened during school hours because of how overly demanding your jobs were; you’d learned from one particularly chatty mom that he worked at a pretty intense marketing firm. However, there was such a stark difference in treatment because he was the “hot single dad that gave a lot of money;” all of the moms practically fell at his feet and seemed to only tolerate you.
Maybe it was a hint of jealousy talking, but he still always managed to piss you off and you didn’t like him at all. It was an animosity that was perhaps just one-sided, and you hated yourself for caring so much, but that changed in April; during a moment where if the circumstances were different, it would’ve felt like some sort of romcom-esque “meet cute.” But, you basically despised Steve, so instead the whole situation just made your blood boil.
It was a Thursday at almost five o’clock during parent-teacher conference week; it was the only day that could work in your insanely busy schedule and you managed to get the latest time slot with Oliver’s teacher. You were pacing in the hallway where all three of the Kindergarten classrooms were; a coffee in one hand, because it was the only thing keeping you going that late in the day, and your phone in the other as you texted back an employee who was having problems with the oven. You were seconds away from calling him— because you knew that the issue would probably be solved quicker if you did so— but before you could, you were bombarded by someone who was quickly coming around the corner and they crashed into you. The abrupt collision was forceful enough to make your drink spill on you and your phone slip out of your hand.
You glanced down at your now coffee-stained white shirt and then up at the person who had caused this mess, and of course, it was Steve Harrington standing in front of you. You had to fight the immediate urge to roll your eyes.
“Oh, shit. My bad,” He quickly said. “I’m minutes away from being late for my parent-teacher meeting, so I was rushing from the parking lot. Now it really does make sense why teachers always said no running in the halls, right? Because something like this can happen.” As he rambled, you picked up your phone off the ground, glad that it wasn’t broken, and then you tossed your now mostly empty coffee cup into the trash can nearby. When you looked back at him, you saw that he was fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. “Anyway, maybe I can pay for your dry cleaning? Or so you can at least get another coffee later or tomorrow?”
If it had been anyone else, you would’ve thought that the gesture was nice. But, since it was coming from Steve Harrington it only pissed you off because, of course, money was his immediate thought solution.
That time it was too difficult to not allow yourself to roll your eyes at him. “Y’know, throwing money at everything doesn’t make you a good dad. It actually makes you kind of an asshole.”
You knew that you were being a little too harsh, but it was still too hard to feel completely regretful about your words; you were pissed at this current situation that was fully caused by him and you were also pissed simply because he was him.
You weren’t sure what you expected Steve to respond with, but he easily matched your angry energy. He narrowed his eyes at you. “Well, at least, I can do something. You barely show up to things and can’t give money to make up for it, so how much of a ‘good mom’ does that make you?”
Before you could say anything in response to that— a response that probably would’ve started and ended with a simple “Fuck you”— you heard your name being called from behind you by Oliver’s teacher. With everything happening with the man in front of you right then, you’d almost forgotten the meeting you were at the school for in the first place.
Instead of saying anything to Steve, you simply buttoned up the black cardigan you were wearing to cover the majority of the coffee stain on your shirt and then walked away from him, putting on a smile and greeting Miss Wilson.
It wasn’t outwardly stated right then, but it was pretty much sealed then that this disliking could no longer be confused for being something that was one-sided. You two hadn’t said any words to each other since that moment in the hallway, and instead only annoyed looks and glares were shared anytime you saw one another; which lucky for you, actually wasn’t too frequent.
On the first day of school, you learned that his daughter was in the same First Grade class as Oliver due to the emergency contact form all the parents had to fill out, which was then condensed into one sheet and shared among everyone for “just in case” purposes, and Steve’s name and number was on there. You really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal because you could still avoid him like the plague that he was, and that was exactly what you’d been doing for the last two weeks.
However, you did not think that your kids would become friends.
“Can we have a playdate tomorrow?” Oliver asked.
You racked your brain for a response; a way to say no without actually saying it because you really did hate disappointing him. “Oh, um, this weekend is gonna be really busy. But, maybe soon though, okay?”
He frowned a bit but still nodded. “Okay.”
You held out your hand so that he could slip his in and then you started heading to your car.
“We have to go back to the coffee shop for a few more hours before we can go home. But, how does pizza for dinner tonight sound?” You asked as you buckled him in his car seat. The offer was an attempt to cheer him up and you hoped it worked; probably like every other six-year-old, Oliver loved pizza.
He smiled at that. “Ooh, yeah, that’s good.”
You smiled back at him and inwardly hoped that this playdate idea would blow over over the next few days. And that the thought of you having to spend any sort of willing time with Steve Harrington would become a scary thought that only occasionally haunted your dreams, instead of it being something that actually became real.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
Of course, it did not blow over.
Excuse after excuse would fall from your lips, but Olly was determined and your words of “Today’s really busy” or “This weekend probably won’t be good” didn’t discourage him from continuing to ask.
As the days came and went and a week passed with Olly asking the same question each day, you were so close to sucking it up and calling Steve and finally setting something up, but you were still way too fucking prideful to do so.
That didn’t stop you from thinking about doing it most days, though. But it was easier not to think about it when you were busying yourself at the coffee shop, and it was almost too easy to make yourself busy in some way there. And that was something that didn’t change on this Friday.
Oliver was sitting in his favorite booth working on homework and you were behind the counter, making a simple hot chocolate for the older woman who would come in almost every afternoon, typically around four o’clock.
“Enjoy,” You said with a smile as you handed her the drink.
Things in the coffee shop were calm and quiet, and you were about to go see if Oliver needed any help with the worksheets he was doing, but then your phone started vibrating in your back pocket. When you grabbed it, you saw that it was a random number calling, and maybe you should’ve thought about that fact more before answering, but you didn’t.
“Hello?”
“Has Oliver asked to have a playdate with Madeline?” You quickly recognized Steve’s voice.
You let out a small sigh. “At least once a day since last Friday.”
“Same here with Maddie,” Steve said and then let out a sigh of his own. “We need to let this happen. I don’t think either of them are gonna let it go.”
At first, you didn’t say anything in response to his words. You wanted to disagree with Steve, but you knew that you couldn’t because it was the truth. And then there was the fact that every time you gave some sort of fake excuse to Olly, you would feel like the worst parent ever, so maybe it would be best to just finally let this happen. “You’re right. Are you free tomorrow?”
“Yes,” He answered. “We can just do a quick thing at the park if that’s good?”
That was exactly what you were about to suggest, but you didn't tell him that. “Yeah, that’s fine. Is twelve okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Steve didn’t say anything in response to you and instead simply ended the call there. The lack of an actual goodbye almost made you want to roll your eyes in annoyance, but you didn’t because you knew that you probably would’ve done the same thing to him.
You put your phone back in your pocket and walked over to the two-person booth Oliver was sitting at, sliding in across from him. “Hey, bud, I have really fun news. You and Maddie are finally gonna have your playdate tomorrow.”
Seeing the elated grin immediately take over his face made the fact that you’d be spending a few hours with Steve Harrington tomorrow worth it.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
You never thought you’d witness a moment where Steve was actually on time for something, but for once he was. When you pulled into the small parking lot of the park, you already saw him sitting on one of the wooden benches that surrounded the playground watching Maddie go down a slide.
Moments after the car was put in park, Oliver was unbuckling himself and rushing to get out so that he could head over to where Maddie was. You could only smile at his enthusiasm before telling him to slow down and be careful.
You took your time walking over to where Steve was because of how much you were dreading it, and for a moment you debated whether or not you should sit next to him or go to the bench that was empty and a few feet away. Ultimately, you decided to just sit next to him; you could be civil for a couple of hours.
“Hi,” You said as you sat down on the wooden bench.
He looked at you just for a second before turning back to the playground. “Hey.”
“How are you?” You asked. It was always easy to go into the mundane small talk you’d have all day with customers; aside from the ones that were the regulars that you knew too well and couldn’t simply ask how they were doing without actually meaning it.
“Good,” Steve responded. “You?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” You answered with a small nod.
A silence that could only be deemed as awkward began to linger in the air because it felt as if there was absolutely nothing else to say. If he was a customer, you would’ve simply taken his order and he would have walked away by now, but obviously, this wasn’t that kind of interaction. The only sound that could be heard was the handful of other parents with their children and your own kids looking happier than ever.
It could’ve been easy for you to make some joke to Steve about how weird this entire situation felt because of how much animosity you had toward each other and now there you two were on a sort of playdate of your own because of your kids. And then the two of you would have laughed about this current set of circumstances, and maybe that would’ve allowed things to actually start to feel somewhat okay. But, it just felt way too hard to let yourself actually be civil toward him, even though you had told yourself that you would be.
“I’m very surprised you’re actually on time for something. After all the PTA meetings, I thought you were incapable of it,” You said, still staring straight ahead as you then took a sip from the water you had in your hand.
“And you’re late, which is not surprising,” He told you with a small scoff.
Aside from that first time you had been late for the meeting, there was one other time where you were late again and, of course, that was also the one time where Steve managed to be a little bit earlier than you. Given that he had been late countless times, you felt that it was both stupid and unwarranted for him to use the single time he saw you late against you.
“Whatever,” You said as you rolled your eyes. “Not that I even owe you an explanation for being only five minutes late today, but the coffee shop was starting to have a rush right before me and Olly were about to leave, and I didn’t want to leave my employee right then to completely fend for himself.”
“That’s interesting because every time I drive by the place, it looks the complete opposite of busy.”
Perhaps this entire conversation immediately taking the shittiest turn was your fault because you “fired the first shot,” but his words felt equivalent to a low blow. You pretended as if you were completely unaffected by them and tried your hardest not to recognize the slight validity behind them— the coffee shop had its peak times and also its deserted moments, and maybe sometimes it did feel a bit more deserted than not, but you were surviving and right then that was all that mattered you.
You glared harshly at him although he wasn’t even looking back at you. Muttering a “Fuck you” was right on the tip of your tongue, but you bit it back and instead got up from the bench and started moving to an empty one. Steve didn’t say anything else to you and instead seemed completely unfazed by you walking away from him.
You watched Oliver and Maddie talking and laughing at the top of a slide that was big enough to fit both of them and they went down it together. Seeing how happy Olly was and knowing that this was the first friend he actually wanted to spend time with outside of school, made dealing with Steve’s bullshit right then completely okay with you.
When two o’clock rolled around, you were waving Oliver over to you, much to his dismay.
“I know it’s time to go, but can we all get food together?” He asked when he walked over to you.
For once, the excuse for saying no that you were about to tell him wasn’t a made-up one. “We gotta go pick Eddie up from the airport, remember? Also, he told me that he has a bunch of cool stuff to give you from California.”
“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said, a smile taking over his face. “I almost forgot he was coming today.”
He went over to where Maddie was now standing with Steve and he gave her a quick hug goodbye before running back over to you.
Instead of giving any sort of verbal goodbye to Steve, you simply gave him a small wave. It was hard to wrap your head around the fact that you’d now probably have to see him more often than not. With how happy Oliver and Maddie looked playing together, you knew that today definitely wouldn’t just be a one-time thing.
Somehow with the wave Steve gave back to you, you could tell that he knew that too.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
You were in no way related to Eddie Munson, but he felt more like family than your actual family.
He was the first person you met when you moved to Hawkins three years ago. After going through a messy divorce that felt like it had actively taken at least ten years off of your life, it felt so goddamn nice to immediately make a friend in this town that was completely new to you.
Coming from Chicago, a city that had always felt way too big for you, any small town sounded perfect in your eyes, and you were able to find a cheap-ish house in Hawkins, so it was the winner.
You met Eddie at a grocery store a week after you’d moved in. It was also your birthday, a fact that three-year-old Oliver didn’t fail to tell Eddie when you accidentally bumped into him— quite literally crashed your cart into the guy— in the bread aisle.
“Happy birthday,” He had said to you and you gave him a small smile before proceeding to say another sorry for bumping your cart into him. He then looked at Oliver. “Are you gonna bake a birthday cake for her?”
Oliver visibly brightened and turned to you. “Ooh, yeah, can we bake a cake?”
“Sure,” You nodded and smiled at his eagerness.
He smiled widely and then looked back at Eddie. “Can you come over and help us make it?”
“Oh, um…” Eddie’s eyes met yours to see what you wanted him to say.
“You can, if you want,” You told him and you genuinely meant your words. He seemed normal, and even though this was a small town, he was the first person who had been so outwardly nice to you and Olly.
“Okay, yeah, I’d love to help,” He said with a nod. “I’m Eddie, by the way.”
You told him your name and then gestured to Olly. “And this is Oliver.”
“Sorry for suggesting this idea and contributing to the sugar high that will probably be happening tonight,” Eddie told you as you moved to the next aisle where all of the baking stuff was, you were giving Oliver full reign over what cake mix you got.
“Apology not accepted,” You responded but still smiled at him.
Many hours later, when the cake was baked and Oliver was tucked away in bed after having two pieces of it, you pulled out a bottle of wine for you and Eddie to drink. And then because of the wine and because of the fact that birthdays always managed to bring something severely melancholic out of you, you started crying to him about your divorce that had just been finalized, the affair that your husband had with his coworker being the catalyst for said divorce, and how you felt so weirdly alone in this new town but also not at all alone because you had Oliver.
Somehow none of that managed to scare him away— even though you would’ve been completely understanding if it had— and a friendship had been cemented ever since.
Eight months ago, he moved to California because of a huge opportunity he got with his music; it was something he had been waiting for for so many years. You had called it a “big break,” but he thought that sounded too pretentious.
You hadn’t really wanted him to leave, he was your best friend— your only friend in this town— but you were also so happy for him. And the distance actually managed to feel somewhat okay because you two would talk all the time and he’d visit every few months.
Oliver especially didn’t mind the distance because whenever Eddie did come back to Hawkins for a visit, it always meant that he’d get some cool new toys from him. And this time proved to be no different.
The three of you were in the coffee shop. It was quiet right then— you didn’t think about Steve’s words from earlier— and you watched Eddie smile at Oliver as he animatedly talked about something, you assumed he was telling Eddie about Madeline.
Moments later, Eddie walked over to where you stood behind the counter, beginning the clean-up process because you were closing in about an hour.
“It’s really nice seeing how fucking– I mean fudging,” He turned around to see if Oliver heard what he’d just said, but Olly was too busy playing with his new red toy car to hear anything. “Happy he is. All he’s been doing is rambling about his new friend.”
“Yeah, it’s really great,” You said, smiling as you thought about how happy he had been at the park earlier. You then thought about Steve and inwardly sighed. “Well, for the most part.”
“Why? Is she a bad influence or something? I didn’t think there could be bad influences in first grade,” Eddie said and then laughed a bit. “Actually, scratch that, I was definitely a bad influence in first grade.”
