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choerrypuffs · 2 months ago

Text

red velvet hearts.

pairing: bad boy!donghyuck x baker!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

word count: 7.7k

synopsis: you patch up a boy with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles, only to find out that he has quite the sweet tooth.

author’s note: why do i keep injuring hyuck in all my fics lmao??? anyways i tried to write his character a bit differently than i usually do to challenge myself so please let me know how you guys like it! also remember, ladies: this is fiction. you cannot fix him <3

warning(s): brief description of injuries, mentions of violence, maximum amounts of cringe and melodrama

playlist: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine ― heart eyes by coin ― close to you by gracie abrams ― sidelines by phoebe bridgers ― the alchemy by taylor swift

RECIPE 1. TIRAMISU

“This is not what I meant when I said you need your back blown out.”

“Not funny. I almost died,” you grumble as you wrap the back brace around your torso. You hate the immediate relief you feel from the support it provides, no longer able to tell yourself that it’s really not as bad as it seems―which only makes you angrier.

“Throwing your back out while lifting a giant bag of flour and nearly getting crushed to death by said flour is genuinely the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Yeri, your best friend (derogatory), snorts as she shakes her head. “I wish you had cameras in the storage room because I want to see that shit so bad.”

“Thank you for the brace. You can get the hell out now.” You roll your eyes.

“So, what are you going to do now? Aren’t you swamped with orders?” Yeri asks, ignoring you completely.

You have no clue what you’re going to do now. It isn’t just orders you have to worry about fulfilling; it’s also the freshly baked pastries that you have to sell every morning. After a year of blood, sweat, and tears, the bakery that you built from the ground up is finally starting to gain some stable business. So, of course, you chose now of all times to try to lift a bag of flour over your shoulder like you were Dwayne The Rock Johnson.

“I think I’ll have to hire some temporary help,” you answer begrudgingly.

“You could sound less like someone is holding you at gunpoint,” Yeri snorts, “Come on. It had to happen sooner or later anyway.”

“I was handling things just fine on my own.”

“Were you, though?” Yeri raises an eyebrow, gesturing to your current state.

You fear you walked right into that one. “Shut up and help me make some posters.”

The two of you eventually manage to whip up some haphazard “Help Wanted” posters, the letters written in glitter pen and Yeri’s clumsy bubble text. You tried your best to fill in the empty gaps on the construction paper by placing Pompompurin stickers that you normally give to customers’ kids all over it. The posters look like a nine-year-old girl’s school project gone wrong, but you hope it’s charming enough to catch some attention.

By the time you and Yeri finish hanging up all the posters, the sun is already starting to set, and all you want to do is go home and put a heating pad on your back. After saying bye to Yeri, you start making your way back to the bakery to lock up. Once you arrive, you notice a figure dressed in black slumped over in front of the door. You can see their shoulders rise up and down as they take in labored breaths, leaning against the glass door for support.

Every rational fiber in your being screams at you to not approach the stranger alone, but it’s not like you can just leave this person at the front of your place of business. Cautiously taking a step forward, you squat down to eye level with the stranger, wincing slightly from back pain. Through the sweaty and matted mess of his brown fringe, you can see that the stranger is a young man around your age. However, his face is absolutely battered: bloody (and almost certainly broken) nose, split lip, black eye swollen shut, and a jagged cut on his cheek. If he notices your presence, he doesn’t show it, keeping his head hung down.

Gingerly placing a hand on his arm, you give him a small shake. “Excuse me? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

His brows furrow, and he opens an eye (the only one he’s probably able to open) with a wince before lifting a finger and putting it against his lips. You notice that his knuckles are completely scraped raw.

“Not so loud. I’m okay,” he answers.

“You don’t look―”

As if on cue, his stomach rumbles with a guttural growl that slowly drawls into a sputtering gurgle before dying out all together―leaving a long silence to hang between the two of you.

After another beat, he gives you a sheepish smile. “You got anything to eat?”

You stare at him for a moment; his face is flushed, pink all the way down to his neck.

And like a stupid horror movie character who opens the door to a room that clearly screams danger, you nod.

Fortunately, he―Donghyuck, as he introduced himself―ends up not being a crazy ax murderer.

Unfortunately, you find yourself awkwardly sitting in your closed bakery with a virtual stranger, fiddling with a first aid kit while watching him absolutely devour a piece of leftover tiramisu that you had in your fridge. If the situation wasn’t so insane, you might actually think it was pretty funny. For someone who looks the way he does, this current picture of Donghyuck absolutely doesn’t suit him―bruised chipmunk cheeks stuffed with ladyfingers and cocoa powder stuck on his split lip.

When he’s finished, Donghyuck looks over at you with a mesmerized expression on his face, as if you just fed him ambrosia. There’s a softness to his face that you didn’t think could exist underneath all that grime and dried blood.

“That was…delicious,” he breathes.

“Thanks,” you snort, pushing a glass of water towards him. Unsurprisingly, he chugs it in the blink of an eye. “I still think you should get those injuries checked out, though.”

“Nah, I’ll rub a little spit in them and it’ll be fine,” he shrugs.

“Don’t be gross,” you sigh, scooting your chair closer to him as you set the first aid kit on the table. “Now, come here.”

Donghyuck reluctantly dips his head, and you carefully cup his jaw for support, disinfecting and applying ointment on the cuts and scrapes on his face. You also clean up the dried blood near his nostrils and on his bottom lip, and he doesn’t flinch even when you accidentally brush tender areas like his broken nose or the gash on his mouth. Instead, he stays perfectly still, leaned back in the chair with his forearms resting on his thighs and fingers nonchalantly laced together.

He keeps his gaze trained on something past your shoulder, and you also try your best to focus, but it’s hard to keep yourself from staring―especially when his demeanor has changed so much. He’s so calm and quiet in such a cold, ruthless manner, as if he’s physically steeling himself from pain―like he’s done this a million times before. Occasionally, you feel his eyes swipe across your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention, and it occurs to you how close the two of you are. Suddenly, you’re acutely aware of the heat of his skin against your palm and fingertips, and you rip your hand away from his jaw.

Clearing your throat, you move onto his hands, dabbing his raw knuckles with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol before placing large band-aids on them. Despite your best efforts, it’s hard not to notice how slim his long fingers are or how surprisingly clean his nail beds are for someone who’s covered in blood. You keep your head completely bent, fighting the urge of looking up and possibly meeting his eyes.

“There, all done,” you announce a little too loudly.

“Thank you,” he says softly, “for the cake and for this. For helping me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t do much,” you blurt, still avoiding eye contact as you clean up the table. However, you notice in your peripheral that his gaze follows your movements, almost hesitantly, before he asks:

“So, you’re hiring?”

You click the first-aid kit shut, blinking a few times before turning back to him. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“I―yeah. How did you know that?” you ask, puzzled by such a random question.

Donghyuck points at a poster that you didn’t even know you left here, sitting on the table right behind you. You realize that he was probably looking at it while you were patching him up.

“That poster that says ‘help wanted.’ With the Pompompurin stickers. I’m actually in between jobs right now, so if you would have me―”

“You know Pompompurin?” you interrupt him. It’s not that important and should not stand out to you as much as it does. Yet, you can’t help but grin at the fact that someone like him knows about a tubby Golden Retriever character with a name that sounds like a mashup of the English language’s most adorable onomatopeias.

Donghyuck trails off, stiffening as if you just found out his deepest, darkest secret. He opens his mouth slightly, trying to speak but unable to formulate a response―an excuse, rather. Instead, he just lets out an airy cough, putting a hand over his mouth and turning away from you in an attempt to obscure his face. Despite his best efforts, he can’t hide his glowing red ears and the way his earlier coldness melts away.

“I―yeah,” he responds, words slightly muffled by his hand.

You struggle to maintain your composure as you gnaw on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. Fighting a smile in your voice, you finally say:

“The pay won’t be that much, but you’ll get a bunch of free desserts at the end of the day. Are you okay with that?”

It takes him a moment to process that you’re offering him the job, and you watch his eyes light up and a warm smile overtake his face. There’s still a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks, clashing with the purple bruising and swelling of his injuries.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Suddenly, it occurs to you that Donghyuck somewhat reminds you of a tiramisu.

He may look a bit rugged and grimey, bitter like coffee, but in actuality, underneath it all, he’s soft and fluffy (but not too sweet) like a mascarpone filling.

RECIPE 2. BLUEBERRY PIE

“Are you out of your mind?”

You cringe away from your phone, hurriedly turning the volume down. “Damn, you don’t have to scream like that.”

“You should be the one screaming,” Yeri hollers. “I better not come over one day and find your body stuffed in the freezer or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to hire someone!”

“Not some random dude off the side of the street who was covered in injuries and doesn’t even have any baking experience,” Yeri hisses.

“I don’t need him to bake. I just have him working the front counter and doing all the heavy lifting when I get my ingredient shipments,” you protest. “Did you think I would really just hand over all my orders to some random dude and go party it up in Cancún or something?”

Yeri is silent for several seconds before asking, “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“What?”

“So you did know what I meant when I said you needed your back blown out.” You can hear the smugness in her voice.

“Yeri,” you say tiredly, “please be serious.”

“I am serious. You’re the one being unserious,” she retorts. “Yesterday, you acted like you would rather sacrifice your firstborn child before hiring a part-timer, and now look at you. Dickmatized.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

“So, when do I get to meet him―”

You quickly hit the button to end the call and shove your phone into your pocket, letting out an exasperated sigh. You definitely won’t be hearing the end of that for a while. Your face feels warm for some reason, and you decide that you need a coffee break. After you finish making it, you pour yourself and Donghyuck a cup.

You peek your head out from the curtain that separates the kitchen and the front counter to see if Donghyuck is busy. He’s politely chatting with an elderly woman, and your eyes nearly pop out of your head when he takes out the entire tray of egg tarts in the glass display and wraps it up for her. The woman happily hands him a wad of bills and waves him goodbye. After putting the cash in the register, Donghyuck turns around and catches you in the middle of gawking.

“Oh, Y/N. I was actually just about to head back there. We’re out of egg tarts for the display,” he says nonchalantly.

“Uh, yeah, I can see that,” you whisper loudly, “Was that Mrs. Kim? Why the hell did she order a dozen egg tarts? That woman can barely finish a single cookie.”

Donghyuck blinks, clearly confused, whispering back, “She asked for my recommendation, so I said egg tarts since no one had bought any yet, and she said she would take all of them.”

You pause, things finally clicking. Grinning knowingly, you say, “You know, having you work the front is doing wonders for sales.”

“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows.

You laugh, handing him his cup of coffee. “I’m talking about your face card, Donghyuck. You’re too handsome, so you’re flustering the customers.”

“Are we not whispering anymore?” he asks awkwardly. “Besides, that’s not true. Look at the state of my face right now.”

His injuries have faded significantly, but the bruising and cuts are still there. You want to tell him that superficial wounds can’t mask the warmth in his caramel-brown eyes, the fullness of his cheeks and the sharp jawline, and the air of mystery that enshrouds him and draws people in.

But you don’t.

“Well, for someone who’s only been working here for two weeks, you’re doing superb. Injuries or not.”

And it’s true. You’ve always preferred to work alone because you’re the only one who understands how you want things done. You naturally assumed it would be a hassle and a waste of time to try to explain to someone else when you could just do it yourself, but Donghyuck never seems to need an explanation. In fact, he knows before even you.

He gets to the bakery three hours before you, cleans and preps all the equipment you need for the day, unloads the ingredient shipments, and is already manning the front counter by the time you arrive like it was no big deal at all. He also seems to have a sixth sense of knowing when you’re about to do something you shouldn’t be, even though you downplayed your back injury. He’s somehow always there―moving all the stuff you keep on the top shelf to somewhere within your reach even though you insisted that the rickety wooden step stool you use is perfectly safe, cleaning up a glass beaker that you accidentally shattered, taking out the trash during his breaks, checking in on you when you skip lunch. He even turned down his first paycheck, saying it’s repayment for patching him up and feeding him.

Donghyuck is so perfect that sometimes you wonder if you’re being set up, like maybe he’s secretly embezzling money from the cash register―which would be a more viable theory if he didn’t drive an Audi to work everyday.

“Thanks for the compliment. And the coffee,” Donghyuck says, snapping you out of your thoughts. He gingerly takes a sip and makes a strangled noise, a mixture being choking and retching, before slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Are you okay? Was it too hot?” you ask worriedly.

“No, it’s just…really bitter,” he mumbles, words muffled in his hand.

“Oh,” you blink, “Sorry. I drink black coffee, so I forgot to ask if you wanted creamer and sugar. Come on, there’s some in the back.”

The two of you head to the kitchen, and you watch him dump an exorbitant amount of creamer and sugar in his coffee, the dark roast swirling into something more akin to milk tea.

“You know, there might be some chocolate milk in the fridge if you’d rather that,” you tease.

His head shoots up, those doe eyes lighting up. “Really?”

“No,” you trail off awkwardly, “Sorry, I'm just messing with you.”

It’s a bit adorable that you can visibly see him being disappointed in there not being chocolate milk before growing embarrassed, looking down at his cup. He turns away from you, but you can see the flush on the back of his neck.

“You really have a sweet tooth, huh?” you laugh.

“Pretty lame, right?”

“Why would that be lame? You’re talking to someone who owns a bakery, in case you forgot.”

Donghyuck smiles at you, and it’s sugary sweet like buttercream frosting. He looks at you like you just said the most wonderful thing in the world; in fact, he always makes you feel like that, no matter what you say or do. “I guess you’re right.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you blurt, needing a distraction urgently.

He pauses briefly. “I don’t think I have one.”

That actually surprises you. “You don’t? Even though you love sweets so much?”

He laughs, the sound harsh and rough, and it almost makes you flinch. “I’ve never really had an opportunity to have many until now.”

There’s clearly weight behind his words, but you know you’re not in a position to ask any further. A selfish part of you wants to be important enough to him that you are in a position to know more, but you’re all too aware about him very purposefully keeping you at arm’s length.

“Well, you have plenty of time to find out,” you quickly continue, pretending not to notice. “Actually, I’m going to a blueberry farm tomorrow because I’m thinking about adding blueberry pie to the menu. When I get back, I’ll bake one for you, and you can be the first to taste test it!”

“You’re going by yourself?” Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“Of course. Who else would I go with?”

“Me. I’ll go with you,” he replies immediately.

“But it’s, like, a forty-five-minute bus ride to the farm. Plus, coming with me to get ingredients isn’t part of your job description anyway,” you explain.

“I can’t come with you on my own free time?” he asks, tilting his head. “Besides, I’m worried about you overexerting yourself with that back injury. A bumpy bus ride definitely isn’t going to help, so I’ll drive us there.”

“You’re going to drive that fancy ass car to a farm? You do realize it’s going to be dirt roads, right?” You cross your arms.

“I think I’ll live. Besides, what makes you think this is the only fancy ass car I own?” He gives you an amused smile.

“You’re joking, right?” You stare at him.

He hesitates for a moment. “Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound―”

“What time are we leaving tomorrow morning?”

“...Seven.”

Unsurprisingly, Donghyuck picks you up right on time, not a minute too early or late. As the universe would have it, it rained the night prior―meaning all the dirt roads are now rivers of mud. You wince every time you heard a splat of mud hit Donghyuck’s pristine white car, but he seems to pay no mind to it. The two of you arrive at the farm within twenty minutes (he found a shortcut), and because you came so early, you get the entire farm to yourselves. The staff arms both of you with a large wicker basket each before setting you loose onto the massive property.

“Okay, make sure to pick the fat ones. The small ones are super tart, so avoid those,” you instruct Donghyuck. “We’re going to fill these baskets to the brim and get our money’s worth.”

“You got it, Captain.” He salutes.

You give him a determined nod and a thumbs up before turning to your respective side and beginning to pick the blueberries. The two of you work without much fanfare or conversation, and it’s a silence that lingers between you comfortably. It reassures you to hear the sound of the bushes rustling from Donghyuck working; his companionship alone relaxes you.

Eventually, when the sun starts peeking through and the weather grows warmer, both of you decide to take a break. You find a spot in the shade before sitting down, pulling out snacks and bottles of water from a backpack Donghyuck brought along.

“I have a surprise for you,” you tell him, trying to hide a smile. “Close your eyes.”

He eyes you suspiciously but does so anyway. You fish out a handful of unripe blueberries wrapped in a handkerchief from your pocket and feed some to him. His reaction is nearly instant the moment he starts chewing them; you watch as his face puckers up from how sour they are and his entire body shrivels into itself, a shudder running through him. He’s polite enough to not spit them out, but you’re not polite enough to resist pointing and laughing at him. Throwing your head back, you laugh so hard that your stomach starts to hurt.

“Oh my God, your face!”

“Ugh,” Donghyuck groans, taking a big gulp of his water. “I should’ve known you had sinister intentions from the start.”

“I didn’t think you’d react like that,” you finally manage to say after catching your breath. “You really can’t handle anything except for sweet stuff.”

“Are you having fun bullying me?” He rolls his eyes.

“So much fun,” you say in a sing-song voice.

Donghyuck tries to continue feigning annoyance, but he can’t help the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest. His eyes always soften when he looks at you, and his gaze is intimate like a lover’s―gentle, tender, unwavering, and vulnerable. But his warmth is always fleeting, and he only allows you glimpses of it through the unmoving walls that he’s erected around himself.

You wish he wouldn’t indulge you so, terrified you’ll try to cross the line he’s drawn between the two of you.

“What are you thinking about?” Donghyuck asks, trying to read your expression

“About the delicious pie I’m about to make when we get back,” you smile.

“I see,” he responds, though it’s clear he isn’t convinced. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“You better be. This is how I’m paying you back for driving me here,” you nod.

“Instead of that, pay me back by telling me what your favorite dessert is,” he suddenly says. “I do still want the pie, though.”

“That was random,” you snort. “Why do you want to know my favorite dessert?”

“Because you asked me, but you never told me yours.”

You suppose he has a point, but you find it ironic that he wants to know more about you when he refuses to offer you even a modicum of information about himself. Despite this, you tell him anyway because you are obviously the fool here.

“If you must know, it’s red velvet cake,” you sigh.

“Why?”

You don’t answer at first, carefully thinking about if you’re ready to be vulnerable in front of him―still a virtual stranger. A virtual stranger who loves sweets. A virtual stranger who is a bit of a messy eater. A virtual stranger who knows Pompompurin. A virtual stranger who worries about you even when he’s not on the clock. A virtual stranger who gently tells you to be careful whenever you try to do something dangerous, whispering, “I’ll do it instead.” A virtual stranger who allows his luxury car to be caked in mud for you.

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life,” you finally say. “I baked it for my mom’s birthday, and I think I ended up being more excited than her.”

Donghyuck stays quiet, gauging your reaction.

“I was in college, studying to be a doctor like everyone else in my family. So, like a dumb young person who thought that dreams were more important than money, I dropped out of college and went to culinary school. My parents told me I was ruining mine and their lives, disowned me, yada-yada―a bunch of depressing stuff, you know. Eventually, I graduated, took out a huge loan, and opened up my own bakery. Worked a bunch of part-time jobs until my business could stand on its own. Now here I am. Still in debt, though,” you laugh awkwardly. “But I’m not doing too shabby. I was able to hire you, so at least I have a little cash to spare.”

He still doesn’t say anything, so you find yourself starting to ramble. You’re really not sure what possessed you to trauma dump on him like that.

“You know, a lot of people talk shit about red velvet cake because they say the only thing that makes it special is the red food coloring,” you hurriedly explain, “but that’s not true. The cream cheese frosting is super important too. Also, I always say love is the most important ingredient of all. As a baker, you’re kind of baring your heart to the customer, and isn’t it kind of cute that red velvet cake is red like a heart? Okay, please say something now or else I think I’m going to projectile vomit.”

Donghyuck reaches over and brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of your face. His fingers brush over your temple, which makes you sharply suck in a breath. You almost lean into his touch, but you catch yourself. His hand slightly lingers on the side of your neck, like he wants to bring your face closer, but he eventually pulls away.

He searches your face, and you’re not sure what he’s looking for―if anything. Rather, perhaps he’s not searching. Perhaps he’s committing your features to his memory, as if the way you look right now is something he wants to remember forever.

“You’ve worked hard, Y/N,” he says softly, voice slightly hoarse. “This is long overdue, but congratulations. You achieved your dream, and don’t let anyone ever discount that. Not even yourself.”

You wonder how long you’ve waited to hear that. You’re not even sure you knew you needed to hear that. But when Donghyuck says it, it hits you just how long and hard you’ve worked all on your own without a single break. Throughout the years, you’ve really only ever heard, “I’m sorry that happened.” When was the last time someone congratulated you? When was the last time you congratulated yourself?

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his shoulder. Donghyuck cradles you against him, one hand wound tightly around your waist while the other is tangled in your hair. You can feel his chest rise up and down as he holds you. He smells like lavender soap and a bit earthy from being outside, and the warmth of his skin against your cheek makes you want to close your eyes and fall asleep in his arms.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“No, thank you,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re not sure why he’s thanking you instead, but what you are sure of is that you’re crossing the line, taking a step towards him and wondering if he’ll meet you halfway.

“Tada!” you announce cheerfully, setting down the freshly baked blueberry pie onto the table.

Donghyuck claps excitedly. “Holy shit, it looks amazing.”

“I’m still trying to figure out the right portions for the filling, so let me know if you think there’s too much or little,” you tell him as you hand him a slice.

Without even answering you, he stabs his fork into the pie and almost eats the entire slice in one bite, seemingly unbothered by the steam still rising from it.

“Be careful. You’re going to burn your tastebuds off. I’m not letting you eat it for shits and giggles, you know. This is for research purposes.” You cross your arms.

“It’s perfect, Y/N. I’m serious,” Donghyuck says after swallowing. “The filling isn’t too sweet, and the crust is airy and light.”

“Well, alright, Gordon Ramsay. I think we’re going to be adding a new menu item then,” you smile. “Think you can get Mrs. Kim to buy a dozen of these?”

“I don’t think she’ll need much convincing with how good these taste.”

“You’re so easy,” you tease. “All I need to do is feed you. Anyways, I’m going to clean up here, but you should head home. It’s getting late, and you wake up way earlier than me.”

“I’ll help,” he insists.

“Go,” you order, pointing at the door. “I can handle it.”

He looks conflicted but eventually relents when you threaten to physically kick him out. Before he leaves, he turns back to you and says, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Why do you keep thanking me?” you laugh.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had this.”

“What? A blueberry pie?”

Donghyuck pauses, a slight wonder in his expression, as if he’s realizing his answer for the first time as well.

“Peace.”

And you think maybe this is a step forward for him too.

RECIPE 3. CREAM PUFF

It’s quite surreal how easily and naturally you and Donghyuck fall into a routine together. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two weeks becomes two months. You’ve learned the little things about him, like how he always swipes some icing before you can fill up the piping bag or that he’s not a coffee drinker at all (more of a hot cocoa person) or that he purses his lips when a dessert he’s testing tastes off (no matter how hard he tries to hide it) or that he involuntarily sticks his arm out in front of you when he wants to stop you from doing something you shouldn’t.

You also notice that he sometimes comes into work with injuries. They’re not nearly as bad as the first time you met him, but it’s hard to ignore a bruised cheek or bloodied knuckles. He always has a reason for them, whether it’s tripping down the stairs or accidentally falling down and scraping his hands on the concrete. You can tell by the way he laughs it off that he doesn’t plan on telling you the truth, so you laugh with him. The two of you, having taken only a step towards one another, find yourselves completely immobile now.

He always does this: envelops you like a cloud but disappears the moment you reach out for him.

You’re honestly not sure why he’s still here. Your injury has long healed, and he clearly doesn’t need the abysmal pay you’re giving him. He feels like he’ll slip away at any moment, fleeting like a warm spring breeze, and you suppose time flies by when you know it’s limited. Despite knowing that, you can’t help but desperately want him to stay.

“I think it’s cute how hard he’s working,” Yeri randomly says one day as she eyes Donghyuck prepare orders in the front. He’s in the middle of a lunchtime rush, so he doesn’t even notice the two of you watching him like weirdos.

“Well, that’s what I’m paying him to do,” you reply, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I think the money is the least of his worries here,” she hums, taking a sip of her coffee.

She has a point, but you’re pretty sure she’s implying something else as well. Just as you go to ask her what exactly she means, you hear a loud clatter. Flinching, you turn your attention back to Donghyuck and realize that he’s dropped a tray on the floor. However, the tray is the last thing on your mind when you see the expression on his face. It’s a mixture of horror, anger, and almost sadness―like he’s finally come face-to-face with whatever he’s been running from. It makes your blood run cold.

Donghyuck is looking at a boy around his age; the boy has dark hair, a mole under his eye, and a grim expression. More importantly, he’s covered in injuries too.

“Who is that?” Yeri whispers. “Why does Donghyuck look like he’s seen a ghost?”

Maybe because he has, you want to tell her.

Donghyuck grabs the boy's arm, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles turn white, and mumbles something to him. When he turns around and meets your eyes, he looks pained and fearful as if you witnessed something you shouldn’t have.

“Is it okay if I take my break early today?” he asks calmly, though the tremor in his voice gives him away.

You nod hesitantly, unable to force yourself to speak. You watch him as he drags the boy out; when he passes you, you can tell how tightly his body is wound right now. His jaw is clenched, a muscle spasming as he tries to control himself, and every step he takes seems labored. He’s running on pure adrenaline right now, like he’s physically steeling himself.

However, you don’t think he’s ever appeared so incredibly alone before. As you watch his back disappear further and further from your view, you’re unsure if he’ll ever return, and you never imagined how terrifying that would be.

The cream puffs aren’t rising.

You’re crouched in front of the oven, watching the dough remain flat and lifeless. You should’ve known better than to attempt to make cream puffs on such a shitty day, especially when pastries like these are so sensitive to the environment and atmosphere. Even though you know you should probably just scrap them and try again, you wait for just a little longer, hoping that maybe if you wish hard enough that they’ll magically start to rise.

But then again you suppose that no matter how hard you try, no matter how careful you are, no matter how perfect the batter is, no matter how much time you spend time piping them, no matter how much you want them to rise, they won’t.

You decide that Donghyuck isn’t like a tiramisu at all; he’s sensitive and delicate and elusive and frustrating like a cream puff.

“Y/N, they’re burning.”

Losing your balance and nearly falling over, you gasp loudly. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even hear Donghyuck walk into the kitchen, nor did you smell the undeniable scent of something being burnt to a crisp.

“Oh, fu―!” you curse, hurriedly opening the oven and casually suffocating both you and Donghyuck with a hot plume of air. Sputtering, you look around and grab a random rag from the sink before reaching for the cream puffs.

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck stops you with an outstretched arm, his hand pressed to your side. “Let me do it.”

He gently takes the rag from your hand and removes the tray of charred cream puffs from the oven, dumping them into the trash before putting the tray in the sink and running some water on it―just how you like it.

Letting out a relieved sigh, he turns back to you and asks, “Are you okay? It’s not like you to make a mistake like that. You didn’t get burned anywhere, did you?”

When you don’t answer immediately, Donghyuck rushes forward and grabs your hands, carefully examining your fingers and arms. “Wait, are you hurt? Where? Tell me where you got burned. We have to cool it down with some lukewarm water. And don’t just say you’re fine. Burns are not a joke, Y/N―why are you looking at me like that?”

His hands are calloused and rough, and you can still see scabs from where he tore his knuckles, yet he touches you like you’re the delicate one. He’s covered in fresh and old wounds, yet he looks so panicked at the thought of you having a scratch.

“Shut up,” you whisper furiously, ripping your hands away from him. “From now on, don’t ask me another question. It’s my turn to ask you questions.”

He blinks, a bit stunned by your reaction, but it’s clear he knows what you’re about to say. He goes to reach for you again but decides against it. “Okay.”

“Who was that guy?” you demand. “Why are you always covered in injuries? Why did you lie to me? Who are you?”

“He’s an old friend,” Donghyuck starts quietly.

“Do you treat all your friends like that?”

“When I don’t want to see them.”

You wait for him to continue.

“Before I met you, he and I and a few of our other friends worked…odd jobs for cash,” he explains, and he looks like he’s choking on every word. “The jobs usually entailed us hurting people and also getting hurt. I did a lot of shit I wasn’t proud of. At the time, I didn’t really care. It was just nice to feel something, whether it was the adrenaline rush from doing the punching or the pain from being punched. I got a bunch of money, bought a bunch of expensive stuff, but none of it mattered. Eventually, I just felt nothing again. I didn’t even have the energy to loathe myself anymore. So, I took one last job, got the shit kicked out of me, and then I left. That’s when you found me―”

He inhales, and his eyes flicker towards you. He gazes at you so longingly, as if you were impossibly out of his reach, that you can’t help but involuntarily take a step towards him.

But he steps back.

“I thought that working here would make me feel like a human being again, but I didn’t realize how much I would―” He pauses again. “I thought working here would be a nice reset for me, but I naively thought that I could completely leave my past behind. My friends eventually found me, and I guess I care about those reckless assholes more than I thought because they managed to convince me to take on a few more jobs with them. That’s why I’ve been coming to work with injuries. But I’m done. I cut them off for good when they walked into this bakery. I don’t want…I don’t want our past to tarnish this place. I want to keep this place a beautiful, warm, and pure safe haven that you worked so hard for it to be. That’s why I lied to you, Y/N. I’m a coward to the bone, and I was envious of you. I was ashamed to admit it to you. You, who had the courage to chase after your dream. You, who had the kindness to help a good-for-nothing asshole like me. I only want you to have happy memories from now on, and I am not one of them.”

“Are you going to leave?” you ask softly.

“I probably should,” he answers shakily.

“What’s stopping you?”

“Just…one reason.”

“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like the reason is me.”

Donghyuck laughs bitterly, and his eyes drag across your face like every movement hurts him.

“You know it’s you. It’s always been you.”

When you reach for his hand, he turns away like just the warmth from your body heat burns him. So instead, you take a step back.

“I won’t ask you to stay, Donghyuck, I won’t chase you. I’m going to wait right here, and it’s up to you if you're going to meet me halfway.”

RECIPE 4. RED VELVET CAKE

When your alarm clock goes off the next morning, you seriously consider just not showing up to work. It’s not like you can be fired for being a no-show when you’re your own boss, after all.

And it’s not like you have any employees who will be expecting you.

You’ll just apologize to Mrs. Kim and your other regulars later. You’re allowed to have a day where you just rot in bed and feel sorry for yourself.

However, no matter how much you tell yourself that, you find yourself crawling out of bed and getting ready anyway. You can’t seem to brutally crush that small glimmer of hope that Donghyuck might still be there, no matter how hard you try. When you see yourself in the mirror, you recoil in horror. Your eyes are almost swollen shut from the amount of crying you did last night, and your face is sallow and lifeless.

So much for putting on a brave face, you think wryly to yourself. You tried so hard to look tough, when in reality, you bawled your eyes out and even considered praying to God for Donghyuck to stay. It’s a humiliating and humbling reality check.

“Stand up right now,” you sharply tell yourself in the mirror. “He’s just some guy. Get it together.”

You do your best to clean up your appearance and make the trek over to the bakery. It takes another internal pep talk before you can make your way to the door. After you finally walk up, you see that the lights inside are off. Your stomach sinks, and your eyes start to burn. Even though you’re holding the handle, you can’t bring yourself to open the door. It’s an outcome that you expected, yet you wonder why it hurts so badly.

“You liar,” you mumble to yourself, “You said you only wanted me to have happy memories.”

Once you make your way inside, you numbly head towards the kitchen, trying to remember what exactly you have to do today. Oh right, now that he’s not here, you also have to make sure all the ingredients are prepped first.

When you walk into the kitchen, you do a double-take.

The whole place looks like it’s been completely ransacked: used pans and utensils piled up in the sink, two opened boxes of cake mix, containers of ingredients without lids on on the tables, random lumps of flour and egg shells strewn about―

And right in front of the oven is Donghyuck, flour in his hair and frosting on his nose. He’s holding a cake stand with…you think it’s supposed to be a cake on it? The shape is mangled and haphazardly cut, but it has echoes of a heart. The frosting is a hot mess, as if a bird with diarrhea shat all over the cake. The batter is clearly underbaked and makes the cake look gooey in a bad way.

“Um, I promise I’ll clean all of this up in a second, but I wanted to surprise you,” Donghyuck starts awkwardly. “It’s not perfect, but I tried making a red velvet cake for you.”

You stare at him, still not sure how to react.

“You once said that baking is like baring your heart to the customer and that love is the most important ingredient of all,” he laughs softly to himself. “I think love is the only ingredient I managed to get right, but I’m baring my heart to you now, Y/N. I’m sorry I hid everything and lied to you, but I’m in love with you. Hopelessly so. All my life, I’ve chased a feeling, not knowing what it was. But now I do. I don’t think I knew how to feel until I met you. I never once thought I would ever have a purpose in my life, but you make me want to be a normal, proper member of society. Your dream is my dream. I want to wake up at 5AM and sell egg tarts with you for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”

Donghyuck sets the cake down on a table in front of you, and you notice that his fingers are dyed red from the food coloring. It almost reminds you of when you first met him, except his injuries have been replaced with red food coloring, flour, and cream cheese frosting.

“This cake is terrible,” you smile, “how did you butcher it that badly when you used cake mix?”

You watch him blush all the way down to his neck, as he sheepishly looks away. “Don’t make fun of me. I really tried my best. I stayed up watching tutorials―”

Leaning across the table, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones. He tastes like frosting, hot cocoa, and your prayers being answered. The way he kisses you back is bruising, dizzying and knocking any coherent thought out of your head, his hands finding your hips and anchoring you to him. He kisses you like you’re the sweetest and most wonderful thing he’s ever tasted.

When you finally pull away, it takes you a moment to regain feeling in your legs. Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours once again as the two of you try to catch your breath.

“I think I’m going to have to fire you, though,” you whisper. “You know, with me being your boss and all. The power dynamic is too weird.”

He hums, pausing for thought. “Then how about I become your business partner?”

“What?”

Donghyuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his wallet, pulling out a shiny and fancy-looking credit card. He hands it to you without much fanfare.

“I have a lot of money, you know. So I’m going to invest in your business. Use it as you’d like,” he casually announces.

You stare at him, your jaw hanging wide open. He never tried to hide from you that he was rich, but he never told you that he was rich rich.

“Well, damn! Why didn’t you show me this earlier? I would have forgiven you a lot sooner,” you tease, slapping him on the arm. “Are you sure you want to give this to me? I’m quite the gold-digger, you know.”

“When I told you to use it as you’d like, I meant me as well,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging.

“You’re insane.” You hope he can’t tell how much your face is burning up.

“I guess I am,” he laughs, and you don’t think he’s ever looked so free. You want to tell him that you hope he only has happy memories from now on too. You want to tell him that you’ll rewrite all of his scars with sugary and fluffy desserts so that they won’t ever hurt again.

And for the first time in your life, you feel it too.

Peace.

EXTRA

“So, have you figured out what your favorite dessert is?”

Donghyuck stirs slightly, groaning, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He slips his hand under your shirt (well, technically it’s his shirt) and rests it on your bare hip bone.

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“If I answer, will you let me rest?”

“Depends on how good your answer is.”

“Blueberry pie. That’s my answer.”

You smile against the crook of his neck.

“Why?”

“Because it’s the dessert that made me realize I want to do this for the rest of my life.”

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 imagines #haechan #nct #choerrypuffs

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spencerreidenjoyer · 4 months ago

Text

insatiable | spencer reid x reader

Spencer learns how amazing sex is with you, but gets caught up with work. You show your boyfriend how good it can feel even if you’re not together physically, and he shows you how much he misses you when he gets back.

part 1 - addicted to you | part 2

wc: 4.6k, rating: 18+/explicit

tags/warnings: established relationship, phone sex/video sex, mutual masturbation, public (bathroom) sex, brief mentions of typical BAU stuff (not in detail), meeting the family (literally reader meets the BAU), brief mentions of alcohol, making out, vaginal sex, getting caught (not in the act but afterward lmao)

a/n: this is what an insane person does when they're sick for two days and have nothing better to do over the summer. this is a second part to addicted to you (you don't have to read the first part but it does provide some context for some details within the fic), with inspiration taken from a lovely comment I got on ao3 that made me feel kinda crazy. i included some textfic elements in this fic as well which i hope reads well (bold text is spencer)! also I know early seasons spencer technically sets this around 2005-2007 but they have smartphones and video calling (aka present day) so please suspend your disbelief for the length of this fic lmao (p.s this fic is also on ao3!)

Your boyfriend gets whisked away for work sooner than you expect. Spencer’s supposed to have time off the rest of this week, but you suppose killers aren’t exactly respectful of an FBI agent’s time off of work. It’s downright cruel when he’s called in to work on a Friday evening, when you have dinner and wine set at the table, having gotten ready to spend a quiet, romantic evening in with Spencer.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, rushing to change out of his sweatshirt and joggers into his typical work attire. You stand in the doorway of his room, mildly amused while Spencer panics to put an outfit together. “I know you had a whole evening in planned, but–”

“Don’t be, baby,” you assure him. “You have a killer to catch. Oh, that one– the blue cardigan looks good with those pants. It matches your socks.”

Spencer smiles as he looks up at you, reaching for the navy blue cardigan to his left. He tugs it on rather hurriedly, comes up to you and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You’re the best. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You shake your head. “Just find the bastard quick and come home to me.”

“I know. I will,” Spencer says.

After the both of you found out just how much Spencer liked fucking you, you were really hoping that your weekend together could be spent in his bed, but duty calls. Technically, JJ had called him in, but you’re not concerned about specifics right now.

You spend the evening alone in Spencer’s apartment, half of the wine finished and his TV playing reruns of some show you haven’t been paying attention to. Your eyelids feel heavy, and Spencer’s bed is so comfortable you can’t bring yourself to leave it. That is, until your phone buzzes on Spencer’s nightstand, and you’re suddenly very alert.

I miss you, darling. > hey, i’m surprised you have the down time to text. i miss you too I’m really sorry I had to leave so suddenly. We’re on the jet right now. > i told you it’s okay! i’m surprised the jet has wifi lol Taxpayer money, I guess? We land in LA in a couple of hours and we’re heading straight to the PD to work on the case. > my poor boyfriend is working so hard instead of cuddling me in bed :( How you tempt me, lovely. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Are you going to sleep soon? It’s late. > yeah i’m staying at yours for the night and maybe until you get back? really miss you already Okay, that’s good. I know. I’ll call when I’m in the hotel and settled for the day? :-( > yes please. also stop sending emojis with noses they aren’t supposed to look like that!!! They aren’t anatomically correct without them. The way you send them > babe they’re emojis it’s ok if they’re not anatomically correct Hahaha I love you. > lol i love you too! Goodnight, love. > goodnight spence <3 <3

You can imagine, especially from the way Spencer recounts it, how his coworker Derek must be teasing him about smiling at his phone, about how pretty boy’s lucky lady must be one hell of a woman to get Spencer so smitten.

You would say you’re rather independent, especially in relationships, but Spencer has you acting like a clingy girlfriend. You can’t help but feel an ache in your chest as you long for him while he’s away, feeling like a military wife whose husband is out instead of being normal. To be fair, being with Spencer has never been “normal” – he always has something interesting up his sleeve, or some quirk that makes you even more enamoured with him.

Your Saturday is relatively uneventful, milling about Spencer’s apartment. You laze around in bed for way too long, enough where Spencer would’ve definitely hauled you out of bed himself an hour ago if he were here. You make yourself breakfast, unsurprised that Spencer only has cereal in his pantry and almond milk in his fridge. You sit down with one of his very sophisticated literature books but you don’t get very far with it, and opt to clean Spencer’s apartment instead.

It’s when you’re sweeping the floor that you realise just how much you like Spencer, feeling so strongly attached to him already. You’ve said your ‘I love you’s, given him his firsts. You were staying in his apartment even while he was away– hell, you’re even cleaning his apartment for him.

Just for a moment, you let yourself fantasise about this being your apartment – yours and Spencer’s; about waking up to him every morning, about making breakfast for the both of you that isn’t cereal and almond milk, about coming home to each other instead of an empty apartment.

You sigh and get back to cleaning.

You’re settled into his bed, surrounded by the comforting scent of him when Spencer finally does call. You almost drop your phone in your excitement to pick up.

“Hey! Hi, Spence,” you say, unable to help the smile that’s forming on your face.

“Hello, love,” Spencer answers. He sounds a little tired. You can imagine the little furrow in his brow, obviously exhausted and dissatisfied from a full day’s work of catching some bastard in LA, and you wish you could be there to kiss his frown away. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Spencer. Long day?”

“Absolutely,” Spencer sighs tiredly. “This UnSub is so slippery. No convictions, no paper trail, nothing, and he’s killing every other–” Spencer starts to ramble but he catches himself. “Sorry. I won’t talk about work right now. It’s pretty grim.”

“It’s okay,” you hum. “Do you want to talk about work right now?”

Spencer makes a little noise. “No, no. I don’t want to bring that to you. Let’s talk about you. How are you, honey?”

Honey. The name makes your insides feel all gooey, soft and warm and lovely. “I’m- I’m okay. I stayed at your place, cleaned up around here. I’m thankful it’s not as much of a man cave as I thought.”

Spencer laughs through the phone, a breathy chuckle. “Thank you for cleaning up for me, love. It’s just a lot of nerdy stuff, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s endearing. I tried to read one of your books earlier and could barely get past the first ten pages.” You tell him, garnering another chuckle from Spencer. “I like your place a lot.”

“I miss you,” Spencer says again. “Waking up to you and having you around is so much nicer than this dingy hotel room I’m in.”

“Aw. Taxpayer money couldn’t upgrade you to a better room?”

Spencer snorts. “No, but I lucked out on getting the room all to myself.”

There’s a pause as you figure out what to say, and Spencer is quick to follow up, “I didn’t mean–”

“Does this have something to do with you missing me, baby?” You can’t help but grin. Spencer makes a distressed little noise over the line.

“Well, I– Maybe, but we don’t have to–” Spencer stammers, unable to find the words. He’s absolutely adorable.

“I want to, Spence,” you coo. “I miss you so much.”

You hear Spencer exhale shakily. “What– What do I do?”

“A genius like you hasn’t forgotten how to touch himself, has he?” you tease, Spencer whining on the other end at your words. “Does that eidetic memory of yours come with an overactive imagination too?”

“Surprisingly, no. Hyperphantasia is more of being able to visualise different types of situations in one’s mind, and that’s what usually is associated with an overactive imagination. Having an eidetic memory is more about high-precision recall after seeing something even just once. I think having an eidetic memory pretty much ensures you don’t have aphantasia, or the inability to see and create mental images, but yeah.”

Ah, even his nerdy ramblings turn you on.

“So does that mean you can recall the way I looked in bed a few nights ago?” you prod, and you wish you could see how red Spencer must be by now.

“Well, yes. Of course I can. How could I ever forget how beautiful you looked then?” Spencer’s words are sweet, earnest, and you melt.

“Then picture that,” you barely get the words out because you’re so smitten. “Imagine I’m right there with you, Spencer.”

You hear the rustling of the sheets, and Spencer’s little telltale whine as he wraps his hand around himself. “O-Oh–”

“I miss you, Spence,” you drawl. “Miss the way your cock fits inside me. You miss my tight cunt, baby?”

“Your mouth is filthy,” Spencer laughs breathily. “But yeah, I do. You always feel so good around me.”

“You’re touching yourself, yeah?” you ask. You get a little whine from him as an affirmative, but your imagination is running wild – you want to see him. “Can you show me?”

“Yeah, I just– Do you wanna switch it over to a video call? I can’t–”

You laugh at your boyfriend’s lack of technical prowess, tapping at your phone screen until the top half of his face comes up. “Hey, I’m just trying to find a good angle–”

“Don’t just flip the camera and show me your dick, please. That would be so unsexy.” You say.

Spencer furrows his brows. “I was not planning on doing that, for the record.”

You watch the phone move until Spencer comes into frame, the phone likely propped up at the foot of the bed and exposing all of Spencer to you. You might be drooling right now.

“This is… a lot,” Spencer laughs nervously. “I feel so naked.”

“You’re mostly clothed,” you quip.

“Ha ha,” Spencer laughs dryly. “I’ve just… I’ve never done this before.”

“Phone sex? Or calling your girlfriend so you can jerk off for her?”

Spencer gives you a deadpan look. “Both, honey.”

You grin. “I’m glad to be your first. Now, show me how you make yourself feel good, baby.”

Spencer’s cheeks are a gorgeous rosy red when he takes his cock into his hand again, his tip leaking as he strokes himself slowly. With his eyes fluttering shut, Spencer’s lips part as he indulges himself in his pleasure. Like this, you indulge yourself in admiring all of Spencer – the flush on his cheeks that runs down to his neck, his breathy panting as he touches himself to the thought of you.

“Spence,” you sigh. “You’re so pretty.”

His eyes shutter open as he looks at you, somehow even redder than he already was. “You’re the pretty one, darling. Are you– Will you touch yourself for me?”

You hold back your moan as you nod. You were already in your underwear when you had slid into Spencer’s bed, but now all it takes is you sliding your fingers past the waistband to feel how wet you already are between your legs. “Oh, Spence.”

“Do you feel good, love?” he hums, voice only a little bit strained from his immense pleasure.

