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onyxstyx · 3 months ago

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ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room. “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.”

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced.

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words.

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued.

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.”

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you.

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second, you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like.

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed.

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow.

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin.

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you.

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult.

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile.

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.”

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…”

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak.

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze.

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention.

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

“Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla.

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor.

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo.

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room.

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned.

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable.

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face.

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours.

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup.

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.”

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

#emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator ii fic #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator ii fanfiction #geta x you #geta imagine #emperor geta #𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘢? 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 '𝘦𝘳!#𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘹𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘹 𝘧𝘪𝘤

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flowerandblood · 7 months ago

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Ask Game for readers who would like to tell their favorite authors that they love them and their work

copy, paste and send to your favorite writers the phrases that you think best reflect their work and make them smile

👀 eagerly await updates from you every day ⏰ admire how fast you write and that you publish regularly 💀 your scenes of violence grab me by the throat 💌 love your answers to other people's asks about your stories 🤡 love the way your characters use irony 💖 adore literally everything you write 🥵 your smut scenes make me die of thirst 💔 your angst scenes ruins me every time 🍓 your fluff scenes always make me feel pleasantly blissful 🩸 living for your terrifying, disturbing psychos 🎀 you describe tender, soft intimacy wonderfully 🧠 love how your brain works and how you solve plots 🌺 you make me root for your heroes every time 🍄 love how crazy some of the scenes you write are 🩰 have been waiting for a writer like you all my life

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theballadofharkness · 1 month ago

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Whisky and Wine: Part 1

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Claire Debella X fem!reader

Summary: The last thing you expected when you came home from your publishers to your older partner Claire’s home was an invitation to her friend’s, Billionaire Miles Bron, private luxury yacht for the weekend. The problem? Claire had been very careful to keep her fellow disrupters away from you, terrified they would ruin yet another aspect of her life. But nobody says no to Miles, so you find yourself surrounded by Claire’s ‘inner circle’.

Word Count: 8.9K

A/N: As per my polls here is my long awaited Claire Debella fic! I’m aware the part 2 poll was still quite 50/50 but this will indeed by a 2-3 parter however each part could work as a stand alone fic for those who are anti multiple parts 💜🪻

Warnings: very slight smut warning so as always MDNI!

The meeting had been a disaster.

You weren’t sure how an hour-long meeting with your publishers had managed to drain every ounce of energy from your body, but as you stepped out of the conference room all you could think about was getting home. The city buzzed around you, the late afternoon sun reflecting off glass buildings, but none of it mattered. You just needed her.

By the time you reached Claire’s house- a sleek, modern place that still somehow managed to feel lived-in- you were practically vibrating with frustration. The moment you stepped inside, dropping your bag near the door, you let out a heavy sigh.

“Claire?” Your voice was quieter than usual, worn-out. You kicked off your shoes and padded further in, following the distant sound of the news murmuring in the living room.

Then you saw her.

Claire was curled up on the couch, barefoot, her reading glasses perched on the edge of her nose as she scrolled through emails on her tablet. She looked up at the sound of your voice, her expression softening the moment she saw you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She set the tablet down, already reaching for you. “How was the meeting?”

You made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, collapsing onto the couch beside her. “Exhausting. I swear, if I hear the word ‘marketability’ one more time…”

Claire hummed knowingly, shifting so you could rest your head against her shoulder. “Let me guess. They want you to be more brand-friendly? Less ‘moody writer’ and more… what, exactly?”

“Something soulless, probably.” You sighed, letting her warmth seep into you. She smelled like her usual citrus-sandalwood perfume, and as her fingers began tracing absentminded circles on your arm, the tension in your body slowly melted away.

She exhaled through her nose, something almost like a laugh but edged with irritation. “Idiots. You don’t need to change a thing baby.”

There was a beat of silence. Her fingers continued their slow, soothing movements. Then, she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her lips lingering just a second too long. “You want me to run you a bath?” she murmured. “Or do you just want to stay like this for a while?”

You turned, tilting your head up to look at her. She was watching you with that careful, quiet concern that she never quite knew how to express in words. It made something tighten in your chest.

“This,” you said simply, curling into her. “I just want this.”

Claire let out a breath, one hand slipping into your hair, her other arm wrapping securely around you. “Then this it is,” she murmured, holding you close.

The tension in your shoulders had finally started to ease. Claire’s arms were warm around you, her fingers still tracing slow patterns against your back. The two of you sat there in silence, the sounds of the outside world muffled by the thick glass windows of her home. It was just the two of you in your own little world.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at her. Claire had taken her reading glasses off at some point, setting them aside, and now she was watching you with that familiar, unreadable expression- half amusement, half something altogether softer.

“What?” you murmured, your voice quieter now, more settled.

She smiled, shaking her head as her hand slid up to cup your jaw. “Nothing,” she said, voice hushed. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Your heart stuttered. It didn’t matter how long you had been with her- Claire always had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

Her thumb brushed over your cheek, her touch light but intentional. You barely had a moment to react before she guided your chin up and kissed you.

It was slow at first, unhurried, like she was taking her time memorizing every inch of you. Her lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of the wine she’d been drinking earlier. You sighed into it, letting your hands rest on her waist, feeling the way she leaned into you, pulling you impossibly closer.

Then something shifted.

Maybe it was the way her fingers slid into your hair, tilting your head just so, or the quiet, contented sound she made against your lips. Either way, the kiss deepened, turned more heated, more urgent. Your fingers curled against the fabric of her shirt, needing more-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

The two of you froze. Claire pulled back just slightly, blinking like she had forgotten for a moment that the rest of the world existed.

You groaned, dropping your forehead against her shoulder. “Are you serious?”

Claire exhaled, biting back a smile. “Hold that thought,” she murmured before pressing one last kiss, so quick it was almost teasing, against your lips. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she untangled herself from you and stood up.

As she made her way to the door, you leaned back into the couch, still slightly dazed from the kiss. You could hear Claire unlocking the door, her voice shifting into something a little more polished, you recognised it immediately as her politician voice.

“Yes?”

“Mrs Debella?” a male voice asked.

“Miss” she corrected exasperatedly.

“Whatever. Special delivery from Alpha Industries.”

At that, your brows knit together, the name instantly recognizable. You sat up slightly, twisting to look toward the front door.

Claire hesitated for half a second before responding. “Right. Thanks.”

You heard the rustling of a package being handed over and then the door shutting again. Claire walked back into the room, a sleek black box in her hands. It was marked with the unmistakable Alpha logo.

You gave her a look. “Miles?”

She let out a sigh, setting the package down on the coffee table. “Looks like it.”

There was something about the way she said it- carefully neutral, but you knew her too well. You had heard enough about Miles Bron and the so-called “Disruptors” to know Claire didn’t take anything from them lightly. Still, she had kept you at a distance from it all. You knew them by name, by the stories she told late at night with a drink in her hand, her voice edged with frustration or reluctant nostalgia. But you had never met them.

Because Claire hadn’t wanted you to.

Your eyes flickered between the box and Claire, whose expression had turned slightly unreadable again. Whatever was inside, you had a feeling it wasn’t just some casual gift.

“Are you going to open it?” you asked.

Claire rubbed her temple, exhaling slowly. “Yeah,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “I guess I am.”

You sat back, watching as she rubbed a hand over her face before dropping onto the couch beside you, staring at the box like it might explode. You had seen Claire in enough high-pressure situations to know when something was actually bothering her.

“Claire.” You nudged her thigh with your knee, drawing her attention back to you. “Why does this feel like a problem?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Because I’ve kept you separate from that part of my life for a reason,” she admitted. “And if this is what I think it is… that’s about to change.”

You swallowed, glancing at the box again.

Claire lifted the lid, her movements slower than usual, like she was bracing herself. Inside, nestled in layers of expensive black tissue paper, was an envelope- thick, pristine, sealed with a wax emblem stamped with the Alpha Industries logo.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the unnecessary decadence. Of course it’s fucking wax-sealed. You leaned in as she cracked it open, pulling out what could only be described as the most obnoxious invitation you had ever seen. The card stock was absurdly thick, edged in real gold leaf, with deep blue calligraphy that looked handcrafted.

Claire’s name was printed at the top in bold lettering, followed immediately by yours. Your stomach did a weird little flip.

“Wait,” you said, pointing. “I’m invited?”

Claire’s body had gone very, very still.

Her eyes scanned the page again, her expression shifting from irritation to something sharper. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, and she swallowed once, like she was trying to keep herself from reacting too much.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “Do they… know about me?”

Claire didn’t answer right away. Instead, she set the box down on the coffee table with a little too much precision, like she needed to make sure it stayed perfectly in place.

“They know I got divorced,” she spoke carefully. “But I don’t think they know about you.”

You could see it happening in real time- her mind running through every possibility, every scenario. She never told them about you. She made sure she never told them about you.

And yet…

“So how did Miles find out?” you asked slowly.

Claire didn’t answer right away. She was still staring at the invitation, her thumb brushing absently over your name, like she was trying to make sense of it.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted, her voice quieter now. “I never told him. I never told any of them.”

That unsettled you more than you wanted to admit. Claire had been so careful about keeping you out of that part of her life- out of the press, out of the Disruptors’ orbit. But somehow, Miles had found out. And now he was inviting you into his world.

You glanced back down at the invitation. The details were written in Miles’ usual over-the-top way:

A Long Weekend of Luxury & Intrigue

Miles Bron’s Private Yacht – The Mediterranean

An Exclusive Getaway for My Closest Friends… and Their Loved Ones.

Travel arrangements to come, please forward any dietary requirements.

You frowned, tapping the words. “Loved ones,” you muttered. “Like he’s trying to make some kind of point.”

Claire let out a humorless laugh. “That’s exactly what he’s doing.”

Your gaze flickered back to her face. “Are we going?”

Claire ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. “We don’t have a choice.” Something about the way she said it sent a shiver down your spine.

The sun was high, turning the Mediterranean into a stretch of endless sapphire. The dock where you stood was private, the kind of place reserved for the ultra-rich, with sleek yachts bobbing in the water and staff dressed in crisp white uniforms.

It felt unreal- like stepping into a different world, one that wasn’t meant for you.

You adjusted the hem of your sundress, feeling the warm breeze skim over your skin. The air here was different from back home- saltier, heavier with the scent of the ocean and something expensive you couldn’t quite name.

Claire’s fingers curled around your wrist before sliding down to lace her fingers with yours.

You glanced up at her. “You okay?”

She was wearing her signature sunglasses, but you could still see the tension in her jaw, the way she kept scanning the dock as if preparing for battle.

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

You hummed, unconvinced.

For someone who had been relatively composed about this whole trip, Claire was not composed now. You had noticed it the second you stepped out of the car- how she had kept close to you, touching you more than usual.

Not that you minded.

Her hand slid down to your hip, fingers toying with the hem of your dress as she pulled you in against her side. “You look beautiful,” she murmured, her lips brushing just behind your ear.

A shiver ran through you. “Thank you,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly as her fingers tightened against your waist.

She had been like this since you left the U.S.- clingy, possessive, like she was afraid you might slip through her fingers if she let go for even a second. Normally, Claire wasn’t big on public displays of affection, but now? Now she couldn’t seem to stop touching you. You weren’t stupid. You knew what this was.

“Claire.” You turned slightly in her hold, placing a hand against her chest. “Talk to me.”

Her jaw tensed. For a second, you thought she might deflect again, but then she sighed and slipped her sunglasses off, rubbing at her temple.

“This is just… a lot,” she admitted. “I don’t know how they’re going to react.”

You swallowed. “To me?”

“To us.” Her grip on you tightened for just a second before she exhaled, forcing herself to ease up. “I don’t want you to regret coming.”

You softened, sliding a hand up to cup her face. “I won’t.”

Claire searched your eyes, something unspoken flickering in her own. Then, with a sigh, she pressed her forehead against yours, her fingers still gripping your waist like she needed to ground herself.

“I love you,” she murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

Your breath hitched. She had said it before- countless times, in bed, in the quiet safety of her home. But now, standing in the open, just minutes away from walking into her world, it felt different.

Like a promise.

Before you could respond, the low hum of an approaching engine made Claire stiffen.

You both turned just in time to see the yacht appearing in the distance- massive, gleaming, an undeniable symbol of Miles Bron’s excess.

Claire inhaled sharply. “Here we go.”

You laced your fingers through hers, squeezing once. “Together?”

She looked at you, exhaled, and squeezed back.

“Together.”

The yacht was getting closer, and so was the inevitable reality of this weekend. Claire hadn’t let go of you yet- her hand still resting firmly against your hip, her fingers pressing absently into the soft fabric of your dress like she needed to reassure herself that you were there.

The first taxi pulled up to the dock, the back door swinging open.

Lionel Toussaint stepped out, looking sharp even after what must have been a long flight. His suit was crisp but effortless, like he had mastered the art of looking put-together without trying too hard. He adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, taking in the view before his eyes landed on Claire.

His face lit up.

“Well, well,” he said, amusement threading through his voice. “Madame Governor.”

Claire grinned. “Hey, genius.”

They met halfway, embracing briefly but warmly, and you could tell immediately that Lionel was the one Claire was closest to in this group. There was an ease between them, a familiarity that softened some of the tension humming beneath Claire’s skin.

“You good?” Lionel asked as they pulled back.

Claire let out a breath. “Yeah. You?”

He gave her a tired but knowing look. “Ask me again in 48 hours.”

Claire chuckled, shaking her head.

You waited politely beside her, fingers grazing her wrist. Lionel’s eyes flickered to you, but there was no real recognition there- just a brief, dismissive glance before he turned his attention back to Claire, already moving on. And that told you everything.

He didn’t ignore you outright. He just… didn’t register you as important enough to greet.

Claire, however, wasn’t having that.

She cleared her throat pointedly and turned slightly toward you. “Lionel, this is my partner,” she said, her voice carefully even. “Y/N.”

It took half a second too long for Lionel to react.

His brows pulled together in visible confusion, like he had misheard her. His gaze finally settled on you properly, scanning you for the first time, and you could feel him trying to make sense of it.

“Your what?”

Claire’s expression barely flickered, but you could feel her body tense beside you. “My partner,” she repeated, her tone a fraction cooler.

Lionel blinked. His brain was clearly short-circuiting as he tried to recalibrate everything he thought he knew about Claire.

“I didn’t know you liked women,” he said finally, sounding genuinely puzzled.

Your stomach twisted.

Claire let out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s funny,” she said. “Because I don’t remember ever having to tell you who I sleep with.”

Lionel held up his hands slightly, like he hadn’t meant anything by it. “No, I just-” He exhaled, clearly still processing, before his gaze flicked back to you, then back to Claire.

“She’s, uh… she’s a little young for you, don’t you think?”

There it is.

He was still talking about you, not to you, like you weren’t standing right there, like you weren’t fully aware of the judgment bleeding into his voice.

Claire’s grip on you tightened.

You weren’t sure if it was meant to be reassuring or if she was just holding herself back from punching Lionel in the face.

Your lips parted, ready to say something, but Claire beat you to it.

“She’s an adult,” she said sharply. “And I don’t need your fucking approval, Lionel.”

Lionel sighed, running a hand over his face like this was all so exhausting for him.

“I’m just saying,” he muttered. “It’s unexpected, that’s all.”

Claire exhaled sharply, her free hand finding your wrist and running her thumb over your pulse like she was grounding herself. “Sorry to disappoint,” she said flatly.

Lionel finally—finally—looked at you again, his expression unreadable.

“So… what do you do for work?” he asked, his tone more polite than interested.

“I’m a writer.” You finally spoke up, not particularly moved to go into your whole history for a man that was clearly disinterested.

He nodded back, like that was enough information, then turned to Claire again. “You bringing her on the yacht, then?”

Claire didn’t answer right away. You could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way she was fighting the urge to snap at him. But she just plastered on a tight smile.

“Looks like it.”

Lionel just hummed in response, glancing back toward the water as if this conversation was already over.

You felt Claire’s fingers tighten around yours, the silent message clear: Ignore him.

But something told you this trip was going to be a lot longer than you thought.

Lionel had already shifted into work mode, scrolling through his phone, agreeing with Claire in earnest as she muttered something under her breath about ‘Miles and his goddamn theatrics.’

You were still standing close to her, fingers laced with hers, trying to shake off the weirdness of Lionel’s reaction when another car pulled up to the dock.

It wasn’t subtle.

A gleaming white luxury SUV rolled to a stop, music blaring from the inside. The door swung open, and before you even saw her, you heard her.

“Oh my GOD! this heat? I’m obsessed!”

Birdie Jay stepped out in a billowing, brightly colored designer cover-up, her sunglasses comically oversized, her hair perfectly styled despite her dramatic complaints about the weather. Behind her, Peg struggled to haul out an impossible number of designer suitcases, her expression already exhausted.

“Claire! Lionel!” Birdie practically shrieked as she spotted them, arms flinging open in excitement.

Claire barely had time to react before Birdie was on her, pulling her into a hug that was somehow both enthusiastic and completely self-serving.

“Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever!” Birdie gushed, stepping back to hold Claire at arm’s length. “You look so good, babe- tell me, did you get a little lift?”

Claire’s smile was tight. “No, Birdie.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.” Birdie winked before turning to Lionel, throwing her arms around him with just as much energy. “And you, genius boy, looking all serious as usual.”

Lionel barely managed a chuckle before Birdie released him, finally noticing you.

Her sunglasses slid down her nose as she openly stared.

“Wait.” She pointed dramatically. “Stranger danger. Who is this?”

Claire’s grip on you tightened immediately, her body shifting slightly in front of yours like some kind of shield.

“Birdie,” she said, voice edged with warning. “Stop it.”

Birdie gasped, pressing a manicured hand to her chest. “Oh my god, did I say something wrong?”

Claire exhaled sharply. “She’s my partner.”

Birdie blinked. “Your what?”

Claire’s patience was hanging on by a thread. “My girlfriend, Bird.”

Birdie let out a delighted squeal, clapping her hands together. “Shut up! Oh my god, Claire, you’re into girls? Since when? Well you did always dress in a lot of masculine beige outfits… oh my god did you have a crush on me?”

Peg, still lugging suitcases out of the SUV, muttered, “Oh my god, Birdie, please.”

Claire’s shoulders tensed, but you could see the way she was bracing for Birdie’s next thoughtless comment.

Birdie’s eyes flicked between you and Claire, her head tilting. “Wait, hold on, isn’t she, like-” She squinted at you. “- a baby?”

You stiffened slightly. Claire, on the other hand, visibly clenched her jaw.

“She’s an adult, Birdie,” she said, tone clipped.

Birdie just grinned, completely oblivious. “I love this new era for you Claire.” She leaned in closer,, “I mean, go off, queen- find yourself a little hot young thing-”

Claire groaned, rubbing a hand over her face.

Peg, clearly at her limit, slammed the car trunk shut and turned to Birdie with the deadest expression imaginable. “Can we please just get on the boat?”

Birdie waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes, I’m going.” She turned back to you, flashing a megawatt smile. “Well, welcome to the shitshow, babe!”

And with that, she strutted toward the dock, leaving you standing there, still processing whatever the hell just happened.

Claire let out a slow, deep breath.

“I told you,” she muttered, rubbing your back as if that could somehow erase the past five minutes.

The air was already thick with tension from Birdie’s arrival, but then the roar of an approaching engine shattered the relative calm.

You turned just in time to see a massive, gleaming black motorcycle pulling up to the dock, kicking up dust and salt air as it skidded to a dramatic stop.

And then, of course, the gunfire. Two deafening BANG! BANG! shots into the sky. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

“Jesus fuck,” Claire muttered under her breath, while Lionel just pinched the bridge of his nose.

Duke Cody swung one massive leg off the bike, holstering his pistol like this was just another Tuesday. His biceps strained against his tactical vest, the mirrored sunglasses doing nothing to hide his shit-eating grin.

Right behind him, Whisky dismounted, long legs swinging off the bike as she pulled off her helmet, shaking out her perfect blonde waves like she was in a goddamn commercial.

“Hell yeah, baby!” Duke whooped, spreading his arms wide as he approached the group. “Who’s ready to party?”

Birdie, of course, squealed and sprinted straight into his arms.

“Duuuuuuke!” she shrieked as he lifted her clean off the ground.

“Birdie, my girl!” Duke spun her once before setting her down, slapping Lionel on the back next. “My man! How we doin’?”

Lionel sighed but accepted the hug. “Duke.”

Then Duke turned to Claire, grinning as he pulled her in for an aggressively firm hug.

“Claire! How’s politics? Bunch of bullshit, huh?”

Claire grimaced as she pulled away. “As always.”

Duke let out a booming laugh before his gaze finally landed on you.

He frowned slightly, sunglasses tilting down as he gave you a once-over. “Wait a minute- who’s this? You tight with Miles?”

Claire’s spine snapped straight. “She’s my partner,” she said before you could even open your mouth.

Duke’s eyebrows shot up before his face split into a wide, very male grin. “Ohhhh,” he drawled. “Girl on girl, huh? Sounds hot.”

You physically cringed. Claire, on the other hand, made a sound so close to an actual growl that Lionel had to clear his throat.

“Duke, no,” Peg muttered from somewhere behind her stack of luggage.

“Duke. Stop.” Claire snapped, glaring at Duke like she was two seconds from punching him.

Duke, completely unbothered, just chuckled. “Hey, I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

Before Claire could actually strangle him, Whisky finally approached, sliding past Duke and straight toward you.

“Oh my god,” she said, all breathy excitement, her arms already opening. “It’s so good to meet you.”

And then, suddenly, you were being hugged.

You blinked, startled but not opposed, as Whisky wrapped you up in genuine warmth. She smelled like vanilla and sunscreen, her long, tanned arms squeezing you tightly before pulling back with an easy, dazzling smile.

“You’re, like, the only other person here who gets it,” she said under her breath , gripping your shoulders. “This group is insane, but don’t worry, babe- I got you.”

You blinked again. “Oh. Uh- thank you?”

Claire, meanwhile, was staring at Whisky like she had just committed a crime. You felt the exact moment her arm snaked around your waist, her grip firm, possessive.

Whisky, oblivious, just beamed at you. “We’re gonna stick together, okay?”

Claire’s fingers dug into your side. “Actually,” she cut in, her voice way too even, “she’ll be sticking with me.”

Whisky finally seemed to notice the tension and raised her perfectly arched brows, glancing between you and Claire.

“Oh,” she said, smirking slightly. “I see how it is.”

You didn't miss the way Claire’s hold on you tightened, like she thought Whisky might actually steal you right in front of her.

Duke, meanwhile, clapped his hands together, completely unaware of the subtle war happening in front of him. “Alright, enough chit-chat- where’s this big-ass boat?”

Claire exhaled sharply, but her grip on you didn’t loosen. Yeah this was gonna be a long weekend.

The yacht finally docked, looming ahead of you, sleek and impossibly expensive, rocking slightly in the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean. A crew of staff was already waiting on deck, dressed in crisp white uniforms, making last-minute preparations as the boat docked.

Miles Bron finally appeared, stepping onto the upper deck like a king surveying his kingdom. Arms wide, sunglasses reflecting the sun, dressed in linen like he had personally invented wealth.

“My closest friends!” he boomed, his voice carrying over the dock. “My fellow Disruptors!”

Claire exhaled so hard you felt it.

Miles grinned, throwing his arms open like he expected the group to cheer for him.

“I’m so glad you all could make it,” he continued, gesturing grandly at the yacht behind him. “This weekend is gonna be legendary. We’re talking relaxation, revelation, innovation-”

Lionel sighed. “Can we just get on the boat?”

Miles laughed, pointing at him. “That’s my guy! Always straight to business.”

Claire muttered under her breath, “Oh my god, I can’t do this.”

You squeezed her hand. “Too late now.”

One by one, the group greeted him, stepping onto the yacht like they were walking onto the red carpet.

Birdie was all over him immediately, throwing her arms around his neck. “Miles, darling! I’ve missed you!”

Miles chuckled, squeezing her tight. “Birdie Jay, my shining star!”

Behind her, Peg staggered forward, hauling an ungodly amount of luggage up the gangway, struggling as she tried to keep up.

Claire leaned toward you. “Should we…?”

You glanced at Peg, whose face was bright red from exertion, and whispered back, “She’s gotta learn to leave Birdie.”

Claire let out a quiet huff of laughter.

Duke approached next, gripping Miles in one of those firm, testosterone-heavy handshakes before pulling him into a half-hug. “My man, look at you. Alpha as fuck.”

Miles lapped it up, grinning. “Duke, my brother, always bringing that energy.”

Then…Whisky.

You expected her to greet him like the others, but instead, she melted into his arms. And lingered. Her arms looped around his neck, and Miles held her just a little too close, his hand pressed way too low on her back.

Claire stiffened beside you. Your eyes met hers, both of you sharing suspicious looks. Whisky finally pulled back, giving Miles a dazzling smile before stepping onto the boat. Miles smoothed a hand down his shirt, still grinning like a man who was absolutely getting laid that night.

Claire’s grip on your waist tightened. “Fucking figures.”

Finally, it was your turn.

Miles’ gaze slid over to you, his sunglasses lowering slightly as his lips curled into that infuriatingly smug grin.

“And who do we have here?” he asked, voice smooth, curious.

You blinked. “Uh… you put my name on the invitation?”

For a split second, his expression flickered- just the faintest tell that, yeah, he absolutely knew that. But then it was gone, replaced by an easy chuckle as he spread his hands like it had just slipped his mind.

“Of course! Of course,” he said, nodding. “Just had to put a face to the name.”

Bullshit.

You knew it. He knew it.

And judging by the way Claire’s body tensed beside you, *she* definitely knew it, too. Before you could say anything else, Claire’s grip on you tightened.

“She’s mine, Miles,” she said- sharp, firm, final. Not my partner. Not we’re together. Just mine.

Miles raised his hands in mock surrender, the smirk never leaving his face. “Hey, love that for you, Claire.”

Claire didn’t move. Didn’t let go. Didn’t break her glare. You felt the way her fingers curled against your waist, the unspoken weight in her hold. It wasn’t just about you anymore. She’d just watched Whisky drape herself all over him. She’d just clocked the dynamic shift, the tension, the fact that Duke’s girlfriend had just hugged Miles like she belonged to him. And now Miles was looking at you with that same assessing energy.

Yeah. Not happening.

Without another word, Claire pulled you past him, her grip solid, grounding. As you stepped onto the yacht, you caught the tail end of Miles’ quiet chuckle behind you. Yeah you should have dragged Claire off the boat when you had the chance.

It was evident that Miles loved the sound of his own voice.

The second everyone was settled on deck, he launched straight into his grand welcome speech, pacing in front of the group like he was unveiling the next great innovation that would change the world.

“It is so good to have my inner circle here,” he began, grinning wide as he spread his arms, his linen shirt billowing like he was about to ascend. “This weekend is gonna be legendary. A weekend of ideas. Of disruption. Of pure creativity.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Claire, standing stiffly beside you, just exhaled slowly through her nose.

Miles clapped his hands together. “Now, I’ve personally curated this experience for each of you,” he continued, smirking. “Every detail, every moment, it’s perfection. And that includes where you’ll be staying.” He gestured dramatically, and one of the staff members stepped forward, holding a sleek silver tray. On it were a set of thin, futuristic-looking wristbands.

“Each of you will be staying in luxury,” Miles said, plucking a band off the tray. “Your rooms are assigned- and these?” He held up the wristband between two fingers. “These are your keys. Custom-made. High-tech. Just tap in, and boom- your room knows you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Claire muttered under her breath.

Miles shot her a wink like she’d just complimented him. One by one, the group took their wristbands- Duke inspecting his like it was a weapon, Birdie gasping about how tech-y it was, Whisky cooing as Miles personally strapped hers on (suspicious), Peg looking like she wanted to throw hers into the ocean.

When you and Claire got yours, she barely acknowledged it- just grabbed your hand and dragged you toward the room assignments before Miles could get any more insufferable.

The second you stepped inside your room, the door sliding shut behind you, Claire pounced.

Her lips crashed into yours, her hands gripping at your hips, your waist, your arms- everywhere, like she was grounding herself in your presence.

You barely had time to gasp before she was pressing you back against the door, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

“Baby,” she breathed, her voice desperate, almost pleading. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Her lips dragged over your jaw, your throat. “You’re just mine, yeah?”

Your heart stuttered. You’d never seen her like this. Needy. Desperate. You knew what this was. You’d felt her tension building all day- when Lionel barely acknowledged you, when Birdie treated you like a novelty, when Duke made it gross, when Whisky hugged you, when Miles looked at you. And most of all- when she realised that Miles had obviously been fucking Whisky behind Duke’s back.

Claire had clocked it instantly. And if Miles was willing to do that to Duke then all bets were off. She’d seen the way he looked at you. How he pretended not to know you. Like you were just another piece on the board for him to play with. And now? She was holding onto you like she thought you might slip away, too.

You cupped her face, guiding her back to your lips. “I’m yours,” you murmured, brushing your mouth against hers. “Just yours.”

She made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan and kissed you harder. Her hands were shaking as they gripped your waist, sliding over your hips like she needed more, needed to prove something to herself. And god, you were more than willing to let her.

But then…

Ding.

A notification popped up on the sleek, futuristic screen by the bed. Miles’ voice crackled over the speakers:

“Dinner in an hour, Disruptors! Be ready for anything.”

Claire froze. Her forehead pressed to yours, her breath still heavy, her fingers still clinging to your dress.

“I fucking hate him.”

You laughed. “I know.”

She groaned, pressing her lips to your forehead before stepping back. “Come on, baby. Let’s get this over with.”

But the second you turned to grab your bag, she smacked your ass. Hard.

You gasped, whipping around, and she just grinned. “Just reminding you,” she murmured, voice low, teasing. “You’re mine.”

Yeah. This weekend was gonna be dangerous.

The shower had been quiet, save for the sound of water cascading down the glass, the gentle rhythm of your body moving with Claire’s as she helped you rinse the shampoo from your hair. It was one of those moments where everything felt soft, almost like time had slowed down just for you two. You were both getting ready for dinner, the tension of the day still clinging to you, but now it was tempered by the closeness- the warmth of her skin against yours, her lips pressing light kisses to the back of your neck as you dried off.

Claire had been all over you in the shower, but as you both dressed, she seemed to get quieter, her hands brushing over your body with a purpose you couldn’t quite place. You were dressed in a short, fitted black dress that showcased your figure- simple but undeniably flattering, you could tell Claire approved by the way her gaze lingered on you a little too long.

“You look beautiful,” she murmured as she pulled you back into her arms. Her lips on your neck, hands grabbing your waist, pulling you into her.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she whispered against your skin. “But we have to. They’ll be waiting.”