An amused look crossed your face. “You talk a lot about this “bad boy persona” you used to have, but I don’t know if I really believe it because all I see is a guy that actually enjoys buying toys for a six-year-old.”
He smiled at that. “I changed. Turned over a new leaf.”
“Mhm, got it,” You responded, your voice slightly sarcastic because it was still hard to imagine Eddie as anything other than the nice guy who baked a cake with you and Oliver on your birthday. “Anyway, though, it’s not the girl that’s the problem; she’s really sweet and nice. It’s her parent that’s the worst person in the world.”
Eddie nodded. “Okay, tell me all about this mean mom drama.”
“It’s a dad, actually,” You said and then started explaining everything that you had never said aloud before. You told Eddie all of it— how Steve was so easily able to throw money at anything the school needed, how he was basically treated like a King among the other moms because of that, the incident that happened last year during parent-teacher conference week where everything between you two fully came to a head, and the shitty conversation you had with him at the park only hours earlier.
“Wow, I’ve missed a lot. I can’t believe you have a nemesis, and I also can’t believe you never told me about him.”
“He’s the last thing I ever want to think about, let alone talk about. If it wasn’t for Oliver becoming friends with his daughter, you wouldn’t be hearing about him. Also, I feel like “nemesis” is a bit of an exaggeration.”
“I can call him your mortal enemy, if you want,” Eddie said with a teasing smile and you only rolled your eyes in response, refraining from flipping him off. “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. Aside from you, people rarely ever move to this town for fun, so he’s probably been here his whole life.”
You actually never thought about the potential of Eddie knowing Steve, although it was completely plausible given the reason your friend just mentioned.
“Steve Harrington.”
“Oh.”
From Eddie’s reaction, the answer to your next question seemed pretty obvious but you still decided to ask it. “You know him?”
“Yeah, we were in high school at the same time.”
“Okay, what was he like?”
“All the typical high school stuff. He was a popular guy, played sports, was kind of a jerk but pretty much all of the girls still loved him.”
You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “That sounds very accurate.”
“By the end of it, though, he seemed like somewhat of a changed guy. Got his heart broken by the nice girl, and then became friends with actual good people,” Eddie told you, and that was the one part of his description of the Steve that he had known that managed to actually surprise you. “I didn’t know he had a kid now.”
“Yup, and he’s also changed back into the jerk that you originally knew him as in high school,” You said. “And the most fuc— fudged up part of it all is that we should be friends. Which probably makes me sound crazy because of everything I just said, but it’s true. Me and him are basically in the same boat— the only single parents in the grade, we both have time-consuming jobs, and now even our kids are friends with each other. It would just make sense if we were actually friends too.”
“I mean, you still could be, right?”
You immediately shook your head. “Wrong. There’s no way that could ever happen.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
The rest of September and most of October flew by with what felt like an abrupt kind of quickness.
Absolutely nothing changed between you and Steve, even with Eddie’s idea that maybe it could. The only time the two of you talked to each other was if it involved your kids and if you were setting up the day and time for another park playdate, which quickly managed to become a weekly thing because of how adamant Oliver and Madeline were— just like you assumed they’d be.
It may have seemed a little weird, these brief conversations you’d have with one another that were nothing more and nothing less than transactional, but it worked perfectly for you two.
“This weekend is gonna be pretty busy for me, so is tomorrow after school good?” You asked Steve. A PTA meeting had just ended and you and him were lingering by the same exit that the kids would come out of when school was over.
You were pretty close to not showing up to this Thursday night meeting, but you knew that you had to because it was about the Winter Carnival happening in December. It was a huge event that would be an “all hands on deck” kind of situation, which was why they talked about it so far in advance and why attendance at any meeting discussing it was pretty much mandatory.
Steve shook his head at your question. “I have this big work thing tomorrow, so I have to pick up Maddie and then drop her off at the babysitter before rushing back to the city.”
You nodded understandingly at his words. A part of you knew that you should have left it at that, because you tried to set something up and that should’ve been more than enough of an effort, but instead, you found yourself saying, “I can pick her up and take the two of them to the park tomorrow if you want.”
Steve was quiet and your words simply lingered in the open air. You almost regretted making the suggestion because you felt as if he was somehow going to find a way to be a dick about it, but then he looked at you curiously, and another look that you couldn’t decipher crossed his face too as he said, “You sure?”
You nodded at him. “Yeah, it’s really no problem.” And it honestly wasn’t a problem in the slightest; Madeline was the sweetest girl ever. She reminded you nothing of Steve, so you assumed that she got her personality from her mom; you still had no idea what that entire situation entailed. “What time will you be done with work?”
“Hopefully around five or six,” He answered. There was still that look on his face, which you still couldn’t tell what it said, but you really wanted to know.
“Okay, after the park, I can take them back to my house and you can pick Maddie up from there when you’re done with work,” You said, only a little surprised at how easily this idea came together. “Olly’s been wanting to show her his new fish, anyway.”
“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned his fish to me probably a thousand times. It’s blue and purple, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a betta fish; Barnaby.”
“Barnaby?”
You shrugged. “I have no idea how Olly came up with that name, but I will admit that it does sound more like the name of an old sailor lost at sea rather than a fish. But, in some weird way, both of those things are actually kind of related.”
Steve laughed at that and somehow it didn’t sound the least bit mocking or condescending, it was more amused. Hearing that sound coming from him shocked you as much as it, surprisingly, made you inwardly smile.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
The amount of dark clouds in the sky didn’t necessarily faze you until a raindrop hit your cheek as you sat on a park bench watching Oliver and Madeline on the playground. It was a light drizzle that transformed into something heavier in a matter of minutes and you realized that you probably should’ve been more mindful of what the weather was going to be today.
Neither of the kids really minded the rain putting an end to their time at the park though, because Oliver was happy to go home so that Maddie could finally see the fish.
They bounded up the stairs to Olly’s room the second you unlocked the front door, and you headed to the kitchen, sending a simple text to Steve in the process.
You: Had to leave the park because of the rain. We’re at my place now
At first, the lack of a response from him didn’t surprise you because it was only around four-thirty and he was probably busy. He was also Steve Harrington and he rarely ever responded to you in a timely manner.
You heard the sound of footsteps racing down the stairs and you looked up from your phone, after checking it for probably the hundredth time in the past hour, to see Olly and Maddie coming into the kitchen.
“Can you convince my dad to get me a fish?” Maddie asked as she and Olly joined you at the small dining table.
You smiled and nodded at her. “I can try.”
“Thanks,” She said, smiling back at you. “The only time I get to see any pets is at my Aunt Robin’s house. She has a golden retriever.”
“Oh, that’s really cool. What’s its name?”
“Willow. She’s a girl.”
Oliver looked at you. “Can we get a dog next?”
“Let’s just worry about Barnaby for now,” You told Olly, giving him a small smile. You could only imagine how much more hectic your life would become if you two got a dog anytime soon. “I was thinking about doing dino nuggets and french fries for you guys for dinner. How does that sound?”
They both perked up at that and nodded and you got up to turn on the oven, purposefully leaving your phone on the table because you wanted a break from impulsively checking it every few minutes. It slightly annoyed you that you heard nothing from Steve yet, and it annoyed you even more that the lack of a response felt personal. You wondered if he actually hadn’t seen your message yet, or if he was simply being an asshole and not responding with a simple “Okay” or even a thumbs up to it on purpose.
It wasn’t until the time was a little after six, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Steve, that your initial annoyance toward him not responding to you and not giving you any sort of updates on what was happening with him over the past few hours, morphed into something that resembled worry.
You walked out of the living room and into the kitchen and pulled your phone out of your back pocket so that you could call him. Your gaze moved toward the window as you pressed your phone to your ear; the weather outside still looked pretty shitty. The call went straight to voicemail and you sighed as you waited for the beep.
“Hey, um, it’s me. That’s probably very obvious. Um, anyway, you said you’d be done with work around five or six, but I haven’t heard anything from you in the last couple of hours… I hope everything’s fine. Um, any sort of update would be really nice. Call, or at least text me, whenever you get this. Okay… Bye.”
You hung up and slipped your phone back in your pocket.
It was an obvious fact that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, but that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him.
The only thing that managed to not make you feel completely worried was that Maddie seemed okay and not worried at all. Instead, she and Olly were in the living room playing in the fort you made for them out of couch cushions and throw blankets.
You went back into the living room and sat down on the small loveseat that was the only piece of furniture that still had its cushion left.
“You guys okay in there?”
“Yup!”
“Yes!”
Hearing their chorus of happy “yeses” made you inwardly sigh in relief and lean back into the chair, letting your eyes shut just for a second and muttering to yourself that everything was and would be fine.
Your phone was still glued to your hand as you grabbed the remote with your other and turned on a random Disney movie for the kids to listen to as background noise and for you to take your mind off of Steve, even though all you were waiting and hoping for was for your phone to vibrate in your hand with a call or text from him.
You didn’t realize that you’d fallen asleep in the chair until you were startled awake by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The abruptness of it actually managed to scare you, so much so that you could immediately feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears when you opened your eyes.
The second Lilo & Stitch movie was now playing on the TV and through your half-awake haze, you found the remote to pause it. You then peeked inside the fort and saw that Olly and Maddie were asleep.
As you rubbed the slight tiredness out of your eyes and got up from the couch, you checked your phone and saw that the time was 8:11pm. The doorbell rang again as you unlocked the door and the first thing that you noticed when you opened it was that it was no longer raining, you were unsure when it had finally stopped.
“Hi.”
Seeing Steve standing in front of you managed to immediately wash away the worry you had been feeling for the last couple of hours. And it was quickly and completely replaced with the annoyance you’d initially felt. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Hearing a genuine apology come from Steve Harrington’s mouth actually managed to baffle you. “My meeting at work ran over, and there was no way to get out of it, not even for a second. And then there was a ton of traffic because of the rain, so a drive that typically only takes thirty minutes took longer than an hour. Also, I have the worst and probably oldest phone in the world because it never holds a charge anymore, and it was plugged in during the entire drive but didn’t turn on at all. So, I’m really sorry that I haven’t been able to call or text or anything. These past few hours have been hell.” He let out a sigh and then looked at you, concerned. “How’s Maddie? Is she okay?”
There were a lot of words that had been thrown at you during Steve’s ramble, but hearing his full explanation and how apologetic he was made your annoyance with him dissipate into nothing just like your worry did. Instead, you felt a little bad for him because of all the shit he had to endure in the past few hours. You pushed the door open further to fully let him in.
“She’s good. She’s okay. She and Olly are sleeping in the living room. I made them a little fort,” You told him as he walked in and you pointed to where the kids were in the living room, and he nodded when he saw the construction of couch cushions and blankets.
You looked at Steve and hesitated for a moment. You knew that this was where the goodbyes for the night should’ve started, but it didn’t feel right to have him leave just yet; he still seemed sort of frazzled and stressed about everything that happened. You started heading toward the kitchen and he followed you. “Do you maybe, uh, want something to drink?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Okay, I have water and juice boxes,” You told him and turned around to meet his eyes, he was leaning against the small island. “It’s moments like these where it sucks being the “good influence/leading by example” parent because I can’t offer you something fun, like a soda.”
Steve laughed a bit; it still felt so foreign hearing that sound from him. “A juice box is fine. That’s probably all that lives at my house too.”
You grabbed one from the fridge and then closed it. “I hope you like apple.”
“My favorite, actually,” He said as you handed the drink to him, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but you didn’t have enough time to really ponder that before he completely changed the subject. “How was Maddie when you picked her up? When I told her about it this morning, she seemed excited about it and about hanging out with Oliver after school too, but was she really okay?”
You nodded at his question. “She was great. They both had fun at the park and didn’t even mind the rain because they really wanted to come here and see the fish.”
He smiled and you could see the immediate relief wash over his face. “Okay.”
“She also wants me to try and convince you to get her a fish.”
“Of course she does,” He said before taking a sip from the juice box. You had to admit, it was a little funny seeing a man wearing professional clothes, that were probably so expensive, drinking from a tiny juice box meant for little kids.
“I’m honestly kinda surprised that you pick her up every day,” You told him as you turned and went back into the fridge to pull out a water for yourself. “Given your job, I thought you’d just have a babysitter or someone pick her up most of the time. I had no idea it was half an hour away.”
“I didn’t used to do it… Her, um, her mom would,” He said and you could tell by the way he said those words that whatever happened involving Maddie’s mom was a touchy subject. It sounded similar to how you’d usually sound whenever you talked about Oliver’s dad— a little sad and a lot like you’d rather talk about anything else.
Your mind started desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject; it was what you would’ve wanted him to do for you if the tables were turned. But, before you could say the first thing that came to mind, which was, “So, I wonder if it’s gonna rain tomorrow too,” Steve started talking again.
“It had become a routine because of how hectic my job is. She’d always drop Maddie off and pick her up. But, she, uh… She left last year, so that changed everything,” He told you. You closed the fridge and turned around to face him; you forgot to grab your water but that was the last thing on your mind right then.
This conversation suddenly felt like completely uncharted territory between you and Steve because you two did not talk about touchy subjects— you and him barely talked about anything at all. But, for some odd reason, you didn’t necessarily mind the serious turn to the conversation because maybe it was a shit ton of honesty that was needed for you two to actually, finally, not dislike each other.
Steve ran a hand through his hair and pulled his eyes away from yours. He instead fixed his attention on his juice box in hand. “It happened around this time in October. She dropped Maddie off at school, but didn’t pick her up.”
Hearing him say that surprised you as much as it confused you because you had absolutely no idea that happened last year. But with how busy you’d been then, and since you weren’t friends with any of the “gossipy” moms that somehow always knew everything, it did make a little sense why you knew nothing.
“Maddie was waiting in the office for about two hours after school was over before I could get there because I was in a meeting and didn’t see the calls coming from the school. She didn’t really know what was happening, but she was still so sad and I think that somehow a small part of her did know.” He shook his head and sighed, a look that could only be deemed as melancholic crossed his face. “I never want her to feel abandoned like that again, so I always make sure to drop her off and pick her up now.”
As he said his last words, something managed to shift inside of you in a matter of a split second. Suddenly, his name was no longer “the worst person in the world” in your mind.
In all of your months of having this “nemesis relationship” — as Eddie would call it— with Steve Harrington, you never thought that your opinion of him would ever be able to change. However, in this moment of you two standing across from each other at your small kitchen island as Steve held a freaking juice box in his hand, it finally did. He was a good person, a really fucking good person.
You were able to see it so goddamn easily then— the exact ways that he and Maddie were just alike. She got her personality from him, you were now quite literally certain of it. And you immediately felt bad for ever thinking differently.