The embarrassingly loud squelch that results when you sink your fingers into yourself is enough of an answer. Spencer grins, and you’re red in the face as you rock your hips down onto your own fingers. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything, honey,” Spencer laughs. “But I wish I could feel you right now.”

“I know, I miss the way you feel inside me,” you pant. “Please, Spencer–”

“Take off your underwear,” Spencer’s voice is breathy as he pleads with you. “I want to see you.”

You prop your phone up so your angle matches Spencer’s, both of you on full display for each other. You watch the way Spencer’s eyes widen when you slide your panties off, the way his eyes are trained on your figure through the screen. He says, “You’re so wet…”

“All for you, baby,” you sigh, leaning back as you slide two fingers back into yourself. You scissor them rather hastily, craving the hurried way Spencer fucks you. “It’s not the same without you here.”

“I know,” Spencer hums. “You look so good like that. I wish I could make you feel good right now.”

You moan, pushing your fingers into yourself deeper, barely hitting where Spencer reaches easily. The squelch from between your legs is obscene. “You do, baby. You’re making me feel so good, just thinking about you.”

In practically a whisper, Spencer admits, “I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

You let out a weak cry, impossibly turned on by your boyfriend’s filthy admission because you didn’t even think he had it in him to say it so bluntly. You slide your fingers in and out hurriedly, your palm giving you the friction on your clit that you crave so desperately. “Spencer–”

Spencer lets out a strangled cry, muffled behind his hand, when he comes. It’s sudden, Spencer’s load painting the soft skin of his stomach, his cock twitching. You moan as you follow suit, wetness drenching your hand as you ride out your own orgasm, imagining his cock inside of you.

“Oh, fuck.” Spencer gasps, head thrown back as you watch his chest rise and fall as he breathes heavily. His forehead and neck are covered in a light sheen of sweat, and his cock out against the rest of his rather soft, innocent looking outfit is making you giggle just a little.

“You look really hot right now,” you say instead, wishing you could be laying next to him while he recovers.

“I think I should be saying that about you,” Spencer laughs. “You’re gorgeous. You’re so stunning.”

“How long are you going to be away?” You pout. “I like it when I can actually kiss you after you compliment me.”

Spencer smiles sympathetically. “I’ll be back soon, my love.”

“I’ll take phone sex with my boyfriend as a consolation, then.” You wink, making Spencer laugh.

“Remind me not to get too loud, though. I think Emily is in the room next to me and I really hope these walls are thick enough.” He says, sounding vaguely concerned.

You laugh, and stay on the line a little longer just to relish in a peaceful moment with Spencer.

The next day, when you’re out getting groceries to stock up Spencer’s fridge, you get a text from Spencer.

I don’t know how much Emily heard last night, but she’s been looking at me funny all morning. > lol oops? If we call again tonight, we might have to keep it down. > if? not when? :) I love you so much. > i know and i love you too :) and you should probably apologise to emily about last night Well, if we’re calling again tonight then maybe I should just give her one big apology when all of this is over. > good idea. now go catch your killer so we can go back to having sex irl Okay!

Unfortunately, Spencer gets too busy to call you again that night, the team working overtime to catch their UnSub, whose kills were escalating exponentially. You don’t find yourself bothered by it, by Spencer disappearing for the night with nothing more than a message sent your way, instead relishing in the fact that it’ll feel even more rewarding when he comes home.

You’ve never felt this way before, craving Spencer so desperately while he’s away at work. While you’ve only been together a couple of months, you respect that Spencer’s work takes up a lot of his time. It doesn’t mean you don’t miss him, though, as much as you enjoy your alone time.

All of the team’s hard work pays off, though, because they’re storming into the UnSub’s lair by Monday afternoon, and Spencer texts you when you’re just clocking out of the office.

Great news! We caught the guy. We’re packing up at the PD and coming home soon. > omg!!! that’s so great The team wants to go out for celebratory drinks. > you should totally go ahead and celebrate with them spence! you guys worked your asses off on this case We did. But I’m telling you because I want you to join us. I want you to meet the team too. > oh? i would love to but are you sure they want me there? Of course, sweet girl. Derek wants to know who has me smiling at my phone half the time, and Emily is asking who I’m calling in the middle of the night. > omg so she did hear you … I think so, love. > … i will apologise to her tonight then I’ll send you the address. Love you > love you too spence <3

There’s just enough time for you to get home and change into a nice outfit – a tight, red dress that hits your mid-thigh, your hair curled and your makeup touched-up before you head to the bar Spencer’s sent you the address to. While you know Spencer’s team is lovely, you do want to make a good first impression.

You see Spencer’s gangly form at the bar when you get there, the rest of his team facing away from you as they get their drinks. You see Spencer’s face brighten as he spots you, raising his hand and waving to you excitedly. The rest of his team notices, and turns to look at you too. You would be shy at all the attention, but Spencer’s unabashed adoration of you, especially in front of all his friends, is giving you more than enough confidence to walk up to the group.

“Hello,” you smile, and the warmth you feel from the team makes you feel welcome already. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

You shake hands with Hotch and Rossi as you introduce yourself. While you had heard of Hotch as a rather cold, serious Unit Chief, the way he warmly smiles at you makes you feel at ease. “So, you’re Spencer’s girlfriend. It’s great to finally meet you.”

“It’s great to meet you too, sir,” you answer rather instinctively, making both Rossi and Hotch laugh heartily.

“Aaron might be Reid’s boss, but he certainly isn’t yours,” Rossi chuckles.

Before you can feel embarrassed by it, you get pulled into a tight, warm hug by Penelope, and when she lets you go, JJ hands you a drink, and Derek and Emily are regarding you with knowing smirks.

“Reid, you are one lucky man,” Derek says, after pulling you into a welcoming hug. “Don’t mess this up, lover boy.”

“I know,” Spencer says, his hand reaching for yours. You lace your fingers with Spencer’s, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “And I won’t mess this up.”

“Lover boy is right, considering what I overheard the other night,” Emily says, looking at you and Spencer pointedly. JJ also has a knowing smile on her face, and you feel your cheeks get hot.

“I’m really sorry about that, Emily,” you smile sheepishly. “I hope Spencer’s apologised for it too.”

“Again, I’m sorry you had to hear that,” Spencer says, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Emily. “I would say ‘We won’t do it again’, but…”

You shriek amidst the laughter of Spencer’s coworkers, Spencer laughing along as he holds onto your waist. You feel adored, so readily welcomed by Spencer’s friends, and you feel like you belong, by Spencer’s side.

After you chat with the rest of the team for a little more, they eventually disperse to do their own things, leaving you and Spencer alone. Spencer looks at you with such adoration in his eyes and you feel like you’re going to melt. “Hi,” he says warmly.

“Hi, Spence,” you say. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Spencer smiles. “But I’m here now.”

“You are,” you breathe, giddy with excitement, and lean in to kiss him. It’s a quick peck, but Spencer pulls you back in like you’re the air he needs to breathe. He kisses you deep, eager, pouring every drop of himself into you. His hands cup your face sweetly, kissing you until you feel breathless.

“Oh my God, Spencer,” you giggle when he finally pulls back, eyes wild as he regards you. “You really missed me, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Spencer laughs.

“Do we need to pretend to keep our hands off each other or do you just want to go and make out in the bathroom?” You say simply. You don’t expect Spencer to be down, considering how quickly he’d rattle off the statistics about the germs in a public bathroom, but Spencer smiles at you and pulls you toward the single stall.

You’re thankful it’s a relatively big, clean-looking single stall bathroom, Spencer locking the door behind you as you lean back against the sink. Spencer’s taller figure crowds you in with ease, and you feel swallowed up by him as he kisses you again. He’s desperate, eager as his tongue slips into your mouth, his little noises so deliciously sinful as you kiss him back.

“Spence–” you gasp, in between kissing Spencer back. “Oh, baby–”

“What we did over the phone wasn’t enough,” he murmurs, eyes unblinking as he gazes at you. “I need you right now.”

Sure enough, Spencer’s hard in his pants. He pushes his hips forward, pressing his erection against your thigh. You whimper, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. “Please, Spence. You can take me right here, right now.”

You feel just as desperate as Spencer seems, his hands eager as they roam up your body. He’s eager to touch and squeeze and grope whatever he can get his hands on, and you relish in the way his large, sturdy hands grab your thighs, your waist, your breasts.

“You look so good tonight, my love,” Spencer grunts as he presses his face to your neck, his lips kissing up the column of your neck hurriedly. “So gorgeous. Letting me show you off to all my friends too– Thank you, you’re so perfect–”

“Spencer,” you gasp, hand sliding down to rub at his hard-on. You’re so turned on by how aroused Spencer is already, from just kissing you, from just touching you. “Fuck me, please?”

Spencer exhales shakily, lifting you up slightly so you can sit back on the countertop, your legs spread to accommodate Spencer between them. You’re soaked through your underwear, and you watch Spencer marvel at the sight. His hands are shaking slightly as he undoes his belt, pushing his pants down just enough to get his cock out. He’s hard and heavy and leaking, and you find yourself drooling as he strokes himself momentarily.

Spencer’s biting his lower lip in utter concentration, pushing your dress up and out of the way. You expect his hands to slide your panties off, but instead his fingers push the fabric aside, revealing your slick, wet entrance that he presses the head of his cock to. “Oh–”

“Like this,” Spencer says, breathless, his sentence not even fully coherent but you understand, especially when Spencer pushes the tip of his cock into you. You muffle a sob into your hand, feeling so on edge as you accommodate Spencer’s length.��

The burn is perfect, the slow drag of his cock inside of you teetering between pain and pleasure. It’s a primal urge the both of you desperately need to fulfil, and the way he presses into you satiates you so perfectly. Your arms slung around Spencer’s neck, you cry out weakly as he rocks his hips into you, already brutal and hurried with the pace.

You’ve never felt this undone, so desperate that you’d let yourself get fucked in a bathroom stall. You barely have any alcohol in your system, for you to feel reckless enough to do something like this. Hell, Spencer hadn’t even taken your panties off before he’d started fucking you. The fact that prim and proper Spencer of all people is making you like this makes your head spin.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” you whimper into his shoulder. “So good, Spence, oh–”

“You feel so good,” Spencer groans, hips stuttering as he tells you just that. “You’re so perfect. I love you.”

“I love you so much,” you hiccup, feeling Spencer drill into you, the muffled slap of his thrusts hitting the back of your thighs. You’re so overwhelmed, pleasure zipping through you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, as Spencer fucks you like you’re the only person in the world that matters right now.

“I’m close,” Spencer gasps, pace growing uneven, hurried, as he chases his pleasure while trying so hard to make you feel good too. “Please, I–”

You cry out as your orgasm hits you, too sudden, too quick. You clench around Spencer as your body shakes, Spencer fucking you through it with desperation. You don’t expect to come so quickly, but you suppose missing Spencer has an effect on you.

You squelch obscenely with your release as Spencer continues to fuck you, needy and hurried, moaning in your ear as he stumbles into his orgasm too, wracking through his body like he has no control over it. You feel his load spill inside of you, hot and messy, his hands trembling as his thrusts slow.

“Oh, fuck,” you say, laughing slightly. “Holy shit, Spencer. We just had sex in a public bathroom, this is crazy.”

“We just had sex in a public bathroom,” Spencer echoes, sounding mildly panicked. “Oh, my God.”

“It was very fucking hot.” You assure him, holding his face in your hands to look him in the eyes, stopping him from overthinking. “But we should probably go home, because I’m a fucking mess between my legs right now.”

“I might need to take a shower,” Spencer says, his voice wavering slightly. “The sink is technically the most germ-ridden surface in a public bathroom, the damp environment makes it a–”

“Spencer, I love you so much, but for your sake and mine, let’s not talk about germs right now.” You shudder at the thought. “I think I need to take a shower after that too.”

“Let me clean you up, and we can go home.” Spencer, despite his germ anxieties, is rather sweet in cleaning you up. Your panties are ruined with fluids, and you’re starting to feel Spencer’s load trickling out of you when you stand back up, but you relish in the fact that you’re going to be back at his apartment soon enough.

(The fact that Spencer hadn’t corrected you when you called his place home, makes your heart sing.)

You clean up your makeup and make your hair look as presentable as it can be, especially after your boyfriend has literally fucked you in a public bathroom, and when you both look presentable enough, you try to slip out of the bathroom casually.

Unfortunately, Derek and Emily are right there, catching you in the act of leaving, obviously noting the way you and Spencer look absolutely dishevelled.

Derek raises his eyebrows, grinning. “Damn, lover boy.”

“Shut up,” Spencer retaliates weakly, his voice slightly shaky.

“We’re heading home first,” you say with all the confidence you can muster, trying very hard not to feel extremely embarrassed in front of Spencer’s very smug friends. You’re still holding Spencer’s hand, and you feel a little less afraid. “It was fun getting to meet you guys.”

Emily shakes her head playfully, smiling. “We’d love to hang out more with you another time. Maybe when Reid isn’t so desperate to get alone with you?”

Spencer makes a displeased noise, but you smile and nod at her. “Definitely.”

Derek and Emily let you slip out of the bar without saying much else, and you hope that the rest of Spencer’s team doesn’t hear about it.

As you and Spencer step out of the bar and into the cool, evening air, you kiss his cheek once more. “I love you. Now, let’s get home so we can shower. And then we can have sex again in the comfort of your bed?”

Spencer grins, any earlier embarrassment seeming to melt away. “That sounds perfect. God, I love you.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencerreidenjoyer writes #criminal minds fanfiction

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saturnznct · 4 months ago

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he holds the baby for the first time | enhypen x reader

➸ note; hehe my first fic back!! very much in my engene era again so expect more enha fics! hope I'm not too rusty

➸ word count: 2159 words

➸ sangyoon, sam, ella, eunhye, yeeun & serin; newborn

➸ warning(s): bloody imagery(?), breastfeeding, premature birth, c-section, mentions of breathing tube

enhypen masterlist

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

heeseung

So much could happen in the span of a year.

Heeseung couldn’t believe that in just one year, you had gotten married, found out you were pregnant on the same day, been through a whole pregnancy, and now your son was finally here.

‘He is the cutest baby there has ever been,’ Heeseung declares once he’s all cleaned up and laying on your chest.

‘You say that now, wait until we get home and he keeps us up all night long.’

‘Doesn’t make him any less gorgeous,’ Heeseung grins, ‘just like his mummy/mommy.’

‘I don’t know if that’s the best word to describe mummy/mommy right now.’

‘No, I think it’s the perfect word. You have never been more beautiful to me than you are right now.’

‘You’re cute,’ you roll your eyes, ‘I hope he looks like you.’

Heeseung turns his head to kiss the side of yours, and in that moment you yawn.

‘Oh, I think mummy/mommy needs a nap Yoonie.’

‘Hmm, I agree… Will you be okay on your own?’

‘Don’t worry about us,’ Heeseung gives you a reassuring smile, ‘you need to focus on getting rest. We’ll be just fine.’

Heeseung ever so gently lifts Sangyoon from your chest, cradling him in his arms.

‘Wake me, if he needs me,’ you mumble sleepily, turning onto your side and closing your eyes.

Heeseung settles on the couch beside the window, laying across it.

He briefly scrolls through his phone, reading notifications and answering a couple of text messages but finds he cannot tear his eyes away from Sangyoon for too long.

After a few minutes, you’re clearly asleep, face relaxed and body rising up and down rhythmically.

Heeseung whispers to his baby boy.

‘You’re perfect, aren’t you? I didn’t expect for you to happen so soon but.. I’m so grateful you came along when you did.’

Heeseung knows that you can’t really tell a baby’s features for a while, but he swears Sangyoon has his nose. His chest fills with pride.

‘I love you so so much Sangyoon-ie.’

jay

Jay had not stopped crying since the moment his son was born.

The moment the tears would begin to subside, he caught a glimpse of his baby boy laying in your arms and his eyes would become glossy again. If you’d told Jay nine months ago that this is where he would be now, he wouldn’t have believed it. But starting his family with you felt so right, like the most natural thing in the world.

‘He looks exactly like you,’ you mumble tiredly, gently rubbing Sam’s head with your thumb.

‘You think so?’

‘Oh yeah. Daddy’s twin.’

Jay’s heart leaps at the title. He studies Sam’s face for a few moments.

‘You know what, I think you’re right,’ he says, ‘Your genes stood no chance against mine.’

‘M’not complaining.’

‘Good genes all around.’

By now, Sam was a couple of hours old, and you had been doing skin-to-skin with him for some time. Coupled with the exhaustion of the birth, your eyes are growing heavy.

‘God, you must be exhausted,’ Jay notices your worn out demeanour.

‘It’s been a long day,’ you chuckle.

‘C-can I take him from you?’

‘You don’t have to ask, you’re his daddy.’

You sit up a bit, allowing Jay to take Sam from you more easily.

‘Hi baby boy,’ Sam fusses a little bit, ‘it’s okay, I’m your daddy.’

Sam’s fussing quickly turns into weak wails, and Jay’s expression drops.

‘No, no, don’t cry, please- Y/N, I think he wants to be with you-‘

‘Jay. You’re fine, just keep going. He’ll calm down.’

He looks totally out of his depth, but perseveres, continuing to shush and comfort the baby.

‘You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s just me, your mummy/mommy is still here, see?’

Sam eventually settles, cries reduced to gurgles.

Sensing his small victory, Jay is beaming, more than you’ve ever seen before. Again he can’t help but think about how natural but so foreign it feels to have his own baby in his arms.

Jay awkwardly rocks Sam, ‘I can’t believe you’re really ours, my son…’

jake

Through his career, Jake has been able to travel the world and experience so many unique things, but nothing will ever come close to watching you give birth to Ella.

You had planned for a home birth, feeling as though your home would be a comforting setting and make the process easier. You’d pictured maybe giving birth on your bed or maybe even the couch or a beanbag (not considering the mess) so it was a bit of a surprise that you wound up in your large bathtub. But, you had insisted, at the time.

Jake had sat in with you, and with the help of the midwife, had delivered Ella himself. He’d held her for just a moment, holding her under her arms as he transferred her to you, but even just that one touch had him longing for another. Jake knew how important it was for Ella to get to know yours first, so he pushed his feelings aside.

The both of you were so mesmerised by her big shiny brown eyes and little sounds that you hardly noticed the fallout from the birth pooling below you.

‘We should really give you a hose down, Y/N,’ your midwife gestures to your separate shower, ‘are your pyjamas still laid out in the bedroom? You can get into bed afterwards.’

She leaves to grab your change of clothes while you and Jake make the awkward first handover.

Jake wanders into her nursery while you step into the shower with the midwife’s help. Ella’s hands peek out from the blanket, grasping at the air.

‘Oh wow, hi baby,’ he whispers, holding out his finger and fitting it under Ella’s curled little hand.

Ella gurgles and spit pools between her lips, which Jake gently wiped away with the blanket.

’You’re so tiny, almost feel like you’re gonna break.’

Jake slowly rubs her hand with his thumb.

‘Let’s put some clothes on you.’

Jake lays her down on the changing table, choosing a floral print onesie and putting it on her, just like how he learned in your antenatal classes.

He gently lifts Ella up again, taking her into your bedroom to wait for you.

He tentatively lifts her tiny head to his lips, pressing a kiss to her forehead.‘You’re my beautiful girl, aren’t you? Gonna do my absolute best by you. I promise I’ll look after you, always.’

sunghoon

This was absolutely the greatest day of Sunghoon’s life.

His beautiful baby girl had come into the world safely, and she was everything he’d hoped for and more.

He couldn’t look at her for more than a few moments without tearing up or going on a tangent about how much he loves her and you.

He secretly (but not so secretly) had hoped for at least one daughter, and when you found out Eunhye was in fact a girl, he was ecstatic.

The moment she was born and he saw her for the first time, it was as though his heart had doubled in size, as if it had to grow bigger to make room for just how much love he had for his daughter.

Eunhye was barely two hours old when she fed for the first time. The midwife helped you with the actual feeding, getting Eunhye to latch on properly, while Sunghoon supported you more with encouraging words and helping you drink water while your hands were occupied.

Otherwise, Sunghoon felt a little unhelpful, standing at a distance and just watching.

It was blatantly so difficult for you. The feeding hurt, your entire body ached and you felt pain all over, and he was essentially powerless.

‘She’s eating well,’ the midwife commented, ‘she’s got a good appetite.’

‘Wonder where she gets that..’

‘It’ll get easier, Y/N. You’ll both get used to it and it will hurt less and less.’

Eventually, Eunhye tries to pull away, signalling she’s done. The midwife turns to Sunghoon.

‘Dad? You want to burp the little one?’

‘Hoon?’

Sunghoon is taken aback, suddenly uneasy.

‘Is it okay?’ He asks you.

‘Hoon, you should take her. Let her get to know her daddy.’

‘Okay, Sunghoon, if you just lift her from under her arms- that’s it- rest her on your shoulder, one hand here, the other on her back.’

Eunhye feels tiny in his arms. The midwife instructs him on how to properly burp her.

‘This won’t hurt her, will it?’

’No,’ the midwife chuckles, ‘you’d know if it was.’

Sunghoon’s head is craned around to look at her face, unable to look away.

’You’re doing really well, Sunghoon,’ the midwife praises, and a few minutes later, Eunhye burps, then whines.

‘You’re okay, you’re okay,’ Sunghoon pouts, ‘you’re just amazing, aren’t you?’

sunoo

‘She’s an angel,’ Sunoo is just radiating pure happiness and pride. He practically has hearts in his eyes looking at your newborn daughter, who was cooing in your arms.

’She’s perfect,’ you agree.

Your baby girl’s eyes are only half open, but she’s clearly studying the two of you.

‘Hi, baby,’ Sunoo says softly, ‘we love you so much.’

‘We really do,’ you smile.

Sunoo leans across to kiss her head, and when he pulls away he rests his hand on her head.

’Her head is so small, fits in my hand.’

‘Didn’t feel very small when it was coming out of me,’ you remark pointedly, and he winces a little.

‘Of course, I didn’t think of that. You did incredibly.’

You could see how eager Sunoo was to be close to her, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

‘Do you want to hold her?’

Sunoo’s eyes gloss over.

‘Is that even a question?’

‘So no then?’

’Shut up, give her here.’

She doesn’t fuss in the slightest when being passed to Sunoo.

‘Oh hello my pretty angel,’ Sunoo handles her expertly, like he was made to be a dad.

He lifts her up to kiss her forehead, and lingers there for a moment.

’She smells so good,’ Sunoo chuckles, ‘like a proper baby.’

‘She is a proper baby,’ you point out.

‘You know what I mean. I almost don’t believe she’s real. Don’t believe we really made her. She’s so pretty, it’s almost like I’m holding a doll.’

Sunoo rocks her while shifting his weight between his feet, eyes never leaving her face, warm smile never leaving his.

‘Yeeun,’ Sunoo says suddenly.

‘Huh?’

‘She looks like a Yeeun.’

You mull it over for a few moments.

‘I like it,’ you nod, ‘Yeeun it is.’

Sunoo somehow brightens even more, so proud that he’d named his daughter.

‘You’re my beautiful girl, Yeeun-ah,’ he repeatedly kisses her head, ‘I promise I’ll love and protect you always.’

jungwon

You were thirty-four weeks when your waters broke, and Serin was rushed into the world.

She was tiny, barely five pounds.

Jungwon held your hand throughout the whole surgery, and was reluctant to leave your side when Serin was taken away and you were being stitched up.

Serin was quickly referred to special care, and you were taken along with her.

‘How does she look?’ you ask Jungwon, while your baby girl is getting hooked up to the equipment.

‘She’s beautiful,’ Jungwon holds your hand again, squeezing it gently, ‘so beautiful. She’ll be okay.’

For hours, you feel hopeless. You feel so empty, and you ache to hold and be with your daughter.

Jungwon convinces you to get some sleep, which after the long day you’ve had, it finds you easier than you thought.

You wake up to Jungwon shaking you gently.

‘Baby, look who it is.’

He helps you sit up while Serin is wheeled into the room in a crib.

She has patches on her body, to monitor her heart rate and breathing, and a breathing tube in her nose.

‘She’s very healthy Mama,’ the midwife says, ‘just needs some help with those lungs.’

‘Can- can we hold her?’ you ask weakly.

‘You can,’ the midwife smiles.

You sob when she’s finally placed on your chest and you get to do skin to skin.

‘Look at her,’ you cry, and when you look at Jungwon, he’s wiping away tears.

He opens his mouth to speak, but chokes out a sob of his own.

An hour flies by and the midwife returns, both to check on you and the baby. You feed Serin for the first time.

‘Daddy, would you like a hold?’ The midwife asks, and Jungwon’s heart skips a beat.

‘Can I?’ he asks you, and you nod.

The midwife helps, keeping the wires out of the way.

The moment Serin is placed in his arms, Jungwon’s entire world changes.

‘Hey Serin,’ Jungwon says softly, ‘hi sweetheart. You’re our strong girl, aren’t you?’

Tears roll down your cheeks, hormones and stress of the day catching up to you.

‘Our fighter girl,’ he muses, ‘you are so so loved.’

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starlostseungmin · 7 months ago

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husband!seungmin

✰ notes: my brain is not working properly and idk if i could write any lengthy fics as of the moment but here’s husband seungmin because i’m bored and i love our puppy so much. not proofread. DO NOT FORGET TO REBLOG, COMMENT AND LEAVE TAGS! thank you <33

（ seungmin ）chan , lee know , jeongin , han , changbin , felix , hyunjin.

ꔛ

Husband Seungmin who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle with a big smile on his face thinking that he’s the luckiest man on earth to marry you. He couldn’t wait for the priest to finally announce you as husband and wife then kisses you in front of your friends and family.

Husband Seungmin whose love language is act of service and words of affirmation with a little bit of gift-giving.

Husband Seungmin who is still shy about engaging in physical touch. But when he does, he gets really clingy and refuses to let you go. You never complain. He also loves looking at you dreamingly while you sleepーwhispering how much he loves you and kisses your forehead before going to sleep, hugging you tightly.

Husband Seungmin who cooks every morning before going to workーsometimes at nightーand holds your hand while brewing coffee as he steals kisses whenever you aren’t looking.

Husband Seungmin who would take the day off from work just to stay home and take care of you when you’re sick. He won’t allow you to move and insist that he’ll do everything you ask for.

Husband Seungmin who gets a bit possessive when someone who seems interested in you makes a conversation so he’d kiss your lips out of the blue and say, “We’re married.” then show off your wedding rings.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t pressure you to have kids with him since he respects whatever decision you make. It doesn’t matter anyway, as long as the two of you are together, that’s enough for him.

Husband Seungmin who is still feeling nervous when he asks you out on a date. It would always feel like the first timeーhis heart racing, cheeks red as a tomato, the giddiness and sparks, everything goes in slow-motion. He would take you to your favorite places and have the best time.

Husband Seungmin who loves tea time and is literally serving you hot gossip from workーlaughing at how everyone was so dumb and problematic in the industry.

Husband Seungmin who used to prefer texts over calls but now he tends to call you often because he misses you. He would also wait for you to hang up first.

Husband Seungmin who would hug you tightly while kissing the crown of your head and whisper words that might comfort you when you’re breaking down and vulnerable in front of him. He would refuse to leave until you feel better.

Husband Seungmin who makes weird noises and funny faces just to make you laugh.

Husband Seungmin who acts like a puppy when he wants to be babied and asks for a kiss.

Husband Seungmin who treats you like royalty.

Husband Seungmin who gets over the moon when you surprise him with lots of (useful) Sanrio-related gifts. Mostly Pochacco and Pompompurin with a little bit of Cinnamon Roll.

Husband Seungmin who loves to take A LOT of pictures of you with his phone or camera. You’d complain (playfully) about his storage getting full but he doesn’t mind because you are his muse.

Husband Seungmin who brings you flowers on random days because they remind him of you.

Husband Seungmin who kisses your lips intimately because he wants to. It could happen multiple times a day which could lead to something moreーmost of the time.

Husband Seungmin who would walk away after an argument and come back hours later to apologize.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t want you to see him cry but gives in when you hug him.

Husband Seungmin who gets brutally honest, cries over silly things, and does his little twerk when drunk but still cute as hell.

Husband Seungmin who always scores 98-100 on coin karaoke and gets cocky. He knows you love listening to him when he sings and gladly does the favor when you ask him to—wherever, whenever.

Husband Seungmin who is always good at everything.

Husband Seungmin who doesn’t say “I love you,” most of the time but expresses it in different ways or says it with the things he feels about you.

Husband Seungmin whose smile is the most precious in the world. You promised not to take it away and never make him cry.

Husband Seungmin who loves you so much, makes you happy, never fails to make your heart beat, makes you feel loved and accepts you no matter what your flaws are.

✰ taglist: @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

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yueebby · 1 year ago

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hii omg I love ur fics sooo much they're really helping me recover from.. gege. I was wondering if I could request gojo x drunk!reader. like maybe they come back from partying with geto and shoko and are just completely tipsy. but they're reallyyyyy affectionate and flirty and gojo literally goes insane like his heart can't take it . bonus points if reader won't stop peppering him in kisses.

"you're sooooo hot.. and- and strong! ohmigosh are you single?" AND MANS IS JUST BRIGHT RED.

preferably fem-reader thanks ^__^ <333

drunk in love — gojo satoru

contents. fluff, established relationship, alcohol (drunk!reader), gojo being gojo, youre drunk and in love but gojo loves you more

notes. anon your request was so cute i just had to write it TT i kind of got carried away from the original prompt.. but enjoy this as a form of therapy from that one eyed cat!! ps i hate drinking so idek if this is accurate :>

the night had been long, and shoko is starting to regret letting you consume what felt like half your body weight in drinks during your night out in roppongi. impatiently, she checked her phone, hoping for a response from gojo to her text message. huffing in frustration, she turned to geto, “i thought you called him. where is that idio–”

"shoko, who is that?" in your drunken stupor, you shamelessly ogled the stranger approaching the entrance of the bar. shoko facepalmed as she watched your intoxicated heart eyes for the snow-haired man.

"she's all yours now."

gojo chuckled when he saw your inebriated state, "what did they do to you?" he had just returned from a tiring mission, but seeing you was enough to lighten the weight on his shoulders.

you shifted your gaze between shoko and the handsome stranger, causing mental whiplash. a mumbled apology escaped your lips before you left shoko's side to get a closer look at the man.

amusement danced in satoru's eyes as he observed you stumbling toward him. as the loving boyfriend he was, satoru wrapped a strong arm around your waist to prevent you from tripping.

you placed a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and couldn't help but notice the firmness of his physique. "so strong," you hiccuped, running your finger down his chest, "and handsome... are you single?" you blinked up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes.

suguru, watching from the sidelines, struggled to stifle his laughter as he observed his best friend's face growing increasingly red. the way you were looking up at him was driving him crazy. satoru cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to regain his composure though it was hard with the way his heart was beating so erratically.

"do you not remember me, sweetheart? your strong and handsome boyfriend?" satoru's glossy lips turned down in an exaggerated pout, and you gasped, confused on how you'd forgotten a face so beautiful. it was dangerous, how tempting the man in front of you looked.

giving in to your impulsive thoughts, you grabbed his face with one hand, squishing his cheeks together. satoru’s eyes widened as he noticed your intent on his puckered lips.

with an impish grin, you planted a series of quick kisses on his cheeks, then moved to his lips.“how,” kiss. “could i,” another kiss, “forget,” kiss, “such,” kiss, “a handsome face?”.

suguru and shoko watched in mild horror, as you showered gojo with affection. a dopey grin spread across his flushed face as he allowed you to have your way with him. he's afraid he might implode from the how adorable you were.

“i’m the most handsome man in the world, yeah?” he asks you with a grin, encouraging you to answer as he pulls you closer by the waist. satoru couldn't fathom what he had done to deserve this, but he would gladly repeat it tenfold if he could relive this moment once more.

you nod happily. “the most!”

“well aren’t you lucky to have me as your boyfriend.” satoru flashes his cerulean eyes at you above those dark sunglasses of his. just when you think he can’t get any hotter, he proves you wrong.

your friends' silent presence is suddenly shattered by laughter, jolting you back into the awareness of their company. satoru’s grin dissipates into a frown when he sees that your attention is taken off of him.

"'[name] is lucky to date him,' so he says," shoko giggles. "suguru, do you remember that one time satoru pretended to be a waiter at the restaurant [name] was on a date?" shoko not-so-secretly says to geto. "he got all drunk and then started rhapsodizing about how he was going to marry her."

satoru gasps at the memory of his awkward pining days. his attention quickly diverted back to you, anticipating your reaction.

suguru hums, “ah, or that one time he got distracted and nearly got us killed on a mission all because [name] sent a selfie.”

you pull away from satoru’s hold and he swears he feels all the warmth leaving his soul. his hands instinctively reach out to you, but you’re one step ahead, already making your way to the evil pair in front of him.

“really?” you ask the two, eyes shining eagerly.

shoko nods, an evil grin growing on her face, “you seriously never noticed that stupid dazed look he has when he sees you? even yaga has noticed it.”

gojo’s jaw drops at the sound of his best friends’ attempt to embarrass him. in his defense, he was just a man in love! satoru's infamous pout returns, and he’s trying to pull you back into his embrace and away from those traitors. to his dismay, you ignore him. did you even know that he was dying by the second without your affection?

“tell me more!” you gush, entranced with the idea that your boyfriend was just a lovesick puppy.

“is that really necessary?” satoru mumbles under his breath, though the telltale reddening of his ears betrays his indifferent facade.

“toru i didn’t know that you were obsessed with me,” a giggle erupts from you. to show your adoration, you turn back to cup your boyfriend’s face. he leans into your touch immediately.

“i still am y’know,” his gaze softened. your heart melts at the way he lowers his voice.

“i can’t watch this any longer,” the short haired female gags, searching her coat pocket for a much needed cigarette. suguru agrees silently, tearing his eyes away from the cloying display of affection.

you don’t notice your friends leaving while you’re too engrossed doting on satoru.

“baby– heh– we should head home now,” he groans softly, shivering upon your fingers tracing his undercut. if you continue this any longer, satoru's brain will be fried to the point that no reversed curse energy could fix. the effect you had on him was undeniably unjust.

“can you run me a bath when we’re home?” you pleaded, your voice tinged with weariness. after a night of drinking in roppongi, you felt the weight of the celebrations clinging to your skin.

satoru's lips curled into a playful smirk as he recognized the opportunity presented before him. "only if you'll let me hop in~"

a mischievous agreement danced in your eyes as you responded, "hm okay." you leaned in to place a tender kiss on the corner of his lips. satoru, his affection intensifying by the moment, gently gripped the back of your head and guided your lips back to his. gosh, he was so in love.

i was going to post all mine but im currently rewriting it so bear with me please !!!!

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #gojou x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader

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norrizzandpia · 7 months ago

Note

this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!

Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)

Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.

Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol

Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx

If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.

“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.

Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”

Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”

When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.

Unknown Number

Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…

Y/n

Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.

The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.

Unknown Number

WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?

Unknown Number

YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN

Unknown Number

If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit

Unknown Number

LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE

Unknown Number

Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder

Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.

Y/n

You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!

His response was immediate.

Unknown Number

Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?

Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.

Y/n

*Image Attached*

Y/n

I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.

The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.

Unknown Number

Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.

Unknown Number

You are very pretty tho

Y/n giggled,

Y/n

Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.

Unknown Number

Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.

Y/n

How do I know this for sure?

Unknown Number

Trust me?

Y/n

Okay, ig. What’s your name?

The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.

“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.

However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.

Unknown Number

Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?

Y/n

I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)

Y/n

Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny

🏎️

The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.

Bob!

Good morning :)

Bob!

Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?

Y/n

Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.

Bob!

GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n

Y/n

Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol

Y/n

I live in London! What about you?

Bob!

Monaco

Y/n

Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?

Bob!

NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho

Y/n

Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.

Bob!

😭

Y/n

No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces

Bob!

Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.

Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.

She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.

Y/n

Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.

Bob!

Ok! text me when you’re free?

Y/n

yesss

—

There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.

Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.

Bob!

Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!

Y/n

sry, i just got home.

Bob!

Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??

Y/n

yeah

Bob!

Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you

Y/n

that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?

Bob!

you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times

Y/n

thats love fr

Y/n

but yeah its been a long day

Bob!

oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?

Y/n

Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.

Bob!

Talk to me about it then <3

Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.

Y/n

it’s ok. Thank you tho bob

Bob!

Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?

Y/n

no one?

Bob!

you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.

Y/n

We barely know each other.

Bob!

Do i look like i care?

She laughs and types,

Y/n

Bob, I don’t even know what you look like

Bob!

We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything

Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.

Y/n

People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?

There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.

Bob!

I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.

There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.

Y/n

Thank you. That means a lot.

Bob!

Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.

Y/n

When were you experiencing it?

Bob!

A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.

Y/n

You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.

Bob!

There’s not much to tell, Y/n.

Y/n

You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?

Bob!

I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.

Y/n

VAGUE

Bob!

Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs

Her eyes twinkle,

Y/n

Haha yeah right brotha

Y/n

That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.

Bob!

Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.

Y/n

You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?

Bob!

If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha

She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.

“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.

She breathes, “Bob?”

There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.

“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”

He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”

The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”

“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”

Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.

Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.

“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.

Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”

She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”

The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.

Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.

🏎️

“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.

“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.

Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”

Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”

Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”

“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.

Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”

Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.

“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.

Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”

“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.

Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”

Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”

Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.

“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.

“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.

Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”

He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”

She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.

Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”

Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”

“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.

Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”

Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”

Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”

As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”

Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.

—

Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.

“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.

Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”

Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”

Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”

Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”

“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.

Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.

🏎️

There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.

Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.

“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?

But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.

Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.

A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.

Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.

This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.

Robert Dancing does not exist.

🏎️

Unknown

Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?

Y/n

Everything is fine.

Unknown

Can I call you now?

Y/n

I’m busy.

Unknown

It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?

Unknown

Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?

Y/n

Stop messaging me.

Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.

Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”

She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”

Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”

“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.

“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.

Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”

A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”

A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.

“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.

He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”

She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n, I-”

She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”

A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”

Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.

He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.

What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”

With that, she hangs up the phone.

—

Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.

No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.

“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.

A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”

Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.

“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.

Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”

Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.

Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.

—

It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.

The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.

From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.

Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.

She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.

Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”

The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”

Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”

He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.

Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.

Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.

With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.

🏎️

The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.

She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.

He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”

It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.

When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.

“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”

The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.

The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.

The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.

He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”

Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”

He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.

Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He lifts his head slowly, “What?”

At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”

A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.

He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.

“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.

She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”

Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”

“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.

Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”

She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”

He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”

Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.

At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”

He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”

Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”

He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.

Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”

Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”

🏎️

The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.

Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.

So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.

“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.

A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”

Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.

When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.

Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.

He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.

He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”

He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.

The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.

Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.

“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.

She doesn’t know who he is.

He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.

“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.

Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.

“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.

“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.

“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.

Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”

What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.

“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.

She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.

“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.

“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”

Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”

He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”

Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”

Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”

Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.

“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.

He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”

Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”

His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”

She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”

Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.

🏎️

Y/n

Can you stop blowing up my phone

Bob <3

Why????? I’m bored baby

Y/n

im at work girly

Bob <3

girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me

Y/n

I think you might be obsessed with me

Bob <3

i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?

Y/n

girl

She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.

“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.

She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”

“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.

Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”

Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”

Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”

Lando hums, “An hour?”

“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”

Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”

She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”

He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”

“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.

He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”

She’d never get tired of saying it.

2K notes · View notes

jenscx · 24 days ago

Text

HIT ME UP — uchinaga aeri

aeri’s never had much luck with love. countless blind dates, dating apps, mutual friends, nothing came out of those. but wait, who is that girl in her best friend’s instagram and why is she so pretty?

tags fluff, no angst, non-idol au, open your eyes to see jiminjeong, mutual pining (for literally a sec), cursing, aeri pov centric

wordcount 6.0k

🎙️ author’s note: happy aeri day! lots of love to our favourite hot girl gigi 🤍 can’t express how much i love aeri and her contribution to aespa as a member >< i hope that everyone enjoys reading this fic and for aeri to enjoy her birthday!

uchinaga aeri, half-japanese and half-korean, age twenty three, has never dated anyone before in her life. well, not officially. she doesn’t really count the situationships or talking stages she’s had. aeri would say that the lack of love in her life would be due to her bougie choices in character. her taste is just a little more refined, detailed, specialised, whatever you want to call it. jimin calls it picky while yizhuo applauds her for knowing what she wants in a partner.

something that definitely attracted her would be a strong personality, a little bold and courageous but also sweet and caring. isn’t that a nice criteria to have? aeri doesn’t think she’s asking for much here. yet, her simple standards seem a reach too far compared to the personalities she’s met lately. even jimin can’t help but wince at the blind dates aeri has gone on.

because aeri loves everyone, as long as they’re pretty, she’s been on dates with many, regardless of gender. and well, she can’t really say that one outweighs the other. this one guy she met at the gym had told her she needed more tips on weightlifting and had gone into a rant about protein shakes.

needless to say, as much as she loves the gym, aeri could not really stand an hour long conversation about protein shakes of all things.

and that girl who seemed way more interested in the oat milk in aeri’s latte than her. that was a strange date. aeri scrunches her nose in distaste at the reminder. another date she’d been on, helpfully supplied by yizhuo, the girl was gorgeous and incredibly sweet. but the moment aeri had said she was a scorpio, her date started acting like aeri killed her dog. which, by the way, she never would. she loves dogs and even has two cute ones herself! and then her date had the nerve to storm out of the restaurant too. what a shitshow.

(“oh… maybe i shouldn’t be friends with her either,” yizhuo comments after aeri recites the incident to her.

“do you think she’ll burst into flames if you tell her you’re a scorpio as well?” jimin asks, so genuinely that aeri almost chokes to death while laughing.)

anyway, so what if aeri’s luck with dating is trash? her life has been fine for twenty three years and it’s not like having a partner will drastically change her for the good. she’s been enjoying this single life. she never has to update anyone about her whereabouts, she doesn’t have to reply to texts immediately, everything she buys is for herself. what a wonderful life. some call it miserable, others call it unhealthy. she calls it being free.

okay, maybe it is a little sad coming home to an empty apartment with no one to greet her. aeri does feel envious when her friends meet up and they talk about their own significant others. but that envy isn’t enough for her to throw herself down into that torturous rabbit hole of dating again. if only she had a friend that she could fall in love with or something. like a cute friends to lovers situation. or if she tripped and fell over the love of her life. the stars aligned, ‘we’re soulmates’ type.

not to mention that ever since moving back to korea from the states, her parents have been pressuring her to find someone. while korea and japan aren’t aeons apart, aeri doesn’t really have the comfort of family. her friends do offer some semblance of home but it just doesn’t feel the same. after confiding in her mother, aeri was told that a partner would fill in the gap her parents left.

she’s getting a little delirious and the idea of falling in love has become more of a chore than blessing. aeri slumps against her bedframe, scowling at her phone blowing up. if she were still on a dating app, the notifications could be due to matches or dates that were too clingy. but she’s sworn off dating apps for good and that chain of messages could only be sent by yu jimin.

jimin [6.19pm]:

omg guys

i think i just met the loml

holy shit shes so cute

im in love

can sm1 find her @

yizhuo [6.20pm]:

who

jimin [6.20pm]:

uhmmmmm

minjeong?

her cup says that

yizhuo [6.20pm]:

are you serious 😐

jimin [6.21pm]:

STOP SHES LOOKING AT ME

AAAAAAA

aeri [6.22pm]:

girl shut up

she throws her phone aside as jimin’s cries for help go unanswered. jimin breaking down would be cute if aeri wasn’t going through an existential crisis right now. the thought of never finding someone truly for her looms over her head. her whole ‘i don’t need a man’ (or woman) persona crumbles instantly the moment she reaches her bedroom. the facade falls immediately, only leaving behind a lonely girl who just has bad luck.

jimin continues to flounder around and seemingly the pings stop (aeri lets out a sigh of relief), before they come back in full force in the form of a video call.

aeri reaches for her phone and waits a few seconds just to torture jimin before picking up.

“uhm, hello?”

“oh my goodness— what is wrong with you two? have you not read my messages!” jimin whispers harshly. a grainy, pixelated version of her friend appears on screen. the only recognisable feature of jimin is her pale, glowy skin shining in the moonlight as her dark hair wisps around behind her.

staring blankly, aeri repeats, “hello?”

“hi, yes! okay, so i just met this girl and—”

yizhuo’s voice cuts through, “does it really count as meeting her though?”

aeri sees jimin rolling her eyes before she reluctantly pouts, “no, but that’s not the point. the point is that she’s really cute, like marriage-worthy cute. and i need her instagram now.”

“you think we can find it?” yizhuo asks, unamused.

“well, she was wearing our old high school jacket and you guys know a lot of people!” jimin’s logic, sometimes flawed, did make sense to aeri this time. she and yizhuo were like social butterflies back in high school and jimin’s assumption would be right.

“what was her name again?” aeri asks, just to get jimin to shut up. for a girl that was so elegant and graceful, jimin really was a loser sometimes. it was difficult at first to adjust from the girl crush jimin to the loser jimin but after being friends for so long, aeri has learnt to accept both sides of her personality.

jimin perks up, her forehead gleaming on the screen, “minjeong! isn’t it such a cute name? cute name for a cute girl… heh. she looked like a puppy too, like a tint maltese. she has short blonde hair too. almost shoulder length?”

aeri isn’t too sure on how the description of her looking like a maltese helps in their investigation but whatever floats jimin’s boat, she guesses. she watches as yizhuo disappears from the frame and jimin walks home, humming to herself.

a few minutes later, while she and jimin are discussing new hair colours, yizhuo pops back into frame, exclaiming with glee, “i found her!”

and aeri can only watch as jimin trips over air, almost in slow motion, and face plants into the ground.

