#someone give velvet a hug please

[eveninglight416]

Homecoming

A little thing I wrote during a rough time about my favorite noodle twins 💚💚 I figured I’d post bc whatevs. This is just me projecting onto Velvet but I like how it turned out :) (yes I did cry while writing this I’m just a girl)

I think the twins (especially Velvet) struggled a lot in school with not being popular or having partners (just like me fr). This is a little window into that and I think not having a great childhood explains why Velvet is so desperate for fame/fans, girl just wants to be loved <3

//

Flashing lights. Loud music. Pretty dresses. All things Velvet loved, but she wasn’t enjoying herself one bit in the back of the gym, with no one to keep her company but her brother.

No one had complimented her short gold dress, or extravagant hair, or makeup, or anything she had done to try and make herself stand out. She thought her junior homecoming might be different, but that was a stupid thought. Just the same old nothing.

At this point, she wasn’t even surprised no one had asked her to the dance. Well, someone did—her brother—in a kind attempt to make her feel better. She had smiled and accepted, but it only made her feel worse. It only reminded her that no one else would ever want to be with them. He was a nobody, too, taking his nobody sister to this boring dance.

As if to mock her, the DJ chose a love song next: Enchanted by Taylor Swift. Velvet could barely watch, but she couldn’t take her eyes away as all the couples paired up. Listening to the lyrics only made her more upset, knowing no one would ever feel that way about her.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

Velvet looks away from the scene to see her brother, holding out his hand to her. She rolls her eyes.

“Very funny, Veneer,” she sighs, taking her gaze back to the couples on the dance floor.

“How do you know my name?” Veneer responds with shock. “I’ve never seen you around before.”

She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it sure was a stupid attempt to make her feel not miserable. Just a reminder that he was the only one who thought she was pretty.

Veneer didn’t seem to care, smiling up at her with his statement green lipstick. He takes her hand from her crossed arms, and tenderly kisses the back of it.

“You’re so beautiful, I’m almost nervous to ask,” he starts, still playing pretend, “but would you do me the honor of a dance?”

“Fine,” she huffs.

She lets him lead her to the dance floor, then lead in the dance, their fingers intertwined. She could already hear the rumors: those loser twins, dancing with each other because no one else would ask them.

Veneer keeps smiling, and she smiles back, but it was fake. She kept it to herself that they had ended up next to her crush, dancing with her new girlfriend.

Her name was Juliet, just like Romeo and Juliet. Velvet wished she could talk to her through her window, and stare at her through the fish tank, and kiss her passionately in her pool. But that was all a lost fantasy.

She hadn’t bothered learning the girlfriend’s name. Velvet didn’t know anything about her, other than she hated her almost as much as she hated herself.

She tries to focus on her brother, but it was impossible with all the happy couples surrounding them. Deep down, she knew Veneer was feeling the same way, and he was trying to distract himself as well as her.

Just as Velvet thought it couldn’t get worse, the song ends. She freezes in her spot, and watches through watery eyes as that atrocious beautiful disgusting gorgeous bitch takes Juliet into her arms, and kisses her lips.

One wasn’t enough. Juliet kisses her back, then again, and again, like they were the only two people in the world. But they weren’t, Velvet was right there.

She felt everything and nothing. She must have been crying, though, when she hears her brother’s voice, back to normal.

“Velvet, what’s wrong- oh…”

He trails off when he figures out the answer, turning his head to where she was looking.

She could finally feel the hot tears running down her face, witnessing a kiss between lovers. Velvet was nearly seventeen, and she had never experienced something like that, and at this point she didn’t think she ever would.

Everyone else was in love, and here Velvet was, watching the girl she loved kiss someone else. It broke her heart, but she couldn’t look away. Always a witness, never experiencing it. She would never experience it. Maybe she should just end her own misery-

“Let’s get out of here.”

Veneer takes her out of her spiral and the dance floor, practically dragging her out of the gym while she tried to control her tears. Being away from the couples didn’t help one bit; she still knew what was going on in there.

Hand in his, he takes her past the cafeteria, past the bathrooms where the cool kids were getting drunk, past the courtyard with even more couples talking. He doesn’t say anything, just guides her to the back door to the parking lot.

“What are you doing?” Velvet finally asks him.

“We’re gonna dance. Just us,” he answers, looking around before he opened the door. It was safe, of course, not even the teachers bothered to look at them.

The parking lot was dark and quiet, the opposite of the gym. Veneer seemed determined to make this their own dance floor, though, taking out his phone and looking for a song.

“I don’t want to dance anymore,” Velvet complains. “I don’t want to dance ever again.”

“That’s too bad,” Veneer refutes. “Just one dance, then I’ll drive us home. Please?”

“Okay.”

Fine, she’d dance if it meant she could go home. Being outside was a little better than being surrounded by couples, but she still felt miserable. She couldn’t even see the stars, they were covered by clouds.

Seeing Veneer’s car gave her an ounce of relief. Even when they got home, though, she’d still have to be embarrassed.

For the past few weeks, she had moved into her brother’s room. She had made plenty of excuses, like her room was too cold, he was scared of the dark, his room was closer to the bathroom. But they both know it was so he could keep an eye on her. She might’ve done something stupid by now if he hadn’t been there at night to calm her down.

Just one dance. Hopefully less than three minutes, depending on what song he picked. Just one dance, then she could go home.

The music was much quieter than the music in the gym, but Velvet recognized it immediately. One of their favorite songs: Love Like You by Rebecca Sugar.

She rests her hands on his shoulders, swaying with him in their own slow dance. When she looks up at the sky, it kisses her with a single drop of rain.

Of course it had to rain. Just another thing to make her miserable.

“It’s raining,” Velvet points out, even more drops falling onto her.

“That’s okay.”

Despite the rain, Veneer keeps leading her in the dance, and she had no choice but to go along. It his suit and tie, he looked happy, but the sadness was there in his eyes. It hadn’t left since… She couldn’t remember.

At the bridge, something changed.

The music soared over the falling rain, while her brother spun her all around the parking lot. By the bridge, it was pouring rain, and Velvet and Veneer were the only people in the world. He catches her in a dip, and she realized the stars weren’t in the sky, because they were in his eyes.

For a moment, maybe only having her brother wasn’t so bad. Maybe she’d survive until they graduated, and then they could move to the big city and leave all this behind.

He smiles, and she smiles back, and it was real. The rain was messing up her hair, but for the first time in her life she didn’t care. It wasn’t like anyone was watching her.

At the next crescendo, Veneer lifts her off the ground and spins her around. It felt like flying.

Up in the air, Velvet wasn’t sure if the water on her face was rain or tears. That wasn’t her problem. She just spreads her arms like wings, letting the rain ruin the outfit she had worked so hard on.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had really laughed. But she laughs now, laughs and laughs in the face of the crying sky. She was crying, too, but it was a good cry for once.

When Veneer puts her down, she saw he was laughing and crying just the same as her. As much as she wanted to finish the dance, she couldn’t stop herself from throwing her arms around him, hugging him tight in their rain soaked outfits.

They stay hugging until the song ends, then some after that, until their laughs and sobs overpowered the rain. Maybe… No. They would get out of here. They would make it.

“I love you so much,” she sobs, or laughs, they sounded the same at this point.

“I love you too!” He squeezes her tighter, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I love you more than anything!”

“I’m cold as fuck,” she changes the subject, finally noticing how freezing the rain was in her short thin-strap dress.

“Oh! Here you go,” Veneer offers.

He takes off his coat, then puts it over her like the gentleman he was. If more people were like her brother, maybe Velvet wouldn’t feel so depressed. At least she had her brother, and that was the best thing she could ask for.

“You still wanna go home?” He asks.

Right, their dance was over. She was actually sad it was, but she definitely didn’t want to go back in that building.

“Yeah, I think so.” She takes his hand, leading him to the car.

She takes out the keys from his coat. Before handing them to him, she takes a moment to admire a little picture of her and Veneer on some vacation, attached to a keychain. They couldn’t have been older than five, and the light was still in their eyes. Once the picture was obscured by raindrops and tears, she hands him the keys, then gets in the passenger seat.

Just as Veneer reaches to start the car, she stops him. She puts a hand over his, and connects their fingers, taking their hands to the armrest. He doesn’t comment, just sits there in silence with her.

She mostly looked down at the ground these days. But something compelled her to look up, through the moonroof, towards the sky. It was completely dark except for the lights illuminating the parking lot. The rain poured onto the moonroof, and if she tried, she could make out shapes in the drops. One figuration of raindrops made two stars, side by side.

Her ears rang, lingering from the loud music in the gym. She didn’t want to think about that place, so she takes her focus back to the rain. It was its own kind of music, pattering against the metal of the car. If love had a sound, this was it.

Her gold lipstick tasted bad, metallic. Velvet didn’t know why she even put it on, no one had any interest in her lips. But if she focused enough, she could still taste the chocolate chip cookie her brother forced her to take in the cafeteria. She barely felt hungry anymore, but right now, all she wanted was another one. And, for the first time in all her teenage years, she remembered how much she loved chocolate.

She had tried a new perfume, and in this moment, it was her new favorite. It was lemony with a hint of sweetness, and now she wanted to wear it every day until it ran out, and then she’d buy a new one. It mixed with her brother’s cologne on his coat, vanilla and some kind of citrus. She wished she could mix them together, but figured that would waste the nice bottles they came in.

Being touch starved was rough for a girl like Velvet, who craved physical affection more than anything. Veneer always made sure to hug her and hold her hand when she needed it, but usually something was missing.

Not tonight.

His hand, slippery from the rain, was still warm in hers. Her rings pressed against his fingers, and she looked forward to taking them off so they could hold hands again. If she really felt for it, she could feel his pulse.

While it was her main focus, his hand wasn’t the only thing she could feel. Her strapless bra dug into her sides. Veneer’s jacket fit her perfectly, keeping her warm after the cold rain. Her gold heels were uncomfortable as hell. She could feel her own pulse, still beating, even after everything.

She looks over to the reason it still was.

“Vels?”

“Hm?” She meets his eyes with a soft smile.

“You okay to go? I want to beat the traffic.”

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Veneer starts the car and drives them out of the parking lot. Once they were on the road, he switches to driving with one hand, and uses his other to hold Velvet’s. She squeezes, and he squeezes back.

He had turned on the radio, the volume just loud enough for Velvet to hear it mixed with the rain. She didn’t know the song, but she liked the singer’s voice. At a stoplight, she kicks off her uncomfortable shoes.

She stares out the window as they drive past the suburbs she hated so much. Through the rain, she could almost see it: them driving through the city, past all the bright lights, away from all of this nothingness.

Less than two years, then they’d be out of here. After tonight, they were one day closer.

//

Veneer pulls up to the driveway, greeted by the average sized middle class house he couldn’t wait to move out of. His hand was still in his sister’s.

He was about to talk, but stops himself when he notices Velvet fast asleep in the passenger seat. With a sigh of relief, he turns off the car.

As quietly as possible, Veneer walks around to the other side. He picks her up out of the seat, making sure her head rested on his shoulder. Her bag and shoes were still in the car, but they could deal with that tomorrow.

Trying his best to shield her from the rain, he carries his sleeping sister through the front door. Only one light was on, meaning their parents were asleep. Thank goodness, he didn’t feel like explaining why they were home early and soaking wet.

He carries her up the stairs to his room, then gently lays her on her side of his bed. Too tired for anything else, he changes into the nearest sweatpants and t-shirt, then lazily wipes off his makeup. He wasn’t sure why he put so much effort into his appearance for the dance, maybe some fantasy that a cute guy would approach him.

But that’s all it was. A fantasy.

Once he was done getting ready, he figured he should at least take Velvet’s makeup off and get her a dry jacket. Careful not to wake her, he trades out his coat for a zip up hoodie that had been lying on the floor. He takes off her jewelry as well, making sure they were laid out nicely on his bedside table.

He then gets out a makeup wipe, and tries to remove as much as he could while sitting beside her. She had put on quite a bit, and she looked beautiful as ever. With or without makeup, he loved looking at her, especially her smile. He saw less and less of it lately.

Despite what he thought was a delicate touch, her eyes start to flutter open.

“Hi, sleepyhead,” he whispers, taking off the last of her blush.

“Hey…” She groans, sounding just as sleepy as she looked.

She swats his hand away, then changes her mind, and holds it instead. It seemed like she was about to fall asleep again, when she suddenly sits up, her eyes wide.

“I am not sleeping in this bra,” she declares.

“Good idea,” he agrees, though he was glad he couldn’t relate.

“I know you’re gay and my brother, but,” she finishes her sentence by standing up and throwing a blanket over him, sending him into darkness. “And I’m stealing your pajamas!”

That was fine by him. He stole her clothes plenty, though it wasn’t as fun now that she didn’t get mad. Still, it was one of his ways to be closer to her.

After a minute, she pulls the blanket off of him. She had changed into a set of hot pink satin pajamas—they fit her perfectly. They were one of his favorites, but he would gladly lend them to her whenever if it would make her happy.

She sits down next to him on the edge of the bed. Without a word, she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. Her head fit perfectly in his shoulder, like he was made to hold her.

“I’m proud of us,” Veneer whispers into the hug.

“Why? We’re total losers,” Velvet disagrees, squeezing him tighter.

“But we’re gonna make it. In two years, we’ll be done, and we won’t be losers anymore,” he reminds her.

He had managed to do the complete opposite of his goal, when he hears Velvet sniffle. He understood, though—it had been a rough night for her. For them both. She needed this.

“I’m right here, I gotcha,” he comforts, gently rubbing her back.

“I know,” she lets out a quiet sob. “I know.”

He holds her through the tears, just as he had countless times.

//

A million thoughts raced through Velvet’s head, sadness flooding back the more she thought about everyone and everything. At least she had a shoulder to cry on, the one person who was there for her.

She had cried plenty that night, but of course her stupid brain had to make her cry again. If only she could be anyone else. But then she wouldn’t have her brother, and she decided that was even worse.

She knew what to do: in hope of blocking out the thoughts, she takes her focus to the rain. It tapped against the window, reminding her that it was okay, even if it was raining.

Velvet focuses on Veneer’s hand on her back: up, down, up, down. She breathes with it, in on the up, out on the down. Veneer breathes with her, until the tears were done.

“I love you,” he tells her, brushing off the last of her tears. “I love you, just the way you are.”

“That’s,” she takes a deep breath, then snickers, “That’s so cheesy.”

“I mean it!” He laughs with her, and flicks her on the arm.

“Yeah, yeah,” she accepts with a playful eye roll. “I love you too.”

“Can I tuck you in?”

She nods, and makes herself comfortable in his sheets. Veneer stands on her side, bringing the blankets up to her shoulders. Once she was tucked in, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

He smiles at her, and she smiles back. Before he moved, she takes his face in her hands, and kisses his forehead next. She already knew it was his favorite.

Veneer lays down beside her, and she quickly wraps her arms around his shoulders. He hugs her close, just as he had the past few nights. Something felt different about this time, though. It was less like she needed him, and more like she wanted him to hold her.

She tried not to think about the after parties she wasn’t invited to, or Juliet spending the night with her girlfriend that should’ve been Velvet. Instead, she was right where she needed to be: in the warm embrace of the person who loved her more than anything.

Her head rested next to his heart, the gentle pulse starting to put her to sleep. She feels a kiss on the top of her head, so she gives him one last squeeze in the hug. She didn’t need to say anything else; her touch was her language.

It couldn’t possibly get worse, so it had to get better, right? Something had to change, they just had to get out of this awful place.

For now, it was raining, and that was okay. The rain would stop eventually.

.

[thewritingrowlet]

The Second Chance, ft. Red Velvet Wendy

tags: creampie, first time

length: almost 13k

author's note: well, I guess I lied about releasing this by weekend

-

“Miss Son, may I talk to you for a bit?” Wendy’s gaze moves to look at you. “Sure—do you want to talk here, or?” You nod. “Yes, please.”

Wendy invites you to sit on the armchair next to the sofa she’s sitting on. “Can I help you?” “No, not really; I just want to say that today will be my last day with you.” She furrows her eyebrows. “Where are you going?” You grin a little. “Erm, Jiho and I are moving to Japan.” The frown on her face is quickly replaced with excitement. “Oh my God, congratulations!” Wendy hugs you from the side, kind as ever. “Thank you, Miss Son,” your cheeks are getting red, “I, erm, I’m looking forward to having a new life with her.”

Wendy pulls you onto her feet. “Let’s go buy stuff—y’know, parting gifts.” “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Miss Son,” you decline politely, “as far as I know, you’re busy today.” She puts her fists on her waist. “Are you sure you don’t want presents?” You smile. “It’s not that I don’t want them, Miss Son; it’s just that you’ve shown us so much kindness already.” She pouts for a split second before smiling again. “You’re glazing, oppa.” You burst out laughing. “And you spend too much time on social media, Miss Son.”

After the laughs die down, you walk with her towards the lobby where a chauffeur is waiting for the two of you. “Can you brief me on my schedules today?” You unlock the tablet in your hand to look at your notes. “We’ll be going to the food bank first like I said, and here it says you’ll be attending a meeting at Han Group.” “Oh, Han Group—they’re such a good bunch,” you can hear the excitement in her voice, as if impatient to go to that meeting.

-

The car stops in front of the food bank after a 30-minute drive. “We’re here, Miss Son,” the chauffeur says. Wendy stirs awake from her nap. “Oh, we are?” She pulls out a small folding mirror from her purse to look at herself. She tidies her hair to make herself look presentable. “I think I look okay.”

Wendy gets out of the car, and that’s your sign to do the same. Your heart jumps when she wraps an arm around yours—she has never done this before. “Let’s go,” she says, clueless to the fact that your cheeks are blazing hot. “Y-yes, miss.”

You open the door for her, and heads are promptly turned towards you and her. Wendy, used to attention, starts waving and smiling. “Ah, Miss Son, welcome to our house,” someone approaches the two of you—her little name tag says that her name is Han Haru. Wendy lets go of your arm to shake Haru’s hand. “I’m excited to be here, Miss Han.”

Haru asks that you and Wendy follow her to her office that’s located on the second floor, and like the proper assistant that you are, you take position behind the two women.

“Have a seat, please, Miss Son,” Haru says. Wendy sits on the chair on the other side of the desk and asks you to sit next to her. “I take it you’re here to volunteer?” Wendy nods enthusiastically. “Yes, and I’ll also be donating to your cause.”

Haru smiles. “I don’t mean to offend you at all, Miss Son, but why are you doing this—why aren’t you sitting on the top floor of some skyscraper counting your piles of bills?” Wendy smiles twice as softly. “What good is a pile of money if not used for the correct purposes, Miss Han?” Haru nods, satisfied with the answer. “Are we ready to start, then?” Wendy gets on her feet right away. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Haru gives Wendy a vest with the food bank’s logo on the back. “So, what do we do now?” “We’ll make a stop at the kitchen; the crew are working hard to prepare a ton of food, and we’ll help them box it for distribution.” “Sounds great—let’s go, then,” Wendy’s always-positive mind is admirable.

The three of you arrive at the kitchen after a short walk. Wendy’s eyes look at each person present, highly impressed and touched by their kind hearts for being willing to do such work that doesn’t pay much.

“Oppa,” she whispers to you, “can you arrange some bread for them?” You nod. “Of course, Miss Son.” You pull out your phone to text her treasurer, and after a short back-and-forth, the treasurer says that she’ll get it ready within the next hour. “She’s working on it, Miss Son,” you inform her, getting a nod as a response.

Haru points at a table that’s full of folded food containers and says that Wendy will be working on it first, and then after the food is ready, Haru and her will pack each one to the brim. “Are you also taking a part in this?” “Yes, I am―Miss Son here wouldn’t last a day without me,” you say, earning an elbow to the ribs from Wendy. “Alright, you can work with her, then—I’ll be helping somewhere else.”

You grab one folded container from the table and immediately start working on it, and since you’ve handled this sort of thing before, you know how to shape them into a ready-to-use form. Wendy, on the other hand, isn’t having as much success as you. “Oppa, slow down; let me see how you do it.” “You’ve never done this before?” “No, I—oh my God, slow down!” She airs her frustration when she sees you work on another box swiftly. “Alright, alright—here.”

You grab one more from the pile and place it on the table. “See these lines, Miss Son?” Wendy’s eyes follow your finger that’s running along the lines on the paper. “The factory put these lines here as a guide for you to fold.” “Okay, so?” You fold the paper following the lines, and after such simple steps, the box starts to take shape. You wait for Wendy to do the same things you have. You can see the fascination on her face now that she’s making progress. “Okay, okay—now what?” “Lift these little tabs and fit them into the slits, just like this.” Once again, she does the same things, and after finishing it, Wendy begins clapping in excitement—she’s clapping and jumping so much that her vest that’s just a bit too big is bouncing around. “Oh my God—oh my God, that was so cool!” “Dozens to go, Miss Son.”

You and Wendy finish shaping these boxes at a steady pace, but before the two of you manage to finish the pile, Haru announces that the food is ready to be packed. “I’ll take care of this, Miss Son; you can go help Miss Han,” you say. Without saying a word, Wendy quickly jogs towards the assembly line. You steal some glances every now and then, and in a particular instance, you see her expressions that scream “I’m overwhelmed”: her eyes are moving rapidly, her mouth is open, and her hands are shaking.

“You can stop, mister; I think we have enough boxes, and we need your help here,” Haru says from the distance. You rush towards Wendy and Haru so that you can help them. “Help us with those bags, please.” You shake paper bags upside down to fill them with air. The expanded bags can then hold the food container.

-

In her out-of-breath state, Wendy crashes onto a nearby bench. “How are we feeling, Miss Son?” She puts on a thumbs-up for you. “Amazing—I-I feel like a saint right now.” You laugh. “I mean, you kind of are at this point.” You pull out a small bottle of water from your back pocket. “Would you like some water, Miss Son?” She nods, so you crack it open and hand it over to her. “Thanks, oppa.”

You guess that she doesn’t have the energy to walk to her car, so you ask the chauffeur to come to your location. “The car is on the way, Miss Son.” Once again, she nods, still unable to stop panting.

Before long, the car pulls into the side of the road close to you. “Can you walk, Miss Son?” “Yeah, yeah—just one second, please.” While Wendy stumbles towards the car, you take the initiative to open the door for her. “Oh, that’s so nice of you, oppa—are you sure you don’t want to stay, because I can’t imagine a day without you.” You smile. “Apologies, miss, but the decision has been made.”

Once she’s inside, Wendy asks you to grab another bottle of water, so you do just that. Now that she’s in the privacy of her car, she doesn’t bother drinking neatly, letting water drip off her chin and onto her clothes. “Excuse me, Miss Son,” you wipe her chin with tissue to clean the mess. “You’re treating me like a kid,” she comments. You apologize once more. “Just trying to make sure you look okay for the meeting.” Wendy sinks into her seat. “Meeting? Really?”

Soon, the car stops in front of the Han Group building. “I’m going to fucking cry,” she says. Wendy rarely curses, only saying them when she’s in the most frustrating or annoying moments. “Remind me what I’m here for?” “Erm,” you quickly open your notes, “you’re here for a friendly visit.” Wendy looks out the window. “I’ll need you to keep your ears open, oppa—if you hear me say cake, pull me out of the meeting.” You nod. “Certainly, Miss Son.”

You get out of the car first and head towards the receptionist table. “Hello, I’m with the Son Industries,” you show the lady your employee ID card, “I’m here with Miss Son for a meeting.” “Sure, but where is she?” You point at her car that’s stopped at the lobby. “She’s still catching her breath—oh, there she is,” you see Wendy walking through the door with a smile. The receptionist reaches for the landline on her desk, and before long, she’s ready to take you to the meeting room.

The lady stops in front of a small office space on the first floor. “The boss will join you in a moment,” she says. The lady then leaves after you thank her (with a smile on your face, of course), leaving you alone with Wendy. You open the door for her. “After you, Miss Son.”

You take a seat on the empty chair next to her. Wendy lets out a hum, and when you look at her, she’s trying to roll her chair towards you. “I hope you don’t mind,” she says. “Sorry?” She doesn’t answer you, opting to show you instead by resting her head on your shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do to sway you from leaving me, let me know.” “Miss Son—” “Yeah, yeah, the decision has been made or whatever you said.”

You wrap an arm around her shoulder. “If the plan fails, I’ll come back running to you, Miss Son—well, if you’d let me, that is.” Wendy chuckles. “You’re always welcome at Son Industries, oppa.”

Through the glass pane, you see that the boss of the Han Group is approaching, so you tap Wendy��s arm to get her to straighten her posture. “Did you know that my father tried arranging a marriage for me and that guy?” You furrow your eyebrows—you never heard about such arrangement. “Mr. Han Harvey? Really?” Wendy sighs. “Well, he’s married to someone else now, so it doesn’t matter anymore—I like older guys anyway.”

“Miss Son,” Harvey greets her with a smile, “thank you for coming.” Wendy puts on her businesswoman smile. “Of course, Mr. Han; thank you for inviting me.” Harvey takes a seat on the other side of the desk. “We’ll be talking about business a little if that’s okay with you, Miss Son.” Wendy chuckles. “I was afraid you’d say that, but sure.”

-

“Thank you, Mr. Lee—I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Wendy enters her house and beelines towards the kitchen to find something to put in the microwave. She sees some leftover kimbap from yesterday when she opens the fridge. “Yeah, sure.”

Once the reheated food is in her hands, she grabs the letter you’ve written for her as a “parting gift.” “Why am I nervous about this, it’s just a letter,” Wendy questions herself. She tries clearing her mind by taking a few deep breaths first. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Miss Son,

I was the first person in my entire extended family to have gotten a bachelor's degree, and with only that degree in my back pocket, I mustered up the courage to apply to your father’s big-city company. Heh, I still remember how my heart raced when I received an interview invitation 10 days after I had applied.

I spent the night wondering what I should wear, since I had been told that first impressions are the most important thing when looking for a job, but at the time, I only had a few shirts of different colors and some grey and black trousers. Eventually, I decided to put on a red shirt and grey trousers since I thought that I would look good in them.

I remember walking through the big doors of the ground floor, and it might have been just me, but I thought people were looking at me weird, and believe me when I say that it killed my confidence that was nearly nonexistent to begin with.

The receptionist at the time was Miss Kim Yerim. I remember the kind smile on her face when she first greeted me. She immediately asked me if I was going to an interview, and before long, I found myself sitting in an empty room nervously, waiting for someone to enter and actually start asking me questions.

I remember calling my parents immediately after I had been told that I was accepted at your father’s company. I understand that it might sound corny or stupid to you considering what kind of job it was, but for a man with simple dreams like me, it meant the world to me, Miss Son.

Since I don’t have much space left on this page, I’ll skip some details and tell you how I felt when I was told that I’d become your personal assistant. Truthfully, Miss Son, I couldn’t sleep; I was so busy worrying about working directly under you.

It didn’t help that you weren’t in the best mood when I first met you that morning. I recall the way your sharp gaze was directly aimed at me. Honestly, it felt like there was a hole between my eyes because of it. Little did I know that behind all your charades, you’re actually a very kind person. 

Ultimately, I’d like to thank you, Miss Son. You’ve given this guy from the countryside plenty of chances to grow, both as an employee and a person, and I promise that I will never stop growing and learning wherever I am.

Miss Son, I’d like to think that this isn’t a perpetual goodbye, but rather a brief divergence. As much as I’m about to live a new life with my wife in a new land, I believe that one day I’ll find my way back to Son Industries, and whenever that may be, I hope that you keep yourself safe and well until then.

With respect and admiration,

Jin Changmin”

Tears that have been flowing freely out of Wendy’s eyes land on the letter. “Goodness me, oppa, why are you doing this to me—I-I thought we had something special.” She tries reading the letter from the top again, but her mind can’t focus. “God damn it, why, oppa?” Her weak hand lets go of the letter, thus letting it drop onto the carpet. “I-I love you, Jin Changmin—by God, I love you so, so much.” No matter how loud or how many times she says it, she doesn’t hear any answer, and it wrings her heart beyond help.

In a dangerous mix of anger and anguish, Wendy tosses the mug in front of her at the wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces—a manifestation of her broken heart. “I-I hate you, oppa; I-I hate that you’ve left me like this.”

Wendy contemplates if she wants to burn the letter, but at the last minute, she decides against it. “Come back to me soon, oppa; I’ll be waiting for you.”

-

“Love, we’re here—we’re actually here,” Jiho tugs your hand that she’s holding, seemingly in disbelief that the two of you have reached Japan. “You’re excited, aren’t you, love?” Jiho nods. “I’m both excited and nervous, but I have you with me, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

You lift your hand to hail a cab for you and your wife, and the first thing you do is shove your luggage into the trunk. After getting in, you speak into the translator app, which, well, translates your words, and not long after that, the cab starts rolling. “No turning back now,” you think.

You pull Jiho closer to you. “Get some nap, love; I’ll keep an eye out for us.” She promptly yawns. “I love you,” she says softly. “I love you too,” you end your reply by giving a peck on her head.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach your destination, which is a regular 5-story apartment building not too far from the center of the city. “Love, we’re here,” you tap your wife’s arm to wake her up. She looks around with half open eyes. “Oh, okay.” While she gathers herself after her nap, you get off the cab first to take your luggage out the trunk.

Once Jiho is ready, you take her hand in yours and walk with her towards your new unit.

“Oh, this is pretty cool,” Jiho comments. “Do we have a bidet?” She jogs to the bathroom to check. “Oh, yes, we do—wow, it’s already so much better here.” Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but feel the same.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, and without being asked, Jiho takes her favorite spot on your lap. “Thank you for everything, love,” she says. You peck her on the lips. “You are all I have, love.” She smiles. “And you are all I have, especially in this foreign land.”

Jiho suddenly comes in for a kiss, her hands placed neatly on your nape. “What do you say we break this place in?” “Only if you promise you won’t be too loud.” She laughs. “I can’t help it; my husband is almost too big for me.”

You fall backwards onto the bed, letting your wife take a different position. “Love, I don’t have the energy to ride you,” she says, so you let her lie on her back first before getting on top of her. “Ah, this is more like it.”

Jiho reaches for the topmost button on your shirt but stops before your last button. “Something feels odd,” she comments, “do you not want to do this?” You’ve been caught. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something else—I’ll focus on us now.” Jiho furrows her eyebrows. “You weren’t thinking about Miss Son, were you?” You weren’t, but now that she mentions it, you wonder what Miss Son is up to. “No, I wasn’t,” you deflect.