“I’m sorry about what I said last year during conference week,” You told him, suddenly ready to give him your own burst of honesty. “I was pissed that you spilled my coffee all over me, and I was even more pissed because it was you, and you annoyed me so much. Because even though we’re kind of in the same boat with the amount of “active” things we do for the school, all of the moms love you so much and I swear they hate me, and it’s just so annoying.” You let out a small sigh and then met his gaze before saying the words that you didn’t think you’d ever say to him. “Anyway, you’re a really good dad, and I’m so sorry for telling you differently.”
“I’m sorry for what I said that day too. You’re a really great mom,” He said, giving you a small smile, and it slightly shocked you how much hearing that meant to you. Aside from Eddie, you couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to you. “And I don't think the moms at school actually like me. I think they just pity me because of everything that happened, and how they basically saw it all blow up in real time. Since pre-school, Maddie’s mom was dropping her off and picking her up, and suddenly one day she was completely gone. I swear the number of times I got phone calls that were a bunch of them saying, “We’re here for you,” but they really just wanted to get the full story about what happened, was insane during those first few months.”
“Jesus, small town moms are the worst,” You said as you shook your head. “Or, at least, ours are.”
You looked away from Steve and turned around, finally going back to the fridge to grab a water. “Oliver’s dad was kind of the same way. He left too. Or maybe it’s actually not the same because I made him leave— he was having an affair with his coworker. But, he also wanted to leave and be with her, so maybe it actually is a little similar. Sorry, now I’m just rambling about that asshole,” You said and rolled your eyes at yourself. You weren’t sure why you even decided to circle the conversation back to your exes.
“Do you and Oliver ever see him anymore?” Steve asked, and when you closed the fridge and turned back to face him, you shook your head at his question.
“Not since we moved here. He does the bare minimum and sends Olly checks for his birthday and Christmas. Which I think is dumb because no kid wants a check as a present; even I would rather get an actual gift than a stupid check,” You told Steve as you opened up your water. “Does Maddie ever see her mom, or does she ever come around sometimes?”
With the way she left, you were almost certain that the answer was no, but you were still curious.
“No, she hasn’t, and I don’t think she would ever want to,” Steve answered and you gave him a small nod of understanding before he continued. “I remember about a week after everything happened, and after avoiding my many calls and texts, she finally called me. She was really apologetic about the way she decided to leave, but she said that she just couldn’t do it anymore because none of this life that we had here was making her happy, and she didn’t want me to try and convince her to stay. When she said that, it made me realize that the smallest part of me knew that this would eventually happen. Maddie was completely unexpected and our relationship had already gotten pretty bad before we found out, so neither of us was remotely ready to be parents, but we still decided to do it and try to make it all work. Right when I saw Maddie for the first time I knew that she was the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and that never changed. But, it wasn’t the same way for her mom, and sometimes it seemed like she felt the complete opposite way. So, in a way, I can understand why she knew she had to leave. I hate the way that she did it, but ultimately I understand that this wasn’t the life she wanted, and she’d never want it.” A sad smile took over his face.
“We don’t have to keep talking about this if you don’t want to,” You told him, suddenly feeling bad that you had been the one to bring the conversation back to this in the first place. “We can change the subject to anything else. Maybe the weather? I wonder if it’s gonna rain again tomorrow…”
“No, it’s okay,” Steve said. “I really never thought I’d say this because we’ve never had a real conversation before, but I think I actually like talking to you.” He shook his head at his words. “I’m sorry, that probably sounds fucked up.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I feel the same exact way. Ten minutes ago I couldn’t really stand the thought of having any sort of conversation with you, and now I feel like an idiot for hating you all this time. So, this is insanely fast progress,” You said and then immediately thought of something. “Wow, I really wish I had some alcohol for us to drink right now because us actually not despising each other anymore is a milestone that truly should be toasted to.”
Steve laughed a bit; it was nice hearing that sound after all the sad stuff that had just been shared by both of you. He raised his juice box toward you a bit. “This will have to do, I guess.”
You raised your water and “clinked” it with the juice box. “Cheers to… whatever we are now.”
It didn’t feel entirely like a friendship, but it, at least, felt like you two could actually be nice to one another and not feel pained to do so.
“Cheers to that,” Steve said with a quick nod and then finished off the rest of what was left in his small juice box. “I should grab Maddie and head home. She has dance class at eight in the morning. She hates it for the most part, but she has a recital next week and I told her that she should push through until that and then we can quit. A part of me is kind of glad that she hates it, though, because classes are insanely expensive.”
“Olly’s starting soccer at the end of the month,” You told him. “It’s for boys and girls. You should see if Maddie wants to do that.”
“If Oliver’s doing it, she’ll probably say yes.”
You nodded at that and how true it was on both sides. “I’ll text you the information.”
“Thanks,” He said and smiled.
You followed him as he walked into the living room to get Maddie. She was still fast asleep as her arms circled around his neck when he picked her up. You grabbed her bookbag that she and Oliver left by the front door and helped Steve hook one of his arms in it.
Somehow something was silently exchanged in that last look shared between you and him before you said your final goodbyes for the night, and you softly shut and locked your door behind him. It was a look that expressed that you both were glad about what happened in the past twenty minutes— the honesty-filled conversation that led to you two finally understanding one another and realizing how you were actually more alike than either of you had ever thought.
It was a realization that was simultaneously surprising and refreshing.
“Goodnight,” You said, giving him a small smile and he smiled back at you.
“Goodnight.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。
PART TWO
let me know ur thoughts<333
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fic#dad!steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#stranger things fluff#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington x reader smut#stranger things fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things series#steve harrington series
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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 2
Source for pic
The Great Pretender 2
Word Count: 4816
Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU
Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.
Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.
Notes: Here's chapter 2! We're still setting up the stage to more exciting events coming up! It's time for Shanks' surgery now.
Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555
Masterlist
|Chapter 1| | |Chapter 3|
“What do you know about Dr. Law?” Sipping your coffee you stare at Nami, trying to hide the curiosity gnawing at your brain. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about the handsome dark-haired doctor since the appointment two days ago. When you slipped him your number, you unconsciously hoped he would send you a text or give you a call, but then again, why would he? You gave him your number for professional reasons and, despite all the fun teasing when you were with him, you know he’s very professional at his job.
Also, you knew Kaya would be able to answer any and all lingering questions you might have about him, but Kaya was too invested in trying to set you up and, as attracted as you felt to him, you didn’t really want to act on it.
It was just curiosity.
Right?
“Dr. Law? From the clinic?” Nami placed a finger on her chin as her eyes wandered to the ceiling. “Well, he’s a very good doctor but he’s not very sociable. I think Luffy knows him and they get along well. But he doesn’t party very much. He drinks a lot of coffee - I think Sanji can vouch for that - but he doesn’t hang around coffee shops. He keeps to himself, mostly.” She sighed. “Maybe you should ask Kaya? She sees him on a daily basis! Oh, Robin might answer some questions for you too, they worked together on some paper for a science magazine a while ago.”
Damn it. Not one drop of interesting information. Only that he wasn’t a social butterfly. Shrugging, you nodded and were about to change the subject when Nami’s brow rose. “Why?”
You tried to hide your blush behind the coffee mug. “Oh, no big deal! He’s my dad’s doctor and he’s going to be the one performing his back surgery, should he agree to it. I just wondered how good of a doctor he really was. He seemed professional but you never know!” She was still watching you closely. You were rambling, so you shut up with another sip of coffee.
“Riiiight.” Her smirk grew. “I’ll pretend to believe you. But I want all the information when things progress between you two!”
-*-
Another two days go by without any exciting news and, somehow, you manage to push Law to the back of your mind, what with the constant scolding of your father’s terrible seating habits, all the helping around the property, and a part-time job Nami had recommended to you at her firm. It was basically sorting files and organising old data and, despite Nami’s assurance that it was mind-numbing, boring work, you secretly loved it.
Because, as Law perfectly diagnosed, you are a bit of a control freak.
Now that you are back to thinking about him, you remember him telling you that he had a few tips for you to let go and relax. Was he talking about everyday tips or… intimacy tips? Because his tone of voice had suggested something else.
You are wound up so tight that the thought of relaxing in someone’s care is-... exhilarating.
Fortunately the buzz of your phone wakes you from your reverie and, patting the cow in front of you on the hind, you walk away from the barn while picking up the call.
“Hello?”
The deep voice calling your name on the other side brings shivers down your spine. It’s Law. “Is this a good time to speak?”
“Yes!” You shake your head and inhale deeply. “Sorry, I was doing some chores for my dad. It’s fine, I’m fine. I mean… yes, you can speak.” Fuck. Once again you wonder what is it about his voice that makes you weak in the knees and dumb in the head?
The vibrato of his chuckle doesn’t have the same effect on you over the phone, but it’s still very endearing. “I’m calling because I’ve managed to check your notebook and I would like to arrange a house call so we can surprise your father.”
Ah, the ambush! You are ready for that. Shanks isn’t.
“I think he will be working around the property all day this week. I won’t be available in the mornings, though. If you can manage a visit in the afternoon, it would work best.”
He hums on the other side and you sit down on a hay bale. Can there be a way to avoid being affected by a tone of voice? Would online research help? “I can make it tomorrow, if that works?”
“Yes! I’m open for you.” You almost bite your tongue as your hand slaps your head. “My schedule is open for you! My schedule!” You bet that if you could see his face, the man would be smirking.
There’s definitely amusement in the tone of his voice. “Tomorrow it is, then.”
You say your goodbyes and put the phone away as you groan in frustration. How dumb can you be, really?
-*-
When you get home from your part-time job, your organisational needs fulfilled for the day, your father tells you that Ace had come by to help and all the chores were taken care of, so he’s heading out to Beckman’s for beers and to watch the football game.
“No! No, no!” You quickly grab your phone and text the number from which Law called, hoping it’s his personal, or at least professional phone and that he’s carrying it with him now. You quickly say your dad is about to leave and he needs to come ASAP.
Then you turn to Shanks with a pained smile. “Dad, the car is giving me trouble again and I need your help. Teach me how to get it to work effortlessly every time!”
Shanks sighs and looks at his watch. “Fineee. The game doesn’t start for another four hours anyway.”
Placing your hands on your hips, you scrunch your nose. “Four hours? Then why the hell are you going there so early?”
Shanks guffaws. “Pre-game drinks, bug! Why else?” Rolling your eyes to the back of your head, you make your way outside to your car. You keep pestering Shanks about different things, trying to buy your time and, slowly, pissing him off inadvertently, until you spot a fancy car coming up the driveway.
“Oh, thank God.” You mutter, having exhausted all your car-related questions in your arsenal.
“Thank God, what? Who’s that?” Shanks closes the door of your car and tilts his head sideways. Once he sees the driver, he groans. “An ambush?” His glare could almost burn holes into you.
“Sorry, Shanks. It’s the only way you’ll speak with Dr. Law! You will undergo that surgery. It’s for your own good!”
Your dad still tries to escape, but as soon as he witnesses the scowl on Law’s face, he stops trying to struggle and resigns himself to the situation. Law is dressed casually without his doctor’s coat on: black t-shirt and again with those cute, spotted jeans. He’s so tall and lean, with defined muscles, but nothing too big. And the tattoos… paired with the earrings and the rebel goatee, they almost make you want to squeal. This man is too damn hot to be walking around.
He says your name as he leaves the car with a sly smile and then turns to your dad. “Mr. S. Hi. So sorry for the ambush, but you wouldn’t come to me, so I had to come to you. I’m told we’re going through with the surgery and I’m here to explain everything.”
Shanks groans and you chuckle. “Let’s go inside, I’ll make coffee.”
Law’s ears perk at that, as you knew they would, and now you’re feeling the pressure of making a good cup of coffee. Fortunately, you’ve just stocked up on some amazing roasted coffee beans that Sanji recommended, and they truly make a delicious brew.
-*-
Two and a half hours are all it takes for Law to go over the questions in your notebook. He compliments your organisational skills with a slight smirk, and a teasing remark about you trying to control everything, but you try to ignore his tone and he continues.
He also answers all of your father’s sillier questions, even the one where he asks if he would lose function of any necessary limbs - you know what he’s referring to and you just shake your head at him - but Law handles it very professionally.
By the end, Shanks seems to be a bit more at ease with the whole process - and frankly, so are you - so he agrees when Law says he’ll schedule all necessary pre-surgery exams and the surgery itself.
Shanks leaves in a hurry to go and meet Beckman because the game should be starting in under two hours and he’s not nearly tipsy enough to watch his team lose. Thanking Law, he leaves you two alone telling you not to wait up for him.
Sighing, you get up from your chair to collect the empty coffee mugs. “That went well!” You can’t hide a soft smile from gracing your lips. Law gets up too as he helps you by grabbing his mug and a plate with cookies you had set out, and follows you to the kitchen.
“It really did. I’ll let you both know when the exams and the surgery are scheduled. His jitters will come back, but, if we’re lucky, only on surgery day. He’s going to be fine.”
You finish placing the dirty mugs in the sink and turn to him, leaning on the counter slightly and nodding your head with a weary smile. “Yes, yes, I know. He’s in good hands.”
Law approaches and, reaching behind you, places his dirty mug in the sink, his body a breath away from yours. You can almost feel his own breath in your ear, just for a moment, before he pulls back and steps away from you.
You release the breath you barely realised had been trapped as he keeps eye contact with you. “Thank you for the coffee you made for me. It was delicious.”
“I…” The praise! The damned praise! It turns your legs into jelly and leaves your tongue tied. You have to clear your throat before you manage to utter a full sentence. “Thank you. Sanji said it was a very good quality bean and I followed his instructions.”
His smirk disarms you as much as his praise and he partners it with a slight chuckle and by crossing his arms over his chest. “And do you always follow instructions that well?”
Oh… cheeky.
“Not always. It depends on the instructions. I tend to be a bit of a brat, sometimes.” You respond in kind to his teasing and, as you notice the glint in his eyes and the slight bob of his throat, you don’t regret it one bit.
“Interesting.”
The look you give each other feels charged with tension, electrical, almost. Again, this was supposed to be a professional visit. Why do the two of you keep playing this dangerous game of teasing each other?
Are you willing to push the game further?
You wouldn’t mind trying a few naughty things with the doctor, but then again, you came to the Calm Belt to get your mind off romantic affairs and help mend your broken heart.
But then again… this wouldn’t be romantic… just a bit of fun. And don’t they say that rebound sex is good for broken hearts?
Your wandering thoughts are cut short by an insistent beep from Law’s pager. He grunts and grabs it, glancing at it before sighing. “It’s the hospital. I have to go. We’ll keep in touch, okay?”
Yeah you wouldn’t mind that… keeping in touch…
“Yes! We’ll wait for the exam confirmations. Thank you for all your help.” You say while accompanying him to the door.
