#this wasn’t meant to be so long but I have feelings

[cutielando]

family anew | lando norris

synopsis: in which you're not used to having a happy family, but Lando changes that for you

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

You had never really been one for family gatherings. Not because you didn’t like them, but because, well, you didn’t have the kind that people looked forward to.

Your relationship with your own family had been distant for as long as you could remember. Calls went unanswered, messages ignored, and when you did see them, the conversations were clipped and awkward, as if you were more of a familiar acquaintance than blood.

So when Lando invited you to meet his family, you hesitated.

“They really want to meet you,” he had said, excitement shining in his blue eyes.

He was lying next to you on the couch, fingers lazily playing with yours. “Mum’s already planning what to cook, and I’m pretty sure my sisters are going to bombard you with questions.”

You forced a smile, nodding, but your stomach twisted with unease. Meeting his family meant stepping into something unfamiliar—warmth, closeness, genuine care. It wasn’t something you were used to.

Lando seemed to notice your hesitation because his grip on your hand tightened.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you admitted, looking down. “I just… I don’t know if I’ll fit in.”

Lando’s brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated before saying,

“I’m just not used to that kind of family dynamic. My family isn’t exactly close.”

His expression softened even more.

“Then let mine be your family too.”

♡♡♡♡♡

Lando’s childhood home was nothing short of stunning, but it wasn’t the size or the decor that caught your attention—it was the warmth. The second you stepped inside, you were enveloped in it, an energy so foreign yet comforting that it nearly took your breath away.

His mother, Cisca, was the first to greet you, pulling you into a hug before you could even process it.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. “Lando never stops talking about you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you laughed softly, casting a glance at Lando, who merely grinned.

“It’s really nice to meet you too.”

His sisters, Flo and Cisca, were next, their enthusiasm making your nerves both spike and settle at the same time.

“So you’re the one stealing all of Lando’s attention,” Flo teased, elbowing him.

Cisca grinned. “Finally! Someone to keep him in check.”

Lando rolled his eyes, muttering, “Oh God, here we go.”

You expected to feel out of place. Instead, you found yourself laughing, being pulled into conversations, and feeling something you couldn’t quite name.

Belonging.

♡♡♡♡♡

Dinner was a lively affair. The table was filled with home-cooked food, and the conversation flowed with ease. Lando’s family wasn’t just close—they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. They told stories, teased one another, and included you in every bit of it.

“Lando was the clumsiest kid,” his mother was saying, eyes alight with amusement. “I swear, he ran into walls more times than I can count.”

“Mum,” Lando groaned, covering his face as his sisters burst into laughter.

Cisca grinned.

“Oh, don’t act embarrassed. You haven’t changed that much.”

You giggled, nudging him.

“That explains a lot, actually.”

Lando shot you a betrayed look, but you could see the happiness in his eyes. He wanted you to be part of this.

You wanted that too.

After dinner, you helped clear the table despite Cisca’s protests that you were a guest. Lando watched you from the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips as you chatted with his sisters while washing dishes.

“You fit right in,” he whispered later when he pulled you aside.

You wanted to believe that.

♡♡♡♡♡

Later that night, you found yourself in the living room, sitting beside Lando’s mother while she flipped through old photo albums. The stories she told filled in gaps you hadn’t realized existed, painting a picture of a childhood so vastly different from your own.

There were birthday parties filled with laughter, summer vacations spent together, Christmas mornings where the entire family piled onto the couch in matching pajamas.

Your fingers grazed a photo of Lando as a child, grinning wildly with a missing front tooth. He looked so happy.

“You didn’t grow up like this, did you?” Cisca asked gently, as if she already knew the answer.

You swallowed. “No.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand.

“Families aren’t just the ones we’re born into. Sometimes, we find them in places we least expect.”

Your eyes stung. No one had ever told you that before.

♡♡♡♡♡

It wasn’t until later that night that Lando found you outside on the patio, staring up at the sky, deep in thought. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Alright, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You sighed, leaning into his warmth.

“I just… It’s so different from what I’m used to. Your family, they love each other so much. It’s… It’s amazing.”

He turned you around gently so you were facing him.

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice quiet. “It’s just hard to accept that kind of love when you’ve never had it.”

Lando cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“You deserve it. Every bit of it.”

Your throat tightened. “But what if I don’t fit in?”

He shook his head. “You already do. My mum loves you, my sisters adore you, and I—” He hesitated for a moment before smiling softly. “I love you.”

Your heart stilled. “You do?”

“I do.” His voice was steady, sure. “And love isn’t something you have to earn, alright? It’s given. Freely. You don’t have to be used to it—you just have to let yourself feel it.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but for the first time in a long time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from something lighter, something warmer.

Maybe love wasn’t something you had to be afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, home wasn’t a place.

Maybe home was a person.

And maybe, just maybe, your home had curly hair, blue eyes, and a heart big enough to hold all the love you had been missing.

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Closer To The Edge

► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - sexworker!Wooyoung x fashiondesigner!reader ◄ ► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - slow burn, eat the rich, Wooyoung really dislikes wealthy people, heavy angst, slice of life, emotionally heavy, existential crisis, reader! is desperate and lonely, eventual smut (more lovemaking than anything really), star-crossed lovers, eventual reunion, open/ambiguous but happy ending ◄ ► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-18+ so MDNI!!! depression, connotations and talks of self-harm (not described, but be warned!), sex work/prostitution (consensual and not forced, but I just thought I’d put it here just in case), smut, lots of kissing, fingering, cowgirl, cumshot, no protection (do not do this!) ◄ ► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 26.5K words ◄ ► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - You've always led a very lonely and unfulfilled life where you were always alone. This isolation gets worse when you were sent into a remote office branch temporarily for a project. It wasn't until you met Jung Wooyoung, who you didn't know at first was a sex worker, and your fleeting encounter with him that changed the trajectory of your life and your views forever. It all starts when he found you one night on a rooftop. ◄ ► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - I haven't written Wooyoung in a while, and I also haven't written anything simple, but extremely angsty, in a hot minute, as well. I figured I'd combine them both here. Personally cried while writing this. Enjoy! Title from 30 Seconds To Mars.◄ ► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @mallielovssyou ◄

You didn’t choose to live like this, didn’t choose to lead the melancholic and mundane life where you were all alone with nobody to lean on or trust to catch you if you fell - which was always and never.

But there you were, looking wistfully outside and taking in the scenario as the train you sat on rumbled on. It served to prove your point; you were also alone in the private cabin your work company had provided for you when they decided at the last minute to send you to another city that was literally situated on the opposite side of the country.

It wasn’t a difficult decision for you, after all, you really did want to advance in your career, but the sting of being alone just always caught on to you. Your co-workers were all pleasant and amicable, but they all had lives to lead. As for you, you were there to work, not to mingle. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t afford to wallow too much in your pity. You knew to yourself that this was a you problem. 

The train rolled to a stop and you got down with just a light luggage. People began to disembark with you, and one by one, they disappeared into the arms of their loved ones, voices rising with giggles and promises of catching up with one another. It was a painful reminder of what you did not have.

You smiled morosely. Indeed, you were no stranger to being alone, but that never meant that you liked being alone.

You were only human, after all. You craved the companionship, the intimacy, the late summer nights by the campfire roasting marshmallows in an open fire with someone, the drunken adventures that led to trouble and something to laugh out with friends, and the days where all you needed was a comforting presence.

You had to look away. You had to cut off that sinking, ugly feeling rising up in your chest called longing. You could not want what you could not have. This would be a hellish three months for you. 

The house you’d be staying at was a lot bigger than you thought, and a lot more luxurious even on the outside. It checks out, you thought. You did work at the biggest and most-well known fashion industry company as a director, after all.

You didn’t bother to explore, you had time for that, but you could tell that the interior was already suited to your tastes. It was bigger than you’d like. You didn’t mind it at all. All in all, the stay wasn’t going to be too bad. However, you have to start working as soon as possible. Even though you hated it and wanted to avoid it as long as you possibly could.

You loved your job, you really did. Being a director meant you had certain privileges that only you could exercise, but sometimes, you felt used.

Subject: Runway Project Help I hope this email finds you well, Y/N. The initial report is to be finalized by the end of the week. The resources you will utilize have all been provided for your leisure.

A humourless laugh heaves upon your chest at the callousness in which that email had sounded. Straight to the point, not even an attempt to ask if you had safe travel. 

You were aware that it wasn’t personal. You were one of the people that worked for something bigger; the one that made the rich even richer. Still, the lack of encouragement, follow-ups, questions about your well-being stung more than you’d like to admit.

It was just business. Just numbers on a report, a deadline to meet. You reached for your mouse, clicked the ‘reply’ button, and typed a simple acknowledgment. Subject: Re: Runway Project Help I will have it at your disposal within the desired time.

Before you could shut your laptop close, another email pops up from the other side of your screen. Begrudgingly, you clicked it, and the moment you do, regret fills your chest.

You shouldn’t have read it. You had totally forgotten that there was a company dinner to welcome the other employees who have travelled from other branches to help out the newly opened branch, such as yourself.

Disgruntled, you forced yourself to put on a decent outfit, not even bothering to accessorize that much, and you hailed a cab to the venue. The drive was only ten minutes away, but it felt like a lifetime of overthinking on your end. You didn’t even bother researching beforehand where you were heading, the intention was to come, mingle, and go.

It turned out to be a hotel, a fancy one fitting of your company’s reputation. You already felt sick as you began to walk to the front desk area. From where you were, you could already see a variety of people huddling to socialize, and you knew then and there that this would be a bore. You felt like you were going to get sick. You didn’t belong here.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Your attention was caught by a deep and gruff voice from behind you. He was tall, effortlessly stylish, with a crisp black jacket that hugged his frame just right . His dark hair was immaculately styled, and his posture was confident. "Mingi?" You asked in surprise that you had actually seen him. “Song Mingi?”

His eyes lit up with remembrance, his lips spreading into a friendly smile. "The one and only." 

You whispered a small thanks to the receptionist before following Mingi into one of the function halls. “Looks great, Director Song,” you complimented as you looked around. “Well done with the theme…”

Mingi was one of the interns sent to your branch for training a couple of years back. He was a fresh-faced kid back then, not knowing how brutal the fashion world was, but you could tell he was passionate about it, unlike his superiors who were in it for the cash.

Before Mingi could reply, a group of people started to make their way towards you. A suppressed groan sounds from the back of your throat, drowned out by the chatter. You knew these people, in fact, you knew virtually everybody in attendance today, and you weren’t interested in what they had to say.

“Oh my, Director L/N sure is a gem in the industry,” one of the people perked up, making the people around you nod in agreement.

“I suppose so, yes,,” you let out, jaw locked with tension. You might be a loner, but you weren’t oblivious to hypocrites when you encountered them.

Either these people were plain stupid, or they’re just ignoring the fact that you were clearly uninterested and disengaged. Thankfully, the speakers overhead blare up, instructing everyone to take their seats to get started. 

It was the most boring and uncomfortable time of your life, and that was saying a lot. You ran your fingers over the edge of your complimentary champagne flute, watching the alcohol slosh around inside. It looked like sweet nectar, but it tasted like disappointment.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You could slip away quietly, slip into the night like a shadow. No one would care. “Excuse me,” you placed your hand on Mingi’s arm to get his attention, your voice firm despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. He looked at you worried, but nodded anyway.

Without waiting for a response, you got up and  turned, heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. You could see people watching and eyeing your every move, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t stand the environment you were in.

As you reached the door and stepped out, you allowed yourself a small, triumphant smile. You didn’t know where to go from here, but at least you were out of there.

With a sigh, you began to walk aimlessly to nowhere in particular. Come to think of it, you didn’t mind exploring the hotel. Despite your initial inhibitions, you actually did think that the venue was really pretty. 

And it was that aimless walking that led you to trouble. Just as you were about to make a sharp left turn to the lobby, a sudden collision jolted you out of your thoughts. You hastily tried to maintain your balance as you accidentally bumped into someone. “I’m sor—”

“Watch where you’re going,” the man you stumbled on hissed, his face twisted in annoyance as he also tried to gain his balance back.

You were taken aback at the vehemence in his voice. It was as if you had dangled this man’s puppy by its foot and shot it point blank in front of him. You didn’t know what to do, so you tried to apologize once more.

“I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to bump into you,” you spoke up, trying to sound as sincere as possible to appease him. “It was purely accidental on my end, I understand that’s bothersome.”

He harrumphed obnoxiously, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you up and down in contempt as he tried to collect himself. It was so uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of whatever this was. “Typical,” he scoffed. “The types of you always seem to be too busy to look where you’re going most of the time.”

What the hell did that even mean? You blinked owlishly, temporarily rendered speechless at whatever you just heard. “E-Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” his voice dripped with disdain before it dropped into a quiet grumble. “Jesus, do rich people get away with shit like this on an everyday basis? Unbelievable…”

You froze. Rich people? Is that what this was about? Still, that didn’t make any lick of sense. You understood where he was coming from - even though you picked your most minimal outfit, it was painfully obvious that you were decked out in clothes that the regular consumer couldn’t buy on an everyday basis.  But that stung, though, because you designed these, yourself. 

“I-I'm really sorry. It was an accident,” you reiterated, trying to keep your voice steady, but this man just wouldn’t give you a break.

“Sure, it was,” he said sarcastically. "Maybe if you spent less time with your head in the clouds and more time assessing the people around you, you'd be less of a problem."

You were, once again, taken aback by the hostility. Your pulse quickened, you hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing. You had simply wanted to leave that suffocating event. But, despite this guy’s clear distaste for the wealthy, you were inclined to agree. You had enough clientele in your career to attest and support his claims, but still.

“I don’t think the punishment is befitting of the crime,” you frowned, an unspoken connotation that referred to how mean he was being to you and you didn’t appreciate it. 

He scoffed again, though this time it was more of a weak exhale and it held less weight in it. He shifted his feet to start walking forward, but he paused, his face holding a small grimace, clearly not meaning for you to see that.

It hit you then and there. The exhaustion in his eyes was undeniable, as though every word he said drained him more than he cared to admit. His body was swaying unnaturally as he stood in front of you, and you bumping into him must have exacerbated whatever he was already going through.

He wasn’t just angry at you; he was angry at everything. Maybe it wasn’t about you at all. Maybe it was just about his own tiredness, his own frustration with the world around him. Against your better judgment, you opened your mouth. “You look tired,” you said  gently. “It’s been a long night, hasn’t it?”

His expression faltered in surprise, only for a second, before he quickly masked it with a scowl. “That’s none of your business,” he muttered, but the anger in his voice was quieter now.

You didn’t reply. There was no need for further words; you understood to a certain extent what he was feeling and he knew that you weren’t going to relent.

You mustered up a small nod, a finality, as you turned around to leave, but not before glancing back at the man once more. “Good night, I hope you feel better.”

You didn’t look back to see if he was going to say something nor did you stay to hear if he was. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but take in his features, imagine them without the scowl that overtook his face.

Being in fashion allowed you to see physical features in depth. He was young, looked about to be your age. His features were a delicate harmony of sharp angles and soft curves, his eyes, dark and intense, were very reminiscent of an angry fox. You reckoned that his fox-eyes would look marvelous had he been smiling.

You shook your head, continuing to walk towards the direction you intended to in the first place. You had no idea where it led, but you didn’t really care anymore. You just needed to walk that experience off.

But that was before you realized that it was restaurant, a nice looking one. As if on cue, your stomach started rumbling. The function provided dinner, but there was no way you were going back in there.

It was nicer on the inside than the outside. However, you were a bit surprised to find the entire place empty, the tables all wiped clean with the corresponding velvet seats tucked in, save for one, lone waiter who was on their way to approach you.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he began to apologize profusely, bowing slightly to emphasize his point.  “We had just closed the daily restaurant to get ready for our overnight bar.”

“Oh,” you faltered, resisting the urge to deflate on the spot at the information.

The disappointment must have been apparent on your face. The waiter perked up to get your attention, clearing his throat. “Would you like to get a table or sit by the bar to wait for the opening? I reckon we’d be able to do so in less than thirty minutes.”

“A-Are you sure?”

He gives you a shrug in response. “It’s just me for now, anyway.”

The next thing you knew, he was beckoning you over with a small wave of his hand. You chose to sit by the furthest corner of the bar, thanking him with a small whisper that carried the biggest gratitude you could offer for tonight.

You were getting a bit dizzy, when was the last time you ate? It didn’t matter now, a drink or two - or maybe, ten - was what you currently needed.

As if on cue, the distinct clinking of glass sounds from your ear and the familiar slide of it nears your direction. It was a strawberry fizz, you reckoned, the mixture of said fruit and vodka with a hint of tang in it wafting up your nose.

You frowned, looking up at the bartender in palpable confusion. “It’s not much, it was the only thing I could make given my time constraint,” says the waiter, who was apparently also a bartender,  who shrugged in nonchalance.

“Uhm, thank you. I would have been fine waiting, me sitting here was enough of a bother for you,” you softly replied. You took the cocktail, sipped on it, your face lifting up in a pleasant surprise. “It’s good, but why?”

“You looked like you needed it,” he said. His voice was calm, like the sound of rain against a window. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house.”

Maybe you really did look that downtrodden. Shame started creeping up your cheeks, the fact that you were obvious even to someone who you haven’t even been around for more than five minutes was very telling on your end.

He leaned forward, elbows on the counter, and tilted his head toward the stairs. “The rooftop’s empty tonight,” he said casually. “Good place to clear your head.”

He didn’t push. Didn’t say anything else. Just wiped down the counter like he hadn’t just handed you an escape. It was a no-brainer -  the open air, the city stretching out beneath, the weight of your thoughts carried away by the wind. Without a word, you stood, drink in hand, and made your way to the stairs.

Indeed, the rooftop was remarkable, by far the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen in a while. The stars were twinkling bright tonight, and you were one of the only specks in the world that have been blessed to stare at their beauty all night long. Though, you had a feeling that people aren’t to stare at the stars.

You liked it much better up here. Not a single person to be seen, noise drowned out by sheer distance. This is what you wanted. Distance. To be away. To be gone. And then, before you could stop it, your chest tightened. Tears brimmed your eyes, blurring the beautiful glitter of the stars above the skyline. You covered your mouth to quiet your sobs, but the rooftop was empty and there was nobody to hear your distress.

You felt pathetic. It was everything bottled up inside you - the lonely train ride, the empty house you’d be residing at for three straight months, your stuck-up supervisor who sent you to this God-awful place knowing that nothing and nobody was going to hold you back, and the people you left at the function being happy while you were by the rooftop railing bawling  your eyes out.

It was everything. You didn’t know how long you were there for, the cocktail long forgotten on a random table somewhere while you leaned towards the railing, just taking in the wind while more tears flowed from your eyes. 

You leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the metal. As you did, you realized that there was an extra step you could take to get closer to the edge. And so you did. It was a risky position, but everything looked much different up where you were. Your tears lose themselves to the breeze. The city sprawled beneath you, indifferent, endless. This was a distraction, nothing more.

“Hello?”

The thought wasn’t even dramatic, nor was it frightening for you. It was just there. And for a moment, the weight inside you lessened.

“What the hell are you doing? Don’t you know that’s fucking dangerous?”

Maybe you could run away. You had enough money to literally start over anywhere you wanted. You could take an extended vacation, and even if you never worked again, you’d have a good chunk of money still left. The thought of it made more tears in your eyes.

“Hey!”

You were startled out of your thoughts by the sudden voice that cracked through the air. Your hand darted out, gripping the edge of the rooftop to steady yourself. “What,” you flatly said, not bothering to turn around, mostly because you still felt slightly disconnected from reality.

“I think you should step away from the railing,” they said. 

You hummed, annoyed. That voice sounded awfully familiar. “I think you should stop telling me what to do,” you replied sarcastically.

There wasn’t a reply for a second, only the shuffling of shoes and the creak of a closing door. “I just think it’s a very risky position you’re in,” he clicked his tongue. “It’s not worth it.”

“Yeah,” you let out a shaky breath, almost laughing, though it came out more like a sigh. “What, can’t a girl admire the view without being criticized now?”

“Cut the crap. You didn’t come here for the view.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You obviously came from that godforsaken party in the hall down the lobby. Why aren’t you down there having the time of your life?”

Your death grip loosens from the railing. You turned sharply, breath uneven, ready to mouth off to whoever was behind you, and you were faced with the last person you ever expected to see in a setting like this.

It was the attractive, fox-eyed man you had bumped into earlier. His face was calm, devoid of any panic at seeing you so close to the edge of the rooftop. He didn’t lunge toward you, didn’t bark orders or plead. He just stood there, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression. It was such a contrast from his scowl when you encountered him.

“That’s none of your business,” you gritted your teeth angrily, more tears starting to form in your eyes, looking up to stop them from falling. “I don’t need to hear how snooty my kind of people are from you. Earlier was enough.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t push. Just stayed. “So, what are you doing here, then?”

“Does it really even matter why?” You snapped, your pulse slamming against your ribs, anger flaring before you could stop it. “I don’t want to be there.”

He shrugged, his observing eyes not leaving yours. “Alright, that’s fair.”

You wanted to scoff, but all you did was avoid eye contact, looking back to your sides to hopefully catch anything but his eyes. “That’s it? You’re not going to ask for more?”

He exhaled, the sound barely audible over the wind. “No,” he said. “Not my place, though I can’t say I’m not curious.”

You raised your brows ever so slightly. You obviously didn’t know this man, but based on the minute encounter you’ve had with him, this seems to be on par with his personality. There were no lectures, no false concern, no sweet nothings to convince you otherwise.

He shifts his foot, his hand slipping in his pocket to retrieve what seemed to be a small packet of cigarette. “Listen, I don’t smoke, not at all,” he said casually. “But there’s a first time for everything. You either do it downstairs with me, or I could stay here with you until you’re done being dramatic.”

That should have made you mad, the way he said was so callous and indifferent, but instead, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle. You liked this, you decided. Slowly, you stepped off from the edge and chose to sit down on the concrete below it, instead, your back leaning against it, not caring if your dress got dirty.

Certainly not caring at how he would’ve been annoyed had you not listened and how his face softens a little bit, the most miniscule of emotions peeking through at the sight of your tired body and your teary eyes.

Without waiting for your response, he sits down next to you, plopping his ass so close to you that your knees touch each other. He waves the packet of cigarettes in front of you. “Here, take one. Hell, take them all. A friend gave them to me.”

You shook your head, pushing them back. “I stopped.”

“Wonderful,” he hummed. The next thing you knew, he threw the whole packet away, off of the rooftop, to never be seen forever. He only raised a brow at your flabbergasted face. “I wasn’t going to give you one, anyway. Just wanted you to get down.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t say anything. The both of you didn’t speak for what felt like an eternity, just the two of you there, each caught in your own thoughts. There was something in the air that kept you from feeling entirely alone.

“I don’t know what you were assuming, but I wasn’t going to jump,” you mumbled after realizing that that’s what it must’ve looked like from his perspective. “I genuinely just wanted to enjoy the view.”

His expression was still unreadable. “I know,” he raised a brow, side-eyeing you for good measure. “You don’t look like you have what it takes. No guts.”

You scoffed, not knowing if you wanted to be amused or be offended at his dig towards you. One thing was for sure, though - whatever he did, it was an effective way to get you out of your head without making you feel worse. You sniffled, embarrassingly so, before you decided to change the topic so as to not make it awkward for the both of you. “Are you here for a drink, too, or something?” 

“No,” he replied. “Yunho’s a great friend of mine. Said something about giving this sad girl a fruity ass drink and was worried that you were taking forever to come back downstairs.”

You scoffed, you didn’t even realize that you spent so long in here that the bartender had even noticed your extended absence. He stared at you, watching your expression, before he let out a small chuckle. “I guess you really did need that drink,” he expressed.

You narrowed your eyes, feeling annoyance creeping up your chest at his tone. “You think you’re funny? I’m fine.”

He titled his head towards you. “Your tears are telling me otherwise.”

Your jaw tightened, fingers twitching at your side. You hadn’t even realized you were still crying until he pointed it out, and somehow, that only made the frustration burn hotter in your chest. “Is this a thing of yours? Judging everything you see at first sight?”

Suddenly, he frowns. “Look, if this is about earlier, I do admit that the things I said were way out of line.”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. “What an inspiring apology.”

“I’m not apologizing,” his tone was blunt, almost irritated, like he didn’t want to be having this conversation in the first place. “Nothing personal.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Still,” he sighed, “It doesn’t feel right leaving someone up here looking like they might just let the wind take them.” You rolled your eyes at that. “And I’m not an ass. Not entirely, anyway.”

“I told you,” you let out a frustrated sound from the back of your throat. “I just really needed air. Been a shitty day for me, is all.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

You weren’t even surprised at the casualness of his voice anymore. He sounded almost careless, like he wasn’t used to talking to people like he was doing right now. Still, you were perplexed when he asked. “Personal crap, especially work, the usual suspects,” you shrugged, cryptic as possible. He wasn’t the only one who wasn’t used to talking about certain things. “So, do you work here?”

He peers at you. “Something like that. Occasionally, yeah. Usually, I do drink here but my mood was kinda ruined when someone bumped into me earlier.”

Well, two can play this game of being cryptic about work. You narrowed your eyes, but before you could respond, he cleared his throat. “Anyway, tell me what’s up with work, then. Might make you feel better to talk about them.”

You raised a brow, skeptical. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He stared at you dead in the eye. His fox-shaped eyes looked so intense that for a second, you faltered. “Try me,” he deadpanned.

You had nothing against this man, but you were still wary. He was a stranger, after all. “I did come from that party down the hall. I, uhm, it was just suffocating,“ you said carefully.

“Interesting. I thought those bullshit events are supposed to be fun and all. All the dickheads that come out of there always brag about them,” he murmured. You raised a brow in question. “There’s a huge ass banner above the hall,” he explained. “Not social, I suppose?”

You took a second to think. “No,” you admitted. “Not really.”

“Then why the hell are you even there, then?” He raised a brow sarcastically.

“Because that’s kind of my job? I don’t know how else to tell you,” you frowned, though you couldn’t argue back with that one since you do get his vision. You didn’t know how to tell him that it wasn’t that simple.

He begins to shake his head as if disbelieving the things that were coming out of your mouth. If you were a douchebag, to be crass, you would’ve socked his pretty face immediately. He was lucky that it was you he was encountering. Or maybe someone else has already done it. Fox-eyes to you was such an interesting character.

“That can’t be it,” he scoffed. “You’re telling me that you were crying because you can’t put your big girl pants on and suck it up?”

You blinked owlishly at his bluntness, but he wasn’t finished. “So fucking quit then,” he chuckled sarcastically. Then, he mumbles something under his breath, something you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear.

“I swear you rich people always have something to cry about.”

It was definitely a stark reminder of the things he had told you earlier when you bumped into him. You understood him, you really did, because things like those never come out of nowhere. You were positive that he probably experienced something that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You wouldn’t understand, then,” you shook your head.

Just then, he laughed. That caught you more off guard than anything he’s done so far tonight, if you were being frank. You have to admit, he had a very pretty laugh, sure it was a little bit pitchy and squeaky than you’d like, but for some reason, it did suit him.

“You’re right, I won’t, and to be completely frank with you, I don’t want to. I wish I had your problems because I know I won’t be such a pussy about it,” he sighed, long and hard. “But you’re the one moping right now, not me. I can’t stand people like you, but lay it on me, anyway.”

And he was very crass, too. Such a contrast from the overly respectful and polite environment you were used to. It was very refreshing, regardless of his mean and underhanded comments. One thing you absolutely detested was false positivity, and this man was able to provide you the opposite in less than thirty minutes of you knowing him. 

There was absolutely no sympathy in his tone, none at all, and in a way, you liked it that way. You didn’t need sympathy. It suddenly dawns on you why - it all came down on the supposed wealth he thought you had. You lived in luxury, and you got everything you wished for immediately, so to him, that must mean that you had no reasons to be down.

“My job sucks,” you muttered, half to yourself. “It’s just miserable. I’m required to be in the presence of people I don’t care about to make a profit with their money that I won’t even get to touch and impress some big kahuna I don’t even care about.”

He hummed, nodding his head to indicate that he was listening. “So, an existential crisis disguised as work complaints?”

You snorted. “I suppose so, yes.”

“How tragic,” he lets out a short, unimpressed breath, barely sparing you a glance. “Must be hard.”

You closed your eyes to contain yourself, just when you thought that maybe he was showing some sympathy, but you get it. You were one of the few lucky ones out there. You were willing to bet that you earned what he did in a full week within half the day.

So yes, in a way, you understood, and even though his hostility isn’t making you feel any better, you welcome it with open arms. You exhaled the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “You sound like you hate your job, too.”

“Oh, a thousand-fucking-percent,” he didn’t hesitate to supply, spitting on the ground to make his point stronger. “I fucking hate it with every inch of my life. But it works.”

You wanted to ask what it was he did, but you held back. “So, you understand where I’m coming from, then?”

He gave you a look, something unreadable flickering behind his expression, but then he just shook his head. “No. We’re different. It’s not about whether I like it or not,  it’s about whether I can survive doing it. The same should apply to you.”

You frowned. “That’s a really depressing way to look at life.”

“Yeah, well,” he leaned his face closer to yours. You didn’t move an inch, mesmerized at how prettier his eyes were up close. “Tears can’t pay my bills. You’re probably getting paid right now as we speak.”

For the first time ever since you had this conversation, burning shame encapsulates your insides, a trailing fire in your pit that didn’t cease to be put out. He was right, and he knew it. He scoffed, leaning away. The silence stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavy. Shared.

After a while, he spoke again, his tone quieter. “You quitting?”

You shrugged. “I’ve gotten to a point in my career where I wouldn’t know what to do if I did.”

“So, all of this was for naught then? Wasted tears?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

He hummed like he understood. He didn’t question it, didn’t argue, didn’t say anything at all for a long moment. His face was unreadable, his posture relaxed, but his fingers tapped absently against his leg. He leaned his head back on the railing, closing his eyes.

“Find something,” he mumbled, eyes still shut.  His voice was so low that you didn’t even realize he was talking to you at first. “Then start figuring out how to get there.”

“If it were that easy,  I would have done it,” you sighed.

He sighed back. “I never said it was. We have only one life to live, but it doesn’t mean that we only have one life to lead. You’re in a position to be anything for yourself, one that won’t drain you mentally and emotionally. Heaven knows that some people don’t even have that option.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. Like he wasn’t just talking about you. You stayed silent, internalizing what he said. Just who was this man you had encountered tonight?

He was right. You had witnessed it first hand. The amount of people you’ve known and lost who have experienced a burn out so bad that they had pretty much lost their minds over it and it never recovered. They were the reason you were still here; you didn’t want to be like them.

You watched him stand up, raising your head to look at his towering figure as he looked down on you. “You want another drink?” He asked softly.

You hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, you nodded. He nodded back, turning toward the rooftop door. “Alright,” he said, as if that settled something. “Wipe your tears and freshen up. I’ll tell Yunho.”

And just like that, he had disappeared from your sight. It was as if nothing happened, like your encounter with him was a fever dream.

When you were sure that you looked at least presentable, like you didn’t just cry over your job in front of a total stranger who disliked you for your money, you made your way back downstairs, pleased to see that the bar had picked up and that the bartender earlier was busy with the patrons.

But the fox-eyed man was nowhere to be seen. Not on the bar stools, not on the tables that were spread out.

Your heart sank as you sat in the exact spot you were at before you went to the rooftop, waving your hand subtly at the bartender who immediately walked over you with a questioning look. Your mouth suddenly went dry, and then, you wanted to hit yourself. You didn’t even get fox-eyes’ name.

“He’s gone, sorry. He’s not really one to stay for long because of his job,” the bartender - Yunho - explained with an apologetic tone, reading the look on your face. “He did leave you this, though.”

Déjà vu settles over you from head to toe when Yunho hands you another drink, the very same drink. Only this time, he has a genuine smile on face as gave it to you. “He already paid for it, says his apologies for not staying,” he leaned over the table closer to you with a smirk. “So, how’d you know each other?”

“We don’t,” you supplied truthfully. “We bumped into each other tonight.”

“Ah,” he sounds out an acknowledgement. “I’m sorry you had the displeasure, then. He, uhm, can come off as very strong,agree  personality wise. As his friend, I hope he didn’t offend you.”

You think about the sound advice he left you before he disappeared and shook your head. “Don’t be, I do agree that he’s, uh, quite assertive, but he seems like a very insightful person.”

He raised a brow in amusement. “You sure about that? I remember wanting to throw him off the rooftop when I first met him.”

You nodded, laughing. “I’m sure. He has a refreshing personality.”

Yunho stared at you with a very inquisitive look. You squirmed in your seat, his eyes were quite sharp, now that you were up close and personal with him. What was up with you encountering very unnerving people tonight? Were fox-eyes and his friends really this daunting?