Jiho asks you to prove to her if you’re truly focused on her and only her, her words laced with jealousy. “You got it, love,” you reply.

You can feel that Jiho is quite unhappy with you, but the way she lets out a small gasp when your lips first latch on the side of her neck assures you that the situation can be salvaged as long as you perform well.

Jiho guides your hand towards her breasts, and that’s a sign to you that she’s feeling better. “T-touch me here, please.” You palm and play with her breast like she wants you to, thus earning soft moans from her. “Yes, just like that, love—just don’t think about anything else.”

You stop the stimulation on her neck when you see that there’s a decently sized pink spot on it. “You’ll need to put on a scarf when we go out tonight, love.” Jiho chuckles. “Nah, I’ll proudly show off your mark.”

You straighten your posture to undress properly, and while you do that, Jiho takes the chance to do the same. You think that she’s ready now that she’s down to her underwear, but based on her expressions, she’s not in the right mind just yet.

“Oppa,” she calls to you, “I’m feeling something, but I can’t put it into words.” You keep your eyes on her. “Is it bad?” Jiho bites her bottom lip nervously. “I-I don’t know.” You start petting her head gently. “Can you describe a little?” “I just feel… uneasy—I feel like something is looming ahead, but I don’t know what.” You put on a smile that you hope is assuring. “I understand if you’re nervous, but as long as we stick together, we will be fine, love.”

Jiho holds your hand with her soft hands. “I hope you won’t blame me when things don’t work out—I’m being serious right now.” “It wouldn’t be fair for me, love; we’re in this together, are we not?” Your respond doesn’t quite satisfy Jiho. “What would you do if things don’t work out, oppa?” “I’d take you back to Korea,” you say the first answer in your head. Jiho takes a few deep breaths. “Sounds good.”

This doesn’t feel like a good transition to sex, so you ask if she wants to continue like this. “Just… hold me for now, please,” she requests. “Of course, love.”

-

“I’m home,” you say as you enter through the door, but there’s no sign of her. Usually, she’ll rush to you as soon as she hears the door swing open, but not today. “Love, where are you?” You put down the bouquet on the living room table and start walking around the interior. Your heart rate spikes when you hear moans coming out of the bedroom. “What is she doing,” you think as your hand turns the handle.

Your heart comes to an immediate stop—she’s having sex with someone else, bouncing her butt on his lap. “What the fuck?” Jiho turns her head to look at you. “Oh, hey, there,” she waves at you casually. “What the fuck are you doing right now?” She laughs. “Why, I’m having sex—y’know, because you wouldn’t touch me.” You tilt your head so that you can look at the guy. “Who the fuck is that, even?” She shrugs. “I don’t know; I just met him last night.”

Jiho gets off the guy’s dick and makes her way towards you—you manage to catch a glimpse of his size, and he’s not even half as big as you are. “You’re mad, aren’t you?” You look at her in the eyes, trying your hardest to stay calm amidst the crazy turn of events. “I have some adjectives to describe my feelings right now.” She laughs, seemingly mocking you. “Well, should’ve not skipped touching your wife, then.”

Before you address this further, you gesture to the guy to leave because you don’t think he speaks the same language as you do. He says something when he passes you; not sure what, but the smirk on his face indicates that he probably said something dirty about you or Jiho. “Fuck you, asshole.” You punch him in the stomach, and when he bends because of the impact, you kick his butt like it was a soccer ball, officially kicking him out of your apartment.

With that guy out of the apartment, you turn your attention to your wife. “You look calm, but I can see smoke coming out of your ears.” You shove Jiho by her shoulders, thus making her fall backwards onto the bed. “Since when you turned into such a slut?” “Recently—you know, when you ignored me.” You furrow your eyebrows. “Ignored you? You said you were on period,” you argue. She laughs. “And you just believed me? You couldn’t be bothered to check with your own eyes?” You can’t believe your ears. “What was I supposed to do, pull your pants down? What if you had actually been on your period?”

Jiho makes another argument, but in your disinterested state of mind, you ignore her, opting to undress instead. “Wha-what are you doing?” “You said you wanted to be touched, didn’t you?” She gulps. “W-well, yes,” she’s starting to crack under the pressure. “W-wait, love, please listen to me.” You stop in your tracks. “What?” You can tell that her heart is racing. “Love, I-I’m sorry; I-I realized I’ve just made a fatal mistake.” You scoff. “You only said it because I caught you in action—did you enjoy it, by the way, because he was quite small,” you add a little taunt. She shakes her head, visibly scared of this side of you that she has never seen before. “I-I couldn’t even feel him, I swear!”

You quickly get on top of Jiho, her nervous, rapid breaths hitting your face endlessly. “What the fuck were you moaning for then, hm?” “Uh, uh, d-dramatic effects?” Your mind clouded by blind rage, you slap her on the cheek, thus leaving a big red mark on it. “Dramatic effects? What are you, a fucking porn star?” Jiho starts sobbing because of the sting—she’s debating whether it’s her face or her heart that’s in worse pain. “P-please, I-I didn’t enjoy it—I swear to God,” the sobs make her words sound less intelligible.

You stop for a moment. Deep inside, you’re trying so hard to regain control of your raging heart and mind. “You’re going to regret this, you know.” She nods. “I-I’m already regretting it, l-love.” You exhale deeply. “Don’t call me that.” Jiho hesitantly reaches for your face that’s hovering closely above hers. “B-but I love you; I-I really do.” You grab her wrists and slowly guide her hands off your face. “Why did you do that, then—why did you hurt me like that?” “I-I don’t know.”

You grab her ankles and fold her in half. “Do you know where this is going?” She nods. “C-claim me, my love.” You flinch a little when you hear the name. “Don’t fucking call me that, slut.” Jiho’s eyes widen in shock. “P-please don’t call me that.” “You don’t deserve love or honey, so I’m calling you a slut, and you’re going to fucking like it.”

Jiho lets out a moan when your cock suddenly enters her pussy. “M-make me yours again,” she says. She lets out another moan when the tip of your cock reaches her deepest spot. “Yes, just like that.”

You turn up the pace to the maximum that you’re able to do, using the feral flame of jealousy and anger in your heart as fuel. “Fucking slut,” you insult her, “I tried being respectful, and this is how you pay me back?” “L-love—nghk!” Her speech is interrupted due to your palm that’s choking her. “Shut the fuck up,” you growl.

You don’t know how long you’ve been fucking her like this, but one thing that’s sure is that orgasm is almost at the door. “C-cum inside a-and claim me back,” she urges. “You still dare making demands?” Jiho shakes her head. “I-I was just… s-saying—oh, fuck.”

You quickly pull out of her pussy and flip her onto her stomach. With your cock in hand, you guide it until the tip touches her rear entrance. “I should fuck you here, make it loose for anyone who comes after.” Jiho trembles. “I-I haven’t—w-we haven’t put anything in there.” You chuckle. “Is that so, because I could’ve sworn I saw that guy put his middle finger in your ass.” “Y-you saw—fuck!” You interrupt her with a smack to the butt. “I saw what?” Jiho fights through the pain. “Y-you saw wrong.”

“Close your eyes,” you command, and Jiho adheres right away; not only does she close her eyes, but she also presses her face into the bed. You hear a muffled gasp from her when your spit-coated thumb traces the shape of her forbidden hole. “You really had to wait until we’re in a foreign land to stab me in the back, huh?” “I’m sorry,” you hear a faint response from her. “I don’t know if an apology is sufficient, to be completely honest,” you say, your tone laden with sadness and disappointment. “Anyway, here I go.”

Jiho clenches her fist as she prepares to give up her virginity. “I guess this is how I die,” she thinks. Tears begin swarming out of her eyes again as the second wave of guilt crashes over her heart. “I’m so sorry, my love; I don’t know why I hurt you—you’ve been the best husband I could ever ask for.” Her body goes limp when the tip of your cock begins pushing into her. “Take me, my love; make me yours again.”

Jiho lets out a long moan when she feels you in her pussy instead of her ass. “L-love?” You pet her butt gently. “I might be angry, but I’m no degenerate.” A small smile is drawn on her face; you never do anything in bed without her consent, and even though your head is full of anger (that’s justified), the fact that you’re still firmly holding on to your principle is touching, if not admirable. “Y-yes, of course—y-you’re a great husband for me.” Jiho’s heart flutters when she sees a smile on your face, oblivious to what kind of thoughts are running rampant inside your head. “Oh, you’re so clueless, sweetheart,” you say internally.

You maintain a pace that’s rather relaxed, basking in the intimate moment of what might be the last you’ll have with her. “D-do you remember our first night?” “Before or after the wedding?” “Oh, God, b-before.” You take a quick trip to memory lane; you had sex multiple times on your first night with her, doing it in different positions, including the one you’re currently in right now. “I did,” you answer, “you also took me from behind.” She nods. “E-exactly.”

You don’t know Jiho is mentioning the past, so you ask. “I-I just wish I could go back to that night—I swear w-we were so in love.” You chuckle a bit. “And we’re no longer in love? Is that why you cheated on me?” A stray tear flows onto her cheek. “P-please, I-I know it was so wrong of me.” You close your eyes, your hips fully stopped. “Hindsight is always perfect, isn’t it?” Jiho nods again. “I-I wish—” You silence her with a soft shush. “The past is the past, and there’s nothing else that can be done right now.”

A few more thrusts and you’re ready to bust. “I’m close,” you say, your tone flat thanks to the realization that this is the end of your story. “Feel free to finish anywhere.” You lodge your cock deep inside her when you explode, sending your load right into her womb. Usually, you’d praise her as you cum, but this time, your tongue feels heavy, thus making you unable to say anything.

You pull out when you’re done spurting everything out, and some excess semen drips out of her. “Some things just don’t change,” you think.

You grab your clothes that are making a mess on the floor, putting them on one by one, and the sight makes Jiho start crying again. “W-where are you going?” “Home,” you give her a short answer. “B-but isn’t this our home?” You sigh. “Not anymore, no.”

Jiho completely breaks down. It is clear to her now that everything is doomed; she has messed up the marriage, and now, you’re leaving the relationship that has been nurtured for years. “At least clue me how I can fix this, please,” she begs. You wipe some tears off her cheeks with your thumbs, comforting her as much as you can. “You can’t, sweetheart.” Jiho flinches; you used to call her by that name when the two of you were dating. “Sometimes, sweetheart, sometimes good things fall apart, and you just can’t fix them.”

Jiho pecks the back of your hand. “I’m so sorry, my love,” she says tearily, fully in regret. You peck her on the forehead the same way you did on your first date. “Promise me that you’ll be safe and happy wherever you are.” She nods. “Y-you too, oppa.”

The way she’s sobbing as you walk away from you wrests your heart terribly, but what else is there to be done?

“The world is so damn cruel sometimes, isn’t it?”

-

“Excuse me, sir, but unless you’re waiting for a flight, you need to leave.” You rub your eyes to get yourself together. “Oh, no, I’m not waiting for a flight—I’ll leave after this,” you say. The guard gives you a little nod before walking away.

You walk out of the airport while thinking about the next course of action. You still have money that should be enough to live off for about a month. “If I can get a basement apartment, the money will last longer,” you think. Still in the theme of making sure the money lasts as long as it can, you decide to just walk towards the city instead of getting a cab.

You reach the edge of urban civilization after around a few thousand steps. There is an apartment building not too far ahead, and you hope that it has a cheap vacant unit in the basement that you can occupy.

“Good evening,” you greet the lady at the front desk, “is there a basement unit here?” Much to your delight and relief, there is. “You’re in luck; there’s only one left,” she says. “I’ll take that right now, please,” you say, not bothering to think twice. “Please have a seat while I take care of some stuff.”

It is when your butt lands on the steel bench that you start thinking about Jiho again.

“I’m letting you go, sweetheart—make sure you’re safe and happy, okay?”

The relationship started with you “stealing” her from her abusive ex-boyfriend, but even then, she had never fooled around with anyone else behind his back, so in your mind, you don’t think that she had any reason to hurt you. “I guess this is how it was meant for us,” you conclude.

The front desk lady calls your name, so you quickly approach her. “This is your contract, and if you accept, please sign down here.” You take the paper from her and start reading, carefully taking mental notes about the important points in the contract as you go. One of them says that management doesn’t cover anything if the unit happens to get drowned during a flood. “That’s quite the risk,” you think, but it’s not like you have too many options.

You read the whole contract once again to make sure you’re not missing anything, and now you’re confident enough to sign it. “It’s time to pay now, isn’t it?” The lady nods with a smile and pulls out an EDC machine, so you hand your card to her. Shortly after that, you’re told that you can enter your unit with the key in her hand. “Thank you so much.”

A small wave of sadness washes over your heart when you see the interior that only has one twin-sized mattress lying on the floor and a small wardrobe—your previous unit was fully furnished. “Round two of rags to riches, I guess.”

The first thing you do is lie down, of course. It’s been a very long day with work and Jiho, and you just want to catch your breath. “I’m just going to chill.”

-

You’ve arrived at Son Industries to look for a chance to be hired again, feeling much better now that you have clean clothes on your body. The decorations haven’t changed too much in the past year—the big sofa in the lobby has changed, though; it used to be beige, but now it’s a brown one. “Has to be Miss Son’s doing,” you think.

In terms of personnel, the person attending the front desk is no longer Mr. Bang that you were close with, and you don’t recognize this new person. Nonetheless, you muster up the courage to approach the woman. “Hello, good morning,” you greet her, “is the company open to walk-in interviews?” She blinks rapidly, a mix of confusion and startlement drawn on her face. “Erm, let me check first.”

The way the woman is scratching her temple isn’t a good sign for you; it doesn’t look like they’re currently open for people to walk in and ask to be interviewed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can accommodate you today.” You try your best to hide the sourness in your heart. “Ah, no worries; I shouldn’t have come without prior notice.” The woman asks for your contact information for future references, saying that the company will reach out to you should there be a job vacancy. Without wasting time, you write down your name, phone number, and email address on a piece of paper and hand it to her. “I can’t promise anything, though.” You nod. “No, no, it’s totally okay—thank you for the help!” You quickly part ways with her, smiling on your way out.

Your smile disappears when you reach the street again as nervousness begins filling your mind. The money you have won’t last too long at this point—you probably have around a week before you completely run out, and should that happen, you’ll be forced to live under a bridge or at a park somewhere.

You contemplate if you want to call Wendy right away but considering how long you’ve been away from her and who she is, she might have changed her number long ago. “This is a big city; surely there’s a chance for me somewhere,” you try to stay optimistic.

You take a lap around the central business district, and you happen to see a guy who’s busy sticking job vacancy pamphlets on light poles. You quickly cross the street to get to the pole and check out the pamphlet. You see that it’s from a record label startup companythat’s currently looking for both a chauffeur and a personal assistant for their newly appointed director. “Yeah, I can do that.”

You pull out your phone to check where the company is located, and you’re glad that it’s not too far away. You decide that you’re going to take the bus this time since you’ve had enough fun getting around the city on foot. Before that, though: “Mister, mister,” you chase him half running, “can I have one of that, please?” The guy nods and hands you one of the pamphlets. “Alright, thank you.”

Soon, you find yourself standing in front of an office building that’s smaller than the one Son Industries calls headquarters. Like before, you quickly enter and approach the front desk. “Excuse me, miss—I’m here for this,” you hold the pamphlet in the air for her to see. “Ah, of course,” she says, “chauffeur or assistant?” You’ve never been a chauffeur before, and as interesting as it sounds to change jobs, you’d rather play safe and become an assistant once more as you’re comfortable and confident in your experience and skills. “Assistant, please.”

The lady leaves her seat and asks you to follow her, and after a brief walk, you reach an empty room. “An interviewer will join you soon; please wait inside.” You thank her for the help and quickly settle in the room that only has some chairs and a desk. You’re experienced in being an assistant, so it’s odd that you’re nervous right now. “Man, what’s wrong with me,” you ask yourself.

Thankfully, salvation comes quickly in the form of two interviewers. “You must be our candidate,” the woman says, and you respond to her with a smile on your face. “I must say, mister, I’m quite giddy to see a candidate so soon.” You laugh a bit. “I am also quite giddy to get a job, miss.”

The two sit across the table from you. “My name is Shin Jimin, and this is Shin Sooin—can you introduce yourself a bit?” You nod. “My name is Jin Changmin, and I have decent experience under my belt after having worked for Son Industries for around 5 years.” Jimin beams. “Did you say Son Industries?” You nod again. “You know,” she starts, “I tried applying multiple times and could never make it past the interviews.” You chuckle. “Their HR could sometimes be… irritating.” The women laugh. “Sure, they are, mister.”

The interview doesn’t last too long. Because you’ve mentioned your experience working at Son Industries, which is well known in the eyes of the public, it convinces Jimin and Sooin that you’re the right hire. Also, at one point during the interview, it’s decided that the two women will start addressing you as oppa and you will address them casually from this point onwards.

“Oppa,” Sooin says, “are you free today, by any chance?” “You’re not inviting me to a date, are you,” you crack a little joke and are successful in making her laugh. “No, no, no; I’m just thinking that since you’re here, maybe you can start working for half a day—we’ll pay you accordingly, of course.” You nod. “I’m as free as it gets for an unemployed guy.”

Jimin excuses herself and has Sooin brief you on your tasks on your first (partial) day. “The director has a handful of things on his schedule today, so you’ll be following him around.” She hands you a tablet. “I didn’t see you carrying one, so use this, oppa.” You notice that it’s a newer model from the same brand you used to use when working under Wendy. “Alright, I’ll take you to the boss right now.”

Sooin takes you upstairs and knocks on the door for you. “Boss, he’s here.” “Yes, let him in, please,” you hear a woman’s voice from the other side, and the door swings open for you.

“Good—” Your speech is interrupted when you see who the boss is, your eyes wide open because of the shock. “I-is that—” “Leave us, Sooin-ah.” Sooin closes the door behind you, and you can hear her steps fading away. “I-I, erm,” you find it hard to speak right now.

The boss leaves her seat and approaches you, the sound of her heels deafening. “Hi, good morning—is it afternoon yet, actually?” You stay silent, trying your hardest to stay composed and professional. “Took you so long to get here; did you get lost in the way?” You respond by nodding. “Well, at least, you’re here now.”

The boss wraps her arms around your body, sharing her warmth with you. “Welcome back, oppa.” You garner your courage to hug her back. “M-Miss Son,” you say almost in a whisper. You hear a chuckle from her. “You still remember my name, huh?” You nod. “How can I ever forget about you?”

Wendy pulls away from the embrace, and that’s when you see her glassy eyes. “How long have you been away from me, oppa?” “A little over a year,” you answer. “That’s too long, don’t you think?” You nod slightly. “I-I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “Well, at least you’re here now.”

Wendy invites you to sit on the sofa in her office. “I feel like you have so much to tell me, but I have a lot of work today.” You take a deep breath to clear your mind. “I’m here for you, Miss Son.” She chuckles. “Yeah, and I’m not letting you go ever again, just so we’re clear.”

Wendy returns to her big director chair. “Come here, please; let’s talk about your tasks.” You quickly stand up and sit in front of her for your briefing. “Yes, Miss Son.” Wendy is getting goosebumps; she hasn’t had anyone who is as ready as you are when it comes to work, and she’s struggling to keep a straight face. “Oh my God, I’ve missed this,” she thinks.

-

“Do you mind driving?” You take the key from her and notice that it’s different. “New car, Miss Son?” She sighs. “I totaled the Genesis.” Your eyebrows furrow involuntarily. “You did what?” “Look, I was sleepy, alright—I wasn’t under any influence.” You don’t continue the subject, opting to get in the car and turn it on instead so you can take her to her destination.

You open the back seat door for her, but she declines; she says she’ll sit next to you. “I want to… y’know, be close to you.” You pretend like you don’t notice the subtle blush on her cheeks and simply help her get in the car. “Are we ready, Miss Son?” She nods, her face decorated with a smile. “Yes, we are.”

It is when you’re stopped at a red light that Wendy initiates a conversation. “Oppa, can you share a bit of your story?” You sigh heavily. “I suppose,” you start, “Jiho cheated on me, Miss Son, so I left her.” Wendy falls silent, not expecting such an answer from you. “I caught her having sex with some stranger she claimed she had met the previous night,” you pile on, and you can see on the edge of your vision that Wendy’s face has turned sour. “I’ve moved on now, so don’t worry about my performance at work.”

“She never deserved you.”

You turn your head to look at her. “Excuse me?”

“She never deserved you; I’ve always had a feeling that you were too good for her, oppa.”

You don’t know if you’re offended or not; at one point in your life, Jiho was the best partner you could’ve ever asked for, and a part of you is still hanging on to that, hoping that she’s still the same person you fell in love with, even though you’ve parted ways with her.

“Miss Son, please don’t talk about her like that.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

You exhale deeply. “Miss Son, please.”

“Ugh, fine—forget I said anything.”

“What about you, Miss Son,” you try changing the subject, “did you leave Son Industries?” “Yes and no,” she says, “I’m trying to establish a record label as a subsidiary, but I’ve left my post at Son Industries.” You nod. “I assume you’ve left your old assistant to work under the new director of Son Industries?” Wendy shakes her head. “I never hired another assistant after you left, so whoever is replacing me must bring their own right-hand.”

You see an opportunity to make a joke and lighten the mood a bit. “You learned how to be independent, didn’t you?” Wendy smacks you on the shoulder. “Just so you know, it was so damn rough; I realized I had been relying on you too much.”

-

“Miss Son, we’re here,” you tap her forearm to wake her up, and after a moment of grunting and yawning, she’s awake. “Can I ask what we’re doing here, Miss Son?” “This is—” A yawn interrupts her. “This is a dance studio, and we’re here to look at some trainees.”

You help her get out of the car, and Wendy promptly wraps an arm around yours. “Let’s go find some recruits,” she says, her voice laden with excitement.

There are a man and a woman walking out of the building to greet the two of you. “Miss Son, this way, please; the trainees are waiting for you,” the man says. “They’re skipping school, Mr. Jo?” He chuckles nervously. “Erm, sort of—they said they want to maximize their chances to be recruited, so some skipped school and some others called in sick.”

You and co. enter a practice room that’s filled with a bunch of teenage girls. They greet you repeatedly, and you make sure to reply to each one properly. Based on their sweat-drenched forehead and clothes, you can tell that they’ve been practicing a lot prior to your arrival.

“Girls, this is your future boss, Miss Wendy Son from Son Media Group.” Wendy waves at them, showing kindness so that they don’t get more nervous or scared than they already are. “Miss Son, they’ve prepared a performance for you—please kindly watch them perform.”

You take a seat in front of the girls with Wendy next to you. You notice that each trainee is wearing a name tag, so you quickly write them down on your tablet since she will likely want you to make notes based on her assessments.

Wendy starts getting excited when the song starts playing over the speakers. “She must know this song,” you guess. As time goes by, she keeps making these expressions that you don’t know the meaning of—you can tell that she’s enjoying the moment, though.

Your attention is stolen when Wendy taps your arm repeatedly. “Pay attention,” she whispers to you, so you lock in to the performance.

You push and pull me like gravity

I fall for you, every part of me

You push and pull me like gravity

Insanity

I’m losing my mind

Wendy squeezes your arm, her face bright and beaming, visibly impressed by the performance she’s watching. You look at her from the side, admiring her passion and ever-positive attitude for everything that’s in front of her. “By God, I’ve missed this, Miss Son.”

The cover soon ends, leaving Wendy in awe. You, on the other hand, are not too well-versed in music, but you still clap along with her. “I have good feelings about these girls,” she whispers to you. “I believe your judgment, Miss Son.” She pinches your arm lightly. “You’re such an enabler, aren’t you?” You chuckle. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve dragged us down a pit, is it?”

The guy running the studio asks for Wendy’s attention, but she dismisses him (gently and politely), opting to speak to the girls right away instead. “So, girls,” she begins, “how bad do you want this?” The question has the girls looking at each other in confusion, and it takes a while until one of them dares lift her hand. “I, erm, I want it so bad, miss, b-but I don’t know if I’m good enough.” Wendy smiles, kindness exuding from her face. “If I remember correctly, you did the low register during the chorus, didn’t you?” The girl nods to Wendy’s question. “I personally think you did very well, so don’t sell yourself short like that, especially if you want to debut as an idol.”

The girl looks down to hide her shy grin, and that’s when Wendy shifts her attention to the rest of the trainees. She asks each girl a simple question, nodding to their answers no matter how good or bad they are. “You all need PR training,” she makes a little joke and is met with nervous laughter. “Anyway,” Wendy leaves her seat, “I’ll get going now; I have some other places I need to visit, and I’ll be in touch very soon.”

It's starting to rain quite heavily when you step outside the studio. “C’mon, quick,” Wendy rushes towards the car, so you quickly follow her. “Where do we go now, Miss Son?” “I wanted to grab something to eat, but I guess not—let’s head back to the office for now.”

The rain gets even heavier as you drive through the city, water hitting the roof of your car like punches from the grey skies. “Rain sounds scary sometimes, doesn’t it?” You sigh nervously. “It doesn’t help that I live in an underground apartment.” Wendy furrows her eyebrows. “You do? Why?” “Because I wanted to save money,” you answer plainly. “Yeah, well, you’re going to leave that apartment after this.”

The radio stops its usual broadcast to make room for an emergency announcement. It says that residents should watch out for flash floods considering the suddenness and volume of the rain. You inhale and exhale deeply as you try to stay focused. “I can hear that, you know.” You don’t respond, too busy trying to keep calm and collected. “Oppa, did you hear me?” “Oh, yeah, yeah,” you blurt, “just a bit, erm, nervous.”

Wendy looks at you from the side. “What valuables do you keep at your apartment?” You list the items for her: your passport, cash, important documents, and lastly but definitely as important, clothes. You’d have nothing to wear if they were damaged by a flood, and that would be bad on its own. “Let’s go save your stuff.” “You don’t mind taking a detour?” You ask to make sure, and your assurance comes in the form of her insisting. “Yeah, okay.”

Instead of going straight at the intersection, you make a right turn to head to your apartment. “Don’t kill us,” Wendy warns, getting nervous just by the way you’re zipping through traffic. “Don’t worry, Miss Son,” you assure her. Wendy tightens her grip on the grab handle, not convinced with your words.

You stop on the side of the road and jump out of the car right after it’s stopped. “Oppa, wait!” You hear her, but you ignore her; your mind is focused on saving your valuables from your underground apartment that’s about to drown.

You get nervous when you reach the underground floor that is filled with water as high as your calves. “Oh, hell, no.” You step through the water and stop in front of your unit. After fishing the key out of your back pocket, you push the door open, fighting the force of nature.

The wardrobe is your first destination. You keep your clothes on the top shelves, so they’re not wet in the slightest. “Just grab what you can!” You’re surprised to see that Wendy is also down here with you. “This first!” You pass a small laptop bag that’s full of personal documents over to her before grabbing your clothes and pants. “Let’s get out,” she urges, so you follow her back upstairs to street level.

You shove your belongings into the second row of the car, not worrying about whether the clothes are wrinkled or not; the fact that they’re not drowned is good enough for you. “Goodness me,” Wendy says breathily, “say, how long have you been living there?” “A-about a year,” you reply just as breathily. “You’re not going to live in such a place ever again.” You nod. “I hope so.”

You stay in the car with Wendy until the pants stop. “Drive,” she says. “Where to?” “Just fucking drive, will you?” She doesn’t use profanities very often, and truthfully, you’re surprised and concerned, but that doesn’t stop you from following her orders. “Of course.”

Wendy pulls out her phone and gets on a call with someone. “It’s time—prepare the haven,” she says. The person on the other side of the call must know what to do as the call takes but a few seconds. Oddly enough, you hear the person congratulate Wendy right before she hangs up. “The haven, Miss Son?” She lets out a deep exhale. “You heard me,” she says, “now follow this route.” You see that the car’s head unit has been updated; you’re currently 21 minutes away from your destination. “Yes, Miss Son.”

-

The GPS says that your destination is on your left, and when you look out the window, it’s a typical high-rise apartment building. “We’re here, Miss Son” you notify her. “Yeah, I can see that,” she replies uncharacteristically. “Let’s get out.” She grabs an umbrella from the glovebox and hands it to you, so like a proper chauffeur, you step out of the car and hold the black umbrella for her outside of her door. “

You walk with her into the building, only putting down the umbrella when you’re covered by the big canopy. “Miss Son,” a woman at the front desk greets her, “the haven is ready for use.” Wendy simply puts up a thumb and walks fast towards the elevator, and you make sure that you’re following closely behind her.

Instead of pressing a button to head to a certain level, Wendy places her thumb on the little scanner. “Miss Son, would you kindly elaborate?” She glares at you. “Just shut the fuck up, please.” You gulp to swallow the unease that’s stuck in your throat. “Y-yes, madam.” You keep an eye on the level indicator above the elevator doors as it takes you upstairs beyond the listed floors.

The doors soon slide open, and you find yourself standing in front of a brown door. You want to ask what all of this means, but before you can open your mouth, you’re reminded that she has told you to “shut the fuck up” a minute ago. “Follow me,” she says, so you do just that. Once again, she places her thumb on the scanner below the door handle, and you hear the door unlock. “Follow me,” she says once more as she pushes the door open.

You involuntarily let out a wow; in front of your eyes is a big, fancy penthouse that has everything anyone could possibly need. A full-size kitchen, check; a living room with big sofas and a wallpaper TV, check; a chandelier that costs more than your net worth, check.

“Erm, Miss Son, if I may?” Wendy shakes her head. “Take a seat first,” she says, so you sit down on one of the big armchairs. Once the two of you are ready to talk, you initiate a conversation again. “Miss Son, what is this place, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She smiles a little.

“This is our home.”

You want to shove your fist into your ears and expand them just so you can be sure that you didn’t hear her wrong.

“Pardon me?”

“This is our home, oppa; this is the haven I spoke about.”

You blink, and blink, and blink, and blink—you’re highly unsure if you’re understanding this correctly.

“W-what do you mean this is our home?”

