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nnight-dances · 5 months ago

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FOR LOVERS WHO HESITATE.

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. xu minghao)

GENRE: fluff, some angst

TROPES: best friends to lovers, reader is oblivious and an idiot sometimes, kinda he fell first and she fell harder, reader is a moa lol and also a hopeless romantic, wonwoo is in photography school and a youtuber.

it's raining cats and dogs when you step out of the shower and the burst of thunder that follows has you thanking that your commute from work to home hadn't seen any such rain. it's a big night for you, after all, you can't have anything spoiling it. it's txt's comeback night and for once, your schedule's freed up in time for you to be able to enjoy the coming weekend with some brand new music from your favorite kpop group. what's more is you had a date on saturday and where usually you would be shaking with nervousness, you actually quite liked this guy. his name was minghao, and he made you feel a calmness with him that you had yet to feel with another man on any dating apps. maybe there was hope after all…

you apply your prized lavender-scented body lotion as you re-listen to some old albums that have been close to your heart and hum along happily. you're about to turn the kettle on for some tea when you hear the doorbell ring. with a sigh, you glance at the time. there were only a handful of people who'd drop by your place at 9 on a friday.

"wonwoo," you murmur when you start to vagule recall texts from him about coming over for ramen and ice cream. you pad over and open the door to the tall man peering at you through his glasses, "you didn't read my texts again, did you?"

you gasp in feigned offense, "wow, you're really just gonna assume i didn't? of course i did! and that's why i knew it was you barging into my house this late at night."

"late?" wonwoo questions your wording as he lets himself in and then pauses when he catches sight of the elaborate set-up in your living room. the tiny projector you had bought ages ago and long-forgotten about is now out and function, displaying your laptop screen on the white wall, open on txt's youtube channel.

"ohhh," he slowly turns around in realization, "are they coming out tonight?"

"coming back, yes," you call out from the kitchen, turning the kettle on like you'd planned, "i'm making some tea, you want any?"

"no, but i'll have the ramen you promised me."

you narrow your eyes at him, "you do realize you promised yourself ramen, right?"

"come on, y/n!" wonwoo starts whining, "you never hang with me anymore! it's always just work, home, txt, hinge boyfriend, work, work with you. what about jeon wonwoo time? what about best friend bonding hours?"

you can't help the chuckle that escapes you, watching the tall man slumped against your light blue fridge with a pout on his lips. he pushes his glasses back with sleeve of his black hoodie to stare you down.

"...i hear you, sir," you start, "but to be fair, we did hang earlier this week when i took you out to lunch for getting a million subscribers on your youtube channel."

"that doesn't count!" he complains, "that was like, duty-based hangout."

"right," you laugh, "listen, woo, i do wanna hang but you did see my plans for the night in the living room. so i mean, if you wanna grab some ramen and watch five men being silly before their new music drops… you're more than welcome."

this time wonwoo's quiet, mouth moving undecidedly as he weighs his options. then, he shrugs, realizing he wasn't going to change your plans for the night. "eh, sure. it's not like it's my first time anyway."

"cool! we have a plan!" you clap, "glad we came to an understanding."

wonwoo laughs as he watches you take out to packets of ramen and start preparing the soup for them. now that he knows he gets to spend time with you, he relaxes, taking in the light blue pyjama set you have on. it matches the scrunchie in your hand and the hairclips that hold your bangs back in place. he notices how in the silence you naturally start humming a song under your breath, the melody vaguely familiar to wonwoo from the time he's spent listening to txt with you.

truth be told, wonwoo really needed this tonight. he's had a long week of juggling classes and content creation, now that he had the new burden of pleasing a million people who had put their trust in him to speedrun and try out the newest video games. he's also had to meet up with friends, old and new, who reached out to him thanks to his new milestone. while he was always so grateful for the support, at the end of the day, he was an introvert and it was only in solitude he could gain back the energy he'd spent.

except of course, solitude came back when it was with you, nevermind the real definition of the word. easy to say, over the years of your friendship with wonwoo, he'd become used to finding comfort in your warmth, though it changed with time. when you were both in college, it meant studying together and holding each other through the hard times. when you graduated and went on to get a job at a publishing company you'd always admired, wonwoo continued school to get a masters in photography like he'd always dreamed. now, comfort meant escaping his dorm room to drop by your place so he could bother you.

sometimes, he hesitated, worried that he might actually be bothering you. you were an actual working adult, after all. but then, he'd find you sending him stupid memes in the middle of the night on a working night and he'd change his mind, knowing he couldn't go another week without seeing your face.

"hello? you're just gonna stand there and watch me do all the work?"

your stern voice breaks wonwoo out from his daydreaming and focus on the two steaming bowls of ramen that have appeared on the kitchen counter. "oh, sorry," he says, "just zoned out."

"not that you would've been much help with your hands of disaster."

"hey," wonwoo calls, "that's unfair, i'm a perfectly competent cook."

you raise a brow at him, "really, woo? would you say a perfectly competent cook would cut his thumb on a potato peeler? or, what was it the other time, would he spill boiling hot soup all over himself?"

wonwoo purses his lips. "whatever. i can just wash dishes if you're gonna be so mean about my cooking skills."

"sorry, woo, but there are no skills to be mean about," you murmur as you top the ramen with some fried egg. "anyway, here, take these and i'll bring us drinks. beer good with you?"

"you know it, sir," he confirms as he carries out your orders, balancing the bowls in each hand and making his way to the living room. he takes a seat on the couch, when something on the screen catches his attention. though your youtube screen is crowded with suggestions related to txt on different variety shows, there's a video in the corner that shows wonwoo's face. he recognizes it as one of his newer videos this week, one he made to thank his followers for their overwhelming support. he's honestly surprised to the red bar under the video indicate that you'd already watched the whole video. he didn't think you'd have the time to watch an hour long video.

he can't help the satisfied smile that creeps up his face, feeling a new level of accomplished knowing you were so up to date with his content.

"you're really just gonna grin like that to yourself?" your voice calls out, "i'm scared, should i keep a weapon close?"

wonwoo shrugs, "i don't know, would you really have the guts to kill your favorite youtuber?"

you're caught off-guard and when you see wonwoo's video on the screen, you redden, averting your gaze as you place two cans of beers on the table. "so much for supporting my best friend," you mumble, adorable pout on your lips as you break open your chopsticks, stirring the hot ramen around.

wonwoo keeps his smug excitement over the fact that you didn't deny his claim to your favorite youtuber and simply joins you in cooling his noodles. "anyway, i thought that txt was releasing new music? why would that include them being silly?"

"the countdown live, obviously," you inform him before slurping some ramen.

"ahh, right, i forgot those were a thing. when does the live start?"

you turn your laptop to yourself and scroll till you find the link to the countdown live, "hmm, let's see. it says here that there's 33 minutes."

"wanna watch an episode of demon slayer while we wait?" wonwoo asks gingerly, ready to be rejected immediately. but you seem distracted by your phone, your quick typing indicating you were texting someone. "hm? texting a new guy?" he asks, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

you hum out a yes and after a minute, you put your phone down, smile on your lips. "you must really like him if you're texting him back that fast," he comments.

you look at him with a chuckle, "i met him last week on hinge. woo, he's stunning and genuinely nice. how rare is that combination?" you sigh, "i honestly still think he's a little too good to be true but i guess i'll find out tomorrow."

"tomorrow?" he asks, "where's he taking you out?"

you cough, "we're going to a museum and then to lunch at an italian place."

"damn," wonwoo mutters, "he's rich then, i presume?"

you hit wonwoo's arm, "what's your next question? how much does he make a year? his criminal history?"

"i mean, does he have one?"

"wonwoo," you warn him, "he's a perfectly nice guy. or so i hope. anyway, wanna watch this episode of txt's show? it'll warm you up for the live."

wonwoo quietly nods as you click on the recommended video. he takes a deep breath to settle the storm in his stomach and sips his ramen soup to clear his head. he was here to spend time with you, not fight with you over questionable dates you found on hinge.

"that one's soobin, right? he's my favorite," wonwoo smiles when the guy's dimples deepen with a joke another member cracked.

"i thought you liked beomgyu!" you laugh, "you're a really unfaithful one, aren't you?"

he shrugs, "i don't know what you're talking about, i've always been biased toward soobin."

"you didn't even know his name till five minutes ago, but sure, woo, if you insist."

the episode ends with both of you weak with laughter, partly because of the goofy nature of the games txt was playing but mostly because throughout, one of you would make a remark that would get the other laughing and build from there. it really was a never-ending battle with laughter when wonwoo was around.

"oh, i must know what happens next! i know soobin's gonna win this thing," wonwoo says.

"ahh, as much as i want to watch the second episode, we should tune into the live or we're gonna be late," you tell him. "we can watch the second one some other time?"

"it's a date," wonwoo teases back before he can stop himself from filtering his thoughts. but it's too late, you've turned to him with a look of scrutiny, wondering if he was joking or not.

"right, okay, here it is," you pull up the live, which has been on for about five minutes. soobin is in the middle of talking about the album when you tune in. "ohh, look, your favorite boy's talking about the album."

"i see that," wonwoo smiles, "where's your favorite guy at?"

"hmm, wait… ah, there he is, yeonjun with his new haircut," you gasp, "god, black hair suits him so well." wonwoo narrows his eyes at the black-haired guy you've pointed out. you're right, he looks amazing, though he can't tell if it's the hair or just his general abundance of beauty.

the rest of the countdown live goes not unlike before, with you helpfully supplying wonwoo with any context he might missing behind the member's comments. at exactly midnight, wonwoo watches their new music video with you, laughing when at its end you immediately click the replay button. after its third re-watch, you switch to spotify and listen to the entire album once before nodding in satisfaction.

"that's a solid album," wonwoo comments, smiling at your half-contained excitement. "it's everything i need to get through life till their next comeback," you say, "the title track's my favorite for the first time. although that might change as i relisten to the album."

"the title's the catchiest so that's probably right," he says. wonwoo's about to say some more about the album when he catches the look in your eyes. "what's wrong?"

"sorry, i feel bad for making you sit through that for like, three hours."

wonwoo's heart melts a little when he catches you fiddling with the hem of your pyjama top. he lets out a lighthearted chuckle, "you didn't force me. i had fun, y/n."

you smile, "i had fun, too. i always do with you." wonwoo's heart skips a beat at your admission, his cheeks warming up, "oh, right, i should show you the new speaker i bought the other day." you stand up and run over to your room excitedly.

a few minutes pass and wonwoo sighs, hand at his chest, trying to calm himself down. he rests his head against his arm, slumping against the sofa, as his mind races. this won't do, he thinks, closing his eyes to shut out his bothersome thoughts.

perhaps, he calms down a little fast because when you return with the speaker clutched in your hand, you find him dozing off on the couch. you smile at the sight, plopping down next to him. "always falling asleep anywhere, aren't you?" you mumble under your breath, eyes drawn to the portrait of serenity that wonwoo was. you watch him breathe steadily for a while before you rest your head against his arm, inexplicably drawn to the sight before you.

you felt… weird, almost itchy, when you're this close to wonwoo. his eyelashes were longer than you expected at this distance and you have to contain the desire to brush your knuckles against them. you wonder what he must be thinking, to appear to be so at peace. you let out a hum unknowingly and wonwoo stirs.

he comes to with a start, feeling a weight on his arm that hadn't been there when he fell asleep. and then he opens his eyes, almost convinced he's still dreaming when he finds your head against his hand, blinking solemnly as if you had been watching him sleep.

wait… hadn't you actually been watching him sleep? wonwoo starts to wonder but you cut him off when you whine, "you dozed off, jeon wonwoo."

"sorry, i didn't mean to," he mutters, unusually shy.

"well, it's fine. it's getting late," you say. then, after a moment, "do you just want sleep over? it's kind of a trek to your dorm from here."

wonwoo hesitates, blood rushing to his face at the idea of sleeping over at your place. "no, it's fine, i'll just go back."

"no, i would feel too bad letting you do that," you insist with a pout, "plus, it's saturday tomorrow so you don't have to worry about rushing back to class or anything."

he pauses. you were right, it was a pretty reasonable proposition once he thought about it with straight mind. "then, i will," he agrees, "but where do i sleep?" the question comes from the knowledge that you did only own one bed, the one that was in your bedroom. never mind that it was big enough to fit you both, the fact that it was in your bedroom made it off-limits in wonwoo's mind.

"my bed?" you ask.

wonwoo sits up, "absolutely not."

"damn," you mumble, but don't think much of it, "i guess you'll have to take the couch then?"

"that works for me."

you narrow your eyes at him, not wanting to push him to sleep in your bed if he really was that strongly against it but you can't help but pry a little more. "you sure you don't prefer a soft mattress with proper pillows?"

"you forget that i can fall asleep anywhere at any given moment with minimal trouble," he shrugs. "but i will ask of you to lend me one of your plushies."

you chuckle at that, "alright then, if you insist. i'll bring you a blanket and a plushie." when you leave to accomplish said missions, wonwoo takes a second to marvel and… well, panic at his situation.

he'd only ever slept over at your place once and that was when he passed out from drinking too much soju. that didn't really count, especially since that time hoshi and karina had also passed out next to him on your floor. so this really felt like a big deal to wonwoo.

you come back with a pile of a soft pink blanket and a matching pink bunny in your arms, dropping them next to wonwoo on the couch. "there," you say, "you want tea before you sleep?"

"nope."

"anything else? water?"

"oh, is there a toothbrush i can borrow?"

"ah, right. i should have some spare ones lying around. come, i'll show you."

it's nearly 2 am by the time wonwoo's in bed (couch), changed into some oversized shorts you had and sporting the same skincare that you used every night. it's all a little much for his poor heart, doing these domestic things with you as if he hasn't been down bad for you since he can remember.

"okay~ goodnight, woo, sleep tight!" you call out. you pat his cheek, crouching next to the couch as you watch him settle down for the night. he mumbles back a goodnight somewhat quietly and you can't help but laugh to yourself at how adorable wonwoo looked.

"tell me if you need anything, okay?"

you stand up, ready to head to bed yourself and really, wonwoo should be thankful he can be alone at last, perhaps, collect his thoughts and rest his brain for the day. but being up so late must be getting to his reason because he reaches out to hold your wrist when you're about to leave, with a hurried, "wait!"

you stop with a raised brow, "what's wrong?"

"my goodnight kiss!" he blurts out with a sudden rush of courage. "i need one to fall asleep."

silence follows his words and wonwoo's ear slowly start to burn up when he hears the echoes of his absurd request playing back in his mind. he lets go of your wrist just as quickly he'd reached for it, covering up with a half-laugh, "i was just kidding. good night!"

a beat passes and he thinks you must really find him ridiculous to not respond to anything he's said but before he can dig himself any further into the hole he's made, he feels your hair brush against his skin. he barely has time to register your body leaning over him when he feels you lips press against his cheek. the moment should last forever but it's over all too quick. wonwoo can't see your face in the darkness but he hears your voice near his ear, breath soft, "good night, woo."

he could die now, he really could, and he would die a happy man. he muffles the sound that escapes his throat when he hears the door to your room creak as you close it behind you. you, on the other hand, stare at yourself in the mirror in disbelief at what just happened.

you really didn't know what to make of wonwoo's request out of the blue, but something about the way he looked so cozy, hair sticking out every which way in the moonlight that spilled into your living room, something about this night in general had you feeling strange. you felt the same itch you'd felt when you found yourself unable to take your eyes off a sleeping wonwoo. it's like when you encounter a beautiful cat lounging in the sun and had to drop everything so you could take in its joyful existence. you couldn't move an inch, completely fascinated by this being before you.

"what the fuck am i thinking…" you mumble, feeling your cheeks warm up. "i must be really tired."

turns out even after a night's sleep you feel as confused as you did when you fell asleep. with a grunt of frustration, you roll over in bed and choose to scroll on your phone to distract yourself for a bit. it's almost 11 when you hear a knock on your door. you contemplate pretending to be asleep but then there's another knock, followed by wonwoo's, "y/n?"

you feel too bad leaving wonwoo to fend for himself in your home so you force yourself out of bed, patting your hair down as you pad over to the door. "hey, morning–"

your greeting is interrupted mid-way when wonwoo's face moves close to you – hilariously close until he's kissing your cheek. your breath catches in your throat and you freeze up. wonwoo stands back up, arms on the doorway, a small smirk on his face. what had possesed him overnight?

you could only ponder in defeat when he merrily called out, "good morning! did you sleep well?"

"i… did…" you start and then stop, hand coming up to the cheek where wonwoo had kissed you. "what was that for…" you wonder more to yourself but wonwoo picks up your flustered question and shrugs.

"i was only paying you back for your goodnight kiss," he smiles, unsettling you to your very guts, "that was your good morning kiss."

you groan, suddenly losing all clarity. frustrated, hiding the blush creeping up your neck, "you know that's not a real thing…" but where you mean to sound harsh, you simply sound bewildered. wonwoo swallows his chuckle and pats your head, "i'm hungry. can you make me breakfast?"

you glare at him, trying to figure out what his real plan was but he simply follows up with, "pretty please? you wouldn't let a guest in your home leave on an empty stomach, right?"

"i- uh, let me wash my face and i'll make you something," you say, pausing for a split second befroe shutting the door in wonwoo's face. you speedrun your morning routine despite your very best efforts to act and thus, feel normal, you wash your face and brush at your teeth at an abnormal speed. you stare at yourself in the mirror when you consider changing out of your pjyamas and mentally scold yourself for acting like an idiot.

"stupid," you tell yourself as you leave your room to find wonwoo cackling at his phone screen. no matter how you look at it, wonwoo's acting different… he seems more confident, or rather, full of conviction, though you couldn't think of any reason why that would be.

etiher way, in an attempt to act normal, you start making eggs for breakfast, scrambled and slightly runny the way you know wonwoo likes them. "toast?" you ask him as you whip the eggs onto a plate. "yes,," he calls out, "with some butter, please!"

you sigh as you place a slice of toast on his plate, sliding it toward him. you plop the stick of butter next to him with a knife and tell him with a sarcastic smile, "you can butter your own toast."

"i sure can," he says with a satisfied smile. you really can't understand what he was thinking and it pisses you off, but not nearly enough to sit next to him as you dig into your own plate of eggs.