“c’mon, ningie! please!” aeri widens her eyes while jimin almost gets on her knees, her hands pleading. who knew jimin would get so desperate for some girl’s instagram? definitely not aeri.

yizhuo only huffs, “i want something in return.”

“anything! really!” the older girl is so close to downright begging that aeri considers stepping in for a second before yizhuo inevitably reads out loud, “mj underscore zero one zero one and i want free lunch for the rest of the week. aeri unnie included.”

aeri grins brightly as jimin scrambles to type the username into her search bar. she fist bumps yizhuo, smiling at the thought of free food.

“oh my gosh, thank you!” jimin squeals, planting a wet kiss on yizhuo’s cheek.

“how’d you find her instagram?” aeri asks curiously. yizhuo shrugs, wiping the lipstick mark left behind coolly, “my friend follows her. asked around for a bit and now people think she owes me money or something.”

aeri stifles a giggle at that and turns her attention back to jimin, who’s still staring at her phone in awe. her fingers are fervently scrolling and swiping, tapping away on the screen. jimin’s devotion to find this mystery girl’s instagram is insane and it brings out the slightest bit of curiosity in aeri.

hence, she peeks over jimin’s shoulder and for her lacklustre description of minjeong, it’s well-fitting, surprisingly.

“she does look like a maltese,” are aeri’s first words. jimin swerves her head back, smiling widely, “i know right!”

“oh, she’s really cute,” aeri notes. minjeong is pretty, like a doll. jimin sends her a withering glare but she just ignores it. the girl is pretty, but not her type. and she definitely isn’t planning on competing in some competition for minjeong’s love alongside her own best friend.

“she’s friends with a lot of unnies,” yizhuo says, listing them off her fingers, “nayeon unnie, jeongyeon unnie, momo unnie— well, that whole friend group. jennie unnie too. and you know mijoo unnie? she’s friends with her too.”

jimin visibly deflates while aeri tries to cheer her up, “but they’re all friends only though, right?”

yizhuo nods, “yup, i haven’t heard of minjeong ever dating anyone either.”

her comment resonates with aeri and a small part of her commends minjeong for not succumbing to the horrors of dating.

with aeri’s words of encouragement, jimin continues to scroll, albeit slower now and not as enthusiastic. she eventually reaches the end of all of minjeong’s posts and hastily scrolls back up.

“check her highlights too,” aeri demands, terribly invested. jimin follows suit, clicking on the first story highlight. it’s full of food that has aeri salivating and jimin swallowing her saliva. yizhuo only watches on, uninterested.

then, jimin clicks on one that’s named ‘solos’ and aeri hears her choke up. the highlight is filled with selfies and photos of minjeong. all very cute and adorable. she internally rolls her eyes and begs jimin to hurry through the stories instead of staring intently at each one. minjeong’s feed is nice, aeri thinks. it’s clean and simple but it still shows enough of her personality.

when jimin finally swipes to the last highlight, aeri’s jaw visibly drops.

“oh my god,” she gapes, snatching jimin’s phone away into her own hands, “who is that?”

“hey! give it back!”

“stop it!” aeri swats jimin’s hand away and with miraculous strength, evades all of her reaches and manages to zoom into the story. minjeong, her face propped up by her palm, and next to her, aeri believes is aphrodite reincarnated. bright doe eyes, pouty lips— oh, aeri might be in love.

she was about to discover if it was possible to lose her voice solely from screaming inside her head.

“oh shit, do you think that’s her girlfriend?” jimin gasps as soon as she sees the story as well and the fight for her phone goes forgotten. they both stare in bewilderment at the photo.

yizhuo eventually pries their fingers off jimin’s phone, sneering, “close your mouth, both of you. she’s y/n.”

aeri jumps into action at her words, “you know this girl? who is she? what’s her name?”

“calm down, damn.”

“sorry— this is the literal love of my life?”

jimin frowns, “that’s what i said about minjeong and you called me deluded.”

ignoring jimin.

“i don’t know her, i know of her,” yizhuo rolls her eyes again. aeri purses her lips at the brattiness of the youngest. since when was their baby so sassy? maybe jimin was too irritating. aeri would understand if that were the case.

“just stalk her account. minjeong definitely tagged her somewhere or she’s in the comments,” jimin suggests.

aeri hollers, “you’re a genius!” it’s her first time saying that to jimin.

through sheer determination and will (yizhuo calls it stupidity), she manages to find minjeong replying to a certain commenter.

mj_0101 been away

view all comments

1eeyn i see how it is.. no creds at all

↳ mj_0101 photo creds to my bae

“bae?! jimin— oh my fucking god!” aeri screeches and thank god they’re in jimin’s room and not in public. yizhuo has the gall to cover her ears even though aeri’s been on the receiving end of her dolphin shrieks before.

equally distressed, jimin lets out a choked sob, “of course the pretty girls are dating!”

“guys, i just said they’re only friends.”

“and how do you know that?!”

yizhuo shoots a glare and jimin immediately cowers beside aeri.

“because i know them, duh. y’all are stupid. the moment you two see pretty girls it’s like your ability to think disappears.”

well that, aeri can’t disagree. her brain had no thoughts when she first saw minjeong’s story. just sunshine and rainbows. maybe the distant chiming of wedding bells. or a white, sparkly dress with a long train.

as she gets lost in her thoughts, jimin pries her fingers away from the phone, detaching them carefully. when aeri frowns at her action, the older one merely shrugs, “stalk her on your own phone.”

begrudgingly, she does so, searching up this mystery girl’s instagram. it’s pretty empty, mostly just pictures of nature and food. sometimes she throws in a selfie that makes aeri’s heart clench.

“fuck,” she groans, feeling her throat choke up, “she’s so my type.”

jimin nods in agreement even though aeri’s sure she didn’t hear a word she said. yizhuo rolls her eyes (how many times has she done that?).

“you think she’s into girls?” aeri asks, showing yizhuo a story highlight of some vinyls with clairo’s one right at the front.

“maybe. i don’t know her too well. i heard she’s kind of scary though, like cold and intimidating. she punched someone for picking on minjeong once.”

aeri lets out a huff, one of sheer amazement. lord knows she needs a woman who can fight.

“aeri-ah,” jimin suddenly calls out from her bed.

“yes?”

she gulps, swallowing harshly, “if you text her, i’ll text minjeong.”

yizhuo hums, “you two do that.”

she mulls it over. texting this pretty girl? who’s insanely her type? maybe. what if you were an asshole though? she’s not too sure about whether minjeong would be friends with you if you were mean but she thinks back to your face.

god, she needs you biblically.

“okay, let’s get girlfriends!”

she doesn’t text you at all. it’s a little embarrassing to admit but aeri’s scared! what if she just gets ignored? she couldn’t get her ego bruised like that. and jimin’s no help either! constantly texting her to dm you first even though aeri knows that jimin stares at the empty private chat with minjeong every night.

what she does do is first of all, create another account that’s completely blank, void of any recognition for aeri. then she watches your stories. on repeat. and on one uneventful tuesday, your profile lights up with a ring around it. aeri can’t help herself from viewing it immediately.

and maybe she shouldn’t have, since she’s seething by the time yizhuo texts her.

yizhuo [1.43pm]:

hey guys…

has any1 seen y/n’s story?

jimin [1.44pm]:

minjeong’s account is burned into my screen

but no ☺️

aeri [1.44pm]:

i’m gonna kill myself

jimin [1.46pm]:

😨⁉️

she almost actually throws her phone this time. aeri wants to die. she wants to puke.

what the actual fuck.

her phone rings— she picks up on the first ring.

“so…” yizhuo starts awkwardly.

“what’s going on?! aeri, don’t kill yourself?! you’re my best friend and i might also die without you! i love you, aeri—”

aeri cries out, “she has a girlfriend!”

the other side of the phone goes eerily quiet before jimin’s forehead pops up on screen and her eyebrows are nearly touching her hairline.

“WHAT?!”

“she just posted a photo of her kissing some girl’s cheek!” aeri screeches.

yizhuo winces before adding unhelpfully, “her girlfriend’s pretty though.”

“not the point— also yeah, agreed. but still! what am i gonna do now?!”

jimin frowns, “you can still be friends with her, right?”

“well… i was going to try to hit her up first,” aeri pouts, feeling devastated. she hadn’t even gotten a chance to woo you, and no way was she going to get in the way of a happy relationship! aeri was many things, but she wasn’t a homewrecker.

“maybe you can salvage a friendship out of this,” yizhuo suggests thoughtfully. aeri nods. maybe she should at least try to be friends rather than pursue a romantic relationship. she needed to expand her social circle anyway from just jimin and yizhuo.

“jimin, this means you have to text minjeong now.”

“what?! i’m not ready!”

“it’s just a text! like her story or something!”

jimin stares at her through the screen, affronted. aeri connects the dots quickly enough, “wait, don’t tell me you have been liking all her stories?”

“okay, maybe i have! that’s not a crime. and she liked one of my stories back! the one i posted when we went to eat hotpot! i’m way farther in this than you are—”

aeri hangs up. she can’t deal with a gloating jimin right now.

she needs a clear mind. she needs to think about her next course of action. all that was occupying her mind during the past few days was a wedding with you, but now aeri has a few adjustments to make.

swiping back to your story, aeri frowns. she clicks to the previous one. it’s a photo of you playing with a dog, an adorable samoyed. the background has a few other dogs, so you were probably at a dog cafe.

with your girlfriend, aeri sighs.

she types out, ‘omg where is this?’ it feels friendly and innocent enough. and aeri totally knows which dog cafe you’re at. it’s a rather popular one that she has visited herself.

before aeri can even think again, she sends the message.

god, she should really stop letting jimin get to her head.

within seconds, there’s a reply that makes aeri’s heart soar.

[aerichandesu] 1eeyn

it’s winters village in hongdae!

you’re really pretty btw

score! aeri’s got this in the bag!

she enters the chat and replies with a speed that makes the flash quiver.

aerichandesu [2.10pm]:

omg thankuu 💗

you’re super cute too

you don’t reply but aeri spots the tiny green circle next to your name. you’re online. but why aren’t you replying? was there nothing to reply to? aeri feels her heart sink a little lower. the chat doesn’t pop up with another message and aeri throws her phone aside.

she can’t let a girl plague her mind! aeri’s better than this! puffing her chest out, aeri gathers all the grit and willpower she has in herself and leaves the app.

aeri continues this pattern for the next few days; every time you posted a story, she would slide up. it only started to feel a bit one-sided when you started replying with short and curt responses. maybe you got weirded out by aeri, and she wouldn’t even blame you. sometimes she would send messages at midnight and wake up in the morning, cursing the vulnerability she had previously. she would read back at the chat, cringing at her overeager attitude. even jimin called her out on it! and if even jimin found it weird, aeri must have seemed absolutely psychotic.

“girl, i think you have to stop,” yizhuo says one day.

“stop with what?” aeri asks but she knows damn well what yizhuo’s talking about. jimin’s head perks up, her cheeks stuffed with ramen that aeri so graciously cooked for her when the older had complained about her hunger.

after swallowing, jimin giggles, “your little thing with your girl.”

“uhm, what?”

“i think you’re creeping her out,” yizhuo shakes her head, “if i had this stranger, no matter how cute they are, constantly texting me first, i would be a little scared.”

aeri pouts, feeling admonished, “i haven’t texted her in two days. she isn’t interested.”

“oh thank goodness,” the chinese girl sighs in relief, “i thought you went all joe goldberg on her.”

“i’m not joe! and i would never do that to someone!”

“well, i was worried anyway.”

jimin nudges her shoulder, “there’s a lot of fish in the ocean, right?”

rolling her eyes, aeri pinches at jimin’s side, “imagine if i said that about minjeong.”

“why would you ever say that about minjeong?” jimin furrows her brows, “and i actually texted her.”

aeri shoots up, the thought of her disastrous love life long forgotten as jimin reveals this new information.

“you did?! holy shit, congrats dude!”

jimin looks away, sheepish, “i replied to her story and she said that she remembers me from school. i don’t know how i missed seeing someone like her around. she said she really likes bowling, so i’m thinking of bringing her to bowl.”

genuinely happy for her friend, aeri pats her on the back while yizhuo gives a pleased nod. aeri kind of wishes her endeavour with you could go this smoothly. she certainly doesn’t remember you from school, nor does it seem you remember her. maybe you just weren’t in the same classes.

“guess it’s just me now, huh?” aeri laughs, despite the slight embarrassment she feels from being ignored.

jimin pouts, “you’ll find someone better.”

aeri thinks of the way her heart flutters when you reply or post something new, and she thinks that she’s never felt this strongly attracted to someone before without even knowing them.

yeah, she doesn’t think she will.

aeri’s totally fine. she’s gone two weeks without even glancing at your profile and she’s okay. there were some withdrawal symptoms at first, like the increasing urge to reply to your story or like it, but aeri’s determination outweighs her adoration. thus, she lives life without ever thinking about you again.

(that was a lie. she still wonders about it at night.)

yizhuo had applauded her ‘getting over’ you and so had jimin, who was barely online nowadays because she was hanging out with minjeong. aeri’s glad her best friend has found someone she likes. and she’s over the moon that jimin has found a new victim for her teasing. apparently, minjeong had better reactions, so yizhuo and aeri cheered knowing minjeong would suffer now.

jimin had been bugging them to finally meet minjeong and hang out as a group for the longest time. aeri doesn’t know if she actually brought her to that bowling date but the restaurant they picked out is expensive and jimin’s paying. so naturally, she agrees instantly.

what jimin doesn’t say is that minjeong would be bringing someone along.

coincidentally, you.

hence, aeri’s sitting right across from you, not daring to lift her head up in fear that she might make eye contact. after acting so desperate in your dms, aeri would rather die than face you directly.

you stare at her bizarrely as minjeong introduces you to jimin’s friends.

“this is yizhuo and aeri, we all went to the same high school together,” minjeong informs you, “but i don’t think we ever crossed paths before.”

“no, we haven’t,” you confirm. aeri glances at you meekly before darting her gaze to the menu.

“nice to meet you, y/n,” yizhuo smiles sweetly, making up for the silence that aeri provided. you’re still a little confused as to why aeri wasn’t talking right now.

maybe she thinks you don’t recognise her? but you do. she’s the pretty girl that randomly popped up one day and started replying to your stories.

“nice to meet you too,” you grin, “nice to see you in person as well, aeri-ssi.”

you watch, surprised, as aeri barely acknowledges your words, only nodding slightly. wasn’t she quite bold online? why was she acting like this now?

“shall we order?” jimin asks, snapping the menu shut. after calling over the waiter, you shift your eyes back to aeri, staring appreciatively at her outfit. one thing you noticed from her instagram feed was that she dressed well. you wanted to ask her where she shops but she seemed a second away from exploding.

you whip out your phone, earning a flinch from aeri.

y/n bae [7.24pm]:

is smth wrong w aeri?

mindoongie [7.24pm]:

uhmm idk 😓

idt she’s usually like this

jiminie said she’s quite sociable

awesome. so that meant you were the problem.

resting your head on your palm, you turn your attention to yizhuo, asking, “what are you currently studying?”

“oh, i’m doing fashion design,” she answers, twirling the knife.

“that’s interesting. could you ever design something for me one day?”

yizhuo chuckles, “i’ll cast you as my model if i get big. what about you?”

“i’ll definitely pursue something in modelling but i’m studying medicine right now.”

engrossed in your conversation, you barely notice aeri’s pout. the girl seemed a little too timid and shy as to what you’ve seen online. and minjeong and jimin seemed to be talking about something else.

“y/n, are you dating anyone right now?” yizhuo asks suddenly. you falter, recalling the girl you had just broken up with a few days ago, “ah, no. not currently.”

in your haste to recover, you miss the nudge yizhuo gives go aeri.

spurred on, aeri asks, “do you have time to date while studying?”

“hm, it was manageable,” you reply, “it got tiring when she needed a lot of my time though.”

aeri stares at you wistfully before coughing.

you wonder why she asked that.

[aerichandesu] 1eeyn

hi, can u help me say thanku to jimin?

for taking care of my best friend

aeri blinks at the message. it’s the first time you’ve texted her first.

aerichandesu [10.43pm]:

sure

she still feels awkward for acting so desperate previously. it doesn’t feel right to act like that anymore. and aeri does feel a little bad for how cold she was during dinner.

1eeyn [10.44pm]:

thank u aeri chan

aeri-chan? where did that come from? suddenly, she feels the stutter in her heart resurfacing after she had tried to bury it.

1eeyn [10.45pm]:

we didn’t get to talk much, huh?

aerichandesu [10.45pm]:

no sorry

i wasn’t feeling well

it feels like the safest lie she can tell.

1eeyn [10.46pm]:

that’s a shame

are you feeling better now?

aerichandesu [10.46pm]

yes, i am

1eeyn [10.46pm]:

that’s good

rest well aeri-chan 💗

oh my god, aeri needs to text the group chat!

over the next few days, you were relentless with your texts. it felt like you and aeri had swapped roles. she didn’t know to adapt to this new side of you without seeming like a bumbling fool. you would send selfies! selfies! asking aeri for her opinion. the first time you sent one, aeri’s nose started bleeding and she scared jimin half to death, thinking aeri was dying.

(“she sent me a selfie! of her face!” aeri wails, covering her nose with bloody tissues.

jimin grimaces at the blood, “well, yes. selfies are usually of someone’s face.”)

then, you would send your outfits, or whatever you ate that day. slowly, aeri started warming up to you too and would begin to send her own photos. normally she would send photos of her dogs or jimin and yizhuo being silly. then they evolved into selfies.

aeri likes what she has with you right now. you were building up a friendship that aeri appreciated. she liked your humour and personality as well, complementing her own rather nicely. minjeong and jimin begin dating as well, making your proximity even closer as the two would constantly drag everyone to hangouts. to be frank, aeri can’t believe that this all started because jimin saw a cute girl at a cafe, but somehow, it makes sense too.

how an insignificant moment such as minjeong deciding to buy coffee that day helped aeri gain two new best friends, she would never know. but she liked it. it felt like fate. leaning on your shoulder, aeri shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“no scary movies please,” jimin begs, tugging at minjeong’s shirt. yizhuo laughs and eggs minjeong on to pick a horror film while aeri stares at her best friends affectionately.

“you like scary movies?” you whisper to aeri.

she shakes her head, already feeling shivers run down her spine at the thought of being jumpscared countless times. jimin’s reaction would be funny as hell. but no way was she sacrificing her own sanity for something like that. if she wanted jimin to go insane, she had ten other ways to do that.

“nooo not the conjuring please!”

aeri cowers into herself, dreading the night already. this was a weekly occurrence, having a movie night at jimin’s apartment. it started with just the three of them and then minjeong and you got invited soon after. the honour of picking a movie was passed down every week and aeri detests it when it’s minjeong’s turn. that girl would pick scary films just to annoy jimin and aeri always gets caught in the crossfire somehow.

“don’t worry, minjeongie wants to watch despicable me tonight. she’s just playing with jimin,” you comfort. aeri nods as minjeong hovers exceptionally long on the nun before finally moving to despicable me. jimin cheers in exhilaration and yizhuo boos.

“oh my gosh, babe! i love the minions!”

“minions and despicable me are two different movies!” yizhuo sneers. just as the movie starts, jimin, minjeong and yizhuo begin bickering. aeri knows how the argument will end— with jimin apologising and minjeong and yizhuo emerging victorious.

a gush of hot air beside her ear makes her jump, “they’re cute, aren’t they?”

aeri follows your gaze to where jimin and minjeong’s fingers are interwoven even though they’re arguing.

“yeah, silly but cute.”

you chuckle, slipping your hand into aeri’s under the blanket, “we can’t lose to them, right?”

she gets caught off guard for just a second before bouncing back.

“no, i’ll never lose to jimin.”

your laugh makes aeri’s cheeks heat up slightly. as you ramble on about the movie, she listens to every word attentively, wanting to savour the smoothness and richness of your voice. her smaller hand stays tight in your bigger one, feeling the warmth emitting from your palm.

aeri’s heart feels content.

she’s happy here, being friends with you.

unfortunately (or fortunately), the friendship doesn’t last for long.

after that particular movie night, aeri has noticed a change in your behaviour. you’ve become touchier, for lack of a better term. more lingering touches around her shoulder, hands, waist, wrists, wherever her skin was. you would gaze into her eyes before smiling shyly and looking away. you would offer to bring her lunch even though she knows you’re busy with your internship. not to mention the influx of messages. if aeri thought your selfies were bad for her heart before, it resembled a tsunami drowning her heart now.

photos, of every kind, most of them in your scrubs and uniform, smiling at the camera gleefully, as if you weren’t working an all-nighter. and on your off-days, aeri finds you staying up to talk to her. she’s busy during the day, so she doesn’t really check her phone often. when she finally does, she’s welcomed by your chat. the once intimidating girl that she admired online had turned into the girl that camped in her dms.

she had asked before, why you would text her so much. your response had been equally confusing, asking her back if she wanted you to stop. of course not. the aeri a few months ago wished for days that you would reply with more than four words. now, it seemed like you constantly had paragraphs of stories to tell her. not that she was complaining.

then, one day, the messages stop. aeri’s a little bewildered when she checks her phone and nothing’s there but she goes to bed anyway. maybe you were working a really long shift? sometimes she would catch you at four in the morning, so perhaps you were catching up on some much needed sleep.

but when she wakes up the next day, there’s only a lone message asking for her to meet you.

aeri agrees, yet she can’t help but wonder about the spontaneous nature of the message. it was sent in the morning, so it seemed like you had been thinking about it all night.

after dressing herself, she left her apartment, nervous but excited at the prospect of seeing you again. the last time you met face to face was over a week ago and aeri’s suffering from y/n drought.

you had requested to meet at lunchtime and when aeri arrives at the restaurant, you’re already there, seated and deep in thought.

“hey,” she greets, “slept well?”

you didn’t, but you nod anyway.

“did you have a shift yesterday?” aeri asks as you order your regulars.

“uhm, no. sorry i didn’t text you, i was busy doing something else.”

“nah, it’s fine. i was helping ning with her designs anyway.”

you nod stiffly and aeri reaches out a hand to cover yours, “are you good? you seem a little off.”

“i’m fine!” your voice comes out squeakier than usual but aeri brushes it off.

“so, what’s up?” she finally asks.

you tap your fingernails on the table, gulping harshly, “i just wanted to talk.”

“mhm, sure.”

“i wanted to know… well… uhm, if you were still interested in me,” you ask, eyes flickering to aeri hesitantly. aeri gapes at you before stammering, “wh-why? what— what do you mean?”

you inhale sharply, “i know you were interested in me at the start, but are you still interested now?”

aeri withdraws her hand, “uh, why?”

furrowing your eyebrows, you grit your teeth, “please just tell me.”

“uhm. well… yes? but why—”

“because i’m interested. and i want to find out if the feeling’s the same,” you blurt out. aeri’s eyes widen considerably and if your heart wasn’t racing a mile, you would coo at her cuteness.

“if you were interested before… why didn’t you say anything?” aeri asks, her voice trailing off at the end. you sigh, pinching your nose bridge, “i was dating someone at the time. it wasn’t right for me to encourage someone who liked me that much.”

aeri nods, already feeling guilty for her desperation before.

“i’m sorry for my coldness but i could already tell you were interested in me and as someone who had a girlfriend then, i couldn’t message back with the same eagerness,” you explain.

“no, it’s fine. that was a stupid question but uhm, i thought you didn’t like me back.”

“we became friends first, then i started to have feelings for you. as i learnt more about you, i started to like you more.”

aeri feels a little silly with her immediate infatuation. huh. maybe she got her ‘friends to lovers’ trope after all.

“i hope that now, i can take you on a date?” you ask and how can aeri refuse that? your bright, gleaming, expectant eyes? aeri felt her heart crushed with adoration.

“yes, obviously. you’re my ideal type and everything. you know i had thoughts about our wedding when i first met you—”

“oh, is that why you were so quiet that night?”

“yeah, you just looked really pretty under the lighting and i already started to imagine how you would look like dressed in all white and how our wedding would seem, maybe i would pick yizhuo as my maid of honour and minjeong could be yours but jimin would totally throw a fuss and—”

you smile widely as aeri babbles on, chiming in every once in a while to insert your own thoughts.

when she finally finishes, the expression on your face makes her whole being ascend.

maybe all those useless blind dates with shitty luck amounted to her finding the love of her life.

thank you! aeri would later exclaim to that horoscope-obsessed girl and the gym rat. who knew that those catastrophic dates would finally gift her you, her first girlfriend (and last!).

#aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #giselle x reader #uchinaga aeri x reader #aeri x reader

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dollfaceksj · 1 year ago

Text

still don’t know my name | jjk (m) pt. 2

➥ banner by: @archivedkookie.

➥ PAIRING: jungkook x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In which your annoying neighbor—that you can’t stand—turns out to be the person behind the online account you’ve been sexting. You still don’t know his name.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ cybersex ⋆ enemies

➥ CATEGORY: mini three-shot

➥ WARNINGS: mentions of rough sex; slapping, spanking, hair pulling, gagging, name calling, humiliation, degradation, mean!jk, biker!jk😋, bratty!reader (like reallll bratty), nude exchanging, pornography, cybersex, reader is a bit dumb, actually very dumb, sexting, flirting, neighbor beef, tension, jk smokes, bit of angst (cus it wouldn’t be a fic of mine if it didn’t have angst ofc), mentions of raw sex (WRAP IT UP), minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 11.8k

a/n: whew. HI. can’t believe pt1 went off like that😭 thank u sm for enjoying this fic !

thanks to tumblr’s new 1k max blocks limit, i had to add the rest in a reblog. you’ll find a link to it at the bottom!

i call this a mini three-shot cause i just left out all the unimportant stuff. it just constantly skips to scenes where yn & jk bump into each other i really dgaf if it’s coincidental the entire time. i had and still have no intention of adding more lore than necessary😭 its just a pwp so i rlly dc abt the lack of story telling and whatnot i just wanted to get this horny idea out 🙄

make sure to check out eli’s version too! <3

enjoy 😘😘 — the next part (pt. 3) will be the final part!

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⇠ PREV. ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ⇢

#2 — “gameboy”

You still don’t know his name.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

And that is how you spend the rest of your weeks.

Flirting.

Sexting.

Sending pictures of your naked body to a random stranger on the internet.

A random stranger whose name you do not know.

A random stranger that doesn’t know your name, either.

A random stranger that you’re somehow slightly possessive over.

A random stranger that’s somehow slightly possessive over you.

Constantly posting subtweets about each other only further proves that. Indirectly wanting to tell other people to back off without actually doing so.

It’s crazy how you two clicked almost immediately. Maybe men aren’t a lost cause after all.

The subtweets consist of more pornographic content, provoking each other and wording your wishes of what you would like to do to one another on your timelines.

Like posting captions that say, ‘wish you were here’ alongside a video of a woman getting fucked into a worn-out mattress.

Or ‘this could be us’ and it’s a video of 2 people kissing like it’s their last day on earth.

But then at times, you both just chat like best friends. Talk about the movies you like. Or the anime he recommends. Or the music he likes to listen to. He gets oddly defensive about Justin Bieber.

Even though you’re both aware that you’re two strangers, you can’t help but feel like you two have known each other for longer than just a few weeks.

Like the time you found out you live in the same timezone. Live in the same state. Grew up watching the same things on TV. Have heard of each other’s high schools.

But any details have been kept private so far—for safety reasons, of course.

It’s not like you don’t trust him. It’s not that. It’s just weird sharing personal info with someone you don’t know personally.

But there’s been some talks about potentially meeting each other.

You wonder what he’s like in real life.

You bet he’s as charming as he is through text. Probably average looking but you don’t mind in the slightest. Pretty men only break hearts.

You still don’t know what he looks like and vice versa.

You still don’t know his name and vice versa.

Somehow you both wordlessly agreed on revealing your faces when you meet for the first time. The only physical details you’ve noticed are some of his tattoos that you can barely make out thanks to the poor quality of his pictures. His toned body. Veins. Sweatpants.

Most of his pictures are taken in the dark. Seems like he’s always just holed up at home and you deduce he might be a homebody or a gamer—something like that.

You usually can’t stand gamers (cue your annoying fucking neighbor) however, you can’t help but fantasize about sucking this random online stranger off while he’s gaming or have him bend you over his gaming setup. Let him fuck you from behind over his keyboard. Hips pounding into your asscheeks as his gaming chair squeaks.

The buzzing of your phone next to your hip snaps you out of your sinful trance.

[Twitter]

@archurback4me sent you a message!

Your heart always jolts like it’s been resuscitated every single time he sends you a message and that hasn’t changed in the past few weeks. There are simply no words to describe how it feels when your phone buzzes and it’s the person you’re thinking about.

You sit straight up on your couch, crossing your legs criss-cross applesauce as you giddily unlock your phone.

@archurback4me | 11:12AM

Goodmorning brat

How’d you sleep

Sleep. How’d you sleep.

Right, that’s what you’d forgotten!

You | 11:13AM

wait omg

now i remember

i dreamed about you omggg

well you were kinda faceless but in my dream i knew it was you

@archurback4me | 11:13AM

Did you?

What kind of dream

You | 11:13AM

honestly it started out weird as fuck lol

i wish i could tell you something sexy but it really isn’t

you were in my old high school trying to buy something from the vending machine and it wouldn’t work

so you ended up punching it and then i stopped you

and told you to hit me instead like some kind of pick me girl lmaoooooo

@archurback4me | 11:14AM

LMAOOOO

Bruhhh

That is so random

Hitting you is crazy

You | 11:14AM

i know

i mean

watching you be so aggressive was pretty hot tho

woke up w drenched panties

@archurback4me | 11:15AM

That so?

You got proof or are you just talking out of your ass?

You | 11:15AM

ur trying to see my pussy at 11am? really? you’re horny at this hour?

@archurback4me | 11:16AM

11AM or 11PM

Idgaf

Let me see that pretty pussy

How are you supposed to decline when he says it like that?

You want to do everything he asks. Anything. Want him to want you. Need him to want you.

You drag your sweats down your legs, tossing them off your bed with a quick kick. The tip of your finger slips under the elastic of your panties, peeling it off your pussy and sliding it to the side.

Arm stretched out, you reach for a low angle of your glistening pussy. There’s a teeny tiny bit of stubble coming through, not that either of you really care.

You snap a quick photo. Check it. Aren’t satisfied. Snap a few more until you’re okay with the row of pictures you can choose from.

You | 11:19AM

(You sent a photo.)

@archurback4me | 11:21AM

For fucks sake

That wet from imagining me shaking up a vending machine, are you?

Shit

Can’t stop staring

You | 11:21AM

well yes.

i mean honestly

i don’t fantasize about you hitting me or anything like that

but being slapped across the face by you kind of sounds... hot

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

I’ve seen you tweet about it before

And you’ve rted several videos like that

So trust me

I know you’re into that

You | 11:23AM

hmm

yeah

i think it’s hot

but not like.. the way you’d slap someone for making fun of your mom

just... a quick slap to make me look at you when i’m disobeying

@archurback4me | 11:23AM

Choking, spanking, slapping, hairpulling, spitting, gagging

You sure you can take all that?

You | 11:23AM

are you challenging me?

@archurback4me | 11:25AM

I know better than to challenge a brat over text

Just wanna make sure angel

You | 11:25AM

trust me i’ll be loud about it if i don’t like it

but only if you’re down with it

@archurback4me | 11:26AM

I am

Because your dirty mouth definitely deserves a few slaps whenever you start yapping like you do so well

You | 11:27AM

kiss my ass jay

you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid lmao

Oh, right. He’d told you to call him Jay about two weeks ago. You’ve been calling him that ever since.

@archurback4me | 11:30AM

Wish I could princess

Let me see that ass one more time

You | 11:30AM

🙄.

what do i get in return?

@archurback4me | 11:32AM

I’ll write your username on my pelvis and post a vid of me jacking off

Oh.

The thought of him, jacking off with your username written across his pelvis, free for everyone to see. The thought of claiming him. Having him all to yourself.

The tingle in your core is impossible to ignore. You want him.

You | 11:33AM

so all those ppl chatting you up in your dms know that you ultimately belong to me?

@archurback4me | 11:33AM

If that’d allow me to see your ass then 100%

You | 11:33AM

ur so thirsty

so many asses you can see online

why mine

@archurback4me | 11:34AM

Because yours is my favorite duh

You don’t have to of course

There’s a compromise, isn’t there?

His favorite?

Does he chat with other people as well? Do others send him pictures of their body too? Does he send them pictures too?

That alone brings a scowl to your face but you quickly realize that, yes, he can do what he wants.

You get up on your knees and stretch your arm out behind you. Phone upside down. Hit record. Spank your ass. Catch the watch it recoils on camera.

Repeat.

Make him never want anyone else again.

You | 11:35AM

🙄.

just shut up

(You sent a video.)

@archurback4me | 11:35AM

Holy shit I need you

I need you so bad

Ahhhh you’re driving me fucking crazy

You | 11:36AM

you could have me

@archurback4me | 11:36AM

I’m so serious I’ll come one of these weeks and I’m not even joking

You | 11:36AM

i wish you would

@archurback4me | 11:38AM

I will

Give me a date I’ll write it down

You | 11:38AM

you’re coming to stay for a few days, right?

i have plenty of room in my bed for you

@archurback4me | 11:39AM

Hmm

Was hoping you’d say that

One night with you would never be enough for me

You | 11:40AM

hehe

exactly 3 weeks from now

the entire week

what do you say?

@archurback4me | 11:42AM

Never noted something faster

I have a dog though

So I was thinking it’d be easier for you to come to me

You | 11:43AM

i don’t mind you bringing your dog

luv dogs

but don’t think i forgot about what i was gonna get in return for sending you my ass

@archurback4me | 11:44AM

Jeez

He doesn’t reply for quite some time. The typing bubble doesn’t pop up either.

But after several minutes a new tweet pops up on your feed.

He didn’t caption it. Just a video that starts with his abs. You watch as his fingers trail down his stomach and tug his underwear down, revealing his squiggly inked skin.

And there it is, ‘@bratgaIore’ written across his pelvis in black marker.

He spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his shaft, stroking his rock hard dick at a perfect pace. The sound has been turned off and you really wish it wasn’t but then again, you don’t want anyone else hearing him.

Want him sounding pretty for you. Just for you.

You’ve clearly been staring at the video for too long because you get a new message.

@archurback4me | 11:54AM

Happy?

You | 11:56AM

holy shit

you actually did it

@archurback4me | 11:57AM

Of course I did

I don’t play when it comes to that ass of yours

You | 11:58AM

now im rlly horny

@archurback4me | 11:58AM

Aren’t you always

You | 11:58AM

thanks to you

i hate you

@archurback4me | 11:59AM

That’s fine

The feeling’s mutual anyway

Gonna enjoy the way you fall apart under me when I fuck you

Fuck you until you’re stupid

You | 12:03PM

a dream come true

guess what

@archurback4me | 12:04PM

Hm?

You | 12:06PM

(You sent a photo.)

The photo is a picture of your soaking wet pussy with his username written on your pelvis in black marker, too.

@archurback4me | 12:08PM

What the fuck

You’re trying to fucking kill me angel

I need to insert my tongue immediately

You | 12:09PM

here come the harvard graduates

insert is crazy

@archurback4me | 12:10PM

You drive me crazy

Pussy got me acting all formal and shit LMAOO

Got me wanting to wear a bib and say Itadakimasu😋 when I dive in

Fuck

Want you on my face so fucking bad

Spank you while you ride my face

Don’t think I’ve ever seen something so pretty

Think my mind will change when I see your face though

You | 12:11PM

LMAOOOO not itadakimasu😭😭😭

hmm

you like it?

@archurback4me | 12:12PM

Are you insane

I keep going back to it

You should write my username when we meet so I can see it when I take your clothes off

Know that your pussy belongs to me

You | 12:12PM

if you do it too

@archurback4me | 12:13PM

Deal

You | 12:13PM

hehe

😋.

btw

@archurback4me | 12:14PM

Hm?

You | 12:14PM

are you clean

@archurback4me | 12:15PM

What?

You | 12:16PM

are you clean

for raw sex

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Yeah I am

I’ll send you my results when I’m home

You | 12:16PM

you don’t have to do that i believe you

i’m clean too

where are you rn?

@archurback4me | 12:16PM

Just left to meet a friend

You | 12:17PM

you’re not texting and driving right

@archurback4me | 12:18PM

Of course not, babe.

How am I supposed to meet my dumb girl when I’m dead?

I’m going by foot

Babe.

My dumb girl.

This is dangerous territory.

You | 12:19PM

just like how i want to be the death of you as i tease you while ur in public

@archurback4me | 12:19PM

Don’t

I’m warning you

I don’t wanna meet my friends with a raging boner

I just got rid of one

You | 12:20PM

ur so easy lol

@archurback4me | 12:22PM

Just you wait you little brat

Gonna leave you so fucking sore when I’m done with you

No breaks

Fuck you the whole week long

You | 12:23PM

hmm

gonna fuck me like you hate me?

@archurback4me | 12:24PM

I do hate you

A lot

Dumb girl

Don’t think that’s gonna change when I see you in real life

Might get even more pissed off when I see your bratty mug actually

I just know your face is so fucking bratty

You | 12:25PM

you’d be obsessed with me

i’m really pretty

@archurback4me | 12:26PM

Lmao yeah I probably will be

I’m sure you are

Gonna defile your pretty face when I cum all over it you stupid brat

But my friend’s here

I’ll ttyl princess

You | 12:27PM

can’t wait

bye daddy

@archurback4me | 12:27PM

Hell nahhhhh

Don’t call me that

You | 12:30PM

ok then bye mr. fuck-you-everyday-of-the-week

@archurback4me | 12:30PM

And will

Night after night

You | 12:30PM

go already

byeeeee

@archurback4me | 12:32PM

Bye princess

You go about your day like you usually would and later that night, he ends up sending you his results anyway. You were already asleep by then, though.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Want to keep reading? The full chapter is out on my Wattpad.

Click here to keep reading.

a/n: thanks to tumblr’s new max 1k blocks limit, i’ll have to figure out how i’m gonna post the full thing on here. (probably tomorrow or friday) either by combining paragraphs or add the continuation in a reblog or something. but its out on wattpad so i hope you’ll forgive me !!

thanks for reading <33

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Here’s the link to continuation (in a reblog).

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@mygdday @coletaehyung @btspurplesky @kaitieskidmore97 @marvelbun @nini_07777 @8514238 @llallaaa @s3l3n0phil3 @agrika @ahgasegotarmy116 @canyon-lwt @boyfriendtaekook @s4yok0 @mochminnie @chimmisbae @muah-minhoe-8 @bloopkook @whoa-jo @dreami-yoonkookie @earth2fae @kissyfacekoo @keroppitae @junecat18 @hollowtree11 @jksusawife @synnfulqt @pamzn @jknoah @jjk-jeongirl @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @codeinebelle @taegicity @bettybloop @kookssecret @MMFranklin @vickyyy97 @suciedad-divina @jkslipppiercing @heyyolly04 @partyparty-yah @kooact @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @plushjeno @jjk1iscoming @Heyrobitches @sunnysorasworld @raineo @jjanjankook @etaerealboyv @somehowukook @larryrulesthisfuckingworld @rrrapmonste-rr @denisaandreea20 @httpjeonlicious @jjeonjennie @dellalyra @optimisticmoongalaxy @ishizhans

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lovelettersfromluna · 9 months ago

Text

Compass

Summary: I’ve got something to confess, I keep you in my pocket to use. You’re my only compass, I might get lost with you.

an: let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been gone for a long time, yeah? Hehe. this most definitely is not the fic that I’ve been working on literally the entire time I’ve been gone (that’s coming don’t worry), but I got this idea at 2 in the morning and I had to jump on it IMMEDIATELY. Hope you all like it mwah mwah love you.

Warnings: SMUT!! Minors please for the love of everything that is good, do not interact, modern day vampire!Ellie, semi graphic descriptions of blood and wounds, shy!reader, Ellie bites you a lot, Ellie feeds on you and honestly it’s borderline soft core porn, fingering Ellie!receiving, grinding, mentions of bruises, Ellie is extremely fucking strong, Ellie watches you in your sleep/can get into your apartment without a key, let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

You aren’t really sure how you and Ellie became friends.

Well, you are, maybe a better question would be why you two became friends. You were both so different, you were convinced the first time you met that she hated you. The night filled with quick glances as she damn near avoided speaking to you like you were the fucking plague. It took you a bit to not take it too personally, reminding yourself that you weren’t for everyone, and that was okay! So what if the mutual friend didn’t like you…it wasn’t the end of the world.

So, it came to a surprise to you when a few nights after meeting Ellie passed, you had not one, not two, but three of your friends texting you and asking you if it was okay if they gave her your number…

Because she’d asked for it.

And suddenly you’re texting each other every day, and well into the wee hours of the night. You know, like one of those friendships. The ones that makes you smile every time you see their name pop up on your phone, or the ones where you send each other stupid videos on TikTok all day just to talk about them on a different messaging platform, because of course you’re interacting with each other every where that you have a presence.

Ellie becomes your best friend before you even realize it, and it makes you realize that maybe she didn’t dislike you as much as you thought before.

It always did confuse you a bit in the beginning how you two got along so well. You were both so different from one another. Ellie was a party animal, you were a home body. Ellie was up late at night, you were up early in the morning. If Ellie was the moon, then you were the sun. Polar opposites coming together to find a home in one another, the most unusual pairing stuck by the hip from that point on.

You of course, kept all each other’s secrets. You’d learned very early on that no one really knew much about Ellie, which you simply chalked up to her being a private person. However, she seemed eager to tell you any and everything about her. Like her dad, she’d talk about him all the time, you figured on early on that she really loved him. Or whenever she had a a new fling going, you’d be the first to know of course. She’d even told you about the time she threw away her dad’s playboy magazine after stealing it from him, which she swore she’d never told a soul.

She wanted to know all about you too! Your favorite color, favorite animal, childhood crush, family relationships. Truthfully? If you weren’t so oblivious, you would’ve seen a long time ago that Ellie was the slightest bit obsessed with you.

But you loved her, and you trusted her with your life, so you told her everything! Because you didn’t keep things from each other.

So, on a night out with everyone else, Ellie disappears, and of course you try to look for her, asking around only to be told that everyone saw her leave. Going outside to make sure she’s okay is the only logical thing to do, right? You have to make sure she’s okay.

What you don’t expect though, is when you look down a dark alleyway a few buildings down from the club you’re at, and spot the tall figure of your friend tucked into the brick wall of the dark corner, shielding way whatever it is that’s behind her. You call out for her, and when she turns around you gasp.

Because her eyes were red, and not red like you haven’t gotten any sleep, or you’ve been crying, the green of her eyes are now red, bloodshot red, and she’s holding a lifeless body in her tattooed arms…and there’s blood covering her pink lips, dripping down her chin.

Yeah, Ellie was a vampire.

You let out a gentle yawn as your hand went down to grab the remote control to your tv, your other hand coming up to rub your eyes a bit, a sorry attempt at trying to wake yourself up enough to get from the couch to go to your bed.

You pouted softly, lazily bringing your phone up to check the time before you sighed, finally finding the strength in you to push yourself up off the couch to leave your living room.

Work had been absolutely plowing you into the ground, your publicist constantly hounding you to keep working on the most recent installment of your book series. It was just so fucking hard, everytime you sat down in front of your computer, it was like writing your own book was the last thing you wanted to do.

It was draining you, and it felt like every time you finished a set of chapters, your brain was complete mush.

The upside though, was that it tired you out enough to completely knock out once you were in bed.

A gentle sigh left your lips once your head hit your soft pillow, plush blankets wrapping around your body, sliding down your bare legs and making you feel absolutely blissful. You couldn’t even stop yourself from the soft smile on your lips as your eyes grey heavy, the low lighting in your room making you feel all the more cozy, all the more warm.

You were out in seconds, soft snores leaving your sleeping body as you entered a world of dreams, escaping reality for a few measly hours before you were bombarded with the real world around you in the morning.

Ellie was on the other side of town, or at least, leaving the other side of town. It was late, and while she did love to be a creature of the night, there was something that sounded much more inviting than a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

You, of course.

You were Ellie’s kryptonite, the single thing in this entire fucked up world that convinced her there was something worth living for, in her case, existing for. You were so fucking good, so sweet, so forgiving of literally everything. There were too many times that Ellie recalled where she wasn’t even sure you were real, perhaps another mythical creature much like herself, sent to this world to lure others into a trap that was just as filthy and terrible as the rest of the world.

But you weren’t…there were never any cons or secrets that you held, and if you did hold any secrets, you were more than willing to let Ellie in on them. No…no you were different.

God were you different.

Ellie recalls the night she first laid eyes on you like it was yesterday, her cold, dead heart jolting back to life for only a second when she saw you, at least that’s what it felt like. Your smile radiant in the dim, multicolored lights of the club, cheeks shining, eyes twinkling, like an angel sent from above. Ellie almost felt like a being as evil, and sour as she wasn’t worthy of being in the same room as you.