“Hold on a moment, please,” he murmured, finally leaning away, only for him to open a cabinet you didn’t know was there and grab a sticky note, scribbling something quickly on it before handing it to you. Confused, you took it, and gave him a questioning look as your eyes settled on the pad. It was a phone number, that you could tell.

“Look,” he began awkwardly, avoiding eye contact as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not supposed to do this, and this is literally a violation of my job, but that,” he pointed at the paper. “Call that number if you ever need a companion. You really look like you need it.”

“Is it his number?” You blurted out, gripping the note.

Yunho shook his head. “No. I would never do that, he would butcher me on the spot. But it is directly related to his job.”

“That…does not sound sketchy at all,” you trailed off, your frown getting deeper as you felt more unsettled.

He shrugged, turning around for you to think about it, and coincidentally, another patron from the bar flagged him, anyway, so he would have left regardless. Tonight was definitely the weirdest night of your life. 

You put the now crumpled note in your purse as you finished your drink fast, intending to forget about it even though it was given to you in good will.

You knew that called companions did exist for lonely people. It was a whole new meaning to ‘call a friend’. You’d occasionally hear your co-workers gush about it every lunch break, that the experience was life-changing. 

Regardless, you thought it was pathetic to resort to doing it. Being alone sounded more appealing than being so desperate to be with someone that you’d pay for their time. You would never, ever call that number.

You called the number the next day.

But not without doing a little bit of research, of course. While you were browsing, you were genuinely surprised to see that called companions were a booming business, a billion-dollar one, even. 

In a way, you understood, especially for the wealthy. Lord knows that you know plenty of people who’d rather die alone than have people around them only for their cash. Paying for comfort sounded logically sane even though the concept seemed uncomfortable for some, even for you. 

You pay for a temporary friend and when your time is up, it’s like it never happened. No strings attached, no worries. You paced the living room back and forth as you chewed on your nails anxiously as you waited for the other line to pick up, the prolonged ringing echoing in your ears grating, and for a second, you were concerned that Yunho had played a mean prank on you.

The conversation with fox-eyes made you realize how truly lonely you were, that maybe you really did just need someone to talk with. You hoped that you could see him again, you wished to talk to him once more, but you knew that was wishful thinking on your end.

We only have one life to live, but we have only one life to lead. That never left your mind, repeating in your head like some sort of gospel like it was the answer and solution to all your problems.

You didn’t care anymore, you were at an all-time high desperation. Besides, you weren’t staying here. You’d be gone in three months by the time that the company branch would be good to stand by themselves.

“Thank you for calling The Wonderland of Desire and Utopia where your hands aren’t the only thing that’ll be busy tonight, and where there’s no small talk, just big conversations. Our lines are open, but so are we. My name is Kang Yeosang, would you like to set an appointment?”

Your foot stopped halfway from taking a step, still in the air, as your jaw dropped at what you had just heard. Your eyes were wide with disbelief, especially at how deep the voice was on the other end. Well, that was certainly one way to begin a phone call like this.

“I know, right? Most of our clients say the same thing!”

You yelped, audibly startled. You mentally cursed, you must’ve said that thought out loud like a blithering idiot. But more than that, what in the hell did you just call? Was Yunho really playing a mean prank on you?

“Uh, h-hi, uh, I’ve never done this before,” you laughed nervously. “Can you explain how this works and how…discreet it is?”

Yeosang hums thoughtfully, his voice taking in on a cheerful note as he lets out a merry laugh. “Our services are very discreet, rest assured. We make our workers sign an NDA that our clientele can set up, if need be. Our companionship requires a certain level of respect and vice versa.”

“I see,”  you murmured, sitting down on the couch to get your footing. Something tells you that this will permanently change the trajectory of your life. “So, how does this work? Like I said, I’ve never done this before…”

“If I may, you seem to be the shy type,” Yeosang said. “Usually, almost all of our clients are repeat customers, so that means they have their go-tos. Our rates are by threes and are extendable, of course. Would you like me to send a list of companions and call back?”

That didn’t sound too bad, three hours seems like a very reasonable time for you, especially if all you’re looking for was a friend who you’ll hopefully click with and take a liking to.

“No, no need,” you denied politely. “Would you be able to pick out one for me? I-I’m not really fussy.”

There was a pause on the line, the discernible clicking of the keyboard filling in the silence. “Are you free by nighttime?” Yeosang asked. You made a small sound of agreement. “I have someone perfect for you. I can vouch for him, he’ll make the entire experience very comfortable for you.”

Your chest heaved as Yeosang talked about the rate and the payment as well as the paperwork he was to send you in a bit that details your companion’s details. You did like this bit of the process - hell, if you were about to pay someone for their time, as sad as that is, you did want to know things about them, at least.

Before you knew it, you were being thanked for your payment and you were thanking Yeosang for the help. A file was sent to your email so you quickly opened your laptop.

It didn’t really hit you what you’ve done until you’ve hung up and the only thing around you was silence. “Oh my God,” you muttered in horror as you opened the file and read the contents.. “Did I just do that…?”

Recipient: Kang Yeosang - Wonderland of Desire and Utopia Subject: Companion Information (Important!) Name: Jung Wooyoung Birthdate: November 26, 1999 Current Residence: Busan, South Korea Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Blood Type: A+ Height: 173 cm (5’8”) Allergies: None Tattoos: Four Piercings: Four Green: soft touches, massages, bondage, exhibitionism, blindfold, degradation, age play, biting, spanking, corruption Yellow: multiple participants, feet, breath play, wax play, CNC, voyeurism, somnophilia Red: knife play, furries, assault, food play, uncommon roleplays, blood, other bodily fluids besides arousal, watersports

You blinked repeatedly, frozen on the spot. You even went as far as rubbing your eyes before re-reading the entire thing. Did Yeosang send you the wrong information? This was a bit too oddly specific for just a called companion.

You could feel your face heat up as you soaked the information one by one. And blood? You practically gagged, that certainly something you had no interest in knowing, but now, there was no way to unread all of this.

“Jung Wooyoung,” you mouthed silently, feeling and testing the weight of the name on your tongue. It had a nice ring to it, you thought it was a very pretty name. There was no picture attached to the file. Not that it mattered, appearances definitely don’t mean a single thing to you.

It was when you were done eating and were currently washing the dishes when the doorbell rang. Another thing you fancied with this house was that there was an intercom in the kitchen so you didn’t have to go directly towards the door. You were suddenly reminded of fox-eyes, wondering what he would say about rich people and their toys. You could picture the sneer on his face and it brought a smile to your face.

“Come in! I already unlocked the door for you. Go straight and you’ll see me in the kitchen,” you talked through the intercom, hoping the crackling of it hid the nervousness in your voice.

The telltale sign of someone entering the house made your nerves shoot up. You were still washing the dishes and putting them on the rack, you didn’t want to break anything, but you were just very nervous. Your back was turned from the new incomer and it was when you heard the shuffling of feet from behind you.

“J-Just a m-moment,” you stammered pathetically. “L-Let me just wash my hands…”

Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, drowning out everything else. He was here - right behind you. You could practically feel the subtle shift in the air. A faint, amused chuckle sent a shiver down your spine.

“Take your time, dollface. I have all the time in the world to make you relax,” the newcomer’s voice was smooth, it was husky and had a teasing edge to it that literally made your knees want to buckle.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and turned around. That was a mistake. The polite, neutral greeting you had prepared died in your throat the second you saw him.

Apparently, he was just as surprised as you. The cocky smirk he had on his face as he was leaning on the dining table fell down in slow motion to be replaced with shock as he took your face in.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the fox-eyed man you wanted to see again scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head as if this was a nightmare he couldn’t wait to wake up from. “You? You’re L/N Y/N?”

“And you’re Jung Woooyung,” you drawled out, biting your lips after saying it out loud.

“Why?” Wooyoung asked, tone snappy, challenging you, it seemed. “Did you have something else named for me in your pretty little head? What is it? Asshole? Jerk? Doucheface?”

You hesitated, holding the edge of your skirt in a tight bunch in your fist. The gesture doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s attention, but he doesn’t make a comment on it. Finally, you shook your head and shrugged. “Fox-eyes.”

His brows twitched. “Excuse me?”

A sharp exhale heaves from your chest. You turned your head to avoid eye contact with him, a deep crimson coating your cheeks. “Fox-eyes. Your, uh, eyes. They reminded me of a fox.”

You caught the way Wooyoung’s eyes were trying to decide if he should just walk out now or endure the rest of the night. He crossed his arms, staring you down. You shifted your feet, uncomfortable at how intense his eyes were.

“Unbelievable,“ he muttered under his breath, but due to how silent the house was, you were able to hear it. “It’s like this world is forcing us to meet at every turn.”

You couldn’t agree more. Here you were, literally thinking about how you didn’t mind it if you saw him again, but now that he was not only in front of you but literally in the house, you didn’t know what to do.

He began rounding the table until he was only a couple of feet away from you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He narrowed his eyes irritatingly. “I’m not going to eat you.”

You frowned. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His lips twitched into a small smirk ever so slightly, it was very reminiscent of what you told him last night and you were pretty sure that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “Were you really that lonely? You were many things, but the last thing I expected was for you to call a service so you wouldn’t be alone. Money really isn’t everything, huh?”

And there it was. You purse your lips, deciding to ignore his last statement. Nothing good was going to come out of it. 

It certainly wasn’t helping that you were able to look at him up close and personal now that your tears weren’t clouding your eyes and it was brighter than the rooftop. My God, you thought. He was more attractive than you initially thought. His eyes were sharper, his nose more upturned, and his lips were plumper and juicer.

Wooyoung started to massage his temples as if he was already tired before the conversation even began. “Let’s discuss boundaries, both for you and me. Let me know anything, and I mean anything, even if it’s just as simple as turning the lights off or not.”

You crinkle your brows in confusion, but he continued. “I also want to know your pain tolerance, and especially your safe word. This is my job and I do take it seriously. If there’s anything you’re looking for, I need to know before we begin.”

“H-Hold on, what on Earth are you talking about?” You blurted out, your entire face completely scrunched up in visible confusion. “Why do we need the lights off? And pain? What—”

He scoffed, eyes darkening as his jaw locked in impatience. “Y/N,” he deadpanned, voice devoid of any emotion. His tone sent shivers up your spine once more. “This is already humiliating for me as is, and if this is your way of getting back at me for last night, don’t.”

“I really don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about, seriously,” you said exasperatedly as you slowly got more and more aggravated at what’s happening.

Wooyoung stopped talking, his eyes lighting up with something like he just realized something. He narrowed his eyes, his head tilting slightly as he studied you in a way he hadn’t before. 

Something in his expression shifts into an even deeper realization and his eyes widened, a startled gasp leaving his lips. Wooyoung looked so shocked that the way his entire body stiffened honestly scared you. 

“You don’t know,” he whispered, his voice taking on a horrified note. “Holy shit, you have no idea.” A dry laugh escaped him, short and bitter. "Unbelievable."

You blinked. "Know what?"

His expression didn’t change. He just kept staring at you, unblinking, his breathing slow and measured. Your pulse kicked up. "You’re freaking me out," you admitted, forcing out a nervous laugh.

Still, he said nothing. His silence stretched too long, too unnatural, until finally, he let out a sharp exhale and raked a hand through his hair. "No fucking way."

Your stomach plummeted. "Okay, what is going on?”

“I need to ask you something,” he said slowly, voice eerily careful. “How did you wind up calling the number you did?”

For a moment, you thought about lying, but there was no point. “Yunho gave it to me,” you admitted. “Said to call if I need a companion.”

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, his fist lightly bumped the table. His jaw tightened impossibly more than you thought possible. His intensity was honestly worrying you. “That motherfucker,” he hissed, gritting his teeth. “I’ll kill him.”

Something in your stomach twisted as you watched him rub a hand over his face in frustration. “Listen to me, dollface,” he muttered. “I have to refund you your money.”

You were confused. “What? Why?”

“Because,” he snapped, his eyes widened in anger. “I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here for a different type of job. I want you to think really, really hard right now. Use that noggin of yours, think.” 

But how were you supposed to do that? You were the director of the biggest fashion chain in the country, pressure was one you were used to, but right now, you couldn’t think straight. You swear you’ve never been so confused in your entire life.

“I still don’t—”

“I’m a sex worker, Y/N. A male prostitute, if you will. I get paid for sex. To fuck.”

At first, it still didn’t hit you what he was saying, but when it did, everything clicked all at once. The weird conversation with Yeosang, the overly kinky information sheet, the boundary talk, the lights, pain—

“Oh my God,” the blood on your face disappeared and you paled.  "Oh my God."

How could you be so stupid? You quickly turned to him even though you wanted the earth to swallow you whole. “I didn’t know, I swear to God I didn’t know. I wouldn't have called, I swear.”

His jaw clenched. "Yeah. I figured that out about five minutes ago."

“B-But Yunho,” you blurted out. 

“He didn’t know,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Called companions do exist, but I wasn’t exactly going to tell my friend that I fuck people for living now, would I? He gave you the number in good faith, because I told him I was a regular companion.”

It all made sense now. All that conversation of him hating his job and why he looked so forlorn about it, why he didn’t want to talk about it, everything made so much sense now. 

A long silence stretched between you, thick and crackling with something unspoken. You tried very, very hard not to think about the actual reason why Wooyoung was technically here. If you blushed now, it would be very obvious to him what you were currently thinking.

Amidst that, you couldn’t stop the ache in your chest. You were an idiot, he did say that this was humiliating for him, and now you knew why. You thought about all of the things he said on the rooftop.

He gave you a look, something unreadable flickering behind his expression, but then he just shook his head. “No. We’re different. It’s not about whether I like it or not,  it’s about whether I can survive doing it. The same should apply to you.”

“You’re in a position to be anything for yourself, one that won’t drain you mentally and emotionally. Heaven knows that some people don’t even have that option.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. Like he wasn’t just talking about you. You stayed silent, internalizing what he said.

You didn’t want to assume, one blunder was enough for tonight, but it would greatly explain his aversion to, as he would put it, rich people and their drama.

“Stop that.” 

You swiveled your head towards Wooyoung’s direction, confused if he was even talking to you. “What?”

“Stop that,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He pointed at you haughtily with his index finger. “That look in your face, that pity. I hate it, I don’t need it. Certainly not from you.”

You tilted your head. “I’m not, though. I think you’re quite resilient.”

It was true, but of course, he wasn’t going to believe anything that comes from your mouth. “Really?” Wooyoung scoffed sarcastically. “Is this rich people lingo? Anything that deviates from what’s proper is seen as quirky and shit? Or is it because my job is seen as dirty?”

A frown settles on your face. You knew what he was doing, he was trying to pick a fight, just like he did when you met him for the first time. “Wooyoung,” you said slowly, the weight of his name heavy on your tongue this time. “You know I don’t have a problem with what you do, right?”

He stilled, and for the first time since this whole mess unraveled, he actually looked surprised. Not angry, not disbelieving, just surprised. Like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to say that.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, turning around to open the fridge nearby before looking at him from behind your shoulders. “I was about to help myself with dessert when you came. I believe I made too much of it.”

It was an open invitation, one you hope he’d take. He narrowed his eyes at you and you could clearly see the simmering anger in them. He shook his head, still looking at you like he wasn’t sure what to make of you.

But then, he exhaled softly. “Where can I wash my hands?”

You perked up, your chest feeling lighter. “You’re staying?”

Wooyoung gave you a look. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I might as well. You paid for my time, and plus, if I’m going to be pissed about this whole situation, I might as well get pissed off eating dessert. Now, can you please tell me where the bathroom is? I’m not particularly interested in eating with dirty hands.”

It's how you found yourself trying hard not to stare at Wooyoung as he helped himself with the cheesecake you whipped up quickly for yourself this afternoon while you were passing time. You swallowed, how can this man be this attractive by just eating?

“Damn,” he mumbled, nodding in approval before he looked at you impassively. “This is pretty good. You could just quit your shitty job and do this, it’s lucrative.”

Your heart just did a flip-flop then and there. Looks like he still remembered what the both of you talked about.  “Hmm. I’m not as good as you think. I bet you could do better.”

Wooyoung raised a brow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What gave it away?”

You leaned forward, your elbows leaning on top of the table. “You don’t just suggest someone to switch careers. Only someone who makes food, themselves, knows what tastes good enough to sell.”

That actually got a real laugh out of him - not bitter, not forced - just tired, a little exasperated, but real. “You are, by far, my strangest client, dollface,” he shook his head. “And that’s saying a lot.”

Your lips twitched, fighting off a smile. “I’m serious,” he said. “When I get called over, it’s usually not to eat cheesecake with my clients.”

You hummed, mostly to hide how nervous you were to ask your next question. But when you tried to open your mouth and ask away, nothing really came out.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you. “Just ask,” he said. “It literally doesn’t bother me anymore. Were you going to ask how I got into sex work?”

You blushed beet red, nodding sheepishly. He scoffs, but it wasn’t out of malice, it was more of teasing disbelief. “Lesson one, Y/N. If you want something in life, all you have to do is ask.”

“Anyway,” he took a big bite out of the cheesecake. “It’s quick money. Out here, there aren’t many opportunities for people with lesser education. I have a younger brother depending on me. This is my only way to make a decent living while making my own schedule.”

“I see,” you nodded in understanding. “What about your parents?”

Wooyoung’s face darkened, and for a second, you regretted even asking in the first place. “Mum passed from giving birth to my brother, dad can’t hold a job to save his skin so he relies on me. Make this the last time you ask about him, though, I detest him.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” you mumbled more to yourself, but of course, that doesn’t escape Wooyoung’s attention.

“Huh. So not only are you so lonely and desperate that you resort to seeking comfort with a prostitute, but you also have daddy issues,” he said flatly without missing a beat.

You snorted at that. As insensitive as it is, when he puts it like that, it does make a lot of sense. You couldn’t get mad at Wooyoung for that, if anything, it puts things into perspective and it eases your mind a little. “Thanks,” you smiled.

He huffed out a laugh. “You’re thanking me for being an ass to you?”

“For being real,” you gently corrected. “As unsympathetic as you come off, it’s not like the things you’ve told me weren’t true.”

He hummed. “You are an oddball.”

You didn’t reply, staring down your plate that had the unfinished cheesecake. You just realized something and your appetite started to wane down, and you almost felt bad. He noticed this and raised his brow at you. “What?”

“When I bumped into you yesterday,” you mumbled, poking your cheesecake with your fork absentmindedly. “No wonder you looked tired. Did you just, uhm.”

You didn’t know how to say it, you didn’t know what to say without sounding like you were prying, especially when you said that what he did didn’t bother you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything - just stared at you like he was trying to decide if he should be amused or annoyed. You both knew what you were trying to ask.

“Yeah, I just finished working that night,” he admitted, leaning back on the chair with a deep sigh as he stared up at the ceiling. Somehow, he looked even more tired than before. “Client was an asshole. Gave me those nasty cigarettes as half of the payment.”

“And you sort of took it out on me,” you said slowly.

He huffed a dry, humourless laugh. “Yes.”

For a second, you thought he might say something more. Maybe an apology for snapping at you, or maybe a thank you for the night, just something to acknowledge whatever had just passed between you two. But nothing. Something in his face changed. Wooyoung pushed the plate away from him as he glanced at his wrist for the time. “I should go.”

You blinked in surprise. "Y-Yeah, sure," you tentatively stood up from your chair and he did the same. He didn’t even look back, just walked straight to the door and held the doorknob.

Wooyoung paused, rolling out his shoulders like he was resetting himself.  When he looked at you again, his usual smirk was back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he said, his voice light, almost dismissive.

You weren’t sure why that made your stomach sink a little. But, you had to let him go. He technically had no reason to be here. You let out a small huff, shaking your head to yourself. "Yeah. See you around."

And with that, he was gone. You stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he’d been, the weight of the night pressing down on you in ways you hadn’t expected.

See you when I see you. Somehow, you got the feeling you would.

The next time you saw Wooyoung again, it was a by-chance. It was a week after, an entire week where you couldn’t stop thinking about Wooyoung.

You had just gotten off of the phone that morning when you decided to get out and cool off. Your boss was already on your ass about the oncoming project, and you did try to protest, but you were quickly shut down without a single hint of patience.

It took everything in you not to chuck your phone out the window. One of these days, you could just envision yourself snapping, but for now, you were going to take it one step at a time.

There was a nearby cafe tucked in a corner that you wouldn’t even have seen at all had you not decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood. The moment you opened the door, you knew you were going to like it there. You were the type to make coffee at home, but a little trip here and there didn’t hurt anyone.

You distracted yourself by grabbing a smaller version of the menu that held pastry options lying on the table as you watched the barista make your coffee delicately. That would have been fine, but it was when you saw him.

Wooyoung took over making your cappuccino as the other barista took another person’s order. Your mind just about exploded by then, it was like he said the other week  - that this universe was trying to force you onto one another lately.

You cringed, anxiety flooding you, so you lifted the menu and covered your face with it so Wooyoung wouldn’t see you. That didn’t really do anything, you still peeked from behind the menu to glance at Wooyoung as he worked on your coffee.

You let out a small whimper when your eyes landed on Wooyoung’s arm as they flexed while he worked - there was a medium-sized tattoo of a thorny rose displayed on his veiny arms.

Holy hell, you thought. If that wasn’t attractive enough, his unfairly thin waist kept distracting you from the task at hand and while that may be so, it was pretty obvious that he was built despite all the features mentioned.

As if this world was against you, Wooyoung began to make his way to your table, cup in hand. You didn’t even have time to react and by the time you thought about it, it was too late. He had seen you.

“Well, blow me the fuck down,” Wooyoung smirked as he placed the cup in front of you before crossing his arms. “You’re alive.”

You scoffed, putting the menu down, your head rising to meet his teasing eyes. “Didn’t think you’d even remember me, let alone care that I’m alive, or something.”

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms tighter against his chest, stepping closer to your table. “Cut me some slack here, dollface. I’m not that much of a dickhead,” he rolled his eyes. “Just surprised to see you, is all. Last time I saw you out, you were an inch away from falling to your death.”

Somehow, your chest warmed at hearing his voice again even though he was definitely the most insensitive person you’ve ever met. “I thought you couldn’t stand me because I’m rich?”

“You’re right,” he agreed flatly. He gestured to your drink and the laptop you had set up while waiting for your order. “Well, carry on doing your rich people thing, I guess. I’ll get back to work.”

You waved him off, pretending that you didn’t care what he said as he walked away. Work was calling you, however, so it was easier to get back in that groove.

But after half an hour of staring at the screen, frustration twisted in your chest. I snapped the laptop shut, pinching the bridge of your nose as you cursed your supervisor to death in your head. You pushed back your chair a little too hard before walking off, grateful to be sat next to the door, but you were held back by a firm hand wrapping around your arm to stop you.

Wooyoung’s eyes met yours when you turned around in irritation. Damn it, he was even more attractive up close. You shook your arm off of him harshly before glaring at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Let go.”

“Easy, dollface,” he tried to placate you, making a move to hold your arm again. “You need to calm down. I don’t want you walking off when your emotions are all over the place. I could practically feel it behind the counter.”

“So, what?” You hissed, looking around to see if there were people to see the spectacle, but when there were none, you raised your voice a bit at him. “You’re going to keep me hostage now because you’re scared I’d go crazy on the streets?”

“Yes, actually,” Wooyoung answered sarcastically, nodding to emphasize his point. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Y/N.” 

He grabbed your arm again to pull you and sit you down back on the chair where you just were. You were taken aback when he put his hands on your shoulders firmly as he looked down to you. “My shift will be over in ten minutes,” he began. “You will sit here and wait for me and then we can take a hike somewhere so you can let out whatever’s bothering you.”

You stared at him, completely thrown off. “Why would I do that? Why the hell do you care?”

His face softened, just a little, like he wasn’t playing some game. “Make no mistake, I don’t care about you, not in the slightest,” he sighed. “But, again, I’m not an ass. I’m not about to ignore somebody who clearly needs to unwind.”

You purse your lips, not replying, but not ignoring him. “That look on your face on the rooftop, I can’t. I know what it’s like to be on that deep end.” 

"This is ridiculous," you muttered annoyingly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He gave you one last look before turning around, but heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that you were going to stay put. "I’m serious. Whatever’s bothering you, you don’t have to figure it out alone."

You didn’t know what to say, his genuineness caught you off-guard. Just as he said, he really gets off in ten minutes. Wooyoung haphazardly throws his apron on the counter, not caring where it landed, before he cocks his head towards the door. “Let’s go.”

You had no direction in mind, and apparently, neither did Wooyoung. “Where are you taking me?” You asked.

He paused from walking the moment you were both a couple of blocks away from the cafe. “Give me your phone,” he demanded, putting his hand expectantly in front of you.

You blinked, confused. “Why?”

He curls his fingers impatiently, gesturing for you. “Come on, I don’t have time all day.”

Not knowing what else to do, you tentatively hand him your phone, to which he snatched it rather rudely from your hand. He tinkers for it for a moment, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he glances back up at you. After a while, he gets his own phone and also tinkers with it.

“Here,” he hands you your phone back. He didn’t even look at you and just continued to type on his phone. “I just cancelled another client. We have three hours until I have to go again.”

Oh, you certainly weren’t expecting that. You hurriedly checked your phone and indeed, Wooyoung had just set up another “companion” appointment for you. You reckoned he was surprised because when you looked at the payment option, you had eight different cards that were all filled with cash and he saw.

You blushed hard, your face so hot to the touch that you reckon you’d get burned if you put a finger on your cheek. You knew you weren’t supposed to feel like this, that if you were going to be frank, you two weren’t going to have sex, but the implication was there and you couldn’t help but think about them.

You resumed walking and it felt like it was the most normal thing ever. It wasn’t supposed to be like that, but you followed him, anyway.

“So, what do you do for a living, anyway?” Wooyoung asked good-naturedly the moment he put his phone back in his pocket and looked at you.

“Oh,” you sounded out in surprise, not expecting the question. “I’m a director of something.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s working to earn money. I asked you what you for a living.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the distinction. "What’s the difference?”

Wooyoung scoffed, like you had just said something completely ridiculous. "One is just surviving. The other is actually living."

"I mean, I do work," you tried again, feeling oddly self-conscious under his expectant gaze. "And then I go home. Sometimes I watch something. Sometimes I read. That counts, right?"

Wooyoung tilted his head, unimpressed. "So, you exist."

"Wow, okay, rude," you muttered. “Do you even have a hobby?”

"Relax," he chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "And yeah, I swim sometimes. I’m just asking what actually makes you feel something. Like, what’s the thing that makes you want to wake up in the morning?"

You faltered. Because, honestly? You weren't sure you had an answer. “I don’t know,” you admitted shamefully, avoiding eye contact with him. “I actually don’t know. Well, what about you, I guess? I didn’t know you worked here, either.”

“Well, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Y/N,” he chuckled. “Watch your step. I won’t catch you if you trip.”

You wanted to glare at him, but the hotel entrance held your attention instead. Your mouth went open, it was the same hotel you had the event at. You stared at him in disbelief, the blush now traveling from your cheeks to your ears and neck.

He seems to have realized the same thing you did and rolled his eyes. “We’re not here for that, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he scoffed. “I needed a drink, I figured you wanted to tag along. Yunho is working tonight.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, following him to the same resto-bar. Wooyoung looked pleased with your reply.

Just like the last time you went, the daytime restaurant was already closed, the bar part of it getting ready to be in full swing. It was certainly a repeat of the very same night.

“Wow, you guys sure got along better than I initially thought,” were the first words you hear upon entering the empty bar.

Yunho was wiping the counters on the farthest part of the bar, but looked up to comment when he saw the both of you enter. Wooyoung laughed and raised his middle finger up. “You almost fucked me over, too,” he said cryptically. He sits down on one of the barstools and gestures for you to do the same. “Come on, Y/N—”

“Yah, Jung Wooyoung, you absolute bastard, you! You left me with that old bitch tonight—oh, who’s that?”

You winced, a bit startled at the new person’s loud voice that came from the back door. He was wearing a fancy suit, the types you’d see your bosses wear, and my, you thought. He was a pretty boy. Much like Wooyoung.

“Hello, Hongjoong,” Wooyoung said dryly. You cringed when he pats your shoulder once. “Watch it. This one’s my client. A friend, you could say.”

Hongjoong raised a suspicious brow. “A friend? You? You don’t make friends, Wooyoung,” he looks at you up and down in slight distaste. “Certainly not with the rich type.”

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung warns with a slight edge on his voice. He points at the bartender watching the scene unfold. “Why don’t you tell Yunho to make us four drinks? On this one,” he juts a thumb on you.

You scoffed when Hongjoong left and turned to Wooyoung. “So you took me here to pay for the drinks? Should’ve known you’d only use me for my money.”

Wooyoung laughed, genuinely laughed. His high-pitched voice echoed through the bar, his eyes crinkled up in pure happiness as his mouth split open as he let out that beautiful sound. “You’re funny,” he said. “But no. It’s to appease him. He has a clear distaste for people like you, too.”

“I can see that,” you replied dryly.

“He’s not that bad. A bit straightforward, but he means well. He’s my longest friend.”

“He does what you do, too?” 

“Yes, don’t tell Yunho, he doesn’t know either,” Wooyoung said. “Though he does it full-time. I pick my own schedule because I have my job at the cafe and then I have another during the mornings. I unload trucks for that big ass grocery store downtown. You know that one right?”

Your eyes widened at that. “Three jobs?”

"What, you thought this was it? You thought I just fucked people all day, all night?" Wooyoung gestured vaguely to himself. "No. I have to survive. Though you wouldn’t get it, you earn what I earn in those three jobs within a week, probably."

You blinked, unsure how to react to that information. He always carried himself with such infuriating ease, like he didn’t have a single worry in the world. But three jobs? That wasn’t just busy - that was barely surviving. "You’re a hypocrite, then,” you mumbled. “You and I are no different. You have no living either.”

"Gotta do what you gotta do," he shrugged like it was nothing. “Though, I wouldn’t say we’re the same. I’m merely doing it to put food on the table.”

You knew it, at the back of your head, that there was more to Jung Wooyoung than you initially thought, but now, that thought was sprinkled with utmost respect. It was a dangerous thing to feel.

Just then, Yunho approaches where you were seated as Hongjoong chooses to sit beside you and places four shot glasses on the table - one for each of you.  

Wooyoung didn’t even get to taste anything, his phone suddenly rang, the shrill of it loud against the empty space of the bar. He takes one look at it and closes his eyes in concealed frustration.

“It’s Seonghwa, fuck,” he cursed, looking at Hongjoong, who looks at him in worry. “Shit, I gotta take this. I’ll be right back.”

Wooyoung runs to the rooftop, not even bothering to see what you’d say about the matter. You watched him go, flabbergasted, and not knowing what to do now that you were basically left with his two other friends.

“Seonghwa’s our boss, you could say. Anyway, what’s a person like you doing with the likes of Wooyoung?” Hongjoong suddenly quipped, downing his shot with a grimace on his face. “Fuck, Yunho, what you put in here? Gasoline?”

“You’ll find out if you suddenly drop dead,” the taller man deadpanned.

You turned to Hongjoong’s direction, frowning. “Believe it or not, this is purely coincidental.”

“I don’t know about that,” Yunho shook his head, downing his own shot without any reaction, which pisses Hongjoong off. “Wooyoung’s a busy person. He doesn’t just bring friends around.”

You couldn’t help the snort that comes out from you. “We’re not friends. He tells me he doesn’t like me all the time.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. It’s one thing to get paid to do…you know,” Hongjoong gives you a look, one that Yunho doesn’t seem to notice. “But it’s another thing to hang outside of that bubble. I’d say he’s fond of you.”

You should have laughed it off, but instead, you sat there, rooted in place, heart stumbling over itself in a way that made you feel unsteady. “Seriously, it’s not like that,” you reiterated. “This is a purely transactional relationship. Nothing else.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Yunho smirked.

Turns out, Wooyoung was right - Hongjoong wasn’t all that bad. If anything, he was equally as wise and insightful as Wooyoung was. You realized it might have been because of what they’ve gone through in life. Makes you really think about the other side of this life.

As it turns out, Yunho and Wooyoung’s mothers were close friends. Life was good until Wooyoung’s mother passed away. On top of that, Wooyoung’s father was a raging alcoholic who had no incentive to look for a job, so that left Wooyoung to fend for his little brother’s needs. It’s no wonder why Wooyoung looks and sounds so tired all the time.

“Sometimes, Wooyoung doesn’t even want to go home,” Yunho said quietly, glancing up the stairs to see if Wooyoung was there. “If it weren’t for his brother, he wouldn’t even. His dad is getting worse everyday. God, I hate that freeloader.”

“His pride is higher than the sky,” Hongjoong pitched in, his expression crestfallen, his eyes laced with hidden pity for his friend. “Sometimes, we don’t even know where he sleeps, or if he even sleeps. I’m so scared that one day he just won’t show up to work because he’s worked himself to death with his other jobs.”

You understood why Wooyoung feels such hostility towards you. You really did. He works himself to the bone and gets virtually nothing. You had everything you wanted.