"as thanks for feeding me two meals in a row," wonwoo starts, swallowing a mouthful of food, "can i do anything for you? buy you a new pan? go grocery shopping with you?"

"i'm good, thanks."

he frowns at your curt reply. "ohh, how about a movie? it could make for a solid saturday night."

"sorry, i've a date tonight, remember?"

"ah, that," he says, flatly, "i mean, if you have time later right?"

"i'm pretty sure i'm gonna be beat by the time i'm done with the date. maybe tomorrow," you say but you know he can tell you're only half-heartedly saying so. he gives up after, thankfully for you.

"all right, i should get going! as it turns out i forgot my clothes in the dryer for two days straight and someone threw them onto the floor…" you let out a horrified gasp at wonwoo's casual confession, "so i should probably deal with that."

"dude, please, why aren't you running back to your dorm right now?"

"alright, alright, i get it! see you later, y/n!"

with that, the man's off, seeming somewhat appropriately concerned for his clothes now. you sigh once you hear the door close after him, resting your forhead on your fist. your head hurts and it's not even noon. you're mostly just having a hard time comprehending the last 12 hours you spent with wonwoo.

it's not out of the ordinary for you to do impromptu things with him like this but you feel strangely empty now that he's gone. what's worse is your mind keeps replaying this morning when he kissed your cheek like a broken record. it makes you feel like a pervert, thinking about the kiss as if it wasn't wonwoo, your best friend for life. plus, there's that itchy feeling that won't let up every time you think about him. "man, this sucks," you groan out, opening your phone, "and i still have to get ready for that date."

in an efffort to clear out the weariness you feel, you hop into the shower and take extra long in there, singing along to the new txt album and letting your worries wash away with the new vanilla scented body wash you'd bought earliere that week. without a doubt, you feel much better after, patting your damp skin down with some skincare.

that's when you're suddenly reminded of how last night wonwoo had crouched next to you, ridiculously focused on applying the products you handed him all over his face. he looked adorable, straining to get every pore covered as his fingers ran over his face. he had to squint of course since you'd told him you wouldn't stand him getting your precious skincare all over his glasses. after he was done, he'd elbowed you lightly, "how do i look?"

"so clean and healthy, my princess," you joked as you patted him on the head. the proud look on his face made you swoon a little–

what the actual fuck. "fuck," you curse out loud when you realize you'd lost your newly regained sanity to the walk down last night's memory lane. "what the fuck," you repeat under your breath as you through your last steps in a hurry. you feel yourself spiralling again when a ping on your phone saves you.

it's minghao.

minghao: afternoon, y/n! hope u slept well last night :)

minghao: just wanted to tell you i might be a little late cuz i forgot i had to run an errand for my mom! sorry

you melt a little at how sincere he is in informing you of every little change in your plans and can't help but feel a little guilty for viewing the date as a burden. that's right, you owed it to minghao to respect the date and approach it with an open mind. confusing feelings for your best friend for another day.

you: hey!! thx for telling me but don't worry about it

you: i'll text you when i get there so you know where to find me

minghao: that would be great yay

minghao: can't wait to see you

you: me either :)

—

minghao is amazing, exactly as you expected him to be. he shows up at the exact ETA he'd texted you earlier and not without a whole rose in his hand. when you turn impossibly red and shake his kindness away with a, "...but i didn't get you anything," he smiles and tells you to take it, "it's an apology for me being late to our first date."

you inwardly lose it over his emphasis on first date and calm yourself down, accepting the rose with a thankful smile. you had to keep it together if you want there to be another date, for real. he's incredibly sweet the whole time, walking through the museum at a comfortable pace – enough that you'd be able to admire the piece but not too long that you ended up staring into nothing.

after over an hour of perusing the museum's collection, your feet start to hurt a little, no thanks to the uncomfortable loafers you'd brought out for the special ocassion. it's like minghao senses your discomfort and offers to rest at the museum's in-house cafe and get some refreshments. "ahh, i'd love that," you mumble shyly, embarassed that he could see through you so well.

over coffee, you try not to stare at minghao, noticing the few strangers who would pass by your table and do a double take at the man in front of you. he did catch the eye, what with his blonde hair which sat just right by the nape of his neck. you couldn't think of the last time you'd seen someone pull off a mullet so well.

"sorry if i'm a little out of it today," minghao starts with a small smile, "i slept much later than i usually do because my friend came over without notice."

"wait, you won't believe it but something really similar happened to me last night too," you say with a grin. "what did your friend want?"

"really?" he asks with a similar smile. "also, well, he's not really a friend, more like a former roommate who can't get over the fact that i got a job and now have my own place. he likes to cope by barging in and having meals with me or watching a movie."

"wow, it's insane how similar your story is… my friend's still in college so he likes to also barge in and eat my food that i cook and watch stuff with me."

the two of you share a laugh, thrilled at the newfound similarity. "that's cool, we're like each other in a lot of ways, huh?"

"yeah, that's pretty cool," you agree. this is bad. you can't stop smiling. was minghao always this charming?

not that you would know, you remind yourself, laughing at his blunt sense of humour all throughout lunch, barely focused on the taste of the pasta minghao had ordered. you feel unlike yourself. like you're floating and all you could feel was minghao's magnetic charm, keeping you focused on him and him alone. or maybe that was the wine talking.

that's how you end up at your place, kissing his face, before you can comprehend the situation. "fuck," you breathe between kisses, "i don't usually kiss on the first date."

minghao pulls away with a small grin, "i don't either." with that, he kisses you again. and again. eventually, you make it to the couch, each somewhat recovering in their own way. now that you're back to your senses a little, you're more than glad things didn't go any further with minghao. it really was only the first date. you would hate to regret any of it later.

"oh, i'm so rude, i didn't even offer you a drink or anything," you stand up, embarassed, "can i get you something? water? tea? coffee? um, i also have beer but i don't know if that's to your taste."

minghao chuckles, "you don't have to worry, y/n. i'm good as it is."

"no, that won't do. we've been here for like 20 minutes and i haven't even gotten you water," you say, walking over to the kitchen.

"to be fair," you hear minghao say smugly, "we were kinda occupied for a hot second."

"...right," you mumble, reddening a little, "well, i'm gonna get you something whether you want it or not, so what will it be?"

"some tea would be great," he admits finally. "nice, two teas coming up in five," you call out. you spend another 30 minutes just talking to minghao over tea, when you hear a knock at your door. you frown.

you try to excuse yourself but minghao gets a phone call at that very second so you silently gesture to the door and he nods in understanding. you open the door and almost close it right back when you see wonwoo on the other side. he's grinning, all merry as if he didn't just interrupt your date.

"wonwoo?" you question, "can i help you?"

"wow, that's cold," he says. "am i interrupting something?"

"actually, yes. remember the date i had today?"

"i thought that was just some boring stuff like museum and italian food?? now, he's followed you home??"

you shush wonwoo urgently, thankful that minghao was still on the phone and couldn't hear his rude comments. "wonwoo, i'm busy. i'll hang tomorrow–"

"no, i wanna say hi to your date," wonwoo declares, pushing by you and into the living room where minghao talking on the phone. "rude, bro's on the phone in the middle of a date."

before you can ridicule wonwoo's stupid reasoning, minghao turns around, apparently done with his call and raises a brow when he spots the new figure next to you. you grimace apologetically, "sorry, minghao, this is the friend i was telling you about earlier. i tried to stop him but he wanted to say hi–"

"you've been badmouthing me behind my back?" wonwoo interrupts you with an unimpressed look, shaking his head. "whatever she's told you about me, i'm sorry. i'm wonwoo, nice to meet you."

minghao stands up and strides over to shake wonwoo's hand like the nice guy he is and introduces himself. "nice to meet you, too. i'm minghao."

"i just came by because we had plans tonight," he says, with a side glance at your perplexed face, "but i guess i must've gotten the time wrong or something."

"oh, no, no, you're probably right. i've been here longer than planned," wonwoo doesn't miss the small smile minghao throws at you. "but i should head out, too. i also have some guests coming over later tonight."

you look deflated at how things are going, "are you sure?" minghao nods as he gathers his things – things such as a brown leather jacket that looked more expensive than any item of clothing wonwoo owned – and heads for the door. you follow him like a lost puppy.

when you reach the door, out of wonwoo's earshot, you apologize to wonwoo again and he brushes your sorrys off, "don't worry about it. i'm the one who should be sorry for taking off like this. i would've liked to spend time with your friend."

"i don't know how that would've gone down," you say uneasily, "but thank you for today. really. it was great."

"i'm glad to hear that," minghao says with a grin. he reaches close and hugs you, a warmth radiating between you when he pulls away. "thank you for letting me take you out. i hope we can do it again some time." with that he places a kiss on your cheek and takes his leave.

once he's gone, you go back inside and sigh, a mix of feelings in your chest. on the one hand, you feel uneasy now that your date with minghao is over, doubtful of whether he really meant his words about wanting to go on another date with you. your past experience had taught you can never tell with men, even if they told you they loved spending time with you with the sweetest smile on their lips.

on the other hand, you were now alone with wonwoo, which was a whole another problem on its own. a problem you didn't feel equipped to handle right now. not when you still hadn't sorted your feelings about him out. whatever it was, it wasn't easy and it sure as hell didn't become any easier when wonwoo was staring you down, intently.

"...wonwoo," you start, voice low, "i'm really sorry but i don't have the energy for this right now. i just want to head to bed now."

wonwoo doesn't hide the look of hurt on his face. "what? it's like six right now."

"yeah, but i've had a long day and–"

"is this because i interrupted your date with minghao?"

you feel an rush of annoyance rush to your head but reign it for the sake of your friendship. "it's not about anything other than the fact that i'm tired."

"you seemed perfectly energetic when minghao was here. why'd you invite him over anyway? i thought you kept it chill on the first date."

"well, have you considered that i just genuinely liked him enough to bring him over? more importantly, i don't see how any of this is your business, wonwoo."

"of course it is! i care about you–"

"if you care about me, maybe don't cut my date short next time!"

the silence is resounding, following your silence and you hate yourself when you see the grave look on wonwoo's face. he was being for real right now. but you really can't bring yourself to understand him.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i just don't know what you want from me, okay? i thought you would support me when i'm finally have some luck finding a boyfriend–"

"what i don't understand is why you want to find a boyfriend so bad. i think you're happy enough as it is and you only seem to become upset over men. why invite heartbreak into your life–"

"because i'm a romantic, wonwoo. i just want to fall in love!" you tell him, "i got degree my parents wanted, settled for a job that makes me enough money and maybe a little happy sometimes, but the one thing i want to do for myself is find someone i can love. i want to experience love, at least once in my life. is that really so bad?"

wonwoo scoffs much to your utter disbelief, "some romantic you are…"

"what the fuck did you just say?"

you see him visibly inhale deeply and sigh. "y/n, i don't have a problem with you finding love."

"really? because it sure looks like you do? i know you don't really care about love but–"

"why would you think that?"

"well, have you ever been in love?" you ask him incredulously.

"of course i have!" he cries out, "i'm in love with you, y/n."

"you wouldn't–" you start when he says he's been in love and then stumble over your words when you hear his next words. you stop short with your mouth hanging open, "you're– wait, what?"

over the recent years, wonwoo had thought about whether his feelings really needed to be said out loud at this point – he felt like he was crazy obvious. but looking at the shocked look on your face right now, it was clear that if you would never have figured out his feelings without him telling you. which is fair, he can't expect you read people's minds but what really got his heart in a twist was the fact that you hadn't even remotely considered him liking you, which meant you were far from liking him back.

though this a fact he's gotten used to, he feels the sting stronger than usual, maybe because the last day has him confused. to be honest, when you'd kissed him without a warning, it got to his head. thought maybe he had a chance after all. it was that high he'd been riding the whole time; that morning when he shamelessly kissed your cheek, this evening when he invited himself into your place when he knew you had a date over.

but now he's positive he was delusional because all you have are platonic feelings for him at the end of the day.

"wonwoo, i'm sorry, i had absolutely no idea that–" you don't even know what to say, you cut yourself off, "i'm- i can't give you a clear answer right now. but if you give me some time, i promise i can."

"you don't have to answer me, y/n," wonwoo says with a bittersweet smile, "i know how you feel about me. but i had to tell you at least once before i gave up. i don't want you to feel burdened by my confession, just– why don't you forget about it?"

you blink at his words slowly, "but–"

"i should probably leave," he says, "i've long overstayed my welcome here." with that, he heads for the door, not heeding your requests for him to wait a second, "sorry for ruining your date by the way," he calls out as he leaves without another glance.

–

it takes you a whole day of overthinking your entire life – after all, that's how long you'd known wonwoo now – to come anywhere close to an answer. and really, it's not much. so far this is what you have:

a week ago, you had never once considered wonwoo as more than a friend. maybe the best friend you'd ever have, perhaps a rare and special connection that you wouldn't have with another person. while the idea had come up, through other people doubting the purely platonic nature of your relationship, you had truly never entertained the thought. not because you had something against it, but because you were convinced a link like the one you had with wonwoo was only possible in a friendship.

but then last night had happened, and something had possesed you to kiss him on the cheek – that something might've something to do with the itch in your body every time he was closer than normal, something to do with the way you'd been captivated by his sleeping form.

and reflecting back, you were dumbfounded by how many times wonwoo had tried to hint at his feelings. a few years ago, when you'd gotten drunk with friends back in college, they'd dared wonwoo to kiss the person he liked and he'd politely declined, muttering that he couldn't kiss someone who was being pursued by someone else. as it turns out, and as you had been too stupid to realize, you had been the only one there in a talking stage with a guy you'd met at your part-time job.

then, there was the way he always responded to you quickly, no matter what, ready to do things he was otherwise reluctant to do. always asking to spend time, always trying to stay close. there was also the eye-contact that he barely made with other friends, even other people – the way you'd look at him to find him already looking at you.

"i'm an idiot," you tell yourself as you stare at wonwoo's contact on your phone, wanting to hear his voice but not when you still were so undecided.

that's how it gets all the way to friday and you still haven't reached out to wonwoo. if you're daft reaction to his feelings hadn't closed the deal, your radio silence for the past week sure did. but unwilling to accept that truth, you call him, only a little surprised when he doesn't pick up.

he must be mad, you think. but as much as that thought scares you, you can't stand giving up already. you end up making your way to his college campus, hoping he'd be in his room, even though it was 6 on a friday night.

uncertainly, you knock on his door. and then louder a few more times when you don't hear a response. you're close to giving up and walking yourself home when you hear faint voices inside. "--sick of you making me open the door every time—" it's wonwoo's roommate, mingyu. he stands before you, in boxers and incredibly shirtless, and you think you should've at least texted wonwoo that you were coming over.

but despite your apprehensions, mingyu doesn't seem embarassed, just amused. "oh? it's noona."

you can't help but smile lightly at mingyu's use of the honorific, as if you weren't only a few months older than him. but him continuing the yearslong tradition reassured you, though you were sure he'd heard some foul things about you from wonwoo over the past few days.

"hey, mingyu," you wave uncertainly, and try to get a look into the room past him with no avail, "sorry to show up like this, but is wonwoo around? i was trying to reach out to him but he didn't pick up."

"ah, right, wonwoo…" mingyu says as if he didn't quite know who you were talking about. you can see the gears turning in his head, probably considering if he should tell you the truth or not. the choice is made for him when wonwoo's voice reaches you. he's screaming, "KIM MINGYU, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS BACK RIGHT NOW— WE'RE FUCKING LOSING OUR LEAD BECAUSE OF–"

you stifle a laugh at mingyu's guilty expression. "right, so he is here," you comment in what you hope is a neutral tone. "you think i can see him?"

he pauses, looking unsure, "listen, i don't know the full details of what happened with you guys, but wonwoo's been really quiet the past week and i'm not sure if seeing you right now– if he's in the right state of mind…"

"is that so…" you mumble disheartenedly, though this was a fact that you yourself had been grappling with. "i guess i should leave him alone, then." you're about to take your leave when an arm drapes itself over mingyu's bare shoulder, wonwoo's face poking into your view.

you freeze up when you lock eyes with wonwoo's face, his smile visibly disappearing. "y/n? what're you doing here?"

"i was just–" you rub your neck, looking away in an attempt to come up with a credible excuse, "i was just taking a walk around here and thought i'd drop by to say hi. but um, since you guys seem busy, i'll just find another time. anyway, good night!"

with that, you take yourself out of their sight, rushing down the stairs to the room so fast that you almost trip over and die. thankfully though you've made it to the door that leads out without actually leaving a crime scene on the poor residents' hands.

"y/n! wait!"

you stop in your tracks when wonwoo's voice echoes in the stairwell and almost lose all feeling in your knees when you see him run after you, out of breath. "god, woman, since when have you been this fast?"

"sorry," you say quietly, though you're not sure why you're apologizing.

"can we talk?"

you look up at him in surprise, "...that should be my line."

"i know, gyu told me why you actually came by," wonwoo admits with a deep sigh, "that idiot, i can't believe he tried to shoo you away without even letting you in. sorry about him."

"no, he was just trying to protect your peace. i get it."

"really? in what world is keeping a guy from the girl of his dreams 'protecting his peace'?"

you gasp at wonwoo's blatant admission and swallow against the lump in your throat. wonwoo looks tired, you can tell from the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulder is set, and you feel guilty for adding to his exisiting stress. you owe it to him to give him a proper closure.

"wonwoo, i'm so sorry i didn't reach out to talk this past week. i was just so in my head figuring things out and i kept losing the guts to face you. i truly can't express how much i treasure what we have, and honestly, i'm starting to doubt if it was always platonic. because somewhere along the way, i got so used to being around you, i didn't think about what it meant to be that close to someone.

"that being said, i still can't wrap my head around how i feel. i know it's not the clear answer i promised you, but if you give me a little bit more time, i will be able to think it through. but i understand if you wanna keep your distance with me while i do that. sorry."

"why do you keep apologizing?" wonwoo asks you, brows set in confusion, "you're maybe the sweetest person ever to even think so hard about your feelings for me. and i understand if you need time, it's years' worth of feelings after all… but, there's one thing…"

you perk up at the last part of his words, "yeah, what is it?"

"i don't think i can keep my distance from you," he says, eyes dropping to his feet for a few beats before meeting yours again, "i thought about it and honestly, the worst thing about the past week was that i couldn't just thoughtlessly intrude into your house and eat with you after a long day. maybe that's on me for having quality time as my love language, but god, y/n, i think i'd be a miserable man if i had to live without you."