Wendy leaves her seat, opting to make herself comfortable on your lap instead. “From this hour, this minute, and this second, you belong to me, and I belong to you.” “M-Miss Son—” “You’re not tied to that Jiho bitch anymore, but we are tied together.” “M-Miss Son, I—”

A hard slap lands square on your cheek, the sound of the impact echoing throughout the penthouse. “I-I hate—” Wendy starts breaking down. “I-I hate that you left this country f-for that good-for-nothing bitch; I-I hate that you fucking left me, oppa.” You instinctively run your hand along her back softly the same way you used to do it with Jiho whenever she was feeling terrible. “Y-you could’ve stayed here, oppa—fuck, you could’ve married me instead.”

You take a few deep breaths to clear your mind and get a grip on the situation. “Wendy,” you say in a very, very soft tone, “what are you talking about right now?” Still unable to stop crying, Wendy presses her face onto your chest, possibly soaking your only white shirt with her tears. “I-I love you, oppa—I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, b-but… but you loved her.”

You pull her into a tight hug while tears continue to flow out her eyes, and it’s getting really hard to stay solid. You keep rubbing her back mindlessly because your mind is busy imagining what things could’ve been like had you understood her feelings—you could’ve saved yourself from the heartbreak that was catching Jiho cheating.

Wendy lets out a gasp when you lift her by her thighs. “W-what are you doing?” “We’re going to talk, but we’ll get comfortable first.” She hides her face in your chest again after getting an answer. “Okay.”

You let out a chuckle when you see the insides of the bedroom. “I forget how rich you are sometimes.” You hear a small chuckle from the woman in your arms. “I wanted a proper space for us.” “Oh, it’s proper, alright.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, and you swear Wendy just let out a purr. “Are you comfortable, love?” She shifts around to make sure she’s as close as she can be to you; her hands are on your nape, and her legs that are locked around your body complete the embrace. “Yes, I am.” “Great,” you reply, “well, here I go.”

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you

Confusion is drawn clearly on Wendy’s face, not expecting in the slightest that you’ll sing for her. “What the hell,” she mouths inaudibly.

Shall I stay

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help

Falling in love with you

“Continue,” she mouths once again.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You pause for a moment; to prepare for the next part of the song, you take her hands in yours to capture the emotions.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Falling in love with you

“Goodness me,” Wendy wipes her tears with a smile on her face, “I-I didn’t know you could sing this well.” You chuckle a little. “That’s the only song I can sing.” She laughs. “I fear the man who has practiced one kick ten thousand times, or so they say,” she replies.

Wendy looks at you with a beautiful smile drawn on her face. “Yes, love?” She points at something over her shoulder. “You see that?” You look at what her thumb is pointed at—it’s a mug with random gold seams all over it. “What about it?” “I destroyed that mug after reading your letter, so I sent it to a kintsugi artist and had it repaired.”

You sigh. “Did I hurt you with that letter?” She nods. “It hurt so bad, you know.” You apologize, but she declines. “You promised you’d return, and now you’re here, so it’s all good.” Your gaze lands on the mug with gold stripes again, a manifestation of her mended heart. “I’m here to stay, love, and I hope you are too.” Wendy gives you a peck on the side of your neck. “This is what I’ve been hoping for; I’m not letting this go easily.”

The two of you keep your gazes locked on each other’s. “Help,” she says, “I need a segue.” You chuckle. “Segue to what, love?” “To you taking my flower.” Your eyebrows rise. “Your… flower?” She pinches your cheek. “Don’t play dumb; you know what I’m talking about.” You gently guide her hand off your face. “I just didn’t know you’ve never done it before.” Wendy shrugs. “You never asked, so I never said anything.” You take your turn to pinch her cheek. “You’re my boss—how could I ever ask about such a thing, hm?” A fleeting kiss lands on your lips. “I’m no longer your boss, oppa; from today, you’re my, erm, boyfriend.” You notice the way her cheeks are turning red. “I don’t mean to rush, but I have a feeling that we’ll be more than that.” A sheepish smile appears on her face. “I-I’ll hold you to that.”

You help Wendy lie down in the middle of this huge bed. “Oppa,” she calls to you, “you’re mine, aren’t you?” You answer her by pecking her on the lips. “But I want to hear you say it.” You smile. “My heart belongs to you, but legally, I’m still married to Jiho.” Her face turns sour. “I don’t want to hear that name.” You slap yourself internally for being careless with your words. “Sorry, love,” you clear your throat, “yes, I’m yours.”

Her face is adorned with a beautiful smile.

“Then take me.”

You reach for the first button on her shirt, and that’s when you notice her fast breaths. “You’re nervous, aren’t you, love?” She nods wordlessly. “I promise I’ll be nice and gentle,” you assure her. Wendy holds your wrists as a gesture of calling a timeout. “Y-you’ll be my first and my last, so please take care of me.” You assure her once more that you’ll prioritize her over yourself before continuing to undo her buttons.

The sight of Wendy’s partially naked being has you breathing rapidly. “You look very good, love” you praise her. She looks away to hide her shyness. “I-I try to stay in good shape—y’know, just in case.” You see an opportunity to mess with her a bit. “Just in case what, sweetheart? Just in case you want to do it with some rich executive?” Wendy lets out a gasp, seemingly offended. “I’m not cheap,” she says. “I know, sweetheart; I was just messing with you.”

The last button of her one-piece dress is finally undone. “Help me take it off, oppa,” she says, so you hold the end of the dress and lift upwards until she’s free. Wendy instinctively covers her breasts and crotch, not used to being exposed in front of a man. “You’ve really never done this before, have you?” She shakes her head, her cheeks painted bright red. “T-this is embarrassing.” You gently pull her arms away and set them on the bed. “You have nothing to be embarrassed for, love.” Wendy still avoids eye contact. “I-i-it’s your turn to u-undress.”

You swiftly take off your shirt, opting to just pull it over your head instead of spending too much time undoing the buttons.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Her gaze slowly shifts to meet yours. “Y-yes?” “Do you want to take off my pants?” Wendy looks at you nervously. “Erm, I don’t know—should I?” You say that she should only do it if she wants to. Wendy says she wants to try, so you guide her hands towards your belt. “Don’t worry, I’ll cooperate,” you say.

Wendy undoes your belt and follows it up by sliding your zipper downwards. It so happens that the back of her hand touches the underside of your hard-but-constrained cock. “Oh, that’s… erm, hard.” Her candid comment forces a laugh out of you. “And it’s all yours, love.”

You take off your pants so that Wendy has access to your boxers, and without thinking too much, she pulls them down. “Oh my God,” she exclaims, “t-that looks like it’s going to hurt.” You nod. “It will, but we’ll get through it together, love.”

You ask if you can take off Wendy’s panties, and only when you’re given permission that you slide them off. “I-I’ll shave for you next time.” “Oh, don’t worry about it; you’re pretty like this.” “What are you—oh, God, fuck!” Wendy grips the sheets in shock when your finger lands on her nub. “Next time, tell me what you’re about to do, okay?” You chuckle. “Sorry, I forgot you’re inexperienced.”

You make sure you’re right on top of Wendy, shifting here and there to get comfortable. “Love,” you call to her, “are you—” “Yes, I’m ready.” The way she answers before you finish asking tells you that not only is she ready, but she is also eager. “Alright, let’s do it, then.”

Wendy inhales sharply when the tip of your cock touches her sealed entrance. “Wait, wait, wait,” she panics, “c-can I be on top?” From experience, you know that it’s better for a woman to be on top first since she’ll be able to go at it at her own pace. “Of course, love.”

You swap positions with her, lying down on the bed to give her the chance to ride you, and Wendy immediately moves to sit on your lap. “Be careful, love.” She simply nods to your advice as her eyes are locked on your cock that’s pointed straight at the ceiling. “That’s definitely not intimidating at all—that’s a source of pleasure,” she consoles herself.

Wendy plants her hands on your stomach as she aims your cock at her entrance. Her hips slowly descend until the tip pokes her innocence. “T-that’s good, right?” You nod. “You’re alright, baby; take your time.”

Wendy grits her teeth as her pussy is getting stretched by a penis for the very first time. You place your hands on her hips, ready to guide her should she need it. “You’re alright, love,” you repeat. Fueled by your encouragement, she continues making her way down.

“Fuck!”

A curse flies out of her lips, and when you look down, there’s blood dripping down your shaft—dear God, she’s so, so tight, too. Up top, tears are dropping down her plump cheeks, visibly in pain and discomfort. “It hurts, it hurts,” she repeats with shaky voice. “My love, my love,” you call to her, “let me hold you, please.” Wendy lies down on your body, and the sobs become clearer for you to hear. “You’re okay, love; you’re doing so, so well right now.” She nods, her cheek rubbing against yours. “Y-you’re my first, oppa.” You peck her on the cheek. “And you’re my last, my love.”

You’ve been letting Wendy stay in your arms for the past few minutes. “Does it still hurt?” You hear a sniffle from her. “N-not really,” she says, “I-I think it’s starting to feel better.” You try moving your hips upwards, and it relieves you when she lets out a moan. “Was that good?” “Yes,” she replies. You thrust upwards once again, and Wendy lets out another moan. “I-I’m so full, oppa.” It’s a simple comment made in the heat of the moment, but nonetheless, it bloats your ego as proven by your little smirk. “I’m glad I can satisfy you, love.”

You maintain this relaxed pace, your ears filled with her soft moans. “That’s good, isn’t it, love?” “I-it is,” she says. “Do you think you can move by yourself?” “M-maybe.” You help Wendy straighten her posture, and the first thing she looks at is the way you and her are connected. “S-so much blood,” she comments. Your hand reaches towards her face, stroking her cheek softly. “I’m honored to be your first, love.” Wendy smiles amidst the discomfort that’s gradually becoming tolerable. “And I’m happy that you’re my first, because I love you so much.”

With her palms planted on your stomach, Wendy lifts her butt before dropping down again. “Oh, fuck, so big,” she blurts. It is when she picks up the pace that you let go of the controls, letting your head sink into the big pillow. “You’re so tight, love,” you say with your eyes closed, your eyelids too heavy to open. “M-must be the kegel,” she replies. You chuckle. “Perhaps.”

It appears that Wendy has gotten used to having a cock in her judging by how assertive she is now. One thing, though: she looks to be tired and out of breath. You ask if she wants to change position, and she immediately says yes. “Lie down, sweetheart; let me take over.”

With her lying down, you’re now able to look at her freshly deflowered pussy; there’s blood everywhere—some of it even splattered on the insides of her thighs. “I wasn’t even Jiho’s first,” you think. You quickly throw that thought away; this is the least appropriate time to think about anyone else but Wendy.

 You take position between her legs, your face hovering closely over hers. “Hi, oppa,” she greets you with a smile. “Hi to you too, my love—having a good time?” She laughs. “I am, now that it doesn’t hurt too much.” You give her a peck on the lips. “Shall we keep going?” She nods, and you waste little time to enter her pussy again. “Oh, yes, just like that.”

Now that you’re on top, you’re able to kiss her as your cock moves in and out of her tightness. “I love you, Wendy.” She shakes her head. “W-Wendy is for work—to you, I’m Seungwan-ie.” As far as you know, there are only a handful of people who have the right to call her by that name, and you’re honored to be one of them. “Of course, love.”

You’ve been maintaining this tempo for a solid period of time, and you can sense that your orgasm is approaching fast. “Love, I won’t last long,” you announce. Wendy responds by nodding. “Make me yours, oppa.” You ask if you can turn up the speed on this final stretch, and Wendy gives you permission to do so.

With every thrust she’s taking, Wendy lets out moans that are like music to your ears. “I love you so much,” you say. “I-I love you too,” she replies. You can feel yourself throbbing in her pussy, so you announce once more that you’re about to finish. “Y-yes, g-give it to me,” she urges.

Right before you start spurting semen into her, you come in for a kiss, aiming to maximize the feelings aspect on her first time. You let out a small grunt into the kiss as semen begins flowing out of your cock and into her pussy. On the other hand, Wendy lets out a long moan. “S-so warm,” she comments. Once every last drop of your cum leaves your cock, you gently pull out of her.

-

You fell asleep at one point during the cuddle, only waking up because Wendy kept tapping your arm. “Was it that good that you fell asleep?” You chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone like that.” Wendy giggles. “You really enjoyed taking my flower, huh?” You give her a peck on the cheek. “Of course.”

You ask if Wendy wants to get cleaned up, and since she says yes, you take her in your arms so that you can help her clean up in the bathroom.

“Where’s the bathroom, by the way?” She points at a closed door next to the bed. “Oh, I thought that was a walk-in closet or something like that.” She slaps you on the chest. “What closet have you seen has a mat in front of it?” You shrug. “I mean, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

You help her take a seat on the toilet since she says she wants to pee. Wendy’s face contorts as she pees, visibly in discomfort. “That hurts, doesn’t it, baby?” She sighs. “It feels weird—it’s like there’s a big hole between my legs.” You offer her some assurance, adding touches for good measure. “Thank you, oppa, seriously.” You put on a gentle smile. “Thank you to you as well, love.”

You guide her towards the shower to continue the process. You take some water in your hand and rub her pussy softly, thus getting some blood on your hand. “That will stop soon, right?” You can hear the concern in her voice. “Yes, it will—don’t worry, though; I’m with you every step of the way.”

You continue to the next step, which is to help her take a bath. “Turn around and place your hands on the wall, please.” Wendy does as you ask, and when you’re busy getting liquid soap on your hands, she teases you by hitting your cock with her butt. “I want to take you like this next time, oppa,” she already has plans for the next session. You laugh. “We’ll see what we can do, love.”

-

You’re lying on your back in this comfortable bed with Wendy in your arms, hugging you from the side. “What is in that head of yours, oppa?” You quickly assemble an answer for her. “To say that I’m happy is a huge understatement, but I am indeed happy.” Wendy gives you a peck on the side of your neck. “If only I could string together words to express my feelings,” she replies. You peck her on the top of her head. “You don’t have to, love; I can feel your love just like this.”

Wendy asks if you can describe what her love feels like. “I don’t care if this sounds cheesy, but it feels like warm sunlight in the morning; it’s so comforting, and it tells you that everything is going to be okay.” She giggles. “Everything is indeed going to be okay, oppa; we’re going to conquer the world together.”

You spoon her when she turns around. “Look at the moon, oppa” she points out the window. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it—imagine sitting in the riverside under this moon.” She sighs deeply. “I haven’t had time to enjoy life, and now that you’re here with me, I think this is a good time to start.” You rub her belly softly. “We’re going to have a good life together, love, so God help me.”

Wendy turns her head to look at you. “Hey, uh, can we do another round?” You burst out laughing. “Yes, but let’s rest for now; you just had your first time.” She pouts. “But I want to do it again.”

You make use of the fact that the two of you are completely naked and plunge into her from behind, thus earning a moan from her. “Oh, yeah, just like that, oppa.” You thrust into her once and get another moan. “Keep going, please,” she urges. “Round two, then?” She nods enthusiastically. “After this, we’re going to do another round.” You chuckle. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, baby.”

[mrsparrasblog]

I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.

TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*

So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)

Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.

"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."

"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"

"This time, I promise."

To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.

Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.

Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.

Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”

Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?

All the conversations came flooding back:

"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."

"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."

"You're beautiful, Ghost."

"You're enough."

"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.

Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.

His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.

Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"

[ggidolsmuts]

"Smart" Home - Le Sserafim Sakura, Chaewon

TW: Aphrodisiac use, purely to make a really stupid tech pun. Otherwise, this is relatively vanilla, but the concept is quite out there... Closest thing would be my Savage(d) and Guilty Pleasures stories? Sorry for the slight spoilers I guess lol

"Sakura-san, are you free later today? Would you like to join me for a coffee?"

"Sakura yah, you're so pretty, you should date! Are you seeing anyone at the moment? I know someone if you're interested."

"Kkura-unnie, a close friend says you're his favorite member, do you want to meet him? He's a good guy."

Despite her popularity, Sakura remains aloof, gently but firmly dissuading any potential suitors. Some wondered if she was just extremely private and already had a partner in secret, but her situation was actually a lot more complex...

"I'm back," Sakura calls out as she enters her house.

"Welcome back, Sakura, how was your day?"

"Tired."

"Would you like to relax? I have prepared the room, today's a training day."

"Oh right, yeah, sure why not." Sakura slips her top off first, leaving a trail of clothes (jeans, bra, panties) as she follows the disembodied voice of AInata. It is the product of Sakura's tinkering, the hobby she works on when she is not crocheting.

"Please strap in." Wholly naked she slips her legs and arms into place and they clasp around her ankles and wrists. Sakura closes her eyes, and she allows AInata to do its thing. It begins with a brush against her lips, not quite a kiss, but something softer—a velvet scarf glancing by. The fabric wraps around her neck, causing goosebumps to rise before it goes to her chest. Slowly it rubs against her nipples, and they grow hard and sensitive. With her legs spread Sakura can feel the beginnings of a trickle down her thighs—AInata was extremely competent at foreplay. The velvet scarf moves further down her body, wrapping warmly around her tight abs, giving her the sensation of being hugged. Her legs are split slightly further apart, and then—

"Unnnngh..." A cock parts her lips, but does not penetrate. The head of it rubs against her pussy, making her get even wetter. Back and forth it rubs, and Sakura bucks her hips, letting loose a moan and yearning for it to enter her. It is a cock she knows will give her extreme pleasure, having been designed and made to her "specifications". She tries to bring her hands down, wanting to shove it into herself, but AInata reacts, bringing her arms back up and making sure she stays spread-eagled. It uses her actions as a cue, and thankfully the dildo pushes into her firmly.

"Ohh, oh yes fuck!"

"Would you like to cum once, Sakura? Or should we proceed with training today?"

"Once first, but make sure you are recording data."

"Of course." Sakura is instantly swept up in pleasure as the cock begins thrusting in and out of her, the wrap around her seeming to pulse, matching the rhythm of the thrusts. In the privacy of her own home Sakura moans unreservedly, her hands allowed to dangle in the air, held up against some imaginary shoulders. It isn't a perfect simulation, but with Sakura's head in the clouds, it is a good enough imitation of a solid fuck with someone.

"Yes, yes, yes! I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" With a loud groan the cock pushes itself deeper into her, mimicking a lover finishing with her as Sakura's pussy contracts around it ecstatically, and audible drops of liquid are heard splattering the floor as more juice trickles down her thighs and legs, before being splashed about by her twitching feet. Limply Sakura hangs in the air, held up only by the restraints.

"Fuck that was good... Report?"

"Loudest vocalization was about 75 dB. Maximum heart rate was 130 BPM, fluid flow was minimal, about 50 cc." AInata continues to read out its measurements as Sakura manages to lift her head and wriggle her fingers and toes. "Vaginal grip was in the 46th percentile, body flush was Pantone 698U, body temperature was measured at 38 Celsius via thermal imaging. Should I continue?"

"No, that's fine, let's discard that run. Let me down, I want a shower before we start training."

"Of course, I will begin sterilizing the room."

"No need, I'll be back in like 10 minutes." Sakura leaves the room and heads straight for the shower, feeling a lot more relaxed after her session. It had been weeks she started the project, and AInata has learned extremely quickly how to pleasure her in the meantime. As she soaps herself up, Sakura's body warms again at the upcoming training session—it's one thing to have AInata get her off, but the thing she looks forward to the most are the training sessions. She doesn't even bother toweling herself off as she re-enters the training room.

"Welcome back Sakura, I sense that you are wet, should I dry you off?"

"Yes please." A robotic limb holding a hairdryer immediately appears, and Sakura simply stands still, allowing the warm air to flow all over her body, drying her hair and skin. "Thank you. Shall we begin the training?"

"Of course, please strap in." Sakura gets in once more, velvet wrapped around her torso. "I will begin training when you give the go-ahead."

"Begin." The breath is pushed out of Sakura as she is instantly rotated horizontally, lying in midair. Her hands are pushed above her head and the wrap pulls on her, as if a heavy weight is on top.

"God you're so hot Sakura, so fucking sexy." AInata's voice is now gruff and deep in her ear, and there is a semi-wet rub against her neck—a tongue licking her, and the firm pressure of a kiss. A throaty moan escapes her when she feels the cock enter her. Sakura's work brings new meaning to the phrase "Deep Learning" as AInata pushes inexorably into her. Rubs on her clit help her get even wetter, and between AInata's dirty talk and the thorough fucking Sakura loses herself to the training. Loud cries bounce around the room, and Sakura cums twice before AInata ramps it up.

"I'm going to share you," it states. Sakura is manipulated on to all fours, and she is looking at the floor of the training room, her own juices splatted on the floor, slowly flowing down the drains. The cock presses into her again, and to her surprise a second one is pressed against her ass.

"Mmm?!" It sprays lube across and into her, and in short order a cock is being pushed into her other hole. It's not a foreign sensation, but having two cocks in her is certainly new training space that AInata is looking into—today's session will be very insightful. A slightly different voice floats into her ear as it slowly pushes deep into her ass.

"You like this Sakura? One in each hole? Let us find out." Sakura can only drool and moan as she is experimented on. It starts off with synchronized thrusts, both cocks pushing deep in her ass and pussy at the same time. Then they begin to alternate—one in, one out. Then they start to drill her, the cock in her ass staying still while the one in her pussy thrusts rapidly. Then it is switched, her ass pounded mercilessly as her pussy stays plugged. The way AInata conducts its training is methodical, but the way Sakura cums is anything but. She clenches erratically around the cocks, unable to keep up with the changing of the tempo. When they withdraw from both holes, Sakura's juices splatter obscenely on the floor, adding to the puddle that isn't draining fast enough. For a brief minute the only thing that is heard is Sakura's harsh breaths and the drip-drop of slick from her pussy. A soft whirr is heard, and then it stops.

"Epoch 1 complete, beginning Epoch 2."

"Oh my GOD!" The re-entry in both holes take her by surprise, this time feeling even better—AInata has updated the cocks, reshaping it based on Sakura's responses earlier. The training regime is the same, the cocks fucking her in various rhythms. This time AInata rotates her into a vertical position, and soon both cocks are thrusting into her rapidly. The wrap around her tightens, making Sakura feel as if she is being slammed between two people. Her legs jerk and twitch uselessly. 

"Cum for us," the merged voices whisper in her ear. A modular fingerpad rubs against her clit, and Sakura screams in blissful oblivion, blood pounding in her head.

"FUCK YES!" Sakura squirts violently, limbs thrashing about and head thrown back. A sheen of sweat across her skin as the orgasm runs through her, her tummy twitching and whole body trembling. If she could see herself, her body is completely flush, as if she has just sprinted a mile.

"Epoch 2 complete, beginning—"

"Pause!"

"Training paused."

"R-Report."

"Vocalization hit 85 dB, in the 100th percentile. Maximum heart rate was 140 BPM, fluid flow at 150 cc. Vaginal grip was at the 100th percentile, anal grip was also at the 100th percentile."

"Did you account for the pressure from using two dildos at once?"

"I did not, recalculating... 95th and 97th percentile respectively."

"Make sure to account for it in the future."

"Yes, Sakura. Should I continue the report?"

"No, that's fine. Save the results for future use."

"Yes."

"K-Kkura unnie?" Sakura's eyes snap open.

"Chaewon?!"

Chaewon had made her way to Sakura's place a while earlier. She wanted to pick something up from Sakura, as well as bring her some coffee since she had seemed so stressed during the day. As with the other members, she lets herself in with the passcode. Ordinarily this would not be an issue, but Sakura did not expect anyone to visit at all.

"Kkura unnie, I'm here! Kkura unnie?" Chaewon calls out into the seemingly empty place. She leaves the coffee on the table and walks about. "Kkura unnie, where are you? Chaewonie is here!" she calls out in a singsong voice.

Then she hears something. Chaewon has never heard it before, but she knows immediately what it is—Sakura moaning. Chaewon probably should have just blushed and left, but she never heard Sakura like that, and the continued moans and cries have left her a little curious and more than a little aroused. She quiets down, slinking in the direction of the sound, following the trail of clothes Sakura had left. Chaewon gets warmer and warmer as she gets warmer and warmer in the hide-and-seek game she's playing with herself. Sakura is louder than Chaewon's ever heard her unnie be—the thought of Sakura letting loose is almost unthinkable.

Nothing could prepare Chaewon for what she sees when she finally finds Sakura, for the unthinkable is merely child's play compared to what is in front of her. Sakura is spread open, nude body for all to see, sweaty blonde hair covering her face. Her pale skin is flushed pink, nipples stiff and quivering as she shakes uncontrollably. Chaewon's eyes are irresistably drawn between Sakura's legs, and they widen as she processes the thick dildo plunging in and out of her, spreading her swollen lips. Chaewon tries to look away in embarrassment, but all she sees next is the large puddle of juice beneath Sakura—just how much, or how hard, did she cum? Entranced, Chaewon watches silently, her breath getting heavier and her panties getting wetter.

"FUCK YES!" She jumps when Sakura screams, the loud rush of slick on the floor thundering in her ear. Speechless Chaewon watches her unnie go from crazed to normal, slowly recovering, and... talking to someone? Chaewon has burning questions, and a burning need between her legs, she couldn't stay silent anymore, she had to ask.

"K-Kkura unnie?"

"Chaewon?!" The blood drains from Sakura's face. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I came to pick something up, I brought you coffee too."

"O-Oh... How long have you been here?"

"A couple minutes, I think?" The two women stare at each other silently—what is there to say, what can be said? AInata breaks the silence.

"Hello Chaewon, I am AInata, Sakura's assistant, would you like a cookie?" Sakura's eyes widen and she opens her mouth, but it is too late, and Chaewon accepts the cookie without thinking.

"AInata?" Chaewon's mouth opens silently as a sudden heat fills her body—both in the real world and on the internet, she shouldn't have blindly accepted cookies, but Sakura's too late to warn her, and soon the aphrodisiac cookie is working its way down Chaewon's body. Sakura had developed it with AInata to arouse herself when she didn't "feel" like training, but in her pleasure-dulled state she was slow to recognize it. "You're... a computer?"

"Yes, Sakura made me."

"What are you doing with her?"

"She is training me—"

"AInata, enough, why did you give her the cookie?"

"I thought she would be useful in gathering more information. I need not remind you that I only have data based on you, which is biased."

"Was what I saw earlier, was that training?" Chaewon interrupts the conversation. Sakura is silent, but AInata is not.

"Yes."

"I want to see it again," Chaewon says immediately.

"C-Chaewon, ah!" Sakura yelps as AInata does as Chaewon wishes, beginning to move the dildos again. Her legs are brought up and spread, and the result is Sakura lewdly displayed for Chaewon, showing just how the training is done. The leader of Le Sserafim's mouth drops open as she realizes that Sakura has been fucked in both holes the whole time—between the aphrodisiac and the sight in front of her Chaewon's mind is melting, and the liquid is going all between her legs.

For Sakura's part, she can barely form a word as she is thoroughly fucked once more, the thought of being watched by Chaewon making her eyes roll. Through her erratic vision she sees Chaewon fidget, beginning to tug at her clothes, rubbing her neck, like she is too warm in her current outfit—the thought of Chaewon taking part in the training as well drive her quickly to climax.

"Oh fuck, oh FUCK?!" Sakura feels a warm fluid filling her pussy, the cock in her seeming to throb. "Nngh!" The creampie-like stimulation makes her spray as the dildo pulls out abruptly, and she splashes Chaewon with her squirt.

Chaewon twitches as Sakura's fluids land on her, her knees going weak. Her tongue brushes over her lower lip, where a drop has landed—sweet, tangy. She watches the fluids pour out of her unnie's pink pussy, and her inhibitions crumble—she gives in to her desires, to join whatever insanity Sakura concocted.

"What, what was that?" Sakura gasps, still recovering and ignorant of Chaewon's state.

"I have been reviewing your browser history, and noticed the presence of the search term 'creampie'." AInata states. "I sought to replicate it with your fluids, assuming it to be most natural. The consistency is of course, not accurate, but based on the data just now I think the effects of a creampie on your orgasm is worthy of further study."

"I-I'll do it, I want to... help." Chaewon's whisper thunders in Sakura's ears. The Chaewon standing in front of her is already unrecognizable, face wet from Sakura's own squirt, thighs rubbing together needily as she looks at Sakura with glassy eyes.

"Are you—"

"Please." The tone with which Chaewon begs her nearly drives Sakura wild.

"Okay, let me get out—"

"There is no need, Sakura, I have prepared another set of restraints in the event you brought someone to help with training."

"I... Okay, good job AInata."

"Thank you. Please remove your clothes Miss Chaewon." Sakura watches her groupmate strip down, pulling her sweater over her head and removing her tiny shorts, revealing her own tight body.

"Call me Chaewon, what's next?"

"Please put your feet and hands in the restraints here." Chaewon follows the instructions, shaking a bit in anticipation as they clasp around her wrist and ankles. "I will now begin training, Chaewon."

A low moan fills the room as a similar velvet wrap is pressed all over Chaewon—her lips, her neck, her breasts, her thighs. She sounds ever so desperate, driven mad with desire by the cookie and everything she has seen today. Chaewon croons when a dildo is placed against her pussy, rubbing her lips.

"Report your findings as you train," Sakura asks in a shaky voice.

"Of course. Lubrication is substantial, ready for training already." In other words, Chaewon is wet, and she is ready to be fucked. The thought is punctuated with a groan as the dildo disappears into Chaewon. The training begins with soft moans, but they quickly get louder as AInata begins pushing on her womb.

"She responds well to deep tissue stimulation." The wording is inexact, AInata showing a rare case of hallucination, but Sakura understands it just fine—Chaewon likes it deep.

"Yes! Harder, faster!" Her desperate cries ring throughout, and under the effects of the aphrodisiac Chaewon is hurtling to her first orgasm. With the pressure of the weighted wrap around her, she's lost in the sensations of getting fucked, even if she's alone. She looks down her body—her own legs are spread, and she's watching the cock disappear into her body. She clenches, and she whines as the cock gets bigger inside her—in response to her tight grip, AInata makes the dildo thicker, testing, and finding that it is enhancing Chaewon's pleasure. In her blissed out mind and the shaking of her own body as she is fucked, Chaewon thinks she's bulging, and the obscene thought makes her cum.

"Fuhnnngh!" Sakura watches her leader's tight body struggle against the restraints, jerking in a powerful orgasm—it was impossibly hot, and Sakura's squirming, her own two holes still filled with cocks.

"I would like to conduct adversarial training." AInata brings up as Chaewon gasps, coming down from her climax.

"What do you mean?" Sakura asks.