“He’s a good person,” Yunho said softly. “You’ve seen it yourself. He’s a certified asshole. Him still hanging out with you is a proof of the opposite. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I’m sure he is,” you said. You just found it difficult to imagine Wooyoung warming up to you.

“He is, and to be fair, it’s not every time a rich person acts normal around these parts of the country,” Hongjoong scoffed. “All they do is step on us. Feed the hungry, feed them shit, feed them bones and politics type of a thing, and in a way, I’m definitely on his side. Trust me, he’s taken a liking to you. Maybe he’s trying to understand.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” you counteracted.

“Listen, Y/N is it? He’s been through a lot with the cards he’s been dealt with. Even if he doesn’t understand, he’ll try. You have to cut him some slack,” Hongjoong eyed your shot, the one you haven’t touched. “You gonna drink that?”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, eyeing you like he had officially deemed you a fascinating case study, as he crossed his arms comfortably in front of his chest. “Your turn,” he smirked. “I told you something about me. Tell me things about you.”

The first time you called him again, you told yourself it was just because you had nothing better to do, and maybe Wooyoung didn’t have other clients.

The second time, you told yourself it was out of convenience. As blunt as he was, he was easy to talk to, someone who could distract you without trying too hard.

By the third time, Wooyoung stopped knocking on your door and just let himself in every single time. To be fair, you stopped locking your doors on the nights you knew he was coming.

And by the tenth time, you stopped making excuses. It was an unwritten rule between the two of you at this point - you were lonely and in need of a friend, and he was trying to pass time.

“Well,” you shrugged. “What do you wanna know? There’s not much I can tell you, as you said, I do lead a lonely life.”

He thought about it for a moment. “You aren’t close with your parents?”

“Next question,” you said a bit more hastily than you intended to. They were the last thing you wanted to talk about, you didn’t want to ruin your good mood.

Instead of questioning it, Wooyoung nodded. Your chest almost caved in on itself. He didn’t push, nor did he look remotely disappointed about being denied an answer. “What’s it like?”

“What’s it like to what?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, pulling his knees to his chest as he sat comfortably on your couch. “What’s it like to have a lot of money? To never worry about the next day or your next meal?”

You stayed silent, contemplating on what you should say. In the end, you decided to be truthful. “Though I do make a lot of money now, I spent most of life with my parents’ money,” you admitted softly. “The saying is true. It doesn’t buy you happiness.”

“Oh, come off it,” Wooyoung hissed, banging his fist on your coffee table, taking you by surprise. He seemed actually mad - his face was contorted into a grimace, reddened with emotions. “I can’t stand you people, but you know what I can’t stand more? It’s when you people say that bullshit.”

“Wooyoung—”

“No, you listen to me,” he barked, breathing hard. “You get whatever you want, get whoever you want. Money is the world’s oyster, and you have plenty. Why the fuck aren’t you happy?”

You sighed, watching him centre himself and not saying anything to anger him more. You understood where he was coming from, and in truth, you understood more than you’d ever tell him. But no matter how much you explain, Wooyoung will never understand you.

You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself before speaking. “You think money solves everything,” you began, voice measured. “And I get it. It makes life easier. It gives you options. But having money doesn’t mean you automatically have happiness.”

Wooyoung scoffed, leaning back against the couch, arms crossed as he watched you talk. “Money gives you access, not fulfillment. Comfort, not peace. In this world, in a material sense, all of those are true. I never worried about my next meal or my next rent money. ”

You watched Wooyoung’s jaw tense. He licked his lips, turning away from you.

“However,” you continued when you saw he wasn’t going to say something. “It doesn’t buy what’s real and important. It doesn’t buy purpose, love, meaning. If anything, having those makes things harder to find. I don’t have a Yunho or Hongjoong in my life because they’re usually after my money.”

His expression flickered, and you can see the contemplation in his face, but you didn’t stop. “The worst part is I can’t complain. People like you look at people like me and say exactly what you’re thinking. This isn’t my first rodeo, Wooyoung.”

His jaw clenched. “Because it’s true.”

“To you,” you shot back, trying very hard to stay patient despite his biting tone. “This might sound ungrateful, but I didn’t ask to be born drowning in money. What if I was never given the chance to figure it out because everything was always there before I even had the chance to want it?”

Wooyoung just stared at you, something unreadable in his gaze. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” he admits after a while. “But, I appreciate you telling me.”

You hummed, accepting the response. He motions to you, and then to himself. “So there’s no point in all that wealth then, because clearly, we both have the same mental issues.”

“You could say that,” you laughed dryly, turning on the TV on the most random channel as background noise. 

“I hope it gets easier on you eventually,” he says softly, so softly you almost didn’t hear it if it weren’t you concentrating on his presence. “I hope it also gets easier on me.”

You let out a small smile. “Yeah, me too.”

There were nights you called him just to sit in silence, his steady presence somehow anchoring you. It was to the point that Yeosang memorized your number and their boss, Park Seonghwa, would personally book Wooyoung for you at a discounted rate. That was naturally disgusting for you to think, but it was what it was.

"You really have no one else to bother, huh?" Wooyoung would say the moment he’d enter through your door. Sometimes he brought coffee, sometimes doughnuts, most of the time with nothing but himself.

You’d roll your eyes. "Shut up."

And he would. Not because you told him to, but because he knew when you needed silence. You were getting attached, and that was a very, very dangerous concept to think about. Maybe it was, and perhaps you were, but it never stopped you from booking him.

But the most terrifying thing of all? He never once turned you away.

Granted, you were literally paying him for his time. Of course, he was guaranteed to show up. It was fucked, everything was fucked. You were calling a sex worker not to have sex with them, but for their presence.

Right now, you were at the bar waiting for Wooyoung to finish working with one of his regular clients. Yunho and Hongjoong would keep you company most of the time, and you were beginning to genuinely like their presence as well.

“Come on, why even get a pet, Joong?” Yunho asked exasperatedly as he gave you your free drink, putting his hands on his hips. “That poor animal, you’re barely home.”

“Humans ain’t shit; animals won’t betray you or let you down,” Hongjoong rolled his eyes. He grinned at you. “Isn’t that right, rich girl? Bet you can relate, people usually only want you for your cash.”

You were inclined to actually agree, and you voiced that out loud, much to Yunho’s chagrin. “Sure. What were you planning to get anyway?”

“A dog, a real cutie, I’ll go to an adoption centre,” Hongjoong said proudly.

“For Christ’s sake,” Yunho pinched his nose bridge, before he smirked and looked at Hongjoong teasingly. “Isn’t one bitch in the house enough?”

Your eyes widened, especially at Hongjoong’s appalled face. You had to admit, that was good. “You don’t get it,” Hongjoong pouted. “You hate animals.”

Yunho rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate animals.”

“You hate fish,” Hongjoong counteracted.

“Hate is a strong word. I don’t know how to take care of them.”

“You have an aversion to cats.”

“The fuck? I love cats,” Yunho genuinely looked scandalized by that.

“You hate roosters and cocks.”

“What? I love co…” Yunho trailed off, the smirk on his face slowly fading. “Bastard.”

Indeed, you really did like these two. They made you feel less alone. Now you knew what it felt like to have friends, and it felt great. While those two were bickering, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Wooyoung cocked his head with a small smirk. “Leave ‘em,” he chuckled. “They could keep going all night.” He holds his hand out and curtsies mockingly at you, not the bad kind. “Ready to go, Your Highness?”

True to his words, Hongjoong and Yunho were still bickering when you walked out. They didn’t even notice that Wooyoung had arrived and was now leaving with you. 

You had no direction in mind this time. It was only nearing four in the afternoon, much earlier than the time you would usually see Wooyoung. A nice walk in town wouldn’t hurt for a change. You didn’t want to go to the house this time, you were in a horrible mood.

Your co-workers from your own branch had their getaway without you. Sure, you were technically on the other side of the country, but you weren’t the only one. Some of your co-workers who were sent to other branches went as well. 

You were snapped out of your brooding thoughts when Wooyoung elbowed you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Crappy co-workers,” you said, not even bothering to sugarcoat what you really thought.

Wooyoung chortled, sitting down on the park bench that overlooked the entire greenery. You chose to sit with him. If you weren’t tied to your work in Seoul, you wouldn’t mind living here permanently.

“Still don’t like me?” You teased him.

He scoffed, side-eyeing you sarcastically before his eyes returned forward. “No.”

“But you’re here with me,” you shrugged, pulling your cardigan closer to your body as the wind picked up.

“Doesn’t mean I like you,” he pointed out. “Plus, you’re paying me. It’s literally my job to be with you right now.”

“Right,” you chuckled, leaving that conversation for another day. “Can I ask you something?”

Wooyoung hummed a go-ahead answer, a permission for you to ask what you wanted. “You said you have a brother?” He nodded his head once. “May I ask how old he is and what he does when you’re…working?”

“Interesting question, dollface,” he raised a brow. “But it’s oddly on brand with you.”

You shrugged. “I have nothing to lose.”

“I admire the audacity.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. There was something almost vulnerable in his expression. “He’s twelve. When I’m not around I drop him off to his babysitter. I trust Jongho with all that I have to take care of him.”

Wooyoung hesitated, running a hand through his hair before he continued. “He knows,” was all he said.

There was a beat of silence. You waited until he continued. “My brother knows that I do sex work,” he said, a hint of pain laced in his voice like it has always been there. “He knows, but at the same time, he doesn’t understand. I want to keep it that way for as long as I can.”

You have talked about his father before. You never asked, Wooyoung would just talk about him out of the blue, however, this was the first time you talked about his brother. 

Every single time you meet with Wooyoung, you learn things about him little by little and you can’t help but look at him differently each time you do. He likes to pretend he isn’t afraid whenever the topic about his family arises.

Behind all that cockiness and bravado, is an exhausted little boy who grew up faster than the world should have let him. You want to imagine you understood.

“He used to be good, you know?” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, putting his hands in his pockets. “My father, I mean. It wasn’t until my mother passed away that he started turning into the alcoholic bastard I now know him to be.”

Somehow, that stung more than you’d like to lead on. The fact that there was a potential in this lifetime for Wooyoung’s life to have been the other way around, only for his own father to snuff it out of him.

“It doesn’t hurt as much to remember, that I could have had what a normal person could have had, but it still fucking sucks,” he said. “This might be cheesy, and I don’t say it often to their faces, but this is why I cherish Yunho and Hongjoong in my life.”

“How so?” You asked, though you had an inkling as to why.

“They’re my chosen family, wouldn’t trade those motherfuckers for anything,” he chuckled, a fond smile spreading through his face. “There’s not a lot of things I believe, not anymore, but I do believe you choose the people you want in your life. Hell, I would have dropped my father a long time ago if I could. It’s the only way I’ll ever get to be free.”

“You will be,” you muttered automatically before you could stop yourself. Wooyoung stared at you expectantly. “Being free, I mean. Time will grant you that right.”

He laughed incredulously, and for a second, you wanted to berate him for putting himself down. “Seriously,” you tried to convince him. “This might be difficult to imagine right now, but this will pass. You never know, maybe you’d get to take yourself and brother away and be your own person eventually.”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” Wooyoung sighed. “This is all I’ve known all my life, it’s difficult to not get stuck in this rut when all I want most of the time is to kick my father to the curb or to bash my every client’s head who pays me to suck my dick. It’s a cycle; I think, I sulk, I work, because if I don’t, we’ll starve.”

“Well, you’re alive, aren’t you?” You raised a brow in response.

His lips curl in obvious distaste and irritation. “Don’t get me started on what it means to be alive, Y/N.”

“There’s your answer, then,” you shrugged. He tilted his head in confusion. “You’re a fighter, Wooyoung. As long as you're breathing, you keep fighting. You hold onto that vision of your perfect future, and no matter how painful the steps, you keep moving toward it.” 

Wooyoung stared at you like you had all the answers to his questions. If you couldn’t read him before, you sure as hell couldn’t now. His expression morphs into something you couldn’t explain, yet it made your heart tremble. “I rely on myself, just making sure that was clear,” he said. “And I want what I know I could have, but goddamn it, why does the thing I want so fucking bad always out of my reach?”

He leans back on the bench, tilts his head up to stare up the sky with the most faraway look in his eyes. “I want to get the fuck out of here,” he swallowed. “So fucking bad.”

“And you will,” you assured him. “You deserve freedom, Wooyoung. Just like me, just like the rest of us. It might not be today, might not be tomorrow, but you will get there someday.”

“God, you really are the strangest rich person I’ve met. It’s like you’ve seen more shit than I have.” He shifts his head in your direction. “Will you get out, too?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. You shrugged.  “You asked me before if I wasn’t close with my parents,” you said, instead, the wind carrying your voice for you. “Are you still curious?”

The sharpness in his eyes had softened, just a little. He doesn’t say anything, but he turns his body ever so slightly in your direction to indicate that he was ready to listen. You had to smile at that.

The last thing you wanted to talk about were your parents, but it was time. “I didn’t exactly have the best relationship with my parents, if not, ever. I had no siblings either, so I pretty much grew up alone,” you began, sighing afterwards to brace yourself.

It already pained you to remember these, but your mouth wasn’t going to stop now that you had started. “My mom was the classic narcissist that literally questioned everything I did with all the hours that God had made everyday,” you chuckled bitterly. “Nothing was ever good enough for her.”

“If I’d get an A+, she’d tell me it wasn’t enough since A++ still existed,” you continued, your voice hardening the more you spoke. “I had to lose more weight, I had to act classier, I had to have this, that, and be everything that I already was even though I knew to myself I was good enough.”

You hadn’t meant to rant. Wooyoung titled his head, his entire body shifted fully to your direction at this point. “Your father?”

“He’s a different story,” you let out a dry laugh. “I love him, by God, I still do. But the love he held for my mother blinded him to my suffering and need for comfort when she berated me over nothing. To this day, he still doesn’t believe me when I tell him what mother did.”

“To be quite honest with you,” you spoke. “I don’t know who is the worse between the two.”

Wooyoung was quiet, watching you carefully as he listened to you. “You know what the kicker is?” You shook your head in disbelief. “They’re miserable. My mother stopped loving him a long time ago. But they have to stay together, it would be a disgrace to divorce in our world. It’s utter madness, I tell you. I have to be in the middle of that because I carry the family name.”

It wasn’t much of a secret that this is where your need for isolation started. You’d rather be alone. You already had a lifetime of baggage and weight you didn’t want to pass to anyone.

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt like understanding, like an acknowledgment of something that didn’t need to be put into words.

“I give a quarter of my total earnings to my father,” he said after a while. “Unfortunately, at the end of the day, I do live under his roof. If I didn’t give him my money, he wouldn’t hesitate to not only kick me, but also kick my brother out. His sons.”

He shrugged, exaggeratIng the move, as if he was proving to himself that it didn’t bother him, but you could clearly see through him. “At the same time, he can’t do that,” he clicked his tongue. “I am his only source of income, after all.”

You would consider yourself to be a very sympathetic person, but all the sympathy in the world cannot encompass what you feel for this man sitting beside you. Jung Wooyoung was everything you wished you'd found earlier in your life.

And you wished he found you earlier in life so that maybe, he wouldn’t be alone dealing with all of this. He’d have you even though he didn’t want you.

He stretches his limbs with a small groan before turning back to you with a bright grin on his face. “Both of our families suck ass, huh?”

You thought you were used to how crass he was, but still, he never failed to surprise you. “Yeah,” you laughed. “Yeah, they do.”

The topic just changed from there. You had no idea who started it, but all you know was that right now, Wooyoung and you were talking as if you weren’t his client and you weren’t paying for his time.

The sun was almost setting in the horizon, but the conversation carried on. You had no idea how long you two had been sitting on that bench, it was to a point that you were sure that your butt had imprints on it, nor had you any idea what time it currently was.

Usually, you would check your phone, but you didn’t bring it today. You had no reason to, you didn’t know you’d spend time with Wooyoung outdoors. But it was good, you didn’t want to be interrupted. You were too busy being with Wooyoung. 

You wanted to remember this day. You could forget everything that has ever happened to you, but not today. It was the first time Wooyoung had completely let his guard down to talk to you. His gestures were more animated, his face brighter than you’d ever seen it.

“When I was a kid, I loved climbing that big ass tree over there,” he laughed, pointing at the big tree across the park. “Always fell flat on my ass, too.”

He laughed the way he did when he was with Yunho and Hongjoong. Wooyoung said you had money, but you were pretty sure you wouldn’t have enough to pay to see even a glimpse of young Wooyoung back then, before everything.

You probably looked like a fool staring at him the more he talked. You wished Wooyoung could see his own face right now, and all you did was wonder how he used to spend his days and how many more stories of his life he had to tell you.

Tell me all of them, you thought. So I can stay alive for a little while longer.

It was when you felt it - the first fat raindrop that splashed against your cheek. You looked up just as the sky darkened. It startled you a bit, you could have sworn it was still a bit sunny earlier.

"Great," you sighed, getting ready to stand up. "We should go before this turns into a downpour."

But, Wooyoung only grinned. He held your arm to stop you. "Or," he said, tilting his head towards the sky with that irritatingly smug expression. “We could stay.”

A drop landed on your nose. Then another. But that wasn’t what got you, it was when Wooyoung’s hand dropped from your arm to your hand. You stared at him, horrified. "And get soaked?"

“Listen to me,” he began. “What if we forget everything just for tonight? No work, no shitty parents, just us and the rain.”

In your peripheral vision, you could already see people running to get cover, but your eyes never left Wooyoung’s.

“We’ll sing like we’re alone. Just imagine, Y/N,” he laughed so carefree, it hurt your heart. “We could literally be a force that could shake this whole damn world if we stood up to it, but only for tonight.”

"You're impossible," you sighed, but deep inside, you could already feel that fire inside you rising.

“You still have a lot to learn, I’m telling you,” he said excitedly, bringing his palm up with his other hand to feel the raindrops hitting his skin. “This is what it means to be alive. Don’t take for granted these little things,” he squeezed your hand tighter. “Because these little things are all that we have.”

The rain started to pick up, and it poured down so hard, the both of you were already soaked from head to toe within five minutes. 

“Everyone gets their freedom, it’s just a matter of time,” he said over the rain. “But right now, let's pretend we’ve reached the finish line.”

There you were, holding Wooyoung’s hand as you let the rain pour over you. It was so ridiculous, that you started laughing. It triggered Wooyoung’s own laughter, but the rain was so loud that it only carried your laughter over it, to be unheard to nobody else but the two of you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed like this - breathless, uninhibited, real. You weren’t even cold, and your clothes didn’t feel heavy on your body. There was just peace around the two of you, and strangely, that was all you needed.

The rain, you, and Wooyoung. That was all you needed.

You got slammed with so much work, you were surprised that you even had time to eat and shower. Phone call after phone call, Zoom meetings after the other, it was hectic. 

But, you were slowly beginning to realize that this trip wasn’t to help the other branch that they’d opened - it was just so they could have an excuse to have you out here doing something else. You’ve always been true to your work, working with clients for their utmost satisfaction and not their money. Well, your co-workers didn’t function like that. It was their loss, really.

These times were the moments you wished Wooyoung was here with you, but you haven’t booked him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to - it was that you couldn’t. You chose not to.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself wondering what he was doing, if he noticed your absence, if he even cared. You’d tell yourself that it didn’t matter, but then you’d be lying to yourself.

You decided to go to the bar, hoping to pass time or have a drink. Wooyoung wasn’t the only company you have, but as you entered the empty space, you knew that he was the only person you wanted.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, rich girl,” Hongjoong greeted you the moment he saw you, surprise flickering in his eyes. He pats the barstool beside him as Yunho nods his head at you in greeting as well.

“Wooyoung won’t be coming tonight,” the bartender said apologetically. “Were you here to wait for him?”

“Has he been busy lately?” You asked, automatically biting your tongue the moment the words came out. 

“He hasn’t been at our job for days now, ” Hongjoong cleared his throat, side-eyeing you again as if to tell you to not say a word about the job. “But he’s been taking extra shifts at his other jobs. I think he’s piling them up so he’d have more free time with you.”

Oh, that certainly caught your attention. “What does that even mean?”

Yunho smirks, temporarily leaving his station to humour you. “You know damn well what that means, aren’t you rich people educated on shit like that?”

You raised a brow. “I didn’t know you thought the same.”

“The point is,” he waved his hand. “We’ve never seen this excited to be with someone in a while. He looks so…what’s the word?”

“Alive,” Hongjoong supplies. “He’s never looked more alive than he does now, and it’s all because of you.

You blinked, the weight of Hongjoong’s words settling deep in your chest. Alive. They weren’t joking. They weren’t exaggerating. They both meant it.

“I mean, not to be callous about it, but I do pay him a hefty sum,” you shrugged, trying to tread the topic carefully. “He’s probably always been like this?”

“Has he?” Yunho raised a brow, leaning forward. “Because the Wooyoung we know doesn’t let just anyone in. He doesn’t show up for just anyone. Money be damned, if he doesn’t want to, don’t even expect anything. He doesn’t give a shit.”

“You’re what he looks forward to at the end of his days, Y/N,”  Hongjoong pauses, hesitant to say his next words. “Which is why he’s been in a horrible, horrible mood when you stopped booking for his time. It’s been almost two weeks now, what’s going on?” 

“No, but to be fair, Wooyoung hasn’t really showed up either, now that I think about it,” Yunho frowned. “Jongho says he hasn’t been going home, either. Just calling to check in on his brother.”

That was the thought that kept circulating in your head as you walked to the direction of the park. You were certainly worried now, was it a mistake to not seek Wooyoung this time?

And just like before, it also started raining. This time, though, you brought an umbrella with you as you were aware that it was going to rain before you went out today.

And just like before, you found yourself heading towards the park, towards the bench where you last saw Wooyoung. But, the bench wasn’t empty.

Wooyoung. The tears have left a blur in your vision that you couldn’t explain. The pain of seeing him sitting down the bench just staring out into nowhere has left a hole in which your heart should have been.

And just like before, his clothes were also soaked under the pouring rain. Only this time, his laughter wasn’t present in the air.

Not like this, you thought. Not like this.

Without hesitation, you quickly strode towards the bench, stopping short behind it and covered Wooyoung’s soaking form with the umbrella. If he noticed that the rain had suddenly stopped pouring where he sat, he didn’t react to it.

“I don’t reckon your umbrella is big enough for the both of us, dollface,” was all he said. He sounded calm, calmer than you’ve ever heard of him.

How he found out it was you, you were never going to know. You huffed, shifting the umbrella slightly so that more of it covered him than you. “I don’t reckon you care whether you get sick or not.”

Finally, he looked at you, and if it was possible, your heart broke even further. Wooyoung looked even more exhausted than you’ve ever seen him. His cheeks were more gaunt and hollow than you remembered, his eyes more sunken than the average person.

Then again, Wooyoung’s life wasn’t normal. You couldn’t even begin to imagine all the things that kept him awake at night. “I don’t,” he admitted. “Not really.”

You made a small noise, gripping your umbrella so hard, your knuckles turned white. “I hope you know that there wouldn’t be enough rainwater in this world to drown you no matter how long you stay here. You might as well seek shelter.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “I know. My demons came to take me to hell, but I’m already there. Plus, they know how to swim, anyway.”

You didn’t argue, there was no point, letting the silence stretch; just standing there behind him hoping to shield him from the rain even if you couldn’t save him from his demons. You left the house to go to the bar at six in the evening, and an hour later, you found yourself standing in the rain with Wooyoung.

Another hour later, the two of you were standing like idiots in a small boutique to find some spare clothes for him. By midnight, he was laying in bed next to you after he had showered and changed his clothes.

You didn’t question why he was out there. He hadn’t questioned why you haven’t called for him in two weeks. You didn’t offer him your bed. He didn’t leave a single space in between you as he laid down next to you. You didn’t push him away.

You just stayed there, listening to the rain against the window, to the sound of your own heartbeat, to the quiet presence of Wooyoung beside you.

And for reasons you didn’t quite understand, you felt like a brand new person. You felt normal, like you were just another person on this planet.

“I’m tired,” he suddenly whispered, his voice cracking through the darkness as his hand mindlessly played with your hair. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Go to sleep,” you said, not acknowledging the hidden meaning behind his words. You know he’d hate you for it.

“Thank you,” he said.

You didn’t bother looking at him, didn’t bother opening your eyes as his fingers traced your cheeks. “For?”

“The bed. Usually, I don’t have one to come home to.  Thank you.”

The indication was there. He hasn’t gone home in days when you saw him in the rain, and even if he does go home, he never stays long enough because even in his sleep, peace doesn’t visit him.

Humans have their limits, and you had always hoped that Wooyoung would never, ever reach his. The moment that fight left his eyes, would be the moment you would stop fighting, as well.

“You’re welcome,” was the last thing you said before you both fell asleep like everything was going to be okay the next day.

And for a moment, it would be. The both of you woke up to Wooyoung’s phone ringing incessantly. You watched him closely as he spoke with whoever else was calling him at seven in the morning.

You watched as his expression changed from annoyance, to surprise, to genuine relief. You could have even sworn there were tears in his eyes. But they’re happy tears. You would take those over the other kind any day.

“That was my mother’s lawyer when she was still alive,” he explained the moment he hung up the phone. He tried hard to keep the excitement off of his voice, but you’ve been spending enough time with him at this point to know.

“Is everything okay?” You asked.

Wooyoung nodded. “Apparently, my mother signed a will that when I turned twenty-five, which I did two months ago, I’ll receive a lump sum of money to put into my little brother’s future. She knew she would pass soon before she even gave birth.”

His smile grew like the rising sun that rivaled the horizon outside your window right now. “My brother’s set for life even after college, Y/N. I can take a break from working too much for now.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread all over your face as well. A break. You deserve one. Heaven knows you do. That night, for the first time in your life, you didn’t have to watch the sunset alone.

Over the next few days, your closet would slowly be filled with Wooyoung’s spare clothes and belongings. It would be the first time in your life that you had to make space in your closet for someone else.

“This is a fuck ton of clothes you don’t even need, Jesus fucking H.,” he grumbled in annoyance when you asked him to shover your clothes on the other side of the drawer one day.

You rolled your eyes, but kept a smile on your face. “Most of these are my designs, I just keep them for layout purposes.”

He picked a particular piece that you hadn’t seen in a while - a blue, loose, lace crop top. It was when you were dabbling with genderless concepts. The fit was masculine, but the material was feminine. He didn’t even wait for you to say anything, he just shoved it in his space along with the rest of his clothes. Wooyoung would come and go to your place more often than not. Sometimes, you’d be surprised that he was already sleeping beside you, his face more peaceful than you’d ever seen it. Most of the time, it was the nights where you didn’t even book him. He would just do as he pleased.

As you watched him, this feeling that had quietly crept into your heart began to grow. It was something new. Something delicate and real, like the soft glow of the sunset outside your window.

You couldn’t help but wonder when this feeling had started, when the lines between just sharing space and something deeper began to blur. Was it the laughter you shared during late-night conversations, or was it the way he made everything feel so much more possible?

“I was actually going to do it that night.”

It certainly wasn’t the best way to start what you hoped to be a normal Wednesday morning. Your statement catches Wooyoung off-guard. There weren’t many things that made Wooyoung freeze, but sometimes, it seemed like you really never failed to surpass his expectations. It was fascinating.

He sighed, putting the spatula down on your sink so he could wash his hands, the pancakes he was making for the both of you for breakfast in your kitchen temporarily forgotten as he took the apron off to cross his hands over his chest and stare you down.

He knew exactly what you were referring to, you didn’t need to elaborate which night it was.

Still, you tried to tread the topic lightly. It wasn’t because you were trying to appease Wooyoung into liking you, but it was more because you didn’t want to make even more mistakes. Avoiding him for two weeks was a huge mistake on your part.

You tried to convince yourself it was the safe option. You only had less than two months left before you had to go back. You both knew that. At the end of the day, you knew that Wooyoung was afraid and uncertain, and he was especially fragile despite all the walls he built upon himself.

Wooyoung blinked at you, unmoving. “I know,” he said flatly. “I’ve seen and experienced too much shit to not know the look in someone’s eyes when they want to transcend wherever.”

Two simple words, spoken so flatly, so matter-of-factly, that it made your stomach twist. It was so Jung Wooyoung of him. The way he looked at you right now, though? It was the kind of certainty that you’ve never seen from him before. Still, you didn’t miss the way he shifted from foot to foot as he tried to keep his composure.

“That’s bullshit,” your voice was thin, almost unsteady, but you pushed through it. “You told me I didn’t have the guts to jump off of that railing that night. I know you did.”

You remembered that night vividly - the cold bite of the air, the way your hands had gripped the railing so tightly they ached, the way he had stood there, just close enough to reach if you lost your balance, but far enough to agitate you.

“So, I lied,” he closed his eyes before sighing and opening them again to look you deep in the eyes, as if he was trying to convey something without fully saying them. “It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, dollface.”

The breath you had been holding slipped out shakily. You felt dizzy, off-kilter, like the universe had shifted and left you struggling to find your balance. “If I told you the truth,” he murmured, “I don’t think you would’ve come down.”

You’ve been alone all your life, so you were used to being invisible. The last person who you thought would actually see you was a tattooed sex worker who disliked wealthy people. Maybe it was the confusion talking for you, but then, you said something you shouldn’t have. Maybe you were no different than all the people that had made Wooyoung the way he was.

“I don’t understand,” your voice was sharp, cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened, his posture stiffening. “You don’t understand,” he deadpanned, his voice twisting into something angrier by the minute. “You don’t understand. You know what I don’t understand?”

You watched and held your breath as he harshly pulled a chair to sit down on it, closer to you. “The things I’d do to get what you have, they’re almost non-human in aspect,” he said, low and seething. “I still think that, and that’s never going to change. Not now, not ever.”

“You have nothing to escape from, absolutely nothing,” he continued, glaring at you. “God knows you have more than enough, surely you can’t be greedy and take what’s not yours to take, Y/N? Don’t be an idiot.”

Life, is what he’s trying to say.

You stared at each other for a lifetime. Wooyoung still looked exhausted. His chest heaved, his eyes dry, and you could practically see his collarbones peeking through his skin and the veins that marred them because of how transparent his skin was. Still, you couldn’t help the rising pride in your chest that overtook your shame because Wooyoung went through everything, yet he’s still so brave.

If Wooyoung can be brave, then why can’t you?

“I’m sorry,” you put your head low, looking down at your lap where your hands laid still. 

“You better fuck off with that, Y/N. I’m warning you,” he growled venomously, and suddenly, he was scooting closer to you. He takes his fist, that one where the thorned rose lay, and hits his chest.

“You’re not the only one who wanted to check out a long time ago. You know how I feel here? Everytime I take a fucking breath, there’s something inside me that feels like I’m breathing in sulfur. ”

You sighed. “I just want to live the way I want, you know? I don’t want everything, I just want to be happy.”

“So do I,” he replied.

You knew he wanted to say more, and you did too, but just like him when he holds back on talking smack about the type of people you belong to, you hold your tongue. It wasn’t because you couldn’t stand Wooyoung and his status, but it’s because you know you have no right to say anything about it.

Then again, maybe you were assuming things, maybe he was fine, maybe Wooyoung does sleep well at night, or maybe he was afraid despite not showing he was.

You didn’t notice Wooyoung’s chair scoot even closer to yours when you began to talk. “I mean, I get it,” you said. “We’re not the same and you’ve drilled that in my head so many times, but it really doesn’t have to be that way. Maybe we are the same, we just want to be happy.”

Wooyoung nods once, not looking like he even understood a thing you said. “You’re not doing shit,” he mumbled. “You can’t do it. Not in front of me. Not while I’m still standing.”

He puts his hands behind your neck before he pulls you and puts his lips against yours. His eyes were still open, tentatively watching you. He doesn’t move his lips, just meeting yours in a modest touch, his hand still holding your head tenderly like you were fine glass. There was no warning, it was as if he was trying to silence the raging storm between the both of  you.

You froze, your body short circuiting as both your mind and your surroundings dissolved into static. You didn’t kiss him back, not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t know how to do it with him properly.

You pulled away, your eyes widening ever so slightly as you caught your breath. Wooyoung leaned his forehead against yours, his face blank except for his small pout and furrowed brows. 

“W-Wooyoung?” You tried to say, but it ended up sounding like a squeak.

“Hmm?”

“You just k-kissed me.”

He completely pulls away from you, his face back to that indifferent look you knew him for. “Yeah?”

Your entire just shut down at that moment, your lips tingling because you could still the imprint of his on yours. “W-Why? What the hell—”

He shrugs with an incredible amount of nonchalance that you couldn’t decide if you should be amazed or offended. “Does it matter? I wanted to do it, so I did.”

You were so flabbergasted, your face blushing as you blinked at him repeatedly. You were surprised your heart hasn’t leapt out of your chest yet. The only reason why you haven’t really tumbled down is purely because of the sheer adrenaline pumping through your bloodstream by the buckets. It felt intoxicating yet dizzying at the same time.