"wonwoo, i…"

"i'm warning you, if you say sorry one more time, i'm gonna do something bad. plus, i feel much lighter now that the cat's out of the bag. i can finally be the truest version of myself around you."

swallowing the millionth apology on your tongue, you say, "then let's not avoid each other. maybe spending time with you will help me understand how i feel–" you stop yourself mid-sentence when you hear what it sounds like, "wait, no, that sounds insensitive… what i meant was–"

"wait, no, you might actually be onto something," wonwoo says and you feel a chill run down your spine at the smirk that takes hold over his face. "perhaps i can find a way to make you sure about me? like, seduce you?"

"what? that's not what i was suggesting–"

"i know but it's what i am suggesting!" he says, slowly closing in on you, hand coming to rest atop your head. "maybe i can finally let go and do the impulsive things i've wanted to do– don't worry, all within a limit, of course. think of it as the talking stage?"

"the talking stage?" when he puts it like that, you can see some reason behind it. it wasn't serious enough to be a relationship but still served as a step up from your normal friendship with wonwoo. "i guess that wouldn't be not fine…"

"wouldn't be not fine…" wonwoo repeats your words under his breath, "so you're fine with it??" he sighs in relief, fingering coming to brush through your hair before they returned by his side. "alright then! glad we came to an understanding! now, i'm sorry i must excuse myself for i promised kim mingyu i'd be back at game night in no time."

"oh yeah, you should definitely get back to game night," you say with a soft smile, but then catch him by the wrist as he turns around, "oh, wonwoo! thanks for letting me say my thing, by the way… and i'm sorry."

he sighs lowly at that, pulling you into a hug, "what did i say about apologizing again? now i have to do a bad thing or i'll be someone who doesn't keep his word." before you can protest, he pulls apart and leans in close to kiss your cheek. then he kisses your other cheek– and then, your forehead. you're turning beet red by the time he stops at your nose, laughing at your struck expression. "alright, now we're good. and i should be the one thanking you for taking my feelings seriously. i'll see you later, yeah? we should do something tomorrow since it's a saturday."

"yeah," you agree and give him a slight push away, "okay, now go do your thing with mingyu or he's gonna hate me even more."

"he doesn't hate you, he's just–"

"don't wanna hear it! go play your games, gameboy!"

"alright, miss, whatever you say."

–

"watch it," wonwoo warns you, eyes fixed on your screen, "no, no, don't go that way, the turret's gonna hit you."

"i don't understand," you whine, "there's too many things on my screen."

when you'd agreed to let wonwoo teach you how to play one of his favorite games, league of legends, you hadn't forseen the amount of stress would running in your veins. your head hurts and your vision is blurry. you've just started and you're only up against the easiest level of bots but every time you step outside the safety of your base, you seem to get immediately obliterated.

"okay, y/n, here, let me show you," wonwoo shifts closer to you and if anything, it makes it harder to focus when you feel his shoulder come to rest against yours. at the same time, his warmth soothes you somewhat when he calmly instructs you where to go and how to attack the enemy. his tips help you drastically and in the next ten minutes, you've gotten to the enemy's turret, eventually scoring a kill.

"wonwoo! i got my first kill! did you see that?" you turn to him with a bright grin and find him sporting a similar grin, his hand coming to pat your head. "you did so well!"

that's how you slowly make it through the first game, securing a victory, mostly thanks to wonwoo's overpowered skills, destroying his own lane and getting to the base in no time. "god, you're such a show-off," you mumble when you see the dramatic difference in KDAs on the final stat summary page. "i don't think i was built to be a gamer."

"now why would you say that?"

"look at me, woo! i'm sweating my balls off and that was only against bots! i won't last a day in the real world," you complain with a pout, "plus my fingers aren't fast like yours. i take forever to cast my skill and by that time, it's too late."

"y/n, it took me like a week of playing to get my first kill against a bot," wonwoo tells with a grimace, "so the fact that you got through that with a decent KDA is incredible. and my fingers got because i played so much, i didn't get good in a day."

you sigh, resting your head on the couch, "hmm, you have a point."

"but we can call it day if you're tired," he says with a smile, coming back to rest his shoulder next to you and following your resting figure, "thanks for trying though."

"it was fun, but i'm gonna need a week before i can touch this game again."

you feel the laugh that leaves wonwoo in your own chest, the sound filling you with his joy, as if it were your own. without thinking about it, you shuffle closer to him, a soft sigh escaping you when you feel his bicep harden against your arm.

"you good?" he asks you in a low voice when you stay unmoving for a while. you nod with your eyes still closed. "i'm doing great," you say, "just recharging." when wonwoo doesn't say anything in response, you take a peek at him to see him looking at you sideways, with a goofy smile.

"mind telling me why you're looking at me like that?"

"nothing, i just thought it was cute how you volunteered to play league for our date when you don't even know how to play."

you flush, "well, i figured i'd have you teaching me the ropes. and i've been wanting to play with you because you said it's one of your favorite games."

"that's sweet of you, isn't it?" wonwoo says, unable to stop smiling. "you always treat me so well."

"i do, for some reason. it's almost like i'm attached to my best friend or something."

you bite your tongue when you accidently let the words slip, tensing up as you start to correct yourself. "i didn't mean it like–"

"y/n, don't worry about it," wonwoo shushes you with the same smile he's had this whole time. "i know what you meant. and i'm flattered."

you sigh in relief as you drop your eyes to your lap, fiddling with your fingers, somewhat nervous for no real reason all of a sudden. maybe it's because you're conscious of wonwoo, afraid to slip up again and say something hurtful.

"you don't have to be so careful around me, you know?" he starts, "i've lived with this feelings for a while so it takes a lot for me to sway. and remember no matter what happens between us, i'm always gonna be your friend at the end of the day."

"thank you for saying that," you say quietly, eyes still on your hands, feeling guilty.

"hey, at least look at me if you want to show your gratitude."

"i can't. i'm…" you trail off, and then, "i'm sorry."

"there it is again," wonwoo groans, "now you've done it. i'll have to punish you again for apologizing." his hand comes to rest atop your restless ones, slowly stopping your uneasy movements and intertwining his fingers with yours. and then steadily, he takes your hand close to his lips, placing a soft kiss against the knuckles. "the more you say sorry, the more i'm gonna have to work harder to make sure you fall in love with me, okay? and it's honestly pretty bad for my heart if i keep having to do things like this, so spare me."

bad for your heart? you question him in your head but don't voice iti, shaking your head at wonwoo's sly words. "you're insane," you murmur.

"alright, that's more like it."

–

the following week, you see new sides of wonwoo because he takes it on himself to do all kinds things that are out of the blue for him. for one, he's been labelling every hang-out as a date, even when that day entailed perfectly normal activities you'd done a million times over with him. "it's an attempt to rewire your brain," he tells you with a foxy grin, "i'm making sure you don't forget to view me as a love interest."

speaking of love interests, he'd been straightforward with you that if you wanted to go out with minghao that would be fine. but you'd declined the possibility because you wouldn't know what to do with yourself around him now that you were immersed in the uncertainties of your relationship with wonwoo. and on thinking long and hard about the date with minghao, you'd gotten the feeling that you were interested in his looks more than anything. sure, he'd been so charming but it was wonwoo that was keeping you up at night.

that's why you find a way to turn him down when he asks if you'd like to go on another date with him:

minghao: hey, y/n! there's a night market near where i live this weekend

minghao: i've never been able to go but i've heard it's super pretty

minghao: so i was wondering if you'd like to come with me? :)

you: hey, minghao

you: i'm sorry, i don't think i can see you again

you: i really enjoyed our date but there's someone else i'm talking to atm

minghao: oh

minghao: i see

minghao: dw about it! it was nice to see you either way!minghao: but just out of curiosity, is this new person your friend from the other day?

you: huh??

minghao: you know the one who came to your place when i was over

you: …it is him

you: how'd u know

minghao: hehe i just got a vibe

minghao: he looked at you like you were lovers in another lifetime

you: girl what

you: i mean that's so sweet but really?? didn't he just look at me like i was going to feed him for the night?

minghao: no way, when a guy looks at u like that… i don't know how else to say it but he'd love if you were a worm

you: interesting

you: thanks? idk

you: you're cool for a guy that just got rejected

minghao: it's ok, i'm sure i can land another date in time for the night market ;)

you: of course you can

you: goodnight minghao :)

minghao: night, y/n! maybe we'll meet as friends someday

you: maybe…

"damn it, he's smooth…" wonwoo whines when you show him your screen the next day, only after you've made him promise you that he wouldn't jump to conclusions. "i don't think i can stand you being friends with him. like ever."

"wonwoo, i don't think that's gonna happen. but even if it did, i don't know, i think he'd make a great friend."

"oh he most definitely would. that's precisely the problem. i can't be outdone by another man like that," he says in a ridiculously grave tone, "he's too cool. i wouldn't stand a chance against him."

"you realize that the only reason i'm not going on that date with him is because i'd rather go on a date with you?" you poke wonwoo's arm with a soft smile.

the man hesitates, processing your words before a smile breaks out onto his face. "wait— i mean, of course i know i'm– wait, does that mean you–?"

"i'm in love with you, wonwoo. i think i've always been. i was just too much of an idiot to understand it."

wonwoo's imagined you saying something along these lines a lot but what he's been far more prepared for is you rejecting him. for the longest time, he's lived with the reality of you not reciprocating his feelings and that's honestly what became normal for him along the way. so when you look into his eyes, it's like you're looking into his soul and leaving him completely starstuck. all he can see is you before him for a solid few seconds before he truly comprehends you.

"don't look so shocked! i thought this whole week was for this exact outcome!" you laugh at his speechlessness.

"right," wonwoo swallows against his dry throat, suddenly shyer than he's ever been, "i'm just shocked. i didn't expect for it to actually work? i don't know, are you sure you love me? it's not just as a friend? like, i'd understand if it's just because we've known each for the longest time and seen each other through hard times."

"wonwoo…" you exhale, "are you rejecting my feelings right now?"

"no! of course not!"

"then why are you doubting me? i know how i feel about you. that's the whole reason why i took so long to give you an answer."

"i know," his gaze drops to the floor, head reeling a little. this is what he's wanted deep down for the longest time so he can't help but feel like he's dreaming right now.

when you hear the doubt in his voice, you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look back at you. "wonwoo," you shake him, "i love you." you peck him on the nose. "i want you to be my boyfriend, if you'll have me."

"of fucking course," wonwoo seems to return to his senses when you press your lips against his skin. cheeks red and eyes wide, his hands find your body, fingers already by your jaw, pulling you closer. "i love you so much, i think it'll kill me one day. but for now i think being your boyfriend will do."

you giggle at his dramatic statement and close the distance between you, feeling the warm of his breath like never before. he kisses you back immediately, letting out a low groan at the action, the hand at your waist, squeezing you lovingly.

"can't believe i waited so long to do that," he says when the two of you pull back.

you kiss his cheek with a soft mewl, "you're so warm, woo."

"am i?" he wonders, arms moving on their own as they bring you closer to his chest. he kisses your forehead, "now we can both be warm."

—

"okay, okay, i'm ready to leave," you call out victoriously as you step out into the living room. wonwoo looks up from the projector screen where he's currently rewatching a run-through of a new game was gonna try out for his channel. but he immediately loses the smart comment he was gonna throw out there when he sees you, all dolled up and showing off the dress you're wearing with a smug smile.

it's a simple blue dress with a modest neck and long skirt that hugged your hips perfectly. and it also happened to be the dress wonwoo's birthday gift to you last year. you'd worn it out with him before but this is definitely the first time you'd taken it out on a proper date. and how appropriate for it to be a date with wonwoo himself.

"you like?" you ask him as you walk closer to him, running a hand through his hair.

"i love," he replies instantly, arm coming to your lower back, "you look heavenly. god, do we have to go out? i don't mind just staying here and watching you in this dress."

"no," you decline his ridiculous request firmly, "i've been wanting to visit this bookstore for the past year. so i'm sorry, love, but you'll have to do with watching me read if you really want to be creepy."

"it's not creepy if i'm your boyfriend, is it now?"

"...maybe."

"alright, i think i'm good to go then! let's go!"

at the bookstore, you genuinely have to shake wonwoo off your back and force him to find a book he likes before you leave. he complains and whines about how he just wants to enjoy his girlfriend's taste in books but when he does finally wander off, you find him engrossed in a book he found in the science-fiction section.

you sneak up onto him with a grin, "enjoying yourself?"

he looks up, "...surprisingly. but only because i got kicked out…"

"you wanna get that?" you ask him, taking a glance at the book cover. "just drop in here," you show him your basket that already has a couple of your picks in it.

"you're buying?"

"mhm, think of it as a token of our first real date?"

wonwoo smiles, eyes bright, "alright then. thanks."

after that, the two of you walk over to the restaurant wonwoo had had reservations at. it was also a fairly new place but had gotten popular for being a couples' hot spot. and wonwoo understands why when the waiter shows you to your table for the night– it's secluded by a corner on the porch, with nothing but a candle illuminating the surroundings.

"ah, we can also move the table so that both chairs are next to each other?" the waiter says with a polite smile, "would you like that?"

"yes, please!" wonwoo calls out enthusiastically and you squeeze his hand with a chuckle as the waiter nods and shifts for the rearrangement.

"this is perfect," he says when you sit next to him. "this way, i can still hold your hand," he mutters.

"you're cute," you tell him with a soft grin, "i love you."

wonwoo leans in to kiss your lips softly, leaving you a little breathless when he slips in a quiet, " and i love you more than you could imagine."

author's note:

oh my god this fic took everything out of me to get out there... took a whole entire week but she's here, i really hope you guys like it!! i'm really down bad for wonwoo recently, to the point that he might've joined my bias line haha... more reason why tomorrow's gonna kill me. honestly though, this man will keep me going through some tough times (aka jeonghan and wonwoo shortage).

also, i lowkey fell in love with minghao while writing him here so expect a fic soon??? lol idk for a moment there i was confused who this fic was really for (sorry wonwoo i love u tho). as always, thank you for reading and i love reading what you think so please do let me know <3

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sunflowerwinds · 1 year ago

Text

kiss it better [h.c]

summary: after receiving one too many hits in the fight club, hazel tends to your cuts. you test to see if kissing a cut really makes it heal faster.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: mature language, slight violence and blood, hazel being a little cocky flirt, making out, extremely light choking if you squint, reader is smitten.

word count: 1.5K

a/n: based on this request, i wrote a little oneshot for you guys. i’m obsessed with this. also thank you guys for over 100 followers and for all the support and kind words. i hope you all enjoy <3

When you heard about this women empowering fight club, you didn’t expect to actually get beat up. Hazel had approached you in the hallway randomly asking if you wanted to join. Having the most insanely massive crush on Hazel, you agreed like a pathetic idiot. You thought it was going to be practicing on some dummies or punching bags. Not actually throwing punches, kicking and wrestling your friends and peers.

It was the third day and you and Sylvie were in the circle. You had already fought against Isabel and PJ and that had gotten some pretty good punches to your stomach and jaw. You were nervous beyond belief as Sylvie scared you in some ways but all the girls were encouraging the both of you to just take a swing. You shake your hands out and crack your neck as you prepare for anything.

If it was Hazel, at least you could have her hands on you. Sure, it might be a slap or punch but it’ll be from her and not Sylvie.

“C’mon guys. Someone has to punch first,” you heard PJ shout.

Sucking in a long breath and clenching your fist, not wanting to stretch out the tension for much longer. You swung at Sylvies cheek. The contact burned throughout your knuckles all the way to your elbow, muttering curses to yourself. Sylvie held her cheek where you punched, everyone gasping at the sudden blow.

You freeze, waiting for some sort of rebuttal. Sylvie then quickly bops her fist three times to your bottom lip and then the apple of your left cheek. You jerk back at the punches that were thrown. The entire group cheers with a mixture of ‘oohs’ at you tripping over your own shoe-laces, falling to the ground.

You scrunch up your face to in some way ease the pain that was flooding from cheek to cheek. You feel someone kneel down next to you and you look up to see Hazel checking on you.

You raise a hand to feel over your bottom lip to see the deep crimson dripping down the length of your features. Suddenly, everyone was clamoring around your laid out body.

“Shit, are you okay?” Hazel was the first to ask.

You nod and glance at the way she was merely inches from your face. You tense up and sit up slowly, everyone backing up from you except for Hazel.

“God, Sylvie, it was light punching today.” PJ sighed, rubbing at her temple. “You almost knocked her fucking teeth out.”

“Shit, I-I’m sorry. Light punching,” she slowly nodded, glancing over at you. “Got it.”

“I’m alright, guys. Don’t worry about it,” you nod but as soon as you stand up on your feet, your head begins to throb.

Hazel seemed to notice your discomfort and placed a hand on your clothed shoulder.

“I’ll take her to the restroom to, uh, get cleaned up. Someone else go.” Hazel motioned towards the group with her black spiral notebook before jerking her head towards the bathroom.

PJ and Josie seemed to glance at each other knowingly before shouting for someone else to fight against Sylvie. You followed Hazel to the girls locker room in the gym, rolling your bloody lip into your mouth. The metallic taste made you wince.

For a moment, you felt Hazel’s palm on your lower back as she led you to the sink. She grabbed a small hand towel and ran it under the tap. You could hear the echoing of everyone’s shoes squeaking and bodies hitting the ground.

“Hazel, you don’t have to do this. I can clean up this on my own,” you protest but in reality, you knew the second she put her hands on your face, you would flush an embarrassingly deep red.

“I know but I don’t know, you had already taken some blows from fucking Brittany and Josie so I wanted to help.” Hazel confessed, lifting her head up from the running water. “To make sure you’re okay.”

She cares about me? You didn’t even think that Hazel saw you as a friend, let alone someone she cared about. You had only spoken very few words outside of the club in the one shared class.

“I’m a big girl, you know? I just got thrown off guard. Sylvie wasn’t joking with those punches.” You force out a nervous chuckle, fiddling with your bitten nails.

“Still, I wanna help you.” She emphasized, clutching onto the damp towel to ring a majority of the water out. “Can you sit on that bench, please?”