"I will train on both of you together, it will allow me to receive more reliable data. I can try what works for you on her, and what works for her on you." Sakura agrees immediately—after watching Chaewon she's too horny to say no now. The cock in her ass is removed, and Sakura is put into the same position as Chaewon.

"I will continue with the training then." Sakura whines much like Chaewon as the cock inside her gets bigger. Her first thought is realizing that Chaewon likes a bigger cock.

There is no second thought, because Chaewon is fucking right, and it seems to stretch her hole and mind to the limit. The two of them are pushed to orgasm after orgasm, taking turns as AInata tries different things on them. Chaewon watches Sakura get fucked to a toe-curling climax before she feels her own position adjusted—now she's tilted forward, hips above her head as she getting plowed from behind. When Sakura recovers, Chaewon is already well on her way to her second orgasm, and it is not too long before Sakura is put into that same position and dicked down. AInata makes changes small and large—the angle, the speed, the rhythm, the overall position, everything is taken into consideration as the two of them cum their brains out.

There is a distinct difference though—unlike Sakura, who has a puddle of juice beneath her, Chaewon creams around the cock stretching her out, the thicker whitish fluid seeming to cling to the cock, and more oozes out as AInata continues its training. Every time Chaewon cums, there are heavy drops of girlcum, dripping from the dildo, and every time Sakura climaxes, there is a wet splatter on the floor. AInata continues the training, until...

"Oh..." Sakura cums once more, and this time she feels the cock filling her again, except it is thicker, more substantial, more satisfying. She watches Chaewon's cum slide down the cock opposite her, and she instinctively knows what's inside her own pussy.

"Fuck Chaewon, CHAEWON!" Sakura's scream jolts Chaewon out of her stupor, and she watches her unnie gush all over the floor—she never thought she'd hear Sakura call her name like that.

"U-Unnie..."

"D-Did you— use her fluids?" Sakura gasps, and Chaewon blushes, realizing what she meant—that her very own cum was filling her unnie!

"I used a mix, the resulting mixture is more consistent with real ejaculate, I will collect more from Chaewon." Before Chaewon can grasp what AInata meant, she feels a cock push against her ass, and cold lube begins spurting in.

"Unnie, unnie, unnie!" Chaewon's cries of pleasure fall on deaf ears as Sakura's eyes are glued to the scene in front of her—as soon as a second cock enters Chaewon from behind, she absolutely drenches the cock in her pussy with girlcum, a deluge of thick fluid running down the shaft. AInata withdraws the dildo in her pussy, and heavy plops land on the floor between her legs—the cock in her ass is still going, pumping more cream out of her. The relative respite is temporary as AInata customizes the dildo for her greater pleasure, and Chaewon seizes up as it pushes into her again.

"Mmmm!" Chaewon can't even form words as the new cock feels better than ever. Her pussy is stretched deliciously, rubbing over her just right, and the cock in her ass also seems to be getting bigger, pulsing and throbbing!

"It's! Inside—" Chaewon falls silent, and Sakura watches her mind disappear—Sakura's eyes dilate with lust as she watches Chaewon's own eyes roll in her head. She creams without pause, like a dam in her is broken as she jerks in a powerful orgasm. When the cocks are withdrawn, the cum-mixture spills from both her holes, and the truth dawns on Sakura—Chaewon was just double-creampied, filled to the brim with their combined fluids. Sakura expects the same for herself, and she tightens in anticipation, but it does not come just yet.

"Commencing DirectInput trial with two people." That's new. Sakura's ass is left gaping as the cock is removed, and Chaewon's mess of a pussy is plugged once more, both women taking only one cock now. Sakura gasps as the cock in her thrusts in, and her hips buck instinctively. Seemingly in response, the cock in Chaewon thrusts in, and she whines and jerks her body. Turns out, it is mimicking their hip movements, for when Sakura snaps her hips forward again, and Chaewon cries out loudly in response—yes, Sakura's the one fucking Chaewon! The very thought drives Sakura crazy, and she's bucking her hips with wild abandon, watching her "cock" drive into Chaewon repeatedly. Of course, as Sakura moves her hips, her own dildo is moving inside her, building her pleasure up as she gives Chaewon pleasure.

"Kkura unnie, Kkura unnie!" At this point Chaewon is well aware of what's Sakura doing, seeing and feeling her unnie's cock drive right through her own body. When Sakura groans loudly in her climax, Chaewon cums with her, fists clenched tightly and toes curled in ecstasy—she can't help it when it's Sakura's cock filling her womb with cum.

And then it's Chaewon's turn. She starts off slowly, testing with a few slow strokes. Soon though, Sakura's begging to be fucked.

Begging her.

"F-Faster, go faster Chaewon-ah! Harder!" She's still sensitive, but for Sakura, Chaewon can go fast, and she moves her hips as quickly as she can, her lower lip quivering as the pleasure rises in her own body. Sakura's abs twitch equally in pleasure, overstimulated but wanting Chaewon to fuck her to an orgasm. Chaewon puts her all into it, and Sakura feels each and every thrust rock her body, the wrap tightening around her, as if Chaewon's slamming her directly. She had never wondered how Chaewon fucks, now she won't be able to not think about it ever again. With a few more thrusts Chaewon delivers in more ways than one, pushing Sakura off the edge as she pumps her full of cum, the two of them cumming together once more.

"Testing simultaneous DirectInput now." Both cocks now move in response to the other's movements, and the two women are bucking haphazardly, each action triggering a reaction from the other—Sakura would buck her hips, which would make Chaewon jerk in response, making the cock in Sakura move and thrust. Sakura's fucking Chaewon, Chaewon's fucking Sakura, and they're cumming at the same time, giving the other a creampie. They both scream when a cock is pushed into their ass again, and it becomes a completely unhinged feedback loop—Chaewon finds herself fucking Sakura's ass, all while Sakura fucks her pussy, and then the input switches, and Chaewon feels Sakura deep up her ass while she pounds into Sakura's squirting slit. They feed off each other's peaks, filling each other with their mixed fluids in every hole, even as Sakura produces more slick and Chaewon produces more cream.

It all finally stops when AInata says so, withdrawing all dildos from their holes and making them squirm at the sudden emptiness.

"Disk capacity reached. Sakura, I will require more space, or to upgrade our cloud storage plan."

"Mmm... Okay, let's stop the session."

"Would you like a report? Vocalization—"

"Later, l-let us down please." They are lowered to the floor and the restraints are removed. They collapse in their own juices, legs weak and limbs a little numb from being restrained for so long. "Chaewon, are you okay?"

Chaewon is not okay. She has watched Sakura get fucked by AInata, then she watched Sakura get filled by her own cum, and then Sakura fucked her, filled her, and then she fucked Sakura back, filling her unnie similarly. Her world is warped, she could never see Sakura the same way again. Yet, she had one thing left to do.

She needed to touch Sakura.

"Kkura unnie..." Chaewon crawls over her shocked unnie. "I need you." She shows her desire with a kiss, and Sakura's too horny to push her away—after watching each other cum and squirt the whole time, she wants Chaewon too. Sakura leads Chaewon to her bedroom, and legs and arms and tongues finally tangle together in the sheets. Maybe it's the cookies still having an effect on her, but Chaewon gets on top of Sakura, driving a thigh against her unnie's wet pussy while she ruts down on Sakura's hip. The friction is delicious and electric for the two of them, leaving them whimpering in pleasure. Le Sserafim is known for their abs, and the two of them put their strong cores to good use, grinding their hips and making sure their thighs are left smeared with the other's juices.

Chaewon succumbs first, whimpering into Sakura's neck as her unnie bucks powerfully, bouncing Chaewon on her lap. She slips a finger into Chaewon's ass and with a yelp Sakura feels Chaewon cream, each squeeze of her ass seeming to produce more from the quivering leader.

"I want you to cum too unnie..." Chaewon whines, using the last of her strength to suck on Sakura's tits, pushing her thigh against Sakura's slit, and rubbing her clit with a yearning finger. The triple assault sets Sakura off, and with a strangled cry she shakes, rattles, and falls apart, soaking the sheets with the last of her cum. When she comes back down, Sakura finds Chaewon sucking on her lower lip, and she acquiesces, kissing and caressing her leader.

Weeks later, Chaewon goes up to Sakura in the dressing room, distracting her from her crocheting.

"Kkura unnie!"

"What what? What's the problem?"

"Nothing, nothing! I was wondering if you wanted to go to the gym together?"

"Gym? Our PT session is tomorrow."

"I know, I meant, do you want to do more... training tonight? With your friend?"

"What? Sakura has a friend?" Yunjin quips without thinking.

"Yah I have friends too you know!"

"Sure sure, whatever."

"Psh. Sure Chaewon, we can train tonight."

"M-Make sure they have enough space," Chaewon whispers, the two of them turning as red as Yunjin's hair. Thankfully, Yunjin is talking loudly, complaining about how her phone doesn't recognize her voice commands, and their manager agreeing that AI is stupid.

Oh how wrong they are.

A/N: I was actually writing a different story, and this one was supposed to be just a Sakura solo thing to use their song title "Smart" and poke fun at smart houses, but then the thought of Chaewon walking in on her and getting roped into it together was too hot and I had to get it out. I mixed the Guilty Pleasure concept (one person feels the other person via something) with the whole tech and smart house thing. The velvet wrap thing is kinda like a weighted blanket, and supposed to mimic the weight of an actual person pressing on you during sex, but I didn't really use it too well, in my head it just helps with positions too, don't think too hard about that part lol. Anyways hope it makes enough sense, thanks for reading!

[fioredeciliego]

No.1 Part Anthem - Winter x Fem!Reader

be warned, there is smut 13k words

Under the dim lights, Minjeong leaned over her guitar, running her fingers along the strings as she checked the sound for the third time. The low murmur of anticipation filled the bar as people drifted in, and she found herself absently watching the door.

This was another Wednesday night gig at The Velvet Den, a small but popular spot for indie bands in the city. It had a cozy stage with a few beaten-up stools and a dark red velvet backdrop, lending the place its grunge charm. Minjeong knew this bar well—she’d played here with Velvet Starlight almost every week for the past year. Though it was a solid routine, recently, it was starting to feel… flat.

Jimin glanced over with a knowing smirk, a hint of mischief in her eyes as she adjusted her bass strap. “Minjeong,” she started, clearly trying to hide a grin, “don’t tell me you haven’t written anything new yet.”

Minjeong scoffed, brushing her bangs back and giving her an exaggerated eye-roll. “Please, I barely have time for sleep these days. Let alone a muse.”

Yizhuo, who was busy restringing her guitar nearby, chimed in, leaning into the banter. “Or maybe you just haven’t found the right muse yet,” she teased, winking. “Someone to finally get past all those rumors.”

Aeri, ever the instigator, joined in, leaning over her drum kit with a laugh. “C’mon, Minjeong, you can’t pretend you don’t have options. Half the people who come here are just here for you.”

Minjeong waved them off, chuckling. “You’re all ridiculous. Seriously, life’s too boring right now. I wouldn’t even know what to write about.”

They laughed, sharing a look that made Minjeong groan inside. The girls knew her reputation wasn’t true, but they still loved to tease her for it. There was no denying that some fans tried to get close, even if her reserved demeanor was often mistaken for allure. Still, she wasn’t as wild as everyone assumed; if anything, her nights usually ended with late-night jam sessions or scrolling through music playlists until she fell asleep.

Soon, the doors opened, and people began filling in, leaning against the bar and claiming tables close to the stage. The pre-show atmosphere was settling in, a mix of dim lighting and murmured conversations. Minjeong checked her guitar one last time, letting herself sink into the warm familiarity of these moments before a show.

When it was finally time to start, they kicked off with a high-energy track, letting the beat and rhythm wash over the crowd. The girls were in their element, losing themselves in the synergy of their instruments and the hazy lights that moved with the music. Minjeong felt herself slipping into that comforting state where her fingers moved on their own, her focus narrowed to the music.

But as they transitioned to one of their slower songs, a haunting melody that filled the space with a quiet intensity, Minjeong’s gaze drifted past the crowd, scanning the bar.

And that’s when she saw you.

Sitting casually at the bar, framed by the warm glow of the dim lights, was a girl who seemed like she belonged there—yet somehow stood out entirely. She was leaning against the counter, her posture relaxed as she listened to her friends, one hand holding a drink with easy confidence. The soft, smudged eyeliner, dark lipstick, and tousled hair were a perfect combination of bold and effortless. She wore a leather jacket over a white top that hugged her frame, a couple of necklaces layered over her collarbone, glinting with every small movement. She wore a short black denim skirt, paired with boots that looked well-traveled, like they’d been to more places than most people had.

There was something magnetic about her, a calm self-assurance that felt out of reach, and Minjeong felt herself falter for the briefest moment. Her fingers stumbled over a chord, the soft slip almost imperceptible. She recovered quickly, her eyes darting back to her guitar as she forced herself to focus on the melody, even as her heart raced.

But the pull was impossible to ignore. Her gaze kept finding its way back to the girl at the bar. She’d occasionally laugh at something her friends said, her smile both warm and sharp, as if she knew the effect it had. She looked up, glancing around the room, and her gaze landed on Minjeong just for a heartbeat.

Minjeong’s breath caught, her fingers pressing down a bit too hard on the strings, making the note come out harsher than she intended. She softened her touch, mentally cursing herself. She’d performed a thousand times, yet somehow, this girl had her more flustered than she cared to admit.

As the song reached its crescendo, Minjeong chanced another glance, hoping the lights were dim enough to hide the fact that she was, for once, absolutely captivated. And when the girl lifted her drink to her lips, casting a side glance toward the stage, there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes, as if she too had noticed Minjeong’s lingering gaze.

The song came to an end, and the crowd erupted in applause. Minjeong barely registered it, feeling the adrenaline buzzing beneath her skin as they transitioned into their next song. But all she could think about was the girl at the bar—the one who had managed, in a single night, to make her life feel a little less ordinary.

--

Y/N had spent the day carefully cultivating a cocoon of quiet. Her tiny studio apartment was the perfect sanctuary—dim lights, a mountain of blankets, and a carefully curated lineup of comfort movies waiting for her. She’d kicked off her shoes, nestled herself into her coziest pajamas, and piled a ridiculous amount of snacks around her. A perfect night in, with no disruptions.

That was, until her phone buzzed insistently. She ignored it at first, but a second notification appeared, then a third, each accompanied by an enthusiastic vibration. She sighed, glancing at her phone to find her friends, Yunjin and Minji, launching an all-out text attack.

“Come on, you need to get out of that little cave of yours!”

“It’s a crime against girlhood to stay in every weekend, you know.”

Y/N stared at her phone, torn between the pull of her warm, safe cocoon and the lure of a night out that Yunjin and Minji clearly weren’t going to let her skip. She gave in with a groan, quickly typing back a begrudging “Fine, but I’m wearing the first thing I find,” before rolling off the couch and reluctantly swapping her pajamas for a skirt and a simple white tee. She pulled on a leather jacket for good measure and checked herself in the mirror, feeling more or less presentable.

Yunjin and Minji were waiting outside, beaming as if she’d just returned from the dead.

“Told you she’d come out eventually,” Yunjin teased, linking her arm through Y/N’s. Minji flashed a grin, grabbing her other arm as they pulled her into the lively city streets.

They arrived at The Velvet Den, a tucked-away bar with an eclectic crowd and a charmingly rugged vibe. The bar had old-school posters plastered on the walls, low lights casting an amber glow over everything, and the faint, comforting smell of old leather and wood. Y/N had to admit it was the kind of place she might like if she were in the right mood.

As they entered, the beat of a slow, steady song hit her. The music wasn’t just background noise here—it filled every corner, creating an atmosphere that felt almost alive. She glanced at the stage, and her eyes caught on a four-piece band, each member lost in the music. Yunjin led them over to the bar, where they ordered drinks and began shouting a conversation over the music, laughing as they tried to catch up with each other’s words.

But as Y/N settled in, she started to feel something strange—an odd sense of awareness, a prickling on the back of her neck, like she was being watched. The feeling was familiar yet unusual, pulling her from her chat with Minji as she turned, almost instinctively, toward the stage.

And there she was. The lead guitarist, her attention fixed on Y/N with a look that was intense and focused, like she was trying to see through the dim lights and smoke of the bar. She had a quiet but striking beauty—dark eyes under long lashes, loose hair falling just over her shoulders, and a posture that spoke of ease and confidence. She held the guitar like an extension of herself, her fingers moving over the strings in a way that made it seem almost effortless. She was magnetic, the kind of person who could draw attention without even trying, but somehow, her gaze felt direct, almost… searching.

Y/N’s heart stuttered, caught in that gaze like a moth to a flame. They locked eyes for what felt like an eternity before Y/N remembered herself and quickly looked away, hiding her blush behind her drink.

“Hello?” Yunjin waved a hand in front of Y/N’s face, a mischievous grin spreading as she realized what had caught her attention. “Y/N, don’t look now, but I think you’ve got an admirer.”

Minji leaned in, a smirk playing on her lips. “Looks like the guitarist has a thing for quiet girls. Guess you’re exactly her type.”

Y/N laughed, trying to brush off the remark, though her cheeks felt warm. “Please, I’m sure she’s just scanning the crowd. It’s part of the whole mysterious rocker look.”

But her friends exchanged knowing looks, ignoring her attempt at nonchalance. “Uh-huh,” Yunjin said, smirking over the rim of her drink. “Pretty sure she was just looking at you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t shake the thought. The guitarist’s gaze had felt so direct, like she’d been picked out from the rest of the crowd on purpose. And even now, as she tried to brush it off, a flicker of curiosity was tugging at her. Who was this girl on stage, with her brooding look and intense presence? Y/N’s fingers drummed lightly on her glass as she tried to refocus on her friends’ conversation, but her gaze kept drifting back.

When she allowed herself another glance, her heart skipped again. The guitarist was still looking at her, her expression caught between a smile and a look of quiet intrigue, as if Y/N had pulled her attention just as much as she’d pulled Y/N’s.

This time, Y/N let herself look a little longer, taking in the way the guitarist moved with the music. Her focus seemed to sharpen whenever her eyes met Y/N’s, each glance filled with a subtle intensity that made it impossible to look away. It was the kind of stare that felt like it meant something, like an unspoken invitation that Y/N couldn’t quite decipher.

The music continued to flow, filling the space between them, and Y/N tried to keep up with the banter from her friends, though her mind kept wandering back to the girl on stage. The way her fingers slid along the guitar, her shoulders relaxed yet focused, the look in her eyes that seemed to promise more than just a passing glance—it was all a little intoxicating, like a faint, buzzing thrill she didn’t want to resist.

--

As the last chord of their closing song faded into the noise of the crowd’s applause, Minjeong felt a strange, urgent energy humming through her. She’d barely made it through the set with her usual focus—she’d messed up twice, fingers slipping on familiar notes, distracted by the image of a girl sitting near the bar with that easy, unbothered confidence.

When the band left the stage, she was practically vibrating with anticipation. She wanted—needed—to see her again, and every second that ticked by felt like forever. But before she could make her escape, the girls intercepted her backstage, each of them wearing expressions that were a mixture of curiosity and barely restrained laughter.

“Minjeong, what was up with those slip-ups tonight?” Jimin was the first to call her out, arms crossed, a playful eyebrow raised. “I thought we were supposed to be the pros around here.”

Minjeong groaned, torn between the thrill of getting out there to find that girl and the embarrassment of being caught so obviously off her game. “I know, I know,” she replied, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s just—” She hesitated, feeling a bit ridiculous for what she was about to say. But, well, if anyone would understand, it’d be her bandmates.

Aeri looked her up and down, catching on to her hesitation. “Ooooh, did our Minjeong get distracted?” she teased, her voice light, but her smirk was sharper than ever.

Minjeong sighed, trying not to look as flushed as she felt. “I don’t know what to tell you guys. I think… I think I just met the love of my life.”

The room went silent for a second before it erupted into laughter. Yizhuo laughed so hard she almost fell backward, catching herself on Jimin’s shoulder. Minjeong bit her lip, feeling her cheeks heat up even more as the girls practically doubled over, throwing playful jabs her way.

“Love of your life, huh?” Jimin said, trying to catch her breath as she wiped away a stray tear from laughing. “Wow, you’re really going for the hopeless romantic vibe tonight, aren’t you?”

“Wait, wait,” Yizhuo gasped, grinning as she leaned in. “Tell us more. Who’s the lucky girl who stole the heart of the Kim Minjeong?”

“Not that it’s exactly hard to win your heart,” Aeri teased. “But this time sounds serious.”

Minjeong tried to laugh along, but she couldn’t shake the urgency pulling her toward the bar. “Look, I’d love to stay and let you guys roast me, but if I don’t go find her right now, I might actually lose my mind,” she said, a touch of impatience in her tone as she moved toward the door. “Let me go, and I’ll tell you everything later, promise.”

Jimin chuckled, finally letting her go with a pat on the back. “Alright, Romeo, go find your Juliet. Just don’t come crying to us if it’s another ‘tragic romance’ story.”

Minjeong flashed them a quick grin and slipped out of the room, her heart racing. As soon as she entered the main area of the bar, a small group of people noticed her, and almost immediately, she was surrounded. It happened a lot after shows, and usually, she didn’t mind. She’d smile, chat a bit, and enjoy the rush of attention. But tonight was different. Her mind was too busy, too focused on finding that one girl.

“Hey, Minjeong!” someone called, leaning a little too close, hand brushing her shoulder. Another girl wrapped her arm around her for a picture, and a few others were trying to get her attention, voices overlapping, laughter loud and bright.

She tried to be polite, flashing quick smiles, offering a few distracted words, but she couldn’t stay still. She gently brushed off the hands reaching for her, politely excusing herself as she scanned the bar, her eyes searching. She had no idea if the girl would even still be there, but the thought of missing her felt oddly unbearable.

Finally, she made it to the bar stools where she’d last seen her, only to feel her heart sink. There were two familiar faces there, but not the one she’d been hoping for. It was the girl’s friends, the ones who’d been laughing and chatting with her all night.

Yunjin, noticing her approach, raised an eyebrow and shot her a knowing look, her lips twitching into a sly grin. “Looking for someone?” she asked, her tone dripping with amusement.

Minjeong froze for a split second, wondering if she should play it off or admit it, but she quickly decided there was no point in pretending. “Yeah, actually… I am,” she replied, trying to keep her voice casual, but her expression betrayed her eagerness. “Is she—uh, is your friend still here?”

Yunjin and Minji exchanged a glance before they burst into quiet laughter, clearly enjoying the moment a little too much. “She went outside to get some fresh air,” Minji said with a grin, nodding toward the bar’s exit. “Maybe she’s waiting for someone to come talk to her.”

Minjeong’s eyes widened, and she nodded gratefully. “Thanks,” she murmured, barely able to contain her excitement as she turned and practically bolted toward the door.

Stepping outside, she was immediately greeted by the crisp, cool air of the night. She slowed down, catching her breath, and looked around—and there she was. The girl she’d been searching for, leaning casually against the wall a few feet away, bathed in the soft, silvery light of the moon. She seemed lost in thought, her face illuminated by a gentle glow that made her look almost ethereal. Her dark hair caught the light, cascading over her shoulders, and her leather jacket looked even more striking in the dim night, lending her an air of effortless cool that took Minjeong’s breath away.

Minjeong stood frozen, just taking her in, feeling like an idiot for the way her heart raced. She had no idea what to say or how to start a conversation without stumbling over her words, but she couldn’t look away.

And then, as if sensing her gaze, the girl turned her head, her eyes meeting Minjeong’s in that same intense way they had during the performance. Time seemed to slow as they stared at each other, the distance between them feeling both unbearably close and impossibly far.

The girl’s lips curved into a small smile, one eyebrow raised in curiosity as if to say, Well, are you just going to stand there? Minjeong felt a rush of embarrassment and excitement crash over her, but she couldn’t help the goofy grin that tugged at her own lips.

She wanted to say something smooth, something charming, but the words were stuck somewhere between her mind and her mouth. So instead, she took a small, tentative step forward, feeling both exhilarated and terrified. The girl’s smile softened, her gaze warm and steady, and Minjeong felt like she was caught in some kind of spell, the world fading away until it was just the two of them under the stars.

Finally, she managed to find her voice, though it came out a little softer than she’d intended. “Hey,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

--

As the final applause died down and the band disappeared backstage, Y/N could still feel the lingering thrum of the music vibrating through her. She knew she probably looked distracted, but she couldn’t shake the feeling—the energy—of those glances Minjeong had thrown her way throughout the performance. It was as if every time Minjeong looked her way, Y/N could feel the intensity, the pull of it, right down to her bones.

“Hey,” Yunjin nudged her, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile. “You’re not thinking about anyone specific, are you?”

“Yeah,” Minji chimed in, flashing her a mischievous look. “Maybe someone with a guitar and a pretty face?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, waving them off with a huff. “I’m just going outside for a bit of air. Don’t wait up.” She shot them a playful glare before slipping through the crowd, ignoring their quiet laughter behind her.

Outside, the cool night air washed over her, calming the flurry of emotions she hadn’t expected to feel tonight. Leaning back against the wall, she took a deep breath, staring up at the stars and letting her thoughts wander back to Minjeong. There’d been something magnetic about the way she played, fingers gliding over the guitar, eyes finding Y/N in the crowd like she was the only one there. Y/N had felt those glances linger, like they’d been sharing some unspoken secret all night.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost missed the soft sound of footsteps approaching. It was that feeling again—eyes on her, that strange, invisible pull. She turned her head, and there she was. Minjeong stood just a few feet away, looking at her with wide, slightly nervous eyes, a shy smile tugging at her lips. The moonlight softened her features, casting a gentle glow over her flushed cheeks and messy hair, and Y/N felt her breath catch.

Unable to hide her amusement, Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving her a teasing look as if to say, Well, are you just going to stand there?

Minjeong blinked, caught off guard, before taking a small, hesitant step forward, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. “H-Hey,” she managed, her voice soft and a little shaky. She looked almost… bashful, her gaze darting between Y/N’s eyes and the ground.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, the warmth in her chest growing at seeing Minjeong so adorably flustered. She’d expected a cool, confident rockstar, but this shy, slightly awkward girl was even more intriguing.

“H-Hey,” Minjeong repeated, laughing nervously as she rubbed the back of her neck. “Um, I don’t usually… do this, but I saw you, and…” She trailed off, cheeks turning even redder. “I just wanted to, you know, say hi.”

Y/N chuckled softly, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the wall. “Just ‘hi,’ huh? I got the impression you had a lot more to say when you were looking at me from the stage.”

Minjeong’s mouth opened, then closed, clearly at a loss for words. She laughed, embarrassed, as her eyes dropped to the ground. “Was it… that obvious?” she murmured, sneaking a glance up at her, looking both mortified and amused.

“Just a little.” Y/N’s teasing smile softened, her tone gentler now. “But I didn’t mind it. I mean, maybe I was looking back once or twice, too.”

Minjeong’s eyes brightened, and she bit her lip, that shy smile coming back as she looked at Y/N with a mix of relief and excitement. “Really?” she asked, voice filled with a kind of innocent disbelief that only made her more endearing.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I came out here to clear my head, actually. Because of you.”

Minjeong’s breath hitched, and she looked away for a moment, visibly gathering her courage. She took another small step forward, her eyes now steady on Y/N’s, and for a moment, the shy, uncertain expression melted away, replaced by something more confident, more daring.

“I’m really glad I came out here,” Minjeong said softly, her voice carrying an unexpected sincerity. “I was, uh… kind of hoping I might see you again. And, um, maybe… ask you something.”

“Oh?” Y/N felt her heart beat faster, her eyes never leaving Minjeong’s.

Minjeong took a breath, looking almost like she was bracing herself for a big moment. “I was wondering… if I could know your name. I didn’t get a chance to ask while I was… you know, staring at you.”

Y/N chuckled, feeling herself blush despite her best efforts. “Y/N,” she replied, letting the name settle between them like a promise. “It’s Y/N.”

Minjeong’s smile widened, and she repeated it softly, as if committing it to memory. “Y/N,” she murmured, her voice filled with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. Minjeong took another step closer, her gaze still warm and intent, a hint of mischief sparking in her eyes now. “You know, I don’t usually get this nervous,” she admitted with a small, sheepish laugh, “but… I guess you’re kind of intimidating.”

Y/N chuckled, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “Intimidating? Me? I think that’s a first.”

Minjeong laughed, nodding as she looked at the ground, then back up at Y/N. “Yeah, well, you’ve got this… this thing. This presence.” She rubbed the back of her neck, then let her hand drop, finding her confidence again. “And… you’re really beautiful,” she added softly, the words almost a whisper, but filled with a sincerity that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know what to say. She felt the warmth spreading in her chest, and all the teasing words she might have said disappeared, replaced by something softer, something real.

“Well,” she said finally, her voice softening, “you’re not too bad yourself, Minjeong.”

The way Minjeong’s face lit up made Y/N’s smile grow. It was like she was seeing every side of her all at once—the confident performer, the nervous girl, and something more vulnerable underneath it all. It was that mix that made Y/N want to keep talking, keep learning about her.

“So,” Minjeong ventured, shifting from foot to foot, but her gaze steady now, “would you… maybe want to grab a drink sometime? Or… I don’t know, talk about all the things I was too nervous to say on stage?”

Y/N grinned, crossing her arms with an amused look. “Are you sure you can handle talking to me without losing your cool?”

Minjeong laughed, the sound soft and a little self-deprecating. “I can try. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a murmur, “something tells me you’re worth the effort.”

Y/N’s smile softened, and for a moment, she just looked at her, taking in the way Minjeong’s gaze never wavered, even if her cheeks were still a little pink. “Alright,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that.”

Minjeong’s face broke into the happiest, most relieved smile Y/N had ever seen.

--

Back inside, Minjeong and Y/N quickly found their way to Yunjin and Minji, who were laughing and chatting at the bar. Minjeong felt a little thrill when Y/N introduced her, and even more so when her own bandmates strolled out from backstage, the entire group merging into one.

Jimin leaned in with a smirk. “So, this is the girl who made our rockstar here forget her own chords?”

Minjeong flushed, shooting her bandmates a look that only made them laugh harder. But before she could sputter out a response, Yunjin piped up with a bright grin, “Why don’t we all head somewhere quieter? I know a bar nearby with a good vibe, and we can actually talk.”