Wooyoung lets out a small laughter, his fingers lifting to flick your forehead softly. “You’d think by now you’d know that I just do whatever comes to my head,” he said, fondness in his eyes.

“It doesn’t work that way, and you know it,” you frowned. But how does that work, exactly? You could barely think of anything right now.

“How does what work, dollface?” And just like that, he was able to render you into silence. You don’t know how he does it, but it’s making you panic. You decided to shut your mouth, you knew that you’d fumble if you spoke.

He barked out another laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “What, cat got your tongue?” He tapped his own lips. “Or is it me?”

The heat rose to your face so fast you swore you felt it burn. Wooyoung stood back up and walked away from you, his hands slipping into his pockets like none of this had just happened. He motions towards the clock overhead the kitchen door.

“I have to head out,” he said. “I got booked by this tourist who wants a pretty boy to fuck.” He clicked his tongue, nodding towards you. “You should eat before you go to work, too.”

You stifle the smile that threatens to break from your lips. “Didn’t know you suddenly cared about my well-being.”

“Debatable,” he replied nonchalantly, but that was accompanied by a solid bite of his bottom lip to stop his smirk from showing.

“I’m just saying,” you chuckled, getting up from where you were as well to grab your purse and work folders. “I’m more than the lonely office worker that hires sex workers for the company. Just like there’s layers upon layers under all the sex work you do.”

Wooyoung’s smirk, or what’s little of it, completely drops. He tilted his head at you, curiosity filling his eyes. You blinked at him repeatedly. “You do…realize that, right? We are always more than what meets the eye.”

His lips curl into distaste. “Sure, I guess,” he shrugged.

“I mean, I know your revulsion is for my background and not me, specifically, and you’re biased, so I understand,” you said, hurriedly grabbing a couple pieces of pancakes on a small napkin to take. “It’s just you, Wooyoung. I’ve never disliked you. I’m not sure if that counts for something.”

Wooyoung’s lips parted, his forced guise of cynicism cracking. There was something else in his expression now - something softer, something fragile, beneath the bravado he always carried.

His direct eye contact wavers. “It does.”

Somehow, that admission settled into your chest like a quiet ache, a warmth you didn’t know what to do with, but you knew the weight behind those words, and he was aware of that. “My God, you’re strange,” you joked, trying to lighten up the situation. “It’s fine, really.”

Wooyoung hummed, stepping past you. “And you’re a fucking weirdo. That balances us out.”

Just before he reached the door, you stopped him by calling his name. He pauses, but doesn’t acknowledge the callout. “Wooyoung,” you said. “Will you be here when I come back from work?”

Then, without turning around, he asked, “Not sure. Why?”

“So I can order extra dinner,” you shrugged, holding your breath without knowing. “I, uhm, booked you for nine hours this time, but you don’t have to. You’re free to do what you want, as usual.”

Last night, not only did you tell Yeosang that you’re tipping extra, but you had to steal Wooyoung’s reservation from someone else. Admittedly, it did cost you a pretty penny, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

Sometimes, you’d book Wooyoung when you weren’t even home. That would prompt him to do whatever the hell he wanted, regardless if he was with you or not. He wouldn’t tell you, but Yunho would. Wooyoung would crash at the taller man’s place to rest and sleep. 

Wooyoung’s eyes met yours and you found that his face was filled with more than its usual heaviness. There was something subtle in there - determination. There was a hint of hope and gratitude. There was something other than pain.

“I’ll see what I can do, dollface,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t a promise, but you were going to take what you can get.

He walks off, not bothering to close the door since you had to leave as well, but barely. Wooyoung would pause and hesitate, because he kept looking back and sneaking glances at you constantly, knowing that he has to go but not wanting to leave at the moment.

It’s okay, you thought. We still have more time.

The office felt suffocating today. You had to re-introduce yourself to the newer employees for this other branch, and so far, it wasn’t all too bad. From the looks of it, you were hoping that this environment wouldn’t be just like yours in the making.

Fabrics upon fabrics met your eye, new designs from fresher perspectives that genuinely impressed you. You missed this, you spent most of your time here with only Zoom meetings to go off of, and it felt great to be back in the scene in an actual office where you could review potential projects in person.

You were staring at a new recruit’s portfolio, which was admittedly quite good since they knew how to match colours with patterns, trying and failing to focus, when Mingi’s voice pulled you out of your haze.

“You look different.”

You blinked, turning to him. “Pray tell, Director Song.”

His head tilted slightly as he studied you, eyes sharp but unreadable. “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “There’s just something different about you today.”

You hesitated. You wanted to tell him. Some of it, at least. But the details felt too complicated, and plus, you had always tried to separate your personal life with your professional work.

But Mingi was your long time friend, both of your parents were acquaintances - it was how he became an intern at your company - so if there was anyone who might understand your dilemma, it would be him. You picked your words carefully, skimming the surface of the truth without diving too deep. “I met someone,” you admitted.

Mingi’s brows shot up in shock.  You could tell he wasn’t expecting that. “Oh?”

You gave a small, almost self-conscious nod. “Yeah. He’s, uhm, quite complex. Very curious.”

Mingi scoffed, smirking. “Aren’t we all?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I would suppose so. Our circumstances are very unconventional. I can’t even put a label on it, there’s no precursor for it, if I’m being completely honest.”

Mingi laughed, but then he caught the way your voice softened at the edges. He exhaled through his nose, a small, quiet sound of understanding. “I’m happy for you,” he said. “People like us…it’s hard to find something worthwhile to hold onto. You know how it is. Love is almost unheard of. Laughable, even.”

Your chest tightened. People like us. What is worthwhile? You had no idea. Neither did Mingi. He could relate; his family was just like yours, after all. You were both born on a different standing and calibre, and it was just an unspoken and unwritten rule that apparently, with high economic statuses comes along a complicated life.

He patted your shoulders affectionately, speaking low enough for you to hear. “Regardless, I’m happy for you, Y/N. It’s a privilege to feel the way you do in this world,” he said. “You deserve to be happy, too. We are not our parents, remember that.”

Mingi dismissed you afterwards, something he might get in trouble for. You were relieved.

Coming back to the house was the most anxiety you’ve ever felt in your life. You’ve learned not to expect Wooyoung to be there. You wanted to give him his freedom, something this world had seemed to have forgotten to give to him.

But there he was. He sat on your couch like he belonged there, like he always had. His phone was in his hands, but the second he noticed you, he locked the screen and tossed it aside.

“Took you long enough,” he mused, tilting his head at you with a smirk.

Wooyoung looked exhausted. It showed in the dark circles beneath his eyes, his usual sharp gaze dulled by something you couldn’t name, and his smirk that usually looked so smug, now looked hollowed.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Wooyoung stretched, his shirt riding up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin before settling back down. “Neither did I.”

You furrowed your brows. “Then, why are you?”

He shrugged, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “Misery loves company, I guess.”

Wooyoung pushed himself off of the couch. He didn’t say anything else as he stepped closer to you, just tugging your shirt a little to pull you to him so he could lean in and slot his lips against yours in a serene kiss - another one you couldn’t return.

Wooyoung’s younger brother looked just like him.  And when he looked at you, something in his gaze lingered. It was very curious but knowing, like he already knew exactly who you were to his brother.

You wished you knew because you had no idea and if you were being honest to yourself, maybe you didn’t want to know. The house was quaint and a bit neglected, but it was home to Wooyoung, who was currently outside with Hongjoong and Yunho.

Wooyoung’s little brother was seen loitering around cold and hungry by Hongjoong, who took him straight to Yunho at the bar to call Wooyoung. Their father had left the poor child to go get blackout drunk somewhere else. You followed an understandably pissed Wooyoung there.

Luckily, Jongho was free tonight. He had come straight to the house to spend the night since Wooyoung’s schedule lined up with his other job after his time with you.

“He talks about you a lot when I’m done putting this one to sleep,” Jongho gave you a glass, a cracked one, of water. “But never the full story. Like he was keeping something safe.”

You looked away. Maybe it was safer this way. You gripped the glass hard, indescribable anger coursing through your veins at the unknown man who has supposedly fathered him.

“Ready to go?” Wooyoung’s voice suddenly filled the small living room as the other two followed him. He nodded at Hongjoong, who took it as his queue to distract his little brother.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jongho,” you smiled warmly at the babysitter, giving him a small hug. 

Wooyoung, whether it was subconscious or not on his end, held your hand in his as he started to walk away. It was a challenge ignoring Yunho’s smirk and wiggling eyebrows.

“I owe you one, man, big time,” Wooyoung spoke quietly towards Jongho. “I mean it. I’m not in the mood to see my father after this.”

“What ‘ya want me to tell him if I do see his sorry ass tonight?” Jongho asked. 

Wooyoung’s hand squeezed yours. “Tell him that he can take anything he wants, but he better not take it from me,” he flatly said. “I’ll give you an extra hundred bucks if you tell him he can go fuck himself.”

“Deal,” the younger man grinned. “Where are you going to stay, then?”

Wooyoung opts not to answer, instead patting Jongho on the shoulder once before dragging you with him to your car. As you drove, you didn’t need to ask him either. You knew what the answer would be.

The moment you get into the house, Wooyoung showers, presumably to cool off. You get it, you really did. You were left standing in the hallways, staring at the shower door, your mind replaying a specific moment you shared with Wooyoung one time. 

“Nightmare?” Wooyoung asked in concern, pulling your head to his chest. When you nodded, he asked, “What do you usually dream about?”

“Something to kiss the demons out of my dreams,” you mumbled, your voice muffled as your face was pressed on his firm chest. “You? What do you usually dream about?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, his fingers tracing your back lazily. “Water,” he said.

“Water?”

“I dream of water that can wash the weight of the world off my shoulders.”

You were so drawn to him. It was silent, unseen, hard to ignore. No matter how often you told yourself to walk away, you never could. 

Walking away was lost on you, because the truth was, you’ve started to look forward to ending your days with him. Wooyoung’s ghost haunted every corner of the house now, especially now when he was trying to temporarily wash away all his burdens.

You didn’t even notice him get out of the showers, your mind very much preoccupied with thoughts of him and everything that's happened so far. 

So when he tilted your chin upwards, you were startled. Your breath got caught in your throat, your body stilling as Wooyoung started to lean in, his lips almost touching yours.

But just when you thought he’d close the space between you, he stopped. “For someone who doesn’t return my kisses,” he murmured, voice low and heavy. “You sure always expect it.”

You looked down, shame filling your chest. You swallowed your words like it might poison you if spoken aloud. Wooyoung sighed, pulling you to the bedroom and sitting beside you on the bed.

“There’s not a lot that I can choose for myself, given my line of work,” Wooyoung began. “It’s an entire process, dollface. When the sun comes down, all the filth run free. I have to be the finest specimen of filth for a living so some daddy’s little angel would get dirt on her knees. I get paid, I go home.”

His words catch you off guard. Wooyoung doesn’t talk about his profession, if not, ever. And you never really asked, but you wouldn’t mind listening. He had a faraway look in his eyes as he continued.

“Then I get so blind with rage to the point that no matter what I do, I could never shake the feeling out,” he chuckled bitterly. “I hurt much more than anytime before, and sooner or later, I have no options left again. Rinse. Repeat. All I know is that all I want is to feel like I’m not stepped on.”

Wooyoung was so calm and collected while your heart felt like it wanted to explode. You hated that he seemed like he accepted all the unfairness that’s been happening to him.

“This might be my job, but sometimes, I feel disgusted with myself. I feel used. Dirty.”

You snapped your head to stare at him in horror at what he said, but you found that he was already staring at you.

You didn’t know what hurt more - the way he said it so plainly, or the fact that he truly meant it. He puts a finger against your lips, parting them slightly. “This. I chose to kiss you. I’d rather do it than not do it at all,” he finishes off. 

He pulled his hand back, just enough to let you breathe again, but you stopped him, holding onto his bicep for dear life. His gaze lingered, steady and unwavering.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Wooyoung asked, a hint of insecurity audible in his voice.

When you nodded enthusiastically, Wooyoung wore the most honest and brightest smile, as if all the heaviness that’s weighing him down had slipped off quietly away from him at your answer.

And then, he leaned in - slowly, deliberately, as if every movement was meant to linger. Kissing Wooyoung was like standing on a cliff where you were just a heartbeat away from falling, and for a moment, you felt weightless, caught between fear and the exhilaration of just being with him.

He deepened the kiss slightly, testing the waters, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you closer. It automatically sends shivers down your spine. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the soft, steady beat of his heart in sync with your own.

His lips parted from yours just enough to let the air in, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours. Both of your eyes stayed close.

You held his face in between your shaking hands. “You’re not alone and you never will be,” you swallowed the emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. “Thanks for finding me that night, Wooyoung.”

He doesn’t respond, kissing you again. This time, it was more certain, more of himself. If this world fell apart, the both of you wouldn’t notice, if only for this fleeting moment.

The kiss was never brought up ever again after that night, even after another week. You both acknowledged that it happened and moved on.

A bubble of frustration was beginning to settle in your chest. Only the clicking of your keyboard could be heard around the room as the night settled. 

Wooyoung was next to you, his legs stretched out, head resting lazily against the headboard. You were hunched forward, eyes fixed on the glow of your laptop screen, fingers moving without pause. You felt the bed dip when he inched a bit closer to you.

“That looks nice,” he suddenly murmured as he pointed at the design you were currently working on. “You’re good at what you do.”

“Hmm?” You hummed noncommittally,  not looking away from your screen.

“Whatever you’ve been obsessed with since this lunch time, you’re decent at it.”

It was a rare praise coming from Wooyoung. You smiled, certainly happy because you genuinely needed to hear something good right now. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress. ”

He shrugged, trying to look indifferent, but then, you felt his leg touch yours as he scooted even closer. “What’s it for anyway?”

You didn’t respond right away. “Portfolio,” you replied robotically, your mouth doing your work for you. Your mind just wasn’t there; the words, notes, and deadlines loomed upon you.  It was easy to get lost into this rhythm and forget your surroundings, including Wooyoung.

Until your laptop was suddenly shut down. You looked up, startled, to see Wooyoung’s hand still on the lid of your laptop, having just shut it close. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on you. “You’re not busy right now,” he said, tone flat but final. “You’re with me.”

He wasn’t asking. You wanted to argue, mostly because you really wanted to get some work done. It was what set you apart from your co-workers, it was what made you ahead of the curve. 

You sighed, setting your laptop aside on the bedside table. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Wooyoung shifted, one knee bent lazily, head tilting toward you. “I’m just saying, you’re so tense,” he makes random gestures with his hand. “You need to get laid, or something. Blow off some steam, you know?”

You choked on your own breath, turning sharply toward him. “Excuse me?”

Your face went up in flames as your heart began to fumble. You could feel the heat blooming in your chest, crawling up your neck, painting your cheeks in something unforgiving. It felt criminal, the way your body reacted. The way the suggestion rooted itself somewhere deep inside you, unsettling and uninvited, curling like smoke around the idea of him.

Wooyoung leaned closer, peering at you with exaggerated curiosity. “This is so entertaining. I say one thing about sex and suddenly your whole system reboots.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, face still on fire. “Be for fucking real, Wooyoung. You can’t just lay that on me.”

He raised a brow at your crude language, but shrugged anyway. “Come on. Don’t be two-faced, you’re acting like you’ve never used someone as a means to make yourself feel better at one point. ”

“Kinda hard when nobody has ever finished you off once,” you gritted your teeth. You hadn’t meant to say it, but it was too late. You slapped your mouth so hard it stung. Oh, you wish this Earth would swallow you whole.

Wooyoung’s eyes were so widened to the point that he looked like his soul had momentarily left his body through his pupils. “That has to be some bullshit,” he began, sounding uncertain, himself. “That has to be—”

“It’s not like I’m broken or anything,” you added quickly, like you were trying to defend something you weren’t even sure you believed. “I-It’s just the men I’ve been with have been selfish. They, uh, assume I’m fine. And I don’t really speak up, so…”

You trailed off, biting the inside of your cheek. “I guess I just got used to faking it.”

There. You said it. Might as well set the whole house on fire. You glanced at him, ready for the smirk, the joke, the playful jab you always braced yourself for, but Wooyoung was quiet. 

His silence felt intentional. He was thinking. His eyes didn’t leave your face. They flicked down to your lips for a second, then back up, like he was scanning every inch of you for a crack in the surface. 

You watched the muscle in his jaw twitch, barely visible, but there. His fingers curled into the blanket between you, slow and restrained, like he was grounding himself. You saw him eye the way your hands clasp together so hard, your fingers turn pale and white.

“That’s not right, Y/N. That’s not normal,” he finally said, his voice low, barely above a murmur. “May I?”

You found yourself scrambling backwards the bed as Wooyoung started crawling forward, his entire body encasing yours as he got on top of you, his hands holding the entire expanse of either of your waist. He was looking down at you with such fondness in his eyes that it momentarily stole your breath away.

“I’m trying really hard not to say something I can’t take back,” he added after a beat, voice a little rougher now. “Because right now? I kinda want to prove every one of those assholes wrong.”

Your breath hitched. He didn’t move, but the way he looked at you felt more intimate than anything else could’ve in that moment, like he was offering something without saying it outright, and he was giving you the chance to take it or walk away.

It was a no-brainer for you - you’ve never wanted anything this bad in your entire life.  It wasn’t difficult to pinpoint why - Wooyoung and the way he moved that made him who he was, the things he’s experienced, his voice and the way he told his stories, the way your heart just clung to him.

You thanked him a couple of nights ago for finding you, but you should have thanked him for far more than that. After all, as many times as Wooyoung made it clear he doesn’t like rich people, he still stuck around you and he let you stick to him as well. He didn’t have to say it outright, it wasn’t very difficult to figure it out on your end.

“Don’t think too hard, dollface,” he whispered. “I promise to make it good for you. And I want you to know that I won’t treat this like I treat my clients even if you’re technically still paying for my time for it.”

That didn’t even cross your mind, but admittedly, you did completely forget that this was his job. “Remember when you asked me what my hobby was and I told you it was swimming?” Wooyoung softly asked. You nodded and his eyes softened. “I won’t let you sink. Not like this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” you said softly. “How do I know that, though?”

“Well, for one,” he whispered. “I’ve never kissed my clients. Ever. Not once, and I’ve had people offer me a fuck ton of money.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You lifted your head to meet his lips even though you were quivering. He was surprised at first, but he soon fell into a rhythm when he groaned softly in your mouth as his hands started to roam under your shirt. Your breaths came in short gasps but he had no problem swallowing those sounds from you.

“You sound so pretty,” he murmured in between kisses, the trail of saliva connecting your lips serving to turn the both of you on as evident in the way his hardness started pressing onto your clothed core. 

You hummed, never having felt an arousal like you did at this moment. Heat courses through your veins, especially when he started to move down your neck, kissing and sucking on your most sensitive spots.

“Feels good, Woo,” you mewled, wrapping your arms around his neck, your hands finding their way onto his hair to mindlessly tug on them. You didn’t dare open your eyes, afraid that if you did, this dream would suddenly vanish from your sights.

“Yeah?” Wooyoung mouthed against your skin, his kisses not once stopping as his hand lifted your back slightly so his other hand would fiddle on your bra until it came off. Only for him to freeze when he realized you were wearing none.

“Oh, W-Wooyoung,” you gasped in surprise when he suddenly lifted your shirt up to your chin to expose your ample breasts, the cold air automatically stiffening your sensitive nipples. 

You covered your face with your hands, ashamed and embarrassed of the way Wooyoung was drinking the sight of your naked chest up with so much lust. Compared to him, you were highly inexperienced in this regard. Not the sex part, you were no longer a virgin, but in the foreplay aspect. You’ve never had a man do it to you before.

“Don’t,” he coaxed softly, his hand prying yours away. “Don’t shy away from me now, baby.”

“I’m not the best in the looks department,” you blurted out. “You’ve been with better looking women during…you know.”

“You might be right,” he said, both his hands palming your tits and kneading them expertly. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from moaning out loud, especially in the way he relished your expressions with a small smirk. “But, none of them are you.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, the tension in your chest loosening just a little, but his words lingered, settling somewhere deep inside you.

Wooyoung leaned down to, once again, kiss your neck until he slowly moved down to your chest, sucking and biting the skin between your tits. You moaned loudly when his tongue slid out to sensually lick your hardened nipples, not hesitating to push your chest up towards his warm mouth, almost begging him to suck on them harder.

“So pretty, baby,” he growled, his mouth closing around your aching nipples, his tongue lightly flicking over it back and forth, making you squirm against his hold. “Too much?”

“N-No, keep going,” you gasped when he grazed his teeth on your nipple. “J-Just overwhelmed.”

He hummed, pausing as he looked at you through his lashes. The sight was so erotic, it made you hiss in pleasure, bucking your hips more to his touch. 

Your heart felt a rush of excitement, it kept you craving for more. Wooyoung latches his lips back to yours, deepening this kiss immediately by parting your lips with his tongue, coaxing you to play and intertwining your tongues together. You felt feverish, your lust for this man spiking higher towards different heights.

You almost didn’t feel his fingers toying with your underwear, but when you did, you took the initiative to take all the barriers that stopped him from touching your core. Wooyoung sighs in approval, not breaking the kiss. 

His fingers don’t hesitate to brush against your clit. The sensation was electrifying, your body almost giving out all at once with just one single touch. However, you tense when his fingers start to dip down your hole. He senses your hesitancy and moves on to kiss down your neck, nibbling the skin to calm your senses.

“Shh, it’s okay, I got you,” he whispered as you felt him circle around the outside of your quivering hole. “I promised you, dollface. I got you, you believe me, right?”

You draw in a deep breath, whimpering an answer since your tongue seemed too tied to even speak. His other hand continues to caress your hips, further calming your body down until you feel yourself release all the tension. It was all it took for Wooyoung to breach inside you.

Wooyoung’s fingers were gentle, taking his time to stretch you out slowly. You moan loudly, he was very considerate about it, too, but the pleasure he was giving you was immeasurable. You’ve never felt like this before, never had someone reach that specific spot that had you writhing in satisfaction.

You could feel his smirk against your neck, his teeth biting and nipping you at random places, eagerly leaving you with love marks you hoped wouldn’t fade for a while. Each mark said one thing, and one thing only - you’re mine.

“W-Woo, mmm, I-I feel weird and tingly,” you whimpered as you closed your eyes tightly instead of the one thing you wanted to tell him - I’m yours.

“Relax, baby, breathe,” he instructed, suddenly bending his fingers up to hit a spot so sensitive, it had you crying out against his hold. “Let it go for me.”

That was how you got your very orgasm from just foreplay. Your mind exploded, a searing, lightning-like pleasure erupting behind your eyes. It left every muscle in your body spent and worn out.

You were a panting mess when he pulled his fingers out. He grabbed your head tenderly, peppering your faces with little kisses, all the while whispering ‘good girl, good girl, good girl’ over and over again in between the kitten kisses he was giving you.

While you were still recovering, Wooyoung shifted, his strong arms lifting your back as he lifted you up with ease so now you were situated on top of him. You gasped, settling your hands on his chest like you’ve always belonged on top of him like this.

You blushed when he tapped your thighs twice, prompting you to sit up a little so he could take his pants and boxers off. You swallowed, feeling his hard cock pressing up your wetness when you sat back down, his arousal coating your labia and mixing in with yours. 

“Take me,” he whispered, his hold on your hips tightening with unspoken tension. “This is your justice, dollface. Take your pleasure for me for all the ones you’ve never gotten before.”

Your breath caught, your fingers curled into his shoulders, and for a second, you couldn’t move, not because you didn’t want to, but because something about the way he said it bloomed fire in your lungs.

There was that familiar burn behind your eyes. Wooyoung wasn’t offering himself just for the sake of it - he was giving something back.

You bit your lip when he lifted you slightly, his other hand guiding his cock to your entrance. His gaze stayed on you, unwavering, almost reverent. “Let them take, but let me give,” he murmured, finally lowering you onto his cock.

“Oh, fuck, Wooyoung, fuck,” you gasped when you felt his cock reach all the way up. He felt good, divine even.

He started thrusting up and down, with you matching his pace after as you rode him, your feelings lost as your mind started to go blank at the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

“Oh, Y/N,” Wooyoung says, like it’s the only word that’s ever mattered - drawn out, cracked at the edges, reverent in its ruin. The sound lands on you like heat and thunder, blooming into shivers that tear through you without mercy.

You arched your back, Wooyoung’s hands keeping you in place, your hips and tits bouncing up and down along with the motion as you impaled yourself on Wooyoung’s cock over and over again. There was no holding back for you, not anymore, your moans filling the entire room as you kept pushing yourself further, moving faster.

“Look at you,” he groaned, gazing up at you with impassioned eyes and the little sparks of affection through them. “You're heaven sent, Y/N. My God, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my fucking eyes on. Fuck me, keep going - yes.”

All the things that matter that you wanted to say die in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to tell Wooyoung, your chest overflowing with feelings you’ve never dared name, let alone think about. It’s all too much yet nothing because not once in your life had you had someone make you feel like this before.

Not until some sex worker walked through your door by mistake one day then everything shifts and gives your life what it was missing.

You felt your thigh muscles getting tired, but you kept pushing, riding his cock, even though the way you ground your hips to him felt more uncoordinated than anything. As if he was taking mercy on you, he braces himself and with one strong push of his hips, he began fucking up onto you.

“Wooyoung!” 

“I love the way you say my damn name,” he growled as he continued to thrust up at you, and all you could do was whimper while his throbbing cock was all you felt.

Your tits bounce with every, almost painful thrust while your pussy clenches and flutters around his rigid erection. Your eyes roll back, and your moan is hoarse and breathless as you say his name just the way he liked it. The effect was immediate and you could tell that he was close to chasing his own orgasm with you.

“I-I think I’m g-gonna come,” you whimpered pathetically, giving up and letting Wooyoung take control.

“Are you?” Wooyoung smirked, having the audacity to chuckle at your predicament.

You whined, your pleasure clouding your judgment as you started to feel annoyed with him. “W-Wooyoung, please—”

“Relax, baby,” he chuckled. It quickly turned into a snarl when he pulled you down on himself and you started to flutter and tighten against his aching cock. “I’m not gonna last long either, dollface, come for me, I wanna see you.”

Your body tensed up, your back arching like the string of a bow, then suddenly, you released, stronger than your first, the pleasure overtaking your shame and you screamed Wooyoung’s name so loud, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard your voice from somewhere in the distance.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re beautiful,” he panted, tapping your thighs again. “Off, baby, off. I’m gonna come, fuck.”

You watched as he stroked his cock, all in its perfectly curved glory, until cum shot off from it, landing on his chest as he moaned loudly, his voice louder than you’ve ever heard him. “Ah, shit, shit, shit, Y/N…”

You both lay there, side by side, suspended in the hush that only comes after something intimate has unraveled between two people.

The sheets were warm, tangled somewhere around your legs. His fingers, calloused but careful, brushed faintly against yours, until he pulled you and kissed you deeper than any silence that’s ever tried to swallow you whole. 

He sighs deeply in contentment, embracing you. It was tighter than any fear you’ve known, and it was suffocating yet somehow freeing. You just held onto him, grounding yourself in the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Was it everything you wanted?” Wooyoung whispered.

You hummed an answer, staying quiet as you didn’t want to tell him what you really thought in your head.

You were everything I wanted.

Just as the silence thickened, your phone rang, sharp and intrusive, slicing through the stillness between you like an unwelcome guest. The sound was jarring, you had to pull away from Wooyoung’s warmth and get your phone, but your heart stilled when you saw Mingi’s familiar number on the screen.

“Hello? Mingi?” You asked tentatively. Wooyoung’s brow raises, his arms tightening around your waist.

“I am sorry to interrupt your night, Y/N,” Mingi said, voice audibly tired. “Can you come to the office real quick? We have an emergency, it’s about your branch.”

You frowned. It was odd. Your branch hasn’t really contacted you, so why did Mingi? He was a director of another branch, it didn’t make any sense. 

“I’ll be there,” you said before hanging up and looking at Wooyoung with a deep frown. “You heard that, I think. I’m sorry, Woo.”

Wooyoung’s gaze flicked to yours, unreadable for a heartbeat. Then he nodded, slow and steady, but the way his jaw tensed told you more than his expression did. “You gotta do what you gotta do, it’s fine.”

He watched as you got dressed, but it didn’t feel right. You had no desire to go, but he was right - you had to do what you had to do. Despite yourself, you rushed towards the bed, grabbing Wooyoung’s face urgently, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. You had to let him know. “I’ll come back to you.”

He stared at you for a moment. “I believe you,” he simply said. 

You never had an attachment to that house, not at all, but tonight, it was difficult to leave. Not when you could feel Wooyoung’s lips attached to your lips and his hands imprinted on your skin. You couldn’t wait to go back, especially since he will be waiting for you.

But it all came crashing down when you met Mingi. You will never forget the feeling of devastation from all the high when he told you that your branch will be firing every single employee and higher ups, minus you and some others to rebrand and weed out all the people that have been tanking your company’s sales.

That meant that you had to go back a month earlier than planned.

You don’t remember the journey back to the house. When you opened the door, Wooyoung was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed with that unreadable look in his eyes, just waiting for you. You couldn’t look him in the eye - you didn’t want to see his reaction.

But when you do, the look in your face told the both of you everything you needed to know. You looked at him, and he looked at you, and you both saw it.

Wooyoung does something differently this time when you book him. Instead of going with what you want, he asks you to go with him - to the tattoo shop. You don’t know what he gets, just patiently waiting in the lobby, until you go back to the house and he lets you see it.

I’m not alone and I will never be. Your fingers were shaking as you traced the words that now laid at the back of his neck, careful not to disturb the protective wrap around it. You were pretty sure he could feel it.

There was a thin, unspoken thread that wrapped the entire room. You knew those words from weeks prior as you were the one who said them. Your heart thudded unevenly against your ribs. “Thanks for taking me, it suits you,” you complimented him softly.

He finally turned around, eyes meeting yours, holding all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him. “Thanks for coming with me, I guess,” he shrugged.

A sudden silence ensued, like the seconds were stretching just to hold off what was coming. How could you even begin to say anything? How do you wrap finality in a sentence? How do you make something sound casual when your throat is tight and your time is running out?

All you could do was stand there and memorize the shape of him - his beautiful tattoos, his dark hair that covered his forehead in a complimentary way, his boyish charm, the curve of his hand that fit well with yours. “What changed?” You asked, barely a whisper. “You didn’t like me.”

“I didn’t want to like you,” he said finally, voice low and rough. “You were everything I didn’t have room for - hell, you were everything I wasn’t in this life and I still resent that.”

You let out a trembling breath. Wooyoung purses his lips, combing his hands on his hair. “People like you felt too much, yet nothing at the same time. And you were just like me. In essence…it really is just you as a person, Y/N. You hear me?”

He holds your chin, tilting it up to meet his obscure eyes. “It’s just you,” he repeated softly.

You smiled, a little crooked and cracked around the corners. “Just me.”

For you, it was just him, as well, and perhaps, that was the hardest part. It was one of the things that you admire about this man; he was very resolute in everything he said, like he already knew things before they happened. Like right now, the look in his eyes shone with acceptance.

Wooyoung smiled back, pushing your chin higher to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “The truth was,” he murmured. “Everytime we kissed, it felt like we were practicing how to let go.”

That pierced your heart like an arrow lodging deep in your chest, but you couldn’t get yourself to disagree. Kisses with Wooyoung never felt like beginnings - they were echoes of an ending you were too afraid to name.

“Did you know?” You asked, your smile wavering as you tried not to hold on to him, the shaking of your hands too much to feel even for you.

Wooyoung nodded. “I did.”

“So why’d you still do it, then? Why, when you knew?”

Wooyoung sighed, holding your face in his hands tenderly as if he was afraid that you’d break down if he didn’t. “Remember when I told you about my choices? The things I choose to do rather than not do?”

You nodded, gritting your teeth so hard to control yourself, Wooyoung had to massage your jaws to make you stop. You brought your hands to him and he held onto them without leaving your face. “I’m glad to have known you, Y/N,” he squeezed your hands. “I’m glad you proved me wrong in every aspect possible.”

Your lips parted, but the words got stuck in your throat. Instead, you just let your eyes speak for you, and he understood. “This is it for us, this is all we’re going to get, but regardless, I’m glad I met you.”

We’ve always been on borrowed time, anyway.

You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m glad too, Wooyoung. I’m very glad to meet you.”

“You have your life, and I have mine,” he shrugged, his rigid shoulders betraying what he truly felt. “And we have to live with that. It’s the one thing all of us have in common whether you’re dirt poor or filthy rich - we just have to live out the consequences of the life we choose for ourselves. There is no way around it.”

You snorted, adoration coming through since it was such a him thing to say. “You make it sound so simple.”