You looked down to attempt to hide your blush. You push your body off the wall to walk over to the red bench, sitting down as you were told. You were thanking all the Gods above that Hazel could not see you shamelessly checking her out from behind. How was her even back profile hot?

You hear her turn off the tap, removing your stare from her beck side and glancing down at your shoes. You feel her hand grab the underside of your jaw, her thumb accidentally pressing into the bruise that was forming from Josie’s swing. You wince and she whispers a soft ‘sorry’, readjusting her hold.

She began to dab the towel onto your puffy and bleeding lip, her face centimeters from yours now. Your eyes stared at the furrow in between her brows as she focused on not pressing too harshly onto the open wound.

“Are you, like, my nurse now?” You break the silence, your words forming a lisp as she was pressing onto your lip.

Hazel cracked a small grin, eyes locking with yours. She shrugged her shoulders, sucking in a deep breath.

“I do have experience of tending to wounds when I would get my ass kicked when I sparred,” Hazel released your face, the now bloodied-towel in her other hand.

“Ah, okay, gotcha,” you nod, reaching a hand up to touch your lip but Hazel was quick to snatch your wrist.

“Don’t touch it. You haven’t washed your hands.” Hazel lightly chuckled.

You blushed, embarrassment flooding through your veins.

“You can’t risk that pretty lip of yours to get even more fucked up with an infection,” Hazel continued to dab at the area for a couple more seconds.

Your eyes widened at what she had just said, trying to keep your cool. Your hand gripped onto the bench, your knuckles turning white. She just said it so nonchalantly. It caught you off guard.

“You think my lips are pretty?” You whisper, your eyes flickering from each of her pretty eyes.

Hazel set the towel on the bench, looking at you with a small smile.

“Yeah,” she nodded as she sat down next to you now, your shoulders brushing. “I think everything about you is pretty.”

Your hands are twiddling with each other as you take in the compliment. You hadn’t said anything yet as you didn’t know what to say to her. Compliments didn’t come your way as often as you desired so when that rare occasion came around, it made you awkward beyond belief.

Hazel whispers your name to get your attention and you lift your head up, turning your neck to face her. In the blink of an eye, her hands are cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a delicate kiss. You gasp but move your lips against hers, a hand holding at her elbow.

You pulled back to whisper, “I thought I wasn’t supposed to touch my cut.”

“Do you want me to stop?” Hazel hummed, her thumb brushing against your cheek the forming bruise from where Sylvie had punched you.

“No,” you press your lips back onto yours, eager and inhaling at the feeling of her hand cupping your neck.

You let out the faintest of sounds as she squeezed lightly. Your hands caress at her arms as she continues to just rest her hand at your navel. The soft sounds of your panting and your lips connecting and disconnecting every once in a while was all your thoughts were filled with. Hazel smiles onto your lips before slipping her tongue past your bottom lip, a slightly metallic undertone from your cut lip.

“Wow,” you jumped away from Hazel’s lips at the sound of PJ’s voice.

Embarrassment floods through your system as the entire group was standing there in the locker room, a variation of reactions on everyone’s faces. Hazel wipes at her own lips, seeing a hint of red on her fingertips. She smiled to herself and looked up at everyone else.

“If you guys wanted to tongue fuck each other, you should’ve told us,” Josie stated with a grimace.

You groaned and rested your head on Hazel’s shoulder. “Alright, leave. We’ll be there in a second,” you tell everyone who scurried out of the locker room.

“Did you wanna… make-out some more or?” Hazel offered with a cheeky grin.

You chuckle and place a kiss on her cheek. “Take me out on a date and then we can.”

“We can do that.” Hazel nodded, her tongue prodding into her cheek.

Maybe you should get beat up more often.

taglist: @matchamilkislover @curiousshifter101 @imjustapearl @seethesin <33

#hazel callahan x reader #bottoms movie #hazel callahan #bottoms 2023 #sapphic #wlw #ruby cruz

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plusvanity · 10 days ago

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idk if u've spoken abt this, but one of the things that annoy me the most is that he says "euronymous was playing this character, acting tough, but in reality he was a wimp" then he says "i killed him because i was afraid for my life" like which one is it? was he a wimp, or was he actually dangerous?

Everyone in the early Black Metal scene was playing a character, Øystein included. This is the very reason why I'm not surprised at all that Varg wanted to be a part of their group because narcissists love role-playing. They role-play all the time because they don't have a sense of self, so they create this false ego (character) in their heads that they display to the world. This is just what Vikernes did and still does today. The part in which he calls out Øystein for playing 'Euronymous' is straight-up hypocrisy, but this is self implied knowledge.

Now, I don't believe Øystein was a dangerous individual. He was competitive, had a bit of an ego, and he was assertive, but he wasn't violent. He may have talked bad about Varg behind his back, but it was mutual. They both exaggerated to seem cooler and tougher for their peers.

Some might argue that 'well, he went to burn a church', yes, he did, but it was peer pressure. He went with other two. He didn't go on his own and meticulously did all the work, came back the next day and bragged about it. This is the difference between peer pressure and real antisocial (dangerous) behavior.

There are many reasons why Varg still insists to this day that Øystein was dangerous even if he most probably wasn't.

First of all, it is quite difficult to attack a self-defense argument in court because it permits a 'reasonable' force to be used when two fight for their lives.

Many criminals use the self-defense strategy even if it's painfully obvious that they attacked first because it buys them time. Time in which they can come up with more reasons why they shouldn't be persecuted as harshly as they should, time in which they aren't in prison yet.

Even in Varg's case, the court struggled to find a reason why he did what he did, and their conclusion was 'a struggle for power'. His self-defense strategy was nullified in the process because they court found him guilty for planned murder (he drove 5-6 hours to Oslo, had a knife, etc, etc). His lawyer also must've failed to justify the three elements of self-defense: Imminent Threat (Varg was in no imminent threat, he provoked the situation by coming to Oslo), Reasonable Fear of Harm (when someone pulls out a knife, it's over), Proportionate Response (Øystein had no equalizer, so to speak).

One thing that people seem to forget, or aren't aware enough is that Varg never ever denied that he killed Øystein.

Now that he's out, he still maintains the narrative that he acted on self-defense because it would be absolutely dumb to just admit that you intentionally murdered someone when you are still watched and still taken into consideration by police with what you publicly say. Everything that you say can be used against you, don't believe that Varg is free to own his murder, I mean he is theoretically, but it's idiotic to do so when you know you can open up a can of worms again.

Besides legal sanctions and consequences, Varg calls Øystein dangerous to play the victim. This is for his own selfish, egocentric narrative in which he expects, not even mercy, but admiration because he 'stood up for himself' and all that jazz.

He will always contratict himself based on how he feels that day. One day, he will say Øystein was truly dangerous. The next day, he will say Øystein was a wimp. He detests Øystein, that's clear. And he will use anything he can to deteriorate his adversary's image both online and in his head.

You can't believe Varg with anything he says, believe Øystein based on what he did and how he was like when he was alive. The guy wasn't a threat, he was a victim.

#ask response #varg vikernes #øystein aarseth

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pomefioredove · 3 days ago

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um um. the nbc boys with a reader thats smart and learns easily but has trouble keeping up with the school system(? for lack of better words). they get distracted and bored easily, forget about homework, doodle on their papers and stare out the window, etc. they get great test scores and do exceptionally well when they are interested in what they’re learning, but otherwise get burned out really quick. i don’t know much about your nbc but it seems like the system is pretty fast paced and doesn’t really leave room for mistakes! 🫶🫶 i love your designs for nbc so far. can already tell the readers gonna have a blast (and a migraine)

my first ever noble bell oc request... rubs my hands together evilly

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ no room for mistakes (noble bell college)

inspired by my AU

type of post: headcanons characters: rollo, original characters; pierrot, bou, phoenix, clodio additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Rollo Flamme will arrange a precise time to study with you every day, whether you ask him or not. it's within his best interest that you succeed at Noble Bell (heavens forbid you're shipped off to a lesser, simpler arcane academy like that terrible Night Raven College), and so there will be no room for mistakes. this isn't something you should take for granted, either; Rollo is a very busy man, and to have an hour of his time for him to tutor you is a privilege. at least, that's what everyone else will tell you

to Rollo, this is nothing. he would make his whole weekend for you, if you asked. perhaps his whole life

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Pierrot Gregoire is probably the last person you should be going to for help. yes, he's exceptionally intelligent in the ways of history and literature, and yes, he could lecture you for hours longer than your actual professor does, but I doubt you would actually get anything but a headache out of it. he's a poet, not a tutor, and he has a tendency to talk himself in circles, go on tangents, anecdote about his personal life... yeah. it would take a special sort of mind to keep up with him, otherwise, you're probably better off trying to make sense of his unorganized class notes... which are just as full of doodles and daydreams as yours

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Bou de Neige is known for making harsh judgments about his peers... which are often accurate. and so he can tell, by the way you talk and articulate and express, that you're not a blithering idiot. you only lack the discipline that the typical Noble Bell College student has. and if it weren't for Rollo's faith in you, and his own damned pity, Bou would have been happy to let you fail...

...but he doesn't. he sits next to you in classes and pinches your arm when you're dozing off, or not paying attention to something important. he leers over you and corrects the mistakes on your homework before you turn it in. he begins carrying clean paper for you to doodle on, and insists it's nothing (it's so over for him)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Phoenix Bussiere is not what I would call a trustworthy tutor. he's not even a trustworthy student. oh, but don't think he wouldn't love to waste a few hours every week "helping you study" while he vandalizes 500 year old wood desks and falls asleep in the library. he's way too eager to volunteer. and how can you say no? his attention is highly valuable; the jealous glares of other students make that obvious. and perhaps you wouldn't have minded working alone, without anyone breathing down your neck... except he doesn't let you. he couldn't care less about the homework, but he'll ask you a thousand questions about yourself

...you can never quite tell if he actually cares, or if he's just passing the time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if you think Clodio LeFou would be the worst of the group, you'd be very wrong. is it chaotic? yes. but he'll teach you Latin while hanging upside down (and he's really quite good at it). he's managed to get by at Noble Bell without raising any eyebrows, after all, and his grades certainly reflect that. he'll act out your history lessons and critique your writing assignments like a professional. he'll make a puppet just to teach you math. it's unconventional, especially for Noble Bell, but it's much better than the dry lectures from your professors. you'll take what you can get

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rollo flamme x reader #noble bell #noble bell x reader #< for organization. I'll add these to the masterpost as well

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strawberrywinter4 · 6 months ago

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May 11 | Prompt: Secret

It’s no secret. Well, okay, maybe to most it’s a secret. But to John, it isn’t.

It’s no secret Sherlock likes the name love. Or darling. Or really, any other pet name John gives him when intimate.

John has always been fond of pet names. In previous relationships, he’s used it casually and his girlfriends seemed to be keen on it. Sherlock, however, has a reaction John would have never guessed.

John discovers it when they first get together. Days after their confession, they’re practically inseparable. After a long and tiring case, Sherlock is just about to lay on John’s chest like he always does on afternoons like this when John says, “Actually, love, you mind handing me my book that’s on my chair?”

And Sherlock stops dead in his tracks. Dead. John wonders if he’s okay, if he’s even capable of breathing. He stares at John, his cheeks flushing crimson. Once he regains his mental stability, he nods and goes to the other end of the room to get John’s book. John’s still eyeing him with concern when Sherlock comes back to hand him the hardcover.

“You alright?” John asks.

Sherlock nods curtly. “Yes, fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Do I not look it?”

John huffs a laugh. “No, you look…fine. Just…” John nods his head in a gesture. “Come lay down,” he suggests, not liking Sherlock so far away.

Sherlock seems to calm at the request and he practically pounces atop John, nuzzling his face into the blogger’s neck with a long sigh. John holds a grin as he props the book on Sherlock’s back, pretending to read. But in truth, he’s thinking of Sherlock’s reaction, silently pleased with his new discovery.

He decides to experiment. While Sherlock is sitting on one of the high chairs at the kitchen table, inspecting whatever form of scientific specimen he’s interested in at the moment through his microscope, John comes toward him and soothes a hand down his back. Sherlock doesn’t have an outward reaction, but John can sense the shiver that crawls through him.

“I really am quite busy, John,” Sherlock says, not looking up.

“Mm, sorry, darling. Missed you, is all.”

And that’s when Sherlock freezes. Everything goes still. Usually, Sherlock would respond with a scolding statement to not be so sentimental and that they’d just gone out for lunch at Angelos. But he doesn’t say anything, only peers up and looks John in the eye. John grins, squeezing the back of his neck fondly.

“But I won’t disturb you,” John says, and he catches the look of disappointment in Sherlock’s eyes. “Was gonna go down to Tescos anyway.”

Sherlock nods dumbly.

John pecks a kiss to the limp detective’s lips, then heads off with a winning smile. That’s interesting.

The third time is the final conclusion. Though, it isn’t as fun. Frankly, John has been careful with this use of pet names, just in case he finds a time when Sherlock truly doesn’t like it. But this situation proves the point that any time is a good time.

Sherlock has just had an outburst in front of all members of Lestrade’s group. Anderson ticked him off by saying something idiotic, as always, but it was during the brink of a case. A case that Sherlock can’t wrap his head around and is losing himself quickly to. Sherlock stormed off to the break room, ignoring the stares. Lestrade gave John a nod to follow him and after sending a deadly glare to Anderson, John did.

John finds him pacing, hands on his hips, and muttering to himself. When Sherlock sees John, he waves a hand.

“Go away, I don’t want to talk,” Sherlock sneers.

“You don’t have to,” John says. “I’m just here to check on you.”

“This is stupid,” Sherlock hisses, continuing to pace. “Anderson always knows how to open his mouth and say something that’s equivalent to a meaningless pit. He doesn’t know what he’s blabbering about, and I can–will, I will solve this case.”

“Sherlock–”

“It’s ridiculous how brainless he can be, and he acts like he is capable of making valid points when he only knows how to spit out jabs. He acts like he can solve a case when he’s proved his idiocy numerous times.”

“Sherlock.”

“I will solve this,” Sherlock repeats, voice cracking. “I’ve already planned out the potential coordinates of where the perpetrator may be, and I want to see the look on Anderson’s face when I–”

“Love.” John doesn’t know when he stepped forward to get into Sherlock’s line of touch, but he does and he cups the detective’s face to calm him. Sherlock stops his rant and clicks his mouth shut, staring at John with wide eyes. “Take deep breaths. Follow my breathing, hm?”

Sherlock does, and John sees his chest moving up and down in slower movements.

“Just focus on me,” John whispers, bringing Sherlock close and rubbing his thumbs across his cheekbones. “Don’t waste your time on him when you have me here.” John sighs, running a finger over Sherlock’s bottom lip. Sherlock’s eyes turn glassy. “You are the most brilliant man I know,” he continues. “You’re right. Everything Anderson says is absolute bullshit. So, I don’t want you worrying about whatever he says, do you hear me? You are intelligent and smarter than everyone in this building combined and you will solve this case with a leveled head.”

Sherlock’s jaw juts, and he releases a shaky breath through his nose. “But what if I don’t? What if–”

“None of that,” John interrupts. “Sherlock, you will solve this. And I will help you and make sure you eat and rest, because my god, you’ve been all over the place for the past week and I’ve had enough of it. We’re going home and I’m taking you to bed.” John leans up to kiss him softly, not giving a damn if the break room door is open. This is necessary. When John pulls away, their breaths intertwine. “I don’t like seeing you so overstimulated, darling. And you know I leave you to your work, but this has gone too far. I won’t let it get this far again, I promise.”

“John–”

“No,” John says softly. “Let me take care of you.”

Sherlock seems hesitant, but John can see it in his eyes that he wants it, he wants to be taken care of because, for some bizarre reason, no one has done it properly before. That’s going to stop.

“Alright,” Sherlock whispers.

“Okay,” John agrees. He takes his hand. “Let’s go out the back.”

Once they’re home, John does as he says. He makes sure Sherlock changes into pajamas and he cuddles up to John in bed. Even if John knows he won’t sleep properly (he simply can’t when a case is going on), he at least holds Sherlock tight, allowing him to slip in and out of consciousness.

It’s not a secret any longer that Sherlock likes the names. Not just the names but the caring part, too. He likes this new feeling of adoration that John gives, the odd sensation of feeling relaxed in his lover’s arms as he’s stressing about every little thing in the world. And John is more than happy to provide strong embraces and reassuring kisses and occasional pet names when needed if it means that Sherlock can finally get the full experience of what it’s like to be loved.

Prompt by @calaisreno !!

Tags: @a-victorian-girl @whatnext2020 @totallysilvergirl @ninasnakie @thegildedbee @whodwantmeasaflatmate @jawnn-watson @blogstandbygo @lisbeth-kk @holmesianlove @7-percent @itsonlytext @chinike @peanitbear @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @dw91165 @jolieblack @cortina @kettykika78 @johnlockbbc

(Please let me know if you do or don't want to be tagged!)

Those eyes...yeah, see? They're in love. It's no secret!

#johnlock #sherlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fanfiction #writerscommunity #ao3 writer #sherlock fandom #ao3 #john watson #sherlock and john #sherlock bbc #sherlock x john #sherlock holmes #pet names #john watson is fine #dr john watson

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tanginawrites · 2 years ago

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The Marauders didn't stop bullying Snape after the prank. It actually got worse.

A lot of people are surprised to realize that the scene in Snape's Worst Memory happens after the werewolf prank. When first reading OOTP, people generally assumed that SWM showed escalating tension between the Marauders and Snape that up led to the prank. But in DH, we see Snape and Lily talking about the prank before SWM. This means that the Marauders are still singling Snape out and targeting him after prank. Why?

My theory is that the bullying actually got worse after the prank. Because the only way to hold their friend group together was for the Marauders to double down and rally around blaming Snape for what happened.

Think about it: How did that incident not tear them apart? Sirius not only exposed Lupin's secret – he also attempted to use Lupin as a weapon against Snape, and he could have gotten James killed in the process. That's a huge betrayal.

But Sirius isn't mature enough to take responsibility for it. Lupin isn't self-confident enough to confront Sirius about it. "James would-consider-it-the-height-of-dishonor-to-mistrust-his-friends Potter" isn't going to be the one to lay blame on Sirius or break up the group. But it's too big an issue to ignore. The only way they can get over this is to put it all on Snape. It was just a joke, and Snape is an idiot, and James is a hero.