As he descends the steps of the porch, he glances back to give you one last smirk, the tension of your previous moment still hovering above you both. “You did very well with that notebook. It was very thorough and neatly organised.”
Your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks flush with colour. Law opens the door to his car and gazes at you, burning you with his stare. “I can’t wait to witness how you act when you stop trying to control everything and just… surrender.”
His voice is low, teasing and commanding. Laced with a promise of something more, something else, a not so subtle invitation to a very enticing what if. As his car rides up the driveway, you’re left standing in the doorway, your pulse quickening, even though he’s long gone.
-*-
The day of the surgery finally arrives and you’re sure that your father didn’t sleep a wink. And neither have you. You shower and get dressed and when you get downstairs, he’s sitting by the kitchen chair looking very pale and worried.
“Morning, dad.” Shanks can’t eat or drink anything pre-surgery so you fill your coffee cup and stuff an apple in your purse for later. “How are you feeling? Get any sleep?”
Shanks groans. “I’m terrible, bug. I didn’t sleep a wink.”
You smile as you reach and hug his shoulders from behind. “It’s okay, daddy. You’ll sleep under anaesthesia.” He doesn’t laugh as you hoped he would, so you try to reassure him. “Dr. Law is very good at his job, dad. You’ll be in and out in an instant. Everything will be alright! Plus, I’ll be there waiting for you, okay?”
You asked for days off work to help a family member and arranged with Ace to feed the animals on the property, so you’re covered. All you have to do is worry nonstop in a hospital waiting room while your father is being operated on.
Nothing too serious.
Everything passes in a blur after you both leave the house. Shanks is feeling more and more anxious and you aren’t faring much better either. By the time you reach the hospital - in the next town over, where Law performs surgeries on his days off from the clinic - you are both very pale and nauseous.
You check him in and, as he’s being taken to a room to get prepped for surgery, Law appears and asks you to come in so he can speak with both of you. He reviews the process step by step as you nod along - having studied the procedure from front to back, as the little control freak you are - assures you both that he will be there the entire time, reassuring you that it’s a routine procedure and everything will be alright.
Shanks feels better once the nurses start to apply drugs to the IV, but you’re still wound as tight as a rope, so Law gently grasps your arm, leading you to the room where you will be waiting for the surgery to be over. He seats you in a chair and fills a cup of water from the dispenser.
“Drink.” He uses the commanding tone you’re slowly getting used to, and you do as you’re told. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of your father. He’s a strong man and this is routine. He’s got this.” Your eyes fix somewhere in front of you, staring into a void as your heart thumps against your eardrums in a deafening rhythm. Law’s firm hand captures your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his amber gaze. “I’ve got this. I won’t let anything happen to him. Do you trust me?”
It seems like such a charged question. As if he’s asking this and meaning so much more than the hours he’ll spend operating on your dad. Yet, you have no doubt about the answer.
“I do.” You whisper softly.
Nodding, he turns to leave. “It will pass in an instant, okay? Try not to worry.” He leaves you alone, feeling the weight of fear crushing you and pressing down on your back. You feel helpless, impotent about what you can do to help, to make sure the outcome is a happy one.
But everything feels too out of control.
Half an hour passes. The clock ticks relentlessly, and you still haven't moved. You brought a book and your cell phone is fully charged, yet you haven’t even taken your purse off your shoulder, your fingers still clutch the plastic cup that Law filled with water for you.
Your throat is dry yet you can’t find the strength to get more water. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, and your legs are restless.
Another ten minutes pass before you feel a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you back from the stress of the unknown, the unplanned, and the endless possibilities of what can go wrong.
“Kaya?” You whisper, your voice hoarse and ragged with fear.
Your friend smiles at you as she sits down by your side. “Dr. Law called me. He said to leave the clinic to the two morons - Penguin and Shachi are some of his closest friends, did you know that? - and said that I should come to you, immediately! Leaving no chance to argue back. He said he would pay me extra, but I told him to shove the berries in his back pocket because I’d gladly help you without any coercion.”
You blink slowly, your mind still too deep in the fog of uncertainty to really focus on Kaya’s words. Besides, she just dumped a lot of information on you, though one thought lingers front and centre: Law told her to come to you.
“Wait, Law told you to come here?”
She squeals excitedly while nodding with vigour. “He did! He said you looked scared and on the verge of a panic attack and he didn’t want you to be alone in the waiting room for two to three hours. How romantic is that?”
You take a deep breath and, finally, lean back in your chair, removing the strap from your purse and drinking the rest of the water. You already feel more at ease. Kaya’s presence is already reassuring you and easing your fears. “Not as romantic as you make it seem, since I’m about to shit my pants with fear.”
Kaya chuckles and takes the empty cup from your hand, throwing it in the trash and sitting back down. She takes your hand in hers in a reassuring way. “Honey, there’s no need to fret. Dr. Law is the best. You really don’t have to worry. You have no idea how many awards he has! And he’s still so young! He’s not even thirty yet, the man is a medical genius or something!”
She chuckles again and you stare in awe. You had no idea. Kaya sees your reaction and continues.
“He even skipped a few grades in school. He took advanced classes and entered university two years early! He managed to finish his degree in half the time. He’s really smart and diligent.”
“Wow…” You say dumbly. “I didn’t know that. He did seem very professional and young, but I had no idea he was so good.”
“Honey, he’s much better than just good! I guarantee you that!” She giggles one more time, certainly already adding another chapter to her imaginary novel of your romance. “Did you know he comes from money?”
Raising a brow you turn fully to her, waiting for her to continue.
“He’s related to the Donquixotes. They’re filthy rich.”
Oh, you know damn well who the Donquixotes are. They’re close friends of the Vinsmokes, your ex’s family. You know they have loads of money, influence, power, status… you name it. You never made official acquaintance with them, but you glimpsed the head of the family, Donquixote Doflamingo, at some important parties, and the whole demeanour of the man demands respect.
You had no idea Law was related to them.
“I had no idea, Kaya. I know who they are. My ex’s family was very influential and they often frequented the same social circles.”
She’s just about to retort with some more gossip - you assume - when the staff door opens and a slightly frazzled nurse comes to speak with you. Immediately standing, you hope to hear her say that the surgery’s over, but her countenance tells you otherwise, and her words confirm it.
“There was a slight complication with your father’s procedure. There’s some unexpected swelling and inflammation in the tissue surrounding the herniated disc. Dr. Law wanted me to reassure you that all is well, and the only thing this means is that the surgery will be prolonged since he needs to proceed slower and with more caution.” The nurse gives you a strained smile. “He was very adamant that I make sure you understood that he would never let anything happen to your father and to confirm you were already accompanied by Nurse Kaya.”
You nod as you slump back down in the chair, all words stripped away from you, leaving Kaya to answer instead.
“Thank you nurse. Please assure Dr. Law that I’m with her and she’s very grateful for his help.”
The nurse nods and goes back inside while you review the surgery procedure again in your head. You remember reading something in the complications section about tissue swelling. Going back and forth on your mental notes, you don’t think it's something to worry about, but that means that Shanks is going to be under anaesthesia for at least one or two hours more than originally planned and-...
“What? Sorry!” You answer, as Kaya had been repeating your name for a while, trying to ground you back in reality.
“I said he’s going to be fine! It’s a very normal thing to happen in these procedures. Dr. Law is perfectly equipped to handle it! Remember? He’s a genius!”
You nod vigorously. You know he’s going to be fine. You just know.
He has to.
-*-
Five hours and thirty-three minutes.
That is the total amount of time that your father stayed in the operating room. But now that a nurse has come by to tell you the surgery is over and they are moving him to the recovery room, you can finally breathe.
Kaya has stayed by your side the whole time. You received a bunch of phone calls from your friends and neighbours and time passed. Sometimes slowly, other times in a blink. But now everything is fine.
And the man you have to thank for that, has just opened the door to speak with you. His eyes seem weary and tired, the bags under them a bit more pronounced, but he has a reassuring smile on his lips as he approaches you.
He says your name and you get up to meet him halfway. “The surgery is over, Mr. S. is fine and will recover from the anaesthesia in one or two hours. After that he’ll be transferred to a room where I specifically said that you were allowed in, at any time of the day during how long you wish to remain.”
Your eyes feel wet and prickly as the lump in your throat tightens and makes it hard to breathe. Kaya squeezes your hand and Law continues.
“Despite the unexpected complication, everything went according to plan. The hernia was removed and, after appropriate recovery time and some physical therapy, your father will recover perfectly well.”
You are so grateful that you have to fight the urge to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Law.” The sound that comes from your lips is a mere whisper.
“I told you to trust me, didn’t I?” His smile deepens and you hear a muffled squeal coming from Kaya, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Law. “Nurse Kaya, thank you for being here.”
She nods and grins at him. “I would never leave our girl alone and afraid, Dr. Law!”
Our girl? You raise an eyebrow at her expecting Law to make some stern remark, but he just chuckles and nods. “Right.” He says. “Thank you. I will check on Mr. S. in a couple of hours.” Then he stares straight into your eyes, his amber gaze full of care and assuredness. “If you need anything at all, you have my number.”
-*-
Kaya wants to stay with you until you are allowed to see your dad, but you tell her to go home. Usopp, her fiancé, has already called her because she’s usually off work by now, and you don’t want to impose.
Besides, there’s nothing else to be scared of. The surgery is over and Shanks is fine.
She finally relents and leaves you alone and you barely have to wait another hour before the nurse summons you and takes you to your father’s room. He’s lying in bed with a very tired look on his face.
“Dad!” You exclaim as soon as you enter.
“Bug, I thought you were home.” His voice seems very hoarse and you can see he’s making an effort, so you sit down in the chair next to the bed and take his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“Don’t speak, dad. Just rest. I’m so happy you’re okay. Law said I was allowed to stay in your room for as long as I wish. I’ll stay here with you!” You eye the couch set in the corner of the room. It seems perfectly comfortable for you to sleep on. You just don’t want to leave him.
You forced him to undergo surgery, so you feel responsible for his well-being and want to be there to cater to his every need.
He nods and closes his eyes. “Are you in pain? Just nod or shake your head, don’t try to speak.” He shakes his head and you sigh. “Okay daddy.” You lean in and place a lingering kiss on his temple. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
“How are we feeling?” Law asks from near your chair and you jump. You didn’t even hear him enter the room.
Shanks opens his eyes but doesn’t speak, instead, he raises his thumb to give Law a thumbs up, making the doctor chuckle lightly.
“Alright, Mr. S., I’m going to do a quick check-up before leaving you to rest for the night, okay?” Shanks nods and you get up to give Law some space. After he finishes the exam, checking the drugs in the IV bag and his charts, Shanks is already snoring, so he beckons you to follow him outside the room.
“How is he?” Anxiety laces your question as you wring your fingers together. “From what I’ve read, there can be about a 10% chance of post-surgery infection, so we need to watch out for any redness or swelling, and maybe some fever. Though since he’s under a lot of drugs, we might not spot a fever right away. And, oh! There’s also a supposed 3% chance of blood clots occurring -...”
“Relax.” His hands rest against your shoulders, pressing firmly while his thumbs draw soft circles against your shirt. “I told you I’ve got this. Your father’s in good hands. You said you trusted me.”
You open your mouth to speak, clearly still meaning to add more information about post-surgical statistics you’ve been reading about since Kaya left, but one of his hands climbs up your shoulder and rests on your cheek in an affectionate gesture, much more intimate than you were expecting.
“Relax. There’s no need to be in control now. I’m in control here. Okay? Just let go.”
All the breath leaves your lungs at once. The firmness of his touch and the assuredness of his voice make you nod and comply, your shoulders slumping forward, immediately relaxing your posture.
What the hell?
You have suffered quite a bit in the past with anxiety and stressful situations, often finding yourself spiralling because you couldn’t control a specific situation. You had never managed to calm down so easily, so effortlessly. Ichiji only made it worse, so you never really had an anchor to ground you. But Law… he did it in the blink of an eye. With a touch and a few words.
This is a first.
Surprise is still etched on your face when he steps back, leaving only a cold void within you. “His vitals are all stable and he’s not in pain. The night nurse will keep monitoring his condition. You’re welcome to stay by his side or go home and rest. He’s in good hands.”
You nod, still too stunned to speak and exhaustion is beginning to take its toll on your body and mind. “I’ll… I’ll stay. My brain is too numb to drive home now.”
He nods in understanding. “I’ll be here around lunchtime to check on him again. Try to rest. Everything’s alright now.”
Once again, his words stir something within you, a feeling of safety, and you nod in agreement.
It will all be fine now.
|Chapter 3|
#one piece#one piece x reader#x reader#op#the meet cute#modern day au#reader insert#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar d law#trafalgar law#law x reader#law#reader x law#reader x trafalgar law#Spotify
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Reassure Me Birthday Boy
💜 Pairing: Choi San x afab reader
💜 Au: Idol au
💜 Genre: light fluff, light angst, and smut.
💜 Rating: M for 18+ content
💜 Word Count: 2.9k
💜 Warnings/tags: established relationship, oral (fem receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms. use of condoms.
💜 Synopsis: You just wanted to see your idol boyfriend for his birthday.
💜 A/N: So I technically wrote this back for San's birthday around Guerilla promotions and have revised it for San's birthday this time [I lowkey can't believe I wrote his gift like that 2 years before aniteez came out too] - So Happy Birthday to the man who technically inspired my username 🥰💜
It was a bit disappointing that your boyfriend was so busy on his birthday, too busy to send you much of a text. While you understood, and it wasn’t like your relationship was public, it was still a bit disappointing. Just on the off chance you might see him though, you had gone shopping that morning for a birthday gift for him, spent an hour wrapping it up and getting tape somehow in your hair. It was a messy process but his gift was wrapped up and set on your small coffee table in your equally small apartment.
The rest of the day was spent first turning in the rest of your documents for work and then laying in bed on social media, post after post wishing him a happy birthday. That’s what happens when you are secretly dating an Idol.
Choi San of Ateez, the visual dancer with beautiful vocals and striking features. You were lucky to go from fan to friend to lover over a year ago, but there were times you wished you had stayed friends. Today might’ve been one of those days.
Working alongside Idols regularly you knew how it was, and you accepted that this was how it had to be; but it was his birthday, you at least wanted to see him.
Shutting the apps on your phone down you checked your messages once more, the last one you sent had been over three hours ago and left on read which was after his live. You watched it, wished him happy birthday again, got a quick response and then zoned out so as not to pay attention to the thousands of comments from other fans. Were you being sulky? Yes, and you felt horrible for it.
You checked your phone one more time, rereading your last messages once again.
Still no reply.
Baby Girl:
(20:12) If you get a chance I have a gift for you.