You chuckled. “You’re hot and bothered again already?” You teased softly.

She gave you a quick, teasing bite to your neck. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it, baby.”

You turned in her arms to face her, resting your hands on her chest. You could see the battle inside her- her breath still shallow, her body still tightly wound as she fought the impulse to drag you into the bed again. But she just smiled at you instead, her lips soft and sweet as she kissed you once more.

When you finally pulled away, you caught her gaze, soft but with an undeniable possessive edge. “I’m yours. All yours.this trip won’t change that” You smiled against her lips, feeling the warmth of her body, the need in her touch.

“Ready for dinner?”

You nodded, letting her pull you out of the room and into the hallway.

The sight of the yacht’s wide-open deck was breathtaking- the Mediterranean air cool, the distant sound of waves lapping against the hull. The deck was alive with conversation when you arrived- everyone mingling, glasses in hand, as the sun set over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the yacht. Miles was standing center stage, naturally, as if he were the star of some kind of farcical play. He exuded that patented mix of “down-to-earth billionaire” bullshit and self-importance.

When he saw you and Claire, his smile grew wider, and he made a show of waving you over with open arms. “Ah, the perfect pair! So glad you could join us,” he said, grinning.

He handed each of the guests a glass of their preferred drink- Lionel’s rum, Birdie’s cocktail, Duke’s whiskey, and, of course, Peg’s... discount beer in a red solo cup, before turning to Claire with a flourish.

“Claire bear, for you- room temperature Pinot Grigio, as you like it.”

Claire barely looked at him, already focused on going to speak to Lionel as she took the glass. She moved away from Miles, leaving you standing beside him, and that’s when he pounced.

Miles tilted his head at you, still smiling. “What’ll it be, beautiful? Pick your poison- our mixologist can whip up whatever you want.”

You tilted your head slightly. “I don’t really drink.”

“Ah,” he hummed, dragging the moment out, like he was waiting for you to explain yourself. You didn’t.

Instead, you caught Claire’s eye from across the deck, and she was already looking at you, brows just slightly furrowed, her grip tightening around her wine glass.

Before she could step back toward you, a loud voice cut through-

“Hey where’s your drink?”

Duke. You barely had time to react before he was beside you, all bravado and ego, Whisky trailing just behind. His sunglasses were still on despite the dimming light, and his arms flexed as he gestured to your empty hands.

“She’s not drinking,” Claire interjected, her voice clipped.

Duke barely acknowledged her, already reaching for one of the drinks they’d brought over. Miles opened his mouth like he was about to say something, some smug little comment about your earlier refusal.

And you weren’t about to let him.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, then louder, “I’ll take what you’re having, if you’re offering.”

Duke’s grin spread, wide and pleased. He clapped a heavy hand on your shoulder like you’d earned something. You lurched forward at the sheer force of it.

“That’s the spirit! Good girl- I’m loving this energy!”

Whisky passed you a drink- something dark, strong-smelling, condensation beading down the glass. Claire stiffened beside you. You lifted the glass to your lips, taking a long, slow sip- never breaking eye contact with Miles. The burn hit your throat instantly, sharp and biting, but you kept your expression neutral. Miles just watched you, unreadable for a fraction of a second- then smirked.

Dinner was exactly as unbearable as you thought it would be. The long, immaculately set table stretched out across the open-air deck, the Mediterranean breeze sweeping through candle flames and ruffling the edges of cloth napkins. The food was extravagant, the wine endlessly poured, and the conversation? Absolutely insufferable.

You had been drinking steadily just to survive it. At first, it was just to take the edge off- the way Miles sat at the head of the table like some kind of tech god, the way Whisky leaned in close to him, practically coiled around him, the way everyone here seemed to just accept it, like it was normal.

Then Birdie started talking.

"Peg, hand me my phone," she said, reaching across the table like she expected it to materialize in her hand.

Peg, visibly exhausted, didn’t even look up from her plate. "No."

Birdie blinked, affronted. "What?"

"You promised. No phone. Not until the end of the media cycle."

Birdie groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh my god, are we still on that? I apologized! I explained!"

Claire exhaled sharply, already rubbing at her temples. Lionel was gripping the bridge of his nose. Duke, as expected, was no help at all.

"People are just so sensitive these days," he muttered, shaking his head. "So woke. You know Kimmel said I hated boobs?”

Birdie lit up like he had just cracked some kind of universal truth. "YES! Exactly! That's what I keep saying! I'm a truth teller! I say it like I see it, and people can't handle it!"

Claire and Lionel exchanged a look. A very long, very exhausted look.

And that was when you- who had, by this point, abandoned all forms of self-restraint- snorted. Loudly. Everyone turned toward you. "Bullshit," you muttered, swirling the last of your drink in your glass.

Birdie’s mouth actually dropped open. "Excuse me?" She blinked at you, eyes wide, before laughing like she had misheard you. "Sweetie, I have Gucci handbags older than you."

You rolled your eyes, setting your glass down with a sharp clink. "Don't you think you're mistaking ‘truth telling’ with just speaking without thought?"

The table froze. Even Peg, who should be on your side, looked vaguely alarmed.

"What you're doing is dangerous," you went on, voice a little too loud, a little too loose from the alcohol. "You say shit without thinking, and people listen to you. That’s not truth telling, Birdie. It’s just-”

Birdie grinned, leaning in. "Oh, so you think I'm dangerous, huh?"

You scoffed, already reaching for your glass again. "It’s not a compliment. It’s stupi-"

"Okay," Claire cut in, her voice forcibly light but you could feel the steel grip of her hand on your thigh. "You’ve had too much to drink. Let’s get you back to the room."

You turned to her, blinking. "I’m fine-"

"You’re done," she said, already pulling you to stand, already steering you away from the table.

The conversation picked up again as you left, but you still felt Birdie’s eyes on your back. And Miles? Miles was smirking.

The door slammed behind you, the sound echoing through the sleek, modern bedroom. The second Claire turned to face you, hands already on her hips, you exploded.

"What the fuck, Claire?!"

She looked just as furious as you felt, stepping forward, eyes flashing. "No, what the fuck was that?"

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Me? You’re friends with a woman who compared herself to Harriet Tubman and I’M the one embarrassing you?! Have you seen Duke’s streams?!"

Claire pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Yes, I know exactly what they’re like, but they are my very old friends, and you cannot just-”

"Oh, so when it’s you marking me up and making me tell you how I belong to you, that’s fine, but the second it’s me versus your shithead friends, suddenly I’m dragged back here like a fucking child?"

Claire’s jaw clenched.

"Fuck off then," you muttered, turning away.

A beat.

Then, Claire was on you. Not gentle, not soft- commanding. A sharp grip on your chin, tilting your head up, her voice a low, controlled warning. "You don’t talk to me like that."

You froze. Claire’s face was so close to yours, her grip firm but careful, her breath warm against your lips. "You’re drunk," she said, voice steady. "Go to bed."

Your stomach twisted. "Claire-"

"I’m going back to the group."

Your heart dropped. "You’re leaving?"

"Yes." Her voice wasn’t cruel, but it was final.

You stared at her, something deep and ugly twisting inside you. "Why?"

Claire exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down her face. When she finally met your gaze again, she looked tired.

"Listen," she said, softer now. "I can’t stand Miles. But he’s the one paying for my entire electoral campaign. You can’t just piss him off."

The words landed like a slap. Claire watched the way your expression shifted- how your chest rose and fell, how your mouth pressed into a thin line. You swallowed, your throat dry.

"Right," you muttered.

Claire sighed, reaching for you, but you stepped back.

"Go," you said, voice quiet.

She hesitated. But then, without another word, she turned and left. And for the first time since stepping foot on this yacht, you felt completely alone.

You woke up feeling like shit.

Your mouth was dry, your head was pounding, and your stomach churned with the unmistakable nausea of a hangover. The Mediterranean sun poured in through the open balcony doors, searing hot against your eyelids, and the cool sheets beneath you did nothing to soothe the ache in your skull.

The thin sheet barely covered you. You weren’t even sure if you’d bothered to get ready for bed the night before, but judging by the state of you- naked, woozy, with your dress crumpled up in the corner of the room- you assumed you hadn’t. Your stomach turned as the memories filtered in, sluggish and blurry- Miles, the drinks, the fight with Claire, the way she left you last night, drunk and fuming in this big, stupid, obscenely expensive bedroom. You groaned, pressing your face into the pillow. Claire’s warm, soft body was already curled around yours.

"Good morning, baby," she murmured against your shoulder, voice thick with sleep as her lips trailed down your bare skin.

You pulled the sheet up higher over your bare breasts, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I’m dying," you croaked.

"Yeah," Claire sighed, nosing into your hair. "You did drink a lot."

You cracked one eye open just to glare at her. "Thanks for the insight Governor."

Claire just smiled, tilting your chin slightly so she could kiss the corner of your mouth. "C’mon," she murmured, her fingers tracing over your waist, nose nuzzling into your hair. "Baby," she coaxed, her voice dipping lower, her hand smoothing over your stomach. "Let me make it up to you."

You groaned again, rolling onto your back, your body betraying you as her hands roamed lower. "No." You made a noise, half groan, half protest, and shifted away from her mouth.

Claire chuckled, completely unfazed, her arms tightening around your waist. "No?"

"Still mad," you mumbled, voice thick with sleep and dehydration.

Claire exhaled a soft, amused laugh, shifting so she was pressed even closer. "Still mad," she repeated, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your jaw. "Baby..."

You didn’t react.

Claire huffed, pressing her nose into your hair, her hand slipping lower, tracing lightly over your bare stomach. "Baby," she repeated, her voice dropping into that low, coaxing register that always made your spine tingle. "C’mon. Mommy’s sorry. Don’t be mad."

You huffed, pulling the sheet high over your head.

Claire didn't like that. With an amused hum, she slipped beneath the covers with you, her breath warm against your neck, her lips finding your jaw this time, soft and lingering. "There she is," she murmured, voice honeyed. "Thought I lost you under there."

You pushed at her arm weakly. "Claire."

"What?" she asked innocently, though her hand was already inching lower, fingers ghosting over the dip of your waist. "I’m just waking my baby girl up."

"You left me," you muttered, voice quieter now, but still laced with irritation.

Claire sighed again- this time, more genuine. She kissed your temple, her lips lingering, before murmuring, "I know."

You swallowed, staring at the ceiling, heart still heavy in your chest. "You left."

A pause. Then, softer: "I know, baby. Her voice had that gentle edge to it, like she was really feeling it now- the weight of the fight, the things she’d said, the way she walked away.

"You chose them," you mumbled into the pillow.

Claire exhaled sharply, shifting so she could prop herself up on one elbow. "It wasn’t like that."

You snorted. "Oh, wasn’t it? You dragged me away like some unruly child, Claire."

She ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. "I was trying to keep the peace. You don’t know how complicated it is-"

"I don’t know?" You twisted to face her, your head still throbbing, but the rage from last night was creeping back in. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to deal with entitled narcissists who think they’re the smartest people in the room? I write about people like Miles for a living."

Claire sighed, fingers pressing into her temple. "I know it wasn’t fair to you."

You rolled onto your back, throwing an arm over your eyes. "No, it wasn’t."

A beat of silence. "I’m sorry."

You turned your head just slightly, peeking at her from under your arm. "You should be."

Then she shifted, her leg slotting between yours, her lips trailing lower.

"Claire," you warned.

"Mmm?" Her teeth grazed the edge of your jaw, her grip on your waist tightening.

"You don’t get to leave me and then fuck me," you snapped, waving a weak hand toward her.

Claire smirked, completely unapologetic, fingers dancing higher up your thigh. "No?"

You glared at her, but you were still so hungover, and she was so warm and soft and-

"Baby," she murmured, pressing a kiss right below your ear. "Let me make it up to you."

You wanted to stay mad.

You really did.

But then she was kissing your neck, slow and deliberate, her hand gripping your thigh just right to make your hips can’t against the muscle of her leg, her voice all low and sweet and devoted, like she would spend the whole day proving how sorry she was if you just let her. Your heart ached a little. You were still mad. But you also still loved her.

“Please” you breathed shakily, hips rocking steadily now. “I love you”

“I love you babygirl” Claire cooed.

Then… Miles’ voice crackled over the speakers:

“Disruptors! Breakfast is prepared! Make your way to the deck.”

“Oh come ON”

Taglist: @harknessshi @agathascoven1 @notorious-vick @jessica-mcd @sapphicfleur @lisqueen @starryjeongyeon @brekker157 @maximilfism @meghina18 @onlybynightandonlybysea @buttercandy16 @milflovers4 @rigglemethat @mistyshane30 @certified-sleep-deprived @agathaallalongg @yun4-st4rx @psychickryptonitebouquet

#kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x reader #claire debella #claire debella x reader #glass onion #glass onion knives out #Kathryn Hahn x gem!reader

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lunamugetsu · 1 year ago

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Danny is an ao3 writer

Hear me out!

Y'know how there's a running joke that ao3 authors/writers will put in the author's notes that they're sorry that they took so long to update and their reason is because of either they got into a horrible accident/ life threatening health issue/serious personal issues/ their life went up in flames figuratively or literally, or somehow a combination of all of those scenarios. And they're all like "Well enjoy the chapter! tee-hee!" and everybody who's reading it all collectively go "are you okay?!" (aka the ao3 writers curse)

So I want to take this, and add Danny

Danny begins taking a liking to the classic literature that Mr. Lancer talks about during class and decides to writes a fanfic about it along those lines. It all starts for when he writes a Pride and Prejudice fic where Charlotte gets a better life where she's both happy and comfortable. And when he gets pretty supportive comments about it. He starts writing fics for other books as well (and it never stops)

During that time, who else but the Jane Austen fan, Jason Todd reads this fic. Yes he reads fanfic (do not ask him about his ao3 history), he yearns for more Jane Austen, but unfortunately she's not exactly able to write more books for him to read. So he turns to ao3 where there are some people who have incredible talent for writing pretty good regency era romance.

So what happens when he finds a couple of Pride and Prejudice stories written by " HalfDeadHalfAliveWriter

And when reading through the stories and looking at the author's notes.

All with very weird scenarios happening to the writer that he can't be sure that if it's a joke or if it's an actual thing he should be very worried about.

Author's notes such as:

Sorry it took so long for me to update this I was being shot at by my parents and ended up getting a burn on my hand and couldn't use my computer for awhile.

Sorry the chapter's so short, all the people in my town are being possessed by a hoard of angry ghosts because somebody had a bright idea to steal an artifact that belongs to an ancient civilization. So I had to get this out quick before they ruin my wifi connection

Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I had to fight off a crazy guy that is obsessed with killing my father so he could marry my mother and become my new stepfather.

Sorry for the wait I got sent back to Ancient Egypt by my mentor to hunt down a runaway ghost that was messing with time.

But honestly the most recent author's note on a fic that hadn't been updated in week is what makes Jason really worried.

Sorry for not updating for a couple months guys, I was taken by a government agency that started vivisecting and torturing me. Thankfully my sister and friends busted me out and now I'm working on healing up. Anyway here's the Great Gatsby fic where Nick and Gatsby kiss.

After reading that author's note, Jason just sits there thinking only one thing.

What the fuck?

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc au #dpxdc #dp x batman #Jason just sitting there not really knowing how to react to these authors notes #I imagine that Danny is completely chaotic when writing author's notes but completely professional when writing his fics #Imagine the downfall of the GIW starts with Danny writing fanfiction #that's something he'll never let anyone forget

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saythenametotheworld · 5 months ago

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Plot Twist | c.sc (18+)

A chance encounter blossoms into a whirlwind romance when you become enchanted by the enigmatic stranger—Choi Seungcheol. As you spend more time together, one question lingers: could he be the unexpected plot twist that changes your story forever?

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: strangers to lovers, smut Pairing: Choi Seungcheol/Scoups x afab!Reader Warnings: mature themes, explicit sexual content (18+) Notes: 24k words. Last part of the Heartbreak Hotel series, but it can be read as a standalone fic. Listening to Plot Twist by NIKI. Finally down to that last part! I loved working on this fic. Kinda sad now that it is over. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

Playlist: Plot Twist by NIKI, Nobody Gets Me by SZA, long story short by Taylor Swift

When Choi Seungcheol first arrived at the hotel, you pegged him as just another rich man passing through—the noble charisma he was exuding made that clear. But unlike most guests, he hadn’t just come to book a room. He had asked for something far more unusual—stories about your past relationships.

At first, you thought he might be a writer, searching for inspiration for his next novel. But then he handed you his card and, no, he wasn’t a writer. He was a young CEO of a holding company. That alone was impressive, but his request? Odd, to say the least.

Then again, what did you have to lose? All you had to do was share a few stories from your past and pocket the fee he offered. You could even make up the most dramatic story ever and he’d probably bite. Yet you found yourself being completely honest, revealing parts of your life you hadn’t thought about in years.

You told him about your first real heartbreak with a guy who wasn’t even your official boyfriend. You spoke about an unforgettable relationship you had with the most breathtaking man you’d ever known. And you relived the time when your own insecurities ruined what was beautiful and perfect.

“I actually skipped the depression part of my breakup with Mingyu,” you confessed, rolling your eyes at your own expense. “It was kinda embarrassing telling a stranger all that. But I had a feeling you could see through me.”

“Not really, but I figured,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. There was a knowing look on his face—one that he didn’t bother to hide. “And honestly, I didn’t mind. I was a stranger after all. I was surprised you told me anything at all.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Yeah, well, I guess I needed to talk about that stuff more than I thought.”

“So,” he said, leaning forward with genuine curiosity, “is there anyone else?”

You paused. “That’s it. That’s all of them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You never dated much, huh?”

“No, not really,” you said, laughing. “There are others but it's not worth telling. They were either so-so, just passing through, or, you know... toxic.”

“Hmm. I see.” Seungcheol reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He slid out two checks, handing them to you. You took it and your eyes widened slightly at the numbers on them.

“This is... a lot,” you stammered. “Surely, my stories aren’t worth this much.”

He met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “I disagree. But if you think so…” He nodded at the checks still in your hand. “Consider it a tip for your—remarkable—room service.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Except, we didn’t even have it in the room, did we?”

“We could have,” he said smoothly. “But you weren’t interested in seeing my room.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his shift in tone. “Is that your way of inviting me to your room, Mr. Choi?”

He tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “No. But now that you mention it... maybe it is.”

You hummed, biting your lower lip. “And here I thought you’d be the assertive type.”

“Well, I was raised to have manners, but if you’re into assertive men then.” Seungcheol’s demeanor shifted in an instant. His eyes, once playful, turned sharp, commanding. “Come join me in my room.”

Your heart skipped a beat. And the way he said it made your skin tingle. You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Okay.”

Seungcheol’s suite was spacious and immaculately tidy. Though the interior resembled every other suite in the hotel—neutral tones, minimalist decor—you couldn’t stop your eyes from looking around the space he’d been staying at for the past two days. Sure enough, there were almost no signs of him anywhere—not a stray jacket, a personal belonging—nothing that would give you the slightest clue about who he was or what kind of life he led outside this hotel.

“More champagne?” Seungcheol offered, motioning to the bottle of champagne sitting on a bucket of ice. He didn’t wait for you to respond, reaching for it and pouring some of the sparkling liquid into the glass. The soft clink of the bottle against the flute felt almost loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the glass he handed you as you sat down.

You didn’t need more champagne, not really. But the cool bubbles offered a welcome distraction. Anything to give your hands something to do, and your mind something to focus on other than the thick tension swirling between you both.

You took a slow sip, eyes flitting to the abstract painting on the wall—blotches of color, indistinct shapes that blurred the longer you stared. But no matter how much you tried to focus on the artwork, you could still feel Seungcheol’s gaze on you.

He’s the one who asked me to come here, you thought, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. He should say something.

You didn’t know exactly what you were expecting when you agreed to join him in his room—but you do know that the conversation part was over. There was nothing left to talk about, this time right now was not for talking. You couldn’t trust yourself to look at him, afraid that meeting his gaze would confirm what you already knew—the desire building between you both, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

Seungcheol shifted on the couch across from you, the sound of fabric brushing against leather making your heart race. You wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you took another sip of champagne, more to keep your hands occupied than anything else.

It felt like an eternity passed before his voice finally broke through the tension.

“Come here,” he said, low and commanding, his tone sending a ripple of warmth down your spine.

“Yes,” you blurted out, standing up almost too quickly because your body was responding before your mind could catch up. You crossed the space between you in seconds, your heart racing in your chest, as though you had been waiting for that very invitation all along.

Seungcheol’s eyes were dark as he tugged lightly at your hand, pulling you down onto his lap. Your legs straddled his, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. And as you stared into his eyes, a mutual understanding passed between you without having to say a single word.

With one hand, he cupped the back of your head, drawing you in until his lips met yours. His lips were warm and firm, and the moment they touched yours, everything inside you unraveled. The knot of tension that had been coiled in your stomach loosened, sending heat through your entire body as his hand traveled down your back.

But just as quickly, you pulled away, breathless. “I—uh… I think we’re moving too fast,” you muttered, trying to collect your thoughts.

Seungcheol nodded. “Yeah, too fast,” he said, though his eyes remained fixed on your lips.

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the tension between you crackling like electricity. Then, without thinking, you leaned in again, your lips meeting his with more urgency this time, more need. The kiss was hungrier now, both of you pushing against the boundary you had just set, as though the pull between you was impossible to resist.

His hands found your waist, fingers curling into your skin as he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours. But again, the rational part of your mind kicked in, and you broke away, laughing breathlessly.

“Definitely too fast,” you whispered, though you made no effort to move away.

“Definitely,” Seungcheol agreed, his voice low, amusement flickering in his eyes as he kept his hands on your waist.

And yet, before you could stop yourself, your lips were on his again, the heat between you too consuming to fight. This time, neither of you pulled away. You let the moment stretch out, giving in to the pull as words fell away and your bodies did all the talking.

You were back at your usual spot at the front desk the next day, almost as if everything was completely normal, as though nothing of note had happened the night before. It didn’t help that the hotel was quiet with barely any people coming in, so your mind kept slipping back to Seungcheol. His intense kisses, his tender touches, the rush of heat that coursed through your veins, the ecstatic high—all of it was still fresh, vivid as if it had left a permanent mark on you. You caught yourself smiling for no reason, or at least, no reason that anyone here could understand.

“Are you alright?” Elena asked as she passed the front desk, her sharp gaze narrowing when she saw your flustered expression.

“Huh? I’m fine. What’s up?” you responded, hoping you didn’t sound too defensive.

“You’re flushed,” she noted with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you’re coming down with something,” she added, giving you a suspicious glance before walking off.

You touched your face, realizing with a start that your cheeks were warm—whether from embarrassment or the memories swirling in your head, you couldn’t tell. Pulling out your phone, you opened the camera app to check your reflection, only to be greeted with a slight flush coloring your skin. You stared at your reflection for a moment, wondering how much of last night’s excitement was still etched into your features.

Before you could think too much about it, the telephone rang, snapping you back to reality.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” Seungcheol’s deep voice resonated from the other line, causing your heart to skip a beat. “Could you send housekeeping up? This suite is in dire need of tidying.”

His tone was casual, but there was a hint of mischief in it that made your stomach twist pleasantly. You knew exactly what he was implying. The memory of last night’s aftermath flashed through your mind—as if you hadn’t already been thinking about it all day.

You cleared your throat, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Absolutely. Housekeeping will be there shortly. Is there anything else, Mr. Choi?”

There was a brief pause on his end before his voice dropped a little lower. “Is it too early to request room service?”

Your heartbeat hastened, knowing full well that he wasn’t just talking about food. You could almost picture the smirk he must have had on his face, enjoying how easily he could fluster you.

“Have a good day, sir,” you replied, brushing him off in the most polite way possible before hanging up the phone.

You were still grinning to yourself when the phone rang again. Glancing at the telephone, you didn’t even have to guess who it was. You picked up the receiver.

“This is the front desk. How may I help you?” You kept your tone as professional as possible, but the smile was hard to hide.

“I know you’re thinking about me,” came Seungcheol’s teasing voice, playful and smooth.

Your breath hitched as you tried to suppress a laugh. “Whatever are you talking about, Mr. Choi? It’s inappropriate to speak to staff this way during work hours,” you chided playfully.

“You’re right. I forgot my manners for a second,” he replied, the humor in his voice evident. “I just woke up and I am starving, so I was thinking of actually ordering room service.”

“You just woke up?”

“Yeah. Alone, but somehow, I had a feeling someone was here with me but they sneaked out came morning light,” he replied, still teasing.

You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the playful banter. “Maybe because they have a job and said job requires them to wake up and get ready by eight in the morning?”

“I figured. Still, it would’ve been nice to get a proper goodbye.”

“Didn’t wanna disturb you,” you replied in a low voice, your index finger drawing circles on the desk in front of you. “Anyway, work hours,” you said, more to yourself than to him.

You tried to get back into professional mode. “Why don’t you just eat in the restaurant? It’s much more comfortable down there—and you won’t be in the way of housekeeping.”

There was a brief pause, and then he chuckled softly. “Are you allowed to tell guests what to do?”

You laughed, shaking your head at the playfulness in his tone. “No, technically not. We’re supposed to cater to their every need, but since I know you, I’ll take my chances and tell you what to do.”

“Oh, so we’re at that level now?” he teased. “You think you can boss me around now?”

“Only because I know you’ll listen,” you shot back, unable to resist the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ve got a good read on you, Mr. Choi.”

“I don’t know about that,” Seungcheol hummed, amusement thick in his voice. “Maybe I’ll just stay up here and starve, wait for housekeeping to finish.”

“Or you could go downstairs and eat like a normal person,” you retorted. “How about that instead?”

He chuckled again, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Alright, alright. I’ll head down.”

“Good. I’ll have the restaurant expect you,” you replied, feeling satisfied.

“Mm-hm. But don’t think this means I’m done with you for the day,” he added, his tone lower, more suggestive. “We’ll pick this up later.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the promise in his voice, but you managed to keep your composure. “I’ll take you up on that. Enjoy your meal, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he said before hanging up, leaving you grinning like a fool at the front desk.

The day had dragged on slower than usual. Being in a remote area meant there weren’t many guests, so it was quiet—almost too quiet. After taking care of a handful of check-ins in the morning, you spent the afternoon fielding calls, helping with some basic concierge tasks, and trying not to think about the previous night with Seungcheol. It was hard to concentrate with his voice still ringing in your ears from the teasing call earlier, and the stillness of the hotel only amplified your wandering thoughts.

As the evening rolled around, you were grateful to finally be clocking out. You grabbed your things and made your way out of the front desk, ready to head out when a familiar figure appeared from the corner of your eye.

Seungcheol stood there, casual yet polished as ever, with his hands tucked into his pockets. His presence was magnetic, and you could feel your coworkers’ eyes darting toward him and then back to you in curiosity.

“Going somewhere?” Seungcheol asked smoothly, his smile playful as he leaned casually against the counter.

“Just clocking out,” you replied, trying to sound composed despite the flutter in your chest.

“Well, since you're off the clock… how about you join me for dinner?” His invitation was simple, but the implication made your pulse quicken.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the intrigued stares of your coworkers lingering on the both of you. But the thought of spending another evening in his company was too tempting to resist.

“Sure,” you said, keeping your tone light, though your heart was racing. “But first, I need to change.”

“Alright,” he chimed, blinking slowly. “You can take your time. I’ll wait for you at the restaurant.”

As you made your way toward the employee exit, you passed the kitchen, where Leo, one of the chefs, caught sight of you. His grin was playful as he leaned on the doorframe.

“Somebody’s got a boyfriend,” Leo asked with a teasing lilt, wiggling his eyebrows. “After all this time, and after all the guests who tried to sweep you off your feet, someone has finally tickled your fancy huh?”

Drea, another kitchen staff, appeared beside him. “Looks like it. They’d been hanging out all weekend.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just making a friend, guys. There’s no need to be all giddy about it.”

“Sure, sure,” Leo chuckled as he turned back to the stove. “Make as many ‘friends’ as you want.”

Drea fell into step with you as you walked toward the exit, lowering her voice to a whisper. “So… I guess your ‘friend’ let you crash at his place last night, huh?”

You blinked in surprise. “What? What are you talking about?”

She giggled softly. “I saw you sneaking back into your quarters at the crack of dawn, sugar.”

You grinned, waving her off with a laugh and gesturing for her to keep it down. Drea mimed zipping her lips before heading back to her tasks, letting you continue on your way in peace.

The restaurant had a cozy ambiance, with warm lighting and soft music playing in the background. As you settled into your seat across from Seungcheol, the enticing aroma of food filled the air, making your stomach growl.

“What’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten here?” Seungcheol asked, leaning back in his chair as he scanned the menu.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” you replied, running your finger along the edge of the menu. “I don’t eat here unless I can’t help it.”

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “So, I’m your first real dinner date at this place? How flattered am I?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you laughed lightly, but your heart raced at the playful glint in his gaze. “It’s just dinner.”

“Last night begs to differ,” he commented, making you gasp audibly.

Before you could say anything, Seungcheol gestured for the waiter who approached immediately. You ordered a rich pasta dish while Seungcheol opted for the steak.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked after the waiter left.

You shook your head. “No, not at all. I’m just not the type to openly talk about… you know, my activities in the bedroom.”

“Alright. I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, smiling as he watched you curiously. “What do you usually do when you’re off the clock?”

You shrugged, feeling a twinge of embarrassment. “Not much. Just… binge-watch shows or read.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “A woman of refined tastes, I see.”

“Hey, everyone needs a little escapism,” you shot back, your cheeks warming. “What about you, Mr. CEO? What keeps you busy?”

His expression shifted slightly, the playful facade dropping just a notch. “Well, I run a holding company that invests in other businesses.”

You leaned in, intrigued. “That sounds interesting. What does that involve exactly?”

Seungcheol took a sip of his drink before answering. “We invest in companies we think have potential and help them grow. Sometimes we acquire them and either hand them over to other people to manage or strip them down for parts.”

“Sounds awful for the owners,” you remarked, unable to hide the frown forming on your lips. The thought of someone losing their livelihood sent a chill through you.

Seungcheol shrugged, his expression neutral. “That’s just the way it is. We usually only acquire companies on the brink of bankruptcy. It’s better than losing everything, right?”

“What do you even gain from a failing company?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. The whole business seemed ruthless, a world away from your warm hotel lobby.

Seungcheol chuckled, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Are you seriously enjoying this conversation?”

“Not really,” you admitted with a laugh. “But there’s nothing else to discuss.”

“Then let’s talk about you,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes searching yours. “Why are you still in hospitality?”