If you compare the two incidents that the books show us of the Marauders bullying Snape, you can see that totally different dynamics are driving the bullying. This shows how and why the bullying got worse after the prank.

The first bullying incident we see is on the Hogwarts Express, when James and Sirius engage in verbal bullying of Snape, with one small attempt at tripping him up as he leaves. This bullying is a form of bonding for James and Sirius and forms the basis of their friend group. This is an example of bullying driven by Peer Group factors (source), and this sort of bullying is generally done to:

to attain or maintain social power or to elevate their status in their peer group.

to show their allegiance to and fit in with their peer group.

to exclude others from their peer group, to show who is and is not part of the group.

What we're seeing here is that the soon-to-be Marauders are in new environment and they're defining their peer group and establishing social hierarchy, trying to establish their status. The Marauders continue in this pattern of Peer Group bullying throughout their school career, as evidenced by the detention records Snape has Harry transcribe in HBP. The Marauders seem to have thrown out hexes in a scattershot way to establish superiority over other students and look cool. This casual, incidental sort of bullying is likely what Snape experienced for the first several years of school.

But what we see in SWM isn't bullying to maintain Peer Group dynamics. This bullying isn't just flinging a single insult or a clever hex. James and Sirius hunt Snape, they deprive him of his wand and ability to escape the situation, and they repeatedly hex him until Lily (temporarily) stops them. This incident is extremely personal. This is an example of bullying driven by Emotional factors, and this type of bullying is done when the bullies:

have feelings of insecurity and low self-esteem, so they bully to make themselves feel more powerful.

don’t know how to control their emotions, so they take out their feelings on other people.

may not have skills for handling social situations in healthy, positive ways.

What we're seeing here is all the fraying edges of the Marauders' friendship. Sirius has just damaged their group, but he can't apologize or address it without accepting blame, so he has to take his emotions out on Snape. Punishing Snape is a way to exorcise his guilt. And it's actually imperative that he bully Snape into silence, because he is the one who has revealed Lupin's secret to Snape and put them all in jeopardy. Lupin can't confront Sirius about the betrayal of trust, and likewise he can't confront his friends here. Not only does Lupin not have the emotional security for handling this situation, he also can't risk putting himself in front of Snape in this moment, lest Snape scream "Werewolf" instead of "Mudblood." James is here trying to work through his own insecurities – in bullying Snape he is defending his friends, but James is also trying to get Lily's attention. James offers to change his ways if she'll give him a chance, because James needs to reassure himself that he is chivalrous, that he is a hero.

Looking at the way the bullying dynamics change and escalate in those two scenes, I think it’s clear that Lupin’s line, “Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn't really expect James to take that lying down,” is an understatement.

Snape was a special case because he knew Lupin’s secret, which would always make him a potential threat. The Marauders would always take any opportunity they could to reinforce that Snape was powerless to do anything to them. And they’d continue to take out all their emotions about the prank on Snape rather than confronting each other.

#hp meta #severus snape #pro snape #headcanon #snape's worst memory #snape meta #snapedom

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kaiso-woo · 1 year ago

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The Date of All Dates

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist

PART 5 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader.

WC: 10.5k (longer than usual, I am so sorry) | Synopsis: Slice of Life. Just a fun little date with your boyfriend ^-^ Oh what's that? The pair of you cause a scene at a restaurant? Society knows about your relationship? Is there a break up? What's happening?! Oh no!!

Notes: FLUFF + ANGST, Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, CaféOwner!Reader, Fem!Reader, Threatening (assassin?, fork?), Jealous!Chan (briefly), Angry!Chan (:DD), Drug Mention (in a joke), Swearing, Pet Names Used (Jagiya, Jagi, Baby, Babe, Love - there are like 50 million others if I'm being honest I'm not listing them all I'm sorry T-T), Kisses (Duh)

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - BRIEF MENTIONS IN THIS FIC

PART 5

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

The video had popped up on your feed, and without much else to do, you clicked on it, happily fast forwarding to the action. Stray Kids had landed at the airport, preparing for a performance nearby. This live was a while ago though, and you smiled softly at the sight of Chris, walking with powerful strides behind the rest of the group, his protective eyes peering out from between his mask and beanie.

The man in question nudged your shoulder, squinting curiously at you, again, covered up by the same mask. Different beanie this time though, and he had his hood pulled up over the top. “Why’re you watching that when I’m right here?” he chuckles, leaning in so he can speak directly in your ear.

“I’m not allowed to come watch you land, so at least I can watch it here,” you chuckle back, admiring the way the Chris on your phone comfortingly placed a hand on Jisung’s back to direct him through the crowd, letting him know he wasn’t alone. “I don’t understand why JYP won’t let you really,” Chris mumbles, snuggling in closer to watch himself over your shoulder.

You tilt your phone screen towards him slightly, “I think it’s obvious.” “Yes but you could just be any other fan. I’m not saying you should personally be waiting to pick me up. You could still be in the crowd though,” he reaches over to slide your phone out of your hand, blinking at you once for permission. He rewinds the video slightly so he can analyse it again, always on the lookout for how he can improve his idol impression.

“And what if you see me? Can you pretend that you don’t know me?” you tease, opening your palm to ask for your phone back. “I’m not an idiot, I’m not about to profess my undying love at the sight of you,” Chris rolls his eyes as he places your phone back in your hand, and you switch it off, “although that is tempting to do,” he finishes with a wink.

You huff and slump further into your chair, turning away from him so you can watch the houses and cars whip past you outside the train window. “On second thought, Stays might correctly interpret the happiness in my eyes as me being in love with someone in the crowd, which is absolutely correct – so yeah, maybe JYP is right.”

You turn back to him with every intention to prove that his eyes can’t possibly be overanalysed by Stays like that, but your words die in your throat when you lock eyes. He’s right. Stays would easily be able to tell. Even with his mouth obscured, and majority of his head covered with a beanie and hoodie, the radiant joy emanating from his eyes is enough to melt your heart. The corners of his eyes are crinkled slightly, but his eyes are still wide with rapt attention. You tilt your head and scan his irises closely.

It's not often in real life that you would use the term ‘sparkling’ to describe someone’s eyes; maybe if you’re writing sure, which is rare enough as is. You couldn’t think of anything else to describe the way he’s looking at you though, so with a sigh you settle for that mental description and decide to change the topic. “Where are we going?” you ask him, glancing up at the map listing the train destinations above the opposite window.

“Somewhere fun,” he simply replies. You raise an eyebrow at him, but decide to give it up for a while. You’d been asking him the same question at random intervals, hoping to surprise the answer out of him, but he hasn’t said anything truly useful. The pair of you lapse into a comfortable silence, and after a while your gaze goes unfocused, lost in your own thoughts. Chris’ hand sneakily slips into yours, and he places it neatly on his thigh, carefully stroking your knuckles. This shakes you out of your reverie, and you glance at your linked hands, a small smile gracing your features. This would have been completely cute if you hadn’t looked up at Chris’ face, his eyes frosty, staring at someone on the opposite chairs to you two.

The poor man opposite was now awkwardly looking away, a blush spreading from his neck upwards. “What’d he do to you? What’s with the glare?” you ask, slowly piecing together the reasoning for Chris’ actions, but wanting to hear it from the man himself.

“He was staring at you,” Chris grumbles, letting his head drop onto your shoulder, his hand still gripping yours. “Okay… well while he was doing that, I was busy thinking about how soft your lips are. There’s no need to be possessive,” you chide, trying to prove a point. Chris laughs and unlinks your hands, instead stretching his arm out around your shoulders protectively.

“My lips? So randomly? You can’t even see them right now.” You grin cheekily and tilt his head towards yours, then press a little kiss to his mask, “I don’t need to see them to think of them.” Chris’ eyes go wide, his thoughts frazzled, scanning the features of your smiley expression. Without even thinking, he pulls his mask down briefly to properly give you a quick kiss, then pulls his mask up and sits back in his chair like nothing had happened.

“Chris,” you hiss, “Don’t do that again. What if someone recognises you?” He gives you the side eye, contemplating, but then shrugs and dismisses the topic. You sigh and lean into his embrace, worried that his antics will lead to your photos plastered on the internet. Catching the train was risky enough, but your car was currently being serviced. Even though a little day spent hanging out in your apartment together would have sufficed, Chris was insistent on taking you out and about.

You only agreed because you figured he didn’t deserve to be cooped up on one of the few days he could mentally and physically rest.

Once you got off the train, Chris immediately linked your hand with his and pulled you through the crowd, his head bent low to try and hide his face better. Being out in the public with him like this always made you nervous, and you could tell Chris was aware of it by how he was rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. Generally, when you went on dates, you’d stalk out café’s that weren’t busy, or seek beaches with no crowd. It had become a recent hobby of yours, scouring the internet or roaming around town for cute little nooks and crannies you could safely spend time with him at.

This time however, Chris wouldn’t tell you where you were going, and apart from his vague disguise and minute efforts to keep his head low, everything was at risk. A part of you had a gut feeling that he simply didn’t care anymore. You walked side by side in silence, squinting in the bright sunlight. Carefully, you tried to arrange your hand in his, worried that it was getting too sweaty. Chris glanced at you, shook his head with a slight chuckle, and offered his arm for you to link with instead.

“You going to tell me where we’re going yet?” you urge, constantly eyeing the people walking past to make sure they don’t recognise him. “Not until you relax,” he hums, watching your anxious expression. “You aren’t going to tell me even if I do relax,” you huff, heart stilling at the gaze of a young girl’s eyes lingering on Chris for a little too long.

“Well… if it’s any consolation, I found something for us to do where no one will be able to see my face,” he directs the pair of you around a corner as you stare at him questioningly. Wasn’t that always the idea? “It’ll be dark,” he continues, coming to a halt right in front of a place you don’t recognise. In fact, you haven’t recognised the location for a while now, which has only added to your concerns. You sigh in disbelief as you read the sign above your head.

“Laser tag?” you croak, slowly turning to look at Chris with every ounce of judgement you can muster. Your heart cracks a little at the sight of his eyes dulling, the life dying within them at your apparent disappointment. “Yeah…?” You chuckle and slip your arm out of his to grab his wrist. Then without pause, roughly tug him inside the building, “Alright babe but don’t expect my sympathy when you lose!”

Chris’ relief is evident in his laugh, and you hate yourself for a second there, for ever making him doubt himself in the first place. “You forget who I am,” he teases, “There’s no way I’m going to lose.”

He was right. It is dark. Even though there are coloured lights flickering around and the diminished haze of a few button lights on the walls, your vision is limited. In fact, you reckon the LEDs flashing around obnoxiously like you’re in a disco party are meant to confuse and make things more difficult, not actually help you. Your teams had been randomised, and you have to say, your teamwork was shoddy at best. Your side of the game kind of just treated it as an ‘every person for themselves’ kind of situation.

Originally, the staff had asked whether the group wanted their teams randomised or selected themselves. Randomised won majority (much to your chagrin), and Chris had been placed on your team. Upon seeing the way Chris was standing behind you, his arms wrapped in a hug around your waist, chin on your head, one of the staff members swapped him with someone in the other team with a devilish grin. Thanks, now the game was truly on.

It's been maybe 10 minutes, and you haven’t seen Chris anywhere. You’ve scored a few good shots on his team though, peeking out of window holes and ducking from one blockade to the next. You had a feeling Chris had commandeered his team, naturally slipping into a leadership role. They seemed to hunt and shoot in a coordinated effort, often ambushing and sneaking up from all sides. Something felt off about them however, they seemed restrained, pulling away frequently when there was still plenty of opportunity. Sometimes you noticed, they seemed to get bored of shooting a member of your team.

Chris had removed his beanie as he walked into the arena, carefully tucking it into his belt for safekeeping, and the last thing you saw of him was the fuzzy curls of his hair. He’d assured you he’d keep his mask on, and now that you think about it, you were quite positive this had only contributed to his team easily following his orders. What kind of person wouldn’t follow the directions of a mysterious, good-looking man who spoke with an eased authority?

You winced as your suit lights flashed after a laser gun sound effect played from over by your right. Someone had found you. You leapt through the window above you and disappeared on the other side of the wall, taking shelter for a second. When the sound died, you took the opportunity to push yourself up and scamper away, looking for a better spot to recuperate and maybe counterattack.

“Chris!” you froze at the calling, trying to listen again over the sound of guns firing and the music playing in the background, “Oi! Chris! She’s over here!”

Oh shit.

You took off at a sprint, heart thumping wildly in your chest, gun abandoned at your waist. You ducked around a wall, leapt over another, and found yourself standing, breathing heavily, backed into a carefully chosen corner. There were no windows on either side of you, and the wall was far too high for anyone to jump over. You admit, it wasn’t the best choice in regard to an escape route, you were literally cornered. However, you could never outrun Chris, so you figured the best option was to bunker down and hide for a while.

Suddenly, all firing completely ceased. You weren’t sure what your teammates were doing, or what Chris’ team was doing for this matter. You didn’t know this of course, but Chris had managed to parkour his way to the top of the wall you were currently cowering behind. His teammates were watching eagerly from below, on the other side of the wall, trying to stifle their chuckles. No wonder all the shooting had stopped. How was your team supposed to shoot the opposite team if they were all stalking you?

Chris watched you for a second, his eyes gleaming in the darkness, then swivelled around from his perched position to offer his team a salute. In a fluid motion, he jumped off the wall backwards, landing right in front of you. Your scream made his team collapse into raucous laughter, and for a second there, they could have been Chris’ Kids.

“Jesus fuck how did you even-” you’re cut off by Chris pulling down his mask, trapping you up against the wall, and kissing you softly. He backs away after a second, whispering, “You’ve lost this one babe,” and with an infuriating raise of his hand, shoots you, your lights going off again in the location where most points are gained.

Before you can even process, let alone say anything in response, Chris disappears behind the wall to return to his team, and you can hear him yell, “Mission accomplished guys, the floor is all yours, thanks for your help.” “Our pleasure!” “Too easy.” “All good bro.”

You beeline along the path ahead of you, rocketing away from Chris’ team members that have dashed around the wall, eager to attack. You almost collide with one of your own team members, who sees the flock of people chasing you and runs alongside you.

“WHY ARE THEY ALL CHASING YOU?!” she yells, ducking around a corner to try and get some shots in. “My devil of a boyfriend,” you spit, joining her and helping to make the group scatter.

You were right. They were holding back earlier. If there was any hope that your team was out on top, that was most certainly not the case by the end. Even with you trying to organise your team once you eventually found each other, Chris’ yelled commands and his team’s speed, stealth and ferocity was unmatched. His encouragement and cheers of celebration could be heard literally everywhere you went, and his team caught on. Their motivational yells and cheers worked wonders on boosting their team.

By the time the siren blasted over the speakers, and the white lights flashed on, immediately blinding, you were a sweaty, huffing mess. You meandered your way over to the exit, following the stream of people jostling each other to snag some cold water first. Chris bounded up to you out of nowhere, slinging an arm around your shoulders and unnecessarily leaning on you. You almost buckle under his weight, exhausted to the core.

“How was that, hey?” he laughs, shaking you slightly in his adrenalin-rushed state. You simply groan in response and amble your way over to the scoring board on the TV. He already has his beanie back on his head, although a few of his curls are sticking out haphazardly.

Naturally, Chris’ team hurtles towards the pair of you, having already discovered that they won. Chris remains attached to you but offers a round of enthused high fives, congratulating them and praising their teamwork.

“You should join an official team,” someone grinned at him, to which Chris only laughed in response, shaking his head. “I don’t live around here, I’m only here to visit my girl,” Chris tugs you closer, and you smile sheepishly, hesitant to interact when Chris is potentially seconds away from being discovered.

“Surely your number then. Hit me up when you’re here and we can play another game?” he asks, tilting his head imploringly. Chris’ eyes widen and you tense at the question, unsure about how he’s going to handle this.

“I can’t do that, I’m sorry,” he replies simply, trying to convey his sincerity through his eyes. A girl from Chris’ team wanders over, casually eyeing Chris from head to toe now that they were out in visibility again, “What about me? Up for trades?” she asks, her eyes wide and innocent.

Chris shakes his head again, and you tug his hoodie in a warning. It was time you wrapped this up and left. “What are you a celebrity or something? Why are you hiding your face?” the girl asked, squinting at Chris, as though trying to see underneath his mask.

“What if I was?” Chris nonchalantly replies, and at this you take a fistful of his hoodie and make to drag him away, mind spinning, heart stuck somewhere in your throat. “I’d try harder for your number!” she states, eyes boring into your own.

“Not a chance, I’m very much taken,” Chris pulls you into a tight embrace, burying your terrified face into his chest. You wrap your arms tightly around him, worried about the words that are going to tumble out of his mouth. “I’m not allowed to give my number out to anyone, company rules,” he murmurs, and at this you crane your neck to stare at him. (A/N: I do not know if this is actually true, just pretend it is T-T.)

Two things he said there were horribly wrong. One, he basically just admitted that he was in fact a celebrity, two… “You gave me your number though,” you point out, frowning. He glances down at you and pulls your head back into a hug. “I broke the rules for you.”

Immediately, you stop breathing at his words, cheeks blossoming a lovely shade of pink, and you mumble into his chest, “Is that why… you fought with…” “How’d you find out about that?” he interjects sharply. It seems you two have almost completely forgotten about the other two people standing in silence, watching you.

“Suhee… Suhee told me…” you answer after a moment’s hesitation. Chris only sighs and brings a hand up to caress the side of your face, “Everything’s fine now though yeah? Don’t even think about it.”

“So… is Chris even your real name?” the bloke asks, startling the pair of you out of your bubble. “Of course not,” Chris replies, then with a slight tip of his head as a goodbye, he grabs your hand and walks you out of the building. Not before you manage to hear the man and woman talking to each other, “Google him.” “How? We don’t even have his name.” “Take a picture quickly.” “’Ness that’s not right. We’re not going to do that.”

You silently thank the man, and mentally spit on ‘Ness, but speed up your pace regardless, hoping to get out of sight and out of mind.

You’re back on the train again, headed closer to home where you can stake out your favourite restaurant for a bite out to eat. It’s your favourite mostly because of the semi-private booths they provide, and if Chris sits up against the wall, he’s hidden relatively well. Chris heaves a deep sigh and wriggles out of your snuggle, whining about being hot and stripping himself of his hoodie.