He half-shrugged again, this time with the ghost of a smirk. “Maybe because it is. It’s just how the world turns, Y/N. And you,” he tilted his head, eyes sharp with meaning. “You know that better than most.”

You wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, because only Wooyoung could say something like that with such maddening certainty - as if the world was some fixed machine with gears we were all doomed to turn, no matter how loud we screamed beneath the grinding. 

But he wouldn’t be wrong. You did know better than most. The world never stopped for anybody, and it certainly wouldn’t stop for the two of you.

“There’s, uh,” you paused, clearing your throat. “There’s a huge possibility we won’t see each other again, Wooyoung. My company is having a do-over, I might get shipped somewhere else.”

He nodded, eyes elsewhere. “It is what it is, Y/N. It’s something you have to live with. You and I both.”

“So that’s it?” You asked quietly, the words trembling like they’d walked barefoot over every memory you’d made with him. “You just live with it?”

His eyes met yours again. “No,” he said, softer now. “You carry it. Every day. In the silence. In the in-between. You carry it until it stops hurting, or until you stop noticing the weight.”

Right.

You watch Wooyoung, the way the light catches in his eyes. There’s hope in it, but there’s hurt too, layered and quiet, like a secret he doesn’t mind being seen but refuses to say out loud.

It wasn’t anything dramatic; it’s just how life worked sometimes. You meet someone, sometimes they don’t stay, and you both keep living. Most of the time, your paths cross only once and never again. You bit your lip, deep in thought. “What are you going to do then, Woo?” 

Wooyoung smiles, the kind of mournful fondness that almost breaks you. “Let live, and let die. I’ll do what I do best, and that is to keep moving forward. The process will be painful, but I’ll have to make do with what I have and work around it.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. It prompts you to do the same. “I’ll try my best to fight what I can control, and then learn how to surrender to the ones I can’t. This is one of those moments, my little doll. It was very easy to go along with this, but it was very difficult not to surrender to the race against our clock.”

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips staying there as he speaks. There was a sick part of you that wishes he’d leave a permanent mark on your skin somewhere.

“I don’t want to fully know every part of you, and I know that sounds unfair,” Wooyoung began. “Doing so means watching every piece of that knowledge walk away when you go. It’s easier this way, because if I did learn everything in the span of the three months you were here, I’m not sure I’ll survive watching that all go away in an instant.”

“I’ve already been through a lot in this fucking lifetime,” he said. “I’m through, you know? Maybe it’s better to leave some mystery. Maybe that’s how I’ll keep a part of you, even when you’re gone.”

His lips travel down, kissing both of your eyes this time as if he was searing this moment directly in your brain. “If somehow the odds are in my favour, I’ll find you again.”

A tightness gripped your chest, a weight pressing down, suffocating and relentless. It felt like every piece of you was unraveling, each thread pulling at the seams of your composure.

Your throat constricted, as if a flood was gathering the very same eyes he kissed. “Are you telling me to wait for you?”

“No,” he instantly rejected. “Absolutely not, Y/N. Never wait for something you are unsure of, please. Do yourself that favour. Do me that favour. I can’t have you waiting for me when I’m not even sure I can deliver.”

So, what do you want?

His grip on your face tightens ever so slightly. “I don’t know if I’ll get out of this city. Hell, I don’t even know if I’ll make it out alive, not when every day here feels like a losing fight.”

“So,” he continued. “Let me remember you how I remember you right now, because if your memory is the only thing that’ll keep me going for the rest of my life, I’ll do it. I will always remember you, Y/N. Even if we don’t see each other again.”

Your fingers twitched, curling into fists, as if you could stop the feeling by holding yourself together. “What if I end up falling for someone else along the way?”

Wooyoung pauses, and for a second, your heart rate picks up. “If you've found someone else that will make you happy, then I will be thankful for it. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you don’t, and if it doesn’t work out, then you move on. See where that takes you after.”

You understood. Not all souls were meant to cross paths in this lifetime. There was only so much you could learn about Wooyoung, and even then, you feel like you still didn’t know him at all. Heck, there were people who have been together for far, far longer and they still learn something new about each other every single day. And while you believed that to be beautiful, you didn’t know where that left you with Wooyoung.

You knew he couldn’t answer all the questions you were throwing at him. Life was unpredictable like that, even the most realistic person out there like Jung Wooyoung didn’t have the answers for everything.

Now that you thought about it, you didn’t want to learn everything about Wooyoung, either. If anything, you wanted to begin to forget him as soon as possible so if destiny does move in the funniest of ways, falling back into him would feel twice as sweet and more so emotional on your ends.

Or maybe you wouldn’t even remember who he was anymore down the road. It was another part the both of you didn’t know yet. 

But alas, you’ll just have to see where life takes you because for now, the both of you didn’t have any room for love to grow. If Wooyoung finds you again like he did that night, then you’d go from there.

After much deliberation on his end, he gives in, his lips finally touching yours with a kiss that holds unspoken promises. He coaxed out the three words that laid on the tip of your tongue with his. They ached to break free, to give him the truth he deserved to hear from you.

Would that be the right thing to do, though?

It would be very selfish on your end, to leave him with those parting words, but damn it, if you haven’t been selfless all your life. 

Fuck it.

But before you could get the words past your lips, he raised a hand, a gentle but firm stop. He pulled away, his eyes meeting yours with a depth that made your heart stutter.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet carrying the gravity of a thousand unspoken emotions. “Not yet. Please.”

It was what he said that had the dam that contained all your emotions break and spill all the tears you’ve been trying to contain all this time. Wooyoung didn’t hesitate to wipe them with his thumbs.

“If we see each other again in the future and you still feel the same, then you can say it. But until then, keep it.” he continued. His eyes softened, filled with a quiet plea. “Give me a chance to turn my life around. Let me make it out of here and be someone I’m proud to be.”

Of all the things you’ve talked about today, that was the one thing that truly made fear settle deep in your chest. “But, I’m already proud of you,” you said, voice unyielding.

Wooyoung’s jaw tightened. "But, I’m not," he whispered, the finality in his words like a door slamming shut.

The sound of Wooyoung’s phone ringing breaks through the stillness, harsh and jarring, like a stone tossed into a quiet pond. Your heart sank, it wasn’t a phone call - it was an alarm. He had another client waiting for him somewhere.

With a quiet sigh, Wooyoung began to pull away from you. Just like that, the moment had already begun slipping like sand through an hourglass. 

For a moment, you couldn’t move, your whole body frozen in time, but when you saw Wooyoung turn around, you quickly moved to hug him from behind, pressing your face on his back. “Y/N,” he said, his hand holding yours and squeezing it.

Don’t go, please, I don’t know what to do.

Wooyoung turns around, cupping your face once more. “I know, baby, it’s hard for me, too. I have to go, but you listen to me, okay? And you listen to me well because this might be the only time I’ll ever get to say it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together in an attempt to get a hold of yourself. “Run free and wild, Y/N. You don’t belong here. This world is yours for the taking, all you have to do is make it yours. Make it worth your time when you move on to whatever the hell is next and know that you went in the end without a single regret.”

All you could do was nod again. You wanted to reach out, to scream into the silence, but all you could do was stand there as Wooyoung tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” he smiled, bittersweet. “Give your company hell while I picture you in places I’ve never seen, meet people I’ll never know, live stories I won’t be a part of, and shape your own destiny in ways I won't be able to see.”

We have to fall, fall apart to work.

“And I’ll live my life wondering about what you’ll do next, here,” he takes your hand to place it where his heart was. “Even if I spend every single night doing so, just like when I spend it with you to end my days here. I don’t mind doing it for the rest of my life.”

He lets go for the final time, opening the door to walk outside, possibly forever. But, you couldn’t let go, not without giving him an option. “Choi San,” you blurted out before he completely walked away.

He halted his steps, tilting his head towards you in a way you once found endearing but now left you a finalized image of him before you parted ways. “Remember that name. He’s my new supervisor,” you swallowed a wave of new tears. “When you find yourself, please let me know.”

“Choi San,” he muttered, repeating the name as if he was marking it in his head already, training his lips to say the name over and over again for one day.

“Goodbye, Wooyoung,” you choked, the words burning through your throat.

For a second, Wooyoung’s gaze softened, and you saw the vulnerability there, the rawness of the goodbye. But then, without another word, he nodded once and turned, walking away from you, each step a little heavier than the last. 

He didn’t turn around once to look at you and you didn’t wait to see if he did, you wouldn’t be able to stomach it. You closed the door behind you, but you didn’t cry, didn’t scream. You just stood there, devastation filling in your chest, down to your feet, all without ever making a sound.

Run free, Wooyoung, so we can both start living.

You never really see each other after that even though you didn’t have to leave for another two weeks. You never went back to the bar nor did you book Wooyoung again. When you did try to call just to ease the pain, Yeosang wasn’t the one who answered. You immediately hung up.

And now, you were back on that train that took you here in the first place - the one that led you to a destination you never thought in a million years would alter the course of your life. 

There you were again, sitting alone in the train cabin, completely alone as you stared out the window and watched the passing scenarios fly by like they were nothing. You didn’t dare watch the city behind you get further and further.

It wasn’t something you were used to, you’ve always been alone all your life, but this was the first time you felt truly, utterly alone. It was some sort of poetic justice on your end; you came here alone, and therefore, you were also completely alone as you left. The only difference was, there was now something missing that you had left behind in that fancy, luxurious house - your heart.

You couldn’t bear to bring it - you didn’t want to -  hoping that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt as much without it. But even without it, the emptiness remained, lingering like a ghost in the corners of your soul.

The only way was forward at this point, the regrets would prove to be fruitless. The idea of embracing whatever comes, living fully, yet knowing that the end will eventually come for everything was daunting, but you had to do what you had to do. 

You will live fully, knowing that one day, you’ll let go. But until that moment comes, you embrace every second, because those moments, no matter how short or long, are the only things truly within your control.

To live and to let die. That was what you were going to do.

You bowed respectfully towards the people that surrounded the round table as their claps filled the meeting room. Another smile later, the meeting and presentations for the future designs in collaboration with a sister company was fully conducted.

“Great as always, Y/N,” your boss grinned at you as he began to approach you, setting your portfolio and tucking it under his arms so he could give you the handshake you deserved. “I don’t know how you do it, I really don’t. It never did feel right that I was your boss instead of the other way around even after all these years.”

You shook your head, jokingly rolling your eyes. Thankfully, you had a wonderful enough relationship with your supervisor that you could get away with this. “Oh, stop it, San. You know that’s just untrue. Your ideas have always been trend-setting. I just so happen to know how to make those come to life.”

People who were passing by from the meeting room bowed to both of you and San, but more so, they’d either praise you, or they would just use that as an excuse to ogle at the wonder that was Choi San. You understood, you really did. San was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen. Hell, it took you a while to get used to the fact that he was, indeed, your supervisor and not one of the company’s models. It didn’t really help that the man was humble and kind.

He tugs on his shirt sleeve, peering at the time attached to his wrists in the form of a watch. “Company lunch to celebrate with everyone, on me, in thirty minutes downtown at that new restaurant,” he clicked his tongue. “Go this time, yeah? I need my best designer to unwind and be well fed.”

You scoffed softly, about to say something, when he interrupts. “I’m serious, Y/N,” San said, his voice dropping to whisper. “We won’t launch the portfolio for another month. Take a break. You’re good at what you do.”

You’re good at what you do.

You froze, the statement echoing in your head. The sound of those words, they sound so familiar. The memory teases you, just out of reach, like a shadow too fast to catch.

“Oh, by the way,” San stopped you before you walked away. “Come see me at my office after. There’s a package that came that’s addressed to you.”

You nodded, pushing the thought away, as you always did. It was easier not to think about it, to keep moving, to keep working, to bury the feeling under a mountain of new ideas. But it never quite went away. 

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, a text from one of your coworkers, confirming the time and place for lunch. You read it, typed a quick reply, and shoved the phone back into your bag. The noise, the movement, the busyness - none of it ever filled that void.

Lunch wasn’t bad at all, your coworkers were great company after all, but you couldn’t concentrate. You were supposed to be here at the moment, but you just can’t. You had made a name for yourself in the fashion industry after three years of working hard, but none of it ever mattered to you.

“When do you think they’ll close the restaurant for the bar tonight?” You absentmindedly asked your nearest coworker, who was sitting across from you.

They looked at you confused, even going as far as to wait for you to reiterate your statement. “Uhm, I don’t think that’s a thing around here, if not ever,” they frowned. “That would be great, though, do you know a place like that?”

You blinked, caught off guard, embarrassed all of a sudden. “N-No, I think you’re right. I don’t know where that thought process came from. I apologize.”

Yeah, maybe San was right after all - you definitely needed a break. Maybe it was just a side effect of being a designer. You were constantly moving and evolving, after all.

As promised, when you got to San’s fancy office, there was a package waiting for you. You held it curiously in your hand, tossing and shaking the box around to gauge what was inside it. There was no sender name written, only yours and the office’s address.

“Any idea what it is?” San asked with one brow raised, work phone on the other hand while the other paused from signing multiple documents.

You shrugged. “Not really. Anyway, I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He waved you off dismissively, not even bothering you look up as he began to speak to whoever just called him. Fine by you. The package was probably the fabric you ordered a while back for your new piece to add to your portfolio.

The apartment was quiet when you got there. It was heavy with the hum of a long, restless afternoon. You’ve been living in this studio apartment for only a year, but you love it. It was definitely an upgrade from your old apartment, but the biggest reason you loved it here was because you had plenty of space to sew and design a lot of things.

And you were excited. You’ve been waiting for this new fabric for a while now, but when you tore the package open, you were confused to see that it wasn’t the vibrant red you were anticipating. No, this was a faded blue.

What’s more was that it wasn’t a slab of fabric. You gingerly took it out, even more confused when you saw a lace crop top. Odd, you thought as your fingers brushed over the top. It was nice, very genderless in concept, but why was it sent to you?

Had you made this? You closed your eyes shut, a memory just beyond reach plaguing your head. You had designed countless pieces over the years, each one blurring into the next, but this one? This one was different. 

Maybe it was the forgotten details that seemed to belong to someone else. You couldn’t remember the last time you'd seen it, let alone made it. Your style had changed so much over the years, but there was something about this piece, something familiar.

When you lifted it up to inspect it, something fell out from the seams. You picked it up, surprised to see that it was a neatly folded piece of paper - a note, it seems.

‘If this reaches L/N Y/N, please call this number - XXX-XXX-XXX. If not, return to the sender.’

Your heart skipped. There was an urgency you couldn’t explain. Without thinking, you grabbed your phone and immediately dialed the number. The ring felt like an eternity, the seconds stretching into the unspoken, until a voice finally picked up.

“Hello. If you have a tattoo appointment, I’ll redirect you to your artist. This is the owner speaking, how may I help you?”

You were thoroughly confused now, you don’t have tattoos and you don’t see yourself getting one in the near future, but your chest tightened, that distant familiarity stirring in it.

“Uh, hi. I got sent a package that said I had to call this number,” you mumbled, walking to the windowsill of your apartment that overlooked the moon and the stars. 

There was silence on the other end, long and deafening. It was to the point that you had to double check if the call was still connected. The only reason why you knew it was was that there were external noises on the phone, assuming that whoever was on the other end was moving. “Hello?” You tried again.

The movement stopped, the call completely silent this time. Then, there was a quiet inhale, sharp and uneven, like whoever was on the other end had just remembered how to breathe, before it was followed by a sniffle and a low chuckle.

“It’s you,” the voice, a man, said softly. “I didn’t think you’d call.”

Your breath hitched. That voice. It was the one you kept hearing whenever you’d remember something. You knew there should be a face attached to that voice in your head, but nothing. The hollow ache grew a little deeper, a little more urgent, until it was almost unbearable. You could feel it pressing against your chest, like a hand reaching out to you, demanding attention. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself. “Who is this?” 

The man lets out a low chuckle again, only this time, it sounded more affectionate. It caught you off guard. By God, you wanted to remember so badly, but you didn’t know where to start. You began to wrack your brain for something, anything.

You didn’t know what you were searching for. However, through these years, you’ve always had this sinking feeling that someone, somewhere was out there waiting for you; somewhere in the quiet spaces between the thoughts you’ve tried to bury deep down.

The feeling was there. It was always there. You couldn’t say what you’d lost - only that something was missing.

“Tell me, my little doll,” he clicked his tongue. You could almost picture it. “Did you get to do what you were meant to do all these years?”

That was another blow to your chest. Doll. Little doll. Dollface. Your blood rushed to your ears, the voice starting to curl into your memory now, like smoke filling in every crack of a closed room.

“I suppose so,” you shrugged. Without thinking, your mouth blurted out that first thing that came into your head. “You? Did you manage to find yourself?”

You could hear the way he exhaled. It was slow and careful, like he was trying to keep himself together. “I did. It took me a while, but I did.”

There was something about the way he said it; the way his voice dropped slightly at the end. You stared outside to the twinkling stars. Something about them pulled you. And then suddenly, you could see visions of him.

The way he stood on the rooftop, hands in his pockets, staring at the same sky. A smirk would follow, one that felt like home and like something you’d never really gotten to fully know all at once.

You could picture him now - not just the shape of him, but him. The tired lines around his eyes. The tattoos that were etched beautifully on his skin. The way he’d tilt his head when you were speaking. His nonchalant and indifferent attitude towards things.

“I can hear your thoughts from where I am, you know? I really could,” he murmured. His voice felt too much now that you’ve pulled him out from deep inside you where you stored him in hopes of preventing all the hurt all these years. “You still remember the quiet parts of me.”

“There was a point in my life where I forgot your face,” you said, your voice shaking. 

“That’s okay. You used to close your eyes and trace it with your fingers, anyway.”

Your eyes stung, not even realizing tears were forming until one slid down your cheek. You inhaled sharply but you  didn’t speak. You knew. You knew what was coming next.

“We lived and let die, Y/N. We made it,” his voice was gentle, coaxing you out of the shell you’ve crawled into for safe haven. “The question is, do you still feel the same? Because I do. I never forgot that feeling.”

A soft, breathless laugh escaped you. It was shaky and wet with tears and it caught you by surprise. You tried to suppress it but the relief bloomed too fast. It was the sound of a weight lifting off your chest after years of carrying it in silence.

“Yes, Wooyoung. I still feel the same about you.”

On the other end of the line, there was no reply. Just the sound of him exhaling, quiet, and disbelieving, like hearing his name from your lips was all he’d been waiting for.

Then Wooyoung laughed. It was warm and raw and full of something that sounded like finally. You could hear him wiping at his face, hear the way it caught in his throat.

“What now?” You asked after a while. Your voice was still raw, but it was also lighter at the same time.

There was a pause, just long enough for you to wonder if maybe Wooyoung hadn’t heard you. Then he spoke, his voice as steady and sure as ever. “You could look down.”

You were confused at his request, but you did as told. You pressed your hands and face by the glass window and peered down. At first, all you saw was the busy road and some cars passing by, but then, your entire world stopped when your gaze landed on the sidewalk. Wooyoung.

You could tell it was him even from this distance. The same posture, the same silhouette. But he looked different. More polished, more alive, somehow. His hair was shorter, styled neatly, and his face was more refined, like time had carved away some of the youth and left something more certain, more grounded.

He held his phone in his ear as his eyes found yours through the reflection of the glass. And there was a smile on his face, so subtle, but it was there. 

“Oh my God, Wooyoung,” you choked out. More tears found their way up your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that tugged on your lips. 

Wooyoung wasn’t faring better. From this distance, you could see his eyes gloss out, his unshed tears audible on the other end.

He smiled, wider this time, up to you, his gaze never leaving yours. Wooyoung’s eyes twinkled like the stars did when he found you three years ago on the rooftop. “I guess the odds were in my favour, after all.”

You covered your mouth, torn between laughing and breaking apart entirely. You must’ve looked crazy. “Yeah. Yeah, they were.”

Your chest tightened, the simplicity of it all striking deeper than you expected. He wasn’t asking for anything. He wasn’t begging you to come down.

He was just there, looking up at you from the sidewalk like he had been waiting for you for quite some time now.

And it was enough.

𝙽𝚎𝚝s - @keopihaus @dove-net @othersideoutlawsnetwork @hiraya-m @illusionnet @pirateeznet

Dividers by: @enchantings-a

[ivyues]

Paws off my Human! - Seungmin

Meeting your dog was more difficult than Seungmin thought.

After weeks of talking about it, you were finally introducing Seungmin to your dog, Mochi. You had hyped this moment up so much in your head – imagining a sweet, heartwarming encounter where your two favorite beings in the world would instantly click. But there was one problem.

Dogs just… weren’t that into Seungmin.

It wasn’t like they disliked him, but they never seemed to gravitate towards him the way they did with most people. While his friends had dogs practically falling over themselves to get their attention, Seungmin would always get a passive glance before they trotted off somewhere else. It was an ongoing joke, and one Seungmin had accepted with an exaggerated sigh.

Still, you had hope. Mochi was your dog, and maybe that would make a difference.

“Okay, Mochi,” you said, crouching down to your fluffy companion. “This is Seungmin. Be nice.”

Seungmin knelt beside you, his usual confident expression softening into something almost shy. “Hey there, Mochi,” he said, stretching out a hand cautiously.

Mochi sniffed Seungmin’s fingers for a second, and for a brief, shining moment, you thought that maybe – just maybe – this would be the exception. That Mochi would sense how much Seungmin meant to you and would accept him right away.

Instead, Mochi simply blinked, turned his head, and promptly walked away.

You tried to suppress a laugh as Seungmin stared after him, blinking in disbelief. “Are you serious?” he muttered. “I didn’t even do anything!”

You patted his shoulder sympathetically. “He’s just playing hard to get.”

“I didn’t even want his attention that much,” Seungmin huffed, crossing his arms. “It’s not like I care or anything.”

You raised a brow. “Uh-huh. That’s why you’re pouting?”

“I am not pouting,” he grumbled, but the way he glanced at Mochi – who had now plopped down on his favorite blanket, facing the other way – told a different story.

Defeated, Seungmin sighed. “I don’t understand. I’m practically a dog myself.”

Feeling a bit bad for your boyfriend, you decided to step in. “Mochi loves treats,” you suggested. “Want to try giving him one?”

Seungmin exhaled, then nodded. “Alright, fine. I’ll win him over.”

You handed him a treat, and he carefully approached Mochi again. “Okay, listen, little guy,” he said, holding out the snack. “I know we got off to a rough start, but let’s be friends, yeah?”

Mochi eyed the treat, then Seungmin. After a long pause, he finally took it from his hand, chewing happily. Your heart warmed at the sight of Seungmin’s expression – like he had just won a hard-fought battle.

“See?” you grinned. “He just needed a little bribery.”

Seungmin scoffed. “I don’t bribe, I negotiate.”

You laughed, watching as Mochi, after finishing his treat, hesitantly nudged Seungmin’s knee before settling back down. It wasn’t instant love, but it was progress.

Seungmin smirked, clearly pleased. “Told you I’d win him over.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and leaned against his shoulder. “Sure, puppy boy.”

He groaned at the nickname, but you caught the small smile tugging at his lips. Maybe Mochi wasn’t the only one playing hard to get.

Feeling content, you turned your head slightly towards Seungmin, the warmth of the moment making you want to steal a quick kiss. Just as you moved in, Mochi suddenly barked – loud and sharp.

Startled, you pulled back, wide-eyed. Seungmin let out an amused scoff, glancing at the unimpressed fluffball.

“Wow,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Not only do I have to win you over, but now I have to get permission to be affectionate with her?”

You patted his head, suppressing a giggle. “Maybe he sees you as a rival.”

Seungmin shook his head, shooting a wary look at Mochi. “Fine. But for the record, I’m not scared of you,” he told the dog.

Mochi responded by yawning dramatically before turning away again.

You smiled, squeezing Seungmin’s hand. “Looks like you’ve still got some work to do.”

Seungmin groaned. “I can’t believe I have to compete with a dog.”

---

Weeks later, after many failed attempts on Seungmin’s part to win Mochi over, you decided that a walk together might help with their bonding. The crisp spring air was refreshing as the three of you strolled through the park, but the sun weakly peeked through the flowering trees.

Mochi trotted happily by your side, tail wagging with every step, while Seungmin walked a little further from him, hands in his pockets, feigning indifference.

“You know,” you teased, glancing at your boyfriend, “you don’t have to act so cool about it. It’s okay to admit you want Mochi to like you.”

Seungmin scoffed, shaking his head. “I really don’t care that much.”

You hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Right.”

After a bit more walking, you decided to give Seungmin the leash. “Here, try holding it,” you offered, placing the leash in his hands.

Seungmin hesitated but took it, looking down at Mochi expectantly. “Alright, come on, let’s go.”

Mochi, however, didn’t budge.

Seungmin frowned and gave the leash a gentle tug. “Mochi?”

Mochi simply turned his head to the side, stubbornly planting his paws into the ground.

Seungmin groans. “What am I supposed to do? Drag him?”

You shake your head. “Try convincing him.”

Seungmin kneels down beside Mochi. “Okay, listen. I know we didn’t start off great, but I have treats, and I will literally carry you home if I have to. Your choice.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Seungmin let out an exasperated sigh as Mochi still didn’t move. “Is your dog broken?”

“He just doesn’t respect you yet,” you said, grinning. “Give it a second.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Or maybe he’s just bad-mannered.”

At that, you crouched slightly and clapped your hands. “Come on, Mochi, go with Seungmin.”

Mochi perked up at your voice, then, without warning, bolted forward – leash in Seungmin’s hand.

“Whoa—hey!” Seungmin yelped as he was yanked forward, stumbling slightly as he struggled to keep up with the determined fluffball. You burst into laughter, watching as your dog enthusiastically led a very reluctant Seungmin down the path.

You jogged to catch up, laughing breathlessly at the sight of your usually composed boyfriend being dragged along by a fluffy ball of energy. "I think he likes you now!"

Seungmin shot you a glare over his shoulder, though the corners of his lips twitched in amusement. "Yeah? Then why is he trying to kill me?"

---

You returned one afternoon to your appartment, running late. You knew your boyfriend would already be there so you expected to find him grumbling about Mochi’s latest act of indifference or Mochi keeping his usual distance. Instead, you were met with an entirely different sight.

Seungmin was fast asleep on your couch.

His long legs were stretched out, one arm resting behind his head, the other draped lazily over his stomach. His chest rose and fell steadily, his usually sharp features softened in slumber. The peaceful expression on his face made your heart flutter – he looked so unguarded like this, completely at ease in your space.

But what really caught your attention was Mochi.

Curled up at Seungmin’s feet, your fluffy companion had tucked himself against your boyfriend’s legs, his small body rising and falling in sync with Seungmin’s breath. The sight was almost comical – after all the times Mochi had rejected Seungmin’s affection, he had unknowingly sought comfort in him now.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh. Of course, the one time Mochi willingly snuggled up to Seungmin, he had no idea it was happening.

Careful not to wake them, you tiptoed closer, pulling out your phone. There was no way you weren’t capturing this moment. With the softest tap of your finger, you snapped a picture – one that you were sure to tease Seungmin with later.

masterlist

[no-144444]

hey girl! I LOVEEED your last lando story and i was just wondering if you could do a smut with lewis and franco and reader where lewis is married to reader and franco is into her so lewis makes him watch while he's fucking her? just thought it could be hot.

thank you ml!!!

know it- l.hamilton & f.colapinto

summary: lewis is possessive. franco is a flirt. makes for one wild night. (18+)

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem! wife reader x franco colapinto

warnings: shockingly SMUT. 18+ also, slightly filthy smut, so yeah.

a/n: i'll just leave this here... (why am i only writing smut this week wtf?)

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Lewis was known to be a calm person. 

He was anything but calm as he watched Franco put his hand on your waist. Lewis was under the impression that anyone with half a brain could see that you were his wife. Clearly Franco had less than half a brain. He likes Franco, he was a good kid, a good driver, etc. But clearly he wasn’t smart. 

Lewis stalked over to you, the red flashing lights of the dance floor exenuating every single one of your perfect features. He watched like a hawk as you laughed along to one of Franco’s bad jokes. He understood where Franco was coming from, of course he did. He did marry you, after all. But you were exactly that, his wife. Franco wasn’t going to change that. You stood in the centre of the room, your flowing hair and long dress making you look like a goddess. Too bad he was the only one allowed to worship you. 

He kissed your cheek as you leaned in to listen to whatever Franco was saying. You instinctively wrapped an arm around Lewis’s neck, pulling him closer. Franco frowned when he saw Lewis, but picked it back up in time before you saw. 

So he knew what he was doing. 

Lewis smirked as he snaked a hand around your waist, removing Franco’s hand. 

“What do you say about getting out of here?” He murmured, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. You knew what he meant. Franco quickly excused himself, though not before sending Lewis a particularly withering look. 

“This is meant to be your party, Lewis,” you teasingly reminded him. “We’re hosting. We can’t just leave.” 

“Actually, I think we can,” he chuckled, a recognisable danger in his eyes. He leaned in again, his mouth just beside your ear. “We can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“Whatever we want?” You mused, your hands exploring down his arms. 

“Anything baby, anything,” he smirked, taking your hands in his. “And I have a few plans,” he admitted. 

You smirked up at him with those eyes, the ones that made him want to throw caution to the wind and fuck you right there in front of everyone. In front of Franco. 

Now that was an idea. 

“You do?” You swallowed, feeling the wetness pool between your legs. “And what are those plans?” You whispered. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispered back, making eye contact with Franco. Franco stared at the two of you with a scowl. “And I’m going to make Franco watch.”

You gasped. Never in your marriage had Lewis ever remotely been inclined to share. Not that you ever wanted to either, but Lewis was… possessive to say the least. “Lewis-“

“I’m sure he’ll come to our bedroom if you ask him, won’t he sweetheart?” He smirked, his cock pushing up against his slacks. 

“Lewis, are you sure?” You asked. 

“If you’re alright with it,” he whispered. “I want to see his face when he realises you only cum for me.”

The created quite the image in your head. You gulped. 

And walked over to Franco, ready to ask him, just like the slut Lewis knew you were. 

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Franco walked into the club bathroom, you pulling him along. He pressed experimental kisses to your shoulder as you led him to the right place. 

Lewis was waiting and he watched as Franco’s face fell. 

“I noticed how you kept looking at me,” you spoke up, turning to face Franco. “We were wondering if you wanted to join us.”

His cock hardened in his pants and he gulped. “Y-yes.”

Lewis smirked. “Sit over there.”

Franco did as he was told, sitting in the corner of the room. Both the men watched as you pulled off your dress pain-stakingly slowly, but they were basically in awe when they saw you naked. 

“No panties?” Lewis chuckled as you sat on his lap. “So dirty.”

Franco thought he was going to explode right then and there if he didn’t get to touch you. 

You shrugged and grinned Lewis’s lip as you kissed him. His hands groped all over your body, and Franco bit his lip to stop himself from moaning. The sight in front of him was so erotic, listening to your little moans as Lewis teased you, watching how you were putty in his hands. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” Lewis whispered as he drew little circles on you clit. “Should we let Franco see?” 

You nodded eagerly. You’d never felt sexier. Two of the most beautiful men in the world begging to fuck you? Yeah, way to boost a girl’s ego. 

“Such a dirty slut,” Lewis shook his head and slapped your ass, making you jolt closer to him. Though he obliged you all the same, signaling for Franco to come over. He knelt in front of the both of you, a perfect view of your dripping pussy, watching as Lewis played with you. “Do you want to touch, Franco?” 

“Please,” He groaned, grinding into his own hand. 

Lewis laughed as your joint desperation. “Play with her all you want,” he smirked, dropping you onto Franco’s face. 

You immediately started riding his nose like your life depended on it, steadying yourself on Lewis’s thighs. Franco was in the seventh fucking heaven as he tongue-fucked you, your thighs on either side of his face, caging him in. Lewis ate pussy like a champion, and while Franco wasn’t as good, he was definitely different. Lewis fucked like he drove, like he already won. Franco fucked like he still had something to prove. 

“You like riding his face baby?” Lewis cooed, unbuttoning his trousers. 

You moaned out some sort of agreement, your eyes unfocused and glassy. 

“You gonna suck my cock like a good girl?” He cooed again. 

He watched in delight as your eyes went wide. You tentatively wrapped a hand around his heavy cock, stroking him softly. You pressed kitten licks to his head between moans, before he grabbed you by the hair and sunk you down on his cock. You nearly screamed. The mixture of pleasure and pain becoming practically unbearable, but you still couldn’t cum. 

You sucked on his cock like you were trying to milk him dry, and he enjoyed every single moment of it. He listened to your little moans and Franco groans of desperation between your legs, and came down your throat. You swallowed without even having to be asked.

“Please let me cum!” You begged as he pulled you off his cock. “Lewis, I need you to make me cum, please make me cum baby, please.”

Lewis chuckled. “Franco isn’t making you cum?” 

You shook your head, eyes filling with tears. “Only you, Lew, please.”