(20:13) [attachment sent]
Setting the phone on the charger you got up to start your nightly routine. Shower, skin care, brushing your teeth, etc. By the time you left the bathroom in your robe you were tired, and more than mentally exhausted. You barely took a few steps into your bedroom before jumping and letting out a squeal. “Fudge, don't scare me like that!”
San, your beautiful boyfriend in all his glory, was sitting on your bed holding the gift box you had tirelessly wrapped, grinning despite how tired he looked. “I thought you would be happy to see me.”
Of course you were, more than you wanted to admit to him. He was so kind, if he knew how upset you had been earlier he would blame himself, and you didn’t want that. Smiling, you made your way over and sat down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I missed you a lot, I always do. How was your birthday?”
“Good. Can I open this?” He shook the box with childlike excitement, hearing nothing shake inside.
You nodded, smiling up at him. “Go ahead. Be careful with the wrap, I slaved away for that.” You huffed out, then pointed to your hair. “The tape assaulted me, not fun.”
“My beautiful girlfriend worked hard for me? I am the luckiest.” Despite his obvious excitement he was careful with the wrap, but you really didn’t care. Even after being together for months his compliments still had your cheeks burning in seconds. After all, who wouldn’t feel special when such an amazing man called them beautiful? It was no surprise you had fallen so hard for him so fast, even if you spent most of your time here in your apartment when you were actually together; the whole reason you had given him a spare key.
He had a few bits of his things in a drawer, and would drop by at all kinds of different hours between his schedule. Sometimes he would practice here and you’d cheer him on, or he would just rest while you were at work. Those moments meant the world to you, but were proof that not even his groupmates or his company knew about you.
The jolt of despair that shot through you was quickly covered up by happiness as San opened the box to reveal the large purple cat plush you had gotten him. He was clearly happy, even more so by the chocolate and new game you had rigorously taped to the back of the box so that they wouldn’t move when he shook it like earlier.
Seeing him happy, knowing you put that smile on his face, made this all worth it. Right?
San’s expression fell when he looked at you, panic etched into his eyes as he set the plush down and turned to cup your now wet cheeks. “Hey hey, why are you crying?”
It wasn’t worth it. “I missed you. So much. San, does no one know you are here? No one at all? Your manager or your members? Am I really just a well kept secret?” You knew you were being selfish, wanting more than you could have of him. This is what it’s like dating an idol, you knew that.
“Of course not- How do you think I got here? Manager drives? And the others? I don’t want you to meet them.” He gently wiped away your tears, keeping your head cradled in his hands.
“Why not? Aren’t they the biggest part of your life right now?” You grabbed his wrists to push him away, guilt twisting your stomach further with the other plethora of emotions swirling about. You weren’t being fair to him, you should really stop-
But this was important to you, and it would be unhealthy not to communicate it- even if it does hurt.
Even if it hurts him, which you could see it was. “B-Because I don’t want to share you with them. You’re my special person, baby girl. I know that’s selfish but I want you all to myself.”
You huffed out, flattered but peeved by his words. “I have to share you with them and the entirety of the fandom, how do you think that makes me feel? S-sometimes I don’t even get to talk with you for long, w-we just fuck, a-and that doesn’t feel okay to me. So much of my life revolves around you already Sannie, I want to be in yours a bit more.”
Seeing the way your words rattled him had you feeling even shittier, sobbing out as you pushed his hands away. “I don’t want them to come here.”
“They don’t have to.” You argued back, sniffling.
He thought for a minute, mulling over your words before offering up: “Group chat?”
“It’s a start.” You nodded, instantly feeling a bit better. “I-I don’t want you to think you need to go public for me San, I know how this industry works and I don’t want that. B-but your members, your manager, I at least want to know them, to know about our relationship.”
“They do! Woo teases me all the time when I get sulky because I miss you.” He took my hands in his, leaning closer as he groaned. “They are going to tell you so many embarrassing stories. Why am I agreeing to this?”
“Because you love me?” It was a joke you offered, the tears slowing to a stop as he had rambled. The idea of the others teasing him because he was missing you sounded so cute.
“Of course I love you.” Your train of thought died at his low, and serious, admission. “I don’t want to make a mistake that costs me you, so I’ll do anything I can. Even putting up with their teasing. But if they tease you, tell me and I will make them regret bullying my baby girl.”
Your heart swelled at the pet name, cheeks flushing. “You are the only one allowed to bully me San.” Removing your hands from his as you climbed onto his lap and wrapped your body around his. “I love you too, you big idiot. I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you and your closest friends.”
“Next year we can definitely do that. Maybe I can convince them to let me bring you on tour sometime.” His arms wrapped around your waist as he held you tight against him, placing soft kisses against the nape of your neck.
You giggled, turning your head to nibble softly on his ear as payback. “That would be nice but you don’t have to. J-just include me a bit more? A-and reassure me when I’m sad that you love me. D-definitely that bit.”
He had hissed under his breath at your teasing, his hands moving lower down your back to rub your bum. “Can I reassure you this way?”
You pulled your head back to meet his gaze, blushing at the heat just beneath the love in his eyes. “Choi San was this your intention all along?”
“Nooo-” pouting, he moved his hands back up. “I just wanted to see my beautiful girlfriend but it just so happens she has confessed her undying love to me in nothing but a bathrobe, on my birthday no doubt. I want to shower her with my love in every way I possibly can tonight, do I have her permission?”
Your lips curled up into a sly smile, hands grabbing his wrists to push his grip back down to your rear while you spread your legs a bit wider. “When you put it that way- show me what you got baby boy.”
“Baby boy?” he repeated the words with a purr before flipping you over so you laid flat on your back beneath him. He always took your breath away when you were beneath him like this, making you feel small with his wide shoulders but also protected- safe. “Is that a challenge?” Even when he teased.
“Do you want it to be?” You smirked, glancing down to watch him undo the tie around your robe and push the fabric open. You glanced back up to see the subtle change in his features, the set of his jaw and desire burning in his eyes that scoped down your body.
San had a way of making you feel so absolutely beautiful and perfect, with just a glance or a smile or a few words. Why would you want the rest of the world to know about these moments? To even think about them between you? The intimacy you shared, and now the love, was only yours. Thinking about it that way filled you with a sudden intense need for him, just him. “San-” You reached up, gripped the back of his neck, and pulled him down to crash your lips against his in a heated kiss.
A fire ignited between you, and a sudden urgency that had his hands undoing his pants and pushing them down. Even if he freed himself, you knew there was no intention to get the deed done so fast even if you felt such an urgency for the other.
Your hands gripped the hair on the back of his neck, back arching to press your chest against his only to have him push you back down and tear his lips from yours. Before you could sulk or protest he captured one peak between his lips, swirling and flicking his tongue the way he knew you liked it. San had figured out your ticks and kinks faster than you had, and he enjoyed using them to torture and tease you endlessly.
Your heart was already racing, breathing heavier just from that one kiss and the ministrations of his tongue on your breasts. From one peak to the other, his hands running down your sides to hook your knees around his shoulders. You blushed, a small whimper escaping as you knew where this was headed.
Gentle kisses down your abdomen and over your navel, holding you still by the hips when you shivered at the touch. You glanced down only to meet his gaze through his lashes, heating up your face. San had a way with expressions, with his eyes, and that had been apparent when you had just been a fan; they were much hotter in the bedroom, especially with his face inches from your center, hot breath cascading over the skin that grew slicker by the second.
You opened your mouth to speak, either beg or plea, when all sounds died in your throat the moment his tongue flicked your clit. He made a sound much like a purr before pressing his lips and tongue closer, working a moan out of you rather quickly. He would usually take his time, each flick and twist of his tongue deliberate and tortuous, made specifically to drive you as close to a climax as he could just to stop when you were shaking and pleading. This time he seemed to have other ideas, or perhaps was simply too impatient.
There was an urgency to his movements that was just hot, which you would’ve commented on if you weren't gasping and pulling at the sheets from the added pleasure of not one- but two fingers curling inside you. “S-shit San! I-” He had gone right for your sweet spot, fingers rubbing and spreading you wide, preparing you for what was to come. The added bonus on slicking those fingers with your own cum seconds later was also nice.
Your body was still shaking as he pulled out and away, making eye contact as he licked those two fingers clean. Even in your dazed state the effect was still what he wanted- San really knew how to drive you crazy. Not wanting to let you have a second of repreve, his thumb rubbed your swollen nub while he reached over into the night stand for one of the condoms you kept there. Skillfully he kept up his work while pulling the condom on, showing off his cock in the process. You hadn’t touched him, and he was already so hard for you: that alone was such a big compliment and show of his desire for you.
After kicking off his pants you reached for him, watching him climb back onto the bed and push your legs up and wide so your body was on display for him. Not that you minded, in fact you loved it. He claimed you as his with a glance, lips parted as he rubbed himself against your wet folds to both tease you and lube himself up, all for proper preparation. Even in his impatience, he took his time to do each thing right, to make sure every second was as enjoyable as it should be, leaving no room for discomfort.
“San-” Breathing his name you motioned for him with your fingers, only to gasp out as he slid in. First an inch, then the whole thing. Your hand dropped and head fell back to revel at the pleasure that one thrust had caused.
“I want to watch you baby girl, and I want to hear you.” His fingers gripped the back of your knees, holding your legs open and beginning his relentless thrusts not even a breath later. Thankfully you had a nice enough apartment so the sounds wouldn’t be heard by your neighbors; you indulged his request and didn’t try to hide a single sound. Which, you quickly realized would have been impossible anyways with the way he was fucking you.
Every thrust hit deep, and he wasn’t pulling any punches. Hard and fast, the bed shook with each movement adding to the erotic orchestra of your moans and skin slapping skin.The hottest sounds were his little grunts and groans, the pants you both let out, and his little words of encouragement as he pushed you over the edge and had you coming once more. He shifted, straightening both of your legs to dangle your feet over his right shoulder, hugging your thighs tight together. The subtle change in position hit different, hit harder, on your already sensitive cunt.
“I love you.” He pushed your legs forward to capture your moaning mouth with his in a sloppy, needy kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, keeping him there as you were quickly approaching another high. Sweat glistened off both of you, soaking his shirt and your robe, your lungs working to keep up with your strenuous and pleasurable activity; your nails dug into his back to hold him there, head falling to the side to let out a string of moans and breathless sounds.
“I love you- I love you Choi San! I- aahh!” Your cries cut off as waves of ecstasy coursed through you, body tensing around him and holding him tighter. He moaned against your ear, pumping his hips a few more times as he shook out the last of his own climax into the condom.
That moment was more precious than any other time you held each other in this embrace, shaking from your own ecstasy. Precious enough he waited a moment before pulling himself off to dispose of the condom and grab a clean towel for you both while you laid there attempting to find your breath and a normal heart rate once more.
Moments later you were curled in each other's arms, naked under the sheet with your foreheads pressed together. You stared at each other wearing goofy grins and hearts in our eyes. These moments it was just you two, the rest of the world gone. He was just Choi San, your boyfriend and love of your life; and you were his.
He snuggled his head under your chin and held you close, humming softly. “Definitely the best birthday ever.”
Taglist (Form): @candypop1611 | @vannabanana1995 | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou
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| @hecateslittlewitchling | @arinyyy | @lovelgirl22 | @stayatinykatsy | @noone356097 |
#pirateeznet#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez x reader#ateez choi san#choi san smut#choi san x reader#choi san#ateez san#san#san ateez#san smut#san x reader#choi san scenarios#choi san birthday
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megumi fushiguro x reader - non sorcerer!au
you're tired from school and your amazing boyfriend knows how to brighten your mood
cw: very soft megumi, fluffy, little kisses
wc: 604
author's note ~ first fic here hehe just a short one to start :) please please give me suggestions on what to write i wanna write sm. also this fic is basically just me writing about what i want rn :((
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚ ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
14:49. you felt your vision crossing as you tried to keep your eyes open. just 11 more minutes till school was over. you sighed, even after that you couldn't go home and sleep. you still had some homework to do.
you straitened your posture in your chair, you couldn't let others see your exhaustion. you were supposed to be a role model in the class. sometimes, you really wished you weren't the class president.
the bell rang taking you out of a trance you didn't realize you were in. was i sleeping with my eyes open? you quickly packed up your things before having a quick talk with your teacher about plans for tomorrow’s class and if there were anything you needed to prepare. unfortunately, there was.
you felt your feet drag you out of the school, at snail pace. a hand grasped your shoulder stopping you in your spot. you knew who it was before you even turned around already leaning into their presence. “hi, ‘gumi” you smiled lightly.
“hi. you look tired.” megumi, your amazing but brutally honest boyfriend, said.
“i look that bad, huh?” you raised a brow almost daring him to continue.
“no, no, that's not what i meant!” he clarified, albeit slightly panicked. “you look like you could use a nap or coffee though…”
“both.” you whined, continuing your trudge out of the school.
“okay, let's go get coffee and a snack.” he smiled, taking your hand in his, leading the way.
your smile grew. you knew megumi wasn't the biggest person on pda (even if it was just hand holding) but you knew megumi was very attentive to your needs and knew in moments when you were overworked and exhausted…a little hand holding was what you needed.
the hand holding alone almost boosted your mood as you walked beside him.
you chatted lightly about each other’s day as you made your way to the coffee shop. what made you and megumi’s relationship so special was you both understood the value of talking to each other animatedly but as well quietly appreciating the small moments like this.
after you arrived, you ordered your drinks and food. megumi payed (well technically gojo did but so what), as you sat on a bench under a tree in the park across the street. shortly after megumi came over with the stuff. “thank you, love.” you breathed in the smell of the delicious roast.
after a couple minutes of you quietly drinking your drink, megumi said suddenly, “i love you.” you glanced at him in slight shock.
“what has gotten into you lately?” you asked with a chuckle, “i love you too, but that was random.”
“do i need a reason to say i love you?”
“well no but-”
“but what?” he leaned in closer. you turned your head blushing slightly. even after all this time, you still felt like you had a crush on him. he kissed the side of your head as he tucked you into his side. “you work too hard, yn. i worry sometimes and i want to make sure you know i'm here. just say the word.”
“oh, ‘gumi.” you felt tears treating to rise. “i know, thank you. you are amazing. how did i get so lucky?”
“i'm the lucky one.” he looked at you with his beautiful eyes and you couldn't help but lean in and give him a light kiss.
“you’re so cute.” you saw him blush making you giggle. suddenly you felt wide awake. if being class president somehow led you to moments like this, then you guess it's not too bad.
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Sterek fic recs: Fake Dating AU Edition
Because @oldefashioned requested a fake dating rec list, here it is. These are all very funny, as fake dating fics ought to be, so I hope you get a good laugh out of it.
1. Not Your Disney Romance by Wrennefer (Wrenegadeone)
After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.