And god…your fucking smell.

Ellie could go on about it for hours. Sure, you were remarkable without it, but it was just the icing on the cake, the twisting of the knife in her chest.

She has mastered the art of walking into a room filled with warm bodies pumped full of blood and while ago, her throat burning with the urge to sink her teeth into her next poor victim. It was easy, annoying, but easy, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she struggled being around anyone, especially friends, or even friends of a friend.

But the second she saw you, your sweet, dulcet smell wafting against her nose, she was transported back in time. Back to a time where she was but a young vampire, clueless of the world around her, of her new life, adapting to something she didn’t even know existed before all of this, without a single guide or a fucking pamphlet for gods sakes.

It made her eyes widen, and she stopped breathing instantly to try and dull the scent of you sneaking into her nostrils and down into her eager throat. She noticed the way you pouted and sighed whenever she’d ignore you, or give her nothing but a brief response whenever you tried to get to know her. She could tell this wasn’t your thing, the night life, partying, you were here because someone asked it of you, and you being the good friend you are would never let anyone you cared about down.

Despite Ellie being a total dick to you because she simply couldn’t control herself around you, you sucked it up, carried on and stayed until everyone else decided to leave.

Watching you leave that night, made Ellie realize you weren’t something she could pass up.

Asking for your number was probably the best thing Ellie had ever done in her immortal life. Speaking to you was far better than thinking about you constantly, and after she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid with you, she was finally ready to introduce herself to you, the right way.

It’s how she constantly found herself like this, searching for your warm embrace around her cold, dead body every time she found the opportunity. She’d come to you when she was done working, she’d come to you when the girls at the bar were boring her, she’d even come to you when she simply knew you were home and she had nothing to do.

Ellie hummed softly as she looked up at your apartment building, the warm summer breeze wafting against her skin as she stared up at your window, the white curtains blowing out with the wind. She sighs to herself.

“Told you to stop leaving your window open…” she mumbles softly to herself.

The human eye wouldn’t ever be able to catch the way Ellie climbs up the side of your building, her arms and legs scaling it like a pro, making it look as simple as walking, or even breathing. It’s too fast, and in the blink of an eye, she’s at your balcony, long fingers pulling back your curtains to get a look at your sleeping figure.

She watches as your chest rises and falls, your blanket covering your sleeping frame, bare legs kicked out from under them, shining under the moonlight. She isn’t sure how long she stays there at your window staring at you, watching in awe as you do something as simple as sleep.

It isn’t until you shift slightly in your sleep, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips, that Ellie finally pushes her long legs over your window to step into your room, sneaker clad feet pressing onto the wooden floor of your bedroom.

She looks around for a moment, taking a deep inhale as she lets your scent wash over her for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as she simply lets you consume her, fill her up and make her feel whole again.

Make her feel alive again.

You never really understood it, why Ellie lingered when she hugged you, face pressed at the nape of your neck, swaying you slowly as she clung to you longer than normal. Well…you did know, at least you’d find out later on when Ellie finally explained everything to you…what she was, how it happened.

Although, it was only half what you thought. Sure, the smell of your blood made Ellie’s mouth water, her nostrils flare and her throat burn, but it was so much more than that. You made her feel whole, and even if it were a few seconds, she was going to make the most of it every time she got the chance.

And that’s what she felt when she was in your little room. The cool breeze filling up the space, the dim lights casting a warm glow over you because you couldn’t sleep in the dark. You used the excuse of creating an ambiance for yourself when you slept, but Ellie knew you far better than that. It was like you’d perfected the feeling of comfort, bottled it up and sprayed it around your room every other day.

The wind blowing your curtains a bit harder caught Ellie’s attention, and she sighed softly as she walked over to it and shut it. She had told you time and time again to quit it, warning you about the weirdos that would love to take advantage of a pretty girl with her window open while in the most vulnerable state.

Even though the only weirdo that ever snuck into your room through said window, was Ellie. If anything, your little habit only fueled Ellie’s addiction for you further.

The sound of your window closing makes you groan softly in your sleep, and at that sound, Ellie knows she’s done it.

While she wanted nothing more than for you to be awake when she came over, she hated waking you. You looked so fucking serene when you slept, and Ellie felt like the devil himself whenever she accidentally ripped you away from that, even if the only thing she wanted was for you to be awake and talking to her.

Your body twists and turns a bit, slowly finding its way out of the drowsy state of sleep you were in. You let out a gentle yawn before one of your hands come up to rub your eyes, moments before you turn to your side to face her, hand resting between your cheek and your pillow as your eyes open and focus on the tall frame standing in front of your bed.

Ellie is convinced nothing scares you, because for as long as she’d been doing this, sneaking into your bedroom and watching you sleep, on the rare occasion that you wake up and catch her, you never seem scared. You don’t gasp or scream, you don’t even flinch when you see the dark, looming presence stood there in front of you. Ellie was sure the first time you caught her there, that you’d scream in horror before calling the police on her.

But you never did. You always stared at her with a sleepy smile, eyes puffy with sleep, lips a bit swollen, looking at her as if she were your favorite person in the entire world.

And like all those nights before, you do the same. A gentle yawn falls from your lips as you rub your eyes once more before tugging your blanket further up your shoulder.

“Ellie…” you sigh out softly, and you sound so fucking dreamy, so beautiful does her name sound falling from her lips. It makes Ellie weak in the knees.

She walks over to you slowly, smiling softly down at you as she grows closer and closer to your bed until she’s standing over you, one of her hands coming down and running around your blanket clad shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Wanted to come visit…sorry I woke you” she hums soft, her hand traveling up until it reaches your face, one of her fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter shut at this, and she can see that the gesture alone is nearly enough to lull you back to sleep.

“S’okay…I wake up in the middle of the night all the time…you know that” you assure her, words falling with yet another yawn before you open your sleepy eyes up again to stare up at her.

Before she can even speak though, your content expression is replaced with one of worry as you finally get the chance to focus on her face, your eyebrows furrowing as you prop yourself up on your elbow, your other hand reaching up to touch her cheek as you become more and more alert with each passing moment.

“Are you okay Ellie? You look…why are your eyes so…” you mumble, now on your knees to reach her better, your face in front of hers as your eyes search hers.

She looked pale, paler than usual. Her lips were chapped, eyes dull and sunken in, she looked like she hadn’t slept in centuries, like all the life had been sucked out of her. And while that technically was the case, Ellie often looked vibrant for her dead state, eyes sharp and alert, green eyes almost fluorescent with color when you looked into them.

Immediately, you know what was wrong.

“When’s the last time you…had something to eat?” You ask sternly, eyebrows furrowed and a firm frown on your pouty lips.

That was another thing…Ellie hadn’t properly fed in about two weeks, going on three now.

She let out a gentle sigh, her hands resting on your hips as your own rested on her cheeks, cupping her face and forcing her to look into your eyes even though she avoided eye contact.

She hated when you saw her this way, so weak, so small. She liked it when she was the best version of herself, the version that was well fed, agile and strong. Not like this, not like when she was turning into a shell of the woman she once was.

“I…it’s just been a few nights, angel…it’s no big deal” she tries, giving your hips a firm squeeze as she attempts to convince you that she was fine. However her appearance and her voice is a dead giveaway that she’s lying, the sound hoarse and scratchy, sounding as if she’d been clawing at her throat for days to ease the pain she felt.

“You can’t lie to me, Ellie. You look horrible” you scold the girl.

She lets out a sigh, and she almost feels ashamed of herself. Sure, there were times where a meal was a bit harder to come by, people becoming a bit more aware of the danger that lingered when she was near, but god, Ellie couldn’t remember a time where it was this bad. It was like every single time she got someone in her arms, trapped in her little scheme, something cock blocked her entirely from finishing the deed.

And the more times that happened, the weaker she got.

“I’ve just been really unlucky…okay? Most of us do this in packs or with a fucking partner at least…it gets tricky when you’re on your own” she finally admitted, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she leaned down to rest her head against your shoulder, pressing her weight against you in the process, as it was slowly becoming unbearable to hold it up herself at this point.

“M’just going through a thing right now, baby…don’t worry about it” she mumbled against you, lips ghosting over your soft skin as she again tried to assure you she’d been fine.

Ellie had always made it a point to never get as low as this, and if she did, she made it a point to never let you see her. What would her sweet best friend think of her if the monster she truly was had the chance to shine through? How would you ever allow her in your presence again once you finally realized how disgusting she truly was?

What Ellie didn’t know, is that you didn’t think any of those things. You could never find her to be a monster or disgusting, you adored her far too much to ever see her that way. No, what you did think when you saw her that way, were any of the things you could do to help her. That was the only thing you wanted, to help her.

You don’t even think twice before you say it, giving yourself a moment to mull over the idea and weigh out the pros and cons before it’s escaping the confides of your mind and making its debut out into your bedroom.

“Feed on me” you blurt out, so quickly you aren’t even sure Ellie fully catches it properly.

But she does, Ellie hears every word, every syllable, she can even hear the way your heart beat quickens after you’ve said it.

She’s slowly lifting her head from your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning as she stares down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful, hopeful that she’ll take the offer, that she’ll allow you to give yourself to her for the sake of her wellbeing.

“No.” She deadpans without a second thought. She doesn’t even give herself a second to indulge in the idea of it, knowing how badly it could end, how terrible it could be with one wrong move, or one gulp too much. Ellie knows that this is nothing to toy with, especially with you.

You’re quickly shaking your head once she rejects your offer, your hands falling from her face to rest down on her shoulders, leaning in a bit to press your body closer to hers.

“Ellie…look at yourself. How were you even able to climb up here?” You plead with the girl, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before you inhale deeply.

“I’m giving you permission…I want you to do this” your words almost come out like a beg, wanting nothing more than to simply help the girl, to help a friend in need that clearly needed it.

And you knew deep down, that no matter what, Ellie would never hurt you.

Ellie knew it too. She knew that she wouldn’t go too far to take your life away from you. She had been around long enough to have the self control to stop whenever she knew you’d had too much.

However, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be hard.

She inhaled deeply, giving your hips a gentle squeeze before she finally brought her own eyes up to look into yours. Her pink tongue darted out to run along her lips, wetting the chapped skin before she let out a gentle sigh.

“You’ll tell me when it becomes too much…right?” She asks, desperate for confirmation from you that you won’t let her go too far, even if she wanted to.

You give her a bright smile, a gentle giggle leaving your lips as you nod. “I will…now go on…sooner you do this, the sooner I can sleep” you tease her playfully, which makes her groan softly with a pout.

She sighed softly, reaching forward and pushing your hair to the side to expose the soft, supple skin of your neck. Her eyes zeroed in on it, and she could practically see your pulse from beneath your skin, making her shudder at the thought of it. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat, which earns a gentle sigh from you.

“This’ll hurt…” she mumbles against you, peppering your skin with gentle kisses. You simply tilt your head further to the side, resting your temple against her shoulder as your arms hang loosely around her neck, your body pressed against hers.

“Mm…I’ll be okay” you mumble out sleepily, your fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie can feel the way your pulse slows under her lips, and she has to stop herself from groaning due to how fucking strong your smell was right now with your body pressed against hers. She knew that the longer the stood her, mouthing away at your neck instead of actually feeding, she’d just keep you from getting back to the rest that she had interrupted in the first place.

It was now or never.

She sighed softly, swallowing thickly before she opened her mouth a bit wider, fangs protruding out from her gums and taking their rightful place. She let them graze your skin, the sharp teeth sure to leave scratches from something as small as a graze, before she finally latched her lips to your throat, and sunk her teeth into your flesh.

Now…Ellie had her fair share of tasty meals within her immortal life time. There were maybe a handful of people that left a faint memory in her head, better than most of the others she’d fed on in her past, so she was no stranger to a warm body with a nice taste.

But you? God….there was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Ellie for how fucking…divine you taste. It was like liquid gold on her tongue, the smell that had plagued her mind from the moment she met you a mere tease to the real deal. It made Ellie moan against you, her eyes fluttering shut as her tattooed hands clawed at your waist, gripping the skin so tightly she was sure to leave bruises, pressing you flush against her body.

She could practically feel the essence of your life filling her up and bringing all of her strength back, replacing the once empty, dull feeling in her body with one that could only be described as rejuvenation. The taste you gave her flowing into her mouth and making her feel like she’d died and gone to heaven.

The noises you made only aided Ellie in her blissful state, tiny moans and huffs leaving your lips as you continued massaging her scalp with gentle fingers, allowing her to take whatever she needed from you.

Ellie knew she could’ve drained you, taken every last drop of your life and left you dry. She could do it ten times over if it were an option, however it wasn’t, and she knew at the back of her head she could only take what she needed, and nothing more. So she knew once your grip around her neck loosened a bit, that she needed to stop.

She unlatched from your neck breathlessly, your crimson blood painting her plush lips, red eyes blown out wide as she eyed the damage she’d done to your poor neck, the punctures filling Ellie’s chest with a sense of pride as some of your blood and her saliva dripped down the base of your throat. She leaned in, licking you clean before pressing a gentle kiss to the wound, groaning softly as when she heard you hum softly.

“All…finished?” You mumbled out with a dreamy smile on your lips, eyes half lidded as you stared up at the girl who had just nearly sucked you dry.

Ellie stared down at you with a look of disbelief, the back of her hand coming up and wiping her lips. “You said you’d tell me to stop…” she groaned softly as she gently set you down to lay back on your bed.

You let out a soft yawn, nodding as you tugged your blanket up with a weak hand to drape over your body. “I was…you stopped sooner than anticipated” you giggled out sleepily before you eyed the girl from your bed, already feeling the drowsy affects of sleep taking over.

“You look better already, El…” your compliment made her dead heart swell. She could feel it too, your life coursing through her veins and bringing back all of the good aspects of being immortal, the strength, the radiance, all of it brought back because of you.

She chuckled softly at your words, walking over to your closet and grabbing your first aid kit, fishing a little band aid out before walking back towards you. She sat at the edge of the bed, her pointer and middle finger pushing your jaw up slightly to get a look at the wound she’d given you.

“Here…so you don’t get blood on your pillow” she explains as she pressed the bandaid to your neck. You simply hum in response, and Ellie knows you’re probably already asleep. Between being tired before all of this, and losing blood, she expected for you to be out like a light long before she bid you a goodnight.

She stays a bit longer after you’ve fallen asleep, her long limbs crawling over your body to lay in bed with you, marveling at the way the color returned to your body, the way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your lips would part with a gentle sigh ever so often. She’d let her hands caress your skin, watching as goosebumps appeared to trail after them. She simply appreciated how human you were, how warm and responsive you were even during sleep.

She leaves once the sun begins to peak above the horizon, knowing you’d want your privacy when you woke up in a few hours. She makes sure to close your window after she’s left too, scaling down the building much quicker than she did when she first arrived.

And while she walks home, the sun slowly casting a warm glow onto the city she lived in, she knew that she’d made a mistake by feeding on you.

Because now? She was completely and utterly ruined for anyone else that she’d feed on after you.

Bloodlust

The word had entirely different meaning for those like Ellie, creatures of the night that fed on the essence of life, the scarlet, metallic liquid that flowed and pumped throughout the bodies of the living.

She had heard of it happening to other vampires, in an instance of finding the human being that acted as a drug to them, making it hard to function without their taste on their tongues. It was an occasion that only ever happened when there was a mutual agreement between a vampire and a human, a hunter/prey proposition that acted in a more…ethical way.

It consumed the one feeding, making it hard to function without the person near, almost creating an inseparable bond between the two, paired with a constant line of food with it as well. It took over nearly everything, mind, body, soul, all of it belonging to the person they fed on, the human often times having more control over the vampire.

Ellie never really believed in it, instead viewing blood as something that was of and in itself, the same all the time. Sure, there were some people that tasted better than others, but blood was blood, no matter who the person was, they were more or less all the same at the end of the day. A meal was a meal, and that was that.

So if that was true, why were you the only thing on Ellie’s mind every waking second after the night she fed on you?

You were always on Ellie’s mind before it all, lingering at the back, making her smile when she thought of something silly you’d said to her earlier in the week, face beaming whenever you’d send a text her way, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that you were on her mind.

She thought of it constantly, the way you were so…so fucking eager for her, a sense of intimacy lingering in the air of an act so selfless. Your pouty lips parted as you moaned and sighed her name, her lips attached to your neck as you gave her everything. Feeding was always something that felt the slightest bit romantic, the closeness of it all.

But you…doing it with you was different than anything she’d ever experienced.

She knew it meant nothing to you, she knew that it was simply you being a good friend, which meant it was borderline wrong for her to take it any way other than what it was, but she couldn’t help herself. She could still taste you on her tongue when she got home, plopping down into her bed and staring up at the ceiling in her dark room as she felt her core tighten and flutter as she referenced back to the memory.

Ellie couldn’t help herself when she unbuttoned her jeans, slipped her hands down to cup her pussy, and caught her aching clit against her calloused fingers to give it some much needed attention.

And she moaned your name as if it were the only word in her vocabulary, blubbering and crying out for you as she angrily fucked her aching pussy, eyebrows furrowed to the point where she almost looked upset.

“F-fuck….that’s my fucking girl…that’s it…gonna cum all over your pretty fuckin’ face” she groaned out, picturing you settled between her legs, eagerly lapping at her weeping core, grinding down onto your face and giving you everything she had, much like you did when you allowed her to feed on you.

She’d cum with your name falling from her lips, back arching as her hips rolled against her palm, sopping wet cunt painting her slick all over her hand, making it hard to even keep it where she needed it with how wet she was, how fucking riled up you had her.

And she’d do it again, lying in her bed and thinking of the memory over and over again, hanging on to the sound of your voice sighing out her name, moaning for her as she licked her lips, searching for the taste of your blood still soaked on them. All while you were sound asleep in your apartment where she left you.

If Ellie thought she was drawn to you before, she was sorely mistaken. Because now? All she could do was crave you. It interrupted her day to day, made her brain foggy when she wasn’t with you or talking to you.

And soon? It became a habit.

Ellie was at your door every other night, long fingers searching for your hips to pull you closer as she pressed her face into your neck, tongue slipping out of her mouth to run along the now permanent marks on your neck, whispering in your ear about how badly she needed you.

It had become a bit of a routine, Ellie would come over, you’d let her feed on you until she saw fit, she’d go home and fuck herself, and then she would live in her own personal hell for the next few days that she wasn’t able to see you.

It’s how she found herself dragging her body down the hallway to your apartment, a heavy hand coming up to the door and giving it a firm knock.

When you answer, Ellie thinks you look like a dream. Your body is leaned up against the door, head resting against it as you give her a dreamy smile, oversized t-shirt hanging off of one of your shoulders, sleep shorts barely visible beneath the end of the shirt, hugging your ass so perfectly, your white socks bunched up at your ankles.

She has to bite back the moan that threatens to escape when she lays eyes on you.

“Mm…hi Ellie” your voice sounds like the sweetest melody, and she’s smiling sheepishly as she walks towards you, bending her knees a bit as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her tall frame, nearly light you up off the ground completely.

“There she is…” she sighed against you, and it sounds like Ellie can finally breath, like the weight holding her back from breathing in the air she so desperately needed has finally been granted to her, it makes you giggle softly.

You wrap your arms around her neck, humming softly as your fingers come up to tangle in her hair, simultaneously pulling her into your apartment. She kicks the door closed behind her, arms still wrapping you up and keeping you close.

She keeps you close, her head coming up to take a look at the set up you have going in that she’s walked in to. She can tell you’ve been working on your book, your laptop set on your couch paired with your favorite blanket, and a mug set on your coffee table that was still steaming.

“Working on the book?” She asked softly, you nod as you turn around in your arms, and excited smile on your face as you walk over to your spot, clicking the keypad a few times before you shut it.

“Yup. I’m getting pretty far….was wrapping it up right before you came over” you practically beamed.

Ellie always found it so endearing how dedicated you were to your work, and rightfully so, Ellie reminded you time and time again that she’d lived through many eras of famous writers, but you always topped them ten times over and then some. She’d never let you forget the talent you had was rare.

You plopped down on your couch after sliding your laptop into its little compartment under your coffee table, your legs coming up to cross over each other as you pat the spot next to you eagerly, to which she easily obliged of course.

Her old denim jacket rustled a bit as she sat down, resting her back against your couch as she slouched down a bit, legs spread as she stares up at you through the dim, cozy lighting of your living room.

You giggle softly, resting your cheek against your palm as you look down at her. “What are you staring at? You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat…” your words trail off, eyes narrowing at the girl playfully before you sit up, crossing your arms.

“Did you come all the way here to get a free meal out of me, Williams?” Your tone is accusing, but playful, and it makes Ellie chuckle as she bring her tattooed hands up to rub up and down her face before she groans.

“When you say it like that it sounds bad….I see it as seeing my favorite person with something extra added into it…” she defends herself before chuckling, looking back at you as she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently on the plump skin, letting her mind linger to imagine it was your lips she was sucking on instead as her eyes slowly zeroed in on them, similar to if she were under a spell.

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she mumbled out softly, voice gentle and truthful.

It was true, Ellie would cut all of this out the second you made even the slightest signal that you were tired of it, or if your body simply couldn’t handle it anymore. She knew that she’d never use you as her personal blood bag. The minute you wanted out, you got it, no questions asked.

You give her a gentle smile though, shaking your head as you shifted your body a bit so that it was now laying down on the end of the couch opposite of Ellie, your head resting against one of the plush pillows you had next to you while you were writing. You spread your legs a bit, making space for Ellie to crawl into before you stretched your arms out for her, a silent call for the girl to come closer.

“I’ll always give it to you, El…you know that. Come…” you call her again with a slight flick of your wrist.

Your words make Ellie’s head swirl, all of it sounding, and feeling, much too similar to something else, something more than just a friend helping another friend out. It sounds like you’re giving something else to her, something she’d dreamt of taking from you from the moment she laid eyes on you.

But she can’t indulge in that, not now, not when you’re being so kind.

She chokes back a groan, the girl slowly crawling over your body, similar to a predator creeping over its prey. Her body consuming yours as she pressed either one of her palms into the plush couch near your head, staring into your eyes as she settled between your warm thighs, the plush skin pressing against a sliver of her hips that was exposed at the top of her jeans. The feeling of her body pressed against your warm cunt, the only thing separating the two of you being the think material of your shorts, drove Ellie to the brink of insanity.

She hummed softly, her eyes trailing down your every feature, taking you in, eating you up for a moment before she grabbed your chin, tilting your head up and away to give her better access to the little area of your throat that had now become hers and only hers.

Soon, she’s leaning down, her body pressed against yours as she peppers kisses along your jaw until she reaches your throat, licking at the two little wounds that were in the shape of her fangs before she sighed against your skin, finally giving in and letting her protruding fangs sink into your skin.

You’d always been comfortable around Ellie, never shying away from her touch whenever she’d grab you whenever you were out together, or letting her easily pull you into her lap whenever you watched movies or played video games together, intimate touches never being out of the ordinary in your relationship.

But now, ever since you and her had started…whatever it was that you’d been doing, you had seemed to cross a boundary that was once put up. What was once little sighs and huffs, turned into full on moans whenever Ellie would press her body against yours and take what she wanted. You’d grip her hair, keeping her close as you moaned and whined out her name, breathless begs for her to keep going.

“Fuck…Ellie…” you moaned out for her, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers laced into her brown hair, keeping her close as her hands moved from either sides of your head to instead grip your body. Your hips were her favorite, holding onto the plush skin and keeping you close, massaging and kneading you as she pleased, a small piece of her wanting to bruise you up, just so she knew she was able to leave marks on you other than your neck.

It egged her on further, your calls for her making her swipe her tongue over the wound before she continued sucking your sweet essence from your body. Ellie wasn’t sure if you were fond of it at first, but now? With how you reacted? She was sure you enjoyed it, if even a little bit.

She became so drunk off of you, her mind clouded with the intense flavor of your blood, nearly choking on it with how quickly she drank sometimes. One of her hands left your hips, sliding down until she gripped your thigh, pulling it up and closer to wrap around her body, massaging the soft skin as she let one of her legs slip over your other one, so that her thigh was slotted against your cunt, and yours against hers.

Ellie didn’t even realize it at first, but she slowly began to grind into you, letting her thigh rub against your barely clothed pussy as she drank from you, her senses completely overwhelmed with just how fucking good you tasted, how good you felt. She felt her mind and body buzz with electricity when she pressed her chest against yours, and she could feel your nipples hardening through the thin material of your shirt, pressing against her own chest.

“Mm…h-hah…Ellie..I….Ellie please…” you begged, and Ellie was able to hear the way your voice was slowly going, growing more and more hoarse with every moan, every pant.

She was taking too much, and she wasn’t sure if she was begging for you to stop, or to keep going.

Ellie groaned loudly against you, prying her lips away from your dulcet neck, panting loudly as she pulled away further to look down at you, letting herself get a good look at the mess she’d made of you.

Your lips were swollen, eyes growing heavy, skin getting dull. Your hair was messy, and your shirt was pulled down further, revealing more of your shoulder and collar bones, while the bottom was pushed up to show more of your stomach.

It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You blinked a few times as you tried catching your breath, staring up at Ellie as one of your hands came up to cup her cheek gently.

“A-all better?” You stuttered out, giving her that notorious dreamy smile of yours, the one that made Ellie feel like she was the only person in the world that got to see it.

She’s drained you, and yet you were asking if she felt better.

Ellie held back a groan, her large hand wrapping around your wrist before she brought your hand down to press a kiss to your palm, giving you a gentle nod before she inhaled deeply to control the emotions that threatened to escape while she saw you this way.

“Always when I’m with you baby” she chuckled out sadly.

The smile you give Ellie nearly has her in tears, because you look so genuinely happy, so content with the fact that you’ve helped her, that you’ve made Ellie feel better, even if it’s at the expensive of your own comfort.

At the expensive of your own life.

“I’m glad…” you hummed out softly before you yawned, clearly tired out from what Ellie had done to you. It makes Ellie frown, and she’s quickly pushing herself off of you before she scoops you up into her arms to carry you off to your bedroom.

Soon, she has you tucked into bed, your eyes closing almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, and Ellie has your blankets pulled up over your arms. It’s almost mind blowing how quickly you fall asleep, it makes Ellie feel a bit jealous, because she can’t remember a time where she was that comfortable in a bed to fall asleep so fast.

She watches you, of course. Sticking around for a few hours after you’ve slept, keeping an eye on you to make sure your chest continues to rise and fall slowly. She knows it would never go that far, but she always gets nervous after feeding.

Tonight was also different, and it was eating away at her because she knew there wasn’t really a right or wrong way to go about cleaning about it, or comforting you about how wrong this was, and how much Ellie had been draining you. Even the fact that you expected it of her when she came over left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that replaced the sweet one that usually lingered on her tongue after she had a taste of you.

And as she watched you sleep, so peaceful and so serene, Ellie began to think of any way this would blossom into something more. How would this carry on? She would continue sucking from you until you died one day? She’d come to you like a thief in the knight well after you had a family? Children to look after? Your life moving on while she stayed in an immortal purgatory? One where she continued the cycle of coming to you for a quick bite to eat? Paired with a warm body to lay on top of for the time being?

There was no way it could surpass this. You being her friend, helping her in a way not many could. Ellie knew, that deep down, the life she wanted with you was not one that was easy to come by, something that she wouldn’t dare ask of you. From the moment she saw you, she wanted more. Because that’s what she did, she took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take, and it was slowly happening with you.

But Ellie loved you too fucking much to take until you were nothing but a shriveled up peace of what you used to be.

So, she took one long last look at you and she left your window. Because that night, she promised herself that she was finished. The life she wanted with you unfortunately wasn’t written in the stars for her, and she knew that from the moment she saw you.

Ellie was letting you go, because she knew it she didn’t.

She’d just end up killing you.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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scoonsalicious · 9 months ago

Text

Like A Fairy Tale

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.

Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3 I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnes’ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charming– attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.

But fairy tales aren’t real.

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after you’d moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after you’d adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at first– he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and they’d turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldn’t see him.

At first, it hadn’t been terrible– Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldn’t, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, he’d answer when you called him… when he could, which wasn’t always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too.

When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world.

You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. People’s lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldn’t. Not any more.

“Y/N,” your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Year’s Eve party, “where’s Barnes? He’s been leaving you to go solo for months now. I don’t think I’ve seen you with him since Mark’s St. Patrick’s Day Party.”

Ouch. “He’s working, Lainy,” you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each other’s company.

“Yeah, he was ‘working’ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Alice’s wedding, and your aunt’s funeral.” You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to ‘working.’ “And he was ‘working’ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, he’s been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. What’s going on? Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”

The worst part was, you knew there wasn’t, or at least, no one individual. When he’d first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you weren’t proud of yourself, but you’d gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair… multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Bucky’s heart, but he didn’t have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didn’t negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. You’d have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.

You could have asked Steve. You didn’t think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didn’t want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself.

Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Year’s Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew where– just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasn’t the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved.

You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. You’d probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized him– Harris, a cousin of Lainy’s who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, “it’s been awhile.” He enveloped you in a friendly hug. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life.

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” he offered gently, after you’d exhausted the usual small talk.

“My breakup?” you asked, brow piqued.

“Last few events I’ve seen you at, you’ve been alone. I assumed you and Barnes…” he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.

You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it?

“If you aren’t seeing anyone,” Harris continued, “I would really love to take you out. You’ve gotta know I’ve been into you for ages, and I figure if I don’t shoot my shot now, who knows when I’ll have another chance.”

You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?

“Um, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,” you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air.

You found yourself on Lainy’s balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Bucky’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Someone asked me out on a date tonight,” you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didn’t want to shed. “And I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? You’re never here, and I’m always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your work’s important. I know that. I do, and I’m not begrudging you for your job. But… but I can’t keep on like this. I can’t even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isn’t that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks you’re cheating on me. Did you know that? You’re away so much that everyone I know is convinced you’re fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but I’ve been too stupid to notice; if that’s the case, you could have just told me.”

You kept your composure as you left the message. You weren’t angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely.

“All I know is that it’s another night where I’m all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and you’re just… not. You’re off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I can’t be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someone’s priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine.

“So, let’s just call it, okay? Your heart’s obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. We’ll have to figure out what to do about the house. I’m keeping Alpine, though. You haven’t been here for her, either, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to take her if you’re never going to be around.”

Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.

“Huh,” you said into your phone, “it’s midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didn’t want to spend this last one with me.”

You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t find the will to believe her.

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon.

You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after you’d had some time to process. You weren’t in the best headspace to get into at the moment.

Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You weren’t eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you weren’t going to abandon her.

Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. “Al, baby,” you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, “Mommy’s home. You hungry, sweetie?”

You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now?

But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where you’d left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs.

A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.

“Bucky?” You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but no– there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. He’d obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “Sweetheart, I was so worried.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. “I got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you weren’t here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that you’d left me for good.”

You scoffed. “I’m not the one who leaves, Bucky.”

He flinched at your words. “I know, Baby. I know, and ’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavin’ you so much was doin’ to you, ‘cause it was doin’ it to me, too. When I heard you say that people– that you– thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone else– I’ve never hated myself more, doll. I can’t stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because it’s always been you. There’s never been anyone else. You’re it.”

“Then why have you been gone?” you asked him in a whisper. “If there’s no one else, and I’m it, why don’t you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?”

Bucky ran both his hands along his face. “God, it feels so stupid now,” he said with a sigh. “But I was trying to save–”

“Trying to save the world, yeah, I know,” you interrupted him, annoyed. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.”

Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. “Wow, you don’t have to rub it in, Bucky.”

“No, no– Sweetheart, no!” he shook his head. “That’s not it, at all. Hold on.” He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.

It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if you’d dreamed it up.

You looked from the paper back to Bucky. “I don’t understand,” you told him.

“It needs pretty extensive renovations,” he told you. “I wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come clean– I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you about where I’ve been spending all my time.” He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.

“But… but, you said there wasn’t anyone else,” you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest.

“Oh god! No, and I mean that! There isn’t, I swear! God, I’ve fucked this up so bad!” Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. “I’ve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.”

“You already bought it?” you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. “You want to move out? Away from me?”

Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. “No! God, I’m doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.”

You stilled at his words. “I’m sorry, your what?”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. “I’ll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentine’s Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, so…” He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.

Bucky got down on one knee. “Y/N,” he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, “I know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you can’t forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you weren’t the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?”

“Buck…” you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. “What about your job? I can’t keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that it’s selfish of me, but–”

“I quit,” he said simply.

“What?” Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement.

“The second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasn’t even a question. I’m officially retired.”

Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely… You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.

“It’s lovely,” you told him softly. “Absolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.” Bucky beamed at you, pleased. “But I can’t accept it.” His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands.

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes growing glassy. “I… um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I still want to be with you, you idiot,” you admonished him. “But you did hurt me, and we’ve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentine’s Day, just like you originally planned. Don’t do it now just because you fucked up.” You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. “And if it helps make you feel better, I’m probably going to say ‘yes,’ anyway.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Really?” he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadn’t touched you in months. “I promise you, Sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.”

“Anything?” you asked with a smile. “I think I know where you can start.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked you. “And where’s that?”

“Take me to bed, Bucky Barnes,” you said, kissing him again.

Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.

Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.

“So, Doll,” he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, “you gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?”

You laughed. “Lainy’s cousin, Harris. I suppose I’ll have to text him now and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Hell no, you’re not interested,” Bucky chuffed. “Gonna have to remind that punk you’ve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you said, planting a kiss on his nose. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I?”

Bucky’s face fell. “But I thought you said–”

“I’ve got myself a fiance.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. “Yeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.”

Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #marvel mcu #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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wheeboo · 2 months ago

Text

pulse points | wen junhui

SYNOPSIS. Being the TA for your anatomy class has always been really rewarding, especially stemming in your passion for the medical field. But as it’s approaching the peak of the school semester and labs have gotten more intense, you aren’t surprised to be dedicating your time to tutoring your strangely handsome, dorky, yet enigmatic classmate during after school hours — and reassuring him how to not be afraid of dissections. PAIRING. wen junhui x TA!reader (ft. performance unit as jun's roommates + mentions of wonwoo and jihoon) GENRE. fluff, classmates to lovers, humour WARNINGS/TAGS. unrealistic TA x student dynamics lmao, lots of medical sciency-anatomy talk, talks about dissections n cutting into things (they dissect a sheep brain), mentions of tools used for dissections, yn is wayyy too studious its a bit unhealthy perhaps, their love language is napping together n sharing food :(, alcohol and drinking (yn gets drunk 😣), they flirt in the middle of a damn dissection AHHAHA WORD COUNT. 15.9k

notes: this is my fic for the "back to school" collab hosted by @camandemstudios! i hope u all enjoy <3 was lowkey hating this fic as i wrote it but... i think it turned out fine?!?! thank you to all my moots, specifically @bananabubble @slytherinshua @etherealyoungk and the collab discord server for either helping me w ideas n brainrot or reading over the fic!! love u all to the stars and back <3

Three dollars is not enough for Jun to buy himself lunch.

He could probably snag himself a stale, English muffin from the dining hall, but then he’d be walking around campus with a dry tongue until after his classes end. And unsurprisingly, he forgot his water bottle back in his apartment. Briefly, he considers texting Soonyoung or Minghao to perhaps drop by the apartment and grab his water bottle or even a quick snack that’ll last him, but the two of them were already knee deep enough of responsibilities of their own.

Fucking capitalism.

He’s already out of breath speed walking all the way from across campus and through four different hallways. The large windows of the science building bring in the natural sunlight at the peak of the afternoon, allowing it to cascade across the polished floors and right to the ends of his feet with every step that he takes.

Jun purses his lips together tightly as he rounds one last corner before arriving in front of his current class: Anatomy. The quick glance at the time displayed on his phone shows that he’s around eight minutes late, which is way better than the fifteen minutes from last week. His shoulders slouch slightly with a bit of dread as he reaches for the doorknob and pulls it open.

Compared to the beginning of the year, there’s more empty seats in the lecture hall now. Honestly, Jun is surprised he hasn’t dropped out of the class yet, because his grade in all honesty isn’t… the best, to put it simply𑁋he’s passing, somehow, but just barely.

But he simply can’t afford to drop it and take on a new class like a snap of a finger, and he knows that if he bails now, he’ll only be prolonging his graduation date, a situation neither his parents nor his bank account would be happy about. He wasn’t even supposed to be in this class in the first place, but his horrible procrastination habits and the fact that the other classes he wanted filled up so quickly left him with no other choice.

Jun sits down in a seat near the back of the class, trying to blend in and hoping the professor won’t notice his tardiness. He swiftly pulls out his notebook and laptop and redirects his focus to the front of the classroom, where he sees Professor Lee already lecturing something about vascular anatomy and blood circulation, motioning towards the slideshow displayed on the screen.

“…the brachiocephalic trunk branches off the aortic arch, which divides into the right subclavian artery and the right common carotid artery. These arteries supply blood to the arm and the brain, respectively…”

The words seem to flow through his brain like water. Even when he jots them down in his notes for him to study later, he reads the words like hieroglyphics. Perhaps it’s the hunger getting to him or just the mounting stress, but the lecture feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.

By the time Professor Lee finishes with the lecture, he has five pages of notes that feel like a jumble of terms and diagrams.

However, just as he thought he might finally catch a break, the slideshow switches to the next slide.

“Now, let’s discuss the final major lab that will be crucial for your grades,” Professor Lee explains, a determined look on his face. “Your dissections that you will be finishing the year off with. I’m letting you all know about these in advance so you would have plenty of time to prepare.”

Jun’s stomach drops. Dissections. Of course, he knew it was coming, as it was quite literally listed in eye-catching bold letters in the syllabus at the beginning of the term. Yet the thought of cutting into anything and seeing its insides makes him almost squeamish.

“This will account for a significant portion of your final grade. I can’t stress enough how important it is to take this seriously. Remember that dissections aren’t just about retaining names and locations in the body. They’re about seeing the relationships between different structures and understanding how they function together in real life.”

Every fibre of his being is aching for him to raise his hand and stupidly refute. He imagines what he’d say𑁋“I’m not good with blood,” or “Is there another activity I could do because I’m absolutely scared shitless?”𑁋but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he slouches further in his seat, hoping to disappear. He weighs all of his options, but they’re all equally unappealing: he can’t drop the class, he can’t afford to fail, and he certainly can’t magically become proficient at dissections overnight.

“Since the class has an uneven amount of students and the limited amount of specimens we have, I’ve decided to pair you all up. Y/N, may you hand out the partner lists?”

Jun feels himself tense in his seat as his eyes scan the room and land on you. Not only are you the TA of the class, but your seemingly calm demeanour as you drift throughout the room handing each student paperwork makes you appear almost intimidating to his eyes.

When you finally reach him, he swears he catches a glimpse of a slight curl to your lips as you silently hand him the slip of paper that contains his partner assignment, before walking down to the next person.

At first, the paper essentially states the same information that was discussed earlier: the dissection assignment, guidelines, and a list of required materials. But then his gaze falls to the part that matters most: his partner's name.

Y/N L/N, it reads. You’re his partner. Shit.

Your calm, composed attitude and role as the TA have already set a high bar for expectations in his mind. You’re probably going to be hyperanalysing and dissecting every aspect of his class performance, knowing his poor little heart wouldn’t be able to handle all that. You probably already have this tarnished reputation of him in your mind, with his frequent tardiness and the amount of times he’s dozed off in class.

Jun glances around the lecture hall, noticing other students exchanging whispers and glances at their own partner assignments. Some seem relieved, while others look as apprehensive as he feels. His stomach churns with the thought of having to work closely with you.

Professor Lee clears his throat and speaks, “Now that you all know your partners, I request that you all sit next to each other. These will be your seats starting from today and until the lab finishes. I also strongly encourage you all to exchange contact information with each other. Your collaboration together will be vital to your success in this lab.”

As the students shuffle around, Jun finds himself stuck in an uncomfortable limbo, watching as everyone pairs up and settles into their new seats, naturally exchanging contact information with one another. Then he shuffles for his backpack that was leaning against his chair in order to go find where you sit, but as he’s about to stand up, he’s met with you taking a seat right next to him.

Your eyes meet. A faint smile crosses your features. His backpack slips off his shoulders and falls to the floor with a dramatic thump.

“Hi,” You greet him softly, before offering a hand to him. “Granola bar? Had an extra one.”

Jun just blinks, eyes flickering between your face and the hand you have extended out to him. Then he awkwardly clears his throat, tentatively reaching out to grab the granola bar from your grasp, and the warmth emitting from your hand seems to crawl up his neck.

“Thanks,” he mutters sheepishly, shifting his gaze away to hide a small upturn to the corners of his lips.

The rest of class passes by in a blur, mainly with Professor Lee going over proper attire to wear and safety protocols for the dissection labs. And when the clock strikes dismissal time, students begin to filter out of the lecture hall, chatting amongst themselves as Jun struggles to stuff his laptop inside his backpack.

You’re already gone to the front to talk to Professor Lee when Jun looks over. He watches as you hand in what looks like a stack of paper, only to be given another one right back, probably of assignments that the class has done lately. The air of professionalism that surrounds you is quite admirable, he would say.

You seem to exchange a few more words with Professor Lee before turning on your heel to leave the lecture hall, the stack of papers neatly held under your arm.

By the time Jun is already on his way to his next class, he pulls the granola bar that you had given him out from the pocket of his jeans, unwrapping it and taking a bite out of it, savouring the moment as it relieves his nerves and gnawing hunger.

Then by the time finishes his last class for the day, reality hits him the second he steps out of the building. Figuratively, and maybe even literally, at this point.

He forgot to get your number for this lab.

The click of your pen echoes throughout the vast lecture hall. Unintelligible mutters leave your lips as your eyes quickly scan over the papers in front of you with ease. Among the many tasks you have assigned as TA, grading assignments is one of them, and you find yourself marking and correcting each paper just as you’ve done many times before.

There used to be rumours floating around that your grading style was particularly strict, even more so than Professor Lee. Though it was probably spread around with the intention to intimidate other students and establish your reputation as someone annoyingly meticulous, you hardly let it get to you.

The truth is, you were fair in your grading, but thorough. You didn’t see the point in letting half-baked work slide, especially when you knew these assignments could determine someone’s future. Medicine has been your passion for as long as you could remember, and that dedication extended into almost everything you did. Being the TA for the class was just one factor of it.

It’s much, much quieter after school hours when most classes have finished for the day, and it’s natural to bask in the peacefulness that drifts throughout the barren room. You sort out the papers in front of you in a neat stack before taking a moment to stretch your arms up above your head, a soft sigh leaving you at the tension dissipating away from your limbs.

As you begin to shuffle through all the papers in front of you𑁋separating them into piles of graded assignments and unfinished ones that you’ll save for later on𑁋there’s a quiet knock at the door that makes you pause in place. You turn your head towards the door, anticipating for someone to come in.

Then another knock.

You swear you see some sort of shadow in the door window. It appears then disappears, and you roll your eyes, thinking it was just someone who was lost or purposely going around knocking on each door (which has happened way more than one could expect).

The shadow appears again, and this time, you decide on heading to the door yourself. And as you twist the doorknob and pull the door open simultaneously, you find yourself coming face-to-face with Jun, who looks a bit sheepish as he’s caught mid-knock. His eyes widen upon seeing you right in front of him, and he brings his hand down to his side.

You blink up at him, not expecting for him to be here at this moment of the day.

“Junhui?”

It’s at this point of his life that Jun realises he really isn’t used to people calling him by his proper first name. But the way you say it is different𑁋soft and warm, like an unexpected compliment.

“Uh, hi,” he greets a tad bit awkwardly, mentally slapping himself in the face. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Oh, no, you’re not. Don’t worry,” You tell him reassuringly, catching the way his eyes seem to flicker everywhere but on you. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Jun fidgets slightly, his gaze bouncing between the floor and your face. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “Actually, I... um, forgot to get your number earlier today. For… for the lab, I mean. Professor Lee said we should exchange information so I thought I would ask. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing at your lips. “Ah, I see. No problem. I’m glad you came by to get it. Here, let me just𑁋”

You shove into your back pocket to retrieve your phone, only to feel that it wasn’t there. Then you glance over to your desk, seeing it sitting next to your abundance of papers, before returning back to Jun.

You shove a hand into your back pocket to retrieve your phone, only to feel that it wasn’t there. Then you glance over to your desk, seeing it sitting next to your abundance of papers, before returning back to Jun.

“Here, you can come in. Let me just get my phone real quick.” You step to the side and open the door wider for him.

Jun visibly hesitates in the doorway, before muttering a quiet thank you and stepping inside the lecture hall. It’s certainly a sight to see the room so stripped of other students besides you and him, the sounds of his footsteps bouncing off the walls. He takes in the stacks of papers that you have spread across your desk, and he feels some nerves snake their way up his spine at the thought of you grading his work.

“Wow, that looks like a lot,” he comments gingerly.

“Yeah, it’s quite the pile, right?” You agree with a light chuckle as you grab your phone and unlock it. “Always happens near the end of the sem.”

Jun’s eyes wash over you with a look of concern. “That seems… stressful.”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, it keeps me busy.”

“Well, you should get some good rest after this then,” he remarks coolly.

“Wish I could, but I have some tutoring scheduled in about half an hour,” You say, tone warm but tinged with a hint of weariness as you glance at the time on your phone. “One of the students in the intro biology class needs help with some of the basics before their midterm. So… rest will have to wait.”