You felt your defenses rise. “Hey, that’s straight-up prying into someone’s personal business.”

“Weren’t you prying into mine just now?” he challenged, crossing his arms.

“Not the same! I was asking about how you make money; you’re asking about my life choices,” you shot back with a pout.

“I can see why you wanted to be a journalist,” he said, his voice softer now.

“What? How?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

“I just know,” he replied, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Okay, Mr. Can See Through Me,” you laughed, but deep down, you wondered how much he could actually see—and if it was more than you intended to show.

After what happened with Seungcheol, you figured you’d be back in his suite once or twice more while he stayed in the hotel. When you think about it, like really think about it, it felt strange to hook up with a guest you’d known for only three days. But it didn’t bother you as much as you expected. Maybe because you’d already shared so much with him; intimate stories and personal memories that left you feeling vulnerable, strong, even a bit broken. Somehow, being with him physically felt minor compared to the depth of everything you’d revealed.

That said, you weren’t expecting to just keep sleeping with him the whole time. No. He was amazing—that was an understatement. And it wasn’t just because you hadn’t had any action in months; it was simply the truth. But Seungcheol didn’t seem like the type to put physical needs before familiarity.

“Good night, then,” he said, smiling as you both lingered in the hallway between the elevator and the employee exit.

“Good night, Mr. Choi,” you smiled back, trying to keep it light. “Thanks for dinner.”

“No problem. I had a great time,” he replied, closing the distance to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. In your ear, he whispered, “And please, just Seungcheol.”

“Sorry, I keep forgetting that,” you chuckled softly. For a moment, you stood there, eyes holding each other’s, as if something else was left unsaid. You weren’t sure what exactly, but you could tell he felt it too.

“Go on, then,” you prompted, nodding toward the elevator.

“No. You can go first. Don’t worry about me.”

You shrugged, reluctant but trying not to show it. “Alright. See you next time.”

“Tomorrow,” he corrected with a grin. “Hope you’re not sick of me yet.”

You laughed. “Not yet, but we’re getting there,” you teased. Leaning forward, you brushed a quick kiss over his lips.

Seungcheol’s hands settled on your waist just as you started to pull away, his eyes searching yours. You grinned, tapping his arms twice to signal he should let go.

“Would you like to—”

“No, thank you,” you interrupted a bit too quickly. His face fell, and seeing it made you laugh. “I would’ve if you’d asked earlier.”

He sighed, shaking his head with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t want to overstep.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.” You walked toward your exit, giving him another smile before pushing the door open. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” he replied with a small wave.

The next day, the morning felt lighter somehow. You went to work in high spirits, smiling at coworkers more than usual, even humming a song to yourself while you were sitting at the quiet front desk, scanning the deserted lobby.

You caught sight of Seungcheol a few times throughout your shift. Once in the lobby, sitting by the window with his laptop and a coffee, his expression focused and distant; and later, he walked by while in a quiet exchange with someone on the phone.

In those moments, he was just like any other guest, a charming yet distant stranger. Yet every time he passed by the front desk, his eyes would flicker up, a sweet smile plastered on his lips.

At the end of your shift, you found him waiting in the lobby, leaning against the marble pillar with his hands tucked into his pockets. “Dinner?” he asked, his tone casual yet warm.

“Sure,” you replied, smiling. “Give me a few minutes?”

“Take your time. I’ll wait for you in the restaurant,” he said easily.

“Alright then.”

You and Seungcheol got to know each other more this way. During work hours, he didn’t cross any lines, and neither did you. It was almost like an unspoken rule between you—when you were on the clock, you were strictly concierge and guest.

But in the evenings, he would swing by the front desk, waiting for you to clock out to invite you to dinner. Dinner became a quiet ritual for the two of you, a rhythm that felt almost natural despite how suddenly it had started. On the second evening, Seungcheol had ordered in from a local restaurant he claimed had the best ramen in the area. You laughed when you saw the spread of takeout boxes arranged across his room’s coffee table, a bottle of wine between them.

“Who told you this place had the…” you made air quotes, “ ‘best ramen’ around here?”

“Uh…” He narrowed his eyes, thinking as he uncorked the wine. “The internet?” he said, just as the bottle popped open.

“The internet? Right,” you teased, sinking into the armchair across from him. “Do you always look up best ramen places online?”

“Not usually,” he admitted, handing you a glass of wine. “But I was craving something more familiar than steak and pasta.”

The rich, savory aroma of the ramen mingled with the scent of the wine, filling the room with a cozy warmth. You clinked glasses and sipped quietly, the casual laughter and teasing slipping in like it was second nature. Between bites, he asked about the town, and you shared stories—of slow nights at the hotel, odd guests, and a few personal memories you hadn’t thought about in a while.

The conversation flowed easily, often sidetracking into random topics that carried you late into the night. He asked you about more stories from your past, not always about relationships—just small things, places you’d always wanted to see, anecdotes from college, or dreams you’d put on hold.

At some point, you found yourself telling him about your old plan to be a journalist, how you’d gone through a whole phase of pitching stories to magazines, only to give it up when you didn’t hear back from any of them.

“You ever think about going back to it?” he asked, watching you with curiosity.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “But I don’t know… it feels far-fetched now. I think I’ve lost the ‘spark’. Besides, this job is steady.”

“Steady is good, but there’s usually no progress in steady. No room for growth in a place that doesn’t challenge you.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his statement. He held your gaze and you could see the sincerity in his eyes that caught you off-guard. “I guess not,” you admitted softly.

He leaned back against the couch, his eyes holding yours. “How about doing what excites you? You know, taking risks and challenging yourself?”

You scoffed lightly, though his words hit a nerve. “Like running empires, taking over companies?” you quipped.

He raised a brow, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

And then the conversation turned light again. He kept surprising you in small ways. He’d remember details, ask questions that dug deeper than the usual surface-level chatter, and share a few of his own stories, mostly humorous or random, yet still holding a touch of mystery.

And after dinner, you put on a random TV show, but barely pay attention to it. His hand rested on your leg, and you could feel the warmth of his touch through your skin. At some point, he leaned in to kiss you, and the rest of the night became a blur of tangled sheets and stolen breaths.

It was unsettling how easy it felt, how natural it was to be with him. There was no awkwardness, no need for pretense. When you weren’t kissing, you were talking—about everything, really, but especially your dreams. Seungcheol kept pushing you, nudging you to think beyond the walls of the hotel.

“You’ve got something to say. And it’s about time you said it,” he’d told you once.

His belief in you always left you speechless for a moment. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that you were capable, but it felt good to be encouraged. Your friends and family, even Vernon, constantly encouraged you to pursue your passion. Only now were you realizing that you could have been unstoppable with their support if you weren’t so hung up on your own insecurities. You didn’t realize it then, but their belief in you was genuine, and they looked at you the same way Seungcheol did—as if they saw something in you that you hadn’t allowed yourself to see.

“You’re glowing these days,” one coworker had said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Drea couldn’t resist chiming in as you walked past the kitchen. “Dinner again tonight?” she asked, winking. “Must be some guest to get that kind of special treatment.”

You’d laughed it off, but there was a part of you that knew they weren’t entirely wrong. Something was shifting between you and Seungcheol—something that went beyond casual hangouts or even the growing physical intimacy. It was like you were slowly unraveling pieces of yourselves to each other, bit by bit, until there was nothing left to hide. He knew more about you, your past relationships, your fears, your dreams, than anyone else ever had.

And the pattern continued: dinner in his room, sometimes in the restaurant, laughter mixed with stolen kisses, and whispered conversations that lasted well into the night. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to ignore the growing connection between you.

And while the teasing at work stoked the fire, you brushed it off with a smile, trying not to think too hard about Seungcheol and everything that had happened between you. He was a guest, sooner or later, he’d go back where he belonged and he’d be nothing but a fever dream—someone who stirred up your usually mundane days in this hotel. It is best not to get too attached to someone who will eventually leave. Maybe you’d meet again, maybe not, but you’d remember the few days you spent with him—easily, no doubt because he was simply unforgettable.

You had just finished drying your hair when you heard soft knocks on your door. You glanced at the clock and frowned. No one ever came by this late. Opening the door a crack, you were met with the familiar grin of Seungcheol, leaning casually against the frame with that same mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, feeling both surprised and thrilled. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He shrugged, a small, playful smile tugging at his lips. “Rules can’t be that strict if they let me get all the way up here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, glancing behind him to make sure no one was around. “You’re lucky the night staff doesn’t usually do rounds here. Come in—before you get us both in trouble.”

As you closed the door behind him, he looked around with a curious gaze, hands in his pockets. The small, modest space suddenly felt even smaller with him there.

“So, this is where you retreat after charming all the guests in the lobby,” he mused, taking in the sparse decor and impersonal furnishings.

“I think this is like, three times smaller than your suite,” you quipped, feeling a little self-conscious.

“Yeah, but it’s much cozier,” he replied, flashing a warm smile.

His eyes softened as he looked around, and for a moment, you watched him walk around your space. Then your stomach growled—a loud, unmistakable sound in the silence. You both froze before dissolving into laughter.

“Hungry?” he asked, barely containing his amusement.

“Starving,” you admitted, covering your face with your hands. “I skipped dinner because you weren’t there to pick me up.”

“Seriously?” he scowled, concern evident in his voice.

You burst out laughing. “No, silly. I had dinner with some coworkers but I didn’t eat much.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Oh, I thought you were serious. I was in a virtual meeting with some people earlier so I couldn’t treat you to dinner.”

“Hey, it’s totally fine,” you said briskly, shaking your hands. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Alright but we should still do something about that,” he replied, pointing at your belly. “How about a late-night snack?”

“I could go for that,” you agreed, grinning. “But only if you’re okay with whatever random ingredients are lying around the hotel kitchen.”

A few minutes later, you led him into the quiet kitchen. Inside, the quiet hum of the fridge filled the room as you checked the shelves for ingredients available for employees. Seungcheol leaned on the counter, watching with amused fascination as you assembled a simple meal from what you could find.

“You know, I think you’re a little too comfortable in here,” he remarked, eyebrows raised as he watched you pull down a pan with a smirk.

You shrugged, turning on the stove and tossing some ingredients into the pan. “Just another perk of the job,” you replied lightly. “Besides, if anyone asks, I’ll say it’s for an important guest.” You gave him a wink.

He laughed, and as you stirred the ingredients together, he kept up a steady stream of questions about your work, your routines, and little quirks about the hotel you hadn’t realized you’d noticed. You could feel his gaze on you, warm and steady, and for a moment, you forgot about the quiet kitchen and the hotel entirely.

When the food was ready, you both sat down at the small table, sharing bites and laughter as though this were something you did every day. He listened closely, chiming in with his own stories, asking questions that went deeper than you’d expected. You found yourself opening up easily, letting him in on things you usually kept tucked away.

Once the plates were cleared, Seungcheol reached for the dishes. “I’ll take care of these,” he said, standing and moving to the sink before you could protest.

“Sure, but…” You trailed off, watching as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, muscles flexing in his forearms. You’d seen those arms several times before—even felt them holding you close—but somehow, it still left you speechless how effortlessly captivating he was.

A sudden urge to close the distance between you overcame you and it was too tempting to resist. So you did, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He chuckled as he rinsed the dishes with care.

“You’re not very good at standing idle, are you?” he murmured.

“Not when I have such a sexy man washing the dishes for me,” you replied, resting your head against his back. His back vibrated when he chuckled.

“Oh, is that so?” he asked, amused, just as he set the plates aside and peeled off his gloves. Turning to face you, he wrapped his arms around you, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re pretty sexy yourself. And your cooking’s top-notch,” he added, lifting your chin to give you a quick kiss.

“What can I say? I have many talents,” you teased.

Seungcheol pressed his thumb on your lower lip, staring at it with desire in his eyes. “About that sleeping quarter of yours,” he murmured, voice lowering. “Think you can keep it quiet in there?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head with a soft laugh. “Definitely not.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “We’d better not stay there then,” he said with an almost playful glint in his eyes. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

“My shift starts at noon,” you whispered.

“Good. You can sleep in,” he grinned before pulling you into a deep, feverish kiss.

Back in his suite, laughter turned into whispered words, and conversation faded into shared warmth. He watched as you moved to his bed, peeling away your clothes one by one before sprawling across the bed, hair fanned out against the pillows, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. He stood there a minute, enjoying the view with half-lidded eyes.

“Are you just going to stand there?” you lilted, propping yourself on your elbows, watching his reactions as you spread your legs open for him. “Or do I need to invite you properly?”

Your confidence shot through the roof when you saw how he clenched his jaw and narrowed at the sight of you. He chuckled darkly, crossing the room with deliberate slowness, pausing at the edge of the bed. “Proper invitation, huh?” he murmured, leaning down, his face hovering just above yours. “Maybe I’m waiting for you to make the first move.”

“This is my first move,” you replied in a low voice, trying not to just go ahead and kiss him right there. You arched a brow, and with a grin, reached up, looping your arms around his neck to pull him down beside you.

Seungcheol closed the distance, capturing your lips in a torrid kiss. You swear you could feel the tension crackle in the air as he trailed a slow line of kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone, each one making your heartbeat quicken.

Your eyes met again, just as his hand cupped your naked sex, making you bite your lip. His laughter softened the intensity as he whispered, “How long can you stay up?”

You tutted, shaking your head playfully as you unbuttoned his shirt. “Don’t start making promises you can’t keep now.”

“You think I can’t keep it?” he challenged, putting pressure between your legs. Your body arched ever so slightly.

“How would I know if we’re just gonna keep talking like this?” you retorted, reaching down to grab the erection underneath his pants.

“Are you always this impatient?” he chuckled before leaning in to kiss you again.

You melted together, movements slow and gentle at first, then deepening as his hands roamed your body. He didn’t miss a spot, touching every crevice with his hands, kissing every sensitive spot, and sucking where he knew you’d love to be sucked.

He kept his promise—not a wink of sleep was had that night until dawn came through the windows. You’d given up at that point and just passed out next to him on the bed.

When you were trying to leave Seungcheol’s suite late the next morning, he had given you a soft kiss on the lips, bidding you goodbye but his arms were tight around your waist, unwilling to let go.

“You seriously need to let me go now,” you chided softly, though you weren’t making a move to leave either. “Elena’s gonna kill me.”

“Then she’d be in jail for murder. I’m sure she doesn’t want that,” he quipped, biting your earlobe softly.

You giggled, pushing his face away. “Stop. I’m serious. I have work to do.”

Seungcheol pouted his already pouty lips and gave you the saddest puppy face you’d ever seen from a man. He even tilted his head for a dramatic effect.

“Is that the best you can do?” you sneered, rolling your eyes. “It’s not working.”

His face softened back to his usual, easygoing look. “This is why you should leave this job.”

“No, this isn’t.”

“No, but this could be," he shot back.

You chuckled, letting him pull you back into his arms. You settled against him, knowing you really should go but letting yourself stay in that comfortable quiet until the very last possible second.

When you finally rushed out, you had to practically sprint to your quarters to shower and throw on your uniform. Even as you hurried to the lobby, Seungcheol’s words and the warmth of his last kiss lingered in the back of your mind.

You settled into your morning routine, shaking off the haze of the late night, but two hours into your shift, you caught sight of Seungcheol stepping out of the elevator hauling his luggage while looking as composed and put-together as ever. An unsettling sensation crept into your heart, causing it to beat rapidly in your chest.

“Leaving already?” you asked when he approached, struggling to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” he replied with a small smile. “Can’t avoid work forever.”

You nodded, trying to mask your disappointment. You’d known from the start that this was temporary, but the reality of him leaving still hit harder than you’d expected. “Well, I’m glad you stopped by to say goodbye,” you said, managing a small smile.

He tilted his head, gaze softening. “Doesn’t have to be goodbye, you know.”

“Huh?” You blinked, surprised. Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and a moment later, your own phone buzzed in your pocket. When you checked it, you saw a message from him. It was a link to a job posting.

“It’s a publishing company I’m investing in,” he explained. “They’re looking for new writers for their magazine,” he explained with a playful tilt to his tone. “I could make a call and help secure you a position there, but I don’t think you’d like that.”

You raised a brow jokingly. “Are you serious? I’d kill for an easy way in.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly as if actually considering it.

“Of course not,” you laughed, shaking your head. “But… thank you. I’ll definitely check it out.”

“Good,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “See you soon?”

You nodded, voice softening. “Maybe, if you ever find yourself back in town.”

“Or,” he countered, his smile widening, “if you find yourself in mine.”

You smirked, leaning in a little closer. “No promises, but I’ll keep you posted.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmured before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, pulling back with a look you couldn’t quite read. “Take care, alright?”

“You too,” you whispered back. With a final glance, he picked up his bag and walked toward the doors. Watching him disappear, you glanced down at the job posting on your phone, your lips curving into a small smile.

The days that followed Seungcheol’s departure drifted by in a slow but steady routine. You returned to work, easing back into the usual rhythm of the hotel. Tasks that once kept you occupied now felt a little empty, missing the spark his presence brought. Although you kept in touch, neither of you could commit to a steady chat correspondence because you both had work to do.

The teasing began as soon as he left, of course. One morning in the break room, Drea and Clara from housekeeping cornered you with knowing smiles.

“So,” Drea began, leaning in with a smirk, “guess Mr. Loverboy had to hit the road?”

“Heartbroken already?” Clara teased, nudging you lightly.

Rolling your eyes, you tried to brush it off. “Please, I knew he was going to leave. He was here for business, not for… whatever you’re implying.”

“Uh-huh,” Drea said with a slow grin, “and all those late-night chats and ‘work dinners’ were totally normal, right?”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks and huffed, trying to keep your cool. “Can we not do this right now?”

They both winced, and Drea placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re just teasing. You looked a bit gloomy after he left.”

“I’m not. Maybe I’m just…” you trailed off, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe I’m just missing the ‘work dinners’, you know?”

They laughed, and you joined in, letting humor push away the gloom—even if only temporarily. As you returned to your duties, their words lingered, nudging a realization you’d been trying to ignore. Seungcheol had stirred something within you—a restlessness, a desire for something more than the steady routine you’d settled into at the hotel, this place far from home.

The days dragged and you buried yourself in mundane tasks. You updated records, tweaked guest files, and even took extra shifts, but the thoughts of what you wanted next kept creeping in. There were quiet moments when, mid-shift, you found yourself idly scrolling through the job posting he’d sent, rereading the requirements and trying to imagine what it would be like to actually take the leap.

In the quiet of your room, you’d take a pen and paper and scribble down short articles on random things: the day’s specials, trends in the hotel’s online promotions, even quirky stats like how many times housekeeping was called to the same suite. It was practice, a taste of what it might be like to write for real. The more you wrote, the stronger the pull grew to step beyond the winding roads of this small city.

Your coworkers noticed the change. Sometimes, they’d catch you smiling to yourself, drifting off mid-sentence, or jotting ideas on scrap paper between check-ins.

“You’ve got that ‘I’m making a big decision’ look,” teased Leo, always keen to know when something was brewing. “I’ve seen it a hundred times before. Spill it!”

You laughed, brushing it off at first, but as days went on, your secret plans came into focus. Each conversation—some encouraging, some bittersweet—helped you admit to yourself that maybe it was time to step forward. Even the strict, watchful General Manager Elena took notice.

One day, on an unsurprisingly slow afternoon, she called you into her office. When you entered, she had her glasses on, nose deep in some paperwork, but she looked up with a rare softness in her usually stern demeanor.

“I heard you’re considering leaving,” Elena said, getting straight to the point.

For a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. “Actually… yes. I’ve been thinking about it. There’s this job posting that might be… a better fit for what I want.”

She studied you, her expression unreadable. “That’s a shame,” she finally said. “You’re good at what you do here. But I understand. We all have paths we need to explore.”

It was strange hearing those words from Elena of all people—the one who seemed to keep everyone on a tight leash. You hadn’t expected her understanding, and her support only fueled your desire to follow through. Still, you didn’t make a decision right away. The idea had gotten so real, you could almost touch it, yet you kept putting it off.

“You’re still thinking about it?” Leo would ask, crossing his arms with a look that was half-concerned, half-excited.

“Yeah, but… it’s not easy to let go of something so familiar,” you’d admit, trying to make sense of it yourself.

Eventually, after more late nights of wondering and overthinking, you knew what you had to do. It took a deep breath and a lot of inner pep talks—you even came up with a small mantra for yourself—but you finally handed in your resignation to Elena. She accepted it with a knowing smile, and, much to your surprise, added, “You’ll be missed. We don’t get people like you often.”

They gave you a two-week transition period to train the new concierge. It was bittersweet, teaching someone else the ropes, walking them through routines and the hotel’s small quirks. You realized how much you’d grown attached to it all—the people, the quiet corners, the smell of fresh coffee in the lobby. Each day brought flashes of memory—Tony pulling you into yet another crazy story; Leo cooking up a storm during restocking season; late-night conversations with Drea; and the soft light filtering through the lobby as you’d start your early shifts. It was your life for the last seven months, and letting go felt like peeling away a part of yourself.

On your last day, you finished training your replacement and said your goodbyes, packing up the small personal items you’d kept at your station—a worn-out notebook, a stray earring you’d misplaced months ago, and a couple of pens. Standing at the door, you took a last, quiet look back at the lobby, thanking it silently for what it had given you. Then you stepped out of the hotel, feeling strangely sad and excited at the same time. It was time to open a new book. Hopefully, this one would have a different plot, and maybe, just maybe, a plot twist you so badly needed.

The train pulled into the city’s central station just as the sky softened into late afternoon shades. Stepping off with excitement and nerves twisting in your chest, you took a deep breath and pulled out your phone to dial Seungcheol. You hadn’t told him about your decision to move, and as the call connected, you wondered briefly if surprising him like this was a bit too sudden.

“Hi. How are you?” Seungcheol’s voice came through the receiver. You could hear a faint chatter on the other line and he said, “Excuse me,” to someone.

“I’m fine, where are you?” you asked, unable to stop the slight tremor in your voice.

“I’m here and there.” You could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. “This is a pleasant surprise. You never called during work hours. What’s up?”

“I just thought I should call you,” you replied, unable to stop grinning. “You did tell me to let you know if I ever find myself in your city.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just let out a soft chuckle that seemed to hold both relief and excitement. “Where are you?”

“At the station.”

“Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”

The city loomed around you, humming with life and endless possibilities. For a moment, you stood in the crowd, letting the sound of distant conversations and the sharp aroma of fresh coffee sweep over you. It hit you then—this was a new chapter, and there was no going back.

Fifteen minutes later, Seungcheol’s familiar figure came into view, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. The moment he spotted you, his smile widened, and as soon as he was close enough, he swept you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Aw,” you cooed, hugging him back. “Did you miss me?”

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmured against your hair, his grip on you firm and almost possessive.

You laughed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, you nailed it,” he replied, leaning in to press his lips to yours. The kiss was deep, lingering, as if he’d been holding back all this time and could finally let it spill out. It felt like no time had passed at all since you’d last seen each other, yet there was a new energy—an excitement and sense of anticipation in the air between you.

The drive to his place was filled with teasing and sidelong glances, his hand never quite letting go of yours. Arriving at his penthouse, he wasted no time with pleasantries, trapping you in his arms as soon as you walked in and locking your lips together. His hands roamed your body, exploring familiar curves, while yours tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

You left a trail of clothing on the floor as he guided you into the bedroom. With each kiss, you melted into him, feeling his heartbeat quicken against yours. You failed to notice the marvelous view of the cityscape stretching out under the setting sun, reflecting shades of orange and pink in the tall glass windows. The world outside simply faded into a blur, leaving just the two of you in a connection that was charged with all the longing that had built up during your time apart. As your bodies moved together, a sense of urgency guided you—each touch igniting a flame that had only been waiting for the right moment to burn.

When you finally caught your breath, lying intertwined in the soft glow of the fading sunlight, you stared at the ceiling with pleased smiles on your lips. The warmth wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and a comfortable silence settled between you.

Seungcheol reached for you, and you glanced at him, smiling as you scooted closer and tucked yourself into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. “So,” you started, grinning up at him, “do you mind if I stay with you for a little while? Just until I find my own place.”

His face shifted, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips as he looked down at you. “Actually, I think it’d be smarter if you stayed until you got the job.” His hand slid down your back. “Then you can pick a place close to work and save yourself a long commute.”

The logic made sense, of course, but the glint in his eyes told you there might be more to his offer. “Or maybe you just want to spend time with me day in and day out. Be honest,” you teased, narrowing your eyes at him.

He laughed. “I was trying to be cool, but alright. I want you here with me everyday. That’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You could at least continue pretending to be hard to get. You’re no fun.”

“What?” he asked, confusion written all over his face. “I thought you wanted honesty?”

“Whatever. No fun,” you said, fighting back a grin.

But inwardly, a warmth spread in your chest at the thought that he wanted you here—that he wanted you close. You didn’t know where this leap would take you, but sitting there with Seungcheol, the uncertainty felt like something you could embrace.

After Seungcheol gave you a quick tour, the two of you found yourselves tangled up on the couch again. His hands skimmed over your arms, your back, your thighs, tracing over your skin with a familiarity and a desire that sent your pulse racing. The TV murmured in the background, but his slow, deliberate kisses made the world feel quiet and distant.

Just as you were beginning to sink into that familiar haze, the sound of his phone ringing on the coffee table cut through the moment. You both glanced at it, sharing a look, but Seungcheol ignored it, his focus solely on you as he wrapped his arms tighter, pressing his lips to yours as he eased you down onto the plush couch. His hand slipped under your shirt, leaving a trail of warmth along your skin, and you couldn’t help but surrender to the pull of the moment, melting into him completely.

But the phone wouldn’t stop. The ringing resumed, persistent enough that eventually, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, gently pushing him away. “Aren’t you gonna take that?”

“No,” he murmured against your skin, moving to kiss the sensitive spot near your collarbone. “Ignore it.”

Yet another ring, and you couldn’t help but laugh, giving him a playful push. “Take the call, Cheol. It seems important.”

With a sigh, Seungcheol pressed a quick kiss on your lips, and then moved to grab his phone. There was a slight furrow of annoyance on his face as he answered. “What is it?”

You were sitting so close that you could faintly but clearly hear the other person speaking. “Where did you run off to, man?”

“What is it?” Seungcheol repeated, ignoring the other guy and adding weight to his own question.

“Dude, you left in the middle of a meeting. The Takahashis were livid.”

Leaning back against the sofa, Seungcheol rolled his eyes as though this wasn’t worth his time. “Buy them out.”

The other voice paused, clearly taken aback. “What? I thought you wanted a partnership?”

“The man is senile, Josh. Can’t even remember his own son’s name. There’s no point partnering with someone who doesn’t know when it’s time to step down. Let’s buy them out.”

You could hear ‘Josh’ sighing on the other side. “Alright. But it won’t be easy to convince them after your little disappearing act.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Seungcheol said with confidence. “Bring Yoon Jeonghan with you.”

“Alright. Is everything okay? Where are you? What was so important that you had to rush out like that?”

Seungcheol glanced at you, his gaze heavy with what seemed like an unspoken answer to his coworker’s question. The small smile that tugged at his lips told you exactly what he wanted to say without saying it. Rolling your eyes, you gave his arm a light slap.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Seungcheol said with a smile.

“Tomorrow? Dude, we have 4pm scheduled with the construction company. Don’t—”

Seungcheol ignored the rest of Joshua’s protests as he hung up and tossed the phone aside, refocusing his attention entirely on you. He pulled you back toward him, his lips finding yours as his arms wrapped around you in a familiar, easy embrace. But before he could deepen the kiss, you pressed a hand against his chest, pausing just long enough to catch your breath.

“Go back to work, Cheol,” you said, trying to keep your tone firm. “I can’t believe you ditched work for this.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I’d rather be here.”

When he tried to kiss you again, you dodged, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m serious. You can’t just skip work whenever you want, even if you’re the CEO.”

“I thought being CEO means I can do just that?” he teased, watching your expression. When he saw your jaw drop in playful shock, he laughed. He took your hand, pressing it gently against his chest. “Alright, I’ll go. But only because you told me to,” he said, stealing another kiss.

You rolled your eyes and let him cup your cheek. “Are you sure you want me to go?” he asked.

“Yes. Stop being dramatic. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Seungcheol sighed, glancing at his watch for a second and turning back to you. “Alright, but I’ve got time before my next meeting. Anything you want to do before then?”

You thought for a moment, glancing at your bag. “Actually, yeah. Can you drop me off at an electronics store? I need to get a laptop.”

“Sure. Let’s go,” he invited, but instead of standing up, he lunged at you with a kiss that had you staying on the couch for a good five minutes.

The very next morning, Seungcheol sat across from you at the dining table, his coffee steaming as he watched you scroll through company profiles on your laptop. “It’s important to think about their vision, not just the job title or pay,” he said, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his mug. “A company’s culture and goals say a lot about how they’ll treat you and how you'll grow there.”

You glanced up, catching the intensity in his gaze as he shared his thought process—like a glimpse into the inner world he often kept guarded. “When it comes to investing, I look for places that share my values or at least lean in the same direction. Even if they’re a little off, if there's room for alignment, and they have really good potential I give them a shot. But if it's a hard no from the start…” he shrugged, smiling a little. “Then it's not worth my time.”

“So, I should find a place that’s worth my time?”

He smiled. “Yes. If it’s worth you time, then it’s exactly where you fit.”

His words echoed in your mind as you stepped into the publishing house for the interview. The receptionist greeted you warmly, and as you waited, you couldn’t help feeling lighter—more confident. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were making choices that aligned with who you were and who you wanted to become.

Over the next few days, Seungcheol’s advice seemed to anchor you, guiding your approach to each application and interview. Whenever he was out for work, you spent your time filling out forms, researching companies, and drafting cover letters. And with each application, you felt a step closer to rediscovering a part of yourself that had gone quiet.

One evening, you found yourself staring at your laptop, a small smile spreading across your face. It hit you suddenly how long it had been since you’d felt the drive to pursue something. The doubts that had once held you back seemed far away now, chased away by the growing belief that you still had what it took to make this work.

When the rejection email arrived, it hit a bit harder than you’d expected. You stared at the screen for a moment, feeling the disappointment settle in. This was the company Seungcheol had suggested—the one that aligned with everything you’d been hoping for.

Seungcheol found you still at your laptop when he got home, catching sight of the email over your shoulder. Without a word, he placed a comforting hand on your back, leaning in close enough that his warmth almost made the disappointment a little easier to bear. “Hey,” he murmured gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles. “These things happen. A rejection doesn’t define you. If anything, it just means that place wasn’t ready for someone like you.”