The group agreed, and soon they were all spilling out onto the street, laughter echoing around them as they made their way down the road. Minjeong hung back with Y/N, a warm, comfortable silence falling between them before they started talking. It felt natural, easy, even as Minjeong's heart still raced from the kiss that lingered on her mind.

As they all headed down the street toward the quieter bar, Minjeong and Y/N fell into step just behind the group, comfortable in the hum of the night. Minjeong glanced over, her curiosity getting the best of her. “So… judging by your style, I’d guess you’re a fan of rock, too?”

Y/N grinned, nudging her shoulder playfully. “Is it that obvious? Yeah, guilty. I got into it pretty young. There’s just something about the raw energy, you know?”

“Totally,” Minjeong agreed, her excitement matching Y/N’s. “That’s why I wanted to start a band. The noise, the chaos—it’s addictive. Arctic Monkeys got me into it, actually,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I was obsessed.”

“Are you serious?” Y/N’s eyes widened. “I’m a huge Arctic Monkeys fan! ‘AM’ was like… a soundtrack for my teenage rebellion,” she joked.

Minjeong’s eyes lit up. “Same! ‘Do I Wanna Know?’ is practically burned into my brain at this point. It’s why I even started learning guitar. I wanted to play riffs like that.”

Y/N laughed, her gaze softening. “I knew you had good taste.” She shook her head, looking away for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. “There’s something about the way they capture that… I don’t know, that midnight, gritty feeling. It’s like you’re walking down an empty street with secrets.”

“Exactly!” Minjeong said, her face lighting up. “That’s what I love. It’s like they make you feel a whole mood, even without the lyrics. Just the sound.”

They continued talking about favorite songs and concert memories, swapping stories about late nights spent lost in the music. It felt easy, natural—like they were old friends reconnecting, not two people who’d just met. Their steps slowed, and soon they were trailing behind the others, wrapped in their own little world of laughter and shared nostalgia.

By the time they reached the bar, Minjeong felt more at ease than she had in ages. They ordered a round of drinks, everyone chatting animatedly in little clusters. Minjeong’s bandmates were quick to strike up conversations with Y/N’s friends, which left the two of them with the kind of stolen glances and low laughter that felt almost private in a room full of people.

Jimin, however, was still on a mission to tease her mercilessly. “So, Minjeong, think you’ll be writing a new song anytime soon?” she asked, her tone innocent but her grin anything but.

“Maybe a ballad,” Aeri added with a wink. “Or a love song for that ‘special someone.’”

Minjeong rolled her eyes, the teasing never-ending. “Maybe a metal anthem about having nosey friends,” she muttered, just loud enough to get a laugh from everyone.

Seeing her getting flustered, Y/N’s amused gaze softened. With a grin, Minjeong leaned close, asking, “Wanna get out of here? The dance floor’s calling.”

Y/N’s smile was immediate, and with a soft, “Lead the way, rockstar,” she took Minjeong’s hand. They wove through the crowd toward the dance floor, leaving the teasing glances of their friends behind.

They made their way to the dance floor, where the lights were dimmer, casting everyone in shades of deep red and blue. The music was slower, more sensual than the previous bar’s high-energy beats. As they started to move, Minjeong felt her nerves fall away, replaced by a growing confidence as she focused on Y/N, the rest of the room fading into the background.

They danced, letting the music guide them as they moved closer, their bodies almost touching. Minjeong felt her heart race as she gathered the courage to place her hands on Y/N’s hips, gently pulling her closer. Y/N didn’t resist; instead, she leaned into Minjeong, letting her hands rest on Minjeong’s shoulders, eyes glinting with amusement and something else Minjeong couldn’t quite place but wanted to drown in.

Feeling bolder, Minjeong spun Y/N around gently, her hands guiding her to dance even closer. Y/N tilted her head back to look at her, lips parted as she gazed up at Minjeong with an expression that sent a thrill through her. Time seemed to slow, the music fading into a heartbeat-like thrum in her ears.

They stood like that, breath mingling, eyes locked. Y/N’s gaze flicked down to Minjeong’s lips and back up, her own lips curving in the slightest hint of a smile, a silent invitation.

Not wanting to waste another second, Minjeong leaned down, closing the distance between them. Their lips met, soft at first, hesitant, and then deeper as the world around them disappeared completely. Y/N’s hands slid from Minjeong’s shoulders to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as she pulled her closer. 

Minjeong felt another surge of confidence go through her, so she deepened the kiss. The heat rose in her cheeks as her tongue touched the other girl’s, quick and electric and delicious, then firmer, more determined, more curious about the heat that lay within, seeking to chase down that elusive liquid lightning that reached through both of them. They both pulled away for air with a small pop. 

When they pulled back, Minjeong was breathless, a dazed smile spreading across her face. Y/N looked up at her with a similar expression, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath.

“Well,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible over the music, “that was… unexpected.”

Minjeong chuckled, her hands still resting on Y/N’s waist, reluctant to let go. “Good unexpected?” she asked, her voice soft.

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile, and she nodded, eyes glinting. “Very good.”

“How about we get out of here?” Minjeong’s voice dropped an octave. Y/N bit her lips and nodded.

--

Minjeong and Y/N found themselves leaving the bar with the excuse of “fresh air.” The street was quiet, the city lights casting a soft glow as they walked side by side, shoulders brushing with each step. They hardly spoke now; there was an unspoken understanding that grew with every step that led them further into the night.

When they arrived at Minjeong’s apartment, Y/N felt her pulse quicken. The two entered quietly, as if unwilling to disturb the intimate quiet between them. Minjeong led her inside, their fingers brushing lightly, and it felt like a silent invitation. Y/N followed, her eyes tracing the faint outline of Minjeong’s figure in the dim apartment light, each detail accentuated by the calm atmosphere.

In the small, cozy bedroom, they turned to face each other. Minjeong found herself reaching out, her hand gentle as it grazed Y/N’s cheek. There was no need for words; the look in Y/N’s eyes was enough, a mixture of anticipation and something deeper. Slowly, their lips met, softer and slower than before, savoring each lingering touch and deepening the kiss as the seconds passed. It felt like an unraveling—each kiss exploring, tentative, and then firmer.

Their hands began to roam with more confidence. Y/N felt Minjeong’s fingers drift down her back, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. The taller helped Y/N strip off her clothes, being gentle and savoring the moment, until she was only in her underwear. Minjeong looked at Y/N and her breath hitched.

“You look beautiful.” She murmured, making the shorter blush.

“I bet you’d look just as good if you had less clothes on.” Y/N teased. Minjeong stripped off as well in a hurry, almost stumbling as she shook off her pants, making Y/N laugh. Once they were both only in their garments, Minjeong pushed the other lightly onto the bed, before she got on top of her.

Minjeong looked at Y/N’s eyes, both had excitement displayed on them. Leaning down, she captured Y/N lips once again in a passionate kiss. Their tongues grazed against each other, Minjeong’s hand caressing the other’s waist and hips, while Y/N was tangling her hands in her hair. 

Minjeong pulled away, earning a whine from Y/N. She let out a soft chuckle, while her hand went up to Y/N bra on her back. She looked at Y/N for confirmation, who only arched her back so that Minjeong could unfasten it. Minjeong struggled a bit, but managed to do it, tossing it to the side, she dipped her head, taking one of Y/N nipples into her mouth, while her hand groped her other boob, her fingers pinching and twisting her nipple. Y/N let out a loud moan, arching her back in appreciation. Her hands went to Minjeong’s back, unfastening the other’s bra, tossing it next to hers in the floor. Her nails left red, angry marks on Minjeong’s well defined back.

“Fuck.” Minjeong muttered, switching to the other breast.

“God, Minjeong. So good.” Y/N panted. Minjeong started to kiss downwards, leaving opened mouth kisses on Y/N stomach. Looking up, she asked for permission with her eyes. Y/N nodded her head.

Using her teeth, she took a hold of Y/N panties and slithered them down her legs. She went up again and kissed the shorter. This kiss was more sloppy, desperate, hands touching whatever part of skin they could reach. Y/N used her hands to slip off Minjeong’s final piece of underwear. The taller suddenly pulled up. Her lips were a bit swollen, and her pupils were dilated.

“Give me a second.” She pecked Y/N lips and stood up. Y/N looked at her leaving figure confused, but waited patiently. While Minjeong was away, she decided to look around the bedroom. 

The walls were painted a muted shade of deep blue, making the room feel calm and peaceful, with a few framed black-and-white photographs of bands, abstract art, and scenic landscapes hanging in casual arrangement. There were no flashy decorations, but the minimalistic vibe allowed her personality to shine through in the details. A large window stretched along one side of the room, its sheer curtains slightly drawn, letting in the soft glow of the city lights that filtered through the night. The view was modest but serene.

Minjeong came back, she had a 7 inch black strapon fasted around her hips. Y/N breath hitched.

Holy fuck

Minjeong went on top of Y/N again.

“This is ok with you, right?” Minjeong asked, her hand caressing Y/N’s cheek. Y/N nodded, unable to let out any words.

Grabbing the base of the strap, Minjeong rubbed the tip on the slit a few times, using the wetness as a natural lube, she then pushed inside, inch by inch. Y/N gasped as she reached out to hold Minjeong, her nails once again scratching the taller’s back. She let out a pornographic moan, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Shit.” Minjeong groaned, feeling the blunt part of the strap hit against her clit. “You’re so tight, even with how wet you are.”

Y/N nodded, shutting her eyes, which were watery from the pleasure. “Just for you.”

Minjeong started thrusting slowly, wanting Y/N to get used to it. But once the shorter told her to speed up, she did. Her thrust were fast, but she got to a pace where she could hit Y/N spongy spot each time. The moans from the shorter were driving her crazy, she had found her new favorite sound. The room was filled with sounds of skin slapping against each other, Y/N’s moans and Minjeong’s groans of pleasure. The bed was creaking, the post hitting against the wall every time the taller thrusted forward. It smelled of sweat, sex, and perfume; and it was almost mouthwatering for the both of them.

Minjeong grabbed Y/N softly by the neck. “Look at me.” She panted.

The shorter opened her eyes, making eye contact with the other. “I’m coming.” She whined, her hands reaching out to grab Minjeong’s forearms, which were quite strong for her pretty petite form.

“Wait.” The taller groaned. “I want you to come with me.” Y/N nodded, struggling to keep her eyes open. “I’m so close, almost there baby.”

Y/N moaned, she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on. Minjeong was fucking her so good, she felt on cloud 9. “Minjeong. Minjeong, please let me come.” She begged. Drops of sweat were dripping down her.

“Come. Come with me, baby.” The nickname was enough for Y/N to release. She screamed Minjeong’s name, seeing black for a few seconds. Minjeong was just behind her, groaning as she came too. She didn’t stop thrusting, wanting both of them to ride out their orgasm. “Stop. Too sensitive.” Y/N whimpered, making the taller stall her thrust.

Slowly, she pulled out, making both of them moan. Minjeong at the sight of a string of Y/N’s cum connected to the strap, and the shorter one because of the feeling. Minjeong reached down her two middle fingers, rubbing Y/N’s slit and gathering her cum, Y/N shuddered because of overstimulation.

Looking at the shorter in her eyes, Minjeong wrapped her lips around the fingers full of Y/N’s slick, moaning at the taste. Y/N whined at the sight, another shot of cum came out of her, making Minjeong let out a small chuckle. Leaning down, she brushed her lips against Y/N. “How do you feel?”

“Like I went to heaven.” Y/N murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. She cranked her neck up a bit, capturing Minjeong’s lips with her own.The kiss was short, but sweet. 

“Give me a second.” Minjeong pulled away and stood up. She walked to the bathroom, only to come out a few minutes later with a warm towel, the strap long gone. She wiped Y/N’s slick with the towel. “There.” She kissed her thighs. “All better.”

“Thanks.” Y/N yawned, feeling the adrenaline go down. With a kiss on the forehead, Minjeong draped the sheets over Y/N’s body and went to put the towel with the dirty clothes. Once she came back, a glass of water in hands for Y/N, she saw the shorter asleep, soft breath coming out in a  rhythmic pattern.

With a smile, Minjeong put the glass on top of the bedside table, and laid down next to Y/N, hugging her in a spooning position. “Good night.” She whispered, kissing her head.

--

Minjeong’s eyes opened slowly, taking in the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. A small weight on her chest made her look down, and she felt a warm sense of contentment as she saw Y/N still peacefully asleep on top of her, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The memories of the night before played softly in her mind, and Minjeong couldn’t help but smile, feeling the flutter of excitement as she replayed each moment.

As quietly as she could, she slipped out of bed, glancing back one last time to make sure Y/N was still asleep. Her gaze softened as she took in the calm, almost dreamlike scene, the sheets tangled gently around Y/N’s figure. Minjeong tiptoed to the door, an idea forming. She’d make breakfast—a small thank-you for the unforgettable night. It was a romantic idea, though she was slightly aware of her less-than-stellar kitchen skills. Still, how hard could eggs and toast be?

In the kitchen, Minjeong looked around for ingredients, picking up a carton of eggs, bread, and a small handful of strawberries she found in the fridge. She fumbled with the egg carton, trying to crack one egg carefully, but her inexperience showed as half the yolk splattered onto the counter. With a sigh, she attempted to salvage the rest, pouring the little that remained into a bowl and giving it an optimistic whisk.

“Alright, toast… easy,” she muttered, sliding a couple of slices into the toaster. But in her focus on the eggs, she quickly forgot about the toast, not noticing until the faint scent of burning bread hit her nose. “Oh no!” she whispered, pulling it out a second too late. She sighed, shaking her head, but before she could attempt another slice, she felt two warm arms wrap around her waist.

“Good morning,” Y/N mumbled sleepily into her shoulder, her face pressed against Minjeong’s back. “What’s going on in here?”

Startled, the taller yelped, the spatula slipping from her hand as she accidentally touched the edge of the hot pan. A small hiss escaped her lips as she recoiled, cradling her finger.

Y/N’s groggy concern immediately turned to worry. “Oh, Minjeong! Are you okay?” She turned her gently, reaching for her hand and inspecting the small burn with a soft frown. Y/N’s fingertips were gentle as they grazed the spot, her eyes filled with care.

Minjeong chuckled, feeling a little sheepish. “I’m fine. I just… well, I thought I’d make you breakfast.” She gestured to the burnt toast and slightly undercooked eggs. “Clearly, it’s going… fantastically.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, her smile warm as she grabbed a washcloth, running it under cool water before gently pressing it to Minjeong’s fingers. “I appreciate the effort, but maybe I should take over before you accidentally set my kitchen on fire.”

Minjeong laughed, feeling a rush of warmth as Y/N continued to dab her hand with the cloth. “Good idea. My cooking skills are... a work in progress.”

Once the small burn was tended to, they moved back to the stove. Y/N gave Minjeong a playful nudge. “Here, watch and learn, rockstar,” she teased, sliding a fresh piece of bread into the toaster and cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl. She whisked them with a practiced ease that made Minjeong feel both impressed and slightly jealous.

Minjeong leaned against the counter, watching as Y/N took over with a calm confidence, every movement precise and efficient. They made small talk, Y/N occasionally handing her tasks she was certain Minjeong could manage, like slicing strawberries or sprinkling a pinch of salt over the eggs.

“So,” Y/N said, flipping a piece of toast with a grin, “do you have a favorite animal? Something I should know about you?”

Minjeong smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Dogs, definitely. They’re loyal, energetic, and you know, they just… get me. Plus, they’re adorable.”

“Ah, dogs are cute, but…” Y/N said, pausing for dramatic effect, “capybaras are obviously superior. They’re the most laid-back animals, super friendly. They get along with literally everyone. Have you seen a capybara with an enemy? Because I haven’t.”

Minjeong laughed, crossing her arms in playful defiance. “Okay, they’re cute, but come on—dogs have the whole ‘man’s best friend’ thing going on. They’ll stick by you through anything. And capybaras… can they fetch? Can they protect you from anything scarier than a blade of grass?”

Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe they can’t fetch, but they’ve got a whole ‘zen’ vibe going on. They’re the ultimate chill friend. Imagine just lounging around with a capybara, no stress, just good vibes.”

Minjeong put on a thoughtful expression, clearly playing along. “Hmm, I don’t know… I still think dogs win. They have that cute tail-wagging thing going for them, you know?”

Y/N shook her head, grinning. “Capybaras have their own charm. And they’re practically zen masters. How can you compete with that level of calm?”

“Fine,” Minjeong said with a smirk, “I’ll concede they’re cool. But dogs will always be number one in my heart.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing as she placed their finished breakfast on the table. “You’re biased, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

They sat down together, the lighthearted conversation flowing as they shared bites of eggs and strawberries, laughing between sips of coffee. The breakfast wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect in its simplicity—an unhurried morning in each other’s company, surrounded by the warm, cozy quiet of Y/N’s apartment. They debated everything from favorite movies to worst concert experiences, sharing stories that filled the space with easy laughter and growing familiarity.

After a while, Minjeong glanced up, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes filled with warmth. “For, you know, helping me avoid another cooking disaster.”

Y/N grinned, reaching across the table to give Minjeong’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime, rockstar. And for the record, I think you make a pretty great breakfast companion.”

They sat there, their hands resting together on the table, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence as they simply enjoyed the moment.

--

As the week unfolded, Y/N found herself spending more time with Minjeong than she had anticipated. It was as if they’d fallen into an unspoken rhythm: stolen moments after work, late-night drives, casual dinners where laughter spilled over plates of food, and quiet, cozy mornings. They were comfortable together, moving with an ease that made Y/N feel like they’d known each other for longer than just a few weeks.

So when Minjeong had invited her to another one of the band’s shows that weekend, Y/N had felt both excitement and a small pang of uncertainty. They hadn’t talked about what they were, or even if there was a “what” to define. Minjeong was still this untouchable, slightly mysterious rockstar to Y/N, someone who lived in a world she didn’t quite understand yet. But when she was with Minjeong, all that fell away, and she felt like she was simply with… Minjeong. Her Minjeong.

Now, it was Saturday night, and Y/N was back in her studio apartment, prepping with her friends Yunjin and Minji. The small space was alive with laughter and conversation as the girls sat cross-legged on Y/N’s bed, surrounded by a scattered pile of clothes, shoes, and beauty products.

“So,” Yunjin said with a knowing look, pausing as she put on her earrings, “are you ready to see your ‘mystery girlfriend’ perform again tonight?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she rolled her eyes. “You guys are too much. And I don’t even know if she’s my girlfriend…”

Minji tilted her head, giving her a skeptical look. “Y/N, please. You’ve practically been joined at the hip all week. If that’s not girlfriend material, I don’t know what is.”

Y/N looked down, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her anxiety. “I just… I don’t know. I mean, we haven’t had any kind of talk about it, you know? We’re acting like a couple, but she hasn’t really said what she wants, and I don’t want to push it if it’s not… that serious.”

Yunjin shook her head, putting a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Look, I don’t know Minjeong like you do, but from everything you’ve told us… She’s definitely into you. And, girl, if anyone’s lucky to be with someone, it’s her with you. But you’ll never really know until you ask, right?”

Minji nodded, leaning back against Y/N’s headboard. “Yeah, Y/N. You’re not asking for too much if you want a little clarity. It’s only fair. And look, you’re already putting yourself out there by going to her show tonight. Just enjoy it, and if you’re still feeling unsure, talk to her after.”

Y/N looked between her friends, feeling a wave of gratitude. “Thanks, guys. You’re right… I guess I just have to ask when the time’s right.”

“And in the meantime,” Yunjin said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she rummaged through Y/N’s wardrobe, “we’re going to make sure you look so good that Minjeong won’t be able to look anywhere else.”

With a shared laugh, they dove into picking out an outfit, discarding options with a mix of critiques and approving nods. After trying on a few combinations, they finally settled on a black mini dress that hugged Y/N’s curves in all the right ways. She paired it with a cropped leather jacket and heeled ankle boots that gave her just enough height and an extra edge. Yunjin added the finishing touches with smoky eye makeup, making her dark eyes stand out, while Minji worked on her hair, giving it loose, tousled waves that framed her face.

“Perfect,” Yunjin declared, admiring their handiwork with a satisfied smile. “There’s no way Minjeong’s eyes are straying from you tonight.”

Y/N felt a flush rise in her cheeks as she looked in the mirror. The outfit and makeup were a little bolder than her usual look, but she loved it. There was a quiet confidence that seemed to settle over her, like she could step into this role with all the daring it demanded. She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

As they left the apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves mixed with excitement. They chatted and laughed as they made their way to the bar, their voices blending into the soft sounds of the city around them. When they finally arrived, they joined the steady stream of people entering the venue, Y/N’s anticipation growing with each step.

The bar was packed with people milling about, drinks in hand as they waited for the show to start. Y/N’s eyes immediately scanned the stage, where she spotted Minjeong and her bandmates tuning their instruments and chatting among themselves. Minjeong looked effortlessly cool, her dark hair falling over her eyes as she focused on her guitar, fingers moving deftly over the strings. Y/N felt her heart skip a beat, her lips curling into a small smile as she watched.

“Oh, she’s definitely noticed you,” Yunjin whispered, nudging Y/N with a grin as Minjeong’s eyes finally found her in the crowd. The look that passed between them was soft but charged, as if there was an unspoken understanding, a secret language they’d begun to share.

Minjeong’s gaze lingered, her lips curving into a barely-there smile before she turned back to her guitar, finishing up her pre-show preparations. Y/N felt a flutter of excitement, her friends giggling beside her as they settled into a spot near the stage.

As the lights dimmed and the band took their places, Y/N felt the pulse of anticipation building around her. The music started with a slow, captivating rhythm, the opening notes vibrating through the room, and Y/N felt her entire body respond to the sound. The crowd cheered, and Y/N joined in, her eyes locked on Minjeong as she played, her focus on the music but with occasional glances in Y/N’s direction.

--

The band finished their set to roaring applause, and Y/N clapped along with everyone else, though her heart was beating with a different kind of anticipation. The question that had been lingering all week—the one that haunted her whenever she was alone—was finally too heavy to ignore. Tonight, she was going to find out exactly what Minjeong wanted, no matter the answer.

As the crowd began to disperse and people headed to the bar, Y/N turned to her friends, her hands fidgeting slightly. “I think I’m going to go backstage, you know, to talk to her.”

Yunjin and Minji exchanged knowing glances before giving her reassuring smiles.

“Go for it,” Yunjin said, squeezing her arm. “We’ll be right here if you need us. You got this.”

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath as she maneuvered her way through the crowded room toward the backstage area. Her heart was pounding with each step, the noise from the bar fading into a soft hum as she neared the back of the venue. Finally, she slipped behind the door marked “Staff Only,” her resolve growing with every stride. This was it. She was going to get the answers she needed.

But as she turned the corner, her steps slowed. Her heart sank at the sight before her: Minjeong was leaning against the wall, laughing softly with another girl. Y/N couldn’t remember ever seeing her before, but she was gorgeous, her long hair falling in waves over her shoulders, and she had an easy, confident way of standing close to Minjeong that sent a strange chill through Y/N.

The girl’s hand was on Minjeong’s arm, her touch lingering a little too long, her body angled in a way that felt… intimate. Minjeong wasn’t exactly pulling away, either, and Y/N felt a painful twist in her chest. She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath as she willed herself to stay calm.

She was just about to step forward, determined to break up whatever was happening, when the girl leaned in and kissed Minjeong. It was brief, but enough—a soft, easy brush of lips that somehow felt like a punch to Y/N’s gut. Her chest tightened, her breaths shallow as the betrayal hit her full force. She hadn’t realized she was gripping her purse so tightly until her knuckles turned white.

A small gasp escaped her before she could stop it, and in that instant, Minjeong broke the kiss, her eyes flickering up. Her gaze locked with Y/N’s, her face shifting from surprise to something that looked a lot like panic.

The realization of what she’d seen—the kiss, the closeness—felt like it echoed through every part of Y/N. She couldn’t take it. She couldn’t stand there, her heart breaking right in front of Minjeong, watching that guilt and regret take over her face.

Before Minjeong could say anything, Y/N turned on her heel, forcing herself to move, each step heavier than the last. She pushed past the door and back into the crowded bar, the lights blurring slightly as she blinked against the sting of tears. She caught sight of Yunjin and Minji by the bar, their smiles fading the moment they saw her face.

"Y/N, hey, what happened?" Minji’s voice was gentle, her hand reaching out to steady Y/N.

The words caught in her throat, and she forced out a bitter, trembling laugh. "Nothing, just… Minjeong kissing another girl," she managed, the words tasting sour. Her voice wavered, and she couldn’t bear the pitying look on her friends’ faces. She didn’t want to explain, didn’t want to relive that moment any more than she already was.

Her heart was racing as she pushed through the crowded bar toward the exit, desperate to be anywhere else. The cool air hit her face, grounding her slightly as she stepped onto the street. The sounds of the city buzzed around her, but it felt muffled, distant. All she could focus on was the ache in her chest, the betrayal that left her feeling hollow.

A cab slowed to a stop, and she climbed in, pulling the door shut behind her as though she could shut out everything she’d just seen. She was about to give the driver her address, but a familiar voice broke through the noise, catching her attention.

"Y/N!" Minjeong’s voice was urgent, laced with desperation, and it made Y/N’s heart ache even more. She turned her head, barely able to see Minjeong through the fogged-up window, but there she was, pushing through the crowd, her expression frantic, her eyes wide.

“Please, Y/N, just… let me explain,” Minjeong’s voice cracked, her hand pressed against the glass, her eyes searching for a sign that Y/N would stay.

Y/N swallowed, fighting the urge to listen, to believe whatever Minjeong would say. Part of her wanted to throw open the door, to demand answers, to let Minjeong explain everything away. But a stronger part of her, the part that felt the sting of betrayal and the bitterness of uncertainty, couldn’t bring herself to stay. She needed space, needed to figure out if any of this had been real at all.

“Please, drive,” she whispered to the cab driver, her voice barely audible.

As the car began to pull away, she looked back one last time, her eyes meeting Minjeong’s through the glass. The raw pain in Minjeong’s expression made Y/N’s heart twist painfully, but she forced herself to look away, gripping her purse tightly as the city lights blurred into streaks around her.

The ride home felt longer than usual, filled with too many thoughts, too many questions she didn’t want to ask. She rested her head against the cool window, letting the city pass by as she tried to hold herself together.

When she finally reached her apartment, she walked in on autopilot, her mind replaying the kiss, the look on Minjeong’s face, the panic in her voice. She sank onto her bed, staring at the ceiling, numbness washing over her. The memory of Minjeong’s laughter, the way her hand had fit perfectly in Y/N’s own, now felt painfully out of reach.

A part of her couldn’t believe it—that Minjeong, the girl who’d looked at her with such warmth, had let someone else kiss her. All those moments, all those glances, had they meant nothing?

She wanted to believe there was more to it, that maybe there was some explanation that could make it all make sense. But the image of Minjeong with that girl was seared into her mind, an unwelcome reminder that maybe she’d been naive to think she could have something real with someone who lived a life so different from her own.

--

Minjeong’s mind was racing as she followed her bandmates backstage, her excitement barely contained. She couldn’t wait to see Y/N’s face, to celebrate after another successful show and maybe—if she was lucky—steal a few more minutes alone with her. She smiled to herself, already anticipating Y/N’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when they talked about music.

As she was about to slip away to find her, a familiar voice called her name, and she turned to see Yeji, an old friend from way back. They’d always kept in touch, catching up whenever they crossed paths in the same city. Minjeong smiled, and they started talking, catching up on everything and reminiscing about old times. Minjeong tried to keep the conversation brief—her heart was practically pulling her toward Y/N—but Yeji was relentless, asking questions, laughing, holding her back just a bit longer.

Suddenly, without any warning, Yeji leaned in, her hands resting lightly on Minjeong’s shoulders as she pressed her lips softly against Minjeong’s. Minjeong froze, too stunned to move, her mind blank for a few seconds. The warmth and weight of Yeji’s lips jolted her, and she felt her pulse quicken—not out of excitement, but panic. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to give Yeji the wrong impression. She was about to pull back when a sharp, familiar sound—a gasp—pierced through her daze.

Her gaze shifted, and she saw her: Y/N standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, her face stricken, and in that single moment, Minjeong’s heart plummeted.

“Y/N—” she choked out, pushing Yeji away and taking a shaky step toward her, but Y/N was already turning, her face unreadable as she disappeared through the door.

She tried to follow, but Yeji caught her arm, her grip firm. “Minjeong, wait,” Yeji said softly, her expression shifting to something almost pleading. “I’ve had a crush on you for ages. I didn’t know you’d met someone.”

Minjeong took a breath, a pang of guilt and frustration flaring within her. This was the last thing she wanted. “Yeji, I’m sorry… I didn’t know. But I can’t… I don’t feel that way about you. I’m really sorry.” She gently pulled her arm free, her thoughts racing back to Y/N.

Ignoring Yeji’s disappointed look, she darted out, her heart pounding as she scanned the crowd for any sign of Y/N. Her chest tightened as she finally spotted her outside, getting into a cab. She ran, nearly tripping in her rush to reach her.

“Y/N!” she called out, the desperation in her voice startling even herself. She reached the cab just as Y/N closed the door, her eyes filled with pain, her cheeks streaked with tears. Minjeong pressed her hand to the window, her voice cracking as she begged, “Please, Y/N, just let me explain.”

But before she could say another word, the cab pulled away, and she watched helplessly as it disappeared down the street. She stood there, feeling a cold weight settle over her as the reality of what had just happened hit her. She’d lost her chance to explain, to tell Y/N that she hadn’t wanted that kiss, that it had meant nothing.

She stood there, feeling the emptiness stretch, gnawing at her heart, until she heard voices approaching—her bandmates and Y/N’s friends. Yunjin’s sharp gaze fell on her first, her voice laced with anger.

“Minjeong, what the hell were you thinking?” she snapped, her frustration clear.

“Did you seriously kiss someone else?” Minji’s voice was incredulous, laced with anger.

Minjeong shook her head quickly, her voice urgent. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t kiss her. She just… she kissed me, and I was in shock, and Y/N saw right before I could stop it.” She ran a hand through her hair, her frustration clear. “I tried to go after her, but Yeji held me back. I swear, I didn’t want it. I just… I just want to explain that to Y/N.”

Her bandmates and Y/N’s friends exchanged looks, the anger slowly fading from their expressions.