From that, Jun shifts awkwardly, his fingers playing with the strap of his backpack. His brain races as he considers his options. You’re clearly knowledgeable and dedicated, not to mention you seem approachable, but the thought of admitting how much he’s struggling makes his throat dry, plus the guilt of adding more to your busy plate.

“Tutoring, huh?” Jun finally says, trying to sound casual. “Is that… something you do a lot?”

You nod, tapping away on your phone as you pull up your contact information. “Yeah, actually. It’s nice to help people out. Keeps me up with the material too. Usually I’m free most days at any time after classes.”

Jun continues to gaze at you wonderingly until after you pick up your head to look at him, to which he faces away immediately. He scratches the back of his neck bashfully, before fixing his posture and clearing his throat.

“Do you… have room for one more student?” Then he feels the immediate regret afterwards. “It’s okay if not. I know that you’re busy and all that𑁋”

“Junhui,” You interrupt gently, a calm smile on your face. “I have room. Don’t worry about it.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, the reassuring warmth on your face easing the knots in his stomach. “Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

“I’d be more than happy to find a time that works for us both. Just let me know what you need, and we’ll figure a time out. We’re lab partners, after all,” You say gleefully. “Speaking of which, you can put your number in here.”

You extend an arm with your phone in-hand. Jun takes the phone from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment, and types in his phone number and information. When he hands the phone back, he looks up to meet your eyes, trying to muster a more confident expression.

“Thank you so much, really, I…” His voice trails off for a moment, trying to regain his words. “I’ll owe you one for this, truly.”

“There’s no need.”

Jun shakes his head. “Seriously, I’ll feel bad.”

You bite at your bottom lip in thought, an endearing look washing over your features as you consider his insistence. The pleading in his eyes is hard to ignore, and it makes your heart soften in your chest. You take a moment to think before offering a small, playful grin.

“Alright.” You cross your arms together. “We’ll see.”

Perhaps… you aren’t as intimidating as he thinks.

Jun is staring at a sheep brain.

Not a real one𑁋a picture of one, specifically. It’s apparently very similar to the human brain, and the specimen he’s expected to dissect for the upcoming lab.

He stares at the image displayed on the large screen right before his eyes, feeling a strange mix of fascination and dread. The detailed structures and labels are overwhelming, each word swimming in and out of focus as he tries to absorb the information. It's not that he isn't interested𑁋on the contrary, there's a part of him that's genuinely curious about how it all works, and the other part of him is utterly disturbed.

You’re sitting next to him again, just like everyone else is sitting next to their partners, taking notes and even drawing a very rushed outline of the brain on your paper.

“We have to dissect that…?” Jun whispers under his breath, as if speaking any louder might bring the brain to life.

“Yep,” You reply, glancing over at Jun. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Jun attempts to stifle a groan, eyes going between the image on the screen and down to his near-empty notes. He can’t help but wonder how on earth he’s going to get through this without completely embarrassing himself.

Letting your eyes roam over Jun for a moment, the visible discomfort in the way he crosses his arms together and the furrow in his brow doesn’t escape your notice. Casually, you scoot your chair towards him a little bit, along with your notebook so that it’s settled in the space between the two of you with the outline of the brain clearly visible on the page. Your shoulder almost brushes against his.

“Here,” You say softly, tapping your pen on the page. “I’ve got the main structures labeled already. You can add them to your notes if you want. I can explain it to you in more detail when you come to tutoring tomorrow?”

Oh, that’s right. Tomorrow is the day you both were free and decided it was the day where Jun could stop by after classes end to have his first tutoring session with you.

“Yeah, uh, that would be great,” Jun responds quietly, peeking over at how neat and organised your notes appeared to be. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You nod, before soundlessly shuffling inside your bag and extending it out to Jun. “Granola bar?”

Jun glances at the granola bar being offered by you, its wrapper crinkling slightly as you hold it out to him. He smiles, a little lopsided but genuine, and takes the bar from you. The hesitation in his shoulders has deflated slightly than from the first time you proposed one to him.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“Bro, are you going out on a date or what? You’re stinking up a storm here.” Soonyoung lets out a few dramatic coughs at the sudden sharp scent of Minghao’s perfume hitting his nose, followed by Chan behind him nearly gagging at the smell. Though obviously one would expect for the owner himself to be the one using it, he certainly didn’t expect for the culprit to be none other than Jun.

Okay, yes, he may have accidentally sprayed a shit ton of Minghao’s perfume on himself, which was a bit of an overkill. But he clearly wasn’t thinking straight after waking up from a nap between deciding to take a really quick shower or stealing his roommate’s expensive perfume.

“You think this is too much?” Jun asks unsurely.

Beside him, Chan rolls his eyes while clutching a bowl of ramen. “You smell like you’re trying to cover up a crime scene. It might suffocate someone. Where are you even going anyway?”

Jun clears his throat. “Tutoring𑁋”

“Tutoring?!” Soonyoung exclaims in surprise. “For which class?”

“Anatomy𑁋”

“Hell no,” Soonyoung crinkles his nose at the mention of anatomy. “You're telling me you’re getting all dolled up for a tutoring session on dissecting brains and guts? Are you trying to seduce the organs or something?”

Jun groans at his roommate’s words, shaking his head. But before he can say anything in response, Chan seems to beat him to it.

“Don’t you have this really strict TA in your class too? I’ve heard that they don’t even offer partial credit or crack a smile during lectures. Like, they’re just a machine, dude,” the youngest adds in.

It’s quite literally insane to hear that kind of description about you leave Chan’s mouth when all of his interactions with you have been nothing but short and sweet, to put it simply. Though he won’t deny he’s heard all those rumours spread around about you𑁋that you’re strict, and perhaps a bit intimidating. He’s had his fair share of moments where he felt overwhelmed by your grading and meticulous nature. Yet from what he’s seen of you so far, you’re passionate, friendly if anything, and your smile is… cute.

Jun only shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, they’re in my class, but I’m just trying to get my grade up before the year ends. I think I can handle them.”

Soonyoung huffs a breath, stepping up to Jun and giving him some sort of comforting pat on the back, almost like he feels bad for him.

“Well, good luck, dude,” he reassures him, though it hardly eases Jun’s nerves at all. “Don’t get crucified in there.”

As Jun wanders down the familiar hallway to the classroom, he finds his thoughts beginning to second-guess everything. What if he ultimately fails meeting your expectation at the end of the session? What if he struggles to fully grasp the material and ends up looking like an absolute fool in front of you by the time the real dissections roll around?

However, those thoughts are pushed away when the door to the classroom swings open before he has the opportunity to knock, with you standing on the other side. Your face seems to light up at the sight of him, and it makes Jun briefly think about what Soonyoung said earlier about you. Like… was he talking about the same person?

“Hey, you made it,” You greet him, stepping aside so he could walk in. “Let me just finish organising some things and we can start.”

Jun’s eyelashes bat together in curiosity as he watches you rummage through some papers, before deciding it's worth sitting down to wait for you. He places himself down an empty desk, fishing out his notebook and laptop and whatever he may need, though he doesn’t really know. By the time you’re making your way over to him, you set your stuff right next to his.

“Okay.” You let out a relieved breath, peering at him. “Where do you want to start?”

Oh, he hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet.

“Uh,” Jun stammers, fumbling for a moment, his mind suddenly drawing blanks. He quickly opens his notebook to the page where he had jotted down some half-baked notes during class and is staring back at him like a puzzle missing half its pieces. “Maybe… maybe we can start with what we’re going over in class right now? And just go down from there?”

“We can do that,” You agree without hesitation, leaning in more so that you were able to see his notes. Jun draws himself slightly back. “So, as you know, we’re going to have to be familiar with the parts and functions of the brain since it’s also part of the dissections. What I like to do is break it down into smaller sections and tackle each one individually. It might make the whole thing less overwhelming.”

Jun just nods, appreciating the way you’re making things more approachable.

You grab a blank sheet of paper and draw a quick, simple outline of the brain, labeling the major parts with clear, concise notes. “Let’s go over the basics𑁋the cerebrum, cerebellum, and brainstem. These are the main regions we need to understand before diving into all the nitty-gritty details. Is that okay?”

He nods again, moving back slightly closer so he can see what you’re drawing.

“The cerebrum is the largest part of the brain and is responsible for higher brain functions like thinking, reasoning, and sensory processing,” You continue, pointing to the relevant part of your drawing. “It’s divided into the left and right hemispheres, and each one controls the opposite side of the body.”

Jun watches as you explain, occasionally nodding to show he’s following along. There’s something calming about the way you speak𑁋gentle, but confident, filled with poise. He tries to shake off the thought, reminding himself that he’s here to study, not to admire the way your eyes light up when you speak so passionately about a topic as ridiculous and complex as the damn brain.

You’re so different from what people say. There’s no sign of the strict, no-nonsense TA everyone talks about.

“...and that’s why the frontal lobe is so important for decision-making and problem-solving. I like comparing it to, let’s say, a CEO,” You explain. “It’s where a lot of our executive functions happen. Think of it as the brain’s ‘boss’ making the big decisions and planning.”

Jun blinks for a moment, snapping back to attention, quickly jotting down a note to make it seem like he was paying attention. He actually was, sort of. Somehow he’s lucky enough for you to not notice him being distracted (or you do, and he’s the one who didn’t notice).

“Frontal lobe, right,” he mutters lowly, under his breath.

“The cerebellum is our little assistant to the CEO. It’s responsible for our movement, coordination, and balance,” You say, pointing to a spot on the sketch at the very back of the brain and above the brainstem. “Think of it as the brain’s quality control. It just makes sure that whatever movements we do are smooth and precise, so…”

Nope. He still can’t detect those rumours that paint you as some sort of cold, calculated, and harsh TA. He spots not a single one of those in your demeanour. Briefly, he wonders whether or not those rumours bother you, if they’ve ever bothered you or made you feel misunderstood. Swiftly, though, he brushes those thoughts away𑁋he’s more focused on you than the material at hand.

It’s hard not to look at you, in all honesty.

“Junhui?” Your voice pulls him back to reality.

“Huh?” he responds, a little too quickly.

You tilt your head slightly, a small, knowing smile on your lips. “I asked if you’re ready to move on to the brainstem, or do you want to go over the cerebellum again?”

“Oh, um… no, I’m good,” he says, feeling his face heat up slightly. He hopes you don’t notice how flustered he is. “Let’s move on.”

You nod, satisfied with his answer, and continue your explanation, turning your attention to the next section of the brain.

“The brainstem,” You begin, pointing to an area at the bottom of the brain with the pencil. “is like the brain's relay station. It connects the brain to the spinal cord and controls many of the body’s automatic functions, like breathing, heart rate, and digestion. Without it, our bodies wouldn't be able to function properly…”

Jun observes as you draw a line down the sketch, clearly marking the brainstem. He’s listening, or at least trying to, but his mind keeps drifting back to how comfortable this whole situation feels. He expected to be a nervous wreck, fumbling through explanations and possibly embarrassing himself in front of you. But instead, he finds himself oddly at ease, more focused on how you’re able to break down the complex information into something so much more digestible.

“Still with me?” You ask suddenly, looking up from your notes to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Jun answers unsurely, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. He offers a small smile, hoping it masks his earlier distraction.

A flicker of amusement flashes in your eyes, and there’s a warmth in your expression that puts Jun further at ease. “Okay, great. We can continue then.”

The rest of the session goes by surprisingly rather quickly. You guide Jun through the material, your explanations helping Jun absorb the information more effectively than the regular in-class lectures. It makes him think about how great you would be as a professor, or anything in the medical field. Everything just seems to flow out of you seamlessly as you discuss various brain functions and their relevance to anatomy and dissections.

As Jun is finishing up the last of some notes, you ask, “Would you mind if I write you a little sticky note? To tell you what to look over when you’re reviewing on your own?”

Jun looks up, a bit surprised but grateful. “That would be good, thank you.”

You stand up to retrieve a sticky note from Professor’s Lee desk, before returning back to Jun and writing down:

Review over neuroanatomy and its functions! •ᴗ•

Finally, you plaster the sticky note at the corner of the page in his notebook.

There’s a comfortable silence that follows as you both gather your belongings. It feels like a small victory for Jun𑁋he not only survived the session but actually, in a way, enjoyed it.

As you both stand up, ready to leave, you glance over at him.

“By the way, I don’t think you need all that perfume on,” You say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jun’s eyes widen, caught off-guard. Shit. “Oh, uh𑁋yeah, that…”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just… a little overwhelming. Maybe tone it down next time?”

Jun’s face flushes as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, I uh… was rushing and just grabbed what I could find. I didn’t mean to overdo it.”

“You’re all good,” You reassure him, still smiling as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Just a little heads-up. So, anyway, for the next session…”

Next session? His jaw nearly drops to the floor at your casual mention of a next session.

“...I think I’ll try and set up a little lesson plan we can reference off of… probably review over the cardiovascular system…”

“You… You don’t have to do all that,” Jun interjects. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

You dismiss him off with a reassuring wave. “It’s no trouble. I think it’ll help to have a structured plan for us to follow. It’ll make sure we cover everything orderly.”

Jun zips his mouth shut and just nods in agreement, unable to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, biting it back when he hangs his head down to the ground. When he perks back up, he finds you over at Professor Lee’s desk, sorting through some papers before organising the stack and preparing to finally leave. He opens his mouth, but the words he wanted to say stick to his tongue.

“I’ll see you later?” Jun calls out to you instead, his voice bouncing off the walls of the lecture hall.

You glance up at him in acknowledgment. “I’ll see you later, Junhui.”

He takes a visible gulp.

“Jun,” he suddenly says, saying it as if he were correcting you, which in a way, he is, but it comes out a bit awkwardly. “You can call me just Jun, if you’d like.”

A wave of surprise washes over your features, before ultimately fading into a pleasant smile.

“Alright, Just Jun,” You reply, tilting your head slightly. “I’ll see you later.”

One could probably say you’re a party pooper. Not necessarily intentionally, but instead of filling up your college experience with going to parties and social events, you find yourself buried within pages of textbooks. Your weekends aren’t filled with the chaoticness of drinking and loosening up; rather, they consist of quiet study sessions in your room and creating new lecture material.

You’re not avoiding fun𑁋at least, that’s what you always tell yourself𑁋you’re just focused on achieving your academic goals.

It’s a routine carved ever since you were younger, your parents constantly instilling that education is the key to success, and you’ve taken that message to heart. From an early age, you learned to prioritise your studies over everything else. As you grew older, you carried that mindset with you, where you’ve become known among your peers as the diligent, dependable student and TA who always has their priorities straight.

Your schedule is precise, your assignments are always turned in on time, always prepared for every quiz and exam, and your grades reflect the countless hours you’ve spent studying. It’s a reputation you’re proud of, but it also comes with a certain level of pressure𑁋pressure to maintain those high standards, to never let yourself slip.

You sit back in the seat, satisfied after crafting a proper lesson plan and organising your materials for your next tutoring session. When you glance over at your planner to see who was coming in today, the name that you spot is𑁋

Knock.

You glance up from your planner and over to the door. “Come in!”

It takes a few moments for the door to swing in, and the tall figure that steps through is unmistakable𑁋light brown hair slightly fluffed out, a half-opened black backpack hanging on his shoulders, and an oversized hoodie that appeared way more comfortable than it needed to be.

“Jun?” You look at the time on your phone. “You’re here early.”

“Oh, yeah…” Jun runs a hand through his tousled hair. “I thought showing up early could give us some extra time, maybe. Unless… unless you’re still busy?”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. Just give me a few minutes and then we can start?”

“Yeah. Take all the time that you need.”

Once again, it’s only the two of you in the lecture hall. He ponders if you’ve tutored any students before him today, hovering near you as he watches you sort through some papers and adjust your notes. The room is quiet except for the faint rustle of papers and the soft hum of the air conditioning. Jun can sense his curiosity growing within him, making him fidget with the strap of his backpack.

“So, uh… how long have you been a TA for Professor Lee?”

You pick your head up from your papers, fingers resting at the edge of the desk.

“Since the beginning of the year,” You reply. “I got recommended to him by some previous professors, and I guess I couldn’t say no to the opportunity.”

Jun nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Do you like it? Being a TA, I mean.”

You consider his question for a moment, feeling a bit reflective as you answer, “I do, actually. It’s hard but rewarding, you know? I get to help students understand the material better, and I learn a lot in the process too. It’s a good balance between teaching and learning, I would say.”

Jun takes in your words attentively, peeking his eyes toward you with an almost shy smile. There’s a quiet admiration in the way he looks at you that you don’t notice, as if he’s trying to understand how you manage to keep everything together so well. Then a moment of silence fills the space between you two, not uncomfortable, maybe a bit awkward on his end, but more contemplative.

Jun shifts this abominable weight pressing down on him from one foot to the other. He’s not used to being in situations like this𑁋alone with someone who seems so put together, so sure of themselves. It’s both inspiring and a little intimidating. The silence seems to stretch, and you can see the gears turning in his head, like he’s on the verge of saying something but can’t quite find the right words.

“I guess I wonder how you manage it all so well,” he remarks timidly. “You’re always so organised and… on top of things. I’m curious how you do it.”

You purse your lips together into a thin line and simply shrug your shoulders. “I’ve always had high expectations for myself growing up and I guess it’s carried into everything I do now. It’s become second nature, really.”

As Jun takes in your words, that sense of admiration seems to soften into a bit of worry. It’s amazing that you could handle so many responsibilities at once, but the more he thinks about it, the more it seems like a lot of stress and pressure to manage. He wonders if you ever feel overwhelmed or if it ever gets too much to handle at times.

You probably do𑁋you’re human, after all𑁋and a twinge of concern snakes up his spine as he thinks about.

“Anyway, hm… I was thinking about going over the cardiovascular system for this session. What do you say?” You ask him.

Jun snaps out of his thoughts, walking briskly over towards the desk to take a seat. “Oh, yeah. That sounds good.”

The session is just similar to last time: you begin by outlining the cardiovascular system, breaking it down into different sections just as you did with the brain, and using relatable analogies with associating each part with their functions.

“...so the heart has four chambers: the left and right atria plus the left and right ventricles,” You explain, pointing down to the drawing you made with the tip of your pencil. “The right side deals with deoxygenated blood, while the left side handles oxygenated blood. The heart’s valves make sure that blood flows in the correct direction. Think of it like… traffic signals.”

“Traffic signals…” Jun mutters to himself as he writes down notes. Knowing that this is all going on within his own body wraps around his mind uncomfortably.

As you continue explaining, there’s that light again that Jun detects in your eyes, as well as the subtle lift to your lips that makes your voice just a step higher. His gaze also follows your hands that you unknowingly maneuver when you talk, the movements graceful and expressive, like you’re bringing the material to life.

“Are you familiar with where all your pulse points are?”

Jun lifts a brow, thinking for a second, before taking a finger down to his wrist. “I think so. There’s one here… on the wrist…”

“The radial artery.”

“Radial artery. Yeah.” Then he drags the tip of his finger up to his inner elbow. “There’s also one here. The brachial artery, right?”

“You got it.”

He grins bashfully at that, though it’s quick to fade when he focuses again, pointing down to his leg. “There’s also two here. Femoral and… pop… Popliteal?”

“You’re right,” You confirm wholeheartedly, and Jun’s heart flutters in small victory.

Jun then brings his hand back up, using two fingers to point to a spot on his neck.

“And, uh… The one here on the neck. It’s…” He continues pressing down into his skin to find where he can feel his pulse, but your eyes on him is causing him to feel a bit self-conscious. “Uh…”

“The carotid artery. Right here.”

Before Jun has a chance to correct himself, you’re suddenly scooting closer to him in your chair, leaning in and extending an arm out towards him. The sudden contact of your fingers on the side of his neck makes his eyes widen and his breath to hitch.

Your fingers rest gently on the side of his neck, just below his jawline, and for a brief moment, the world outside of the lecture hall seems to disappear. The visible swallow of his Adam’s apple isn’t hard to miss as he tries to focus on anything but the sensation of your hand on his neck.

Heat washes over his face, and he swears to himself that you could most definitely feel the way his pulse is running marathons under your touch. All of a sudden his tongue goes dry, his limbs go numb, and the way you’re so close to him makes it hard for him to properly think straight, let alone form any sort of coherent response.

Your eyes meet for a singular millisecond, too quick that Jun could have possibly been imagining it.

Pulling your hand away, you clear your throat soundly. “Try it.”

It takes Jun a moment to register you were talking to him, and he tentatively replaces the spot where your fingers were at with his own.

“Right here?” he asks.

“Mhm.” Your gaze roams over his concentrated face. “Apply a bit of pressure. That’s the carotid artery doing its work.”

His pulse is certainly fast. The thought has him sinking into a pit of embarrassment.

But he only nods, keeping his voice steady as he says, “Yeah, I feel it.”

“So whenever you want to count your heart rate, this is one of the places you can check,” You instruct. “You can just press down on that spot and count the number of beats you feel in 15 seconds. Then, multiply that number by four, and you’ll have your heart rate in beats per minute.”

Jun attempts to listen to his heart rate, but the attentive look you have on your face as you watch him makes it really hard to properly count. So he chooses to let his hand fall back down. He wouldn’t be able to calculate it with you here with him anyway.

When the two of you meet eyes for the nth time, there’s a fleeting, almost electric moment of mutual awareness. None of you acknowledge it, yet it awkwardly lingers in the air. Warmth spreads across Jun’s chest, coupled with a nervous energy that makes his heart beat soar just a little faster.

You break the tension with an airy chuckle. “Are you ready to move on?”

Jun blinks a few times, shaking off whatever awkwardness swirling around him, and nods quickly. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

By the time he gets back to his apartment later that evening and begins to unpack his things from his backpack, a small piece of pink paper flutters down to the floor like a feather, landing by his foot. It’s a sticky note, reading:

Good sesh today •ᴗ• Don’t forget to review!

“There’s no way I’m touching a brain.”

“Jun, you have to! You’ll be wearing gloves anyway𑁋”

“I cannot cut into a brain. That is gross,” Jun rebukes defensively, face scrunching up with stubborn refusal.

“Jun, dissections are really important for anatomy,” You clarify calmly. “It’s part of the learning process.”

“Yeah, I… I know,” he mumbles defeatedly, almost shameful to admit. “I’m not that good with, uh… dead things. Like, couldn’t we look at diagrams or pictures instead? They’re less… squishy.”

You smile amusedly at that, finding his squeamishness a bit endearing. But you straighten your posture and plaster on a reassuring look to your face.

“I understand that it’s not for everyone,” You respond, a comforting tone to your voice. “But getting hands-on experience is really valuable. It’s one thing to see it in a book, but actually being able to identify the structures in real life makes a big difference in how you understand the material.”

Jun still looks apprehensive, but your words bring a sparkle of determination to his eyes. The idea of cutting into something that used to be alive still makes his stomach turn and the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, but he knows that you’re right. When are you not right?

“It just feels illegal,” Jun admits uneasily, a shudder running through him at the thought. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“That’s what I’m here for, remember?” You lightly nudge him in the arm with your elbow, attempting to lighten the mood. “We’re partners, after all.”

“Yeah, but…” There’s some hesitation, his gaze dropping down to his shoes. He lowers his voice as he speaks, “I want to show you that I’m capable of doing something…”

“Then we’ll start off slow, make you become familiar with everything,” You reason gently. “I know you’re not the only one who feels queasy by it, but you’ll have to face it. Facing your fears can help in conquering them, you know.”

The corners of Jun’s lips tug up at that, mainly from the fact that you’re able to reassure him this effortlessly. He can’t tell if it’s exactly your words that eases up his nerves or if it’s simply your presence here with him right now thawing away the ice of his fears. Whatever it is, all he can really say is he likes knowing that you genuinely care.

And he likes knowing that you’re right next to him too.

“If I freak out,” he starts. “You’ll promise to help me out?”

Your lips draw into a thin line, a certain playfulness softening the features of your face.

“No promises, but𑁋”

“Hey!”

“Study what we discussed today and then I’ll consider it.” There’s still a twinge of tease to your words, but the edges are roughened with a touch of sincerity.

Jun just grins. How could anyone ever make up ridiculous rumours about you?

“Good game, man. Same time again next Saturday?”

Jun huffs out a winded breath, dabbing at the sweat that clings to his forehead with the edge of his shirt before taking a long chug out of the water bottle that Wonwoo tosses over to him.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then,” he replies exhaustedly, taking another tip of water, feeling his muscles aching from the game.

As his friends leave the basketball court, he starts to retrieve his own belongings, slinging his backpack and hoodie over his shoulder and starting his walk towards the bus stop so he could go back home. The sun has completely set at this point, the night sky now blanketing the city in a cool, comfortable darkness. The breeze that floats through the air relieves some of the tension in his body, cooling his skin after the intense game. Jun walks slowly, taking his time on the way to the bus stop, simply savouring the peacefulness of the evening.

He considers getting food for himself𑁋there’s a small convenience store that he spots at the corner of his eye, and his stomach rumbles at the thought.

He changes direction and heads toward the store, the faint jingling of the door chime greeting him as he steps inside. The store is a cozy, cluttered space with a mix of snacks, drinks, and other essentials. He decides on grabbing a cold drink and some instant ramen that he can heat up when he gets home. And after purchasing, he heads back outside and continues his way to the bus stop.

Tapping his bus card on the scanner, Jun makes his way toward the back of the bus and settles into a seat closest to the window, the seat right next to him vacant. The bus was mostly empty, but everyone else was spread out in their own seats either dozing off, listening to music, or staring out the window. It’s quite nice, he must say.

The sounds of him crumpling his bag fills the still air of the bus as he waits for the bus to move, but the hissing of the doors opening perks his attention up.

Out of all things, he certainly never expected to see the sight of you breathlessly climbing onto the bus, muttering apologies towards the bus driver as you scramble for your bus card in your wallet. Your backpack is about to slip off your shoulder, cheeks flushed from assuming all the running you did to get here, and a mask of tiredness that you wear on your face that isn’t hard to notice. Were you at campus? It’s almost ten at night.

And out of all things, he didn’t expect for you to come over to him among the many empty seats in the bus.

“Hey,” You greet him breathlessly, glancing down at the empty seat next to him. “Are you fine with me sitting here?”

Jun blinks, before speedily adjusting himself, forcing his body more into the seat so you would have all the room that you wanted. He gives you a nod.

Smiling faintly, you sit down right next to him, shoulder brushing against his. You settle your backpack on your lap and lean back a bit, finally allowing yourself to relax. The bus lurches, beginning to move forward. Jun lets his eyes wash over you.

“Did… you just come from campus?” he asks.

You laugh awkwardly at that. “Yeah, I… I was studying.”

“You study this late at night on campus?”

“I do.” It’s a bit funny admitting that, you don’t know why. “Sorta lost track of time, I guess.”

Jun keeps a fixed look on you, as if there was some anomaly within your words, but he knows you’re telling the truth. He just can’t believe that anyone would stay on campus so late, plus you look way too tired, like you could pass out any second. Some worry flows down his body.

“That sounds… exhausting,” he says, concern edging his voice. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You glance at him, eyes softening slightly. There’s something about him asking that tugs at your heart. “I’m fine. It’s not unusual for me to be up late studying. I’m used to it.”

Jun feels his fingers twitch around the bag in his grasp. “I see.”

You let your head fall slightly. “Thank you though.”

He faces you curiously. “For what?”

“Just…” For being here? For asking if I’m okay? “I don’t know. Thank you.”

He doesn’t know why you’re thanking him; if anything he should be the one thanking you.

“Oh.” A small smile appears on his lips. “You’re welcome.”

He feels weird. Not in a bad sense𑁋far from that, actually. It’s basically his first time ever interacting with you that isn’t on school grounds, and in a way right now, he isn’t the student and you’re not the TA. He’s simply Jun, and you are… well, you. You’re just two people sharing a late bus ride, and Jun is oddly grateful for the chance to see this side of you𑁋tired, a little vulnerable, but still yourself nonetheless.

The bus rumbles lightly. Silence swirling the air around the two of you. Jun glances at your profile, noticing how your eyes flutter shut for a brief second before snapping open again. His fingers twitch again, wanting to do something more𑁋maybe offer you his jacket, or ask if you need anything𑁋but he holds himself back.

The thought of pushing himself to exhaustion like that feels foreign. But he knows you well enough𑁋or at least, he’s seen you enough𑁋to know you’re driven, always working hard, sometimes too hard. He doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s okay to slow down.

“Y/N?” he calls out quietly.

You face him with a cute, sleepy look. “Hm?”

“You’re falling asleep.”

You giggle lazily at that, the sound unguarded and relaxed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. “You can close your eyes. When’s your stop?”

Gazing at the window for a few moments, you take note of the familiar surroundings that the bus passes by. “It should be the next one.”

Before you can settle back into the seat, Jun quickly adds, suddenly feeling brave, “You can… lean on my shoulder if you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, then give him a drowsy, grateful smile. “I think I’d like that.”

With a sigh, you allow your head to rest against his shoulder, and Jun could only imagine how uncomfortable his own shoulder might be compared to a pillow, but he doesn’t mind, and neither do you as well𑁋at least he thinks you don’t.

Your eyes are closed when Jun leans down to sneak a glance at your face, your features softened with exhaustion. There’s the faintest sight of a smile to your lips, and it makes his own curve up slightly too. His heart stirs in his chest, all while attempting to fully compose himself so you wouldn’t be disturbed.

As his eyes drift back outside, he leans his own head on the window, watching the cityscape pass by. There’s fatigue crawling up his body too, but he forces himself to stay awake so that he knows when your stop is approaching. He casts glimpses down to you to make sure you’re still comfortable, but every time he looks at you, his heart seems to do a little jump, a little flutter in his chest.

Jun knows he shouldn’t hope for anything more than this moment, knows he shouldn’t let himself fall into dreams of what-ifs, but he can’t help it. Admitting to himself that he likes you is bizarre, almost too bold for him to fully accept. Yet here you are, leaning against him, breathing softly in your dazed state as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe, just maybe, he thinks, it could be.

You could tell there was something off about Jun today, and it seems to bother you a little more than you expect.

He just didn’t seem to be… paying attention. You would explain something to him, and he’d reply with a small hum of acknowledgment before drifting off into a bit of a daydreaming state. Perhaps his mind was clouded and it wasn’t your place to ask, or maybe he was just tired. Regardless, you knew that it wouldn’t get either of you progress through this tutoring session, especially when you’re trying to instruct him about what to expect for the dissections.

“Jun?” You snap your finger in front of his face, and he immediately perks up. “You got all that down?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, the probe…” He trails off, looking a bit lost. “Uh, can you repeat it?”

“The probe is used to explore and identify different anatomical structures,” You explain slowly. “But remember to be careful with it. Tissues are very delicate, so one wrong move could cause damage.”

You watch quietly as he writes down the notes, his head resting on his as if he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I saw you fall asleep today in class.”

Jun looks back up at you, eyes widening as if what he had done was some sort of crime. He suddenly appears more awake than ever.

“Crap, I… I’m sorry,” he mutters in apology, face flushing with embarrassment. “I knew you were lecturing since Professor Lee wasn’t here today, but I just… I don’t know. I couldn’t keep my eyes open that well. I’m really sorry.”

He could only assume the worst𑁋that you’re mad at him for falling asleep, when in reality he had stayed up late the night before to review over the material the two of you have covered so far during your sessions. But when your face softens into a look of understanding, he seems to relax. Just slightly.

“Jun, it’s fine, really. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” You reassure him gently. “Trust me, you’re not in trouble and I’m not mad.”

He swallows down the lump in your throat. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Like really sure?”

“One thousand percent.”

“I’m not convinced.” A sly grin spreads across Jun’s face. What a dork.

“Unfunny,” You huff, before taking a seat right next to him and flipping through the pages in your lesson plan.

Once again, Jun props an elbow on the table and leans his head on his hand, a playful smirk lingering on his face as he watches you. You feel his eyes on you.

“It sort of gave me a little glimpse into your life, you know.”

You glance up, intrigued. “Yeah? And what did you take from that?”

“That… I really cannot and will never be on your level of studying,” Jun admits sheepishly. He seems to crawl into himself a bit more as he continues hesitantly, “and, uh, made me admire you a little bit more too.”

You freeze at that, pausing mid-flipping through a page in your planner as his words float through the air. Admire… you? It wasn’t something you ever anticipated hearing from him𑁋ever anticipated to see him this forward𑁋especially not today when he seemed so out of it.

You clear your throat softly, trying to act nonchalant. “You admire me?”

Jun chuckles softly, the sound a little awkward as he tries to ease the tension. “Well, who wouldn’t?”

He’s probably digging himself into a bit of a hole right now, perhaps overstepping a small boundary of what was supposed to be just a casual tutoring session. But really, despite these sessions honestly really helping with understanding the material, he’s mainly here because… well… he gets to spend time with you.

“Sorry, I-I mean… I made this weird, didn’t I?” Jun swiftly corrects himself, face flushing deeper with each word that leaves him. “I guess I just want to thank you for pushing me to do better. I’ve always… kind of admired that about you for a while now.”

Even you momentarily forget what you wanted to discuss with him for the session, a surge of warmth shooting through your body. The only sounds you could hear right now are the branches outside hitting the window from the wind and the ticking of the clock on the wall. The room was quiet, filled with an awkward, yet comfortable tension that neither of you seemed to know how to break.

“I’m glad to hear that,” You tell him. “It means a lot that you feel that way.”

Relief and apprehension hugs around Jun, as if unsure whether he should say anything more or go back to tutoring. But he thinks he’s already said enough𑁋at this point his tired brain nearly made him confess his feelings, and that would be utterly stupid of him.

“But you should really learn how to rest,” he suddenly says firmly.

You laugh that off way too easily. “You know that I can’t𑁋”

“I know, but… come on, just rest for a little bit,” Jun insists. “At least for a few minutes.”

“You’re seriously telling me to rest while I’m here to tutor you?” You lift a brow, almost teasingly.

The way he only nods and gazes at you with pleading eyes almost resembling a cat stretching out for attention makes it almost impossible to resist. And you would hate to admit that yeah, maybe you do push yourself way too much, that all the strenuous effort you put into studying is now starting to take a noticeable toll on you. At the moment, rest does sound really nice.

“My friends and I are planning a hangout this weekend at my place, if you’d like to join us. You… You don’t have to if you don’t want to, or if you’re not into that kind of stuff,” Jun informs you sheepishly. “It’s not a lot of us too, but if you ever want to just… unwind, you know, you could stop by. We aren’t doing anything too wild, just a chill get-together. They’re all cool, I swear.”

You consider his offer. Again, you were never much of a party person nor ever gave a crap about that sort of stuff, but the thought of taking a break from your routine is a bit... enticing, to say the least.

“I’ll think about it. Thank you,” You say with a grateful smile, finally giving in. “Give me a few minutes to tidy up?”

Jun watches for a few moments as you quickly organise through your notes and gather up the loose papers that have accumulated on the table, standing up and heading to the front of the lecture hall to put away the rest of the materials that you won’t need for the session.

As he waits for you to finish, Jun sets aside his own stuff, folds his arms and places them on the table, slowly guiding his head to rest on top. He closes his eyes, taking advantage of the opportunity to rest as much as his body craves.

By the time you get back, you catch a glimpse of Jun’s relaxed form in his seat, and your heart does a little flip in your chest. The corners of your lips tug up unknowingly into a soft smile as you settle into the seat cautiously next to him, feeling a wave of exhaustion hitting you all at once.

It’s rare that you let yourself go these days, but with Jun here, it seems easier to let your guard down, even for just a few minutes.

Without much thought you let your head rest gently on your own arms, finding yourself staring at the front lecture hall, before ultimately, moving your head so that you were facing Jun. You’ve never seen him this close before, drawn into his features for a moment or two𑁋over his closed eyes and the small moles that pepper his cheek and one particular spot above his lips, which were curled up slightly. Contentment warms you like a blanket as you let your eyes drift to a close.

Unbeknownst to you, Jun slowly peeks his eyes open, being met with the sight of you resting so peacefully and comfortably beside him. A sense of calm takes over the vast lecture hall as he simply watches you, even feeling brave enough to lightly brush a strand of hair away from your face with his finger, before quickly pulling back when he catches your nose scrunching a little in your sleep. His heart swells even more.

He decides on settling back into his own arms, taking one last glance at you before drifting back into light sleep.

“You’re way too smiley to be going to a tutoring session,” Chan points out as he catches Jun about to leave. “Isn’t it like your third time alone this week? Last week you went twice…”

Jun snorts annoyedly at that. “Yeah, and?”

“We’re just saying you’re way too happy to be going to tutoring, man,” Soonyoung continues on, an edge of suspicion to his words. “Did you find out the meaning of life? Figure out why our bodies cause us to shit and piss or why the earth goes around the sun?”

“I’d be happy to answer that question if you’re curious,” Jun states wryly.

Soonyoung scrunches his face and shakes his head. “Please don’t.”

His roommate only observes as Jun stuffs his feet into his Converse, which looked to be at the end of its life. Minghao comes out moments later, toothbrush in his mouth with bits of foam to the corners of his lips. Along with Soonyoung and Chan, the three of them watch as Jun finishes lacing up his shoes, his good mood unwavering.

“I think I have an answer to that question,” Minghao says, voice somewhat muffled.

Soonyoung faces the younger boy. “The piss or the earth one?”

“He has a crush,” Minghao states flatly, a subtle smirk creeping onto his face despite the toothbrush still dangling from his lips.

“A crush?” Soonyoung’s eyes widen as he exchanges a glance with Chan, the two of them looking like they were about to combust any second. “A crush on that scary TA?”

“They’re not scary!” Jun protests, face reddening hearing his own loud voice, secretly hoping to make some sort of quick escape before his friends could pry any further into his dry love life, but he knows he won’t be able to get them off his ass. “So what if I have a crush on them?”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops to the floor at that, before bursting into laughter. “‘So what’? You’re totally into them!” He starts bouncing on his toes, a grin stretching across his face. “You’re in loooove with the scary TA! This is gold.”

Jun could seriously strangle all of his roommates right now. He runs a hand through his hair and glances at the door, regretting opening his mouth. Was he seriously that obvious? “You guys are blowing this way out of proportion.”

“Bro, you’re blushing so hard right now,” Chan chimes in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

Minghao chuckles, finally pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth. “It’s obvious. You don’t study like that for just anyone.”

Jun’s face turns an even deeper shade of red. “I𑁋okay, fine! Maybe I like them a little bit, but it’s not a big deal! I’m just trying to do well in class. Now, can I leave?”

It takes one last torturous minute of teasing before Jun shoots his roommates with annoyed looks and heads out of the apartment.

Normally at nine o’clock, you would most likely be in the campus library studying until your eyes go dry, or in your own place with textbooks sprawled over your bed. But this time, you find yourself right in front of the address Jun sent you𑁋his address, specifically.

You’d spent the past few days thinking about his invitation, and despite some initial hesitation, you may be looking forward to this little break from your routine. Because according to Jun from a text he sent you the night before along with the address: it’s what you deserve.

Your heart still does a little jump when you think about it still.

[09:08 | y/n] Hey Jun! I’m here by the way

Your phone vibrates right away.

[09:09 | just jun] WHAT omg

[09:09 | just jun] sorry i’m coming out right now!!!

There’s a figure that emerges from a door, waving to you from above. You give out a small wave as you start to make yourself comfortable on the front steps of the building. Jun hurries down the stairs, looking both relieved and a bit flustered as he reaches you.

“Hey, I…” His eyes roam over you from head-to-toe. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

You offer a tentative smile. “Well, I figured, you know? Thought it would be nice to stop by for a little bit. Plus you live closer than I thought.”

Jun’s face brightens, the relief in his own grin oozing its way into your heart, and he gestures for you to follow him back to his place.

Just as he promised, the gathering was quite small. Jun introduces you to his roommates𑁋Minghao, Soonyoung, and Chan are their names (Soonyoung and Chan look oddly more excited to see you, for some reason)𑁋and two others in his year. You recognise Wonwoo, who is a TA from the English department, and the other is Jihoon, whose name had been tossed around quite frequently during your time in university.

Overall, the vibes have been quite laid-back, and the apartment has been warm and inviting so far.

“Do you want something to drink?” Jun asks as he leads you towards the kitchen, where some food and snacks were sprawled across the counter. “There’s water, soda, and um… some alcohol too.”

Your eyes roam over the assortment on the counter, gaze lingering on the bottles of alcohol. For some reason the idea of relaxing and letting loose feels particularly appealing tonight, and you can hardly remember the last time you had a proper drink of… anything.

“I’ll take some alcohol,” You answer, suddenly feeling a bit adventurous; it even surprises Jun.

Jun pulls one of the bottles and pours you a generous amount before handing it to you, the tips of his fingers brushing against yours as you find yourself settling down in a seat near Wonwoo and Jihoon.

Soonyoung and Chan come into view a few minutes later, and they’re still looking at you as if you’ve come in with a second head.

“You’re not scary,” Chan claims randomly, scanning you up and down with his eyes closely.

You lift a brow and look behind you, thinking he was talking to someone, before turning back to him.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “Scary?”

Soonyoung takes a sip of his own drink before saying, “Yeah, dude, I mean… There used to be a lot of rumours spread about you being like, mean and stuff, you know? I’m talking about people saying you were super strict, always serious, and that if anyone messed up in class, you’d roast them alive.”

You almost want to laugh at that. Sure, you’ve heard plenty of those rumours before and never really let it get to you, or had the time to straight up dismiss them, but you didn’t think people were still clinging onto those thoughts nowadays.

“Did you expect me to show up with devil horns and a pitchfork?" You joke, finally allowing yourself to laugh, shaking your cup in amusement. “Wow, I didn’t realise I was so terrifying. Maybe I should start living up to it now.”

Soonyoung lets out a hearty laugh, almost choking on his drink. “Please, no! We’re all just barely surviving as it is.”

“Nah, you’re good as you are. If anything I’m glad to see that the stuff people have said aren’t true,” Chan adds in.

An exaggerated gasp leaves Soonyoung. “Oh my, God, wait! Does this mean we’re friends now?” His excitement is so over-the-top that you can’t help but laugh too.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You tease with a faint smirk, shrugging. “If you behave.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Soonyoung declares, grinning ear to ear as Chan gives him an enthusiastic high five. His face is already turning the slightest bit of red from the alcohol. “Jun, you’re in good hands!”

In the kitchen, you catch Jun gazing over his shoulder and towards his friends. And when his eyes land on you, he shoots you a brief smile before quickly taking his eyes away, but the tips of his ears being red doesn’t go unnoticed when he turns away.

As the night continues, you find yourself letting loose, more than you’ve ever done recently. You find yourself easily getting along with the lively atmosphere of Jun and all of his friends. You don’t really know how many drinks you’ve taken at this point in time, how many refills you’ve been offered, but the buzz you feel is pleasant and warm, your inhibitions slowly but surely melting away. Laughter tumbles out of you as if it was the most natural thing in the world, almost to the point you feel your chest physically ache.

Occasionally, from the side, Jun quietly watches you. He can feel his own mood lifting with every smile that finds its way on your face. It’s almost as if he’s looking at a completely different person𑁋someone entirely the opposite from the studious TA he’s been used to this entire time.

But the second he sees you stumble slightly when you come out from a bathroom break, a pang of worry hits him.

“You okay?” he asks you when you nearly run into him, making him circle his arms around you out of habit in case you might fall. However, you’re somehow so close to him that he can feel the warmth of you through his clothes. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re grinning lazily up at him, the effects of the alcohol clearly taking their toll.

“Oh, doing lovely, um…” You assure him, voice wobbly as you clear your throat. “The alcohol was awesome. I haven’t… I haven’t drank like this in such a long time. It feels sooooo nice.”

You nearly stumble into him again as you attempt to move past him, and he’s quick as the Flash to grab you by the shoulders, his hands squeezing tightly around your forearm.

“I think you should sit down, Y/N.”

“Bu-But I don’t want to!”

A playful pout spreads across your face as he carefully leads you back to the quiet kitchen, away from whatever version of charades the others have put on in the middle of the living room.

“You’ve drank too much,” Jun points out worriedly. “Do you want me to take you home? I can walk𑁋”

“What are you? My… my boss or something? I’m supposed to be the one in control here! I’m… I’m the one making the decisions, not you!” You protest, a weak, half-hearted attempt at establishing your authority as you knead the fabric of his shirt into your fists.

Did you have to be so cute when you’re drunk? Though Jun is fast to shake those thoughts away and focus more on making sure you’re okay, having to bite the bottom of his lip to conceal an incoming, endearing grin at your silly antics.

“Come on, let me get you some water and then I’ll take you home, okay?” Jun offers, and you give him a tight-lipped smile.

“But I am home,” You slur lowly, circling a finger in front of his face, close enough you may jab him in the eye. “I’m home here… with you…”

Jun seriously doesn’t know how he would be able to dismiss those words that left your mouth, even in your inebriated state. It doesn’t help that you’re also looking up at him with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile, like the world is spinning and yet he’s the only one keeping you steady.

“Let’s go. I’m taking you home,” Jun says as he snatches up a bottle of water and slowly coaxes you towards the door, not before announcing to his friends as well, who all seem too drunk to even care anyway.