“I’m sweating more than I did in laser tag,” he complains, folding it neatly and placing it on his lap, then snuggling back up to you. Carefully, you ease the hoodie out of his lap with a cheeky grin on your face, aware of Chris’ eyes watching your every movement.

“I’ll hold it for you,” you comment, sticking your tongue out when he rolls his eyes knowingly, “You’ll hold it, or you’ll permanently borrow it?” You hug it tightly, playing with the fabric between your fingers, then bring it up to your face to inhale its scent.

You’d never have been able to guess his perfume’s ingredients if he hadn’t read it out to you one day to satisfy your curiosity: notes of spicy pink pepper and creamy ylang-ylang (that’s a tropical tree originating from the Philippines btw), combined with fierce musk and a sensuous vanilla base. That scent alone is enough to make your heart swell, a sense of safety and security washing over you with each breath.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Chris puzzles, “Why are you smelling my hoodie like it’s cocaine?” You pull your nose away from his hoodie to calmly respond, “Because this is my cocaine you dumb twat.”

Chris laughs and rests his head on your shoulder, looking up at you through his eyelashes, “I know mate, I just wanted to hear you say it.” “That your scent is my cocaine?” you grimace, neatly placing the hoodie onto your lap. “Okay well not that specifically,” he pouts, “just that my scent drives you insane.”

“You are a strange man,” you tut, resting your head on top of his, wishing more than anything in the world at that moment that you could remove his beanie so you could feel his soft curls. “You seem to like this strange man, so I think you’re stranger.”

Finally, you’re sitting opposite Chris, slurping happily away on your cookies and cream smoothie while Chris takes generous sips from his pineapple juice. You’re sitting in your favourite spot waiting patiently for your food to arrive. Chris locks his phone and places it face down on the table, turning his attention to you with crinkled eyes. He’s wearing his hoodie again, much to your disappointment, so he can use his hood to hide behind instead of his beanie, giving his hair some room to breathe. Your eyes roam the curls, savouring the peaceful silence as you stare at each other.

Eventually, Chris begins to chat away, and you reciprocate his enthusiasm, laughing and giggling at the stories he tells you about Skz, adding your own input when his words remind you of something, and even as you eat, you continue to rally stories and questions back and forth at each other. “Bailey’s coming in for day care tomorrow.” “Is he? The one that looks like Berry?!” “Mhm!” “Can he stay with me upstairs?” “Uhm… I don’t see why not…”

You glance down at your plate and realise there’s only one mouthful left and blink in surprise. Chris had finished his meal a couple of minutes ago and was leaning back into the booth leisurely. You shovel it into your mouth and scoot out of your seat to pay for the food before he can, but he leans over and snatches at your arm, frowning at you.

“We’ve talked about this a million times before jagiya,” he clarifies, his eyes narrowed, “you’re not allowed to pay.”

You raise your eyebrows at him and yank your arm out of his grip, “Then you should have beaten me to it.”

You scamper away swiftly as Chris lunges for you again, sending a jolt through your heart as he scrambles up to chase you. “Yah! Dol-awa!” (Come back here!) he yells, but you don’t really need to. He’s already hooked an arm around your waist and trapped you between his arms, your wriggling and laughter doing nothing against his strong grip.

“Okay okay okay. I won’t pay. You can let me go,” you fuss, scrabbling at his hands, but he sighs and hugs you tighter. “Never. Will never let you go,” he mumbles, kissing the back of your head affectionately.

You’re not aware of this, but his hood has fallen down in his scramble to stop you, and without his mask since he was eating, he’s completely and utterly exposed. The lady at the counter looks up to sus out what the commotion is about, and her eyes immediately widen at the sight of Chris’ head perched lovingly on top of yours.

“Bang Chan?” she gasps, the delirious excitement evident in her awestruck expression. Your heart plummets into the ground as Chris stiffens around you. “Hi! Oh my gosh, please can we take a picture together?” she hurries around the desk, swiftly pulling her phone out, and Chris instinctively drags you protectively behind him, hiding your face.

“Ah- ah no. No sorry, no photos today,” he rushes, arranging his hood that you’ve haphazardly tugged onto his head again. The lady pauses and seems to remember you’re there, her phone dropping to her side. She points at you with a curious tilt of her head, “Is she…?”

You cringe and step away from Chris, walking with your hair curtaining your face back towards your restaurant booth. You’re dimly aware of the rest of the restaurant guests peeking over the top of their booths and leaning over to get a better view. “Is there someone famous here?” “Who’s she asking for a photo?” “Bang Chan, she said Bang Chan.” “BANG CHAN?!” “Who’s he with?” “Who’s she? His girlfriend?” “No way is Bang Chan dating someone.” “Eva’s going to be so mad.” “I wonder how Stays are going to handle this.” “Come on, we have to get a photo.”

Chris swivels around and follows you back to the booth, smiling sheepishly and pulling his hood even further over his head. “Babe let’s go,” he whispers, but the neighbouring table hears his muted words, and the whole restaurant is chattering again. “They’re dating. He called her babe.” “Did you get a good look at her? Is she even pretty?” “She’s kind of average.”

Chris flinches, his eyes downcast as he realises his mistake, but you offer him a small smile of encouragement and gather your things. Chris thinks for a second, his hands fiddling, then pulls his hoodie off himself and yanks it over your head. He whisks his beanie off the table, tugs it onto your head and hands you his mask from his pocket. You blink at him, but put it on regardless, finishing off the disguise by pulling the hood up over your head. He seems to care more about your coverage than his own. “There’s no way they aren’t dating.” “I think he settled.” “What does she have that I don’t?”

You can see Chris’ jaw clench, the offhand comments beginning to annoy him, so you shake your head at him and nod towards the exit. He grabs your hand, making your heart thump wildly in fear – he’s really not doing anything to help ease the rumours. “Chan who is she?” “Do you even like her?” Chris pauses, and you try to tug him onwards, pleadingly.

“She’s the love of my life and that’s that,” he snaps, the break from his usual polite stature towards fans causing the restaurant to fall silent. You gulp and hiss at him, his name falling from your mouth in a panicked urgency. Half of the people in here probably didn’t even know who he was; just crazed at the experience of being in the proximity of a celebrity.

“He’s not even that good-looking, you sure he’s famous?” you hear someone whisper, and your head turns towards the voice, an unknown flame sparking, “He’s probably only famous because his father’s rich or something. That’s how it is these days, isn’t it?” they continue, and you stalk over to them, causing Chris to stare at you in surprise, too busy glaring at the restaurant guests to hear the comments about himself.

You slam your palm onto their table, causing the two girls to jump in surprise. “You say anything else about him and I will skewer you,” you lean over and snatch her fork from her plate, “with your own fucking fork.” “Bold words from a girl cowering in her boyfriend’s clothes,” the other girl smirks, folding her arms challengingly.

“At least I have a boyfriend,” you seethe, hand clenching around the fork. “Nice try bitch, I have one too.” “Not after my famous boyfriend with a rich father sends an assassin after him.”

Her eyes widen at that, and you lazily throw the fork back onto the table. “His name’s Bang Chan, as I’m sure you’ve heard, why don’t you google him on the phone you’ve been taking pictures of us with-”

Chris swoops in out of nowhere before you can finish your sentence, grabbing you by the waist again to lead you away. When you try to free yourself, blood boiling and not finished with your fight, he bends down and hoists you over his shoulders, walking you out of the restaurant while you yell in fury. After a while, he puts you back down, commands you to stay put while he returns to pay for the meal, and you begin to regret your actions. Chris seemed eerily nonchalant, and you knew you crossed a line by confronting those two girls. You probably made things more difficult actually, and you cringed as you pictured the next headline.

‘K-pop idol Bang Chan of Stray Kids allegedly dating a psychotic woman who threatened restaurant guests”

You’re so busy letting your thoughts eat away at your mind that you don’t even realise Chris is standing in front of you again. “C’mon, let’s go home,” he sighs, his hands tucked into his shorts pockets. “I messed up didn’t I?” you mumble, not daring to look him in the eye.

“I did too. It’s okay. I’ll sort it out with JYP later,” his eyes briefly skim over the sign above your head, and he disappears inside the store he left you in front of. After a minute, he returns with a packet of skittles for you. “Just forget about it for now okay? I’ll figure it out when I get back to Korea. And who knows… maybe everyone in there has a conscience and won’t even consider posting anything.” You snort and tear open the packet of skittles, craving the sour lollies all of a sudden, “That’s being overly optimistic.”

Chris laughs and begins to follow the route back to your café, you trailing behind him sadly, shoving skittles in your mouth with the mask pulled down to your chin. You frown at Chris’ back and the realisation hits you. He’s likely going to fight with JYP again. He’s likely going to be given a choice between you or his career. You can tell from his deflated posture as he walks ahead of you that he’s thinking the same thing.

You can feel that dreadful sting in the corners of your eyes intensifying, and reflexively, you close the distance between you two, snagging him in a back hug. You deliriously rub your face into his shirt, trying to stop yourself from crying, and he arches his back in response with a little gasp, “That tickles.”

“I’m sorry Chris. I’m so so sorry.” “None of this is your fault. I wasn’t careful enough.” “You’re always careful. I saw that the restaurant was kind of full today, I shouldn’t have suggested it. I’m the one who’s not careful” “That’s enough. I said forget it.” Chris squirms around and pulls you into a proper hug, sighing into the top of your head, “Don’t you worry… about a thing… it’s going to be okay, yeah?” he inflects the statement into a question, and you think he’s trying to reassure himself more than you.

You won’t let him choose. You’re not going to let him pick between his career or you. That’s not happening. He shouldn’t have to do that. You clench your teeth and bite back the tears, willing them to stay trapped in your eyes. You’ve made your decision. You pull away from him, eyes glistening with an unmatched determination.

Chris’ face darkens at the sight, and he cups your face in his hands desperately, reading every single line of your set expression correctly. “No. I know what you’re thinking, and I’m telling you now – do not, under any fucking circumstance, think it.”

You remain silent, drowning yourself in his desperate eyes, lips frozen in a thin line. “Y/N no. Don’t.” “Want some skittles, Chris?” you nonchalantly ask, tearing your eyes away from him to stare into the contents of the bag still in your hands.

“No. No I don’t want skittles. I need you to fucking understand-” “I understand,” you interject, eyes flickering back up to him, but you figure your emotions aren’t controlled enough, and you can see the panic rise in his beautiful irises. “No you fucking don’t. I can see you fucking don’t. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll sort it out, I promise,” he insists, clutching your face just that little bit tighter. “I know you will. Now do you want some skittles or not?”

Chris glares at you, then pulls you into another rough hug, squeezing the air out of your lungs. You wish he wouldn’t. He’s making it so much harder for you to keep back the dam of tears threatening to overflow. “This- this here, in my arms right now, is my entire world. I’m not going to let anyone take that from me,” he whispers, and your heart crumbles to pieces.

Would he let you take it from him?

“Please eat some skittles. Sugar makes you feel better. Just don’t eat all of them okay?” you mumble into his shirt, and he pulls away, bitterly laughing, “Alright, give me those damn skittles.” You pass them over to him, smiling brightly. When he grins back at you, it’s like everything has fallen back into place, none of that just happened, it’s just the two of you again, the world fading into blurry insignificance around you.

You’ll miss him.

For now though, you’re going to spend as much time with him as possible. You’re contemplating the situation as you sit on your bed, Chris calling out to you from the other side of the bedroom door. “Quit being mean~ let me in.” (A/N: What happened to "spending as much time with him as possible, hm?)

You’ve been checking the internet consistently, anxiously waiting for the news of your relationship with him to be leaked. Nothing was up so far. If something does happen, then Chris will naturally fly back to Korea as originally scheduled in a few days and immediately try to sort things out with JYP. It might work out well, it might not. You know however, that if he’s ever forced to pick between his career and you, you’re not going to let him choose you. “Jagiyaaaa… baby I miss you… let me in please?”

You sigh and flop back onto your bed just as your phone pings with a notification. Your heart stops – this is it… dispatch have found out surely. The relief that floods through your veins resolves into amusement when you realise the notifications are from Chris. He’s spamming you.

(A/N: When dialogue is in script format, it's meant to represent text messages.)

Chris: “baby I’m sorry” Chris: “please let me in baby” Chris: “muffin?” Chris: “sweet pea?” Chris: “the love of my life” Chris: “beautiful cinnamon roll who’s too pure for this world”

You grin at the new endearments emerging, feeling your insides go all soft and squishy at his antics. After a moment of thought, you message him back.

You: “Sorry doesn’t bring back my fucking skittles Christopher”

You pad over to the door as Chris yells in frustration, “I didn’t mean to. You offered them to me, and you were right. Sugar does make you feel better.” As soon as you unlock the door and swing it open, Chris’ face lights up with joy. He tackles you with a hug that makes you stumble back in surprise, and you desperately fight back your grin, opting for an annoyed expression. “Don’t lock me out again like that please. You need to be by my side at all times. 24/7. That was torture.”

You snort and carefully push him off you, wandering back to the bed, “We’re literally in a long-distance relationship, how am I supposed to be with you 24/7?” Chris waddles over to you, but you frown at him and point to the floor, “Nah-uh. You sit on the floor, I’m still mad at you.” He whines and pouts at you, his eyes as wide as saucers.

You know you’ll cave if he starts acting cute with you, so you pick up your phone and busy yourself with social media. Chris plonks himself down on the floor with a sigh, his legs splayed out wide in a V-shape, “I’ll buy you more skittles.” “I wanted those ones. They were special.”

“Since when? I’ll buy you as many special skittles as you want,” he huffs, folding his arms. Over the next few minutes, you do your best to ignore his whines of distress and needy sighs, his pet names and sugary chatter. You’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye and decide to ignore the fact that he’s somehow moved a metre forward from where he originally was.

You yawn and stretch, putting your phone down to look at him properly for the first time in a while. Immediately, he stretches his arms wide and grasps rapidly at the air in front of him, asking quietly for cuddles, his legs bouncing in sync. Best leader. Five-year-old. Kangaroo. Mashed potato. You shake your head at him and give in, his adorable antics filling your heart too much. You crawl off the bed and settle into his outstretched arms, nestling your face into his neck. You place a delicate kiss there, and mumble against his skin, “If you ever, ever eat all my skittles again when I tell you not to, I will end you.”

Chris laughs and wraps his arms and legs securely around you. “You can end me whenever you want love. Just as long as it’s you doing it.” You pinch him lightly with an amused laugh, “You’re such a cheesy ass.” “Only for you~” he laughs, the vibrations from his throat rippling through you.

“Shut the fuck up, when are you going to stop saying that!” you yell, sitting up properly in his arms and trying to escape from his grip. “I’ll stop when I stop loving you. Which is never,” his grin could almost be described as sadistic as he tightens his grip on you, proving his point.

“Jesus Christ, oh my god you’re atrocious,” you grin, hiding your face with your hands in embarrassment. “Awh is my girl shy? There’s no need to hide baby, you’re adorable when you’re shy.” “Shut.” “Come on… there’s no need to hide your beautiful face,” he teases, pulling at your fingers to try and remove them.

“I said shut-” your words resolve into giggles as he begins to tickle you, your muscles tensing at his actions, “Chris- okay stop- no- hey! Stop-,” you plead, rolling around on the floor desperately. Chris places his hands on either side of your head, leaning over you, giving you time to breathe.

He shifts his weight to one of his arms and affectionately brushes your hair out of your face, “I meant what I said, yeah? I’m never going to stop loving you.” You smile and pull him down on top of you, whispering heartfelt sweet nothings into his hair.

You don’t think you ever will either. Which hurts.

It’s later on in the night and you’re typing away on your laptop, sitting cross-legged on the couch, sorting through a few financial reports and business requirements to finish up the night. Chris is also busy working, sitting by the TV with his back to the wall, his laptop charging.

“Are you sure you’re comfy down there?” you ask him swiftly, eyes refusing to leave your computer screen even when he glances up at you. “With the amount of blankets and pillows you’ve thrown at me to use, you’d think I’d be comfy enough,” he grins, shuffling around a little and arranging the pillow at his back.

“I just don’t think you should be sitting on the floor,” you roll your eyes, pausing briefly to stretch your fingers. “You made me sit on the floor before,” he teases, clicking his touch pad in quick succession.

“That’s different,” you grumble, arching your back and trying to fix your posture, “although I have to say, sometimes I think the floor is comfier,” you finish up the sentence you’re typing out, uncross your legs, and move to sit on the floor, your back resting comfortably up on the couch.

The minutes pass as you fall into silence again, the atmosphere humming with a productive energy. You were antsy earlier, fidgety, still waiting for an article, or a social media post, or anything that would begin the drastic snowball of catastrophic events. Instead of worrying Chris, you chose to occupy your mind with work. Chris picked up on your productive mood and sat down to work too, and it had been a little over 2 hours since then.

Neither of you moved from your positions, except to stretch and grab a glass of water or snack for one another. You had basically forgotten about the whole fiasco, so absorbed in your own work, that when a notification from a newsagent you’re subscribed to pops up on your screen, your heart initially leaps in excitement; your body already used to reacting this way in the hopes that it’s something to do with Stray Kids. Your mind clicks back into reality, and you stop breathing as you click on it with your mouse.

“Bang Chan of K-Pop group ‘Stray Kids’ rumoured to be dating”

The bold title leaps at you, and your eyes seem to be glued to it, rereading it over and over again. Eventually, you remember you need to breathe, and exhale as you scroll down the page. You lick your lips nervously as you skim the article and briefly assess the photos complimenting it. Overall, the both of you had done an exemplary job at keeping your face hidden. None of the photos showed more than your hair and eyes. It was so blatantly obvious that it was Chris in the photos though, which would make it hard to refute the idea that he was dating at all.

He so… clearly was. Although taken out of context, and in the incorrect sequence of events, every single picture that had Chris’ expression in it displayed genuine worry, or a fondness that couldn’t be mistaken. Fuck. You glance up at Chris, wondering if he’d seen the article yet, but he appears to be engrossed in his work, his headphones snug around his ears, biting his bottom lip in concentration.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and let out a shuddering breath, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the following days, heck, the following weeks. Maybe even months. And now, the inexplicable urge to have Chris next to you overwhelms you. You might lose him soon, and you’re busy working away? He’s right there. Metres away, and he’s not snuggling with you? How pathetic.