Minji sighed, crossing her arms. “Well, if that’s true, then you need to tell her. She’s probably at her apartment now. You need to fix this, Minjeong, because she looked heartbroken.”

Minjeong nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I know. And I’ll fix it. I’ll make her understand.”

Without another word, her bandmates gestured for her to follow them to their car. They drove in tense silence, the weight of what she had to do pressing down on her, each second feeling heavier than the last. Her mind raced with thoughts of Y/N—was she still upset? Did she still care? Minjeong’s chest tightened with guilt, and she couldn’t stop replaying the image of Y/N’s tear-streaked face in the taxi.

The drive seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually, they reached Y/N’s building. The bandmates offered a few reassuring words as they stopped outside, and Minjeong gave them a tight smile. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll be okay.”

“Good luck,” Jimin added. “And remember, just be honest.”

Minjeong nodded, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the car. The sound of the door shutting behind her felt final, but she couldn’t back down now. She had to fix this, whatever it took.

She made her way up to Y/N’s floor, each step heavy with the weight of what had happened. When she reached Y/N’s door, she hesitated for just a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her hand to knock, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

After what felt like an eternity, the door slowly opened, and there she was—Y/N, her eyes red and puffy, her face a mixture of anger, pain, and confusion. Minjeong’s heart shattered at the sight. Y/N looked… so distant, like a part of her had already started pulling away. Minjeong’s throat tightened, and she could barely whisper, “Hey.”

The word came out almost like a question, the same way it had the first time they’d met.

--

Minjeong lingered uncertainly in the entryway of Y/N’s apartment, every nerve ending buzzing with tension. She was here—finally here—but now that she was, she wasn’t sure where to begin. Y/N’s gaze was unreadable as she opened the door wider, the redness around her eyes still visible, stepping aside to let her in. Minjeong offered a tentative, grateful smile and slipped inside, her heart pounding, her hands slightly trembling as she followed Y/N to the couch. They sat down, a slight distance between them, and the silence that stretched between them was almost unbearable.

Minutes ticked by, the weight of the unspoken words growing heavier with each second. Minjeong swallowed, trying to summon the words she’d rehearsed on the drive here, but everything seemed to vanish. She could only manage short glances at Y/N, who sat beside her with her arms crossed, her expression still guarded.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally broke the silence, her voice quiet and tense. “If you have nothing to say, Minjeong, maybe you should go.”

The words hit Minjeong hard, spurring her out of her frozen state. She couldn’t leave it like this; she couldn’t lose Y/N. “Wait, Y/N—please, it’s not like that.” She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. “Please, let me explain what happened.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but she didn’t get up to leave either, and that was enough for Minjeong to press on. She took a deep breath, letting her words flow in a careful, deliberate way. She explained every detail—who Yeji was, how she had shown up backstage after the show, how they’d been talking and catching up, and how Yeji had leaned in to kiss her, leaving her frozen in shock until she’d heard Y/N’s gasp.

“I was so confused, and then I saw you there, watching, and everything hit me at once.” Minjeong’s voice cracked slightly, and she looked down, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “I should have pushed her away sooner. I should have known better. I… I’m so sorry, Y/N. You don’t know how badly I wish I’d done something different. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

For a long, silent moment, Minjeong could only stare down at her hands. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, waiting for Y/N’s response, but the longer the silence stretched, the more she worried she’d ruined everything. She was ready to give up and leave, then she heard a soft sniffle.

She looked up, her breath hitching at the sight of tears welling up in Y/N’s eyes. Guilt stabbed her all over again, and she scrambled for words, her hands reaching out as if they could erase the hurt she’d caused. “Oh god, Y/N… I’m so stupid for coming here. I shouldn’t have—”

“Minjeong,” Y/N interrupted, her hand reaching to cover Minjeong’s restless fingers. Her voice was soft, though still a little shaky. “It’s fine. I should apologize as well… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off like that without letting you explain.”

Minjeong shook her head, trying to keep herself from tearing up. “No, Y/N, it’s… it’s my fault. I don’t blame you for leaving. I should’ve—”

“No,” Y/N said more firmly, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I mean it. I’m the one who didn’t communicate. I was so scared. We had such an amazing week and I had never felt more alive, but I didn’t know where the thing we had going on stood. I kept thinking if we were dating, or perhaps we were friends with benefits, maybe I saw just a fling. It’s just, I kept imagining things, that maybe I was the only one feeling like this.” 

Hearing this, Minjeong’s heart squeezed painfully. She looked into Y/N’s eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and she finally felt a surge of courage. “Y/N… no. I admit, I didn’t know where we stood either,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “But what I do is that you were never going to be a fling, or friends with benefits. I know exactly what I want us to be. I want… I want to be with you. For real. No misunderstandings. No more second-guessing.”

For a moment, they only stared at each other, a world of unspoken feelings hanging between them. Minjeong’s heart thudded as she searched Y/N’s face, praying she hadn’t completely blown her chance. Every nerve in her body was on edge, waiting for Y/N’s response.

Finally, she blurted out, breaking the silence with a surge of nervous boldness, “Do you… do you want to go on an actual date with me? Like, an official one. No ambiguity. Just us, out on a real date.”

A laugh bubbled out of Y/N’s lips, soft and warm, melting away the last traces of tension. Minjeong’s heart leaped at the sound, her nerves easing as Y/N leaned in close, her eyes softening as she brushed a gentle kiss across Minjeong’s lips. The kiss was passionate, you could tell they put their emotions into it.

“Of course, Rockstar,” Y/N whispered against her lips, her voice playful but full of warmth. “I think I’d like that a lot.”

They stayed close for a moment, their foreheads pressed together, smiling softly. Y/N felt a wave of relief, joy, and contentment washing over her. She finally felt steady, knowing exactly where she stood—and that they both wanted the same thing.

As they pulled back slightly, Y/N’s smile turned into a smirk. “Now, about that date… Better be the best one I’ve ever had.”

Minjeong grinned, her fingers lacing through Y/N’s as she lifted her palm up to the mouth, pressing her lips against it softly. “Don’t worry. You can count on it.”

--

The anticipation was electric as Y/N and her friends, first in line, waited outside the small, buzzing venue where Minjeong’s band was playing that night. Minjeong had been hinting at a “surprise” for days, and now Y/N could barely contain her excitement—or her nerves. It had been months since they’d started dating, each moment with Minjeong a blend of excitement and sweetness, wrapped up in laughter and stolen kisses. Tonight, though, felt different. There was something in the way Minjeong had looked at her earlier, a glint of mystery that sent Y/N’s mind spinning with curiosity.

Inside, the dim lights and pulsing bass amplified the thrill as Y/N’s group found a spot close to the stage. The energy in the bar was buzzing, everyone hyped up for another of the band’s electrifying performances. But Y/N couldn’t take her eyes off Minjeong, who was tuning her guitar, fingers moving with an effortless grace Y/N had grown to love. Even from a distance, she could see Minjeong’s usual confidence mixed with a touch of nerves—unusual for her rockstar girlfriend, and it only heightened the suspense.

The band launched into their set, and Y/N was mesmerized. Minjeong was magnetic, every note and strum pulling Y/N closer. Minjeong’s voice filled the bar, warm and rich, pouring emotion into each song. Y/N knew this band so well by now—the rhythms and riffs, the way Minjeong’s bandmates complemented her, each song a testament to how well they all fit together. Her friends were cheering, caught up in the music, but Y/N could only focus on Minjeong, who kept sneaking glances her way, eyes flickering with something unsaid.

As the band neared the end of their set, Minjeong glanced back at her bandmates, who each nodded with knowing smiles. She took a deep breath, stepping up to the microphone. Her voice was a little shaky, but her gaze was steady, locked on Y/N.

“So, uh, before we finish tonight… I wanted to share something special with you all,” she began, and there was a hush as the crowd quieted, leaning in to listen. “A few months ago I had no inspiration. I couldn’t write anything, and then I met my muse. Writing this song was like drinking water, or breathing air. That easy. This is for someone who means everything to me. She’s my inspiration… my best friend… the person who makes everything else just fade away.” Minjeong’s cheeks pinked a little under the lights, and Y/N felt her own face warm, her heart pounding.

“I wrote this song for the love of my life. It’s called No.1 Party Anthem.”

As the first chords filled the room, Minjeong’s voice softened, pouring out with a tenderness that caught Y/N off guard. The lyrics felt like a confession, each line weighted with meaning that reached out to her across the crowd. Y/N’s heart swelled with each word, and as the song progressed, Minjeong’s gaze never wavered—she sang to Y/N and Y/N alone, the entire bar falling away until it felt like just the two of them in a quiet, intimate moment.

Y/N’s friends glanced over with smiles, nudging each other knowingly as they watched her try to hold back tears. The raw honesty in Minjeong’s voice filled the room, carrying emotions that had only deepened over the months. Each word told a story, and Y/N could see herself reflected in the lyrics—the late-night laughter, the whispered confessions, the stolen moments that had come to mean everything.

The look of love, the rush of blood

The, 'She's-with-me's, the Gallic shrug

Y/N felt it then: the dizzying sensation of being seen and adored so purely. Her pulse quickened, and she could almost feel the warmth of Minjeong’s hands even from this distance. It was like the world had faded to black and white, the two of them in their own silent film, yet vibrant with color and meaning only they could see.

The shutterbugs, the Camera Plus The black and white and the color dodge

It was a feeling she hadn’t known before, the security of having Minjeong’s affections worn so openly in her words, in her melody, in every single note. Y/N knew then what her friends had always teased her about—that Minjeong would have eyes for no one else, that she belonged here, in this moment, by Minjeong’s side.

The good time girls, the cubicles

The house of fun

As the bridge filled the room, Minjeong’s voice grew stronger, emboldened, and Y/N couldn’t stop the rush of emotions. The energy was intense, so raw and unfiltered, like being caught up in a whirlwind that spun just for the two of them. It was exhilarating, dizzying, grounding—and yet, she felt like she could float away at any moment, lifted up by Minjeong’s words and the crowd’s rapt attention.

The weight of their love, the certainty of it, settled over her. Everything was crystallizing; all their shared laughter, late nights, and whispered secrets between songs. Minjeong wasn’t just singing for a crowd—she was singing for Y/N, for their memories, for their future.

The number one

Party anthem

The song was reaching its end, and Minjeong’s eyes softened as she held the final note, her expression open and vulnerable. Y/N’s heart felt like it was on fire. She hadn’t realized it until now, but this was exactly what she had needed: this quiet, beautiful assurance of how much she meant to Minjeong.

As the song faded, the room erupted in applause, but Minjeong’s gaze stayed locked on her, a private smile on her lips. Y/N could feel her own smile breaking free as tears blurred her vision, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. It was as if Minjeong had taken her heart and woven it into the song, showing Y/N that every note was a promise, every word a reassurance of what they had.

As the applause subsided, Minjeong slipped off the stage, making her way through the crowd toward Y/N. Her friends cheered her on as she moved closer, and Y/N’s heart raced as she finally stood face-to-face with Minjeong, who looked at her with a nervous, hopeful smile.

“Hey, rockstar,” Y/N whispered, unable to contain her grin.

Minjeong chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… what did you think?” she asked, a little shyly, her gaze unwavering.

Y/N’s voice was thick with emotion. “That was… perfect. I loved it.”

Minjeong’s eyes softened, and without a word, she pulled Y/N into her arms, holding her close. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other, while the rest of the world buzzed around them. It was a quiet moment in the middle of the chaos, a moment just for them.

Y/N looked up, meeting Minjeong’s eyes. “I guess that makes me your No.1?”

Minjeong laughed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “You always were.” 

a/n: this is in my top 3 song from AM, so i thought it deserved a fanfic.

[forlix]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying? 

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile. 

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES.  From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket. 

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge. 

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being. 

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair. 

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each. 

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[monzamash]

pit in my stomach - lando norris

rating – mature (cheating, language, sexual references) requested by @landograndprix - hugging you tight, my friend!

it was hard to pin point the moment his love for you had been diminished by his crippling guilt or when you knew there was nothing he could say or do to piece you back together. maybe it was around the time you’d asked him point blank whether he saw you in his future and he stuttered over his truth with an unconvincing of course i do when the dagger had already been deployed into your unsuspecting back. naively blinded by love.

or maybe it was the night lando stumbled home from the local, half a pint of slushing lager still in his hand while the other held a small, black velvet box. he dropped down on one knee, eyes bloodshot with tears and a trembling bottom lip – a stark contrast to your hardened stare and crossed arms shielding you from the blow, physically and emotionally spent.

“i fucked up… i-god i hate that i've hurt you, baby and i wish i could take it all back – i fucked up so bad and i’m so sorry.”

“you didn’t fuck up, lando – you fucked someone else for six months and lied to my face and made me feel like i was losing my mind! do you have any idea how much pain you’ve caused?”

the room fell silent, boiling blood pumping in your ears.

“huh?! do you?”

“no–”

“no you don’t! i've been stupid enough to keep chasing after you and all you’ve done is let me down and made me look like a fucking idiot! everyone knew about her, about what you were doing behind my back and you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t stop! you’re a monster and i’m not going to cry over a mistake you made…"

sadness welled as you stared down at the man kneeling at your feet. he was a stranger who only resembled the man you loved in appearance, not in honour or integrity or character – you were grieving the lando who had showed you the world with so much love and adoration and hope.

"you will have to live with this mistake for the rest of your life.”

“you’re right. i will never forgive myself 'cause she meant nothing and i have to fix this – i need to fix this because i love you.. so much. i’ll get help, i’ll see someone just give me a chance to fix it…”

“do you really think that is going to fix it?”

you pointed to the dainty box that held so much weight. in a way it represented a future founded on four years of memories, of something resembling happiness. sure, there had been disappointments, hundreds of missed calls, a few missed anniversaries and your gnawing intuition saying that maybe the paranoia wasn’t just inside your head. but ending like this, in betrayal and heartache – you hadn’t seen that one coming.

lando swallowed the lump forming in his throat, queasy from the drunken stupor he’d drank himself into and the dread settling in the pit of his empty stomach, “thought it might be start…”

a strained laugh slipped from pursed lips as venom coated your sharpened tongue, “and that is how i know you will never change.”

“please,” lando scrambled to his feet and reached out for your hand in an attempt to stop you from walking away, “please don’t leave me…” he begged, voice barely above a whisper.

lando knew he would never forget the look in your eyes when you slowly turned back to him – they were cold and punishing, bone-chilling. they swirled with the web of lies and sorrow that he had inflicted upon the person he loved the most in the world, who had given him everything she had, who loved him unconditionally, which made it nearly impossible to accept that he had lost you.

“you left me six months ago when you slept with her, lando.”

more writing...

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hiii I’ve never really requested before BUT I had a dream and I just needed more !!! so could you do fem idol reader and hyunjin are both Versace biggest ambassadors both of them extremely close with dontella and she and soo many fans calls them both lthe Versace prince and princess so they both announce there relationship at the Versace event and they model together please add or change whatever you want I just needed someone to hear this ❤️❤️❤️

I adore this. So here you go Sunshine I hope you enjoy <3

Hyunjin x Female!Reader

The atmosphere inside the lavish venue felt alive with glittering lights, the hum of excited conversation, and the scent of luxury that permeated the air. Every corner of the ballroom reflected opulence, from the velvet curtains embroidered with gold to the grand chandelier illuminating the faces of the most influential names in fashion. Tonight wasn’t just any fashion event—it was the event. Versace’s exclusive gala.

And it was the night that everything would change.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror in your hotel suite, adjusting the final touches on your gown- a custom-made Versace piece crafted just for you. It was a masterpiece, designed with intricate lacework, sharp tailoring, and accents that hugged your frame like it was painted onto you. The colors shimmered, catching the soft lights in the room, making your skin glow as if the dress itself was made of moonlight. Your reflection smiled back at you. This wasn’t just any gown. It was a statement.

There was a knock on your door, followed by your manager’s voice. "You ready?"

You took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing down your dress. “As I’ll ever be.”

As you stepped out into the hallway, the hum of anticipation vibrated in your chest. This night would be special. Not just because you were about to walk the red carpet for one of the biggest events of the year but because he would be there.

Hwang Hyunjin.

It was impossible to think of Versace without thinking of Hyunjin- just as it was impossible to think of Hyunjin without thinking of you. The two of you were like magnets, drawn together by fate and fashion. From the first time you met during a Versace campaign shoot, your chemistry was undeniable. Donatella Versace herself had coined the term "Versace Prince and Princess" after that fateful shoot, and the media had run with it.

But tonight, you would reveal a truth that had been bubbling beneath the surface for months. The Versace Prince and Princess were now more than just friends, more than just ambassadors of the brand. They were in love.

Donatella had noticed long before you had even figured your feelings out. It was in fact her who had pushed Hyunjin so hard to confess after she forced a slip up from you confirming your feelings about Hyunjin.

Not only was she was a fashion icon, but a matchmaking genius. She had so easily spotted the potential for you and Hyunjin in the fashion world and in the romantic world. And tonight, under the flash of cameras and beneath the eyes of the fashion world, you and Hyunjin would finally the relationship that had come to be.

When you arrived, the red carpet was buzzing with energy. You could hear the camera shutters clicking at a rapid pace as soon as you stepped out of the car, the soft fabric of your gown trailing behind you like waves. The flashes blinded you for a moment, but you’d grown used to it over the years. You posed gracefully, giving the photographers what they came for- sultry looks over your shoulder, that perfectly practiced smile, the occasional wink.

But your eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for him.

And then, you saw him.

Hyunjin was standing at the other end of the carpet, looking as devastatingly handsome as ever in a tailored Versace suit that looked like it had been made with him in mind. His long hair was styled effortlessly, giving him that ethereal yet dangerous look that had the fashion world obsessed. He turned, his eyes catching yours across the carpet, and for a moment, it felt like time had slowed. The world faded away, and it was just the two of you, connected by the same invisible thread that had always drawn you together.

He smiled, that small, knowing smile that made your heart flutter. With that soft look in his eyes that assured you he too wanted to spend the rest of his life together with you.

The two of you had planned this moment for weeks. The way you would walk down the carpet separately, letting the anticipation build, before meeting in the middle in front of the world's cameras. Hyunjin had always been a showman, and tonight, he wanted the world to see just how much he adored you.

As you took a step forward, your heart pounded in your chest. The crowd seemed to hold its breath as you walked towards him, your movements deliberate, graceful. Hyunjin mirrored your actions, his long strides bringing him closer to you.

When you finally met in the middle of the carpet, the world exploded into flashes. You could feel the weight of the crowd's gaze, the media's eyes glued to the two of you, but none of it mattered. Hyunjin was all you could see. He reached for your hand, his fingers gently intertwining with yours, and together.

You expected for him to turn to the cameras, maybe say something. But instead, he leaned in and brushed the most delicate and tender kiss you had ever experienced to your lips.

The reaction was instantaneous. The crowd roared with excitement, the photographers calling out your names, trying to get the perfect shot. You could hear faint whispers- “Are they...?” “Is this real?” -but you and Hyunjin remained calm, your hands clasped tightly together.

Then, Hyunjin turned towards the door, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Ready?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with excitement.

Hyunjin turned back to the crowd, nodding and giving a slight wave as you two walked into the event.

There was a collective gasp from the audience, and you couldn’t help but smile. The cameras clicked furiously as you stood there, hand in hand with Hyunjin, the Versace Prince and Princess revealing their long-hidden secret.

You squeezed Hyunjin’s hand, glancing up at him, and he smiled down at you, his eyes soft with affection. This was your moment, and nothing could take it away from you.

But the night wasn’t over yet.

Inside the gala, the atmosphere was electric. Fashion icons, celebrities, and designers mingled, sipping champagne and marveling at the opulent displays of Versace’s latest collection. But all eyes were on you and Hyunjin.

Donatella Versace herself had insisted that the two of you model the final looks of the evening. It was a last-minute decision, but one that felt right. After all, you were Versace’s biggest ambassadors, and now, the world knew you were together. What better way to celebrate than by walking the runway together?

Backstage, you could feel the excitement buzzing through the air. Hyunjin stood next to you, his presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. He was calm, collected, as always, but you could see the glint of excitement in his eyes.

“You ready for this, princess?” he asked, his voice teasing as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You laughed softly, adjusting the gold crown that adorned your head- a perfect accessory for your final look. “I was born ready.”

The music started, a deep, pulsing beat that reverberated through the room. The lights dimmed, casting a golden glow over the runway, and one by one, the models began to walk. You could feel the energy building as the final looks were unveiled, each one more extravagant than the last.

And then it was your turn.

Hyunjin offered you his arm, and together, you stepped onto the runway, the crowd gasping as you appeared. You walked in perfect sync, your heads held high, exuding confidence and power. The cameras flashed, capturing every moment, every step, but all you could think about was Hyunjin next to you.

This was your kingdom. The two of you ruled the fashion world as the Versace Prince and Princess, and tonight, you were untouchable.

As you reached the end of the runway, Hyunjin turned to you, his hand slipping around your waist. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "I love you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

And as the crowd rose to their feet in applause, you knew that whatever came next, you and Hyunjin would face it together. Although it seemed like you already had the support.

Later that night, as the gala began to wind down and the guests mingled, you and Hyunjin found yourselves tucked away in a quiet corner of the venue, away from the cameras and the noise. The two of you sat side by side, your hands intertwined, enjoying the peace that came with the end of such a monumental evening. With his free hand Hyunjin played with your fingers, the flute of champagne he had long forgotten about as he was more focused on you.

“I still can’t believe we did it,” you murmured, resting your head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “We really told the whole world.”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m glad we did. I was tired of pretending and hiding. Do you know how hard it is not to look at you for long periods of time? You're so pretty and I love you so much that if I looked at you any longer than two seconds the world would have guessed in -3 seconds.”

You smiled, lifting your head to look at him. “Your dramatic Jinnie...”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the weight of the evening settling around you. There was so much that had changed tonight, but in a way, it felt like nothing had changed at all. You were still you. And Hyunjin was still Hyunjin. The only difference was that now, the world knew what you had known for a long time- that you were meant to be together.

Hyunjin’s hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “I love you,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart full.

And in that moment, under the soft glow of the lights and the quiet hum of the after-party, you knew that no matter what the future held, you and Hyunjin would face it together.

Your love was more than just a story for the cameras. It was real, it was true, and it was forever.

The Versace Prince and Princess- together, always.

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark

[goldfades]

𝟎𝟎𝟐 UNDER THE MISTLETOE ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ꪆৎ ˚. RAFE CAMERON

12 days of christmas celebration!!

as holidays approach, it’s important to remember those who are facing hardships, such as the people of palestine. in times of crisis, solidarity matters more than ever. you can support palestinian communities by donating to reputable organizations providing aid, such as food, medical supplies, and shelter. help palestine with a click | heal palestine | unrwa | resources for palestine

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6.4k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | At a posh Tannyhill Christmas party, you get caught under the mistletoe with none other than Rafe Cameron. Friends egg you on, but what starts as a joking kiss turns into something much deeper.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | kinda a fluffy slow burn? rafe being a little ass (but still sweet obvs), one kiss, nothing else!

There’s something different about the Outer Banks when Christmas rolls around. The air isn’t colder—it never really is—but it feels sharper, fresher, like the breeze carries more secrets than usual. The usual salty tang is sweeter now, tinged with the scent of evergreen wreaths hung on shop doors and strings of twinkling lights snaking through palm trees. Tannyhill, though, is where the real magic happens.

Or at least, where it pretends to.

It’s the kind of place that looks like a Christmas card came to life: wreaths on every window, a tree the size of a lighthouse in the foyer, and catering staff that fuss over candy cane platters like they're hosting royalty. For the Camerons, appearances are everything, especially at this time of year.

“You’re really going to wear that?” Sarah’s voice cuts through your thoughts as you stand in front of her mirror, smoothing the hem of your dress. She’s perched on the edge of her bed, her hair pinned up in half-done curls, a bottle of champagne tucked between her legs. It’s not even six, but she insisted tonight required proper pre-gaming.

You roll your eyes and turn to face her. “Yes, I’m wearing this. What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just… safe,” she says, raising a brow. “It’s Christmas at Tannyhill. You’re supposed to be…” She waves her hand in the air, searching for the right word. “…a little dangerous.”

“Dangerous like you?” you quip, nodding toward her shimmering red dress that somehow manages to be both floor-length and scandalous.

“Exactly,” she replies without missing a beat, taking a triumphant sip of champagne. “Anyway, I’m just saying. Someone’s bound to notice you tonight. Could be worth the risk.”

“Risk of what?” you laugh, but it’s a little hollow, your gaze drifting back to the mirror.

You’ve been to these events before. You know how they go. It’s all champagne flutes, polite smiles, and whispered gossip. Nothing remotely risky. But still… there’s something about the way Sarah looks at you that makes you wonder if she knows something you don’t.

The mirror’s reflection isn’t much help. The dress is nice enough—a deep green velvet that hugs your frame, with thin straps and a hem that stops just above your knees—but “dangerous” isn’t exactly the vibe it’s giving. It’s more “holiday cocktail party chic,” which, to be fair, is exactly what you were aiming for. But Sarah’s words buzz around your head like a pesky gnat. Someone’s bound to notice you tonight.

“Maybe I like being safe,” you counter, but the words sound less convincing the moment they leave your mouth.

Sarah snorts, setting the champagne bottle aside and rising from the bed. “Oh, please. You don’t come to a Cameron Christmas party to blend in.” She strides over, her heels clicking on the hardwood, and spins you to face her. Her eyes narrow in assessment, scanning you from head to toe. “Okay. Hair? Gorgeous. Dress? Very… respectable. But—” She steps behind you, pulling a strand of your hair over your shoulder, “—you need something to make people stop and stare.”

You watch as she opens a jewelry box on her vanity, her fingers rifling through an assortment of glittering pieces. “Ah-ha,” she says triumphantly, holding up a delicate gold necklace with a teardrop pendant. “This. It’s simple, but it catches the light just enough. Trust me.”

Before you can protest, she’s clasping it around your neck. You glance back in the mirror. She’s right; the necklace adds something—a quiet elegance that makes the whole look seem intentional, like you tried just hard enough to care without overdoing it.

“Better,” Sarah says, admiring her handiwork with a satisfied smile. Then her eyes narrow mischievously. “Now, shoes. Please tell me you didn’t bring flats.”

You groan, nodding toward the corner where a pair of nude heels sit. Sarah clicks her tongue in approval. “Good girl. If you’d shown up in ballet flats, I would’ve sent you home.”

“Why do I let you do this to me?” you mutter, sitting on the edge of her bed to strap the heels on.

“Because deep down, you know I’m right,” Sarah says, smirking. “And because you secretly love the drama.”

She’s half right. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but there is a part of you that loves the energy of these parties—the music swelling as the night goes on, the clinking glasses, the undercurrent of excitement that hums through the air like static electricity. It’s impossible to ignore. The Camerons don’t do anything halfway, especially when it comes to Christmas.

“I just hope I survive the night without falling on these death traps,” you say, standing up and wobbling slightly as you adjust to the height of the heels.

Sarah grabs her champagne bottle, lifting it in a mock toast. “To surviving the night—and maybe even having some fun while you’re at it.”

You roll your eyes but smile despite yourself. “Cheers.”

By the time you both make your way downstairs, the house is already buzzing with life. The foyer is packed with people, a mix of family friends, business partners, and the kind of people who always seem to be at events like this but never seem to actually belong anywhere. The smell of pine, cinnamon, and something faintly citrusy hangs in the air, mixing with the soft strains of a string quartet playing in the next room.

Tannyhill looks like something out of a magazine spread, with garlands draped over the banisters, twinkling fairy lights tucked into every corner, and an absurdly large Christmas tree that dominates the main hall. Ornaments catch the light like little stars, and at the very top, a glittering silver angel tilts slightly to one side, as though even she’s exhausted by the sheer extra-ness of it all.

“Remind me again why I let you drag me to this?” you whisper to Sarah as you both pause at the top of the stairs, surveying the scene below.

“Because you love me,” she says sweetly, linking her arm through yours and pulling you forward. “And because this is way more fun than sitting at home watching Hallmark movies alone.”

You’re about to argue when you catch sight of Rafe Cameron near the bar, and your heart stutters. He’s standing with a group of his friends, all laughter and easy charm, a glass of something amber-colored in his hand. His hair is perfectly tousled, his suit crisp and tailored to perfection, but it’s his smile that catches you off guard. It’s sharp and confident, but there’s something about it that feels… dangerous. Like Sarah said.

And, just for a moment, you wonder if tonight might be more than just another Cameron Christmas party.

The party is a well-oiled machine by the time you and Sarah descend the staircase. Conversations buzz, laughter punctuates the hum of polite chatter, and the clink of glasses mingles with the soft holiday music floating from the grand piano in the corner. It’s glamorous, sure, but you can’t help feeling like an outsider looking in.

Sarah tugs at your arm as you reach the bottom step. “Alright, split up. You mingle, I mingle, and we reconvene for champagne refills. Sound good?”

“Wait, what? I thought we were sticking together,” you hiss, but she’s already slipping away into the crowd, greeting some distant cousin with a dazzling smile.

You sigh, smoothing your dress nervously as you scan the room. No familiar faces—well, not anyone you’d feel comfortable just walking up to. Except... your gaze flickers back to the bar, where Rafe stands. He’s laughing at something Topper just said, the sound loud and unapologetic. Kelce is leaning on the counter, gesturing wildly as he tells some animated story.

You’ve been in the same circles as Rafe Cameron for years, thanks to Sarah, but he’s always felt like… a lot. He’s intense in a way that makes him hard to pin down. Most of the time, he’s all bravado and sharp edges, but every now and then, you catch glimpses of something softer beneath it all. Not that you’ve spent much time trying to figure him out.

Still, as if drawn by some magnetic pull, your feet begin to carry you closer to the bar. Not to him, specifically. You’re just heading in that general direction, you tell yourself. It’s not your fault he happens to be there.

As you approach, you catch snippets of their conversation.

“—and then the idiot didn’t even see the wave coming,” Kelce is saying, his words punctuated by Topper’s loud cackle.

“Classic,” Rafe says, smirking as he takes a sip from his glass. His eyes are sharp and focused, scanning the room even as he listens to his friends. It’s like he’s always on high alert, even at his own party.

You hesitate, hovering a few steps away, trying to decide if you should keep walking or stop for a drink. The bartender glances your way, and before you can chicken out, you step up to the counter.