You sighed, leaning into him for a second before tilting your head up with a small, determined smile. “You’re right. Anyway…” You toggled to a few other emails on the screen. “Who cares if H Publishing isn’t ready for me? I’ve got three other alphabets practically falling over themselves to snatch me up.”

His eyebrows rose, and he chuckled, folding his arms as he looked at you with mock admiration. “Three companies? Wow, look at you. Guess I gave pretty solid advice, huh?”

“Oh, please. I’m the one with the charm and talent.” You grinned, crossing your arms in triumph. “But yeah, some random guy did tell me to find a place that really fits. He was very wise.” You leaned over, planting a quick, playful kiss on his cheek.

Seungcheol’s face softened as he pulled you in for a real hug, resting his chin on top of your head. “Wise guy, huh? He sounds like he wants you to be somewhere that lets you shine.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughed softly, his arms still wrapped around you, neither of you in any rush to pull away. The moment lingered, easy and unhurried, as if you both knew things were exactly as they should be.

Once you’d finalized the details with your chosen company, the reality of your situation began to settle in. Your start date was fast approaching, and with it, the understanding that your time in Seungcheol’s apartment was coming to an end. He hadn’t mentioned anything, but you knew that, now that you had a stable job, there was no reason for you to stay here anymore.

It was bittersweet. In the past three weeks, you’d become more attached to this life—sharing a space, a routine, even the quiet moments with him. The thought of going back to an empty bed, waking up without Seungcheol’s warm embrace, or the comforting ritual of morning coffee together, weighed on you. But this was a necessary part of starting over; after all, you’d come here to stand on your own, not to fall into the comfort of living with someone you weren’t even officially dating.

Wait… You paused, realization dawning on you. You and Seungcheol weren’t exactly in a relationship… were you?

Up until now, you hadn’t given it much thought, but now that you’d asked yourself the question, suddenly, it was all you could think about!

Was this casual? It was while you were still a guest and a concierge in a faraway hotel. Right now, it doesn’t seem that way anymore. What kind of relationship would you have if Seungcheol had already offered you his home, supported your dreams like it was his own, and focused on you with a warmth and attentiveness that made you feel like his world revolves around you?

“Do you even have feelings for him?” Jill asked when you told her about it over the brunch you’d planned with her a few days ago. She lived in the same city and while you were genuinely happy to spend time with her after all these years, she noticed that something was bothering you and managed to coax you into talking about it.

“No?” You answered, though it sounded more like a question directed at yourself. “I don’t know. I just… hadn’t thought about it until now. Everything felt so easy and so natural. I guess I forgot that things like this might need an actual label.”

Jill’s eyebrow lifted. “Things only need a label if you’ve got feelings and aren’t just hooking up.”

You flattened your lips, contemplating. “Does ‘hooking up’ mean making me breakfast every day for three weeks? Bringing home random gifts just because he thought I’d like them? Or being completely supportive of my career and dreams like it was his too?”

Jill’s knowing look softened as she studied your expression. “Well… when you put it like that, no,” she said, a teasing smile creeping in. “It sounds a lot more like someone who wants to be in your life than just in your bed.”

You sighed, feeling the warmth of her words and, at the same time, a little overwhelmed. “So… what do I do now? Ask him if he wants to be something more?”

Jill shook her head, reaching out to pat your hand. “Relax. You’ve got a lot going on already. You don’t have to figure it all out now,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Just let things unfold naturally. Enjoy this stage, see where it takes you. If it’s meant to be more, you’ll both feel it, and you’ll know.”

And yet that was the problem. You weren’t patient. When something bothers you, you just have to get to the bottom of it as soon as you can.

That evening, as you were preparing dinner together, the inevitable topic was finally brought up. You’d just plated the food when Seungcheol leaned back against the counter, watching you with a contemplative smile.

“So… you’ll be looking for apartments soon,” he said, almost casually, though his gaze held something deeper. “Have you found any places that catch your eye?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you set the plates down on the table. “No. I haven’t gotten to it yet. But I’ll start tomorrow, don’t worry.”

A flicker of something—disappointment, maybe?—crossed his face before he gave you a small nod. “Right. That’s good.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, thick with the things you both weren’t saying. The thought of leaving left a strange ache in your chest, and as you looked at Seungcheol, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he felt it too.

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked just as you sat down to start eating.

“What about work?” you asked back and he shrugged.

“I don’t have anything important to do tomorrow, so I can leave it to them.”

You gave him a smile, one with a hint of sadness about your impending departure. “Alright, then. I could use some company who could show me which neighborhood would be best for me.”

The next morning, the air felt different as you and Seungcheol set out for apartment hunting. As you drove through the city, Seungcheol pointed out various areas, describing their unique vibes.

“This neighborhood has some great coffee shops, and the park nearby is perfect for a morning jog,” he said, gesturing toward a tree-lined street bustling with life.

“Looks perfect,” you replied, though your mind lingered on the idea of leaving his apartment behind.

As the realtor showed you a particularly spacious unit, you couldn’t help but compare it to Seungcheol’s massive penthouse with its high ceiling and floor to ceiling windows. Then again, you had to brush it all aside. This was a hunt for your home, the place you’d be spending your days in while doing what you loved. Somehow, shifting your perspective that way filled you to the brim with excitement.

At the next stop, you walked hand in hand, your fingers interlaced as you each enjoyed churros from a nearby vendor. You wandered through a vibrant farmer’s market, the scent of fresh produce and flowers enveloping you. Picking up a bundle of herbs, you turned to Seungcheol with a grin. “What about an apartment where I can have little herb pots by the window?”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Do you think they’d survive though? What if I can’t take care of them well enough?”

“I think you’re capable of anything as long as you put your mind into it,” he replied and you felt a tug of familiarity in your chest. You were sure you’d heard someone tell you the same thing before, you just forgot when or who it was.

After picking up a few fresh ingredients to bring home, you resumed your hunt for an apartment. You stepped into an open house at a newly-built complex, just two blocks from your workplace. The agent who welcomed you in boasted about the high-tech security system and beautiful amenities, showcasing a rooftop garden that took your breath away.

“Based on your description, Ma’am, this unit might suit your taste perfectly,” said the agent, guiding you into a unit that was a bit smaller than the previous three-bedroom one he’d shown you. “It has one bedroom, a spacious living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom with both a shower and a tub. And of course, a bay window with a beautiful view of the city.”

You marveled at the empty space, envisioning it as a blank canvas waiting for your personal touch. As you exchanged glances with Seungcheol, his eyes sparkled with curiosity, mirroring your excitement. It felt like the beginning of a new chapter, one where your dreams were within reach.

“Feel free to look around and let me know what you think,” the agent said, noticing the delight on your faces. Someone called his name outside, and he excused himself, closing the door behind him.

Practically vibrating with excitement, you walked up to Seungcheol, wrapping your arms around his waist and beaming up at him. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it!” you exclaimed, pulling away to explore the living room further.

Seungcheol leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a fond smile. You pushed open every door, gasping at each detail that captivated you.

When you finally felt satisfied, a realization tightened in your chest: It’s happening. You took a deep breath and met Seungcheol’s gaze. “This is it. This is the place.”

He offered a soft smile, one that reached his eyes. “I know. I like it too.”

Once again, the sinking feeling of leaving his place overcame you. “I’m gonna miss your house.”

He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, gently squeezing your shoulders. “You don’t have to go just because the job is set, you know?”

There it was—the invitation you hadn’t dared hope for. But as much as you wanted to stay, your resolve to stand on your own was stronger than any feelings you had for him.

“No, I have to go. I can’t keep invading your space,” you said, smiling, though the sadness flickered in your eyes.

He pulled you closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You’re not invading, sweetheart,” he said softly, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I like having you there.”

“I know,” you scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes at his obvious affection. “But it wouldn’t make sense to stay there when the purpose of me moving here was so I could pursue something of my own.”

He sighed. “Why did you have to be so independent? Can’t you just stay with me forever? If you haven’t noticed, I’m very capable of making you live a life of luxury without you having to lift a finger.”

“Really? Wow. I didn’t notice,” you deadpanned in mock-surprise. You both laughed for a bit and the quiet that followed was heavy. You just stared at each other, conversing with your eyes but not coming to an understanding. “I’m sure you can make that happen, but forever is such a long time, Cheol.”

“It is,” he replied, his voice low as he looked into your eyes.

“You know, the most common factor that caused my past relationships to fail was our lack of communication. After the last one, I realized I have to make communication the very foundation of my relationships with people—friends, family, boyfriends.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed slightly as he absorbed your words. “I get that. Communication is important,” he said slowly, his gaze steady on you.

You felt a surge of courage as you met his eyes, willing yourself to be vulnerable. “That’s why I want to know exactly what you think about us. If this is casual, or if there’s more to this than what we both intended. I like what we have, but I also know that the beginning of our relationship was unconventional and we haven’t known each other that long. But I like it, I like you. Maybe not so much right now, but I’m willing to see where this takes us. So…” You took a deep breath and reached to cup his cheek. “I need to know where you stand.”

His expression shifted, and for a moment, you could see the hesitation flicker in his eyes. But then he leaned into your hand. “I like you more than words could ever describe, sweetheart. I haven’t felt this way for anyone, ever.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, a mix of relief and excitement coursing through you. “Do you mean that?” you asked softly, searching his eyes for sincerity.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I do. I agree that we started off in a weird way, but I wasn’t even expecting to form something so profound with you in the first place. Still, I’ve enjoyed every moment we’ve spent together. You make me feel different... better.”

A warm flutter spread through you, but the uncertainty still lingered. “So, where does that leave us? I mean, I’m glad we like each other but I don’t want to jump into something without knowing we’re on the same page.”

He leaned to kiss you softly and slowly, as if it was the answer to your question. When he pulled away, there was an affectionate smile on his lips. “There. I jumped first. What are you gonna do?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and crashed your lips into his for a much deeper, much fervent kiss. The world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the electric connection that buzzed between your bodies. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of warmth flood through you, and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

Seungcheol responded eagerly, his hands roaming your back. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and soon you found yourselves pressed against the wall, lost in the embrace. The kiss grew more passionate, hands exploring—fingers tracing along arms and waists, as you both got lost in the vice of each other.

But just as you felt the desire to take things further, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling you back to reality. The agent’s voice cut through the haze, followed by the sound of the doorknob clicking. You pulled away abruptly, breathless and wide-eyed, a rush of embarrassment flooding through you. Seungcheol looked just as startled, both of you momentarily flustered. The heat of the moment dissipated, replaced by the urgency to regain composure.

The agent’s smiling face appeared from the foyer, greeting you cheerfully. “So, what do you think?”

“We’ll take it,” you replied abruptly, still flustered.

“Yes. It’s ours,” Seungcheol added.

“Mine,” you corrected gently, patting his chest.

“Huh?” he asked dumbly, gawking at you for a second. “Oh, yeah. Hers.”

The transition into your role as an assistant editor felt seamless. The initial apprehension faded quickly, replaced by a surprising confidence as you organized articles and collaborated with your team. Being in a creative environment was thrilling and fulfilling. It didn’t even bother you that the pay was average—this was your passion in action, it should be priceless.

Twice a week, Seungcheol would sweep you off to dinner, the routine becoming another cherished ritual. He watched you with a fond smile as you animatedly discussed your day, your words flowing freely as you shared your small wins and challenges.

“I was nervous because they asked for my input out of nowhere but guess what?”

“They liked it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They did. They thought it was fantastic!”

“Wow, you’re brilliant.”

You giggled. “Oh, and earlier the chair gave out when I was—” you stopped, realizing how much you were rambling. “Sorry. Was I talking too much?”

“It’s okay I’m used to it,” he smiled, offering you a slice of his food. He smiled when you accepted it. “You could go on for hours once you start telling stories, remember?”

You sighed, remembering when you used to recount stories about your exes at his request. “Of course. But back then, you actually wanted to hear it. This is just me going on and on.”

“I like it,” he murmured, nudging another bite your way. “It’s endearing.”

“You’re saying that because you like me too much,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully before taking the bite from his fork.

His laughter echoed in your ears, affectionate and genuine. You continued eating and talking. Every little touch, every shared smile, left a warmth that lingered even as the plates were cleared. And as you both walked home, Seungcheol slipped his hand into yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

“Do you wanna sleep over?” you asked, leaning against his shoulder as you walked.

“Can I?”

You hummed affirmatively. “It’s kinda cold and I kinda missed you.”

His chuckle was low and warm. “Do you miss me every day?”

“Yes,” you replied softly, sniffing the sleeve of his jacket. “Every single day.”

He glanced at you, a glint of mischief visible in his eyes. “Then what do you think about moving in with me?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking?” you scoffed, though a smile tugged at your lips.

“It’s fun. Who knows? Maybe if I keep at it, you’ll give in,” he teased, nudging your shoulder.

“Or maybe I’ll kick you out of my life forever.”

“You can try.” He smirked. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you often spent your evenings at your apartment since he’d pick you up from work, and your place was closer. His job demanded much of his time, even on weekends, so you’d only managed a couple of trips in the last few months. Still, you made time to hang out at his place whenever you could.

Seungcheol always treated you with warmth and care, never missing a chance to hold you, lean against you, or pull you into a hug. It felt like he was always close, a steady presence you’d come to cherish.

“Yes, right there,” you exclaimed, moaning in delight as Seungcheol massaged your tensed shoulder with expertise. You grinned, aware of how you were affecting him. “Oh, Seungcheol. That is so good.”

“Keep doing that and I’ll give you something to really moan about,” he teased, shooting you a look that made you quickly mime a zipper over your lip.

You settled back, savoring the massage, though you couldn’t resist letting out a dramatic moan here and there just to tease him. Seungcheol, as it turned out, is more in control of his urges than you’d expected.

When he finished with your shoulders, he moved to the carpet beside the couch, taking one of your legs into his hands and massaging it. You gave him a warm smile. “You know, I really enjoy being treated like a princess by you,” you mused.

He paused, tilting his head at you. “Princess, huh?”

You nodded with a giggle. “Mmhm, exactly.”

Seungcheol chuckled, setting your foot down with exaggerated care. “Maybe I’m not doing enough, then.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—what? You’re already doing more than enough!”

“Then why are you a princess and not a queen?”

Your mouth fell open in mock surprise before you started laughing at the cringe line. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve got rizz. Come here.” You leaned forward, cupping his cheeks with both hands as you guided him up to meet your lips.

“Choi Seungcheol?” Mina asked, glancing up at you as she leaned back in the salon chair. You’d been looking forward to this weekend with her, Jill, and Lea, a chance to unwind over manicures and girl talk.

“Yeah. Do you know him?” you asked, mildly intrigued.

Mina sighed dramatically. “Do I know him? Everyone in the industry knows him. The guy’s a genius.”

“Really?” You tilted your head, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know all the details, but he founded his holdings company back in 20XX, and it only took him seven years to build a multimillion-dollar empire,” Mina explained, her tone awestruck. “He’s actually one of the investors at my company.”

You blinked in surprise. “That’s... impressive.”

Mina gave you a look. “Wait—didn’t you know this?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I mean, I knew he had his own company, but he doesn’t talk much about it.”

Jill chuckled. “Your boyfriend is mysterious.”

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”

The three of them stared at you, expressions of disbelief on their faces. Finally, Mina broke the silence, “If he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”

You hesitated, then admitted, “I mean, well… We’re together, but he didn’t really ask me to be his girlfriend. And I didn’t ask him either. We just came to a consensus that we wanted to be together.”

“Girl, that’s literally what dating is,” Jill deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

You laughed. “Fine, maybe you’re right. I just didn’t want to dwell on labels, you know?”

“Unbelievable,” Mina muttered, but her grin softened the words.

“So, is he self-made or did he get help?” Lea interjected, steering the topic back to Seungcheol’s career. “Nepo baby?”

Mina shrugged. “Not entirely sure. I heard he started out with just one investor—apparently the father of his business partner.”

“Or maybe he’s a genius who just knows how to make the right investments,” Jill mused.

As they chatted, your mind drifted, replaying Mina’s words. You’d never asked Seungcheol much about his past because he was usually reserved about it. He’d drop hints now and then, but he never got into the deeper details. You didn’t even know whether his parents were wealthy—or if they were alive. Somehow, you’d just assumed he’d built his company on his own, out of necessity.

But now, a strange, almost bittersweet curiosity tugged at you. Just who was the man you’d grown so close to? Why did it feel like you barely knew about him?

The weekend went on as the four of you bounced between shopping, brunch spots, and lazy strolls through the streets. Your friends were great company, their laughter and stories taking you back to your youth when things were much simpler. Yet, every now and then, your thoughts wandered back to Seungcheol and the half-formed questions he’d unknowingly left with you.

Had he really kept his career and his life so under wraps out of modesty, or was it just a deliberate choice to keep you in the dark? Was his interest in you genuine, or were you just another distraction to him—an easy escape maybe?

“Earth to you!” Jill’s fingers snapped in front of your face, pulling you back to the table. She looked at you, brow raised, with a teasing smirk. “Where’d you go off to?”

“Oh—nowhere,” you said, smiling sheepishly.

Mina shot you a knowing glance. “Does ‘nowhere’ happen to be a certain tall, good-looking, and mysterious Choi Seungcheol?”

Your cheeks warmed. “Maybe.”

“Thought so.” Mina took a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling. “You’ve been a little preoccupied. Did something bad happen?”

“Not exactly. It’s just…” You hesitated, picking at the edge of your napkin. “I just realized I didn’t know much about him, which is dumb because he probably had me memorized by now. What if there’s more he’s not telling me? And what if he’s not telling me these things because… you know, I’m temporary?” You winced, not quite sure how to put it into words.

Jill reached over to squeeze your hand. “That’s understandable. I mean, the guy’s clearly got a lot going on. Maybe he’s just waiting until he feels it’s the right time?”

“Or maybe he’s afraid of something,” Mina chimed in, thoughtful. “A rich guy like him? People probably approach him with motives all the time. Maybe he’s cautious around people he cares about.”

You sighed, staring down at your coffee. It didn’t help that Seungcheol hadn’t called or messaged you since Friday, leaving a quiet ache you hadn’t quite anticipated. Usually, you’d hear from him at least once, even if it was a short message to check in. Although he did promise he won’t bother you while you were hanging out with your friends. Still, this silence felt different, unsettling.

The afternoon passed by in comfortable, busy distraction. You all wandered through shops, trying on clothes and laughing at ridiculous sunglasses, sharing in the small, simple joys of being together. But every so often, while waiting in line or glancing at your phone, you found yourself hoping to see his name light up your screen, only to be met with empty notifications.

“Are you okay?” Lea asked later, when the two of you found yourselves alone for a moment, the others a few steps ahead.

You managed a smile, brushing it off. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”

She gave a sympathetic nod. “You know, it’s okay to ask him these things. Better than sitting around wondering. Just… don’t let it ruin your weekend, okay?”

You appreciated her concern, and as the evening stretched into night, you pushed the thoughts aside, letting yourself laugh along with the others and lose yourself in the joy of good company.

On your last night together, you especially looked forward to tomorrow, knowing you’d finally see Seungcheol again. But as you and your friends shared wine, the conversation turned deeper and more personal.

“To be honest? You get the worst when it comes to relationships,” Mina slurred drunkenly, pointing a wavering finger at you. “Jill always attracts cheaters, but she has never let them walk all over her, no.”

Jill raised her glass with a laugh. “Never!”

“Lea is engaged to her high school sweetheart,” Mina continued, gesturing at Lea, who grinned proudly. “And I’ve always dated long-term—though I’m single now,” she added with a shrug.

You chuckled, finding Mina’s drunken antics endearing. She turned her gaze back to you, suddenly serious. “You, my darling girl, you…”

She stumbled over to you, landing next to you on the floor, and you reached to steady her. She rested her head on your shoulder, taking a deep breath before nuzzling into your warmth. “Why do you always get hurt?”

“I don’t do it on purpose,” you replied softly.

“Of course not. Who would ever choose to hurt themselves?” she chuckled bitterly. “I just mean… you always find these amazing guys, only for them to slip through your fingers in the end.”

Lea scoffed playfully, joining Mina on the carpet. “You’re one to talk. You always date long-term, then break up anyway. What’s the point of dating for years if it’s not going anywhere?”

“You wouldn’t understand, Lea, since you’ve only dated one guy since high school,” Mina teased, nudging her. “But with my exes, they were all great at first, only to turn out to be self-absorbed jerks or cheats.”

“So why am I the worst?” you asked, running your fingers through her hair.

“You’re not the worst,” she sighed, leaning her head on Lea’s. “You just have the worst luck out of all of us.” She closed her eyes, voice softening. “Mingyu was broken, and you were right to leave him, but if he’d been in a better place, it could have been beautiful. You wouldn’t have had to go through that heartbreak when you were still young.”

You nodded, feeling the memories settle heavily between you all.

“And Wonwoo…” Mina continued, “well, he was perfect. But he was just passing through your life. And of course, there’s Vernon…”

Mina paused, and the others went quiet. You held your breath as she looked at you, her gaze full of sympathy.

“Breaking up with him… that was your lowest point,” Jill murmured, joining the huddle, her hand resting on yours.

You huffed, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at your lips. “Worst time of my life, to be honest.”

Mina tilted her head, her eyes meeting yours with earnest sympathy. “Do you know what happens to you once you’re in a relationship?” she asked quietly. You shrugged, feeling the gentle press of her hand urging you to listen. “You hyperfixate on them. You forget you had a life before them.”

A pang of guilt struck you, sharper than expected. She was right, and you already knew it—had felt it but never fully admitted it to yourself. In the background of every relationship, your friends and family had often become shadows. You swallowed, words heavy. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Mina waved her hand dismissively. “That’s all in the past. But honestly?” She gave you a half-smile. “It’s a little frustrating to see you dissociate this weekend, drifting off because of your current guy.”

“It really is,” Jill agreed, chuckling. “And you’re not exactly subtle about it.”

“Come on, girl!” Mina sighed, though her tone held a warmth only close friends could manage. “This weekend is supposed to be for us, but your mind’s clearly somewhere else. I get it, we all do, but… I guess I just wonder why that part of you hasn’t changed after all these years.”

You opened your mouth to apologize, but Jill cut you off, her tone softer. “Hey, you don’t have to be sorry. We get it. It’s just… we worry about you.”

Mina’s hand found yours, giving it a light squeeze. “We just hope you find your happiness soon, whatever that looks like.”

You managed a small smile, touched by her words. “So do I, Mina. So do I.”

As you settled into bed that night, Mina’s words lingered in your mind. Her gentle yet unflinching honesty made you confront a truth you’d avoided for years: once you entered a relationship, you tended to lose yourself in it, almost as if everything else faded to the background. And while the connection with Seungcheol felt different, you couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling that you were once again falling into old patterns.

You rolled over, staring at the ceiling as a strange but comforting realization took shape in your mind. For the first time, you decided to hold onto your own life and interests alongside a relationship. You’d never thought about it before because it never seemed necessary, as if love could fill every space. But now, you understood that nurturing your own dreams and friendships was just as vital—that it was the way to truly keep the people you love close to your heart for as long as you could.

The next morning, you found yourself surprisingly refreshed. As you packed up and prepared to leave the villa, you felt a lightness that hadn’t been there before—a sense of confidence that came from knowing you could hold onto yourself, too.

When Seungcheol arrived to pick you up, he stepped out of the car with his usual charm, dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit that drew appreciative glances from your friends. He greeted them warmly, offering a firm handshake and a genuine smile that seemed to put everyone at ease. You introduced each of your friends, watching the small exchanges of laughter and chatter that followed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Seungcheol said, a warm glint in his eye. “You’ve been taking great care of her, I can tell.”

“We try,” Lea teased, elbowing you playfully.

With a grin, Seungcheol offered, “How about I treat you all to brunch, as a thank you?”

The girls exchanged quick glances, and Mina, always the spokesperson, politely declined. “That’s sweet of you, Seungcheol, but she’s all yours. We’ve already had her to ourselves all weekend.”

They bid you both goodbye, with Jill pulling you aside for one last, quick hug. “Remember what we talked about, okay?”

You hugged her back, nodding. “I will.”

As you settled into the passenger seat, Seungcheol reached over to clasp your hand, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. You glanced over at him, feeling both the comfort of his presence and, for the first time, a quiet certainty that you didn’t need to lose yourself to love him. That this time, you could have both—your life and his presence in it, without one overshadowing the other.

Seungcheol glanced at you as he pulled onto the road, catching the thoughtful expression on your face. “Good weekend?”

“Yeah,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “It really was. I think I needed it more than I realized.”

He smiled softly, eyes returning to the road. “Glad to hear that. I think it’s important you keep in touch with friends. They’re usually the ones who know you very well.”

You nodded. “They really are.”

When you reached your apartment, Seungcheol immediately pulled you into a kiss, his arms tight around you. You couldn’t help but smile, coming to a conclusion that he’d been waiting for you.

“Miss me?” you teased, fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of his neck.

“Always,” he replied, his voice a low murmur against your temple as he brushed a kiss there, slow and unhurried.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your fingertips trailing up to his jaw, grazing the hint of stubble there. “Then why didn’t you call me?”

“You said you were gonna catch up with your friends,” he pouted, burying his face on the crook of your neck. “I took everything in me not to text you. I spent three hours in the gym every night just to distract myself.”

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “Liar.”

“I’m serious.” he shot back indignantly. “I would never lie about that.”

You scoffed, but your grin was hard to conceal. Seungcheol kissed your cheek. “I miss you so much,” he said softly, his hand sliding to the small of your back, drawing you close.

Your fingers curled at the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips met in a slow, languid kiss. You could feel him smile against your lips, his fingers tracing gentle circles as he pulled you even closer as if you weren’t already pressed flush against each other.

Soon his mouth left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You sighed into him, savoring the warmth that wrapped around you, letting your heart and body override your brain and lose yourself to the vice of Seungcheol’s touch.

The warmth grew more intense as the familiar press of his body against yours stirred your passion awake. Soft sighs escaped your mouth each time Seungcheol’s teeth grazed your skin and sent a ripple of pleasure throughout your nerves. His strong hands traced slow, deliberate lines along your back, mapping the familiar curves with ease, not stopping when he reached your ass all the way down to your thigh.

Without warning, he lifted you off your feet, making you yelp. Seungcheol grinned, kissing your lips briefly before walking straight into your bedroom. Inside, he dropped you down the mattress and you bounced slightly as you fell.

“You’re such a tease,” he commented, making you blink in confusion and chuckle.

“I’m a tease? I’m not even doing anything,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“I know. It’s crazy,” he grinned, discarding his shirt and crawling toward you. “You’re not doing anything and yet…” he guided your hand to his crotch, leaning into your ear as he whispered. “...you’re making me lose my fucking mind.”

Your breath hitched when you felt how hard he was under his pants. His cock pulsed against your palm and it sent a sudden wave of desire through your body that made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

It didn’t take long before you were both naked on your bed, lewd sounds of pleasure and skin against skin echoing through your apartment. If your neighbors could hear you, you wouldn’t know—you didn’t even care anymore at this point. Each kiss and every thrust spoke volumes, a language only the of you knew, built over countless moments like this, yet still feeling as thrilling as the first.

Seungcheol’s pace was delightfully rough, rutting into you with a force that reached the very core of your of cunt and made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your mouth was gaped open the whole time, letting every moan and whimper escape your throat.

It was wonderful the way he seemed to know you so well, understanding every sigh and shift in your expression. You found yourself responding instinctively, matching his pace as if you were two parts of the same whole.

“Cheol,” you managed to gasp, feeling your body clench with the familiar ache in your belly. You clawed his back frantically, desperate to hold onto something in fear that the intense euphoria would actually send you into orbit. “Please… don’t—don’t stop!”

Recognizing the slight scrunch on your expression, Seungcheol maintained his pace, lowering himself so you could hold onto him properly. “It’s okay. Hold on tight and go ahead. Go ahead, sweetheart. Let it all out.”

Time seemed to slow down, as he rasped your own name in your ear, his voice amplifying the need for release. Eyes rolling back, you let out a dragged-out moan, back arching as you came undone underneath him. He held you by the waist, pausing while he was balls deep inside of you and your walls pulsated around him. He watched your fucked-out expression with a proud smirk before slowly setting you back down, your body twitching a few more times with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You smiled at him, pushing him up just enough so he could continue. Seungcheol didn’t need to be told, immediately thrusting into you and riding the high that hadn’t even left you yet. Your moans were throaty, losing your mind once more as he rammed into your overstimulated cunt.

And when he finally stilled, he let out a guttural grunt you’d ever heard before collapsing next to you. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you as if letting go wasn’t an option as if you could stay this close forever. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, feeling the quiet warmth settle between you, a deep, steady comfort that lingered even after the last whispers of passion had faded.

“I love you,” you whispered, just as Seungcheol drifted off to sleep.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Your career was blossoming, you were closer with your friends, and you talked to your parents more often. Adding in Seungcheol by your side, your life felt fuller than it ever had. In this new chapter, you embraced everything as it came, ready to weave your dreams into the fabric of your life.

Then again, life just likes taking a turn when you least expect it to. After all, if it’s all sunshine and daisies, then it isn’t life at all. Challenges are necessary for growth. In this chapter of your life, the ‘turn’ was both familiar and new. Something you’d seen before, but somehow, it felt different.

“Would you like to come with me this weekend? There’s a party and I could use some company,” Seungcheol asked while you were lounging in your living room one night. “A gorgeous one,” he added, winking at you.

“What party?” you asked, considering the invitation but needing to know the details first.

“It’s the anniversary of Hong Industries. I’m close with them so I can’t miss it,” he explained.

“Alright,” you chimed, smiling at him. “But first, am I your girlfriend?”

Seungcheol paused, looking at you with a slight scowl on his forehead. “Of course, you are.”

You hummed. “Just making sure there’s an actual label to this.”

Seungcheol chuckled, placing his spoon down and giving you a fond look. “Of course there is. What happened? What made you ask me that out of nowhere?”

“Nothing. I was just checking,” you replied, shrugging. “If I am to accompany you to a party where I might meet your acquaintances, I should know how to introduce myself.”

“You’re not gonna go there and introduce yourself as my girlfriend, are you?” he asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Seungcheol shrugged as if the answer should be obvious to you already. “You could introduce yourself as a writer.”

“I’m an assistant editor at a publishing company. Not a writer.”

“Then you can introduce yourself that way too.”

You leaned back on the couch, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at him with playful suspicion. “Do you not want me to be known as your girlfriend, Choi Seungcheol?”

“Again with the full name.”

You smirked. “What? I thought you liked it when I called your name?”

“Oh, you’ll call my name alright,” he smirked, tugging his necktie off and lunging at you. You let him lay you down on the couch, but you didn’t let him kiss you, covering his mouth with your hand.