The second the cool air meets your skin and the cold water flows down your throat, you seem a little more lucid, but not entirely. You still clung an arm around Jun’s own arm, which was hanging loosely and awkwardly to the side, your steps a bit uneven as you walk down the street together.

Jun holds his breath every time your body knocks into his side, afraid you might lose balance, but you somehow manage to stay upright𑁋barely. The warmth of your arm wrapped around his doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey, Y/N𑁋”

“Shhhhh,” You suddenly hiss, making Jun shut his mouth. “You’re too loud.”

Jun hangs his head down in slight guilt. “Sorry.”

“Hmm, isokay,” You mutter, tightening a grip on his and nearly causing Jun himself to stumble. “You know, you’re always so… nice. It’s kinda weird.”

Jun tilts his head, somewhat confused by your drunken logic. He glances at you, catching the way your cheeks are shaded with a rosy hue and the warmness to your hazy eyes.

“Weird?” he repeats curiously.

“Yeah…” You draw out the word clumsily, shifting your eyes towards him, gaze lingering on him a little longer than usual. “It’s like you’re not real sometimes.”

“You’re holding onto me.” Jun shakes his arm, and you still carry a tight grip on his arm, fingers digging lightly into the material of his sleeve. “I think I’m very real.”

“I know,” You mumble, scrunching your nose endearingly, as if you still don't believe him. “But you barely know me.”

There’s a few moments of contemplation that passes by between the two of you. Your steps have somehow managed to sync with each other, the streetlights above casting down a soft glow on the pavement below, and the quiet night feels oddly… intimate.

“Maybe.” Jun shrugs, voice low and soft. “But I like what I know so far.”

Now it’s your turn to grow silent, a wave of realisation cutting through your inebriated thoughts. Your grip goes from loose to tight on Jun’s arm, your chest and heart feeling heavier than it did moments ago, and it certainly was not because of the alcohol.

Your mind is practically aching with all these thoughts, aching with the urge to do something about it, and the way Jun’s side profile is illuminated under the streetlight doesn’t help the situation at all.

“It’s funny, because I… I would see you come into class. And…” You let out a giggle. “I don’t know. My first thought was always that you were cute. Hmm, maybe dreamy too? Yeah, dreamy… That’s a silly word.”

Before Jun can say anything to that, the words seem to tumble out of you.

“...I’d see you fall asleep in the back of the class, or come late to lecture, and I’d think you were cute seeing you so panicked… And when you asked me to tutor you, I was so happy. It’s just𑁋I-I don’t know.” A brief pause, before you continue, “Is this what liking someone is?”

Jun doesn’t notice how much his steps have faltered, his voice and own words getting caught somewhere between his throat and his heart. There’s a mix of panic, disbelief, and excitement flowing through him, almost too much he can’t quite process going from emotion to the other. However, how the hell does he respond when the person he’s been developing feelings for says something like that so openly?

“Shit, I’ve… I’ve made this weird, haven’t I?” You give yourself a light facepalm, before carding a hand through your hair. A yawn starts to leave you. “I’m just all over the place right now, I’m sorry…”

Jun wants to say something, needs to say something, but he stumbles over his words. “I… Y/N, I𑁋”

Before he can finish his sentence, you trip slightly, and he instinctively pulls you closer, catching you with both hands. A wholehearted round of laughter tumbles out of you, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, and for a split second, everything feels still. His heart races faster than ever.

He lets you take the lead on the way back to your apartment complex, feeling as if he had been walking on eggshells the entire time. The buzz of the alcohol running its laps through you has seemed to soften, and if anything, you’re more than ready to sink into your bed for the night. Although there’s comfortable quietness in the air now, Jun can’t stop replaying all the words you’ve said to him tonight alone.

Before he can fully process everything, you come to an abrupt stop just outside your building, turning to look at him.

You stare at him for a moment, eyes roaming over his face as if you’re trying to commit everything to memory. Then, without thinking, you step up to him and press a kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, fleeting, the gesture so unexpected it sends a rush of heat flooding up his neck and straight to the tips of his ears. He’s practically on fire, at this point.

When you pull back, there’s a bashful smile playing at your lips. “Goodnight, Jun.”

You don’t think you can ever look at Jun in the eyes without wanting to sink into the ground, because each time he comes into view, it reminds you of the absolute idiot you put on show for him last weekend. It’s harder to pay attention when your hands seem to touch every given opportunity. You just have to make it through one last tutoring session before the big dissections later that week.

“So, um, we’ll use the forceps to clamp and separate through the tissues,” Jun explains, pointing towards the dissection guide displayed on the table, still feeling a tad bit queasy at the thought of it, even if the dissection pan was empty. “Then the scalpel will be used to cut on the incision lines we marked.”

“That’s right. You got it,” You say with a small smile, briefly casting a glance towards him, watching the way he adjusts the goggles on his face.

The two of you decided on running through the dissection for practice, focusing instead on the procedural steps and techniques. It’s been smooth-sailing so far𑁋Jun looks more confident and comfortable as he walks through each step𑁋and you’re positive that the actual lab will go well.

On the other hand, you both can’t deny the awkwardness thickening through the room, drifting within the crevices of even the most subtle interactions.

“Alright, so once we’ve done that, we’ll… uh, we’ll…” Jun’s voice trails off as he fumbles slightly with the scalpel, trying to decide between placing it on the tray or handing it to you, his gloved fingers brushing against yours again as you grab it from him.

“Sorry,” You both blurt out at the same time, voices mixing into one.

As you both share an embarrassed laugh, a few moments of silence follows. It seems to dissipate the tension in the air. Some of it, at least.

Jun clears his throat. “Y/N, I𑁋”

“It’s fine,” You assure calmly. “Let’s just keep going.”

“I… Okay.” His shoulders slump in a pit of defeat as he fixes his attention back down towards the task at hand. “Can you, uh… pass me the probe?”

You nod and hand it over to him, trying to attentively listen as he explains the function of the tool and how it would be used for the lab, adding any feedback along the way. You’re surprised at how easily you fall back into a comfortable rhythm, as if the moments from earlier had ceased to exist, as if that night and your stupidity didn’t happen, but only you both know about the unacknowledged elephant in the room.

The rest of the practice goes by without any more mishaps. The next thing you know, you’re pulling off your gloves and taking off your safety goggles as Jun sets the dissection tray away. By the time he returns, he’s surprised to see you already grabbing your belongings like you’re ready to leave.

Jun swallows down the nervous lump lodged in his throat. “Y/N, wait.”

You pause in the middle of stuffing some notebooks inside your backpack, already feeling the apprehension snaking up your spine as you face him.

“Can… Can we talk?” Jun asks hesitantly.

A sigh leaves you. “Look, that was really dumb of me, I get it. I shouldn’t have… kissed you on the cheek like that and said all those weird things. It was impulsive and I was drunk. I’m sorry, I should’ve known my limits, or maybe just have not come at all𑁋”

“I was really happy that you came,” Jun interrupts, a voice almost too loud in the quiet, empty lab room. He rubs his gloved hands together nervously. “And, um, the kiss... I liked it. It was, well… kind of nice.”

You really can’t tell if his words are making you feel any better or worse, if the hesitation on his side makes you want to sink more into the ground or feel a bit of hope. Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the warmth growing in your face as your fingers tighten around the strap of your backpack.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like you too, and I wanted to finally tell you that before you left my place. But then things got a little messy and it was a bit overwhelming, so I wanted to take you home because you looked like you were about to𑁋”

“Jun, just…” You chime in ruefully, clearly not wanting to relive your stupidity. “Go back a little. You like me too?”

Jun takes in a deep, slow breath.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “Holy shit. I can’t believe I said that.”

The laughs that leave you two sound more freeing in a way, more effortless, like the thick, heavy fog that settled around the room has been lifted, and for the first time in days, everything is more clearer.

The carefree grin that Jun catches to your features nearly forces him to step up towards you, but he holds back. Instead, he thinks the sight of you looking so naturally happy is something he could cherish for a very, very long time.

“So, uh…” he starts, shooting a sheepish glance down at his shoes before meeting your gaze once more. “We’re okay?”

You only nod.

“We’re okay,” You confirm softly. “Maybe more than that.”

As you finish getting ready to leave, you turn back to Jun, who nearly drops the dissection pan in his hands.

“I have a meeting to go to right now,” You tell him. “But afterwards, I could… text you?”

His face brightens expectantly, attempting to keep the excitement coursing through him at bay. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Um… have a good meeting.”

He’s cute. And silly. And weird. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Before you finally leave the lab room, you take a leap of faith and turn back around, heading straight towards Jun. He’s in the middle of taking off his goggles when you find yourself standing back in front of him, and a mischievous grin etches across your face. Jun takes a few steps back, his ass nearly stumbling into the table behind him.

“One more thing.” You reach up and to gently tug the goggles off his face, and the contact of your fingers to his hair has Jun bracing himself for doomsday. Your breath fans against his skin for a moment, and when you pull away, you’re holding up the goggles towards him. “You were wearing these upside down the entire time.”

Jun chokes on air, and you let out a giggle.

Shit.

Jun cannot focus right now.

The goggles feel uncomfortable on his face, the gloves make his skin feel clammy, the uncomfortable, pungent smell of formaldehyde fills the lab room and his nostrils. Not to mention that there’s a goddamn sheep brain sitting on the metal pan in front of him.

Perhaps he can call it quits now𑁋take the zero for the lab and run for the hills, drop out of university, become a nomad in the countryside and never have to touch any sort of assignment again. In his mind right before the dissection starts, it really doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all…

“Jun?”

He snaps his eyes back at you. You’re wearing your own pair of gloves and goggles, positioning the dissection tools on the table, eyebrows raised in worry.

“Are you good? We’re about to start,” You tell him. “You look a little pale.”

He blinks a few times, trying to compose and mentally ready himself, acting like he hasn’t just spent the last few minutes imagining an escape plan abandoning all forms of education. “Yeah, I… I’m good.”

“You good to start?” You ask, and the concern he senses in your voice makes his heart soften. “Or do you want me to take over first?’

There’s that offer again, the one he knows he should probably accept for the sake of his sanity, but there’s also a part of him that doesn’t want to back out now. Not when he’s finally managed to clear the air between the two of you, when things are more comfortable than they’ve been in weeks.

Jun exhales, shaking the tenseness out of his body. This is it. Glancing around the room, he notices that other students have already started their dissections with ease. He looks down at the sheep brain again, feeling that queasiness rising, but just your presence right next to him seems to settle down his nerves way more than it should.

He steels himself, trying to cling to that feeling instead of the growing discomfort in his stomach. He can do this. It’s just a brain. A sheep brain, he reminds himself, as if that makes it any better.

Letting out one last breath for good measure, he reaches for the scalpel.

“I’m good,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Let’s do this.”

His hand quivers as he leans in towards the sheep brain, its colour slightly pinkish and grey. His nose crinkles the closer he gets to it, and the second he lightly grazes the scalpel along the surface of the brain, he can’t help but wince. At his side, he feels your shoulder make contact with his, and helps ground him a little more.

Narrowing his eyes, he focuses on making a precise incision straight down the middle of the brain𑁋the medial longitudinal fissure, he recalls𑁋his hand trembling slightly as he draws the scalpel down. The smell of formaldehyde grows stronger as he slices through the tissue, and the somewhat gelatinous texture that the brain has is incredibly off-putting.

When he finally finishes, you help part the brain in half, and Jun’s eyes widen in awe at how visible the structures are.

“You did pretty well.” You send an encouraging smile Jun’s way, taking the probe in your hand and motioning towards the exposed structures. “See? Look at that. You can see all the parts clearly.”

Jun takes a leap of faith and points to a particular part. “That’s… the thalamus there, right? And the hypothalamus is right below it.”

You nod proudly. “You got it. And this section right here?”

“The… pons? And then, uh… Oh! The medulla oblongata. Then the spinal cord starts beneath it.”

“Yep. Here?”

“The cerebellum!”

Your own heart seems to swell with every step up his confidence goes, whatever discomfort he was initially feeling begins to be melted away under the warmth of your praise. You bring your eyes up from the brain, letting it roam over his side profile, taking in the way the goggles make his hair stick out in odd angles, the curve of his jaw as he tilts his head slightly, brows furrowed in concentration.

As Jun pinpoints another structure on the brain, he faces toward you for confirmation, only to be met with your eyes already on him. He opens his mouth to say something, before slowly shutting it, and for a split second, he forgets about the question he was about to ask, the lab, everything else.

“Did I get it right?” Jun questions, feeling the confidence flowing through him falter under your thoughtful expression. “This is the sulcus? And the gyrus…”

You lower your attention back down to the sheep brain, realising he was pointing to a spot with the probe.

“Hm, just…” You start, leaning in a bit closer to examine where he’s pointing to. With a sly smirk, you reach over to grasp his wrist lightly, slowly guiding his hand more accurately with the probe. Your warmth slips teasingly under his skin. “The sulcus is the little groove right here, and the gyrus is the ridge surrounding it. See it?”

Jun swears you’re doing this on purpose, and whatever it is, it’s working.

“Got it,” he mumbles, hoping you won’t be able to see the flush to his cheeks under the goggles. His eyes flicker between the brain and your face, noting the playful glint in your pupils that certainly isn’t from the fluorescent lighting of the lab room. “I see it now. Thanks.”

You let go of his wrist, still wearing that mischievous look at your lips, though it fades into something more genuine now. “You’re doing good, you know.”

Relief hits him from your words. He does feel way more comfortable, the entire lab becoming less daunting all because you were simply right here next to him. His mind momentarily flashes back to all what you’ve done for him𑁋from the tutoring, to the way you’ve been nothing but supportive and patient with him, before it all circles back to the mutual fondness blooming its way within the crevices of your hearts together.

He likes you, and you like him back. Jun still has no idea how this came to be, because he used to think he had no such chance with you. Yet now, he has the freedom to think about where he wants to take you on your first date.

The rest of the dissection goes by with ease. Slowly but surely, other students begin to clean up their workspace and submit their lab reports to Professor Lee, their tasks winding down as the lab session comes to a close. The lab starts to empty out as the minutes tick by, and it isn’t long until there’s just a few more students left𑁋you and Jun included.

“Here, I’ll finish up here,” You tell him, taking the brain into your hands without hesitation and placing it into a sealed bag for disposal later on. Then you take the dissection tools into your hands and walk off towards the sink to wash them, leaving Jun hanging in a bit of a daze.

“I… What can I do then?” he asks, wanting to contribute still.

You turn back to him, humming in contemplation.

“Let’s see… Disinfect the table, take off your gloves and goggles, and then…” Your lips quirk up again. “Just stand there and look cute. I’ll handle the rest.”

The tips of his ears flush with heat as you casually sidle away from him and towards the sink. Jun shakes away the flutters in his stomach, though the corners of his lips tugs upwards as he works on cleaning up the table.

Jun is already waiting by the door with his backpack on his shoulders as you finish up some tasks with Professor Lee. Once you get the signal that you’re free to leave, Jun feels the excitement pool down to his feet, a sense of accomplishment knowing that he was able to get through the one lab he dreaded most, and finished the class with a passing grade.

As you both exit the building, Jun pauses in his place, watching you continue to walk a bit without him.

“I owe you a date, you know,” he calls out to you with determination, though a pinch of nervousness still lingers.

You turn back to him curiously, and the way the sun catches on your face makes you appear more radiant above anything else. “A date, you say?”

“Yeah, I…” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Before all of this, I told you I would owe you something for helping me, and well…” He lets his shoulder relax. “I want to take you on a date.”

Jun watches the way a bunch of emotions seem to morph among your face. Even with knowing how you feel for him, he still braces himself for a different kind of response.

Biting at the bottom of your lip, you step back up to him, and before he could fully process what’s happening, you answer him with a quick, affectionate kiss to his cheek. Right at the corner of his lips, to be specific. Then you reach down and grip his wrist, tugging him gently towards you.

“You’re on,” You challenge, a playful sparkle to your eyes. “Let’s get going.”

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mintmatcha · 3 months ago

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Inevitable Things : chapter nine

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

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Toshinori sends you a text just as you’re walking back from your room.

-> Slways a sad friday without your reports. Hope things are good. THank you for keeping my company moving and for keeping the peace this weekend.

He ends the message with a little flexed bicep emoji-- his little sign for ‘keep fighting’.

A pang of something clangs around in your ribcage. You miss him too. Usually, it’d be strange to consider yourself close with a boss, but Toshinori is different; he’s kind, he’s earnest, he treats you well. His riches are used to improve the world, not line his own pocket-

There’s also a sour feeling that hits your gut. Your position on this trip is borrowed; Toshinori should be here, representing his company, just like he had every other year. You’re only here because he likes you- not because of merit or knowledge.

That only deepens your dread. No, you aren’t special or smart. You’re just a pity case, here because your boss is dying. And isn’t it selfish to pity yourself? Toshinori is the sick one.

By the time the elevator chimes open, you’re consumed by dread. You slide past the doors and next to the man in there, head tucked down to watch your shoes. They aren’t your silly red ones, but a brand new sensible black kitten heel-- a child’s choice in shoes.

“No hello?” The stranger says. “Thought we had a truce.”

You briefly look at the man, who’s turning your way, and then dip away, embarrassed; the man is cute, well put together, someone who you wouldn’t mind talking to-

-you realize he isn’t a stranger at all.

It’s a simple black suit, pressed a bit unevenly in the legs, but well fitted across his waist. Aizawa is wearing a dark emerald shirt with no tie, unbuttoned at the top. Even his hair is tidy and hydrated; it’s still wet from the shower, pulled into a tight low ponytail. For the first time maybe ever, he’s clean shaven as well, a little nick on his cheek from the kiss of razor, right under his silvered scar.

He looks good.

Like. Really good.

It’s a surprise and it also isn’t-- seems like you’re always lured in by a surprise Shouta sighting.

“I didn’t realize it was you in this… get up.” You shift your weight away from him. Does he even have cologne on? It’s not like you expected him to give a speech in his sweatshirt--- well, maybe you did. “I was-- I dunno. Thinking.”

He nods like he knows what that really means.

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not allowed to think?” you repeat. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

He shoots you a glare. “You didn’t even say hello to me-- that isn’t nice either. I figured our treaty was off.”

Ugh. He may have a point. Pretending is going to involve, well, actually pretending. You look him up and down, slapping on your fakest smile. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Aizawa grimaces as if you’ve slapped him, fingers pressed into his temple like you’ve caused the onset of a migraine. It takes him a moment to mumble out: “The feeling is mutual.”

“At least say it like you mean it,” you demand.

“The fact you are here is just the best.” he says, more enthusiastic than you’ve ever seen the man, but also clearly fake; his lips curls up to the left when he’s lying. He rubs little circles into his skin to help him through the pain of being a decent person. “I’m so grateful you get to watch me present and then report how I did back to my boss.”

Despite yourself, you smile, just a bit.

“That’ll do.”

“For you.” Aizawa repeats it. That's right: he's doing this for your comfort, not his own. That thought wriggles inside you and buries down like a worm.

“Do we need ground rules?” you ask. The elevator dings down, down, down-

“A weekend treaty was my idea, I don’t need stipulations,” Aizawa says, ruffling his hair. It smells like product, something expensive than Hizashi definitely forced upon him. “I can be civil without rules.”

“Then why are you never civil?” you shoot back, talking before you can think. The doors flick open and Aizawa walks out, giving you a bemused, yet annoying look.

“That’s a very pointed question,” he says over his shoulder. “You might be the one who needs ground rules.”

“Hey!”

Mic’s in the hall already when you two arrive. The place would be simply cavernous if it wasn’t filled to the gills with booths. The ceiling glimmers with chandeliers and the classic blue tiling, but the rest of the room is pretty standard-- almost underwhelming. The booth Hizashi’s set up is mild compared to the one’s surrounding it, which makes sense, you guess. It’s not like he could have wheeled a hospital bed into this hotel; just diagrams, brochures, and enough swag to lure even the least interested prospect into his arms. He’s unwrapping a lollipop when he notices you two approaching.

“Wow, wow-” He sizes you up with the candy. The bright red end shines in the light. Someone snags a piece of candy off of the table as they pass; despite the fact the hall isn’t officially open, there’s still a fair amount of people roaming. “Looking good, baby.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” It takes you a second to realize Aizawa’s kidding.

“You, obviously-” Hizashi says back to him. They both chuckle and it’s horrifying how they do it in the same way: low, rolling, completely un-serious. They really have known each other forever.

“Oh, before I forget-” The blonde spreads out a sticker and a proper name placard. “I grabbed name tags.”

Yours in handwritten in surprisingly nice writing, but Aizawa's is laminated and on a lanyard, his name and degree written in red bold lettering-

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you blurt out as he puts it on. Aizawa shifts his weight to his other leg uncomfortably. “Should I be calling you Dr. Aizawa?”

“No.” he dismisses. “It’s not medical-- It’s a PhD.”

“In Biomedical Engineering, so medical’s in the name, actually-”

Aizawa shoots Hizashi a glare. “You know what I mean. I’m not saving someone from a heart attack. All I do is sit on this damn computer and look at programs and numbers.” Aizawa takes a chair from the neighboring booth- a biotissue company- and drags it to behind the table before flopping down.

“You should look around, see what everyone's up to. If you just sit here with us you're just going to stress over your talk.” Hizashi waves him off. “Besides, me and babygirl have it handled.”

Aizawa hunches over in his seat as he drags out his laptop and a pen.

“I want to stress over my talk.” He taps the capped end of his pen against his teeth, the click audible over the din of the growing crowd. “I want to sit here and be miserable.”

Hizashi looks at you and waggles his finger beside his head in the ‘this guy’s crazy’ way. Yeah- obviously. You have to hide your giggle as someone walks up to your table and Hizashi launches into his spiel. It’s hard not to watch Aizawa out of the corner of your eye; he is, in fact, sitting down and stressing out. The man has pulled out a tiny laptop and balanced it on his lap, alternating between furiously typing and mashing the back button.

“You okay if he’s here?” Hizashi whispers. Honestly, you’re not thrilled; you had been hoping for a lighthearted day alone with your buddy--

But maybe it can still be a little fun.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say too loudly. “Aizawa and I are buddies.”

You're abusing his kindness for you by pushing him, you know that, but doesn't he deserve it? Just a bit? Aizawa sneers a smile from behind his screen, clearing unamused.

“Best ‘buddies,’” he says, flat enough you could drive across it.

Hizashi looks between you. Then, he does it again.

“Since when?”

----

The rest of the afternoon continues the same way. Swathes of doctors and investors visit you, half of which ask about Yagi. You tell them all that he’s a fighter. Most understand this means he’s doing poorly. Luckily, Hizashi handles most of the harder questions; it’s amazing to see him in his zone, smooth talking and pitching and just talking so quickly and professionally that you’re almost ready to buy a Prome product yourself. No wonder people have tried to poach him from the company. The customers Prome already has sing his praises and tell you about all the wonderful extra steps he’s taken for them.

You aren’t sure you’re truly nice enough to be a sales rep too.

Aizawa only greets a few people, seemingly ones he knows well or that are well known enough to give his full attention. The worried look never leaves his face, except when you chirp little niceties at each other.

There’s comfort to it, you find. It’s better than the hot and cold thing you had going on. That bubbling, seasick anger inside of you can be funneled into thinly veiled sarcasm without consequence, with the added benefit of Aizawa seeming to enjoy it as well.

“Great shirt by the way,” a passerby says. Aizawa looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape enough for a fly to fly into.

“Were they talking to me?”

They actually were, but you can’t let him know that.

“Of course, buddy,” you coo. “It’s a great shirt- did you put this outfit together?”

He gives you a sideways glance as he continues typing away without seeing the keyboard. “I’m forty-- who do you think picks out my clothes? My mother?”

You think he’s actually joking in good faith this time.

“Sesame, maybe.”

He is being silly. He’s even smiling now, a weird thing with too much teeth. “Yes. You’re right. My cats picked out my suit. How silly of me to not credit her for her work.” His tone is horribly flat, but there’s still some charm to it; honestly, with the way he’s carrying on, you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did trust a cat with his clothing.

“Well, tell Sesame that I think you look great.”

“Thank you.” He adjusts his cuffs, running his fingers down the cotton edge of his shirt.

“You two are so weird today,” the blonde whines. “But you aren’t killing each other, so-”

Hizashi sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Keep this up and I’ll buy dinner and drinks tonight-- Fuck, keep this up and I’ll plan your fucking wed-”

“Long time no see, gentlemen.”

A man, probably not much older than you, comes up to the table. He's seated in a wheelchair, rocking the wheels slightly back and forth. The stranger is exceptionally handsome: all wide smiles and broad shoulders, his black hair perfectly quaffed back and parted. The downturn of his eyes is dark and pleasant, and it takes your breath away when you realize he's looking at you and only you.

“I don't think we've met before.” He shakes his head a little as he speaks, back and forth in this delighted disbelief, as if he can't understand why he has never seen you. “I'm Tensei Iida.”

The name rings a bell, but you can’t quite place it.

“He's one of the super sexy doctors I was telling you about.” Hizashi says as he nudges you with his hip. Tensei rolls his eyes in a way that tells you he's actually tickled pink. That’s it-- he’s Aizawa’s presentation partner.

“Oh, stop that,” he says. “Don't listen to Mic- I’m just a normal guy.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Iida.” You take his hand. His grip is firm and dry, and he parts from you with a squeeze. “You work in prosthetics, right?”

“I do.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes like a teenaged dreamboat. What is with this guy? Was he made in a lab to be perfect? “Shouta over there is one of my best patients.”

Aizawa huffs and slaps his computer closed. “I highly doubt that.”

Patient? “I thought you two worked together.”

Tensei rolls his head to the side as he sighs, continuing this fake bashfulness thing. Unfortunately, it’s working for you; he’s sweet and humble, not to mention cute-

“We do.” He speaks so well, you're hanging off every word- “We modeled his leg together.”

Your eyes snap to Aizawa instinctively. Leg?

“Leg?” you say out loud, stupidly.

Tensei’s air shifts. He turns to Aizawa, knot creased, lips delightfully downturned. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“It’s not.” Aizawa sighs, “I thought everyone knew.” He hems. He haws. Then, the man tugs his pant leg up with one hand and you see a sliver of gray metal at the ankle. Before you can really look at it, it’s gone, hidden once again. A prosthetic. It may not be a secret, but there’s definitely shame involved.

Everything snaps in place. The way he walks, the way he always shifts his weight-- you have a thousand questions, but none of them are appropriate.

“I didn’t realize,” you say, carefully. Aizawa is avoiding your eye very, very pointedly, but his beautiful friend is enthralled.

“Wait, really? That’s great to hear!” Tensei rolls forward a bit. “You didn’t notice anything at all? No difference in motion or-”

“He, uh, stomps, maybe.” You glance over. “Just a little.”

“I’ve always walked heavy-- The mobility is perfect, I told you.”

“Are stairs the only pain trigger?” Tensei asks.

“That isn’t the prosthetic’s fault, it’s my body’s. I’m always in pain.”

Oh. Oh. You think back to the stairs incident and the bed on the fifth floor. That’s why he called you cruel. Shit. Making him climb all those stairs…. you were being an asshole to a man with a disability and chronic pain.

God, no wonder he'd been so antagonistic-- he still started it, but maybe you went too far.

“You must love working with this old grump.” Tensei flashes a grin towards you, almost flirtatiously, and that pulls you out of your thought spiral.

“Well-” You have to swallow your worry. You force a smile and just say: “Shouta's always nice to me.”

All three men look at you in the same way.

“Really now?” Tensei says, and you’re almost annoyed by it. No, Aizawa isn’t nice, but… well, he’s your enemy, not Tensei’s. He should be nicer to his research partner.

“We're buddies.” Aizawa's dry sense of humor shines through. “Work… married, or whatever the term is.”

Hizashi barks out a laugh and throws his hair over his shoulder, eyes tight with healthy skepticism. “I thought I was your work husband!”

“I have two hands!”

Tensei never stops looking at you. You like how his fingers twitch when he says your name. “You’ve clearly got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

The way he talks. You think he might be wrapped there too.

“That’s just what she wants you to think.” Aizawa stands suddenly. “Tensei, I changed my mind. Let’s take a look at my leg.”

Another customer has started to look at the booth, so Hizashi is on again. Tensei’s attention seems to only be distracted by the mentions of work. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

Tensei starts to roll up his sleeves. “Alright, take the pants off and we’ll-”

“God, not here.”

Tensei just nods. “I was joking. I can go back to a room if you want.”

“I do.”

Just as suddenly as he appeared, Tensei leaves with Aizawa in tow. The older man turns and gives you the smallest, barely there nods as a goodbye before disappearing into the thickening crowd. Once Hizashi is free again a couple minutes later, you lean in and mumble.

“Are those secret lovers or something?”

It shocks a guffaw from Hizashi.

“Please, I wish Sho had a dirty little secret like that.” You hope he doesn’t see your eyes widen. “It would take a miracle for Shouta to have a little fuck buddy. He’s still not over-- well, his last thing.”

Last thing? He’s been single for the three years you’ve known him- what thing could he still be holding on to? You don’t have any room to judge -- you’ve been dating Touya since sixteen and can’t move on either.

“Why do you even care? Tensei caught your eye?”

You think about his pretty dark eyes and try to feel something. “Maybe.”

“Oooo-”

Your heels ache by the end of the day, so you slip your feet out of them from under the table. The restaurant is busy, both with people and decoration, and somehow even louder than the convention itself. The waitress has just left the second basket of chips - this one still hot from the fryer- because you and Hizashi have already demolished the first one. You should really get actual food to absorb the alcohol in your stomach, but Aizawa texted you to wait for him.

Texted. You.

It’s weird to see a new message under his name, an unread message you can peek at through your notifications. It feels illicit, raunchy, wrong--

Hizashi sucks at the end of his straw until it gurgles on ice. He’s smiley-er than usual-- and drunk as a skunk. Drinking on an empty stomach does that; you’re swaying already too and you're just two margaritas in. The man has his phone out, tinder open for you to swipe through. Men, women: everything wants a piece of Hizashi and you can’t blame them. His blonde hair is tousled ever so slightly, his glasses are halfway down his button nose-

How does Nemuri stop herself from getting jealous of the attention he gets and his looks?

“Isn’t being here fucking great?” He takes a mouthful of chips. “We talk all day and drink all night.”

He's trying to wave down your waiter.

“You gonna text Dr. Tensei?” He lingers on the word doctor, drawing it out with a warm affection.You snort into your own empty glass and lick the salt from the rim. It’s smoked, a little spicy too. You try to blame the burn in your stomach on that, instead of thirty.

“I don’t even have his number!” you try.

Tensei is… well, almost perfect, but… you aren't sure. It's not that you don't want him, but…

Maybe you're just gunshy. Touya has you scared to let go, move on. You try and think of Tensei and his sweet smile, his stubbled jawline, his downturned eyes and scarred cheek-

No, that's Aizawa you're thinking of. You physically shake the thought away. The last time you drank was when you saw his…

“But, I have his number!”Hizashi sings as he tries to fish an ice cube out with his drink. “I saw that look on your face; I know you’d love to sit on his face-”

“Shh!” You physically try to lower his volume by waving your hands in the air. A waitress passes, giving you both a strange look, but Hizashi just crunches his ice away happily. “I didn’t say that! He’s just--”

Sex isn't a priority for you. It’s not that you don’t like it, but it’s never as life changing and groundbreaking as you want it to be. By the time it started to feel good, Touya’s would be done and half asleep. (Not that you and Touya even had sex that often. The drug use and cheating scared you; he insisted he was safe, but. Well. He promised a lot of things. When you did have sex, it was with a condom and followed by four weeks of panic testing and STI googling.)

Sex just never seemed worth the stress, you guess. Maybe it’d be different with someone else. Nemuri clearly likes having sex, so do the girls you see on twitter. Maybe you’re broken or something.

“He’s kinda sexy.” You try to hold on to optimism.

“He’s awful sexy!” Hizashi agrees. “I’ll slip you his number later-”

“Why not now?” you say.

“What’s now?”

From behind you, Aizawa strolls in, now devoid of his lovely outfit and stripped down to dress pants and a white undershirt. His hair is back into it’s little knotted bun, curls squashed into submission. When he reaches over the table, you can’t stop your drunken self from watching how his bicep flexes, muscle under thick skin. God, maybe you do need Tensei’s number and a good fuck-- you’re acting like a dog in heat over exposed arms.

Thick arms, with the rounded hint of muscularity, but still. Just arms.

Aizawa tips the basket over and salt scatters across the table. “You guys didn’t save me a single chip.”

When did you guys finish the second one? The man sits next to you, thighs spread just enough to touch you for a moment. Your back straightens at the contact and, after a blink, you move away to give him more space. He smells like tobacco flower and musk, a surprisingly gentle cologne for a brash man.

“That's what you get for being late! There's shots coming-- how's that sound?” Hizashi says, much too loud.

A groan escapes you. Uh oh, you forgot about that: it’s time for you to slow down and eat something that isn't fried. Luckily, Aizawa is here now and the waiter is coming. She passes out the shots of tequila, then she’s gone again, giving Aizawa time to look at the menu she's handed him.

“Tapping out this early?” Aizawa asks. His elbow accidentally touches you as he scooches closer. “I’ll have yours if you don't want it.”

“Please do.” You push yours in front of him and Hizashi does the same.

“Miss girl and I have been having fun without you! Catch up, catch up!” he urges.

“I can tell. You’ve over-served her.”

You resent that, especially since it’s Aizawa’s fault, but you can’t help but laugh. It gurgles out of you, a bit too drunkenly. “I just need to eat.”

“The chips weren’t enough?”

“No!” Your mouth is running without your brain. “Ugh, I hate being drunk, I always text people that I shouldn’t.”

Hizashi and Aizawa both look at you, both thinking of very different things. Heat pools in your cheeks-- and a bit in your core, at Aizawa’s lidded gaze.

“Hey, uh--” Hizashi scooches out from the booth seat and stands, brushing the salt off of his shirt. “Don't be mad, but I’m gonna go.”

Aizawa sneers and you do the same. After all this time, he couldn’t wait a bit longer? Does he really think it’s a good idea to leave the two of you alone? Sure, you were jokingly nice today, but that can’t keep going-

“What? I just got here.” Aizawa seems to agree with you.

He waggles his phone in the air, text messages abundant. “Duty calls.”

At least someone’s getting laid tonight. Aizawa slides away from you and into the spot Hizashi just left, this pissed off look smeared across his face.

“It’s still on me, don’t worry. Here’s my card- go nuts, kiddos.” Hizashi slaps his card on the table and turns on a dime, humming a jaunty little tune to himself. “Don’t be jealous!”

“I’m older than you.”

“I’m thirty.”

The two of you are left in Hizashi’s wake, sitting awkwardly apart from each other.

“So,” you try. “How was your-?”

“We don’t have to do this.” Aizawa slides Hizashi’s card towards you. “You can leave too, if you don’t want to deal with me.”

Usually, you stay quiet, but your drunk brain is taking over. You lean back in the booth and cross your arms, trying to be assertive. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what? Set you free?”

“Assume what I want,” you say. “I’m not allergic to having dinner with you. We can like, just talk and be normal. We did it all day.”

Aizawa’s face scrunches up in disapproval, but he doesn’t object. He sits in constipated misery for a long moment before sighing and unbunching his body. He mirrors your body language, crossing his arms and leaning back just enough that he isn’t hunched over himself.

“My day was… fine.” he tries in earnest. “Good, even. Took a nap. Finished my presentations.”

“When are you presenting?”

He flips the menu over, then over again, unsettled. His foot is tapping under the table, bouncing the table a bit. “Tomorrow at eleven and Sunday at three.”

“I want to watch the one with Tensei, is that okay?”

His brow crinkles at the mention of Tensei.

“I can’t stop you, but it’ll be pretty boring.” he shrugs. “Just polymer talk. Hanging with Hizashi will be more fun.”

“Well… I dunno, I love him,” You tread carefully. “But he’s such a horndog sometimes.”

Aizawa snorts and rolls his eyes. There’s the whisper of a grin trapped in his gaze, you think.

“It’s true! He abandoned us tonight!”

“You should have seen him when he first met Nemuri-- it was much worse. He would run off to her at the drop of a hat,” he says. “She would call and he’d get this dopey look on his face-”

“That’s cute though.” You are picking at the salt on the table, dreaming of days when Touya gave you that unmistakable, gooey expression. “Every woman wants to be loved like that.”

When you glance up, Aizawa is watching you, expression relaxed. He takes a delicate pause, watching you from across the booth as if you’re a million miles away, a look that only locks in when you meet it. It’s almost somber, the way you both watch each other in reverent silence, the din of the restaurant around you growing.

“He left me alone at a frat house once.” Aizawa interrupts your thoughts. You blanch, then laugh, hand over heart at the thought. “Ran away to get some guy across campus.”

“Wait-- you were in a frat house?” you wheeze. You try to imagine him, yellow sweatshirt in the middle of a sticky floored basement, crowded so close he’s forced to dance along.

“Against my will.”

Aizawa takes a shot glass and tips it back, swallowing it all in one measured gulp. He shivers at the taste, tongue stuck between his teeth in disgust. It’s cute. It’s sweet. You can see the silhouette of the college boy he used to be. When he swallows the second shot, he makes the same face, wrinkles deeper this time.

“Slow down-” you say. “You shouldn't really drink all three!”

“Well, you’re clearly too drunk for another.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Of course you are-” he says. “It's why you're being so nice and chatty.”

You gasp and throw a hand to your forehead in fake shock. “I'm always nice!”

Aizawa leans all the way back in the booth, eyebrow cocked skeptically. He sighs before he speaks. “If I remember correctly, you told me to go fuck myself.”

“No, you said that to me.” You close the gap between you by leaning forward into your elbows. “I said that you wished you could.”

It doesn’t feel scandalous to say until his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. It’s only a second, a glimmer-- but it’s there, it’s real, it’s temptation. You’re not stupid; you’ve come to terms with the fact that you find Aizawa Shouta attractive, but the sudden attention makes your mouth salivate ever so slightly.

“I don’t feel like that anymore, I think.” you manage. “At least I don’t hate you anymore.”

“I never hated you.” He leans forward too, head tilted, expression open. “I just wanted an apology.”

The moment grinds to a halt.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You want to scream. Words bubble in your chest, hot and dumb. “I’m not apologizing.”

You jam your feet into your shoes and start fumbling with your purse. Anger makes you clumsy, makes your eyes burn with tears. “Well, okay, I’ll apologize for the stairs, but nothing else. You were so mean to me, on my birthday-”

“And then you immediately sexted me.” Oh, how his calm demeanor gets you even hotter; you want him to scream back, to act pissed-- “How was I supposed to take that?”

“Happily!” You gesture to yourself. “I have great tits!”

“You do.”

“Urgh! Don’t say that!” You slide out of the booth.

“I thought I was being nice.”

“You’re disgusting-”

“- I don’t know what you want from me. You’re so hot and cold-” Aizawa says, that look on his face.

“You are the one who told me to forget about the stupid texts!” you say. “New flash-- I texted you by accident and yet, I thought ‘maybe I’ll give him a chance’-”

You sniffle, those angry tears ruining your ire once again. Horror flashes across Aizawa’s face as he looks around, gauging the reaction of everyone around him.

“Then you turned me down!”

“I had a chance.” He whispers, carefully, shock enveloping his usually stoic face. You almost think he cares, that he regrets, with that almost childlike sadness smeared across his features. In fact, he almost reaches for you before you pull farther away. “I thought--”

“You fucking did.” You wipe your tears with your sleeve and try to channel Bakugo’s advice. “But not now! Treaty is done! Burned to the ground! I’m back to being a cunt!”

You say cunt a bit too loud. For what feels like the millionth time, you storm away, past the onlookers, away from the man of your -- well, certainly not of your affection.

“Wait.” He calls after you. “Hold on, wait-- we haven’t paid--”

You march out into the street. The alcohol is hitting you; the stars in the sky streak together with the light pollution, the muffled noise of the restaurant eaten by the growl of the city. You turn left and march down the street, as fast as you can without running, wide, wide strides to distance yourself from the asshole behind you as quickly as possible. You run the first corner you can, then another, then-- wait,

You were supposed to go left, maybe.

Taking the next street should turn you right around, but… the lane curves and curves and --

You turn around.

Huh. This next street feels even more wrong. The cement has turned to cobblestone, the traffic has died down to something more residential. You pull your phone from your pocket, just to find it dead. The screen won’t even light up. Dammit. Damn. It.

The tears in your eyes wobble from anger to fear.

You’re lost.

The hotel can’t be that far; it’s not like you’ve been walking for miles. The rubbed raw spots on your feet are already broken open again, each step blossoming with fresh, hot pain, but you keep pushing. Touya always told you that you were hopelessly directionless, but you didn’t think he meant it literally.

Maybe you are, without him.

That’s how this mess started, really. Touya left you directionless, adrift in the world. He always pulled you down, but at least down is a direction and a destination.

Where do you want to go? Not just now, but in life? Do you want Touya to return and give you that pull, like a stone in black waters?

No. You don’t. The love is still there, but the self harm, the horrors… you can’t keep losing your life in his aftershocks, can’t keep being pulled by his riptide.

You want stability, a home. Someone who worries about you the way you worry about them. You want to stop crying and start being who you used to be.

Could Shouta be that person? You don’t think so, but you know Touya isn’t that person either. You don’t deserve much in this world, but you at least deserve to give yourself a chance.

There’s a twenty four hour bodega, neon light dimmed to near extinguished. The owner sleepily tells you where to go and you thank him warmly before trudging back down the streets, It only takes fifteen minutes until you see the familiar glimmer of blue tile. The front dress asks if you are okay when you limp by, cut up feet on the brink of giving up themselves. The elevator is only filled with strangers, giggling and whispering to themselves.

Your floor is the home stretch. You peel off your heels; the front and backs of your feet are covered in broken skin, blood tinging the suede of your shoes. Bed is calling your name, along with another big, long, upheaving cry. The past month has left you brittle, weak-

“Hey. Hey!”

There’s a man in the hallway. Your man.

“Shouta?” Your voice is wrecked. Down by your room is the familiar face of your enemy, pacing the hall. A couple of wide steps and he’s there on you, hands finding your waist,dragging you in so close that his forehead bonks against yours. Tendrils of curls tickle your cheeks as he huffs in relief, warm breath hot against your nose and cheeks. Surprise leaves you speechless, but he finds words.

“Where were you?” His voice bites out, harsh and rude. “You weren’t answering your phone or the door, I thought-- You’re bleeding.”

If he wasn’t so close, you’d wipe your nose and tears away, but he has you locked in those broad hands. They rub up and down your waist, worrying away at you with an almost anxious annoyance.

“I’m an adult,” you sniffle despite your annoyance. “You don’t get to be mad at me for staying out late--”

“I’m not mad, I’m terrified.” You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. The lacquer of seriousness is gone, replaced by something strangely human, wildly unique from the person you once knew. For the second time tonight, you think you see who he used to be, the silhouette of a twenty year old you’ll never know. “You can’t disappear into the city without contact-- you scared me.”

You know that fear. You’ve lived it. The way Touya comes and goes, the way he frays the fabric of your worries simply for his own wills and wants-

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m sorry.” He’s pulling you closer. “I’m so sorry.”

When his lips touch yours, it feels like home. It’s impossibly soft and warm, with the glide of chapstick, but what you focus on is how you are held. He cradles you, with trembling, needy, questioning hands, firm with want, questioning if you want this too. You don’t know if you do until your arms loop around his shoulders and tug him in deeper, harder-

When he pulls away, you don’t know if this was the right thing, but it feels right, deep, deep, deep in your heart and even deeper in your core.

“I’m sorry,” he says again before pressing into you once more, this time with his whole body, walking you backwards into the door of your room, The pressure of him holds you in place.

“I’m so sorry.” Aizawa speaks it into your lips. You’re fumbling backwards, feeling in your pocket for your swipe card as his tongue dips into your mouth. He groans into the contact, low and animalistic, hungry and reverent. Every emotional nerve in you is fried and your brain is refusing to think, but something inside you is pink, blossoming with want. It’s the first time in maybe years you’ve felt this unbelievably, unquestionably good.

Aizawa’s teeth close around the plush of your lip and you gasp at the want it makes you feel alive. To be so aggressively wanted-

Your keycard finds the slot on the door and the lock beeps open. You manage to break away enough to fumble to knob open--

And you two slide inside.

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 4 months ago

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Moments in Time - Quinn Hughes Edition

Word Count - 2300

Summary - The eight times Quinn Hughes showed his love through the ring camera that he didn’t even want in the first place.

Warnings - none pure fluff I know a true shocker if you aren't new here

Author's Note: Hello everyone as always thank you for reading. This is apart of a "Moments in Time" series that I wrote eight moments each of the Hughes brothers. The fics are individual stand alone pieces, they can be read in any order, or you could only read the one brother you want.

Jack Hughes Edition. Luke Hughes Edition.

I have to give credit to my girl Kay @icebound-imagination for not only helping come up with the original idea! But literally stayed up late one night to help me detail plan all three Hughes brothers fics because I didn't want any repeated ideas. Kay also wrote some of the concepts and hers are noted as "Kendra's Version."