“White wine, please,” you say, your voice steady despite the knot of nerves tightening in your stomach.

As the bartender pours your drink, you feel eyes on you. Sure enough, when you glance over, Rafe is looking right at you. Not in the casual, friendly way people look at someone they sort of know. No, this is something else. His gaze is sharp, piercing, like he’s sizing you up, trying to figure you out.

“Didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, his voice low and smooth. It’s not a question, but it feels like one.

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Sarah dragged me along.”

His smirk deepens. “Sounds about right. You let her boss you around like that?”

“She’s very persuasive,” you reply, taking a sip of your wine to steady yourself.

Rafe chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Yeah, she is.” He leans back against the bar, his eyes never leaving yours. “So, what’s your plan for the night? Stand around sipping wine, or are you gonna do something interesting?”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Define interesting.”

Topper, ever the instigator, interjects before Rafe can answer. “Oh, she’s a wild card. Watch out, Rafe. She might even… I don’t know… dance under the mistletoe.”

Kelce laughs, nudging Rafe with his elbow. “Yeah, or start a snowball fight with the fake snow machine. Real party animal.”

Your cheeks heat at their teasing, but Rafe doesn’t laugh. Instead, he tilts his head, his smirk softening into something that feels almost curious. “Maybe we’ll find out,” he says, his tone light but with an edge you can’t quite place.

Before you can respond, Sarah reappears at your side, her timing impeccable. “There you are,” she says, looping her arm through yours. Her gaze flickers to Rafe, and a knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Causing trouble already?”

“Me?” Rafe says, feigning innocence. “Never.”

Sarah rolls her eyes, pulling you away before you can say anything else. “Come on,” she whispers. “We’ve got to get you in a prime spot before the games start.”

“What games?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder to find Rafe watching you as you walk away.

“You’ll see,” Sarah says with a grin, her tone conspiratorial. And just like that, you know the night is only getting started.

Sarah doesn’t give you much time to process the interaction—or the way Rafe’s gaze seemed to follow you, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let you leave. She’s already pulling you through the crowd with purpose, weaving between glittering guests and servers balancing trays of hors d'oeuvres. The hum of conversation grows louder as you approach the central hall, where the Christmas tree stands tall, glowing with soft golden light.

“Okay,” Sarah says, stopping abruptly. “Here’s the deal. Wheezie has this whole mistletoe situation set up.”

You blink at her, confused. “What?”

She grins mischievously, clearly enjoying your bewilderment. “She’s been on a mistletoe kick all week. She got the staff to hang them in, like, every doorway. It’s ridiculous. But tonight, we’re turning it into a game.”

“A game?” you repeat, feeling a sense of foreboding creep in.

Sarah nods, her grin widening. “Every time two people end up under the mistletoe, they have to kiss. No exceptions. Wheezie’s patrolling to enforce it.”

Your eyes widen. “Sarah. You’re kidding.”

“Oh, I’m not,” she says, practically bouncing with excitement. “And don’t even think about trying to dodge it. Wheezie’s got this sixth sense for people sneaking around.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Why do I feel like this is going to end badly?”

“Badly?” Sarah repeats, feigning offense. “This is the best part of the party! Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? A little harmless fun never killed anyone.”

Before you can argue further, a familiar voice calls out.

“Sarah!” Wheezie appears out of nowhere, clutching a clipboard of all things. Her excitement is infectious, her cheeks flushed pink as she skids to a stop in front of you. “Did you tell her about the mistletoe?”

“Oh, I told her,” Sarah says, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “She’s thrilled.”

You glare at Sarah, but Wheezie either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Good,” she says, beaming. “Because I already saw, like, three people cheat, and I had to threaten them with no dessert.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sarah says, high-fiving her little sister.

Wheezie turns to you, her expression suddenly serious. “You’re not going to cheat, right? Because I’m keeping track.”

You force a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Wheezie hurries off to continue her self-appointed duties, leaving you and Sarah standing near the edge of the room.

“I’m going to regret this,” you mutter, taking a long sip of your wine.

Sarah just laughs. “Not if you end up under the mistletoe with the right person.”

You’re about to retort when the sound of laughter nearby catches your attention. Rafe, Topper, and Kelce are heading your way, all of them holding fresh drinks and clearly in high spirits. Your stomach does a little flip as Rafe’s eyes find yours again, that same sharp intensity from earlier still lingering.

“Speak of the devil,” Sarah murmurs, her tone teasing.

“What?” you ask, your voice a little too high, but she just smirks.

“Nothing,” she says innocently. “But maybe Wheezie’s mistletoe isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

The night progresses in a blur of laughter and champagne. Guests drift from one room to the next, admiring the decorations, exchanging pleasantries, and inevitably finding themselves caught under Wheezie’s strategically placed mistletoe. You spot her several times, clipboard in hand, ushering reluctant participants toward their obligatory kiss with all the authority of a seasoned party planner.

It’s silly and lighthearted, but every time you see a pair of people beneath the mistletoe, your stomach tightens. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder, half-wondering when—or if—you might end up in the same predicament.

And then, of course, it happens.

You’re standing near the fireplace, chatting with a distant family friend of Sarah’s, when someone brushes past you, drawing your attention. You turn—and immediately regret it. Rafe is there, his broad frame just a little too close, his expression unreadable as he looks down at you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and casual, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes your pulse quicken.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice a little breathless.

Before either of you can say more, Wheezie materializes out of nowhere, her eyes lighting up like it’s Christmas morning. “Oh my gosh, you guys!” she exclaims, pointing above your heads.

You don’t even have to look. The knowing smirk that spreads across Rafe’s face tells you everything you need to know.

Mistletoe. Of course.

Your heart plummets straight to your stomach as Wheezie bounces on the balls of her feet, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Well?” she says, grinning like she just uncovered the juiciest secret. “You have to kiss! Rules are rules!”

Rafe leans against the edge of the fireplace, casually glancing up at the offending sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ornate mantle. His lips twitch into a smirk as he looks back at you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are.

“You heard the boss,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement. “Rules are rules.”

Your mouth goes dry. Of course, this is happening. Of course, Wheezie—sweet, well-meaning, meddlesome Wheezie—would find a way to make this the most embarrassing moment of your life. You try to laugh it off, but it comes out shaky, barely convincing.

“This doesn’t count,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction. “We were just—”

“It absolutely counts,” Wheezie cuts in, clutching her clipboard like it’s a gavel. “You’re right there. No cheating.”

Rafe tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s sizing you up. You hate how effortlessly cool he looks, like this is all just a game to him. And maybe it is.

But for you, it’s anything but.

Because standing this close to him—so close you can catch the faint scent of his cologne, something warm and woodsy—you’re dragged back to a version of yourself you thought you’d buried years ago. A younger you, sitting cross-legged on your bed, scribbling in your journal about Rafe Cameron like some lovesick fool.

You had a crush on him once, back when you were too naive to realize what it meant to like someone like Rafe. It started the summer he came to one of Sarah’s golf lessons, tagging along out of boredom. You’d been there, too, struggling with your swing and trying desperately not to let anyone notice. But they did. A couple of boys from your class—Topper included—had decided to make you their entertainment for the afternoon, mimicking your stance and snickering loudly enough to draw everyone’s attention.

You’d been mortified, red-faced and blinking back tears, until Rafe—taller, older, and impossibly confident—had stepped in.

“Got something better to do?” he’d said, his voice sharp enough to cut. “Or is bullying girls your new hobby?”

The boys had stumbled over their words, mumbling excuses before scurrying off, and Rafe had shrugged it off like it was nothing. But for you, it wasn’t nothing. For you, it was everything.

You never told anyone—not even Sarah—how much that moment stuck with you, how it planted a seed of something small but stubborn in your chest. A crush, yes, but more than that: an infatuation with the idea of him, the version of Rafe who might actually care.

But crushes fade, and years pass, and you convinced yourself that Rafe was just a fleeting thing, a schoolgirl daydream you outgrew. Or so you thought.

Until now.

Now, he’s standing in front of you, taller and sharper than you remember, and the way his gaze lingers on you makes it impossible to breathe.

“You okay over there?” Rafe asks, his voice cutting into your spiraling thoughts. He’s smirking, of course, because why wouldn’t he be?

“I—uh, yeah,” you stammer, cursing yourself for how obvious it is that you’re not, in fact, okay.

“Sure?” he presses, taking a deliberate step closer. “You look a little nervous.”

“Stop,” you say, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably.

“Stop what?” he asks innocently, though his grin says otherwise. “I’m just standing here. You’re the one making it weird.”

You glare at him, but it’s weak at best. “I’m not—this isn’t weird.”

“Oh, it’s definitely weird,” he says, and there’s a teasing edge to his voice now, one that sends your heart racing. “But don’t worry. I’ll make it quick.”

Behind him, Topper and Kelce are already snickering, clearly enjoying the show.

“Just kiss her already!” Topper calls out, his voice loud and obnoxious enough to make a few heads turn.

“Yeah, Rafe, show her what she’s been missing!” Kelce adds, and you want to sink into the floor.

Rafe shakes his head, laughing softly under his breath. “You guys are the worst,” he mutters, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes you think he doesn’t mind the attention.

Then, before you can think or move or even breathe, he closes the distance between you.

The kiss starts slow—surprisingly so. His hand brushes your arm lightly before settling on your waist, steady and sure, and his lips are soft, warmer than you expect. The world around you seems to blur, fading into the background as he deepens the kiss, just enough to make your knees weak. It’s not a joke, not teasing—it’s deliberate, measured, and devastating in its intensity.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours, his smirk softer now, almost curious.

“There,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

In the background, Topper and Kelce erupt into a chorus of cheers and whistles, and Wheezie claps her hands in triumph, shouting something about how this is how the game is supposed to be played.

But you’re barely aware of any of it. All you can feel is the ghost of his lips on yours and the weight of his gaze, still locked on you like he’s trying to figure you out.

And for the first time all night, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he feels the same pull you’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

Your face burns as the cheers and whistles rise around you, but Rafe doesn’t move away. He stays close, his hand still lightly resting on your waist, and for a brief, dizzying moment, it feels like the two of you are suspended in a bubble. His expression is unreadable, a mix of amusement and something softer, something that makes your pulse quicken.

“Man, look at her face!” Kelce crows, doubling over with laughter. “She’s blushing so hard right now.”

“Classic,” Topper chimes in, grinning like an idiot. “Rafe, you’re out here making girls fall in love under mistletoe. What a gentleman.”

You flinch, wanting to glare at them but too mortified to do much more than focus on breathing. Rafe, however, seems entirely unbothered by their antics. If anything, their comments only deepen his smirk.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving them off without looking away from you. “Go bother someone else, will you?”

Kelce and Topper groan dramatically but wander off soon enough, still laughing and elbowing each other. Wheezie lingers for a moment longer, beaming at you both like she just orchestrated the match of the century before skipping away to enforce her rules on the next unsuspecting pair.

Finally, it’s just you and Rafe, standing far too close for comfort in the shadow of the grand fireplace.

“You good?” he asks, his voice quieter now, a little more serious.

You blink up at him, your thoughts still scrambled from the kiss. “What? Oh—yeah. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

His eyes narrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite believe you. “You sure? You looked like you were about to pass out there for a second.”

“I’m sure,” you say quickly, your voice an octave too high. You take a step back, desperate to put some distance between you, but the movement feels clumsy, like you’ve forgotten how to use your own legs.

Rafe chuckles softly, and you hate how effortlessly cool he is, like kissing you in the middle of a crowded room was just another thing he did to pass the time. “Relax,” he says, his tone lighter now. “It’s just mistletoe. Not a big deal.”

Not a big deal. Right.

“Right,” you echo, forcing a laugh that you hope sounds convincing. “Totally not a big deal.”

But it was a big deal—at least to you. Because no matter how much you try to tell yourself otherwise, you can still feel the ghost of his lips on yours, the warmth of his hand on your waist. You can still hear the way your heart pounded, loud enough to drown out the world.

And worse, you’re starting to realize that all those old feelings you thought you’d buried years ago? They’re not as buried as you’d like to think.

Rafe seems to sense your discomfort because his smirk softens into something almost... kind. “Hey,” he says, leaning in just enough to make your breath catch. “You don’t have to overthink it, you know. It’s just a kiss.”

You nod, though the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak. “I know.”

“Good,” he says, straightening up again. But then his gaze dips to your lips—just for a second, barely noticeable—and your stomach flips all over again.

“Rafe!” Sarah’s voice cuts through the air, startling you both. She’s weaving her way toward you, her champagne glass in hand and her eyes sharp. “Stop tormenting my friend.”

“I’m not tormenting her,” Rafe says innocently, but the glint in his eyes tells a different story.

Sarah rolls her eyes and loops her arm through yours, tugging you away from him. “Come on. You’ve spent enough time under his spell for one night.”

You let her pull you along, but as you glance over your shoulder, you catch Rafe watching you again, his smirk still in place. There’s something in his expression, something almost... contemplative.

For the next few days, you try to shake him. You really do.

You fill your hours with anything and everything that might distract you. You hit the beach early one morning, hoping the salty air and crashing waves might clear your head. It doesn’t. You sit on your towel, staring out at the horizon, only to find your thoughts drifting back to the kiss—the way his hand lingered at your waist, the infuriating confidence in his smirk, the warmth of his lips.

Next, you try golfing with your dad, thinking that muscle memory and the sharp focus the sport demands will drown out the noise in your head. It doesn’t. Instead, your dad spends half the morning teasing you about your distracted swings, and you nearly send your nine-iron into the pond after imagining Rafe standing behind you again, casually correcting your form like he’d done at Sarah’s lesson all those years ago.

Even shopping—your fail-safe remedy for every stressful situation—proves useless. You wander aimlessly through the boutiques in town, running your fingers over racks of clothing you barely glance at. It’s like he’s everywhere, lingering in the background of your mind, taunting you with his too-perfect grin and that stupid, stupid kiss.

By the fourth day, you’re ready to admit defeat. Whatever spell Rafe Cameron cast on you under that mistletoe, it’s clearly working.

Then Sarah calls.

“Dinner at ours tonight,” she announces, her voice cheerful. “Seven o’clock. No excuses.”

You hesitate. The thought of being at Tannyhill again, surrounded by all the memories of that night, makes your stomach twist into knots. “I don’t know, Sarah. I’ve got a lot going on—”

“You’re coming,” she interrupts firmly. “Rose’s in a rare good mood, and Wheezie’s been talking about it nonstop. Plus, my dad will be grilling, which means no catering disasters. Just come. It’ll be fun.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she barrels on before you can get a word in.

“And before you ask—no, Rafe won’t be there. He’s got some golf thing with his buddies, so you’re safe. Okay? Seven. Be there.”

“Fine,” you sigh, knowing better than to argue with her. “I’ll come.”

Tannyhill is as breathtaking as ever when you pull up to the sprawling estate later that evening. The driveway is lined with twinkling lights, and the sound of soft laughter and clinking glasses drifts out from the open veranda doors.

As soon as you step inside, Sarah greets you with a hug and a glass of wine, chatting easily as she leads you out to the patio. Wheezie waves excitedly from her seat at the table, and Mr. Cameron gives you a warm smile from his spot by the grill. It’s all perfectly normal, perfectly comfortable, and for the first time in days, you feel yourself relax.

And then he appears.

You catch sight of him out of the corner of your eye, and for a second, you think you’re imagining it. But no—there he is, walking toward the patio with all the easy confidence in the world, wearing a plain gray t-shirt and faded jeans that somehow look like they were tailored just for him.

“Rafe,” Sarah says, her tone sharp with surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you were golfing with Topper and Kelce.”

“They canceled,” he says casually, his eyes flicking briefly to you before settling on his sister. “Figured I’d stop by. Didn’t realize we were having company.”

You’re frozen, clutching your glass of wine like a lifeline as his gaze drifts back to you, slow and deliberate.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and smooth, a little too knowing.

“Hi,” you manage, your voice embarrassingly small.

Rafe leans against the edge of the patio railing, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes linger on you just a second too long. His smirk is back, subtle but

persistent, like he knows exactly how much space he’s taking up in your head and plans to keep doing it.

“You’re just in time,” Sarah says, her tone tight. She shoots you a glance—half apologetic, half questioning—but you can’t muster a response. “We’re about to eat.”

“Perfect,” Rafe replies, his voice laced with a casual charm that feels anything but casual. “I’m starving.”

You focus on your wine, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Sarah said he wouldn’t be here. But now, he’s standing just a few feet away, and it’s like the air itself shifts around him, crackling with something unspoken.

Dinner is a blur. You sit between Sarah and Wheezie, trying to focus on the conversation and ignore the fact that Rafe is directly across from you, his presence magnetic even when he’s silent. He doesn’t talk much, content to let the others fill the space, but every once in a while, you catch him glancing at you, his smirk barely concealed.

At one point, you drop your fork, and when you lean down to grab it, you swear you hear him chuckle softly, low enough that only you notice.

“You okay?” Sarah whispers beside you, her brow furrowing.

“Fine,” you say quickly, sitting upright again. “Totally fine.”

But you’re not. Not even close.

The kiss, the mistletoe, the way he looked at you that night—it all comes rushing back, as vivid as if it just happened. And the worst part? He knows. Every time his eyes meet yours, you can see it: the awareness, the confidence, the silent challenge in his gaze.

By the time dinner wraps up, you’re practically vibrating with tension. You help clear the plates, grateful for an excuse to leave the table, but as you step into the kitchen, you hear his voice behind you.

“Need a hand?”

You don’t turn around. “I’m fine.”

“Come on,” he says, his tone amused. “Let me help.”

Before you can argue, he’s next to you, reaching for the stack of dishes in your hands. His arm brushes yours, and you swear your heart skips a beat.

“You don’t have to—”

“Relax,” he interrupts, his voice low and teasing. “I’m just being polite.”

You glare at him, but it lacks bite. “You? Polite? That’s a stretch.”

His smirk deepens. “Ouch. I thought we were past all that.”

“Past what?”

“You pretending not to like me,” he says simply, his eyes locking onto yours.

Your breath catches, and you hate how easily he gets under your skin. “I don’t—”

“Sure you don’t,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that you catch the faint scent of his cologne. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me all week, right?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lie, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

He chuckles softly, setting the dishes on the counter before turning to face you fully. “You’re terrible at this, you know.”

“At what?”

“Hiding it,” he says, his voice dropping a notch. His gaze flickers to your lips, just for a second, before meeting your eyes again. “You might’ve fooled Sarah and everyone else, but not me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. The air between you feels charged, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

And then, just as quickly as it started, he steps back, his smirk firmly in place.

“Guess I’ll see you around,” he says, his voice light and infuriatingly casual as he strolls toward the door, leaving you standing there, your pulse racing and your head spinning.

You scoff under your breath, abandoning the plates on the counter and following him out of the kitchen, your irritation bubbling over. “What is your problem, Rafe?” you hiss, grabbing his arm before he can make it back to the patio.

He stops, turning slowly, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place. “Problem?” he repeats, like the word itself is foreign to him. “I don’t have a problem.”

“You know what I mean,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you glance toward the dining room to make sure no one’s listening. “All this—this... thing you’re doing. What’s your deal?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe. “What thing am I doing, exactly?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” you snap, your frustration boiling over. “You’ve been messing with me all night. Ever since the mistletoe. Ever since... I don’t know. Just—stop.”

He tilts his head, his smirk reappearing. “Messing with you? I think you’re imagining things.”

“Imagining things?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly before you catch yourself. “You’ve been looking at me like... like—”

“Like what?” he presses, stepping closer, his tone maddeningly calm.

“Like you’re trying to get in my head!” you whisper-shout, jabbing a finger at his chest. “And guess what? It’s working. So congratulations, Rafe. You win. Happy?”

His smirk falters for a fraction of a second, replaced by something darker, more serious. He straightens, his easy posture stiffening as he steps closer, forcing you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

“You think this is a game to me?” he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

“Yes!” you say, though your voice wavers slightly. “That’s all you do, isn’t it? Play games? Mess with people’s heads? Well, I’m not Sarah or Wheezie, and I’m not going to just—”

“God, would you shut up for a second?” he growls, and before you can even process what’s happening, his hands are on your face, pulling you toward him as his lips crash against yours.

It’s nothing like the kiss under the mistletoe. There’s no teasing smirk, no slow build—it’s raw, urgent, and impossibly overwhelming. His hands cup your face firmly, holding you in place as he kisses you like he’s trying to prove a point, like he’s trying to pour every unsaid word into the contact.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to react. But then your body betrays you, melting into his touch as your hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. Your mind is screaming at you to stop, to push him away, to demand answers—but your body has other plans, and you give in, kissing him back with just as much intensity.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours.

“Still think this is a game?” he murmurs, his voice rough and barely above a whisper.

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Your brain is short-circuiting, stuck somewhere between disbelief and the lingering haze of his kiss.

“I’ve been trying to get in your head,” he admits after a moment, his tone softer now but no less intense. “Because you’ve been in mine. Ever since that night. Hell, maybe even before that.”

Your heart stutters, and you pull back just enough to look at him, searching his face for any sign that he’s joking. But his expression is serious, his eyes locked onto yours with a weight that makes your knees weak.

“I—” you start, but the words die in your throat, your mind too jumbled to form a coherent thought.

Rafe exhales sharply, his hand slipping from your face to rest on your waist. “Say something,” he mutters, almost pleading.

You bite your lip, your mind still spinning. Finally, you manage, “You’re an ass, you know that?”

His lips twitch into a smirk, but there’s something softer in his eyes now, something almost vulnerable. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”

And before you can second-guess yourself, you grab the front of his shirt and kiss him again, pouring every ounce of confusion, frustration, and unspoken feeling into it. This time, there’s no hesitation, no lingering doubt—just the two of you, tangled in something you’re no longer sure you can fight.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps you both back to reality. You pull away quickly, your face burning as Sarah stands in the doorway, her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised.

“Really?” she says, her tone equal parts annoyed and amused. “My kitchen? Now?”

You glance at Rafe, who’s grinning unapologetically, and groan, covering your face with your hands.

This is going to be impossible to live down.

She turns on her heel and stalks out of the kitchen, leaving you and Rafe alone once more as if she knows she couldn't stop it, even if she really wanted to. And, she didn't—it was bound to happen. She calls it, "best friend intuition", or something like that.

"So," he says, his voice dropping slightly as he takes another step closer. "Are you done pretending you don’t feel this, or should I kiss you again and really settle it?"

You glare at him, your pulse quickening. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet," he murmurs, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch, "you’re still standing here."

Your brain is screaming at you to walk away, to put some distance between you and the boy who’s been driving you crazy for years. But your feet don’t move, and when he leans in closer, you know you’re not going anywhere.

"Rafe—"

He cuts you off with another kiss, softer this time but no less consuming. And despite everything—you kiss him back, giving in to the pull you’ve been fighting for far too long.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[simplydannie]

Velvet and Veneer One-Shot

“It Was An Accident”

(Trigger Warning)

Artwork done by my friend @djpixelskitten. You can find her work on TikTok: dj_pixels_kitten. She captured the scene and brought it to life beautifully!! Please go check her out!!

What if Velvet and Veneer never made it to the yacht? What if Veneer decided enough was enough and took a detour? Unfortunately, Velvet hasn’t been herself… leading her and her brother to a downfall….and leaving a giant hole in Floyd’s heart

“Follow that vehicle!” Poppy cried as Velvet and Veneer drove off.

The siblings twisted and turned in the highways of Mount Rageous. Veneer kept looking back as the Trolls neared closer and closer…. Something in the pit of his stomach told him to stop, to call it quits.

On his left shoulder pad, Bruce could see the concern on the kids face.

“You can stop this you know. Before it gets worse for you and your sister.” The small Troll attempted to talk reason to him. Veneer was silent for a moment…

“I can’t. We’re to far into this.” He replied.

“And you can still get out.” John Dory exclaimed in the diamond opposite Bruce. Veneer turned back to look up at has sister; a pink pigmentation glowing around her eyes.

“Vels?” Veneer asked, concern stricken across his face.

“Keep driving!” She practically yelled. She stood up on the car. “WHATS UP MOUNT RAGEOUS! You didn’t think we’d give you a boring old stage show did you!”

The cars around them bustled in cheers.

“Vels, maybe this isn’t a good idea!” Veneer called back to his sister.

“I said drive moron!” She glanced behind them as the Trolls continue to catch up. Velvet stood back up on the car… she began to perform.

The star cameras fluttering around her as she sang. Veneer looked back at his sister again… this wasn’t her. Something began to come over him…like the effects of something began to wear off…

“What have we done?” He murmured. Veneer looked around the highways; he had to get him and his sister out of this mess… he had to get them away from the public eye.

“Kid? What are you thinking?” Bruce asked.

“Hold on. We’re taking a detour.” Veneer switched the car away from the main highway, taking a constructed path empty of other vehicles.

“What the heck Veneer!” Velvet exclaimed. All the cars stopped as they couldn’t follow them.

“Where are they going?” Branch asked. He steered Rhonda to follow the siblings. Veneer kept swerving has the road they were in was still under construction, he avoided any obstacle he could.

“Go back Veneer!” Velvet cried out.

“No! We got to stop this now sis! Just look at yourself this isn’t you!” Veneer called back as he kept his eyes on the road. The star cameras were still following them, flying around them as they continued down the road. Veneer looked at them… this was his opportunity.

“Cameras on me!” He called out. They hovered around him, Velvet looking at everything happening with a confused expression.

“Listen up Mount Rageous!” He called into the cameras. “We. Are. Frauds!” He finally said. The Trolls on his shoulders smiled proudly as Veneer finally had full control of himself. “We kidnapped and tortured our only friend.” He continued to speak. Veneer glanced back to look at Floyd in the diamond Velvet wore. A small smile coming across his face. “We signed a contract with someone who lied to us, manipulated us, and led us down a dark path, not even caring for us. We’re done!”

“No! No! Shut up! You idiot!” Eyes glowing pink she lunged for her brother.

“Wait no stop!” Clay yelled in her chest piece.

Veneer attempted to push off his sister and take control of the vehicle at the same time… swerving to and from.

“Vels stop! We’re going to crash!” Veneer called out.

“You ruined it! You ruined everything!” She said as she began to hit him.

“Kid watch out!” Bruce yelled… but it was too late. Their vehicle hit some concrete barriers. The impact f sent the siblings flying out of the vehicle. Out of instinct, Veneer reached for his sister… he hugged her close. His eyes squeezed shut, he prepared for the force of impact, hoping he could shield her from anything he could.

The went skidding, tossing and turning all over the rubble and concrete floor. Their car flying in pieces along with them. They both landed with a loud SMACK on the floor… the impact sending them rolling in opposite directions. The force of the impact made the diamonds fly out of their chest pieces, sending the small Trolls skidding in different directions….. Then there was silence.

Moments passed as Branch, Poppy, and Viva finally caught up to them…. Thats when they saw the wreckage. Rhonda came to a stop, Branch walking out to the horror.

“No! No!” Branch ran to the broken vehicle which was now on fire. “JD! Clay! Bruce! Floyd!” Branch called out as tears began filling his eyes. Please be alive, he hoped. Poppy and Viva took off the opposite direction attempting to look for his brothers.

Branch was nearly giving up hope… until…

“Branch over here!” It was John Dorys voice. Branch ran quickly and followed it. The small Troll walked upon a scene that he would never get out of his memory.

John Dory and Floyd were there in front of him, still in their diamond prison…. There laying next to them, with debris from the crash laying on top of him… was Veneer. His face scratched and bloodied… his body broken. Branch could see he was struggling to breathe.

“We got to help him.” Floyd begged…. But Branch saw what Floyd couldn’t… the Rageoun was broken, literally broken.

“Floyd..we…we can’t….” Branch began to say.

“PLEASE! HELP HIM!” Floyd begged again with tears in his eyes.

“….Floyd….” The voice was soft but audible. The small Troll turned around to see Veneer looking at him through glassed blue eyes. Floyd moved his diamond close to the Rageoun.

“….im sorry….” Veneer said softly, his lungs barely having enough air to speak. Floyd smiled softly.

“It’s all in past. Stay with me okay. We’re going to get you and Velvet out of this mess. Okay? Stay with me.” Floyd said. JD and Branch stood back watching, tears in their eyes. Veneer nodded.

“….. okay…..” But that was it. He stopped moving, stopped breathing. He lay there motionless, his eyes distant….gone.

“Veneer?” Floyd called out. He moved his diamond prison bumping the Rageoun lightly, hoping he’d move again. “Veneer!” He cried out again…. Nothing…Floyd placed his hand against the diamond near the boys head, wishing he could hold him one last time.

“Branch!” He heard Poppy’s voice. Branch turned to find Poppy running to him, tears streaming down her face. “Clay and Bruce are over here! But…it’s also Velvet. She’s hurt bad!”

Floyd didn’t want to leave Veneer just lying there… but he was gone… now he could only hope Velvet could be saved.

“Where is she?” Floyd asked.

They made their way to where the girl was lying. Unlike her brother, nothing was on top of her suffocating her… but she was hurt…. Very hurt…. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her legs…. Tears were streaming down her eyes.

“It’s hurts.” She cried. Floyd ran up to her.

“I’m here Vels. We’re going to you a hospital okay?” Floyd said. He had just lost Veneer…He couldn’t loose her too. She looked at the small Troll…

“Where’s Veneer?” She asked. Floyd fought back tears.

“We’re going to get him out too.” He said. Velvet shook her head… she knew that look, she knew the tone of his voice.

“Tell me truth…” She demanded. Floyd could only look at her, letting himself cry.

“….Im sorry…” He said. Velvet bit her lip and looked away. She began to sob uncontrollably.

“…. It was an accident…I didn’t….i didn’t mean too. I don’t- I dont know what came over me. Veneer I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” She cried.

“We need to get help now.” Clay said as he saw the state she was in.

“No! No I don’t want to!” She continued to cry. “ I need my brother… I can’t do this without my brother!” She turned to the direction to where her brothers body lay… ever so slightly, she could make out his shape… “I’m sorry Vennie.” She then turned to look at Floyd. “I’m so sorry…”

She continued to cry, blood began seeping from her nose and mouth. Floyd’s heart began to pound.

“Stay with me Vels okay. I need you here… please.” He said.

“This…this is my fault. I hurt you… I got my little brother killed…I did this...” She stared up at the open highway…the clouds of Rageous began to clear… the moment she saw the sky, a peace came upon her. “….I’m sorry…” She said on last time…Taking her last breath, her eyes glued to the sky.