“Come on. Tell me the truth,” you said sternly, narrowing your eyes at him,

Seungcheol smirked. “You know, I could lie right now just to get what I want.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t. You’re not the type to do that,” you challenged, feeling confident despite the voice in the back of your mind telling you he was changing the subject and avoiding the question.

“You know me too well,” he lilted, kissing your lips softly. “You’re my girlfriend, and we can introduce you as such to anyone and everyone who would care to listen.”

“See? How hard was that.”

Seungcheol sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “I just don’t want you to feel... overshadowed. Being my girlfriend might sound simple, but trust me, it’s not gonna be easy. They’ll see you through that lens first and it’s gonna stick.”

You studied him, intrigued by the rare moment of openness. “I get it, but I know who I am. I’m okay with the label if it’s one we’re both proud of.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. “See? You’re one of a kind.” His hand slid down your arm, pulling you closer, and you nestled into the warmth of his embrace. The ease of your familiarity made your heart flutter, the way it always did.

As the evening of the gala approached, you slipped into a fitted, elegant gown, one that was classic yet alluring, the kind that made you feel like you belonged in the world Seungcheol occupied so easily. You finished with a touch of makeup, something that highlighted your eyes and a bold lip to match the confidence you wanted to project tonight. Right on cue, Seungcheol arrived, stepping out of his car looking every bit the part in a sharp black tuxedo. He stopped when he saw you, taking a moment as his gaze swept over you.

“You look marvelous,” he said, reaching for your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The gala venue was grand, a historic mansion converted into a luxury event space. Tall windows lined the walls, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The chandeliers bathed the room in a golden glow, illuminating guests dressed in designer clothes, mingling with ease over champagne and laughter. As you stepped into the space, you felt Seungcheol’s hand slip to the small of your back, a subtle gesture that felt both protective and possessive.

“Stay close,” he murmured, guiding you through the crowd.

Seungcheol was a magnet for attention tonight. As soon as you arrived, people began gravitating toward him, friends and colleagues, associates he had to greet. Each time, he would introduce you with an easy, charming smile. “She’s an assistant editor at V Publishing,” he’d start, then add with pride, “and also my girlfriend.”

Every introduction made you feel both more part of his world and distinctly aware of how different it was from your own.

“CEO Choi!” someone called from the crowd.

You and Seungcheol turned toward the voice, spotting a man approaching with a friendly, approachable charm. He looked polished in his navy-blue tux, his expression warm. Seungcheol sighed as he saw him, a subtle reaction that made you wonder if he wasn’t fond of this guy.

“Hey, Josh,” Seungcheol greeted, his tone drier than usual. The name triggered a vague recognition in your memory.

Joshua ignored Seungcheol, focusing on you with a bright smile as he extended a hand. “You must be her—the woman who made CEO Choi go AWOL for a whole week in some far-off hotel. I’m Joshua Hong, COO of his company.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly but shook his hand anyway. “Somehow, I feel like you don’t like me already.”

“Oh, I adore you! I’ve been dying to meet you,” he said with exaggerated enthusiasm, though you weren’t quite convinced.

“Okay…” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could continue, another voice chimed in from behind. “Well, would you look at that,” a smooth voice said. You and Seungcheol glanced over your shoulders to find a strikingly handsome man with blonde hair, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “If it isn’t Choi Seungcheol with the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol replied flatly, sighing as though he’d already braced himself for this. “Just my luck.”

Jeonghan slipped over to Joshua’s side, eyeing you with a knowing smile that made you feel self-conscious. He looked you over with a slow, appraising gaze.

“Alright, you two are creeping me out,” you said, scowling slightly. “What’s going on?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t checking you out,” Jeonghan teased, his gaze shamelessly drifting from your face to your dress. “You’re kinda hot.”

Seungcheol stepped in, placing a hand on Jeonghan’s chest and pushing him aside. “That’s enough. Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Joshua stepped forward, positioning himself on your other side with a friendly grin. “Sorry about my friend. He’s a bit of a creep,” he said, nodding toward Jeonghan before offering his arm. “Can I get you a drink?”

You glanced at Seungcheol, who nodded reassuringly. “He’s my friend. Go ahead if you’d like.”

“Hey, why does he get to be her escort?” Jeonghan protested, raising a hand in mock indignation.

“Because you’re a creep,” Joshua replied, dismissing him with a wave of his fingers as he guided you to the minibar.

At the minibar, Joshua handed you a glass of champagne and leaned in with a warm, curious smile. “So,” he began, “how did you and Seungcheol get together?”

You took a sip of your drink, feeling a bit on the spot. You didn’t go into the details but gave him the briefest version. “It just sort of… happened, I guess. We kept running into each other.”

Joshua nodded, looking amused but a little surprised. “Seungcheol doesn’t usually bring dates to these events. I mean, he keeps his private life pretty close to the chest, so seeing you two together tonight is definitely a first.”

You glanced across the room where Seungcheol was in conversation with another guest, his eyes occasionally drifting back to you. The thought that he’d brought you here when he normally came alone gave you a quiet, warm thrill.

Before you could say anything else, Joshua shifted the conversation with a curious glance. “He told me you’re an assistant editor. That must be exciting work. Jeonghan over there,” he nodded toward his friend who was in the same circle as Seungcheol, “he’s in the broadcasting industry. They’re always on the lookout for writers, you know.”

“Oh,” you replied, taken aback by the suggestion. You hardly considered crossing into a field like that, especially given that this was one of Seungcheol’s friends.

Joshua noticed your hesitation and chuckled lightly. “I know Jeonghan comes off… well, a little intense. But he’s actually a decent guy—he just likes to mess with Seungcheol as much as possible.”

You laughed, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, I did notice they seem to have that kind of friendship.”

“Exactly. But hey, if you’re interested in exploring other avenues with your writing, Jeonghan would be a good contact. You’d be surprised at the kinds of opportunities that open up in broadcasting.”

You nodded thoughtfully, his words sparking an idea you hadn’t considered. Working as a writer beyond publishing was unfamiliar but intriguing, and the prospect made your heart race a little. “Thanks for the tip, Joshua. But I’m fairly new in the industry. I will consider it though.”

Joshua smiled at you with a kind of charm that made you feel at ease. But before the conversation could deepen, someone pulled him aside, and he gestured he’d be quick. You nodded, mouthing that he could take his time. As you sipped your champagne, your gaze drifted over the crowd—and then you spotted a familiar face. Mingyu, with that warm, easygoing grin, met your eyes and lit up immediately.

Within seconds, he’d crossed the room in a few quick strides. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this—how long has it been?”

You laughed, surprised and genuinely happy to see him. “Not too long. How have you been?”

Talking with Mingyu felt like no time had passed at all. He was as charming and witty as ever, and soon you found yourself reminiscing, falling into a rhythm as if the year between you had been just yesterday. Mingyu asked about your work, your life, and sprinkled in stories of his own misadventures, making you laugh and remember what had drawn you to him once.

But out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Seungcheol approaching, his gaze locked onto you and Mingyu. His steps were unhurried, but his eyes held an intensity that sent a shiver through you. He slid his arm around your waist as he reached you, claiming his place at your side in a way that left no room for doubt.

“Hey,” Seungcheol greeted before pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Hi,” you smiled at him and then turned back to Mingyu. “This is Choi Seungcheol my—”

“Boyfriend,” Seungcheol cut in, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made your stomach flutter. “And you must be Kim Mingyu.”

Mingyu’s face brightened. “You know me?”

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to you briefly before replying, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really? It’s nice to meet you! CH Holdings, right?” Mingyu asked, genuinely enthusiastic.

“Yes,” Seungcheol replied coolly, sizing Mingyu up in a way that was hard to ignore. The silence that followed, though brief, felt thick and awkward. Mingyu was the first one to break, glancing at you with a smile.

“I’m really glad we ran into each other. We should catch up sometime,” he suggested, glancing between you and Seungcheol with a hint of his usual playfulness.

“Why?” Seungcheol’s reply was direct, and though his tone was mild, there was a possessiveness beneath it that made Mingyu laugh.

“Relax, man. I’m not trying anything. We go way back, that’s all,” Mingyu assured.

Seungcheol’s hand on your waist tightened slightly as he responded with a controlled smile, “Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

Mingyu blinked, taken aback for a moment. “What?” He glanced at you, clearly confused.

You could sense the tension simmering beneath Seungcheol’s composed expression, and though Mingyu was mostly oblivious to it, you could feel the subtle line that had been drawn. Seungcheol wasn’t letting his guard down.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said, gently squeezing Seungcheol’s arm, trying to diffuse the situation. Turning back to Mingyu, you offered, “It was good seeing you, Mingyu. Let’s catch up soon.”

“Definitely. Enjoy the party!” Mingyu’s smile was genuine as he gave a small wave before heading off, but he glanced back at Seungcheol with an amused look as he went.

Once he was out of earshot, you looked up at Seungcheol, catching the faintest trace of jealousy in his expression. “What was that about?” you asked, arching an eyebrow as you leaned into his arm.

Seungcheol shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just remembering what happened the last time you bumped into him.”

You laughed softly, a bit incredulous. “You think something like that would happen again?”

He gave you a look, not entirely joking. “Who knows?”

“Okay, that’s offensive.”

“What do you mean?”

Your smile faded as you let out a short, sharp sigh, feeling a twinge of hurt at his insinuation. You shook your head and stepped away. Seungcheol reached out as if to follow, but before he could say anything, a group of men gathered around him, clearly eager for his attention. He glanced at them, then back at you, his gaze following you even as he nodded along to their conversation.

You were offended, and rightfully so. How could he see you as someone who would betray his trust so easily? Your encounter with Mingyu last year had been a fleeting moment of comfort during a time when you were single and lonely. But now, you’re with Seungcheol. Surely he wouldn’t think you’d jeopardize what you had with him by sleeping with your ex, would he? Did he really really think that low of you?

You barely noticed the woman who approached you until she spoke. “Are you Seungcheol’s designated arm candy? You’re pretty.”

“Excuse me?” you blurted, startled by her sudden appearance and appalled by her question.

“You have an attitude too, hmm,” she commented nonchalantly, looking you up and down before walking away.

You watched her walk away, bewildered by her casual insult. Was that really how people saw you—just a pretty accessory to someone like Seungcheol? Did everyone at this gala see you through that narrow lens?

The woman's words lingered in your mind, twisting with the doubt that had already taken root from Seungcheol's earlier comment. You clenched your fists, trying to shake off the feeling of inadequacy that threatened to creep in.

As you scanned the room, the laughter and chatter around you felt distant and muted. You wanted to enjoy the evening, to stand alongside your boyfriend with pride, but your thoughts kept spiraling back to the weight of his mistrust and the woman’s dismissive tone.

The car ride back to Seungcheol’s penthouse was quiet and tense. He kept glancing your way, trying to coax out the reason for your anger, but you merely stared out the window, letting the city lights blur together into a wash of colors.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he asked again, his voice laced with concern.

You shrugged, not trusting yourself to speak without letting your frustration spill over. The truth was, you didn’t want to talk; you didn’t want to explain the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t shut me out. I know something’s bothering you,” he pressed gently, reaching for your hand. You pulled away slightly, feeling the distance between you growing.

Once you arrived, you wasted no time making your escape. You hurried to the guest room, locking the door behind you. After a quick bath, the warmth of the water soothing your nerves, you slipped into bed, the exhaustion from the night settling in as you closed your eyes. You heard the soft creak of the door sometime later, feeling the mattress sink behind you as Seungcheol lay next to you. But you pretended to be fast asleep, too tired to face the rift coming between you.

“I’m sorry. I was just jealous,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “I trust you with my life. I know you would never go behind my back. I’m so sorry.”

You heard him clearly, but you were intent on your pretense so you didn’t respond. Instead, you allowed yourself to relax into his arms, grateful for the warmth, even if your heart felt heavy.

Morning light seeped through the curtains, casting yellowish light into the room. You blinked against the brightness, feeling the soft fabric of the blanket wrapping around you. You soon waddled out of the bedroom, dressed only in your underwear and Seungcheol’s oversized shirt. As you entered the living room, the casual atmosphere was shattered by the sight before you.

Seungcheol was standing with his hands on his waist, facing a woman sitting comfortably on the couch as if she belonged there. It was the woman from the gala, the one who’d called you an ‘arm-candy’. She was beautiful, with an air of confidence that emanated from head to foot. And she noticed you as soon as you stepped into the living room, raising an eyebrow arrogantly.

“You have a guest,” she said, making Seungcheol glance over his shoulder. The hard expression on his face softened upon meeting your gaze.

“Who is this?” you asked Seungcheol, trying to mask your discomfort with a casual tone.

Seungcheol opened his mouth to answer but the woman was quicker. “I’m his fiancee,” she announced, standing up at once. “Nice to meet you.”

You froze, your mind buffering at the declaration. Seungcheol held your hand and with a warning tone, he said, “Jiwon.”

The woman—Jiwon—raised an eyebrow. “If you like her so much, you should have told her about me sooner.”

“Get out,” Seungcheol practically growled, but that didn’t seem to faze Jiwon. She smirked, picking up her purse and heading for the door.

Before leaving, however, she said, “You’re free to play around as much as you want, Seungcheol. But only for now. I won’t stand for this disrespect once we’re married.”

It felt like your world came crashing down, a weight settling heavily on your chest as you stood there, trying to make sense of it all. Your mind was spiraling, processing the information painfully fast and coming into a confusing conclusion: was your relationship with Seungcheol simply a distraction from his obligations to Jiwon?

“I can explain,” he began, his voice urgent as he stepped closer. You recoiled when he reached for you, looking straight at him with confusion and hurt. Instead of listening to his reassurances, you turned away, the sting of tears blurring your vision. You retreated into the bedroom, your footsteps thundering against the floor as you shut the door behind you, leaving Seungcheol’s voice echoing faintly in the hallway.

Your hands were shaking as you tugged on your clothes, every movement fueled by a whirlwind of emotions—hurt, confusion, and anger. You were just about to change when you felt Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you from behind, holding you tightly against him.

“Please don’t go,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of desperation softening his voice. “You said you want communication to be the foundation of our relationship, and yet you walk away when I try to do just that.”

“I didn’t wanna hurt myself even more,” you muttered under your breath, but he heard you just fine.

His voice grew firmer. “I would never hurt you.”

“That’s too big of a promise,” you whispered, biting back fresh tears. “You already did.”

He sighed, and you reluctantly turned to face him, tears spilling over. “Is it true? Is she your fiance? Are you engaged to that woman?”

His expression softened, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. “Yes, but—”

He held your gaze, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yes, but—”

Before he could finish, you slipped out of his hold, pulling on your own clothes as if it would shield you from him. Seungcheol reached for your arm again, but you swatted his hand away. Seemingly frustrated, he tugged your shoulders so you would face him.

“Please listen to me.” He reached for your arm again, frustration crossing his face as he gently tugged you to face him. “Jiwon is only engaged to me because of our families’ wishes. It’s a business arrangement, nothing more.”

You tried to absorb his words, but all you could think about was how little you actually knew about him. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re engaged to someone else.”

He sighed. “It’s not that hard to deal with it. I can even go ahead and break it off right now.”

You pushed him away, stepping back to keep a distance between you. “Alright, fine! Let’s say it is that easy to break it off, but that’s not the point, Cheol. You were engaged with another woman. It doesn’t matter what the circumstances were, the fact that you couldn’t tell me—your girlfriend—something so important? That is the problem!”

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol sighed. “I never meant to keep it from you. I just want to protect you from all this chaos. I know I should’ve been honest from the start. I’m sorry.”

Your gaze didn’t falter, not even after his heartfelt apology. “I hardly know anything about you, Seungcheol. Who were you before becoming such a successful businessman? How did you grow up? What’s your family like? Did you have a good childhood? You never told me any of these things.”

Seungcheol’s brow furrowed, and he took a deep breath. “I thought it didn’t matter. My life was uninteresting until I met you.”

“But I want to be a part of your life, and for that to happen, you need to open yourself up to me the same way I’ve bared my heart and soul to you.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, frustration mingling with despair. “I don’t know what reasons you have, but all I know is that your refusal to share the intimate details about yourself implies that I am just a temporary phase in your wonderful life.”

“That’s not true!” Without hesitating, he reached out to cup your face. “I’ll bring you into my life. I’ll show you everything—my family, my past, my business. I want you to understand who I am, and I want you to be a part of it all.”

His sincerity pierced through the haze of hurt clouding your mind. You wanted to believe him, to trust that there was more to him than the wealth and the privilege that surrounded his world. But doubt still lingered in your heart.

“I swear,” he added, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. Just don’t walk away from me now.”

His words hung between you, a lifeline in the storm of confusion. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, a reminder of the connection you had built. It was fragile, but it was real. And in that moment, you wanted to fight for it.

You nodded slowly, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Okay. But you have to promise to be open with me. No more secrets.”

Relief flooded his features, his soft smile brimming with gratitude. “I promise.”

As you felt his arms around you again, you found yourself holding onto hope, even as questions lingered in your mind, waiting to be answered.

Seungcheol’s promise of taking you to meet his family came sooner than later. His parents always held a regular family dinner in the grand hall of their estate, the kind you’d only seen in movies. Chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over tables with silver cutlery that gleamed as if they’d never been touched. Seungcheol’s hand stayed firm around yours as you walked in/

He had told you about his family situation before coming here. His mother remarried when he was a kid, and while his stepfather wasn’t hard on him in any way, he wasn’t exactly affectionate either. And that lack of connection made Seungcheol feel distant from him, causing him to feel like he didn’t really belong in the family.

He leaned in, whispering, “Stay by my side, okay?” You nodded, but even his warmth couldn’t ward off the unease settling in your chest.

Seungcheol introduced you to his mother first, a graceful woman with soft eyes and a welcoming smile that made you feel at ease, if only briefly. “It’s so lovely to meet you,” she said, her hands clasping yours warmly. “Seungcheol’s told me about you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Just as she was about to say more, a tall, sharp-featured man walked over—the infamous stepdad. He nodded curtly, his handshake firm but impersonal. “So, you’re the one Seungcheol’s been seeing.” His voice was low, with an edge that made it hard to gauge if he was simply reserved or disapproving.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, and though he made no further comment, his cool gaze lingered on you for a moment before he turned away to greet another guest. You glanced at Seungcheol, who gave you a small, reassuring squeeze of your hand.

As the evening wore on, you began to feel the walls closing in. Each relative seemed to carry an opinion, judging you silently, as though Seungcheol’s mere association with you was an odd choice they couldn’t understand. While his parents were civil, the whispered conversations and lingering looks from his extended family didn’t go unnoticed by you.

As if that wasn’t enough, Jiwon was there too and she made her hostility impossible to ignore. She was seated just across the table, her gaze flicking over to you now and then with a displeased expression. Eventually, she leaned over when Seungcheol stepped away to speak with his mother.

“You surprise me, seriously,” she said, eyes sparkling with a smugness you couldn’t miss. “Where did you get the nerve to come here, meet his entire family, and act as if you would ever be an actual part of his life?”

You sighed, careful not to let your emotions show. “Say whatever you want. I’m here for Seungcheol, not you.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, lips curving in a faint smirk. “I hope you can keep that attitude. His parents may be civil, but everyone else?” Her eyes swept over the hall and you couldn’t help copying her.

The unease in your chest transformed into an unsettling fear as you caught the sharp gazes of the other family members. It was as if you’d found yourself thrown into a den of venomous snakes waiting for a chance to attack.

“Seungcheol’s life is complicated, you see,” Jiwon said in your ear, her voice low. “If you think your love—or whatever you think you have, is enough to conquer all of this, then, good luck.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, holding back the urge to respond, knowing anything you said would only give her more satisfaction. The evening continued in much the same way, the subtle jabs and dismissive glances wearing you down. By the time Seungcheol returned to your side, you could barely manage a smile.

“Are you alright?” he asked, brows furrowing as he noticed the strain in your expression.

You forced a nod. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the room as though seeing it through your eyes. “Do you wanna leave now?” he murmured. “We don’t have to stay here.”

His voice was reassuring, but it didn’t change the way you felt, and you weren’t sure anything could. Every glance, every whispered word, reminded you of the differences between you and the world Seungcheol lived in. Your heart felt heavy with the painful realization.

“Let’s get out of here,” you whispered, forcing a smile to at least offer comfort for him.

As you waited for Seungcheol to finish his goodbyes to his parents, an elderly aunt approached you, her lips pursed in a look of utter disapproval. She regarded you up and down, her eyes narrowing as though you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“So, you’re the fling,” she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. “That ungrateful brat. If he had even the tiniest ounce of self-respect, he wouldn’t parade some crook in front of the people who raised him.” She let out a dry chuckle, glancing pointedly at the oblivious Seungcheol. “He’s not even a part of this family. The least he could do was have enough decorum to not disrespect the fiance picked out for him.”

You felt the blood drain from your face at her words as they echoed bitterly in your mind, ripping through the thin layers of composure you had left. You thought you could endure it, but the attack on Seungcheol stung sharper than any quiet insult directed at you all evening.

As you settled into the car, a heavy silence lingered between you and Seungcheol. He shot a worried glance your way, brow furrowing as he took in your strained expression.

“What happened back there?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You looked down, fiddling with your fingers. You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a shaky breath. It felt as though the right words were slipping through your fingers, too fragile to grasp. You took a deep breath, willing your heart to calm down.

Finally, you met his gaze, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I don’t think I belong in your world, Seungcheol.”

His expression shifted, shock clouding his features. “What are you talking about? Of courses, you belong in my world. That there is not mine. It never was.”

You shook your head, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over. “Your family, your friends… the life you come from—it’s so different from everything I know. Tonight just proved that to me, over and over again.” You paused, voice catching in your throat. “I can’t pretend like it doesn’t matter.”

“Who cares what they think?” he countered, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re not dating them, you’re with me. I’m not gonna lose you over this.”

The hurt in his voice tugged at your resolve, but the memories of those sneering faces and whispered words echoed in your mind. You bit your lip, unable to hold his gaze any longer. There was so much you wanted to say—how you didn’t want his family’s disapproval of you to affect how they saw him. The thought of him facing endless judgment and criticism for choosing you, no matter how strong he was, filled you with an aching guilt.

You looked out the car window, gathering your thoughts before speaking. Then, with a quiet voice, you asked, “Why did you date me, Seungcheol? If you knew everyone would be against it?”

Seungcheol’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he drove. “I don’t care what they think. I care about you. You’re the only one I want.”

His words felt sincere, but it only frustrated you more. “Just tell me why?” You turned to him, voice trembling. “Why did you stay in that remote hotel just to spend time with me? Why did you sleep with me? No—actually, let’s go back to the very beginning, why did you ask me to tell you about my exes in the first place?”

He pulled the car to a stop outside your building, silence stretching between you. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to hear it,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost uncertain.

“Yes, but out of all the people, why me?” You leaned closer, searching his face for answers.

“Because I didn’t know what love is!” he burst out, cutting through your frustration. The rawness in his voice made you pause, your breath hitching at the vulnerability laid bare before you.

“I didn’t single you out. You just happened to be there, and I was desperate.” His frustration spilled over as he punched the heel of his palm on the steering wheel. “I didn't know what love felt like or how it looked. I had an idea, but it wasn’t enough to grasp the whole concept.”

You watched him, heart aching as he avoided your gaze as if it shamed him to tell you all of this. “I thought that maybe I just needed someone else’s perspective. Maybe if I could find someone who’s willing to let me in on their experience of love and being loved, I would come to understand it.”

“Cheol…” you trailed off, heart heavy with sympathy.

“I didn’t mean for it to be you,” he continued, eyes distant, lost in his memories. “You rejected my offer and that was it. I was ready to look elsewhere, but then you came to me and said you’d tell me. I was grateful and I looked forward to it. I was only there for the stories, for your perspective. But then… but then I saw you.”

His gaze flickered to yours, softening with affection. “I saw that you’re the type who wears your heart on your sleeve. I noticed how your eyes twinkled at the happy memories, how your face fell with the sad. You offered the most sensible insights about love and relationships—you made it so easy to understand.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he confessed, leaning his head back against the headrest, exhaling slowly as if releasing a weight. “But the more you spoke about love and its beauty, the stronger I was pulled toward you. You intrigued me, and made me curious about you. I stayed awake all night, looking forward to seeing you again and being greeted by that vibrant smile. I…”

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, revealing the depth of his feelings. “I fell in love with you, and I didn’t even know that’s what it was until right now.”

You couldn’t find your tongue, utterly dumbfounded by his confession and the raw honesty he was willing to share. Your heart raced with confusion, empathy, and heartbreak, making it difficult to breathe. How could he feel this way yet remain so unaware of the consequences?

You wished you could fully embrace this moment, but the reality of the world outside felt suffocating. Would this love be enough to bridge the gap between your worlds? Did that world even matter when Seungcheol was ready to leave it all behind, defying everything just to be with you?

“Choi Seungcheol you…” you trailed off, and you never got to finish what you were supposed to say.

It has been over a year since you last came home. The familiar sights and sounds of your hometown wrapped around you like a warm embrace. You strolled through the tree-lined streets, savoring the laughter and chatter of families and children playing in the parks. Every corner held a memory, a fragment of your childhood and your youth, and it felt good to reconnect with your old life.

One afternoon, you decided to explore the downtown area, a vibrant hub that had seen its fair share of changes over the years, though it looked almost the same as when you left it last year as a heartbroken woman determined to pick yourself up from the god-awful slump you’d found yourself in. As you wandered through the streets, your heart swelled with nostalgia. The familiar shops, cafes, and the old movie theater brought back a flood of memories.

As you passed by the sleek glass building that housed Vernon’s company, a wave of pride washed over you. You couldn’t help but marvel at his accomplishments. You had always known he was meant to succeed, and it felt rewarding to see him thrive in a world that was once a part of you but not felt so distant. You paused for a moment, contemplating your lives, wondering how he was doing now. And while you hoped he was doing great, you had no intention of checking in on him. You knew better.

At home, after a cold shower, you found your phone buzzing incessantly on your bed. You opened a message notification and found yourself added to a group chat with your old friends from senior year of college. The lively banter and enthusiastic greetings flooded your screen, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Lea: 🎉 Heyyy guys! Guess who’s finally in the group chat?! Mina: My girlie! I missed you! Lea: I added her last because her account was deactivated a few days ago. So mysterious 😏 Seokmin: My honeybunch sugar plump! I missed you! You: you guys are so energetic lmao Hoshi: Hi hiiii! Don’t worry. It’s a bit awkward talking to your ex on here but it gets easier lol lol Mina: IDK. You’re the only one who feels that way. You: 😳 Can we not bring up exes? Seokmin: @/wonwoo Hoshi: @/wonwoo Junhui: @/wonwoo You: You know what guy? Fuck you Wonwoo: 😅😅😅

The conversation flowed effortlessly as you reminisced about inside jokes, embarrassing moments, and late-night study sessions. It felt like no time had passed at all.

Jill: What’s everyone up to these days? I feel like I’m in a time warp! Mina: I just got a promotion at work! 🎊 Now I’m officially a project manager! Seokmin: Nice, Minmina! What’s your secret? Mina: Coffee and panic! Hoshi: Did you guys hear about Wonwoo? He’s working at a big company in London now! You: Really? That’s amazing! Junhui: Living his dream fr! Proud of you man! Hoshi: And he’s also dating a supermodel now, right? Seokmin: Ugh, goals. 🤩 Wonwoo: False. Guys don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot Mina: Some things never change. Hoshi: HEY LOW BLOW! YOU USED TO TELL ME I WAS YOUR IDIOT? Junhui: smells like a comeback

The chat continued to buzz with excitement as everyone chimed in, sharing their own updates and encouraging each other to reconnect. You felt a warmth spread through you, a reminder of the bonds that had shaped your past. You found out later on that Lea made the group chat to tell everyone she was getting married. You spent the rest of the afternoon lost in conversation, laughing and sharing memories.

On the fourth day of your weeklong leave, you walked down the busy sidewalk of the downtown area again, running an errand for your mom who had asked you to buy some bread. When you turned a corner, you almost collided with a couple exiting the same corner.

“Jiwon?” you exclaimed, stepping back in surprise. Of all the people you could run into, Jiwon was the last person you’d expected. “What are you doing here?” you asked, eyes flitting back and forth between her and the guy she was clinging on to.

“Hi! It’s been ages,” she greeted exaggeratedly, catching you off guard. She smiled, though you could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I didn’t expect to run into you. Do you want to grab a coffee and catch up?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure where this was going. She turned to the man beside her. “She’s an old friend. Can you go back first? I wanna catch up with her for a bit.”

“Alright, no problem,” he chimed, kissing Jiwon briefly and then smiling at you before he walked away.

As you settled into a cozy café, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you both. You were reluctant to join her, but curiosity got the best of you. She spoke first and the initial awkwardness began to fade as you exchanged pleasantries. But soon, she leaned forward, a serious expression on her face.

Is she worried you’d tell someone that you saw her with another guy? Maybe. She was probably gonna ask that you keep it a secret. That was what you were thinking while she was hesitating to speak.

“Do you love Seungcheol?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “What does that have to do with you?”

Jiwon sighed, her shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world pressed down on her. “I just... I need to know if there’s a chance. I mean, if you could make it so we didn’t have to marry each other, that would be great.”

“Why?” You couldn’t help but challenge her. “That has nothing to do with me.”

She shook her head, frustration lining her features. “I’d hate to tell you this since we’re not close, but I’m the oldest in my family with no brothers, and misogyny is a thing that runs deep into my father and forefathers’ bloodstream. I could never be heir to my family’s estate so I have to marry a rich man and produce a male heir.”

You winced before you could stop yourself. What a backward way of thinking, you thought to yourself. But who am I to judge? “You’re free to follow your traditions.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to follow tradition. I don’t even want the estate. My boyfriend is wealthy too, but they preferred Seungcheol over anyone else.” She paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I have no excuse. I just felt it was unfair that Seungcheol gets to openly date someone he genuinely liked while I can’t.”

You felt a surge of empathy for her, a realization that her harshness stemmed from her own insecurities and the pressure she faced. But you kept your thoughts to yourself, knowing that to her, any hint of pity would only feel like an insult. While you empathize with her, that didn’t excuse her actions before. She was rude and mean, regardless of her personal problems, she had no right to take it out on other people.

You leaned back in your chair, adopting an arrogant demeanor. “I’m not going to love Seungcheol to do you a favor. If that happens, the reason would simply be the fact that it’s how I really feel.”

Her expression faltered, surprise mixing with frustration.