Who was he to deny his girl? He lifted you off Franco’s face and pulled you onto his cock. Franco groaned at the loss of contact, while you practically screamed at Lewis’s size. No matter how many times, you still weren’t used to it. 

Lewis looked down at Franco, wet patch on his trousers, your wetness covering the lower half of his face, and a satisfied but pained smile on his lips. He watched you two in the mirror, completely transfixed on the sight in front of him. 

“You doing alright Franco?” Lewis laughed as you bounced up and down on his cock, his own voice straining. 

“Great,” he answered, his voice weak. 

“Y’gonna fuck her in the ass while I fuck her tight pussy?” He smirked. Franco stood right up and pulled his trousers down. He looked at your ass, noticing the butt plug he’d missed before. He could’ve moaned out loud. He slowly pulled it out, pulling a high-pitched moan from you, and he replaced it with his own cock, already hard again. 

“Y’gonna let Franco fuck you baby?” Lewis asked as you tensed, feeling Franco enter you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You shouted, digging your head into his shoulder. “I need to cum!”

“You cum baby, Franco and I aren’t done yet,” Lewis cooed, feeling you squirt on his cock. He looked up at Franco as he fucked you through your orgasm. His pupils were blown out as he fucked your asshole, practically drooling all over you. Lewis smirked. 

“She’s cumming on my cock,” he gritted out, fucking you harder. “She wears my ring on his finger. She sleeps in my bed,” Lewis pushed Franco back, just as he was about to cum. Franco came all over himself, a groaning mess. “She’s my wife. Don’t fucking forget it.”

Franco watched as Lewis came deep inside you, triggering your second orgasm of the night. The jealousy he harboured only grew, while Lewis’s pride soared. 

You were his.

Franco knew that now.

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navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

alpine masterlist

[backtothefanfiction]

Can I Sleep With You? | Joaquin Torres imagine

Summary: when all else fails, try sleeping next to someone who’ll hold you accountable

Warnings: fluff, funny jokes, miscommunication

Word Count: quick written in app couple hundred words

A/N: just before I go to sleep, you can have this little idea

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good night sleep. Ever since you took up the offer to move onto the new Avengers campus for training, you just couldn’t seem to switch off. The bed was too new and firm. You felt self conscious knowing the rest of the team were in rooms around you, most of them practically strangers. Your muscles ached from hours of work outs and fight training. Your brain constantly going back over the things you’d done wrong. Your body ached. Your eyes were heavy, yet still you couldn’t sleep.

You had tried everything under the sun; reading, listening to audiobooks, so many different white noise sounds. You had even smothered your body in a lavender moisturiser to try and help you to relax. Still you tossed and turned and ended up staring at the ceiling in frustration.

On night three, you decided you’d had enough.

You checked the time on your phone, 12:15am, before shooting Joaquin a text.

Y/N: Hey, you still up?

Joaquin: Yeah, why?

You didn’t bother to message back and explain. Instead you got up, slipped your feet into your sliders next to the bed and went down the hall to his room; where you knocked and waited patiently.

“Hey,” he whispered into the silent hallway, “what’s up?”

“Can I sleep with you?”

He took a step back, his eyebrows raising as he looked you up and down, his eyes taking in your bedtime look.

“I mean, I’m not opposed, but surely if you were gonna come use me for a late night booty call, you could have at least dressed up a little and treated me to some lingerie.”

“Uh, what? No.” you quickly said, shaking off his comment. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Okay, then what did you mean?”

“I mean sleep. Like actual sleep. I feel like I’ve had maybe three hours sleep total in the last three days and I’m desperate.”

“And sleeping in bed with me is gonna help?” he fished, looking for your reasoning.

“Look, I’m just weirded out being in a new place on my own okay. I just want to cuddle up in bed with my best friend and feel safe so I can sleep.”

He softened then, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Come on then,” he said, stepping back and ushering you inside.

His bedsheets were all ruffled where he’d been chilling in bed, winding down to go to sleep, the bedside lamp on washing the room in a soft yellow light.

“I didn’t interrupt your late night porn routine did I?” You joked, wanting to diffuse the small amount of tension you’d brought into the room from invading his space.

“Oh no, I finished that about an hour ago,” he teased.

“Good thing this wasn’t an actual booth call then,” you said back, before climbing into the bed and shuffling to the far side that hadn’t been touched.

“Oh don’t worry, I could have gone again,” he teased back, flashing you a playful smile. You rolled your eyes at him before fluffing the pillow and lying down in it comfortably. “You need anything else?” he asked as he prepared to climb in next to you.

“Nah, I think I’m good,” you said.

“Just that cuddle then.” he said with a nod, turning the light off and shuffling close to spoon you. You both shuffled about a little until you were completely comfortable, the dark quiet of the room blanketing you both and making the moment feel far more intimate than you’d originally imagined this being. “You called me your best friend,” he finally said quietly into you ear.

“Yeah, I did.” you said back, in the same hushed tone. “Is that okay?”

“As long as you don’t expect me to say it back.” he joked and his breath tickled the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine that relaxed you, your body folding into his and his arm wrapped tighter around you to pull you into his chest.

“Good night, Joaquin.” you finally said into the darkness.

“Good night, Y/N.” he said contently back.

[darkmatilda]

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which one spencer reid tries to focus on work, but keeps getting distracted. first by an unexpected phone call. then by the way you start flirting with another agent right across from his desk. but in the end, why does it even bother him?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spender reid x diva!chemist reader, reader kinda threatens to poison him, but its not a threat, just their silly way of showing mutual affection <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.3k

𝐚/𝐧: anon's request. heyyy wonderful people, just letting you know that your request was the second-to-last in my inbox, so im opening them again! feel free to send me your ideas for the diva reader series, im already grateful in advance :>

Spencer usually gave out his phone number only to the people closest to him.

That way, he didn’t get unnecessary calls distracting him from more important matters, and he could be sure that if someone truly needed to reach him, they wouldn’t have any trouble doing so.

So, as he walked through the Quantico office, planning to track down Hotch—who supposedly wanted to see him—he was so absorbed in their case that he pressed his phone to his ear without thinking, without even looking at the screen, fully expecting to hear a familiar voice. Someone from the team, maybe.

Instead…

"Hey there, gorgeous."

A slightly raspy male voice. Spencer immediately estimated the caller to be around forty, judging by the subtle rustling sound—whoever it was, they were holding the phone just a little too close to their mouth.

Spencer froze in place.

His first thought—a wrong number.

His second—another one of Morgan’s pranks.

Just in case it was the latter, he didn’t hang up immediately. If his friend had planned something, he needed to find out what—so he could properly retaliate later.

"We met last night, don’t know if you remember," the man continued after a brief silence, caused entirely by Spencer’s confusion. "I hope you do. Because I sure do. Hard to forget a face like yours. You still there, sweetheart?"

In case anyone had any doubts—Spencer was not the intended recipient of this conversation.

He hadn’t gone out the night before, let alone given his number to a stranger. In fact, he had been in an entirely different state.

"Oh, sweetheart, don’t make me mad now. Or maybe you’re staying quiet because you’re curious how much I remember about you? Want me to remind you what you were wearing?"

Suddenly, it clicked.

After a brief second of pure disbelief, Spencer rolled his eyes upward, staring straight into the glare of the overhead lights. He blinked slowly.

His brain was exceptionally sharp that day. Even more so than usual.

Which meant it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together. A quick mental chain reaction, linking scattered fragments of information into a single, clear conclusion. 

The man on the other end of the line thought Spencer was the woman he had met the night before.

Spencer had a few female friends, but everything—literally everything—pointed to her.

First of all, he was nearly certain none of the others had gone out last night. They had all been working together, after all.

Second, and somehow more importantly—none of them, except her, would have found it remotely funny to give his number to a random guy.

As a joke? Was that what this was supposed to be?

“There’s no need for that,” Spencer cut in sharply, before the man on the other end could start poetically or less poetically describing her outfit.

This time, the silence came from the other side, laced with clear confusion.

Spencer couldn’t stop the faint crease forming on his forehead, nor the subtle tension drawing his shoulder blades together. The entire conversation left a bad taste in his mouth, and it wasn’t just because the guy was wasting his time.

It was his voice.

Self-important. Smug. Wet in a way that made simply listening to him an unpleasant experience. The kind of voice that could turn an otherwise neutral or even affectionate word sweetheart into something damn near degrading.

Years of experience profiling people meant Spencer had no trouble picturing exactly the kind of man he was dealing with. And the distaste coiling in his gut only sharpened.

“For future reference,” he said, barely pausing for breath, his grip tightening on the phone, “I’d suggest double-checking the numbers women give you when they’re trying to get rid of you. Because this isn’t your sweetheart. This is the Behavioral Analysis Unit, which, for your information, is part of the FBI. And your utterly pointless, time-wasting phone call could be considered obstruction of justice, which, surprise, can land you several years in prison.

A loud silence followed—one that left Spencer with a strange feeling. Satisfaction, maybe.

The man cleared his throat, and Spencer would bet good money that there were one or two silent curses mixed in there.

“This whore must’ve given me a fake number,” the guy muttered, no longer speaking directly into the phone.

The sudden shift from sweetheart to whore was so blatant that Spencer couldn’t hold back a sharp, mocking scoff.

“Well, I’m guessing you didn’t think of her as a whore when you were trying to hit on her last night—”

He barely finished the last word before the line went dead.

For a moment, he remained motionless, the phone still pressed to his ear, analyzing his own reaction. He was completely taken aback by it. Almost immediately, though, he forced himself into a nonchalant shrug, brushing it off as nothing more than irritation at an unwanted call.

Work. Right. Work. He had work to do, he had to meet with Hotch…

…but he had barely covered a few meters when his gaze caught a familiar stride and silhouette crossing one of the hallways. And before his mind could even consciously make the decision, he found himself heading in that direction—despite originally going somewhere entirely different.

“Did you have fun last night?” he asked as her hand pressed the elevator button.

She didn’t look at him at first, though she must have heard his footsteps. It wasn’t until he spoke that she slightly turned her head toward him.

“Not too bad,” she admitted casually. Her hands immediately moved to their usual position, arms crossed over her chest, and a small teasing smile danced on her lips.“How about your morning? Any interesting phone calls?”

He opened and closed his mouth, not expecting to be so transparent. He also felt a bit confused by her enigmatic, calm reaction. The elevator stopped, and she confidently stepped inside first.

Spencer followed her.

“I don’t quite get it,” he admitted, furrowing his brows. “Was that supposed to be a joke at my expense, or that guy’s?”

They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder in the small elevator space. He looked at her, and she stared ahead. She slowly shrugged.

“Maybe both,” she replied, inspecting her nails. Spencer clenched his lips, holding back from saying that she could at least spare him the ignorant, irritating attitude for once. “Or maybe I just wanted to get rid of the pushy guy by giving him the first random number I could think of” She paused, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “And maybe I was hoping you'd scare the shit out of him with some long lecture, preferably about the law. Was I right?”

She shifted her gaze fully to him, her piercing eyes locking onto him with such intensity that denial was out of the question. He didn’t even need to answer—the flicker of expression that crossed his face gave him away instantly.

Her short laugh filled the elevator.

He always felt a little humiliated, standing there in silence while she laughed at his expense. So he spoke first, blurting out the first thing that came to mind—the thing that had been sitting there for a while now.

“Does that happen a lot? Guys being pushy?”

She gave him a closer look, maybe because of the unintended seriousness in his voice. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that way. Clearing his throat, he tried to appear more indifferent.

“Well, yes,” she said simply. Stating an obvious fact, a reality she was used to. “Every time. But getting rid of them isn’t hard. A well-placed conversation, and they run off just as fast as they showed up.” She scoffed. “But sometimes I’d rather just, you know, actually enjoy my evening instead of dealing with them. And that’s when the fake number trick comes in.”

Spencer caught himself listening with genuine interest. He was well aware of the effect she had on people—how she drew eyes just by existing, how so many of those looks were filled with nothing but desire. He also had the impression that, for the most part, she regarded them with mild disdain—or maybe even enjoyed being the center of attention.

He hadn’t considered that sometimes she’d had enough of them—so much so that she had an entire list of strategies to get rid of them just as quickly as she attracted them.

He realized he had fallen silent, lost in thought. The elevator stopped at her floor—he hadn’t planned on getting in with her in the first place, which meant he was now stuck pretending he was going somewhere else.

She took a step toward the open doors before his voice stopped her.

“Wait, you’re not even going to say thank you?” he asked. “I did waste some time on that guy. That was a solid lecture.”

She stood in front of the open doors, facing him.

“I have a suspicion,” she began, one brow arching as a teasing smirk tugged at her lips, “that you enjoyed it way too much to actually need my thanks.”

She gave him a small wave—just her fingers, really—before the elevator doors slid shut, cutting them off from each other. Spencer hated to admit—even to himself—that she had a point. Okay, a lot of a point, he realized as he recalled that fleeting rush of satisfaction when the call abruptly ended, punctuated by a hint of panic on the other end.

And maybe that was what ultimately decided it—because from that moment on, on the rare occasions he received similar calls, he always had a long, meticulously crafted, stern lecture at the ready. One that, just before the inevitable abrupt hang-up, sent the smallest, most satisfying shiver down his spine.

*

"You have three hours."

"I can handle it in two."

 "Do it in one."

Spencer remembered these words, muttering a soft shit under his breath. The massive stack of papers that not only needed to be read but also carefully analyzed seemed to be getting no smaller. The hour on the clock, however, kept ticking forward.

"Hm? What's up? Do you have something?"

He slowly shifted his unwilling gaze to the man he was trapped in the room with. Well, not literally trapped, but that’s how it felt. Dean Bradley, an agent who’d been working on the case they’d just been assigned to for years, knew it inside out—naturally, he had been assigned to cooperate with them. His current role, however, seemed to involve nothing more than pretending to write something on the whiteboard and occasionally throwing out a theory that supposedly brought them closer to the solution but, in reality, only pushed them further away. Bradley was incredibly distracting to Spencer.

"No... I just... nothing." Spencer replied rubbing his throbbing temple. That case had been exceptionally exhausting, he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and the coffee he had just drunk hadn’t helped at all. "Nothing. Just...can you not say anything to me for a while?"

Bradley raised an eyebrow at him but Reid didn’t really care. Simply buried his nose in the papers again, reading, or rather, devouring the pages with his eyes. There hadn’t been the best atmosphere between them ever since Spencer had ignored his outstretched hand for a greeting. Well, that was because he had seen Bradley leaving the bathroom earlier, and even if he had washed his hands, he had immediately touched the door handle that everyone in the building touched, half of whom hadn’t washed their hands. Honestly, Spencer would have preferred to kiss him as a greeting. It would have been safer.

For a moment, Bradley was actually quiet. He didn’t stay that way for too long, though—just long enough.

"So, where are those lab results? Weren’t they supposed to be here by now?"

"They were. So, I’m guessing they’ll be here any minute," Spencer replied shortly.

"It’s taking a while. Maybe I should just go grab them myself?"

Yeah, please do, Spencer nearly begged. He even opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, the door swung open and a woman stepped in, moving with quick, confident steps, but this time with a bit of frustration in her stride.

Completely ignoring the man's gaze landing on her, she stepped up to his desk and dropped the promised lab results onto it with a sharp motion.

"Could you tell me," she began, one hand still resting on the papers, preventing him from immediately going through them. Because she was standing while he was sitting, her figure loomed over him, forcing him to tilt his head slightly to meet her eyes. Naturally, he did, his gaze moving from her hand with neatly manicured fingers to her beautiful face, her bottom lip slightly protruding as she prepared to speak. "When exactly did I become your secretary? Because I don't remember that moment."

Spencer didn't even blink before responding, so used to thir verbal sparring and the fast pace she always set, just like her steps.

"Well, maybe since you started handing out my number left and right," he shot back instantly. Without breaking his gaze, he grabbed the empty cup sitting within arm's reach. "And since you consider yourself my secretary, would you be so kind as to make me a coffee?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Agent Bradley watching their exchange with fascination, focused on only one side of the conversation. No need to specify which side. Meanwhile, the woman tilted her head slightly to the side, a certain gleam lighting up her eyes.

"Sure," she replied, to his surprise. There was something devious in her tone. Suddenly, Spencer didn't want the coffee anymore. "But I’m not sure I’d be so kind as to make sure those ten teaspoons of sugar you put in your coffee are actually sugar, and not, say, arsenic..."

Instinctively, he pulled the cup closer to himself.

"Not ten," he mumbled.

"Oh, my eternal apologies, I exaggerated a bit. Five?"

"Well, now you're getting closer..."

Their conversation, or rather their verbal sparring, was interrupted by a cough.

“Reid,” Bradley said his last name much friendlier than ever before, with a mischievous grin on his face. “When you said the chemist would bring us the lab results, I imagined, I don’t know, Einstein with his hair sticking out in all directions. Did you really lock such a treasure in the lab?” he chuckled. “So it wouldn't distract y’all?”

Spencer looked up at the woman in front of him again, who had only just noticed the third person in the room. Her hand slowly slid off the papers she’d been resting on, though it stayed on the desk. She half turned her body toward the new speaker, casually sitting on the desk. There was something hypnotic in the fluid, clock-like motion as she crossed one knee over the other. For a moment, he just watched, realizing after a while that he wasn’t the only one.

“Maybe I locked myself in there,” she replied. Her tone calm, too calm, as it always was before she’d throw words, like precisely aimed darts, at the other person. “So I wouldn’t have to listen to the same tired lines from agents with the same tired faces, thinking they’re being creative.”

For a moment, he completely forgot about the pile of papers waiting to be analyzed. He watched what was unfolding in front of him, a small smile involuntarily starting to form on his lips. However, it faded the moment he noticed Bradley’s expression. He had expected him to be shut down. Speechless, maybe. Hurt in that characteristic, pathetic way typical of fragile male pride. Instead, Bradley was grinning like an idiot.

“Wow, that’s a bit harsh,” Bradley commented lightly, not in the slightest bit put off by her words. In fact, the fascination on his face only grew.

Spencer couldn’t help but glance at the profile of the woman sitting motionless on the desk. Her gaze was now also more focused, following the person across from her. Her eyes seemed even more concentrated, intrigued, and entertained than during their conversation. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her, physically making himself look back at the papers. Work, right, work. He had to focus on it, despite how distracted he was by their presence. It was, after all, natural. They were speaking rather loudly, right in front of him. He began reading the text on the page, concentrating only on it.

“You must feel like some princess locked in a tower,”

His ears, against his better judgment, picked up Bradley’s next words. He shook his head. Text. A quick glance at the woman’s face. Text.

“You know, that German fairy tale from the 18th century…”

Spencer, from his own experience, knew that info dumping wasn’t the most effective way to flirt with a woman. Especially when it wasn’t even accurate.

“17th century,” he corrected, unable to stop himself. Both their gazes landed on him, but he didn’t respond to either, keeping his eyes fixed on the papers. He was reading them, but couldn’t grasp their meaning. He started analyzing the same paragraph again, continuing, “Assuming we’re talking about the German version of that fairy tale recorded by The Brothers Grimm. Because, actually, this was developed from the French literary fairy tale Persinette by Charlotte-Rose de Caumont de La Force, which itself is an alternative version of the Italian fairy tale Petrosinella by Giambattista Basile.”

A long silence fell. The woman shifted slightly in her seat, pretending to be focused on her work, and he tried not to look at her face. Was there pity or amusement on it? Why did it matter to him so much to figure that out? What mattered was only one thing: they were bothering him. The two of them. With the noise they were generating, to be precise.

The sound that filled the room was probably just a long breath from Bradley.

“Wow,” he repeated, thrown off. “Thanks for the clarification, Agent Reid.”

“It’s Doctor Reid.”

He couldn’t stop himself and looked at her. She closed her eyes when a smile spread across her lips. She didn’t try to hide it or hold it back. It was simply there. Bradley noticed it too, his arms, which had been casually resting on his hips, sliding down along his body.

"Didn't you have some urgent documents to analyze?" he began, trying not to sound confrontational, but he failed. He sounded confrontational. "The ones you kept reminding me about every five minutes since we got here?"

Reid didn't have a sharp retort ready for that one; in fact, Bradley had hit the nail on the head. He did have a lot of urgent documents to go through, but for reasons unknown to him, he'd decided to engage in this pointless conversation instead. His silence only seemed to fuel the satisfaction on Bradley's face, which was broken only by the movement of the woman. Specifically, her rising from the desk.

"You could've just said we’re interrupting," she remarked, stretching one leg after the other, every movement fluid. "Especially if it's something important. Is it?"

"Well, actually, yes..."

"In that case, I suppose we're in the way. Shall we go, Agent Bradley?"

She must have read his last name off the badge pinned to her chest. Both Spencer and Bradley looked at her, but only one of them slowly cracked a smile. The other let out a sigh, pretending to feel relief, though deep down, he genuinely did—finally, he could focus on what he had wanted to from the start.

They both made their way toward the door. Unused to her quick pace, and still a bit surprised by the attention she had given him, the agent trailed after her like a lost puppy. As they crossed the threshold, she turned back to him over her shoulder, looking like a kid bragging about winning a bike race.

Spencer merely shook his head with pity, and when they both disappeared in the same direction, he scoffed.

He returned to his work.

After a while, he found himself thinking that perhaps he preferred their conversation to be within earshot, rather than out of it.

[salemlunaa]

EMOTIONS ARE FLEETING, FACT IS FOREVER ⋆.˚ 𓆉

all that matters is the life you choose as fact.

I just wanted to remind you that your emotions don’t determine anything. Fuck 3D proof, YOU ARE the person that has everything they want. YOU ARE the top priority, YOU ARE all that is. There is no one above YOU.

Some of you get this rush of excitement about living your dream lives all for it to come crashing down, and then you’re in a slump, doomscrolling on tumblr looking for things you already know about. Looking for refreshers when YOU ARE knowledge. And then you feel icky, because you feel like you’re wasting time feeling like shit when you should be locking in.

And to that i say:

emotions are fleeting.

Whether you feel like crap today, maybe due to circumstances. Whether you feel frustrated. Whether you feel this sense of extreme happiness. It doesn’t matter. Emotions pass. Whatever you are feeling shall pass. The only constant thing is you, and what you decide to be fact.

Emotions don’t manifest, you can feel like shit and still induce the void state. You can be depressed and still affirm your away into your dream life. You don’t have to keep your emotions at a 10 every second of the day to achieve your dreams, because emotions are something you feel in the sense of your outerman.

YOU ARE all that is. YOU ARE every emotion there is. The outerman only focuses on one emotion at a time. Don’t let that sway you.

Before I manifested my dream life, I equated what I was feeling with my ability to manifest. If I felt demotivated it meant I was stuck right back in my circumstances. I had to get rid of that attitude because no matter what I felt, it was already done, I already had everything. Emotions weren’t permanent but my awareness was, and as long as I chose to resonate with the new story no matter how shitty life felt, then I was there and it was done. That’s how I did it, I chose my new story again and again even when I wasn’t feeling on top of the world and even when I was feeling like some all powerful entity.

Enough with looking for the motivational posts, the ones that make it “click” on how powerful you are. You don’t need them. You already know, you don’t always have to feel it. Those posts give you motivation that lasts about 2 days. And then you’re back, because again, emotions, whether good or bad are fleeting, ever changing, fluctuating, whatever. That feeling of omnipotence will become constant when you realise that no matter what you feel, it’s already and always done for you.

All I had to do was think in my favour and choose the life I wanted, and emotions were nothing to me.

And stop giving in to your outer man’s wants. Your outerman may feel unworthy and unmotivated and will then need for things to “click” which is why you scroll tirelessly and hound bloggers for advice. And that’s why you run in circles from feeling on top of the world and like you can actually do this to, “why hasn’t it worked”. And some of you have been running in that circle for years and will continue to do so if you keep denying your new identity just because you feel bad.

Choose to live in the facts you create and emotions won’t matter anymore

The emotions you feel now are just as real as the ones you will feel when you manifest your desired life.

So whether you feel a sense of joy, anger, nostalgia or a sense of impending doom, just know they are fleeting, they won’t last and aren’t important unless you make them. YOU ARE the only constant thing. So rely on that. Rely on your mind. Not what you decide to feel today

tell yourself:

“I AM NOT MY EMOTIONS, I AM ONE WHO HAS IT ALL, NO MATTER WHAT”

You are the only trustworthy thing, not the things you feel.

EMOTIONS CANT ASSIST OR SABOTAGE YOU, THEY ARE EVERCHANGING

[channieschaoscorner]

Tipping Point - Stray Kids x female!9th member reader

Pairing: ot8!Skz x 9th member reader

Summary: You and Chan had worked together for so long, it’s only natural that you have your arguments.

Genre: Angst, fluff at the end, slight reader x chan if you squint hard enough, choreographer reader and producer Chan go head to head but we still love them, bad language and insults in an argument

A/N: Thank you all so much for the love on my first imagine! I have a few ideas for some more 9th member fics but please message if you have any ideas or anything you would like to see!!!!! Also apologies if there’s any typos, I do proof read my work but I’m not perfect lol

────୨ৎ────

The music blaring out of the speakers bordered on obscene, it didn’t matter though. It was late enough that barely anyone was left in the building, and if they were then they were far too preoccupied with their own work to care about what others were doing. Your phone blinked in the corner with unread messages and calls, ignoring them as you could guess who they were room all you did was check the time. It was late but you were still too wound up to even think about heading home, that and you still had far too much work to do on this choreography. It was nowhere near what you needed it to be, but then again if it was what you needed then you wouldn’t even be here. You’d be at home either in bed or tucked up on the sofa with the TV on being piled on by the boys (Felix, it was always Felix.)

You groaned and hit play on the song again, listening to the starting beats and tried to visualise where the boys could be standing. The vocals started and you checked over your notes, trying to come up with the positions on who needed to be centre and who would be coming forward at that specific time. Ideally you’d have another person here that you could place and work around, another choreographer, Minho, even a backup dancer. You’d take anyone at this point if it meant you could get more than 4 hours sleep tonight.

You rewound the song back to the first chorus and stood up, mentally thanking yourself that you’d remembered your tripod so at least you could film what you’d come up with properly and didn’t have to balance your phone against your water bottle just to watch it inevitably fall down as you were in the middle of dancing, like it had done so many times before.

“And 5, 6, 7, 8.” You counted yourself in out loud in an attempt to get used to the counts for when you’d have to teach the boys tomorrow or technically in the morning as it was well past midnight at this stage. This wasn’t the first time you’d had to come up with choreography the night before you had to teach it but you didn’t enjoy doing it. It wasn’t your fault, not that you’d ever tell. You’d only got the song a few hours ago from Chan, who’d held onto it for far longer than promised. You knew it wasn’t done out of malice, he was always so worried about new music that he wanted to keep it for as long as possible until he was sure it was perfect.

Unfortunately for you though this meant your deadline was fast approaching and you hadn’t even heard the finished song. Fast forward through plenty of excuses to staff about trying to perfect the dance and politely asking Chan about the song, you’d run out of time. Which then resulted in the blow out at dinner.

You winced thinking back to the harsh words exchanged and swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling in your chest before hitting play and record one more time.

────୨ৎ────

*Earlier that day*

The dorm was loud, it was on a normal day but today was particularly boisterous. You bit back a laugh as Minho swatted and shooed Felix and Seungmin away from the stove with threats of an air fryer that left Hyunjin thankful he hadn’t offered to help. You hopped up and sat on an empty piece of counter space to watch the chaos unfold in front of you. The screams that came from the other room made you wonder how setting a table could cause them but you chose not to investigate, effectively leaving Han to fend for himself. It was rare over the past few weeks that you’d all been able to sit down and eat together, between so many different schedules you’d become too used to eating at random times and running past each other in the dorm. Hence why Chan had suggested tonight as a day for you all to cook and sit down to eat together.

“It’s been too long since we ate together like a family, we’ll have dinner, movies, snacks. It’ll be good for us after how busy things have been.” He suggested. It was a good suggestion, you’d all agreed quickly to it. There was just one problem.

Chan was nowhere to be seen.

You’d noticed his absence earlier but said nothing, hoping that he was just caught talking to someone and would appear through the doorway, laughing about never being able to leave the building on time.

No such luck.

The boys stood silently around the table as you helped Minho carry in dinner.

“We can hang on a few more minutes, I’m sure he’ll be here soon” Relief flooded in the boys features as they didn’t want to eat without their leader, neither did you if you were being honest and you weren’t looking forward to making the call about when to eat. Eat now whilst dinner was warm and miss Chan which would hurt his feelings or risk waiting for him, possibly all night, and have the dinner they worked so hard on go to waste?

Time to introduce yourself to a rock and a hard place.

“I can try ringing him?”

“Good idea Innie.” You didn’t mention the plethora of texts and missed calls he already had off you that were either sitting unseen or being ignored. For his sake, you hopped it was the first option.

Changbin sidled up to you, “I left him working on that song again, he said he was only going to be 30 minutes and he’d leave straight away.”

You sighed, not surprised that he was working late again. You loved him but being a workaholic and a perfectionist was a combination that sometimes left the rest of you in the firing line. You lifted up your glasses to rub your eyes, already feeling a stress headache start up.

“No answer but I left him a message, maybe he’s just caught up with someone” Jeongin tried halfheartedly.

You had to make a decision, “Ok guys, go put a show on. We can leave this covered up for a bit and it’ll stay warm and we can wait a bit longer for him.”

They filtered in front of TV, slotting into their regular positions which to any outside was a mess of legs, blankets, and insults before everyone got comfortable.

“You don’t think he’s coming do you?” Changbin hadn’t left your side.

“For his sake, I hope he does.”

────୨ৎ────

You weren’t happy to put it mildly.

“Come on guys, let’s eat.” You prolonged this as long as you could but you couldn’t tune out the sound of their stomachs and you weren’t about to let their hard work go to waste. They followed you back to the table and sat down as you held your hands out for their bowls. You worked with Minho going round the table to serve up the food, leaving yourself last.

“Ok, who has news? I want to hear about all of your weeks, I feel like I haven’t seen you all in so long. Tell me everything.” You tried to keep your tone light but you could feel the disappointment hovering around the table like a shadow.

Hyunjin caught your eye, “Well, last week I-”

The door slamming shut cut him off.

“Sorry I’m late, I got caught up with some stuff.” Chan walked in looking frazzled, his eyes taking in the table of food. “You weren’t gonna wait?”

Silence.

“We’ve been waiting Chan.” Your tone was short. “We’ve been waiting so long the foods nearly gone cold, you’d know that if you checked your phone.”

“No need to take my head off, I got caught up working on a song”

“Don’t get annoyed with me, you’re the one who wanted us to have dinner together.”

“And I’m here now so let’s eat. Let it go.”

You ground your teeth, biting back an answer in an effort to follow his words and ‘let it go’.

“Did you at least get the song finished?”

He nodded.

“Great, can you send it over to me? I still need to sort the choreography out and-”

“Jesus Y/N, I just got in. Can you wait 5 minutes before you start nagging at me again?”

Your jaw dropped, “Nagging you?”

“Channie hyung maybe you-” Changbin tried to interject but it was no use.

“I’ve just got in and you want the song right now?”

“I don’t want it right now but I need it. I needed the song last week if I’m being honest, you’ve held onto it for so long that I’m making excuses for why the choreography isn’t done.”

Chan waved you off, “You’ll get it done, it won’t take you long.”

You scoffed at his words, “I love your confidence in my ability to choreograph a full song for not only us but the backup dancers too in one night but I could do with a bit longer than that Chan.”

“Fine you want the song? I’ll send it to you right now.” He dropped his chopsticks on the table and stormed off.

You clenched your fists and groaned.

“Do you want one of us to go or?”

“No Binnie, it’s ok I’ll go.”

You followed Chan into his room and shut the door behind yourself. “Don’t storm away from the table like that.”

He didn’t even turn around, “I’m not a child, don’t chastise me.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

He spun around, “Me speak to you like that? I walked in through the door and you were already pissed at me.”

“Because you missed dinner, they’ve been cooking all afternoon and you were late. No text or call, we had to guess when you were going to show up. You let them down, they were excited to do this. I let them out of dance practice early and everything today.”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes now.

“Well for that and because I still don’t a song to teach them.”

“Oh for god’s sake, I’m sending you the fucking song now.”

“Don’t fucking swear at me!”

“Don’t be such a bitch then.” He slammed his laptop closed and pushed back out past you into the hallway.

You followed him shouting, which made the rest of the boys jump when they heard the loud voices. You were arguing in English now but they could pick up on enough words to know this wasn’t a happy conversation.

“If it’s such a panic for you then start working on it now, shouting at me about it won’t make the dance for you.”

“Oh you are such a-”

Chan got a look in his eyes, almost daring you to finish your sentence. “Such a what?”

“A cunt.”

Felix choked on his water resulting in Hyunjin slapping him on the back.

You didn’t wait around for his reply, you all but ran to your room to grab your dance bag and flung clothes into it along with headphones, a tripod and your notebook. You had to get out of here before this got even worse. You needed out of the dorm and the practice room was your solace. You went back to see the boys staring at you, still at the table not one of them daring to move and that made your chest ache. The food was sitting untouched and you took a deep breath.