“You’re too far away,” you grumble, staring pointedly at him and crossing your arms. Chris glances up and pulls his headphones off, “Sorry?” “Why’re you so farrrr?” you pout, mimicking the same grabby motions he had used earlier. You stare sadly in his silence, watching the corner of his mouth twitch, “The outlet is here, and you made it so comfy.”

Internally, you curse your kindness and sniff in disappointment, turning back to your work, “Fine then, be that way.” “Don’t be so dramatic,” Chris scoffs, putting his headphones back over his ears, but his grin has finally broken through.

Just as you knew he would, after a few more minutes of silence, but little work, Chris unplugs his computer and saunters over to you, plopping down next to you with a quiet grunt. You give him a little smirk, and a classic side eye, then go back to pretending to be completely absorbed in your report.

“Shut up,” he sighs, snuggling closer so your shoulders are touching. “I didn’t say anything,” you grin, cherishing his warmth, his presence. Now your productive mood has evaporated, the event you were trying to distract yourself from having already occurred.

You put in your best effort to write another paragraph but give up halfway through and end up staring blankly at the screen, mind trying to think over how best you convince Chris to let you go. A thought crosses your mind, and you consider it wholeheartedly, directing your brain power into imagining the past two years without Chris in your life.

What if you had never accepted his request to film Skz-Code in your café? What if you had ghosted him when he messaged you? What if you hadn’t noticed him, standing on that bridge? What if you were too occupied with James? What if… no… he’d be dead.

The thought remains in the forefront of your mind, and without your knowledge, tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. Somehow, a part of you knew that you were meant to see him then. You couldn’t explain that searing pain or voice in your head, and you weren’t about to try and figure it out now. Chris has been watching you for a while now, his head turned slightly, eyes flickering from your stock-still hands to the misery in your expression.

He reaches across and gently wipes one of your tears away, making you flinch in surprise. Truthfully, he was quite comfy where he was by the outlet. He wasn’t planning on moving to sit next to you, knowing full well that he’d lose all sense of productivity by snuggling up to you. That all changed when his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see a message in the group chat consisting of only Stray Kids. Hyunjin had sent the article, and he didn’t need to click on it to know what it was about.

Hyunjin: “Chan? You know about this right?” Chris: “yeah”

Hyunjin: “what’re you going to do?”

Felix: “is Y/N okay?” Felix: “you haven’t broken up yet have you?”

His heart throbbed at the thought, and he swiftly typed out a response, trying to quell the onslaught of questions and comments of concern from them all.

Chris: “I’ll sort it out” Chris: “I’m not breaking up with her”

It clicked in his head then, why you were complaining about him being so far away, when you’d been working like this for the past 2 and a half hours perfectly fine.

“I told you to not think about that under any circumstance,” he whispers, watching as you hastily wipe your tears away. His mind is already working overtime, conjuring a risky plan. “I’m not- I wasn’t… I- did you see the article?” you murmur, trying to organise your thoughts.

“Mhm… and I’m about to do something about it,” he takes a deep breath in, closes up his production software and opens up YouTube, “You trust me, yeah?”

Your eyes widen as he begins to set up a live, and you grab his arm to stop him, “Chris you can’t. What will JYP say?” “I don’t give a damn about what he’ll say,” he scoffs, briefly checking what episode number of Chan’s Room he’s up to. It’s only Saturday, but you figure it doesn’t matter now. (A/N: Sit with it. I know Chan's Room is on hiatus shush, no need to remind me.)

“You better give a damn Christopher because your entire career is on the line right now,” you snap back, and a fizzle of fear simmers through you as Chris’ eyes flutter closed and his jaw clenches. “Do you… trust me…?” he asks again, opening his eyes to stare at you, unblinking. You gulp and slowly nod. “Pull up ‘Insomnia’ for me then babe.”

You have such a bad feeling about this.

You’re sitting in complete silence, trying to read the spam of comments on the side of his screen as Chris chats away happily, using his phone to play song requests and make recommendations of his own. The article was only recently released, but you can’t be sure of where else the photos have been leaked.

You’re about 20 minutes in when you spot the first comment asking about the photos. Chris either doesn’t see it, or intentionally ignores it, and continues asking for more song requests. 30 minutes in and the entire chat is swamped with questions about the same topic. You.

So far, Chris hasn’t spared you a glance once, knowing full well that his fans would ask about who he was looking at. This time however, he turns towards you, asking you a silent question, having finally reached the point of no return, his whole reasoning for starting the live finally occurring. You gulp and quietly nod again, leaning back to grab a pillow from the couch and tuck it protectively in front of you. Chris glances briefly back to the comments, searching for one he can work with.

“Ah! Where am I?” he pipes, looking around the room as though trying to figure that out himself, “I am… on a brief vacation…” he pauses to read the comments again, engaging with the audience professionally.

“No no, not in a hotel- I mean… um…” he sighs and rubs his face, and suddenly you don’t know how you feel about how easy it is for him to act, “I’m… um… I’m actually at my girlfriend’s house?” he grins sheepishly, a squeaky laugh escaping. The chat explodes with a new wave of comments.

“Yeah so you all saw the photos right? I was um… a little sad to see them, because Stays have always been… you know, respectful. But yeah, I am dating her.” If the comments were projected in actual voices, your head would have combusted. There are so many, and majority of them are in capitals, and you’re struggling to comprehend even only a single one.

Chris, used to this, reads one out loud for the benefit of his viewers. “Is she with me? Yeah, well yeah, I am um… in her house,” he laughs, adjusting the computer a little on his lap, “You want to meet her? Ooh I don’t know, I think we’d have to ask her.”

He looks at you, his eyes wide, and you smile in encouragement, but internally you’re a panicked disaster. “Oh-kay, hang on guys,” Chris announces, sitting up so he can push his computer further away along the floor. When he returns to your side, you’re now visible in the screen, eyes paralysed with fear, half hiding behind a couch pillow.

Chris props his elbow up on the couch, resting his head on his hand, the other resting comfortably on your thigh, squeezing it in encouragement. You wave shyly at the camera, offer a small smile, and try to burrow yourself further into the pillow. “Jagi… it’s okay, you don’t have to read the comments, Stay just wants to meet you.”

You take a deep breath, briefly glance at Chris, who’s smiling comfortingly, and slowly lower the pillow. “Hi Stay. Do I need to tell them my name?” you inquisitively ask, and Chris shakes his head, “Only if you want to.”

You consider it, then decide not to, “Yeah. Hi. I am… Bang Chan’s girlfriend. I promise I’m looking after him, don’t worry.” Chris’ grin widens, and he reaches over to pull you into his arms. You wriggle to get comfortable, trying to think of what to say.

“Uh… like Chan said earlier, he is… at my house- how in the world do you do this every single week? I can’t think of anything to say,” you start, turning to look at Chris. He smiles and pecks your forehead, causing you to jerk back in surprise. “It takes a while to get the hang of it,” his eyes briefly flicker down to your lips, and you scramble out from his hold and onto the couch behind him.

“I think I need the comments to rebound off, but I also… don’t want to read them,” you stammer. Chris is grinning cheekily at the computer screen, and his hands reach up behind him, using the camera to locate you, and tugs your legs around his shoulders, so his head is now in between your knees.

“You see what I have to deal with Stay?” you chide, trying to extricate yourself from him, embarrassed at how intimate he’s being on live. “But I’ve never seen you this nervous before, it’s so cute,” he laughs. You grab the nearest couch cushion and whack him on the head with it, making him laugh even harder.

“Okay, okay. I’ll read the comments for you,” Chris gasps, crawling towards the computer to lay on his stomach. “How did we meet? Oi babe, do you wanna explain this?” he asks, twisting to look back at you slightly, his eyebrow raised.

“Oh um, I don’t know. You were at my café?” you shrug. “You make it sound so unromantic,” he grimaces, turning back to the computer screen. “Well it wasn’t really,” you frown, hopping off the couch to lie down beside him.

“Okay, I’ll tell them how we met then,” he grins, and you stare at him, wondering what kind of fabricated story he’s going to garble now. There’s no way he’s going to mention how he almost launched himself off a bridge and you stopped him. “She saw me outside her café and I looked a little lost, so she asked if I needed help and she was so respectful and nice, offered me a croissant and drink for the road, and I was down bad.”

You roll your eyes at him and place your chin in your hands to read some comments. Surprisingly, there were more positive comments than negative, although the negative ones still made your stomach churn. Perhaps that one edit was right, Stay’s wouldn’t care if the Skz-Members started dating, they’d just be happy the members were getting bitches at all.

For a while, the pair of you take turns rebounding stories of your relationship, switching positions to the couch, to the floor to standing up and stretching frequently. Chris occasionally transitions into Korean, catering for his target audience’s needs, but he still translates for you, chuckling about how he should speak it more often at home so you can learn some too.

You’re asked how well you know the Stray Kids members, and a whole bunch of other questions that you ignore. You do your best to ignore the negative comments too, but they’re starting to get to you a little, and at some point the negative comments definitely outweigh the positive.

Chris pauses in the middle of trying to explain the context for the photos taken today, his eyes caught on a particular comment. He pushes himself up and reaches for the computer, scrolling back through the chat to locate it. As soon as he finds it, his expression goes resolute, and a little gasp escapes your mouth.

Go kill yourself.

You know with your whole heart that it’s directed towards you, but it doesn’t bother you as much as it should. Instead, the phrase stirs memories in your mind, positive you’ve heard it before. And of course you have, in your mind, the first time you saw Chris. You turn to try and read his expression, but it’s gone blank, his eyes void of emotion. “Chan,” he doesn’t move at all, his eyes still locked on the comment, “Chris. Baby.”

You nudge him slightly, but it’s like his soul has completely left his body. He’s not even here anymore. “Jagi. Babe. Channie,” you wriggle closer to him and whisper in his ear, “Christopher.”

He inhales sharply and turns to you, eyes foggy with confusion. “Are you okay?” you quietly ask him, reaching over to rub his back comfortingly. “Are you? We can stop if you want,” he pushes himself up into a seated position and crawls over to lean back on the couch. You follow, snuggling up to him, a dawning realisation emerging from the depths of who knows where, “I’m fine.”

It should have been obvious. It should have been painfully obvious. That voice was him right. On that day. He had seen a comment just like this one in a live. And that’s what he was doing on that bridge. Chris falls silent for the rest of the live, and you try your best to talk your way through it, drawing the computer closer to you after a while so you don’t have to lean forward to read the comments.

You yawn and check the time via the clock on the wall. It’s almost 12am. You peek at Chris, trying to signify that he should probably end the live, but his eyes are drifting shut, and his breathing has grown heavy. “Yeah so… thank you Stays, for giving me the opportunity to meet you all.”

Chris’ head suddenly droops onto your shoulder, and you glance at him again, a small smile forming on your face, before you return to address the live.

“I hope… I hope you’ll all be supportive… of Chris and I… he means the world to me… and that might not mean much to you, because he definitely means the world to a lot of you as well,” you find yourself stroking the curls off his forehead, and in his semi-conscious state, he snuggles even closer, his lips forming words that are only just barely audible, “I love you.”

You turn back to the live, eyes wide in disbelief, wondering if he was loud enough for the live. Clearly he was, the chat has fallen apart again. You chuckle and kiss his head gently, “I love you too Chris.”

Later on, he wakes to a stiffness in his neck and back, his head still resting on your shoulder. He winces and sits up, eyeing your sleeping posture with your head resting up against the couch, his computer sitting in your lap.

“You should have woken me up…” he mumbles quietly, knowing full well that you could not hear a word, “I love you jagi… more than you know…” Chris sighs and shuffles over to you, sliding his laptop onto the floor. Carefully, he tucks a gentle hand around the back of your neck, supporting your head, the other in the crook of your knees. As quietly as he can, he hoists you up into his arms and steadily walks over to your bedroom.

He stumbles a bit as he tries to lay you down, and you stir slightly. Eventually, he manages to pull the covers over you, and he tucks you in neatly. You groan and mumble something incoherent, and he waits with bated breath, wondering if you’re going to wake up.

“I… could beat the shit out of you…” you murmur, and Chris allows himself a smile. He bends down and kisses you softly, his heart aching with all the words he wishes he could say, all the love he wishes he could give. “You absolutely could… and the insane thing is… I would let you…” he softly whispers, then leaves your side to turn off the lights around the apartment.

He scoops up your laptop and his, puts them both on charge in the office and then goes on the hunt for his phone. He finds it not too far away from where your laptops were abandoned, and as soon as he clicks the screen to check for notifications, his heart sinks into his stomach, settling uncomfortably there at the sight of the messages.

He chooses to open the group chat first, smiling slightly at their words of encouragement. They were watching the live earlier, and continuing to tease him even through messages, providing running commentary.

The latest messages, however, make him hate his career for a second. Only for a second.

Jeongin: “the managers are saying you need to come back” Jeongin: “now…” Jeongin: “I think they’ve booked a flight for you”

Chris sighs and opens up the message from one of his managers. Sure enough, there’s a passive-aggressive request for him to return to Korea, a flight ticket attached. He clicks it to check the time of departure, and seethes when he realises the flight is in 2 hours. Jeongin wasn’t kidding when he said ‘now’.

He takes a moment to compose himself, already trying to work through his argument in his head, and starts to gather his belongings, turning on the lights again. They’re strewn out everywhere; wallet on the bench, clothes folded on the couch, composing gear in the studio, paperwork in the office. He rubs his face vigorously in his hands as he tries to fit them all nicely into his suitcase and travel bags.

“Chris…?” you yawn, head peeking tiredly out of your room. His heart cracks as he looks up at your drowsy state, unsure about how he should tell you he had to leave. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he sighs, standing up gingerly, his knees cracking, “try and go back to sleep, I’ll wake you up later.”

He gulps as you take in his gathered belongings, but your dazed expression doesn’t change. “You weren’t planning on leaving without saying goodbye were you?” you mumble, walking over with a stretch and hugging him with a squeeze. Chris’ breath catches in his throat, and he wraps his arms securely around you. If only he could freeze time.

“I’d never do that to you, I just didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighs, swaying the pair of you gently. “What time’s your flight?” you pull away from him with wide eyes, fully awake now. Chris’ jaw clenches, and he pulls out his phone to check the current time. “In one and a half hours.” “They couldn’t have given you more time?” you grimace, stepping away from him to pick up his possessions and start packing.

“Apparently not.” After a minute of watching your silent movements, he goes back to packing, heart simultaneously swelling and shattering. He knows you’re thrown off by his sudden departure, a few days earlier than scheduled. He can tell by the way you zone out frequently as you pass him his clothes. He can tell by the way you stare absently at his laptop. He can tell by your carefully controlled expression, displaying no sadness, but a forced strength.

Chris doesn’t have to take everything that belongs to him. He returns as often as he can, so by this point he has his own toiletries here, his own drawer of clothes, his favourite snacks and drinks in the kitchen. He just wishes he didn’t have to leave his favourite belonging. You.

After another 15 minutes, he’s fully packed and he’s sitting on the couch with you tucked safely in his arms, basking in your warmth, but a little terrified in the fragility of the silence. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” You nod, knowing ‘as soon’ could mean anything from two weeks to six months. “Don’t worry about anything okay? I promise… everything will be okay. JYP can’t do anything to my career, he needs me – and I’m going to use that as leverage.”

You nod again, mind on a completely different train of thought. “I’m not going to lose you, I swear. I’m never going to let you go.” He takes his words quite literally this time.

He almost missed his flight.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> PART 6　 -> Masterlist

A/N: Yay…? Milestone Event 5 Check…?

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read… - Kaisowoo

#bang chan fluff #bang chan fanfic #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan #christopher chan #christopher chan bang #stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfic #thiswasfunandpainfultowrite #stray kids x reader

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 1 month ago

Note

Hi Cal!! I hope you’re having a nice week!

First of all, I’m so glad that you enjoy my submissions - I’m really happy that I can pay forward even just a little bit of the happiness that your writing brings me! Second, major props on finishing Any Other Way! The ending was absolutely fabulous, just so sweet and exactly what they deserve. I remember when you started it and have really enjoyed reading it! It’s truly a masterpiece of characterization. I love these versions of Buck and Eddie and I’m sorry to see them go (but mostly just happy that they exist)

The first theme for this week is “child-incoming” fics! Very excited to have my heart stolen by all these fictional kids!

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞 (not sorry to see Tommy go but very excited to get to know Dove! This is such a fun twist on the ‘single-father Buck’ trope and I can’t wait to see where you take it!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (omg how did you manage to level up tsunami angst?!?! I’m living for it!!)

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ (TWATYTK my beloved!!! Chris feeling insecure about his place in Buck’s life! Buck promising that Chris will always be his first kid! That’s that good stuff I love!)

- PCA <3

HEY!!! I do enjoy them so much!!! And thank you!!! I am so glad you enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun spending so much time in that world.

LOL child incoming! So true. Didn't even realize I had three of those.

63 for 🪞 (Yay! Glad you're excited to get to know Dove!)"

---

Just… Buck finds himself on a bit of a learning curve. He tries to remind himself that’s to be expected. Every new parent finds themselves a little out of their element, right? It’s not just because she’s already six and he doesn’t know her and she literally won’t ask for anything ever. Like even her most basic needs.

At first he doesn’t notice. Of course he doesn’t. That seems to be the whole point of whatever she’s doing.

It starts when his alarm goes off after her first night home with him. Seven in the morning. A reasonable time to start the day, he figured. He’d not expected to get a full night’s sleep, but somehow he did. Hen and Karen had warned him about it. The rough first few transitional nights with many of their foster places. So Buck had been ready to be woken several times by movement or her calling out or any sort of thing. He’s used to sudden wake up calls. He’s a firefighter. But when his alarm goes off, he’s well rested. Uninterrupted.

He gets up to check on Dove. Pads down the hallway quietly, so as not to wake her. The door is left open a crack from when she went to sleep. When Buck peers in the room, he finds that she’s sitting up in bed, covers hugged around her, hugging her stuffed crocodile and staring at the wall. Wide awake. There’s a disconcerted expression on her face.