“And honestly,” you continued, your voice steady, “I couldn’t care less about your issues, or what happens with the agreement between your families. If Seungcheol chooses me, then that’s all the reason I need to fight for our love.”

You didn’t want to tell her what to do, nor offer any advice—you were not in a level of familiarity where you could do that. You didn’t even want to confess your love for Seungcheol to anyone else, but it was your way of subtly supporting Jiwon’s pursuit of true love. It was up to her to interpret.

Jiwon looked down at her coffee, deep in thought. You hoped she was thinking about her options. “I guess that’s fair,” she murmured finally, her voice barely audible.

You watched her for a moment, curious about the vulnerability she’d hidden behind arrogance and pride. Perhaps, in another life, you could have been friends. But in this one, you were on opposing sides, each fighting for your own happiness.

As you walked home, the weight of your conversation with Jiwon lingered in your mind but you were feeling lighter as if a thorn had been pulled out of your chest. You pushed open the front gate, the familiar sound of creaking hinges echoing in the quiet evening. Your heart raced at the thought of what the future held for you and Seungcheol. You tried to get him out of your mind, but now you miss him so badly.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice and made you stop in your tracks. Standing at your front porch, silhouetted against the soft glow of the porch light, was Choi Seungcheol.

“Cheol?” you whispered, eyes wide. You took a step closer, your pulse quickening.

He sighed. “I know I said I’d give you time, and I promised not to bother you while you’re trying to collect your thoughts, but…” His voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability evident in his tone. “I can’t help it. I miss you so much I felt like I was gonna die.”

The sincerity in his words struck you like a bolt of lightning. It pierced through the confusion and doubt that had clouded your mind before you left him a few days ago.

You smiled, walking up to him and pulling him into a tight hug. Seungcheol hugged you back, gripping you so tight that it felt like you would soon melt into his very skin. With his tight embrace and the soft, slow kiss that followed, you knew you were ready to fight for your love, no matter the challenges that lay ahead.

Your family took to Seungcheol like they’d known him for a long time. Watching him charm his way through conversations with your parents, sharing laughs with your siblings, you couldn’t help but feel pride swell in your chest. Seungcheol fit in effortlessly, his laughter echoing alongside theirs, his smile as warm and familiar as home itself. He would glance over at you, eyes shining with that unmistakable spark, and your heart would skip every time.

That evening, you invited him out for a walk after dinner, where he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he murmured your name again and again. His voice was soft, as if every syllable of your name was a song he needed to sing.

“You’ll be sick of that name if you don’t stop saying it,” you chided softly as you both settled on a park bench.

“You think so?” he asked, genuinely curious. “That can’t happen.”

You grinned as you watched him zip his mouth. When he glanced at you and saw you smiling, his eyes softened with immense affection. You took the chance to make fun of him. “You like me that much?”

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, instead he let out a long sigh of what sounded like relief and helplessness. That made you raise an eyebrow. “Okay, that’s too much. You’re exaggerating at this point.”

“Am I?” he questioned, more to himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so obsessed with you.”

“I think you’re trying to say you love me,” you quipped, leaning on his chest and basking in his warmth.

“Yes. Fuck that. I do,” he replied, tightening his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. “It’s true that I’m obsessed with you though.”

When it was time to return to the city, Seungcheol was practically vibrating with excitement. He bade your family goodbye, leaving with a promise to visit over the holidays. You sat in the train with him, reading a book with your head on his shoulder while he answered emails on his tablet.

Back in the city, your relationship reverted back to its usual steady course, navigating days of blissful highs and small, inevitable disagreements. Dinners were still a regular thing, though instead of the restaurants, you spent more of it in your homes, sharing home-cooked meals. You cooked together most of the time, laughter echoing in the kitchen as you worked together with ease. Sometimes, his busy schedule left him tired and withdrawn, but he’d still text you, asking about your day, eager to connect even in the smallest of ways. And whenever you argued, his sincerity cut through the tension—he’d listen, apologize if needed, and somehow make everything feel right again.

Your days were made special by small, loving gestures: the way he’d bring you your favorite coffee, or how he’d lean in to whisper something funny during a crowded gathering. You often made him his favorite food, even helping him keep a tidy appearance every day at work. He had sworn that he never needed sunscreen at work, but since you made him use some, Seungcheol has never stopped buying it regularly.

Through it all, he treated you the same—if anything, with more care and respect than ever before. Every little moment, every shared smile, built a quiet foundation of trust and affection, one that felt stronger with each passing day.

And today, as the glow of candlelight flickered across the apartment, you swayed gently with Seungcheol, your arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders, soft music filling the room. It had been a perfect evening: the surprise dinner, his careful planning, and the way he looked at you as though he couldn’t believe you were really there with him.

He held you close, his hands settling comfortably at your waist, pulling you just a little nearer. “Did you like the dinner?” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair.

“It was wonderful,” you replied, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Then, with a smirk, you looked up at him. “But if you’re planning to propose right now, please don’t. I’m not ready to even talk about it.”

He chuckled, his laugh vibrating against you as he shook his head. “Relax, I’m not proposing,” he said, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “We’re not there yet. We still need plenty of time to figure things out.”

You were relieved to hear that, but even with his agreement, the idea was taking shape in your mind. You realized that you couldn’t imagine a future where he wasn’t beside you, bringing out a side of yourself that you’d thought had faded long ago. He was patient, steadfast, and the way he looked at you told you he was here to stay, whether or not there was a ring.

“I love you, Seungcheol,” you whispered, almost to yourself. “Before this, I thought I’d never find love again. I’d convinced myself that I was… I don’t know, incapable of this, given my history. I told myself that there’d never be anyone who would fit.” You hesitated, wondering if he would understand, if he could feel what you couldn’t quite say.

Seungcheol’s hand gently tilted your chin up so your eyes met his. “I don’t believe that for a second,” he said softly. “You were always going to find someone. I just got lucky that it was me.”

The corners of your mouth lifted, a warmth spreading through your chest. He was right there, looking at you as if you were all that mattered. This was more than just a moment, more than just the fleeting connection you had once feared it to be. Choi Seungcheol had somehow become the unexpected twist in your life, the chapter you hadn’t known you needed. And as the two of you continued to dance, you realized with quiet certainty that this was just the real beginning—your beginning, together.

[fin]

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neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies · 9 days ago

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Hello so I just realized that yet another Sufjan song applies to your Anderperry fic. Apologies since it’s a Christmas song but it fits!! It’s Did I Make You Cry On Christmas Day? (Well, You Deserved It!)

My case for it: “inexpensive wine / I buy it all the time / you tell me take it back / you say you’ll take a nap / but I can see it now / you always tell me how / I could do so much better / you said it in your letter”

The wine is Todd because he’s an alcoholic but Neil tries to break his bad habit, and the letter is of course Neil’s break up letter.

“The bed that isn’t made / the broken window shade / the radiator’s on / I loved you all along”

This is Todd packing up all of his things and remembering all of their moments together. He realizes how much he loves Neil but it’s useless now that the damage has been done.

“I stay awake at night / after we have a fight / I’m writing poems about you / and they aren’t very nice”

Pretty self explanatory. I could rant on about the connections, but I’ll just leave this here. Thank you if you made it this far haha

HELLO.

Oh my god. IT'S LITRALLY ABOUT THEM.

TODD'S CHEAP WINE STASH. oh my god.

The breakup letter too.

I gotta listen to this Christmas songs album. Love love love 'Sister Winter' and 'Star of Wonder'

Thank you for bringing this to my attention.

Tragic gays and how intertwined they are with Sufjan Stevens. Oh my.

My fic takes place in winter too. Now I NEED to write a mean angsty breakup poem. ( I say as if I don't have a folder full of them from that one gayass 'friendship' in high-school)

Or I might steal from a song.

Thank you so much for the this. It's so sweet!!

#sorry if this is incoherent #i just came back from holi #my fic is being taken so seriously 🥺#asksss #moot asks #the fic writer who ruined my life #my fic

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neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies · 28 days ago

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WHAT WERE YOU EXPECTING

If you aren't active in the next few days, they'll know whom to suspect :D

-🪶

WAIT I’M SO CONFUSED IS THIS A DEATH THREAT?? LISE IS THIS YOU?? IS THIS BECAUSE OF MY SAD FIC UPDATE??

#IT WAS A JOKE IT WAS A JOKE IM NOT KILLING YOU #the epilogue isn't up yet #GOTTA KNOW HOW EVIL THE ENDING IS #IT'S ALL LH BTW AHH #i feel like you enjoy this #I am so sorry about how sad it was #>> we both know you're anything byt sorry #a divine entity divulged the idea upon me and my life has become carrying out the idea #>> that's what they all say #the fic writer who ruined my life

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jnnul · 1 year ago

Text

ric flair drip

a/n: oh my god. it's finished. i've finally written all of her. i genuinely don't know how to explain the relief i feel right now. it feels strange writing this after writing and healing myself through writing this. i hope that anyone in college who's feeling the way y/n or jaehyun did knows that you can and will grow from it. heartbreak is inevitable and so is growth. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 20k

tags: college au!, frat boy!jaehyun x girlboss!y/n, honestly it just a dissertation about modern love and how people nowadays love each other, there's a lot of soul searching in this one, i poured my heart and soul into this please love her the way i do warnings: mentions of sex, underage drinking, and general college shenanigans! also explicit mentions of oral sex, uhhh foreplay and sex

HONESTLY, NOTHING ABOUT JUNG JAEHYUN IS REMOTELY APPEALING TO YOU. you hate the perfect boy act he puts on, you hate his need to impress everyone and everything, and you really fucking hated his dick.

because if it wasn't for his dick, which you were sure is just as perfect as the rest of his stupid self, you wouldn't be awake at inhumane hours, listening to your friend recount their sexcapades.

"oh my god, and then he did this thing with his tongue and i swear, i'm literally never going to be able to have oral again. he's fucking ruined me. i'm genuinely going to just make every guy i fuck put a jaehyun mask on from now onwards just to recreate it," sia yoo, unfortunately one of your best friends, quips dreamily. she yelps when roseanne park, your roommate and singular other voice of reason, throws a pillow at her.

"you sound like a fucking psycho. as in needs to be checked to a mental facility psycho. as in if i hadn't heard worse when you got with johnny suh, i'd be calling the cops right now psycho," roseanne says and easily ducks when sia winds up to throw the pillow back at her. fatima khan, sia's roommate and mother friend extraordinaire, pouts sympathetically with sia as the two of them turn to you as if you would fall on their side.

"sia, baby, honey, love and light of my life - i'm really sorry but i'm with rosie on this one," you say and sia puts on the most theatrical frown you she possibly could before she cocks her head curiously.

"rosie's got a reason for judging jaehyun since she doesn't even like men all that much. what's your excuse, y/n? you like men, judging by the way you were getting railed to next week by that freshie park seonghwa. you've never gotten dicked down by jaehyun."

you're half-tempted so tell sia that it's not fucking weird that you got with seonghwa, considering the fact that you're only a sophomore yourself but you're even more tempted to remind her that even though you were no stranger to a good time, you never recount your stories.

in fact, the only reason why the other three (well, you suppose rosie would know regardless given that you literally live with her) know about your sex life is because you choose to tell them whenever you felt like it. and usually, it was more than three days after the encounter.

you loved your friends, you really did - and sia was notorious for getting into one night stand rehash sessions at ungodly hours, so this was nothing new - but for some reason, every time jaehyun's name came up in the conversation, your skin would prickle with irritation.

maybe it was the fact that every single person around you seemed to be infatuated with him. or the fact that he was just so effortlessly good at capturing the attention of everyone in the room, no matter where he was.

or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you knew that if you looked too closely into the deep end, you'd fall right in with no life jacket. and jaehyun was an endless ocean.

+++

maybe you had given jaehyun too much credit, you lament. maybe jung jaehyun's as deep as a fucking kiddie pool. you know you're wrong because you were in the same english literature class and the man had been published because the professor liked his prose so much, she had submitted it to a literary journal.

and they had accepted it.

but as you stare at him across the lecture hall, burning holes into the poor guy's skull, you sure think he's stupid. because there was no way in fresh hell that jung jaehyun was in an introduction to east asia class. as a south korean.

people begin settling into their seats as you mull over the possibility that jaehyun had fucked so much, his brain had fallen out through his dick. from the stories of his more than above average size, it was definitely not out of the realm of possibility.

just as you're send a very judgmental text to fatima, who was supposed to be taking the class with you but had had to switch last minute when one of her major required classes opened up, jaehyun gets out of his seat to stand at the front of the room, next to the professor.

you realize belatedly that the people jaehyun had been so animatedly speaking to were none other than bambam and ten - two people who most definitely were in this class. and of course, they had chosen this class over all the others because oh my god, jung jaehyun is the uta for this class.

in hindsight, it makes sense, given that jaehyun is a east asian studies minor and a stellar fucking student. but it doesn't make the text you were about to send fatima any less humiliating as you realize your attempts to undermine his character were desperately failing. you try to backtrack on your phone, deleting the winding paragraph you were about to send her when your thumb slips, accidentally sending a half written message.

you: jaehyun is fucking

you're sure the statement will be true within the next couple hours (the jung bed at the nct frat never seemed to stay empty for too long - and that was just from orientation week last week) but it felt almost blasphemous that you would send a text so crude to your friend when you insisted that you couldn't stand his guts.

or what lay between them, really.

three gray dots appear on your screen as you half-heartedly listen to your professor drone on about how he went to china, became a changed man, and now taught about the wonders of east asia and its exoticism. his name was paul but the class could refer to him by his 'enlightened name' - lao ma. even jaehyun rolls his eyes behind the professor's back as all of the asian kids in the classroom begin to eye each other warily.

if this class wasn't so easy, you're sure the population would've shrunk to a quarter its size based on the weirdness of the professor on its own. or maybe not, if it meant that people got to stare at jaehyun's gorgeous face for an hour and a half every monday morning.

mommy tima 🤍: honey, i think whatever sia's got going is contagious. mommy tima 🤍: aren't you the one who hates him? mommy tima 🤍: he really lives in your mind rent free, huh.

you scoff under your breath as you type furiously, vaguely registering that you definitely need to check the syllabus for this class later because you have not been listening to a word the professor has said this whole time.

you: first sia's got cooties or a raging std that's what she's got going you: second he's my fucking uta you: as in i am going to be forced to see his face for an entire semester mommy tima 🤍: drop the class then, babe. you: can't this is too good for my gpa & the prof's a freak you: it's a gpa cushion and a circus in one go

you tuck your phone away when you see that jaehyun is coming up the aisle on your side with a packet while the professor is on the other aisle on the other side with the same packet to hand out. jaehyun probably wouldn't care that you had your phone out during lecture (syllabus week was just an excuse for college kids to get drunk during school days anyway) but it was the principle of the thing.

"here you go - oh, it's stuck together," jaehyun says as he stops at where you're sitting. his tongue slips out as he thumbs at the packet to give you one instead of three and suddenly, your treacherous brain takes you back to sia's rambling the night before.

and then he did this thing with his tongue...

you're shaken back to reality when you realize that you're staring at a blank wall, with a pink packet in front of you, and jaehyun has already reached the back of the classroom.

fuck. shit. bitch.

jaehyun had seen you stare at his stupidly handsome face and then some. he was your ta. oh my god, what if he docked points on some test because he thought you were the creepy stalker type.

damn you, sia yoo, you curse in your head.

+++

"damn you, sia yoo!" you yell over the blaring music that's so loud, you can feel the vibrations in your skull. there absolutely no reason you should be caught dead in a frat on the friday of syllabus week but sia had made it her mission to make sure you had a going out rate of at least 80% this school year, given that you were prone to trying to skip out on weekends out last year.

not that you didn't like going out - you actually really liked going out with your friends. you just took a little more inertia to get to the energy levels of actually going on.

sia just nods at you lazily as she bounces to the beat of another shitty remix of 'what you came for' by calvin harris and rihanna. you never understood why frats always found the worst remixes of classic party bangers but anything flew after you had enough alcohol in your system so the music would recede to the depths of your mind in a couple cups of whatever the fuck this drink was.

especially since you were a full sunshine drunk; whenever you were drunk, you became the life of the party and would always be found in the center of the room, regardless of the music. sia was a flirty drunk and you really couldn't remember the last time sia actually spent the entire weekend in her own bed. props to her stamina, honestly.

rosie was a mix of you and sia in that she would become so much more bubbly but the second she found someone she wanted to spend the night with, she went after them with no hesitation.

fatima usually played the role of sober mommy when you all went out. although she was never one to miss out on a good time, when she did get drunk, she much preferred it to be within the confines of the four walls that she shared with her roommate and the people she trusted the most - you, rosie, and sia.

which is why when rosie abandons you for her on again, off again fuck buddy (miyeon cho) and her fuck buddy (yugyeom kim), you're not surprised at all.

"that's going to be an interesting story in the morning," you say, nodding to where rosie, miyeon, and yugyeom are all heading upstairs together. fatima nudges you to look at sia, where she's pressed up against none other than johnny suh (or the love of her life, prior to jaehyun, apparently).

"that's going to be an interesting story in the afternoon," fatima counters. you turn to her with furrowed eyebrows, as if to question the timing. "i don't think i've ever heard of a girl leaving johnny's bed before 3 o'clock the next afternoon."

your jaw hangs in shock as you watch your friend wrap her arms around the tall man's neck, whispering something into his ear when he bends down to kiss her collarbone.

"are all of the nct boys secretly porn stars or something? how can they all be that good in bed?" you gape, waving at sia when she turns around to wink at you and fatima as her and johnny are bustling out of the door, undoubtedly to the nct frat house.

"they test us as part of rushing," says a low, velvety voice behind you. a hot rush of shame runs up your spine for two reasons: a) you were able to recognize jung jaehyun just from his voice and b) he heard you gossiping about his frat brothers' sexual prowess.

you exchange a look with fatima before whipping around to meet jaehyun eye to eye. he's wearing a plain black t-shirt and lightwash distressed jeans but he might as well be wearing designer trash bags for all you care. what you do care about, unfortunately, is the almost slutty way his v-neck dips to show off the beginnings of the planes of his chest.

you feel no better than a victorian man and it takes fatima a poorly concealed cough to break you out of your thoughts. fuck, you'd done it again. you really needed to stop getting caught up in jung jaehyun's pretty face. and body. and that stupid smile.

"haha. very funny. sounds like something straight out of a cheesy porno sponsored by viagra or something," you say, rolling your eyes. smooth. very smooth. normally, you like to think that you're proficient in the witty banter department but something about this boy made you almost feel dumb about your comebacks.

jaehyun cocks an eyebrow, and you're distinctly made aware that even with platform sneakers on, jaehyun is a good head taller than you when you have to look upwards to notice the motion. "you seem to be well versed, y/n. you make it a habit to stay up to date?"

you flush at the thinly veiled euphemism at your x-rated movie watching habits before clearing your throat. "i'm more of a fan of practical study, really. i am a scientist, after all."

you're aware that fatima has slipped away from you to talk to another friend, park jeonghwa, and also the fact that you are slowly beginning your descent into drunkenness but you can't seem to bring yourself to find the caution in it all. it's just jaehyun, after all.

jaehyun hums, bringing the solo cup in his hand to his lips to take a swig. "you're a biomedical engineering major, aren't you?"

you balk at that. "wait, wait. you know my name and my major?"

jaehyun nods slowly, seemingly stumbling for a moment before he gains his self-confidence once more. "you don't know mine?"

"you're literally my ta. i know you're an east asian studies minor and your name because you told the class," you say, recovering quickly. it was a really good thing you were a quick thinker because you were lying through your teeth.

you knew jaehyun's name, minor, and even major (computer science) because of his notorious reputation, not because he was your ta. but the last thing you wanted was to give him the satisfaction of asserting his popularity on campus.

"anyway. what was that you were saying about 'practical study'?" jaehyun's eyes twinkle in the dim lighting of the cramped basement you were in and you had a feeling that if you were any more inebriated, you'd be diving headfirst into jung jaehyun's bed as long as he looked at you like that.

but fortunately (unfortunately?) you're sober enough to make mostly intelligent decisions - which just means that you're not going to jump headfirst. maybe feet first but not headfirst.

"wouldn't you like to know," you sing-song, leaning into jaehyun's body enough to smell the mix of woody pine, fresh water, and vodka that seems to emanate from him. jaehyun watches you as you lean over him to grab another solo cup from the assortment that some lower ranked frat brother had been forced into bartending.

you down the entire drink in two swigs, patting away the stray stream of alcohol that had dripped down onto your chest. you don't notice the way jaehyun's eyes follow your hand down its descent to your chest. but you finally feel like your element, and in a moment of sheer idiocy and liquid courage, you enter the growing throng of bodies behind you, beckoning jaehyun to follow you.

you're not 100% sure what you want from him, honestly. you want to have a good time, and you're sure you'll have one with or without him. but something about the way jaehyun follows you like a puppy into the mess of people makes you feel like a zap of electricity has hit your body.

and if you're being completely honest with yourself (as you usually only are with ethanol in your system), you really didn't hate jaehyun. you had no qualms with him as a person, even if you hated the consequences that came with a night with him.

it's when you're in the middle of the crowd, with jaehyun looking at you with those hooded eyes and hands tucked into his pockets when you realize what you want from jaehyun jung.

you want him to desire you the way that his mere presence makes people desire him.

so you do what you do best and just let go. it's ric flair drip by metro boomin that's playing - a song that's definitely not the one to get down to. but the bass fills you up in a way that never hits the same outside of a sweaty frat basement so you can't even bring yourself to care.

"i'm tryna fuck you and your bestie," you sing along with the near hundred people surrounding you. jaehyun is still looking at you with an eyebrow sitting higher and an appraising expression; something that somehow manages to get under your skin.

in a moment of passion, you manage to hook your fingers into one of jaehyun's belt loops, pulling him closer to you. you're aware that you've painted yourself to be jaehyun's next conquest if the way that the girls next to you look upset means anything, but you couldn't care less.

especially when you're this close to the bane of your existence. the song switches to something a little more what you need (under the influence by chris brown) and you look up at jaehyun through your lashes and in that moment, jaehyun knows what you're offering him through your gaze.

a challenge.

+++

jaehyun never really meant to take on the role of nct's resident whore. in fact, jaehyun had been planning on doing the exact opposite when he came to college.

although it was unbelievable now, jaehyun jung had originally just been a very strange, nerdy, and sweet boy. he never got up to much trouble, kept to himself most of the time, and was known for...nothing, really. he was sweet and bubbly but he wasn't exactly running with the popular crowd.

in fact, jaehyun was kinda forgotten all throughout his schooling. it was easy to forget about jaehyun, as though he were some visage in a dream that everyone shared.

it hurt.

so when jaehyun finally hit his growth spurt in senior year, started going to the gym, and his voice no longer cracked every other sentence, he felt like a whole new person. like he was finally the main character in his own life.

it felt so fucking good to look at the same girls who had smiled at him pitifully and have them melting under a single wink. the summer between high school and college had been wild, with more stories than jaehyun could really even care to keep track of.

but when college began, jaehyun was fully intending to return to flying under the radar with his new upgrade in personality, appearance, and wardrobe. with a face like his, however, doing so was about as easy as trying to pass professor yoon's intro to bio class - nearly impossible.

slowly but surely, jaehyun morphed back into the personality he had adopted that summer and surprisingly, it wasn't as foreign as he thought. he was still a good student and wasn't a stranger to having to skip out on hanging out with his friends to study.

but having a new girl in his bed every other day? that was definitely new. a new revelation, but a welcome one nonetheless.

and in that, jaehyun was used to people using all sorts of tactics to get with him. playing hard to get, with coy smiles and flirtatious winks. or the bold ones, who told him straight up that they wanted to spend the night with him. even the downright horrifying ones who tried to pretend like they were blackout drunk in hopes that that would 'attract' him. spoiler alert? it didn't.

jaehyun originally thought you were of the 'hard to get' caliber. the type of girl to say that she wasn't like other girls and that's why he should get with her instead. so initially, when he approached you at the party after seeing you in his class, he was mentally preparing himself for the whole pick me speech.

but it was something about the way you looked at him.

it was like two halves of your mind were battling against each other. on one hand, you looked like you wanted to fax jaehyun straight into the fiery pits of hell with high speed shipping. on the other, it also seemed like you wanted nothing more than to ride him until the sun came up. mixed with a little bit of curiosity, confusion, and downright anger with yourself for all the emotions, you looked like the perfect cocktail of firebrand that jaehyun couldn't help but become intrigued by.

so when you were laughingly talking to your best friend (jaehyun's frat brother kun was half in love with fatima, which meant that jaehyun was more than well acquainted with her) about him and frat brothers, he took it to be the opportunity he needed.

and when you're looking at him like this, daring him to make a move, almost as if to make your mind fall one way or another about drawing a conclusion on him, what is jaehyun to do but to make good on the challenge you've offered?

he watches you for a moment more, trying to commit the memory of what you look like when you're this carefree and happy, before taking the micro-step it takes to get so close he can smell the citrus and apple cider that you seem to always smell like.

"i promise you i can fuck you better than johnny," jaehyun says, a corner of his lips tilted up as your eyes flutter the closer he draws.

"johnny's your 'bestie'?" you say, and jaehyun can tell that the last threads of your resolve are starting to snap by the way that your hand is now pressed against his chest.

"that's what you're curious about right now? the dynamics of the nct frat brothers?" jaehyun asks but he knows that this back and forth is exactly you need right now; the time to decide if you can take the plunge. or if jaehyun's worth your time tonight.

"as i mentioned, i'm a scientist," you say, and even as your voice stays stable, your fingers seem to leave burning trails against jaehyun's skin as they dip and feed into crevices of jaehyun's body that he didn't even know existed.

"hmm," jaehyun manages to eke out when your fingers lace into his hair. he's not sure how you manage to find every single sensitive spot he has but he's fairly impressed by the way you catch his breath hitching as you work your other hand up as well.

"hmm? cat got your tongue, jaehyun?" you say, making sure that jaehyun looks straight into your eyes as you lean impossibly closer. "you know that sia's with johnny right now, right? girls talk - especially with your best friends. which means that if you can't make good on your promise, i will find out."

jaehyun feels like he's sweating like a pig but thankfully, you don't notice, too busy making him sweat. he clears his throat once, and then twice to make sure that his voice doesn't give out.

"that right?" he says, and you roll your eyes, letting go of him and stepping back. you seem to appraise him for a moment (and jaehyun is unnaturally nervous about what you will decide) before grabbing his hand and leading him to the door. you only pause to flag down fatima, who takes one look at your intertwined hands, and waves the two of you away.

jaehyun blushes like a schoolgirl at the way fatima flashes him a catty smile.

"i swear to god, jaehyun, if you're all talk and no game - or if you're gonna sit still and look pretty the whole time - i will literally blue ball you. i don't do pillow princes," you throw over your shoulder as the two of you make your way to the nct frat. jaehyun knows for a fact that the nct frat will not be a quiet place tonight by the number of dresses and pants he sees in the foyer and leading the way up the stairs.

he says nothing, even as you're quite nearly storming up the stairs with a certain level of urgency, almost as though if you were to slow down and think about just exactly what you're doing, you'd turn around and leave right now.

jaehyun definitely can't let that happen.

so the second that he gets you into his bedroom (he had to rock, paper, scissors with doyoung to get the room tonight), he shuts the door and locks it behind him. he turns around to see you looking between the two beds, as if trying to guess which one was jaehyun's.

he mentally pats himself on the back when he sees the fresh sheets on the bed. reaching where you stand in less than a stride, jaehyun turns you so that you're facing his bed, and you squirm to turn to meet his eyes even as his hands are on your waist.

"what is with your hands?" you ask harshly and jaehyun blinks as he looks down.

"what do you mean? they're on your waist," jaehyun says softly, and once again, he's hit with a wave of citrus and apple cider. you simper at him, grabbing his wrist and moving it incriminatingly downwards.

"what am i? a virgin? put them somewhere useful." you whisper the last part and it's as though jaehyun has just woken up.

"you know," jaehyun begins, sliding his other hand downwards to sit comfortably on the curve of your ass. "if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were trying to rile me up. i wonder..."

he doesn't finish his thought, instead pulling you close so that your hips are pressed against his. he can hear the gasp that you're desperately trying to conceal, coughing uselessly to the side. a devilish smirk grows on jaehyun's lips and for the first time in a long time, you're sure you're going to be up all night.

+++

you were, in fact, trying to rile him up. you had heard all the rumors about jaehyun and johnny, about how one night with them was like one night in heaven. hell, you'd had first hand accounts from sia yoo about exactly what it's like to be in bed with either of them - multiple times.

so when jaehyun had fronted with such a cautious attitude when he realized what you wanted, you were almost offended. if you wanted to take control and fuck a man's brains out, you could do that with anyone. why would you fight against your own mind this much to get with him?

but seonghwa park. changkyun im. even kun qian, before you discovered he was head over heels for fatima. jung jaehyun.

these were all people who put you in your place. the way you wanted to be. it just seemed as though jaehyun might've needed a little more persuasion to get there.

so yes, you were riling him up. was that such a crime?

by the way jaehyun's looking at you right now, his breath hot and heavy on your neck and his eyes dark with a feeling that you can't describe but resonates with you on a deeper, more primal level.

"you know, after you got with kun, he wouldn't shut up about it for a week," jaehyun says, pressing kisses down your neck, pausing when he reaches your breastbone. he eyes your corset top with a discerning eye before reaching behind you to pull the lace strings that were precariously holding your top for a week.

"yeah?" you ask, threading your fingers through jaehyun's thick hair as he makes quick work of your top, leaving it pooled on the floor as his lips find your chest as though he couldn't be physically parted from it.

"yeah. even after he met fatima, he said that you were the best he's ever had - that's a big reputation to live up to when you're in nct," jaehyun says, his voice breathy and deep as he walks you backwards so that the back of your knees hit the frame of his bed.

"hmm. what can i say? i know what i want and what i want is usually lots of fun," you say, letting jaehyun unzip your jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off when jaehyun moves too slowly.

"i know. god, after knowing that you and kun were going at it, i swear everyone was jerking off in their room for an hour. even winwin wanted to go for you today. you're an unpredictable woman; no one knows where and when you're going to show up to one of the parties so everyone has to take their chances when they get them," jaehyun says, tugging his shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind him carelessly.

you nearly melt when you see jaehyun's uncovered top, eyeing each and every hard ridge of his body, reaching out to touch him. his chest is almost soothingly warm as your fingers memorize each and every aspect of the planes of his chest, almost worried that they might disappear if you let go.

jaehyun looks at you amusingly as he lets your fingers dance across his body, focusing on tugging your panties off to discard them where he's sure he's going to have to search for them later on.

you pout when you see the difference in clothing but jaehyun just gently pushes you backwards so that your back is against his bed, leaving your pussy exposed in away that makes you feel absolutely mortified. you move to gain some level of privacy back but jaehyun is too fast, gripping onto your thighs incriminatingly as he raises an eyebrow.