Notes: Domestic pack, my beloved. Stiles and Derek are precious here, I LOVE THEM!! The visiting pack, not so much, but who cares about them?? It's all pretty lighthearted, all things considered. It's completed.
2. Electricity In the Contact by ladyblahblah
In which Derek has been invited to the Greater Pacific Northwest Alpha Symposium (that's not what it's called, Stiles, stop saying that), and showing up unattached would mean an arranged marriage. When the rest of the pack objects, he agrees to let Stiles come along to pose as his mate. Derek is reasonably sure that he's not going to make it out of this weekend alive.
Notes: Werewolf convention fics are so good! I actually haven't found all that many, considering how common a trope it is, and it's a tragedy because they're always so well done! This one is no exception, and the mini-world building is also great! It's completed.
3. can’t be hateful, gotta be grateful by HalfFizzbin
"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma." (Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the right wrong idea.)
Notes: this one is just *cheff´s kiss* wonderful! It's all pretty domestic and the humor is on point. College student Stiles and the Sheriff are strong armed into spending Thanksgiving with Stiles' grandma, and they find nothing better than to bring Derek with them. Pining and misunderstandings ensue and thus comes the fake dating. It's completed.
4. Gravity’s Got Nothing on You by zosofi
“Three weeks,” Derek says. “Still don’t want to,” Stiles says. “I’ll pay you,” Derek says, and that… that has Stiles interested. Alf’s Antique’s may be a great job, but it’s not a high-paying job, and half of Stiles’s tuition is coming from financial aid, so… “How much,” Stiles asks, “are we talking here? Because I know your family, dude. And it’ll be kind of awkward after.“ “My family thinks you’re some sort of fucking gift to the world,” Derek seethes, like he’s jealous, “they’ll probably be pissed at me when we break it off, so don’t worry about that. Five hundred bucks.” “A thousand,” Stiles says, because screw ethics. Also, the Hale family is loaded. Derek can deal.
Notes: this had such a chokehold on me when I first read it. Absolutely wonderful. Enemies to lovers?? Maybe. Assholes to assholes-in-love, is a better descriptor. There's werewolves, and magic, and it's awesome! It's completed.
5. He’s Not Mine by Sonnee
Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.
Notes: again, it's all very domestic, like most fake dating fics ought to be. It's a kid fic, Sterek are mates, we have all the love. Not much else I can think to add... it's completed.
6. Real life isn’t a movie (life doesn’t make narrative sense) by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)
Somehow accidentally insulting a hot guy in a coffee shop leads to pretending to be his boyfriend in front of a house full of werewolves. Stiles Stilinski is living his best life and making the most of his Hallmark movie moment.
Notes: this one had me cracking up because it's so funny! Stiles is living his best life, for real. Derek... suffers. But it's okay, because he gets a boyfriend out of this whole thing! They are disgustingly sweet in that assholish way they have. It's completed.
7. You look like my next mistake by Vendelin
“So, are you dating someone new? Someone who doesn’t mind that you’re frigid?” Kate cocks her head to the side, smiling as though she just asked him about where he bought his shoes. His entire body sighs in defeat as his shoulders grow square. Just as he opens his mouth, someone comes up to stand beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders. When he glances to his side, expecting to see Isaac, his brain seems to malfunction. Because it isn’t Isaac. It’s Stiles Stilinski, the lacrosse talent of the year, a senior who Derek has seen multiple times from far away, but never ever talked to. In which Derek is a nerd jock, and Stiles is a frat guy, and Derek falls for him even though he knows he shouldn't.
Notes: this one had me HOWLING it's so good!! Frat boy Stiles, my beloved. It's technically not fake dating because it turns into an actual relationship pretty quickly, but it starts as fake dating so I'll take it. Stiles is an absolute sweetheart in this one, I love him! And Derek is shy, and insecure, but he's so great, and everyone gets a happy ending except Kate, which is always a good thing. It's completed.
8. All’s Fair In Orgasms and War by bleepobleep
AVN BREAKING NEWS-- DIAMOND VISTA RIDGE BREAKS HIS CONTRACT WITH HALE HOUSE "We haven't seen much of our favorite rock hard stud from Hale House ever since that indie twink dethroned him as champion in Orgasm Wars, but it's just been confirmed that Diamond will no longer be working for the legendary studio famous for producing some of our favorite werewolf-on-human works. Don't fret, Diamond fans, it looks like he's been spotted cozying up to True Alpha Studios! Apparently he couldn't get enough of that one human and then followed him home. Could it be true love? Keep your eye on this studio-- us at AVN think we're about to get a lot more of Diamond in a very new way!" ~ The one in which (almost) everyone is a porn star, and Derek just wants to curl up with his fluffy blanket and watch the Hallmark channel, but work and falling in love gets in the way.
Notes: okay but is this fake dating? Maaaaaybe. It's kinda complicated. Basically everyone here is a porn star and the pack has this studio where they cater to werewolves and have a whole thing about established relationships, which is where the fake dating comes up. It's surprisingly very fluffy, considering this is a porn au, and Derek is the softest goober in this one. Stiles is completely enamoured. It's completed.
9. Wanted from the You Are series by Asterekmess (Livinginfiction)
With the Hale pack finally settled and safe, it only makes sense that something would happen to screw it all up. To top it all off, Stiles has to pretend to be Derek's mate, or face a pack of angry Alphas. He's doomed.
Notes: Alright so this series is wonderful. The world building done for the Alpha pack is also great, and that's the center of the second part (which has the fake dating). I do recommend reading the first part before jumping on to Wanted because it is a direct continuation. Also, it's an amazing au! It's completed.
10. For Love is Not Ours to Command by weathervaanes
Where Derek's skills at thinking on his feet mean that he and Stiles have to act. For the sake of Stiles' dad, of course, for the sake of the pack. No personal interest interference at all, whatsoever. Right. -0- “Why does my dad say that you and your boyfriend are a bad influence on me?” “What?” “Yeah, what boyfriend? Dude, you are not allowed to not tell me crap like this. You didn't think I'd like be a douchebag or something. Right?” “No, wait, what? I have no boyfriend.” “He says you were with him at the police station.” Stiles blinks. “Uhm. Oh shit.”
Notes: Stiles just wanted to find dirt on Raphael McCall to blackmail him. Somehow, he got himself a whole ass boyfriend. It's complicated. That's it, that's the fic. It's completed.
11. Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriend Extraordinaire by MareLoup
“Beacon County Sheriff's Department, this is deputy Mahealani speaking.” “Oh thank god!” “Stiles?” “I, uh, I need some advice.” “Advice?” “Yeah. So, hypothetically, say you met your boyfriend’s mother and sister for the first time ever. Completely by accident. In the grocery store. And they convinced you to help them make a dinner to surprise aforementioned boyfriend when he got home after work. What would you do?” Danny paused, and then, “Stiles, you don’t have a boyfriend.” “That’s not the point! And I said hypothetically.” “Stiles...what are you doing right now?” *** Stiles never imagined he’d be in Derek’s kitchen cooking a surprise dinner with Derek’s family while they waited for Derek to get home from work. Partly because their visit was a complete surprise. But mostly because Stiles didn’t have a boyfriend. Or even know who Derek was. But he’d already come this far and Papa didn’t raise no quitter!
Notes: this is to date one of my favorite Sterek fics. I laughed so much while reading this, I'm not even joking. The whole thing is a comedy of errors gone right. Stiles somehow finds himself pretending to be Derek's boyfriend, only he has no idea who Derek even is and why his family knows Stiles at all. His inner monologue is one of the funniest I've read, and his slow descent into (good natured) madness is wonderful. It's completed.
12. Love Like An Ache In The Jaw by Anonymous
“So let me get this straight,” The sheriff massages his temples, “You found a magic book, and performed a magic spell that has backfired and magically bound you to Derek Hale, rendering you both in agony if you’re not in the same room.” Derek and Stiles exchange a look. “Um. Yes.” Stiles says sheepishly. “Right. And just to be clear, when we’re talking agony… exactly how agonizing is the agony?” Derek clears his throat. “Sir, I’ve had a pole stabbed through my chest and held there for an hour. This was… similar.” - In which boredom, magic and dumbassery come together to produce a Christmas miracle slash disaster. Oh, and Stiles' grandmother who knows absolutely nothing about the supernatural happens to be in town. Oops.
Notes: another hilarious one. Stiles does Stiles things and ends up magically bound to Derek. No one is amused except Stiles' grandmother, who's having the time of her life, here. It's completed!
#fake dating#fake dating aus are great#and sterek has this natural chemistry that makes it even better#derek hale#stiles stilinski#fic recs#fic rec#sterek#sterek fic recs#eternal sterek#eternalsterek#teen wolf#ao3
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don't call me 'baby'
PART 10 | SERIES
Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader
Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), angst, mentions of pregnancy/a pregnancy scare, mentions of food and alcohol, unprotected p in v, daddy kink, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, ddlg dynamics, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n
Wordcount: 10.4K
A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?
PART 10 | meet me in the afterglow
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Your walk to work was chilly enough to warrant a coat. That was perhaps the thing you missed least about home in the U.S. - even though the winters certainly got cold here, it was nowhere near the sub-zero temperatures you had grown up with during the coldest time of year. Maybe the only thing you missed was snow - in all of your time living here, you had only gotten a brief dusting once, and it had melted by the following day.
Still, a week out from Christmas, you now needed to wrap something warm around yourself as you walked down the street, heading closer to the city center as your shift was due to start.
You were technically two minutes late to your shift, the coffee shop busy enough to have a line going out the door when you arrived. Yet, your manager Francesco said nothing - a small spark of joy in your day.
You didn’t necessarily need to go back to work - Steve’s money had yet to run out. But, you felt good about earning your own money - and, the less you had to draw on his remaining funds, the less you had to think about him.
You hadn’t seen or spoken to Steve since the night of your argument. Well, that was only partially true - you had received one piece of communication from him. It came a few days later - you had been moping in your apartment, having barely left your room for days, when an envelope arrived. It had his familiar writing and wax seal, with another wad of cash and a letter made out to you:
I promise this is the last you’ll hear from me. I am a man of my word, so I promise to help provide for you until you’re finished with school. I’ll be transferring enough money to your account to cover all of your expenses, so no need to worry about your rent, food, anything of the sort… I really do want you to be able to focus on school, okay? So, please don’t protest, or try to send the money back. Please feel free to use the credit card if you need to.
I’m sorry it ended this way. We both knew it was going to, but I apologize if I said anything out of line the other night. I truly do wish you the best.
Take care,
Steve
Reading it had been a punch to the gut. The formality of it, the finality of it… you would’ve rather that you never heard from him again. You had stashed the letter in a box under your bed, and not looked at it since.
A few weeks after that, you had pregnancy scare. It was silly, really - but, your period was late, and if was the first conclusion your mind had jumped to. You had called Robin in a panic, begging her to come home - she did, with four different brands of pregnancy tests. Those 15 minutes of waiting for results were the most agonizing of your life - then, upon seeing them all negative, you fell to your knees and burst into tears.
“It’s okay,” Robin had cooed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You’re good it was a false alarm - you’re probably just late because of stress -”
“I know,” you sobbed. “I just -”
“What is it?”
You then had sat up, chest heaving as you sobbed.
“He’s really gone isn’t he?”
Robin held you in her arms that night as you cried yourself to sleep.
To your knowledge now, he had gone back to the U.S. - was he still in Chicago? Or, did he go back to New York? You realized it was better for you to not ask these questions, or to think of him at all. As the weeks had turned into months, you found yourself thinking of him a little less each day - but you still thought of him. You saw him in the passersby as you walked down the street, in every car window, in every businessman walking through the door to order a coffee. Sometimes, you’d hear a laugh, or get a brief whiff of cigarette smoke, and swear it was him. But it never was - it never would be again.
The days had dragged on, but luckily, you often found yourself too busy to dwell too much on thoughts of Steve. Between work and school, your plate was pretty full. With graduation in mere weeks, you had spent the entire term studying and working on your thesis. Steve’s remaining money, at least, allowed you to work far less hours than you had before - a small blessing, you supposed.
The day was moving pretty quickly, the morning rush busy enough that two hours flew by without much notice. It was only during the afternoon lull that you found yourself able to look up from the espresso machine - only to lock eyes with a familiar face through the window.
Eddie smiled back at you, waving. You couldn’t help but grin, and beckoned him to come inside. He bounded through the glass doors, bursting into the coffee shop with the infectious, chaotic energy he always carries with him.
“Bella, how are you?” he asked, leaning over the counter with a big grin.
“I’m okay,” you said, shrugging.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Just okay?”
“Oh well - you know, a bit stressed with the end of term and all. But, that’ll all be over soon.”
“I’m almost done, too - just finishing up my exams, all of that nonsense.”
“Do you have someone for your thesis?”
You nodded. “Professor Hopper - he’s always had a soft spot for me,” you said, smiling fondly, thinking of the seemingly-gruff.
“I have Clarke - I don’t actually know how much he knows about photography, he teaches chemistry for godsake, but apparently it’s a hobby or something, so he’ll sign off on whatever I do,” Eddie said, laughing.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you - I actually have my own studio space now.”
“What? Eddie, that’s amazing!”
He grinned. “Thanks - I mean, I’m still technically freelance, but I’m hoping once I’m fully graduated more work will start coming in. But for now, I don’t mind having some spare time to practice with the band.”
You did your best to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
“Right - don’t forget me when you make it as a big rockstar, Eddie.”
He let out a hearty laugh at that, the infectious kind that had you joining in - you hadn’t laughed like that in quite some time.
“You know, you should come by later to check it out,” Eddie said. “I mean, if you want -”
You thought for a moment, then nodded.
“Sure, why not - I get off in about a half hour -”
“Perfect,” he cried, clapping his hands together. “I’ll just wait around then - and, uh, can I get an espresso? Since I’m already here and all.”
You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.
“Yeah, sure thing Munson - I’ll take my sweet time with it, just for you.”
The end of your shift flew by, and soon enough you were pulling off your apron, linking your arm in Eddie’s as he led you out the door and through the city.
The studio, as it turned out, was only a few blocks away. The space was small, but nice - a big glass storefront allowed plenty of light in, even with the fading sun, indicative of the short days of winter. Some of Eddie’s work hung framed on the walls - city scenes, candids of people on the street, bands in action at his favorite club… and even a few of you, from the project you posed for a few years ago.
“Wow - this is amazing, Eddie!” you exclaimed, glancing around the studio with genuine pride for your friend. You knew this was always the goal for him, what he always wanted to do.
“Grazie mille,” he said, beaming.
“Do you have anything lined up?”
He nodded.
“Some - nothing too interesting. A few weddings, graduation photoshoots, things like that. Oh, do you want to see the photo lab?”