“Eat as much as you want to, box up what you don’t. Leave the dishes in the sink, I’ll deal with them later. Please go to sleep at a reasonable time, I’ll be back later.”

You made for the door, ignoring the conversations behind you.

“Y/N wait!” Felix chased you, holding something delicately in his hands. The smell hit you first, he’d boxed you up dinner to bring with you. “You didn’t eat.”

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest shifted slightly. “Thank you.” You took the container off him to put at the top of your bag.

“Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“Not yet.”

“Well don’t walk back on your own if it’s late, ring me or get a taxi. It’s not safe walking around so late on your own.”

You nodded and gave him a hug. “Go back in Felix, you still need to eat.”

He hugged you back and turned around, ready to join the others back at the table.

“Felix? Don’t tell Chan where I am, I’m in no mood for him.”

────୨ৎ────

The dorm was unnaturally quiet now, a startling comparison to earlier on. The table had been cleared and kitchen was spotless as the boys washed, dried and put all the dishes away. You’d told them you would deal with it later but it didn’t feel right to them to leave a mess behind for you to clean up, especially knowing you wouldn’t get in until the early hours of the morning if you past behaviour was any example to go by.

Chan stood silently watching them clean up, he contemplated leaving without saying anything but couldn’t ignore the fact that you weren’t with them.

“Where is she?”

No one answered.

“It’s late, if she’s out on her own then you need to tell me.”

“She’s not out, she’s fine.” Felix answered.

“So then where is she?”

“She doesn’t want you to know.”

“What?” Chan faltered, he’d known you for years and you’d had disagreements before but you’d never been so annoyed that you actively hid where you were from him.

Felix debated his next words before deciding to say them, “You were an ass to her earlier.”

“I know but-”

“But nothing, she’s been making excuses for weeks now about not having any choreography to show just to give you more time on the song and it’s not the first time. If she doesn’t want to see you now then it’s because she’s under pressure to make the dance and figure out a way to teach it to us before she gets into real trouble over this without dropping you in it and because you hurt her feelings over this. You need to apologise to her.”

With that, Felix left Chan in the kitchen alone as when he left the others followed him. No one felt the need to add anything else, Felix had pretty much covered everyone’s opinion. Felix was right, Chan needed to apologise to you and based on what Felix had said and how well he already knew you, he had a pretty good guess at where you were right now.

────୨ৎ────

*Present*

You flung your notebook in the direction of your bag, too annoyed by the spacing to carry on. You were calling it, there was no way you could figure out this part of the dance without someone else here with you. You had a rough idea of what needed to be done but there was only so much spacing and marking you could do with your water bottle and hoodie, until you got another dancer to help you then you’d need to finish it here. At least you’d got a good amount done, you could teach the chorus at least and parts of the verses tomorrow, and then you could grab Minho and Hyunjin to help you mark out the spacing if they had time in the afternoon.

You were coming up with a plan as you left the practice room, feeling considerably calmer than when you arrived. You newfound peace though was instantly disturbed when you saw who was waiting for you in the lobby.

“Hi.” Chan waved.

You stopped and stared at him.

“Felix didn’t tell me where you were, I guessed.” He was desperately trying to fill the silence, and your staring was starting to make him nervous. “And I was right. I mean, obviously I was right. You’re here and I’m here.”

“I don’t have the energy for you right now.” You spun on your heel and headed straight back to the practice room.

You could hear him following but chose not to acknowledge him, you weren’t lying when you said that you didn’t have the energy for him. You knew he wouldn’t just let you walk home without talking about what had happened so returning to the practice room was the next best thing. He respected your time enough that if he thought you were working, he wouldn’t interrupt you.

So, despite wanting nothing more than to head home and crawl into bed before your alarm was due to go off in a few hours, you set your phone back up with the speaker and pulled your notebook out again. If you were going to be forced into staying here to avoid speaking to him then you might as well be productive.

Chan slid in through the door and took a seat at the back of the room, you stared at him when he did but said nothing. It was a win in his book that you didn’t instantly kick him out when he came through the door. It was technically Stray Kids official practice room but between the two of you, he’d known it as your practice room for years. Memories of the two of you as trainees being the last people in the building were circling around his head, he thought back to meeting you for the first time and it looked something very much like this. Stumbling upon the room, wondering who was still here at 3am and hearing the music blaring out a speaker, finding you in the centre of it, sweaty and worn out but still had enough energy to smile and introduce yourself to him.

The guilt was creeping up from his chest and attempting to claw itself out as he sat and watched you. He lost count of how many times you consulted your notes, started and restarted the song at different parts, recorded what you were doing, tried to figure out placements. He knew what went into choreographing obviously but seeing you burnt out when you should’ve had this done weeks ago made his stomach clench. How many times had you had to do this? Felix had said this wasn’t the first time, how many times had you covered for him and pulled an all nighter just to get a dance finished so he could have more time on a song?

“What?” You asked, without realising he’d been staring at you.

His mouth opened and closed, words failed to find him. An apology didn’t feel like enough, how could he start an apology about this without acknowledging all the pressure you’d been taking for him.

“If you’re not planning on leaving you might as well come here.” You directed him to a space on the floor that your hoodie currently held. You kicked it to the wall, and moved him slightly into position. “Don’t move too much, I need to figure out if something works. Just move on the spot like you’re singing.”

He waited until you hit play and counted him in, he did exactly what you asked, moving slightly on the spot to give the impression of singing as you moved around him. You repeated this a few more times in different positions, clearly trying to figure out if it could work as a group. Chan waited for more instructions and followed your prompts as you moved him around the room and back again deciding against that.

“Does it normally take you this long?” He asked quietly as you crossed something out that you’d wrote earlier.

You shrugged. “It depends on the song or how I feel. Some stuff is quicker to figure out but the spacing and background move when someone is singing is harder. Or if it works whilst you’re singing. It just depends. Can you stand here?”

He nodded and moved to where you were pointing.

“I’m sorry.”

You glanced up at him.

“I didn’t realise how much pressure I put you under by giving you the track so late.”

You shrugged again. “It is what it is Chan, you get put under pressure by us and the company all the time. Giving me the track a few days late isn’t a big deal.”

He caught your arm as you stepped past him, “It is to me, especially when you’re here until 5am because of it.”

“Us being here until 5am is nothing new.”

“This is different.” He insisted.

You kept your eyes on his hand that was still wrapped around your arm, the skin was burning under it and your face was burning under his gaze.

“Chan I don’t care if you hand me a song on the day it’s due and I have to come up with a choreography on the spot. I can live with that, I can live with pulling an all nighter if it gives you more time and you need it. What I don’t want is for you to throw it in my face like it’s no big deal or that what I’m doing means nothing. I like what I do and I know I’m good at it, we both know it’s the main thing you brought me into the group for, I just want to be appreciated for what I do.”

“I do appreciate what you do. I could never stay here all night trying to figure out who dances in what bit and steps where and moves when. I’d go insane.”

You cracked a smile, “And that’s why you produce and I choreograph.”

He let go of your arm and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you close. “Are we good?”

“We’re good.” You mumbled into his chest. “And I’m sorry I called you a cunt.”

He laughed properly at that.

“It’s fine, just don’t say it again in front of the others. I don’t need them learning that one and accidentally dropping it in an interview. That’s the last thing I want to make an apology for.”

You both decided to call it a night then despite knowing you had a few hours before you needed to come back, Chan picked your bag up and slung it over one shoulder.

“You still need to make it up to the others as well, they really wanted to have dinner together.”

“I know I will.”

“Thank you.”

Chan decided to ring for a car to get you back to the dorms quicker. The quicker you got back then the quicker you were able to get into bed and sleep. You didn’t make it that far though, once you settled into the back of the car and tiredness hit you, it was all you could do to stumble into the dorms and collapse on the sofa.

That was how you were found by Felix anyway, who had woke up to his own alarm that he’d set the night before knowing you’d be in too late to be responsible getting the rest of them up. He smiled at the sight of the two of you draped over each other, knowing someone was definitely going to wake up with pins and needles. He settled though for taking a photo of the two of you (kept to himself though so he could use it for his own gain on another day) and did what you always did first and turned on the coffee machine, knowing the noise would wake you up and he wouldn’t have to. He’d save the embarrassment of finding the two of you snuggled up for a moment when he really needed it.

[cosmiclily]

hey, here i go again, this came up to my mind, so if you want and have the time, here it is

what about an angst with Vi, where she dreams about reader wearing a wedding dress, and she's in a suit, it's their wedding, but then she wakes up crying, cause knows she can't have that

btw, hope you're having a good week! 🩷

i sleep so i can see you

vi x reader

wc: 1.6k

cw: hurt no comfort, there is a little description of a panic attack

notes: 😼😼 i love angst and i love to make my comfort characters suffer muahahahaha, jk. there is like 5 seconds of happiness in the beginning and then suffering. thank you for the request!! i’m having an okay week nothing special, hope yours is going well! 😽

Vi was never the marriage type. If you had asked her as a teenager whether she ever wanted to get married, she would have scoffed and said, “Marriage is stupid. Why would I want the state and the church involved in my business?" But she never really meant it.

She wasn’t against marriage out of rebellion or some grand stance against tradition. No, Vi never imagined herself getting married because, deep down, she never believed anyone would stay.

When you lose your parents, grow up in the system, get separated from your sister, and watch every sense of family you ever had slip through your fingers, it becomes hard to believe that anyone would stick around. That anyone would want to stay. That anyone would be willing to put in the work to understand the mess that lives inside you—the trauma, the scars, the weight you carry every single day.

But you did.

You stayed.

You saw through the walls she put up, understood her in a way no one else ever had. You made her feel safe, cared for, like she didn’t have to fight the world alone anymore. You peeled back her layers, tamed the wild animal. And for the first time in her life, Vi found herself thinking that maybe marriage wasn’t such a bad idea.

Maybe sharing her life with someone—sharing everything—wasn’t so terrifying. Maybe growing old with the same person, waking up to the same face every morning, wasn’t a curse.

So when she saw you walking down the aisle, draped in white, makeup done, the biggest, most breathtaking smile on your face, she couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over.

You held a bouquet of violets in your hands, and that small piece of her with you meant the entire world.

Everything was perfect.

Your parents were there, her sister was there, Vander, Ekko, Mylo, Claggor—everyone. Smiling. Happy. Whole.

It was almost too perfect.

Then, as you took another step forward, something shifted.

The aisle stretched, growing impossibly long, like you were further and further away from her. Your smile—so bright, so warm—began to twist at the edges, turning wrong.

Vi tried to move, but her feet were cemented to the ground.

She tried to call your name, but no sound came out.

She tried to run to you, reach for you—anything—but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—

Vi jolted awake, gasping.

Her body was shaking, drenched in cold sweat, her chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven. Her face was wet. It took her a second to realize she was crying.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

She wasn’t getting married. You weren’t in a wedding dress in front of her.

Vander wasn’t alive.

Her sister was gone. You were gone.

And she was alone.

Just like always.

The room was dark, suffocatingly quiet except for her ragged breathing.

Vi didn’t even have the energy to think, to process. All she could do was drag herself to the bathroom, sink to her knees, and empty her stomach into the toilet.

She spent what felt like hours on the bathroom floor, her back pressed against the cold tiles, hands trembling, hair sticking to her damp forehead. Vi’s chest rose and fell unevenly, breath hitching as she fought against the weight pressing down on her ribs. It felt like she was drowning.

She’d been through this before—with you.

The nights she’d wake up gasping, screaming, clawing at reality until she felt your hands on her, grounding her, pulling her back. You always knew what to do. You’d whisper soft reassurances, hold her until the shaking stopped, remind her that she wasn’t alone. That she was safe.

But you weren’t here.

And it was her fault.

Everything was her fault.

She was never good enough for anyone to stay. That was her curse—every time she let someone see the real her, every time she let someone in, they left.

And why wouldn’t they? Who would want to deal with this? With her?

Vi forced herself to move, to do something other than spiral. She turned the faucet on and splashed cold water onto her face, gripping the edges of the sink as she tried to anchor herself to reality. But everything still felt off—like she was stuck in some inescapable dream.

Her eyes flicked to the clock. 4:57 AM.

Too early. Too late. Meaningless.

Her hand reached for her phone before she could stop herself, fingers scrolling through her contacts until she found your name.

Her thumb hovered over the call button.

Maybe you’d pick up.

Maybe you’d tell her it wasn’t her fault, that she was fine, that you were fine. That everything was okay. That you were coming home.

But you wouldn’t.

So she didn’t call.

Vi locked her phone and let it drop onto the counter with a dull thud. Then, with a heavy breath, she dragged herself out of the bathroom and back to bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come.

When her alarm went off, she was still wide awake.

But even if she was falling apart, life didn’t stop for her.

So, she forced herself up, took a shower, and went to work. It was an uneventful day at the shop—no tattoo appointments, no familiar faces walking in, just a single girl wanting a belly button piercing. By the time 3 p.m. hit, she had nothing left to do.

She thought about going home. Maybe she could force herself to be productive. Maybe she could drown herself in work, find something to focus on so she wouldn’t have to think.

But she knew exactly how that would go. She’d sit in silence, overthink, spiral.

So instead, she took a detour.

Vi knew your habits. She knew you liked to go to that small coffee shop by the river, the one with the rickety outdoor tables and the faded green awning. She knew your order by heart.

And there you were.

Sitting outside, a mug in your hands—probably tea, since you were trying to quit coffee—watching the ducks drift lazily across the water.

You looked exactly the same.

Like you.

And that somehow made it worse.

Her phone felt heavy in her back pocket, like it was calling her name, demanding that she did something. That she said something. That she stopped standing there like a coward, staring at you from a distance, pretending like she wasn’t the one who ruined everything.

But instead of pulling it out, instead of calling you or walking up to you, she just stood there.

Frozen.

She was the one who screwed everything up.

The one who said awful things. The one who pushed you away. The one who locked herself up so tight that even you—the person who had always been so patient, so understanding—couldn’t get through to her.

In her head, it had been inevitable. You were going to leave eventually. Everyone did. So if she accelerated the process, if she pushed you away first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe she could brace herself, prepare for the pain.

But like hell that worked.

Because here she was, standing across the street, looking at you like a ghost from another life, and it hurt just the same.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes met hers.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then, just as quickly as you saw her, your expression hardened, and you turned away. Not just looking past her, but through her. Like she was nothing.

Like she was no one.

That was what finally made her snap.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she was crossing the street, stepping onto the café’s patio.

“Hey.”

You froze, your grip tightening around your mug, but you didn’t look at her.

Vi clenched her jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna pretend you didn’t see me?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, finally turning your head. “What do you want, Vi?”

And it wasn’t the words that got to her. It was how you said them. Tired. Like you had already run this conversation a million times in your head. Like you had already decided she wasn’t worth the energy.

Her hands curled into fists. “I—” She hesitated, suddenly realizing she didn’t have a plan. “I just… wanted to talk.”

You scoffed. “Now you wanna talk?”

The bitterness in your voice stung.

“What do you expect me to do?” Vi shot back, voice rising. “Act like we didn’t—” She stopped herself, taking a sharp breath. “I know I messed up. I know I said things I shouldn’t have, but damn, you really hate me that much now?”

You let out a humorless laugh, finally setting your mug down. “Hate you?” You stood up, and she realized just how much closer you were now. “Vi, I don’t have the energy to hate you. I wasted too much of it trying to love you.”

That hit like a punch to the gut.

She opened her mouth, ready to say something, anything, but you weren’t done.

“I gave you everything, and you threw it away” you continued, voice shaking. “And now you’re here? Just expecting me to what,forgive you? Pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“No,” Vi said quickly. “That’s not—”

But you weren’t listening anymore.

“Where the hell was this energy when I was begging you to let me in?” You took a step forward, eyes burning into hers. “Where was this Vi when I was trying to help you?”

Vi clenched her teeth, anger bubbling in her chest—but not at you. At herself.

She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to make things right.

You just stared at her, something unreadable in your expression. Then, after a beat, you shook your head.

“I hope you figure your shit out, Violet.”

And with that, you picked up your things and walked away, leaving her standing there, heart pounding on her chest.

──────────────────────

masterlist

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 4

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: The lines of your agreement begin to blur with one simple word: sweetheart.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, commented and/or followed me!! I truly appreciate each and every one of you💜(I’m screaming with joy on the inside)

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: age gap, alcohol, mild fluff, feelings, foul language, hospital stresses, some angst thrown in because what the hell, slowburn, they AWKWARD (I love them)/bad jokes, idk Robby’s a hockey fan because I could totally see that (baseball too)

not beta read

When one of your co-workers had asked you on a date the following week, you had turned him down. It had come as a surprise, not having said much more than pleasantries to each other when you passed in the hall. He was nice, attractive enough to have caught your attention before, but you told him you were not looking to date. Too busy, gotta focus on school, just not for me right now, were all valid reasons. Not because of Michael. Nope. That would be stupid.

You tried to remove yourself from getting too wrapped up in your imagination. Frankly, because it was making you incredibly anxious. You texted Erin and Marsi to hang out, to come study, to go out for brunch, anything to get you out of your apartment. You worked longer hours. You even joined a random study group with some other accounting majors.

You believed you had it all back on track just two weeks after your dinner. But it was hard to ignore the way your pulse quickened whenever he called. You kept telling yourself it was still the anxiety around the arrangement and not the person on the other end.

Michael called late one Tuesday, exhausted from his shift. You began to think that perhaps he did not enjoy returning to an empty, quiet apartment to be alone with his thoughts.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, rougher than usual.

“Long night?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, laying down on your bed after changing into some pajamas.

He let out a long sigh, “Perhaps another time.”

You were smart enough to pick up on the deflection, but you hummed, “Sure.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt stupid for getting upset over his deflection, annoyed that it was likely just going to be another night you filled the void with your voice. Was it stupid and unjustified to get frustrated with him? More than likely. Did you feel that way anyways? Definitely. You kept trying to remind yourself you were both barely acquaintances, and this was exactly what you had signed up for.

“Can I ask you something?” You ventured, glancing at your nails.

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you become a doctor?”

There were several moments of silence as he digested the question, and you anxiously bit at the side of your nails.

“I wanted to help people.” He told you, but there was something in his tone that suggested it was just a reflex answer. In the quiet that followed, he cleared his throat, “It wasn’t easy. I was tested at every turn, still am. But it meant something. It mattered.”

Something so large went unspoken between you — I mattered. You did not dare speak on it.

“That’s very honorable.”

“Honor’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Well, I find that very honorable. Selfless.” You stressed, staring up at your ceiling.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, “how was your day?”

Despite wanting to push, you realized that perhaps you had wandered into territory far too personal for your arrangement, which made your cheeks flare with heat. You found yourself wanting to get to know him more than was likely appropriate.

You launched into your day, discussing a few minor details about work and the new system they were slowly beginning to implement. You paused after he yawned, causing you to mirror it.

“Goodnight,” you said first, eyes heavy.

“Goodnight,”

—

It was easily your busiest day all month. Between onboarding a bunch of new employees, cashing out a handful of ones that had quit, studying for an exam, a project and a few prior commitments to hang out with your friends, you were stretched thin. You left your apartment early and were not set to return until late.

Hunger ate away at your stomach as lunchtime came and went without stopping to eat. Thankfully you had left a granola bar in your desk drawer, but it did little to satisfy you.

After clocking in overtime, you left the office just after 6 — moving into your car and finally taking a breath. You quickly went through a handful of notifications, before finding a text from Michael timestamped at 2:23.

Can we talk tonight?

You debated it. You wanted to, but you still had things to do and you were starving.

Raincheck?

I had the busiest day and I haven’t been able to eat yet.

Your phone buzzed with an alert not even a moment later, while you sat still in your car, trying to take a moment for yourself.

We could grab food instead?

. . .

New Thai place opened up near me

Your stomach grumbled, making up your mind for you. Smiling to yourself and deciding the last details of your project could be edited the following morning, you agreed, asking for the address.

You were far too hungry for the nerves of seeing him again to invade — instead trying to freshen up with the aid of your sun visor mirror and whatever you could find in your bag. Lipgloss and a tiny bottle of perfume were going to have to make it work. You studied your reflection, and tried to fix your hair as much as you could given the circumstances.

The Thai place was busy, which considering they had only just opened, should have been expected. You found a parking space near the back and sent a text to let Michael know you had arrived.

Smoothing out your work slacks and blouse once you were out of the car, you pulled your blazer tight — the evening having grown chilly. You saw Michael waiting near the front door, dressed in jeans and a casual zip-up sweatshirt, a festival t-shirt peeking through.

You smiled as you approached, “Hi.”

He smiled in return, taking you in, putting his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. “Hi.”

You glanced in the window to see how busy the place was and your stomach protested.

“They said the wait to sit down was likely going to be an hour,”

You frowned, glancing around at the other buildings on each side of the street.

“There’s a Chinese place just a block away, we could try that?” He offered.

“Do you mind?” You asked quietly, bringing your arms across your body. “I’d still like to check this place out, but I don’t think I can wait that long.”

He smiled easily, “Not at all.”

You stepped into pace with him, heading down the sidewalk towards the Chinese restaurant. You were away from the more central part of Pittsburgh, but traffic still whizzed by, undisturbed by the darkening skies.

“Did you work today?” You asked, peeking at him from the corner of your eye.

“No, but I have a swing shift tomorrow. Haven’t had to work one of those in awhile, but we’re short staffed.” He explained with a tiny shrug.

You absorbed the new information. “You usually work days?”

“Normally, yeah. Sort of a perk of…my job title.” He chuckled.

Part of you wanted to ask what exactly that title was, but realized it would likely give away too much information. From everything you knew about his job, it definitely seemed like he worked in a hospital as opposed to a clinic or private practice — ICU perhaps? Emergency room? Curiosity ate away in your mind, picturing him in a white lab coat, but you tried to shake off the thought.

He held the door open for you, and you stepped into the restaurant, taking it in. The smell of food was overwhelming until it was all you could consider, your stomach making it painfully obvious how empty it was. You took note of the vending machines against the wall and the two tables — both occupied. You turned back to him and watched as he noticed the lack of seating as well.

“We could just get take out,” he said, eyes meeting yours. “My place is just a few blocks away.”

You swallowed, and genuinely considered it. You were far too hungry to try someplace else and you turned to look at the menu. Fuck it.

“That was—that was forward of me. I didn’t mean—just so we have a place to sit down and eat. We can—”

You looked up at him and smiled, “No, that’s fine. Killing me would be so hypocritical of the whole ‘do no harm’ thing.”

He blinked and your face instantly heated, digesting your own words.

“That was a terrible joke, oh my god—”

He laughed. He laughed.

All your fears washed away at the sound of it, and you smiled sheepishly before turning towards the counter at the end of the restaurant.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a breath, grin still stretched across his face, “I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“No! I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to insinuate—”

He waved off your concern, moving towards the counter. “No harm done.”

You both ordered, and you got your usual and Michael ordered orange chicken — but you both moved to pay. You stared down at each of your cards, catching just a glimpse of his full name on the front — Michael C. Rob — the rest covered by his thumb. You glanced at his face.

His brown eyed gaze was on you, too, holding steady for several beats of your heart, and it took the sigh from the woman behind the counter for you to move again.

“I got it.” He said.

“Thank you.” You whispered, putting your card back into your wallet.

The woman informed you it would just take ten minutes, much to your relief. You moved off to the side and leaned against the wall to wait, Michael leaning next to you. It was a small space, filled with the sounds from the kitchen seen behind the counter, and the light conversation from the five other people sitting down.

Thoughts moving from your hunger and the food, you absorbed the information that he lived near here. It was a considerably nicer part of Pittsburgh, you knew you could never even afford a studio in the area, but it made sense. He had money — he had money to burn, considering your monthly stipend.

The walk back to his place after you had collected your food was quiet, and you savored the sound of his street — off the main streets, it was nice. You had long grown used to the white noise of cars outside your window in your own apartment.

There was a doorman when you arrived at his building, and you craned your neck to look up at it. Red brick and large windows, and your shoes clacked! on the clean tile once you were through the main door. It was immaculate, and gave you the sudden intrusive thought that you did not belong. It worked up your throat like bile and you turned your eyes to the floor.

You took the elevator up with him to one of the top floors, and you stared at yourself in the mirror on either side of the elevator. His reflection watched you, until the elevator doors opened. The hallway was empty and quiet, and you reflexively reached for the takeout bag so he could get his keys.

21B

His apartment was beautiful. Even before he flicked the lights on, you knew — late evening light spilling in from the windows along the far wall. It was an open floor plan, his front door opening into his living room with a tiny entryway. His kitchen was laid on the right side, with a quaint dining room set up, large windows and a door to a balcony. There was an archway that led to a hallway along the wall to your left — presumably to his bedroom and bathroom.

The brick accents did wonders for the space, and the furnishings were modest. Not fancy or flashy, but clearly not second-hand. There was something distinctly lived in about the space, a discarded book on the end table and scattered coasters on the coffee table. There was a dip on the L-shaped couch, a favorite spot undoubtedly, with the remote haphazardly discarded on one of the cushions.

He removed his shoes in the entryway, and you followed his lead before you followed after him.

“I don’t have much in terms of drinks,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, I’ve got water and iced tea…wine, I also have wine.”

You smiled at him, placing your bag on the granite countertop. “Water’s just fine, thank you.”

He nodded, putting the takeout bag next to the sink, when he reached into one of the cabinets to get a glass. While he sorted through the bag, and got your drink, you wandered over to the windows, glancing at the city sprawled out before you, the sunset burning behind the buildings. The sky was a fine array of oranges and reds, and you found you loved the view.

Michael cleared his throat behind you, making you jump. He smiled sheepishly, handing you the glass of water. You took it with a smile of your own and sipped it.

“You have a really nice place.” You found yourself saying, still looking over the walls and wood finishes.

“Oh, thank you.”

You walked back into the kitchen with him and followed his lead bringing your food into his living room. You glanced at his dining table, but did not question it — not being able to argue to sit down on a very comfortable looking couch after you had been running around all day.

You both began eating with a Penguins game in the background, and you did your best to be polite and not inhale your food.

“Did you want to talk about your day?” He asked after a few bites of his orange chicken.

You looked over to him, swallowing a mouthful of food. “Me?”

He looked amused, “You.”

You blinked, “I mean, aside from it being an incredibly long and busy day, there’s not much to say. A shitshow, but hey, that’s showbiz, baby.”

The corners of his lips rose into a grin, “Yeah? I didn’t know accounting and show business were related.”

You held up your hand and crossed two of your fingers, “Incredibly intertwined. You could play ‘pick the narcissist’ with either profession, and you’d be right either way.”

Michael laughed, “Run into a lot of those today?”

You shrugged, but your lips were inching upward, “Without delving into company secrets, yeah, my boss can be a bit of a megalomaniac. It’s all a numbers game, even at the price of employee satisfaction. There’s been a high turnover rate recently.”

Michael nodded like he fully understood what you were talking about. “Have you considered leaving?”

“Frequently. Once I graduate, for sure. Only a few more months.” You chewed a bite of your food, the hunger in your stomach ebbing away, “How has work been for you?”

“Admin has been on my ass,” he told you, eyes flickering to the tv and back to you. “Patient satisfaction scores, you know?”

“You have satisfaction scores?” You asked incredulously, confusion knitting your brows together. “That sounds like some shit they do for a fast food chain.”

He gestured wildly with his hands, “That’s what I said.”

“I mean, sure, satisfaction is important in any industry — but that wouldn’t be my main concern in a hospital environment. How is employee satisfaction?”

“Down,” Michael said with a frown. “Understaffing is a big problem. Nurses, attendings, techs, you name it. Wait times are high, and I just don’t have the staff to bring it down.”

“Damn,” you breathed out, “I guess I can’t say I’m surprised, especially not after the pandemic.”

He looked down into his food, nodding, “The pandemic hit us hard. There’s definitely a distinct difference in life before and life after for most of us.”

You watched him, noticing the smallest wince in his cheek at the mention of it. And to think just the other week that I had been thinking how nice it had been to work from home. You swallowed your guilt with the last bite of your food, noticing how the mood shifted.

Your knees brushed when he turned his eyes back to the television, a faraway look in his eyes. You bumped his knee purposefully the second time, gaining his attention.

“I don’t know how to help you, or even if I can, or if you even want me to. But I’m always here if you want to talk, or if you need a distraction.” You offered with a small smile.

His face relaxed at that, “And that’s enough, sweetheart, thank you. Being able to talk, or think about anything else has been incredibly helpful.”

While you absorbed everything he said, the word sweetheart bounced around in your head, making your palms clammy.

“Of course, yeah,” you looked away from him, unable to hold his gaze.

“I mean it.” He said, gaining your full attention, “Thank you.”

A genuine smile appeared on your face, soft and gentle.

Hours passed with simpler conversation, both your attentions on the hockey game. But you would be lying if you said you missed the way his touch lingered on your skin, or how warm his body felt next to you, throwing your thoughts in a frenzy.

You were thankful that he was talking about simple, mundane things, because you were having a hard time focusing on it. You felt like a stupid hormonal teenager sat next to him, stuck in your own head rather than the moment.

When the game ended at a brutal 3-0 against, you could not help but yawn.

“I should probably call it,” you said, glancing at the time on your phone.

He nodded, moving to sit up, rolling his shoulders with the softest groan that short-circuited your brain. He held his hand out to you and you took it, gathering your scattered thoughts, trying to remember to grab all your things.

“Let me walk you to your car.” He said, putting on his shoes.

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Well, I’m going to anyway. It’s late and your car is several blocks away.”

You grabbed your bag, cheeks heating, “Alright.”

Once outside, you absentmindedly looped your arm with his, his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. Neither of you spoke on it, his eyes only lingering on your face for a few short seconds. You enjoyed the warmth of his body, pressed into his side — the thoughts in your head momentarily quieting.

You felt like the walk to your car had been far too short as opposed to the walk to his place, and it took a moment to finally let go of him.

“Thank you for walking me.” You said, looking at him. “I had a good time tonight.”

“I did, too. Spontaneous. It was good.”

Nodding in agreement, you stepped toward your car. “I’ll let you know when I get home?”

“Yeah,” he smiled softly at you. “get home safe.”

You parted with a lingering goodbye.

—

It had only been a few days since you had heard from Michael, though that wasn’t uncommon. Part of you felt antsy about it — fingers itching to send him a message or call to check in on him. You felt foolish, a tiny part of your brain aching to connect with him. Every time the thought crossed your mind, you pushed it back down, desperate to discard it. He wasn’t looking for connection — that was the exact opposite of what he was looking for.

Sweetheart echoed in your head even now, the rough timber of his voice burrowing deep, making your heart flutter.

Huffing a long sigh, you focused back on your report, but your eyes seemed to look straight through the screen like it wasn’t even there.

When your phone buzzed, you quickly reached for it. You tried not to feel the disappointment flood through your system at the text from Marsi.

I had the worst day. Let’s go out tonight?

You pursed your lips, debating it. It surely would get your mind off a certain someone, and maybe even help you get your thoughts back on track.

Please

You sent back.

—

The bar was pretty busy. It had been a long time since you had been out on a Friday night. Marsi clearly had been through it, her numerical analytics presentation for her computer science masters had gone terribly when she had misunderstood a pretty large part of the project. She had the weekend to correct it — the professor not wanting to fail her.

But she had needed a night off, and you decided a night off would be good for you, too. It was nice. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Marsi ordered shots, downing hers as quickly as it came. You hesitated, staring at the clear liquid. You debated it, but then decided a shot and a drink wouldn’t throw off your weekend too much.

“Alright, you’re so off. Spill.”

Your eyes went wide, looking back to your friend. “What are you talking about?”

“That! That look right there.”

You pursed your lips and frowned, sipping your drink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is it a guy?” When she received no immediate answer, she continued, “Oh jeez, did he find out about that sugar daddy thing?”

“No! What? No, of course not.” Speaking quickly, you turned her eyes away from your friend, hoping she wouldn’t notice you flustering. “There’s no guy.”

Marsi did not look even slightly convinced, narrowing her eyes over her jack and ginger. “You suck at lying.”

Flustered, you tried to change the subject. “Did you catch the Penguins game last night?”

“What?” Marsi laughed, “Don’t try to change the subject!”

“There’s no guy.” You huffed, stressing your words.

She quirked an eyebrow, “I don’t believe you. Is it a taboo thing? Is it a co-worker?”

You tried to quiet your friend, hushing her. Give it to Marsi to see right through you. At least it’s not Erin, your mind commented.

“Professor?” Marsi shooed away your hands, “Jeez, stop that!”

“What? Ew, no!”

“Oh fuck.” Marsi said after a moment's realization. “Is it the sugar daddy?”

“No!” You protested quickly, too quickly, before adding with your nose scrunched and face ablaze, “Don’t call him that,”

Marsi groaned, “Jesus. Didn’t Erin warn you about that?”