"don't think that i'm soft just because i'm being nice to you now, pretty girl. i know you don't like to listen but don't hide from me. i will not let you have any fun if you try to hide from me," jaehyun says, his voice dropping a full octave. you suppress the shiver that runs through your body (and that simultaneously delights jaehyun) as you nod softly.

he seems satisfied by the way your body melts and rewards you for your submission by licking a wet strip up your pussy, one hand snaking up to touch your nipple while the other one keeps your thighs open.

jaehyun is slow at first, exploring each and every hidden crevice of your body but as he feels you get wetter and wetter, he can't seem to stay soft for too long. he continues to press his lips against yours but the moment you try to grind your hips against his lips, he pulls away, his tongue darting out to taste your essence on him.

you almost whine at the loss of his hot mouth on your pussy, and you're embarrassed to realize that in front of jaehyun jung, you are no better than your best friend in falling in love with the way he moves.

"you're not going to cum from my tongue, baby," jaehyun says, practically ripping the belt out from where it was caging his jeans. "especially when i know that your pussy is magic."

"you say that, jaehyun, but you're being so fucking soft. if i didn't know any better, i'd think you're in love with me," you snort, trying to catch your breath. jaehyun freezes from where his boxers are hanging so low on his hips, you can see the muscles in his pelvis tense angrily as he looks at you dangerously.

"my fucking bad for making sure you're wet enough to take me," jaehyun whispers, pulling close to you. his eyes turn even darker than usual and a small spark of excitement ignites in your chest when you realize that you've finally reached it - jaehyun's breaking point.

"sounds like you're scared, jaehyun. you know what? you know why kun was so good? because he wasn't scared. he wasn't scared to fuck me like he was trying to break the bed," you retort, and saying kun's name is when jaehyun finally snaps. he tears his boxers off as he pushes you so that you're further up on his bed.

"y/n, i'm not fucking joking around. if you want me to stop, say it now. just say the word, and i'll pretend like this never happened. because i swear to every god in existence, if you let me, i'll ruin every other man for you," jaehyun says and his knuckles turn white from how hard his clenching his fingers to keep himself from pouncing. the thought is almost cute if you weren't desperate to be fucked into next week.

"if i wanted you to stop, i wouldn't have said kun's name, would i?"

that's all it takes. no sooner do the words leave your mouth, jaehyun's on top of you, every inch of his body fighting to claim yours. he's not sure what it is about being with a bratty girl but every time a girl tries to challenge him, jaehyun can feel his excitement grow as his mind runs wild with ways to prove you wrong.

and with a girl as beautiful and sexy as you? he was going to have the time of his life.

time of his life he does.

+++

when jaehyun wakes up, he's almost happy. almost because he has bruises on his hips from how hard he had pounded into you, a litter of hickeys across his chest, and freshly washed hair from when you had enticed him into taking a shower with you.

inevitably, it led to another hour in the shower that jaehyun had spent having his soul sucked out from his dick, eating you out under the shower, and seeing you cum twice just from his tongue.

if only he had woken up with you still in his bed, jaehyun would've actually been happy.

realistically, jaehyun had no clue what he was expecting. after taking a shower, it had taken you a total of five minutes to fall asleep in his arms, wearing nothing but jaehyun's oversized t-shirt and your panties.

there was no pillowtalk, no heart to hearts, nothing. no discussions of having whatever happened last night happening again. no trying to get to know each other better.

not that you had ever been obligated to do so. if anything, jaehyun was far more obligated to do so, after practically declaring that he had wanted to get with you since last semester - which he had been completely serious about.

but with his reputation, regardless of what he had said last night, jaehyun's almost 100% sure that you would've disappeared by the morning.

he's so caught up in his thoughts that he almost misses the bright pink post-it note on his neatly folded shirt on his desk in the corner of the room.

9.5/10. if you see sia, tell her she was right about your tongue. see you in intro to east asia on monday.

jaehyun's half disappointed and half happy. disappointed because you'd never left your number or anything and happy because at least he knew that you weren't going to completely avoid him whenever you ran into each other next.

he shakes his head as he folds the post-it note and throws it in the trash can next to his desk.

jaehyun jung may not have started college with the intention of becoming the resident fuckboy but he still had a reputation to maintain. he had fucked countless women over his time at sm university and he had no intention of falling for any of them.

he was not about to get soft-hearted or soft-dicked by a girl he was with once.

even if she was really good in bed. like really really good. like good enough to make him think about the other boys she's been with and if they'd made you feel as good as he did.

fuck. her. which jaehyun had already done. which meant that he needed to move onto the next step of the day before his head exploded with all of the implications flying around in his mind about their relation to each other (nonexistent) and if you were thinking about him like he was thinking of you (you weren't).

he pads out of his room, passing doyoung on the way out, who claps him on the back and says, "you finally got with y/n?" jaehyun doesn't know how doyoung knows but it strikes him that neither of you are very subtle people and you had caused quite the scene leaving with him last night.

similar reactions are offered to him by everyone he passes. he's not really sure how many of the boys you've been with but jaehyun can feel his street cred go up by at least a decameter with the way some of these pledges are looking at him.

in fact, everyone is looking at him with a new look of respect in their eyes until he reaches the kitchen, where yoo sia and johnny are sitting, practically eye-fucking.

jaehyun was very used to seeing johnny's friends in the kitchen the next day, neither of them ready to really say goodbye each other yet but for some reason, knowing that sia was your best friend and seeing her with johnny sets jaehyun's stomach into a series of knots that he was sure he was going to have to unravel when he had his head on straight.

"she already left?" sia says, finally breaking her stare from johnny's. jaehyun shrugs, digging around the fridge to see if they had any coffee. they didn't (none that wasn't expired anyway) so he has to settle for a caprisun.

"she had somewhere to be," jaehyun says. he wants to ask sia if it's normal for you to leave that early. it can't be if sia seems surprised that you'd left before the clock struck ten. what did that mean? what does that say about jaehyun? oh god. what if you hated it. what if you hated it so much that you didn't want to spend a second longer with jaehyun.

he cringes as he locks eyes with another shiny eyed pledge (jaehyun thinks his name is jungwoo) and tries to shake his head to clear any and all thoughts of you. he was pussydrunk. that was the only explanation. he just needed to dick down someone else and then he would get over whatever little infatuation thing he had going on.

"really? hmm..." sia says finally. jaehyun turns to see her looking right at him and suddenly, he's transported back to the previous weekend, when sia had been wrapped up in his sheets.

+++

"why did you start fucking around like this?" sia had asked, her chest still heaving from their previous illicit activities as she wraps herself tighter in jaehyun's sheets. jaehyun pauses for a moment as he catches his breath, pulling on his boxers as he thinks. he throws the shirt that sia's grabbing at, still not sure how to piece together his thoughts.

or why he wants to tell sia the truth. maybe it's because no one's ever asked about it before, but jaehyun feels strangely vulnerable as sia watches as he clambers back into his bed, her expression pensive and uncharacteristically wise.

"i don't know," jaehyun says honestly, laying over the covers as he feels his face grow hotter under sia's unrelenting stare. "i think it's because i wanted to know what it felt like. to know what it felt like to be wanted for a night instead of just being in the sidelines as the guy with the potential. just the guy that people brought along as the friend of the hot guys that kept him around."

sia doesn't say anything, instead turning so that she was lying on her back. jaehyun turns to look at her, to see if he could decipher some level of understanding from her silence. really, he knows that he should feel embarrassed about confessing his insecurities to a girl that he's hooked up with two or three times but he can't bring himself to for some reason.

maybe it's because he knows that she wouldn't say anything about it to anyone. or because he knows that she's head over heels for johnny, whether she'd admit it or not. or maybe it's just because for the first time, someone had asked something about jaehyun just to get to know him as a person, rather than trying to get him in their bed.

not that he really minded that - it just made him feel like it was all a lot more transactional than he was used to. he had been a romantic once upon a time. when you grew up with the nickname of 'valentine boy', it would have been stranger if he didn't have some sense of romance.

but jaehyun's penchant for romance disappeared almost just as soon as he realized that no one else was yearning for a pure type of love like he was.

and yet, it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. turns out that jaehyun's a very adaptable man. if he wouldn't find love in this decade, then perhaps it would be lust that he would have to settle for.

"then again," he begins, gaze darting over to where sia had slipped on his t-shirt as she tiredly begins to settle down in his bed once more. "isn't that what everyone is doing nowadays? looking for a warm body for the night, instead of a genuine connection?"

sia snorts at that, turning so that she was facing jaehyun now. "don't tell me that you're one of the boomer types. the ones who always go around peacocking about how they were born in the wrong generation and that they're one of the 'good guys'. i might actually leave right now if you are."

"no, no i'm not. well. maybe a little bit. but i don't know why that's so bad to be honest," jaehyun acquiesces finally. sia rolls her eyes, but even she goes quiet for a moment. once again, jaehyun's reminded that this is sia yoo - a girl who routinely wakes up in someone else's sheets every saturday (although it was johnny's more often than not) and as sexist as it was, someone who carried a reputation for it. even jaehyun was surprised to find that she was such a deep conversationalist.

of course, he mentally berates himself soon after but he can't help the thought. for him, sia was just the girl he would get with a couple times. a good time. the fact that that's the only role she fulfilled in his mind made him feel disgusting inside out as he waits for her response, vowing that he would work to change his mindset. or maybe just change personalities altogether. ick.

"you know one of my best friends? y/n? the one who got with kun before he decided to go clean for fatima?" sia says with a careful tone. jaehyun nods, not trusting that he wouldn't say something dumb after his sudden realization of his flawed thinking.

"this is something she always says but it's honestly pretty simple: love is however you want to define it. humans spend so much trying to find labels and definitions for things that just might not have or need them. for such an advanced species, we spend so much time concerned about how to put a feeling into a box or how to classify a thought instead of rejoicing in the fact that we had such a beautiful feeling in the first place."

"for people in this generation, the old school love is hard to find because they've got so many other types of love that weren't allowed back when old school love was big. it's a different type of freedom to love someone on the weekends but never to fall in love with them. maybe we're just romanticizing hookup culture but who's to say that we can't? maybe we're all more romantic than we want to admit. maybe when we fall into the sheets with someone we barely know, we're looking for a fragment of love to satiate our heart in ways we didn't know it needed."

jaehyun doesn't know what to say to that so he just pulls her closer to him and she lets him, throwing her leg over his as they fall asleep, closer to each other than they had ever been.

+++

you're not sure what had compelled you to leave so quickly that morning. you usually like to get the boys who sleep with to at least cook you breakfast before you left (for compensation of being terrible in bed, if the situation so called for it) but for some reason, every instinct in your body had pulled you to leave.

you had waken up at nearly 5 in the morning, a mere two and a half hours after the two of you had fallen asleep, gathered your clothes, and were about to leave when you turn to look at jaehyun, still snoring away peacefully, his arm crossing his body to rest on the empty space next to him that you had occupied previously.

you had a feeling that you're going to lament leaving this early after psychoanalyzing why you were leaving so early later in the day but for now, if your gut was telling you to leave, you were going to heed the precautions.

but even as you're about to leave, you find yourself turning to jaehyun's desk, sparse but somehow still a little messy as you rummage for a post-it note and a pen to write with. you grin to yourself when you find yourself successful (and endearing somehow that jaehyun has bright pink post-it notes).

you pass a brother on the way out (undoubtedly a freshman who had received the short stick of the duties tonight) but you wave him off when he offers to walk you home. dangerous? most definitely. but you really needed the time and space to yourself and the short, almost ten minute walk back to your apartment would offer some enlightenment.

spoiler alert: it didn't. no matter how hard you wracked your brain to come up with some version of a logical explanation, you realized that there was just simply no way to do so.

and something about that frustrated you. you knew it wasn't a big deal. jaehyun was just a hook-up. a one night stand. and yet...something wasn't fitting right in your mind. so you start to think in the only way you know how, collecting all of the pieces of information you did have.

a) you just had sex - mind-blowing sex with jaehyun. he was everything you expected and more when it came to a sexual partner. b) you didn't develop feelings for him. sex comes fifth on the list of things you subconsciously (or now consciously, since you've spoken it into existence) have when looking for a potential boyfriend. first comes personality, then intelligence, then ambition, then looks, and then sex. you didn't even have a conversation long enough to figure out if jaehyun had more than three brain cells to piece together. c) jaehyun jung had confessed that he had wanted to get with you since last semester. did he mean with you-r body or with you?

you shake your head as if to physically shake the irrational thoughts in your mind out and press your id against the scanner at the entrance of your apartment building, rubbing your fingers against your temples as you get into the elevator to reach your apartment.

unlocking the door to your (empty) apartment, you decide to shelf the thoughts for some time when your head wasn't pounding and collapse on your bed, thanking the lords you'd had the sense to take a shower at jaehyun's.

and the last thing you remember is the smell of jaehyun's shampoo in your hair as you drift into blissful, dreamless sleep.

+++

you're not surprised to feel a weight on your bed when you wake up the next morning. you blearily open your eyes to make out sia's general figure, rosie and fatima undoubtedly chatting quietly in the kitchen.

you vaguely piece together something about fatima having kun over but him sleeping on the couch and you try to push down the guilt that creeps up into your brain as you realize that you had left fatima alone at the party. a party where all of you knew a lot of people (and the outcome was just as everyone had thought it would be) but the principle of the matter stung nonetheless.

you push aside the thought - along with the idea that you should probably apologize to fatima when the cottony feeling in your mouth started to subside - in favor of looking at sia, who is strangely quiet as she watches you gather yourself. for her boisterous personality, sia yoo could see through anyone to the extent of theorized telepathy so you don't even bother trying to hide anything from her.

although, it really is hard to take her seriously when she's got hickey's littered across her neck. well. you suppose you don't look much better at the moment.

"you left before 10 o'clock," sia says simply. you don't pretend to not understand what she means as you nod, pushing yourself up on your bed as fatima and rosie also enter, rosie handing you a glass of water.

"i know," you say softly. "but i want to hear about everyone else's nights right now. i just don't know that i'm in the right headspace to think about why i left so early - i'm not even sure i know why i left so early."

sia says nothing for a moment, watching your face, almost as if she were trying to read your very essence. but she relents, reaching out to hold your hand briefly before completely switching up, speaking animatedly about her very adventurous night, leaving you to simmer in your thoughts.

had sia always been this smart? probably. who's to say that she wasn't, after all?

turns out that sia and johnny were actually going to go on a date on wednesday, after realizing that their chemistry extended further out of the bedroom than either of them had expected. sia was through the roof, obviously, given that she had been thirsting over johnny (although more in a sexual sense than anything else) for so long.

rosie, miyeon, and yugyeom also worked a lot better than any of them had thought so you were sure that you were going to lose your roommate to the other '97 liners more often for the foreseeable future.

fatima was the only one who had a pg night, with kun coming over to her apartment and just chilling together the whole night, eventually having him sleep over since he was too tired to walk back to the apartment that he lived out (it was on the other side of campus, given that he moved out of the nct house pretty late into the semester last year).

"speaking of kun, when are you guys gonna make it official? i mean after this year, you guys are going to only have one year together before you guys graduate," you say, bunching your comforter before letting go. it felt weird saying that. especially in regards to your friends. theoretically, you had all the time in the world together.

but all the time in the world wasn't enough when it came to these girls.

fatima sighs before getting up, wringing her hands together as she thinks. "i don't know. i mean kun's graduating a year early so i really only have this year left. i - i know how much he likes me. i know that he wants to do this right way. go the whole nine yards."

"but...?" rosie says, elongating the syllables as you and sia look at her patiently. fatima shakes her head, getting up to walk around the room, six paces enough to take her from one side of your room to the other.

"i just don't know. kun's great and honestly, i really think that's the one. or at least one of the ones for me. but i just don't know if my parents would be okay with it. i mean my parents are great! they give me so much freedom and honestly, i'm really thankful that my parents allowed me to find religious and spiritual freedom on my own, without ever trying to shove it down my throat."

"but at the same time...how can i betray their trust in me by dating someone who is so far from my religion? like. kun is a great guy but he's not muslim. and sure, i don't follow a lot of the stricter things in islam but i - i have god in my heart. and i don't know that god would want me to start a family that doesn't follow islam. especially since i can see that in my future with kun and kun - i don't know that i could ask kun to convert to another religion for me."

the room is silent for a little bit after fatima finishes, with her collapsing in your bed next to you. rosie and sia exchange a look with each other, and then you, as they both decide to leave the room, leaving you to console fatima.

you were always the most philosophical one out of the bunch anyway.

"look, fatima, i can't pretend to know what it's like to have that kind of mental burden and i really can't understand what it's like to think about the future and be concerned about the impact on the world you might create. i read about something the other day though - did you know that kun means 'manifesting' or 'believing' in arabic?" fatima looks at you with disbelief written all over her face, shaking her head.

"how did you know that?" she asks and you just shrug, nodding at the 'islam for dummies' book you had bought in hopes of understanding a little bit more about one of your closest friend's religion.

"that's not the point. but fatima, you are the single kindest, most beautiful person i know. and i have faith that you will choose what's right for you, not what's right for the people around you because you know better than everyone that the only person who can judge you is god. and no one - no one - on this earth has the right to take that peace away from you."

fatima is silent before wrapping you in her arms, the soft material of her hoodie comforting you and lulling you back into a sleep that's dreamless and calm.

+++

jaehyun doesn't know what to expect when he walks into intro to east asia on monday. should he say hi? wave? start a conversation? should he acknowledge that he spent the better part of his weekend wondering if he would lose his fuckboy status if someone realized just how down bad he was for you?

probably anything but the last one was a good idea.

jaehyun was not in a good state of mind. he was a hot 19 year old man with a near perfect gpa (a whopping 3.98 only because he got a singular a-), a not so terrible set of dimples, and a killer body. and yet he was walking around like how he had been prior to his enlightening summer.

it's almost freeing but also humiliating to think that one night in bed was enough to make him start an entire philosophy but that was where jaehyun was at so who was he to question anything, really?

in fact, jaehyun is so caught up in what he would name his new branch of philosophy (loserism, with a lot of inspiration from zeno) that he doesn't even realize that you've already walked past him and taken your seat.

third row, first seat. you're putting your bag down next to your chair, pulling out your laptop, tossing your hair over your shoulder when it falls in your face. jaehyun tears his eyes away, knowing that this was not a good look for him.

if jaehyun really wanted to pursue you, which he was sure was where all of his jumbled emotions were eventually going to lead him anyway, he knew for a fact that you weren't going to be interested in having to take the lead. especially if jaehyun wasn't even sure that you were interested in the possibility.

but that's a struggle for another day. what was it that stephanie laurens said? that all women want sometimes is a little old-fashioned loving?

that was, in fact, the opposite of what sia had said you were really into but jaehyun had a sneaking suspicion that you wouldn't mind handing the reigns over in the decision making process portion of a relationship, or the courtship, if your time together this weekend alluded to anything.

jaehyun almost misses the beginning of the lecture, where professor ma (no one actually calls him that besides himself) was going into some of his favorite places to stay during his time in china. and while missing any portion of professor ma's lecture was of no crime, he also almost misses the way that you're looking straight at him, faking a yawn when jaehyun finally locks eyes with you.

professor ma was known for giving stellar recommendation letters (which was why johnny had coerced jaehyun into ta'ing for his class in the first place) but he was such a pain in the ass.

jaehyun has to keep from laughing out loud when he sees your exaggerated gestures to show how boring you were finding the professor's lecture to be, pulling himself together in time for him to finally be able to take a seat in the back of the classroom, professor ma having asked him to take attendance for the some two hundred students in the classroom. by hand.

he almost drops the piece of paper that you slide into his hand, subtly slipping it into the pocket of his basketball shorts as makes his way up the flight of stairs to the tenth row, dropping his backpack on the floor next to him, in a rush to open the delicate piece of paper in his hands.

there's only three words on the piece of paper and a series of dashes and yet jaehyun knows that this is all he needs. this is all the signal he needs to know that he wasn't imagining the chemistry or the tension between the two of you. and fuck what anyone said about his 'reputation'; it was jaehyun's turn - the old jaehyun's turn - to get the chance to experience the relationship he had always been dreaming of.

he rereads the little piece of paper before smiling and tucking it into his pocket again.

earn the rest. 9__-___-____.

+++

johnny suh is getting whiplash from his best friend's actions.

one day, he's asking sia yoo if her best friend usually leaves her one night stands by the time they wake up. then he's throwing said one night stand's notes into the trash can before leaving for some frat meeting or another.

the next day, he's carrying another note from the same one night stand he can't seem to get out of his head.

jaehyun doesn't tell johnny anything. he really doesn't need to at this point. johnny suh is a senior in college and he's pretty much seen it all. he's also the vice president of a frat - which means that even if he didn't have all the experience that he did just because of his seniority, he definitely seen it because of the sheer number of stupid decisions frat brothers will find themselves making when they think they're going to either a) get drunk b) get high c) get their dick wet.

johnny knows it's all in good fun (fun that he's definitely not opposed to) but jaehyun's always been a little bit of an enigma when it came to all of it. he was good at the drinking and alright at the getting high and absolutely fan-fucking-tastic at the getting his dick wet.

it was the goddamn dimples. everyone always fell for the dimples.

and sure, while jaehyun had had crushes before (johnny could read his little like no other), they'd always been fueled by the hormonal rush of adrenaline and testosterone pumping through his veins. in fact, johnny's not sure that jaehyun had had a proper crush on anyone at college after getting fucked over in high school, where johnny had also gone to with jaehyun.

not that johnny had really known jaehyun. he was quieter and kept to himself more then. didn't really hang out in the same crowd as johnny.

he knows that's not necessarily true. johnny had, truthfully, just completely overlooked jaehyun. like a lot of girls had until jaehyun had finally started to grow into his features.

but johnny knows jaehyun now and he also knows that if jaehyun had never met gianna lee, jaehyun wouldn't have ever dove headfirst into the deep end of shitfuckery and sleeping around with every breathing body in sight.

cliché story of course. college boy becomes a fuckboy after having his heart broken by a girl in high school. johnny's almost 100% positive that sia's shoved at least two or three novels like those in johnny's face, with the same exact plot.

but what is life but a series of clichés after all. and honestly, did it even matter? it was real. it happened to jaehyun. that was all. end of story.

so johnny doesn't even say a word when he sees the post-it note in jaehyun's trash can. he's silent as he watches sia and jaehyun talk and jaehyun fall into a period of overthinking (and jaehyun knows he's overthinking too because johnny can see him shake his head even as he continues to stare at the 'people' tab of intro to east asia).

and johnny finally decides to break his silence when he sees jaehyun with a new post-it note, although this time it was a much more tame blue post-it, and a pensive look.

jaehyun slips it to johnny to read as they're sitting at the local starbucks, with johnny filling out some paperwork for the job he was signed on for as soon as the school year ended and jaehyun studying for the organic chemistry exam he had coming up the next week.

he doesn't say anything when he passes the note but johnny can see him sideye-ing him to catch his reaction and it's all he can do to keep from letting a little smile slip through.

he hands the piece of paper back, watching as jaehyun immediately stuffs it into his backpack, and for some reason, he's really not sure what to say. if sia were here, she would know exactly what to say, and how to say it. she had a way of saying things that were a little too straightforward to feel good but also obviously coming from a generally good place.

it was one of the reasons why johnny had thought it would be a good idea to make it official with her. sia yoo was nothing like what johnny had thought - and the thought simultaneously frightens him and comforts him.

"you plan on asking her out on a date?" johnny says lightly, sliding his laptop over to pretend to look at his phone casually. in actuality, he's typing furiously to sia (one of the few people that johnny trusted or consulted when it came to advice giving) about what was happening.

johnny is not very surprised when sia's gray bubble appears, disappears, and then appears again only to say, "yeah, i know."

he waits for a more elaborate response. or even a more sia-like response but the more that he talks to her, the more johnny is learning that sia is more unpredictable than she really seems to be.

and sia yoo seems to be completely out of the box.

johnny shakes his head, as if to physically get rid of the thoughts of her from his head, unsure why he was thinking of her when he was supposed to be helping out one of his boys.

"yeah. i think so? i don't know. i mean we had a good time and we definitely have chemistry. but we literally just had one night in bed and that's it." jaehyun furrows his eyebrows as he realizes that's not just it. "well, there is the fact that kun was walking around singing her praises. and i know that fatima wouldn't be friends with kun or y/n if she wasn't sure they're both good people. not to mention the fact that i've always thought she's kinda hot. but it's always been superficial. even us spending the night together was really nothing more than finding each other hot or trying to figure out if the talk around town was real or not."

johnny takes a sip of his americano as he lets jaehyun's words sink into his own mind. jaehyun rests his heads on his arms crossed in front of him and johnny knows exactly the set of thoughts that's running through jaehyun's mind because they were the same as johnny's when he had decided to ask sia out on a date.

is it worth it? is it worth possibly getting my heart strung up on someone again just to face the possibility of breaking it again?

so johnny offers the only advice that he really has.

"talk to roseanne. girls' fiercest protectors are their friends and something tells me that talking to her will make you fall on one side or the other."

+++

the next time that jaehyun sees roseanne is a complete coincidence. he really only meant to say hi to one of his homies, yugyeom, on the way out of the library and hadn't expected to run into roseanne or miyeon at all. especially not a singular day after johnny had suggested that he seek her out in the first place.

he watches as yugyeom thumbs the rip in miyeon's jeans as he continues to talk to jaehyun about something jeongguk had done the previous weekend. and then he sees miyeon press a kiss to roseanne's cheek as she gets up to fill up her water bottle.

jaehyun didn't think he would understand that dynamic at all but whatever floated their boat. who was he to judge? he had watched the barbie movie and was still having a crisis about his masculinity and was actively searching out his one night stand's (were you still just his one night stand?) roommate and best friend to fix it. to be fair, he didn't really fully understand the barbie movie, to the chagrin of doyoung's girlfriend nairobi but that was besides the point.

yeah. jaehyun was really in no position to speak. wow he had a lot of things to work on internally. the more he talked to the women in his life, the more he was realizing this. again. not the point.

roseanne takes one look at his face and then exchanges a look with miyeon and then yugyeom before standing up and walking towards the exit, looking at jaehyun questioningly when she realizes that jaehyun hasn't moved an inch. jaehyun hurriedly bids yugyeom and miyeon goodbye as he rushes after her.

the two of them linger outside of the library and roseanne just raises an eyebrow as she appraises jaehyun. and for some reason, jaehyun stands up straighter, and she just sighs, a small smile playing on her lips.

"let me guess. 'who makes people work for their number? what is this? sprinkle sprinkle type of stuff?' or maybe 'this is kinda cringey, isn't it?' or just a sweet and simple 'what the actual fuck?'" roseanne says nonchalantly, listing out each possible question jaehyun could have come to ask.

"would it make me a bad man if i said yes to all of the above?" jaehyun asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. roseanne shrugs, crossing her arms across her chest.

"not really. i don't think so at least. it's a fair set of questions that even i asked her the first time a guy came up to me asking who the fuck my roommate thought she was," roseanne says. she takes sees the look of confusion on jaehyun's face as she continues, "you're definitely not the first person to ask me that but you are of a selective few. y/n usually doesn't let people get this far in the first place. and secondly, she doesn't really tell us much about people she's interested in until much later."

"she's a strange person, if i'm being honest with you. there's just something about her that makes her so captivating and invisible at the same time. she'll capture the attention of everyone in the room but if you talk to her, she'll make you feel like her best friend. she seems like an open book, and an even more open friend. and you feel so close to her within a conversation and then you end the conversation, you realize that even as she spoke, she revealed nothing about herself."

"i'm her best friend and i could tell you very confidently that i didn't know a single thing about her truly until recently. it made me frustrated at first. like i was a shitty friend or something. but the closer to her i got, the more i realized that she's always been a great friend but no one's been a great friend to her. she's very selective with the people she associates with - not just people she lets herself be seen with but people she confides in."

"this whole thing is a defense mechanism. she'd be caught dead before she'd ever admit it but she just hasn't been loved in the way that she's loved and now she's more guarded for it. i'll tell you this jaehyun, but if you want to give up, do it now. she says she's just going to give you her number if you earn it but once you get all 10 digits, know that she's gonna give you her heart."

"it seems like i'm violating girl code by telling you all this but like i said, even if you were to ask y/n, she would say the same thing. not in so many words but still. like i said. she's an open book and a closed heart. she knows you're gonna ask me and so she only tells me something that she would be okay with you hearing."

jaehyun, who had been listening quietly and patiently the whole time, cuts in with a quiet voice. "isn't it exhausting to live like that?"

roseanne looks at him strangely, as though she was truly seeing him for the first time. jaehyun doesn't know if he's offended or relieved that she'd done what he'd done to sia - made assumptions based on his appearance. he lands on neutral. it's human nature, to try and make proper guesses about who's gonna act like what.

the ancient art of preventing heartbreak, jaehyun supposes.

"maybe. i don't think so though. it's gotta be a different level of relief knowing that no one's gonna talk shit about you because a) no one knows you well enough to do that or b) because you're so careful with who you trust that you know they'd never betray you or even c) they can only talk about what you put out into the world. it's why censorship is so effective. people can only talk about what they know. there's few people who will ignore what they see to find what they can't see tangibly."

"are all of y/n's friends secretly poets or something? why the hell are you guys all speaking cryptically like you're all freemasons or some shit like that. i can't tell if i find it cringey or cool," jaehyun says, cocking his head.

roseanne lets out a real, full bellied laugh at that, clutching her stomach as chuckles escape her. jaehyun's not sure what he's said that's so funny but he knows for a fact that she's not laughing with him, but at him.

"why is it cringey, jaehyun? why would it be cool? it's just what it is. we're just girls. you'll see us at the party next weekend, drinking our weight in alcohol. we'll have the conversations about makeup and dresses and having fun and our future and our past. there's nothing like freemasonry, i promise. it's just so amusing to see men get alarmed by the thoughts that girls have been wrestling with since they've been twelve. the duality of man, i guess," roseanne says finally, once she's caught her breath.

jaehyun doesn't know how to respond to that so he elects to save the remaining tatters of his dignity by just not responding at all. if there's one thing he's learned about you, it's that you surround yourself by women who are not hesitant about putting him in his place. and he's oddly thankful for it.