You let him lead the way into the back room, passing through a dimly-lit room with machines and equipment that you were sure you had no idea how to use. Newly developed photos were hanging around on clothespins, or spread across the table in the middle.
“Back there is the darkroom,” Eddie said, gesturing to a small door on the other side of the room. “But yeah, this is where the magic happens.”
“You develop all your pictures this way?” you asked, examining a few laid across the table.
He shook his head. “Not exactly - only the stuff I shoot on film. A lot of what I do is digital, and I edit that on my computer but… I really do love shooting film. I only really do that for specific things. Oh, which reminds me!”
He turned his back to you, rummaging through a filing cabinet until he produced a large manila envelope, extending it to you. You furrowed your brow, confused. You turned it to examine it properly - the only thing written on it was your name and a date, in Eddie’s telltale scrawl.
“What -”
“It’s those pictures I owe you, from your birthday party - sorry, it took me a while to get around to developing them.”
Oh.
“Oh,” you said quietly, gripping the envelope a bit tighter. “Uh, thanks - that was really nice of you, Eddie.”
You were still staring down at the parcel in your hands, your hands shaking a bit - you had completely forgotten that Eddie had been taking pictures all night. Most likely because you had been a bit distracted at the time. But now…
“I think they turned out pretty nice, if you ask me,” Eddie said. “But, you can be the judge of that yourself.”
You pressed your mouth into a tight line, nearly feigning a smile as you finally met his eyes again. He was looking back expectantly, and you realized he wanted you to look at them now.
“Oh, yeah,” you mumbled. “I guess I’ll just -”
You opened it up, sliding out the stack of photos - they were slightly bigger than the ones you had seen from a digital camera, on a beautiful matte paper that you knew must have not been cheap. This, you realized, was Eddie’s belated birthday gift to you.
You thumbed through the pictures - the first few were just candids of your friends on the dancefloor, or deep in conversation around the bar. There were a few of you and Robin, arms thrown around each other and smiling ear-to-ear.
There were quite a few solo shots of you, raising a glass to the camera, mid-laugh, or dancing - somehow, he had made it look like you truly were the center of attention, as if to tell people this is who we were there for!
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, laughing quietly at a few of the shots, including one of Robin flipping off the camera as she kisses Vickie. Then, your smile dropped, because there he was.
Steve, looking as handsome as you remembered, but somehow also a stranger, or like a figment of your imagination. Somehow, a small part of your subconscious had convinced you over the last few months that perhaps he wasn’t real, a true figment of your imagination that had been too good to be true. But there he was, large as life, his arm wrapped around you as you smiled into the camera. You were smiling in his arms, a girl completely unrecognizable in some ways. In another photo, he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek as you laugh - you remembered that one being taken, that’s for sure. You gently trailed your fingers across the picture, as if you were hoping to reach in and pull that happy girl out, just to shake a bit of sense into her. You didn’t even realize you were crying until a fat wet teardrop his the page, rolling down and off the edge.
“Whoa - are you alright?” Eddie asked, his voice tinged with worry.
You jumped, having nearly forgotten that he was there at all. How long had you been staring at the pictures of Steve? For a few minutes, or hours? There was no way to know.
“Yeah, I’m good,” you said, the thickness in your voice betraying you. You pressed the heels of your hands under your eyes, willing the gentle tears to stop, sniffling.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked softly.
You laughed dryly, more hot tears welling up as you did.
“Nothing! I - they’re beautiful, Eddie. Really - thank you. You - you’ve really got a talent.”
Your voice wobbled a bit at the end, and you sniffled.
“I’m sorry, I - it’s nothing to do with you,” you assured him. “I just - I’ve been having a hard time lately.”
Eddie cocked his head, confused. Then, his eyes flitted down to the picture in your hands.
“Oh - I’m sorry, I - is this about him?” Eddie asked quietly, gesturing to the photos. You just nodded, avoiding his gaze again as you stuffed them back into the envelope.
“I didn’t know you two had broken up, I’m sorry -”
“We didn’t break up!” you snapped, harsher than intended. “Fuck, I - sorry, that came out wrong. We didn’t break up, because we were never exactly together. It’s just complicated.”
Eddie furrowed his brow. “Yeah, okay - well, I’m sorry to hear about your not-breakup. I guess I’m just a little surprised.”
“Why’s that?” you asked.
He shrugged. “I spent a long time looking at all of those when I was developing them - you know how they say pictures tell a thousand words?”
You nodded.
“Well - I take pictures of a lot of couples - weddings, engagement shoots, all of that… and I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.”
You felt your chest tighten - maybe you were being a lovesick idiot at your party, but Steve?
You shook your head. “No - Eddie, it… it wasn’t like that. I can promise you that.”
Steve made that perfectly clear.
Eddie shrugged again. “I’m just telling you what I observed, that’s all.”
“Well maybe you should mind your business,” you grumbled.
Fuck. You shouldn’t have said that.
Eddie’s face fell a bit, and he slowly took a step back, hands shoved in his pockets.
“My apologies,” he whispered. He was hurt, that much was obvious. You mentally kicked yourself.
“No Eddie - I’m sorry, I didn’t -”
You sighed, frustrated.
“Things have been, like, really weird the last few months and… it doesn’t matter.”
“I could tell,” he said, voice quiet. “You’ve been.. Distant.”
You nodded, the awkwardness filling the space between you two. You had fucked this up too, somehow.
“So,” you said, clearing your throat. “Uh, it’s getting late, and dark… I probably should head home.”
“Yeah, okay - good idea, I have some stuff to work on anyway.”
You both nodded, avoiding eye contact as you both headed out back into the studio.
It wasn’t until you were at the door that you turned to face Eddie again.
“The place really is beautiful… I’m proud of you,” you said sincerely. He offered a small smile in return.
“Thanks.”
“I also - the pictures are beautiful. Thank you for these, I - they’re great.”
“I’m sorry if they -”
“Don’t apologize,” you said firmly. “They’re great - you’ve really got a gift, you know.”
You could tell Eddie was fighting a real smile, a small win in your book.
“C’mon, you know my ego’s just fine on its own.”
You laughed, and without thinking, pulled him into a tight hug.
“I’m sorry I lost it a little earlier,” you whispered.
“It’s alright,” he said, pulling away. “Heartbreak is funny like that.”
You decided not to bother protesting his assessment this time, too tired to start a fight again just to feel something.
“Right, okay.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take out the photos with… him?” Eddie asked, gesturing down to the envelope.
“No, that’s alright - I’m a big girl, I can go through them. I’m definitely going to hang a few of these up though, so thanks again.”
“Take good care of yourself darling, alright? And come by any time - for any reason.”
It was an olive branch, an assurance that things were okay. You forced a smile, nodding.
“Thanks, Eddie - you’re a great friend, you know.”
You bid your farewells, and left the studio with a strange feeling settling within you. You pulled your coat a little tighter around you, stuffing the envelope underneath as you charged through the chilly evening air to the nearest bus stop.
You didn’t get home until nearly 6pm, the winter sky fully dark by then. By the time you walked a few blocks and up the stairs to your apartment, your face was stinging from the cold, the wind picking up more since that afternoon.
Robin was on the couch, a rerun of Friends playing on the TV.
“Hey! You’re back kind of late,” she remarked.
“Yeah - I ran into Eddie, funnily enough,” you replied, hoping you sounded nonchalant.
“Oh really? How is he? I miss him - we should really make a plan to hang out with him soon -”
“Yeah, for sure,” you said, kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat on the rack. “He’s good - I saw his new studio, it’s nice.”
“Oh, no way! That’s great - I need to go sometime -”
“Yeah, totally,” you said, absentminded. “Uh, I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll be out here later -”
“Maybe we can get takeout or something -”
“Yeah, perfect -” you tittered, closing your bedroom door behind you, eyes on the envelope in your hands.
You bit your lip, debating what to do. Part of you considered finding all of the pictures of Steve, and burning them. But, that felt a bit dramatic. You pulled out the stack again, sifting through until you found the shots of him. You couldn’t help but smile, looking at how happy the girl in the photos was - if only she knew how quickly things would fall apart that night. The photo of Steve kissing you cheek was your favorite - it was just full of pure, unbridled joy. The one after that was the one you stared at for quite some time, though. You were looking into the camera, grinning widely. Steve, however, wasn’t - no, he was looking at you. You stared at him for quite some time - and remembered Eddie’s words.
I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two.
You had thought it was crazy - but, in the picture, Steve was looking at you like you’d hung the stars. Like, if he didn’t have you, he’d be lost. He was looking at you with eyes full of love - you just hadn’t been looking.
You gasped, realizing what Eddie had seen that you couldn’t - maybe everything had meant more to Steve than he had let on. No, that was crazy - wasn’t it?
What happened next didn’t have much explanation - it was probably crazy. You found yourself Googling Steve’s company headquarters in Chicago - it couldn’t be this easy, could it? But it was.
A quick call through the directory brought you to his secretary, a bubbly woman who was more than happy to help. You pretended to be the secretary of a business partner you had remembered Steve mentioning, saying how you wanted to send a thank-you gift - it had been too easy to get his home address, really. And, a confirmation that he was back in Chicago.
The next morning, you sent out an envelope, sticking on international postage. You debated not putting your name on the return address, but ultimately decided to include it - he’d recognize the address anyway. When you dropped it at the post office, you walked away feeling a sense of relief - and, perhaps, just a bit unhinged. TIme would tell if anything came of it. But, at the very least, it felt like finally closing the chapter of your life that had been defined by Steve Harrington. And, that was a good thing… right?
********
The day before Christmas Eve, you received great news: confirmation that you had passed all of your exams, your thesis receiving glowing feedback from the professors in your department. Your degree, which studied Art History and Travel and Tourism Management, meant that you would actually be able to stay here - you hoped to work in tourism in some way right here in Rome, or perhaps work in one of the city’s many museums - being bilingual would help, and more importantly, it meant you never had to set foot back in the United States again, if you didn’t want.
Christmas brought its usual cheer and celebration, complete with mulled wine and a potluck dinner you and Robin held for some of the other foreign students you were friendly with, knowing they didn’t have families to go to for the holidays. Your graduation only brought extra festivities, including a speech prepared by Robin given as a toast at dinner, saying how proud she was of you (and, how jealous she was that you didn’t have to worry about schoolwork anymore). It was silly yet sincere enough to make you tear up and pull her into a big hug. Eddie and Jonathan even swung by for a bit, joining in on the celebration until the wee hours of the morning. Robin and Vickie were all over each otherYou ate and drank to your heart’s content before stumbling to bed, leaving cleanup in the kitchen for the morning.
The morning of Boxing Day, it turned out, was actually the afternoon, with you and Robin oversleeping. You, to your own relief, felt tired, but not too hungover - the same couldn’t be said for Robin and Vickie, who stumbled into the kitchen with grimaces on their faces and grumbles as a greeting.
You spent most of the day cleaning up from the last two days’ festivities, washing dishes and clearing away wrapping paper, wiping countertops and vacuuming just enough until your home felt semi-in order.
You were still in your pajamas as it was getting dark again in the evening, a rarity these days. When Robin said she was heading out to dinner with Vickie and likely would be staying at her place that night, you bid her farewell, looking forward to some time alone to fully relax and unwind.
It was several hours later, after scrounging together a dinner of Christmas leftovers and half-dozing on the couch while a movie played, that your doorbell rang. You sat up with a start, your heart jumping at the unexpected intrusion. You stumbled to the door, grumbling about who could possibly be here at this hour - maybe Robin decided to come back after all, and got locked out again? You were ready to playfully ridicule her when you opened the door. But when you saw who was standing on the other side, you froze.
Steve Harrington was there on your doorstep, barely illuminated in the dim light. His chest was heaving, his hair just a bit disheveled. His eyes widened when he saw you, and you imagined you did the same. Your heart plummeted to your stomach at the sight of him, so real and alive in front of you. Were you dreaming? Was this some sick prank?
Neither of you said anything for a moment, two mouths hanging open, searching for the words.
“It’s Christmas,” you blurted out, the first words you’ve said to him in over four months.
“It’s December 26th,” he replied, simply and casually.
“I - well, it’s still a holiday, kind of.”
“Yeah, I know - do you know how hard it is to catch a last-minute flight on Christmas?”
You just stood there in the doorway, unable to think of anything else to say - what the fuck?
“What are you doing here?” you asked, words biting. You were lashing out a bit, but you didn’t care - this moment right now reminded you of a similar one over the summer, when he came to your doorstep to explain how he wasn’t engaged. What was his excuse now?
“Why did you send me this?” he asked, holding up a familiar envelope - the photo.
Why did you? You weren’t certain of that answer yourself. So, you went with the first explanation that came to your head.
“It’s a good picture of you,” you said quietly.
He rolled his eyes.
“Do not - I don’t hear from you for months, then I get this in the mail - on Christmas Eve, mind you -”
“I’m sorry, were you supposed to hear from me?”
“I don’t know!” he cried. “Maybe?”
You scoffed. “You can’t be serious - you made it very clear that you never wanted to see me again.”
“I - what?”
“I wish you well? Take care? We ended things, Steve - what else was I meant to think?”
He sighed, his shoulders sagging.
“I don’t know. I guess part of me - it doesn’t matter. But, what am I supposed to make of this?” he asks, waving the envelope.
“I - Eddie gave me a bunch of pictures he took at my birthday party… I thought maybe you’d want that one.”
He took a tentative step closer towards you, gauging your reaction. You held your ground, not breaking eye contact.
“Is that the only reason?” he asked, voice low.
You felt your heartbeat quicken, your palms clammy - he really was just so handsome. Still, there was something so boyish about him, something that reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place. He had cut his hair a bit, his summer tan faded - and he looked tired. Then again, you probably did too - you suddenly became conscious of the fact that you were in your pajamas, still looking like you had just woken up - you wished you could disappear, never to be perceived again.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “The only reason.”
He was close enough now that you could see his Adam’s Apple bob as he gulped, his eyes glancing up and down your form as he took a deep breath.
“Tell me that, when you sent this, there wasn’t at least a small part of you that hoped I’d respond - that, when you sent this, you hoped I’d call, or show up here. If there wasn’t, I’ll walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
There it was - everything laid out on the table. So much was still unsaid - but, it was obvious that he also had been hurting the last few months, that he didn’t want this to end, maybe even nearly as much as you did.
“You really flew all the way here because I sent you a photo?” you whispered.
He nodded. “Of course I did.”
“You realize how crazy that is, right?”
He chuckled dryly.
“Well, they do say it makes you do crazy things.”
“...it?” you asked, voice wavering.
He nodded.
Oh.
“Come inside,” you murmured. “It’s pretty cold out there.”