Main Masterlist

When you mentioned to Quinn the first time that you wanted to get a ring doorbell he gave you that famous “what the fuck” Quinn Hughes look. But then when you told him about how you really just wanted it in Vancouver because of how much time you spent completely alone in the apartment. To this day, you swear you’ve never heard Quinn agree to anything so fast. Truthfully you just wanted to watch your neighbor’s new puppy growth. But you knew that if there is anyone who hates you having to be completely alone for so long with no family around it’s Quinn. So really it was best of both worlds, Quinn felt more at ease with the ring camera and you got to watch the next door neighbor be ridiculously cute everyday on the way to their walks.

Early Morning Goodbyes

Quinn had to leave early many times throughout the season. Although he always kissed you goodbye on the cheek, because you were still deep in sleep you both knew you wouldn’t remember it. Learning this after the first time he did kiss you goodbye before leaving for a roadie and you didn’t remember it at all. To say you were mad at Quinn for not saying goodbye, you gave him the silent treatment for two whole days, only to discover you were the one in the wrong.

So the next time he had to leave home early due to an early flight for a roadie or hell, even an early morning skate. Of course he still kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes. But he started saying bye on the ring because he knew that way you’d see it when you were actually a functionable human being to society and would remember it.

2. Getting a notification

The main reason that Quinn agreed to getting a ring was because of how you said that you would feel safer when he was on long roadies. The first time that you came home from work and he was on a roadie, he was waiting for the notification to come on his phone. As soon as it popped up he clicked on it quickly, ignoring his teammates and the movie they had playing in the background. “Hi baby.” he said softly he didn’t wanna startle you. After a long day all you wanted to do was crawl into bed, “hi Quinny” immediately hearing his voice and feeling better.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some team bonding?” Resting your forehead against your doorbell but looking directly at the camera.

“Oh I am Barbie is playing right now it was Brock’s turn to pick.” A soft laugh leaves both your lips at Quinn’s comment, your laugh continues when you hear Brock in the background telling him to “fuck off.” Quickly Quinn tells you that he’s gotta go but he will text you.

That was the first night you guys had a full blown conversation through your ring camera when he was on a roadie. But it became a little tradition every night when you got home if Quinn was out of town. Even if at the time he was in the middle of a game or an interview, everyday you would ring the doorbell and say “Quinny I’m home.”

3. Drop the attitude

Quinn and you didn’t fight often but when you did it was usually something serious. Today was not one of those cases, it was just one of those days where you were in a bad mood all day and you couldn’t pin point why. But every little thing Quinn was doing was getting on your nerves, to the point of you wanting to scream. From procrastinating on unloading the dishwasher, to being indecisive about what he wanted for breakfast. By the time you were trying to take a nap and he was yelling on Facetime with Jack and Luke you had hit your breaking point.

Storming into the living room and telling Quinn that he needed to leave the apartment because you needed time alone before you went insane. Quinn told his brothers he’d call them back and hung up. He tried to ask you what was wrong but you insisted that you needed him to leave. So he left but not without leaving a message on the ring camera.

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, baby. But what do you need for it to go away? Like do we need food? Are you hangry? Do you need cuddles and some quiet time? Cause whatever you need imma give it to you if you drop the attitude. Cause I don’t like when you want to kill me.”

4. Celebrating

Every home game that you went to it wasn’t unusual for you to uber from the apartment to the stadium. But you would always wait until Quinn was ready to leave to go home to the game. Tonight there was a home game and you were planning on going. But this week has been so long at work, you were debating on just watching it on T.V, ultimately you did decide to take an uber to the game. Never have you been so happy to not miss out on a game live. It was an insane game that turned out to be a shutout with no other than baby goalie as starter.

Quinn and you both decided to go to the local bar to celebrate with the team and other wags. After Quinn had 2 beers, and you lost track of the amount of rum and cokes Petey was giving you. Quinn decided it was time to call it a night. Once you got home, your not sure if it was the alcohol you both consumed or just still on a high from the game. But Quinn insisted on practically sprinting down the hallway to your apartment while you cheered about the game. Quinn has never felt so lucky the night when the ring camera was able to catch such an intimate private moment that neither of you would have remembered that morning without the video proof.

5. Playing pranks - Kendra’s Version

You had just settled onto the couch, a warm bowl of popcorn balanced in your lap as your phone screen lit up. You picked it up and checked to see you had a notification from the front door’s security camera. It was Friday night, which meant you weren’t getting any deliveries and your husband, Quinn, was home in the shower.

Curiously you click into the app, seeing what the footage showed. And it wasn’t much. But what you could see was some blonde hair and a toque. You knew exactly who that hair and that hat belonged to. What on earth was he doing?

Your finger hovered over the screen as you decided what to do about your husband’s teammate when the camera showed a flash of a stylish jacket, one that was definitely not the style of the blond hair and toque wearing teammate. Which meant his literal partner in crime was with him. And then it was like someone smashed their finger onto a fast forward button.

You were getting ready to use the two way microphone to ask what was going on when you heard a crashing noise. Your finger hit the button quickly as you yelled out “What on earth are you two blond himbos doing out there? Brock I swear to god if you’re leaving your laundry for me to do again I’m throwing it in the Pacific!”

You were too busy screaming to notice you weren’t the only one who heard the ruckus Dumb and Dumber had made. Quinn must have seen the security notification when he got out of the shower, heard your screaming, and now he was angrily stomping towards the front door and opening it up to figure out what was going on.

Brock, who must have tried to hide from the camera, was leaning against the door. Except the door was ripped open by your angry husband and Brock came tumbling backwards into the foyer. His signature smirk and deep voice trying to play innocent. “Hey Huggy.”

You decided it was time to get off the couch and look for yourself. As you pushed past Quinn and Brock you leaned against the door frame. This was when you noticed the white stuff all over and that Petey was doubled over in laughter.

This left Brock to be the one to fess up their master plan, “Well we figured it would be Quinn that would see the camera not you. He’s ALWAYS checking it in the locker room. After me and the Swede had too many tonight we wanted to have some fun. And what’s more fun than pranking the captain? We wanted him to open the door to pie him. Get glitter stuck in his playoff beard. You weren’t supposed to catch us, Y/N.”

You looked back at Petey, now understanding why he was sparkling under your porch lights.

“Sorry about the plant,” he wheezed.

You could feel Quinn’s glare get darker. Brock however was unaffected by the quiet brooding man. “Petey will pay for it because he makes more money.”

6. “Where the fuck you going in that dress?”

Quinn wasn’t as overprotective over you as people assumed he would be with his girlfriend. He trusted you and he also knew that you knew how to keep yourself safe when you were out with friends for a girls night. But at the same time he didn’t like it when you went out when he was on a roadie. Quinn made the comment about how when he’s a plane ride away it gives him anxiety when you're out with friends drinking. He said that he would feel terrible if something bad happened or even if you needed a ride home and he couldn’t come to you because he was on the other side of the continent. Since you weren’t a big partier anyway, from that night on you did tend to only go out if Quinn was in town. Never wanting to be the reason you brought your boyfriend to the breaking point with his anxiety.

But it was your best friend having her birthday and you couldn’t not go. It had completely slipped your mind about your new ring camera and how Quinn was basically addicted to checking it especially when he was on the road. After coming over to get ready at your place. Finally you were ready to order the uber and as you were locking the door, you heard Quinn’s voice “Where the hell are going in that dress?” You could tell from his voice that he was definitely a little annoyed. It was probably because he knew even from the shitty ring camera quality that this was your go to clubbing dress.

“Hi bubs. It’s Y/B/F birthday tonight.I know your out on a roadie which is why I didn’t tell you.” You said as you bent down so that your face was lined up with the camera. “I am realizing now that wasn’t my smartest idea. I promise I won’t be out long okay? I’ll text you as soon as I get home, Quinny.” Quinn could hear the guilt in your voice and it made his heart break a little.

“It’s okay baby girl. Just be safe okay. I love you. Also your making me miss you even more cause you look really really fucking beautiful in that dress.” As much as you tried to hide your blush you knew that you were failing miserably.

“Thanks Quinn. I love you.” as you stood up and blew a kiss to the camera.

7. Fidgety Hughes

Sometimes Quinn’s fidgeting was out of this world insane even for him. Whether it was that he sometimes let himself get lost in his head and didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Or if shaking his leg or tapping his fingers on thighs calmed his anxiety. But sometimes his fidgeting was just adorable and this was no difference. Quinn was trying to unlock the door but his hands kept fidgeting probably due to the rough practice or maybe it was just from being tired. But after dropping his keys the fourth time you couldn’t help but chirp him through the camera.

“I hope you can handle a puck better than those keys Hughes.” Quinn couldn’t help but smile at your voice through the camera.

“Oh I can name a lot of things you tell me all the time I handle better than these keys.” playing along with your antics but with a flirty tone. But then of course he dropped his keys on the floor for the fifth time.

“Come on get it together bro.” you chirp.

“Don’t be such a brat, unless you need a reminder of who you beg to help you when you have an itch.”

8. Long Week

Quinn knows that you’ve had a long week and been very stressed because of it. So he stops at the store on his way home and grabs all your favorite snacks that he knows you will want later when you come home from work. He decides to ring the camera to tell you that he got all your favorite snacks and will be ready when you get home for a movie night or whatever you want. Even if it’s The Office which he never even saw a single episode until he met you and you forced him to. He also tells you that he already placed an order to your favorite restaurant for takeout.

#quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #qh43 #vancouver canucks fic #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #schwritingsqh43

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kpopfanfictrash · 1 year ago

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Elemental (M) Pt. 1

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Second Chance Romance / Modern Fantasy

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Fear has never been a foreign concept to you. Your entire life has been shaped by the knowledge that you’re different, and fear of the stigma which might follow discovery. Although fire, earth, air and water Elementals have been public for decades, the fear-mongering around your kind hasn’t changed; something you have intimate knowledge of, having experienced it firsthand. Since then, you’ve done your best to hide your water powers. This is for your own safety, as your mom likes to say.

Safety flies out the window though, when you fall in love. Jeon Jungkook isn’t just any love, either, he’s the love. The person who makes you feel as though your darkest corners deserve to be seen. Unable to control your magic around him, you find yourself faced with a horrible fact: you need to break up.

A plan which proves difficult when Jungkook simply refuses to go. And maybe, just maybe, you find the constraints placed on yourself don’t make sense anymore.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: death of a parent (past), some emotional abuse

NSFW Warnings: oral (woman and man), multiple orgasms (woman), fingering, hand job, face-riding, sex outdoors (in a secluded, private area), very slight ass-play, breast play

Word Count: 17,287 (32,487 total)

Author's Note: Unfortunately, the new Tumblr text editor doesn't allow for more than 1,000 paragraphs per post. Part I is here, and Part II will be uploaded shortly. Please, please, please reblog both if possible! In my experience, engagement tends to be worse when split into two parts. (also, if you haven't already realized based on the premise, Y/N does break up with Jungkook in the first part of this fic lol so, if that's something you don't want to read; fair warning!)

[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

Magic, to you, has never been a boon.

Despite its romanticization in movies and stories, the reality of magic is messy and unpredictable. As dangerous as it can be fickle, your mom likes to say. Usually followed by a glance in your direction, swift enough for you not to notice, although you always do.

Either that, or an unconscious tilt her chin towards the photograph on the mantle. You aren’t sure she even realizes she does it, acting on instinct alone. The photo is of your dad, holding you on his shoulders with an ear-to-ear grin. He was the other Elemental in your family.

Even with only one magical parent, the Elemental gene tends to be passed on to children. Your dad’s magic was water, skilled in manipulating and calling forth the element. He was lauded for it, which was in itself unusual. More often, Elementals are run out of town by other humans. Although time has gone by since societal integration, there are still many who view your kind with suspicion.

You can’t say that you blame them – not really. Because again, the reality of magic is it can be dangerous. Based on experience, bad things tend to happen when you lose control.

Head tilted, you squint through the fog at your boyfriend’s apartment. For centuries, fog has been heralded as an ill omen and maybe there’s some degree of truth to it. Maybe the first speaker lived near a temperamental water Elemental, unable to keep their emotions from manipulating the weather.

Thoughts souring at how close to reality this feels, you shake your head once and some of the fog clears.

A pep talk, you think. That’s what you need to convince yourself to enter. Unseasonably chilly this late in the summer, your fingers curl into the ends of your sweater. Going inside would be preferrable to standing out in the cold, and yet you can’t manage a single step.

Better to stand in the cold than enter and shatter.

Again, you remind yourself you’re doing the right thing and again, this doesn’t help. If anything, it makes you clutch your sweater tighter. For once, you wish doing the right thing meant what’s right for you. Exhaling deeply, your eyes shut as a train passes and shakes the ground.

You began dating Jungkook three months ago and within a week, you knew it was different. You have a tendency to hide pieces of yourself, knowing most people won’t like what they find. Jungkook never allowed that to happen. The first time you ghosted, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop the next morning and asked what had gone wrong. Taken aback, you responded honestly and to your surprise, Jungkook listened.

He stayed. Stayed when others had run, cementing himself on a short list of people you can trust. Three months into dating, things have moved at once fast and slow. Fast because typically, you exit relationships long before feelings like these ones develop. Slow, because you haven’t given Jungkook every part of yourself.

Physical intimacy comes to mind. On several occasions, this has proved… difficult.

Eyes opening, you stare at the door. Memories of last night rise to the surface. For a long time, you’ve known this relationship has an end date. Knowing this doesn’t prepare you for the difficult conversation ahead.

The last time you saw Jungkook was after midnight. Fat raindrops chased your footsteps while you ran from his place, descending the subway at a record pace. The look on his face remains stuck in your mind and even now, you find the thought hard to revisit.

Imagining hurting Jungkook again is unfathomable. Stifling a gasp, you spin on your heel and march away. Halfway to the gate, you get a grip on yourself. Coming to a stop, you remind yourself this isn’t about you. Jungkook will hate you – there’s nothing to do about that now. Now, this is about Jungkook and ensuring he’s safe.

Slowly, you turn around and make your way forward. In the name of procrastination, you stop at a trash can to clean out your purse. Old receipts, gum wrappers and a crumpled-up napkin shake into the bin. You pause at the napkin, staring at the embossed name of the restaurant you work at. Or – more accurately – worked at.

Slamming the trash lid, you turn. You began work at Pierre’s Bistro two months ago as a temporary measure. Ideally, you paint but lately, inspiration has run dry. Waiting tables pays the bills, leaving time at the end of the day to stare at a blank canvas.

Pierre’s is an upscale French restaurant a few blocks down with semi-decent food and waiting tables would be fine if the owner – Pierre – weren’t a massive asshole. Now that you don’t work there, you can be honest about that. Pierre was the most sexist, elitist, capitalistic piece of shit you’ve ever had the displeasure of working for. While on his payroll, you tried to make the best of it but now, you have nothing to lose. Pierre was a dick.

A point he proved yet again last night, much to your mortification. You prefer working the lunch shift to dinner, and weekdays to weekends. Saturday nights are worst of all, and last night Pierre didn’t arrive until well after six. You were forced to cover the entire front section, picking up for a co-worker who called in sick.

Rushing from the bar, you nearly crashed into your boss removing his coat. Grabbing you by the elbow, Pierre steadied you, his hand lingering.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” he joked.

You forced a smile. Experience has taught you the best thing to do in those types of situations is to smile and laugh.

“No fire. Lots of customers! Excuse me,” you said and tried to move past.

Pierre didn’t release you. If anything, his grip on you tightened until you turned your head.

“Yes?” you said, impatient.

Pierre didn’t respond, looking you slowly up and down. Eventually, he released you to take a step backwards. “Nothing,” he said carefully. “Be careful out there tonight.”

Trying not to gag on his words, you moved on. Unfortunately, it was hard to escape Pierre’s notice once caught. From that point on, each of your flaws were held under a microscope. First, it was that you didn’t fold the napkins correctly. Next, you took a wandering path from kitchen to table. Each time you entered the dining room, scornful words were covered by simpering smiles.

By the time your shift end approached, you could barely keep going. A large group had entered and, seeing the host occupied, you took it upon yourself to seat them at your last table. Fixing your apron, you hurried through the restaurant and into the kitchen.

Grabbing another table’s dishes, you thanked the cook and pushed open the door. Immediately, arms shoved you back in. Startled, you barely had time to recognize the host, Vanessa, before the doors swung shut.

“Vanessa?” you said, adjusting your grip. “What’s going on?”

Harried, she glanced over one shoulder. “Sorry,” she sighed, curly hair slipping from her messy bun. “I wanted to warn you before you went back out. Pierre is pissed.”

Your stomach sank. “Pissed… at me?”

She nodded, another dark curl escaping. “Something about saving the table up front for his friends? Bullshit, yes,” she said at your expression. “But you know how he is.”

“Yeah, I know,” you muttered. Deciding there was nothing to be done but keep moving, you hefted your plates higher. “Okay, thanks for the warning. I need to get these to table ten.”

“No problem,” she said and stepped out of your way.

You walked inside with slightly less spring in your step. Pierre lounged near the bar, surrounded by a group of people you could only assume to be friends. Although you felt his gaze on your face, you avoided him the best you could while you made your rounds. Taking the long way to the kitchen, you passed in front of the window.

Which was the moment you noticed Jungkook waiting for you on the curb. He stood beneath a streetlight, light pooling around the ends of his dark hair. When he saw you approach, his face lit up and he smiled.

Cursing beneath your breath, you smiled back. You were supposed to be done a half-hour ago, but there hadn’t been a good time yet to stop. Waving back, you mouthed, just a minute, and frantically pushed through the crowd to the back.

Merely seeing his face lifted a weight from your chest. It was easy to be around Jungkook because he liked every part of you. You never felt the urge to pretend, to curve yourself into something someone else would find pleasurable.

Well, he liked every part except one – and you were working on telling him that.

Hurrying into the staff room, you forgot your plan to avoid Pierre. You nearly jumped a mile when a hand grabbed your elbow, spinning you to face your fuming manager.

Pierre stared down his nose. “Follow me,” he snapped, releasing your arm to spin around.

He passed tables full of patrons, leading you to the bar before turning. “Y/N,” Pierre said, his voice dropping. “Are things okay tonight?”

“Yes,” you responded, deciding one-word answers were safest.

“Then why, exactly, are you fucking this up?”

Your jaw tensed. “I wasn’t aware I was doing so,” you said carefully.

“The napkins?” Pierre made a tsk-ing sound. “How many times should I say that presentation is important? Not to mention your laziness. One of your tables had to flag me down to ask for a refill. And now, you gave away the front table.” His expression darkened. “What makes you think you, a fucking waitress, can step in for a host? You sat someone at the table I personally reserved for my friends!”

You shouldn’t have responded. You should have stayed quiet and yet –

“There was no name in the book,” you muttered.

“What’s that?” Pierre waited and, when you stayed silent, shook his head. “I hadn’t had time to write their name down, but I told Vanessa, who assured me it’d happen. Of course, she wasn’t taking into consideration Y/N, the wonder waitress! Taking everyone’s jobs and making them harder.”

At your sides, your hands balled into fists. It took a greater amount of concentration than normal to keep your emotions from spilling over.

Of course, there were explanations for Pierre’s accusations. The napkins were correct before he jostled the table. You had been circulating your tables and if you were unavailable, it was because of his poor staffing. Oh, and – he didn’t make a reservation for his friends.

Slowly, you exhaled and stuffed down the responses. Deep down, with other emotions and magic. Beyond Pierre, a glass trembled but once you relaxed, the water went still.

“I apologize,” you said, not meeting his gaze. “I’ll do better next time.”

Pierre sniffed. “See that you do,” he said, brushing past. Grabbing a beer from the bar, you heard his friends burst into raucous laughter. Apparently, your humiliation was entertaining.

Heaving a small sigh, you turned – and froze where you stood.

Outside, Jungkook stared into the restaurant with murderous eyes. Too late, you realized Pierre had pulled you in front of the window. Away from anyone dining, but in full view of anyone on the sidewalk. Like your boyfriend, who witnessed the entire spectacle.

For a moment, your emotions overwhelmed, and you felt magic crack the walls you kept hidden. Embarrassment crept past your boundaries. Humiliation. Fury. Stuffing everything back, you quickly turned to rush through the tables.

Jungkook’s gaze snapped towards you, his brow furrowing. Reaching the staff room, you paced up and down. Jungkook saw you. He saw Pierre’s outburst, which meant you’d have to explain. You’d have to explain to Jungkook – the only person whose opinion you cared about – why you allowed other people to walk all over you.

He’d start to ask questions. Questions like, when was the last time you really got mad? You’d have no good response. Not because you don’t get mad, because you do. But because you don’t ever allow yourself to act on the feeling.

Faced with the prospect of brushing him off, you buried your face in both hands. Your usual excuses wore thin in your ears.

Pierre isn’t so bad. It was a one-time thing. You promise you’ll talk to Pierre tomorrow.

None of it would be true, and you didn’t want to lie to Jungkook. People never understood why you wouldn’t stand up for yourself, but the answer was complicated.

Your last date said you lacked emotions, but you don’t think that’s it. Of course, you have feelings, but those feelings are buried beneath so many layers, they can be hard to see. It’s not that you don’t feel, it’s that you cannot.

When you feel, your magic reacts, and people get hurt.

That was the last part of yourself you kept hidden. Jungkook is normal and he doesn’t know you’re an Elemental.

You know that by now, you should have said something. Obviously, but the timing was never right. Twenty-five years old, and you still aren’t sure how to broach the conversation. Few people know what you are, so you haven’t had much experience with the explanation. Your magic isn’t something you use if you can help it.

Yet another lesson you learned from your mom.

Your dad, an Elemental, died when you were five. Before, you lived near the ocean on a flat strip of sand. Your memories from before then are faint, but whenever you try, you can hear his booming laugh. Can feel the salt sting your cheeks, your mom tossing you in the air while you spun around.

Everything afterwards faded. At five years old, a hurricane swept past the barrier islands and that, you remember. You recall your mom at the door, pleading with your dad not to go as he donned his jacket. You remember him holding her hand, kissing the top of your head, and saying he’d return soon. Not many Elementals lived in your area, and even fewer had water magic.

You recall the hours passing, stretching longer and longer until dawn approached. Flashing lights followed, a woman climbing from her car to speak to your mom. You recall the sound of your mom sobbing, the policewoman’s voice floating into the house.

The storm surge was stronger than expected, but your dad managed to divert the worst. He saved the town only to be hit by a bolt of lightning. Instant death, the policewoman said, her tone implying this might be a comfort. Chest tight, your fingertips dug into the railing. Comfort meant nothing when your dad was gone. The irony struck you even back then – your dad saved others, and no one came to save him.

For weeks following, your mom was a ghost. At first, neighbors stopped by to drop off casseroles and condolences. Soon though, their sympathy stopped, and the whispers began. You were young enough not to notice, too consumed by the enormity of your own loss.

Eventually though, you noticed something was off. Suspicious eyes followed you down the sidewalk. Mothers clutched at their children, hurrying them to the side of an empty street. One day, you traipsed downstairs and overheard your mom on the phone.

She sat at the kitchen table, facing away from the staircase. You paused on the landing, listening to your aunt’s voice blast on speakerphone.

“Nonsense,” she was saying. “Your husband was a hero, and anyone saying otherwise is cracked. He saved your town!”

“I know.” Your mom blew her nose. “But now, people are wondering if he caused the storm. They’re saying maybe he… made the hurricane. It’s this new mayor,” she said, frustrated. “He hates Elementals and keeps insisting our family orchestrated this to collect money. He says –”

“Oh, no.” Your aunt sounded furious. “Don’t you repeat a single word that hateful man says.”

“He has a point, though,” your mom said, her voice low. “Did you hear about Uniontown? A fire Elemental accidentally set their barn on fire. Nearly burned the whole town. Magic is dangerous. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen, and now –”

“When was the last time your husband lost control, though? Are you saying you think he caused a hurricane?”

“God, no!” You watched your mom straighten. “But there are people saying… awful things.”

“Some people aren’t worth listening to.”

“I know.” Wearily, she exhaled. “They’re talking about Y/N, too, though. Apparently, she caused a tidal wave at the pool last weekend.”

Hearing your name said out loud, you shrank back in the shadows. You weren’t aware your mom knew about that, or that she cared. Bobby Clemmons teased Judith Bryce about her hair until finally, you snapped. Bobby was swept to the other end of the pool, much to Judith’s relief. She thanked you repeatedly.

Bobby was fine, except for some water up his nose. From the way he carried on though, you’d have thought he broke his arm.

Your mother lowered her voice, as though magic was something to be mentioned only in whispers. For the first time, a sense of shame crept over you. Your dad had always been open about magic, though stern. Stern in his belief magic should help people, not hurt. Never once did your dad insinuate magic itself was the problem.

Magic is dangerous.

Your mom’s words on the phone sank in as, your head pounding as you turned around to run up the steps. Even at six, you felt panic. If magic was dangerous and you were magical – that meant you were dangerous, too.

Slipping beneath your comforter, you stared at your shaking hands. Rain hit your windows, snowballing your worry to full-on fear. By the time your mom rushed upstairs, you were rocking under the covers as a storm raged.

She helped to calm you down, got your magic under control and a month after, you moved far away from the sea. A version of yourself vanished as you passed the pier. Despite this, you felt instant relief at the thought of control.

You remember your mom smiling when you joined the highway. “This will be good,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “A fresh start, away from it all. You can be whoever you want to be, Y/N.”

Except for the person you actually were.

Her meaning was clear, even if she didn’t say it out loud. At the time, you found the thought soothing. If you didn’t want to use magic, you didn’t have to. You never had to become your dad, who all your friends said had caused the bad storm. Even the news had turned against you.

Earth Elemental suspected behind San Raoul earthquake!

Jailed air Elemental claims innocence against onslaught of tornadoes!

Fire Elementals flee after string of arson!

Always the exclamation point. Always the lurid fascination that blame could be pinned on a single person. New rules were implemented in the house. No magic, except in your mom’s presence. This soon became no magic at all, but you didn’t mind. Whenever you did use magic, it felt wild, chaotic – the opposite of how you wanted to feel.

Your early years were marked by the struggle to conceal your powers. Years passed without incident and then, something would happen, and you’d have to move. Your mom never begrudged you, simply packed the house to travel to the next city. Each time, you promised you’d do better but by the time you realized school wasn’t for you, you had moved no less than six times.

Art was a risk, though one you found necessary.

Creation meant tapping into emotion, but you found methods of coping. Painting was the only place you loosened the reins on your magic, and so it became an outlet of sorts. A release, preventing your emotions from spilling into unwanted places.

There were other strategies, as well. Deep breathing. Counting backwards from one hundred. Focusing on one point, then on another until the magic calmed in your veins. Until you forgot the dangerous and destructive water around you.

Some people proved more reactionary to you than others. With some people, your magic responded so strongly, you were forced to cut them out completely. The first person this happened with was your best friend, Katrina. You were fourteen when she confided in you her family was fire Elementals. In response, your magic surged.

For a glorious summer, you practiced magic in secret. Each morning, you and Katrina bounded through the woods towards the far creek. You summoned great waves of water for Katrina to singe into mist. Everything was fine until late one evening, your mom caught you. She witnessed the combined magic and lost her temper.

Dragging you from the woods, your mom slammed the front door in Katrina’s face. She sat you down at the kitchen table, delivering a scolding you’ve never forgotten.

Do you know how reckless you were? What if a tree had caught fire? What if you altered the town’s water supply? What if someone saw and the next time a disaster happened, they blamed it on you – or Katrina?

Stricken by these very real possibilities, you promised not to do it again. Although you begged not to move, your mom packed the next day – your fastest exit ever.

The second time you cut someone out was after high school. Elliot was an artist, a quiet guy who dabbled with oils. He saw you painting one day in the park and silently set up his easel beside yours. This happened for weeks until he asked you out. Your ensuing romance was brief and sweet, and your feelings grew within a short period of time.

When Elliot told you he loved you, you dissolved into panic. You could feel how your magic responded, reaching for water that surged through his tiny apartment. Tossing on clothes, you stammered apologies and fled into the night.

For weeks following, it rained. Enough for the reporters to forecast local flooding. The fact terrified you – imagining people trapped on top of cars, small businesses flooded, the Red Cross called in to ferry locals to safety. It took your mom flying out to put you at ease, clearing the skies and regaining control.

Since then, you haven’t let anyone else past your inner walls. Until Jungkook.

Swallowing hard, you stare at his apartment and wonder if you’ll survive. Breaking up with Elliot is one of your worst memories and you only felt a fraction of what you do for Jungkook. Maybe you’ll conjure a hurricane, bringing the events of your life full circle.

Shutting your eyes, you rub at them dully. There’s no point in wondering what-if. You need to end it now, before things get worse. All day, you’ve gone over the facts and arrived at the same conclusion.

As expected, Jungkook was livid about Pierre last night. He wanted to confront your boss himself, although quickly backed off when he realized this was your battle. This though, turned to confusion when you said your intent to do nothing.

Although you tried the usual excuses, none of them stuck. Even if it was just once, Jungkook argued, it shouldn’t go unnoticed. You snapped slightly at this, insisting you’d deal with things in your own time.

Getting angry near Jungkook was peculiar. Suddenly, you became aware of the water around you. Thick, leaden pipes lacing Jungkook’s walls. Moisture that hung in the air, in the clouds – within his very veins. The thought terrified you, wondering what you might do accidentally.

Your panic must have been visible, because Jungkook instantly softened. Crossing the room, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “It’s just… I hate seeing you hurt. Of course, you know what’s best. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

His grip grounded you, enough that your magic dissipated, and that you realized a truth you’d hidden for some time.

You were in love with Jungkook.

No one in your life had ever been like him. Someone who was always in your corner, who protected you when they could and lifted up parts they couldn’t. Someone who liked everything about you – even the parts you weren’t brave enough to admit.

Studying his face, you tried to ignore the sudden ache in your chest. Even last night, you knew the inevitable. Memorizing his face, you tried hard to hold on. Jungkook’s slightly rounded nose, his full bottom lip accentuated by two piercings. Dark hair fell over his forehead; strong features contrasted by a soft gaze.

Jungkook watched you as well, and you wondered if he felt the same. Wondered why he’d commit you to memory, since you were the lucky one. He was the miracle, and you were biding your time.

Bending, he lightly brushed your mouth against his. Instantly, you melted. It wasn’t your first kiss and prayed it wouldn’t be the last, but something about last night felt different. Walking the two of you backwards, Jungkook pressed you against the wall and kissed you harder. His touch became desperate, one hand sliding beneath the lines of your blouse.

Your breath hitched at the brush of his fingers, delicious and warm against skin. His touch unknotted a hidden, tangled piece of your soul.

Ever since you met Jungkook, you’d held yourself separate. When you asked him to go slow in the beginning, he agreed. Touching was fine. Kissing was fine. Anything more, and you lost control.

About a month into dating, you met Jungkook at a bar and got tipsy. Three drinks in, you were frantically making out in an alley outside. Jungkook panted, “my place?” against your mouth, and you nodded. The journey back to his place was fast and slow, pausing in every dark place to drag his mouth to yours.

The second his door shut, you found yourself stumbling – into his bedroom, his bed, the confines of his heart. Shoes were discarded with every step, and Jungkook couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. You returned his fervor in spades, nipping his lower lip to watch him smile.

When he fell back on the bed, you saw his pulse quicken. Staring up at you, Jungkook watched your clothing disappear with a gaze so dark, it bordered on onyx. Climbing onto him, you resumed kissing with a newfound reverence. Eyes falling shut, you did your best to stay present.

Each brush of his lips was combustive, each touch of his hands filling you with sharp, pulsing light. And then –

The sink and shower in his bathroom burst on.

Startled, you pulled away and realized it had been you. Your magic had caused it, flooding his bathroom with water. Swearing under his breath, Jungkook scrambled out of bed to hastily turn off both faucets.

You sat there on his bed, heart pounding with fear. By the time he returned, you were already dressed and mortified. Jungkook was all apologies, certain he’d moved too fast, but you assured him he hadn’t. Anything that happened, you were an equal participant – too much maybe, although you didn’t say so out loud.

Lying in bed that night, you stared up at your ceiling. For a moment, it felt as though you were six and under the covers at your old house. Magic was dangerous. You would eventually hurt someone. Dread pooled in your stomach, recognizing the truth. If you couldn’t control your magic around Jungkook, you’d have to end things.

Heartache chased the thought, filling you with so much panic, you nearly drowned. Pushing this aside, you simply resolved to do better. To be better and keep both Jungkook and magic. This was simply another challenge; you owned your magic, not the other way around.

Thus, began the two best and worst months of your life. The best, since you’ve been dating Jungkook and the worst, because at every moment, you’re terrified of hurting him. Walking a line as thin as a razor, you’ve fallen in love while trying your best not to feel.

Until last night, you thought you’d been successful. Life was mostly under control, but then the Pierre debacle took place. Then Jungkook kissed you with such intensity, you forgot who you were and why you’d been holding back. Two long months of restraint and suddenly, you came undone at the seams.

Before long, you were again in his bedroom. Jungkook stripped off his clothes, bare skin pressing to yours with a searing intensity. Pulling you over him, a low hiss escaped while he kissed your throat. Even through his boxers, you could feel how hard Jungkook was. How badly he wanted this; a need you returned.

The thought of him inside you made you frantic. Pushing Jungkook onto his back, you straddled his waist and rocked forward.

Jungkook lay underneath you, his hair a dark halo. Suddenly, you could feel water everywhere. Magic, everywhere – it was in you, around you, in Jungkook’s walls and molecules. Everything felt so utterly fragile, and your magic responded.

Ferocious, it strained at your self-crafted bonds. Realizing how precarious your grasp on control was, your emotions slipped into panic.

You had to leave. Now.

Sensing the change in your body, Jungkook paused.

“I – I’m sorry,” you blurted, scrambling off him. Bending for your pants, you pushed one leg through and hastily zipped. “I need to go.”

Jungkook stared, frozen in place. “I…” Shaking his head, he pushed a hand through his hair. “What’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

Stomach dropping, you roughly shook your head. Part of you ached to correct him but your magic was barely leashed, and you weren’t certain how much longer it’d hold.

Your magic wasn’t something you wanted Jungkook to see.

Frantically throwing on your shirt, you rushed towards his front door. His dog, Bam, whined from the couch and lifted his head as you passed. Yanking open his door, you escaped to the hall and downstairs. You heard Jungkook call after, but he didn’t follow, for which you were grateful.

Remembering his face broke your heart as you entered the subway. You kept your magic at bay until reaching your building, at which point rain swept the city in waves. Soaked through, you got in the elevator and saw Jungkook had texted. Shaking, you responded you’d talk to him tomorrow and turned off your phone.

Rain poured all night and you barely slept. By the time you woke, your mood had gotten worse. Work was torture. Even the lunch shift couldn’t save you, the looming specter of Jungkook impossible to forget. When Pierre showed up around one, you knew you were doomed. His glower could be felt all the way across the restaurant and no matter what you did, you somehow stayed in his way.

With little to no sleep and haunted by last night, the grip on your magic was tentative at best. Your entire shift, it hovered at the edge of your fingers. When Pierre commented you looked tired, the rain outside worsened. When a table of middle-aged men called you ‘girlie,’ their water glasses shook.

It was miraculous nothing happened until the end of your shift. That was the moment Pierre’s friends arrived, seating themselves at the table you gave away last night. One of them laughed as you poured them water, and you managed to push down your snide remark.

Glasses full, you turned around to go and the same one grabbed your waist.

You went still.

For so long, you’ve hidden your magic to protect others. You’ve kept them from hurting and there you were, broken, and no one cared about you. Just like no one cared about your dad, in the end. Teeth gritted, you whirled – and the entire water pitcher dumped itself at him.

At him, not on him.

You didn’t trip. Didn’t throw the water, although either would have been preferrable. Instead, the water leapt from the pitcher to slap the man in the face.

Horrified, you stared as reality sunk in. You had just assaulted a guest – a friend of Pierre’s, at that.

Shocked, the man wiped water down his visage. The entire restaurant fell silent, every eye in the room locked on you. Panic-stricken, you stammered an apology, flung a napkin on the table and fled into the kitchen.

The moment you crashed through the doors, you were hailed a hero. Izumi, your line cook, wistfully recalled the one time she punched a guy who grabbed her ass. Georgina added that once, she spit in the drink of a man who called her a bitch.

Both tactfully avoided the fact that you were an Elemental, which you appreciated. You were starting to feel marginally better – maybe you wouldn’tbe fired, after all – when the door to the kitchen swung open and Pierre stormed through. Seeing his face, your heart sank.

“You!” Spittle flew from his lips as he pointed. “Y/N – pack your things! You’re done here. Fired. You think you can insult my friend, pull some magic bullshit on him, and continue to work here? Fuck that. Get out – now!”

A pin could have been heard in the silence. Coming to your senses, you did exactly as asked and got your things. Pierre hadn’t mentioned pressing charges, and you didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

Outside, you stood on the sidewalk and stared at the bus stop. Storm clouds brewed above, a visualization of your inner turmoil. Eventually, you turned and trudged down the subway.

Things had reached a point you couldn’t ignore anymore. You were beyond out of control. Emotions surged and strained against your internal walls, threatening everyone you held dear. The city didn’t deserve to be punished, even if no one within it knew of your sacrifice. Pierre’s friends were awful, but you could’ve just as easily lost your temper with someone you loved.

Someone like Jungkook, whom you couldn’t seem to be around without incident.

That was the reason most people feared Elementals. It was selfish of you to put your desires ahead of another person’s safety. The only way to protect someone you loved was to stay away.

Starting with Jungkook. You just wished he didn’t have to get hurt in order for that to happen.

Standing outside his building, you take a deep breath and press the buzzer. You wait for several long moments, wondering if he’s home and then –

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice crackles over the speaker.

Leaning in, you press 316. “Hey. It’s me. Y/N.”

A weighted pause, and then –

“Come in.”

The door unlocks, and you push it inside. Climbing the steps to his place, your heart starts to pound. The last time you saw Jungkook, you were running away. The last text he sent was, ‘ok,’ in response to your message. If you were Jungkook, you wouldn’t be thrilled to see you.

Coming to a stop outside 316, you lift your hand and knock. A howl responds, followed by the patter of gigantic dog footsteps. Unable to stop your smile, you shake your head at the chaos.

“It’s just me, Bam!” you say, and he stops.

Bam’s howl is replaced with a whine and the sharp thwack-thwack of his tail on the door.

“Bam, out of the way,” Jungkook calls, his voice coming closer. A few seconds later, the door flies open to reveal your boyfriend.

You only catch a glimpse before Bam barrels out, nearly knocking you over. Legs and tail akimbo, he slobbers all over until you bend to pet him. Once satisfied, Bam turns around and trots back inside.

Silence falls between you, and you look up to see Jungkook. He’s dressed casually, sweatpants and a t-shirt bought at a concert you attended. He hasn’t moved aside, blocking you from entering.

Uncertain, you straighten. “Can I come in?”

Slowly, he nods and moves. You walk past him, trying not to focus on the heat of his shoulder. This might be the last time you see Jungkook, so you try to focus on that. Not the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Hearing the door shut, you take a deep breath and turn to face him. “I can’t stay too long,” you admit, digging your nails into the palms of your hands.

Jungkook regards you warily. His expression makes your chest ache, unused to him with such a stern expression. After last night, you suppose it’s earned. You should probably get used to it.

“Y/N.” His jaw works. “What’s going on?”

Deciding honesty is the best policy – up to a point – you force out your next words. “I think we should break up,” you say in a rush.

With a low whine, Bam slinks in the direction of the bedroom. Jungkook glances at him, distracted, before facing forward.

“What do you mean?” His head tilts. “Like, you want to take a break?”

Steeling yourself, you shake your head. “No. As in, I want to break up. Permanently.”

A train passes by the building, rumbling the floorboards underneath. Most people would avoid living in this building for that reason, but Jungkook was overjoyed by the prospect of discounted rent.

He doesn’t seem overjoyed now, though. Instead, he looks stricken.

“Walk me through this,” Jungkook says, walking closer. The set of his mouth has turned stubborn. “I don’t follow. Why are we breaking up again?”

The knot in your chest tightens. You should have known Jungkook wouldn’t make this easy on you. “We’re not good together,” you say, only to correct yourself. “I mean, I’m not good for you. I’m not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

He comes to a stop. “I can wait, Y/N. I don’t mind.”

Reaching for you, Jungkook’s brows crease when you take a step backwards. His hand falls between you, and he stares at the empty space. The crack in your heart widens, made worse by his silence.

“I mind, though,” you force yourself to say. “I can’t ask you to wait for me, Jungkook. That’s not fair to either of us. It’s too much pressure.”

The words make your heart splinter, reaching a point you aren’t sure can be reassembled. Maybe the pieces will simply lodge in your muscle, bruising your insides each time you draw breath.

“I won’t pressure you,” Jungkook says, automatic. His frown deepens. “Tell me what this is really about, Y/N. Is this about sex? It’s fine if we don’t have it.” Stepping closer, he takes your hand and you let him. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Somewhat manic, you shake your head – and then nod.

Sex is a part of the problem, but it’s not the root cause. Sex with Jungkook is unthinkable. You can barely remain in control when you kiss, let alone allow more. With your past partners, this wasn’t an issue, but your past partners weren’t Jungkook.

Never have you met someone able to scramble your thoughts with a kiss. Whose gaze melted inhibitions and tore down every wall. You have little doubt that with Jungkook, you’d lose full control, and the thought is terrifying. Already, your makeshift barriers are weakened.

Rain splatters against the window, and your stomach lurches.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Jungkook says, returning your attention to him. “What’s this about? I can tell something’s on your mind.”

He takes your other hand, and you realize how close he stands. “Is it work?” Jungkook asks, a crease between brows. “Is there… some reason you can’t quit? You can tell me, Y/N.”

An odd zing of disappointment goes through you. For a moment, you thought Jungkook had guessed your secret, and this could all be avoided. If Jungkook knew what you were and that you lied to him – well, he’d end things for you. Hesitant, you consider revealing that truth but can’t seem to form words. It would devastate you, seeing fear replace love in his eyes.

“Work isn’t the problem,” you say at last. “It’s us, Jungkook. Or – it’s me. I don’t want to be together anymore.”

Disbelief flashes across his expression, and you idly wonder what will happen if Jungkook refuses. Even as you think this though, his expression shifts. Jungkook takes a careful step backwards, dropping your hands entirely.

He’s never been good at hiding emotion. Jungkook is your opposite in that way, revealing every shift of thought and desire. You watch confusion become anger, then bitterness a moment before he turns away. The set of his shoulders is still, staring out the window as yet another train passes.

Restless, he turns to drag a hand through his hair. “I don’t believe you,” he declares. “This is so out of nowhere, Y/N. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m telling you everything,” you say, panic rising. “And this isn’t out of nowhere! I’ve been telling you for months I need to take things slow and this – well, this is the opposite of slow, Jungkook!”

Jungkook stares back at you, heated. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The two of you stand there for a moment, the tension thick in between you. Eventually, you look away first and pull your bag tighter.

“Right,” you exhale. “Well, I should go –”

Striding forward, Jungkook reaches you to cup your face with both palms. Gently, he lifts your face towards him, and all thoughts cease completely. Gaze searching, his breath fans across your parted lips.

Jungkook’s gaze intensifies. “I don’t believe you,” he murmurs.

Adrenaline zips under your skin, stirring your magic into a deadly storm. Entire body tense, you suppress the urge to fight or flee. So often, you’re the one running but right now, you feel more compelled to fight.

A knife in you twists, knowing you’re a coward. If you were stronger, you could keep Jungkook. No matter how understanding he is, the fact remains that if he stays with you, Jungkook remains in danger. Each passing day only worsens the pain.

His face blurs. With a start of surprise, you realize there are tears on your cheeks. The furrow between Jungkook’s brows deepens, noticing as well.

“You’re not listening,” you blurt. “I can’t see you any longer, Jungkook. It’s in your best interest, I promise – I can’t do this. It’s too much.”

Reaching up, you remove his hands from your face and head for the door.

Jungkook follows close behind. “Which is it, then?” he demands. “You want me to go slowly, or you feel too much?”

Pressure weighs every inch of your skin, demanding you answer. Anything that comes out now will only make things harder. Reaching the door, you feel Jungkook’s hand on your shoulder. Caving, you don’t fight when Jungkook turns you to face him.

He’s too close to you. Too much and too close, his one hand sliding to cup the back of your neck. Slowly, his thumb strokes the elongated line of your throat. You swallow, hard, and his gaze follows the motion.

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to yours. “You keep saying you’re no good for me,” he says, his voice low. “But what if I don’t care? Don’t I get a say in this decision?”

The force of holding in your magic worsens, becoming near impossible. Hastily built walls threaten to collapse, and reality blurs between one moment and the next.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, your hand searching behind you. “I have to go.”

Finding the doorknob, you twist and stumble backwards. Jungkook watches you go, the look on his face physically painful as you turn around. Each second that follows is pure concentration, trying not to break before getting outside.

The ocean is only a few blocks from Jungkook’s apartment.

Reaching the harbor, rain pelts your face in a way that feels punishing. Magic makes your limbs tremble, escaping your body in wisps of fog and rain. The moment you arrive at the harbor, you shatter, collapsing forward to grip your knees with both hands.

Eyes pressed tightly shut, you hear the storm howl. Waves churn the harbor, sloshing over the sidewalk in an attempt to get closer. No tidal waves, you plead in an attempt at reason. No whirlpools, no water spouts.