You tried to collect yourself, taking a deep breath to steady your heart, your thoughts hazy from the questions. “Please don’t get it twisted. It’s not like that.”

Marsi gave an unconvinced hum, sipping her drink. “Do you wish it was?”

“I don’t—I—uhh—no!” You closed your eyes tight, leaning your head back trying to stifle your annoyed groan. You looked back at your friend, “No.”

Marsi was quiet, watching you closely.

“Look, I don’t want that. He’s nice. I enjoy talking with him, but that’s it. It’s not complicated like that.” You told her, gulping the last of your drink.

“Whatever you say,” Marsi waved off. “That guy across the bar has been eyeing you up for the last ten minutes. Maybe you should get laid.”

Your face burned, not even bothering to check. “I’m not into one-night stands.”

“I’m sure that’s the reason you haven’t looked.” Marsi said with a smirk.

You groaned in frustration. “Can you just drop it?”

“Sure, sure,” she sipped her drink. “You’re awfully flustered for it being something that’s not complicated.”

“Please.”

When you opened your eyes, Marsi was frowning at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push.”

You sighed, “Thank you. I just don’t want a lecture right now.”

Marsi nodded, “You’re right, we came out to have fun! Let me tell you about this—”

Your phone buzzed on the bartop, Michael’s name lighting up your screen. Marsi’s eyes flickered from the tv above the bar to your phone to your face. She gave a wry grin.

Exasperated, ignoring the butterflies in your gut, you grabbed your phone. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

Marsi laughed, “I didn’t even say anything!”

You gave her a dry look, “I’ll be right back.”

You were out of your seat, moving quickly towards the entrance of the bar. Your heart picked back up, worry ebbing into your excitement. He never called this late without warning you first.

Not wanting to risk missing his call, you answered, “Hold on.” You moved out onto the sidewalk, moving until you were under the streetlight. “Hey.”

“Am I interrupting? I’m sorry—”

“No, no. Is everything alright?”

“I just wanted to—I thought—” Michael sighed. “I just wanted to talk.”

“Oh.”

“I shouldn’t have called, you’re clearly busy,”

“I want to talk to you, too.” You said, I wanted to talk to you all day went unspoken.

“Oh.”

You smiled gently, staring down at your feet, ‘I’m just not home yet. Can I call in like an hour?”

“Please do.”

—

“So…night out…uh, solo?” He asked after you greeted each other.

Was that jealousy in his tone? No, it couldn’t be.

“Yeah, one of my friends really needed it,” you explained, kicking off your shoes and moving into your bedroom. “She had a bad day.”

“Oh.”

“I’m glad to be home now,” You said, removing your dress, placing him on speaker. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy hanging out with her. Just Friday nights out aren’t always my thing, not much anymore, anyway.”

“I get that,” he said, his tone raspy. “I wanted to check in about work. I know the last week has been stressful for you.”

You pulled a pajama top over your head. “Some of the new staff is picking up the slack, I just hope they don’t leave before I do.” You chuckled.

He let out a breathy laugh.

You crawled into your bed, stretching out with a long yawn. “Admin still up your ass?”

“More than usual, yeah.”

It did not take long into your conversation for the light snoring on the other end to start, indicating that Michael had fallen asleep. His soft breaths in and out brought a comfort to you, enjoying the simplicity of him. Instead of ending the call, you placed your phone on the nightstand next to your head.

Closing your eyes, you laid back on your pillow and went to sleep.

[ Next ]

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jUST KISS ALREADY jeez

[adara-of-the-flame]

the-name-is-hoggle

Hoggle cringes slightly as the red head actually calls him a "dead cave”. Wow. No matter how far he was from his childhood home, the more things did not change.

This feeling increased as the other dwarves approached, practically closing in around him and the somewhat clueless Mars - oft. He suddenly remembered she would definitely be super lost about what was going on - and made their opinions known. At least it looked like more were trying for the common tongue instead of Khudzul? Though that arguably just meant that Mars could be dragged into the discussion as well.

“Really, it’s nothin’ ta make a scene over. The apology is already more than appreciated….”

Of course being in the Summer Queen’s good graces really seemed to pull at the dwarves want to “right” things for Hoggle. Ugh. He rather preferred when no one thought twice about the words thrown his way. It was weird for anyone to care….

It was with relief - and a little trepidation - when Hoggle heard none other than Sir Didymus approaching them. He, Dumpling, and Yumika being led by Hickory over to where the Spring Prince and his bard stood. As soon as the knight saw his friends , Didymus hailed to them. Waving his staff about to get their attention while they were still a ways away.

“Sir Hoggle! My Lady Mars! There you two are! We knew you would return unharmed!”

And off the little fox-terrier creature bounced, making his way through the crowd of dwarves with some polite exclamations of “Pardon Me!, "Coming through!” and so forth. Both in common tongue and Khudzul, as a matter of fact. Which took Hoggle by surprise, he had no idea Didymus knew any at all!

What the -?!

“My, my! And new attire as well! I must say, a much better fit for the type of quest we are on at least!”

He grins as he finally reaches the dwarf and Urru, clapping Hoggle on the shoulder before grinning up at Mars. The smile going a bit slanted as he spoke,

“We spent a rousing night with Hickory playing Scrabble! Lady Yumika is still in a huff about how well she did at the game, but for a first time player it was not bad at all! You two seemed to have had a much more interesting night, yes?”

He turned to regard the redhead, their grandparent, and the rest of the assembled dwarves with bright curiosity.

“What is going on?”

Hoggled sighs lightly. Explaining for the whole group now.

“Short answer: our red headed friend over here commented on my lack of beard yesterday. ”

And other things.

“Their grandparent caught wind of this and was unhappy. A beardless dwarf means someone in mourning in older circles so they thought I’d been highly insulted and wanted to make amends. I wasn’t. I appreciate the apology I got anyway…It’s fine.”

Didymus hums lightly at this before commenting idly,

“…I admit I have wondered if you shaved everyday…”

Another sigh from Hoggle.

“No, Didymus. I’m just like this.”

adara-of-the-flame

Not for the first time in her life, Mars found herself wading around in a sea of short people. She had no problem with this. When you're seven feet tall, and have generally been on the tall side all of one's life, it's a useful, addaptive strategy to learn to look down and make sure you're not stepping on anyone.

...Or, sitting on anyone, since no sooner had Hoggle dryly confessed to always being different, then the half-Urru promptly folded one long leg over the other and sat cross-legged on the ground next to the dwarf. They still weren't eye-level. Close enough, though.

"You know, it's not so bad being different. Beleive it not, I'm not normal, either." She grinned, brushing some long hair behind an inhuman ear. "And, I've had a lot of people tell me it's not okay for someone to have four arms, but I don't let it bother me. It has it's advantages. Just like having no beard." Were the other Dwarves still arguing? It's almost like the whole, hairy mob had forgotten Hoggle, and thus why they were arguing to begin with.

"I mean, it's really hot here, right?" Mars continued. "Having a beard and all that hair would just make you overheated and sweaty. Not being hairy is practical; it's cooler. And, your hair doesn't get stuck on trees, and branches, and stuff." How her literal yards of hair never got stuck or tangled itself was anyone's guess. Mars always said it had something to do with the conditioner she used. "And, I think you look good either way, beard or no beard."

Was it just her, or were the other people besides she and Hoggle suddenly shorter than they were a moment before?

...And, getting shorter!

Mars looked down. The ground at her feet had been replaced with a leaf and petals seat for the two of them, a large stem rising the pair up from below. "...Are we on a flower? Hoggle, are you doing this?"

"No, but by the time I'm done with him, he should be able to do even more." The pair continued to rise until they were eye to enormous eye with Selva Roja. "Last Dwarf on Their Feet doesn't start till sundown. Until then, you're mine for Spring Training, Little Prince."

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the stench of this terrible blog…bleck!”

[hummingbird24220]

may I please request a Luffy x fem reader where they encounter an enemy who’s devil fruit makes people reveal the truth which ends up with Luffy confessing his feelings for the reader and leaves him all embarrassed and the rest of the crew in shock. maybe he even says something along the lines of “I think y/n looks cute when she’s wearing my straw hat” idk, I just had this thought I hope it makes sense cause I feel like it would be super adorable! thank you!!

Absolutely! Sorry it took a while <3

Hope you enjoy~

____________________________

Truth Be Told

Pairing: Luffy x Fem!Reader

It started with a simple supply run. Nothing crazy. Just a sleepy little island, a few shops, and some suspiciously overgrown flowers that Usopp swore were staring at him.

Then, of course, everything went downhill. As it always did.

The Straw Hats found themselves face-to-face with a strange man in a long cloak and a mask shaped like a grinning sun. He called himself "Veritas", and he had eaten the Honto Honto no Mi—the Truth Truth Fruit.

“Lies crumble in my presence,” Veritas had declared dramatically, “and secrets will sing!”

...Whatever that meant.

But they quickly realized the horrifying truth: anyone caught in his ability’s range would be forced to speak whatever was on their mind—completely, brutally honestly.

Zoro, red-faced, had admitted he sometimes got lost just so he wouldn’t have to help Sanji with chores. Sanji immediately confessed he once burned the soup but blamed it on Brook. Robin admitted she actually loved cheesy romance novels. Nami had squealed and tackled her with stars in her eyes. Usopp revealed he sometimes practiced cool one-liners in front of a mirror. Chopper cried because he said he was scared of Veritas’s teeth.

Then… it happened.

You were just trying to stay out of the blast zone, eyes wide as chaos unfolded. And then Luffy—your wonderfully unpredictable captain—pointed directly at you.

And said: “I think Y/N looks super cute when she wears my hat. I kinda wanna kiss her when she smiles like that.”

Silence. Utter, paralyzing silence.

You froze. The crew froze. Luffy blinked, confused, then looked around. “Huh?”

“…Luffy,” Nami said, slowly. “Did you just…?”

He squawked, clutching his mouth like he could shove the words back in. “I-I didn’t mean to say that!!”

“Yes, you did,” Robin said with a warm smile.

“No, I didn’t!! I mean—I did, but I didn’t mean to say it!”

You felt your cheeks go up in flames. Luffy was bright red—a sight rarer than sea stone. He yanked his hat off and clutched it to his chest, eyes wide and panicked.

“I—I wasn’t gonna tell her yet!!”

“Yet?!” you and half the crew yelled.

Usopp’s mouth dropped. “Luffy… likes someone?” Zoro blinked slowly. “...Guess weirder things have happened.” Sanji nearly fainted with sparkles in his eyes. “My little captain is growing up!”

Luffy turned to you, bashful and adorable, still clinging to his hat. “I just… I think you’re cute, okay?! Especially when you wear my hat. And I like you a lot. And your laugh makes me feel weird in my chest and I don’t know what that means, but I think it means I really, really like you.”

You smiled, stepping close to him, your own cheeks still warm. “...So can I keep borrowing your hat, then?”

His face lit up. “Only if you promise to smile while you wear it.”

The crew collectively melted. Even Zoro smiled (a little).

You took the hat gently from his hands and plopped it on your head. “Deal, Captain.”

Luffy stared at you like he’d just found the One Piece. Then he yelled—far too loud—“WAAAH, SHE’S EVEN CUTER NOW!!!”

Veritas, by that point, had long since been knocked out by Robin (For plot convenience), but no one really noticed. Not when their captain was standing in front of you, flustered and happy and absolutely in love.

And you? You were definitely okay with the truth coming out.

_______________

The stars stretched endlessly overhead, mirrored by the dark, gentle sway of the ocean. The rest of the crew had gone to bed—or pretended to, at least, likely still buzzing with today’s revelations. You couldn’t blame them. It wasn’t every day your usually clueless captain confessed he liked you in front of everyone.

You were sitting near the figurehead, letting the breeze kiss your skin, Luffy’s hat resting beside you on the wood. You hadn’t stopped smiling since he said you were cute. Not because of the words themselves—but because he meant them.

“Y/N?”

You turned. Luffy stood behind you, barefoot and in his usual open red vest, rubbing the back of his neck like he was nervous. His cheeks were already tinged pink, and he wasn’t even under Veritas’s spell anymore.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, patting the spot beside you.

He shuffled over and plopped down, knees pulled up, arms around them. For a while, neither of you said anything. Just the waves, the creaking of the ship, and the soft sound of his breathing.

Then he leaned back and tilted his head toward you, eyes soft. “I wasn’t gonna tell you yet.”

You smiled. “I figured.”

“I wanted it to be cooler,” he grumbled. “Like, after we beat a super strong guy, or maybe after I saved you from falling off a cliff or something.”

You laughed. “So dramatic.”

“I am dramatic,” he insisted, puffing his cheeks. “But… I meant it. All of it.”

You turned to him fully. “Even the part about wanting to kiss me when I smile?”

He groaned, face flaring red. “Y/NNNN…”

You tilted your head innocently. “What? I think that part was cute.”

“…It was true,” he muttered, rubbing at his face. “You smile and my brain just kinda… explodes. And then my chest feels all full and weird and I wanna… hold your hand or something.”

Your heart fluttered. You reached over, threading your fingers through his.

He jolted. Then slowly, slowly smiled.

“I’ve never liked someone like this before,” he admitted, voice soft like he was telling you a secret. “But I do like you. A lot. I think about you when we’re not together. I look for you first after a fight. I like hearing you laugh. I like how strong you are. I like everything.”

You were full-blown blushing now, cheeks warm and heart practically glowing.

“And,” he added, reaching beside you to grab his straw hat, “I wasn’t kidding. You really do look cute in this.”

He gently placed it on your head, adjusting it so it sat just right. Then he beamed at you like you hung the moon.

“...Wanna wear it again?”

You smiled, scooting closer until your shoulders touched. “Only if you promise to kiss me next time I smile.”

Luffy stared at you. Then he leaned in, face red but determined, and pressed the softest kiss to your cheek.

“I’m practicing,” he mumbled. “So I can kiss you for real when you smile next.”

You turned to him, and smiled.

He kissed you again.

[mageknife]

the point of me doing all of that timeline nonsense is to talk about the letter from alexius to halward shortly after alexius takes dorian in. there are two primary takeaways i have from this and they both make me crazy. first:

He's rather despondent over the life's path you've charted for him—if I may speak frankly—and thus, I think a part of him sabotages all efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow, either to spite you or to punish himself.

this sentence is. it’s a lot. in knowing dorian for such a short time, alexius understands him far better than his parents ever have. (“I know my son.” What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble.) dorian acts out because he’s miserable, he’s angry that he’ll never be what his parents want, angry at both them (for setting such unachievable expectations) and himself (for never being enough, for his inherent inability to be enough). alexius can see this so clearly. alexius genuinely cares for him. whether his parents at all care for the man he’s become or just for the man they wanted him to be is debatable.

and secondly, we have this sentence:

The boy had enough cheek, even in his inebriated state, to invite me to join him.

alexius tells halward that dorian propositioned him for sex. dorian is at this point, what, 17 or 18? this is likely the first evidence halward has that dorian likes men. alexius basically outs him. subtly, but it’s there. halward knew for a long time, or at least had a suspicion. but it was in private. only admitted in alexius’s correspondence.

in 9:37, when dorian is 26, he’s caught in bed with a lord’s son and essentially taken captive by his parents. he runs away a few months later, never to return.

below are two quotes from dorian during last resort of good men:

But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to change me!

He was going to do a blood ritual. Alter my mind. Make me... acceptable. I found out. I left.

“the first thing you did.” this implies that halward only truly confronts dorian about his homosexuality and moves to act after the incident with lord abrexis’s son.

as dorian says in his sex scene:

Where I come from, anything between two men… it’s about pleasure. It’s accepted, but taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You’d be foolish to.

maybe it would have been fine behind closed doors, but it’s been made extremely public. word has spread quickly among halward’s enemies. just look at this letter:

Halward: I only wanted what was best for you!

Dorian: You wanted the best for you! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!

when dorian says this, he’s exactly right. halward might not understand dorian, but dorian understands him. halward knew dorian slept with men for 8, 9 years before this, thanks to alexius’s letter detailing how they met. it hasn’t been an issue before. but it’s only now that it could pose a threat to halward’s reputation that halward decides it has to change. he goes back on his word, his teachings against blood magic, to protect himself, his legacy, his image. it’s disgusting. appalling.

finally, i want to address this banter between cole and dorian:

Dorian: You think that if they love you, they should understand. They shouldn't want to hurt you.

Dorian: So you feel betrayed. You say things you can't ever take back.

Cole: “Get out. You are no son of mine.”

Dorian: Yes, like that.

Cole: He wishes he hadn't meant it.

world of thedas says dorian “escaped,” “fled.” even dorian says he “found out [and] left.” but this banter, given the above context, is elucidating. dorian didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night. he confronted halward. he stood his ground. he refused to let halward change him. he had hope, even if just a sliver of it, that halward would understand, would still love him, even if he wasn’t everything his father wanted.

and for staying true to who he was, he was given rejection. wholehearted rejection. halward said that dorian was not his son, and he meant it. if dorian couldn’t behave in a way that would uphold house pavus’s perfect legacy, if he couldn’t “put on a show, marry the girl, keep everything unsavory private and locked away,” then he couldn’t be a pavus.

dorian left having tried everything. having desperately pleaded with his father to still love him for who he was. but halward never truly loved dorian. he only loved the man he hoped dorian would become, the man he tried to force him to become by throwing money and disciplinary action and strict schools at the problem because he never truly cared about what dorian wanted, the man he was entirely willing to abandon his abandon his principles to use blood magic to change dorian into.

dorian was not halward’s son, because he fought against the life he was forced into since birth. dorian was not halward’s son, because he dared to put dorian before pavus.

[chimielie]

"I wish we had been brave enough to make our love public. Maybe that way we might have lasted." With Daichi (or someone else, if you're not feeling him)

Daichi doesn’t even bother to tell you.

You have to find out from Sugawara, the only one of his friends to even suspect something has been going on in the years you had been together. Still, you know he doesn’t know that you haven’t slept alone in two years, that you spend your days together, too, that it’s not just best-friends-with-benefits.

You bump into him in the street and he whips his sunglasses off his face, putting a dramatic expression on.

“Daichi didn’t mention you were coming,” you say, doing the uncomfortable dance of do-I-hug-you, are-you-an-acquaintance-or-a-friend? “What brings you to Tokyo?”

“Oh, he didn’t?” Suga says, his gaze sliding away, maybe a little embarrassed. “I’m helping him look into real estate listings back home. He’s interested in buying a house sometime soon.”

You temporarily lose your grip on the bag of groceries in your hand, the handle almost slipping through your fingers.

“…Wow,” you manage. “That’s amazing! You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks,” he puts a hand on your shoulder. The look on his face is pitying; you wish he would put the sunglasses back on. “You be well, okay?”

You nod tightly, biting down so hard on your inner cheek you taste blood.

It hits you on the train, the worst place to be upset. You want so badly not to cry it makes it way, way harder.

You’re an experiment. You’re a representation of the most exciting, exotic parts of Daichi’s life, the ephemeral youth he’s gonna look back on after a lifetime back in his hometown and say those were the best years of my life.

The best years of his life, but not good enough for him to stay in them. To stay with you.

You didn’t mind remaining private, knew that introducing you as a partner meant something significant to him, something akin to a vow. You understood that you were young, that making that kind of commitment wasn’t something your relationship was ready for. You didn’t realize that he was getting ready to hole-punch you out of his life, that he was about to forget you so neatly, that his mother would probably never know your name.

You go back to his apartment anyway, autopilot guiding your leaden feet. You drop the bag on the counter; it vomits its contents in a spray of vegetables and snack packs, but you don’t have the energy to care.

“Hi, baby,” he comes up behind you, startling you out of the spiraling of your mind. “Long time no see.”

How were you supposed to see, when this is how he acts when you’re hidden from the rest of the world?

“Hi,” you return, turning in his arms, looping yours around his neck. “I saw Suga on the way back.”

He stiffens slightly.

“You did?”

You nod. “He mentioned you’re moving back to Miyagi.” He winces, a twinge of the muscles that you feel in your heart.

“I meant to tell you.”

Maybe if you begged him, he would have. Maybe if you had the courage to ask anything of him, he would give it to you.

Instead, you take a deep inhale, not even able to let go of the breath.

“It’s okay, Daichi,” you drop your head against his shoulder, not able to look at him when you say it. “I get it. Your life is there.”

“My life is with you,” he says, and you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“No, it’s not,” you say. “You’ve kept me separate from almost everything else. For this moment, right?”

“No,” he says, looking wounded. You almost laugh. “No. You said…”

“I know what I said,” you snap your head up, unable to keep the tears from running down your face. “But I think we took things different ways.”

He chokes on air, trying to get words past the thickness in his throat. In lieu of saying something—anything—he crushes you to his chest, letting you feel what he feels, his arms strong around you like he’s not the one letting go.

Maybe if you had been braver, he would have stayed.

Maybe if he had been braver, you would have gone with him.

have an angst request? check here to see if slots are still open :)

[orleans-jester]

The drink plus this new information about Piper sent GoGo into a small laughing fit, arm going around her stomach as she let it out. “I can so see her saying that,” She said. It was one step away from just saying ‘Fuck you Simon, won’t do what you tell me’ which was pretty badass for a kid.

“Yeah, dude,” She nodded. “You make it look like old parchment that way. And the burned edges gives it a dangerous touch. It’s the best way to make treasure maps.”

She didn’t question why they would have to meet at night. It ust seemed like another Laveau thing that went over her head. She was curious about a lot of things - science, space, speed, but she also knew that curiosity could kill the cat. Or rather, too much curiousity about the Laveaus could kill … anyone, really. She just … accepted things as they were without asking too many questions. “Yeah, steal Scout’s key, she’s got one of the spares to my apartment. I’ll teach you.”

The alcohol with the cool night air felt nice. She didn’t feel the strain of her muscles from the climb up up the tree. She wasn’t usually a climber, so it was muscles she hadn’t used before. Insects were still chirping away through the land, so it wasn’t entirely deserted. But the annoying ones - the mosquitos - were already sparse as it started to grow a little bit cooler.

She was feeling that breezy lightheaded feeling that came with the first couple of drinks. Tipsiness was coming in, and it made everything feel … inconsequential. Perfectly fine. Dale was close to her and wasn’t wearing a shirt? That was perfectly fine. There was a chance that she could fall and land on her head? Lovely. The air smelt of old wood and moss - superb.

A long while back, when the Laveaus had questioned her about her sexuality, she told them that she orientated herself as ‘busy’. It hadn’t meant to be a rejection, it had been an honest answer. She had been far too busy to think about it. It wasn’t something that was a prevalent part of her life, almost to the point where she wondered if she was A-Sexual, like Figaro. But that didn’t feel right either.

And then it hit her when she had 2 Fast 2 Furious on her small TV, playing in the background, as she was working on her dream bike.

Paul Walker? Pretty hot.

But Devon Aoki?

Also hot.

It took rewatching a movie for the upteenth time for her to realize for the first time that she wasn’t looking at the cars so much as she was the drivers. Late bloomer? Potentially. But now she was around more people, she was more social, she was seeing what loving relationships looked like in the form of Valerie and Thomas, rather than the stiffness of her parents. It caused her to wonder and think for the first time, to kick up those hormones.

She kept it to herself. She didn’t think of it as a big secret or anything, she wasn’t trying to hide it persay, that she was bi-curious. But it didn’t feel like something that she needed to come out and say, to pronounce to the world, to be loud and proud about like others. It was just another facet to her personality. But it would likely come out in time.

She sipped on the alcohol again, using Dale as body warmth though it wasn’t quite cold enough to get a chill. Not with the sun starting to slowly emerge. The drink was room-temperature and it burned going down, causing a warmth on its own. It wasn’t brandy but it was near enough.

They were close. Nose to nose. She scrunched hers slightly at the tickling sensation.

“Even if I’m not magic, or a wolf, or a street magician?” Go-Go asked, it being entirely an important question. Seemed like everyone close to the family was one of those things. But then she laughed at herself and shook her head. “Fuck it, magic is just science that hasn’t been explained yet. I’ll get to the bottom of you one day.”

Their faces still close, though she turned hers to look past his big eyes towards the landscape once more and hummed in contentment. “Yeah, this is good. I haven’t watched a sunrise in ages.”

"I don't doubt you." He didn't either. He wasn't flattering her genius. He believed every word.

She couldn't regret it if she was dead?

"To looking at things from other perspectives then."

He laughed because he wasn't stopping. His goal was up.

"No regrets."

Then she actually confronted him on why he bothers to call her hot while also pointing out that she didn't seem to think he was some perve like the clients at the kitty club. It wasn't something he thought he'd be questioned about much less ever be told in combination of such opposite sentiment. He'd have been more ready for being called a perve and to just stop talking like that. He was a straight up guy, but how far was he going to go with that one? "Pft. But I mean. Gnnngh. I don't know though. Because you let me. Because it's true. Or I don't know. Because you pft. Because you haven't told me not to. And... uh...."

But this and uh lingered as he reached for the next secure holding on the tree. He let the conversation die away and let that and uh never be finished. Whatever Dale's thoughts were had remained his own as he climbed.

Scout's hair was brought into the scope, "Something about she likes it that way. I don't know." Total brother answer. Not that deep.

By the time they were up on the tree platform and in the hut, it all might have been a lost conversation all together as they went into investigating the treasures of long-lost past.

GoGo might not have had any sense of nostalgia, but Dale was trying to paint for her from up there. He was hoping she'd be able to feel a vision of a place she'd never been better if she stepped into his memories. All he had was his memories and a few weather-worn trinkets, but it felt like a lost world in the palm of his hands with that map, the gems, and the lone hut high above the zombie forest with his numb body and extreme buzz on. He was as high on nostalgia as his face was numb and he could barely feel his face at all. He continued pursuing his own bottle.

"Definitely a born leader. She even sucked at following a game of Simon Says. I remember her asking 'Who is Simon to tell me what to do?' and telling her that's just how you play the game went over her head. She would act like it was the dumbest game on the planet. She was probably right."

Scout was indeed fine. She'd fallen asleep by this time and Dale's suspicions were correct. This was his moment. The map was all his for just a little while. No shared sight from the other siblings anyhow were watching.

"Teabag? Burn?" He pictured the concept with a little laugh at the two words that came out of his mouth at the same time. "Woah. No. Not me. That sounds cool though. I like that. Never heard of it."

Suddenly, Dale was getting ideas for the homemade Christmas presents. He usually recruited his more creative siblings to help him. But he was grinning something awful believing he finally got the Christmas idea first. FINALLY. GoGo just inspired him.

"You have to show me. I want to learn to do that. Can we meet at night to show me?"

Dale had asked her to help him with gifting before and kept making her do things in odd ways or at night when the others were sleeping so it'd still be a surprise while the magic windows were dark. She didn't question his odd requests the first time. So, he didn't think twice about asking again.

It did start to feel as if they were settling in. The alcohol had taken complete hold and sounds of the swamp were as relaxing as leaning against one another staring at all the names on the wall. GoGo's name fit right in. To Dale it seemed to blend like it'd been there all along especially with how the old marker wasn't the brightest even though the moisture got the color bleeding again. It worked. It was new, but it almost seemed aged. Her name fit just right.

He held up his phone and snapped a pic since his siblings were sleeping. He didn't want them to miss something that special. The rest of the feeling he didn't mind having privately when GoGo settled back in. It also felt just right right now. He felt so comfortable. He felt so good. Exhausted good. Buzzed good. Drunk good actually. Nostalgic good. Serotonin good. Halloween good. Shirtless good. He was enjoying the closeness and that's why private was good. It wasn't like when his cousin Ellie slept over and closeness was just closeness. This wasn't like when his sister came curling up near him.

Dale had deeper thoughts of GoGo he knew he might should make go away. He'd felt the rejection here before. He couldn't quite hold on to that rejection recollection inside the nice warm feeling and alcohol though. The current feeling was far too alive and living its best life smiling its way through his very relaxed veins. It was such a nice private feeling Dale could coddle GoGo up in and no one else had to know. He forgot what he was going to say after the and uh earlier. And uh once I knew you weren't into me that way it was much easier to treat you like any other pervy guy would any other girl because it's fun to only talk about your looks because who gives a shit if I care about the rest anyway? But he couldn't think too deep. That wasn't Dale. He was more the sort to paint Life is Short Fuck Your Friends on public property. So, he certainly wasn't going to talk too deeply without real provocation, like for example how he spouted off at Mr. Tomago. Dale went off that day. GoGo didn't ask a simple enough question to get a real answer.

He just sort of leaned there at first, arms around her, admiring her name on the wall, attempting to keep it in focus, an obvious alcohol curve, but whatever. It felt like this wall of tired passed through him forcing his head to lean against hers all the more, harder, heavier, side-by-side. If he wasn't careful, he and GoGo were going to merge together like ghosts through a wall. As his strangely altered mind state actually started to wonder if this was possible and began to worry about how hard he was leaning on her he lifted his hands and smoothed both palms down both sides of her arms checking the boundaries of her person. This made him turn to face her. Good. Good. They were still separate. He was alive and well. After all he'd seen in this world, he didn't feel crazy to check. He truly wondered if he'd passed over in a passed-out state.

He could hear their heartbeats in the slew of other swamp noises though or maybe it was just his? He wasn't sure. He noticed his breathing next. That made him start grinning more. Yeah, he was definitely still alive. He hadn't drunk himself to death despite the empty bottle he'd nearly chugged on his own.

He faced her in that drunken state with that grin, nose-to-nose, no fear of personal space invasion. Inhibitions lost to the wind. Private, windows dark, drunken state, with the word honorary still ringing in his head. It was moments like this sensation was strange but familiar. Dale drank often. He liked the pressure of trying to feel his nose, his cheeks, which came with some difficulty, and it became its own fun game against hers. Still, he was left thinking GoGo was probably the only girl who never got an honorable mention in any competition in all her life. Too smart. She probably won every science fair. Top trophies. Blue ribbons. She wasn't the sort to need a made-up placement to feel special among the rest of the kids at school.

"Nope. Honorary's for losers. You just are one of us. You. Just. Are. You didn't need the wall for that. It's something you feel."

There was a little pause, more grinning, some laughing.

"Like feeling there's no way I'm climbing down this tree again till I'm sober if I want to live through it. But you're going to get a real special experience here. Oh yeah. Swamp sunrise from the skies. We get the best view up here. If you wanted to visit here, this was going to be the best place to be."

[writingadjacent]

Steve, after never really enjoying sex, gets fucked for the first time and his mind is blown (and also his back). He loves feeling full and being fucked and just the pleasure that he derives from being absolutely obliterated. 

The first time was sort of sloppy, Steve could tell as it happened that it wasn’t going to be the best time it ever happened but it was still a fun fuck. The guy, not someone Steve knew well, kept pulling Steve’s hair, which was nice but also kept whispering in his ear, which was not nice. 

It was you know… fine. He spent a while talking about it with Robin and trying to figure out if it was actually weird or just something Steve didn’t like. The jury was still out on that one.

The second time was much better, Steve figured out what he liked from the first time and, this one, a guy from one of the bars he and Robin frequented, bent Steve over the bathroom sink and ploughed into him until they were both sweaty and cumming. It was hot as fuck and Steve very much enjoyed that. 

After that, it calmed down, every time after that was with a boyfriend that Steve only really dated for a few weeks and then dumped. Robin would sigh each time he brought a guy home and ask him how long he thought they were staying around. Steve was never really sure how to answer that. It could be one night or it could be a few weeks, either way, it still meant something to Steve. 

He meets Eddie at a bar. Not really looking for anything but Steve dances with him and is just enamoured with the level of loser that Eddie exudes. He liked how Eddie didn’t think about those watching him and just… danced the way he liked or said the silly things he thought of. It was refreshing and Steve found it to be so real that he had to ask Eddie out. 

He didn’t fuck Eddie on the first date. 

Robin asked, jokingly, if he was sick. Steve laughed but he made sure to tell Robin that he really liked Eddie. There was something different about this. It wasn’t like something he wanted to last a few weeks. This was something Steve wanted for a while. Though he really wasn’t sure how to get it anymore. It had been a while. 

Steve didn’t really expect Eddie to be incredible or anything. Just normal. Like, normal sex. Just average. Every single person couldn’t fuck incredibly every single time. That was just basic common sense. 

Steve was very much wrong in that regard. 

Eddie was kind the first time, patient and slow and oh so sweet. Steve liked it but… well… it was just what he was thinking it’d be. Average. 

The second time, Eddie scruffed his hands in Steve's hair and shoved his head into the mattress, his voice gruff as he fucked Steve with calculated thrusts. He hadn’t been expecting it and Steve came the hardest he’s ever cum in his life. 

He asked Eddie about it, what had changed between the first time and the second time. 

Eddie shrugged slightly, naked in bed, his arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulder and Steve curled up against his side. “Dunno, it just seemed right. Should I have asked… was it bad?”

“Fuck no, Eddie. It was perfect."