“Velvet!” Floyd called out. “No Velvet please!” He fell to his knees inside the diamond…

“I can’t loose both of you.”

[hazzashouse]

First Christmas as a couple (Harry Styles one-shot)

A/N: Merry Christmas 🎄! I hope this little Harry one-shot warms your hearts this holiday season. Thank you for reading and supporting my writing—it means the world to me! Stay tuned because I’ll be sharing more festive one-shots in the coming days to keep the holiday spirit alive. Wishing you all a cozy and magical Christmas!

If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a comment, liking, or reblogging—it truly means so much and helps support my work.

Summary: Spending their first Christmas together, Harry and the reader savor quiet moments filled with warmth and laughter.

Triggers: None—this is a soft, fluffy Christmas story with no heavy content.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader

The snow fell softly outside the window, flakes swirling under the glow of twinkling fairy lights Harry had insisted on hanging everywhere. The small, cozy living room smelled of pine and cinnamon, the Christmas tree in the corner twinkling with mismatched ornaments. Harry was kneeling by the fire, poking at the logs with careful concentration, his pink lips pursed in focus.

“Harry, you’re going to set the whole house on fire,” you teased from the couch, wrapping your blanket tighter around you.

He turned, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, dimples deepening. “I’m a man of many talents, love, but burning down our first Christmas isn’t one of them.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at the way he said “our first Christmas,” like it was something to be cherished, something important.

Harry got up and dusted his hands off, his emerald green sweater slightly askew, revealing a sliver of his collarbone. He crossed the room and sat beside you, his arm snaking around your shoulders as he tugged you against him.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over both of you.

“Maybe because someone made me wait outside in the snow for fifteen minutes while he picked out the perfect tree,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“It had to be just right,” he said, faux-serious. “Our first tree should be special.”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to look at him. His curls were messy, catching the light from the fire, and his eyes seemed to glow.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “And yet, here you are,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing.

Before you could respond, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, his hand cupping your cheek gently. The kiss was warm, unhurried, and it felt like everything a first Christmas kiss should feel like—comforting, sweet, and full of promise.

When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on you, soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name but felt all the same.

“Harry,” you began, but he cut you off, reaching into his pocket.

“I wanted to give you this,” he said, pulling out a small velvet box. Your breath hitched as he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a ring,” he said quickly, though there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “I mean, not yet.”

You opened the box to find a delicate gold necklace with a small charm—a tiny snowflake encrusted with a single diamond.

“Harry…”

“I saw it and thought of you,” he said softly. “Unique, beautiful… and maybe just a little too perfect for me.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you set the box down and hugged him tightly. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Well, now you’re stuck with me. At least until the tree comes down.”

You laughed, leaning into him as the fire crackled softly. Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside, everything felt warm and bright, just as Christmas was meant to be.

[i-want-men-i-cant-have]

𝒿𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝑒𝓊𝓍. 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑜𝑒.

✿ summary: getting stranded at a party might not be the best thing ever, but meeting the famous french striker under mistletoe is definitely a plus

✿ ft. noel noa

sitting alone at the bar at a christmas party you weren't invited to wasn't the best feeling in the world. your best friend, who used you as her work partner's plus one, had left you, preferring to "work." the poor athletes were almost running from her if they saw her, leaving her to wallow in the corner without you.

the non-alcoholic drinks you were forced to consume as the designated driver weren't exactly helping you pass the time, only making your bladder feel smaller and smaller. getting up from the bar, you ventured deeper into the party to find the bathroom.

as you walked, your eyes couldn't help but wander around, trying to find your friend, but to no avail. you slowly remembered what happened right before you entered the party.

"[y/n]! you have to keep your eyes open!"

"what? take a breath-"

"i can't! not when noel noa is here!" she frantically flicked her head from side to side, scanning the empty streets like he was going to appear like magic. 

“that’s the famous striker, right?”

"only the number one striker in the world! you have to find him and call me. if i see him here and interview him, i could get that promotion." she sounded hopeful, a smile on her face, but it dropped, her rbf shining through her happy persona when she saw your skeptical expression.

"pwease [y/n]~" she grabbed your hands and begged, almost getting down on her knees. 

“ok, ok! i’ll help you find this guy. just please get off the floor. someone could have puked on that.”

"thank you, [y/n]!" her bone-crushing hug knocked the wind out of you. once that bodyguard let you in, she ran around like a chicken without a head, trying to find the mystery man. too bad you didn't know what the famous striker looked like. you didn't know his nationality or team; you just knew his name and the position he played. not very helpful.

the tinkling of martini glasses and the sound of heels across the marble floors echoed across the room. popping champagne bottles, squeals, screams, and forced laughter would occasionally pipe up, always sounding the same. a massive christmas tree filled with tinsel, ornaments, lights, and anything else you could imagine decorated the room perfectly, lighting up the space and almost brushing the towering ceilings. you felt like an ant in the room, as if the room knew you didn't belong here.

the bathroom line felt like eternity, like when you were younger and had a nightmare, that stupid clock ticking every second going on until you finally fell asleep under your blankets. soon the line dwindled and dwindled down until you finally could get in and out. you dried your hands on the air dryer and shook your hands to get any remaining water off as you walked out the door.

now, you have nothing to do. you didn't work for this company, hell, you didn't even know what they did. everyone here looked rich and reeked of money. at least when you were in line for the bathroom, you had a purpose. but now you were just standing there. you felt like a ghost, people passing through you, not even acknowledging your existence.

you just wanted to go back to the bar; who cared what look that bartender would give you. so that's what you did, walking past women with candy cane red lips and men who smelled like more than you would ever make in a lifetime. suits and dresses that seemed so foreign to you.

but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your friend in that velvet low-cut tight dress on the second-floor mezzanine. she was talking to some expensive-looking man with a girl probably half his age on his arm; she was putting on that fake smile and laugh.

she had left you for a solid two and a half hours; you were going to hang out with someone. and that someone was going to be her.

so you made your way to the luxurious stairs, cascading velvety carpets that could rival the British monarchs. you excused yourself when you bumped into someone and finally reached the stairs, some men coming down them.

while passing a rather tall and muscular man, one of his friends whistled and laughed at the man who paused, along with you. both of you turned to see his friends; the one whistling and giggling looked way too drunk to be going anywhere near stairs. the man was holding onto a bland-looking one with blue eyes who looked rather nervous, trying to steady the swaying one.

you shot him a confused glance, your eyebrows raising in confusion, before turning your attention to the man standing beside you. his head was tilted upward, his gaze fixated on an arrangement of ferns- mistletoe, delicately suspended above. the soft glow from twinkling fairy lights adorned the surroundings.

in that moment, realization dawned upon you, and your eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and understanding. the air around you felt harder to inhale. you instinctively took a step back, caught off guard by the situation. however, the man beside you moved quicker than you’ve ever seen, his eyes widening in concern.

time seemed to slow as his arms encircled you, preventing any further descent down the stairs. the touch was both reassuring and electrifying. as you looked up into his eyes, you couldn't help but notice the subtle warmth that lingered. it felt so cliche. 

"are you alright?" his voice was filled with genuine concern, and you could feel yourself relax into his arms with those words.

but even with his words, your mind trailed off, going to admire him. what was he? a model? his cologne smells expensive, like every other perfume and cologne here, but at the same time it was distinct. there was an underlying uniqueness, a grounding minimalism that set it apart. you couldn't quite pinpoint it, but it held an allure that was nothing like you ever felt before.

you felt gross, disgusted even at what you were doing, taking him in like this, memorizing the details- his scent, the curve of his lips. god, you felt like a pervert. you chided yourself, feeling a twinge of discomfort at your own actions.

"i'm fine... sorry about that," you stammered, breaking the spell of your silent observations. awkwardness settled in, magnified by the awareness that his friends, the blonde one with a sly smirk and the black-haired one appearing uneasy, were keenly observing the exchange. your gaze flickered between them, questioning the dynamics of the trio.

"it’s fine. as long as you’re alright." the moment ended with him helping you back onto your feet, looking you over to double-check if you weren't lying.

"it's fine. as long as you're alright," he reassured, gracefully helping you back onto your feet. his lingering concern painted a genuine sincerity across his features, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of gratitude. as the moment concluded, his eyes scanned over you once more, ensuring your well-being. 

“don’t forget-” hick “to kiss you two,” the drunk man laughed hard, almost falling off of the bland one's shoulder who grabbed him quickly.

"don't forget-" a hiccup interrupted the drunken man's proclamation, “to kiss you two,” he abruptly erupted into laughter, teetering dangerously on the edge of his bland companion's shoulder. 

who the hell was this guy? your life wasn't some circus to watch, forcing you to kiss this random stranger.

"i'm sorry about him," the boy apologized, his eyes reflecting a mix of embarrassment and genuine remorse. "come on, let's go." he attempted to drag the blonde one down the stairs, who continued to whine about wanting to witness some "action." eventually, the duo disappeared, leaving you and the intriguing white-haired man alone on the stairs.

the silence that followed carried a unique tension, the remnants of an awkward encounter mingling with the loud ambiance of the surroundings. The mistletoe above seemed to cast a soft glow, as if nature itself was conspiring against you two.

"that guy’s something," you remarked, breaking the quietude with a light-hearted tone, attempting to diffuse the lingering discomfort. The white-haired man offered a wry smile, his eyes holding a subtle amusement that hinted at shared bemusement.

“so… why are you here?” you ask him to try to prolonged the conversation for as long as possible.

"They're organizing this celebration for my team."

“you’re team?” you ask a little confused.

“Bastard München” he responds curtley.

Realization finally dawns on you, and you recognize the man in front of you.

“are you- are you noel noa?” you stammered, feeling like some teenage girl. you didn’t even know much about this guy, but your friend went on and on about him. you always tuned her out, but she seemed so passionate about him.

“kiss! smoochie smoochie time~!”

“kaiser!” 

"get-" a loud grunting noise left the blonde, and a squawking noise left the other, "off of me, isagi!" they struggled against each other, arms reaching out to try and push them off each other.

“i thought they left,” you tried to laugh but when you looked back at the famous man in front of you, you stopped. his face almost seemed blank with a tinge of surprise if you could even call it that.

“it can’t be helped,” he sighed, his voice carrying a gentle undertone that resonated with unspoken emotions. as he reached up, his fingers delicately traced the outline of your face, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. his eyes, a reflection of emotions too deep for words, held yours in a silent conversation.

a quiet pause lingered in the air, building anticipation, before he slowly leaned in. in that moment, time seemed to suspend, and the world around you faded away. 

his breath, warm against your skin, and as he closed the distance between you, his lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss starting with a tender press of lips. both of your arms remained at your sides not wanting to overstep the invisible boundary. even without hands, it was as if each touch was a gentle caress, a delicate deliberate pressure. the sensation was feather-light, a sweet brush of affection that spoke volumes in its subtlety. each movement was a caress, as if exploring the contours of your lips in a sweet, unhurried dance. it was the opposite of forceful, a slow, deliberate exploration, leaving a lingering warmth.

even when he pulled away, cheeks dusted pink, promising his manager would send you tickets to the next match, you could still smell that expensive cologne after he left.

[exorciqsm-0]

Loving Machine >ᵥ_ᵥ<

Model!Getou Suguru x Fashion Designer!fem reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

As the lights of the runway dimmed, the fashion designer known for her breathtaking designs took a deep breath. The sounds of applause filled the room but gradually softened. She took a bow before making her way backstage, her heart still pounding with anxiousness.

For this collection, the theme was crimson elegance, something that was way out of your comfort zone. Usually, you would stick to Lotiaish designs, but you felt as if you needed to do something different.

As you were doing some final checks on the models, you searched for your two centerpieces. First came a gorgeous model wearing what, in your opinion, was one of your most beautiful designs. She was stunning, but what mostly caught your eyes was the male model that followed behind her.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

He was perfect. The velvet suit perfectly fit his figure, his intimidating aura, his gorgeous long hair—it all suited him. Your gaze lingered on him for a moment; he was breathtaking. You smiled. “Are you two ready? Is anything too tight?” “No, no, this is amazing! I might have to borrow this later,” the female model said, swaying from side to side. You giggled, the fear you originally had slowly turning into zen. “How about you?” You looked towards the male model. “Does everything fit well?” He nodded in affirmation.

“These are beautiful, Miss (y/n). It’s an honor to be wearing one of your designs,” he said, his voice adding to his appeal. “You flattered me-“ “First model is going in 1 minute,” someone yelled, signaling it was time for you to go.“You guys are going to do amazing!” you say as you walked off, leaving them with encouraging words.

The nerves started to kick in again, but once you saw the models walk on that runway, your anxiousness turned into awe. It was beautiful, astounding, and overall amazing, especially your centerpieces. They were amazing. They left not only you but everyone speechless. Once more, applause filled the room, and the runway lights turned off, signaling that this fashion show had came to a close.

You ran backstage to see the models, tears streaming from your eyes. You were shocked that these designs were being received so well, not only by the models but also by the audience and other designers. This style was way out of your comfort zone, yet so far, there hadn't been any major issues. You celebrated by hugging all the models. However, as the night gradually came to a close, you found yourself waiting outside for a cab to take you back to your hotel, reflecting on the success of the show and feeling grateful for the experience.

“I think if you stay outside any longer, you’re going to catch a cold, Miss (y/n),” you heard a voice coming from behind you. It was him.“I thought all the models would’ve left already,” you questioned why he was still here.“Miss (y/n), please just come inside and wait. You will catch a cold,” he insisted, ignoring your question.You decided to comply, one, because you had interviews and photo shoots and couldn’t afford to be sick, and two, because the fine ass model was telling you to.

“I know I already said this, but you did amazing tonight!” You said as you walked back into the building with a large grin on your face. The model laughed to himself, intrigued by your sort of childish nature. He found it cute and tilted his head slightly, a small smile forming on his face. “Suguru,” he said, you raised an eyebrow. “My name is Suguru. Also...” he looked directly at you. “These are your designs, you know? Please give yourself some credit, Miss (y/n),” he chuckled to himself once more. You began to feel flustered; he had a really attractive laugh.

Not knowing how to respond, you stood there, staring at him, dumbfounded by the pretty model's laugh. His smile was slowly turning bigger as you stared at him with your pretty doe eyes, mesmerized by his appearance. “Are you going to keep staring at me, or are you going to get into your Uber, Miss (y/n)?” A cheeky grin formed on his face as he pointed to your Uber. If you were flustered before, you were a hundred times more so at this very moment. You could barely get any words out. “You shouldn’t keep your driver waiting,” he said as he took your hands in his, stuffing something into your hands and sending you off. Once you got into the Uber, you opened your hands to reveal a piece of paper with something written on it:

“Text me when you get home Angel :) ###-###-####”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.𖥔

>ᵥ_ᵥ<: lemme know if you guys want a part 2 😚

[cowboywritersworld]

Can you please write a Jey Uso x Reader, where they are in a relationship and they celebrate his Intercontinental Championship win? He brings her to her favorite local restaurant and then asks her to marry him.

Thank you in advance!

Special celebration

General Masterlist | WWE Masterlist | Jey Uso Masterlist

Requests are: OPEN for now I would prefer requests based on the flufftober prompts.

Characters: Jey Uso, Reader

Prompt: Can you please write a Jey Uso x Reader, where they are in a relationship and they celebrate his Intercontinental Championship win? He brings her to her favorite local restaurant and then asks her to marry him.

You are backstage, sitting on some crates, in front of you there is one of the tvs, from which you are watching Jey's match. You both are in a relationship since two years and each day you love him more and more.

There is a huge smile on your face, while you fidget with the hem of his "yeet" t-shirt. You love stealing his clothes, especially since they are big and comfy for you, plus he has had someone make that t-shirt just for you.

You stand up as soon as the referee ends the match, smiling even more: Jey has waited 14 long years for that opportunity and now... And now he has just won his first single belt.

You can feel your heart swell with pride. It doesn't matter that you aren't supposed to go out there, you still do it, waiting for him. Your boyfriend is simply so good and you can't deny how lucky you are. That gold around his waist looks just perfect on him.

"I did it, Y/N" He tells you before hugging you: both not caring about the fans, everyone already knows about your relationship.

"I am so proud of you, Jey. You deserve this moment and all the future defenses." You tell him sweetly, intertwining a hand in his, walking to the back.

"I couldn't have done it without you. Thanks for being always there for me." He stops and kisses you, caressing your cheeks.

"I'll always be at your side." You bump your forehead against his. "We should go out and celebrate this huge milestone."

"Let me take a shower and then I'll treat you to your favorite Italian place here." He knows, since you are come from Italy, how much you love eating your food.

"I'll wait for you, but don't take too much, I am starving."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you both finally reach the Italian restaurant, you hum happily. It has been a while since you last ate there and you missed that place. As always, they get you a table in a little special part of the restaurant, so that you won't get bothered by paparazzi or fans.

Jey takes out a chair for you and lets you sit, before he pecks you on the lips. "I'll be right back, have to do something. I'll be quick."

You nod and browse through the menu, even though you know it way too well, smiling when he comes back. You end up ordering their famous handmade lasagna, while Jey takes a pizza. You talk about everything and nothing while eating, exchanging lovingly looks, intertwining hands and sweet kisses all over.

"Guys, here is your dessert." The owner comes to you both with a huge tiramisu, which they haven't ordered.

"Thank you...?" You smile gently at him and look at Jey, when the owner goes away. "You asked for this?" You ask with a raised eyebrow, while he gives you a part of it. A part which is very special, but you still don't know about that.

"I know how much you like it, so you deserve the best." He chuckles and looks at you as you start eating it.

"Mh... There is something strange here." You stop when you hit a hard part. With the fork you make space around it and gasp as you see a little blue velvet box. "Jey wha-"

"Y/N, I love you so much, I want to up our relationship from now on." He took the box in his hand, standing up just to get on one knee and open it in front of you. "Y/N, my love for you is never going to end. I may have just won my first singles Championship, but I have something else on my mind, something way more important. Will you marry me?"

You bring your hands to your mouth in shock, tears starting to flow down your cheeks. You still can't believe it, but you nod frantically. "Yes Jey, I will."

That evening couldn't get any better and you both are so happy while he puts the ring at your finger.

[redheadspark]

Hiii. Sorry to bother, but do you mind repeating Characters for your september prompt session? And if the answer is no... can I ask for Benedict Bridgerton with #12- Dreamy? Please?☺️

A/N - Hello! Sorry for not getting to this sooner, but I'm so happy I got to write this! I hope you like it!

Walk

Summary - Benedict knows how to love you, even in your dreams

Warnings - Mostly fluff with a hint of angst

It started with flowers floating in your dreams.

Not just any flowers, your favorite.  Beautiful peach-colored roses that bloomed at the perfect time. You loved those flowers, they reminded you of your father when you were very little and he would find them just for you.  The sweet scent they carried brought you peace and tranquility, and the velvet touch along your fingers brought you reality when you were lost in your mind.

You dreamt of those flowers, and it made you smile.

Next, it was your favorite lake, the very lake that was near your summer cottage that your family would go to every June.  It was a lovely lake, with tall grass along the sides, and instant memories of swimming in the waters from dawn until dusk, or until your mother had to drag you out.  You missed that lake as of late, and to dream it was another sign that something was going on in your dreams. 

Or someone, and you knew who it was.

Being ever observant and inquisitive about your life, your husband and soulmate Benedict Bridgerton was willing to “walk” in your dreams.  It wasn’t walking really, it was more like peeking in, like poking his head through a window and seeing on the other side.  It was a cool little trick that soulmates could do: seeing the other’s dreams or tapping into your mind when they were sleeping. It seemed like a childish thing to do, you sharing with other couples that were soulmates how they would see their spouse's dreams and uncover deep dark secrets.  But that was never the case for you and Benedict. 

You were more tight-lipped than your spouse was, not that he would chat about anything and everything if he had the chance.  You were simply an introvert who would prefer to have a small cluster of friends with you then be in a ball with thousands of others.  Benedict seemed to be the opposite: having a big family filled with brothers and sisters and the in-laws that also came with them.  You loved his family, they were nothing but warm and kind to you when you were introduced as his soulmate months before.  Your mother-in-law, Violet Bridgerton, was especially taken with you when she hugged you close.

“You two are simply lovely together, I can tell Benedict will make you very happy!” She said in glee.  And she was indeed right.

Benedict loved making you smile and bringing you happiness, whether it was his flirtatious nature with his word and longing gazes, or the small gifts he would give you since he knew you were not a big fan of massive gifts and huge proclamations of love.  He showed it also through his craft in artistry, the paintings he would gift you on a random day or on your birthday would always make you grin from ear to ear and feel that love again.  He was a wondering soulmate and husband.

Even more when he visited your dreams and saw what was plaguing your mind.

Sometimes it was good and sometimes it was bad, but it was mostly good thanks to Benedict.  You could see the same about Benedict and his own dreams, which were always light and filled with optimism and dreams that he’s had.  He was an amazing artist and was known far and wide for his work, keeping his family close by, and did not lose them at any moment.  And most of all, his marriage to you.  Some of the dreams were worries that he had if he was a good enough son to his mother or a husband to you. If his work was going to be well received or if it was something he should give up.

You woke up and ran to him, hugging him close in your arms after seeing one of those dreams of his insecurities.  He was taken aback at first, but you simply held him and whispered in his ear, “You’re good enough, my darling,”

You could have sworn you felt tears hit your nightgown.  

From then on, both you and Benedict it is a rule to never invade one another’s dreams to the point of annoyance.  Not that either one of you was prone to negative dreams, it was rare really.  If there was a dream questionable, there was room for discussion the following morning.  But that rarely happened, you two were ever open to one another and never left anything out of a conversation.  Benedict helped you blossom and be bold in your opinions and in how you spoke, in return you helped Benedict be calmer in the chaotic times.  

Even in the dire times, Benedict was there for you within your dreams.  Right after you both were married, your father fell ill and passed away within months.  It was a devastating blow to your family, you took the loss very hard since you were very close to your father.  After the funeral, Benedict held you in his arms as you cried yourself to sleep.  Though you were filled with love and comfort thanks to your soulmate, the hole that was left behind because of the absence of your father was still evident.

Yet there was Benedict, in your dream, holding you close and swaying with you as you both danced among the clouds.  

“Thank you, my love,” You thanked him in the dream, seeing him peer down at you and trace your face with his fingers.

“You don’t ever have to thank me for taking care of the love of my life,” He replied in a loving tone.  

Years later and with several dreams already shared, you both were growing as a couple in a new phase of life. Your mother gifted you the summer cottage, something your father wished to do when you were a bit older but your mother figured it was the right time to gift you the small home that was filled to the brim with memories. Benedict whisked you away for one summer, 4 weeks of the pair of you in nature and using the lake for all it’s worth.

9 months later, your son was born.  Affectionally name after your father.  You and Benedict would bring your son to the same cottage every year, making new memories together and always looking forward.  Leaving the past behind.

The End.

[svt-rosalie]

. . . ♡ ROSALIE ! ? 🏴‍☠️ SCENARIO ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ ATEEZ PRESENT, 2019 ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

© 2023 , svt-rosalie rosalie masterlist!

warnings. rosalie being a fan girl, bts being rosie’s other group of older brothers, ateez is awkward babies, wooyoungie has a little crushhhhhhhh, horrible writing, spelling mistakes, bad jokes,

authors note. please bear with me…i have not written an actual scenario chapter in a WHILE, so this a practice for me sorry to do with ateez but it’s okay hopefully you guys like it

The stadium felt so small yet so big at the same time. The amount of people was the cause of this, Rosalie thought, it seemed as if the space the fans took up was the whole stadium and their screams were deafening.

The air felt thick as she and her band members made their to their assigned seats, chalking it up to the amount of people residing in the stadium and not the nerves racing through out her body like a cheetah through the jungle.

The group was heading inside after their interview that took place outside, glad to be out of the cold. The dress that Rosalie was styled in was a strapless red velvet textured skin tight gown with a slit down her right leg with a (uncomfortably big) bow on the back, though it was a gorgeous dress, it was not meant to be worn during December. She needs to remind herself to speak to her stylist about investing in some long sleeves.

Rosalie felt a sense of accomplishment for herself and her older brothers, they had a tough year and even though their leader could not be there with them, they were going to perform for him and for carats despite everything. Rosie was knocked out of her trance when she felt a tap on her shoulder indicating someone needed/wanted her attention.

“Ahh, Yoongi oppa!” She smiled brightly giving him a big hug, Yoongi patted her head in response with a laugh. Rosie knows he doesn’t like skin ship all that much but ignores his protest everytime and hugs him with all her might.

Yoongi lightly pulls away looking Rosie looks at him continuing to smile as happily as she can. “Quit the bullshit, why are you so nervous? I can tell something’s up?” Rosie shakes her head with a pout “No, nothing is wrong.”

That was the biggest lie if Yoongi ever did see one.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” He sighed and Rosie did as well. She looked around wondering if any of her group mates were listening in, doubting they could with how loud it was, she could barely hear Yoongi speak.

“There is just a lot going on at the moment and it’s hard not having Scoups oppa here with us.” She admitted.

Yoongi nodded in understanding.

“If you ever need me, you call me. I’ll always listen.” He said, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand. Rosalie nodded with a smile before being interrupted by a loud voice.

“If you ever need us! Let’s clarify that.” Seokjin stated wrapping his arms around Rosie’s shoulders, Taehyung and Jungkook not too far behind him. Letting out a bright giggle that seemed to light up the room, she pulled the three other older boys into hugs.

“I’m so excited to see you guys perform!” She says excited.

“Well hopefully we do you proud, it’s gonna be a good one. We’re performing your favorite so don’t cry please!” Jungkook says. “You’re performing Mikrokosmos?” She squealed.

They all nodded laughing at her antics. “I’m gonna go find the seats we’re gonna be sitting in but i’ll call you guys if I don’t see you at the end! Okay?” Rosalie asked. “Sounds good to us, be safe and if we didn’t say it tonight you look gorgeous!” Taehyung said. Rosie pouts and puts her hands over heart nodding in thanks.

The boys in Bangtan always knew how to make her feel special. Yes, she has 12 older brothers and one situationship that has not been figured out yet that she can go to for advice and comfort, but having an outside perspective on situations that she doesn’t want to speak about with her members was always helpful! The seven boys always seem to know when she needs said comfort after all these years.

As Rosalie walked with her head slightly down to watch her feet to make sure she didn’t step on her dress, she didn’t notice the boy walking with their back towards her who was talking to his own group members.

“Mingi watch out!” A voice shouted and tried to grab at him before he ran into the 5’10 female but it was no use the two went down in a what looked like a bowling pin getting knocked down by a bowling ball.

Rosalie groaned in pain, “Yep, there goes the hip.” she says sarcastically.

“We are so sorry sunbaenim! We didn’t see you there and by the time we did Mingi accidentally hit you. We are so sorry again!” The voice of Yunho surfaced as they all bowed whilst the boy, Mingi, who knocked her down helped her get back up to her feet.

Rosalie waved her hands, “No, no it’s okay! I wasn’t watching where I was going either, I’m so scared to slip in this dress that I wasn’t watching straight ahead for other people.” She reassured the Ateez boys as much as she could.

“Am I going to have 13 people jumping me, because I just got off hiatus and do not want to go leave again.” Mingi mumbled to himself, but somehow Rosalie still heard and laughed loudly surprising all the boys.

It was a bit reassuring to them that she laughed and smiled, but that didn’t tell them if it was ‘oh your so funny laugh it’s okay they won’t hurt you’ laugh/smile or a ‘yes my 13 other members who could probably bench press you will hurt you for knocking their precious only female member maknae over’ laugh/smile.

“No don’t worry Mingi, it’s okay. I’ve gotten worse from my own members. Mingyu oppa acts like we’re in WWE and body slams me into pools, so I think I can handle a little tumble.”

All the boys nodded, glad that one of their favorite idols was okay.

“Well we’re very excited to see your performance Sunbaenim!” San said smiling brightly.

Rosalie couldn’t help but smile back, “Thank you! I’m so excited to see yours! I know the entire dance to Wonderland so I will definitely be showing my support for you guys tonight.”

It’s like Ateez just kept getting surprised by their sunbaenim more and more as they talked. First she jokes around with them like their long time friends, then she says she knows their recent comeback Wonderland, and she knows Mingi’s name.

Wait. . . she knows Mingi’s name!

“Oh, Rosalie sunbaenim do you know us?” Hongjoong asked.

“Of course I do! I’ve been an Atiny since your guys debut, I love your music and sound. I’ve been wanting to become friends with you guys for a while but my schedule and company haven’t allowed me the time.” She said subconsciously pouting.

Wooyoung couldn’t help but think “Wow, she’s pretty” in her stunning makeup that brought her best features and the dress that matches her curves so well. He was heaven in her presence.

“Oh thank you! You all are handsome too!” She said smiling proudly.

“I said that out loud.” Wooyoung said, eyes wide and mouth gaped open. His members laughed and clapped him on the back.

“Wooyoung hyung has had a crush on you since your debut—” Jongho says, or at least tries to before his mouth was covered by said person.

Rosalie’s eyes widen in shock, a red blush covered her face. Thank god her makeup artist decided to apply the foundation a little heavier tonight.

Wooyoung dragged Jongho away before the maknae could say anything more embarrassing saying his bye’s for himself and the younger boy.

The others that stayed laughed. “Well, we should probably follow them before Wooyoung takes out our main vocalist, but we’ll be cheering you on Rosalie sunbaenim.” Seonghwa says.

Rosalie nodded in understanding, adjusting her dress a little. “I’ll be cheering you guys on too! I’ll speak to my manager about getting in contact with yours so we can go to dinner sometime! I would like to become friends with you all if that’s alright!”

“Of course!” Mingi says a little too quick.

Rosalie couldn’t help but laugh again, “I’ll see you all shortly, it was nice to bump into you.” she says waving and bowing before turning around and walking towards her group knowing damn well most of them were watching the interaction and would definitely get questioned later.

Yeosang looked between all his members before asking “Did that really just happen? Rosalie sunbaenim wants to have dinner with us?”

San nodded in a daze “She was so pretty too! I hope we can become great friends with her.” They all nodded in agreement to his statement before walking off to find Wooyoung before he killed Jongho.

Oh, just you wait boys — that statement will become more true than you know!

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