Your magic listens in this regard, at least. By the time your eyes open, a curtain of rain mingles with tears on your cheeks. Staring out at the ocean, each inch of your body is numb.

Jungkook will never forgive you for this.

The thought banishes all the rest. You can’t say that you blame him. Slowly, you exhale as you lift your gaze. The chasm in your chest widens, becoming something unbreachable. This is all your fault. You wish there was some satisfaction in knowing this, but there isn’t.

Eventually, the rain dulls, and you push yourself upright. Your sneakers squish with every step, the silence all-encompassing as you ride on the subway. Entering the building, you remove your shoes and collapse on your bed, fully clothed. Thankfully, your roommate isn’t home, so you aren’t forced to explain the events of tonight. Seokjin would have wanted to discuss, and you aren’t sure you can without breaking down.

Burrowing your face into the pillows, you manage to cry yourself asleep. Rain doesn’t let up the entire night.

“Tell me again.” Taking a seat at the table, Seokjin spoons yogurt and berries into his mouth. “Why did you have to end things with your boyfriend?”

Cracking open one eye, you glare from where you sit, slumped forward. “You know why, Seokjin,” you grumble. “Not all of us can be air Elementals in perfect control of their magic.”

“You could be, though,” he says, pointing with his spoon. “If you put in like, five seconds of training and embraced your water powers instead of running away whenever things got bad.”

“I am not running.”

“No.” Seokjin lifts a brow. “You’re cowering, which is far less attractive.”

“I’m not cowering, either.” Scowling, you bury your head deeper into your arms. “I’m wallowing. Big difference.”

Scoffing, his spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. Pushing his chair back to stand, Seokjin heads for the sink and turns on the tap. The water itches a spot deep in your chest, almost taunting.

“I can’t be too hard on you, though,” Seokjin says as he cleans. “You did get fired and dumped in one day – that’s pretty rough.”

“Does it count as being dumped if I did the dumping?”

“I’ll allow it.” He opens the dishwasher. “But only because really, you didn’t want to break up with Jungkook. You’ve just convinced yourself the world is better off without you – something I highly disagree with, by the way, but can’t fault you for feeling. It’s too sad.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, and close your eyes.

Two days have gone by since your decision to end your relationship with Jungkook. It hasn’t been great, to put things mildly. On Monday, you barely left your room and rain poured from the sky. When you did enter the kitchen, the weather person on Channel 9 predicted local flooding.

Seokjin arrived from his business trip that night, took one look at your face and helped stop the storm. You sagged with relief, falling into a fitful round of sleep that only lasted three hours.

Seokjin is one of the few Elementals you know who embraces their power. Both his parents are air Elementals, and he was raised to take over their magical consulting business. Said business does well, leading Seokjin to own a gorgeous, three-bedroom apartment in the middle of the city. He got bored last winter, decided to post for a roommate and here you are. One of the few people in the city willing to room with an Elemental.

You don’t care what Seokjin does with his magic, although his laissez-faire attitude can occasionally be unnerving. You’ve lived your entire life with the assumption your existence is dangerous. All you need is a quick Google search to reinforce this fact. But then there’s Seokjin, living his life, seemingly none the worse for the wear.

He discovered your powers about a month into rooming together. Coming back from a trip, Seokjin opened the door to stare, slack-jawed, as plates washed themselves in the sink. Glancing up from your book at the table, you immediately sent two dishes crashing onto the floor.

Seokjin stared at this for a moment, then looked up. “You owe me new plates,” he declared and walked into his bedroom. After a moment, he popped his head out. “Hey – you think if we combined my wind and your water, we could create a waterspout but on land?”

“That’s… a tornado, Seokjin.”

“Right.” He slapped the doorframe once and disappeared. “Well, something to think about!”

Months later, Seokjin still doesn’t understand your avoidance of magic, but respects the decision enough to leave it alone. At least, until something like this happens and he’s again at a loss.

“Listen.”

Turning around, he shuts the dishwasher with his hip.

“Oh, no.” You grimace. “What now?”

Seokjin raises both hands. “Nothing, nothing. Far be it from me to comment on your mistakes. I’m sorry – did I say mistakes? I meant, ‘learned life experience.’ Through mistakes.”

“Was there a question in all that?”

“No question.” Loosely, he gestures. “Just wanted to say you can stay here, rent-free, until you figure this out. You know I’m only taking your money because you insist. I don’t need it. This place is already paid for.”

“Only because you frightened the seller so badly, they cut the price in half.”

“Listen.” Seokjin’s smile turns slightly sinister. “If they were willing to let their ingrained fear of Elementals influence their selling point, that’s on them. Not me.”

“Fair enough,” you sigh and sit back. “But seriously – thank you. This will give me some time to come up with a plan.”

Seokjin nods, tracing the rim of his coffee. Absently, he glances down the hall at the empty third bedroom. “You know…”

“No,” you say, automatic.

His right brow lifts. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest I use this time off to work on my art.”

“Okay.” Seokjin shrugs. “Maybe you did know. But seriously, Y/N – why not?”

Weary, you exhale. “Because every time I try to paint, I get this… block. I can’t explain it. Watercolors used to be the one place I felt comfortable using my magic. Now… I don’t know. I can’t seem to use my magic anywhere. Even my art.”

Seokjin tilts his head, thoughtful. “How long has this been going on?”

“Don’t know – a few months?”

“Not long after you started dating Jungkook.”

Staring at Seokjin, you realize he’s right. That’s exactly around when you began dating Jungkook. The block happened not long after. Thinking about the early days of dating are painful though, and so you choose not to.

“I don’t want to talk about him,” you declare with a shake of your head. “Right now, what I need is a job. And to earn money. Preferably in that order.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch. “Let me know if the order changes. I know a guy.”

Before you can consider his offer too seriously, your phone rings on the table. Glancing down, your heart constricts at your mom’s name. It isn’t that you don’t want to talk. It’s that if you do, Jungkook’s name will come up, and you’ll be forced to explain why you two aren’t together. Right now, you’re managing to cope by avoiding the topic. You aren’t sure what will happen if you’re forced to confront it.

Not to mention the very real possibility your mom will be happy. She liked Jungkook, but she always worries whenever someone new enters your life.

Also glancing at your phone, Seokjin scowls. “Don’t answer it,” he says, walking past. “Whenever you talk to your mom, things get even worse.”

Seokjin’s not wrong. Your mom means well – really, she does – but talking to her tends to leave you exhausted. Still, you know from experience it’s better to answer now.

“I know,” you sigh and stand up. “But if I don’t pick up now, she’ll just keep calling. Hey,” you say, pressing answer. “One second, mom.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s sad shake of his head, you scoop up your coffee and head for your bedroom.

Closing the door to your room, you lean backwards. “Hi, mom,” you say, lifting your phone to your ear. “Sorry about that. I was eating breakfast. How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” your mom says, and you can practically hear her smile. “Same old, same old. The better question is, how are you? I saw on the weather there’s some flooding by you. Hope you’re alright!”

Grimacing, you move the phone to speaker. You should have known your mom would check in. Reading between the lines of her question, you can hear what she’s really asking. Your mom wants to know if you caused the flooding – an answer which is undeniably yes, but she doesn’t have to know that.

Setting down your half-empty mug, you flop face-first on your bed. Less information tends to be more with your mom. You’re debating what to say when she solves the problem for you.

“I know you haven’t had a slip in years,” she continues. “But if there’s another water Elemental in town, you should try to steer clear of them! Being around them could set you off – that’s what happened to Becky’s nephew, she said.”

Fighting an eye roll, you roll on your back. Becky Mayweather is your mom’s best friend in the entire world and one of your least favorite people. She’s the type to bake cookies, offer a shoulder to cry on – and then promptly turn and gossip to the neighbors about it. She fancies herself an Elemental expert because a few of her friends married them. Funnily enough, neither you nor your mom have met these friends in person.

“Oh?” you ask. “I never noticed.”

“It’s true! You know that I worry, Y/N. All alone in the city with another Elemental for a roommate…”

Annoyance spikes in your stomach. “His name is Seokjin, and I’m an Elemental too, mom. His mom could say the same thing about me.”

Seokjin’s mom could be saying that, but she wouldn’t because Seokjin’s mom and dad are both magic enthusiasts. The few times you met them, they were nothing but kind.

“Oh, Y/N.” Your mom sighs. “It’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Watch your tone,” she says. “I’m only telling the truth. You work hard on controlling your magic. Your roommate, on the other hand, uses his magic willy-nilly. In broad daylight! You two couldn’t be more different.”

Your mom isn’t wrong about that, although not for the reason she thinks. Seokjin does use his magic freely, but you’re the one at risk of hurting others – not him.

“Seokjin is a good guy,” you say tightly. “He’s letting me stay here, rent-free, while I search for another job.”

“Another job?” Her voice pitches. “What happened to the job at that restaurant?”

Cursing yourself for your own stupidity, you close your eyes. “Um… I was let go. Difference of opinions with management.”

“Oh. Well. That’s too bad, Y/N, I’m sorry. It’s probably for the best – you don’t want to be working for someone you don’t respect, right?”

Some of your anger lessens at her genuine sympathy. It’d be easy to paint your mom as the villain but truthfully, she comes from a good place. You know that she loves you; she just doesn’t want to lose you the same way she lost your dad.

Exhaling deeply, you reach to grab a pillow. “I’ve been trying to paint,” you say. “It hasn’t been going well.”

“No?”

You frown at the obvious joy in her voice.

“Yeah,” you admit.

“Well…” Your mom draws the word out. “We always knew art was a risky hobby, Y/N. Painting. With watercolors. Something could easily go wrong and put you in danger.”

“I know, mom.”

“Actually,” she adds, her excitement growing. “Maybe this is a sign. Y/N – what if this means your powers are weakening?”

Your entire body goes still. “What?”

“Yes!” she says, oblivious to the panic in your voice. “You always loved watercolors because they made sense to you, right? Because of your… well, magic. What if a block means your powers are growing weaker? I wonder if other Elementals ever lose touch with their magic. I’ll have to ask Becky.”

Irrational anger surges within, and you hear the faucet in your bathroom turn on. Hastily, you work to turn it back off.

“You don’t need to do that,” you blurt. “I’ll research it myself. Actually, I should get going – I wanted to apply for some jobs this morning.”

“Oh, yes – good call, honey. You go and apply. Let me know if you need help. Becky has connections with the local university. I’m sure someone could help you update your resume – or even apply, if that sounds interesting to you.”

“Thanks,” you say, although it absolutely does not. “That’s a nice offer.”

“Have a good day, honey – I love you!”

“Love you, too,” you say before hanging up.

Dropping the phone onto your bed, you hug your pillow tightly. It takes several long minutes to relax, wading your way through an anxious sea of thought. Although your mom means well, conversations with her tend to leave you feeling drained. Since you were young, it’s felt like your mom has an idea of the perfect child, and they aren’t you.

Eventually, you stand to bring your mug to the kitchen. Seokjin is busy making another pot of coffee, the delicious scent wafting overhead.

Passing him by, you eye this warily. “Isn’t that your third pot this morning?”

“And?” Seokjin reaches for his mug. “You’ve had three cups yourself.”

“Touché,” you sigh, collapsing on the couch.

Minutes later, Seokjin enters the living room and hands you a mug.

Staring into the drink, you say, “Thanks.”

Settling onto the sofa, Seokjin examines you over the rim of his coffee. You ignore him, taking a long sip of your drink. A summer breeze wafts through the window, and with a flick of his wrist, Seokjin sends it back out.

A stab of envy goes through you, although you know it’s irrational. Seokjin always makes magic look easy, but you’ve never found it to be so. Maybe when you were younger, before the crippling fear and anxiety had a chance to set in. The only time magic ever felt normal was when you painted and now, you can’t even do that.

Thinking about painting makes you think about Jungkook though, causing the dull thud in your chest to become a sledgehammer. You miss him. Miss the easy way Jungkook made you laugh. How he insisted on constantly touching some part of your body.

Cupping your mug of coffee, you take another sip and sink into the sadness.

“Far be it from me to dole out advice.” Seokjin interrupts your tiny pity party. “But I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Too exhausted to argue, you merely exhale. “What’s the right way, then?”

His head tilts. “I don’t know. But I find it weird your block appeared around the same time you started dating Jungkook. You’ve…” Seokjin hesitates, and you recognize his how-do-I-put-this-delicately face. “You’ve given up a lot over the years, Y/N. Maybe this time, you gave up more of yourself than you realized.”

Silently, you wonder whether he’s right. For too long, you’ve gone through the motions of life without really living. Too scared of letting people in, scaring them off, of being yourself. Perhaps giving up Jungkook will be the final straw. The thought doesn’t comfort you, and you have no response.

After a moment, Seokjin turns on the TV. The morning slips by, though you can’t help but think about his earlier comments – could you control your magic if you tried harder? The moment you think this, you instantly banish the thought. You’ve been attempting for months, and nothing has worked.

With this cheery thought, you allow yourself to sink further into melancholy. Only this time, the water rushing overheard isn’t your friend. You aren’t sure it ever was.

Wednesday morning, you leave the apartment in a haze. You thought that by today, things would be better but if anything, the situation seems to be worse.

Missing Jungkook is painful.

It hurts more than you thought, which might sound stupid, but that doesn’t make it any less true. When you and Elliot broke up, it was sad, but you knew it was for the best and that lessened some of the pain. Now though, each beat of your heart prevents the wound from closing. A tentative scab in one second, only to be torn open the next.

Jungkook always sent you good morning texts. Not because he was up before you, but because he went to bed so late, it was only an hour or two before you awoke. His words were the first thing you read in the morning, smiling sleepily at his rambling. Sometimes, Jungkook would include a late-night snack recipe. Always, he’d end with something he liked about you.

His silence is deafening. Something not even your favorite coffee shop can fix, although you try. Standing in line, you aimlessly flip through songs on your phone. Today, you promised Seokjin you’d attend at least two interviews. The first one is in an hour at a sushi restaurant. Before then, you plan to load up on caffeine and organize your thoughts.

When the line moves forward, you flip to your messages. No new texts. Unsurprising, but it rends the scab in your heart anew.

Facing forward, you remove an earbud to order. “Hi,” you say, mustering a smile. “I’ll have an iced americano with rose syrup.”

“Got it.” The barista barely looks up. “That all?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want a receipt?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.” She nods. “That’ll be ready soon at the end of the counter.”

Nodding your thanks, you replace the ear pod. Cranking your music louder, you wait for your coffee and lean against the counter. The coffee shop is tiny, empty for a weekday after the morning rush. Aimless, you glance over the clustered tables.

Your thoughts are on Jungkook before they can be stopped. You wonder what he's doing, what he’s wearing, whether he’s blocked your number yet from his phone.

A talented graphic designer, Jungkook works mostly on commission and on his own time. He does well for himself – enough to afford rent on his own place. Your mutual creative streak was something you had in common. Not your sleeping hours, that’s for sure.

Jungkook usually slept until nine or ten, then went to the gym before he made breakfast. You used to tease him about that, saying he couldn’t call it breakfast if –

Your heart falters. Jungkook must be on your mind since you seem to have hallucinated him here, at the coffee shop. You blink once, and then twice, but the mirage doesn’t fade, and you’re forced to conclude Jungkook is actually here.

Unfolding himself from a chair, he heads in your direction. Panicked, you glance at the counter, then back up. Your coffee hasn’t finished, which means that you’re trapped. Straightening, you do your best to seem natural and are certain you fail. Jungkook doesn’t just look natural, he is so as he approaches. At least, until you notice his hands in his pockets.

Jungkook does this when he’s nervous. Likely, he’s playing with the inside pocket lining. It hurts, knowing him so well, and not being his. When Jungkook comes to a stop, you stand mere inches apart.

“Jungkook,” you say, his name punched from your diaphragm.

He nods. “Hey.”

Uncertain, you glance down at the counter to check for your drink. Still nothing and, looking back, you tilt your head. “What are you doing here?”

Jungkook’s hands go deeper, if possible. “Getting coffee. Is that allowed?”

Your lips press together. “Sure. Theoretically, you can get coffee. What I’m asking though, is why you chose this coffee shop, five blocks away from your place. Usually, you’re not awake before noon.”

His expression is inscrutable. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah.”

The silence between you lengthens, and not in a good way. You know why you’re quiet but can’t tell what Jungkook is thinking. You suppose that it’s possible he woke up early, forgot this was your favorite shop and went on a long walk for coffee – it’s possible, but unlikely.

At last, Jungkook exhales. “Alright, fine. I wanted to see you.”

“Y/N?”

Both of you turn at the sound of your name. Glancing between the two of you, the barista seems to pick up a weird vibe, dropping the cup to hurry away. Grateful for the interruption, you reach for your coffee and attempt to reset.

It’s not fair of Jungkook, corning you like this. You were already forced to end this once – unfair, making you do so again. Breaking up with him once was barely possible; twice is unthinkable.

“Don’t you have anything else to say?”

His voice interrupts your train of thought and, gripping your drink tightly, you turn.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Like, I don’t know.” His brow furrows, frustration obvious. “Anything, Y/N.”

Behind the counter, the barista fills a tea kettle to set this on the stove. You watch it instead of Jungkook, unsure how you’re going to do this again. The pressure of the water boiling is near tangible, mimicking the internal state of your mind.

Biting your tongue, you decide a safe exit is best. Jungkook will get the hint without you being forced to break his heart. Counting backwards from ten, you exhale and attempt to walk past.

“I’m sorry you came all this way,” you say in a murmur.

You’re nearly past Jungkook when you hear a soft swear. Only one more step happens before his hand grips your elbow.

“Y/N, please,” Jungkook breathes, turning you towards him.

Your gaze lifts and you start at his obvious pain. Staring back, Jungkook searches your face for something unspoken. Whatever he seeks, he must find it, since determination enters his.

You tear your gaze away. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I want to know if you were serious about breaking up.”

He’s still holding your elbow.

You must notice this at the same time, but neither of you move. Your gaze returns to his, drawn like a magnet and you realize your mistake when you can’t look away. Romeo’s line about Julie being the sun comes to mind, making sudden sense. You orbit around Jungkook, whether you like it or not.

In the background, a tea kettle whistles. “I meant what I said, Jungkook,” you say, forcing yourself to speak first. “I’m not good for you.”

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “But why,” he demands, frustration seeping through. You can hear in his voice the long nights of desperation, of little sleep in your absence. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Y/N. What did I do?”

A chasm in your chest opens, hating how easily he jumps to self-doubt. Before you can think better of it, you move closer.

“Nothing,” you say, one hand on his arm. “You did nothing wrong, Jungkook. I’m just not in a place where I can be in a relationship.”

“But why not?” His gaze sharpens. “Everything was fine between us until Sunday.”

“Everything was not fine.”

Jungkook pauses, then barrels on. “When you say you can’t be in a relationship… what you’re really saying is you can’t be in a relationship with me.”

“With anyone,” you correct, although you aren’t sure that’s the truth.

Your magic has never been this temperamental. Possibly because this is the first time you’ve fallen in love. Dating someone not Jungkook would be safer, but the thought is abhorrent.

If you can’t have Jungkook, you don’t want anyone. That will be your punishment. Jungkook will move on, fall in love, and be happy with another person. Not you. No one else will compare, and if you can’t now, you doubt you’ll move past this crippling fear.

“You keep telling me that,” Jungkook says, growing heated. “But I’m the one you’re breaking up with, so it’s a little bit about me. You need to give me something, Y/N. Is this about your past? I know you don’t like to talk about your childhood, but I want to know.”

A loud buzzing fills your ears, gaze darting around. You haven’t told Jungkook much about your family, not wanting to invite questions about being an Elemental. The thought of him guessing sparks panic again, and the tea kettle on the stove whistles louder.

“People in my past hurt me,” you say in a rush. Magic itches beneath your skin, begging for escape. “That’s part of it, but not all.”

“What’s all, then?”

Frustration seeps past the wall, and several things happen. Your magic lashes out, a loud noise makes you jump, and the tea kettle shatters while hitting the floor. Water sloshes across the tile, steam hissing as the barista jumps back with a yelp.

Startled, you whirl around. One barista turns off the stove, another grabs a towel while a third finds a broom. Luckily, none of them seem injured – the tea kettle missed their skin. Taking a half-step towards them, you force yourself to stop. Although you want to help, that might make you seem guilty.

Already, the guilt within you is rising. You felt your magic overpowering you and chose to stay. If a barista had been hurt, it would’ve been your fault.

Turning back, you find Jungkook staring at the mess. He looks similarly shocked, twisting the knife in your gut. If he knew you caused this, he’d look at you that differently.

“You see?” you blurt, and he glances in your direction. “Everyone around me gets hurt. I can’t hurt you, too, Jungkook.”

Shoving open the door, you’re halfway outside when his words reach your ears.

“That’s the thing, Y/N,” he says softly. “You already have.”

The door shuts behind you, and you almost make it home before starting to cry. The skies open again above the city.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” you mutter, staring through the window.

The slightly dilapidated Ramen-rama tables stare back at you until the owner walks past. Catching you standing there, he motions you on.

Somewhat chagrined, you trudge down the sidewalk. Reaching a playground two blocks away, you collapse on a bench and attempt to be rational. Four different interviews. Spread across two different days. Each one ending the exact same.

One crappy interview, even two, and you’d understand. But four crappy interviews in the same way? Something weird is happening. Each interview, you arrived, greeted the owner, answered a few questions, and were thus informed the position was filled.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t gotten a job. It was that your interviewers seemed nervous, staring hard at your resume and never your face. They seemed relieved when you left, as though you were liable to break something for fun.

“Hey. Did you interview this morning at Ramen-rama?”

Startled, you turn and find a stranger beside you.

You don’t recognize him; certainly you’d remember if you met before. Dressed in a Ramen-rama t-shirt, his dark hair is gathered in a bun on his head. His hair makes your chest ache, since Jungkook used to wear his like that.

“Um, yeah,” you say, yanking yourself from your daydreams.

He smiles and nods. “I thought that was you. Listen – I overheard the manager talking this morning on the phone while I was unloading the truck. I think he was talking about you, so I thought I should tell you what I overheard.”

Concerned, you straighten. “Uh, okay. What was he saying?”

“He was talking to your old boss – Pierre? Apparently, he’s calling around and warning people not to hire you. Said that you stole from him, or something. Not sure if it’s the same story for everyone, or if he’s making up shit up in the moment.”

Your jaw nearly drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” The guy’s smile turns wry. “I’m assuming none of it’s true. You don’t look like the thieving type, but the boss is running a business, I guess. Can’t be too careful.”

“Right.” You pause, then shake your head. “I didn’t steal, just so you know. A guest was an ass to me, so I dumped water on him – on accident,” you add.

Laughing loudly, the guy clutches his bicycle. “Wow, I’d love to hear that story. Especially the part about it being an accident,” he adds with a wink, sticking out his hand. “I’m Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” you say as you shake. “So. Pierre is calling people?”

Brow furrowed, Wooyoung pulls back. “Yeah. Sorry I had to tell you like this. Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know, but figured I should.”

You push yourself to stand. “I do appreciate it. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.” Sheepish, he glances down the road. “I should actually get back if I don’t want to lose my job. Delivery,” he explains, nodding towards his bike. “Need the extra income.”

“Makes sense,” you say, forcing a smile. “Good luck.”

Wooyoung nods, then pauses in a way that feels familiar. He’s checking you out, you realize after a moment. Although flattering, it’s instantly followed by a rush of guilt. Wooyoung is cute and in another life, you’d say yes, but in every life, it’s hard not to want Jungkook.

Waving goodbye, Wooyoung climbs onto his bike and takes off. You head in the opposite direction, needing to put distance between you and Ramen-rama. If Pierre is shit-talking you across town, you’ll be hard-pressed to find another job at a restaurant. Owners are notoriously clicky and for how many restaurants there are, there are surprisingly few out of the loop.

Maybe you can ask the coffee shop if they’re hiring. Although you should probably avoid work with water for a bit. This drops your mood, your thoughts turning desperate. You’re so deep in an anxiety spiral, you nearly run into an open door on the sidewalk.

Jerking upright, you stare at faded, golden letters. Creative Courage is spelled in looping cursive over a frosted window. Art supplies fill a display case, while the other is clustered with art of all kinds. You spot sculpture, pottery, painting, and sketches before losing count.

Before you can chicken out, you push open the door.

Stepping in, tiny bells chime to announce your arrival. Soft, ambient light fills the space – a shop that’s two-fold, you realize now that you’re inside. The front sells art supplies while in the back stands a classroom. There’s a class in session now, several artists seated on stools before easels.

“Can I help you?” someone asks, stepping into your path.

Blinking, you focus. “Um, no – thank you! I was just looking.”

“Of course!” The woman beams, reaching up to arrange a clip in magenta hair. “That’s what we’re here for. If you do change your mind, let me know – we’ve got art supplies out front, and classes are held daily in back.”

“Classes?”

“Mhm.” Crossing her arms, the woman nods. “Mostly still life and figure drawing, but we’re hoping to add some more soon. Are you an artist?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

Immediately, you stiffen. “No. At least, not right now.”

Her lips twitch. “Not sure it works like that, unfortunately. Who you are can’t come on and off like a jacket. I like that, though,” she admits with a laugh. “Might borrow it the next time the muses aren’t singing.”

You can’t help but grin. “Exactly.”

Her head tilts, surveying you with unnerving intensity. “My name is Taryn. I co-own this place with my partner, Micah. They’re the one teaching right now.”

“Oh,” you say, somewhat wistful. “That’s nice.”

“Thanks.” Her smile widens. “So, what was your preferred medium? You know, ‘back when’ you were an artist.”

You can’t help but laugh when Taryn lifts her hands to use air quotes. Some people have a way of making you feel included in their jokes, and Taryn is one of them. She teases you in a conspiratorial way, letting you know she understands. People often call art a labor of love, which can be true but more often, it’s a complicated tangle of love, pain and frustration.

“Watercolors,” you admit. “And my name is Y/N.”

Her eyes brighten. “We’ve been meaning to add a watercolor class for ages. Some of our regulars have asked, but Micah and I are both hopeless. Potter,” she explains, gesturing at herself. “And Micah prefers charcoal. Sometimes sculpture.”

“Wow,” you say. “Those are very different.”

“You don’t say.” Taryn laughs. “Micah likes to keep things fresh. What about you? Have you ever taught be– hang on,” she blurts, her eyes going wide. “Did you say that your name is Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your cheeks heat. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Whirling, Taryn hustles through the front room to duck behind a counter. Digging through several drawers, she pulls out a print to hurry back.

“Is this you?” she demands, thrusting this in your face.

Even cross-eyed and close, you recognize your most popular work. A watercolor series on the majesty and destruction of sea storms. Looking at this makes you feel raw, and so you look up.

“Yep,” you admit. “That’s me.”

Pulling back, Taryn looks at the print reverently. “You’re amazing. Micah was trying to do something similar but couldn’t capture the right feeling.”

Shuffling awkwardly, you shrug. You’ve never felt as though your work deserved acclaim, although it’s nice to know the series resonated with others. One of your favorite aspects of art is how it can be intensely personal but once shared, takes on a universal quality. You find it constantly surprising; how many people seem to share the same burdens.

“Seriously.” Taryn shakes her head wryly. “If you ever wanted to teach a class, let me know. We’d be lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing both hands in your pockets.

You hadn’t realized your desperation was obvious. Or possibly Taryn is just incredibly good at reading others. Truthfully, it’s been a while since you stepped foot in the art world. Even before dating Jungkook, you felt your passion lagging. It’s been a long time since you wanted to connect with your inner voice, although merely the act of being here calls the tide in your blood.

Dangerous.

Recognizing this, you reinforce an inner wall. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’m not really looking for something right now.”

Taryn nods. “Sure. If things change though, just let me know – before next week,” she adds. “We try to publish our class schedule on the first of each month.”

“Will do. Thanks, again.”

“Anytime!” Beaming, Taryn spins to restock the next shelf.

Realizing your conversation is finished, you continue down the next aisle. The shop’s materials are superb, and your fingers are itching to reach out and touch. Reaching the front, you notice a quote painted over the register: Creativity takes courage – Henry Matisse.

You stare at this for a while, unsure why it hurts. Courage isn’t something you’ve thought about in a long time. When you were younger, you pushed people away because it was safe, but now you find yourself wondering who was that for – others? Or yourself?

Maybe the reason you keep yourself separate is because you are afraid people might leave you. Like Katrina. Or Elliot. Or even your dad.

Suppressing magic was hard at the start. Everything about it felt counter-intuitive but you reasoned doing the right thing often took effort. This is what you told yourself, anyways. It made said effort more bearable.

When you first began painting, the relief you felt was immense. After so long spent ignoring your emotions, you found a space to be free. Your series about the sea was oddly therapeutic, working through complicated emotions; your love for the ocean, coupled with fear of its wild beauty. Similar clashes within yourself about magic. And always, always, the desire for more.

For a few hours though, those feelings could be a part of you. Magic could be a part of you, so long as you remained in control – and with brush in hand, you were.

Only now does it occur to you that maybe, this wasn’t healthy. Maybe you shouldn’t feel the need to compartmentalize, as though certain pieces of yourself can only exist in certain spaces.

Tearing your gaze from the words, you exit the shop and gently shut the door. Pulling your jacket tighter, you head down the sidewalk and let your thoughts drift. Jungkook only saw you paint once, but the memory is hard to forget.

You had just started dating, barely past the stage of calling him ‘boyfriend.’ The constant influx of emotion was difficult to manage, and after a few weeks, you were exhausted. Most of your time spent without Jungkook was seated before your canvas. After one particularly frustrating session, you set down your paint to stubbornly stare at the canvas.

A throat cleared from behind.

Startled, you spun and found Jungkook standing there. His gaze moved quickly to yours, but you realized he’d been staring at your half-finished work. Normally, you felt panic at the thought of someone seeing a work in progress. That night though, the look on Jungkook’s face eased your concerns. Awe; pure and clear.

Yanking down giant, over-ear headphones, you hastily stood.

Jungkook lurched forward. “No!” he blurted, only to halt. “I mean – you don’t have to cover the painting. I liked it.”

He seemed flustered, which made you slightly flustered, but you took a slow step sideways. Eager, Jungkook’s gaze traversed the canvas.

Eventually, he looked back. “Sorry about that,” Jungkook said and walked closer. Warm hands found your waist. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“How did you get in?” you laughed, burying your face in his chest.

“Seokjin.” He paused. “Did he not say I was here? I texted you a half hour ago, but you didn’t respond. I figured I’d stop by, and Seokjin said to come up.”

Softening, you made a mental note to chastise Seokjin later. Tightening your arms, you lifted your head and smiled.

“So.” Jungkook glanced over your shoulder. “This is you.”

This sent a thrill down your spine. He spoke as though he’d known you before, but only on a surface level and now, he understood. Jungkook knew your art was part of you, as much as your heart or your soul. You had often felt the same, but never said so out loud.

Magic swelled, and you pushed it back down, but it was difficult. When Jungkook bent his head, you forgot to be scared and let yourself feel. The brush of his lips. The tightening of his hands. The current within you, swelling against your highest walls.

Loudly, someone knocked on the door. Breathless, you jerked backwards and found Seokjin in the door.

“Hey.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder. “Wanted to let you know our dishwasher broke. Flooded the kitchen.” Pointed, Seokjin looked at you. “Everything is all good, but I’m calling a plumber tomorrow. Carry on.”

In a flurry of embarrassment, you abruptly ended the evening and sent Jungkook home.

Remembering how the night ended, you stifle a groan and walk faster. Once more, you couldn’t control your magic and put Jungkook in danger. Hardly the creative courage Henry Matisse imagined.

You always assumed suppressing your magic was the best choice. But the best choice for who? Certainly not for you, who lives isolated, inert and in fear of yourself. Your dad used to call your magic a gift, but it’s been a long time since you felt that way.

This memory brings with it a sharp stab of pain. Since your dad passed, fear has replaced any joy your magic brought. Fear of falling victim to the same fate he did. Of others’ rejection. Of failing to live up to your father’s example.

You have little doubt that if your dad could see you now, he’d be confused by your actions.

You push others away in the name of saving them. Again, you think of Jungkook and for once you allow it. The entire way home, you wish that he’d call.

He doesn’t though and eventually, you stop hoping.

By Friday, the threads keeping your feelings at bay are nearly worn through. Intrusive thoughts push against fragile bonds, threatening the haven you’ve carefully crafted.

With more force than needed, you toss clothing into the washer. Your usual laundromat was closed, forcing you to walk five blocks to the next one. Sweaty from suddenly sweltering temperatures, your arms sore from the hamper, the situation does nothing to improve an already crappy mood.

Wiping your forehead with one arm, you slam the door and press start. The machine whirs to life, laundry tumbling in a way reminiscent of your inner turmoil. Up, you did the right thing by ending it with Jungkook. He’ll swiftly move on and find someone else. Down – but you don’t want him to find someone else. You want him to find you.

Teeth gritted, you turn and grab your hamper from the floor. Placing this on the washer, you wearily tug your cell phone from your pocket. By the time you walked home, you’d have to come back, leaving you with forty minutes to kill. You could read more of the book you just started. Or submit your resume to a couple of restaurants.

After yesterday’s disaster at Ramen-rama though, the interview process has stalled. Instead, you’ve found yourself thinking more about Creative Courage. For a brief moment, you even walked into the third bedroom to paint.

You immediately walked back out again, but merely the act was more than you’ve done in months. The thought of creation brought mostly panic, since it’d involve you being honest. Something you haven’t been with yourself in a while.

Because if you were honest, you know what you’d find. You would regret breaking up with Jungkook. Maybe even find that, deep down, you want to be selfish. You want to keep dating him, even if Jungkook gets hurt in the end.

After all, you saw what loving an Elemental did to your mom.

Putting down your phone, you scan the laundromat and find your gaze catching on the person in the next aisle.

No. No, no, no – absolutely not.

The universe – or whoever’s writing your story – must be cruel and unusual, since standing beside you is Jungkook. You’d recognize his head anywhere. Straightening from his hamper, Jungkook turns to face you and goes still.

Eyes wide, he seems stunned until someone slams shut their dryer. Both of you jump, breaking eye contact and time seems to reset. Pressing start on his machine, Jungkook grabs his gym bag and hoists it over one shoulder. He strides towards the exit, halfway there when you spring into action.

Dashing towards him, you cut him off at the dryers. Footsteps slowing, Jungkook meets your gaze with visible confusion.

“Sorry,” he says, tugging his gym bag behind him. The thick, grey strap of it cuts across his hoodie. “I was just leaving. I can come back later if you want to finish your load.”

Again, he tries to move past you, but something inside of you snaps. You aren’t sure what possesses you, but somehow, find your hand gripping his sleeve.

Startled, Jungkook stares.

Equally swift, you withdraw. “I, uh…”

Head spinning, all your words seem to fly out the window. Nothing about this was planned. You have no idea what to tell Jungkook besides I’m sorry, and even this would be woefully inadequate without explanation. Which you can’t give.

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” you say at last.

A singular brow lifts. “No? You didn’t seem to think that way on Wednesday.”

You suppress a wince, although you try your best to hide it. “I know,” you admit. “It’s just… this is your usual laundromat. I don’t want you to leave because of me. I wouldn’t even be here, expect the one near me is broken and –”

“Got it,” he interrupts, the words tight. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have to be.”

Swallowing hard, you stare down at your shoes. You know you deserve this, but it’s just so hard to see Jungkook hurting. He deserves to be happy, not wasting his energy on hating you.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Your eyes start to burn, and you squeeze them shut to prevent a reaction. You absolutely cannot cry in front of Jungkook. Not when you’re the one who started this; the very last thing you want him to feel for you is pity.

“Hey.” Something in his tone shifts, and you hear Jungkook step closer. When you open your eyes, he watches you intently. “What’s wrong?”

A tiny fissure within your chest splinters.

Anyone else could have asked those words, and you would have been able to answer. For Jungkook to do so is unthinkable. You’re the one who ruined this. The one who hurt him, who ended this and still, Jungkook is concerned about your well-being.

“I was fired on Sunday,” you say in a rush. “Before I came to see you.”

He blinks only once before his face hardens. “Before you broke up with me, you mean.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, Jungkook glances away. His expression is taut, and you feel a sharp pang of envy. It’s so easy to read Jungkook. You’ve spent so long hiding your emotions, it strikes you as luxurious how easily he feels.

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Y/N,” Jungkook says, turning back. “What are you doing?”

“What… do you mean?”

Fear spikes your heart, wondering if Jungkook has finally pieced the facts together. Maybe he saw more than you realized at the coffee shop. Maybe he finally knows what you are.

“Why are you… torturing me?” he clarifies, a slight rasp to his voice. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You were fired? That sucks, but it doesn’t make this okay. It doesn’t make us okay,” he adds, gesturing to the air between you.

“I – I know,” you stammer, nearly blurting out something you’ll regret.

Like that you’re an Elemental teetering close to the edge. One who can feel every pipe, every spin cycle within the walls of this laundromat. All of them churning, pulsing, begging for your magic to release the water inside.

“You know?” Jungkook stares at you, incredulous. “Again, Y/N – what do you want from me?”

Since you started talking, you’ve moved several steps closer. Another breath, another reach and you’d be in his arms. Glancing down, you notice how quickly Jungkook’s chest rises and falls.

He’s afraid, you realize. Jungkook’s fear isn’t the same one as yours, though. He isn’t afraid that you’ll see him, but rather that you’ll destroy him.

Realizing this, a barrier within you crumbles. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, somewhat desperate.

“You keep saying that.” Determined, he steps closer and somehow, your hand entwines with his to press against his chest. “You keep saying you don’t want this, but you won’t tell me why. Won’t tell me anything, Y/N – you were fired, and this is the first time I’m hearing it.”

“I couldn’t tell you!” you blurt. “I can’t explain it, Jungkook, but I couldn’t tell you when it happened.”

His gaze sharpens. “Then, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we are better off broken up.”

Releasing you, Jungkook brushes past you and heads for the exit. You stare blankly at the wall before you, your whole world caving in as your head starts to spin. Magic seeps beyond your fractured walls, flooding your veins in desperate search for an exit.

“That’s not true,” you protest, spinning around. “I’ve told you more than anyone else in my life, Jungkook. I’ve let you in in ways no one else has.”

Jungkook stiffens at the door, his entire body taut. For a single, long moment, it seems as though he might reconsider but the longer you stand there, the more you watch the fight drain from the lines of his shoulders.

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” he says, hand hovering above the doorknob. “But that’s not the same as letting me in.”

He starts to go.

Everything around you becomes white noise.

When you were ten, you passed a famous dam on one of your cross-country moves. Your mom took you to see it, swinging your hand while entering the viewing platform.

The moment you saw it, you went wholly still. Trillions of gallons of water, trapped behind concrete, constantly pushing but unable to break. It felt like your magic. Raw, untamed power contained by a solid wall. You stared for longer than any other visitor, until your mom pulled your arm and said you should leave.

The entire way to the car, your mom was silent and once you were buckled in, she twisted around to see you. “Listen to me, Y/N,” she said, her voice serious. “That dam will only work if the wall holds. If the wall breaks, do you know what happens?”

Silent, you shook your head.

“The water will flood the whole valley. Everyone in its path, all the forest – they’d be gone. The wall can’t break, or bad things happen. Do you understand me?”

Solemn, you nodded because even then, you understood. Although your magical dam was intangible, it held equal importance. You had to hold in the magic, otherwise bad things would happen. So long as the wall was in place, you were safe.

Now though, you squeeze your eyes tightly as the wall starts to crumble.

Emotions break with the force of a tidal wave, racing ahead and drowning all in its path. Memories you thought were long buried continue to rise, crushing you further. Your walls are destroyed in a matter of seconds.

You remember your dad, kissing you on the head before leaving the house. Katrina’s stricken expression when the door shut in her face. Jungkook, asking you what he’d done wrong again.

Each memory drags you under, and you shudder against the onslaught. It takes everything you have to remain standing while your restraint dissolves.

Hands grip your arms.

Surprised, your eyes fly open to find Jungkook before you. His neck muscles strain, yelling to be heard over thundering water. You try your best to focus, to rein your magic back in – only to realize with horror, it might be too late.

The laundromat around you is in chaos. Several ceiling pipes have burst, water crashing down in torrents of water. Already, waves lap at your ankles. Noise filters back in, flickering before solidifying to something substantial.

People are screaming, abandoning their hampers in an attempt to get out. The door has stuck though, unable to open under the onslaught of water. Jungkook yells again, and this time you hear him.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, close to your face.

You stare upward, stupefied. Another pipe bursts, and you think that was you, but it’s hard to be sure. Hard to understand which parts are in control and which parts are not. What particular emotion is holding the reins at any moment.

Determination replaces fear in his face, and Jungkook bends before you have time to blink. In an instant, you’re tossed over his shoulder. A yelp escapes, upside-down but he’s already wading through the aisle of washers.

Jungkook shouts at people to move, but no one is listening. After a moment, you feel him exhale and surge forward. Although you can’t see, the people seem to be moving, so Jungkook must appear confident.

Grasping the door, he pulls on it, hard. Nothing happens. Exhaling, Jungkook grips your waist tighter and mutters, “Hold on.”

You don’t have time to ask why, since he yanks harder and the entire frame shudders. Jungkook does this again and another pipe bursts, drawing your gaze. By the time you look back, the door has budged an inch and water is pouring out. With a final wrench, Jungkook yanks open the door.

People shove past him, rushing into the street with the tide of water. Spinning around, Jungkook shields you with his frame from the wet crush of bodies. His grip never wavers, feet anchored to the ground as though they’ve rocks themselves.

With each breath, your pulse slows until finally, you locate the faint threads of magic. Before, you felt too much at once. The crush was overwhelming but now, you manage to breach the surface. For the first time, you see your panic influencing the tide.

Realizing this, you reach inward and try to – turn. With great effort, you identify the source of your power and disconnect. Water in the ceiling slows to a trickle, and then, nothing.

Exhaling against your neck, Jungkook’s hand moves lower.

You can’t help but shiver. “Jungkook?” you murmur into his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Could you… you know, set me down?”

“Oh.”

Somewhat sheepish, Jungkook lowers you to face him. He doesn’t step away, and neither do you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to be selfish and make it as long as possible.

He stares back at you, waterdrops caught between his lashes. In the background, water continues to drip from a pipe. The soft plink-plink echoes the thud of your heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

Jungkook’s hands remain on your waist, his touch scrambling all semblance of sanity. You aren’t sure how to answer without being honest.

Truthfully, you’re not okay.

An okay person wouldn’t break up with their boyfriend and then, six days later throw themselves in their path. An okay person wouldn’t be hiding their magic, they wouldn’t be lying to the person they love and most of all, wouldn’t continue to place that same person in danger.

Silent, you survey the aftermath of your outburst. Deep down, your magic itches in response to your panic. Seeping outward, it seeks to mold to the fear, but you manage to stop it. Something about the wall being gone makes your power less alien. No longer an unknown variable, but a constant.

“No,” you exhale. Steeling yourself, you take a step backwards. “No, Jungkook, I’m not okay. I… this is exactly why you should stay away from me. Bad things happen, and I can’t control them. I’m so sorry.”

Again, you brace yourself for his anger, but it never comes. Jungkook is unusually quiet, head cocked to one side. He sees right through you, a sensation unnerving enough that you drop your gaze.

“I should go,” you repeat, stepping around him. Reaching your washer, you hastily unload your soggy clothing. “I have to go.”

Jungkook says nothing, although you feel his gaze on the back of your head. Hefting your hamper, you slam the door shut, and turn. The water level at your ankles has dropped, no more than a centimeter remaining in the room.

Sirens wail in the distance, likely on their way to investigate. Your stomach lurches, recognizing the cost of your magic. As soon as possible, you should reach out to Seokjin. His company might be able to cover the damage if the laundromat can’t.

Nearing the exit, you look anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, unsure what else to say. “Really, I am.”

Again, he lets you move past. Water rushes out when you open the door, seeking the street, then the gutter. Hurrying past, you can’t shake the feeling something has changed.

Not only with you and Jungkook, but with you and your magic. Silent, you prod the place deep within from which your magic stems. You’re used to a wall, feeling closed off but now, it seems your mom was right.

Once shattered, the dam can’t be rebuilt.

A weightlessness accompanies this that you didn’t anticipate. Despite the terror of your outburst, there was a moment near the end when you stopped it. When you felt what was wrong and controlled your outburst of magic. You haven’t done that before.

The thought is followed by regret, remembering Jungkook. When you broke up, it was supposed to save him. Instead, you’ve only put him – and yourself – in greater danger. Maybe because you’ve continued to see him. Everything would be fine if you moved or kept your distance.

But then, another part of you wonders if you were wrong from the start. Maybe instead of providing distance, you should have come closer. Should have allowed Jungkook to decide whether he wanted to stay. After all, today, he experienced the worst of your powers, and he didn’t run. If anything, he moved closer.

Suddenly exhausted, you hail a cab. The driver grumbles at your wet clothes but allows you inside, and you tip him extra upon reaching your place. What you should do is find another laundromat and finish your load, but there’s an itch in your fingers you haven’t felt in some time.

Dropping your hamper at the door, you shutter yourself within the third bedroom. Not allowing yourself to second-guess, you sit down at your easel and pick up a brush.

For the first time in a long time, you allow the magic to flow. You paint.

Author’s Note: thank you for reading so far! Continued in Part II, here.

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