As soon as the door was shut behind him, he began spiraling into a new explanation.
“I hope you know that I didn’t come here just to - you’re right, it is kind of crazy, but I didn’t know what else to do, after everything that happened -”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” you said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk at all.”
You both stood there for a moment, eyes locked on eachother. Then, as if reading each other’s minds, you both moved at once - you crashed your lips into his, fast and desperate. He sighed against your lips, pulling you close as his tongue slipped into your mouth.
You felt like crying - you had missed him so much, more than you had realized - his voice, his warmth, his scent - it brought everything flooding back, the feelings you had buried in an attempt at self-preservation. But now, as you kissed him, you felt the tears well up, stinging your eyes as they rolled down your face, hot and fast.
“Whoa - baby, it’s okay - what’s wrong -”
Baby.
“Nothing,” you cried, wiping the tears away. “I just - I really fucking missed you.”
You felt stupid to admit it, but then again, didn’t he come close to confessing that himself just a few moments ago?
“I know, I know, baby - you have no fuckin’ idea -”
Another kiss, passionate and apologetic.
“I didn’t mean any of what I said that night,” you gasped, pulling him closer. “I was just so scared -”
“I know, me too, baby - m’sorry -”
Baby. Babybabybaby.
He was holding your face between his hands now, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall, his lips finding yours again. He titled his head down to nuzzle at your throat, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there. You tipped your head back, giving him full access to do as he pleased. He kissed and nipped at your neck, until you were moaning and crying out his name, pulling at his coat until it fell off of his shoulders. You twisted your hands in his button-down, his hands squeezing tighter on your waist in response.
“Fuck, Steve,” you breathed. “I’m sorry -”
“Stop with that,” he said, firmly taking your face in his hands again, catching your lips in another gentle kiss. “You’re right, I just realy don’t want to talk anymore -”
Then he was kissing you again, swallowing your noises as you whined his name, fingers gripping his hair.
“Bedroom, now,” you told him. “Please -”
“Yeah, okay.”
He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, both of you stumbling down the small hallway and into your bedroom, Steve slamming the door closed behind him with his foot.
“No Robin?” he asked, lips finding your neck again.
“No - ah! She’s at Vickie’s tonight -”
“Thank Christ,” he growled. “I don’t know how quiet I’m capable of being right now.”
He was apparently as desperate as you were, lips finding yours hungrily as he pulled your oversized t-shirt over your head, eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when he saw your breasts.
“No bra?” he asked.
“I was lounging around, until you showed up -”
“Thank god,” he practically snarled, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you close.
You reached between yourselves, unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping as they shook with anticipation. He reached down to help you, until he eventually shrugged the shirt off. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your bare chest to his, nearly crying again from the contact.
“I really missed you,” he whispered, a man ruined. “I never thought I’d be able to have you like this again -”
“None of that,” you murmured, pressing a finger to his lips. “It’s alright.”
You just stared at him, running your hands down his chest as you took a deep breath.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?” he asked, face flickering with concern. “Oh god, are - are you seeing someone else? I didn’t even ask -”
“No! No, nothing like that,” you assured, biting your lip. “I just - do you remember the night of my birthday on our trip, on the rooftop?”
He nodded. “That was a really nice night.”
“I haven’t been totally honest with you,” you admitted, heart racing as you were ready to lay out the thing you had been terrified to admit aloud.
“About what?” he asked softly, cupping your cheek gently with his palm.
“Remember when I said something in Italian, and you asked what it meant? And I just said it meant I loved the gift, the star thing?”
He nodded. You took a deep, shuddering breath.
“That wasn’t exactly true. I - I said that I was in love with you,” you managed, voice quivering at the end. “That’s why I was so scared - I didn’t realize until I said it… I had broken our rule, our number one rule -”
“Hey, hey -” he cooed, shaking his head. “Did you mean it?”
You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah - I still do.”
The few seconds that passed after that had your stomach doing somersaults - what if he still didn’t feel that way, and everything he had said in the doorway was bullshit? You thought you were going to be sick -
But his face softened, his eyes glistening - was he going to cry?
“Fuck the rules. I stopped following those a long time ago,” he said.
Your heart fluttered, your face heating.
“Are you saying -”
“How did you say it in Italian again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, I’ve been slacking on my lessons without you around.”
You laughed. “Oh, um, it’s sono innamorato di te. It translates directly as I’m in love with you, or I’m falling for you.”
He nodded. “Well then - sono innamorato di te.”
You felt like your chest was about to explode, and before you knew it, you were crying again. He was too, you realized, his cheeks glistening with tears as he choked a sob with laughter.
“We could’ve saved ourselves a lot of trouble if we both just said that in the first place,” he said, reaching to wipe away some of your tears.
“How long?” you asked.
“Since the night of the gala I brought you to. So… longer. I guess I win.”
You sobbed again, Steve swallowing the sound with another kiss. It’s wet and salty with tears, a mess of apologies and confessions.
“Steve - I -”
“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your salty cheeks. “It’s alright - I’m here now -”
The conversation truly stopped after that - you couldn’t keep your hands off of one another, shedding clothes until you were nude and devouring each other with desperation unlike anything you had ever felt before.
Steve was pressing his lips between your breasts when you asked, voice breathy and filled with need.
“Steve - I need you, please -”
“Mm - yeah, okay -”
Before he could move, you were reaching down to grasp his cock in your hand. He gasped, pupils blown as his head thumped back against the wall. The noise that came out of him was unholy, wrecked and ruined as you brushed your thumb along his leaking tip.
“Christ, baby -”
“Can I suck you off, please?” you asked, desperate to make him come undone.
“Honey - you can’t - I just, I wanna fuck you so bad… I won’t last if I let you get your mouth on me, baby.”
You pouted, even as your heart raced with the thrill of knowing you’d have him inside you again.
“Next time,” he said, “I swear.”
A promise of a next time, of a thousand more times - you started kissing him again, lips bruising his - losing yourself in any drink or drug would never compared to losing yourself in Steve Harrington, you decided.
“Get on the bed,” he muttered, gently pushing you back. You did as he asked, falling back onto the mattress gently as he joined you, face hovering inches from yours.
His hair was a mess, pupils blown and lips glossy. He just shook his head, as if in disbelief.
“What?” you asked.
“You’re just so beautiful,” he breathed.
You felt your face heat, and you buried your face in your hands.
“Shut up.”
“About you? Not likely.”
Before you could come up with a clever remark, he was kissing your neck again, his lips traveling down slowly between the valley of your breasts, taking his time - he was going to leave bruises, you already knew.
But he didn’t stop, traveling down, down, down -
“What are you -”
“I never said I didn’t want to taste you first,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I miss having my mouth on you so fuckin’ much -”
“Fuck,” you gasped. “You’re unreal -”
“Says you,” he retorted. Whatever you planned to say next died on your lips, anything resembling a coherent thought dissolving as his lips found your cunt.
“Oh my god,” you groaned, back arching as his tongue swirled around your clit.
“Just as fuckin’ sweet as I remembered,” he whispered, his breath against your pussy making your chest heave.
He licked a stripe along your slit, making your back arch off the bed, your eyes fluttering closed.
“Be loud for me, baby,” he murmured, lips finding your clit again. You did as he asked, moaning and crying out his name as he devoured your pussy, eliciting desperate sounds from you as your fingers wound themselves in his hair. He groaned as you pulled on his locks, encouraging you to continue doing so as he opted to slide a finger inside you.
“Fuck - Steve! Ohmygod, fuck -”
You felt him smile as he lapped and licked at your folds, adding a second finger and beginning to pump them in earnest, finding that spot inside of you too easily.
You were crying out, bucking your hips against Steve’s lips, like putty in his hands. For about ten minutes you were completely his, mind numb with pleasure as he took you apart with his mouth. You let him, feeling the blunt fingernails of his free hand digging into your thigh, pulling you as close as possible.
“Steve - I’m gonna - I’m so close, y’feel too good -”
Encouraged, he picked up the pace a bit, sending you completely over the edge. When you came, you saw stars, grinding down on Steve’s mouth and fingers. You were screaming, and he helped you through it, nuzzling against your core as you pulsed around his fingers. Your hand left his hair and found his temple, gently coaxing him closer as you rode out your orgasm.
You were still breathing heavily as he kissed his way slowly back up your body, worshiping every inch of skin he could find. YOu didn’t let your eyes open again until he was face-to-face with you, chin glistening with your release as he wore a smug grin.
“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured. “Tasted so good… you came so hard for me -”
“Mm -” you hummed, pulling him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself on him, the sensation completely euphoric.
“Do you need some time?” he asked gently.
You ran a finger over your clit, still sensitive and puffy, and shook your head.
“No, I’m okay - I actually really need you to fuck me.”
“Thank god,” he said, exasperated. “I don’t think I can go another second without fucking you -”
“I know -”
“I would dream about you, you know - all the time. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with a hard-on, of a mess in my boxers like a fuckin’ teenager -”
“I know what you mean,” you admitted, recalling a few times you had thought of him as you touched yourself since he’d left.
“Please tell me you’re still on the fuckin’ pill -”
“Yeah, I am - God, Steve -”
“I know, I know - ready baby?”
You nodded, locking your eyes with his as he positioned himself above you, pushing inside of you ever so slowly. You could tell he was holding back, doing everything he could to not enter you in one rough movement. You winced at the stretch, nearly forgetting just how big he was. He kissed apologies across your face, gasping as he felt your warm walls envelope him.
“Fuck -” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I went so long without this - you feel so fuckin’ perfect, baby - such a tight, perfect pussy -”
“You feel so good,” you breathed, digging your fingernails into his shoulderblades. “Steve - I’m so full, please fuck me -”
He did as you asked, rolling his hips against yours, eliciting a groan from both of you. He was still holding back you could tell - but you didn’t have time for that, not after months of missing him, of missing this -
“Let go, baby,” you whispered. “Please -”
“What did you just call me?” he asked.
“I - baby,” you repeated. You realized you never had before - was that wrong?
“Say it again,” he breathed.
“Baby,” you breathed, gasping as he thrust into you a little harder.
“Baby, please - fuck me, let go,” you cried.
It became fast and hard quickly, the desperation you shared impossible to mask. The slapping of his hips against yours was positively dirty, Steve’s arms caging you underneath him as he pounded into you. Your hand snaked down between you, your own finger finding your clit.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, continuing his relentless pace. “Touch yourself for me, just like that - M’not gonan last long, I’m sorry, you just feel too good -”
“It’s okay,” you assured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I want you to lose it.”
He groaned, the room filling with the sound of slapping skin and moans, your names on each other’s lips.
Nothing else mattered, not when Steve was making you feel like this, not when he had flown across an ocean on a whim, a desperate hope to just see you again, even if only for a moment. You suddenly became so overwhelmed with love for this man, this person who had turned your world upside down - it was indescribable, impossible to even express. So you just held him tight, burying your face into his shoulder.
“M’close - I need you to come with me, baby - can you do that? I know you can, you’re always so good for me -”
You nodded, unable to formulate words anymore.
“I fuckin’ love you,” he cried, hips stuttering, his thrusts growing sloppier. “So much, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you - I love you, baby -”
His words sent you over the edge, white-hot pleasure surging through your body as you screamed his name. The feeling of you clamping around him sending him into his own orgasm. He spilled inside of you, your name on his lips like a prayer. He practically collapsed on top of you, the feeling of his heartbeat against yours feeling like home, like it was always meant to be this way.
Your breaths were labored, sweet kisses peppered across skin. Neither of you spoke for quite some time. After he rolled off of you, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you as close as physically possible.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, slow and gentle. It was only when you pulled back, brushing some of his sweaty hair away from his face, that you broke the silence.
“I love you, too,” you murmured. You brushed your fingers along his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing kisses to your palm and knuckles, as if determined to worship you every chance he got.
“I want more than an arrangement,” he whispered. “I don’t want rules, or a deal, or -”
“Yeah, that was obvious,” you replied, chuckling. “And, me too.”
“And, you were right - you have school, and I never wanted you to think I just wanted you like a trophy or something - you have your own life, aspirations, and i know that - I just like spoiling you, but I never wanted you to give up who you are,” he said, face soft. “I need you to know that.”
“I do,” you murmured.
You really did.
“Besides, I graduated.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What? When?”
“Officially? A few days ago.”
He smiled, soft and sincere - part of you was worried he might cry again.
“Congratulations - I’ll have to take you out to celebrate.”
“Mm - sounds good to me. How long - when are you here until?”
There was still life to reckon with, after all - living on two different continents, jobs, obligations - the kind of thing that could ruin this. But, he just shook his head.
“I bought an open-ended ticket. So, until whenever you want.”
“I - what? What about work?”
He shrugged. “Turns out, when you run the place, you can get away with that stuff.”
Your jaw dropped.
“What? Are you serious?”
He nodded. “Brenner’s out. I’m in - youngest CEO in the company’s history.”
You laughed, pressing your palm to your forehead as you stared at the ceiling in disbelief.
“Steve - that’s amazing. But how -”
“Shhh - we’ll figure everything out later. But, let’s at least ring in the new year together, yeah?”
You nodded cautiously - he really was here, now, and wanted to make it work.
“Okay,” you said. “Sounds good.”
“Hey - you know what’s really pissing me off, though?”
“What?” you asked, wary as a pit of dread formed in your gut.
“I have to thank Eddie fucking Munson for fixing this.”
You laughed, a real, hearty laugh, and in that moment, you realized things were going to be okay.
******
That night, you slept better than you had in months, safe and warm in Steve’s arms. That was, until you woke to Robin’s scream the next morning, both of you shooting up in bed with a start.
“WHAT IS HE DOING IN YOUR BED?” she cried, shielding her eyes. “God - I wish I could bleach my eyes - motherfucker -”
Then, the door was slamming shut, Robin bemoaning her luck as she bolted down the hall to her own room.
You felt your face heat with embarrassment, sinking under the covers.
“Well - I guess I owe her an explanation -”
“Later,” Steve saidly, shaking his head incredulously. “For Christmas, I’m getting you a fucking industrial lock for that door!”
Then you were laughing, blissful and unable to control yourself, Steve joining you. He kissed the giggles away, pulling your body to his, and not much talking happened after that.
It didn’t matter what real life held after this - because Steve was here, and he was yours. Wherever you ended up, you realized, if you were with Steve, you would be home.
He was here to stay.
author's note: Hi y'all - thanks for your patience! This story isn't quite done - there will be an epilogue posted tomorrow. But, that's essentially the conclusion of don't call me 'baby' - I told you it would be a happy ending! Shoutout to @is-writing for some help with this. And of course as always, Em, without whom this fic wouldn't have happened. Comments, reblogs, and messages are always welcome - keep an eye out for the epilogue!
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