"i have one last question. well, two last questions, actually," jaehyun says when he sees roseanne turning around to head back inside, still wiping the tears from her eyes from laughing too hard.

roseanne turns, a knowing glint in her eyes even before jaehyun asks his question.

"how many guys have talked to you? and what's the highest number anyone's ever gotten to?"

roseanne is silent and just as the silence begins to turn awkward, she promptly turns on her heel and begins to walk away. she opens the door to the library before she seemingly changes her mind and looks back at jaehyun.

"two guys have talked to me. you're gonna have to ask fatima about the second question though. and jaehyun? the next number is 6."

96_-___-____.

+++

jaehyun finds fatima not soon after his conversation with roseanne. he's sitting in the nct house, watching johnny pace back and forth in his room, trying to figure out if what he was wearing was too casual for a date to a bowling alley.

it was way too formal, in jaehyun's opinion. but he was just going to wait for johnny to finish panicking (even if he would never admit that he was, in fact, panicking) to figure that out on his own. seriously though, who wore a button down and slacks to a bowling alley?

then again, he was going on a date with sia yoo so really, anything was fairplay when it came to that girl. she was a whirlwind of literally everything that could possibly go into a human being. she was a maximalist to the fullest, seizing every opportunity she could to make good memories, pressing forward with a sense of perfect clarity and sobriety that most people would be scared of.

the type of girl who was the main character of any story that she would feature in. sia was the type of person that people who trip and fall over themselves trying to have a good time with that she practically promised. she walked around with fairy dust in her fingers and a strange sense of wisdom that felt like she could read you like a book within a singular meeting with her.

jaehyun knows that she's the most intimidating out of all of the girls. out of you, roseanne, fatima, and sia, she was hands down the most frightening because even though she could read everyone else, no one could really read her.

then there was roseanne. she was the wet dream of every girl alive - the reason why straight girls lamented that they were straight and still falling a little bit in love with her. she was hot, flirtatious to the extent of making everyone wonder what they were when she gave them even a split second of attention, and so incredibly full of life. it doesn't surprise jaehyun that she had become exclusive with miyeon and yugyeom. for some reason, he feels like she just wouldn't have been able to settle for liking one person at once.

she was a little too much for just one person to be able to handle. she was like the human personification of a leather jacket wearing, motorcycle driving, woody cologne smelling wattpad trope. jaehyun understands her appeal all too well.

and then there was fatima. she was kind, sweet, kept to herself, and always offered a helping hand to those around her. jaehyun understood why kun had fallen so hard for her within two minutes of meeting her. she had an air about her that made you feel like she was someone who truly cared about you, even if you didn't know her and she didn't know you all that well. she was the type of girl who was always forgotten in the novels about warriors and princesses. the girl who was often reduced to nothing more than the main character's best friend.

until you met a girl like her in real life. fatima was still a little forgotten, and jaehyun knew that. guys often overlooked her in favor of her 'hotter' or 'wilder' friends, which is admittedly what jaehyun had thought at first. but she was just so genuine and clearheaded. she protected her peace in a way that was so unusual for young, college-going students. not to say that sia, roseanne, or you weren't genuine or anything like that. but fatima was the type of girl that jaehyun knew was perfect for kun. the girl that he could go home and know that no matter what he had done in his past, she would love him all the same.

and there was you. smart, strangely private, and a series of contradictions housed within one heart. jaehyun wracks his brain, trying to gather everything that he knew about you and yet, he comes up empty.

frustratingly empty.

jaehyun vaguely registers the fact that johnny has finally changed and is getting ready to go. he knows that he should say something about how johnny should just be himself and that sia liking him is completely up to her, regardless of what johnny were to do. but when he locks eyes with johnny, he realizes that johnny already knows.

so jaehyun just claps him on the back as he heads back to his room, his mind spinning as he tries to think of everything that he knows about you. and he draws a blank every fucking time.

he knows superficial things about you. maybe it's because he doesn't know you like he knows your friends. he hasn't talked to you as much as he's talked to them. but how does he not know you? he's been wanting to get with you for so long. he wanted more than just your body. he wanted your charm and your appeal.

was it just your body? is that all it was? is that all jaehyun wanted? somehow, jaehyun doesn't want to believe that. he doesn't want that for himself. logically, he knows that gianna's impact on his life shouldn't be extending this far. he knows that he shouldn't want or have to fight himself this hard but you're not making it much easier for him.

when was the last time jaehyun wanted to get to know such an enigma of a girl? gianna lee. and he wants nothing to do with a girl like that ever again.

and yet, here he is. falling into the same trap all over again.

jaehyun's so caught up in his own thoughts, feeling himself starting to spiral when he bumps in fatima and kun, who are equally caught up in a conversation with each other.

"oh, my bad," jaehyun mumbles, ready for fatima to brush past him but she doesn't, looking at jaehyun and then kun.

"hey man, we're headed back to my place. why don't you come back with us?" kun offers, and jaehyun just nods blankly, as he starts to follow them out of the nct house. kun stops at the entrance where he picks up a textbook from yuta, who had been borrowing it for the last week, before the three of them make their way out.

"how are you, jaehyun?" fatima asks with a sweet smile as they pile into kun's car. somehow, jaehyun doesn't want to give her a generic, insincere answer.

"i'm...okay. i'm just okay. confused but okay," jaehyun says and fatima seems alright with this answer. kun pulls out of the 'driveway' of the frat house, exchanging in a quiet conversation with fatima about what they were planning on eating for the night, leaving jaehyun to simmer in his thoughts.

gianna lee. there was a name that he thought about almost every day and never all at the same time. the girl who had made him and broke him. the girl that jaehyun had trusted with his heart and made him regret ever doing that.

the girl who had been the first love of his life.

+++

gianna was a year younger than him. smart, so incredibly sweet, and yet someone that no one could confidently say that they knew. she was the type of girl who could slip under the radar as easily as her friends seemed to always stay on top of.

she ran in the same circle as jaehyun had in senior year, right when jaehyun was beginning to blossom into the man that he was today. she had always been kind to him, if not a little withdrawn, even when he was a skinny boy with proportions that absolutely did not seem to match each other.

jaehyun didn't even know her well enough for her to break his heart, honestly. jaehyun had liked her even before having a proper conversation with her. he knew how left out she felt in her own body. even though he couldn't imagine a more gorgeous girl, he knew that she didn't feel that way about herself.

he knew that she always compared herself to her friends. her well-accomplished, 'main character' best friends who were the talk of the school. and her. no matter how intelligent or kind or put together she was, no one really looked at her the way that jaehyun did. she knew it.

even jaehyun couldn't place why he liked her so much. maybe it was the fact that he was somehow comforted that a girl with so much beauty could feel the same way as him. maybe it was the fact that she had always held the same smile for him, regardless of what he looked like. or maybe it was even the fact that one time, she had held his hand as she pulled him across the street, running to catch up with their friends who had already crossed.

jaehyun just remembers looking at her dyed cherry red hair falling into her eyes as she laughs, pulling him forward to where the rest of their friends were standing. and as he breathes in the smoke in the air and the raspberry scent of her perfume, he just knows that he really, truly likes gianna lee.

gianna lee doesn't like him the way that he likes her. he knows that. logically, jaehyun knows that his feelings are truly unfounded. he really has no reason to like gianna the way that he does. and yet, there's a part of him that holds onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, she'll turn around with those big eyes and upturned lips and say that she likes him the way that he likes her.

so he continues to look at her first when he makes the friend group laugh. he always slips her a napkin when he's getting one for himself when they're out getting milkshakes. he offers to help her with apush when she's stressing about a test the next week.

the closer he gets to her, the more jaehyun realizes that really, she was nothing like the image of her he had conjured in his head. she was every bit sweet as he had thought but she was argumentative, competitive, and all too obsessed with perfection. she always needed to be right in an argument, always had to win, and always had to make sure that she looked flawless doing so.

jaehyun doesn't realize it, of course. he's so obsessed with his glazed over façade of her that he just continues to let her win the arguments even when he knows that she's wrong. and she lets him wrap his arms around her when she gets an 89% on her test.

he lets her walk all over him and she lets him act on his feelings.

it was a toxic, parasitic relationship that neither of them were truly happy in. when gianna asked him out, jaehyun hadn't felt like fireworks were going off in his stomach. he felt like he had won a prize at a marathon. like he'd won a medal.

gianna wasn't a medal. she was a flawed, beautiful human being - every bit gorgeous and horrible as jaehyun and every other human being was. but jaehyun had won, hadn't he?

he hadn't. and it took so long for him to realize that by the time he'd realized that gianna had really only taken to him out of pity, he was so far in his own head that he didn't know how to leave her.

eventually, the summer before college rolled around and gianna had taken it upon herself to do the nasty deed of breaking up with him. it had been an amicable split, as far as their friends were concerned.

but none of them had ever truly either of their friends. so what did they know?

what did they know about gianna finding comfort in her ex's arms? what did they know about her grades slipping at the end of the school year? what did they know about her having to excuse herself at a meeting for her internship to sob in the bathroom as she realized the true fallacy in the way she had acted? what did they know about the way she had to reconstruct herself bottom up? nothing.

what did they know about jaehyun spending every other night with a different girl, trying to ease the ache in his heart? what did they know about the obscene number of hours at the gym, not sure how to combat the sudden numbness after girl after girl? what did they know about the fact that jaehyun could not physically stand the smell of raspberries anymore? absolutely nothing.

no one knew anything until jaehyun had finally come to college. it was once he joined the frat and met guys who were so alike and different from him at the same time that he finally opened up about gianna.

only to doyoung, kun, and johnny but people nonetheless. everyone had gone through something similar - while for some it happened at college or back home, they all knew the pain. some of them were more in the fault than others but pain is pain and a paper cut bleeds the same red as a gunshot wound.

which is why when kun sits him down on the couch and fatima hands him a cup of iced tea to save them all from the sweltering heat as august makes a last stand against september's winds, jaehyun spills everything.

gianna. his past. his insecurities. everything. he knows he shouldn't. logically, fatima had nothing stopping her from going and telling everything that jaehyun had told her to you, but for some reason, jaehyun thinks that she won't.

she doesn't.

+++

fatima knows that jaehyun was going to talk to her about something like this. it seemed that all of the nct boys came with some level of trauma like this. she wasn't sure what it was about every single boy she had met in college (although, granted, they were either her friends' conquests or kun's friends - a very interesting group of very intertwined boys) having their hearts getting ripped to shreds. sometimes it was of their own volition but they all seemed to be some level of hurt either way.

so when jaehyun spills his heart out on kun's carpeted floors, she's ready with a well-rehearsed speech. he's one of six boys she'd already had this same exact conversation with (kun has a bad habit of picking up strays) but when he looks at her with such raw anguish in his eyes, she falters.

she looks to kun, who's looking at her with the same question that she knows jaehyun is asking.

"how do you know when to choose between your head and your heart? because my heart is so fucking scared of getting attached to someone again. but my head knows that i can't push everyone away because i'm scared."

fatima is quiet, searching for the right words. she's about to say something when kun speaks up, looking determinedly at fatima.

"you learn to choose you. instead of choosing between your head and your heart, just choose yourself. at the end of the day, you and y/n are good people who aren't trying to hurt each other. you're both trying not to get hurt. and honestly, maybe you'll realize that you both are better off as friends along the way. maybe you just realize that you don't want to be with someone right now. or maybe you find someone who makes you feel like you're safe and loved when you're around them, whether you're in love with them or not." fatima looks at kun with a soft smile, reaching out to hold his hand gently.

"you have to choose yourself, jaehyun. trust me. the more you start thinking about what is best for the people around you instead of thinking for yourself, you'll look back fifteen, twenty years down the road and see everyone but yourself in your life. don't do something because gianna and how she made you feel. don't let your past define your future," fatima says, and jaehyun can feel the tears prick his eyes. he blinks determinedly, trying to make them disappear but when kun sits on one side of him and fatima on the other, he starts losing his battle against his emotions, finally letting himself mourn the innocence he had once had.

he buries his head into fatima's shoulder and for some reason, he feels as though kun and fatima would be amazing parents. because jaehyun doesn't remember the last time that he had felt this safe in an embrace.

"and jaehyun? the furthest anyone has ever gotten is five numbers. you're at three. it's your call from here. do what you want, not what you think you need to do." fatima taps his shoulder gently and lets him cry for as long as he needs to.

963-___-____.

+++

jaehyun gets the next number from you. after his conversation with fatima, he's sure that if he wants to go any further than this, he needed to talk to you first.

it's strange. he's earning your number but it feels like jaehyun's somehow earning himself back. and when he finds you again, he knows that you can tell.

even johnny could tell. when he had come back from his (successful) date with sia, the first thing he had said was, "wow. you look so...light."

jaehyun hadn't said anything but 'thank you' but it was enough.

johnny had just smiled at him and recounted the date, stating that he was going to ask her to go on another date this saturday night. jaehyun doesn't mention the fact that nct is throwing that night because johnny already knows.

and honestly, sia is a junior and johnny is a senior. they've been to their fair share of parties. one party being missed wouldn't be life changing for them. but skipping a party as the vice president of a frat and a girl who was sought after as a sweetheart for six frats meant something nonetheless.

he hadn't expected that they were to get that serious that quickly but it was a refreshing change. even fatima and kun were starting about talking about talking to fatima's parents to get their blessing for their relationship. her dilemma was no secret and it seemed that the conversation between the three of them had served to help them through their own issues as well.

there was just something in the air, jaehyun had supposed. august turned to september in the week that jaehyun had wrestled with himself, eventually leading to seeking you out.

it had been at the nct party, actually. you were standing with some of your acquaintances, all of your friends having dispersed to do what they were going to do. jaehyun had been on the other side of the room, convincing bambam that it was most definitely not a good idea to try and pursue soyeon jeon if he wanted to make sure that he woke up with all his limbs intact the next morning.

you had met his eye, raising an eyebrow before continuing your conversation, all thoughts of him seemingly out of your mind. jaehyun looks between bambam (who has gone from trying to get with soyeon to jumping into the pool) (that pool had not been cleaned in a full six months) and you. he just finds jungwoo, one of the pledges, and hands him a very drunk bambam.

"do not let him do anything dumb. i'm counting on you pledge," jaehyun called out over his shoulder as he weaves through people to get to you.

"jaehyun! hey! long time no see," hailey whitfield says, throwing herself in jaehyun's arms. jaehyun looks at you, where you're staring straight at where hailey's body ends and his arms begin. jaehyun tries to push her off of him. once upon a time, jaehyun would've been behind happy about getting with her again - she was so good with her mouth. but now, he has no intentions of giving you the wrong impression.

at least until he has a proper conversation with you so that you knew where he stood with you. and where you stood with him.

"hey hailey, sorry i've gotta get to my friend," he says, not even looking at her as he pushes off of her, resuming his threading through the crowd to where you're standing. you look at him, unimpressed, but jaehyun knows you well enough to know that three numbers are enough to make you feel a certain way if jaehyun was fooling around with other girls.

which he hasn't been. not a single night. jaehyun jung's bed has been empty for an entire two weeks, something that doyoung and nairobi have been taking full advantage of.

even some of jaehyun's friends had started asking if he was having problems or something but he had brushed them off. he definitely wasn't having problems, if hailey whitfield was any indication. but he felt like it would be doing you dirty if he had someone in his bed while he was talking to your friends about you.

so he hadn't.

he knows you know. he knows that you know he's talked to sia, roseanne, and fatima. he'd figured that you'd find out either through them or just by him. he can tell by the look in your eyes that you've read him thoroughly.

so he really doesn't feel bad about pulling you away from your friends, taking you upstairs to his room. finally, doyoung had promised that they would go back to nairobi's place on the condition that jaehyun made sure that no one would try to fuck on his bed. he promised, knowing that the only person who'd be coming up here would be him. he needed to talk to you tonight. if he knew anything it was that.

but once you're sitting on his bed, watching him pace back and forward, he's lost everything he's been wanting to say. where does he even start? with gianna? with the questions he has for you? with the number? where does he begin?

jaehyun looks at you, where you're watching him with a small smile on your face and suddenly, it doesn't matter where he begins. you'll listen to it all. he knows that much.

"why do you want me to work for your number?" jaehyun asks. you look at him curiously, tilting your head as you piece together an answer.

"are you sure you don't know the answer to that question?" you say, folding your legs so that you're sitting criss cross on the navy covers.

"i do. but i want to hear it from you, y/n. you know what all your friends say about you? that they didn't properly know you until a full year of friendship with you. but they said that you never lie. so i want you to tell me," jaehyun says, chest heaving by the end of his ramble. his eyes turn soft as he watches you become more and more solemn and he steps forward, sitting down on his desk chair and swiveling it over so that he was sitting directly across from you.

you pause for a moment, searching for the words before saying anything. "i've never been in a relationship before. so i don't have the trauma that could come from something like that. but i know what it's like to lose your heart to someone. and i know that it hurts. i want to be loved in the way that i never thought i could be. so the number thing is just an excuse for me to get to the point where i won't feel guilty about liking someone."

you shrug, smiling but not allowing the smile to reach your eyes. "it's a good way to make sure that the guy knows what he's getting into either way."

jaehyun nods at that. he knew that much. it feels different hearing it from you though. when you're the one saying it, jaehyun knows that it's real. raw. not coming from people trying to protect you because they know that you're far too soft to truly come at him guns blazing.

somehow, he likes it. he likes that you're much softer than you seem. that you're a lot more vulnerable than you come off as. and for some reason, jaehyun hopes that you never perfect the art of becoming standoffish.

"hmm. you've never been in a relationship before?" jaehyun says finally and you nod, shrugging once more. a shadow of bittersweet nostalgia crosses your face before you're back to your soft smile and guarded yet curious eyes.

"nope. part of it was on me; i've got high standards, if you can't tell. and the other part was that i've always wanted someone who fascinates me. of course, i wasn't all that appealing to men because i spent so much time trying to beat them at the only thing they were good at - ego-boosting themselves but they weren't interesting. none of them were people i really wanted to get to know," you say, unfolding your legs.

jaehyun likes the fact that the tips of your toes are the only part of your feet that touch the ground from how far back you're sitting on the bed. in an act of boldness, jaehyun moves forward to sit next to you, right where you're sitting. his feet are flat on the floor, he realizes.

he doesn't know why he's noticing things like this but he is and something about that frustrates him, frightens him, and tugs at his heartstrings altogether.

"you're heartbroken, aren't you? boys like you always seem to be a little hurt," you say, tossing the words into the air like rose petals. they're recklessly thrown but they're somehow beautiful in the way that blackened roses are always beautiful.

"yeah. i was. i think i will always mourn who i was before that. i was so naïve. but i'm not him anymore. and i think i'm realizing that i'm actually okay with that." jaehyun says the words just as carelessly as you do but once they're out in the open, he realizes that he's being completely honest. he turns to you with a strange look though.

"boys like me?"

you smile and nod at him. "boys like you."

you stand up, walking to where jaehyun has a corkboard with a shitload of scraps and photos from the past two years. you don't mention the fact that none of the memories that he has on the board date from before senior year. you don't need to.

"boys like you who've never been loved completely. boys who think that they need to listen to what the world says about how they should be acting or thinking. boys who are hopeless romantics but what would the world say if they knew that these boys just wanted a little bit of love? what would they say if they were looking for warmth in an empty and cold bed?"

jaehyun hates that you're right. it's the college boy tragedy. condemned to never be able to completely heal from one bad experience and then always breaking hearts to collect enough pieces to build themselves a new one.

he didn't want to end like that. even if it wasn't with you, he was ready to grow past it. he didn't want to end as a heartbreaker.

"boys like me...and you like a boy like me?" jaehyun asks. he doesn't know why he does. this is the first proper conversation you've had with him when both of you are decidedly sober. you want to deflect the question but if he's being honest, that's a sign for you to be just as honest.

"i don't know. from what my friends say, and what i know about you as a person in class, i know you mean well. and honestly, i've always just been the type of person to like someone past things like the books they read or the way they dress," you say, still looking at the memories jaehyun's pieced together over the years on this board. "i feel something around you. and i don't know you well enough to know that i like you as someone more than a friend but i'd like to at least have the chance to get that far."

that's all jaehyun needs. he gets another number that night.

+++

jaehyun waits for you outside of intro to east asia, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to make it out of the classroom. you're the last one to leave, knowing that technically, you and jaehyun weren't allowed to see each other while he was your ta.

jaehyun had never really pegged you as someone with so much respect for the rules but you had argued that it was mostly about the principle.

he'd learned a lot about you that last weekend. you and him had stayed up all night, talking about nothing and everything under the sun until the sun itself rose, eventually falling asleep in a tangled mess of limbs and conversations.

he learned that while you didn't like the rules, you often followed them as long as they followed your own moral code. that you would die for your friends and that had landed you in many bad friendships when people would use that to their advantage before you'd met your friends in college. he learned that you were super close with your family, and that they were quite literally the best friends that you could always rely on.

and he learned that you wanted to see him again. on a date. sometime soon. so with no real way of communicating with you outside of social media (and he somehow felt like sliding into your dm's was corny and somewhat of a copout), here he was. waiting outside of the classroom like he was ripped straight from a 1950's romance movie. he even had the letterman jacket on to boot.

"oh my god, you scared me," you say, pressing a hand to your chest as you quite nearly bump into jaehyun. he smiles, readjusting his backpack on his shoulders as the two of you start walking.

"you knew i was waiting for you outside, didn't you?" he says, pushing the side door open to walk towards the parking lot, where he's convinced kun to let him borrow his car for the day.

"yeah but i didn't think you would be literally outside the door," you murmur, checking your phone to see the rest of your day's schedule. you had purposefully blocked off three hours of your schedule to hang out with jaehyun, which you were sure to regret later on when your organic chemistry class kicked your ass. but that was a later issue.

"well, i couldn't text you where i was so i figured i'd wait in plain sight," jaehyun retorts, opening the passenger door for you without a word. huh. that was the first time a man has ever done that for you. and jaehyun did it as though it were second nature - like it was a given.

you don't know why something so small means so much to you but you're alright with it. you're alright with just appreciating it.

"that's fair," you say. another number's on the tip of your tongue as you watch him get into the driver's seat but jaehyun beats you to the punch.

"don't give me a number. not yet," jaehyun says. "not that i don't want one. but i just...me waiting outside your classroom or opening your door isn't enough for a number. even if i don't get all ten, you've got to up your standards."

you don't know what to say to that so you don't say anything, turning on the music and letting the melody of chemtrails under the country club by lana del ray fill the rainy september afternoon sky.

+++

when jaehyun pulls up to a run down diner, you're pleasantly surprised. although you're not much of a sucker for romantic places, the fact that jaehyun is somehow makes you happy. it makes you happy that he still sees the beauty in places like these. and when you look over at him, dimples threatening to show as he breathes in the air of misty fog and the smell of milkshakes and burgers, you're so tempted to kiss him.

so you lean over, looking at him with a twinkle in your eyes once jaehyun has parked.

"can i kiss you?" you ask, mere inches from his lips. jaehyun just looks at you, and from this close, you realize just how beautiful his eyes are. they're dark, darker than anyone else's that you know. and yet, it feels like you could fall in and never regret it.

"please."

it's all you need. and it's all he needs because as soon as word slips from his lips, he's pressing forward, his lips against yours. he's soft, you register vaguely. nothing like last time. nothing like how he'd kissed you like he could think of nothing but absolutely ruining you.

jaehyun is soft. like the feeling of slipping a cold hand into someone's warm jacket pocket. he kisses you like he's scared of ruining you. ruining this. and you're absolutely addicted to the feeling.

the feeling of knowing that he could just claim you instead of trying his best to claim your heart. no matter how fucked up it was that you were even thinking that someone could 'claim' you. he wasn't like that and you could work with that.

he pulls away from you, eyes still closed as he sits against the drivers seat, his head against the headrest. you watch him, a silly and childish smile on your face - although you're not really sure why it's there in the first place. but who are you to knock anything?

there aren't many words to exchange as the two of you make your way into the diner. jaehyun had opened your car door again. this time, you just offer him your hand and you're strangely alright with just how safe you feel with his hand locked in yours.

the diner seems as though time has frozen still here.

and everything about the date seems the same. it feels as though time has frozen still - almost as though the two of you are in a little bubble with no one but each other. it's a feeling you haven't experienced in a while. a feeling you don't think you've ever had because of a boy.

it feels...almost scarily comfortable. it doesn't feel as though there are fireworks exploding for every word that jaehyun says. but it does feel as though that there's a hot mug of cocoa that's been handed to you on a cold winter night. and that feeling, the feeling of warmth spreading through every corner of your body, is the feeling that you know is good for you.

so you listen to him, watch him speak animatedly about basketball or a book he read, chin resting in your palm as you find yourself falling deeper and deeper.

jaehyun gets two numbers that day.

+++

it doesn't take much longer for jaehyun to get the rest of the numbers. soon enough, you're more than happy just to spend time with him the way that you spend time with your friends. you feel as though you've made a good friend out of someone you'd thought that you wouldn't even be able to get along with.

"you know, when i first met you, even before i knew you, i really didn't like you," you say, taking a sip out of your latte. the seasons have changed, fall giving way to winter. the november air bites your skin every time someone opens the door to the tiny café the two of you were sitting in.

jaehyun smiles, nodding as he leans back in his chair. "i know. i could tell by the look in your eyes."

"the look in my eyes?"

"yeah. the one that said that you wanted to get to know me. to figure out my deal even if you didn't necessarily want to find out for sure. kind of like you wanted to be the one that said 'aha!' at the end of a movie, even though you weren't sure of the ending at all."

you look at jaehyun for a moment before laughing, shaking your head as you laugh. "you're even starting to talk like me now."

jaehyun pauses before he nods, smiling with you. "yeah, i know. you've rubbed off on me in a lot of ways."

"i've improved your music taste, that's for sure," you snort, taking another sip out of your latte. "i still can't believe you didn't like ric flair drip when we met."

"it's not that i didn't like it and it's still not that i like it now. but i guess i just have a good memory associated with it now so it's growing on me," jaehyun says. your eyebrows furrow as you try to recollect what good memory he could possibly be referring to.

"oh my god. the night that we met! i was trying to get in your pants with ric flair drip," you say incredulously, shivering when someone opens and closes the door once more. jaehyun hands you his hoodie, leaving his arm extended silently when you protest.

you don't know why you still bother trying to protest with him when you knew you were going to lose. you put the sweater on as jaehyun starts talking, letting the scent of clean water and pine trees swaddle you softly.

"honestly, i think i was more than you that night," jaehyun says, as he looks at you with an incriminating twinkle in his eyes. "that was around the time that even taeyong said that he wanted to see if kun's vivid descriptions were true or not. and i wasn't about to let him get the opportunity to get to you before i did. i don't know why. i felt almost protective over you. but not in a good way. in the type of way where i wanted to show you how good i could make you feel - more than anyone could even begin to think of making you feel."

the previously cold café begins to become a lot hotter than you were feeling before, clearing your throat as you try to let the moment pass.

"how did we even get here?" you say, fanning yourself delicately. the move only serves to work against you when you fan yourself so that the scent of his cologne on his hoodie only gets stronger in your mind.

jaehyun leans back, letting you switch the conversation. he'd bring it up to you later in the night, anyway. besides, for someone who puts on such a strong front, it's honestly a little fun to see you squirm at the slightest implications from jaehyun.

"but, uh, jaehyun. i've been meaning to ask you something for a while," you begin, fidgeting with the wrapper of the straw in front of you. jaehyun tilts his head as if to question what you have to say as he waits patiently.

"what are we?"

now jaehyun is truly confused. was the past month of going on dates not clear enough? jaehyun wasn't going on dates with anyone else. oh my god. were you going on dates with other men? is that why you're asking.

"i thought we were dating?" jaehyun says, phrasing his sentence more like a question than a statement. "i mean i'm not talking to anyone else and i kinda assumed that since i'd gotten all ten numbers, neither were you."

you hum, unable to stop the silly smile on your face.

"good. that's just what i was thinking too."

+++

honestly, everything about jaehyun jung is appealing to you. from the way that he engulfs you in a hug when you're up late studying. or the way that he convinces you that you have a virus on your laptop just so that he could spend more time with you 'fixing' your laptop for you. or the way that he sits with you and your friends, patiently listening and offering advice wherever he can (or honestly, is just allowed to speak).

you're so glad to see him like this. as your boyfriend of four and a half months (you hadn't let him make it official until he was no longer your ta), you've seen him grow in ways that you'd never thought. jaehyun was every inch the stupid, naïve fuckboy you'd thought him to be in the beginning. and he was also every inch the hopeless romantic with a little too much love to give for a scarred heart.

so you heal together. you help each other when you quite literally can't handle the pain and together, you grow. he's more confident. not just in the way that he looks - but the way that he speaks around people. the way that he educates himself. the way that he communicates how he feels.

and he helps you everyday. he shows you what it feels like to be loved the way you love others. he shows you that you are worth the princess treatment. and most importantly for you, he loves the people around you the way you love the people around you.

kun and fatima find their happy ending. fatima had spoken to her parents and while they took some time to warm up to kun, his soft demeanor and the way that he loved fatima so completely and sincerely eventually won them over. fatima even met kun's parents with equal success, although kun's mother kept asking when fatima and kun would get married.

(their wedding was already in the works by both fatima's mother and kun's mother. you were beyond elated to go to both the traditional muslim ceremony and the traditional chinese ceremonies.)

johnny and sia ended up going out on a couple more dates before realizing that they probably just weren't meant to be a couple. they loved each other as friends and were probably always going to hold a special place in each other's lives but it just wouldn't be as each other's significant others. johnny was already starting to retreat from the frat boy lifestyle after meeting a girl at the library one day. and sia had finally met someone who could handle her crazy personality with a sweet smile, bringing her back down to reality whenever she went a little...too lively. you're looking forward to meeting him over summer, where the four of you and your friends were going on a vacation together.

roseanne, yugyeom, and miyeon still haven't put a label on their relationship. but you've caught roseanne falling asleep in yugyeom's arms more than once (one too many times than rosie cares to admit) so you figure that it's a good thing that they've all found each other. as unconventional as their relationship might be, they all mesh together so well that you can't even find it in yourself to question it. all's fair in love and war.

jaehyun and you frequent the diner as a favorite date night spot to visit, although you're upset to hear that they're remodeling the entire establishment for favor of a new, more 'modern' atmosphere. although how modern a diner could get was a little bit of a strange notion. but as people change, so do the winds.

and when you walk into the diner the next semester, hand in hand with jaehyun, you're a little comforted to see that diner is now a speakeasy (in true 1970s fashion) with three words written in blinding rhinestones against the velvet background. of course.

ric flair drip.

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