“Hey, kiddo,” Buck says gently, knocking softly on the door. “How long have you been awake?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Fair. There isn’t a clock in her room. Maybe he should get one? Can she tell time? He doesn’t actually know. Why didn’t he ask Angie?

“Okay, well,” Buck says. “You can wake me up in the mornings if you need anything. Even if it’s really early.”

She nods. “Okay.”

Buck doesn’t think much of the interaction at first. Assumes maybe there was a rule in the group home. He doesn’t know. So he brushes it off. But then it keeps happening.

If he doesn’t offer her drinks and snacks, she never mentions that she’s hungry or thirsty. At one point, she’s licking her lips to wet them before he notices. And he feels like a complete idiot. Like he should be checking in way more. Or way more attuned to her needs. He would know the signs better, if this was Jee or Chris, wouldn’t he?

Later, he takes her to the park nearest the house. He wants to show her that they can have fun. That he wants to be involved. At first, it goes well. They have fun. She likes the swings and the teeter totter. After a while, she starts to get quiet. A little irritable. Buck tries to find out what’s wrong, but before he can, she has an accident. Pees herself, right there. Turns out she’d desperately had to go, but wouldn’t tell him. Buck is at a total loss.

That’s the only accident she has, but the next two days are marked by similar behavior.

---

27 for 🔼:

---

He’s in the water. He’s moving. He’s tumbling. He can’t tell which way is up. He’s desperate for air. Things are smacking him as he’s sent careening away from the Panda Express. Away from Shannon and Christopher.

The thing is, he’s probably going to die. Drowning. Head trauma. Bleeding out. Maybe he’ll be crushed by a vehicle in the water. There are lots of ways this could go badly.

And honestly, he keeps waiting for it. Not in an anticipatory way. He doesn’t want it. But something tells him, this is it. He survived the truck bombing and the embolism for this reason. He did what he needed to do. He did what was important. And now he’s going to die.

But then he just doesn’t. He keeps surviving. It keeps going. Until his lungs are burning and his head is throbbing and the salt in his eyes has temporarily marred his vision. Until he is desperate for relief. Woozy and senseless.

---

63 for ⚡️:

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Well, Buck thinks it’s a little more complicated than that.

“I don’t know,” Buck says. “I’m not close with my parents just because they’re my parents. You and I, we’re not related, but you’re my family in more ways than they ever have been. And that’s about how much we love each other, right? That’s a choice.”

Christopher thinks about that for a minute.

“I didn’t think about your parents,” he admits.

Buck nods. “Yeah, so it’s different for me, you know? I always had my sister, but other than that… I mean, Bobby’s the first person who made me feel like I had a parent that loved me. And we aren’t related at all.”

“And you were like already old when you met him,” Chris observes.

“Okay, I was twenty-six. I’m not even old yet, now!”

Chris laughs a little. And Buck knows their talk is working. Thank fuck.

“But the point is,” Buck continues. “Doesn’t matter when we met. Doesn’t matter what our DNA might look like. And it doesn’t matter who else I get to love in my life. You’re my kid, okay?”

“Okay,” Christopher says. Then he turns and hugs Buck back.

Buck squeezes him tight.

“I love you so much,” Buck tells him.

“I love you, too,” Chris says. “We can go home now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Buck says. “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too,” Chris says. “I feel better.”

“I’m glad,” Buck says. “You want to stop for milkshakes on the way home?”

“Yes!” Chris exclaims. “Thank you!”

It’s not until they’re in the truck headed back, each with their own milkshake in hand, that Buck thinks of what Eddie said on their honeymoon. About talking to Bobby.

It hadn’t seemed pressing, is the thing. It had felt like Eddie was being a little unnecessarily pushy. Buck had promised to consider it, as a term of naming any future son of theirs Robert, but that was it. He hadn’t seen the urgency. But maybe… Well, this whole thing with Christopher has reframed his perspective. Maybe there is harm in leaving this unsaid. Especially if Buck’s main motivator in doing so is fear of rejection.

Maybe Buck needs to think about this some more.

Maybe Eddie was right. Damn. He’s definitely going to gloat.

☆☆☆

Eddie gets home before sunrise. Which isn’t hard exactly, in January.

He’s tired, sore from a shift with an unexpected amount of heavy lifting, and disappointed to have missed the sort of final moment of moving. He thinks he’ll go back to the old house one last time before it’s no longer theirs. Just to say goodbye. After all, so many big parts of his life happened there. He feels like he owes it more than that. Weird as that is to say about an inanimate structure.

#daisies and briars writes #we won't look back fic #buddie shannon throuple fic #things we're all too young to know fic

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cryptids-streaming · 10 months ago

Text

welp

(Disclaimer- this was just an idea I had that I wanted to whip up. And I haven't wrote a thing in years. So this is probably horrible, lol! But this is a fiction, a Y/N x orc fiction that I have had simmering in the back of my mind a while. I may add more or who knows. Depends on if anyone is wanting more ^^.)

The frosty air of mid-winter was sharp and bitter, but not as bitter as my heart. Nor as sharp or rough as the ropes that bound my hands behind my back. “Stand! Do not try anything. It would be a waste of your life.”, a gruff, gravelly voice sliced through my thoughts. I stared at the snow, sitting upon my knees without moving. “Up. Now. There will be no further warning.”, the voice said. I lifted my head, my gaze sliding upward from his boots to his face. He was tall and built like a stone wall. I'd have better chances of fighting an actual wall than this warrior. He narrowed his amber eyes, studying me just as intently. We sized each other up. As he laid his hand to causally rest upon his weapon, I finally moved. Standing up, I glared at the orc. My captor. “There is no sense in me asking where you are taking me, is there?”, I asked, my voice soft. He grunted, then stepped toward me as if to force me to start walking.

“No need. I will follow. I highly doubt I'd get far should I attempt to run, all things considered.”, I turned away to dodge his grasp. Our eyes locked. Finally, he nodded, making a gesture with his hand for me to come along. Noting that his other hand still rested on the handle of his weapon, my steps quickened until I was walking alongside him. “You speak the Shared Tongue.”, I murmured, glancing up at him as we walked through their encampment. I hadn't expected it, but I was grateful for that fact I could talk to someone. “Silence.” I rolled my eyes at his short answer. Deciding that any attempts at conversation was going to yield little in the way of response, I shut my mouth. My eyes scanned the organized rows and formations of the thick-walled tents. There were various tasks being done around the encampment, and the stares thrown my way didn't escape my notice. I felt my skin crawl, as the further we walked the more it dawned on me that I was truly stuck. Caught, with my fate in the hands of strangers.

Wind blew past us, it's howling creating an eerie ambient in the trees that shielded the encampment. I shivered, looking down at the ground. My ears locked onto the sound of his footsteps and mine crunching softly in the snow. 'I don't know what to do. If I run, I will likely die. If I stay...I could still end up dead...' There would be a certain idiotic bravery to attempting to run. Short lived idiotic bravery. Some would call it cowardice. 'I'd call it staying alive...' There was nothing telling me that I would be killed if I stayed, and continued to obey like a trained dog, though. 'There is simply no telling. Unfortunately, even if I ran.....their damn wargs would have me in an instant. Maybe waiting to see what happens would be the best option.'

A voice carrying on the wind arrested my attention. I looked up, peering around my escort. A group of orcs and a male harpy were standing around near a tent, urgently discussing something. It was an unusual sight, several orc warriors and a tall harpy in what seemed to be a heated debate. My heart raced as the sight of white and black speckled plumage fully registered. 'It can't be...It is!' Without thinking, I rushed forward, ducking out of reach of the warrior that I'd been following. “Kili!”, I shouted. The harpy turned his head sharply toward me, surprise and confusion on his face as he finally spotted me running toward him. I continued my mad dash towards my friend, only to yelp in surprise when I was lifted off my feet. “Hey!”, I shouted, looking back at the orc I had darted away from.

Kili and the group of warriors were all watching the scene unfold. I kicked my legs in the air, protesting, as I was unceremoniously tossed over the first orc's shoulders. “HEY! Do I look like a sack of potatoes to you?! Put me down!”, I demanded. “If you run like that again-”, he began, slowly setting me back down. “Yeah, yeah – you'll feed me to a warg or whatever.”, I glared at him. At this point, Kili had joined us, leaving the conversation he'd been a part of. “Kili!”, I felt relief flood through me. Kili tilted his head, then looked up at the warrior behind me. “Hakak?”, he eyed the orc, clearly waiting for some sort of explanation. Hakak sighed heavily, as if he was already tired of dealing with the harpy and I both. “We found her chained up to the axle of a cart, toward Val'k lake. You know this..woman?”, the orc asked. Kili nodded his head slowly, “I do. But...what confuses me, is that I left her two weeks ago in--” I broke in, “Anyway, he and I know each other. He saved my life once. He knows me!” Both men narrowed their eyes at me for different reasons. “Ul kri-krisur wanavuk avo avalk lav-li.”, Hakak paused and glanced down at me, then back at Kili. I frowned, “Kili? The hell did he just say?”

Not being able to speak a lick of orcish put me at a disadvantage, to say the least. Kili made a face. “I see. Afterwards, may I talk with her?” My frown deepened. “Hey, feathers, don't ignore me.”, I hissed. 'Why is Kili acting so weird?' Kili shook his head once at me. “Y/N, it's fine. And for the love of the nine realms, don't do anything rash.” Hakak shifted his weight, seemingly impatient to get going. “We'll see.”, the orc finally said. Kili bit his lip, his talons flexing in the snow. “Very well.”, Kili said, his tone neutral. I watched in disbelief as Kili gave me a small smile and stepped aside. Hakak urged me forward, and I turned my head to stare back at the harpy. Kili quickly mouthed, gesturing with his wings, 'Just calm down.'

To keep from tripping, I was forced to look ahead again. Hakak led me past the group of warriors that Kili had been talking with and into a tent. He said something in orcish, and then another deep voice responded. Frustration boiled up inside of me, but I held my peace as I was ushered unceremoniously into the tent. Hakak stood to the side, leaving me to stand awkwardly near the center of the tent. My eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the tent and I frowned. Another orc was standing on the other side of a table, his arms folded over his broad chest. His dark hair was braided in multiple different braids, and his amber-colored eyes were boring into mine. He had a smaller, fresher nick along his chin. There were three risen scars that ran horizontally across his right cheek, and a smaller one that ran vertically over the right side of his bottom lip, just past the tusk on that side. My gaze wandered. There were a lot of scars, a lot of reminders of past battles; at certain points under his collar and armor, I could make out glimpses of what looked to be markings of ink. I tilted my head. He suddenly cleared his throat, making me jump.

“Are you finished?”, he asked, smirking. Despite my best effort to hide it, I still felt heat creep along my face. I barely dared to breathe, staring hard at the floor of the tent as if it was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. “Hakak told me he found you. At the lake, chained up underneath a wooden cart. Yet, there were no other humans around. Care to explain?”, He prompted, absentmindedly scratching his beard. “Well...there's not much to tell. I..uh..ran a fowl of some men at a...tavern.”, I stammered. He leaned forward over the table, his large hands laying flat against the wooden surface. “Try again.”, he said in a low tone. I could feel his eyes on me. 'Crap.' It hadn't been a well thought out lie, considering the nearest human settlement was located more than two weeks away. “I fail to see how anything about me is any of your concern. Just who are you, anyway?”, I shot back with sudden bravery, drawing myself up as much as my height would allow.

He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in the sound. “I'd say it's my concern.”, he lifted his right hand and flicked his fingers toward him in a 'hurry-up, come on' sort of gesture. “You didn't tell me who you are.”, I reminded, allowing my embarrassment over being caught staring to turn into defiance. “Considering you still have your tongue, I suggest you use it wisely...before that changes.” My chest tightened, my hands balling into fists behind my back. The ropes that bound them still remained immovable. “Fine. I wasn't lying about running afoul of someone...”, I paused. “Look, I really can't....”, I tried again. My shoulders sagged as I sighed, closing my eyes. There was the sound of movement and I hurriedly looked up. He was about to walk around the table, only stopping when our eyes met. “Okay! Okay...I am Y/N, the daughter of Lord Vyn Prudvaelk. I...ran away from home a few years back. And apparently, my father is still looking to get his grubby hands on me. A few of his men caught word of where I'd been, and caught up to me in Oldroll, that settlement that's a few weeks ride away from Val'k Lake. It led to a chase and they caught up to me.”

I clamped my mouth shut, hating to admit a single word of this to anyone. “Ah, I have heard of you. You're the one Kili has mentioned to me before.”, the orc murmured as if to himself, looking lost in thought. Surprised, I stared at him again. 'Kili has mentioned me to him? Why?' I wanted to ask, but wasn't in a rush to break the silence. It provided me with an opportunity to gather my own thoughts. “Kili told me a while back about a friend of his that was on the run, and who may prove to be useful.” 'Me? Useful? To them? How?', I wondered. All of this felt too convenient, or maybe I was too suspicious toward strangers. “I am aware you must have many questions. Namely, who I am, and what is going to happen to you.”,he finally said. Now we were getting somewhere.

He leaned against one of the wooden, load-baring posts of the tent. It caused the walls to move a bit, but they held. “Yeah. For starters, anyway.”, I admitted. “I am Mokoa. Chieftain of this clan.” My jaw slackened, but if he noted my surprise he didn't say a word. 'Ah, crap. Not him!' Backing up until I hit the farthest wall of the tent, I kept my eyes pinned on him. Now it made sense. 'Kili! You dumb-ass!' “Then you know all too well who my father is.”, I hissed, my eyes narrowing in accusation. Mokoa lifted his hands, “Calm down. We can still talk this though like adults.” “Fuck that!”, I shouted, turning and bolting for the exit of the tent. With startling agility, the Chieftain vaulted over the desk, reaching the exit a fraction of a second before me. His solid frame blocking my escape. “That is the opposite of what I just suggested, Y/N.”, Mokoa said, peering down at me.

“You slaughtered his men at Revalti Pass...you and my father have been butting heads for years.”, I breathed. “There is more to it than that, don't insult either of our intellects. We both know things aren't that black and white.” My breathing amped up as I glared at him. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you were aware of only half the story?”, his voice held an edge to it. I opened my mouth, then promptly shut it again. I took several steps back, putting space between us. “Yes, I am aware that each story has it's sides.”, I said softly. Silence. Mokoa sighed heavily, hands on his hips. “For now, we need to discuss what to do with you.” My head jerked up, my brow furrowing as I tried to decipher what he was thinking.

“We could kill you.”, he suddenly said, tapping his chin as if considering it. My face went blank as I stared at him owlishly. Mokoa laughed, a deep, rich sound. “Gods, you are easy to mess with. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't waste my breath talking to you.” “You talk a lot.”, I muttered, “If you aren't going to kill me, then can I leave?” He grinned down at me, “What do you think?” My heart stopped in my chest, plummeting into my stomach. “You can't keep me here! On what grounds?”, I demanded, my hoarse. His grin disappeared as quickly as it appeared. “For the simple fact that your father is Lord Vyn Prudvaelk. Seeing as how you've ran away from home to begin with, though, that shouldn't bother you. However, it does provide me with some leverage.” 'Was that what he meant...what Kili meant...when they said I could prove to be useful to them?!' I ground my teeth, shaking with anger as I digested the situation.

“Your reason for wanting to keep me here is because you want to use me as a hostage?”, I seethed. “If necessary.”, he nodded his head. I tried to break free from the rope that held my hands together, grunting and huffing as all my efforts proved fruitless. Mokoa reached out, grasping my shoulder and spinning around. “Hey! What-”. My eyes widened as he unsheathed a knife from it's place on his belt. Giving me a look, he held my shoulder firmly as he sliced through the rope. Once he let go of my shoulder, I whirled around to face him. Mokoa put the knife away, lifting a brow. “Why?”, I asked. “Because watching you flop around like a fish was pathetic.”, he said dryly.

The more time I spent around him, the more I decided I hated him. “This doesn't make sense...there was no way for you to even know that I'd be in this region, let alone at that lake.”, I said, rubbing my wrists where the rope had dug into my skin. “At least, we knew you were at Oldroll. You can thank Kili for that.” “Fuck him, and fuck you.”, I said. 'I can't believe Kili would do such a thing. It doesn't sound like him. Unless, I didn't know him at all to begin with..' Was our entire friendship a lie? The Chief let out a breath, “He had his reasons. I have mine. Truth be told, we were just going to ask you and avoid going down this path.” “What, and you think that I would have just agreed to help you or be bait or something?”, my head shook in disbelief at what I was hearing.

“Go with whatever one makes you happier. There's no love lost between you and your father.”, Mokoa shrugged his shoulders. “So that magically makes it fine to use me? Is that it?”, I tossed my hands in the air and let them fall back to my sides. He ran his hand down his beard, looking as frustrated as I felt. “No. I had hoped to work with you as an ally. But it's increasingly clear that the ship has sailed on that option.” “You're damned right about that.”, I growled. Mokoa stepped to the side, allowing me access to the tent's exit. “You're not leaving the encampment. That's not happening. You try to run, and we'll hunt you down.”, he muttered, grabbing me by the upper arm as I was leaving. “Let go of me.”, I said, my voice steely. Mokoa's eyes flashed, but he slowly relinquished his grip on me. Holding open the flap of the tent, he addressed Hakak, who had been waiting nearby. “If she runs..”, Mokoa began. Hakak nodded, “Understood.”

I rolled my eyes, brushing past the Chief. I began walking away, Hakak not far behind. Kili looked up from where he had been sitting, still talking with the warriors from before. He made to move, as if he was going to get up to come talk to me. I pointed at him across the space between us, “Not now!” Kili hesitated, then wordlessly sat back down. His feathers poofed up, looking a bit ashamed and irritated. I didn't know where I was going, but anywhere would be fine as long as I could have a few minutes to think.

........

(And that's where I will leave it for now! I have no clue what I'm doing, but that's part of the fun. My writings I don't ever plan to have N$FW, but that can change. This blog is 18+, however, if I ever decide to delve into adult or darker topics, I will tag them. If I do, and forget a tag, just let me know so I can add it. I want everyone safe! And because this blog is 18+, my writing is for adult audiences regardless of N$FW scenes or not. Thank you. You are responsible for your online experience beyond that.)

#cryptid 4198 70 #exophilia #monster lover #tetrophilia #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #orc x reader #orc x y/n #original fiction #original character #tw: swearing

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